Vengeance Borne (24 page)

Jacquelyn flung her chest over the edge of the fallen tree, as she spun away, and the gun dropped at her side while her hands steadied her. Her stomach wouldn’t stop heaving and she retched again and again until nothing but dry heaves racked her throat and chest. Bree was dead.
Dead
. Ripped apart, violated, and left like trash in the woods. Jacquelyn tried to draw in a deep breath, her head spun wildly but her lungs wouldn’t work right and she found that the air stilled in her chest. Dropping to her knees, brittle bark scraped at her arms, but the pain barely registered. She forced herself to breathe, taking shallow gulps of air until the threat of passing out subsided and black spots no longer swam in her vision. “Finn,” she gasped. “No. Please tell me you’re not involved in this. Oh my god.”

She sat for what seemed like hours, her head dipped between her knees while she fought hyperventilation. Her chest ached with the intense beating of her heart, her blood swirling through her body like liquid fire. Though she’d never seen Willie Carmichael’s body, she could guess what he’d looked like. Ravaged, bathed in blood, and disregarded like a kill not worthy of the meal. No wonder the police suspected an animal attack. Because nothing human could have done the damage evident on Bree’s poor body.

Hands shaking, it took three tries to fish her cell phone out of her pocket. She couldn’t even get her fingers to hit the right buttons and she forced strength into every fiber of her being before she dialed again. Jacquelyn took a deep breath and pulled her shit together before she could speak.

“Grind,” Cassy answered.

“It’s Jax,” she said, willing her voice not to quaver.

“Is everything okay? Did you find Bree?”

“I’ll be over in an hour or so to explain everything. Cassy, is there a guy in there this morning? Buzzed hair, olive skin, brown eyes?”

“Yeah,” she answered slowly. “He’s super cute, too. Been here since eight. Says he’s waiting for you.”

“Can I please talk to him?”

“Sure, Jax,” Cassy said with concern. “Hang on.”

“Hello?” Micah’s voice had a touch of urgency to it and Jacquelyn wondered if he could sense her distress from so far away.

“Micah, I need you meet me at 724 Cottonwood Street, it’s off of Warren Wagon Road, a right turn if you’re coming from town. Do you think you can find it?”

“Sure. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m all right.” She wondered at the truth of that statement. “But someone’s been killed. Just like Willie Carmichael. I need you.”

“Are you safe?”

A wave of warmth blossomed from her stomach and she pushed the sensation away. This wasn’t the time for feeling soft emotion. “I’m fine. But I need a Bearer, the police will be here soon to take the body. I—Micah, I don’t know… It looks like…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, admit to anyone else her suspicions of Finn. The words were blasphemous in her mouth.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Micah said. “Sit tight.”

Jacquelyn glanced to the mangled heap of Bree’s body, fighting another bout of nausea. She sat, staring into space for a good ten minutes, giving Micah plenty of time to get there before she dialed 911 and quickly instructed the dispatcher to send the sheriff and an ambulance to Bree’s house. She knew the coroner would have to be called in once the EMT’s had done their thing, but she’d leave that for them to handle. She ended the call and closed her eyes, wishing for the millionth time that she was thousands of miles away living a peaceful life far from the influence of evil.

Chapter 18

MICAH STOPPED SHORT of the house to find Jacquelyn sitting on the front steps, her head resting in her hands. She looked up, her expression unreadable, her body sagging with a recognizable weariness. He jumped out of the truck and kept his pace slow, as if she’d bolt if he came upon her too quickly. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her mouth drawn in a thin, hard line, transforming her usually soft features into something angry and bitter.

“I didn’t hear anything last night,” she said, her voice hollow. “This is the second time. First with Willie and now… Why not? She always wails before the death.”

“What do you mean?” Micah asked softly. “Who?”

“The Banshee,” Jacquelyn said. “She didn’t scream. Not once. Not for Willie, not for Bree.”

“I can’t tell you why,” Micah answered, though he wished like hell he could. “Maybe there are special circumstances…or something.” Great answer. It sounded lame even to him. “We’ll figure it out, but right now maybe I’d better go look around before someone shows up and gets suspicious.”

She stood, dusting off her jeans and stretched her neck from side to side. Before thinking better of it, Micah reached out, cupping the back of her neck with his palms. He massaged in slow, gentle circles, wanting nothing more than to erase the tension so obvious on her body. Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed.

“Feels good,” she murmured.

Micah cleared his throat, reveling in the opportunity to let his eyes roam while she wasn’t looking. His gaze traced the details of her face, explored the curls of her hair and the delicate lines defining the muscles of her arms. “Anything I can do to help.” He paused, knowing what he could do to
truly
help her but unsure if he should offer. “If you want,” he said, “I could do more.”

“Like a full body massage?” Jacquelyn asked. “You do that and I might never let you leave town.”

Micah’s pulse jumped at the mental image of her lying spread out across his bed, probably a little racier than what she had in mind. “No.” He cleared his throat, as he tried to banish the sensual image from his brain. “I mean, I can feel that you’re really shaken up. I could…you know…take that away for you.”

Jacquelyn’s eyes snapped open and she grabbed his wrists, lowering his hands to his sides. “No,” she said. “It wouldn’t be fair to Bree, or to Willie for that matter, to let me be numb after they’ve suffered.” She rotated her shoulders and turned. “The scene’s out back.”

He could do it without her permission. The power rose up in him like a swelling tide, and a surge of confidence built up inside of Micah as he took control of the abilities he’d shunned for so long. Funny how it came to him intuitively in her presence. He knew she’d consider his interference a violation, though and he couldn’t do that to her. So much of her life had been out of Jacquelyn’s control, he would allow her any bit of autonomy she could get.

Jacquelyn led the way through the back yard and he followed her down the winding path that led into the trees. Something dark passed this trail, singular in mind and hell-bent on destruction. The malicious intent sat heavy on Micah’s tongue like honey, cloying and too sweet. He cleared his throat and swallowed against the thickness, his vision blurring as the boiling panic of the woman’s death threatened to engulf him. “Are we almost there?” The words slurred as he fought for lucidity.

“Just over that fallen tree,” Jacquelyn answered. “Are you all right, Micah? You don’t sound so good. We can take a minute if you need it.”

“No.” He pressed forward. The faster he could do his job and leave, the better. He wiped at his eyes, watering with the fetid stench of death. “I can feel something evil here, same as the place Trish took me to. When did she die?”

“Last night. I don’t know what time exactly, but last night for sure.”

Maybe that explained the intensity of the emotions that assaulted him. The previous murder scene had either been older by the time he’d gotten to it, or the killer’s appetite had become more voracious, though none of that mattered in the wake of these people’s deaths. Swinging his leg over the tree, Micah dropped on the other side, near the pool of drying blood and swarm of flies that swirled and buzzed in orbit around his head. He kept his gaze averted, refusing to look at the body not three feet from him. No way did he want a detailed image of the dead woman burned into his memory.

“Same as before?” he asked.

“That’s why you’re here,” Jacquelyn said. “I don’t know. You tell me, Bearer. Who,” she paused, turning her head to look away, “or what killed Bree?”

Micah drew a deep breath, choking on the rotten smell as he exhaled. He pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and cleansed his nasal passages with a few inhalations of warm, stifled air. The drying blood had become almost black, deep crimson, toward the center of the pool that spread out from the body. He swallowed against the knot in his throat, not wanting to touch, but at the same time, drawn to the fluid that connected him to the memories of victim and murderer. Micah rubbed his palm across his forehead and then over his jeans before he knelt low to the ground, his hand outstretched toward the stained autumn grass. A reassuring touch warmed his shoulder through his shirt and his heartbeat slowed, giving him the courage to follow through on his promise to help her.

“I’m right here, Micah,” Jacquelyn said. “None of this can hurt you, remember that.”

His fingertips dipped into the dead woman’s blood, cold and slick like old motor oil. A surge of clouded terror burst like a balloon in his chest, filling him with emotions that had nowhere to go. In his mind’s eye he saw a dining room table, a hand reaching out with a match to light two candles. The house was dark, a romantic atmosphere carefully orchestrated while couch pillows were fluffed and placed just so. He walked toward a large mirror hanging above the fireplace and gasped as he looked into the reflection of the dead woman, a rush of pleasure zinging through his veins as she took stock of her made-up face and perfectly coiffed hair.

This was a confident woman, sure of herself and not afraid to admit it. She plated the food and set the dishes on the table close together, straightening a fork on a napkin before pouring two glasses of red wine. A sound, much like nails on a chalkboard sent a chill across his skin as he lived the woman’s memory. She walked to the patio doors, sliding the glass open.

“Hello?” Her voice quavered as she stepped outside.

A strangled scream rent the night as she was seized by what felt like many pairs of hands. Searing pain shot through her skull as taloned fingers raked across her scalp, and a warm trickle of blood ran down her forehead, dripping off curled and make-up coated lashes. Kicking, flailing, crying out, the woman fought for her release, though her efforts proved fruitless against such strong and capable hands. “Who are you?” she screamed. “Let me go! Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me!”

A trio of voices hissed in response, followed by greedy cackles that sent chills across Micah’s flesh. “Take whatever we want? What a gracious offer, and so we shall. A pound of flesh, maybe more. Revenge is sweet and tastes like honey.”

Bile rose in Micah’s throat as he remembered the sickly-sweet taste on his tongue moments earlier. The woman’s fear spiked, and he stumbled backward, Jacquelyn’s palms steadying him as he sat back against the fallen tree.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the woman screamed in his mind. “Revenge? What the hell do you mean? Who the fuck are you?”

Three shrouded figures dragged the woman through the grass and Micah cringed as she was raked over the tree stump and deposited on the ground.

“We are Vengeance,” they said. “And you are our prey.”

Micah took a deep breath, choked again on the smell of dried of blood and death. Darkness descended over the vision and he was overcome by rage, lust, and hunger. He looked down at the woman, now seeing through the eyes of her killers. He bent over her and removed the hood from his head. The woman gasped, a ragged scream tearing through her chest on the exhale. “Oh my god!” she screamed. “Oh my god!”

The vision blurred and a ripple of pleasure danced across his skin at the woman’s distress, fueling the all-consuming hunger that would soon be sated. He watched through the eyes of her murderers as the woman scurried backward like a spider backed in a corner. Her eyes darted from side to side, frantic for an escape route and she paused, her gaze narrowing as she focused on something beyond her attackers’ bodies.

“You?” she shrieked. “You’re with these—th—
things
? No,” she said with disbelief, the fight gone from her voice. “No,” she sobbed, her face dropping into her palms. “Nooooo!”

He swooped down and the figures flanking him reached out, their spindly arms protruding from their cloaks, the flesh like marble run with cracks, as they tore at their victim’s flesh. The woman screamed one last time, the sound diminishing into a series of gurgling whimpers and then silence.

“Come,” three hissing voices said in his memory to someone in the distance. “Taste of your victory and become invincible.”

“Fuck!” Micah jerked back and knocked his head against the tree. The pain throbbing in his skull was nothing compared to the violent tremors that rocked his body. By slow degrees, his vision cleared and he was once again in his own skin, eyes focused on the blood-stained grass. Arms encircled him from behind, around the expanse of his shoulders and her palms pressed firmly into his chest. Jacquelyn molded herself to his back, the warmth of her body a soothing balm as she rocked a little, back and forth, back and forth.

“It’s okay, Micah,” Jacquelyn whispered. “Calm down. You’ll be okay in a second. Just breathe through it. It’s okay.”

He wondered as she rocked him like a mother comforting her child if the mantra was for him or more for her own peace of mind. This vision had been far worse than the last, so real and almost tangible. Emotion roiled within him, leaving his body in a sucking whirlpool, inch by inch. That poor, poor woman. What had she done to deserve such a grisly death? Who had she offended, and why had this person seen fit to unleash the fury of hell upon his enemies?

Micah reached up and wrapped his hands around her arms. Their contact anchored him to the real world, prevented his head from spinning and kept his own irrational fears silenced in his chest. God, if she only knew what this moment meant to him.

“What did you see?” She seemed hesitant to ask.

“Furies.” He leaned against her and gently squeezed her arm. “The same creatures that killed that man.”