Our Lady Chaos, page 5
part #5 of Bloodletter Series
Unbidden, the memory of that face leering over his shoulders flashed before Eddie’s eyes. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t dispel the idea that the woman’s hair had been the same dark colors as the lampshade—midnight blue and dark purple. Shades that were closer to black than anything else.
The house seemed colder than it had at breakfast.
14
Christmas Eve 1975
The evening usually crawled by—sitting through a “dress-up” dinner with her mom and whatever family was in town, forced to eat clam chowder which she hated with a passion, and then a church service despite the fact it was the only time all year her mother set foot in a church—but that Christmas Eve turned the evening into torture. Try as she might, Kristy couldn’t focus on anything. Not dinner, not conversation, not singing the hymns.
She had Leif on her mind. Leif, and his suggested present. Part of her craved giving him what he wanted, but the thought of it petrified most of her. She recalled Michelle’s taunts on the first day of school with utter clarity. You let him do it to you, didn’t you? You let him stick his thing in you, she’d said. She accused her of letting Leif fuck her—the crudity of it still made Kristy flinch. Later, she’d said she hoped Leif’s job would support a baby.
A baby.
Kristy wanted Leif’s baby about as much as she wanted nails driven through her eyeballs. Babies were for later. Babies were for when she got married, and as cute as Leif was, Kristy wasn’t getting married any time soon. Plus, her mother would kill her dead if she got caught having sex with Leif. Well, with anyone.
But Leif really wanted to do it. He said it made him hurt below the belt just thinking about it. He’d said she should consider it torture, letting him look but not touch.
And if she were honest, watching him do his thing while he looked at her turned her on. A lot.
She shook her head and forced her attention to return to the Christmas Eve sermon—anything but imagine doing it with Leif. Her cheeks already burned with both shame and lust.
“Why are you here?” the minister thundered. “Why have you come to God’s house with impure thoughts?”
Kristy dropped her gaze to her lap, sure the minister spoke only to her and that everyone would see what a slut she had become.
“Thoughts of presents! Thoughts of candy! Don’t you think God can see what’s in your heart? Don’t you realize this holiday is about more than Santa Claus, presents, and good food? We are here tonight to celebrate God’s grace. We are here to celebrate the birth of the Messiah! Santa doesn’t figure into it.”
Kristy’s mom grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “We should have gone to Saint Genesius’ instead of this tripe,” she whispered.
Kristy managed a weak smile, full of doubts, brimming with shame at what she’d been thinking about.
“Let’s get out of here, sugarplum.”
Kristy nodded, and they made their way to the back of the balcony. At least they escaped the minister’s ire without drawing too much attention to themselves. She wasn’t sure if she believed in God or not, but she was almost sure she didn’t believe in ministers and church. But even so, his words rang in her mind, chasing each other around the way dogs chased cats.
Outside, her mom gave her a stiff hug. “Let’s walk home. I’ll come back for the car tomorrow.”
Kristy zipped up her parka and looked up into the gently falling snow. “I don’t want to get all wet. Plus, it’s cold, Mommy.”
Her mother cocked her head to the side. “Hot date tonight?”
Kristy dropped her chin and shook her head. “I don’t date, Mommy. You know—”
“Let’s not lie to one another, sugarplum. Don’t think all those evenings up in your room going through fashion magazines have gone unnoticed. The hairstyle, the makeup, the clothes.” Her mother smiled. “It wasn’t very long ago that I was your age. It wasn’t so long ago I can’t remember what high school is like.”
Kristy held her tongue and stared at her feet. “Can we take the car?”
Her mom laughed. “We can if you tell me his name.”
Kristy dared to meet her mother’s gaze. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad that you’re becoming a woman? Mad that you have a perfectly natural interest in boys?” She laughed again and linked her arm through Kristy’s. “No, I’m not angry.”
You would be if you knew what I was thinking about during church.
“I’ll never be upset about you liking a boy, sug. Just don’t be stupid. Don’t get yourself in trouble.” She unlocked the passenger door of their beat-up old Chrysler, then opened it. As Kristy moved to get in, her mother stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “You know what I mean by that, don’t you Kris?”
Flames seemed to lick Kristy’s cheeks—it seemed that all she did was blush and duck her head. “Yeah. We did a unit of sex-ed last year, remember?”
Her mom lifted her chin an inch, then let it drop. “Yes. I will make you an appointment, I think.”
“An appointment?”
“With the girly doctor.” Her mother’s face lost a touch of its previous jocularity. “To get you on the pill.”
Kristy had never dropped her gaze as fast as she did at that moment. Again, her stupid cheeks blazed. “I…” She shook her head once.
“I’d rather suffer through that appointment than the one where the doctor tells me you’re pregnant.”
Kristy stood frozen in the cold wind and the falling snow. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say, couldn’t make her muscles work.
“Hear what I’m telling you, baby girl?”
Kristy swallowed hard and nodded.
“Good. Then we shouldn’t have to talk about it again.” She patted Kristy’s shoulder. “I’ll have that appointment set up as soon as they can fit you in. In the meantime, you be smart.”
“Okay.” It sounded lame to Kristy, but it was the single word her mind came up with.
“Then let’s go open presents!” Her mom walked around to the other side of the car and got in.
Kristy stood in the wind and snow for a moment more, then sat in the passenger seat. She’d decided.
Leif would just have to wait until she was ready.
Chapter 2
2007
1
Greg followed Mason Harper’s van—the one containing the only other survivors of Herlequin’s attentions that he knew of. Toby Burton, Shannon Bertram, and Benny Cartwright had not only survived, but they’d also found a way to rid the world of the Demon King once, and hopefully, for all. Mike Richards and Scott Lewis both slept in the back of the cherry red 1965 Pontiac GTO Greg had inherited from his grandfather—both injured after encounters with what Toby called “a new demon.”
The old Goat rumbled along East Lake Road just west of the border Pennsylvania shared with New York. Toby had said there was a safe place they could rest and recuperate in Erie, and they’d traveled on crumbling surface roads—and the smaller the better, it seemed—from Lake Genosgwa, driving through the afternoon. It wasn’t far, a little over one hundred and twenty miles, but the pair of cops in his backseat hadn’t seen more than five miles of the trip.
Ahead, the van slowed and its right turn signal blinked to life. Greg followed it down the arrow-straight two-rut track that penetrated the trees separating Lake Road from Lake Erie and pulled up in front of a large house built close to the edge of the cliff, leaving the engine idling. Toby climbed out of the van and stretched. He motioned for Greg to kill the GTO and turned to unlock the door using a key on his key ring.
Greg glanced in the rearview mirror as the V8 died, but neither man in the backseat so much as twitched. He got out of the car and scanned the front of the house. It looked empty and well maintained, but not quite as well maintained as Preston Peters had kept his place on Lake Genosgwa—the little he’d seen of it. Still, if the condition of the GTO was an example of how he maintained Greg’s lake house, he had no doubt it was in perfect shape.
Shannon and Benny got out of the van, both appearing to have just awakened. Benny beamed at him and drew in a deep breath. “Don’t you love how fresh the air smells on the edge of the lake?”
To Greg, the place stank of algae and fish, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned back.
“Algae and fish?” asked Benny with a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “Man, Florida must smell like roses.”
“Not all the time. And it depends on where you are, as with everywhere else.” Greg wrinkled his nose over a smile. “Speaking of which, this isn’t Erie.”
“No?” Benny lifted his eyebrows and then squinted for a moment before his features relaxed again. “Oh. Erie’s twenty minutes west. Close enough.” He turned and gazed at the house, then whistled. “Toby’s rich.”
“Nah,” said Toby from the front door. “I got a deal.”
“Wait, you own this mansion?” asked Shannon.
Toby treated Greg to a wink that Shannon couldn’t see. “Yes. And?”
“Then why were we driving all the hell over the state back home looking for a place to stay? Won’t the demons—LaBouche in particular—find us here?”
“I own this house, but not under a name I’ve ever used in New York. In fact, I haven’t touched this identity since before med school, other than to buy and keep this place.”
“Where did you…” Greg bit off the end of the question, but Toby only smiled wider.
“Don’t worry, Greg. It won’t offend me. Where did I get the money?” He wagged his head to the side. “Having a bunch of identities comes in handy. I did nothing that hurt anyone.” His gaze slid to the GTO. “Let’s leave it at that. Scott already has enough problems with me.”
Greg turned his attention back to the house. “It’s nice. Will it concern the neighbors that we showed up unannounced?”
“I’ll call the groundskeeper in a minute. He’s the only one who should be out here, anyway.” Toby strode to the garage and punched a code into the keypad there. The door rumbled upward, and Toby made a gesture as if inviting them inside the garage. “Let’s get these vehicles out of sight. I have another car in the other garage we can use.”
“You should look at my passengers,” said Greg. “Check them out.”
Toby nodded. “On my list.”
“A girl could start to believe you have a thing for cars, Toby.”
“Can’t ever have too many means of escape.” He grinned. “Or cool rides.”
2
“Put me down, you giant purple motherfucker!” Mason screamed above the shrieking wind.
Dan Delo rolled his glowing azure eyes but kept his mouth shut. It would serve the squirming idiot right if he agreed to his demand—but the drop would be fatal from the altitude at which he flew. And LaBouche had been specific about his instructions—Mason Harper’s life was important in the general scheme of things. It’s a mistake, all these demons becoming attached to their pets. These humans are nothing more than over-indulged meals, and my ‘betters’ would do well to remember that.
Mason began pounding his fists on Delo’s taloned feet.
Dan shook his head and increased his flight speed. The sooner he dropped off Brigitta’s baggage, the better.
3
As soon as the car stopped rolling, LaBouche sprang out of the back and ran to Brigitta’s side. Brigitta glared at him as he approached, her face impassive, but something terrifying in her eyes. Nicole Conrau lay at her feet, but from the look of her, she was no more than anesthetized. The old Oneka Falls Police Department cruiser reserved for the chief of police rested on its side in the trees beside the gravel road, a crushed, smoking ruin. Ricky Fast stood with his hands on his knees near the wreck, head hanging. There was no sign of Dan Delo or Chaz Welsh.
He inclined his head in Brigitta’s direction. “I came as soon as I heard. Did the hunters escape?”
Brigitta’s eyes narrowed, and LaBouche had to fight the urge to step back and drop his head. At times, she reminded him of home—his real home—and not in a good way. “They escaped,” she said. “Chaz failed me.”
LaBouche turned his gaze away, pretending to search for the big pearly asshole. “Again.”
“Yes!” Brigitta snapped. “Thank you for pointing it out. The fact had evaded me.” Her voice contained a snap to it he hadn’t heard there before—a promise of eternal pain, perhaps.
LaBouche dropped to one knee. “Forgive me.”
Brigitta scoffed and stomped her foot. “Oh, get up, you yellow buffoon. You are my only general, now. I won’t have you seen in such a weak pose. From this moment on, you must carry on the work I gave Chaz. In addition to your own tasks.”
Joy surged through LaBouche’s mind. Again, he peered around.
“You won’t find him,” said Brigitta. “I sent him home.”
“Back to Oneka Falls?” he asked, not daring to hope.
“HOME!” Brigitta roared.
LaBouche backed away a step before he could stifle the impulse. “Yes, my queen,” he murmured. The sudden surge of fear overshadowed the joy he’d felt moments before, but a kernel of irrational happiness remained. He would celebrate later—in private.
At their feet, Nicole Conrau moaned, and they both looked down at her. “She allowed the hunters to incapacitate her,” said Brigitta in a toneless, enervated voice. “I’d hoped for more from her. Perhaps I should—”
“She’s young, Brigitta. And Chaz—and his sloppiness—no doubt wore off on her. If you allow it, I can redeem her. I’ll set her back on the right path.”
Brigitta looked at him askance, her expression unreadable. After the space of ten breaths, she nodded and turned away. “They stole something that belongs to me. A human killer they call Abaddon. I believe you’ve met Mason Harper? I do not sense his presence.”
The kernel of joy expanded, and LaBouche couldn’t stop his freak-show mouth from curling into a smile. “I have, Brigitta, but I don’t think the hunters have him. If they did, Dan Delo’s body would be here somewhere, and as stupid as he sometimes is, I’ve no doubt he would have taken at least a couple of the humans out before he fell.”
“You sent him here? To retrieve Mason?”
LaBouche dipped his chin. “I did.”
“Why would you do such a thing? I didn’t sense any of this until after I’d dismissed you.”
Deep inside, something ugly bristled at her choice of words, but LaBouche kept that part of himself well-hidden in Brigitta’s presence. He lifted his hands to his sides and shrugged. “I guessed at his importance to you. The way Owen Gray mattered to you, perhaps. I acted incorrectly regarding Owen, I wanted to ensure I didn’t make the same mistake again. I ordered Delo to bring Harper to Oneka Falls and to keep him there until either you or I give him further orders. This place is…” LaBouche swept his gaze across the scene. “Scotty will notify the authorities the first chance he gets. They are probably on their way here, sirens blazing.”
A ghost of a smile touched Brigitta’s lips. “You’ve done well, LaBouche.” She glanced at the quick-silver demoness lying at their feet. “As a reward, you may have her. But!” She lifted her head and stabbed the air with an imperious index finger. “I will hold you responsible for her future failures.” Brigitta’s gaze traversed his body, and she sniffed. “Take her as a mate if you wish, but do not allow her to rule you. It’s in her nature to try.”
LaBouche bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Her gaze flicked over his shoulder in the direction of the smoking OFPD cruiser. “And get that idiot out of here before the human authorities arrive. You are no doubt right that your former partner has blown Mason’s little love nest.”
“Leave it to me.”
She cocked her head to the side and gazed into his eyes. “You’ve done well, LaBouche. It may be that you and I should spend more time together.”
“It would be my honor,” he said. He peeked at Conrau’s unconscious form.
Brigitta laughed. “You may still have her. You may even have her if you wish. I’m not jealous about who you fuck.” She cocked her head to the side and looked him over, her fearsome expression relaxing a little as she did so. “Not yet, anyway.”
LaBouche smiled. “Please tell me if that changes.”
“Trust me, LaBouche. You will know.” Brigitta smirked and disappeared with a telltale pop.
4
Tom Walton parked his car into a spot outside the emergency room of the hospital in Cuba, New York. The woman from Mason Harper’s place sat in the seat next to him as quiet as a church mouse, as still as if carved from stone. She hadn’t said a word to Tom since he’d pulled her out of Harper’s van. “Here we are, miss. You’re safe, and as soon as I get you inside, I’ll call the State Troopers. They’ll be able to protect you much better than an old geezer like me.”
As if moving against resistance, she turned her gaze away from the windshield, let it crawl across the dash, up the steering column to his hand, and then down his arm and up to his face. Her lips twitched in a gruesome smile, then quivered. “I…” she croaked.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Everything will be okay now.” He opened his door, and she jumped. “Let’s get you inside where they can help you. The quicker we do that, the quicker I can put the troopers on Harper’s trail.”
“He had a…” She shook her head, tears springing into her eyes. “He had a mask. He made it from someone’s skin, someone’s face! He…he…he kept coming to the van and…and…and—”
Tom’s face fell into the expression he’d cultivated over years of law enforcement—grim, stern, yet caring. “It’s all over now, miss.”
She turned her head to gaze at him. “It’s Debbie. Debbie Dillis.”
Tom nodded once. “Let’s go inside, Miss Dillis.”
Her lips twisted into a smile of sorts. “It’s just ‘Debbie.’ For you, it will always be Debbie.”
“Fair enough, Debbie. I’m Tom. Tom Walton.”
She nodded and closed her eyes in a long blink. “Who were those others? The woman, those men?”
