hand of hate 01 - destiny blues (28 page)

I started running again. Blix kept twenty feet ahead of me, stopping every few feet to stare and urge me on. My headlamp was dimming, but the quality of darkness seemed to be changing. The tunnel curved again to the right, and I smelled the lakeshore ahead of us.   
 

The tunnel widened into a low cavern. Large boulders blocked the view ahead, but a warm breeze beckoned to me. The sandy ground  gave way to a well-used path. My spirits rose, as the night air freshened across my face, and through a grated entrance ahead of me, I saw the night sky and the twinkling reflection of the surface of the lake. I sprinted to the opening.  
 

An iron grate spanned across a gap in the boulders clustered along the shoreline. Although the grate appeared to be old and rusted, it was embedded in solid rock, and had been secured with yet another shiny new padlock. I tried every key on Rhys’ key ring. This was not the way out.   
 

Blix’s squeaking caught my attention, and I trotted back to the cavern. This had to be where the rail line ended; or started, I guessed. Nearby, wooden worktables stood covered in layers of dust.  Blix bounced up and down like a manic rabbit, as if to tell me to hurry up. The light from my headlamp had grown dimmer with every passing minute, so it wasn’t until I approached the door that I noticed the skeleton.  
 

The bones were arranged in a neat pile, with the skull placed on top so the eye sockets glared directly up at anyone who would dare to turn the doorknob. A not-so-subtle warning. A sick mind.  
 

Blix was now banging himself against the solid door, insisting that Rhys was here, just behind the door, if only I would open it. The handle showed no sign of dirt or dust, and no external padlock barred the entrance. The only way out the tunnels would be through this door.  
 

I took a deep breath and turned off the headlamp. If we were going to be sneaking into someone’s basement, I didn’t want them to see me first. I hushed Blix; and cautiously opened the door.  
 

CHAPTER 32
 

I followed Blix up a steep narrow stairway to another closed door. The knob turned easily, and I eased myself into a darkened room. Several green power lights pinpointed the room with an eerie glow.  Somewhere in the distance the comforting sound of a compressor hummed. Probably a dehumidifier. Blix dashed through the door first, and waited for me as I crept inside, closing the door quietly behind me. I paused for a few minutes straining to listen if anyone was coming, but I couldn’t hear a thing over the sound of my pounding heart and the whirr of the compressor.  
 

We were standing inside a commercial kitchen; paved with black and white floor tiles, appointed with professional grade stainless steel equipment. To the right stood a combination sink and industrial dishwasher unit; on the left, a bank of refrigerators droned. A steel butcher’s table dominated the center of the room; the drain running from the cutting surface into the floor. Overhead, an assortment of sharp-looking kitchen utensils and cleavers hung from a rack suspended from the ceiling. Opposite me was the wooden door of a large walk-in freezer. Through the small window in the door, I could see frost-covered shelving just inside.  
 

Blix slammed himself continuously against the wooden door to the walk-in. I moved closer, and he scrabbled his claws at the base of door.  I pulled on the chrome handle, but it took two hands to get it open.  
 

A dim red light flicked on and I gasped when I saw Rhys lying motionless on the floor. I sobbed; grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him through the doorway back into the kitchen. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. With shaking fingers, I felt for his pulse. His skin was so cold. I couldn’t feel a thing.
 

“Come on, Rhys, work with me.”
 

I put my lips to his neck and felt a faint throb of life. Yes! A hysterical giggle escaped my lips, and I smothered it as I heard the clatter of a pan fall to the floor in another room. I froze, feeling exposed by the red light of the walk-in. I looked up, searching for the switch.
 

I gazed into the frozen scream of Andrea Gregson. I stifled a yell, slapping both my hands over my mouth. The walk-in freezer was full of bodies. They were stacked on top of one another like TV dinners.  Even their clothes were covered in hoarfrost. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone, but something massive big hit me from behind, throwing me off Rhys, pinning me to the floor beneath a heavy, kerosene-soaked rug. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to call for help, but couldn’t.  As I struggled to get clear, the beating began in earnest.   
 

CHAPTER 33
 

I awoke to the sound of metal scraping against stone and found myself lying spread-eagled on the metal butcher’s table, my wrists and ankles duct-taped to the edges. Accompanying the sound came the off-key whistling of someone approaching. The familiar melody grated on my memory, but I couldn’t place the tune. Overhead fluorescent lights exposed me to the pale yellow room, exploiting my solitary fear and vulnerable position. I strained against the tape without success.  
 

I saw no sign of Rhys. I called to Blix, and he appeared right away, staring at me with a worried expression.
 

“Hey Blix. Come here and get me loose.”
 

Blix crawled up on my chest and stared down at me. He licked his eyes and gave me a mournful squeak.  I took a deep breath and tried again.  
 

“Blix. I command you to chew the tape on my arm loose. No, not my arm, the tape. Yeah, good boy. Chew through the tape, Blix. Ow, try not to bite me, ow. Okay, never mind.” The needle sharp teeth bit to my wrist, but I didn’t care. “Keep chewing, that’s right.” Hurry.
 

The sound of boots reverberated on stone floors, getting closer, along with sounds of metal being scraped against the walls. Fingers on a blackboard. He’d be here  any minute.
 

Fear welled up inside me. “Hurry up.” I wriggled my left hand, trying to loosen the tape, as Blix’s teeth weren’t a good match for the job. The tape began to give a little. If I could get my cell phone out of my pocket, I’d be able to call for help.  
 

The whistling became louder as the demon master approached. A sharp clatter of metal sounded on the distant stone floor, as he dropped whatever he was coming to kill me with.
 

“Come on, Blix. You can do it.” I twisted my wrist again, sweating and straining against my bondage. I felt a definite give this time. Duct tape didn’t stick so good over bloody, sweaty skin. Blix was making progress. My left wrist swiveled a scooch.  
 

Trapped like a rat in a sack, the approaching whistle made me want to scream. I tried to think about what to do. I wondered if Rhys could still be alive. I wished I’d told Porter about Rhys being kidnapped when I left that message. Man oh man, this guy was coming to kill me. No one would be looking for me.  
 

A shriek of laughter escaped me as I remembered what tune the demon master was whistling. The one we sang as kids. About the worms crawling around in your brains and playing pinochle in your snout.  Panicking now, I squirmed against the tape around my wrist. I twisted and pulled with all my strength and my bloody hand came free.   
 

Adrenaline surged. I jammed my hand into my pocket, pulled out my cell phone and turned it on. I told Blix to work on my left ankle, and scrabbled at the tape on my right hand. As soon as the phone powered up, I saw I had a signal and dialed Porter’s number. He answered on the second ring, just as Blix got my left ankle free. 
 

“What the hell is going on,” was all I heard before Garlan Russ came at me with a machete. I grunted and kicked out hard with my foot. I nailed him right in the center of his chest and knocked him back. The phone flew out my hand, and Garr kept coming.   
 

The machete bit into my arm with a sickening thunk. I marveled that I didn’t feel a thing even as the blade lodged itself into the bone. He wrenched the weapon free and hit me again. My blood flew, splattering against the walls. Another chop bit deeply into my shin. Hit by hit, Garr was hacking me to pieces. I thrashed and kicked, trying to keep him off me.  
 

“Blix! Larry!  Stop him!” Stupid, but the only thing that came to me. Larry popped into view and the two of them jumped at Garr. Two guinea pigs against a grown man in his physical prime with a machete. He batted them away like flies, but they kept coming back, distracting him from chopping at me. In a lucky grab, Larry jumped up and bit Garr right in the crotch and held on.  
 

Garr roared and dropped the machete and clutched at Larry while I worked frantically to free my other hand.  
 

“Rex, get in here.”
 

The huge head pushed through the door.  
 

I shrieked and struggled to pull free, but the duct tape on my right wrist and ankle held. The creature’s head alone had to be big as a Lay-z-boy recliner, and a great white would have envied that mouthful of teeth, each as long as a pencil. Rex targeted me with predatory glare and bellowed.
 

His bloody breath blasted over me and I screamed bloody murder. Fontaigne was right; the massive djemon looked like a dinosaur, but the unmistakable intelligence in his amber eyes made him all the more terrifying. The monster had to be four or five times bigger than Oneiri, maybe half a ton of heavy bones and slabs of muscle.
 

Larry let go of Garr and slithered across the floor to attack Rex.  
 

“How did you find me,” Garr demanded, raising the machete.  
 

“Where’s Rhys?” I screamed, my mind racing to think of something, anything to keep him off me. “Why did you release the djinn?”  
 

He laughed and lowered the machete a little. “You think I did that? My father showed me that cavern when I was in junior high. Rex here has been with me ever since.”
 

“You’re a demon master.” I had to keep him talking.  I cocked my left leg in front of me and kept working at the tape on my right hand. I couldn’t find the edge of the tape with my numb fingers, but knew I couldn’t break eye contact with Garr.  
 

“Look who’s talking. Although yours aren’t much more than fish food.” His face was stone and I wondered how I’d ever thought him attractive. “Rex is as strong as I am, now.” He glanced at the monstrous demon beside him. “He has his own reasons for doing what he does. I can’t control him anymore. So yes, I’ve resorted to using the small ones.”
 

He hefted the machete in his hand and took a stance like a pitcher at bat.
 

I sobbed. “Please.  I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone.” We had to be somewhere inside the Sand Castle.  
 

   “Tell me who you tried to call or I’m going to have Rex here bite you. Believe me, you do not want him to bite you. He likes it entirely too much.”
 

“You’re the Night Shark. You and him together. That’s it, isn’t it? Djemons don’t leave DNA behind.”
 

“Rex, I command you to bite her.” The thing snaked its head around Garr and made a grab for me.
 

“Rex, NO!” I held up my free hand in a futile attempt to fend the monster off. Its intelligent eyes focused on the now glowing crescent mark in the palm of my hand. The djemon hesitated; I knew I was on the right track.  
 

“You’re so stupid. They only obey their master. I said bite--.”
 

In an instant, Rex chomped Garr’s shoulder with a ghastly crunch. Garr screamed and the demon turned and fled through the doorway. The bite was quick, but the wound no less devastating for it.  
 

Garr dropped the machete and fell to the floor, clutching the remains of his arm. The bite had gone all the way through the shoulder, and his shredded limb dangled as useless as spaghetti. Blood pumped in thick spurts across the tile floor. I heard myself screaming and forced myself to calm down. I didn’t know if Rex was coming back or not. I had to get out now.  
 

I had Blix work on my ankle while I struggled with the tape around my wrist. Larry’s teeth weren’t made for gnawing, but they’d done a great job on Garr’s nuts, so who was I to complain? I scraped futilely at the tape, scratching for an edge; my numb hand too sweaty and bloody to be useful.
 

Garr began to moan.  “Not my fault,” he said, over and over. There was something wrong with his aura.  Clotted and gray, it appeared to be eroding in some areas, the gaps held together by only a transparent film of slime. He looked as if he were rotting from the inside out.  
 

“Help!” I desperately hoped someone heard me. The duct tape at my wrist wasn’t cooperating. Nothing was working. To my horror, Garr scooted himself across the bloody floor toward the machete.