Hard Times (A Sam Harlan Novel Book 2) (24 page)

Billy nodded his head. “
Sí
. Ignacio killed me. You must stop him.”

Callie was staring at Billy, her mouth hanging open. “That’s Maria Diaz?” she asked.

Billy turned to her. “The bride of Christ,” he said in acknowledgment, bowing his head. “You
must
stop him.”

A thousand questions ran through my mind, but the only one I asked was, “How? I don’t know where he is.”

Billy shook his head. “So much death in front of you. So many dead behind you. You will have to be smart. Fast. You can stop him, but you
must
hurry.”

“Where is he?” I asked. “How can I find him?”

“He has returned to my home,” Billy said. “He is proud. Arrogant. Save her before it is too late.” The smoke swirled slower and the light from the sage dimmed. “So much death, young man. So very much death.”

Save her?

I wanted to ask what she meant, but it was too late. Billy slumped forward and the chill in the air dissipated as quickly as it had formed. The overhead light blazed back on and he raised his head.

There were tears in Billy’s eyes. When he spoke, his voice was his. It held no trace of an accent, but it contained a great amount of emotion. “Don’t
ever
make me do that
again
.”

* * *

Callie and I stood on the front porch. The rest were inside the Glick house, giving us a moment to discuss what had just happened.

“I’ve never felt anything like that,” Callie said. “I thought I saw a spirit once, roaming the halls of the diocese. Just a quick outline, but never—”

“Whatever that was,” I said, “it
wasn’t
a ghost. I saw a ghost before. In Decatur. I don’t know
what
that
thing
was.” I studied her face. Her green eyes were missing their normal fire. “How does that work?” I asked. “Aren’t souls supposed to go to Heaven? Or the other place?”

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Do you believe it?” I asked. “Do you believe that was Maria Diaz?”

“The Church has records about all kinds of supernatural beings,” she said, “but I’ve never read of something like that.” She bit her lip and brushed her ponytail back. “Yes. I believe that
was
Maria Diaz.”

I nodded. “What do you think she meant? Save
her
? Save
who
?”

“I don’t know,” she said, placing her hand against the front of the house and leaning against it, clearly exhausted. She twisted, trying to find a position where her back didn’t hurt.

I didn’t feel much better. I was worn out and operating on pure adrenaline. The spirit of Maria Diaz had pushed me over the top. I just wanted to go home, to Jack’s house, and sleep for a week, maybe drink a bottle of whiskey with a nice rare steak…

If the spirit is right, Ignacio Santiago is in the Mendoza home.

“We have to go,” I said, my voice rising. “We have to stake it.”

Someone cleared their throat and I turned to find Tommy Mueller standing in the doorway. “They’re pretty freaked out in there,” he said. “I mean, vampires are one thing, but ghosts?” He hesitated, then said, “What’s the plan here? I’m with you, but there has to be a plan, right? I mean, it would be
crazy
to go after that thing without a plan. Right?”

“I’ve got a plan,” I said.

Callie’s eyes widened. “What kind of plan?”

I told them.

“That’s not a plan,” Callie spat out. “That’s suicide.”

Tommy was staring at me in shock. “You
can’t
be serious.”

“You heard the old woman’s ghost,” I said. “He’s proud. Arrogant.”

“We’re just going to go in and try and kill it?” Tommy asked loudly. “That’s the plan?”

I nodded. “Callie, your crucifix will still glow, right?”

“I don’t know how I did that,” she said, her fingers absently fiddling with the crucifix. “It’s never done that before.”

“I don’t mean like it did at the motel,” I said. “But Santiago won’t know you can’t do that again. He’ll try and take me and Tommy out. And, because he’s old and proud and arrogant, he will think he’s succeeded. When you enter with your crucifix, he’ll try and get away and that’s when I’ll stake him.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Callie spat out. “How will you keep him from killing you?”

“I’m tough,” I said, faking confidence. “I can take it.”

She turned and pointed at Tommy. “What about him? He’s not been through the change. Santiago will slaughter him. It will be worse than what happened here with the Glicks.”

Tommy raised his hand. “I’ve got to go with the Sister on this one. It’s crazy.”

“We don’t have any other options,” I said quietly. “We’re either going to kill Santiago or he’s going to kill us.”

* * *

I pulled Mary Kate into the kitchen. “We’re going to the Mendoza home to kill Santiago.”

She still held her .38 in her hand, clearly spooked by the old woman’s ghost. “
Can
you kill him?”

“We have to,” I said. “It’s the only way everyone survives.”

She searched my face, and I got the impression she saw more in me than I could guess. “I didn’t understand, Sam. I’m so sorry. He’s not … anything I could have believed.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t have imagined that thing that just spoke to us, either. It’s all so—”

“I know,” I said. I wanted to comfort her, to reassure her, but like everything lately, I came up short. “If we don’t make it back in the next hour, take Lori and Colden and get the hell out of Marshalltown. You won’t be safe here.” I handed her the business card with Henry Hastings’ phone number. “Drive in any direction. Drive until you need to fill up, then call this number. He’s the sheriff of Hot Springs County, Wyoming. He will help.”

She took the card. Her hands were shaking and I took them in mine. “Mary Kate,” I said. “It was a pleasure. I see what Jack saw in you.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “I think I see a little Jack Harlan in
you
. I wish we had more time together.”

I was going to say more, but Billy Davenport stepped into the kitchen. He smelled foul, his sweat masking the vinegary smell lurking beneath. “Can I talk to you?” he asked me, then turned to Mary Kate. “Alone?”

“I’ll check on Colden and Lori,” Mary Kate said, careful not to brush against Billy as she left.

Billy watched her go, then said, “I’m sorry, Sam. I truly am. None of this was supposed to happen.”

“Save it,” I said. “I can’t forgive you. You lied to me.”

He nodded his head. “Yep. I’m a bad man and a no-good drunk. That’s all true. I just wanted to say, if you need me to go with you”—he licked his lips—“I’ll go.”

I felt my mouth drop. “You’d be gutted like a fish, Billy.”

He shrugged. “I probably deserve it.”

I bit back a dozen things, then finally settled on, “No. Nobody deserves that. Stay with the Glicks. Look out for them if we don’t come back. Can you do that for me?”

He looked at me with surprise. “Yeah, I can do that.” He turned to go. “I just want you to know that I only drink to keep from seeing. I don’t like to drink. I just can’t—”

“It’s thin,” I said. “I understand now.”

He chewed at his lip, then continued, “It’s
always
worse near Halloween. I try to stay good and drunk. But I haven’t taken a drink since this afternoon.”

I didn’t know how to respond. “Okay.”

“I didn’t,” he insisted. “Even when you were gone. I have some bottles in my bag, but I didn’t drink them. I just wanted you to know that.”

He turned and left. I thought about what he said. Refusing to drink was clearly important to him, even though he must have been terrified. In his own way, Billy tried to fight against the monsters.

I couldn’t forgive him, but I
had
gained some respect for him.

* * *

Tommy followed in his patrol car as Callie and I drove to the Mendoza home. I stopped at a stop sign two blocks away and Callie chose that moment to ask, “Are you so ready to throw your life away?”

I looked both ways, unable to meet her gaze, as Tommy pulled up behind us. “I don’t
want
to die,” I said.

She glanced at me and shook her head. “Are you certain?”

I sighed. “I know I’ve been … lost since Peoria. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. It wasn’t just losing my daughter. It was Jack. Warren. Katie. My wife. Hell, even what happened to Silas wasn’t his fault. Whatever makes a vampire a vampire is evil. I’ve accepted that God exists, and if he exists, so does evil. I have to stop evil. It’s the only way I know how to be, now.”

My voice had grown softer as I spoke. By the time I finished, I was barely whispering. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Tommy looking around, trying to figure out why we had stopped.

“My life belongs to Christ,” Callie said, as if it was obvious. “I will live and die in God’s grace. I’ve been called.” She turned to me, her face sad. “
You
don’t have to do this. You could leave. Nothing is keeping you here.”

She had a point. This wasn’t my fight. The Mendoza girls weren’t my kin. Why was I so intent on helping them? Was it because I had nothing left to live for? Was I trying to live up to some crazy expectation Jack had for me? Or was Callie right? Was I trying to get myself killed?

“I’m a Harlan,” I said. “I don’t like how vampires bully and use those around them, slaughtering them at will, ripping their life away.” I snorted and felt my mouth quirk up in a smile. “Maybe I’m an idiot, Sister, but I believe in right and wrong. I’m going to do right, even unto death.”

She regarded me with eyes that had seen too much and knew too much, eyes that held a faith that was as old and immutable as the ages. “I’ve said it before, Sam Harlan. You’re a
good
man.”

“We’ll see if you still think that in the morning,” I said, pulling away from the stop sign.

We finally reached the Mendoza home and I parked across the street. Santiago’s SUV was nowhere to be seen, but Leticia’s Altima was parked in front of the house next to her husband’s rusted-out Nissan.

“You remember what you’re supposed to do?” I asked.

Callie reached to the floorboards and raised her shotgun, then checked to make sure her crucifix was stuffed under her shirt. “I’ll be waiting. I’ll enter when it’s time.”

“If you can put silver in that monster,” I said, “don’t hesitate. But that’s not your primary goal. All you need to do is scare him with your faith. Let me handle the rest.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed tightly. “Try not to die, Sam. I believe the Lord has a purpose for you, and that purpose isn’t to die tonight.”

The warmth of her hand stirred something deep inside me. “I’m a survivor, Callie.”

She smiled and we got out of the truck, being careful not to slam the doors. Tommy pulled in behind us, got out, and followed me across the street.

I wasn’t sure it made much of a difference. The vampire had preternatural hearing, but I was counting on Santiago’s pride and arrogance to blind him to my plan. I nodded to Tommy and climbed up the steps to the newly repaired front porch.

Even though it was late, there was still a light on in the Mendoza home. The rest of the houses on the street were dark, and there was a stillness in the cold air that made me shiver. The stakes in my trench coat, tightly bound in their loops, banged against my side as we took the front steps two at a time.

An oily blackness buzzed against the back of my head, a feeling so wrong, so alien, that it turned my stomach. Santiago was near. I glanced across the road and saw Callie standing behind the truck, ready to enter when needed, and nodded to her. She nodded back.

It was time.

I pulled the Kimber from its holster and motioned for Tommy to step back, then I twisted the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

The room was as I remembered—the same threadbare couch and chairs, the same beige carpet, and the walls still covered in crucifixes. Leticia Mendoza sat on the couch. She was still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn at Angie Bent’s house. She looked up with her sensual black eyes and smiled, her mouth all white teeth and crimson lipstick. I felt an electric heat from her gaze that ran all the way to my groin.

She practically reeked of sex, but I recognized something different about here, almost a smell, a faint aura of something rotten. She had been given the gift and was close to becoming a vampire.

Two girls sat on the couch next to her. I recognized Olivia Mendoza from the family restaurant. She was dressed as if she was going to a club, in a fancy blue silk top that matched her mother’s, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail that emphasized her high cheekbones, a short black skirt that displayed her lean and taught legs. She wore makeup that emphasized her sexuality, but her eyes darted around, frantically seeking help.

A girl sat next to Olivia, a young woman who I would have recognized even if I hadn’t seen her in the family photo on the wall of Fiesta Cancun. The family resemblance between her, Olivia, and Leticia was striking. She was the girl I had been looking for.

I had found Elena Mendoza.

She wore casual clothes and tastefully applied makeup, dressed in a red-and-white-striped sweater and skintight black jeans. Her long black hair was lightly curled, her mouth pressed tightly shut, and her eyes were empty, devoid of emotion or interest. I heard Tommy snarl behind me and knew he had seen Olivia.

That wasn’t what I focused on.

I focused on Ignacio Santiago, standing behind them, leaning over the couch.

He was shirtless. I could tell because, while his face and hands were charred black, the skin on his chest was dark olive and untouched by the fury of God. He was muscular and lean, and had the kind of washboard abdomen that made me jealous when I cared about such things.

It was hard to tell, with his blackened lips, whether he was smiling or grimacing, and the remains of his face covered in greasy ash. The whites of his eyes stood out against the blackened skin of his cheeks and face, and his ivory fangs almost shone silver in the overhead light.

“Little vampire killer,” he hissed. “Found me at last.”

I chuckled, as if oblivious to the danger he posed. “Yep. Maria sends her regards.”