Saved and SAINTified (76 page)

“I know, baby. Everything will be okay. Just keep quiet, okay?” she whispered back, her heart beating a mile a minute.

Dread filled her. Her father-in-law had assured that he’d be right back; he was going to get the carnage away before his grandchildren had a chance to witness it and Beset left to tend to the guys’ wounds. Before Saint had departed, he’d warned her and explained that she had to stay in the house, no matter what happened. Beset had blessed the house several times, walking around with an eagle feather and sage. She’d prayed over it and spoke in a language that was so foreign to Xenia, it almost sounded made-up for effect. Regardless, Xenia had to protect her children and craziness was never as real as it was right then, at that moment. She tried to calm herself, and prayed with all of her might.

Saint
, if you can hear me, if you can feel me, my God! We are in trouble! I need you! I need you now!

****

The man in black sniffed the air. Something wasn’t right. He could smell Saint’s energy all around, and an uncomfortable warmth moved through out. Overwhelming, like a furnace on full blast. The scent, like musky cologne, filled the room, almost nauseating him. Yes, he knew that scent—it had filled the chamber the first time he’d met his father’s adversary. He was sickened at some of his mother’s sister wives, who were seemingly basking in it, loving it, as if they were being seduced. He saw them tossing Saint glances and he was sure his father gave consequences for such betrayal later that evening—just one more reason of many for the charismatic playboy to be cut down.

He got to his feet and raced around, screaming and yelling as he searched for the newborn child.
He stopped, cursed and caught his breath after several wayward moments of running in circles, from room to room, and coming up empty handed. No wonder his father had sent two of them. It was at least a three man job; the damn house was larger than he’d anticipated and he didn’t have a clue as to where anything was. As he caught his bearings, his eyes narrowed on the basement door.

He looked at the ground as he now stood right before it, a low forming fog, dense, cold as ice, began to seep.
Where was the warmth? Where was the peaceful greeting? No ... this was cold, brutally cold, like being stabbed with an icicle. He pulled on the basement door. Locked. He pulled harder, nothing. He just knew that behind it was his treasure trove. He stood back and, with all of his brute might, kicked the door down. It flew off the hinges, falling haphazardly on the steps. A scream came from below.

Yes indeed,
Xenia.

Violently p
erverted, gruesome and grotesque thoughts consumed him as he descended the steps, drawing closer. He feasted off of her fear. He could almost taste her anxious sweat in the air. Step by hurried step, he made his way until he was sinking in the plush carpet and looking at darkened walls with large, black surround sound speakers embedded in the partitions, as well as a colossal movie screen, partially shrouded in dark red curtains.

“
Very nice home ... shame he’s probably dead by now.” The man surveyed the expensive radio gear. It was obvious that Saint was serious about his music but only the screams of his wife and children as he killed them would be music to his ears now. He went through the space, opening up doors, slamming things and running his hand in the smallest of cracks and crevices.

“Come
to me!” he called out and threw a chair across the room, causing a loud crash. Then, he looked down. His feet were surrounded in fog—the same fog from was upstairs, only it wasn’t his. The spell in the bag was much different. His breathing became labored as it weighed him down, pulled on him, made each step laborious.

He yelled out as he
passed the pool table and reached the small office entrance. He pulled on the doorknob. Locked. Grinning, he stood back and kicked it in. He stood inside the sparsely furnished room—and found them. 

He was surprised to see three. He’d only felt
two
. Xenia gripped her children tightly, her chest visibly rising and falling, her skin gleaming with sweat, despite the cold. The children whimpered like tortured puppies. The man in black grinned, their fear tasted so good...

“Hello, beautiful
woman,” he mouthed as he took a step closer. Before he could enjoy his discovery, Saint’s desk lamp lifted in the air and hurled toward him, barely missing him before it crashed into the wall and broke. The man’s eyes grew wide.

Not only his daughter, but his
little sons have power, too? This is unheard of!

He looked at both the little boys, his anger
roused, almost as thick as the fog that continued to follow him from room to room. He then noticed the red circle on the wall, growing right before his eyes. The little boy yelped and hugged his mother tighter, distracting him from the vision on the wall.

The
little monsters look just like him...

He began to block hard
, causing confusion for Hassani.

“Hey little boy, if you throw something at me again, use your little magic powers to try to hurt me
, I will hurt you, your brother and mother much worse!”

The man in black smiled with satisfaction
after giving the harsh warning as he continued to approach the trio...

****

Saint clutched the airplane arm rests as the plane bounced about on the landing. He glanced over at the glowing L.AX sign, now visibly seen from his window. They’d arrived and he was itching to get off of that plane at sonic speed. He wanted to be the first one out, not wait for bumbling, slow passengers to get their overhead cargo full of touristy knick knacks as they prepared for leisure cocktails and bathroom breaks with screaming infants. He undid his seatbelt and stood as the plane was still moving.

“Sir, please remain seated until the plane has completely landed and is no longer moving
,” a short, petite blonde stewardess said to him, her lips pursed disapprovingly.

He debated on arguing with her
but didn’t want to cause a scene and get held up. He was on borrowed time. He still had trouble getting a read on his family, and his calls to Xenia, Jagger and Lawrence continued to go unanswered. He knew why. There was a disturbance, and that was an understatement.

His heart beat out of his chest.
Jagger and Lawrence were well trained, and they could handle hostile situations, but Nizsm’s eldest sons were almost as bad as he was and would resort to trickery if they were losing ground ... just like their old man.

Saint
sat back down in his seat and grinded his teeth. Finally, the moment arrived and he bolted from his chair, grabbed his bag and moved so quickly off the plane, he almost knocked another person down.

“Sorry!” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran down the short walkway and navigated quickly through the airport. He hadn’t checked a bag and even if he had, it would just have to stay there. Like
déjà vu, he raced against the clock to his parked Lamborghini, jumped inside it, and hauled his ass out of there, with nothing but a long, silver streak and a thin trail of hot smoke behind him...

****

“He’s gotta gun, Mommy,” Dakarai said, causing the man to look down at him with frustration and wonder. “And ... and he wants to kill lil’ sister ... and ... his brother dead. Uncle Jagger kilt his brother...” 

A deaf mute?!
Saint’s son is a damn deaf mute?!

He now understood why he didn’t pick up on the boy
. It was a pity that such a rare, sweet find would have to perish.

He wished he could just kill them all
—shoot them in the head and be done with it, but he remembered his father’s warning to not kill anyone until the baby was in his hands. He may need them for questioning—would torture them if necessary, and that would be delightful. He knew Saint wouldn’t leave them without protection; he just had no idea it would be to this extent and with the most unlikely of people ... children.

He looked down at his feet, noting the rising fog
that ascended slowly up his legs. He knew what it meant now ... he knew all too well. Saint was coming and he was running out of time. Fear struck upon remembering his father’s repeatedly throwing in his face that he and his brother couldn’t take Saint down. Only
he
could—and he knew in his heart that something had gone wrong,
terribly
wrong, making this situation all the more critical.

He wouldn’t waste valuable energy going through th
is palace searching in vain anymore.
Someone
was going to talk to him and he knew the best person to do that was the woman. After all, she was the only person in the house who had absolutely no powers or abilities. He could easily crush her.

He
tried harder to block Dakarai, knowing it wouldn’t help, but he had to try. The boys were protecting their mother, creating an energy fortress, making it difficult to even reach her. Their faces held forbidding scowls as the two held hands around their mother, enclosing her in a protective circle. What disturbed him was the lack of fear, especially from the younger one. His body turning cold as ice, he shuddered and kept his eyes locked on the smallest of the group. Still no fear. He was either a fool or soulless ... or maybe both.

How silly to be afraid of a little boy
. He’s just a child.

But s
omething was going on with this child ... something
beyond
disturbing.

The fog kept rising, and scent returned, stronger. Things were slipping out of his control. 

Suddenly, an object lifted from the floor, flashing and blaring with a deafening noise. The toy robot flew toward him at incredible speed.

“No!” He ducked, stumbling backwards, and his anger flared when the toy brushed harshly against his ear, cutting it before crashing into the wall. He tried to stay focused so he could get past the energy field to the weakest one—their mother. Upon attempting a step, he screamed out in sheer pain from the burn of debilitating shock waves through his entire body, as if he were being electrocuted. Something, or
someone,
was protecting them. Something unlike he’d never experienced before and it terrified him.

He tried to read the woman’s mind, to put pressure on her, but it was blank.

Something is blocking her thoughts. She can’t do this on her own, this strongly! Her sons! Fuck!

****

As he struggled to block Dakarai and break through the psychic fortress the two boys built, Xenia reached in back of herself and pulled the gun she’d stashed from her earlier bathroom visit, on the side of her black panties, by her hip. Her hand shook violently; she took a deep breath, trying to cool herself down. Dakarai continued to rattle off play-by-play of the man’s plans, despite the man screaming at the young child to shut up.

“Shut up! If you don’t shut up, I will kill you all!”

Dakarai ignored him and continued—he had already seen the truth, and called the man in black’s bluff.

****

I’m going to blow their heads off!
He gritted his teeth and briefly shut his eyes.

No, I can’t! I still need them as leverage
... and ... if Saint is on his way, I’ll need them. He’ll do anything for them, I can’t beat him without the children but ... I can’t even reach them!

Everything continued to fall completely apart, right before his eyes.

Hassani, though still apparently dazed, continued to cast objects toward him, some of them slamming harshly against him. He’d had enough and made a lunge toward the boy, groaning from the extreme pain, and trying to move past the electric shocks to his body.

The woman pointed a gun at him
.

“I wouldn’t do that!”

*
***

Her hand shook. She’d never shot and killed anyone before. Cutting someone, beating them up and slapping them around was different than this. Holding that gun and shooting it would’ve never made her afraid under the circumstances, however. That wasn’t the problem at all; it was bigger than that. She was a mother. Her most precious jewels, her children, were in danger but that was just it—
her
children were
there
. She was terrified they’d be scarred for life after seeing the scene play out, having to watch Mommy shoot a man dead. But what could she do? It was him or them.

The fog grew thicker, now knee deep
and the floor was no longer visible. When it rode up past his stomach, Dakarai giggled.

“Daddy’s here
!” he whispered.

****

The entire house began to shake. Xenia was fully aware that this wasn’t your typical California earthquake. This was happening only right there, on that specific plot of land, and it felt as if a giant hand had picked up the house and juddered it like a saltshaker over a plate of bland food. Xenia held onto the gun and Dakarai and Hassani gripped her leg tighter as they moved all around to sidestep books on the shelves falling to the floor and almost hitting them in the head.
That’s it ... now or never.