Shadow of Hope (6 page)

Chapter: Seven

Lucian walked two miles to a white cottage style house on foot, keeping to the shadows. He had dropped his cab fare just before that, preferring to take no chances of being tailed by any diligent eyes that may be watching. He tested the door, pushing lightly. There was no give. It was locked.

He looked around once more before producing a hand-sized cordless drill from the pocket in his dark duster. He hated using something with such a distinctive whining noise, but speed was the prerogative here and this was the fastest way to accomplish a break-in these days.  He placed the tip of the drill against the lock housing and depressed the trigger.

The stark whine lasted only as long as it took to punch through the metal housing of the lock, which was all of about three seconds max. He pushed the door open and walked in.  He surveyed the living room. If the house followed the standard layout of most houses these days, the Master Bedroom should be just to his right.

He passed the entryway into the hall and saw two rooms, one to his left and one to his right. A cursory examination of the left room revealed a bathroom. The one on the right was the one he was after.

He entered the room and started taking drawers out of the woman’s dresser, upending them and examining the contents closely. It had to be somewhere here, and he wouldn’t stop until he found it. The price for failure was too high this time.

As his eyes meticulously scanned the contents of each pile of clutter from each drawer, he remembered back to a time when he was chosen as Head Scout by Gaia for just this very reason. The memories of his old life opened fresh wounds in his heart. The very thought of Mother cut the deepest of them all. Why did she have to betray him as she did? Why was he not worthy of her love when all the others were?

Why couldn’t she have trusted him with more power?

Nothing was found in the drawers. He moved on to the top of the dresser itself, examining each and every trinket with delicate care. It could be in any of these crafted items. Hell, it could even actually
be
one of these crafted items. His search was interrupted as he picked up the sound of a car approaching the house on the street outside.

So the prey has returned to its haunts. Looks like every hunter has its day after all. I must prepare an appropriate welcome for her.

****

Zoe stopped in the vet’s office and talked to the doctor. The schedule was light so she was able to take the next couple of days off. Chris was staying in town and she really wanted a fresh start with her dad. She pulled
into the driveway with her dad behind her. The front door was ajar, which was not really unusual. Her coven sisters all had keys and most didn’t believe in locking the doors. In the country that was fine, but this was Chicago and not a hundred acre farm on the outskirts.

She smiled, she loved them all. Crystal was the high priestess, the one who acted as a mother to Zoe. Crystal didn’t allow Zoe to call her mom, but she filled the role to a T. Four more coven sisters lived on the farm: Hannah, Daisy, Amelia and Penelope. She was raised in a household filled with love and fond memories of her mother and grandmother. The farm belonged to her grandmother, but she left it to the coven.
When Zoe had left for the big city, they reminded her constantly that the farm was her home.

They stopped by and visited whenever they came into town. She wondered if they were still here as she shut the car door and headed to the front door. Chris stopped her before she got to the door.

“What’s wrong?” Zoe asked.

“Your front door is open.”

She smiled at her dad. “It’s probably one of my coven sisters. They forget to shut the door. I guess living in the country and sleeping with the door open will do that to you.”

“I see. It would make me feel better if you let me go first, just in case.”

He stepped on the porch, keeping to the side of the door. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close to the siding. She was about to laugh at this silliness, but stopped when he pointed to the door lock. It had a hole punched right through it, and metal shavings were scattered everywhere. Whoever was in her house did not have a key.

She glanced up at her dad, and whispered. “Do you think this has anything to do with someone chasing me yesterday?”

He shrugged his shoulders, but they remained stiff.

She yanked on his sleeve. “You know something you’re not telling me, don’t you?”

He turned putting her behind him. “Can we talk about this later? The person who did this,” he pointed to the door. “-may still be inside. If they are, I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”

He opened the door and slid in through the crack, she began to follow, but he motioned for her to stay behind. She sighed, but stayed put until he was out of sight. There was no way she was going to stay out here by herself.

She watched her dad pull out a concealed handgun, assuming an officer’s stance. “You heard me, Zoe. Stay put. I’m going to do a room-by-room sweep. I’ll signal you when I have an all-clear. Understood?”

Zoe folded her arms. “It’s my house, dad. I-”

“Zoe!” Her father’s voice was low, but his tone was sharp. “Am I understood?”

Zoe gritted her teeth. “Yes, sir.”

Her father entered her house. Zoe would be damned if she would she was going to just stand here and do nothing. She shuffled in her purse for her cellphone.
Okay, boxes of tampons may have been stretching the truth a little, but I seriously have way too much shit in here. It’s time to econo-

She was nearly knocked down by a brunt shove. “Dad, a simple-”

But when her eyes rose to the figure in front of her, it was anyone but her dad. She locked eyes with the man, and saw intense blue orbs staring back at her. His eyes locked on a point below her neck, which frankly, made her less than comfortable. And then she saw them light with a wild spark. He grabbed at her chest. She shoved him back, hard.

“Hey, you fucking pervert! Keep your god damn hands off me!”

She pulled back her purse to clock him, just like she did that asshole Evan. The thought left her a little more than smug. As the purse arced for his head, he ducked inside her arm’s reach and grabbed at her necklace. The only connection to her departed mother. His hands closed around the heart shaped locket as her purse slammed him in the back, blunting the blow.

There was a stark hiss, and the man yelped out as he yanked his hand away. Zoe kicked at his knees, but he sidestepped and brought the palm of his hand under her jaw, knocking her to the ground. Her teeth rattled with the impact and blood seeped from her mouth where the strike caused her to bite her tongue damn near in half
, from the feel of it. She hit the ground, her breath escaping in a single whoosh of air.

She saw the man’s face hovering over
her and felt the chain of her necklace tighten around her neck. Then she felt nothing. The familiar and reassuring weight of the locket was now gone.

“Get away from my daughter, you son-of-a-bitch!” Zoe watched as her dad tackled the intruder to the ground. The man rabbit
-punched Chris in the throat, and Zoe let out a choked scream as the air came back to her, struggling to her feet.

Chris grabbed the man’s retracting fist with both hands, one below the wrist and one in an overhand grip on the man’s hand. Chris placed his fingertips under the man’s palm and wrenched the hand one way while holding the wrist stationary. There was a sick crack. The man gritted his teeth, but refused to yell. He head-butted Chris and disentangled himself, running away from them.

Zoe ran to her father and helped him get up. “Dad, are you o-”

Chris shrugged free from her grip. “Stay here, Zoe. Like hell that son-of-a-bitch is getting away that easily. Go to a neighbor’s. Call 911. Tell them he’s running
up Hoyne, right off of Ashwood! Give them a full description.”

“Da-” Before she could finish, Chris was sprinting full out in the direction the man had fled. She watched him leave. Just like he always did. She hoped to god that this time he came back.

Chapter: Eight

Evan entered the doors of the Angels of Mercy homeless shelter with a swollen eye and three bruised ribs. Applause greeted him as he made his way towards the kitchen, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He looked around, smiled and waved at the various staff
and miscellaneous shelter regulars who had nowhere other place to call home.

He met an older African-American man behind the serving counter. The man, ‘Mean’ Clyde, hugged Evan fiercely. His arms scarred and
covered with faded green and black ink, setting a stunning contrast against his dark skin. “Hey, Evan. Nice job out there tonight. That Rodriguez kid was one mean bastard.”

Evan winced as Clyde released the hug, his bruised ribs protesting the sudden application of pressure.  He’d be feeling that for a bit. “Yeah. Tony ‘Tough’ trained him well.”

“But not well enough,” Clyde said, plopping some home-style garlic and herb mashed potatoes on a plate, drizzling it with rich brown gravy.

Evan shook his head. “Why do you do that?”

Clyde eyed him with confusion. “You get hit in the head too many times, boy. Do what?”

Evan pointed to the potatoes. “Make a stunning pot of mashed potatoes, only to drench it in a substance most people could stand a lead pipe in?”

Clyde eyed him with faint disapproval. “I know you did not just say that son.”

Evan laughed, and then winced, clutching his side. “Who’s been taking too many headshots here? Do I need to repeat it again, only this time you can turn your hearing-aid up to full volume?”

Clyde removed the hand towel from his apron, snapping at Evan’s legs with it. Evan sidestepped. Clyde shook his head. “You kids today. No respect whatsoever, I tell you. This, Evan,” he raised the spoon, letting the thick gravy spool from it like pure caramel.

“-is the frosting of life. Just like you can eat a cake without it,
but you don’t know what it truly means to be alive until you accent the cake with it. Man made mashed potatoes and God made gravy.”

Evan swooped a scoop of potatoes from the pot and spooned it into his watering mouth. He let the substance literally melt
there before replying. “A cruel and unjust god you serve then, Clyde. I’ll make my peace with the Redeemer of men’s souls and let you square with Him on the sins of serving the god of grease and the friar of fat.”

Clyde waved a spoon at Evan. “Mark my words. The Almighty is fat, and the Almighty loves rich foods.”

“All things are permissible, but not all things are beneficial,” Evan said, quoting First Corinthians, chapter ten.

Clyde rolled his eyes and sighed. “Man does not live by bread alone. That’s all I’m going to say on that. I don’t need to get in a scriptural pissing contest with God’s Gifted,” he said with a laugh.

Evan didn’t know what to say to that. He knew he was tired and sore though, and wanted nothing more than to find a nice cot and crash right here and now. But he had his obligations as well. “I showered already, so let me help you guys out here, Clyde.”

Clyde raised his eyebrows. “Evan, God took a day of rest, so can you. You took quite a toll against Tony’s kid. The only thing you should be helping is yourself to a bed. Get some rest, son. We got more than enough help for tonight.”

Evan folded his hands across his chest and winced. “I’m here. I might as well do something before I go home, Clyde. My mind’s set, you know how I am,” he said with a chuckle.

Clyde sighed. “Alright then. Dishes are stacking up. You know the drill.”

Evan nodded. “Cleansing soiled vessels is a specialty of mine.”

****

Evan made it home, exhausted. He lived in the basement of his gym, and he felt every single step it took to get there as acutely as he felt every single blow from ‘Rocket’ Rodriguez earlier. Padded gloves or no… that kid hit like a hammer and quick as lightning. It seemed Tony chose the right nickname for him after all. The kid was a boxing prodigy, and could easily be the future of the sport. Evan wished him well in that pursuit. But not so well he’d simply drop the regional title for a swollen eye and three bruised ribs. He was older. He wasn’t dead. Not by a long shot. He still had way too much of God’s work to do before the final bell tolled in his life.

He sat down on his bed, eyeing the pictures on the nightstand beside it. Most of them were of him and his grandfather training. One simple picture of his father preaching. One of his mother and sisters at a picnic
, before the accident, before the kidnapping and before life felt completely apart for him.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a crumpled, tear stained note.
God judges a man not by his deeds, but by his heart. One day I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive your Father, Evan. No matter what you think, he loved you dearly until his last breath.

When Evan received news of his father’s death, he simply sent back a card to his mother saying,
you have my regards.

It was one thing that would haunt him
until the day he died. He still couldn’t talk to his mother. He doubted he could ever forgive himself for that. He was certain his mother never could either.

He caressed the picture with his sisters. Missy would now be about twenty-six. Sarah was younger, and would have been about Zoe’s age.

Evan blinked.
What in God’s name prompted that? She would be about twenty-two now. I don’t need some heathen’s name as a mile-marker for my deceased sister’s age.
Why would he even-?

A loud, obnoxious banging on his door interrupted his thoughts. Good Lord, what is it now? Can a man even get some peace around here?

He made his way up the stairs as he had descended them, his hands on his ribs and breathing as shallowly as possible, which was not difficult given his martial training. It was the natural way to breathe. People just had to relearn it, particularly in more smog ridden cities.

The banging on the door increased in tempo and volume.  “Yeah, yeah,” Evan grumbled.

He opened the door. “Where’s the fir-”

Zoe burst into the door, apparently not of her own volition. Her father, Chris, strode briskly in behind her, then turned and slammed the door, bolting it.

“Well this night just keeps getting better and better,” Evan muttered irritably.

Chris turned on him and pointed a finger. “Zip it, Evan. Conference. Now.”   

Evan could see the surprise etched in Zoe’s features. “You two know each other? Seriously? I feel like I just found out my best friend was sleep-”

Chris turned on Zoe. “Same advice as for Evan. Zip it. The time for games is over,” he said, striding past Evan at a clip.

“Locker room,” he said curtly. “Zoe, stay here. I mean it.”

To Evan’s surprise, Zoe did as her father commanded, albeit with great reluctance. So did he, for that matter, following Chris into the gym’s small locker room. “God Chris. What’s going on-?”

Chris turned on him. “Zoe’s house was broken into, Evan.”

Evan shrugged. “So you file a police report-”

Chris shook his head. “I did. What you need to understand, Evan, is that nothing was stolen. It was smashed. They were looking for one thing. And they got it, Evan.”

Evan wasn’t sure which emotion came on the strongest. Anger or surprise. “That’s why it’s a locket, Chris! So she can wear the damn thing when she goes out of the house!”

Chris gripped Evan by the shoulders tightly. “That locket is her only connection to her mother, Evan. I assure you, she wears it everywhere she goes.”

“Then how in God’s name-”

“The perpetrator was in the house when I went in. He must not have been expecting me because he didn’t stay around long. I did a perimeter sweep on the house and found no one in there, but when I came out, he was fighting with Zoe. He grabbed the necklace from her after knocking her to the ground, Evan.”

Evan took a deep breath to clear his head. He winced as the pain shot through his ribs.

“What the hell happened to you anyways?” Chris asked, eying him with raised brows.

“Tough Tony’s champ contender.”

Now Chris winced. “Good thing I’m not asking you to fight here.”

Evan tilted his head. “Oh? And what exactly then are you asking me to do?”

Chris wiped his brow with his palm, slicking his hand back though his hair. Or what was left of it. “I’m asking you to keep Zoe safe, Evan.”

Evan raised his hands. “C’mon, Chris. Don’t do this to me. Can’t you have some of your Afghanistan buddies watch her? She’d be safer under
military surveillance anyways.”

Evan regretted the words the minute he spoke them. It was unfair to use that against Chris, a second father to him. Chris pinned him with a stern gaze. “Yeah, Evan. Because these guys don’t have enough to worry about without getting dragged into someone else’s
goddamn war. If I felt it necessary, I would. You’re not going soft here man, are you?”

Evan bristled. “Of course not. I just…”

“I know Zoe can be a handful, God Evan, I do. But-”

“No. It’s not that. It’s-”

“The fact she’s a witch,” Chris prodded.

“Okay, that’s one thing. But if the Gateway has been stolen, time is of the essence and I need to-”

“Protect my daughter,” Chris finished sternly. “I’ll track this guy down. He endangered someone very precious to me and I intend to make him pay. Rather than you running around like a chicken with your head cut off, let me use my intelligence network to find him. Then I’ll call you in.”

Evan glared at Chris. “Promise?”

“Soldier’s honor, Evan.”

Evan couldn’t argue with that, and he didn’t even try.  When they re-entered the gym area proper, Evan was surprised to find Zoe still there, sitting on the couch. He raised his
eyebrows. Zoe glared at them both. “When your father is a professional IO trainer, you have few places you can hide. That’s Intelligence Operative, for the layman.”

Evan returned her glare. Chris walked over to Zoe and sat down next to her. He put his hand on her leg. “Sweetie, I need you to pack some things.”

“Like hell I will. I’m not going to just up and run because some thug broke into my house and stole my locket!”

Chris looked to
Evan, and then returned his gaze to Zoe. Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “You guys know something and you’re keeping it from me. Spill or I’m not going anywhere!”

She glanced at Evan. “And yes, that’s a threat.”

Evan shrugged. Chris sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Look, sweetie. I’ve made a lot of enemies in my profession. People who want to see me hurt or dead. And what better way to hurt me than to come at the only thing I have left? I need you to work with me on this one Zoe.”

Zoe crossed her arms over her chest.  “To do that would imply I’ve not cooperated with you in the past. It’s kind of hard to cooperate with a ghost, dad.”

Evan saw the pain all over Chris’ face. Chris kept it from reaching his voice. “You think I spent all that time away from you because I didn’t care?”

Zoe gritted her teeth. “I think you had a job that was more important to you than your family,” she replied tersely. 

What a spoiled, obnoxious- He remembered the card he sent to his mother after his father died. Kids didn’t hurt their parents because they were bad. They hurt them because they hurt. Either way, this was going nowhere fast. He reached over towards the wall and pulled a set of keys from a peg. “Chris.”

Chris turned and Evan tossed him the keys. “Once she packs, you guys can use those to get in. I need some sleep. I have work tomorrow.”

Chris threw the keys back at Evan and he caught them underhanded, perplexed. “No can do, champ. I want you guys out of the city. I want her at the farm.”

The anger swelled within his breast like
some poisonous blossom. He gritted his teeth. “I can’t do that, Chris. I have work tomorrow!”

Chris shook his head. “I’ll make the rounds. Explain things. Evan, put your ideals-”

“No,” Zoe said, getting up and turning to leave. She grabbed her purse. Evan winced at the memory of being slugged in the back of the head with it.

Chris grabbed Zoe’s arm. “No is right Zoe. You’re going with Evan and Evan is going to the farm.”

He gave Evan a hard stare. “Isn’t that right, Evan?”

****

Lucian entered the abandoned paper factory through the back door. The musty scent hit him first. He walked over to a small trapdoor located in the corner of the building and descended into the Chamber, as Aries had taken to calling the basement area Lucian was using for the Rite.

As he clambered down into the Chamber, the second thing to hit him was the noise; dozens and dozens of voices pleading, begging to be released. Lucian gritted his teeth. Since he started kidnapping spirits in an attempt to weaken the threshold between this material world and the spiritual world beyond
, all he ever heard was the constant moaning and wailings of his victims. They haunted his dreams, they haunted his waking hours and he never came down here unless he needed to do another round of kidnappings.

Aries stood in the center of Lucian’s ritualistic pentagram, inverted, to draw more negative spiritual energy for the Rite. It also served the purpose of binding the spiritual to matter. Aries’ hands were crossed behind his back. “I see you’ve returned, Lucian. I have full faith you’ve accomplished your mission?”