The Forsaken (30 page)

Suddenly, the certainty of putting this case to bed was once more shaken. Standing ground crumbling into quicksand. The sweat from his fingertips like clear blood on the back of the page, a horrible symmetry all its own. Fear then a loud ringing in his ears. Then nothing. Then his frail breath collapsing.

A part of him wanted to step out of this skin, rip off this mask that lied to the world about his truer nature. The part Azrael bonded to.

You can feel a piece of his soul inside you, can’t you, sonny? You must see now there is no escaping it. He’s a part of us, and it turns your guts, and makes you feel icky.

“When he kills someone…”

That’s right. The colors blend, sonny. The souls taken feed every vessel. It’s a real trip, ain’t it?

“Get out of my head.” Jude was alone in the office room, but he swore there were other voices,
his
voices, that invaded every thought and put new ones in. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Maybe you can lie to them. You can lie to yourself. But not to me. You’re losing your edge.

“Shut up,” he said, clawing at his neck.

A breathy, haunting murmur coated his insides.
Let me out again, just for a little while
.

The door cracked open just then, and in seconds both Rachel and the chief stepped in.

Oh, she’s pretty, yessssir, she is. Can smell every inch of that meat. Mmm. Like it?

“Hey,” she said, brushing up against him. Their eyes walked the space between them, and his pulse spiked.

“Did you catch the waterworks out there?” Jude asked.

“You’d think they’d never seen a horror flick,” Mike said, scratching his back.

“Still gets
me
queasy,” Rachel admitted.

“Thanks for the extra nail. I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Mike concluded with rolled eyes. After briefly examining the body, he stepped away from it. “Maybe the scared, flighty brat out there had the right idea staying out in the waiting area.”

“C’mon, Chief, there’s an old couple out there that’ll make you feel right at home.”

Mike ignored Jude’s remark and paced the office. “Had a thing for mirrors and bizarre pictures, didn’t he?”

“Turns out he had a thing for a lot more than that.”

“Elaborate.”

Jude shoved a stack of photographs into Mike’s hands. “See for yourself.”

Rachel couldn’t help glancing over Mike’s shoulder to steal a peek. “What are we looking at?”

The two men stared at each other in silence before Mike’s eyes dropped once more to the black and white photographs. A picture of a teary-eyed child came up first, bruises filling out his chest and a number of broken fingers and twisted knuckles. A dark basement landscape tapered out the background and a shot of a significantly younger Dr. Irons kneeling beside a frightened boy. Next came the images of the child’s parents and of their home, the address left blank, state left blank. Documents slipped out of past sessions and notes on the subject’s apparent mental condition. The name of the file: Morgan Baker.

Below one of the many cryptic pages were notes scribbled in.

Morgan Baker. Unstable. Shattered memories. Unprepared for future contact with others his own age. Expresses sudden changes in mood and temperament. Constant treatment recommended.

“It’s like it was taken from the headlines of one of Chase Vallace’s masterpieces.” Mike said with a curse. “Jude, I had no idea. I never would’ve condoned these sessions if I had known.”

A smug smirk lit his mouth. “Too late to look back now, right?”

“I did what I thought was right by you to keep you on my team.”

“We both know none of this was ever for me. This geriatric windbag didn’t help me at all. And apparently, he didn’t help Morgan either.”

“Jude, take it easy,” Rachel tried. “How could the chief have known? These photographs prove that apparently Dr. Irons was as unethical and sleazy as they come. And self-absorbed, and sick.”

“I’m tired of this. I’m tired of chasing something that can’t be caught. Fighting for a cause I don’t believe in.”

“Cut it out! And pull your head out of the sand. Don’t think for a second that this is over. We are going to bring this maniac to justice, one way or another.”

“Now the skeptic sounds so sure.”

Jude could sense new doubts creeping into the chief’s mind, could see them written on his face, engraved—the same doubts
he
had felt. The doubts he wanted to crush. But the doubts were growing. Like his hatred and his fear. And the craving.

A hush stilled the room until several more crime scene specialists arrived, posting yellow tape around the cadaver to create a perimeter.

Mike spent the next several seconds cracking his knuckles. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore uncertainty well.

Rachel paced the floor, and it sounded like she was humming.

“What are you doing?” Jude asked after a bit.

“Counting my footsteps.” She dropped her gaze, hair shielding her eyes and the cool breeze he imagined existed behind them. “I hate to even say this, but I’m sorta freaking out. Ever since I was young, I’ve been sure of most things. But for the first time…” She stepped closer. “I can’t see how this one ends.”

Jude grinded his teeth.

“He’s better than we are, Jude. He’s faster. He’s powerful. Always three steps ahead of us. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“We’re kidding ourselves thinking we have a prayer against something this strong. I can’t even believe this is happening, to me.” She paused and started counting again.

“It’s like Mike said, we’ll catch him and bring him to justice.”

“Please. Your voice nearly shook just then. Even
you
don’t really believe that. You’re strong on the outside, Jude, but on the inside, you’re only human. He’s…something else. A freaking ghost!”

Shut her up. She doesn’t know what she’s babbling about, sonny.

“He wants us to play along. He wants us to relive his pain.”

“I know. I just don’t want to play anymore. You’re right, Rachel. I am not strong enough to face him.”

Good, sonny. Make her believe we’re weak.
A slow voice slithered over his bones.
Powerless.

“Everything up to this moment has been flawlessly orchestrated. And we’ve fallen into place. Morgan saw to it that I found Victor. He took out Chubb and members of his crew. Most likely got the rest of the cronies on his side. Now, he’s laid his past out here for all the world to see. For us to see. And another one of these too.”

He handed her the note that was left behind, the one he’d kept crushed in his grip since the moment she and the chief entered the room.

I will judge you according to your conduct and repay you for all your vile deeds.

The
R
in repay was red.

“Add this letter to the list,” she sighed.

A sudden sharp pain shattered Jude’s thoughts. The hypnotic lullaby returned. “Let. Me. Out.” This time, the words had shape as they crept out the worn detective’s dry lips.

“What did you just say?” she asked.

A solitary tear bled down his cheek.

“Oh, Jude, are you okay? You’re bleeding…from your right eye? I think you popped a blood vessel or something. Stress is really getting to you, isn’t it? It’s getting to all of us.”

He quickly rubbed away the stain.
Do you think the other little children noticed, sonny? Do you think they trust you anymore? Does
she
trust you?

Jude’s neck jerked. The sound scratched more loudly beneath the surface.
No. One. Can. See. Fly from here. Hide.

“Let’s get lost,” he said to her, lips almost brushing against hers.

“What do you mean? We can’t just…”

Jude stroked her hand softly. “We might not make it past this week at the rate these stiffs are showing up. We could both use a little time to refocus.” He slid a strand of her hair behind her ear just then. “Let’s get outta here.”
That’s
right. Lure her away from here. Now we’re talking.

Their eyes found each other and lingered. The room had now gone still and silent, the actors in this scene frozen like picture frames, lost somewhere without time.

Jude found his exit easily.

Rachel exhaled slowly. She ducked under the yellow restriction tape and followed him. Mike was too flustered and distracted to notice.

* * *

Father Eliam felt weak. The tired priest’s blood pumped thinly inside struggling veins. Time had been harsh to his old frame. Voices haunted the farthest recesses of the church when he took his next breath. They sounded like lost infants.

His breath bled out shortly and slowly. “Fill me with hope, and grant me peace in this time of darkness. Give me strength. Give
him
strength, above all things.” He saw the candles flicker, wondered how long before they faded out; wondered if their warmth would be enough.

A new chill slipped inside.

“My God,” he prayed, in tears. “I cannot feel you anymore. Where have you gone?”

40

THE WHISPERS HAD FINALLY
subsided for the moment and Jude had Rachel alone.

He focused on the soft breaths escaping from her pouting mouth. With every movement, Jude wrestled with the idea of letting her go, wondered if he even could. He needed to keep her here, beneath him. It wasn’t solely lust or some fleeting desire; it was her scent. The scent of innocent humanity. He could smell it filling his nostrils. Every kiss, every connection injected him with a new vitality.

His lips glided over her milky skin, eyes rolled back, her belly exposed and prickling with goose bumps the more his cool fingertips stroked her. As their bodies swayed back and forth between the messy sheets on the motel mattress, Jude’s mind suddenly exploded with violent images. New bodies. Lifeless. Hollowed out and empty. But these were real, murdered victims. Not an illusion. The last several days hadn’t hardened him enough to the vivid reality of seeing more corpses bloom in his mind.

Several rapid blinks exiled these distractions to the depths of his subconscious.

A motel mirror now reflected their bodies as he finished undressing her. The reflection came alive with Rachel’s quiet hesitation and eventual surrender.
How long had it been?
he wondered.

“Jude, I never thought I could do this,” came Rachel’s tender exhale.

A hush silenced the dim motel room. The lights appeared to flicker, dance to life and death sporadically.

Rachel froze in the rhythmic dance of their bodies. Then she confessed, “You’re coming on…so strong.”

Wrapping one hand firmly around her backside, he scratched her. His strokes had been gentle up until now—welcome—but one glance into her eyes revealed her discomfort. Nostrils flaring, Jude began to snort and grunt like an animal. He wondered if oozing, black saliva would drip from his teeth soon, or if he’d spend the next few moments simply imagining it did. The gruesome pictures flashed; then nothing. Flashed again; then Rachel’s eyes pulsed. Then his eyes finally turned red.

He dropped down on top of her and pressed against her ribs. She was shaking, and Jude knew the reason. The horror had taken root once more, and as a result, heaving took over. Grasping the sheets like fragile, white breaths, Jude struggled to fight it. As he looked down at her, in shock, he saw the veins in his arms grow teeth and then limbs as they bubbled toward the wrist.

“Are you okay?” she said, misty eyed. “Jude?”

No answer. His legs kicked her bony knees, and she fidgeted until the pain quelled. His fingernails clawed at each of her inner thighs until they drew blood. He grabbed her and threw himself on top of her again, breathing heavier.

Jude dragged his face against Rachel’s chest, the beating of her heart muffled in his ear. Her fear possessed him, attracted him, lured him. His lips peeled back suddenly, and with one sharp bite, he lunged at her.

“You’re hurting me, Jude. That’s enough! I thought I was…ready. I’m not.” Rachel jammed the heel of her hand into his forehead, pushing him away for a brief moment.

But he returned with a sadistic grin. He roped her with restless hands and pressed his scabbing lips against hers. They were so delicate.

Rachel pulled away. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” she expressed, chest pushed out then dropping back in. “It hurts.”

“It always hurts the first time, sonny.”

“Sonny?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Jude, you were hurting me.”

“Just trying to be romantic, baby. That’s all. Didn’t mean to rough you up.”

“Are you feeling okay?” she said, touching his forehead. “You’re acting strange. Like, really freaking strange.”

“Rachel, don’t be so frigid.”

She blinked a lot. “I’m…not being frigid. Forget this. I let my emotions sway my better judgment.” Her forearm nudged him away. “This was a mistake.”