Wicked Game (41 page)

She moved closer to one side and eased the pistol away from Maddie’s nerveless fingers. Quickly, she retrieved her phone with the other and dialed Mac again. Maddie’s eyes closed. She was bleeding profusely from a wound in her abdomen. Self-inflicted? Or…what…? She set the gun down, put the phone on speaker, and tried to stanch the flow of dark blood with some of the old woman’s clothing. “Don’t move,” she said, “I’ll get help.” But there was so much blood, so damned much blood. “Hang in there.”

This time, the call went straight to voicemail, and snagging up the cell, she sputtered off where she was and that she needed an ambulance and that she was going to call 911—when he stepped from the shadows, from the hallway.

Becca froze, eyes wide. For the first time she got a good, hard look at this psycho who had been chasing her down, for that’s who he was. She nearly crumpled when she recognized his features, so like Jessie’s, so like her own. He was an older, stronger, male version of Jezebel Brentwood. And he was related to Becca in some way, as well.

“Sister,” he snarled, smiling and showing strong white teeth as he realized she recognized him for the monster he was, a murderer who was blood kin. He lifted a hand. In his fingers was a long-bladed knife. Blood dripped from its cruel razor edge.

“Why?” she whispered, gesturing vaguely toward Maddie’s crumpled form.

“Her time came.”

She saw the deadly intent in his hazel eyes as the wind raged around the cliffs, rattling the eaves, screaming over the thunder of the tides. “Why? Why are you doing all of this?”

“You are Satan’s spawn, witch.” His nostrils flared. “And you carry a new evil.”

“Bastard!” she screamed.

His heartless leer chilled her to the bottom of her soul. “If you only knew.”

The gun was only a few feet away. If she jumped to the left…

“At last, your blood will spill,” he taunted. “Your time has come, too.”

“Justice,” Maddie whispered, glaring up at him, tears streaking down her wrinkled cheeks. “Run, girl.”

Justice. His
name
was Justice. He’d attacked Maddie with the knife and hidden upon hearing Becca arrive. The gun was her defense, and Becca had taken it from her.

And now he was back to finish the job.

Take not only Madeline’s life, but hers as well.

No way!

Becca lunged for the gun but he was quick, anticipating. His knife whizzed through the air, sliced into her arm. She cried out but her fingers found the handle of the gun. She grabbed it, flung her arm around, aiming the barrel his way, finger on the trigger.

He yelled at the same moment she screamed.

BAM!

The pistol kicked, but he’d expected the shot as he threw himself sideways, rolling out of harm’s way. Becca scrambled to fire a second shot.

BAM!

The bullet slammed into the side of the wall, kicking up sheet rock and bits of wood. He ducked sideways, then quickly out of the way, around the corner.

Becca’s pulse deafened her. “Leave before I blow you away!” she yelled, but heard nothing save her own ragged breathing, the shriek of the wind, and Maddie’s slow moans. Becca’s hands were shaking, but she forced them steady, training her aim on the doorway. If the son of a bitch stepped one foot into the open area, she’d pull the trigger again. Her arm hurt and she saw blood soak her sleeve. The useless cell phone was still within reach, but surely the shabby motel had a landline…She glanced around the room, searching for a receiver. A shadow streaked across the window.

He was outside!

She turned toward the sagging window where the panes rattled and cold air hissed into the room. But she was mistaken. The moving umbra she’d seen wasn’t this monster of a man, but merely a branch being tossed in the wind. From the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the hallway.

What?

She whirled as he flew through the door, his knife raised. She shot again, the bullet zinging into his shoulder.
Again!
Her fingers tightened over the trigger, but he was on her, the weight of his body, toppling her to the floor. She screamed and they fell on the near-dead woman and she groaned painfully.

The demon-man’s breath was hot against her, his body all muscle and sinew as they struggled. Becca slapped at him, tried to claw his face, attempted to shoot the damned gun again, but as she did, he wrestled her arm behind her back.

Pain shot through her shoulder and she dropped the gun, heard it hit the floor. No! Oh, God, no!

“Finally, sister,” he growled. “Finally.”

“No way in hell,” she threw back at him and he cinched her arm up a little higher. She screamed in pain and he, lying atop her, pinned her to the floor, said, “Scream all you want, Rebecca. No one will hear you out here.”

He was right. Even on a day when the wind was still and the surf quiet, this old ruin was so isolated, a scream would never carry to another human’s ears.

“By the light of the moon,” Maddie whispered. “When the demons of the earth arise, then will you be taken, son, to the world from where you came. I curse you this day and the day of your birth.
You, Justice,
are the true spawn of Lucifer.”

Becca felt the man atop her tense. This monster was Mad Maddie’s son?

“You curse me?” he demanded, looking up and glaring at his dying mother. “
You
curse
me
? When I’m God’s messenger? Sent here to right all the wrongs of Siren Song?”

Becca didn’t move, didn’t want to distract him. He was on his knees now, all of his attention focused on the woman who had borne him.

“I’m the only reason there are not more of
them.
I’m the only one who can cleanse the earth of their evil.” He was moving now, closer to his mother, no longer straddling Becca.

It took all of Becca’s willpower not to move, to feign unconsciousness, to draw no attention to herself.

“You are as bad as the rest, old hag.”

Maddie gurgled and rasped, “Go to hell.”

Becca’s eyes darted around the room. The window.

She didn’t wait. In one motion, she scrambled to her feet, hurtled herself through the rotting pane, tucking and rolling as glass shattered and crackled around her. She hit the sandy ground outside, sprang to her feet, and took off screaming at a dead run.

Mac was hauling ass to Siren Song. At the local Safeway store he’d picked up Hudson Walker who’d tersely told him the way. Walker had been hell-bent to storm the gates of the cult, but Mac had been able to calm him down, insist that they leave the sports car and drive together.

“…but when we get there, you stay in the car. We have to wait for a search warrant anyway, but the sheriff’s department thinks they can get one.”

“We don’t have much time.” Walker was ashen, one knee jiggling nervously, his arm in a sling, and probably on some kind of pain medication. Useless, Mac realized. Worse than useless. A liability.

“So here’s how it’s going to go down. We wait until we hear, then you stay in the vehicle while I—”

“I’m
not
staying in the vehicle.”

“You’ll stay or we won’t go.”

“I can’t, Mac, you know that.”

“And I can’t have you—wait a sec.” His cell phone was ringing, the tone indicating he had a voicemail message. “The phone never rang,” he said. “Fuckin’ coastal service.” He listened to the terrified message from Becca Sutcliff. As he did, his heart plummeted and at the next wide spot in the road, he executed a police U-turn.

Hudson grabbed on to the dash, his seat belt tightening, his injuries screaming at him.

“She’s not at Siren Song,” Mac informed him tersely as he hung up.

“Where is she?”

“Mad Maddie’s motel? Know where that is? She said it was north of Deception Bay on a ridge.”

“I got a good idea,” Hudson said tersely.

“Lead the way,” Mac muttered, phoning for backup and praying the damn cell phone would make a connection.

Her screams useless, Becca ran as fast as she could around the building toward the rental car. Her keys were still in the ignition and if…

Oh, God, she heard his footsteps pounding behind her. He was running fast, gaining on her.

Heavy footsteps chased her down.

Closer.

Faster.

Oh, dear God, help me! Help my baby!

She willed her legs to move, but she was losing ground. She’d been crazy to come looking for him, should have known he’d get the upper hand.
You’re not dead yet,
she told herself and saw the fence in front of her. With missing pickets, like a gap-tooth smile, it was still a barrier. Could she vault over it or would she have to find the gate? Where was the damned opening?

She spied a break in the graying pickets and turned.

Too late!

He leapt through the air, his heavy body catching her and driving her to the ground. She hit hard, her jaw banging into the sand, grit on her lips and tongue. “Stupid woman,” he snarled, yanking her to her feet.

She was a rag doll in his arms, head lolling, blood staining her sleeve a dark red.

He shook her. Hard. Lips pulled back in a triumphant grin.

“Finally! Finally, I have you!”

Becca couldn’t move. She felt played out. Spent. Done.

His evil face glared into hers. “Nothing to say, bitch?” He hauled his right hand back and slapped her.

My baby
, she thought.
My baby. Have to save my baby…

As if reading her mind, he snarled, “That abomination will die before it is born. You will all die. I’ve been waiting. Waiting! And now the time is right.”

“Please…”

“That’s right. Beg. It will do you no good. The devil’s own will be returned to him. Now!”

No way was Hudson going to sit in the car like a trained dog while Becca’s life was in danger. No effin’ way!

Nor was Mac waiting for backup. He parked his Jeep on a stretch of road less than a quarter of a mile from the cabins, and with strict instructions for Hudson to wait for the sheriff’s department, he slid into the night.

Hudson gave him thirty seconds, then checked the glove box and lo and behold, there was Mac’s backup weapon. Perfect. He checked the chamber. It was loaded.

He wasn’t going to wait for the damned backup.

Not with Becca’s life in danger.

Not with his unborn kid’s life at risk.

Sliding the heavy sidearm into his waistband, he stole into the night, circling around the north end of the property, spying Mac, barely discernible in the security lights near the front porch.

He crouched along a broken fence line, his finger on the trigger. Tonight, that son of a bitch who’d been terrorizing Becca was going to die.

She had to move. Had to! The knife was still in his hand though he seemed intent on shaking some truth from her.

He glared down at her, enjoying the capture. “Nothing to say?” he whispered.

She flung herself forward, intending to bite him but he held her back, then turned her roughly around, pressing her back against him, the knife blade cutting into her throat. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you, slut? I knew you’d come. Just like Jezebel. You’re so much the same.”

Terrified, she tried to think of a way to escape, any avenue that would set her free.

“Have you learned the truth yet?” he hissed in her ear. “Like she did? That she came from incest. Father and daughter! You, too, fucking whore!”

Becca tried to speak but she felt the knife at her throat break skin. A thin trickle of blood ran down her neck.

He was holding her fast to him, his chest pressed hard to her back. She hardly dared breathe, couldn’t risk moving as they stood on the cliff face, the piercing wind whirling and yowling around them, the black ocean frothing and raging below.
Just as it was in your visions. As if this is your destiny.

“She was pregnant with her vile child, just as you are,” he whispered.

His enjoyment sent rage flowing through her, but she needed to keep him talking.

“Renee?” she managed.

“That slut was asking questions around town, a tell-all book about the sickness at Siren Song.”

“What sickness?” The blade pressed, cold on her throat.

“You know, whore. You know.”

She shuddered. It was as if she were being held by the devil himself. “No…truly…I don’t know.”

“Jezebel and Rebecca are the most foul,” he intoned, as if it were a litany he said to himself often. “They can never be allowed to breed, to continue the cycle. Jezebel came to Siren Song and learned. That’s how I found her. I smelled the fetus within her. That’s why she had to die.”

Becca was shivering, the wind slapping at them, the salt in the air sticking to her skin. “You killed her in the maze,” she said unevenly.

“Jezebel thought she had me, but I had planned to kill her all along and leave her at the base of the statue that bears her abominable mother’s name.”

“Mary?”

“She could see things,” he said with the faintest hint of admiration. “So can you.”

“So can you,” Becca said, recalling how he’d seen Jessie’s vision on the road.

“It won’t work,” he suddenly said. He leaned closer and licked the inside of her ear. “It never does, sister, I
always
win.”

Her stomach convulsed and she nearly threw up.

But then he shifted slightly, the knife slipping just a fraction. Becca’s fury took over. She kicked backward as hard as she could, then reached behind her and wrenched his balls in a death squeeze.