Amber Smoke Page 12

  “I’ll climb back out from that hole in the Underworld. And when I do, I’ll butcher everyone you love,” Alastor hissed between clenched teeth.

  Alek crouched on the ground over Alastor and pressed the blades into each side of his neck. “We’ll be waiting.” He sliced through the thick muscle. Blood spurted from the gashes, and Alek turned his head away from the spray.

  Alastor’s body twitched and went limp. The basement was silent except for Alek’s labored breathing. He gingerly felt his wounds with his hands, testing his body for damage. It was taking him longer than usual to heal, and he needed to get back to Tartarus before his powers drained, leaving him mortal. Alek dropped his improvised weapons and stumbled over to Eva. Before touching her face, he wiped his bloody hands off on his jeans. Again, he tilted her chin up. He brushed her hair back and blew into Eva the fiery power that led him to her. The power that would awaken the blood of the ancient Oracle.

  “Eva?” Alek breathed shallowly and stood, studying her face.

  Wind blew through the room, and the bulb hanging from the ceiling cast its light in dizzying circles. A cloud of cackling smoke enveloped them, and Alek felt Pythia’s presence.

  “Pythia!” Alek shouted. “Was I too late?” The Oracle didn’t answer. Instead, her laugh grew louder. “Pythia! Answer me!”

  A burst of light flashed over Eva and Alek fell backward. The wind and smoke settled, and Eva’s body glowed bright amber. The vibrating light traced her perfectly before hovering above her like thousands of golden fireflies. Eva inhaled sharply. The shimmering light rushed back to her body and collided with a clap.

  “Eva?” Alek limped to her side.

  Her eyes glimmered bright gold; and quiet laughter seeped from her parted lips. “Thank you, young immortal.”

  “Pythia?” Eva’s eyes rolled back in her head, and he studied her chest to make sure it continued to rise and fall.

  Gritting his teeth against the searing pain coursing through his ribs, he tore loose Eva’s restraints and reached an arm under her neck and another behind her knees. He slowly carried her to the door and stifled a yelp as he ascended the stairs. Alek felt his powers draining, and he fought the urge to flee to Tartarus. He shuffled out the front door and placed Eva on the lawn. Sirens blared as red and blue lights cut through the night, and Alek lifted his arms in surrender.

  Nineteen

  Schilling ticked off the facts with his cracked, calloused fingers. “No prints found on the body or at the scene. The scrapings taken from under the deceased’s fingernails didn’t contain any DNA. We have a video of the perp’s face, but it has no identifiable features.”

  “And we only have a few hours to find Eva alive,” James added.

  “This is a nightmare.”

  “I come bearing gifts.” Winslow burst into the squad room, unrolled a wad of papers, and then continued. “Two things. First, an update from Oklahoma Highway Patrol. Federales in Mexico reported thirty-seven similar killings throughout the last decade. Here are some pics. More are on their way.” He handed James and Schilling each a set of shiny papers.

  James shuffled through the pictures. “Each of these bodies has the same tree tattoo as our victim.”

  “He’s been at it for a long time,” Schilling said, reviewing the pictures.

  “Yeah, and we’re going to stop him. What’s the second thing?”

  “Oh, you guys are going to love me for this one. A patrol officer got a tip about a car matching the Ford’s description. A woman called after seeing the report on the news. Her neighbor has the same car, and she said that—”

  James and Schilling sprang to their feet.

  “Jesus Christ, Winslow,” James said, tossing his partner the car keys.

  “Send us the address. Incompetent fuckwit,” Schilling muttered.

  • • •

  Schilling collapsed into the car, wheezing from the jog to the parking lot. “Sycamore Heights,” he puffed. “Sixty-seven seventeen Fargo Street, Sycamore Heights.”

  James hit the lights as the engine turned over. “That’s only a few miles outside of where he snags them.”

  Schilling stepped on the gas, and the tires screeched against the pavement.

  “Reported burglary in Sycamore Heights neighborhood.” The radio crackled to life and James leaned in to turn it up. “Sixty-seven seventeen Fargo Street in Sycamore Heights.” The female dispatcher’s confident voice filled the car.

  “A burglary? What kind of shit is going on at that house?” Schilling blew through a red light and sped onto the highway.

  James grabbed the transmitter. “Two king twelve, en route to location. ETA five minutes.”

  “Seven Lincoln one, copy. I’m coming in from Lynn Lane. Two king twelve, come in from Seventy-First Street,” the officer said decisively.

  The car lurched onto the exit, and James braced himself against the door. “Two king twelve, copy, coming in from Seventy-First Street. We’re going to need backup.”

  The dispatcher radio crackled, and then went silent. Then a voice, “On a burglary?”

  Schilling grabbed the radio from his partner. “All units converge on sixty-seven seventeen Fargo Street. Repeat, all units converge. Suspect may be armed and dangerous.”

  The dispatcher huffed, but didn’t argue. “Male approached the home on a yellow scooter and was seen breaking down the door and entering the location. Be advised, suspect may be on foot.”

  “Seven Lincoln one in the area. There are two people on the front lawn—one male, one female. Making contact now.”

  Lights and noises blurred past as Schilling increased their speed.

  “Seven Lincoln one, female is unresponsive. We’re going to need some help here.”

  “Seven Lincoln one, copy. Contacting EMSA.” The dispatcher was silent for a few moments before coming back on line. “EMSA is on their way to you.”

  They turned into the neighborhood, and James held his breath.

  The car slowed and he launched himself out of the vehicle. “How is she?” he shouted, running to the officers crouched beside the body.

  “She’s breathing. We’re waiting for the ambulance to get here so they can take her to the hospital.” The officer stood and met James on the sidewalk. “She’s the missing girl, right? I recognized the tattoo.”

  More cruisers pulled up with their sirens blaring. “Anyone else in the house?” James asked, ignoring the question.

  “Guy over there says they’re the only ones, but we haven’t had a chance to check.”

  “I want everything taped off. Detective Schilling will lead a couple officers in to clear the place. No one else enters the house without my permission. Got it?”

  The officer nodded.

  “Your partner talked to the guy?”

  The curly haired blond looked beat up and exhausted in the light the officer’s partner shone in his face.

  “Yeah, says his name is Alek, but he hasn’t gotten much else out of him.”

  “Alek? We have a witness who says that a guy by that name has been looking for Eva since yesterday.”

  “He didn’t say anything about it while I was over there with them.”

  “Is this his house?” James asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you know if he’s been holding her here?”

  “Nope.” He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “At least, not yet.”

  “Do you think maybe, just in case this is the guy who’s been picking up women and killing them you might want to have your partner do more than shine a light in his face? Maybe even treat him a little like a suspect in a homicide?”

  “I’ll go see to that, sir.” The officer, chastened, drifted over toward Alek.

  Schilling walked up to James. “That our suspect?”

  “Don’t know yet. You going into the house?”

  “Yep. You stay out here with Eva in case she wakes up before they get her loaded in the ambulance. I’ll let you know
what we find.”

  James walked over and squatted next to Eva as the EMTs checked her vitals.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “From what we can tell, she should be okay physically. Bruising already started around her wrists, ankles, forehead, and neck. It’ll intensify and be pretty painful. They’ll be able to make her more comfortable at the hospital and do a full work-up. It’s nothing she won’t recover from. This, on the other hand.” He turned her left arm so her palm faced up. “It’s pretty, but it’s also permanent. It’ll probably do the most damage.”

  The tattoo looked like a shadow against the night’s black backdrop.

  His gaze methodically studied her body. “Any stab wounds or signs of rape?”

  “No stab wounds. They’ll run a rape kit at the hospital, but there’s no obvious sign of sexual trauma.”

  The EMTs hoisted Eva to a gurney. James followed as they wheeled her the short distance to the driveway.

  “Can you stand with her for a second? Some asshole cop blocked our loading doors.”

  James smirked. “Yeah, I’ll wait.”

  “I mean. Shit. No offense, Detective.” They hurried off in search of the owner of the patrol car.

  James looked down at Eva. His eyes lingered on her face. “I get to keep my promise and tell your mom we found you.” He lightly grazed the back of her hand with his fingertips.

  She let out a series of small, dry coughs.

  “Hey, can you hear me?”

  Her eyelids barely opened.

  He spoke softly. “I’m Detective James Graham. Do you know who did this to you?”

  “Where’s my mom?” Her faint voice barely permeated the noise-filled air.

  “She’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as they load you into the ambulance. Do you know what happened?”

  “I’m so tired.”

  “You should sleep. The EMTs will be back soon, and before you know it you’ll be with your mom at the hospital.” James tried to sound upbeat.

  “Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Yeah. Sure, I…I’ll ride with you. Let me go tell my partner, and I’ll be right back.” James looked around for Schilling.

  “Don’t leave.” Eva reached out and loosely grabbed his hand. She winced and pulled her arm back beside her.

  “Okay. You sleep. I’ll just be right over here.” He pointed to a spot about two feet away.

  A soft smile brightened her face, and she let her eyelids fall shut.

  James cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Schilling! Schilling!”

  Schilling handed an evidence bag to a member of the Crime Scene Unit and looked around. James waved his arms in the air until he got his attention.

  “Graham! I was just going to come find you.”

  “Eva woke up. She wants me to ride over to the hospital with her. I figured that I’d wait there until her mom arrives.”

  “There are a few things you should know before you see Ms. Kostas.” Schilling positioned himself so his back faced Eva. He leaned into James and lowered his voice. “That’s the boyfriend’s house.”

  “I thought she said Eva didn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Not Eva’s, the mom’s boyfriend. And there’s no body.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s clear someone was bleeding pretty heavily in that basement. Enough that they wouldn’t have made it out alive. The guy they were talking to is covered in it, and there are pools of it down there. But there’s not a body. No drag marks and only one set of footprints leading out.”

  “That guy you’re talking about. The one with Eva when we got here. We need to talk to him.”

  “And that’s the other thing. Thanks to Tulsa’s finest, we can’t.” Schilling threw up his hands. “He’s gone.”

  Twenty

  Fatigue pulsed through Alek and fed the dull ache growing behind his eyes. He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The extra power he carried drained him sooner than expected, compromising his ability to heal.

  “Hey, you okay?” the officer asked.

  “My body hurts and there is a pounding in my head. I think I might be dying.”

  “Unless you’re gushing out blood or unconscious, you’re not going to get out of answering a few questions.”

  Alek squinted at him. “I assure you, this is just as serious. I have to get home.”

  The officer chuckled. “I would have picked something better than a headache, but nice try. We’ll get you looked at by the EMTs when they get here, but you’re not going anywhere.”

  Alek forced himself to stand upright and breathe normally.

  “What condition was the victim in when you found her?”

  Alek glanced over to where he gently placed Eva. The police cars painted her red and blue with their flashing lights.

  “How was she when you found her?” the officer asked again.

  Alek turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “She was unresponsive. She must have been knocked out before I arrived.”

  The officer took a breath to ask his next question but was interrupted by the blaring sirens of the approaching ambulance. “Hey! Over here!” He turned and shouted to the driver.

  Alek took a deep, painful breath and gathered the remaining sparks of power firing within him.

  “Hurry up, man! We need you over here now!”

  With the cop still preoccupied, Alek channeled his energy and launched himself through the house’s open front door and down to the basement. The officers looked frozen in place as he maneuvered around them.

  His legs wobbled and every nerve in his body vibrated with fatigue. Exhausted, he fell to his knees next to Alastor’s dead body. With an open palm on the corpse’s chest, he tightly gripped his talisman and whispered shakily, “Bring us home.”

  The air warmed and shimmered around him. Spikes of heat danced on his skin, and he relaxed into their electric tingle. The floor melted away, and he fell back against the void between realms. Emptiness blazed around him, and he welcomed the peace and stillness it provided.

  “Home,” he repeated, barely moving his lips.

  Every inch of him felt raw, and he pressed his face into the cold floor firming beneath him. Tartarus filled his body with relief and soothed the pain alive in his muscles. He flopped to his back and stared up at the black, craggy ceiling, rejoicing in the power of his realm.

  Away from the tension and commotion of the Mortal Realm, he calmed in his home’s tranquility and let himself drift to sleep.

  When he awoke, Maiden stood above him, stroking his brow. “Son, you’ve returned. I have never been so worried about you.” Maiden looked down at him. “Are you unwell?”

  He slowly rose to his feet. “I’ve never been that close to losing my power before. I felt it draining away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

  Maiden wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his shoulder. “I know. I could feel you growing weak, and I feared you would not make it back to us. I do not know what I would have done if you were without your powers and trapped in the Mortal Realm.” Her voice cracked.

  “Give him space.” Crone shuffled toward them with Mother not far behind. “He has had a great journey.”

  “He needs to rest and recharge,” said Mother.

  “I can’t. I must go back and be with Eva. She’ll be afraid when she wakes up. Someone has to be there to explain what happened.”

  “She must also regain her strength. She is reentering the Mortal Realm as a great Oracle. She must rest while her body is made new. There is nothing you can do for her now,” Mother said.

  “How long do I wait? I have to make sure she’s well.”

  The three Furies shared curious glances. “I sense something more than her safety for which you are concerned,” Crone said.

  “Something more powerful and lasting,” Mother added.

  “Son, do you love her?” asked Maiden.
>
  “Love her?” Alek shook his head. “I don’t even know her.”

  “Ah, but has the seed been planted?” Crone asked.

  “Give it time to grow, my son,” Maiden said.

  “Maiden, I see our current situation has taught you nothing about young love,” Mother said.

  Maiden glared at her sister and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I think you are getting ahead of yourselves. She’s beautiful, but I don’t love her.”

  “Yet,” Maiden encouraged.

  “Good,” Mother said relieved. “Some were not put in the realms to love. For their purpose is much more grand.”

  Sadness balled itself in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He didn’t love Eva, but when he looked at her, he felt a way he never had before. It left him wanting more. To hear Mother say love may not be in his destiny left part of him feeling deflated. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on his present problem.

  “What should be done with him?” He pointed to Alastor, a broken heap in the corner.

  “I could smell his fetid corpse when you arrived.” Crone wrinkled her nose.

  “When his spirit entered the Underworld, it shouted curses and promises of vengeance until it reached the cell,” Maiden said.

  “He said he would return, but he won’t be much of a threat without a body.”

  The women encircled the carcass and Crone spoke. “If he were to somehow escape again, gaining a new body would be the least of his worries.”

  “A soul as evil and powerful as Alastor’s could overtake a mortal spirit with little trouble,” Mother added.