Mariah Stewart - Last Breath

He wished he was back home with his friends, playing soccer in the fields and huddling together on the hillside at night, sharing cigarettes and telling lies and listening to Western music on the radio.

Most of all, he wished he could be anywhere but here, hiding amid the thick growth of evergreens outside this house where the woman lived.

But he’d taken an oath, hadn’t he? He’d stood between his father and his brother, there on the hillside overlooking the valley where it was said an earthquake had swallowed up an entire city.

He thought of his trips to Istanbul and to Cairo. On their way to America, they had stopped in that most wondrous of cities, London. How could the earth open up wide enough to swallow an entire city? How was it possible that the earth could eat whole buildings and leave nothing in their place?

But that’s what his father had said between the loud racking coughs that had brought him back from wherever he’d been for much of the boys’ life. For the past several years, after the sickness had taken hold of their father’s lungs, it had been his brother who’d disappeared for months at a time, coming home for a few weeks here and there. Four weeks ago, his brother had returned, and had gone directly into their father’s room, where they’d talked long into the night.

Then, on the night before his brother was to leave again, they’d taken him up into the hills where they told him they would teach him how to pray. There, where the sacred city had stood, they would all pray. The boy had looked down but saw nothing but rock and desert below.

The prayers had been most strange, had made no sense to him, and seemed to go on forever. When he opened an eye to peek-from boredom more than curiosity-his father and brother were both kneeling in the dirt, their arms outstretched toward the heavens, with tears on their faces.

That had been about the scariest thing he’d ever seen.

Scarier even than the words they were chanting and the oath they made him repeat. I am gallas, and the priestess I obey. The faithful remember…

He had no idea what the words really meant until he came to this place and the priestess told him what he must do. Now, she had been scary. Beyond scary.

After that, his nightmare really began.

Even now, his mouth filled with bile just thinking of it. At night he dreamed that the eyes of the dead followed him, and every morning he awoke with the scent of blood in his nostrils. And always, always, his hands felt the slick warm liquid that had poured over them…

“Why?” he’d pleaded with his brother. “Why?”

“Because the goddess demands it.”

How long ago had it been-a week? less?-that he’d held the woman’s head in his hands while his brother had carved out her tongue? And then the man, the woman’s husband, whose eyes had gone wild with madness as he helplessly watched his wife’s agony.

His hands had shaken but he’d done what he’d been told to do. He’d followed orders like a zombie, unable to really see, to feel, to think.

The man-boy hiding in the evergreens began to sweat. He tried to will the horrific images from his mind’s eye, but they were always there now.

And there’d been the other one, the man who lived alone in the fine stone house, the man whose dog had chased him, had bitten his arm. He rubbed the place where the dog’s teeth had sunken into his flesh, felt the scabs that had formed. All things considered, after what he’d helped his brother to do, he couldn’t be angry with the dog.

The image of that man stayed with him, day and night.

His stomach turned, remembering.

How was it his brother could be so unaffected by what they had done?

“The goddess demands it, little brother. The priestess has told me so.”

He loved his father and wished to honor him. He’d taken his father’s place as a gallas as he’d been told he must do. But deep down inside, he wished he could run, wished he could just disappear and never see his brother or the priestess again.

But of course, no matter where he went, they would find him. The gallas always did.

Connor paused to secure the dead bolt on the front door, then walked quietly into the sitting room next to the foyer to turn off the lamp that had been left lit for him. He smiled to himself. He’d lived alone for so many years, had spent so much time alone, that the thought that someone had left a light on for him warmed his heart. He made his way to the back of the house to check the doors and windows. All secure.

He turned when he heard Sweet Thing scratching at the door between the kitchen and the front hall, and he swung the door open for her.

“What’s up, girl? Need a quick trip out?”

The dog went directly to the back door.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

Connor turned on the lights on the back porch, and for a moment, he hesitated, and considered putting Sweet Thing on her leash before deciding against it. The leash was in the kitchen on the counter, and the dog was scratching at the door. Besides, there wouldn’t be much foot traffic out there tonight. He needn’t worry about the dog chasing anyone.

He opened the door and Sweet Thing shot out. By the time Connor reached the bottom step, the dog had disappeared around the corner of the house.

“Hey, girl, where are you going?”

A loud growl came from around the side of the house. Seconds later, he heard Sweet Thing snarling, and then a high-pitched scream.

Connor followed the sound to the stand of evergreens outside the glassed-walled conservatory that ran along the side of the house. He called the dog’s name, and the snarling stopped, but the dog refused to leave the base of the pine she was anxiously pawing. Connor looked up and saw a figure less than eight feet overhead.

“Come down now, slowly. And when you hit the ground, I want you facedown in the dirt.”

The figure did not move.

“I’m going to say this one more time.” He drew his gun. “And if you don’t come down on your own, I’ll shoot you down. Understand?”

“It bit me! The dog bit me!”

“If you don’t start coming down from that tree, you’re going to have more than a dog bite to worry about.”

“Make the dog go away.” The voice from the tree was smaller, younger than Connor had been expecting. “Make it go away, and then I’ll come down.”

Connor called the dog to him. This time, she obeyed and sat at his feet.

“Come down slowly, and step over here where I can see you.”

“You have a gun.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“Only if you don’t come down and do as I say. Lie on the ground, facedown, hands behind your back.”

The figure came down slowly, then backed away from the pine.

“Out here, away from the trees.” Connor gestured with the gun. “Facedown on the grass.”

“Connor, what the hell is going on out there?” Mia stood at the corner of the house. She took a few steps closer, then asked, “And why are you holding a gun on that kid?”

Chief Thorpe slammed the back door of the patrol car and turned to Connor. “You want to follow me down to the station? I’m assuming you’re going to want to do most of the questioning.”

“I do, thanks.” Connor watched the car carrying the young boy pull away from the front of the house. “Think you could spare a man to keep an eye on the house here until I get back?”

“Sure.” Thorpe turned and waved to a young patrol officer who was chatting with two others down near the parking lot. “O’Brien. I need you and your partner to watch the house until Agent Shields is finished with the suspect. Get Officer Silver up here with you.”