Lisa Jackson - Wicked Game

“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.

“Whore!” I bellow, jumping toward the window.

Behind me the old woman makes a sound of glee. I whirl back on her.

“You cannot kill them all,” she says.

“I can. I will.”

“God will save them…”

It’s all I can do to keep from strangling her right there. But it’s what she wants. To deter me from my goal. To hold me with her. To protect them!

“I’m coming back for you,” I whisper. “Wait for me.”

Terror fills those old eyes and I grin as I leap through the window after the evil one. She is just ahead of me. I have wounded her. Her blood will spill and I will have her very, very soon.

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.”