Lisa Jackson - Wicked Game

“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.

“Bitch!” he howled in surprise, his grip loosening. He doubled over in pain.

Hudson counted the seconds. One…two…three… Sweat was building on his back beneath his jacket. He had to get to Becca. Had to save her and their child. They were all he had. All he wanted and if this prick so much as harmed one hair on her head.

But he was scared to his soul. This madman was relentless and focused on Becca.

“Bitch!”

The shout roared through the night.

Mac yelled something but Hudson didn’t hear. He jumped to his feet and ran blindly forward, hand hard on the gun.

He was gonna blow the sucker away.

Becca clung to Justice but he beat on her with his fists. She couldn’t breathe. Had to let go. He was swearing and flinging his arms. His knife slammed downward, gouging into her thigh. She cried out.

Bang!

A shot shattered the night.

Justice, with a scream louder than the wind, fell to the ground, writhing.

What? Oh, God, what’s happening?

Becca spun, her leg burning. She was staring straight at Hudson, one arm in a sling, a large pistol in his right hand. He walked forward quickly, the nose of the gun aimed directly at Justice’s slithering and twisting form. Hudson’s face was a mask of fury, his eyes dark with murder, as if he intended to empty every round in the gun into the man who had nearly killed Becca.

“Don’t!” she warned as sirens screamed over the wind and Mac burst out of the end unit of the motel. “Hudson, don’t!”

Mac screamed, “Put the gun down, Walker! Now!” His sidearm was aimed not at Hudson, but the wounded man. “We want this fucker alive. He’s got a lot of explaining to do, and he can start with Jessie Brentwood.”

Hudson lowered his gun and Becca nearly collapsed against him. “It’s over,” she whispered as his good arm held her tight. “It’s finally over.”

The sheriff’s department seemed to appear by magic. One moment Hudson was holding Becca and Mac was staring down the writhing monster on the ground, gun aimed at the man’s chest, the next a swarm of armed men were running across the grounds.

Becca pressed her face into Hudson’s chest. She heard him swear softly. “We need to take you back to the hospital,” he said.

“I never want to go there again.”

“You’re hurt.”

“But alive. He didn’t hurt our baby. He wanted to. He wanted to hurt our baby.”

“He’s sick.”

“It’s something to do with Siren Song, Hudson. He wanted to kill everyone from Siren Song.”

Her teeth were chattering. Hudson didn’t wait any longer. He led her toward Mac’s Jeep. “Gotta get you help,” he murmured.

Mac materialized out of the gloom. “I’ll call an ambulance,” he said, glancing at Becca. “We’re ordering one for the woman in the cabin.”

“Madeline? She’s alive?” Becca turned toward him.

“Barely. But she’s breathing okay.”

“I can go in the Jeep,” she assured him.

Hudson said to Mac, “You want to stay, I can drive.”

Mac nodded and handed him the keys.

“Thank you,” Becca said to him, heartfelt.

Mac paused. “I should be thanking you. I put you all through hell for a long, long time. And none of you were responsible for Jessie’s death.”

“Becca and my baby are alive, in part because of you,” Hudson said, helping Becca into the passenger seat. “We’re all even.”

With that Hudson slid in the driver’s seat and turned away from the motel and Deception Bay and toward Ocean Park Hospital once more.

“I love you,” he said into the sudden quiet. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she breathed.

“You don’t have to answer now, but I want you to know, I plan to marry you.”

She almost smiled.

“What?” he asked, and she could tell he was glancing at her with concern in the darkness of the Jeep’s interior.

“I’ve been planning to marry you since high school. I just didn’t think it would ever happen.” She felt him relax a little. “You’re sure you want me? With my visions and physical anomalies and possible ‘cult’ connections?”

“I want you,” he said, and it was decided.

Becca stood in the hot July sun, staring through the wrought-iron gates of Siren Song. It was the third day in a row she’d kept up the vigil, and she knew the reclusive residents had seen her. She brushed her hair away from her face, feeling heat burn into her scalp. Hot for the beach. Blistering, really.

Her belly had grown. There was no hiding the fact that she was pregnant, and her joy showed on her face. That pregnancy glow. She had it in spades.

Hudson had told her so the morning that she’d left for the beach. “I love you,” he’d said. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.” Becca had curved into his arms and kissed him deeply, bursting inside, loving him with everything she had.

They’d been standing outside the barn, watching the new colt kick up its heels. It ran from one side of the field to the other, zigzagging in front of his mother, never getting too far away.

New life. New love. Four months ago it had seemed an impossibility.

She wrapped her hands around the bars of the gate; they were almost too hot to touch. She wasn’t going to give up. She had questions. She deserved answers, and when she’d told Hudson what she planned to do, though she knew he wanted to keep her safe with him, he’d reluctantly allowed her to go.

“I’ll go with you,” he invited himself, but she’d shaken her head.

“I’ll have a better chance by myself. They’re secretive and suspicious, but I am one of them.”

He wanted to argue, but she pointed out what he already knew: The Colony members at Siren Song were no threat to her. Justice Turnbull-Madeline Turnbull’s son-was the threat and he was in custody, locked up under heavy guard, preparing for a transfer to a mental facility for the criminally insane. Justice’s wild ramblings had assured that conviction.

In the wake of the events at Mad Maddie’s motel, the authorities had swarmed over his life. His strange lighthouse lair had revealed torn notes and scribbled writings about his obsession over the colony; a cache of weaponry was discovered, notably knives, and a tan truck with a removed front grill guard was parked at the side of the motel under a dark gray tarp. There was a sense that he’d killed other colony members besides Jessie, but without the colony’s cooperation it was all conjecture, and the women at Siren Song were collectively unhelpful. McNally had tried to interview the members but they would not open their gates. Justice’s ramblings didn’t offer enough evidence for a search warrant. Half of what he said was delusional fabrications. He insisted that Jessie and Becca were the devil’s spawn and they must be sent back to hell. It was his mission.