Blackthorne (The Brotherhood of the Gate Book 1) (14 page)

Both women looked at each other and raised their hands in unison, begging for another drink.

Blackthorne made a motion. Uncharacteristically, Houston instantly stopped digging in his papers and nodded, granting the other man the floor. “It’s simple. The Crystal skull is a Blackthorne family heirloom and was stolen from my home in Scotland by my brother, Manius Black, who Mr. Houston has met and finds as repulsive as I do. I’ve tracked it here and intend to find the damned thing and take it home. I look like the man in the picture because he was also a Blackthorne…the brother of the man in the Castle who was murdering women. My ancestors.”

Rhi raised her eyes to meet Blackthorne’s across the salty rim of her glass. A burst of laughter from the back room that housed the meeting of Alien Abductees made her hesitate a moment.

“That’s all well and good but it doesn’t explain how you stopped whatever that thing was that tried to throttle me in the Pearl. Or how you know me when I’ve never seen you before in my life. Not to mention this morning at the gym.” Rhi addressed Houston quickly before he could query her about the events at the gym. She wasn’t in the mood to try to recount her first experience of floating. “And I think I already know the ‘what where and why’ of the skull. I read about it this morning in my
Colorado Treasure
book and I would imagine the treasure that accompanies the skull and the ‘Gates of Hell’ are of no interest to the brothers Blackthorne,” she finished sarcastically.

Pam nodded her agreement. “Yes, tall, dark and mesmerizing, it’d be good to know more about that. And, by the way Rhi, I knew this bookworm thing would pay off one day…wait…did you say treasure? Gates of Hell?” Pam came dangerously close to toppling her half-empty drink in her excitement, but Rhi caught it for her. The three residents of the Creek waited in silence for an answer. Blackthorne looked as if he was thinking up a good lie when the doors of the restaurant flew open to admit what had to be the prettiest man Rhi and Pam—who agreed upon the characterization later—had ever seen. It was as if a classic Greek statue had come to life, and then made a selective stop at Saville Row before joining the town’s nightlife. A sallow-faced younger man followed closely. In his early twenties, the follower was
almost
as well dressed as his boss, but not quite, denoting the fact he was an inferior. Blackthorne didn’t make a move or sound, but his entire being was visibly ridged with adrenaline as soon as the other men entered the bar.

The man Rhi referred to in her mind as “evil metro-sexual” approached their table with the same arrogance she had seen a hundred times before in the men her grandmother paraded in front of her in another life. He possessed the kind of arrogant walk that denoted pride, vanity, cruelty, and complete oblivion when it came to any other’s needs but his own. The newcomer’s stride said that and more to Rhi. Nausea clenched her stomach. She found herself tensing and gripping the stem of her glass so hard she feared the glass might snap.

“A party. Or is this the local PTA meeting? All of you kids look so serious,” the man said in a smoothly cultured voice as he approached and casually laid his hand on Blackthorne’s shoulder, who sat still, not looking up. “Is my brother bringing the party down?”

“You,” gasped the newcomer’s flunky, who was gaping openly at Blackthorne, his mouth opening and shutting like a beached fish. His eyes were wild as he stared at Manius then at Blackthorne, an unspoken accusation in his pale eyes.

Blackthorne silenced the smaller man with a smoldering glare. With a gulp, the man stepped back to let his master take center stage.

Rhi, who had had enough of the drama, broke into the moment with a sneer. “Let me guess. Your name is Manius, right? And like your ancestor, you’re the evil side of the equation. You both seem fairly friendly to be fighting over your family heirloom…by the way, have you cut anyone’s heart out lately?” She broke off as the new arrival’s eyes turned on her and glowed brightly in the poorly lit ambiance of the restaurant, emitting a smoky shade of red. He smiled, purposefully baring the large sharp fangs that were extending themselves before their eyes where his incisors should have been. The unbelievable teeth were framed in unnaturally full—barring silicon injections—red lips.

Rhi swallowed a gulp. “Whoops…I guess that’s a yes?” She winced as the word yes turned into a squeak toy a Chihuahua would be proud of.

“I wonder…such a sweet looking girl. What’s
your
favorite sin, princess,” the newcomer whispered, his voice twisting in the air to caress the side of her face. Then the smile left his countenance and it was as if a cartoon black thundercloud had settled over the group in that moment. “I’m waiting for something, Rhi, you should know that. I need something back that you took from me a long time ago, my naughty angel. Then my brother and I will be
very
unfriendly.” His eyes glowed and the hand on Blackthorne’s shoulder starting to smoke a bit. Tendrils of gray smoke drifted into the air of the room and curled around the circumference of the table. The nightfall smoke took on the wispy form of claws suddenly reaching for the trembling girl.

A bead of sweat popped up on Rhi’s forehead and her fear was a metallic smell in the air. Her whisper could barely be heard. “But I don’t know you…how could I have taken something from you?”

Pam, ever fearless, spoke into the cloud of terror the newcomer had breathed into the air of the table, holding her margarita glass high and examining the bright yellow liquid it held.

“This is some hellacious tequila. If two drinks can make this jerk’s eyes turn red, God knows what a few shots’ll do.” She turned toward the bar and purposefully turned her back to the table. “Greg,” she called to the bulky, flannel clad Grizzly Adams type behind the bar, one of dozens that populated the service industry of the town, “get me a few
shots
of
this
stuff.”

Rhi found her breath immediately, as well as her anger. “Make that a few shots of this for
both
of us. Maybe if I drink enough of this
he
will turn into
Brad Pitt
with glowing red eyes.”

She watched the table as Pam sipped her drink with apparent unconcern. The taller woman’s other hand wasn’t in sight. Rhi was sure it was caressing the stock of the gun her friend had so casually carried into the restaurant. Houston was silent, his whip lean body tensed so tightly a cord of muscle might snap at any moment. Whatever kind of armament he had on him, Rhi was sure it was at hand.

Manius took his hand from his brother’s shoulder, smiling. The elder Blackthorne had been as still and quiet as a mountain lion before the pounce, but his eyes smoldered with a vivid blue light. The place on his shirt where his brother’s hand had been a moment ago also smoldered, Rhi noticed. If Blackthorne had on a white shirt instead of a black one, she was sure there would be a sooty black handprint on the right shoulder. She wondered if his skin was burned from the touch like her own body had been in her dreams. She could close her eyes and once again see the black fingerprints burned into her white skin.

“She seems a little frigid, Brother. I could warm her up for you…after all, I’ve done it before…”

A crack rang out as Blackthorne leaped up to connect his fist with his brother’s face, knocking the other man to the floor. The assistant leaped forward and the gun Pam planted in the center of his chest stopped him cold. With a snarl, Manius exploded toward his brother. The others leaped out of the way as the two men knocked over the table and rolled around the floor in combat. Each of the men seemed to be trying to punch the other’s facial features into a pulp. Electric blue sparks exploded from each blow, setting several parts of the restaurant to flame colorfully in the background. When the two struggling figures met with the back wall, they didn’t stop like normal people, but defied the laws of gravity and reality by continuing to roll up the wall.

“Holy shit,” Rhi gasped in wonder and rose to her feet. “I guess that confirms I wasn’t hallucinating this morning. He can do it too.” She then got a quick glimpse of Blackthorne’s face and her mouth dropped open. His eyes were blazing with neon blue light and his incisors had extended themselves like those of the man he fought. The teeth and the twisted fury in Blackthorne’s face combined to make the man she had been fantasizing about earlier that day into a demonic beast.

“Holy shit again, Pam. He’s a vampire like the other guy.”

Pam held the gun on Manius’ flunky and grabbed Rhi’s arm. “Girlfriend, there’s nothing holy about that…except maybe that they both have great butts. But the whole scooting up the wall thing? That ain’t right.”

The bartender, who had sailed over the bar to break the fight up, saw the men floating in the air against the wall and thought better of getting involved. He hightailed it to the bathroom, presumably to stuff his huge frame through a window and hopefully go for help.

Rhi had been watching with openmouthed fascination. She was in the midst of deciding if she should grab a bottle and bash both men’s heads in to be safe when Pam let out a screech. She realized the other woman had good reason to shriek when she saw the slug-colored creature crawling through a window it had broken at the side of the building. It looked like a bald, shriveled, naked little old man with translucent wings. That alone would have been enough to make her retch. Then she saw its lidless neon red eyes bulging from the swollen face and the ghastly pointed teeth that showed in the filthy, unnaturally large mouth. A horrific stench of death, decay and, strangely, wet dog hit them as the women realized that there were several of the hissing creatures trying to crawl in the window. The newest arrivals headed straight for the women. They didn’t look friendly as their mouths spit flame and their hands displayed retractable claws that extended to sickening lengths.

Rhi cursed herself for leaving her gun in the truck, and then turned to make a flying leap for the barrier of the bar. Pam shoved her prisoner to the floor and jumped after her. They peeked over the bar to see Houston, armed with the leg of one of the shattered chairs and a foot-long buck knife, swinging wildly at the monsters coming through the window. The two brothers still rolled on the ceiling. Smoke and sparks flew out of their hands as fists made contact with flesh.

Rhi started to grab up bottles to throw, picking the biggest and the heaviest to heave toward the approaching monsters. Pam raised her head over the bar and her face denoted the fact she was making a tough decision.

“Do you think there’ll be any charges against me if I blast these nasty little buggers?” she queried.

“If you don’t want to take the opportunity,” Rhi replied, busily tossing bottles at the greasy little creatures, “give the damned gun to me. I’ll take my chances.” Pam’s habit of dealing with adversity by laughing at it or better yet, making fun of it, was beginning to rub off.

“I’m sure that I’m the better shot here. Of course, we
are
at point blank range. God, was that a bottle of Chivas you tossed? Oh, the humanity.” Pam heaved the gun up on the bar to let it rip.

The first shot was so loud, Rhi was certain she felt her eardrums burst. She threw another bottle at something nasty coming around the corner of the bar and then got up to look at the damage Pam had inflicted, and from the sounds of it, kept inflicting.

The first victim of Pam’s “cannon” stood near the bar, looking down at the large ragged hole that appeared in what hopefully was his chest area. It then looked up at them and smiled, the smile of one who has an ace high against a five of clubs. The demon’s sharp and uneven teeth dripped a liquid that sizzled when it hit the wooden floor. It became airborne on an unseen current. It floated toward them, making a kind of snarling laugh, not slowed down by the absence of approximately half of its body. The missing half lay in a smoking hamburger-like pile behind him, which a few of the other creatures paused to look at hungrily. In the second it took Rhi to focus on it, the pile began to burn. The fire gave off more of the same stench, but a hundred times more intense, and then the chunks of meat were gone. Only a greasy smear remained.

“Ewww.”

“Oh shit.”

Pam and Rhi looked at each other in horror, as several more of the creatures became airborne and floated methodically toward them, slowly flapping their mucous covered wings. Rhi fought dizziness as she tried to concentrate on the men fighting.

“If I faint, I’m dead,” she muttered to herself and peeked over the counter again.

“What the hell are you doing?” Pam jerked her back down by grabbing a handful of hair.

“Ouch. That hurt,” Rhi protested as she examined the handful of hair her friend had relieved her of. “I wanted to see if there’s anything left of the first guy I’ve been able to look at twice in years without cringing, okay?”

Pam was busy reloading her gun from a large box she pulled out of her handbag. “You can sure pick a hell of a time to finally get horny, girlfriend.”

With impeccable timing, the Alien Abductees Club members suddenly were standing framed in the double doors of the back room, staring in awe at the scene. The club was of the same make up as the town of Cripple Creek itself: miners, bikers, hippies, yuppies, and a housewife thrown in for good measure. A large bald man in the front of the group wearing a Sturgis Harley Davidson T-shirt and leather chaps over his Wranglers let out a yell before the entire group waded into the fray.

“Aliens! It’s an invasion!”

Behind him, Betty took a seat at one of the empty tables, took a large wad of knitting out of her purse, and began to knit. She kept one eye on the chaos and one on the stitch count, seemingly mumbling to herself.

The lunacy was in full force for exactly ten seconds when a throaty feminine voice rang out into the room. The power of the voice’s words overwhelmed the cacophony of bedlam and the world froze for everyone in the room, as far as Rhi could see, except for the two men still wrestling on the ceiling, Pam, Houston, and herself…and Betty, who continued her knitting and mumbling.