Born of Hatred (11 page)

I paused outside the barn, and glanced over at Sam who was untying Valour. I really hoped I wouldn't find what I was expecting inside the building. I pushed open the heavy wooden door and immediately wished I hadn't.

What was inside the barn wasn't what I expected. It was much, much worse. 

It was one person's private hell.

Chapter 10

The word torture was not enough to describe what was inside the barn. Horrors had been inflicted upon the dead woman, and I couldn't begin to imagine how she'd lived for more than a few moments once they'd started.

I stepped inside and pushed down the part of me that screamed to leave, detaching myself from seeing what used to be alive. It was now just meat, in a human form maybe, but meat nonetheless. No different than any dead animal or human I'd seen in the past. 

The woman had been brought into the barn and hoisted into the air by straps on her ankles. She swayed gently, her head roughly four feet above the ground. She would have had to have been already in the air when they started. The blood trails all went down, toward the slick floor beneath her swinging arms. Swinging, skinless arms. 

I closed my eyes and let the sickened feeling that had built up subside quietly, before continuing my inspection of the body. 

After being strung up, they'd removed the skin from her arms, fingers to shoulders, along with her legs, toes to thighs. A sharp knife and patience would have been required to do it, and she was probably dead before they started, so as to cut down on her moving around. God, I hoped she'd been dead. The killer had cut from her navel down to her sternum, in what appeared to be a clean cut with one sweep. They had then forced open the cut, allowing her internal organs to fall out. Her stomach and intestine remained on the floor by her hand, along with her lungs. The lack of blood on the floor, along with the scuff marks of something being dragged, meant that it had been caught and collected. 

I searched the spacious barn. It was full of tools and supplies, everything needed to run a ranch. A trough sat in one corner, the inside coated with thick, black blood. 

At some point during her ordeal, they'd scalped her, although I couldn't locate the scalp or the weapon used. I'd have to do a more extensive search of the barn's interior in case it had been discarded before the killers left.

A scream from the entrance brought me back to my senses. 

I rushed over as Sam darted to the side of the building and vomited repeatedly. When all that was left was dry heaving, he started crying. Big, deep sobs of someone fearful and panicking.

"Sam, how old are you?" 

"Wha?"      

"Age, Sam. How old?"

"Six... sixteen," he said between haggard breaths.

"Your surname?"

"W...Ward."

"Tell me about your mum and dad."

Sam found it hard to catch his breath, but he forced himself to speak. "Mum was the daughter of a bank robber, Dad was a U.S. Marshal."

"Bet that made for an interesting upbringing."

Sam sighed, and took another deep breath. "Mum died when I was four. Smallpox."

"I'm sorry," I said. "How's your breathing?"

Sam looked surprised. "Better. I thought I was going to die."

"You just needed something to focus on until your breathing calmed. You stay here and concentrate on your breathing, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Stay a minute." Sam's voice was barely above a whisper.

I sat down on the soft ground beside him. 

"That is…was Victoria... Missus Warren," Sam said and spat onto the ground. "Bad taste."

I'd already assumed that the person in the barn was the owner of the ranch, so I kept quiet and let Sam continue.

"Why did they do that? What was the point?"

"I don't know, but I plan on finding out.” I let a silence fall between us for a short time. “So, not much of a murderer then?"

Sam shook his head and tears fell in steady streaks. 

"You want to talk about it?"

"No," he said firmly.

"If you ever change your mind, let me know." I stood up. "I need to finish checking inside. You going to be okay?"

"Is that the worst thing you've ever seen?"

I didn't know if lying would make him feel better or worse, but the truth was all that wanted to come out of my mouth. "No," I said. "What happened in there is horrific, and disturbing and wrong. But it's not even close to the worst things I've ever seen."

"How do you push them out of your mind?"
"You don't," I said. "You just learn to deal with them. The brain is great at doing things like that. Eventually what you saw will be a foggy memory. It'll take time, but it will happen."

I left Sam to ponder my words and re-entered hell. At the rear of the barn, above several closed barrels, was a tomahawk axe imbedded in one of the barn's wooden posts. Blue feathers hung from the bottom of the deep brown, wooden handle, blond hair stuck to the blood-slick blade. I pulled the axe free, and found more remains inside the cut on the wood. 

I moved the barrels and found Mrs Warren's scalp on the floor. It had probably slipped off the axe and fallen onto the floor. I left it where it was and sighed. 

"What the hell are you doing?" someone shouted from the front of the barn.

I turned to discover a beautiful young woman stepping into the barn, a rifle aimed directly at me. 

"I asked you a question." She glanced at the dead body, and her eyes focused on me once more. They were hard and cold, a dark brown that matched her long hair. 

"You're also pointing a gun at me," I said. "I’ve just gotten here, too. So how about you lower the rifle? Or we at least go have this conversation somewhere that doesn't smell like blood and shit."

The woman stepped away and waved for me to come out of the barn. I did as she asked, and walked round to the side of the large building, where Sam was still sitting. 

"Sit," the woman said. 

"No," I replied.

"Mapiya?" Sam asked, getting back to his feet. "What's happening?"

"You know her?" I asked.

"She was staying here the same time as me." He glanced over at Mapiya. "Where is everyone? What happened to Missus Warren?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said.

"Lower the gun and we'll talk," I told her once again.

"You should," Sam told her, agreeing. "I tried pointing a gun at him and I didn't get anywhere."

"You're a child," Mapiya said, and I noticed Sam flinch at her words. "I would have no qualms about killing this gentleman."

"Nathan," I said, introducing myself. "And you're what, a dozen feet away? I'm pretty certain that you'll only get to fire one bullet. Better make sure it counts."

Mapiya steeled her gaze. "It will."

"Or we could talk." I tossed the tomahawk at her feet. "That was used on Missus Warren."

She stared at the axe with obvious hatred, but the gun stayed pointed at me. "None of the tribes did this."

  "Of course they didn't," I said. "There's almost no evidence at the house that anything even happened here. And then they leave a bloody axe next to a dead body? No killer who takes the time to be as meticulous as whoever attacked this place was would be stupid enough to leave such an obvious piece of evidence behind."

The rifle wavered for a moment, and then lowered. "I heard something in the woods last night. But it got the jump on me and knocked me out. I ran back here after waking up."

"Any idea what attacked you?"

Mapiya shook her head and winced slightly from the movement. "Still stiff," she said, and rubbed her neck. "I never even saw them coming. They were fast, and could have killed me."

"So why didn't they?"

There was a pause before Mapiya spoke. "I've been wondering the same thing. Any idea what did all of this?"

I shook my head. "From what you've told me, it happened at night. It would have been a concerted effort to get everyone at once. Otherwise, there'd be evidence of at least
some
resistance. And the only blood is either from horses or Missus Warren. She was a message. But that leaves the question, where are all of the other dead bodies. "

"And the horses?" Mapiya asked.

I glanced down at Sam and hoped the memories of the horses wouldn't make him sick again. "They were the celebratory meal."

"There's a fort about three hours ride north of here," Mapiya said. "They're friendly with the local Crow tribe. If we can get there before it's too late, they should let us stay."

"So, you trust us now?"

Mapiya shook her head. "Not really, but you didn't kill anyone here. And I know Sam. If he trusts you, I'm willing to extend the same courtesy. For the moment, anyway. We both seem to want the same thing, so let's at least travel to the fort together. If whatever took these people hasn't quite finished yet, I'd rather have the extra eyes and weapons."

We rode in silence, me and Sam on Valour and Mapiya on her own dark brown horse. I couldn't help but watch Mapiya ride with confidence. She was a natural.

"She's beautiful," Sam said from behind me. 

"Yes, she is," I said and looked down at the glint of a knife which I could see strapped to her ankle. I smiled. 

After a long ride, Mapiya stopped her horse at the top of a slight hill. She pointed toward a large fort in the distance. "Fort Pennywise," she said. "Named after some General, although can't say I ever learnt why."

"There are no lights," I said. "And no one on the walls." 

She didn't wait a heartbeat, just went from standing to galloping toward the open front gates. "Hold on," I said to Sam and set off after Mapiya, reaching the gates only a few lengths behind her. 

She practically jumped down off her horse and removed a Winchester rifle from its holster, before tentatively entering the dark fort.

"Wait a few minutes. If you hear shooting, get on Valour and get out of here," I said to Sam as he dropped down to the ground. I followed suit and grabbed my own rifle, ensuring it was loaded before following Mapiya once again.

"See anything?" I asked when I caught her up.

She shook her head. "Can't see a damn thing."

There was movement from up ahead, past two cannons that lay dormant at the far end of the yard. I raised my rifle. Light flickered on inside the huge main building, and several large men walked out to join us. "And you would be?" I asked.

The men didn't answer as they lit several torches around the yard, illuminating everything. One man hadn't moved. He was a head taller than I was, with a bare chest and long dark hair that was tied back and stretched down to his waist. He wore a feathered headdress, although the light didn't allow me to tell their colour. 

"I am Chief Blacktail of the Crows," he said, his voice was a low rumble that commanded respect.  

"Nathan Garrett," I said.

"And you are?" Chief Blacktail asked Mapiya.

"My name is Mapiya."

Chief Blacktail smiled. "A Sioux name."

"My father was Chief of the Sioux."

I pushed aside my surprise at Mapiya’s revelation. “Why are you all here? What happened to the soldiers who should be here?”

The Chief turned his gaze from Mapiya to me. “I don’t think you’re in any position to ask questions.”

I walked toward him and handed over the bloody tomahawk. "Someone tried to frame one of the tribes for the murder of a ranch owner not far from here. I think we need to have a talk before anyone else dies.

Chief Blacktail glared at the tomahawk. "I'm afraid it might be too late for that."

Chapter 11

New Forrest, England. Now.

I hadn't been sitting long, maybe a minute at most. Enough to recline the black leather chair, before Olivia had almost thrown the living room door open in her haste to find me. 

"Are you going to explain why you think Amber Moore was the killer's first victim?" Olivia demanded. She would have probably questioned me earlier, but her phone had gone off, giving me time to leave the kitchen.

 "I will, but I need to see the body first," I said.

"If you have information-"

"He's not hiding anything from you," Tommy interrupted. "Are you?" 

I shook my head. "I don't want to tell you something if I'm wrong, thus wasting your time
and mine
."

Olivia set her jaw. "Tommy, give us a minute, will you?"

Tommy left the room, presumably to find more food of mine to pilfer.

Olivia closed the dark, wooden door behind Tommy and sat at the end of the leather couch closest to my chair. I pushed my legs down, bringing myself upright and waited for her question.

"Would you consider working for the LOA to bring whoever is committing these murders to justice?"

That was basically what I'd expected to be asked, and I already knew my answer. "No."

"Thanks for your help," Olivia said and got back to her feet.

"I'll work for
you
," I clarified. "Only you, not Avalon."

She turned back to me with a quizzical expression on her face. "Why?"

"Don't trust Avalon," I said. "This is an agreement between you and me."

"I can't pay you without putting your name on something."

"I never asked for money," I said.

Olivia sat back down. "What?"

"I've accumulated a tidy sum over the years, I don't need money. But I do want something from you."

"No," she snapped. "I'm not about to jeopardise my career for anyone."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Bloody hell, Olivia, nothing like that. What do you know about what happened to me a decade ago?"

"Tommy said that Mordred grabbed you while you were helping children escape his experiments. That he had your memory wiped."

"That about sums it up. But Mordred was getting help from someone, and I'm certain Avalon was involved. So, all I want you to do is call Avalon and ask them to send all the information they have on Mordred, to you."