Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) (11 page)

Amy decided to go with the
bright red instead of her usual pale pink. Tonight she would be
sassy and vibrant, instead of timid and boring. If she could step
away from herself for even a few hours then maybe the unfinished
rat business, creepy voice and the spooky Sacred Oaks phenomena
would let loose of her psyche. No wonder Sherry freaked out. She
wanted no part of all this bad mojo.

Amy had just finished applying the
lipstick when the bathroom door opened and a large guy wearing a
football jersey lurched his drunk-self right into the lady’s
room.

“
What did Mike do with the
urinals?” Twice, the guy turned in a complete circle. “And when the
hell did he put doors on the stalls?”

“
I think you’re looking
for the men’s room.” Amy scooped the makeup back into the bag as
she kept her eyes focused on the hulking guy who staggered about
next to the sink.

The man looked at Amy, seemingly
surprised by the sound of her voice and by her presence. When she
caught a clear glimpse of his face an unnerving sense of
familiarity alarmed her.

She dropped the cosmetic bag into her
purse and shuffled closer to the door, but he put himself between
her and the exit. She stepped back. Her heart hiccupped.

Worst day.
Ever.

“
You’re Shane Baker’s
little woman. Used to be in the Kettle with that dickhead. You
know, a Vulture. I played defense.” He leaned into her, driving her
deeper into the restroom and further from the exit. A sinister
smile showcased a missing front tooth. Grin widened, he burped in
her face.

Fumes of regurgitated stale beer and
fried mushrooms made her gag.

“
Me and Shane go way back.
Back to the good ol’ glory days. Pussy. Pussy. Pussy. All the
fucking time.”

The Kettle, she recalled, was what the
all-star football players called themselves when they’d party on
the town. Shane had told her a hundred stories of all the wild
times they’d had doing mostly harmless things.

Mostly.

A dry knot inched down her
throat. “Excuse me,” she said, but her voice was quieter than she’d
intended. “I have to get back to my friend.”

His hand grabbed her
wrist. “I ain’t had a good piece of tail in over a year. Not since
I got the fucking clap down in Austin.”

# # #

Carmen watched the roadies trek on and
off the stage, connecting and testing equipment while the jukebox
played a twisted mix of obscure outlaw country and psychobilly
rock’n’roll. The sawdust dance floor was sparse and tame. After
dark, all the guys and gals would be reborn as two-step dosey-do
kings and queens with a nice dose of punk rock in their
sway.

Derrick stood in the
center of a gaggle of giddy sorority bimbos. With a cocky grin and
waving arms, he was probably telling them about his thrill-seeking
exploits or, maybe, he was trying to charm his way into their pants
with the recaps of his latest victory in the amateur boxing
circuit. Hearing their girly ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’, and seeing their
glasses full of brightly colored fruity drinks, Carmen chugged the
dark contents of her Collins.

Amateur. Vapid. Idiotic.
Brainless...whores.

She peered through the crowd toward
the restroom. What the hell was taking Amy so long?

Carmen smelled his spicy after shave,
before she felt his arm come around from behind.

Jeff tucked his head
beside Carmen’s. “Hey sweet child o’ mine.” He still wore his black
Buckeye Police Department uniform which brought a little tingle to
Carmen.

She turned on her stool and smiled.
Two months ago he’d guessed both her themed costume and trivia
question of the eve and got a ticket to her bed. They spent one
very hot night together and he’d been a haunt ever since. It really
was a shame too that he hadn’t been able to duplicate his luck. But
she had standards.

“
How are you?” she asked,
only mildly interested in the answer.

Jeff shrugged. “I’ve been
better.” He looked Carmen up and down, pausing on her breasts.
Lifting his gaze higher, he seemed to focus on her face and
glasses. He snapped his fingers. “I got it. Country bumpkin who
just moved to the city and needs to turn tricks to afford
college.”

A corner of Carmen’s mouth
twitched with amusement. She clucked her tongue. “Sorry. Better
luck next time.”

“
Come on, babe, give me a
second chance. I’m just warming up.”

Carmen laughed. “I don’t
do warm-ups.”

“
How ‘bout I just arrest
you for resisting an officer’s charms and lock you in my bedroom
for a night?”

A deep laughter sounded
behind Officer Jeff. Derrick slapped a hand on Jeff’s back. “I’m
already warmed up.”

# # #

“
You were on the football
team?” Amy thumped her forehead with the heel of her trembling
hand. “I’m terrible with faces.” If she kept small talk up then
maybe the creep would lose interest and go away.

He slapped both hands on the wall on
either side of her, trapping her head between his meaty arms. He
inched his face closer and sniffed her neck.

Closing her eyes, Amy turned her
head.

The guy pulled back. As
his gaze rolled down her body, he said, “Chris Dewalt. Played
defense. Didn’t I say that already?”

She snapped her fingers.
“Of course. Now, I remember. Chris Dewalt who played defense for
the Vultures with Shane.”

“
Bull fuckin’
shit.”

Spittle sprinkled her face. Shoulders
hunched, she recoiled her head backward and thunked against the
rutted cement wall.

Chris laughed. More
stringent breath billowed about her face.

Amy ignored the pounding
in her skull. “I’ll tell Shane you said hello.” She ducked under
his arm, but he grabbed and shoved her back against the wall. Hard.
A drumming ache in her shoulders matched the migraine bashing the
back of her skull. And hot tears poured from her squinted
eyes.

“
You ain’t forgot about my
pal Boone have you?” A sneer quirked one side of his
mouth.

At the sound of that
lunatic’s name, a chill crawled down her spine.

“
How is
he?”
Locked up and the key thrown away.
Hopefully.

Chris cocked his head,
silent. Smile gone. Finally, he spoke. “You remember him? He was a
like a brother to me.”

Amy
nodded.
Hard to forget someone who kept
you locked in a closet with dead animals for seven hours and
fourteen minutes.

Chris backed away. “He
offed himself in that nuthouse they shipped him off to. All thanks
to you and that prick Shane.”

Feeling somewhat relieved
to have distance between him and her, she said, “I’m sorry to hear
about that.” She wanted to add that Boon was already a basket case
when she met him at the Buckeye Behavioral Clinic. She’d taken to
him the way some people take to a sweet stray dog. Good Lord she
had been a fool. The freak had turned out to be a rabid
monster.

Chris stared at the floor,
seemingly entranced by the paisley design in the ivory tile. “Don’t
act like you give a shit. You convinced everyone in town he was a
psycho. But I know you made all that shit up ‘cause you’re fucking
schizophrenic just like your crazy ass aunt.”

“
I didn’t,” she said, but
knew it was futile to argue.

“
And your punkass outlaw
of a boyfriend cost him twelve grand in medical bills which I had
to loan him.” His face contorted with disgust. “Boone never got a
chance to pay me back.”

“
I really have to get
going.” Amy made for the door but he grabbed her by the shoulders
and tossed her to the floor. She lifted herself to her hands and
knees. With a ratty, smelly sneaker, he flipped her onto her
back.

“
I bet that cunt and
asshole of yours is worth about half what’s owed to me.”

Bloodshot eyes bore into her abdomen
where her tank had ridden up, baring her midsection.

Amy slid her tank to her
waist and forced herself to look at him. “Go to hell.” If only her
voice hadn’t trembled so damn much.

Chris knelt over her, knees straddling
her stomach. She twisted but her efforts were humorous against his
three hundred or so pounds. Holding her breath, trying not to smell
his stench, she jerked her knee into his groin.

“
Stupid bitch!”

An open-hand slammed the
side of her head. A dull pain rattled through her skull before a
burst of white light with black spots speckled her vision. And the
earlier migraine erupted into brain-splitting agony. She cried out
loudly. “God, please...I’m so sorry about Boone.”

He looked up and past her
toward the sink, eyes wide. Scrambling off of her, he shot to his
feet. “What the fuck!”

Following his gaze, she
saw a mist of gray swirled in the mirror. Orbs of red throbbed and
streamed down the glass. Carnivorous crocodile teeth appeared and a
wall-quaking roar cracked the mirror. A jagged line ran diagonally
from the top left corner to the bottom right.

Chris looked at her and
back at the mirror. “I swear I’ll never drop acid
again!”

A knock on the door.

“
Greetings there,”
Cinder’s voice resounded from the other side. “May I be allowed
inside the lady’s chambers?”

The door opened and Chris
bull-rushed past Cinder and out of the bathroom.

Cinder looked down at Amy
where she still knelt on the dirty tile floor. He gave a slight bow
at the waist. “All is occupied in my brethren’s chambers and my
goblet is near to overflow, thus it must receive a proper
receptacle.”

# # #

While Derrick stood in all
his smugness, flashing his pearly whites, Jeff shook his head and
pushed his way toward the dance floor.

Mike set her second round
down.

Carmen turned on her stool
toward the bar. She tapped the glass before swallowing it in one
go. With her back toward Derrick, she asked, “What’s your
guess?”

Derrick turned her stool until she
faced him. With a finger under her chin, he lifted her head and
planted a long, wet, telling kiss. His expert tongue possessed her
mouth with promise and confidence. Her traitorous body slid off the
stool and brought her to her feet. Fingers with a mind of their own
snaked through his hair. Her hips pushed into his prominent
erection.

Carmen felt a tap on her shoulder.
Without breaking from the kiss, she waved the irritant
away.

“
Betty Boop crossed with a
nerdy cowgirl,” Beckett said.

Fuck.

She broke from the kiss, but
hesitated, breathing in Derrick’s beer-flavored hot breath against
her swollen lips. Holy fuck she needed him inside her. She
straightened and turned on her heel.

Beckett wore his usual
letterman jacket and the copious amounts of mousse in his blond
hair. With a smirk, she said, “That’s the first part. Now you have
to get the question.”

“
Let’s get to it
then.”

“
First female cartoon
character not to show interest in any of the male
characters?”

Frowning, Beckett’s shoulders
slumped.

Carmen couldn’t keep from smiling. As
she opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, his eyes lit
up.

“
Wilma
Flintstone.”

Carmen rolled her eyes.
“She was married to Fred, you dumbass.”

Beckett smirked. “I know
lots of people who have no ‘interest’ in their significant
other.”

She dropped her head and
laughed, knocking her glasses off her nose and clear to the floor.
With her back to Derrick, she slowly knelt, making sure her dress
slid nearly to her waist. On her hands and knees, she faked
blindness as she patted the dirty hardwood floor for her glasses,
her ass in the air, her panties hopefully only visible to
Derrick.

And he wouldn’t be able to
miss the pink slip of paper tucked under the lace of her
thong.

Derrick lowered himself
behind Carmen. “Let me help you, babe.” He reached over her and
grabbed her glasses, while his other calloused hand caressed her
ass cheek before finding her slit.

And when his fingertips
probed her opening she arched her back and grinned, bearing teeth
like a damn tomcat in heat.

Carmen clenched her teeth
and held her position until she felt the slip of paper being slid
from her panties. When she was certain Derrick had the treasure,
she stood.

He brought the paper to
his face and breathed it in. “And for the grand prize...the correct
answer is: Velma.”

# # #

“
Jesus.” Still sitting on
the floor, Amy palmed her head.

“
Cinder.”

“
Jesus.”

“
Cinder.”

“
Jesus.”

“
I am Cin
derrrr.”

Amy spat a nervous
laughter. “Y-yes you are.” She glanced at the cracked mirror but
the grotesque image had vanished.