Redeeming the Night (9 page)

His head snapped up, and a nasty grin contorted his features. “I’ll save her for later.” He stepped around the still hunched Nichole. “I’m gonna make you scream.” He took both ends of the belt in one hand and snapped it.

The move was obviously meant to intimidate, but his complete ignorance of the current situation struck Ashley as funny, and she laughed out loud.

“What are you laughing at, bitch?” He swung the belt against his boot. “I’m going to fuck you. Then I’m going to gut you.”

This brought a fresh wave of laughter.

“With your belt?” She stood still, waiting for him to get in close. “You’re a moron if you think I’d be scared by a little dick with a belt.”

Dropping the belt, he lunged at her with both hands. She stepped adroitly out of the way, allowing him to crash to the parched ground.

“No wonder you prey on children.” She kicked a loose rock at him.

When he tried to stand she reached out her mind and touched his. Time to draw out his fears. She sifted through memories of his victims as if she were searching for just the right app on a phone.

After a second, he tried to get up, and she placed her stiletto in the small of his back and said, “No, don’t get up.”

He’d taken his first victim as a teenager. A hooker then, older and not his type, but it gave him a taste. Ashley took the pleasure he felt at her torture and death, twisted it to fear, and changed his perspective.

He cried out, waving his open palms in the air. The sound was a combination of a howl and whimper. Scrambling at the dirt, he wailed, “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me.”

Ashley twisted the memory of his next victim, a classmate in high school. He screamed again, his voice rising an octave.

Fear ran off him in rivulets. She twisted again and again. Like juicing an orange, she wanted to be sure she got every drop.

Finally, he lay on the ground whimpering. She prepared for the final blow, to remove his soul.

“Wait.” Nichole stepped into view.

“You want to finish him? I think there’s a little left,” Ashley said, glad to see her student come back on her own.

“No, I want you to let him go now.” She laid a hand on Ashley’s arm.

“What are you talking about?” Ashley stared at Nichole. “You wanted to finish him an hour ago.” Ashley studied the woman she’d been training for the past few months. “Do you feel guilty? Did he get to you?” She patted Nichole’s shoulder. “Some sisters relive their own past on their first time out. It’s nothing to worry about.”

When Nichole said nothing, things became clear.

“You feel sorry for him. You want me to spare him.” Aghast, Ashley nudged the barely moving man with her toe. “You didn’t see what he has done.”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever he’s done, it doesn’t make it right for us to do almost the same thing to him.”

“He’s getting what he gave to those women, what he almost gave to you. This is justice.”

“No, now it’s cruel.” Ashley watched Nichole crouch beside the man, then look up at Ashley. “Look at him. Look at his aura now.”

She looked, not because she was told to, not because she was concerned for the slime that lay sprawled at her feet, but because for the second time that night, she was curious.

What had once been a diseased aura, swimming in colors better suited to an overripe banana, was now pale tan. It seemed as though, by reliving the pain of his victims, he’d redeemed himself. Cleaned his slate.

“You’ve never seen this before, have you?” Nichole asked.

“No,” Ashley admitted. It was the only reply she could give. She’d never bothered to watch the aura of her prey once she cornered them. It served no purpose, or so she’d thought. But now …

The man at her feet had had his soul cleansed, and the idea of taking it now repulsed her. He groaned and mumbled. The word “bitch” was muted, but obvious. He had a chance to better himself, and without realizing it, he would toss it aside.

“He won’t change,” Ashley said, tilting her head at Nichole.

“But you’ll let him live?” She brought her hands together so quickly she almost clapped.

“He won’t change, and when he reverts to his old ways the sisterhood will take him.”

“He will change for me.” Nichole knelt beside the man. He’d loosened sand from the packed earth with his writhing, and now he struggled to lift his face from it.

Irritated with Nichole for being so damn naive and herself for allowing her student to save the man, Ashley stomped back to her car. She retrieved a small knife from under her front seat and walked back to where the other two sat.

Ashley crouched in front of the man and leaned into his face. “Do you remember me?”

His expression scrunched like a baby dirtying his diaper. “I remember.” The words seemed a struggle. “Don’t like you.”

“Good.” Her hand grabbed his, prying his palm open and yanking it closer to her. With the tip of the blade she marked his palm, slicing the flesh in a simple pattern.

“This will be your reminder to behave. Every time you look at your hand you will remember how close your sins brought you to death. You’ve been given a chance to redeem yourself tonight. If you deliberately bring harm to anyone you will be found and what should have happened tonight will happen. Do you understand?” As she asked the question she raised the bloody point of the dagger into the man’s face.

“I do, I understand.” His eyes crossed, wide with horror as he watched the blade.

Ashley wiped the knife on the hem of her gown. Once a hunter, now he appeared to be a lost child. Although his aura seemed clean Ashley knew it was far from pure.

Nichole placed her hands on the man’s face and though she radiated no power her soul seemed to touch his for a moment. “Be good,” she whispered to him.

Tears ran down his face as his large hands reached up and covered hers. “I will. Thank you.”

The crying gave Ashley pause. She’d seen men cry in agony, in despair, and as a bargaining tool, but never in gratitude.

The man almost skipped to his truck, a beatific smile upon his lips. Nichole seemed exhausted as she walked back to the car, leaving Ashley to stand on the rock-hard earth in the desolate desert. In one naive instant, her world, all of the rules she’d been taught, had just been turned on their ends.

Ashley’s evening wasn’t getting better. Nichole rode in the passenger seat in silence for miles, which was fine by Ashley. She’d trained her, nurtured her, and she’d thrown it all away for the slime of humanity.

“Will I be kicked out of the sisterhood?” Nichole asked, echoing Ashley’s thoughts.

“I don’t know.” Best to be honest with her. “I’m not aware of this ever having happened before.”
And it happened on my watch.
What would the Mother say? Would she still want her in the inner circle?

She glanced at the woman beside her. Grudging acceptance filled Ashley, drowning out questions of “What was she thinking?” and “How could she do it?” and leaving only “What do we do now?”

“Do you
want
to leave the sisterhood?” Ashley asked the base question she could build upon.

Nichole’s reply came immediately. “No, of course not.”

“Then you will need to go through with it. You’ll need to finish him off.”

“I can’t.”

Ashley gripped the steering wheel in a valiant attempt not to backhand her passenger. “What do you mean you can’t? It’s not like you went into this with your eyes closed.”

“Yes, but in the end, I thought he would still be evil.”

“He is,” Ashley started to explain.

“He isn’t! You felt him, right? You touched his mind after you finished rousing his fear? He wasn’t evil anymore. Why don’t they train us for that?”

Ashley didn’t answer. Of course she hadn’t—there was no reason to touch his mind when the only thing left to do was feed. Suddenly, that action felt barbaric. No. Ridiculous. Trying to shake off tendrils of guilt winding their way through her gut, Ashley glared at Nichole.

Her way of life was falling into doubt, and part of her wished they hadn’t rescued Nichole. But even as she thought it, she regretted it. All women deserved to be delivered from that hell, no matter how they complicated your life.

“All right, Ms. Angel of Mercy. When he goes after another victim, you’ll be there to finish him.” She punctuated her statement by poking the dashboard.

Ashley expected silence, but instead the response came quickly. “You removed the evil; he’s been punished. He won’t return to his old ways.”

“It’s the nature of men.”

“I disagree.”

Ashley smacked the steering wheel. “Damn it.” They were driving through their neighborhood. “What do we tell the sisterhood? What do we tell the Mother? We couldn’t find anyone? You choked? Or that men are inherently good and our business should be to give them a second chance?” She didn’t bother to hide the snippiness in her tone.

“I don’t know,” Nichole whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

“Damn.” Torn between wanting to comfort the woman beside her and wanting to strangle her, Ashley pulled into the garage, killed the engine, and turned to face her protégé. “Look, since you’ve been here, you’ve become a friend. I know for a fact the Mother doesn’t induct new sisters easily. When we took you in she read your heart and obviously saw a woman worthy of the sisterhood.

“I’m still that woman.”

Ashley took Nichole’s pale hand and pattered it. “You’ve changed, but while we figure out how, and what we are to do about it, we should keep tonight between us.”

“Agreed.” And with Nichole’s nod they went into the house.

Ashley made it to her room without running into anyone; she hoped Nichole did, too. New sisters responded differently to their first successful nights out. Some were exhilarated, needing to recount the tale to everyone who would listen, often several times. Others insisted on being left unaccompanied. So the other sisters would let the successful start the party. Just in case the triumphant sister wished to be alone with her thoughts.

Ashley herself was one of the latter. Stretching out on her bed she lay spread-eagle, a position she’d assumed that evening so long ago, when she’d harvested her first soul. An evening she hadn’t thought about for years. She’d insisted on being alone that night.

They’d found him on the street. Stumbling, drunk as a lord, through the streets at twilight. She’d simply walked up to him and reached out to his mind. He’d done so much harm to everyone he knew. He’d beaten his wife and children. He’d stolen from his friends. Initially, she’d been revolted and wanted to jerk away from that horrible mind. But a memory of him pushing his wife down the stairs changed her mind.

She’d made him relive the harm he’d done to his victims over and over until she could remove his soul.

As she sucked, the taste of peaches filled her mouth, rich and sweet. But even as she reveled in the energy that filled her, she saw flashes of other memories. Him being beaten with a belt, being locked in a closet for days, scornful laughter and belittlement. He’d been a victim once.

That gave him no right to inflict it on others.

Her feelings of rage and justice had warred with guilt and shame.

She shook her head. The memories had surfaced quickly, almost consuming her. She forced them back. Locked them down tight.

She changed her position, rolling to her side, and stared out her door.

Nichole lost it in the truck, then. Weak and vulnerable, she must have thought of how her father had been redeemed, which in turn would have brightened her sympathy for the man tonight.

Ashley had seen plenty of that, too. So many women so used to being victims that as soon as the sisterhood dispatched one horrible man the poor woman would shack up with another. Some people didn’t have survival instincts.

But then sometimes it took a second chance given by the sisterhood for the women to learn their lesson and make better choices.

Could men be the same? Could they actually choose actions to better themselves?

She stood and paced her small room. Of course they could; self-advancement was foremost on most people’s minds, regardless of gender. But could they set aside their own desires for the betterment of others? Could they deny themselves in purely selfless acts?

Nichole surely thought so. They needed to track the hunter’s progress. He couldn’t be allowed to return to his previous behavior. If necessary, Ashley would finish him herself.

She crossed to her window. The lights of Vegas illuminated the sky. There was still a problem. “With all the people living, working, and playing in this city, how do I pluck a needle out of that haystack?” she asked herself.

“Does one man mean so much?” In the window’s reflection, Ashley could see Tarma standing in the doorway.

Thinking quickly, Ashley shrugged. “Another prey we passed over tonight.” She didn’t move from the sill. “I was wondering if Nichole could find him again.”

“Well, that depends … ” Tarma’s voice and face faded into the background, and another swam into view in the glass: the man with the clean aura. Eric. His curly brown hair framed his unnaturally innocent face. Something about him made her want to be close to him. She wanted to—
Wait. What?

“What did you say?” Ashley turned.

Tarma sighed. “If she touched his mind she should be able to find him again. Once contact has been made you can recognize their soul.”

Ashley considered it for a moment. “Until the other day, when I found prey, I took them. However, sometimes I would have to find out something about him, like where he lived or worked, so I could track him down again.” She tapped a fingertip on her chin. “How exactly can I track them by their soul?”

Tarma sat on the edge of Ashley’s bed, rekindling memories of Ashley’s own training and with them the sense of acceptance and belonging. The sisterhood had made her whole. Damn Nichole.

“Once you’ve touched their soul, you recognize them the next time you see them. Sometimes, with prolonged exposure—say you were interrupted—you can even track them.”

Ashley nodded, but asked, “How?”

“What do you mean ‘How’?”