The Book Waitress Series Volume One (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

A screeching came from the far recesses of Derek’s mind. A falcon or hawk?

“Get up, maggot.”

No bird. A rusty cell door. He opened his eyes and found himself in the same position he’d been in before falling asleep. In front of him stood another one of Victor’s goons. Not Bart. That was fortunate. He didn’t have the bulk or the mammoth size. Shaking off the cobwebs, a plan immediately took shape.

“I said get up. And put your hands on your head.” Fortune flew out the window as the man pulled a gun out and pointed it directly at him. Nothing could be easy.

“Okay, gimme a minute.”

As he stood, he adjusted his shorts, discreetly removing a couple of needles and hiding them between his fingers. Then, he put his hands on top of his head. The man stepped toward him and Derek took his one and only chance to break free. Hands already in a high position, he slammed the needles down and into the eyes of the unsuspecting man. Shrieking madly, the man dropped his weapon. Derek took the opportunity to pick it up and run out of the cell, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

He didn’t know which way to go. He just knew he had to find the boy and Camille. Sneaking about from one room to another, he peeked inside through their window slits. There wasn’t a soul about anywhere in any of the rooms.
They must’ve saved me for last. But there’s one last room to look in.
Peering in sent his stomach roiling. Blood stained the patient table and floor, and he swore he could see bloody footprints smeared on the floor leading to the door.

Dear God, what have they done to you, Camille?

He had a sinking feeling plans had changed. Running down the hallway and up the stairs to the main house, he cautiously crept about, trying to locate anyone that could be persuaded to give him information. It was quiet. Too quiet. Victor had probably left the house. But to where? Where were they going to hold the ritual ceremony?

As he snuck into the kitchen area, he found an older, graying woman washing the dishes at the sink. Gun in hand, he stalked over to her and positioned the gun right at the base of her skull.

“If you shout or speak without my permission I will kill you right where you stand. Understand me? Speak only yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Put down the rag and the dish. Is anyone besides you in the house? Speak.”

“No.”

“Where did Victor go? Speak.”

“I…I don’t know.”

“You will be dead in five seconds if you answer wrong again. Tell me where he took the sacrifices. Speak.”

“To the library. He took them to the library. Please don’t kill me.”

“Open the cabinet under the sink.” She bent down and opened the door.

“Get in. Head first.” She complied, pushing cleaning products out of the way and wedging herself inside. He closed the cabinet door and ripped the sprayer hose out, using it to tie the handles together.

He scrambled to the front door, praying his car hadn’t been destroyed. He’d lost his keys at some point during his capture, but knew how to hotwire a ride. There it stood in the circular drive. His savior. His red Chevy SS. Opening the driver side door, he threw the gun on the passenger seat and ripped wires from under the steering column. In quick fashion, he connected a couple of wires and had his car running. Tearing out of the circular drive, he raced to the library, praying he’d be in time.

***

Cars filled the small library parking lot, and there were plumbing and excavating trucks parked as well. The kiosk listed a Library Board meeting today at six o’clock this evening. Great cover for cult proceedings. Derek parked his car, wedged the gun in his waistband and cautiously scoped out the lay of the land. Step by step he walked the perimeter of the building. As he turned a corner, he nearly slammed right into another man skulking around.

“Michaels? What are you doing out here?”

“Trying to save my son, Galloway. Ever since Zach’s disappearance, my wife hasn’t been acting the way I think a mother should, given her child went missing, so I cornered her today about it. She said he’s marked for greatness and a higher calling, and then she walked out. I followed her here. She’s inside the library right now. I think she’s behind his disappearance. I think she’s given him to this satanic cult you were talking about. I’m afraid she belongs to it and sacrificed my son to them.”

“I’m so sorry. After doing research, I believe he is, too. A friend of mine has been taken, too. We can work together to get them both out alive.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Do you know if the front door is unlocked?”

“It’s locked.”

“All right, we’ll just have to quietly bust our way in, then. Follow me.” They walked up to the front door, as though patrons, and looked through the window. A mat lay on the floor on the other side of the door. “Okay, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna bust the window and unlock the door. If I do it right, the mat should dampen the sound of breaking glass falling to the floor.”

“Here, use my bandana to protect yourself.” Michaels handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He wrapped his elbow and gave the window two good jabs with it. On the second try, the glass broke, but stayed together. He gave it a third tap and the pieces fell to the mat as anticipated. Fishing his arm through the hole, Derek found the three sets of locks and opened each one. Bringing his arm back out, he then opened the door. “We’re in. Let’s go.”

“Now what do we do?” Zach’s dad whispered.

“We go down to the basement. I’ll cause a diversion while you escape with your son. Then I’ll grab my friend.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it.”

Derek led the way. He stopped at the top and listened. A group of people chanted and alternated with a single female voice. Underscoring the repetitious, monotone liturgy, came a child’s whimper. Michaels would have flown down the stairs had Derek not been in his way. He grabbed a stack of books that lay on the landing, tiptoed down a couple of steps and hurled them one at a time into the crowd, slamming them into people’s heads and bodies. Giving Michaels the nod, Zach’s father charged into the frenzied crowd.

Still in the shadows, he watched as people scurried about, some cleaning up any evidence of their thwarted sacrifice and escaping out the back door, while others threw off their robes and headed out to parts unknown. But one other, the High Priestess, dressed in a black robe and ruby encrusted crown, seemed oblivious to the chaos surrounding her, so intent on sacrificing the boy. Arms raised with Satan’s Saber grasped in both hands, she lowered it inch by inch. Michaels tackled her from the side and they tumbled to the floor. A scream reverberated through the room. When he stood once again, he held the bloodied Saber and used it to free Zachary bound to the altar. Throwing the knife aside, he grabbed him close and raced up the stairs with the child cradled in his arms. He stopped briefly before Derek.

“Thank you. You helped save my boy’s life.” He huffed, out of breath. “I’m headed straight for the police.”

“You need to take him off the island to the police there. The cult has the police here in their pocket. Go!”

Derek had been looking about for Camille, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Where the hell is she if they didn’t bring her down here?
Maybe she’s in that tented area out back.
He blended into the chaos and grabbed an abandoned robe to disguise himself. Everyone seemed to be leaving in different directions, but a few, who continued to wear their robes hurried out the emergency exit. He decided to follow, and once outside, found himself in a covered walkway leading to the tent in the back yard of the library.

When he entered the large tent, a sickly scent of incense assaulted his nose. Quickly scanning the area, he found the space packed with people, all robed in black, with hands in the air in the shape of devil’s horns. Two tall candelabras, filled with lit black and red candles, stood on either side of a stone well. Victor stood behind the well, bare-chested and showing a pentagram glowing on his chest. His lips moved, but the words were masked by the incessant drone of two large generators. The need for them became abundantly clear and there was no need to look any further for Camille.

A Spyder Crane had been set up near the well, and Camille, bound and lethargic, dangled from the end of it like a worm on a fish hook right over the opening. If the generators masked Victor’s voice, then they’d mask her screaming as well.

The cult’s leader seemed to be in his own world, continuing to chant while he nodded to the man operating the crane, and Camille inched her way closer to the lip of the well. If he was to save her, he had to get these people out of the tent fast. Reaching underneath the robe, he whipped out the gun and fired a few shots into the ground. Mass chaos ensued, with people trying to flee. The crane operator hurled himself to the ground and ran, leaving Camille still in her precarious position, and still headed toward certain death.

Derek headed directly for her and the crane. “Camille, I’m coming! Stay alive!”

“Stop right there.”

Derek found himself unable to move his legs. He shifted his body to find Victor stalking his way over, looking less like a man and more like Satan himself.

***

Camille faded in and out of consciousness, the pain so severe from the wounds yet to heal all over her body and face. Her arms, stretched to their limits, threatened to dislocate. Had she heard Derek’s voice?

“Derek?” she whispered. Feeling her body lowering, she mustered all the energy she had to call out. “Derek!” Her eyes, burning from the outside in, tried to focus on the man heading towards her with a vengeance. And then he stopped. “Derek, help me.” Her feet touched the water and she felt the level creep up her body.

He reached down, grasping at his legs. “Shit, I can’t move! Camille!”

Turning her head slightly she saw why. Somehow, Victor controlled him, and he looked to be headed his way, his eyes glowing fiery red to match the pentagram on his chest.

“Derek, he’s coming. Do something!”

He pulled out a gun and aimed at Victor. “Release me or I’ll shoot.”

“You have no power over me, human.”

“You can’t have her!”

She heard a shot and after, wicked laughter, and then a volley of shots. The water was now above her waist, stinging her raw cuts on her shins, thighs, and worst of all, stomach. No longer could she see the dire situation between the two men. She could only hear and prayed for Derek’s safety. And then her concern drifted to her impending death and meeting with Satan.

Would he appear to her in the same manner as before? Would it hurt to die this time? Was she going to Hell? So many questions and they would all be answered in a matter of moments, as the water crept up her neck and over her chin. She instinctively took a deep breath knowing it would be her very last.

Her heartbeat throbbed in her throat as water consumed her nose, eyes, and the rest of her head. Completely submerged, she willed herself to calm. But as her cells used up the precious oxygen, her body thrashed about and fought for more air.

Don’t open your mouth! Don’t breathe in! Fight to stay alive!

Her lips slowly parted and her lungs sucked in the dreaded water. The familiar feeling from so long ago returned. Her oxygen starved brain played a movie of her life and her drowned lungs burned with pain.

And then, he appeared before her. Long spindly horns spiraled outward from his forehead. Eyes, soulless caverns, peered at and through her. And his face, gruesome enough to make a grown man cry in fear screwed up into a wicked grimace.

“I have come to collect what is owed to me. Your soul, denied to me for so long. And now, I can assume my proper place ruling this mortal realm.”

He touched a clawed finger to every spot where she’d been carved and etched. And as he did so, they glowed, resulting in the paradoxical feeling of being on fire in water. She screamed helplessly and hopelessly, taking in even more water to her already saturated lungs.

A brilliant orange light shimmered around her, encompassing the entire well. Shadows, shrieks, moans, and inhuman sounds swirled around her. At the same time, she felt her body soaring as if to the heavens.

“You’re too late! It’s happened! The portal has been opened and my minions will soon cross over to wreak havoc never before seen by man. I’ll be back for you, Camille. You’ve cheated me twice now. I’ll be back for what’s mine!”

Darkness enveloped her, and she only became aware of her surroundings when her cheek kissed the ground and she felt intense pressure on her chest. She involuntarily sputtered up water and in turn gasped for breath. Someone swiped her hair off her face and then pressed firmly on her back again. More water spewed from her. Coughing, she struggled for more air and dug her nails into the soggy ground. Wincing and crying out, she rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes to find an angel above her turn into Derek.

“Easy, Camille. You’re gonna be fine now. Just fine.”

She blinked a few times and raised a hand to caress his cheek.