The Fifth Victim (15 page)

The high priestess of this little band of occultists conducted the ceremony, her eyes glazed as if in a trance while her body swayed to some inaudible music that she and she alone could hear.

“I conjure thee, Emperor Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, Divine Master of Rebel Spirits,” the priestess commanded. “Leave thine abode and come hither. I have great need of thee. Come, great lord, and communicate with thy lowly servant.”

He could feel the sweet, sick blackness swirling all around him, caressing him, licking at his skin like a tongue of fire, whispering to him that all he desired would soon be his. He closed his eyes and joined the others in a murmured chant that would aid the high priestess with her summoning spell.

“I beseech thee to appear before me, Beelzebub, without harm to me and those here gathered to worship thee.”

All the times his mother had beseeched the Devil to appear, he’d never seen the Master. Not once. But he had felt his presence on many occasions, especially when his mother had made sacrifices. The mesmerizing smell of fresh blood always excited him, even as a child. His mother and the cult which she led had been true craftsmen, knowing the ancient ways and practicing black magic as occultists had done for thousands of years. This little group here in Cherokee Pointe were rank amateurs in comparison.

“If thy presence be not possible, then I ask for thee to pluck a messenger from the bottomless abyss and send it in thy stead. Choose a demon and allow him to appear before us in human form and through him we will glorify thee.”

A hushed stillness filled the room. They waited. The candles flickered.

“Bring forth the sacrifice,” the high priestess shouted.

A robed figure came forward, a bound goat in his arms, and laid the animal on a shiny metal altar.

His heartbeat accelerated, his body tightened with arousal. Excitement zinged through his veins.

“We make this offering to you, Divine Lucifer, Lord Abaddon. Come to us and imbue us with thy power.”

His mouth watered, thirsting for the taste of the animal’s blood as he closely watched the knife that performed the sacrificial deed. Once he had garnered all the strength he could from this ceremony and these Devil worshipers, he would return to his little victim, sleeping in his basement, waiting for him. At daybreak he could drink his fill of her life’s blood. In only a few more hours, he would be one step closer to his ultimate goal.

Jazzy stood with Caleb McCord on the second-story stoop outside her apartment and smiled seductively at the stranger who had rescued her from Jamie. She couldn’t remember ever being so immediately attracted to a man. Only common sense stopped her from making an utter fool of herself by inviting him to come in for a nightcap. She was pretty sure that if she invited Caleb in, he would wind up staying the night. God knew she wasn’t ready for an affair, especially not with someone she’d just met. But offering the man a job at Jazzy’s Joint was another matter entirely.

“If you’re planning on staying in town for a while, I can give you a job,” she said.

“What sort of job?” He leaned closer to her, his tall, lean frame blocking out everything else from her view.

“I’m going to fire my bouncer, if he ever shows up. I had planned to run an ad in the paper, but if you’re interested—”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll need an answer by tomorrow.”

“How about high noon? I’ll stop by Jasmine’s for lunch.”

He was too close, his masculinity almost threatening. When he lowered his head, she held her breath, expecting a hard, possessive kiss. But instead he pressed his lips against her forehead. Tenderly. Then he ran the back of his hand gently over her cheek before he turned and walked down the stairs, leaving her in a state of sexual arousal.

Totally mystified by Caleb McCord, she unlocked the dead bolt and opened her front door. Suddenly she realized her phone was ringing. She hoped it wasn’t Jamie! Damn. She needed to get Caller ID on her home phone. After closing and locking the door, she hurried to the telephone and lifted the receiver. The dial tone trilled loudly in her ear.

Genny lay on the kitchen floor, the telephone gripped in her hand. It had taken every ounce of her strength, as well as assistance from Drudwyn, to make her way from the backyard and into the house. This latest vision had been more powerful than any she’d ever experienced, and the trauma of recognizing the killer’s third victim had taken a severe toll on her, emotionally and physically.

She had placed a call to Jacob’s apartment first and left a message on his answering machine, then she’d dialed the sheriff’s office and was told by Tewanda that Jacob was out on a call.

“Tell him…tell him Misty is the next victim. I saw her.”

“Lord have mercy,” Tewanda had said. “I knew it. Misty’s car has been found and—I’ll radio Jacob right now and tell him you saw Misty.”

“Tell him to come…” The telephone, too heavy for her to hold another minute, dropped from her grasp.

“Genny…Genny. Genny!”

Slightly addled and weak as a newborn kitten, she regained consciousness several minutes later. She managed to call Jazzy. She needed help. Now. But there was no answer.

Oh, God, what am I going to do?

Having used all her strength to make the phone call, Genny slumped to the floor. Holding on to the telephone, she stared at the touch-tone numbers. She wiggled her fingers, then tried her best to punch just one number. The moment she hit the first digit, she felt the black shadows swirling inside her head.

A robed figure carried Misty into a dark cavernous space and laid her on the ground. Genny felt Misty’s fear. She also sensed the killer’s excitement. A dim light came on, a flashlight to banish the darkness and illuminate the interior of an old barn.

The vision ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving Genny all but paralyzed there on her kitchen floor. She could barely move, so there was no way she could dial the phone again. Not for a while.

She closed her eyes and lay quietly, reserving what little strength she had to send a telepathic message.

Dallas. Dallas, I need you. Please, open up your heart and hear me. Come to me. Come to me now
.

Chapter 14

Dallas left his rental car parked on the asphalt strip in front of the cabin, got out and headed for the front door. On the drive from Genny’s house, he had tried to put her out of his mind. He was not going to become involved with a woman who claimed she possessed psychic abilities. During the remainder of his stay here in Cherokee Pointe, he planned to avoid Genny Madoc. That was the only sensible course of action. Being anywhere near her was far too tempting.

He unlocked the car door and just as he started to get out, an odd sensation made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Tensing, he waited a couple of seconds, then glanced in every direction, searching for any sign of another person or an animal that might have set off his inner radar. Nothing. Only a wintry breeze skimming over the treetops.

Once he opened his coat and jacket to make the gun in his hip holster easily accessible, he got out of the car. As he made his way to the front door, he kept a lookout for anything unusual. After unlocking the front door, he walked into the combination living room/kitchen of the one-bedroom, one-bath cabin that was within walking distance of downtown. No sooner had he closed and locked the door when another jolt of uneasiness pounded him.

What the hell is going on?

He always listened to his gut instincts because they seldom steered him wrong. And he often followed hunches that were actually educated guesses born from years of experience. But these vibes had nothing to do with gut instincts or hunches.

All of a sudden Dallas knew something was wrong with Genny. He didn’t know how he knew—he just knew.

Get real, he told himself. How could you possibly know something like that?

A cold chill settled over Dallas when he heard Genny’s voice inside his mind. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the words that kept repeating themselves over and over again.
I need you. Come to me
.

“You’re losing your freaking mind,” Dallas said aloud.

What he needed was a stiff drink and then a good night’s sleep. He removed his overcoat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Doing his best to disregard the sound of Genny’s weak, whispered plea, he went into the bathroom, relieved himself, and washed his hands. Inadvertently he caught a glimpse of someone in the mirror over the sink. Snapping around, he looked behind him but saw no one. Then he looked back into the mirror and saw only his own reflection.

His heartbeat rumbled. He
was
losing his mind. For a split second he’d thought he saw Genny’s face in the mirror.

Dallas went into the bedroom, sat on the side of the bed, and removed his boots. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the notion that something was wrong with Genny. She was in trouble and needed him.

Hell, just call her and check on her. If you don’t, you won’t get any sleep tonight
.

He picked up the extension phone on the nightstand, then realized he didn’t know Genny’s number. Surely there was a phone book around here somewhere. He opened the nightstand drawer and found the only contents were a Bible and a phone book. He flipped through the pages and quickly zeroed in on the name Genevieve Madoc. After memorizing the number, he tossed the phone book aside and punched the correct digits.

For his effort he was rewarded with a singsong busy signal. Damn! Who was she talking to at this time of night?

Maybe she wasn’t talking to anyone. Maybe the phone was off the hook. What if the killer had broken into Genny’s house and when she tried to call for help, he’d knocked the telephone from her hand? Or what if she’d had another one of those nightmares that left her totally drained? If that was the case, then she might have tried to call for help and didn’t have the strength to complete the call.

Dallas stuffed his feet into his boots, tromped into the living room, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door. On his way to his car, he managed to put on his coat and fish his keys out of his pants pocket.

Against his better judgment, against good common sense, he was going to drive back up the mountain tonight to make sure Genny was all right.

He gave her another injection, just a half dose this time, enough to keep her compliant until dawn. Moving her to the location he’d chosen for the sacrifice would be much easier with her unconscious. Besides, he didn’t need her cooperation in order to derive pleasure from using her.

He had already placed the flashlights, his robe, and the sword in the trunk of his car, so all that was left to be done was transport Misty from the basement to the backseat.

When he lifted her and carried her across the room to where the unzipped body bag lay on the floor, he noticed her eyelashes flutter and knew she was semiconscious. Perhaps she was vaguely aware of what he was doing to her; perhaps not. All that mattered was that she be awake and alert at the moment of sacrifice.

He stuffed Misty into the bag and zipped it up, leaving only her face uncovered.

“Soon, my little lamb.”

In only a few hours she would become the third sacrifice, her blood strengthening him and adding to his power. Before the supreme moment of glory arrived, he had to energize himself to his fullest potential. Only by being at his optimum best could he hope to transfer the fifth victim’s power into himself.

The lights were on in Genny’s kitchen. Dallas wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. After parking the car in the driveway, he bounded out the door and hit the ground running, toward the back of the house. The sight of the animals stopped him cold. Hovering near the back porch were two wolves. They stared at him as if they were deciding whether he was friend or foe. A barn owl flew over his head and perched on the porch roof.

From inside the house, Drudwyn howled. For a split second Dallas’s heartbeat stilled.

Disregarding the wolves, Dallas raced onto the porch and through the partially open kitchen door. All he could think about was getting to Genny. If anything had happened to her…

She lay on the floor, curled in a fetal ball. Resting only inches from her, the telephone whined an off-the-hook warning. Dallas rushed to her, dropped to his knees, and lifted her in his arms. Drudwyn rose from where he lay beside Genny and moved out of the way. He watched and waited.

Genny opened her eyes and looked up at Dallas. “You heard me. You listened to your heart.”

“Genny, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Another vision,” she told him. “Must call Jacob. Now.” Her fingers twitched.

“Damn!” Dallas carried her through the house to her bedroom. All the while she kept telling him to call Jacob. Once he settled her on the bed, he sat down beside her, yanked his digital phone from its holder on his belt, and punched in the number for the Sheriff’s Department.

Deputy Hardy answered. Dallas quickly informed her who he was and that there was an emergency with Butler’s cousin Genny.

“He’s already on his way there now,” Tewanda Hardy said. “How’s Genny doing? I know how badly those visions drain her.”

“Genny will be all right.”

“You take good care of her, you hear.”

“I intend to do just that.”

Dallas replaced the receiver, then turned to Genny. He smoothed the flyaway strands of her jet black hair from her face and caressed her cheek.

“Is Jacob coming?” she asked.

“He’s on his way.” Dallas cupped Genny’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “How did Jacob know you needed him?”

“I’d called earlier and he wasn’t there. I told…” Genny took several deep breaths. “I told Tewanda that I knew Misty Harte was the next victim.” She lifted her hand as if it weighed a hundred pounds, then grasped the lapel of Dallas’s overcoat. “If we can find her, we can save her.”

Dallas put his hands on Genny’s shoulders. “You lie here and rest. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Coffee? Something to eat.”

A fragile smile formed on her lips. “I don’t need anything…except you.”

Her comment affected him in a way he didn’t like. Hell, his actions tonight were totally out of character for him. Somehow he’d gotten swept up in all this craziness about Genny’s visions. He wanted to help her, but in doing so, he didn’t dare release his hold on reality. He had to continue thinking logically.

But for the time being, he simply sat beside Genny as she closed her eyes and rested. In what seemed like only minutes, he heard the roar of Jacob’s truck. Then two sets of booted feet tapped through the house.

“Genny!” Jacob called. “Sloan, where are y’all?”

“Back here,” Dallas replied. “In Genny’s bedroom.”

With Bobby Joe Harte on his heels, Jacob burst into the room. “Is she all right?”

“I’m fine,” Genny said. “Just weak, as usual. But this time…oh, Jacob, I saw her. It was Misty. He has Misty.”

Bobby Joe gripped the edge of the footboard of Genny’s bed. “You saw Misty in one of your visions? You saw that the killer has her?”

Genny nodded. “If we can find her before dawn, we can save her.”

“But how can we find her if we have no idea where he’s taken her?” Bobby Joe asked.

Sitting on the opposite side of the bed from Dallas, Jacob reached out and took Genny’s hand. “Is there more you can tell us? Anything that might give us a clue as to where she is?”

Dallas listened and watched in amazement. Was it possible that Genny really did possess psychic abilities? It seemed that everyone who knew her believed she did.

Genny clung to Jacob’s hand. “He has taken her from the place he’s been keeping her to an old barn. I couldn’t make out much, except the barn is probably very, very old and terribly dilapidated.”

“And probably abandoned,” Jacob said.

“Do you know how many ramshackle old barns there are still standing in Cherokee County?” Bobby Joe asked. “There’s got to be at least a dozen. Maybe more. And they’re spread out all over the county.”

“You’re right,” Jacob said. “It could take us half a day to make the rounds just to the barns we know about.”

“You need to form a search party,” Dallas suggested.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jacob turned to Bobby Joe. “You think you can handle this, what with Misty being—”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Have Tewanda call in all the deputies,” Jacob said. “And have her phone Chief Watson and ask him to bring in all his people. Then tell her we need the Highway Patrol involved.”

“I’ll take care of it right now.” Bobby Joe headed out of the bedroom, but halted in the doorway. “What are you fixing to do, Sheriff?”

Jacob squeezed Genny’s hand. “Do you think you’ve got the strength to come with me?”

She nodded. “If you’ll carry me to your truck.”

“What the hell’s going on here?” Dallas asked. “She shouldn’t be going anywhere. Look at her. Dammit, she needs a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor. I’ll be all right in a few hours, but we can’t wait that long before we start looking for Misty,” Genny explained. “If I go with Jacob, I might be able to help him.”

“How can you help him?” Dallas asked, but, God damn it, he knew her answer before she replied.

“With my gift of sight,” she told him quite matter-of-factly.

“You aren’t strong enough to—”

Genny cut Dallas off midsentence. “If you’re concerned about me, then come with us.” She turned her hand palm up and lifted it slowly toward him in a beseeching manner. “I need you. I can draw from your strength.”

Allowing himself a moment of sanity, Dallas inhaled and exhaled deeply. He had to make an immediate decision. Looking at Jacob, he said, “We’ll ride with you.” He reached down and lifted Genny up in his arms.

She laid her head on his chest so trustingly, then whispered, “Thank you.”

As they made their way through the house, Jacob gave Bobby Joe last-minute instructions. “Contact Tewanda on your way back into town; she can get the ball rolling. Once she’s gotten in touch with everyone, I want you to help her coordinate the search party. I’ll let you know where we are and where the searchers should start.”

“Want me to pick up Sally, or will you do that?” Bobby Joe asked.

“I’ll stop by her place and get her and her hounds,” Jacob replied.

Bobby Joe hurried outside, just ahead of the others, then jumped into the patrol car and immediately made radio contact with Tewanda.

On the way out the back door, Dallas snatched Genny’s black coat off the rack and tossed it over her. Within a couple of minutes, Jacob was behind the wheel of the big, brawny Dodge Ram, and Dallas held Genny in his arms on the passenger side.

Jacob leaned over, placed his hand on Genny’s shoulder, and said, “Okay,
i gi do
, where do we begin?”

Genny closed her eyes. No one spoke. No one moved. The only sounds were three people breathing. And then somewhere off in the distance a wolf howled. Genny’s eyelids flew open.

“He’s moving her right now,” Genny said as she lifted her head from Dallas’s chest. “I see a long stretch of winding road. He’s bringing her up the mountain.” Genny sighed softly, then wilted against Dallas, seemingly exhausted.

Jacob rolled down his window and called out to Bobby Joe, “We need some roadblocks set up immediately. All the roads leading up the mountain.” He rolled up the window and turned to Genny. “Anything else?”

“Dammit, can’t you see she’s totally worn out.” Dallas glared at Jacob. “She can’t take any more of this. Whatever goes on with her when she’s doing whatever it is she does, it’s sapping every ounce of her energy.”

“East,” Genny whispered. “Go east.”

Ignoring Dallas’s protective outburst, Jacob backed up, turned the truck around, and headed down the driveway directly behind Bobby Joe. The deputy went southwest, toward town. Jacob went in the opposite direction.

After a few minutes, Jacob cleared his throat. “We’ll stop by Sally’s. If we get anywhere close to Misty, those hounds of Sally’s will pick up her scent.”

“You’ll need something that—” Dallas said.

“Got one of her blouses in a sack back there.” Jacob nodded toward the backseat. “Bobby Joe picked it up at her house while he was there this evening. That boy’s always thinking ahead.”