Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) (18 page)

“
There’s been a slight
setback in the plans,” Shane said. “The Jalopy blew a gasket. We’re
about two hours out of Pecos. Mechanic said it won’t be fixed until
tomorrow morning.”

“
I got
some worms. We going fishing when you get home?”
If the Beast hasn’t eaten me by then.
Should she tell Shane about the voice and the
dagger?

“
You know I’ll be itching
to take you fishing.”

A flash of white light
suddenly lit up the entire house. Thunder boomed, causing the
trailer to shudder. Amy braced herself against the wall to prevent
from falling over. “Oh my God.”

“
Damn,” Shane said. “I
think we’re having a mild earthquake.”

“
Same here,” Amy said.
“You think we’re experiencing the same earthquake?”

“
Maybe. Got some freaky
ass lightning.”

“
I saw the lightning too!
But you're hundreds of miles away. How could we be watching the
same storm?”

“
Great,” Shane said. “The
world is ending and I’m stranded in East Bum Fuck with Birch. This
day just keeps getting better and better.”

“
I haven’t seen any more
lightning and the grounds not shaking anymore. Maybe whatever it
was is over.”

“
Stay put until we know
for sure.”

“
That works for
me.”

“
I’ll see if there’s any
reports about the storm on the news. My battery is low and all I
had was a car charger so I got to say audios, babe.”

“
I'll see you in the
morning. I love you.”

“
Later.” As the phone went
silent, darkness swallowed the trailer.

“
Amy?” Scooter called from
behind her. “The power went out.”

Amy entered the master bedroom. She
threw open Shane’s closet and took out one of his hunting rifles:
Remington 30-30.

I will protect you when
the time comes.

Amy
shoved a cartridge into the rifle.
That’s
comforting but I’m still gonna sleep with the
gun.

Shane stood on the street corner in
front of T & T Towing. Across from him was an Applebees. To the
left a coffee shop. Down the street to the right was El Salvator's
Cantina. Without a word or a second glance, Shane and Birch walked
east toward the smell of jalapenos and grilled meat.

“
I heard they found an
empty pill bottle in Kevin's truck,” Birch said.

“
I know a lot of guys on
the rig end up in the gutter, but I wouldn’t have pegged Kevin as
one of ‘em. I know he had shit going on, but it doesn’t make
sense.”

“
Just a matter of time
before we all end up like him.”

The job sucked but Shane
would never let it get the better of him. “During my two year tour
of Iraq we only lost two guys in our unit. Two years on this
goddamn rig and four men have died. Remember that kid, Rick, who
got sliced in half by the steel cable? I never saw that much
friendly blood in the desert.”

“
The kid didn’t follow
procedure,” Birch said.

“
Bastards just threw him
at the job. Not a lick of training,” Shane added.

Sounds of mariachi music grew louder
as they neared the cantina.

Shane opened the colorful glass door.
Cool air blasted from inside the dimly lit restaurant.

The uniform of mini-skirts
and low-cut tops gave the place a Hooters feel, but families with
babies and children doodling on kid’s menus suggested
different.

From a corner booth, Shane moved two
dirty mugs to a neighboring table.

Birch slid onto the
cushion. “I'm not going back to the oil field.”

Shane slid across from
him. “You’re kidding right?”

“
The job’s not meant for a
family man. I’m gonna go home, hug my wife and play Xbox all night
long with Matt.”

“
Never dawned on you until
now to play Xbox all night with your son? But your co-worker dies
and you’re suddenly father and husband of the year?”

“
It’s natural when someone
you know dies, to assess your own life.”

“
What happened to Kevin
doesn’t make me question my own life.”

“
Maybe it
should.”

A waitress approached. She had cropped
black hair, a modern-day Audrey Hepburn look. One of the straps of
her red bra hung rebelliously off her shoulder. But Shane couldn’t
help noticing that her eyebrows looked like streaked
charcoal.

“
Howdy boys. I'm Lizzy.
Can I start you guys off with a couple beers?”

“
Bud,” Shane said.
“Bottle, not draft.”

“
Modelo Negra,” Birch
said.

Lizzy hurried off.

“
Bud? Broaden your
horizons,” Birch said. “Mexican beer when at a Mexican
establishment.”

“
You drink your foreign
piss. I’ll stick with the King of beers.”

“
Fine. Stick with your
watered-down cheap beer. Leave the real beer for the men.” Birch
flexed his scrawny arm.

“
I’ll show you who the
pussy is.”

Lizzy started back their way. Shane
gave her a lazy smile and a wink.

She set the froth mugs
down. “You guys set to order?”

“
Nachos,” Shane said. “And
your phone number.”

“
If I was that kind of
girl, I’d love to.” Her face flushed, playing coy as if she hadn’t
been fucked upside down and inside out before.

“
We’ll just take the
nachos,” Birch said.

Shane folded his arms
against his chest and leaned back. “You’re definitely that kind of
girl.”

With a strained smile, Lizzie
scribbled in her notepad, ripped a page off and slid it across the
table to Shane.

When she strode away the
red skirt covering her chiseled ass swished like lava bubbling over
hard stone. Shane glanced at the note where a phone number was
written in cursive, girly print, along with a smiley
face.

“
You won’t be happy ‘til
you screw things up with Amy, will you?”

Shane frowned. “I’m just
fucking around. I got no intentions of calling that
skank.”

“
Stop punishing yourself
for Vicki’s death and let it go.”

Shane slammed his mug
down. “Jesus, dude. What backwoods road did you take to get
there?”

“
You think you don’t
deserve happiness so you’re always trying to fuck up everything
good in your life.” Birch shook his head. “So stick the number in
your pocket, let Amy find it in the dirty laundry, then she’ll dump
your sorry ass. All because of the self-destructive guilt you
inflict upon your life because of the accident.”

“
You want a quarter for
that Freudian bullshit?” He slid the paper across the table. “Stick
your psychoanalysis in her.”

# # #

Sitting in the passenger
seat of Isaac luxury sedan, Lynn pressed her face against the
window. Silhouettes of cottonwood and cypress trees rushed past. In
the distant shadows, a rabbit dashed as a copperhead struck; a
thorny leaf fluttered from the rabbit’s sudden departure, its
thudding heart close to bringing on deadly shock. Exhaling, Lynn
observed it all. Senses heightened, mind sharpened, and body
vibrant, an awakening consumed her. It felt like Mother Nature,
draped in exotic fig leaves and morning dew, had touched her soul,
enchanting her with the spirit of a forest nymph.

In all her thirty-one
years she’d lived sightless...soundless. But now the depths of the
world flowed in torrents she’d never thought possible. Even the
soft touch of cool moonlight tickled every inch of her skin. An
urge to chase prey into the woods clutched her. Fingers gripped the
door handle.

A savage impulse, but one born of
natural instincts.

She glanced at Isaac. His short black
hair was slicked back, the complexion of a rugged outdoorsman, and
a face carved from raw beauty. Smokey colored brows arched over his
dark copper eyes.

Without thinking she traced her
fingers down his sports jacket, feeling the well-toned biceps. His
muscles twitched.

Isaac turned the vehicle down her
street. Her heart raced with warning. Since the moment she met
Isaac, not once had she thought of her children or husband. Guilt,
though mild, overcame her. Heat warmed her face. She palmed her
cheeks, trying to cool her skin.

They pulled into her driveway. Lynn
sucked in a hard breath.

After shifting to park, Isaac exited
the car. He removed his shirt, shoes and slacks, placing them on
the hood.

Lynn glanced at her modest
ranch home. The porch light offered dim illumination for her aged
deck. Parked on the right side of the house, the frontend of Joe’s
Harley glared at her like a chained guard dog, snarling with
suspicion.

She tugged at the door
handle.

It didn’t budge.

Nude, Isaac stalked toward
her front door. The jewel embedded in his chest flashed like an
angry beacon.

Lynn glanced to the
neighbor’s houses and cringed. It was dusk, but not quite dark. If
they glanced out their window they’d see Isaac, in all his glory
and the brightly glowing stone. Her lips stretched into a grin.
Peering down her blouse, she palmed her own chest, wondering why
she didn’t possess a radiant gem anywhere on her body.

The porch creaked beneath Isaac’s
feet. The front door was flung open, and Joe’s bare torso blocked
the threshold.

Weren’t her children in
the house? How many did she have...two? Two human
children...

She tried the door again. And again.
Fear, confusion and anxiety raced through her. Gripping the handle
tightly, she yanked.

It snapped off. Furiously,
Lynn hurled the plastic handle behind her.

Joe looked up and down
Isaac’s naked body and scratched his bandanna covered scalp. “What
the fuck is this?” He craned his neck to peer around Isaac. Lynn
caught the filthy daggers in his dark gaze.

“
Lynn is mine,” Isaac
said.

A three-foot tall boy
child—Ben?—hovered near the waist of his stout father.
“Daddy?”

“
Not now,” Joe said. “Go
watch TV. Daddy's got to take care of something.”

Tears pooled in Lynn’s eyes as she
watched the boy disappear into the house. She kicked at the
windows. Pounding. Grunting. Clawing. Screeching.

Black fur suffused Isaac,
his body contorting into a regal panther. Wings sprung from his
shoulders and folded against his backbone.

Pride blossomed in her core. Isaac,
her twin, her mate, magnificent in his honest form.

“
Holy Mary shit!” Joe
slammed the door.

Lynn heard the steel
deadbolt slide into place. She pressed her face closer to the
windshield, entranced by Isaac's new form crowding the porch. The
incredible beast resembled only something she'd seen in drawings,
something mythical.

A furious Minotaur, Isaac
plowed through the locked door. Hinges screeched as wood violently
splintered.

Lynn’s supernatural
hearing punished her with the screams of her husband. She covered
her ears but it did little to drown the soul-piercing cries and
gory splashing like a bucket of slop being spilled, followed by the
ravenous snorting and grunting of a starved boar.

And the sound of skin
ripping.

The crunch of bones.

Four-year-old Madison
sobbed, “Daddy! My Daddy!”

Lynn stamped her feet,
rocking back and forth. “Make it stop.” Salty tears streamed down
her cheeks. Her body shook. A grumble of helplessness rattled the
windows. “Make it stop! I don’t want to be a monster!”

A blinding green light
flooded the car. The agonizing sounds vanished.

She glanced down at the lush greenery
beneath her feet. Fruit bearing trees and vibrant blossoms sprouted
all around her. She stood in a garden of beauty surrounded by
plants and trees she could not identify. The greenery and buds
shimmered with an unearthly beauty.

Mighty trees stretched to
a lavender twilighted sky. A congregation of stars twinkled against
the purple heaven. Moisture purified the earthen soil. From the
forest canopy, songbirds sang sweet hymns and a summer breeze
curled around her, carrying the comfort of Frankincense and
myrrh.

Lynn walked along a path that led deep
into the Eden-esque grove. She came to a clearing, a perfect circle
etched in the untouched garden.

A black kitten played with
a fallen leaf, its eyes large and watery. Lynn scooped the animal
into her arms and it purred with the ferocity of a tigress,
drowning out the songbirds. The kitten pressed its soft fur against
her chest, and for a still moment she felt safe.

A child screamed.

She whirled and saw a
black panther dash through the clearing, its predatory breathes
amplified by the trees.