Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) (9 page)

Amy scowled. “Put that
away. What would Shane think?”

“
It was his
idea.”

A short brunette with
pigtails and shorty shorts leaned over Amy’s shoulder. “I have that
exact one, ‘cept mine’s pink. You’ll love it.” She disappeared into
the crowd.

Amy snatched the vibrator
and shoved it in her purse. Her arms crossed over her chest, she
glared at Carmen. “You gave it a name?”

Carmen mimicked Amy’s
angry expression and body posture, but with a touch of
exaggeration. “I name all my playthings.”

“
I can’t believe Shane
would ask you to buy me a...toy. What was he thinking?”

“
He wasn’t thinking. He’s
got a penis and he’s breathing. But the brute is in love with you
on a diehard level, so take the gift and be grateful.” When Amy
only glared at her, she added, “Probably worried about leaving you
alone so much.”

Watching Amy’s face
redden, Carmen struggled with an uncontrollable urge to laugh her
fuckin’ head off. Again, she dug into her giant purse and grabbed
her cosmetic bag. She forced it into Amy’s hand. “Put some war
paint on that pretty face and loosen up, girl.”

“
Why?”

The urge to laughter
faded, replaced by frustration. “Because the mopey-pouty, woe-is-me
is tiresome and I refuse to babysit. Besides, I need to dance, get
drunk and maybe even score myself a man, but your negative nancy
vibes are going to be a super buzzkill.” She lifted her chin,
gesturing to the ladies room. “Bury the damn rat already. Forego
the mournful widow, Plain Jane look and put some damn makeup
on.”

When Amy’s posture drooped and her
frown deepened, Carmen wanted a do-over. If only she could take
back all the shit she had just yammered.

Amy took the cosmetic bag.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a downer.”

Relieved and shocked Amy
took her run-down so well, Carmen shrugged. “If you keep thinking
bad things are going to happen then they will.”

Isaac knelt at the marble
foundation which served as an altar to Galmoria. Violet glow misted
off the purified water, rising and dissipating. Onyx statues carved
to depict three images of Galmoria, The Winged Priestess, guarded
the fountain. One pose was of her squatting, her delicate hands
flat on the ground between her bent legs; the second depicted her
about to leap, black fangs over stone seductive lips and curved
talons on her long fingertips. The third statue captured his
demigod-mother in mid-flight with a giant scorpion draped along her
back between raven wings; the scorpion’s curled tail appeared as if
it belonged to both insect and demoness.

“
Mother, I demand to know
why I have been sent here.” Pacing, he waited as dew from the humid
air covered his skin.

From the third statue flashed emerald
green eyes, entrancing Isaac.

“
Answer now! Why have I
been sent to this wretched world?” Isaac peered into the glowing
orbs. Galmoria’s seductive lips and deadly fangs were a breath away
from his own. “Damn you, Mother!”

Two green streaks shot
from the eyes and struck his face like iron balls. Isaac collapsed
backwards onto the stone patio.

“
How dare you speak to me
with such a vile tongue.” Galmoria’s voice pierced the quiet
courtyard.

Isaac gathered himself up
and shook dirt from his bare chest and slacks. “I offer no
apologies. Now, tell me why I am here.”

“
To fetch a Paladin child
who will serve as a great general for you and your queen’s armies.”
His Mother’s voice was distant, but clear.

“
My queen?” Isaac knelt
before the statue. “Am I to be a king?”

“
You will be King of the
Tribes, and Lord of the Beasts.”

“
If that is your
wish.”

“
I have knowledge of an
ultimate power; a power of such rarity that it cannot be neglected.
But it shall not remain hidden from our enemies. We must move
quickly. You are to seek out The Beloved in Buckeye for she is the
vessel of the child.”

“
Am I to kill this
‘Beloved’?”

“
Do not harm her. She is
the future of our race.”

 ”
As you
wish.”

A bang on the first-floor door
startled Shane awake. Fisting his eyes open, he shoved the thin
sheet aside and staggered down the metal stairs. Akron Oil had
upgraded their shitty rundown FEMA trailers from Katrina to brand
new stackable modular buildings. Too bad, only four months later
they looked and smelled like a boys’ high school locker
room.

Shane kicked a pair of whitey-tighties
from the bottom stair before opening the door.

“
Mornin’ shithead,” the
shift supervisor, Lawdry said. Wearing a navy dress jacket and
matching slacks, he looked ready for Easter Sunday service, if only
Easter could fall on a Wednesday.

Shane
looked at the blue LCD clock on the nearby counter:
5:15 AM
. “What’s the
deal?”

“
Pack your things, Baker.
You’re outta here.”

“
What about the piss
test?”

Lawdry opened his mouth but hesitated.
He glanced around the room and lifted his gaze toward the second
floor. “Anybody else awake?”

Shane shook his head.

Steve Lawry said, “Rig’s shutting
down. There’s been a situation. Kevin Deeks was found dead on the
platform this morning. Asphyxiated on his own vomit.”

Shane leaned against the wall, hands
on his thighs and blew out a breath. “Shit.”

“
Deep shit is more like
it,” Lawdry said. “OSHA is capping us off ‘til an official
investigation can be completed. An autopsy is scheduled to test for
blood alcohol levels. We’ll contact you when you should report
back—that is if we’re even authorized to reopen
operations.”

“
I understand.”

“
I can tell a straight
shooter when I see one,” Lawdry said. “Did you know anything about
Kevin drinking on the site, Baker?”

Shane’s face tightened. “No,
sir.”

Lawdry nodded. The supervisor glanced
at the second floor again. “Let the rest of the guys know for me,
will ya?”

“
Yeah,” Shane
said.

“
You and your buddy Birch
need bus tickets home?”

“
We’ll just drive the
Jalopy back to Buckeye this time.”

“
Buckeye, huh? I took my
nephew there a couple years back to do some hunting. Some coonass
at a bait shop tried to sell us silver bullets and a wooden cross.
We decided to get our bait and beer at K-mart.” Steve shook his
head. “Didn’t see a damn thing the whole time we were out
there.”

Fucking Abe.

Lawdry left and Shane went upstairs.
When he sat on the edge of Birch’s mattress, the sleeping beauty
stirred and frowned.

“
We’re going home,” Shane
said.

Birch raised up, and rubbed his eyes.
“So much for taking a piss test and everything being
hunky-fucking-dory, huh?”

“
Not my fault this time.
But I wish it were.”

# # #

Trying to ignore the pounding behind
her eyes, the grand-mama of all migraines, Amy pushed through the
double doors of Roxy’s Bus Stop Depot.

The diner opened at five every morning
and Amy was hardly ever late for her shift. But the digital clock
by the old grill read 5:34. God, the smell of bacon grease and
fried eggs made her want to puke all over the wood
floors.

She poured herself a Diet Coke and
glanced around for Carmen. Her car was not in the lot but she
could’ve hitched a ride with Derrick. Unless she was still behind
bars?

Amy sipped her coke while sitting at
the counter, a long beige breakfast bar with rounded edges and
chipped borders. Roxy eyed her from the grill where the nauseating
bacon and egg fumes originated.

“
Don’t just sit there like
a bump on a log.” Roxy waved a metal spatula. “Need some breakfast
to help get the lead out?”

Amy gagged. “No ma’am.” She slipped
the vial from the pocket of her apron and sipped from
it.

Sheriff Bowden held open the door.
Carmen stalked into the diner.

Still dressed in her Betty Boop
costume from last night, mascara smudged, hair a mess, she walked
past the Sheriff without making eye contact. Her uniform balled in
her hands, Carmen strode to the bathroom. Silent all the
way.

The sheriff set his black drab hat on
the counter and took a seat on a stool.

After tying her apron, Amy poured a
mug of coffee for the good sheriff. “You didn’t make Carmen spend
the night in jail, did you?”

The sheriff narrowed his eyes then
tipped the mug to his cracked lips. All the answer she’d get from
him ‘til he finished his coffee.

Female, hear
me.

Not
again. Amy ignored the arrogant voice.
The
voice isn’t real.
She repeated the mantra
silently as she wiped down the stainless steel around the coffee
station.

From the corner of her eye, she
spotted her mother entering the diner.

Amy groaned. What a day for her to
visit. Somehow she had to keep her struggle with her sanity a
secret. That woman wouldn’t hesitate to have her committed again,
just like she’d tossed her own sister Carol into the asylum. She
poured another mug of coffee and set it at the opposite end of the
breakfast bar.

A bitter scent singed her nostrils and
her stomach rolled. Bile crept into her throat. She closed her eyes
and swallowed while her head pounded, a rhythmic drum behind her
eyes.

“
Something ain’t right,”
she said. “I should’ve stayed home today.”

Amy’s mother took a seat at the
counter where Amy had set the coffee. “Remember me? I birthed you.
What was it? Twenty-five years ago?”

Amy sighed. “Twenty-three.”

So she hadn’t called her mother in
over a month, but the woman was more like a stranger, not to
mention a diva and a snob. Amy snatched a menu from under the
counter and dropped it next to her mother’s manicured
hands.

Amy!

The monster in the mirror at the Bull
flashed in her mind.

I abide by your rules yet
you refuse my callings.

From
behind, a hand gripped her shoulder. “You alright,
mami
?” Dressed in black
shorts and a white T-shirt, Carmen gave her a concerned
look.

“
I’m not a female!” Amy
pushed through the double doors, past the grill and into the
storage closet.

Standing at the far end, face pressed
against a carton of to-go cups, Amy heard the door open. She looked
at Carmen standing in the threshold. “If I tell you something, can
you promise to keep it a secret?”

Carmen said, “You even have to
ask?”

Amy released a deep sigh. She slumped
to the floor with her back against the metal rack stacked with
paper goods. “I keep hearing a voice in my head and that’s not the
worst of it. I think I’m going crazy.”

Carmen sat on a crate of condiments
across from Amy. “When aren’t you?”

Amy smiled at the sardonic grin on
Carmen’s face.

So what if everybody thought she was
crazy. Maybe she was, but what should have felt like a scarlet
letter, felt more like a badge of honor.

Despite not caring what anybody
thought of her, she didn’t want to be locked up again. Never
again.

“
What about Aunt Carol?”
Amy asked.

“
You are not her and I
don’t believe a word of that ‘it runs-in-the-family’
nonsense.”

“
It’s not just that. I’m
nauseous and dizzy.” Amy hung her head between her knees. “I met a
real life alien. Right here in Buckeye.” She looked at Carmen. “You
think I’m crazy?”

“
You. Are. Not. Crazy.”
Carmen grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. “Come on,
chickie, let’s go get your mother outta here before she sprouts
horns and starts ordering new born children.”

As Amy and Carmen returned, her mom
slapped the menu down. “Don’t you serve English muffins or anything
that isn’t saturated in grease or made from dead
animals?”

Amy gave
Carmen’s hand a reassuring squeeze and mouthed
thank you
before crossing the dining
room toward her mother. “We serve the same food we did last time
you were here.”

“
Listen, dear, I went to
the galleria with Debra Vanderhort in Houston yesterday and she
says her son, Thad, just got accepted into veterinary school at
LSU.”

“
That’s nice.” Amy grabbed
the pot and refilled Sheriff Bowden’s coffee.

He looked up at her. “She made me miss
American Idol.”

Grimacing, Amy backed through the
swinging door to the kitchen. She gave Charlie, the cook, a
nod.

“
You sick?” Charlie asked.
The old black man always wore long sleeve shirts while cooking so
his face was constantly shimmering with sweat. How in tarnation
could he stand the heat?