Sacrifice (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult) (19 page)

Nothing was happening. I wriggled my spine a bit to get
things moving. Popping and stretching caused my stomach to roil, but the socket
hadn’t righted itself yet. My breaths were shaking. It was getting harder to
stay upright. Harder to hold in the sobs. A whimper blubbered out before I
could catch it.

It felt like I was on my knees for an hour, with my damn hands
up in the air. I couldn’t do it anymore. I manned the fuck up and it didn’t
work. Maybe it was time to woman the fuck up.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let my body fall.
I forced myself to keep my hands in the air as I slammed into Mike’s solid
form. My shoulder popped and the sound hit me deep in the gut. I lay in his
lap, not moving, not breathing, and just trying not to puke.

I listened to his heart pound in his chest. “That a girl,”
he said quietly. His hands cuffed behind his back kept him from touching me,
but I knew he wanted to. “Breathe.”

“I’m okay,” I lied through chattering teeth.

“What happened?” Cyrus asked, face in the dirt, muffled.

“Can we leave him here?” Mike whispered.

I laughed and it felt good. “No.” It hurt to sit up, but no
matter how much I would have loved it, I couldn’t spend the night on Mike’s
lap. Yeah, I said it. Fuck you.

 
“Dude, are you really
naked?” Mike asked Cyrus while I scampered across the dirt to him.

“Would you like to check for yourself?” Cyrus teased. Mike
laughed at his joke, but to me, Cyrus’s tone sounded less antagonistic and more
latent homosexuality.

“Can you both shut the fuck up?” I found Cyrus. And yes, he
was naked. Very, very naked.

I could practically feel the huge fucking grin I knew he had
plastered on his face. Half was for me, and half for Mike who couldn’t actually
see the damn thing either. He was on his stomach hog-tied. Feet and hands
knotted up nicely with a splintering old rope. I tugged at his bindings and
filled my hands with tiny shards of aging rope that stung my fingertips.

“Damn it,” I muttered as I fiddled with it.

“Does anyone have any idea where we are or how we got here?”
Mike had just come back to the living before he was
bonked
on the head, so it was no wonder he didn’t have a good handle on his recent
history.

“You,” I grunted, still stuck with the rope, “and this
jackass, oh so gracefully, got yourselves knocked the fuck out. I kicked ass
and you two slept.”

“Then how did you end up here too?” Mike probed,
understandably not believing my tale of heroism.

“Well…I kicked ass at
first
.”
I remembered the feel of the pretty guy’s lips on mine, and I touched them
instinctively. “Then there was another man.”

“Where was the first man?
Who
was the first man?” Detective Petersen was back in the
building. Handcuffed with his own damn cuffs, the jackass would never live that
one down. I wouldn’t let that happen.

“Marienne’s henchman, skinny
freako
,”
I talked and worked at the knot. “He came out of nowhere while I was looking at
Malcolm’s phone.”

Shit
. I left Cyrus to dig around in my pockets, check my boobs.
I came up flat; there was nothing there but two big ol’ boobs that didn’t seem
to be getting me out of my jam anytime soon. I closed my eyes and dropped my
head to my chest with memory of the phone slipping from my fingers and crashing
to the ground, after I’d slammed into a wall. Of course, I wouldn’t have ended
up with a phone. It’d be too fucking easy.

 
“The bitch,” Mike
sneered. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course not,” Cyrus talked into the dirt.

“Malcolm’s phone was under the dirt in the cemetery. I found
it right before you two were bonked. I beat the shit out of the skinny guy, and
all hell broke loose.” I went back to work. “You two were waking up when I left
you. I ended up being chased by this guy who looked like he could be Azelie’s
larger, tanner brother. He…knocked me out. I woke up here with the two of you.
Who, I’m sure, were also taken by the same assholes.” The knots finally
loosened. “Good thing is, I’m certain this is exactly where Tatum is, so we’re
in the right spot,” I talked absently.

“Can you fuck off with Tatum shit right now, please? She’s
the reason we’re all here in the first fucking place.” Poor Mike still didn’t
grasp the world right in front of his face.

“No. I am the reason. I made the first move. I’ll make the
last.” The rope came free and I began unraveling it.

“We have to get out of here. We don’t have time or energy to
fight now. We have to accept this situation and get out alive. We can get the
police and they can-
“ Mike’s
fallacies rolled off his
tongue and flared the rage that had been brewing for days deep in my gut.

“Police? Seriously? After all this, you think a badge and a gun
can stop it?” The ropes came loose from Cyrus’s limbs and he was free.

“So far you’ve taken one out, and the other had to knock us
all unconscious before they could take us in. I think a gun will do the trick.”

“You’ve hardly scratched the surface. Scarcely been witness
to the flesh and blood responsible for this disaster. Darling, you haven’t even
come close to seeing what really waits behind the veil. You haven’t aimed a gun
at it and fired until your nose filled with gun powder and still watched it come
closer. You haven’t heard
their
shuffling dead limbs slide toward you. You haven’t cried out to God to take
them away. Yet you sit idly by and talk of guns and cops, and arrogantly assume
they will keep you safe. You are dangerously mistaken.”

My heart pounded. I felt my hands shaking; I was so close to
cracking. He still didn’t get it. He wouldn’t until it came around and lopped
his fucking head off. He’d have to see it for himself. He’d have to cry out to
God before he put his fucking gun down and started fighting with his soul.

I felt my chest heave up and down, up and down. I drew in
deep, harsh breaths. My teeth clenched, and each breath stung as it dragged
sharply through my gums. My hands, set into fists clutched at my chest, still
shook violently. One hand squeezed tightly around the piece of tin at my
throat. My one saving grace, maybe.

Something dead would have to come for him. Something
rotting, and shambling, and so long dead they bled a murky shade of green
instead of red. When he sent a man to his death to save his own soul that would
be when he’d learn.

I rocked back and forth breathing – just breathing. My heart
pumped and oxygen filled my lungs, but I wasn’t there. I was lost in my own
head. Lost in my thoughts of death.

I closed my eyes and I was sitting in the backseat of a car.
The engine ran at a low idle. I breathed a shaky breath and it puffed out of my
lips in a white fog. The heater whirred and blew intermittent hot air toward
the back seat. A bright flash lit up my vision. I closed my eyes tightly to
avoid it. A moment later, warm liquid slid down my face.

A short cry came from my throat and I was back in the shed.
“What is that?” I cried.

“What is what?” Naked Cyrus was suddenly holding my arms in
his warm hands.

I took my hands to my face and wiped wet spots from it that
were no longer there. “Oh, Goddammit, I can’t take this,” I cried. Tears rolled
down my cheeks. I didn’t have it in me to hold it in.

I looked up and tried to see Cyrus’s green eyes. I knew where
they should be, but I couldn’t actually see them. The lighting in the shed had
shifted just enough, only rough shadows could be made out. The moon must have
been feeling friendly.

Movement caught my eye above Cyrus. Something slid across
the high corner of the square space. I sniffed and calmed myself while I
watched the slight shift in light. I blinked teary eyes.

“What?” Cyrus whispered close to my face.

The shadow moved and seemed to stand as tall as a man behind
Cyrus. My breath caught and I leaned back, trying to scoot away from the
shadowy figure.

“What do you see?” His hands tightened around my arms,
kneading and prodding, practically begging for my return to planet Earth.

“Why would she be seeing something?” Mike asked, scooting
closer to our huddle.

I couldn’t handle another dead thing. Not now. I was barely
holding on to sanity just sitting on the dirt floor of my cell, trying to untie
a naked guy. I couldn’t do it. I closed my eyes and focused all my energy into
making whatever was haunting me go away.

Please. Please stop.
I begged.
Just stop.
My inner voice sobbed.
I don’t want you
here.

The soft scent of aftershave wafted passed my nose, igniting
memories only the sense of smell could muster. It couldn’t be. There’s just no
way in hell, I thought. But, really, this very well could be hell. So why not?
After so many years of wishing I could see his face just one more time, it
seemed it was finally happening.

“Daddy?” I whimpered toward the shadow that hovered in the
room.

If the darkness hidden in the shadows was not my long dead
father, then we were all in deep shit. I looked to Mike, and made eye contact
with Cyrus before my eyes darted back to the shadowy resemblance of my dad.

“Dylan…” Mikes voice whispered nervously in the dark. “What’s
happening?”

“Somehow, I can see my dad,” I replied matter-of-factly. “I
think.”

Being witness to not one, but dozens of ghostly images as of
late, seeing the ghost of my dad was at the bottom of the terrifying list. In
fact, it was a welcome final wish. If I was going down, I wanted my damn dad.

“Dad, can you come closer? I want to see your face.” I
leaned forward, ignoring Cyrus sitting in front of me.

The shadow never moved. The broad shoulders and long legs of
the apparition stayed put in the dark.

“How’s that?” Mike asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe it’s some kind of voodoo loophole.
Azelie caused hallucinations of dead things to dance in my head, maybe Dad
snuck in.” I prayed secretly.

Or maybe I’m just a
fucking loon. It is always a possibility.

“I don’t see anything but a dark corner of a shitty shed in
the middle of God knows where. Dylan, I need your head in the game on this
one.”

“No shit. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mumbled,
still staring at the darkness I assumed was my father.

“Dad,” the word came out in a breath and seemed to float in
the air toward the darkness, like a feather in a breeze.

The shadow stirred. I froze. I didn’t want to take my eyes
away for a second. Any ghost story I’d ever heard ended with someone looking away,
for just a moment, and it was gone. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Dylan, I need you to try and help me up,” Mike said from
his spot in the dirt to my left.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t risk the chance of missing
something.

“Dylan,” he persisted.

“Shut up.” I refused to take my eyes off the figure behind
Cyrus.

If I was looking at my dad, which my sense of smell told me
was true, I didn’t want to miss a second of it. If I was cheated into
thinking
I was looking at my dad, it was
better if I kept my eye on that shifty bastard.

“Dad, please,” I begged so quietly, I didn’t even know if I
said it, or just thought it really hard.

A blast of air puffed through the space, blowing my hair
back, and rattling the tools hanging above us.

“What in the fuck?” Mike yelled in the dark.

The shadow was gone. “Dad!” I jumped up from the ground. My
legs hated me for it. “Dad,” I cried.

“Dylan.” Cyrus grabbed my arms and brought me to him.
“Stop.”

“No, my dad, he was-“

“Don’t trust anyone or anything.” His point was so valid he
could have poked me with it.

“Can someone please get me the fuck out of here?” Mike
pleaded.

Cyrus held onto me for a few breaths longer. He was naked
and it was dark. So many thoughts passed through my head, ranging from wonder
what I’m missing? To, Jesus, I hope we don’t get into a knife fight. Or fire.
Yikes.

Cyrus went to aid Mike, leaving me standing alone, shaking
and trying to find myself buried down under my fear.

Mike was on his feet in no time, but his hands were still
stuck behind his back. My shoulder throbbed for the first time since I’d
knocked it back in to place.
Funny what
adrenaline does to the
body.

A crackling sound alerted us all that we were not alone. The
three of us moved nearer the wall behind Mike and listened closely. We were a
few inches from the slats before a bright flash of orange light bled through
the cracks of wood. We all jumped back. Cyrus covered his
manness
with his hands. Shit, I would’ve too. Like the fucking scarecrow.

Fire crackled and roared feet from the outside of our shack.