Vengeance Bound (29 page)

More important, the more I let Them have Their way, the closer I am to completely losing mine. Their price is too high. Despair swells in my chest, and I hug myself as I cry quiet tears.

This must be what rock bottom feels like. I hate what I’ve become. I don’t want to be this person. No matter what They want me to believe, I’m not a cold-blooded killer. I won’t be.

A breeze kicks up, slicing through my sweater and ruffling the hair on one of the bodies, an olive-skinned man with dark hair and wide staring blue eyes. In another life he could have been Niko. I shiver, and consider taking one of the jackets off the bodies in front of me.

No, that would be worse than rock bottom. I’ll just freeze, thanks.

There’s a slat missing in the side of the fence, and I head toward it. Looking at the bodies in front of me makes me feel crazed. I did that. I killed those men, burning away their souls. It wasn’t just Them. I gave in to Their demands, and now there are dead bodies littering the streets.

“I have to find a way to get rid of Them,” I mutter to myself.

Why?
Tisiphone wails in my mind.
You enjoyed it every bit as much as we did.

Memories threaten to push forward, and I mentally shy away from them. Tisiphone is right, and the knowledge fills me with self-loathing.

I push out through the narrow gap and walk down the alley. It’s still very early, and although the sun is up, the streets are deserted. Thank the gods for that. If I had an audience, who knows what would happen.

There are very few cars on the street, and my body is stiff from the cold. I think I might have frostbite, because I can’t feel my fingers or my toes, and my feet are heavy and wooden. Now that I’m away from the house of death, my body begins to register a million different aches and pains. It’s all too much for my mind to deal with, so I do what I usually do when I’m overloaded.

I run.

I start with an easy jog, going past mini-marts and hollow-eyed street people with shopping carts. My feet pound erratically as I push past the pain in my hip. I’m hoping the dull throb means a bruise and not something worse. After a few blocks my body begins to warm, and I wiggle my fingers. I pass a church. Sharply dressed black women file inside, their colorful church hats making them look like exotic birds. I ignore their stares and hushed whispers. It’s Sunday, and a weekend has passed without me. I increase my pace.

I run through lights, narrowly avoiding cars with thumping sound systems and families headed to breakfast. I’m not counting the blocks, but my mind has finally shut off its agonized wail of shame, when I see it. A stack of blue and white parking tickets are jammed under the windshield wiper, and someone busted out my back window, no doubt to get to my purse. Even the enormous dent in the driver’s-side door is beautiful. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been towed, but that’s my car. I almost cry in relief.

I slow and come to a stop, looking around the block to make sure no one watches me. I pull the parking tickets off, and they flutter to the ground like broken butterflies. My frozen fingers delve into my front pocket, searching for my keys. Tears course down my face when I touch the cold metal, and I open the already unlocked driver’s-side door with shaking hands. I get in, start up the car, and crank the heater to high. My coat is on the passenger seat, and I slowly pull it on. I shiver as I wait for the air from the vents to warm up. It’s all I can do not to break down. I bite my lip until I break the skin, using the pain and the salty tang of blood to help me focus. “I’m not like Them,” I whisper, the words swallowed by the roar of the heater and the hum of the engine.

Please let it be true.

GIRL MADE OF MAKE BELIEVE

I’m a wreck. I cry the entire drive, unable to stop sobbing long enough to even pay the toll. The booth operator gives me a bored look as I dig through my wallet for money. Meanwhile They suggest that I gouge out the man’s eyes.

What a lovely shade of blue. That’s your favorite, right?

Their mocking laughter echoes through my mind as I throw a couple of crumpled bills at the booth operator and peel away. It’s amazing I even have any money, but there was a thick roll of twenties in my pants’ pocket, most likely from one of my victims. It disturbs me that They were careful enough to take the time to think about money. They are starting to think about the long term, about the possibility of a future. It’s unsettling. And They chose locations and victims that wouldn’t be readily discovered. They are adapting, becoming smarter about things. That scares me.

They’re going to win. And I don’t even know how to fight back.

The sun on the highway blinds me, and I flip the visor down to shield my eyes. When I do, a sheet of folded paper falls into my lap. I pick it up in surprise, and almost drive off the road as I try to read it. It’s an e-mail, from Dr. Goodhart to someone at an e-mail address I don’t recognize. The message is only two lines:

Marie: parents due tomorrow, early. Black Lexus, plates FVX1393.

The brakes are a good idea. You know I’m counting on you. S.

My mouth goes dry, and I reread the message again. The date makes my chest tight, and I have to pull to the side of the road until I can breathe again.

It’s the same week that my parents died. And they owned a black Lexus.

You’re welcome.

I study the e-mail, wondering why They kept it from me for so long. My stomach clenches, and I cover my mouth as I fight more tears. I have to go after Dr. Goodhart, the other monster in the closet of my mind. All I want to do is take a shower and try to wash away the past three days, before I curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep. But I won’t have that luxury. I have to assume the e-mail is one last gift from Them, one last loose end that They will let me tie up before They take control. Forever.

I crumple up the e-mail and pitch it out the window, heedless of the littering laws. I can do this. I will follow through with this. I may be doomed, but I’m taking that son of a bitch with me.

Right after I go back to my apartment and get my cat.

Then what?

I don’t care. I’m not going to worry about the future. I don’t have one.

But there is some satisfaction in knowing that Goodhart doesn’t have one either.

I’m too exhausted to drive the hour and a half back to West County, so I plan to hit up a store and then find a hotel room. Odie will understand. I’ll grab him, and then we’ll head to Harrisburg to find Goodhart. That’s all I can focus on right now.

It hurts to walk through the megastore, grabbing toiletries and food. While walking up and down the aisles, people give me odd looks, but the mothers with screaming toddlers have more pressing issues to worry about than the girl with soot smeared on her neck. I somehow managed to miss the spot, even after scrubbing my face with a wet wipe from the center console of my car. It’s surprising no one stopped me on my run to my illegally parked car. Every square inch of exposed skin was streaked with black ash, like I’d just gotten done with my part-time job as a chimney sweep.

I find the world’s cheapest room in the scariest motel in America. The bed feels like a rock, but after a hot shower I don’t really care. At least it doesn’t smell like cat piss.

I wake a few hours later, surprised by how bright the room is. It was midafternoon when I went to sleep, so I expect the room to be dark. When I turn my head toward the source of the light, I have to cover my eyes. Alekto sits in the wingback chair, a beacon in the far corner of the room.

“You have shitty timing. Where were you three days ago?” I ask. The room is hot, hotter than August in Georgia. I kick the covers off and wipe away the sweat that’s beading on my forehead. She doesn’t answer, so I say, “What are you doing here?”

“I am here to finish the story. I think you are finally ready to listen.”

I lean back against the pillows and close my eyes. I still don’t like her, but it doesn’t hurt to listen to what she has to say.

“After They joined together in the early dawn light, the Furies cut a deadly path through the land of man, killing those with the stain of evil upon their souls. Lifetimes passed, and things settled into a predictable pattern.

“But then everything changed.”

I open my eyes and study Alekto, the true Third. She glows brightly, and I look at my hands as she talks. The sight of the soot in my nail beds reminds me how much I actually need her and whatever wisdom she can offer.

“One day They were called to a small town where a priestess was accused of murdering her lover. The woman protested her innocence, and the townspeople were wary of murdering a holy woman. So they prayed that the gods would send the Furies their way. The Furies were known to be impartial, and if the woman had killed her lover, the Furies would take care of the matter in Their own way.

“The Furies arrived and read the woman’s soul, finding that she had played an unwitting part in the young man’s murder. It was revealed that the husband had poisoned the dish the woman had prepared for her lover, not knowing that the priestess had had no intention of eating the food. The Furies made to punish the husband, but before they could, a young man stepped forward from the crowd.

“He declared himself the beloved of the golden Fury, and told the crowd how he had begged the gods to grant him an endless life so that he could be with the woman he loved. The golden Fury could not remember the man, but as she stared at him, an odd thing began to happen. She began to cry, the tears washing away the sorrow that had blinded her to everything but punishing the guilty. See, her mind could not remember the man standing before her, but her heart did.”

As much as I want to hear the end of the story, I can’t help but snort. “Let me guess. He swept her up in his arms, and the two lived happily ever after. Meanwhile the other two Furies decided to kill everything in sight because that’s what They do.”

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Not quite, but close. Tisiphone and Megaera need the soul of a human to tie Them to the mortal plane. Without a Third, They will be pulled to the underworld, the final resting place of the slain god. You already know that Their Third must have blood on her soul, even if indirectly. Blood calls to blood.”

“Good to know. But what does that have to do with me? I can’t exactly get rid of Them.”

“But you can. That is what I came to tell you. They are drawn to sorrow, to rage. But They are weakened by love and forgiveness. They seek to tempt you, to make you like Them. But there is still goodness in you. There is love. Do not let Them remake you in Their image.”

I rest my head in my hands and sigh. “They didn’t remake me in Their image; They remade me in yours.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Do not let Them change your heart. They will try to turn you back to your rage, away from your love for Niko. You must hold tight to your true feelings. As long as you are not totally corrupted, you can resist Them.”

The weight of the despair crushing my chest makes me moan a little. “Niko’s gone. He can’t help me.” The words are so low, I almost whisper them.

“You do not need him. You need the way you feel about him. The Furies are rage and anger. They do not understand love.”

It finally clicks. It’s so simple, and yet it took me all this time to finally have the answer. “I invited Them in, but They stayed because I’m just like Them.”

“No, you are not. But your anger gives Them strength, as does passing Their judgments. They have a limitless appetite for punishment. It was that hunger that drove me away. There was no room for compromise. I could not rejoin my beloved and help Them. There is nothing but vengeance for Them. I was Their true sister, born of the same blood, and They decided They would rather have the violence than me.” A wistful sadness flits across her face. “There is no way you can match Their longing for destruction.”

“So what do I do? How do I stop Them?”

Alekto smiles. “I’m still forbidden to tell you that. But I think you know the answer. Your love for Niko will give you the strength to follow through.”

I blink. That’s less than helpful. “That’s it?”

She stands and walks toward the door. “I wish I could give you a clear answer, but you just need to know you have the power to resist Them.”

I laugh bitterly. “Great. Thanks for the pep talk.”

She turns around and gives me a knowing look. “Focus on your feelings for Niko to help you save yourself. Take strength from your love for him. The only thing separating us from Them is our capacity to love.”

She walks through the door and disappears in a flash of light, and when the spots clear, I’m still sitting in bed. I pinch my arm, the pain assuring me it wasn’t a dream. This is the first time she has appeared while I’m awake, and that sets off alarm bells. Something has changed.

But what?

I stretch and get out of bed, surprised that I’m refreshed and revived. All of my hurts and aches have disappeared, and even the bruise on my hip, which was the color of concord grapes when I took my shower, has disappeared when I examine the spot.