The Kindred s-3 Read online

  Seeing he’d surprised her, Luther hurried out the door and to his car. Ann would be waiting, and he had a job to do. He’d just have to trust that Gaby could get by without him monitoring her every move.

  At least she’d promised to steer clear of Fabian. That was something. A lot.

  For Gaby, any promise was a monumental concession.

  * * *

  No one tailed Fabian.

  Giving up his careful watch out the rear window, he continued studying every shadow, alleyway, and doorframe as he drove down the street toward his work, as usual. Although wary of police scrutiny, he knew that altering his routine in any way could draw notice. At the first sign of a trap, he’d flee.

  But none awaited him.

  His escaped captive had either crawled behind a rock to die, as befitted her, or she’d been too far gone to give away details that might implicate him.

  Fabian didn’t care which it might be, as long as the bitch didn’t complicate his life.

  In the future, he decided, he’d cut out the tongue of anyone he deemed suitable to serve as his nourishment. Rendering the captive incapable of speech would be smart. And everyone knew he had a higher level of intelligence than most.

  Sated on a morning meal of Shari’s blood, Fabian parked behind the tattoo parlor, got out, and stretched. It was a beautiful day. Bright sunshine warmed his face. The air smelled crisp and cool and full of promise.

  Shari had been full of promises, too.

  He smiled with the memory. Willingly, she’d given him her blood; she’d even put the IV into her own arm, then allowed him to drink his fill until she’d grown faint and confused from loss of blood. After coercing her to call in sick for the day, he’d tethered her to the bed, gagged her for safe measure, and left her insensate at the fleabag motel.

  The run-down roadhouse catered to the criminal activity of gangs, drug users, and lowlife prostitutes. The slum location was ideal, so overlooked by everyone that he might keep it for his future assignations—both for quick collation and quiet captivity.

  In rapid order, many of his most immediate problems had been resolved.

  He felt safe again, omnipotent even.

  Shari couldn’t talk. The girl couldn’t even sit up by herself. And the escaped cow obviously hadn’t spilled her guts, or else the police would already be at his door.

  Given their own involvement, and knowing he’d make any snitch pay with his life, none of the others would dare point a finger at him in any way.

  Fabian smiled in triumph. He’d turned conventional society on its ear, broken every restrictive taboo, and he’d gotten away with it, time and time again.

  No one and nothing could ever stop him.

  He unlocked the back door to the tattoo parlor and went inside. They didn’t officially open for another couple of hours, but he wanted to do some research on his business computer. Before he met with Gaby tonight, he would figure out how he knew her, and the best way to kill her.

  He could hire others to dispatch of her, but only he possessed the passion, the skill, the control, to do it properly.

  With Gaby, he would do his finest work.

  * * *

  The change in weather did little to lighten Gaby’s mood. Slouched on the curb, earbuds in so she could vibrate her brain with hard music, she alternately watched the play area and Sin Addictions.

  She’d unzipped her sweatshirt, revealing a T-shirt beneath. Elbows on her knees, she waited for the little girl to show up. And she noticed when a light went on inside the tattoo parlor.

  Her skin prickled.

  Today, something would happen.

  What, she didn’t know, but she felt it deep inside. Unlike her usual calling that tormented her with twisting pain, this feeling of expectation sizzled along her nerve endings, a foreboding of imminent distortion in her life.

  To ensure she wouldn’t miss a call from Luther, she’d set her phone to vibrate. At the small of her back, the hard bite of her knife against her spine lent a degree of comfort.

  A cool breeze stirred her hair. A bird dipped in flight, then circled and landed in a barren tree. Children laughed.

  Off in the distance, a siren squealed, blending with the lonesome whine of a train whistle. Dogs barked.

  Seeing the girl she wanted walking hand in hand with another, smaller child, Gaby pushed to her feet. The younger girl shot free and ran to join the other children.

  Wondering what to say first, how to protect the girl without alarming her, Gaby started across the street.

  The girl glanced up, and smiled a greeting. “Hey.”

  Relieved that she wasn’t afraid, Gaby said back, “Hey.” She nodded toward the other girl. “Who’s your friend?”

  “My little sister.” She moved toward where the girl played. When Gaby didn’t immediately follow, she looked back. “Come on. She always wants to play, but . . . I fear it might not be safe.”

  Perplexed by the friendly welcome, Gaby joined her. “You’re not afraid?”

  The girl crossed her arms over a broken chain link fence. “Now, with you here, it is better. You will keep everyone safe.”

  “No . . . ” Stumped, Gaby turned and leaned her back on the fence. She felt awkward with the girl’s innocent acceptance and trust. “I meant, aren’t you afraid of me? After what I did, I thought . . . I don’t know. It didn’t freak you out a little?”

  Braided, the girl’s long dark hair reached the middle of her back. She wore too-small, tattered jeans, a stained shirt that couldn’t keep her warm, and sneakers without socks.

  But she smiled when she looked at Gaby again. “I am Dacia. And you are?”

  “Gaby.”

  Dacia stared at her sister. “She is Malinal. I care for her, but it is not easy.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I am twelve.” Sunlight glinted on her small nose and long, dark lashes. “Mali is five.”

  Gaby’s heart twisted. She moved a little closer to Dacia, tried to look relaxed when she felt anything but. “Dacia, where do you and your sister live?”

  The silence grew louder than the kids’ laughter, more deafening than the cawing crows and beeping horns of traffic a few streets away.

  Gaby waited, while inside her soul, the turmoil clamored and expanded to immeasurable proportions.

  Mali ran after another kid, and Dacia adjusted her position to keep the little girl in her sights. When that required moving a few feet away, she held out her hand to Gaby.

  Unnerved by the gesture, Gaby took the small hand in her own, and knew she would die to protect the girl.

  “I can trust you,” Dacia said as they rounded a big, half-dead tree. “Can I not?”

  “You can,” Gaby vowed.

  “I do not want Mali taken from me.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Sometimes . . . ” Dacia swallowed, took a moment to compose herself. “Mali cries in the night. And when she sleeps, she holds me so tight. I am all she has.”

  “You love her a lot, Dacia, and that makes her a very lucky little girl.”

  Dacia’s voice broke. “Sometimes she is hungry.”

  “And you?”

  “Sometimes I am hungry, too.” They continued to walk, always keeping Mali in view. “We live wherever we can. Where I think we will be safe. We hide.”

  Because Gaby had done the same off and on throughout her life, she wasn’t overly shocked. Just very, very heart-broken. “It’s getting colder, you know. Soon it will snow. You need real shelter.”

  Dacia bent to retrieve the wing of a dead butterfly. She studied it, and then dropped it back to the ground. “I would rather be cold than be alone.”

  “You won’t be alone. Not ever again.” Gaby went down on one knee, and damn it, she felt tears sting her eyes. Dacia needed a strong defender, not a whiny female.

  Unfortunately, in the current modification of her life, Gaby could no longer distinguish quite where the paladin ended and the woman began.
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br />   “From now on,” Gaby said, ignoring her weaknesses, “you have me.”

  Dacia started to smile, when suddenly she looked past Gaby and fear widened her eyes.

  Gaby felt it, the charge in the air, the smothering of young laughter, the halting apprehension. The kids fell silent, and Dacia went pale with dread.

  This was what had brought her here.

  Without looking behind her, Gaby said to Dacia, “I will handle it. Do you believe me?”

  Dacia blinked away much of her fear, and proved her incredible trust.

  “Yes.” She licked her lips, nodded, and said, “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Before succumbing to her injuries and loss of blood, the victim had given Luther the name of a street, and a grisly account of her harsh captivity.

  Speeding, with lights flashing atop his car, he drove hell-bent for the scene. He’d called ahead, giving strict instructions for cops in the area to gather quietly, to contain the scene—but not to intrude.

  Yet.

  If he could apprehend someone still at the house, get a match on the teeth marks left on the victim, maybe some DNA . . . it’d be perfect, a real break in the case. And God knew they needed a break. The bodies were piling up.

  Beside him, Ann held herself in brooding silence, no doubt wracked from seeing the shape that poor woman was in. But hell, he didn’t blame her; it shook him, too.

  To think of someone going through what she had, and then to be chained to a wall to be available for future abuse . . . His muscles constricted with the need for physical violence.

  Nasty bite marks, most of which had viciously pierced skin and torn flesh, marred her body. She’d been so bloodless that, other than swollen bruises, her skin looked translucent, ghostly blue. Wild-eyed but frail, she’d whispered of atrocities too horrific to imagine—and then she’d given them the name of a street, and died.

  Voice trembling, Ann whispered, “I want to kill him, Luther.”

  “Me, too.” He felt no shame in admitting that.

  He heard Ann breathing, and then: “I almost . . . almost want to turn Gaby loose on him.”

  “No!” Hands squeezing the steering wheel, Luther said again, more calmly this time, “No. Not that.”

  Ann put her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. After a time, she agreed. “Of course not. It’s unthinkable.” She rolled her head to look at Luther. “For Gaby, as much as the matter of the law.”

  “More for Gaby.” At times like this, Luther teetered toward the attitude of “fuck the law.” Some people, some monstrosities in the guise of human beings, didn’t deserve the benefit of societal rules. The savage who had cut up those people, who’d gnawed on that poor woman, fell into that category.

  But he wanted Gaby removed from it, both physically and emotionally. The toll it took on her was not worth the end result, not to him.

  If it came to it . . . He flexed his hands on the steering wheel, and admitted the truth. If it came down to it, he’d protect Gaby by killing the bastard himself.

  Maybe that’s why he felt such an affinity to her. He understood Gaby and the demons that drove her to slaughter the most abject evil.

  Ann’s silence wore on him, forcing Luther to explanations. “Understand, Ann. Gaby suffers for what she does.”

  “I think I’ve seen that suffering.” She let out a staggered breath. “So why does she do it?”

  “Because she suffers even more if she doesn’t.” Ann had seen small glimpses of Gaby’s torment, but she didn’t know the depths of that agony. And Luther couldn’t tell her without betraying Gaby.

  They turned down the street and Luther saw the blackened ruins of a house. “No.”

  Ann sat up, and groaned. “Maybe it’s not the house we’re looking for.”

  No other home appeared in the area. “And maybe the bastard will turn himself in if we go back to the office and wait.” Luther brought the car to a jarring halt and sat there, staring at the carnage. Little remained of the house. Even the surrounding grounds were scorched and brittle. “Fuck!”

  “I’ll say.” Furious, Ann yanked open her car door, got out, and started over to the uniformed cops who milled around their cruisers in confusion.

  It didn’t make any sense, but Luther needed to talk to Gaby. He pulled out the cell phone and punched in her number.

  She answered on the fourth ring, surprise in her voice. “Hello?”

  “It’s Luther.”

  “Oh, right. Bad timing, Luther, sorry.” And she hung up on him.

  Stunned, Luther stared at the phone as fury boiled up. He dialed her right back.

  This time she answered on the first ring. “What?”

  He ground his teeth together. “Do not. Hang up. On me.”

  She huffed. “Fine. Then talk quick.”

  In his current state of mind, her insults pricked more than usual. “What are you doing that’s so damned important you can’t talk to me?” Through the windshield, he saw Ann give him an incredulous look, throw up her hands, and go to the house on her own.

  “Actually,” Gaby said, “I’m pondering whether or not to beat the shit out of some asshole, if you want the truth.”

  What else had he expected? Luther straightened in the car seat. “I vote no.”

  “You’re not here and you don’t know the situation, so you don’t get a vote. Hang on.”

  Feeling absurdly impotent, Luther listened through the phone as a scuffle ensued, followed by a grunt, a low curse, and then Gaby came back.

  “Where was I?” She sounded calm, almost bored. “Oh yeah. I’ll try to walk away, Luther, but I can’t make any promises. He’s not making it easy.”

  Luther’s blood pressure went sky-high. “He who?”

  “Bogg’s brother, I think.” She said to someone else, “You are Bogg’s asshole brother, right?”

  Luther heard more cursing, another crack or two, and Gaby said, “I really do need to go, Luther.”

  He closed his eyes, but nothing brilliant came to him. “Is anyone shooting at you?”

  “No.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Just two.”

  The odds weren’t bad at all—unless he thought of the odds of the two guys surviving. It was a long shot, but he offered, “I’ll send a beat unit your way. They could be there in two minutes.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Her voice lowered. “Seriously, Luther, that’d be a bad move.”

  Frustration crawled over him, sent his temper through the roof, then settled in as resignation. He knew Gaby would be tough to deal with.

  “All right.” What choice did he have? Luther knew that even if he had the time to race to her side, she’d have the conflict resolved one way or another long before then. “But promise me that you won’t dismember, incapacitate, or otherwise paralyze anyone if you can help it. Promise me, Gaby.”

  “Party pooper.”

  Jesus. “And if you get into any real trouble, call me so I can help. Promise me.”

  “All right. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” Marginally relieved, Luther started to disconnect the call, then thought to add, just to devil her in return, “Gaby? I really do care for you, honey. Remember that.”

  She went silent, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “You fight dirty, cop.”

  When the line went dead, Luther realized he was smiling. She’d turned him into a half-wit; nothing else explained the ability for humor during such an awful time.

  He stuck the phone back in his pocket and got out of the car.

  The rancid stench of burned wood, plastic, and fabric, along with something more noxious, still hung in the air. Staked police tape warned off curious spectators. Ann ensured that no one from their station compromised the crime scene—what was left of it.

  She’d backed everyone away from the area, and given strict orders that nothing was to be touched, not even a singed gum wrapper on the ground.

  She didn’t mention Luther’s d
elay in joining her, but instead launched into business. “The boys said it’s the only place on the street that qualifies, so it’s ours. The houses here are spaced out, only five on the private road, and the others are occupied with normal, family-type folk.” Ann looked up at him. “This one was vacant.”

  “Or not,” Luther said. “I’m guessing our psycho moved in unnoticed.”

  Ann didn’t argue that probability. “He’s got enough privacy here that no one would hear a woman screaming for help.”

  Or in agony. “Probably kept her in the basement.” Luther paced along the perimeter. The concrete walls of the house’s subfloor remained. In the cement blocks of one wall, he could see what might have been the bolts to hold shackles in place. “You call forensics yet?”

  “On their way. But it’s going to be a conflict.”

  “Local fire department?”

  “They said they put the blaze out last night, but not before most of the house was already gone. From what they could tell, the fire started in the basement, got into the walls, and up she went.”

  Just as someone had planned. Luther kept a tenuous hold on his temper. “It’s an old place, so not as protected with modern materials as a newer home might’ve been.”

  Ann put a hand on her hip. “And get this. The bomb guy and the arson investigators are already on it, because naturally the fire was deliberate. Gasoline, they think. And yeah, they saw the bolts in the wall, along with some other suspicious stuff.”

  “Like?”

  “Broken vials. The type that might’ve held drugs.” She shielded her eyes from the sun. “I’m supposed to get a call from the guy in charge. I’ll know more then.”

  “It’s possible they found evidence buried under the ash, and didn’t even know it.”

  “I like a man who thinks positive thoughts.”

  Yeah, they both knew it was a crapshoot. “Let’s talk to the neighbors, see if they saw any activity. Maybe someone can identify a car or give us a description of someone they noticed hanging around.”

  “Arson guys already did that, but, hey, my dance card is free.” She held out an arm for him to lead the way. “I’m in if you are.”