Blood in the Mirror (Haunted Collection Series Book 3) Page 9

  But she remembered their father’s warning, not to underestimate the craftiness and brutality of Stefan Korzh. He was ruthless, according to Ivan Denisovich, and traitorous. And he had spent a significant amount of time in the United States Army killing people.

  Something the man was evidently good at.

  Remembering that, Ariana took a slow, small step to the right, staying in the darkness. Her eyes remained on her stepbrother. She had memorized the layout of the house’s front room before Stefan had barreled down the stairs and into the kitchen. In silence, she slipped around a coffee table, making her way towards a corner hutch. Once there she removed the compact from her pocket, opened it carefully, muffling the sound of its catch releasing, and then slipped it under the hutch.

  When the mirror was successfully hidden, Ariana smiled and then began the laborious task of getting out of the house as quietly as she had gotten in. From the kitchen came the sounds of Stefan devouring the crackers, and her smile broadened as she headed for the front door.

  When she reached it, the motto of the British Special Air Service commandos leaped to mind.

  He who dares wins, Ariana thought. And with a snicker, she twisted the door open and let it swing out to bang against the wall as she sprinted for the safety of the forest.

  ***

  The click and ricochet of the front door off the wall launched Stefan out of his chair. In a heartbeat, he had both pistols in his hands as he spun around, dropping to a crouch and firing several shots out into the darkness beyond the open door.

  Yet, even as the bullets were coursing into the darkness, Stefan discovered that he couldn’t see anyone. The crash of the rounds smashing into the trees across the road was the only sound he heard.

  He remained in his crouch, listening, unsure as to whether someone had come into the house, if they had left the house, or if they had tried and fled once they realized he was in the kitchen.

  The lack of information sent his mind into a panic. He hated not knowing.

  But to gain all of the intelligence he needed on the subject meant he would have to leave the house. And leaving the house opened him up to the risk of someone sneaking in while he was gone.

  He shook his head.

  The best bet, he knew, would be to secure the front door. Block it, and then sweep through the house, making sure no one had broken in. He could worry about someone running away later.

  During daylight.

  Getting to his feet, Stefan removed the spent casings from the pistols’ cylinders and replaced them with fresh rounds.

  His hands, he noticed with disgust, were shaking.

  Chapter 31: Noises in the Night

  “Those are the first sirens I’ve heard here,” Victor said, putting his book down and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Jeremy looked up from his laptop, cocked his head and said, “I think they’re the first I’ve heard as well. Curious. Well, I hope everyone is alright.”

  “Me too,” Victor said, glancing at the window. “I doubt it, though.”

  Jeremy nodded his agreement with Victor’s dour assessment. Victor watched as the other man stood up, winced, rubbed at his weak leg, and limped over to a window. For a moment, the older man peered out into the night, then he shrugged and closed the blinds.

  “Did you ever speak with Jean Luc?” Victor asked, repressing a shiver at the thought of the strange creature.

  “No,” Jeremy said, walking back to his seat and turning it to face Victor. “I attempted to find him earlier, but he hasn’t come back.”

  The door to the kitchen opened, startling Victor.

  Jean Luc slipped in, an overly large grin on his face. He wore dark clothes and a knit cap that was ridiculously too small for him.

  Jeremy asked him a question and somehow, the goblin’s smile spread wider. He responded in a low, guttural tone, the patois quick and devilish to listen to. Jeremy frowned, nodded, and asked another question.

  Jean Luc chuckled and answered, speaking slowly.

  Jeremy inclined his head, murmuring, “Merci.”

  Jean Luc waved a long-fingered hand and left the room, pausing to pat Victor on the arm on his way out.

  “Mo zami,” Jean Luc said, laughing. “Me mi, mozami.”

  After the goblin had left the room, Victor looked to Jeremy.

  “He said, ‘my friend. But yes, my friend,’” Jeremy said in a soft voice, staring after the creature. “I think, Victor, that he is far more dangerous than I suspected.”

  Victor raised an eyebrow, refrained from cursing, and said, “I would have to agree.”

  They were silent for a few minutes, and then Victor asked, “Do you think he had something to do with the sirens?”

  Jeremy began to shake his head but stopped. He glanced at the window and said, “I don’t know. He might have. I hope that he didn’t, Victor, but in all honesty, I cannot rule him out. Then again, we don’t really know what happened.”

  Victor knew the man was right, but there was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. It had something to do with the way Jean Luc had smiled. The expression on the goblin’s face reminded Victor of his own when he had been a teenager and had gotten away with minor offenses.

  Jean Luc, Victor suspected, wasn’t committing any small crimes.

  The goblin had done something terrible.

  “What’s on the news?” Victor asked, suddenly.

  “What?” Jeremy asked, surprised by the question.

  “Online,” Victor clarified. “Can you check to see if there’s anything going on around here?”

  Jeremy nodded, seemed to sense the trepidation in Victor, and turned around to the computer. The older man stabbed at the keys with the index finger of each hand, and soon a local news station’s site was on the screen. Jeremy turned up the volume and angled the computer so Victor could see it from where he sat.

  “Good evening, this is Robin Anderson reporting for Channel 26 News,” a young woman said, holding a microphone and looking into the camera. Behind her was a square, brick building bearing the emblem of the State of West Virginia and a sign that revealed she was in front of State Police barracks.

  “We have recently had a brief update from Captain Aric Quinn concerning the grisly murders that were discovered at a rest stop on Interstate 79 near Morgantown.” Before Robin Anderson could continue any further, Jeremy stopped the video.

  “What’s wrong?” Victor asked, concerned about the sudden loss of color in Jeremy’s face.

  “We were there,” Jeremy said in a husky voice, staring at the laptop. “I pulled over, he needed to get out.”

  “How long were you there?” Victor asked, straightening up in his chair. “Didn’t you notice anything?”

  “We were only there for a few minutes. I doubt it was even five,” Jeremy whispered. “And yes, I heard a sound. That of a creature dying. But I assumed it was only a squirrel, or something like that if anything at all. My God, what did she have me bring here?”

  Victor thought of Leanne Le Monde, of the vicious attack on her by Stefan, and he answered, “She sent death along with you. She’ll be avenged and in her own way.”

  Jeremy was mute as he closed the laptop and shut out the horror Jean Luc had wrought.

  Chapter 32: Conversations with the Dead

  “Why are you still here?” Tom asked, his head pounding. He was exhausted, sick to his stomach from the scotch, and found it slightly odd to be back in control of his own body.

  Nicholas sat on the floor across from him in Jeremy’s home. The light of the half-moon filtered in through the windows. Smiling, the dead man replied, “You interest me, young man. I understand your anger and the drive for vengeance. But you are young, and the amount of animosity that you carry is impressive. I have known others who cared for their parents, who, like yours, were murdered. Those individuals did not execute their parents’ killers. I like that about you, Tom. I like that quite a bit.”

  Tom grinned, not knowing why
he found the idea of the dead man’s approval pleasing. “Um, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Nicholas said. “Now, I will let you rest. When you awaken, I hope that we can begin our quest for Stefan Korzh in earnest. I trust either the treacherous owner of this house or my grandson will have left some sort of evidence behind.”

  Tom frowned, confused.

  Nicholas smiled and continued. “Like you, they are hunting Korzh. Unlike you, they seem to have found something, which would explain why they are no longer here.”

  “That makes sense,” Tom said, and he stifled a yawn.

  Nicholas chuckled, but the sound was cut off by the crunch of tires on the chipped stone of the driveway. Panic spiked through Tom, and he cast furtive glances at the windows and the door. A spotlight erupted in a window, the beam playing along the wall.

  Nicholas stood up, a vicious smile playing on his face.

  “Stay away from the windows, Tom,” the dead man said, and he vanished from the room.

  ***

  Officer Conrad Whyte put his cruiser into park and got out of the vehicle. He adjusted his gun belt, which always managed to become cockeyed when he drove and pulled down on the neck of his body armor. Conrad had been in a foul mood since he had started the shift. His truck had blown a head-gasket, his girlfriend had left town for a girls’ trip up to Montreal, and the Captain had denied his request for vacation.

  The day had not gone in Conrad’s favor.

  And let’s not forget that the refrigerator died, he grumbled to himself.

  So, chasing down random leads to find a missing teenager with psychiatric problems wasn’t high on his to-do list. Especially since the Captain had made it a priority.

  There were guys with less seniority on the third shift who could have checked out the Rhinehart property.

  Conrad slipped his flashlight out of its loop, flicked it on, and called in his location to dispatch. He turned on the light, shined it on the front door, went up to it and rapped sharply on the thick wood. After a minute he knocked again, harder the second time. It seemed as though no one was home, but he had to make sure the teenager hadn’t gotten in somehow. Muttering to himself, Conrad half-heartedly looked for obvious signs of a break-in around the front of the building. Nothing leaped out at him, and the windows on either side of the entrance similarly were free of any evidence of tampering.

  Sighing, Conrad went around the right of the building, flashlight panning across the wall, reflecting back to him in the glass of the windows.

  “Hello,” a voice said from behind, and Conrad’s flashlight died. As did his cruiser, the engine lapsing into silence. The headlights and the spotlight all went dark, and he was left alone in the moonlight, trying to see who had spoken to him.

  Goosebumps erupted on his arms, and he dropped his hand to his side-arm as he demanded, “Where are you?”

  “Close,” a man said, the word coming from the left.

  Conrad twisted toward it while he reached up with his free hand and tried to activate his radio.

  Nothing happened.

  He clicked it twice more and then dropped his hand.

  His radio was dead.

  “I need you to come out where I can see you,” Conrad said, forcing his voice to remain calm in spite of the terror he felt crawling up his throat.

  “Officer,” the stranger chuckled, this time from the right, “I don’t think that would be a particularly pleasant option. At least not for you.”

  Conrad drew his weapon.

  “I’m not asking,” Conrad snapped. “You need to come into the light, hands in the air.”

  “But I like the dark,” the man whispered behind Conrad. “It’s so much nicer when no one can see you.”

  Conrad managed to keep his balance as he spun around, finger tightening on the trigger.

  But there was no one there. Nothing except the house he had come to inspect.

  “Isn’t it terrible?” the stranger asked, the voice originating from all directions at once. “How frightening it is when the world doesn’t work the right way. Am I right, officer?”

  Conrad jerked around, perspiring with fear when a cold fist wrapped around his heart and began to squeeze. Like a fish caught on the end of a hook, Conrad twitched and twisted, the Glock falling from his hand and thudding onto the stones of the driveway.

  “How long?” the man asked, whispering in his ear. “How long do you think you could live like this? With my dead hand squeezing this little muscle of yours? Your heart is only the size of your fist, officer, and you’re a small man. Even if I were still alive, I could wrap my fingers around this piece of flesh that keeps you alive and squeeze.”

  Conrad could only moan as the hand clenched. The world went silent, and he felt his head fall back. He stared up at the sky, the half-moon shining brightly, the stars filling the dark around it.

  It was, Conrad realized, a fine sight to see before death.

  ***

  When Nicholas appeared in the house, Tom sat up, his heart beating nervously.

  “Is everything okay?” Tom asked, glancing at the door.

  Nicholas chuckled and nodded. “Quite. I seem to have frightened the police officer that someone sent here. I assume the officer was looking for you, Tom, and if that is the case, well we should probably find any information we can in regards to my wayward grandson’s location.”

  “Yeah,” Tom said, scrambling to his feet. “Let me see what’s around.”

  Hurrying over to Jeremy’s kitchen, Tom hesitated and tried to think of all of the different ways detectives dug up information on suspects. There was no computer to look at, but there was a notepad and a trash bin with a few crumpled pieces of paper in it. Bending down, Tom dug out the pages, smoothed them out on the counter and hastily read them. All of them had to do with Pennsylvania. Directions from Mapquest, possible houses for rent, phone numbers. And all of them were in the area of a place called Fox Cat Hollow.

  An address was jotted down on the notepad, and the phone number and email address for a realtor as well. Tom picked up the pad, carried it to his makeshift bag, and then turned his attention to the entire house, looking over it.

  “What are you searching for, Tom?” Nicholas asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out where Jeremy might hide money,” Tom answered, feeling guilty as he said it. He didn’t want to rob the old man, but if that was the only way to get out to Pennsylvania and to kill Stefan Korzh, then that’s what he would do.

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Nicholas apologized. “I was many things, but never a thief.”

  “I’m learning,” Tom said. His eyes settled on a tall bureau. He started rummaging through the top drawer, and to the right, rolled up in a sock, he found cash. When he removed it and counted out the bills, he discovered that there was a little over a thousand dollars tucked away.

  Tom didn’t hesitate, dividing the money into four separate groups and putting one in each pocket of his pants. He grabbed a roll of crackers and picked up Nicholas’s mug. Tom placed them both in his pack, picked it up and faced the ghost.

  “I’m ready,” he declared, and Nicholas smiled.

  “Of course you are,” the dead man said, chuckling. “Now, we’ll leave out the front. Mind you, I scared the officer half to death, and I do believe he is still passed out. He may awaken as we slip away, but I doubt it. I am more concerned with whoever might come and check up on him.”

  “If someone does,” Tom said, “will you take over?”

  All humor left Nicholas’s voice and face. “I will. Take the scotch with you and let us leave.”

  Tom nodded, grabbed the bottle, and exited the house. The police officer was a little off to the right, face down by the cruiser. Tom glanced at the man and realized the officer wasn’t lying the right way. There was something wrong, he didn’t look unconscious so much as dead.

  Nicholas killed him, Tom thought.

  Then he shook his head and pushed the thought aside.
He couldn’t worry about whether or not the officer was dead. Korzh needed to be killed, no matter what. Squaring his shoulders, Tom walked briskly down the road, keeping to the dark edge and hoping he wouldn’t be caught.

  Chapter 33: Surprised in the Evening

  The day had been uneventful and unproductive, leaving Victor angry and frustrated. Jeremy had gone into town to pick up some groceries, and Victor was alone in the house. Jean Luc had slipped away again, and neither of the men had any idea as to where the goblin went.

  The sirens from the previous night, according to the local news, was in response to a missing man who lived half a mile away from their rented home.

  No details other than the man’s name and physical description were given. Police were concerned, stating that they believed the man was in danger.

  Victor could only imagine.

  There was a sinister aura around Jean Luc, one that made being near the creature uncomfortable, and borderline terrifying.

  With a sigh, Victor closed the book he had been trying to read. It was an older work on the Bataan Death March, and he hoped to write a proposal for a paper on the subject, but he lacked the ambition. Too much of his focus was on vengeance, and not enough on what he did for work.

  I’ll have to do some writing soon, he thought, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair. Victor wanted to contribute more, financially, to the house. Jeremy had told him not to be concerned about it, that he had sufficient funds, but Victor was concerned. He had paid his way his entire life, and he wanted that to continue.

  And he would still have to find employment after he killed Stefan Korzh.

  I couldn’t be like Jeremy, going around the country and gathering up possessed items and keeping them locked away. But then, maybe I could, Victor thought. He makes enough to survive, and I could still write and speak.