The Betrayed, page 23
Kelly looked from me to Rae. Neither of us gave an inch. He sighed.
“Ask your questions. I’ll answer if I’m able.”
“What the name of this little monster-hunting club?”
Kelly scowled. “It’s not a monster-hunting club, for starters.”
I held up a hand in surrender. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”
Kelly composed himself. “Very well. We call ourselves the Order of the Hidden Eye.”
Rae cocked a brow. “Gotta be honest, Father, that… don’t sound like sunshine and puppy dogs.”
Kelly snorted in frustration. “It’s not meant to. The name is symbolic of who we are. We see, but are ourselves hidden. We are, first and foremost, witnesses.”
“Witnesses of what?” I asked.
“Reality. We seek to see things as they are, free of bias. We research ancient spiritual texts with the same intensity as cellular biology or astronomy. We mine all sources for truth.”
“Uh huh,” I said. “And what is this truth you seek?”
“The same as every other visionary. We want to know the face of God.”
“Science says God don’t exist,” I said.
“Not true,” Kelly disagreed. “Science says there’s no way of proving God. That’s not the same as saying He doesn’t exist.”
I cocked my head as I thought about that, then nodded, conceding the point.
“What will your order do if we find Burke?” Rae asked.
“Dispatch her with all due haste,” Kelly answered instantly.
I began to ask what Kelly’s order would do with the Jar, but caught myself before I opened my mouth. Kelly was harmless, of this I was fairly sure, but the other members of his order might not be.
“I’m in,” I said, and Kelly’s eyes lit up. “At least until I find Burke, or your order does something that makes my skin crawl.”
“Still partners?” Rae asked, a look of determination on her face covering something else... fear, maybe? I considered all she had done, how she had handled herself, and how I felt about her.
I nodded.
Standing in front of the safe deposit box I had just paid for, I shifted from foot to foot. Surely I don’t really need to lock the Jar up here, I thought. It would be perfectly safe with me—in the trunk of my car, for instance. No one would think to look there.
I shook my head, arguing with myself. What about an accident? I might get into a wreck and destroy the Jar.
‘No, that wouldn’t happen,’ the voice in my head said. ‘This jar is not so easily destroyed.’
I shivered. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I felt its truth with every fiber of my being.
Okay, but what if the trunk popped during an accident and the Jar flew out? What if it got lost in the swamp? What if the insect creature finds it again? What if Burke does?
The voice had nothing to say to that.
A bead of sweat broke free of my forehead.
I shook my head and jammed the key into the safe deposit box.
After dropping Rae off at her apartment, I drove Kelly back to Saint Christina’s.
“Rev, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you chose to work with us. I know these things are… hard to deal with. If you ever need to talk, remember I am here, and that I have some experience in helping people with their troubles.”
“Thanks, Father, but if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just keep shoving shit way deep inside and letting it fester. Seems to be working so far.”
Kelly looked at me for a long moment, as if he were weighing my soul. “Eventually, Rev, all that stuff’s going to eat away at you. One day you’ll wake up and be unable to recognize yourself. Come talk to me before that happens… please?”
I stared at him for a long moment. Finally, I nodded. Kelly smiled and opened the passenger door.
Chapter 36
Reunion
New Orleans, Louisiana: 8:07 AM, Tuesday, October 29th, 1984
Rae and I followed the car into the lot, parking in the space beside it. We got out of the cruiser, and I glanced over at the social worker and little Marcus.
Marcus was in remarkably good condition for someone who’d been kidnapped by Burke. Other than the slash, which he had spent nearly a week in the hospital for, he was completely unharmed. Rae said he had been like Burke’s pet, and while that tracked, something still bugged me about it.
The kid was weird. He didn’t talk much, and didn’t really seem to show any emotion. He also didn’t appear particularly happy to be rescued, just like he didn’t seem overjoyed to be here. On the flip side, he also didn’t come off as traumatized, and the shrink that examined him said he was coping surprisingly well.
The thing that bugged me about him most, though, were his eyes. Sometimes, it was like they were dead, with nothing going on behind them. Other times, it was like seeing a little old man inside, bitter, jaded, and wise beyond his years.
I put the thoughts out of my head. This was a farewell. Marcus was going to be returned to his parents, but before that happened, I had convinced the social worker to let him say goodbye to Jerome. I felt it was the least I could do for the kid.
I nodded at the social worker, and we began walking toward the shelter, with little Marcus limping a bit, but not complaining.
When we turned the corner, I saw Jerome sitting on the sidewalk in front of the shelter, drawing on the concrete with a rock. When he saw Marcus, he jumped up and ran straight to him. Marcus stopped in his tracks, and Jerome enveloped him in a hug. Sniffles emanated from where Jerome had his face buried in Marcus’s shoulder.
Marcus stood, arms limp at his sides, then he slowly raised one and patted Jerome’s back. I couldn’t see Marcus’s face, but I could imagine those eyes staring coldly into the distance.
“Damn, bro, I thought you was gone,” Jerome said as he pulled back, wiping at his eyes with the back of one hand.
He shook Marcus a little. “Ain’t never gonna let you out of my sight no more, dog, you hear?” As soon as Jerome said this, his eyes went from overjoyed to confused. “Yo, Marcus, what’s up with you?” he asked, then let his arms drop from the smaller boy.
Marcus shrugged, but didn’t speak.
“He’s been through a pretty traumatic ordeal,” the social worker said, and Jerome’s eyes went from her to Marcus and back again.
“Who’re you?” Jerome asked the lady.
“I’m Miss LeBlanc, and I’m the social worker assigned to Marcus’s case,” the lady said, stooping to look Jerome in the eye and smiling.
Jerome stepped back, the look in his eyes one of betrayal.
“Aw, hell naw!” he said, and grabbed Marcus’s hand to pull him away.
“Jerome,” I said, causing him to pause and turn to me. “Marcus has to go back to his family now. He’s been through a lot, but we thought you would want to say goodbye,” I said, as gently as I could.
Jerome’s eyes went hard, and his little brows scrunched together. “Naw, man, we had a deal, remember? You said you would bring him back. This ain’t back, big man.”
Tears were forming in his little eyes. Marcus stood by passively.
I shrugged. “It’s the law, Jerome.”
“And it’s what’s best for Marcus,” the social worker put in.
Jerome turned on her, his eyes so venomous the lady jerked back.
“The fuck would you know about ‘what’s best’ for him, huh? You don’t know him, lady. Marcus’s folks beat him and chain him up downstairs. They… they—” He broke off as he began crying, his words fading off into deep, choking sobs that wracked his little body.
Rae went over and wrapped him in her arms. Jerome didn’t resist, he just stood there, bawling into her shirt.
I shot a glance at the social worker. Her face registered shock, more than anything else, but she quickly regained her composure.
“I promise you, young man, if any of those things happen, we will immediately remove Marcus from the home. We are going to keep a very sharp eye on his parents, don’t you worry.”
Jerome didn’t respond, and the lady turned to look at me. I shrugged.
Finally, Marcus spoke up.
“Don’t cry, Jerome. I’m gonna be alright. I want to go,” he said, in a voice that was strangely serene.
Jerome’s sniffles stopped, and he looked up a moment, meeting Marcus’s eyes. He extracted himself from Rae, then went over to envelop Marcus in a hug. This time, Marcus reciprocated.
“You ever get in trouble or need help, you get your ass back, you hear?” Jerome whispered fiercely. Marcus nodded.
I glanced at Rae to find her staring at the back of Jerome’s head, her eyes liquid.
Chapter 37
Epilogue
The creature who had once gone by the name Sarah Burke flattened herself at the entrance to an alley not terribly far from where she exited the tunnels a few nights ago. Crude bandages covered her arm where Rev’s .357 Magnum slug had ripped out a sizable chunk of her mottled flesh. Her back, bleeding from half a dozen stab wounds, could not be bandaged so easily. It would simply have to heal on its own.
The creature—who still thought of herself as Pheobe Durst despite the avalanche of years since anyone had called her by such a name—was not concerned about the injuries. She was old… very, very old, by human reckoning. She had suffered worse in her time, though not tremendously so. The bullet wound to her chest, from her first encounter with Rev, might have killed her had it been a few inches lower. Even now, she worried that the bullet, still embedded in her flesh, might poison her or slip, cutting an artery and overcoming even her great resistance to oblivion.
Professional medical treatment was not an option, not for her. In order for a physician to operate, she would have to drop the glamour that kept her prey pacified, and she could not, would not, risk that.
“Oh Rev, you naughty, naughty boy. I’m going to make you suffer. Oh yes,” she cackled quietly, “Not fast—slow, so slow. I’m going to make you wish for death, pray for it, and deny it. You will die an old, old man, Revel Parata.”
The broiling rage she kept hidden under the surface mixed with a kind of glee as she fantasized.
“Ruined my work. My life’s work. When I was so close. So close to achieving symbiosis.” She sighed heavily. “No matter, you tiny, weak, insignificant man. I can rebuild, oh yes. I have the luxury of time.”
Something caught the creature’s attention, and she quieted, fading perfectly into the shadows on the humid, moonless night.
A man was coming. She could not see him, but she could hear him. Roughly 160 pounds, intoxicated, but not badly. Pulse around seventy, breathing clean and easy. His smell was of soap, beer, and youth. Yes, she could gain a few years from him, though it was doubtful he would add anything to her skills or physical prowess.
She waited, biding her time, until he crossed the alley entrance. Then she leaned out and caught his eye.
He stared back, dumbfounded. The creature stared into his eyes, molding his perception. The act was subtle—an art, really. She needed to present an appearance that was inviting, yet exciting. Comfortable, but alluring. Non-threatening, but with enough strangeness to entice his curiosity.
She pulled it off flawlessly.
The man, a few weeks past his twenty-fifth birthday, stared back in confusion for a moment, then stumbled forward into the alley.
Many miles away, deep in the swamp, the creature with the three-lobed red eye scurried into its mound. It had dug under an old cypress, and inside its muddy burrow, piled against the far wall, was a shrine to its growth.
On the bottom of the pile were bones from small creatures. Rabbits, snakes, squirrels. A few layers higher, there were bones from coyotes, dogs, and the occasional scavenging bird. On top of that were the bones of its more recent victims. Long, thin skulls filled with nearly a hundred sharp teeth topped the pile, testament to the rapidly increasing proficiency of the creature. The other bones of these stretched, streamlined aquatic creatures dominated the mound. A few of them had put up a fight, but their strategy of biting and rolling in the murky water, drowning their prey, was poorly matched to the creature’s capabilities.
The creature feared nothing. It was not in its nature to fear, but it had an instinctual understanding of its place in this alien world. It knew it needed to hunt with care. The tall, bipedal beings that seemed to run this world were succulent prey, but the creature needed to hunt them slyly, without arousing suspicion. It knew this without understanding, or caring, how it knew it.
The creature did not think in any way a human would recognize, but this did not make it unthinking. The creature had almost preternatural intelligence: an ability to process information without logically analyzing it. Seemingly random thoughts coalesced in its head, and it followed them, trusting in their truth without ever succumbing to the weakness of self-doubt. The creature knew that any thought that arrived in its mind was the word of the master, and the master’s word was truth.
The creature could hear one of the biped’s machines out on the water, making its alien noise. Nearly seven feet long now and possessed of nine eyes and four sets of mandibles, the creature slithered out of the burrow and into the dark night.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading The Betrayed. If you enjoyed this book (or even if you didn't) please visit the site where you purchased it and write a brief review. Your feedback is important to me and will help other readers.
About the Author
After falling in love with computers at the ripe age of eight, Brian Hill has spent most of his life tinkering with them. His IT explorations led him to write multiple technical books, relocate from one side of the country to the other, and play a pivotal role in a DARPA-funded AI project. These days, he writes fiction about outlandish situations with as much realism as possible from the home he shares with his wife, Beth, just outside of Charlotte, NC.
You can connect with him on:
http://counting-to-infinity.com
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Also by Brian Hill
Rev Parata is a man chasing insanity… or perhaps it’s the other way around.
It’s been six months since the case that launched him into a headlong battle with eldritch powers… and things have only gotten stranger since then.
Rev and his partner Rae have joined forces with Father Kelly and the Order of the Hidden Eye to hunt down and stop the corruption. But when a member of the order goes missing, they find themselves hurtling toward an isolated, condemned village deep in the Louisiana swamp — a place dominated by an enormous sinkhole full of crystal blue water and unfathomable depths.
Soon thereafter, they discover that as hard as the village was to find, it’s even harder to leave, and they are brought face-to-face with the secret of Tranquility, Louisiana.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
1. Saints
2. Candidates
3. Jerome
4. Fanny
5. Burke Foundation
6. Bernie
7. Arúnsearc
8. Teens
9. The Scene
10. Burke's Place
11. Children
12. The Pipe
13. Factory
14. Missing
15. Killer
16. Interrogation
17. Desperate Measures
18. Monster Hunting
19. Sighting
20. Suspect
21. Trail
22. Hunted
23. Underground
24. Chartres
25. Lair
26. 'Nam
27. Showdown
28. Aftermath
29. Catacombs
30. The Decision
31. The Chase
32. The Revelation
33. Charnel
34. The Plan
35. The Pact
36. Reunion
37. Epilogue
Author's Note
About the Author
Also by Brian Hill
Brian Hill, The Betrayed
