The presence that had shared space in Mohammed’s mind left him, and for a moment he felt embarrassed for what he’d done, jealousy for what he’d watched Emily do, and sudden self-consciousness at his nudity, despite the fact that half the people there were now naked and the rest appeared barely conscious. But then Mohammed saw the satisfied smile that beamed from Emily’s face when Delilah drank from her bleeding palm where she’d drawn a ceremonial dagger across it. Emily looked reborn. Her eyes were brilliant with a joy he hadn’t seen in them since their first few dates, since the first time he told her he loved her and heard her repeat those words to him.
He forgot his own nudity, forgot about the woman he’d been publicly ravishing seconds before, and wandered over to Delilah, lining up behind her other followers, desperate to feel the same rapturous joy, whatever intoxicating Nirvana Emily was feeling.
As Delilah drank from Emily’s palm, her black eyes continued to darken. Her pupils and coal-black irises widened until the whites of her eyes completely disappeared. They were now two sunless pits bored into her skull as she slurped and sucked, locked to Emily’s hand with a vampiristic thirst, staring off into the night as if seeing something terrifying that no one else could see. Without warning, she released Emily’s palm and began to scream.
Chapter 36
The front door opened, and the first couple walked out of Delilah’s home arm in arm, smiling broadly, almost skipping as they hurried to their car, anxious to get home to consummate their renewed affection for each other. The next few couples looked much the same. Then the last six or seven couples emerged, angry, arguing, being shoved out the door by the two thugs as they protested and demanded to see Delilah. Mohammed and Emily were among the last couples. They pushed their way through what was becoming an angry mob and walked quickly toward the car. Confused, Malloy reached for his weapon. He unsnapped the holster strap and slid his Glock partially free, watching the two thugs who were staring shotgun-sized holes in Mohammed and Emily’s backs as they approached the car.
“What happened in there?”
“Something went wrong. Delilah was drinking Emily’s blood and she started screaming. Those two goons whisked her away before she could finish the ritual for the others. They were pissed. We almost didn’t get out of there.”
“She drank her blood?” Malloy asked, his mind filling with images of seductive vampires with sharp glistening fangs.
“That’s how she does it. She drinks their blood.”
“Does she … does she bite them?” Malloy asked, feeling foolish.
“Bite them? You mean like a vampire and shit? No, man. She uses a knife. They cut themselves, and she drinks their blood.”
“So what do we do now? Did you see any children in there?”
Mohammed shook his head. Malloy looked at Emily, and she shook her head as well. She looked different somehow - less anxious, less uptight.
“Did you see anything illegal going on in there? Drugs? Guns? Anything that might give us cause to bust in there and make an arrest?”
Mohammed shook his head again.
“Shit!”
The last couples had finally given up and were getting into their cars and leaving. The two thugs in black suits cast one last look at Mohammed and Malloy before retreating back into the house.
“Delilah was in a lot of pain though. She’s going to need to get rid of whatever she sucked out of Emily and the others. I didn’t see any kids around, but I’m sure there has to be one in there somewhere and that means Delilah is about to … do whatever she does to them.”
Malloy nodded. Someone knocked on the window, and Malloy almost jumped out of his skin. He drew his weapon and was about to aim it when he recognized the somber, humorless face staring in at him - Detective Mike Torres. Detective Trina Lassiter stood beside him looking royally pissed.
“What’s going on over there at robbery/homicide? You guys using civilians for decoys now?” Mike was never one for small talk.
“Hi, Mike. I’m glad you came. Where’s Harry?”
Mike’s eyes went dark. He shook his head slowly.
“Harry’s not doin’ well. He’s not comin’. It’s just us. I hope we’ll be enough.”
Malloy opened the car door and stepped out, with Mohammed behind him, sliding his holster back onto his shoulders.
“Why am I here, John? What the fuck is going on out here?”
Mohammed spoke up. “We’re trying to break up one of the most dangerous cults anyone has ever seen. Somewhere in there a little girl is about to experience pain none of us can even imagine if we don’t get our asses in there and stop these assholes. You in?”
Mike shook his head. “That’s what you call a fucking briefing? What are we up against, Mo? How many of them are there? What are they armed with? What the fuck are we charging them with? Tell me something here!”
“From what I could tell there’s two armed thugs with semiautomatic pistols. The younger one had a 9mm pistol. I didn’t see what the older guy was carrying. He had it under his jacket, but it looked big. Then there’s Delilah, the cult leader. She isn’t armed but is still highly dangerous. Don’t touch her, whatever you do. We don’t know what she’s capable of. And there was this scrawny little white chick with her too. I didn’t get an ID on her.”
Mike nodded, scratching his newly grown goatee. “Okay, that’s a little better. But you didn’t answer the big question. What the fuck have they done? What are we arresting them for?”
Malloy stepped up, speaking to Mike but looking directly at Trina Lassiter, appealing to her maternal instincts. “Those people in there are suspects in the disappearance of half a dozen young girls between the ages of four and ten. We have located four of the missing kids and one of them died two days ago from starvation and dehydration. The other two are still missing. They are also suspects in the deaths of three adult males that were literally torn apart by animals. We suspect there’s a little girl in there right now about to become their next victim. Are you coming with us or not?”
Detective Mike Torres stared from Malloy to Mohammed.
“This shit still feels weird. There’s something you guys aren’t telling me. Torn apart by animals? What do you think, Trina?”
Lassiter stepped between the two and spoke up for the first time. “I think that if there really is a little girl in there about to be abused, we can discuss all the finer details later. Right now, we need to get in there and save her. I’m calling for back-up. We’ll find some way of explaining all this to the captain once we save that child, but I’m not going in there unless I know we’ve got reinforcements on the way.”
Chapter 37
When Tony and Pops walked in with the little Asian girl with the pink overalls, shoes with heels that lit up when she walked, who was no more than eight years old and crying for her mommy, Delilah was curled up on the bed in the fetal position, weeping and shivering.
April’s naked body was wrapped around her, holding her, trying to warm Delilah with her body heat, to soothe her lover’s pain. It wasn’t working.
April couldn’t remember seeing any Asian couples at the ceremony. The girl must have been adopted. April wondered if the child had been adopted specifically for this purpose. The idea was reprehensible, but she wouldn’t have been surprised.
“No! I can take care of her. She doesn’t need to do this! I can help her.”
“You need to get tha fuck away from her ‘fore what she’s got inside her gets inside you!” Tony said, moving toward them.
April shook her head and squeezed Delilah tighter.
“Tony’s right. It isn’t just the blood that does it, ya know. When she’s this close to explodin’, just touching her can do it,” Pops said.
April remained adamant. “I’m not leaving. I can take it. I’d rather it be me than a child!”
Tony shook his head and laughed. “You don’t even know what the fuck you’s sayin’! What she’s got inside of her won’t just hurt you, it’ll kill you! It’ll rip your sweet ass apart!”
“Get her out of here, Tony,” Pops said solemnly, still holding the little girl’s hand.
Tony was beside the bed in two quick steps. April gasped and tried to hold on, but Tony pulled her from the bed with little effort and draped her over his shoulder.
“I’ll be right back. Feel free to start without me,” he told Pops as he carried April, struggling and fighting, out of the room.
She begged them to let the girl go. She turned to the girl, who was now screaming hysterically, fighting desperately to free herself from Pops, who held her tiny hand in one of his massive mitts.
The little girl kicked and punched and then finally bit his hand. Pops reached down and pried her mouth from his knuckles, never once wincing or showing any indication of pain despite the trickle of blood dripping from his hand where her teeth had broken skin.
“Don’t do this! You can’t do this! Run, little girl! Get out of here! Run!”
“Heeeeelp meeeeeeeee!” the little girl shrieked, in a panic now, overwhelmed with terror. She reached for April. “Heeeeeeelpmeeeee!”
April held out her arms, trying to reach the girl. She punched Tony in the back, shoulders, and the top of his head. “Let me go! Let me go! I have to help her!”
She was still punching and kicking when Tony’s palm smacked across her mouth with a sound like a gunshot. The blow sent flashbulbs off in April’s skull and made the room spin. It felt like he’d unhinged her jaw. Her mouth hung open as she tried to focus her vision and steady the swirling room.
April got one last look at Delilah before Tony slammed the door behind him and carried her from the room. Delilah’s eyes brimmed with tears as she watched Tony carry April away but she didn’t say anything to stop him. Not one word.
April continued to scream at the locked door. “Delilah! Delilah! Don’t do it! Please don’t hurt her! You know how it feels! Don’t do this anymore!”
Tony dropped her from his shoulders onto the floor like a bag of laundry. April gasped as she hit the floor and then immediately climbed to her feet and tried to push her way past the large gangster. She felt the wind explode from her lungs as Tony’s fist slammed into her solar plexus, dropping her to her knees and bringing tears to her eyes. She coughed and almost puked as she struggled to breathe. Tony reached down and gathered her face in one of his thick stubby hands, forcing her to stare him in the eyes.
“Shut the fuck up or I’m going to hurt you myself. And I’m going to take my time and enjoy it, you stupid cunt. Do you understand?”
April continued retching and coughing, holding her stomach, grimacing in pain. Tony dug his fingers into the bundle of nerves just behind April’s jaw muscles and a lightning bolt of white, electric agony shot up into April’s temples.
“Do you understand?”
This time she nodded. Tony let her go and turned to go back into the room moments before the front door burst open.
“LVPD! Freeze! Don’t move!”
There were four of them - a black woman and three men - holding badges in one hand and guns in the other. But Tony wasn’t freezing. He reached for the shiny custom 9mm semiautomatic pistol he kept in his shoulder holster and drew it with the speed of a seasoned Wild West gunslinger.
April flattened out on the floor and put her hands over her head.
In seconds the air was filled with the crack of gunshots and the whine of bullets whizzing past and thunking into the drywall and stair rails inches from where April lay on the floor screaming, trying to drown out the deafening thunder of gunfire.
Chapter 38
They used the small battering ram from Torres’s vehicle on the front door, buckling the door and smashing the lock, and they charged the tremendous foyer with guns drawn.
Malloy spotted the younger of the two thugs standing on the balcony above them reaching for his weapon. The man was fast and efficient, his gun free from its holster and swinging toward them by the time Malloy had time to register the movement and aim his own weapon. He heard a gunshot behind him and saw the man drop to one knee, still aiming his pistol and squeezing the trigger. Malloy fired three rapid shots, aiming for the middle of his chest, center mass. A volley of shots roared from behind and either side of him as Mohammed, Trina, and Torres opened fire as well. Bright red holes erupted in the gunman’s chest, stomach, and face. He fell to the floor and lay still without as much as a quiver. Stone cold dead.
Malloy took the stairs two at a time, still pointing his Glock at the corpse bleeding a river onto the floor. Beside the dead man, splattered in the man’s blood and brain matter, was a naked woman, screaming her lungs out.
“Show us your hands! Show us your hands!”
She stuck her trembling arms out over her head, fingers trembling.
“You have to stop them! They’re going to hurt that little girl!”
Malloy knelt down beside her while Torres knelt on her back, pulling her arms behind her and handcuffing her, not taking any chances.
“What little girl? Where is she?” Torres asked.
“In the bedroom! With Delilah! Don’t hurt her, please! Please don’t hurt her! Save her!”
Malloy wasn’t sure if the woman was talking about the little girl or Delilah. He wasn’t sure she knew either.
“Wait, Mike!” Trina yelled.
Torres was already sprinting down the hall to the door. He kicked open the bedroom door and caught two bullets to the chest. It sounded like someone in there was firing a canon, a .44 or something larger. Torres fell onto his back where he lay breathing quick shallow breaths and squeezing his chest with both hands.
Trina raced to his side and dragged him out of the line of fire while Mohammed returned shots through the open bedroom door. Trina was on her radio calling for an ambulance when she took a bullet in her arm. She screamed and dropped her pistol and the radio, grabbing her forearm, which was now bent at an odd angle, as if all the bones had shattered. Mohammed was still firing. He was standing up now, walking through the door and emptying his entire clip.
Malloy stood up and ran to his partner’s side, but it was over. A large gray-haired man lay on the floor with a dozen holes in him. Across the room, a tall voluptuous black woman who could only have been Delilah leaned over a young Asian girl.