The Light Who Shines (35 page)

I follow the sound of his voice, and Gambino follows me.
Xavier and Ernesto are in a large mudroom off the kitchen, looking at a tall,
floor-to-ceiling bench with coat hooks on it. I blow the smoke around the back
panel and sure enough, it disappears.

Ernesto hands Xavier his torch, and using brute strength he
wrenches the bench away from the wall. A stone doorway emerges with a staircase
twisting down. I quickly descend, using Vampire speed and eyesight, blowing my
torch out with the strength of the air blowing by me. Ernesto follows with his
sword drawn. The stairway is narrow and made of crumbling stone, walled in on
both sides. It twists several times, then ends in a long hall that slopes down
further still.

As we come to the end of the hall we turn right. It opens
into a large stone room with a low ceiling. At the back of the room are two
iron barred cells. One holds a man and a woman, a Latino couple, clasping each
other desperately on a small cot, looking toward us blindly in the darkness.
The woman softly sobs and shakes with fear. Their clothes are plain and worn but
clean and neat. I see a slight body on a cot in the other cell. I quickly rush
to it and see it holds an emaciated young Latina girl, thin to the point of
starvation, unkempt in rags, lying on the bare pallet with only a threadbare
blanket. She’s making soft whimpering noises.

Ernesto says “Dios mio!” and starts talking rapidly in
Spanish to the couple.

Xavier steps up to their cage and removes a tool from his
pocket to start breaking the lock. I notice a key ring hanging on the wall and
grab it and toss them to his feet. Xavier picks up the key ring sheepishly. He
unlocks the door, and the woman flies into Ernesto’s arms, speaking urgently in
Spanish all the while, holding him like she will never let him go.

As Ernesto comforts her, he says over her shoulder, “They do
not speak English well. They were kept as domestic slaves. Blackwater held
their daughter here as blackmail to keep them.”

Gambino has joined us downstairs now and steps aside to
radio for an ambulance.

I am glad we found this family, and of course I want them to
have the care they need, but my need to find Blue is desperate. So I press
Ernesto, “Ask them if they saw Blue.”

Ernesto turns to them and talks with them a moment. Both the
man and the woman shake their head as they reply to Ernesto. My heart drops
again.

Ernesto says, “No. Blackwater locked them in here yesterday
and hasn’t allowed them out since. Normally he lets them out in the morning and
locks them up at night after the housework is done. They have not seen any
young woman in the house in the last few days.”

I look at Gambino and ask, “Do you have anyone who speaks
Spanish? I need Ernesto with me, and they need to talk to someone.”

By now Xavier has opened the door to the little girl.
Ernesto gently extricates himself from the woman’s arms, and together they go
to the girl and kneel down on either side of her cot. The man, meanwhile, keeps
thanking me in both Spanish and English. Then he joins them at the cot and
gently strokes his daughter’s hair. Ernesto is speaking softly to her. The girl
tries to lift up her head but then lies back down in exhaustion. Ernesto holds
her hand and says something tenderly to her again. She nods slightly. Ernesto
gently lifts her up in his arms. She practically disappears behind her long
dark hair. She is so slight, she reminds me of a tiny sparrow with broken
wings.

We all ascend the stairs and wait for the ambulance at the
front door while the mother and father keep speaking in Spanish alternately to
Ernesto and their daughter.

“What are their names?” I ask.

Ernesto looks at the couple and says, “This is Claudia and
Jose Herrera.” Then he looks down compassionately at the little girl. “This is
Evita. She is sixteen years old.”

I’m shocked. She is so small and looks maybe twelve years
old at most. “How long was she kept down there?”

Ernesto’s face turns dark with fury, and the girl sees it
and starts whimpering again. Ernesto schools his face and murmurs gently to
her. When she seems to relax, he looks up with a world of pain in his eyes.
“Over five years. She has not been out of that cell in over five years.”

I curse under my breath. Three ambulances arrive, and
Ernesto gently lays the girl down on one of the gurneys and whispers to her
again. Her parents are able to get in the gurneys on their own. The girl is
obviously distressed when Ernesto steps away, but one of Gambino’s men steps up
and starts speaking to her in Spanish. She quiets down, but she watches Ernesto
all the while, obviously afraid to let him out of her sight.

I look to the street and see neighbors gathering in front of
their homes watching what is happening and gossiping heatedly.

“Ernesto,” I say, drawing his gaze away from Evita. “We need
to go back to the Warehouse District by the Cock and Bull Tap.”

Every second that passes ticks through my mind. I turn to
Gambino. “Can you have someone look through the rest of the files here and call
me if something comes up?”

“Yes. I’ll stay here and supervise for tonight. We’ll also
check the rest of the interior walls using your method.”

I put out my hand, and Gambino grips it firmly. “Thank you,
Gambino.”

Gambino says, “Good luck. I’ll call you as soon as I know we
have everything we can get from the house.”

I glance back at the house as Gambino’s men start putting
the crime scene tape up across the large stone doorway. I look across at the
neighbors again. A lot has been found in this house, and I don’t think the
neighbors will ever view it the same way.

I call Xavier over, speaking quickly. “Xavier, next we’re
going to search every warehouse in the district, and I could definitely use
your special expertise.”

Xavier puts his hands in his pockets, grins, and then
frowns, apparently momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation in his
joy of the challenge. He says, “Of course. Obviously you don’t have enough time
to file a right of entry permission for every building there. Do you have
enough cause to invoke the emergency entry right?”

“Absolutely. Based on Jason’s condition we have every right
to fear for her life. I’ll call Rubalia and ask her to submit the paperwork.”

Ernesto shifts his stance, his agitation obvious, and I can
see that Evita really affected him. “Señor,” Ernesto asks, “are you going to
call in for another unit to help?”

“Ernesto, I wish I could. But bear in mind that Blackwater
can portal Blue out at a moment’s notice if he knows we are close. We
must
work quickly and move stealthily, and calling in a big team would make that
impossible.”

Ernesto nods. “I agree. I was concerned about that.”

Xavier says, “We have the perfect skills to do this quickly
and well. Let’s do it!”

With that, we hurry to my car, and I peel out and floor it
to the Warehouse District. While I’m driving I call Rubalia. “Rubalia, have you
found any evidence of a private jet?”

Rubalia says, “No, Sir. I called all the private hangers in
a two hundred mile radius and told them to be on the lookout for Blackwater. I
faxed a photo of him to each one and gave them your number to call if they see
him.”

“Thanks, Rubalia. Great thinking. We’re about to search the
Warehouse District, building by building. Can you submit the emergency entry
special license paperwork?

Rubalia says, “Of course. I have a few prepped already. I’ll
just enter the location.”

“When you’re done with that, I’d like you to switch tracks
and start looking for any business dealings he may have had with anyone who
owns property in the Warehouse District. Also, generally keep looking for any
local properties at all.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And Rubalia, call Mike Kramer and tell him I want a team
assigned to help you with research. You are to lead it. Don’t let him arrange
it any other way!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“If he gives you any problems, send me a text and I’ll call
him myself.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Then I click the phone closed, concentrating on the rapidly
passing suburban streets, hoping she comes up with something, anything. Rubalia
is a master researcher. If there is something to be found, she will find it.

Bluebell Kildare: June 2, 2022, Red Ages

I wake up drowning in freezing water. Choking and gasping
for air, I try to swim, but I can’t move my arms. I open my eyes and see the
long, thin face of Tobias Blackwater grinning at me, with an empty bucket in
his hands. I try to wipe the water from my face, but my arms are restrained above
my head. They move a little but not far enough. I sputter and cough. The cough
sends a blast of pain through my head. Aside from the biting edge of the cold
water and the pain, my mind feels dull and slow.

As I keep my head still, the blast of pain settles to a
great throb on the side of my head where Blackwater had hit me. I observe that
I am in the middle of a dark room with rock walls and a dirt floor. A firefly
lantern hangs from a hook on the wall, casting a long shadow on the opposite
side of Blackwater. I feel air all over my body. Without moving my head, I know
he has stripped me naked. Blackwater’s leering face comes one step closer to
me. I lift my leg to knee him, but my foot is restrained as well. I try my
other foot with the same luck.

Blackwater laughs softly. The feel of his nasty, perverse
joy fills the room.

Risking an escalation of pain, I slowly tip my head up and
see my arms are shackled, the chains attached to one of several large timber
ceiling beams. I look down and see my ankles are also shackled to chains
cemented in a square block beneath me. I school my face not to show
desperation, and I face Blackwater, who seems inordinately pleased with the
situation.

“Ah, Bluebell,” he sneers, “so good to finally meet you
under more civilized circumstances.”

I respond as calmly as possible. “Where am I?” Speaking
drives another streak of pain through my head.

Gleefully, Blackwater responds, “Somewhere you can scream as
loud as you want and we will remain undisturbed.”

His voice hurts too. I can feel his soul dripping in evil,
invading my sixth sense.

“You hit me hard. How long was I out?”

“Only a bit, my dear.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

Blackwater frowns. “I want the amulet, of course.”

“What amulet?”

Blackwater claps his hands together. “Wonderful!” he says.
“I thought you would say that. I already know that you know too much. I
understand that my uniquely acquired magical artifacts are now being researched
within the precinct. My job as Councilman is now over, thanks to you. Not that
I mind. It was an irritating pretense.”

He wants to talk and enjoys bragging. I’ll go along with it to
give Jack and Gambino more time.

I prompt him further. “What magical artifacts are you
talking about?”

“Why, the ones you are wearing, amongst others.”

I’m surprised at this. I tilt my head down, and with a
dawning horror, I see a fine mesh collar around my upper chest and shoulders:
the Belladonna Necklace. I wiggle my fingers and toes and feel a heavy ring on
my left hand.

Blackwater smiles slightly. “Yes, the Ring of Truth. I can
tell when you lie, so don’t bother. And the Belladonna Necklace prevents you
from using magic. Not that a Sensitive is much of a threat. Where is the amulet?”

Strange, I don’t feel any different. I reach inside, and my sixth
sense feels normal. I can feel the malevolent thrill Blackwater is getting from
having me at his mercy. I can feel the baseness of his greed and the evil at
his core. It is like a black, oily pit centered around his body where his soul
should be. It seems the necklace isn’t working, but of course I can’t let him
know that.

Blackwater slaps me across the face, snapping my head back.
Lightning streaks through my brain. When I can see again, Blackwater is
standing in front of me with that mad smile on his face.

“Bluebell, we are wasting time. Where is the amulet?”

I hope that if I keep my responses as questions, the ring
will not reveal my lie. I ask, “What amulet are you talking about?”

Blackwater reaches behind his back and pulls out a whip with
a long leather braid. He holds it up, waving it gently, letting the long thong
undulate back and forth. Shivers go through me that have nothing to do with the
biting cold. Things just got very serious very quickly. I can feel Blackwater’s
enjoyment, and I have not a doubt in my mind that he would use the whip. In
fact, I can feel his anticipation. But I also know there is no way I am letting
this man get closer to the book that would allow him to control demons,
spirits, and souls. There is no way I can allow this man have the power to
wreak havoc on the world, not with his evilness.

Blackwater asks, “Do we need to use this? Where is the amulet?”

I grit my teeth and say, “What amulet?”

Blackwater smiles all the way to his eyes. “I’d hoped you
would play at least a little.”

He moves behind me, and as he does I notice he has a slight
limp. “Why are you limping? Did my bullet find you under the semi?” I ask
innocently.

Blackwater snarls. “You’ll pay for that too.”

I hear the brief rushing of air a second before I feel the
strike in the middle of my back. I clench my muscles and jump. Then I feel
another strike across my left shoulder blade. It feels like fire. My back
muscles are all clenched. My eyes are clenched. My mouth is clenched. Then
another strike, and my body jolts. Then another strike, and I realize my body
is no longer my own to control.

Blackwater pauses and cajoles, “Where is the amulet,
Bluebell?’

I am breathing heavily now. It would be so easy to give in.
I harden my resolve, and I say through panting breaths, “What amulet?”

Blackwater cackles with glee. I try to prepare myself. I
understand now that there will be no relaxing. The pain is too great. My back
is already on fire. Blackwater whips me again. I try to go somewhere else in my
mind. I remember an afternoon at the orphanage spent on the lake with sunshine
and cool water. I try to breathe evenly.

Blackwater lays the whip down harder now, and with each
stroke my whole body jerks. The next stroke pulls me out of my thoughts and
back to the room as the whip hits the necklace and the chains dig into my skin.
I desperately try to retreat in my mind again. I imagine cool water rushing
over my skin. The whip falls again and again, and I jolt and spasm under it.
The pain is so great and the urge to cry uncle pressures my brain. Two more
lashes and Blackwater pauses again.

He asks, “Where is the amulet?”

This time I don’t bother to answer him.

Blackwater coaxes me from behind. “Bluebell, just tell me
where the amulet is and this will all be over. There is no need for more pain.
Just be a good girl.”

I continue my silence, trying to breathe evenly, taking
every second of solace.

Blackwater comes around to my front. He reaches his hand out
and draws it across my breasts almost lovingly. I shrink from his hand, but I can’t
move far. He fondles one breast, then another. He asks, “Why ruin such lovely
skin, Bluebell? It seems such a shame.”

I laugh inside that he is trying to appeal to my vanity. I
spit in his face. A bit glob of it runs off his forehead, and he wipes it off
of his brow distastefully with his sleeve. He sets his mouth in a grim line and
walks behind me again. I feel the familiar rush of air as my warning. He whips
me with all of his strength now. I recognize the scent of iron in the air from
my own blood. I can’t catch my breath and am heavily panting. Each lash that
rains on me drives lightning shots of pain and fire up my back and into my
brain. My previous pain from the gun handle is long forgotten. I can’t imagine
how the human mind can actually receive so many pain signals at once.

I try to keep silent, but as the lashes keep falling, I can
feel my skin splitting and shreds of it being peeled off my back. I scream in
my mind so loudly I can’t tell if I am screaming out loud. I can’t count the
strikes. At some point I feel warmth rush down my leg, and I realize that I
just urinated on myself. But I’m well beyond feeling shame.

Later, though I don’t know how much later because every
second lasts an eternity, I realize that my whole body is just dangling from
the shackles now. My legs can’t hold me. The whip still rains down on me. Then
blessed darkness comes.