watched her stare out her bedroom window. Could she feel the depth of his love from across the yard? Was she looking for him, waitinganxiously for his return? They’d ended things on a sour note, but surely there was love for him burrowed deep into her soul. He turned to his assistant. “Beltane arrives in four short days. There is still much to do.” It was almost a blessing that he rarely slept now. “I need some things.” Nathan pulled a list out of his pocket.
“Where will I find stuff like this?” His assistant’s brow knitted.
“The address is on the back of the list.” The forest provided most of what Nathan needed. But since the police had confiscated all the treasures from his uncle’s collection of spiritual objects, a few specific items needed to be procured. Homage must be paid to the gods who would be asked to cure him and spare his son.
“You want me to steal these things?”
“Those things are sacred. They belonged to my ancestors. Think of it as reclamation,” Nathan said. “Besides, the power you wish to gain from the ritual comes with a price. No gain comes without sacrifice. It’s time you anted up.”
“I’ve hidden you for months. Isn’t that enough?”
Nathan dismissed his assistant. “It’s never enough.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Danny took the exit for Huntsville. On the country road that led into town, lunchtime traffic consisted of a tractor, three SUVs, and a few minivans. Irritation at Rossi churned in his gut. Chill. Begrudgingly, Danny admitted that the cop didn’t have many options. Budget dollars and manpower were limited. The state of Maine had tried damned hard to find Nathan.
Maybe he really was dead. Maybe Danny was just paranoid. Maybe some hiker would come across Nathan’s decomposing body this spring.
But something still felt wrong. The little antennae on the back of Danny’s neck had been attentive way before he’d gone to Iraq. Danny had always known when shit was about to hit, which was how he’d avoided juvie and jail for ten years of troublemaking. Except for that last time, when he had gone too far and gotten caught red-handed. That had been a game-changer. But then, everybody’s luck runs out eventually.
Just outside town, Danny glanced at his phone. Snap. He had bars. Last night he’d written down the number for the local pizza joint in town. A large pie would take care of lunch and dinner. He ordered, then turned the stereo volume up. The first drum beats of “Paradise City” emanated from the speakers. Danny tapped his fingers on the wheel. Green grass and pretty girls sounded like heaven.
Lights flashed in his rearview. Danny glanced at the mirror, then down at his speedometer. Nope. Not speeding.
Turning the stereo volume down to nothing, he pulled over and rolled down the window. A stocky cop in a tan-and-brown uniform stepped up to the side of the car. He removed his mirrored sunglasses and hooked them in his chest pocket. Under regulation short hair, small blue eyes glared down from a mean face. Danny bristled. He remembered this jerk from his last visit. Steroid Steve, aka Lieutenant Doug Lang, had been nasty to Danny’s sister. Sullivans didn’t forgive or forget when their siblings were concerned.
The cop leaned a veiny forearm on the open car window. “Heard that you were in town.”
Danny glanced down at the badge pinned to the cop’s shirt. It still read P OLICE L IEUTENANT . Despite the death of the former police chief, the town had chosen not to put Lang permanently in charge. Good thinking on their part, but it still had to sting.
“Just for a couple of weeks.”
“Staying at Reed’s place?”
Danny hated it when people asked questions when they already knew the answers. “Yeah.”
“Heard that, too.”
Danny waited. Cops like Lang rubbed him rawer than a fresh blister. Small-minded men exploiting their power.
Danny breathed. Green grass and pretty girls. His mantra had gotten him through two tours in the desert
“Where will I find stuff like this?” His assistant’s brow knitted.
“The address is on the back of the list.” The forest provided most of what Nathan needed. But since the police had confiscated all the treasures from his uncle’s collection of spiritual objects, a few specific items needed to be procured. Homage must be paid to the gods who would be asked to cure him and spare his son.
“You want me to steal these things?”
“Those things are sacred. They belonged to my ancestors. Think of it as reclamation,” Nathan said. “Besides, the power you wish to gain from the ritual comes with a price. No gain comes without sacrifice. It’s time you anted up.”
“I’ve hidden you for months. Isn’t that enough?”
Nathan dismissed his assistant. “It’s never enough.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Danny took the exit for Huntsville. On the country road that led into town, lunchtime traffic consisted of a tractor, three SUVs, and a few minivans. Irritation at Rossi churned in his gut. Chill. Begrudgingly, Danny admitted that the cop didn’t have many options. Budget dollars and manpower were limited. The state of Maine had tried damned hard to find Nathan.
Maybe he really was dead. Maybe Danny was just paranoid. Maybe some hiker would come across Nathan’s decomposing body this spring.
But something still felt wrong. The little antennae on the back of Danny’s neck had been attentive way before he’d gone to Iraq. Danny had always known when shit was about to hit, which was how he’d avoided juvie and jail for ten years of troublemaking. Except for that last time, when he had gone too far and gotten caught red-handed. That had been a game-changer. But then, everybody’s luck runs out eventually.
Just outside town, Danny glanced at his phone. Snap. He had bars. Last night he’d written down the number for the local pizza joint in town. A large pie would take care of lunch and dinner. He ordered, then turned the stereo volume up. The first drum beats of “Paradise City” emanated from the speakers. Danny tapped his fingers on the wheel. Green grass and pretty girls sounded like heaven.
Lights flashed in his rearview. Danny glanced at the mirror, then down at his speedometer. Nope. Not speeding.
Turning the stereo volume down to nothing, he pulled over and rolled down the window. A stocky cop in a tan-and-brown uniform stepped up to the side of the car. He removed his mirrored sunglasses and hooked them in his chest pocket. Under regulation short hair, small blue eyes glared down from a mean face. Danny bristled. He remembered this jerk from his last visit. Steroid Steve, aka Lieutenant Doug Lang, had been nasty to Danny’s sister. Sullivans didn’t forgive or forget when their siblings were concerned.
The cop leaned a veiny forearm on the open car window. “Heard that you were in town.”
Danny glanced down at the badge pinned to the cop’s shirt. It still read P OLICE L IEUTENANT . Despite the death of the former police chief, the town had chosen not to put Lang permanently in charge. Good thinking on their part, but it still had to sting.
“Just for a couple of weeks.”
“Staying at Reed’s place?”
Danny hated it when people asked questions when they already knew the answers. “Yeah.”
“Heard that, too.”
Danny waited. Cops like Lang rubbed him rawer than a fresh blister. Small-minded men exploiting their power.
Danny breathed. Green grass and pretty girls. His mantra had gotten him through two tours in the desert
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