Chaos Lives in Everything - 37. Chapter 37

Skold adjusted the sound piece on his vest; it was disguised as a pin. Surely no one would think anything of it. He climbed out of the car and entrusted the keys to the courier. The two elves standing by the double doors pulled them open and waved for Skold to step inside. Samhein was already waiting for him at the foot of the magnificant staircase.

Samhein was dressed in a blue silk button down shirt lined with silver roses that must have costed a small fortune, and black leather pants; in one hand he held a glass of white wine. He watched Skold with an appraising eye. “Skold, how are you? It’s always a pleasure to have you in my presence. Wine?”

A courier walked up to Skold with a silver tray. Skold nodded at him and took the single glass off of the tray. “I apologize for coming on such sort notice. I should have called first.”

Samhein waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You are welcome to my home any time. What can I do for you?”

“As it has always been, your resources has always been a valuable asset. More so in this investigation than any other. But now I need your advice.”

“Advice?” Samhein raised an eyebrow. “Skold coming to me for advice? My, my, just when I thought it wasn’t possible to be surprised. Since when do you need advice? You’ve always been adept at following your uncanny instincts.”

“I know. But I am not sure how to proceed on this one. A second opinion would be helpful.”

“I see. Let’s go to the library.”

Skold followed him up the staircase. They sat before the fireplace. From where Skold was sitting he had a perfect view of the half crescent moon outside and the snow capped trees just beyond the gate. Somewhere hidden in those trees Dom, Candestine, Reynolds, and two SWAT teams were waiting for him to give the signal hence the sound piece.

“So what is it that you need my council with?” Samhein asked.

“Yesterday I broke into the Aethyx compound.”

Again Samhein raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. Turns out, just as I suspected, they had some pretty valuable information. I know who Bane was working with.”

Samhein feigned a look of surprise and leaned forward. “Really? Who?”

Skold smiled coldly and drained the rest of the wine. He set the glass down on the little table next to the armchair. “You really like to play games, don’t you Samhein? You already know why I’m here. You already know that I know and still you choose to fuck around with me. You know me well enough by now that unless there’s someone with a big cock around that I do not like to fuck around. One way or another whether it is tonight or tomorrow, I am going to kill you and I am going to take great joy in doing so. But first I want to know why you played this charade if you knew that I would eventually find out.”

“That’s the thing, you weren’t. Bane was supposed to have dealt with you, take you out of my way. But as with almost all things you have this unnatural ability to fuck things up.”

“And you hiring me to kill him, the attack at the party, you and Bane orchestrated in hopes that he would kill me?”

“Correct.” Samhein stood up. “Come. There is something I want to show you.”

Skold stood and watched as Samhein reached for a small statue sitting on one of the bookshelves. Samhein pulled the bust down like a lever and the bookshelf swung open to reveal a spiraling staircase that led down into a passageway.

Skold hesitated long enough to pull out one of his Colt .45s before following Samhein down the staircase.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Rebecca turned just in time to see one of the hell hounds lunge towards her face, claw outstretched. She fell back against the stairs just in time to keep from having her face clawed off. She drew the hammers of the shot gun back and pulled the trigger. The gun bucked and two shells exploded from the muzzle. The hell hound let out a shriek of pain and was thrown back against the wall. Already the other two were rounding the corner.

Rebecca got to her feet and ran after the others. They ran into the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Rebecca slammed the door and locked it in hopes that it would give her long enough to reload her gun. Her fingers were shaking so bad that the box of shells fell out of her hand.

“Fuck!” she cursed.

Already one of the hell hounds were starting to claw its way through the door. Melanie and Twig were sitting on the floor, over by the window. Melanie was pointing the Glock at the door. Unlike Rebecca, her hands were completely steady and her face showed no fear. Finally Rebecca managed to get the shells into the chambers. She snapped the chambers shut and took aim.

The door burst open and the two remaining hell hounds charged in one after the other. She pulled the trigger again. The first hell hound’s head disintergrated in a shower of dark green gore; the third one however kept coming. It slammed into her like a freight train and pinned her to the floor with its gigantic paws. Its muzzle opened and its teeth snapped towards her face. Rebecca managed to get the shot gun up just in time. With all of her strength she shoved back and tried to get out from underneath of the hell hound’s weight as it tried to chew through the shot gun. Still it was no use. The creature was too heavy and already her strength was failing her.

Somewhere in the room a gun fired three times. Melanie charged bravely into view and lashed out with a well aimed kick. The hell hound fell back and snorted. Dark green gore dripped from the three holes in its face. It righted itself and snarled at her. Its mouth opened. Smoke billowed from its muzzle. Rebecca stared into the blinding orange glow emitting from her throat and closed her eyes, preparing herself to be incinerated to death.

That didn’t happen. Before it did Melanie emptied the rest of her Glock into the monster. The full dead weight of the hell hound fell on top of Rebecca. She couldn’t breathe. She was suffocating. She tried to push with her arms but it was no use. Dark green fluid was leaking onto the front of her sweater. Melanie fell to her knees and pushed from the side. Finally the dead hell hound’s body fell to the ground. Melanie helped her to her feet.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

All Rebecca could do was shake her head as she tried to catch her breath.

“Twig?” she said. “How’s Twig?”

“I’m alive,” he said weakly.

She stooped and grabbed two more shells off the ground.

“What are you doing?” Melanie said in alarm.

“I’m ending this.” Rebecca was tired of being afraid, tired of being hounded by Bajork. She was tired of his threats. She realized that this situation was her fault and she was willing to take responsibility for it-and because of it two people that she cared about were in danger. But she also knew that when she had gone to Bajork for resources, for his connections, she had been young and stupid; she had not quite understood the stipulations of what she was getting herself into. For the past four years she had worked her ass off to pay her debts off. She refused to pay it with her life or anyone else’s. Anyone else’s except Bajork’s.

“Stay here and watch Twig,” Rebecca said. “Call the cops.”

Melanie kissed her. “Be careful.”

Rebecca nudged what was left of the door open and stepped out of the room. She crept down the stairs slowly, trying not to make a sound. Every muscle in her body was tensed. Her heart pounded in her ears. She had just reached the bottom of the stairs when Yorjk came around the corner. Rebecca pressed the muzzle of the shot gun against his chest and pulled the trigger. The force of the shot knocked Yorjk back. He tripped over the fallen hell hound. He sputtered, coughing up black tar-like blood.

Rebecca stood over him; her face was pinched with rage.

“Fuck you,” she said and clubbed him over and over again with the handle of the shot gun until he was no longer moving.

She looked up. Her blonde hair was tangled from sleep and her face and shirt were covered in black and green gore; to anyone looking at her she probably looked insane. She felt insane. Bajork was standing in the doorway. Nasty gusts of wind were blowing flurries of snow into the house. Bajork was so tall that he was blocking out the headlights streaming in from the tanker truck.

He looked down at his fall comrade. He snarled.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, you little bitch,” he growled.

Rebecca grabbed the AK-47 and aimed it gamely at his chest. “Really?”

Bajork tried to run. He made it as far as Twig’s Gremlin. Rebecca stood in the doorway of the farmhouse. She fired the AK-47 at his back, screaming in rage. Bullets rained down at her feet. White light flashed from the muzzle. Bajork spun around once and fell back into the snow. Everything was silent but the ringing in her ears and the wailing of the wind. Bajork did not move, did not make a sound.

Was he dead? Was he really dead?

Rebecca was too uncertain to allow herself to feel relief. After so long of dealing with one chaotic thing after the other how could it be over so soon? How could she still be standing?

When she could no longer withstand the chill of being outside she went inside to be with Melanie and Twig. It wasn’t much longer before they could hear the wail of sirens ringing through the night.