Tina Donahue - Deep Within Me

“How long will it take you to bring up an image, if you can?” Zeke said. “Is it even possible to turn on his system from here?”

“I can sure as hell try.” He started keying.

“How long will it take?” Zeke repeated.

“Maybe a couple of minutes…maybe more.”

“Do you think Kele’s already there?” Liz asked Zeke, then glanced toward the hall as he had. It was still empty. “Who are you looking for?”

“I don’t know if Kele’s already there,” Zeke answered Liz’s first question, ignoring the second. He spoke to Jacob. “You have five minutes, no more.”

“Why?” Liz asked. She went to Zeke. “Tell me.”

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he said, his attention again straying to the hall. His expression saying he wanted out of here, like a man who needed to flee.

Blood poured through Carreon’s fingers, which were clutched against his belly. He stared at Kele in horror and confusion as though he didn’t quite believe matters had come to this. He’d been defeated so easily.

He fell to his knees. A thin stream of blood poured from the side of his mouth. He tried to speak, but the words never came.

To Kele, the scene unfolded in slo-mo. On his knees, Carreon swayed to the right, the left. Her forefinger stroked the rifle’s trigger, but she didn’t shoot him again, suddenly unable to.

She’d done what the others in her clan hadn’t. She’d expected to feel elated, relieved. A creeping numbness settled over her. Her body felt heavy as though a crushing weight were pressing down on it. The weapon’s report had been so loud her ears still rang. Or maybe someone was screaming and that was what she heard.

A quick check of the other man told Kele it wasn’t him making any noise. He’d come to a rest on the floor and hadn’t moved from it, his eyes bugged out, mouth closed, his focus on her weapon.

The young woman Carreon had threatened to kill hadn’t moved either. Nor had she spoken or screamed.

Carreon sagged to the side. He struggled to speak.

The woman kept her attention on Kele.

“Kill her,” Carreon breathed.

Kele swung her weapon’s muzzle at the other man. He didn’t move.

“You’re safe now,” Kele said to the young woman, gesturing her over, away from Carreon. “I’m Kele, from Neekoma’s clan. I’ll get you out of here, I promise.”

The young woman regarded Kele’s weapon, then Carreon. At last, she left the sofa, her movements shaky and cautious as she made certain not to pass anywhere near him.

“Kill the bitch,” Carreon cried, his words gargled with blood. More poured from his mouth. He coughed, choking on it.

“It’s okay,” Kele murmured. She slipped her arm around the woman’s narrow shoulders and made certain the other man still hadn’t moved. “What’s your name?”

“Trinidad.”

“Do you have a safe place to go tonight?” Kele asked. “Relatives you can stay with who’ll protect you?”

“No…I’m all alone.”

“Shhh,” Kele said to Trinidad’s whimper. “It’s okay. I’ll bring you to our stronghold. No one will harm you there.”

“How can you say that? Carreon will—”

“He won’t hurt you. He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“Yes, he will.” Trinidad shivered violently. Her naked breast pressed into Kele’s side. “He told me that Liz and her father can reanimate. Even after he dies, all they’ll have to do is—”

“They won’t with him,” Kele insisted. “Even if they wanted to, I’ll make certain that doesn’t happen.”

“How can you stop it?”

Kele hugged the young woman reassuringly, not wanting her to become hysterical. “Fire,” she said, seeing the solution in her mind. “By the time the authorities get here, his body will have burned beyond recognition or the possibility of reanimation.”

“Oh God.” Trinidad bent at the waist as though she were going to be sick.

Kele swallowed, fighting her own nausea. When she’d decided to come here tonight, she hadn’t thought past killing Carreon. She’d needed to make certain he never harmed another of her clan again or anyone else. Now that he was down, helpless and writhing on the floor, she wasn’t certain she could go further.

You have to.

If she didn’t destroy his body completely, there was always the chance someone in his clan would reanimate him, and then he’d—

Abruptly, Trinidad straightened.

Kele’s thoughts stalled with the movement. She inhaled sharply at the sudden sting in her gut, Trinidad hitting her in the belly. Why?

Kele looked down, not understanding the blood spreading over her tee, Trinidad’s hand fisted around the handle of a knife. Where had it come from? Her boot? Yes. Kele saw the small sleeve inside of it. Why was she doing this?

Trinidad twisted the knife sharply, then jerked it up.

Kele gasped at the intense pain, still not understanding. She tried to fight, but wasn’t able. Already she was lightheaded from loss of blood.

“I’ll take that,” Trinidad said, grabbing Kele’s assault rifle. After another forceful jab, she removed her knife.

Like Carreon, Kele fell to her knees. Tears welled in her eyes. “Jacob,” she whispered, her bloody fingers growing slack.

She’d only wanted him to love her. Was that so wrong? She tried to say his name again, but was unable.

Trinidad stepped back, not wanting to get Kele’s blood on her boots. She went to Carreon.

Blood dirtied his shirt, pants and the floor surrounding him. She stayed clear of that too.

He blinked slowly, his blue eyes dazed with pain. “Heal me.”

Trinidad regarded his belly, crimson and wet. She recalled how easily he would have traded her life to ensure Liz’s return. She didn’t move.

“Heal me,” he ordered.

Without comment, she turned her back to him. “You take one step out of here,” she said to Ernez, “and I’ll kill you.”

He stopped at the back door.

As Kele had done with her minutes before, Trinidad gestured him closer.

He held his hands in front of himself, as though that would protect him. Gone was his previous arrogance, him treating her as though she were less than scum. He pleaded, “Please don’t shoot me.”

“In the club,” she ordered, using the barrel of the assault rifle to direct him. He backed into the room, long empty of tonight’s patrons and staff. “Get three of the largest bottles of liquor,” she said from the doorway.

Hurriedly, he did as she asked.

Once he returned to the office, she said, “Splash the booze around the bodies.”

Carreon’s mouth formed the word no. Speaking appeared beyond him now, his bronze complexion pale and sickly.

Ernez did as Trinidad directed. When the place reeked of vodka and whiskey, she asked, “Where’s the stronghold?”

“Carreon’s?”

“Not any longer,” she said, then told him what to do.

By the time flames engulfed the office, destroying Carreon for good, Trinidad was already in his Escalade. She kept the assault rifle pointed at Ernez as he drove them away.

Carreon was gone. So was Kele.

Liz had witnessed the horror of it all, along with Zeke and Jacob. He’d restored the transmission Carreon had previously cut off. When the picture flickered onto the monitor, Kele had her arm around the young woman Carreon had threatened to kill. He was already on the floor, gravely wounded. With frightening speed, the young woman stabbed Kele without warning and for no possible reason that Liz could determine. Stunned, she’d watched Carreon’s lieutenant splashing liquor around the bodies, then setting them on fire.

Carreon hadn’t cried out. When the flames touched Kele’s foot—as they had in Zeke’s vision—she hadn’t moved.

Jacob now sat at the table, his head in his hands. Liz had no idea how long he’d been like that. Time seemed to keep slipping away from her. The other men conversed with Zeke, their voices low, trying to decide what Carreon’s death meant to their clan. Would his lieutenants scatter in fear as Liz had believed, or perhaps hoped? Or would they regroup?

During the exchange, Isabel came into the doorway. Liz noticed how Zeke tensed at the woman’s presence, as though he were afraid of her. Why? What had she threatened him with when they’d spoken?

“Is it true about Carreon?” Isabel asked Zeke.

“He’s dead,” Zeke shot back. “His body destroyed by fire. He’s beyond reanimation. You have what you want.”

She stepped into the room.

Zeke immediately went to Liz and pulled her back, away from the woman.

“What’s going on?” Liz whispered to him.

He didn’t answer. His focus remained on Isabel.

The older woman went to the computer monitor, its image frozen on the flames in the strip club’s office, the last communication sent before the fire had destroyed the lines and cut off the transmission.

“Do you want me to play it back for you?” Paul asked Isabel.

She regarded Zeke and said, “Kele’s also gone.”

Jacob made a pained sound.

“She died protecting her clan, her people,” Zeke said, fury lacing his words. “Not this stronghold. Not the damned land. People matter, nothing else. I’ll fight for my kind too, those I love. And I’ll win.”

What was he talking about? What was going on between him and Isabel? Liz glanced from Zeke to the woman.

She nodded once as though to say she’d heard or believed what he’d said, then left the room.

“What was that about?” Liz asked.

“Nothing.” Zeke hugged her hard. “Everything’s all right,” he promised, “just stay in this room. Don’t leave without me.” He watched her for a moment as though making certain she’d obey, then went back to his men.