The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) Read online

  Deem walked from room to room absentmindedly, wanting to make a show of being at home, then changing her mind and thinking she was overdoing it. She watched TV, making routine trips to the kitchen for snacks and the bathroom for breaks. Occasionally she’d walk downstairs to briefly check on the guys, more for company than anything else. Each time she found David behind the monitors, studying them carefully, and Winn right behind him, either pacing back and forth or studying the monitors over David’s shoulder.

  As the day wore into early evening, she went outside to water plants after she saw neighbors out doing the same. No one’s going to come along and take me out with people watching, she thought. It’ll be tonight, inside.

  She went back in after a while and made dinner. She ate half of it at the table, then took the remaining half to the TV room, plopping down to watch a movie and trying to kill some time. It was seven o’clock, and things were starting to dim outside. She kept the gun next to her, feeling that a confrontation was approaching.

  She switched movies a couple of times before finding one that didn’t require her to be too involved to watch, or wasn’t full of suspense or scares. She found herself jumping at every little noise the house made; when the A/C turned on, when the refrigerator began to hum, when the house creaked a little as it adjusted to the cooling temperatures.

  One movie led to another until she was feeling sleepy. She decided to call it a night, making one last stop downstairs.

  “I’m turning in,” she said. David and Winn were both still up, observing the monitors.

  “You still have the gun?” Winn asked.

  “It’s on the couch in the TV room,” Deem replied. “I’ll take it with me to my bedroom. You promise there’s no cameras in my bathroom, David?”

  “On a stack of bibles,” David replied. “We won’t see anything you do in there.”

  “If anything about me winds up on the internet, you know who I’ll come for.”

  Winn snickered a little, and she could see that David was trying to resist laughing. “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Winn replied.

  “What, tell me?”

  “It’s just that Winn had been making some jokes about the internet, while we were watching you watch movies,” David said, trying not to smile.

  “What kind of jokes?” she asked.

  “I don’t remember,” David said.

  “Neither do I,” Winn added, cracking up.

  “It was just some joking around we were doing to keep ourselves awake,” David said. “Nothing bad. Really.”

  “I swear to god, if you make a gif of me scratching my nose or shoving food in my mouth, or something like that, I’ll kill you both.”

  “No!” Winn replied. “No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry. Go to bed. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

  “Yeah, we got you covered,” David said. “Everything’s running smoothly.”

  “Now’s the time to be vigilant,” Winn said, losing the laugh. “Keep that gun handy. We’ll be watching.”

  “Thanks,” she said, turning to leave. “Good night.”

  “You too,” David called back.

  Deem walked back upstairs and worked her way through the house, turning off lights and checking doors. She turned off the TV and grabbed the gun from the couch, then climbed the stairs to the second story and went to her bedroom. As she turned on the light, she expected to see someone in her room, but no one was there.

  She inspected her adjoining bathroom, relieved that it was empty, and closed her bedroom door.

  She normally slept in a tank top and panties, and for a moment she considered stripping down. She looked up at the giraffe on the dresser, and then decided otherwise. Her eyes were weary from all the TV viewing, and she thought she’d just lay back on the bed and rest her head for a moment. She placed the gun on the nightstand, checking that the safety was off. Then she leaned back, feeling her head hit the pillow. Her eyes felt instantly better as they closed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Deem awoke with a start. Something smelled different.

  Smoke? she wondered, suddenly worried. Couldn’t be a fire — Winn and David would have noticed.

  She sat up, remembering that she had fallen asleep in her clothes, on top of the bed. The smell was some kind of perfume, or soap. She looked around the room, and saw a dark figure seated in a chair by the window. Her hand went for the gun on her nightstand.

  “Don’t bother,” came the woman’s voice. “I’ve already removed it.”

  Deem turned on the light and Lizzy came into view. She was seated with her legs cocked up over the arm of the chair, holding something metallic in her hands. A knife? Deem wondered. It doesn’t look like a knife. I can’t make it out from this angle.

  “What are you up to?” Lizzy asked. “All the cameras, the guys in the basement? It looks like you were expecting me. That, or your planning a reality show.”

  Shit, Deem thought. So much for laying a trap.

  “What have you done to them?” Deem asked.

  “Gas,” Lizzy replied. “Silent and invisible. They’ll wake up in a couple of hours with a headache.”

  “And what do you want with me?”

  “Well,” Lizzy said, “before I saw all the cameras, I was thinking I’d walk in, kill you, and haul your body out. Now I’m thinking this is a set up. The people who put out the contract on you might want to rescind it if they knew about all this. Hard to say. I did want to thank you for the callum, though. That was very thoughtful.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Deem asked. “To thank me for saving your life?”

  “That, and to take care of a little matter.”

  “Let me guess — some matter for the council.”

  “Seems as though you’re standing in the way of God’s work,” Lizzy said, “and some righteous men have asked me to move you out of the way.”

  “Sounds like common murder to me,” Deem replied. “Don’t pretty it up. You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”

  “Sanctioned by God, each and every one,” Lizzy replied, “just like Nephi and Laban. Surely you’re not so far removed from the righteous path that you don’t remember how God operates, through his servants here on earth.”

  “Dayton and whoever you’re working for in Page have their own agenda, and it isn’t God’s,” Deem replied. “That was you in Claude’s house, wasn’t it?”

  “And you were there also, weren’t you?” Lizzy asked.

  “So you admit you killed Claude?”

  “I was proud to slit his throat. Put an end to all the lies he’d broadcast.”

  “Did you kill the Hopkins?” Deem asked. “Did you bury them in the desert?”

  “The gifted couple?” Lizzy asked. “They were something else. They really riled people up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a client more angry.”

  “What did they do?” Deem asked.

  “Traitors. Failed to follow through on a promise they’d made to God’s servants.”

  “A promise to Dayton?” Deem asked.

  “The rest of the faithful go to church on Sunday and are busy little bees, magnifying their callings,” Lizzy said, “but they don’t see the underbelly like we do, do they? They don’t see the lying and the dishonesty and the oath breaking. They aren’t capable of making the hard decisions that have to be made, like Dayton does, like I do. God told Nephi to kill Laban, just like God tells Dayton to have people removed that are standing in God’s way.”

  “I don’t know how you can live with yourself,” Deem replied.

  “I sleep soundly,” Lizzy said, rising from her chair. “Do you sleep well, Deem? Does your head hit the pillow knowing you’ve done what God asked you to, just as you promised to do?”

  “I’ve never taken oaths,” Deem said. “And I sure as shit don’t think God’s talking to Dayton. Quite the opposite.”

  Lizzy raised her hand, exposing what she was holding. It was a silver syringe, loaded wit
h a dark-colored liquid. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you might join me in this line of work. I think you would make an excellent soldier for God. It’s exhilarating, and you sleep like a baby every night, knowing you’ve fulfilled your obligations and are headed straight for the Celestial kingdom.”

  Lizzy walked toward her, extending the syringe. There was something in her other hand, but Deem couldn’t make it out. “I didn’t really think you’d be persuaded. Since there’s a contract out on you, I could just slit your throat, but with all the work you put into trying to lure me here, Dayton might be better off if he can question you before I spill your blood. Give him a chance to figure out what you were up to.”

  “What is that?” Deem asked, looking at the metal syringe. Then she heard a loud knocking from somewhere in the house, downstairs. Someone was pounding on the front door.

  “I’d better hurry this up,” Lizzy said. “This is the same stuff a Samoan man snuck into me recently. This much will knock you right out and keep you comatose until Dayton revives you with callum, just like you did to me. Hold still.”

  The pounding downstairs continued. Deem thought it was so loud it might break down the door.

  Lizzy extended the syringe toward her, and Deem raised her hands to block her. The two struggled, Deem raising her legs to kick at Lizzy, but Lizzy moved in quickly once her legs had fallen. She sat on top of Deem, pinning her down. Deem struggled under her, trying to throw her off, but Lizzy’s knees pressed in hard on her sides. Before Deem realized it, Lizzy had slipped the end of a cord around one of Deem’s hands and tied it to the headboard, immobilizing it within seconds. Then she grabbed for Deem’s other arm and held it down while she brought the syringe to Deem’s neck.

  Deem bucked at Lizzy, trying to dislodge her, but she was heavier than Deem and clearly experienced at methods of physically controlling someone. The banging downstairs was now constant, and Deem was sure the door would give at any second. She felt the tip of the needle as Lizzy held it to her neck.

  “You’ll think you’re falling,” Lizzy said leaning over her, “and that you’re about to hit something underneath you any second. Enjoy.”

  She saw the muscles on Lizzy’s arm contract as she shoved the needle into her neck.

  Things seemed to blur. A loud popping sound behind Lizzy’s head, and sparks; then fire, with smoke. She felt pain at her waist and realized something was very wrong. A knife Lizzy is carrying is stabbing into my side! she thought as the pain intensified. Then her nerves identified it as heat — a hot searing agony pressing into her.

  One more loud bang from downstairs and she knew the door had given way, but she was lost in the confusion of what was happening in the room — fire, behind Lizzy. The burning in her pants that felt like she was being branded with a hot poker. The needle going into her neck.

  But she couldn’t feel the needle. She could see a red prick on Lizzy’s neck, at a corresponding spot where Lizzy held the syringe to her neck, and she could see an indentation, as though an invisible needle was pressed to Lizzy.

  Deem looked at Lizzy’s eyes and the cool, matter-of-fact stare seemed to fade, drifting away. Her pupils weren’t watching her any more, they were rising, and soon Deem could see the whites of Lizzy’s eyes as her eyes rolled back in her head. Lizzy’s body slumped to the right.

  With Lizzy off her, Deem could see the fire burning on the dresser. The stuffed giraffe with the camera was engulfed in flames, threatening to spread to the wall behind it, and crawling to the ceiling. The pain in her groin was excruciating, and Deem pushed the comatose Lizzy off her, using her free hand to try and remove the cord from the headboard. She saw a knife in a sheath at Lizzy’s thigh, and she reached for it, unsnapping a protective strap and pulling out the blade. She slashed at the cord above her, freeing her hand, and immediately reached down to try and find the source of the searing pain.

  It was the stone she’d taken from John Free. It was still in the pocket of her pants, forgotten. It was burning into her.

  She stood from the bed and pulled her pants off. The thin stone had burned through the denim and into her flesh, just above her hip bone on the right side. She reached for it to pull it from her skin, but it was glowing red hot, and Deem knew she’d just burn her fingers if she touched it. Instead, she brought Lizzy’s knife up to her skin, digging at the stone, trying to pry it from her flesh before it could burn any deeper into her.

  A large figure ran into her bedroom, and Deem raised the knife to point it at the intruder. It was Samaria, who scanned the room quickly. Samaria pulled the bedspread off the bed, causing Lizzy to fall to the floor beside it, and threw the bedspread over the dresser, extinguishing the fire. Then she knelt to examine Lizzy.

  Deem pointed the knife back into the hole in her side, slipped the tip of it past the glowing stone, and levered it out. It fell to the floor by her feet, still glowing, burning into the carpet.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Samaria said.

  “She came at me with a syringe,” Deem said. “Had it at my neck. Then the fire broke out and this thing burned into me!” She pointed at the rock on the floor.

  “She seems drugged,” Samaria said, lifting Lizzy’s eyelids and checking her pulse. She pried the syringe from Lizzy’s hand and examined it.

  “She held this to your neck?” Samaria asked.

  “Yes,” Deem replied, feeling at her jaw for the spot where Lizzy had placed the needle.

  “This is the same shit I poisoned her with,” Samaria said. “And the syringe is almost empty.”

  “I don’t understand,” Deem replied.

  Samaria examined Lizzy’s face and neck. “There’s a puncture mark here. She must have stuck herself.”

  “She couldn’t have,” Deem said. “I saw her the whole time.”

  “Well, she’s definitely drugged,” Samaria said, standing up. “You’ve got the knife, so you do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Help me move her to the bathroom,” Samaria said, and Deem walked around to the other side of the bed where Lizzy was stretched out. Samaria took her arms, Deem picked up her legs, and they shuffled Lizzy into Deem’s bathroom, lifting her awkwardly into the tub.

  “Now do it!” Samaria said.

  “Do what?” Deem repeated.

  “What do you think?” Samaria said. “Use her up. With the knife.”

  “I…” Deem started, unsure what to say. Defending herself while under attack seemed perfectly reasonable, but stabbing a drugged body seemed wrong. She could tell that Samaria picked up on her reticence and was irritated by it.

  “Winn and David are downstairs,” Deem said, looking for an excuse to delay. “They’ve been gassed. We should check on them.”

  Samaria grabbed the knife from Deem’s hands and before Deem could protest, plunged it into Lizzy’s neck. Blood shot from the wound, hitting the tiles of the bathtub surround. Deem turned her head from the sight.

  “She killed how many people, and you have to think twice?” Samaria asked.

  “I thought maybe we could take her to Carma’s, and question her,” Deem said. “Get some intel.”

  “I already know all there is to know about her,” Samaria. “I’ve been on her for a long time. This was one evil bitch who deserved to die! If blood atonement was good enough for those folks she killed out in the desert, its good enough for her.”

  Samaria pulled the knife from Lizzy’s neck, and the blood came faster, spurting against the wall and running down Lizzy’s body, into the tub. Samaria stabbed the knife into Lizzy’s neck twice more, creating more opportunities for blood to flow.

  Deem wanted to leave the bathroom and the gruesome death happening right in front of her. “Why don’t we go check on Winn and David?” she asked.

  “And come back up here to find her body missing? I’m no amateur, baby. You go, I’m not leaving here until I’m sure she’s completely gone.” Deem saw Samaria reach into a pocket in her dress, and remove two short twigs,
about three inches long. One end on each twig had already been sharpened to a point. She turned her head away as Samaria brought the twigs up to Lizzy’s face.

  Deem stood up and walked out of the bathroom. She heard Samaria turning on the shower behind her. She imagined Lizzy’s blood flowing down the drain.

  She stopped to check on the stone in the carpet, concerned that it might cause another fire. It was sunk into the carpet, but cool to the touch. She left it and headed downstairs.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Warren had stopped eating his dinner long before Deem concluded the story. Carma seemed as concerned that he’d stopped eating as she was with keeping up with the events Deem was retelling.

  “You drug them upstairs by yourself?” Warren asked.

  “Yes, then I aired out the basement,” Deem replied.

  “And Lizzy?” Warren asked.

  “I helped Samaria bury her in the desert,” Deem said.

  “What if she comes back, as a ghost or something?” Warren asked. Deem could see that he was concerned and bothered by the whole story. It made her wonder if she should have told him.

  “Ghosts don’t usually like to wander too far from their corpse,” Carma said, “barring extraordinary circumstances. So burying them in the desert is almost as good at keeping them quiet as burying them in an encasement substrate. You haven’t touched your pie, Warren.”

  “The grisly details of blood spurting in the bathtub might be why,” Winn offered, digging into his own.

  “Well, I’m just concerned that perhaps he doesn’t like it, or that he doesn’t care for the flavor,” Carma replied to Winn. “I have other pies, you know, with other ingredients.”

  “No, the pie is delicious, thank you,” Warren said, returning to his plate and forming a forkful. “I just got wrapped up in the story. You gotta admit, it’s pretty horrific.” He looked around the table to see if people agreed with him. Winn and David were busy shoving more savory pie into their mouths.

  “Yes, dear,” Carma said, patting Warren’s hand on the table. “Very frightening and dramatic.”