Fifty-two-year-old Colton Pry sat in a creaking wooden chair on the front porch, rocking slowly in the shadows cast by the clouds above. Short at five-foot-eight, balding, and plump, he looked both weary and crooked. His nearly black eyes, framed by wrinkled skin, scanned the land before him. A lazy shave that morning left patches of graying hair under his chin and along his sideburns; however, his appearance had never been a concern.
Now that they had reached the hideout undetected by authorities, he finally allowed himself to relax. As he sank into the chair, he reviewed the plan he had devised. They left a ransom note in the older girl's bedroom, instructing the parents to place two hundred thousand dollars in a paper bag at a specific mile marker on one of the nearby trails. Sending his little brother to collect the money was the easy part, and once Ben called to confirm, Colton would drop the girls off at a random location where they could run for help.
It was a simple plan with a hefty reward, but he secretly hoped the parents wouldn't be able to pay the ransom, so he could keep the girls and have some fun with them. It might mean taking care of his little brother if Ben tried to stop him, but no one would miss the pitiful druggie. With a broken-toothed smile, he stroked the barrel of his shotgun sensually—drifting into dark fantasies.
Inside the kitchen, illuminated by flickering candles, Ben Pry, a lanky and frail man in his forties, was cooking dinner on a portable gas stove. Scratching at his scruffy, marked face with dirty nails—the scars being the result of years battling a meth addiction—he then picked up a salt shaker and sprinkled a generous portion over the hamburger. The sizzle from the frying pan sounded loud in his ears amid the silence.
His stomach rumbled in anticipation. Hunger hadn't touched him for the last three days while organizing and executing his brother's plan, but now that they were in hiding and the adrenaline had worn off, he was starving.
As he flipped one of the burgers, something caught the corner of his eye. Turning his head suddenly, the candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, giving the room an eerie atmosphere, but nothing else moved.
Already tense because of the kidnapping, he'd agreed to help his brother with the scheme to score some cold, hard cash for his drug habit, but he knew Colton. His brother was a disgusting pervert. Ben didn't want anything to happen to the kids, and he hoped his brother would stick to their agreement to release the girls once the ransom was collected. What he'd do if his brother tried anything with the girls remained a frightening unknown.
The worry ate at him as much as his empty stomach did. But the sizzling sound of the pan and the wafting aroma of the meat overcame his concerns for the children. More salt disappeared into the pan.
CRASH!
Ben jumped at the sudden sound, yanking the frying pan off the stove in a knee-jerk reaction, which sent the meat spilling onto the floor.
"Shit!" he cursed as hot grease splashed his hand. Snatching a towel, he wiped the excess off himself as quickly as possible, then wrapped it around the burn. Turning to investigate the source of the crash, he saw that a mason jar had fallen off the paint-chipped curio cabinet in the corner.
What in the blue hell? Going over to the cabinet, he knelt, picked up a shard of glass, and peered at it closely. Something fluttered in the corner of his eye, and he turned to peer down the hallway, where the bathroom door creaked open slowly.
Did one of the kids get loose? Worried, he stood and slowly made his way down the hallway.
When he reached the bathroom, he saw it was cracked open about a foot. Grasping the handle, he yanked it wide and growled inside, "Don't move, kid!"
Only a crusty, porcelain toilet greeted him. Ben scanned the small half bath and squinted to see if one of the children was scrunched in a corner, but found nothing. A sudden chill scurried up his back as warm breath fluttered across his neck, followed by a low, guttural growl. Turning abruptly, he saw two pulsating red spheres floating in the air, their glow illuminating gleaming white fangs.
Screaming, Ben fell backward and jammed his upper back against the toilet rim. The bathroom door slammed shut, striking his left knee, and he yelped sharply. Quickly stifling himself, he held his breath and listened, straining to catch any sound or movement. The sudden silence was deafening. After a moment, an almost imperceptible sound began at the door.
Swallowing hard, Ben leaned forward to identify what sounded like soft scratches on the other side. Slowly, the scratching traveled up the door from the floor toward the doorknob. Shaking, the scratches quickened, almost in tune with his own increasing heartbeat, until they stopped abruptly.
Shit! We're in a haunted house!
Still shaking, Ben started to rise when the doorknob twisted violently as if someone was trying to get in. Frantically searching around for a weapon, the long-abandoned house afforded him nothing. Spotting the lone window, he ran to it, pulling at the sill, trying to lift it, but it had long been painted shut. Searching around for a way to smash the glass, the doorknob stopped rattling.
Turning and pressing against the wall, he tried to slow his trembling breath. After a full minute of silence, he took tentative steps toward the door. Screwing up what little courage he had, Ben reached with both hands, placing one on the frame and slowly wrapping his thin fingers around the knob. Taking a deep breath, he turned his wrist carefully, hoping to make no noise as he began to pull the door away from the frame.
Ben screamed as the door ripped open. Terror itself greeted him: a demon of unimaginable horror swallowed up the hallway, crimson eyes pulsing, white-hot fangs lining a snarling mouth. His face turned white as a sheet, his mouth opening wide.
A sinister voice floated to his ears: "Get. Out!"
"COLTON! COLTON!" Ben shouted his brother's name as he bolted from the bathroom, past the thing, and raced down the hallway toward the back door. "COLTON!"
The front door burst open as Colton rushed in, gun at the ready. "What the fuck is it, Ben?"
Thrusting a pointed finger down the hallway, Ben squeaked, "This old house is haunted," then turned and crashed through the closing screen door.
Colton cursed, cocked the shotgun, and turned his full attention to the hallway and whatever had frightened his brother.
I swear, if one of the girls scared him like this, I will kill him!
Minutes before Charlotte's attack on Ben, Angel slipped through the bushes on the far side of the house, silent and beyond Colton's sight at the back porch. Using the shadows as cover, he crept up, pressed his back against the side of the home, and knelt.
Quietly setting the duffel bag on the grass to free his hands, he drew his dart gun from its holster. Inspecting the CO2 cartridge, he set the cartridge into the back of the eight-inch barrel and ensured it was full and properly connected. Checking the magazine, all six two-inch darts were loaded. As quietly as possible, he slid it back into the gun and flicked off the safety.
With a couple of deep breaths, he slowed his heartbeat to calm himself and find his center, then moved silently toward the back porch. In moments, he reached the edge of the home and waited. His patience was rewarded; a few minutes later, terrified screams emanated from inside.
He saw Colton shoot to his feet, rip open the screen door, and rush inside. Angel heard him curse at his brother, who burst from the back, nearly tearing the door off its hinges as he tumbled down the back stairs onto the gravel path.
Taking aim as Ben struggled to find his footing on the loose gravel, Angel fired one dart, connecting perfectly with the target's neck. Ben reached for the sharp nick, his eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed in a heap on the ground, the potent tranquilizer taking effect immediately. Relief washed over Angel—the mass was within the tolerance of a single dart, since sometimes it took as many as three to bring down his targets. When that happened, he risked them shouting out a warning or firing back.
Prepping the next dart, Angel waited to see if Colton would follow his younger brother outside, muscles tense for the possible confrontation. When he heard the old man move deeper into the house, Angel stealthily approached Ben's prone body.
Kneeling, he opened a pocket on his ranger vest, drew out two heavy-duty double nylon zip ties, and firmly secured Ben's wrists behind his back. Ripping off Ben's shoes, the same restraints did the same around his ankles. Lastly, he produced a smart tag and tucked it into the unconscious man's back pocket as a backup to locate him should he somehow manage to escape.
Satisfied that the younger Pry was secure, Angel turned and headed up the stairs. Taking each step carefully to avoid making noise on the already weak and creaky wooden stairs, he lined himself up against the door frame out of sight of the entrance. Perking his ears, he listened closely for any signs of movement inside.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Colton cursed as he stalked down the hallway to see what had frightened Ben. Reaching the end of the corridor, he shook his head in disgust. His brother had always been a coward, and convincing him to help with this plan was turning out to be a big mistake. Now he's bolted because the wind spooked him? What a pussy!
His lips curled into a creepy smile as he contemplated a dirty thought. Given that he was standing at the entrance to the bedroom where the girls were being held, it seemed fitting to indulge in a bit of fun, particularly since his brother wouldn't be present to prevent him.
Fishing a key from his hip pocket, he fed it into the keyhole and twisted to undo the bolt. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the bedroom.
On the only twin bed at the edge of the room sat two young girls, bound with a brown battle cord to the metal bed frame. One was perhaps ten years old, and the other couldn't have been more than six. Both had short black hair, matching blue eyes with peppered freckles on tear-smeared, flushed red faces, and were dressed only in the white nightgowns they'd been wearing when taken. Their shoulders shook in fear, and they whimpered at the sight of Colton.
When the brothers snatched them, Colton had been cruel in voice and in how he physically manhandled them, while Ben was more soothing, holding his older brother back from acting on his sick desires. Now that they saw Colton was alone, the girls knew something terrible was about to happen. The younger child whimpered and backed into the corner while her sister tried to put herself in front as a shield.
Drawing his hunting knife from the sheath on his belt, Colton twisted it as he stepped forward. "I don't know what scared my brother, but I'm not leaving without my pretty little dolls." His smile shifted into a growl as the older girl got in front of her little sister, puffed out her chest, and glared back, the desire to protect her sibling bolstering her bravery.
Huffing, Colton shoved her aside and knelt on the thin mattress. Taking his knife, he showed it to the child without saying a word, and she sank backward. Slicing the cord holding the younger girl to the bed frame, the knife tapped against the metal as he started to explore her. The little girl cried and started to thrash about. In her panic, she kicked at him, striking him in the groin.
The old man cursed darkly and backhanded her hard, knocking her back against the frame. The older girl screamed as her sister slumped onto the mattress.
Deep satisfaction filled Charlotte at Ben's reactions to her portrayal of the tooth fairy creature from a movie Angel had told her about called 'Darkness Falls.' His description of the demon in the story—how it looked, moved, and acted—had given her chills as she listened, and she knew it would be a perfect form to embody. In time, she hoped to emulate the mannerisms of any character and become that which even evil men would fear.
She embraced the power that sparked such terror in the cowardly bastard and gave him just enough space to break from the bathroom. She watched him rush past his brother, awkwardly crashing through the door, and knew Angel would be outside waiting for him. Now it was time to focus on the other one. Considering what else Angel had told her, she decided to let Colton come closer and investigate. She would let him wander for a few minutes before starting her second act.
Maintaining her cloak, she faded into the bathroom as Colton approached the door. With her fingers curled into fists, she held her breath as he entered, took a quick look, and backed out. She saw him turn his head toward the hallway, cursing loudly at his brother for running. Turning toward the other door, he took a key from his pocket and went through.
As the doorway swung open wide, Charlotte covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. She saw the girls on the bed and realized she couldn't carry out the second part of her plan if he was with the children, but she also couldn't leave him alone in that room with them either. Frightened, she moved swiftly and glided into the room just as Colton struck the younger girl.
All of Angel's instructions and warnings were drowned out by a sudden overwhelming flood of rage, and before she could control herself, she burst into view behind him, her demon form swallowing the doorway. She glared at the monster and let out a deathly howl, solely focused on him, deaf to the cries of the older girl. Colton jumped to his feet, raising his knife in front of him for protection, and screamed as well.
Having entered the home, Angel heard the shouts and raced down the hallway into the bedroom. Gauging the situation in a heartbeat: Charlotte, in full demon form—energy crackling around her—was moving in on Colton, who shook violently, holding his knife out defensively. The kids sat on the bed, the older one's eyes wide at the sight of Charlotte, and the other one lying against the wall, body still.
The full assessment took him no more than two seconds to finish. Quickly, he dropped to one knee under Charlotte's right flank, aimed, and smoothly pulled the trigger, sending a dart into Colton's throat. He wavered but did not fall. Angel angrily fired another dart, and this one did the trick. The pervert dropped like a sack of potatoes, his knife slipping from his hand.
"Charlotte," he hissed as the old man's bulk thudded hard to the floor, face down. "GO!"
Snapping to her senses, she saw the little girl gaping at her, tears streaming down her face. The child's agonizing stare burned into her mind, and feeling ashamed, she cursed herself and faded from sight as she raced from the room and burst through the back door. The clopping of her cloven hooves was muffled by the cool grass as she faded into the cold night.
Swearing silently and questioning the wisdom of letting Charlotte join him, Angel ripped another set of zip ties from his vest and secured Colton's wrists and ankles in quick succession. Satisfied that the man was going nowhere, he removed his night vision goggles and turned toward the frightened girls.
"What's your name, sweetie?"
The older girl stared at him blankly, her tears flooding her eyes. Angel smiled softly, repeating, "I'm Kevin. What's your name?"
She stuttered, "A… Amy."
Standing up, he gave Colton's prone form a dirty look and walked to the bed. Amy cringed back, clutching her little sister to protect her. Angel held up his hands. "It's okay, Amy. I promise I won't hurt you."
"The monster," she cried, her gaze fixed on the doorway over his shoulder.
"That wasn't a monster; that was my partner," Angel explained.
Amy shook her head hard. "No! It looked like a monster! It even had a monster's voice!"
Next to Amy, her little sister had recovered and was sitting up, rubbing her eyes in confusion. "There was a monster, Amy?"
"She was in a costume. Quite the performance, wouldn't you say?" Hoping he could get Amy to believe his story, as she wasn't calming down, he sat on the bed and motioned, "Let me check your sister."
Gingerly, Amy helped her little sister sit up, guiding her to sit next to Angel.
Examining the back of her head, he noted, "You have a nasty bump there."
"It hurts," the younger sister pouted.
"I know, sweetie. It'll feel better soon, I promise." Gently smoothing out her hair, he asked, "What's your name?"
"Jamie."
He chuckled softly. "Amy and Jamie, huh? I like it." Standing, he held out his hands. "Come on, let's get out of here."
As he helped the girls up, Colton groaned, and they froze in place. Angel gave him a swift kick in the gut. When the man didn't move, he assured the girls, "He's out cold. It's okay. Come on."
Leading the girls outside, they immediately started to shiver: the crisp, cold air biting at their bare skin, their nightgowns offering little protection. Telling them to stay put, Angel retrieved his duffel from the bushes. Returning, he pulled out two extra-large tie-dye T-shirts.
Handing them to the girls, he offered, "Here, these will help keep you warm for now. I have blankets back at the van."
Once they'd dropped the shirts over their heads and pulled them down, he led them up the incline toward his vehicle. Amy stopped, her eyes darting around in the dark. "Where's your partner?" she sniffled, her voice tinged with suspicion and fear.
The answer eluded him. Various scenarios crossed his mind. Did she run away? Did she lose control and become what he feared? Would she attack? Did she get pulled back to wherever she came from?
To the girls, he lied. "She went on ahead."
Twenty minutes later, they reached the clearing where he'd parked. Angel opened the van's side door and helped the girls inside, then threw his duffel bag over the passenger seat, its weight thudding onto the cushion. Unclipping his vest, he tossed it behind the driver's side chair. Using the door for support, he hauled himself in and slid the door closed.
Opening one of the trash bags, he found two blue blankets and wrapped each girl in one. Then he opened the cooler and fetched two water bottles. "Here's some water. Drink it slowly, okay?"
With the girls settled, draped in their blankets and quietly sipping the water, Angel dropped into the driver's seat and called the authorities. After relaying the information about the brothers' location, he hung up, and his thoughts turned to Charlotte. I hope you're safe, wherever you are.
His thought had barely finished when there was a soft tapping against the closed side door. The girls tensed, and Jamie let out a soft cry. Angel held his finger to his lips, silently telling them to be quiet.
Drawing his gun, he called out, "Who is it?"
A soft, frightened voice bled through the door. "It's me."
Relief washed over him. Smiling at the kids, he reassured them. "It's my partner. I'll be right back." Angel slid the door open and saw Charlotte looking distraught, sad, and embarrassed. Stepping out, he closed the door behind him. "Are you alright?"
She bit her lip, her eyes glistening with tears. "No! I lost it. I saw him hit her, and I lost control, Angel. I let them see me. I scared them!"
"You did," he agreed.
She sniffled harder.
"But you also saved them, Charlotte. You stopped him from doing something worse. It's okay."
"No, it's not. I promised I wouldn't be seen, and I failed you!"
"Charlotte," he sighed softly. "Yes, you messed up. You let your emotions cloud your judgment, but it was for a good reason. Plus, I knew this could happen. You're not trained for this. Hell, I'm not trained for this—teaming up with a demon. But you went in, green as can be, and did as well as expected. Honestly, this was one of the easiest rescues I've made so far, and you were a big reason for that. The kids are safe, and the authorities are on their way. We'll take them to the hospital, and then you and I will figure everything out. Okay?"
Wiping away her tears, she sniffled and gave him a hopeful look. "I heard you tell the kids I'm your partner. Did you mean it? I can stay?"
"Yes." In that moment, Angel knew he meant what he said. "Until we can figure out who you are and where you came from, I'll accept your help."
Relief washed over her face. "Thank you, Angel. I promise to do better next time."
"We'll work on that later. But for now…" Turning to the van's side door, he gripped the handle and glanced over his shoulder. "Now, let's introduce you to our guests so they can see you're not so scary."
Opening the door wide, he peered inside and gave the girls a soft smile. "Girls, this is Charlotte, my partner."
Peeking in beside Angel, the most innocent expression she could muster crossed her face as she wiped a tear from her eye. "Hey. I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to frighten you."
Amy still looked slightly suspicious. "Where's your costume? You were scary!"
Blushing, she apologized again. "I'm so sorry. I got angry when I saw the bad man hurt your sister. I didn't mean for you to see me dressed up. My costume…" She couldn't think of an answer.
"She gave it to me outside," Angel fibbed.
Jamie's curiosity drowned her fear. "Can I see it?"
"Um," Charlotte glanced at Angel.
"It's stowed in a secret compartment for safety, sorry," Angel stated firmly, closing down any further questions. Nodding once to Charlotte, he stepped around the van to enter the driver's side.
Jamie pouted as Charlotte entered and shut the side door behind her. Leaning back against the wall, she motioned for the girls to join her. Jamie, still pouting but no longer frightened of Charlotte, crawled over quickly enough, but Amy appeared uneasy.
A soft smile touched her lips as Charlotte winked. "It's okay, I promise. If you trust me, I'll share some stories Angel told me. Stories I could use to scare the bad men."
The older sister chewed her lip, thinking.
Jamie held out her hand. "Come on, Amy, she's really nice."
Motivated by her younger sister, Amy nodded and moved closer until she was snugly enveloped by Charlotte's arms.
Feeling the girls snuggle in tight, her breath hitched. A flash of what might have happened had Angel not found her crossed her mind, and she shoved it away. She couldn't think of it. Instead, she concentrated on the two girls safe in her arms, trusting her to protect them. As promised, she began whispering to them about how she would 'dress up' to become a demon to frighten the mean men.
Listening as Charlotte began her tales, Angel smiled softly. He still couldn't entirely grasp the situation he found himself in. Lost and confused, this woman was something other than human, possibly a demon from Hell, and she wanted to be his partner. If that wasn't crazy enough, he was starting to envision all they could accomplish and all the lives they could save. He had been living in a virtual Hell for years, paying for the mistakes of his past, and now it seemed Hell itself had sent him a gift that might just be the answer to all his problems.
Shaking his head at the idea, Angel twisted the ignition and slipped it into drive. Slowly, he eased along the long dirt road until he finally reached the smooth asphalt of the main road. Turning east, he drove at a steady speed toward the nearest town, smiling thinly as half a dozen police cars raced past him toward the abandoned house and the unconscious Pry brothers.