Page 33 of Bishop

“Nice work, brother,” I nodded to him and we approached the heap.

One guard was heaving for air, trying to breath but very obviously dying.

Blood was pooling out of his mouth.

Easing down, I asked, “Where’s your boss?”

He stared at me, bubbles of blood forming as he tried to speak.

Whimpering.

He’s scared,I thought.

“Where is Britney Lee?” I asked again.

He shook his head and that made something inside of my head. Slowly, I pinched his nose and covered his mouth. He wouldn’t get anymore of God’s air on my time.

“Piece of shit,” Titan kicked at the man’s body.

The second he went limp; I knew he was gone. Standing, I saw Butch and Bo coming through the front door.

“We got a problem," the twin said in unison.

Immediately I was alert again. “What?”

“Rattler,” Bo shook his head.

“He’s hurt pretty bad, we need to get him out of here. His knee cap is blown to hell…” Butch had a wild look in his eye.

The two of them were out of breath. “Has the top of the house been searched?”

I was already coming out of the kitchen heading for the stairs.

“No,” Butch called out.

“We clear it first, we need to find this kid,” I was opening doors left and right. “Bo, you look after Rattler! Butch with me!”

That same thick tension began to permeate the air once again. Thick and suffocating. There had to be ten rooms and with each door I kicked in, I found that the light outside was fading.

I knew she was here.

I knew that she was waiting.

I could feel it in my bones.

Death was in the room with me, and it was as if once again everything had gone quiet.

When I reached the last door, I could see the glow of candlelight all over the place. Looking back, I saw my men were ready.

Finally, I reached out and turned the brass door knob. The site before me told me that I’d been correct as hell about Britney Lee’s origins.

Something sinister ran down my spine as we stared at her. She was dressed like a voodoo shadow woman. Her entire face had been painted white and her chest had white markings all over it, and she was in a flowy black dress. Bones and skulls decorated a belt around her waist. The room screamed ritual sacrifice. Dead chickens were hanging upside down and the walls were painted red with the same symbols matching her chest.

I was about to step into the room but paused because Avery Stone was nowhere in sight.

“Where is the boy?” I asked.

She grinned, her lips painted red. “You’re scared of death. I can smell it on you.”

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