Pockets of Darkness by Jean Rabe

Author:Jean Rabe [Rabe, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781614752776
Amazon: 161475277X
Publisher: WordFire Press
Published: 2015-06-13T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty One

Jimmy was in the weight room and apparently had been doing bench presses. On his back, the bar of the two-hundred pound weight rested on his throat, his mouth open. That alone would have been enough to kill him, cutting off his oxygen; eyes bugged out like a something in a horror film, as though he’d fought for breath. But it was the gaping chest wound that had done it. Jimmy was ripped open down to his lifting belt, ribs broken and protruding at grotesque angles. Blood had spattered the wall behind the bench and had pooled on the floor. Blood continued to drip into a box of chalk, the powder Jimmy had used on his hands to help his grip. Shimmering bright red, Bridget couldn’t shake her gaze away from the growing pool of blood.

“Bridget.” Louder: “Bridget!”

Bridget looked away and into the face of the Aidan Murphy, her head domestic. Aidan was in his sixties, a Westie who had come to work full-time in the brownstone after it had been renovated, the only employee who never addressed Bridget as Miss O’Shea. It was Aidan who had summoned her.

“I was doing laundry, Bridget.” The brownstone featured a state-of-the art laundry facility in the basement. “I heard Jimmy scream and came straightaway. I’d thought he’d hurt himself, not having a spotter. I saw the weight had dropped on his neck, and before I could get to him his chest exploded. His heart came right out and disappeared in front of my very eyes.” Aidan reported this matter-of-factly, with little fluctuation in his low, thick brogue.

Aidan’s visage, however, revealed his utter shock and disgust. Aidan was bone pale, and blue veins on his nose stood out starkly. Blood had spattered on his shirt and pants and the tops of his shoes.

Bridget again looked at the blood pool beneath Jimmy and saw that a line of it led away, ending at the demon, which squatted in the shadows between the scale and a rack of dumbbells. Of course, Aidan couldn’t see the demon.

The demon opened its maw, so wide that Bridget saw Jimmy’s heart inside. It deliberately chewed with its lips pulled back so Bridget could get the full effect of the atrocity.

Bridget tottered and felt the bite of pizza rising into her throat. She leaned back against the doorframe.

“I know you don’t favor the police, Bridget,” Aidan continued.

“We can’t call them,” Bridget croaked. She hadn’t been a suspect in Tavio’s death, but calling the police for this would bring down far more scrutiny than she could manage, and would put her under a spotlight that could jeopardize not only her freedom, but the people who worked in the brownstone and the antique shop. And then what would happen to Otter? He’d be shoved off on Adiella. Dear God, Bridget couldn’t let that happen.

The police wouldn’t believe an invisible demon was responsible. So very few people in the world knew there was magic. “No cops. No cops ever. The cops won’t—”

“I understand.” Aidan closed his eyes and crossed himself, lips working in a prayer.

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