The Green Lama: Scions (The Green Lama Legacy Book 1) by Adam Lance Garcia

Author:Adam Lance Garcia [Garcia, Adam Lance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781936814664
Publisher: Moonstone Books
Published: 2014-04-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

INNER DEMONS

THE POLICE STATION was in disarray, buried in bits of wood, glass, and blood. Caraway limped through the center of the bedlam that had once been the squad room, pressing a scarlet soaked rag against his face while policemen ran around tending to the injured. This was the third time in almost as many months that the station had been ravaged. No wonder the department was always in the middle of a budget crisis, they practically had to keep a construction crew on retainer just to make sure the building stayed standing.

“One woman did this?” Gary asked in amazement, his gaze darting like a dog ready to be hit. He and Evangl had arrived just after the storm had passed, though Evangl insisted on keeping her gun close. Not that Caraway could blame them, after what he had just been through he was ready to keep a machine gun at his side.

“Wouldn’t exactly call her a woman,” Caraway grumbled, wincing as the claw wound on his cheek reopened. “More like a force of nature.”

“And this was the Bartlett survivor?” Evangl asked.

“Desdemona,” Caraway affirmed as they walked into his wrecked office. “It was like watching a caged tiger break loose. Killed six officers and scarred two dozen others.”

He pulled open his bottom desk drawer with the toe of his boot, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and opened it with his teeth.

“And Dumont?”

“Snatched him up like she was playing jacks,” he replied before taking a swig. He poured some onto the rag and pressed it against his face, grimacing at the sting.

“So she survives a floating ship of death, then raises Cain in a police station so she can kidnap a millionaire?” Evangl asked. “That doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

“Since when did anything we ever do make sense?” Caraway retorted, brushing a bit of plaster off his chair before sitting down. “You should see how the boys downtown react when they read my reports. They keep telling me I’m the next Richard Foster.”

“He does have a point,” Gary said wryly to Evangl, though his eyes were glassy. “The sort of crap we deal with is straight out of a bad serial, cliffnangers and all. We even have a hero who likes to dress up in a showy outfit.”

Evangl looked down at the shattered glass covering the floor. “But how could she have done all this? She would have to be built like a train.”

Caraway shook his head. “More like a succubus. Like my ex-wife. It was her eyes, though…” Caraway said distantly. “They weren’t… right.”

“How so?” Evangl asked.

“They were… black. Not just the pupils, but her… They looked like holes where the eyes should be. Black enough you could fall into them and never stop falling.”

“Well, that’s one of the creepiest things I’ve heard today,” Gary commented, clearing his throat. He blinked, tears welling up. “Wonder if that’s what—what, um, happened on the…?”

“No way of knowing,” Caraway said as calmly as he could. He and Gary had their issues in the past, but no one deserved to lose someone—let alone their mother—aboard the Bartlett.

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