Chris knew the things he was seeing weren’t really there, but it didn’t make it any easier for him. He heard Maguire’s soft laughter as the first of the nightmarish creatures appeared before him. He recognized most of them as animals, but they’d become distorted and gruesome as a result of the nightshade’s influence. A large bear with the head of a cat hissed as it raced towards him out of the fire. He squeezed his eyes tightly only to open them to a new and even more terrifying sight. A man stood before him holding a woman’s head, her long blond hair streaked with red, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes beseeching him to help her. “N...no,” the word barely passed his lips as the vision faded to be replaced by a snarling wolf. Its paw snapped out and Chris felt something sharp slash across his chest. He cried out as his head dropped forward and all visions stopped.
Maguire wiped the bloodied scalpel on his shirt. He knew what to expect from Larabee. Knew the drug caused horrific visions and saw the terror in his victim’s green eyes. The fear and the pain succeeded in making the prisoner pass out. He reached up and tenderly placed his hand under the strong chin until he was looking into the face he knew so well. “I promise to show you just how much you can take before I take what is rightfully mine, Chris. Sleep for now and gain what little strength you can because our next meeting will involve a little more physical pain.” He cleaned the shallow slash he’d made across the taut chest with whiskey before leaving his victim alone once more.
Chris opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted his arms, taking the weight off his shoulders. The fire no longer blazed and the meager light came from the embers glowing in the small circle of stones. He shifted uneasily, his back stiff and painful as he finally stood up straight. He looked around the cave, wondering if Maguire was hidden in the shadows, watching him, enjoying the discomfort he was in. He shivered as a cold chill wormed its way down his spine.
He didn’t know how much time passed since the hallucinations ended. Cold fingers of dread trailed down his spine as he tried to forget the images he’d seen while under the influence of the drug. His stomach churned and his body trembled as one vivid memory returned. Vin Tanner’s body dangling at the end of a rope, his bloodied clothing draped down his lifeless body. His blue eyes filled with resentment as his damaged throat cried out his anger at Chris Larabee. He trembled again as the words echoed threw his mind. ‘Ya did this ta me, Chris, ya promised I wouldn’t hang and then ya ran out on me. I’m dead ‘cause of yer cowardice Larabee. Strung up like some mangy dawg. All yer fault ya bastard!’ The cold dead eyes lacked the luster they held in life and somehow the gunslinger knew he’d never see them again.
“No, Vin, I didn’t. I didn’t run out on you,” his weak voice echoed around the cavern. He coughed against the dryness of his throat, crying out as the movement pulled on his tethered limbs. His body shook as he rode out the pain in his shoulders and back. Breathing deeply, he fought hard to stave off the black curtain. The strong wave of nausea nearly choked him and he lost his battle, his tortured body slumped in defeat.
“Vin, are you alright?” Wilmington asked worriedly.
“It’s not me ya gotta worry ‘bout, Buck,” Tanner answered. “It looks like whoever...”
“What do you mean whoever? I thought we agreed it was Maguire?” Dunne asked.
“Look, JD, Chris has a lot of enemies out there and I think we’d best be ready for anythin’. I think it is Maguire but I want ta be sure. We can’t just go inta this thinkin’ it’s that salesmen. We need ta find ‘em and make sure we get Chris back in one piece,” the tracker said. He bent low to the ground and found the tracks he was looking for. “Looks like he headed this way,” he said and mounted Peso. He could hear the others do the same and he lead them away from his best friend’s home. Something was different about the little shack, something he couldn’t place his hands on. A shiver of dread ran down his spine as he thought of never sitting on the front porch and sharing a drink with the enigmatic gunslinger.
A drop of rain landed on the tracker’s hand and he prayed the rain wouldn’t get to the point where it washed away the tracks. ‘Please, God, let us find him ‘fore it’s to late,’ he thought as more drops joined the one rolling down his hand.
Five men with a single purpose rode north away from Four Corners. That purpose was to find their leader and make whoever took him realize the error of their actions. Five sets of eyes glared angrily skywards as the clouds opened up and rain fell heavily around them. Determined to continue they pulled up their collars and hunkered down in their saddles as they raced after the sharpshooter.
Maguire sat on a blanket by the small fire, watching the unconscious man’s labored breathing. ‘Such perfection,’ he thought. ‘He will live on through me. Through you my strength will grow, my life will be extended and I can fulfil my destiny,’ he smiled at the gunslinger. “Our destiny will be fulfilled and our lives shall be one.” He checked the blade of the thin knife in the embers, more than satisfied when he saw the white heat pulsating off the metal. His earlier victims left him with an empty feeling inside, as if they lacked what he needed and their final death throes did nothing to earn them his respect. “You will, won’t you, Chris?” he asked, tapping the pale cheek, his finger trailing along the furrow he’d made along Larabee’s chest. He pressed firmly and elicited a low moan from the bound man. “It’s time to wake up Chris,” he whispered in the gunslinger’s ear. “It’s time to feel the fires of hell, feel them ignite on your bare skin. It’s time for you to scream,” his soft voice promised. “Oh not the final scream, it’s much to early for that, but this will be the first of many screams that will be dragged from your throat.”
Larabee opened his eyes and tried to pull away from the hand touching his chest. “B...bastard!” he swore angrily. His weak voice still conveyed the strength of his soul and the promise he’d made earlier. He smiled as he saw the other man flinch slightly. “Will...kill...you,” he warned.
Maguire swallowed deeply, amazed that even beaten, whipped and tied up this man still conveyed a strength and determination he’d never seen before. “I’m not afraid, Chris. I’m awed at your strength. I now know I made the right choice!” He once more pulled the scalpel from his pocket and sliced a thin line down the palm of his left hand. He watched as his own crimson fluid ran down his arm before placing the blade at the prisoner’s left hand.
Chris felt the blade cut into his palm but didn’t make a sound. The pain was minor compared to the other agony in his body. Every fiber of him was repulsed, when the madman sealed their bond in blood.
“Ah, Chris, now we are well and truly joined. Brothers by blood as well as destiny,” the evil man laughed as his own blood mixed with Larabee’s. “Our lives are forever joined, our souls destined to meet time and again in lifetimes to come.” He released the gunslinger’s hand and turned back to the fire. “I’m afraid the next part of the ritual is going to hurt you more than it does me.”
He watched as the fire sparkled off the edge of the knife the madman pulled from the fire. The blade glowed with its own heat and light as his captor slowly walked towards him. Larabee couldn’t help but cringe as the blade was placed before his eyes.
“I can see by the light in your eyes that you’ve experienced a hot blade before. The beauty of it is that the wounds will be cauterized immediately as long as I don’t make them too deep,” the face lit up expectantly as he lowered the blade to the gunslinger’s abdomen. “Just feel the heat of fire, Chris,” he whispered as he slowly, but forcefully drove the blade into the taut flesh of his victim’s stomach. His eyes lit up in malicious glee as the bound man cried out.
An intense pain lanced through his stomach, igniting the agony in the rest of his body. He fought to get away, but his struggles were in vain.
Maguire withdrew the blade from the shallow wound and placed it on the writhing man’s inner thigh.
Chris felt the fight slowly leaving his body as again and again the grinning man placed the blade against his body.
Maguire continued cutting and burning him at the same time. He knew he had to possess the gunslinger’s soul. “Pain is a wonderful way to show a man how much he can take before it breaks him, Chris.”
The pain continued, driving Larabee to the brink of madness until the glowing blade lost its heat. Chris sagged against the cords holding his hands, feeling the blood flow freely down his arms. He knew without looking that his wrists were torn and raw from his struggles to get away from the madman before him.
“Was that good for you, Chris?” Maguire’s face was filled with awe as he watched the blond man. The resemblance to his first victim, his father, was amazing. The blond hair, the green eyes, the handsome face, the taut muscles were so much like the man who’d beaten him. Yet that was where the similarities ended. Where his father was a cruel, malicious man who enjoyed beating on his son, Chris Larabee was a man with a tortured past. A man who lost his family to a senseless act of a woman whose love he didn’t return.
He continued to watch as the green eyes slid closed, knowing that his victim was stronger than most men faced with such loss. He proved that strength time and again by rising above the tragedy. Maguire was able to see the vulnerable side of the man in black the moment he felt those intense green eyes light on him in town. “I’ll leave you to reflect on your pain, Chris. I won’t even force the Nightshade on you right now because I can see you’re in enough pain without it. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he promised.
Larabee watched through hooded eyes as the man left the cavern, leaving him to suffer his pain alone. He looked up at the cords above his head and once more tried to pull his hands free. The only thing he succeeded in doing was cause himself more pain. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift towards exhausted sleep. There was nothing he could do until he rested and let his body regain some strength. ‘I’ll get you, Maguire,’ he vowed as darkness beaconed once more.
Rain fell around them, filling each man with a sense of dread as the tracker pulled up in front of an abandoned homestead. They knew there was no way they could continue on, the trail was now wiped away by the heavy rainfall. The sky overhead was devoid of stars as black clouds added to the bleakness in their hearts.
“Vin, there’s nothing else we can do until the storm ends,” Jackson assured the young sharpshooter, as they pulled in front of the battered barn.
Tanner nodded and slowly dismounted, an icy feeling of impending doom running down his spine. He knew in his heart Maguire was the one who’d taken the gunslinger. He swore under his breath, cursing the rain that usually soothed his own burning soul. The cleanliness he usually felt emanating from the earth after a hardy rainfall was replaced by a feeling of utter helplessness. The tracks they were following would be wiped out. He stood before the doors and let the rain wash over him in an effort to get his mind thinking clearly. Somehow they needed to find Chris Larabee before it was too late.
Buck led his horse into the rundown barn, securing him to one of the posts before leaning his aching head against the animal. ‘Dammit, Chris, what’s he doing to you?’ he thought. His mind conjured up images of the other men who’d fallen victim to the so-called salesman. He knew wherever the gunslinger was he was in a great deal of pain. He felt it as easily as if it was his own. They’d been friends a long time and although he didn’t share the same strong link as Vin did with Chris, he could still sense when the other man needed him. ‘I’ll find him, Sarah, don’t you worry about that,’ he silently vowed.
Nathan led his horse inside and secured it to the one of the posts, He quickly found a lantern hanging beside the door. He rattled it, surprised to hear oil slosh around in the base. Reaching in his jacket he felt the tin box he kept handy and lit a match. The soft glow from the lantern lit up the debris cluttered shelter. His dark eyes roamed around until they saw a small pile of dry hay in a darkened corner of the rundown barn. He walked towards it and grabbed an armful and placed it before the horses. He watched through tired eyes as each man cared for his animal.
It wasn’t long before the horses were settled for the night and the five men headed for the battered house. Buck shoved the door open and stepped inside. Nathan came in behind him holding the lantern high above his head.
The interior of the house was covered in broken furniture and littered with other debris. The bare walls and ceiling were covered in cobwebs. Jackson watched as a spiders shadow grew large in the glare of the lantern’s light. He moved further into the room, shaking his head at the boarded windows and the layers of thick dust covering the floors. A small doll sat in one corner, the clothes torn and the eye sockets empty. He stepped forward and picked up the toy. He wondered if somewhere a small child might be wondering where the doll was. He shivered as he looked into the empty sockets as Maguire’s dark eyes swam in front of his vision. ‘Where are you, Chris,’ he thought as he dropped the broken form back to the floor.
The others were cold and wet; a fire was needed to take away the chill. Vin Tanner stepped over and investigated the spacious fireplace. His weary blue eyes looked up into the fireplace and made sure the flue was open. Satisfied it wasn’t in danger of catching fire he cleared the broken glass and debris from the base. The exhausted tracker silently moved around the room gathering enough of the broken wood to start a small fire. White light bathed the darkness as firelight joined the lantern’s tiny flame. He knew by the haggard faces of the four men they wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. He sighed heavily as he thought back on the first day Robert Maguire entered their lives. Chris Larabee’s instincts were right about the newcomer and now he was paying the price. One look at Buck's expressive blue eyes told him the ladies man felt the same way.
Standish stood off to one side, hiding the worry that surged through his mind. These new friends showed him there were other things to life besides a sharp con or the nifty turn of a card. Larabee gave him a chance even after he cheated the men in the saloon. He was surprised by the man again when he gave him a second chance at the Seminole village. Since then he swore he would stick with them and do what he could to help. He felt a special bond surrounding them all, molding them into a force to be reckoned with. An intense sense of belonging was what he felt since becoming part of the seven. Something he’d never felt in his life. ‘Don’t run out on us, Chris, we’ll find you and kill that bastard,’ he silently vowed.
JD stood by the boarded window. Growing up in Boston did little to prepare him for the harsh realities of frontier life. In the short span of time he lived in Four Corners he’d seen men killed for little or no reason. He saw families forced from their homesteads by brutal men who cared only about themselves. The six men he worked with were his new family and he hated when one of them was injured. Now Chris was missing and most likely in the hands of a maniacal killer. JD remembered reading about a man who liked to torture others and his body trembled involuntarily. The man was hung for his crimes but there was no way to bring back the victims. The face of the victim he caught a glimpse of floated before his eyes and he closed his eyes to blot out the sight.
“Hey, Kid, are you alright?”
Dunne opened his eyes and looked at the moustached man. He swallowed against a dry throat and slowly nodded his head. “I...I’m fine, Buck,” he stammered
“You coulda fooled me,” Wilmington smiled thinly.
The easterner turned his face back to the furious storm taking place on the other side of the splintered pane of glass. “How can people hurt each other like that, Buck?” he asked softly.
Wilmington knew the youngest member of the seven was thinking about the article Mary found. He often wondered about the same thing when he came across similar cruelties against man or animal. “I don’t know, Kid. Sometimes people are just bad inside and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop them. Maguire...”
Dunne’s face came up at the name, his youthful eyes brimming with unshed tears. “How could he fool me, Buck! I mean I bought something for Casey off that Bastard!”
“He took us all in, JD. He pulled the wool over our eyes and stabbed us in the heart when we weren’t looking...”
“He didn’t fool Chris or Vin. I saw the way Chris looked at him. He didn’t trust that salesman...”
“JD.” Jackson placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself. Chris wouldn’t want you thinking that way. We have to stick together and we’ll find him.”
“What if Chris is already...?” the Bostonian couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Chris ain’t dead, Kid.” The tracker vowed with a trace of venom.
“How do you know, Vin?” Dunne asked.
“ ‘cause I can still feel him in here,” the sharpshooter touched his heart. “He’s out there and he’s alive. Maguire’s doin’ things to ‘im and he’s hurtin’. Hurtin’ bad, but he’s waitin’ fer us and we ain’t gonna let ‘im down. Are we?”
“N...no,” the kid answered and followed the others to the fireplace. Five sets of eyes gazed intently into the open flames. Each man thinking of the missing members of the group. One safe in the town they called home, the other in the hands of a madman.
Maguire stood in front of the window as the horizon brightened with the onset of dawn. He was eager to see his victim, to share more of his own life with him. The time of reckoning was almost on hand and he would own the unownable. He wanted Larabee ready for his death. His plans would take place on the anniversary of the death of his first victim. “Two days, Chris, two days.”
He turned back to the table and picked up the bottle containing the remaining drug from the Nightshade plant. He lifted the bottle, grateful that one of his victims was a well known chemist in the east. The man’s disappearance nearly cost Maguire his life, but he’d managed to escape before the noose tightened around his neck. He felt the lingering scar made by the coarse rope and smiled. The two men who decided they could take matters into their own hands were feeding vultures in the dessert. Their bones picked raw by the carnivorous birds as the sun baked whatever flesh remained.
A sardonic smile twisted the corners of his mouth. He glanced around the cabin, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell emanating from the back room. He placed the dead members of the family in there, but now the stink was overwhelming. He realized his mistake too late and now refused to go into the room. The door was closed, but it didn’t stop the sickly smell of rotting flesh from reaching the well kept living room.
Maguire hurried to the front door and pulled it open. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of rain drenched soil as he sat on the porch. He looked at the bottle in his hand, his eyes grew serious as he looked towards the trail leading to the cave. ‘Today marks the beginning of the end,’ he thought.
Chris Larabee was no fool. He knew he had to escape before Maguire returned. His body was rapidly weakening and pain seemed a natural state for him now. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt swollen. He knew his tormentor could return at any minute and tried to concentrate on making good his escape.
He struggled against the bonds, unable to remember how many times he tried the same thing. His fingers were numb and his wrists stung as the cords continued to dig deeper. “SON OF A BITCH!” he shouted in frustration as he lost the little strength he had. He hung in the darkness, alone, and in misery.
He wondered how much time passed since he became a victim of Robert Maguire’s twisted mind. Hours, days, or weeks?; there was no way for him to tell. His eyes closed and his mind drifted to the day they’d come together as a group.
Vin Tanner, was an ex bounty hunter with a price on his head. A man who grew up fast and hard, but still refused to become a victim. If eyes were the windows to the soul then Vin’s soul had a space reserved for it amongst the angels. The young man gave his friendship and trust to him with a simple nod of his head. He hoped and prayed he’d feel that simple method of communication once more.
Josiah Sanchez, was an ex-preacher with a troubled past. He was a hard man to read and still refused to share much about himself. Chris respected that. He knew what it felt like to have others speak of your private life. Even with the little he knew of the man he felt he could be trusted.
Buck Wilmington, a man he knew from his younger, rowdier days. The days before Sarah entered his life and showed him what it meant to have a family. Buck stood up for him at his wedding and was there when his life crumbled. The ladies man held him back when he would’ve thrown himself into the flames. He knew in his heart he was too late, but Buck was there to save him. He cursed his tall friend high and low, blaming him for not letting him join his family in their fiery death. He regretted pushing Buck out of his life. Regretted losing the one living reminder of the happiness he’d shared with Sarah and Adam. A smile crossed his pale face as he remembered discovering his friend was in Four Corners. Their friendship was back and stronger than ever.
Nathan Jackson, was an ex-slave and Union stretcher bearer. The healer skill was short changed in that he wasn't a real doctor, his skin color made that difficult. Chris knew in his heart this was true. He prayed someday people would get past their prejudices, and see beyond skin color or religion. Nathan's hands were strong and skilled, Chris Larabee trusted them further than any doctor with a degree on his wall.
Ezra Standish, was a gambler with a penchant for cheating. A shrewd manueverer who could con a blind man into buying a book. A man who was still trying to get out from under his Mother’s influences. Chris saw beyond the cheating gambler facade. He glimpsed the man Ezra really was, someone he would trust to watch his back now that they understood each other. He remembered the day at the Seminole Village. The words he grated out in anger and frustration. ‘Don’t ever run out on me again,’ he thought, and although he’d been tempted the gambler stood with them time and again.
Chris felt a small smile forming as he thought of the youngest member of the group. JD Dunne arrived on the stage, carrying nothing but his saddle. The kid had something to prove from the very beginning. The fancy clothing on the young Bostonian shouted that he was a greenhorn, a tenderfoot and new to the ways of the west. At the Seminole village, the youth proved he was willing to do anything to protect his friends.
Larabee pushed himself to a standing position, taking the weight off his shoulders once more. The dampness of the cave coupled with his lack of clothing caused shivers to course through his body. Somehow he was going to stay alive for them. There was no way he was going to let them find his dead body, strung up in a cave.
The darkness was so complete he couldn’t see his own body. As the pain pulsed, his eyes narrowed; a distinct sound told him that his tormentor was back He fought to keep his trembling body from reacting in anticipation. A spark of light forced his eyes closed.
“The time of reckoning is almost at hand, Chris,” Maguire said as he lit the fire. “This will not be a long visit. I’ve come with food and water for you. Just a little of each. Enough to keep you alive a little longer. This food is safe,” he explained as he poured a thin broth into a pot. "...for now." he teased of the drug to be given later. “Right now I think it’s time you understood who I am and why you were chosen.”
Larabee listened to the hated figure, the words grating on his frazzled nerves. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and let the all encompassing anger come to the front. He gripped the cords around his wrists and snapped them.
Maguire watched the face as new emotions overrode the ones he wanted to see. Instead of pain and weariness, newfound fire blazed in the twin green beacons. He wanted this man’s soul. However the eyes he looked into now seemed a harbinger of hatred and the promise of suffering. He held the look as long as he could, but was forced to turn away as the blond’s gaze never wavered.
Shaking off the nervous tension, the serial killer picked up the thin broth and walked towards his near naked victim. “I have something for you.”
“D...drink it yourself,” Larabee hissed forcefully.
“It’s only broth, Chris. It really won’t hurt you. I want to tell you something about myself before I send you on another trip. Now, please tell me I don’t have to resort to force feeding you again?”
The prisoner’s eyes remained focused on his tormentor. His breathing was shallow as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop Maguire from forcing the liquid down his throat. He clamped his mouth shut in an effort to stop the other man, knowing to give in would be admitting the enemy controlled everything about him.
“So be it, Chris,” Maguire forced the head back, pinching the nose and forcing the salty liquid into the injured gunman.
Dark spots swam before his eyes as he fought to keep from drinking The gunslinger tried not to swallow, but eventually the need to breathe won out. As the last of the broth flowed down his throat he filled his lungs over and over with air.
“I didn’t lie, Chris, it’s only broth. Do you want a little water?”
“D...don’t w...want anything f...from you,” he snarled as his chest heaved painfully.
“Have it your way for now,” Maguire walked back to the fire, warding off the chill of the cave. He opened a bottle of whiskey and took a sip. “You really should have accepted this bottle that day on the trail. It would’ve been the last bottle of your life. Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to enjoy it myself.”
Larabee watched as the whiskey disappeared from the bottle. His body craved the soothing alcohol, but he refused to let this man see it. He let his eyes slide shut and prayed the others would find him soon. He knew the salesman would kill him soon, but until then he’d keep his wits about him and try to escape.
Vin saddled Pony as the sun showed its rays above the horizon. The rain stopped shortly after dawn and he knew they needed to get moving. Something was driving him northwards, telling him that time was running out for Chris Larabee. He recalled the day they met on the street and with just a slight nod moved to save a man’s life. A man neither of them knew at the time, but grew to respect as a healer and an individual.
That same link was affecting him now. There was no way he could explain it and if asked he’d probably deny it existed. His time among the Indians was well spent and he learned things didn’t always come with an explanation. This was one of those things and he prayed it would not desert him now. He tightened the cinch around Peso and looked at his companions.
“The tracks have been wiped out, Vin,” Wilmington observed.
“I know,” Tanner muttered.
“Should we split up?” Dunne asked.
“No,” the tracker’s voice was adamant as he looked at each man, stopping when his gaze landed on the Ladies man. The trust the blue eyes conveyed with just a look was enough for Vin to tell them what he felt. “We keep going north.”
Wilmington nodded, trusting in the sharpshooter’s special friendship with the gunslinger to find him. He knew there was something special between the two men from the moment he saw them together on the boardwalk. He trusted Vin with his life and now he was trusting him with the life of Chris Larabee. “Mount up,” he ordered softly.
“Josiah?”
Sanchez looked up from the bible he was trying to read. His mind kept wandering and he knew it was a lost cause. He smiled as Mary Travis walked into the small church. “Is there something I can do for you, Mary?”
“I just wondered if there was any word from the others?”
“Nothing yet, Mary.”
“I’ve found out a couple of other things about Maguire. It seems his father disappeared under strange circumstances,” her soft eyes were filled with anger as she looked at the ex-preacher. “How could we not have seen who he really was?”
“He had us all fooled. From what the article says he’s been doing this a long time. He really did work for that catalogue company. Unfortunately it went out of business years ago. It belonged to his father.”
“I should’ve checked into it more. Chris didn’t seem to like him much.”
“Chris has an uncanny sense when it comes to trusting people.” He watched the shoulders slump and the eyes mist with tears. “Mary, you had no way of knowing.” Sanchez wrapped his arms around the sobbing woman, holding her close as she cried for the man she’d grown so fond of. He knew there were feelings between her and Chris Larabee, yet neither one would admit to them. ‘Don’t let it be too late for them, Lord,’ he silently prayed.
“I chose you because you met my eyes the day I came in Four Corners. You refused to look away. I felt that strength and pride you have. Your unmitigated gall intrigued me. No one has ever been able to stare me down since I killed the bastard who called himself my father, but you did it that day. You know your abilities and you refuse to bow down to anyone. Oh, don’t get me wrong. If it was just that I would’ve left you alone. I never would’ve stayed in your quaint little town.” He picked up the half bottle of whiskey and walked towards his victim. “So I guess you’ve made your own fate. You should’ve turned away. Instead you showed me my twin spirit. I could’ve been like you, you know. I could’ve given up the life I chose and married a beautiful woman, but my father kept taunting me. Kept telling me I had to fulfil my destiny. He looked a lot like you, Chris. The same hair color, the same green eyes, he even had the same build, although he probably had a few pounds on you,” Maguire guzzled down more of the whiskey as he studied the gunslinger. “He used to beat me all the time. He told me it was for my own good.”
Larabee listened to the droning voice, ignoring the faint ray of sympathy he felt for a child who’d been beaten. He remembered his own childhood and how he’d been beaten, sometimes unjustly, yet he overcame those obstacles. “Y...you didn’t have to...”
“To what? Turn out like my father? Is that what you were gonna say, Chris?” Maguire asked, continuing before the other man could answer. “I didn’t turn out like my father,. I turned out better, stronger, and smarter. I showed my father how pathetic he was when I took his soul. The only problem was I killed the son-of-a-bitch too soon. I should’ve made him suffer. Maybe he would’ve prevented all of this if I’d heard him scream. You’ll do that though, Chris. You’ll scream with your dying breath and I’ll be waiting for you. I’ve been keeping a journal over the years. I’ve sent it to a friend of mine. She’ll keep it and my boy safe until the day I come for them. I’ll be able to teach him everything I know when he’s old enough. If anything happens to me before you die then he’ll have my diary to guide him through his life.”
“Kid d...deserves b...better...father,” the gunslinger muttered tiredly. His head reeled backwards as a devastating right fist connected with his left cheek. He tasted blood in his mouth and knew the inside of his cheek was cut by his teeth.
“Don’t you ever say that again. My boy will know how much he means to me. He’ll know I’m doing this for him. I’ll make sure of that and I won’t leave him alone so some woman can burn him alive.” He knew his words were vicious and he grinned as he walked back to the fire. “The truth hurts doesn’t it, Larabee. You know it’s all your fault that your family is dead. You see I did my homework on you. I found out just what I needed to confirm that you were the right one. You fought against evil and won, but that was before you met me. It’s time for you to take another trip. I hope you get to relive their final moments. I hope you hear them scream as the fire burns them alive in its unholy heat.” He grabbed a fistful of dirty blond hair and twisted it painfully. “I hope you enjoy yourself, Chris.”
The captive felt the brackish liquid flow down his throat as he tried to pull away. Maguire strong hands held him tightly as the last of the fire burned down his throat. A hand clamped tightly over his mouth and nose and he nearly passed out.
Maguire released his hold on the gunslinger and stood back to watch. The green eyes seemed to lose focus as harsh retching sounds emanated from his victim’s throat. He moved out of the way and waited for the vomiting to pass. He knew the affects of the Nightshade would linger even though most of it was purged from the gunslinger’s body. His eyes glistened smugly as he walked towards the entrance. “Enjoy your trip down memory lane, Chris. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Larabee’s eyes focused on something only he could see. The barn, the barely moving windmill, the panicked horses, and the blazing fire that was his home. He bolted off his horse and ran for the burning house. Strong hands grasped his arms and wrestled him to the ground. His eyes widened as two flame engulfed figures stepped from the devastation. “Sarah! Adam! NO!” He fought with all his strength to get away from the strength he found himself embraced in. Words were shouted in his ears, but he chose to ignore them in his haste to save his heart and soul. The two figures screamed and fire shot from their dying mouth as Chris Larabee’s final scream erupted in the lighted cavern. He slid towards unconsciousness, damning Maguire’s name for all eternity.
Maguire grinned as the anguished cry reached his ears. He placed the brush and rocks back in place, covering the entrance but only muffling the cries of pain from within.
Wilmington pulled his horse to a halt. His eyes shifted left and right as he fought back the memories. He had no idea why his mind was conjuring up images from years ago. Images of fire, death and pain. The fight to keep his friend from dying with his family. Knocking the blond out in order to keep him from running into the flames. He shivered as he remembered the pain in those green eyes and the anger and hurt on the handsome face. His head shot up as he realized he’d heard the blond’s cries. Heard him call out for Sarah and Adam, yet it was impossible. He watched as three men rode on but one stopped and turned to him.
“Buck?”
“Vin, I heard him. I don’t mean out loud. I heard him in here,” Wilmington pointed to his head. “He’s dying, Vin, we gotta find him.”
“I know. I feel it too. We have ta keep searchin’. He’s close by.”
“Vin, Buck, is everything all right?”
Wilmington looked at the healer and then back to the tracker. “I...I don’t know, Nathan. I just had a bad feeling.”
“I think we all did,” Standish observed of his companions’ pale faces. Without a word the five men returned to the task of finding Chris Larabee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The prisoner opened his eyes to complete, utter darkness. There was no warmth left inside the cavern and he knew the fire must’ve been out for a long time. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t obey his commands. The memories brought on by the drug Maguire forced on him ravaged his heart. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he thought about the night his life was shattered. He recalled the angry words and names he shouted at Buck Wilmington. He knew his oldest friend was suffering through his own pain and guilt that night, but it didn’t matter at the time. Chris needed to hurt someone and he was the only one there. “I’m sorry, Buck,” he whispered into the darkness. His body shuddered and he knew death was coming. It surprised him that he didn’t want to give into its call. His eyes slid closed and his body sagged against the cords. Fresh blood trickled from his wrists, but he’d already surrendered to the darkness surrounding him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maguire wrinkled his nose as he sat on the chair by the open window. The smell of decay surrounded him and he knew the time was at hand. Chris Larabee would soon be released from the hell he lived on earth. He sighed as he looked at the shiny blade in his hand. The Scalpel served him well, but for the next stage in the game it wouldn’t do. His bare hands would be the only thing used to bring on that final, soul wrenching scream. The one that would end his own search for his destiny. The one that would seal his fate with the devil. He looked at the cut on his hand, frowning at the swelling he saw there. He knew it was infected, yet he felt no pain, no horror. He knew once Larabee was dead all his mortal wounds would be healed. An insane smile slowly washed over his face as he stood up and left the farmhouse for his final journey with destiny.
They spent a restless night, each man wondering whether they’d find their friend alive. The words Mary Travis read them reverberated through their minds. Whipped, burned, and cut, that’s what the papers said. Somehow they knew Chris was suffering from the same fate in the hands of a maniac. They were up before dawn, horses saddled and ready to move out before the first rays of the sun made waste to the darkness of night.
Vin searched the ground. They were travelling steadily northwards, scanning for any sign of Maguire. His feeling were confirmed earlier in the day when he’d found a distinctive mark in the hard packed soil. The hot mid day sun dried the tracks and made it easy to read. The tracker knew the markings and knew they’d found the wagon Chris was using to transport lumber for the repairs to the shed.
“Has your perusal of the ground established whether or not we are searching in the right direction?” Standish asked.
Vin and the others knew Ezra Standish hid behind five dollar words. He used them from their first meeting, hoping to distance himself from the men he worked with. Little by little the six men wormed their way into his life. They were his family and although he tried to hide it he cared what happened to them.
“Looks like he came this way. Those tracks match the ones belonging to the one Chris borrowed from Yosemite,” Tanner told them. He remounted Peso and headed the horse in a northerly direction once more, four men followed anxious to find their missing member.
Maguire pulled the wagon up to the entrance to the cave. He looked into the back of the wagon, smiling at the things he’d placed there. The family he killed provided well. He now had food enough to last him through his trip back east. He wanted to be with his son, to teach him the strengths of a man and how important it was to complete one’s path in life.
He reached into the back of the wagon and picked up a crystal lantern. He lifted the glass dome and touched a match to its wick. He walked towards the entrance to the mine, a slight upwards slant of his mouth did nothing to take away from the evil glint in the hard eyes.
“Are you awake, Chris?” he asked as he entered the cavern. The only answer to reach his ears was the painful wheezing breath of the man he owned. He lifted the lantern and let its faint light illuminate the man hanging from the ceiling of the cavern. Blood, dirt and sweat mingled on his ravaged torso, arms and legs. “The time is at hand, Chris. It’s time for both of us to seek out and find our destiny,” a small laugh left his throat. “Neither one of us has far to look.”
The tortured man slowly became aware of a pinpoint of white light before his eyes. Shadows formed around it and he tried to make them out. He took shallow breaths in an effort to ease the tight feeling in his chest. He’d been coughing up crud and knew he was dangerously close to pneumonia, but still he couldn’t give up. He heard one of the moving shadows speaking and tried to understand what was being said. A face swam before his own and he looked into the reality of his destiny. He knew this man would kill him, there was no doubt of that now. His hands were numb, his legs felt like rubber and his body felt on fire. There wasn’t an inch that didn’t hurt, a part of him that didn’t understand how painful his death would be. He wouldn’t give in easily, but he knew this man would do his damndest to make him scream. Biting back the pain and the fear he looked into the eyes of his personal demon.
Chris Larabee was not a man to give up and with the last ounce of strength he could muster he snarled, “I’ll see you in Hell, Maguire, and I’ll make you pay for all eternity.”
Robert Maguire was unable to keep the fear from entering his eyes. This man still held more fight in him than all his precious victims combined. He had no doubt if he were to release him, Chris Larabee would make good on his threat. He moved away from his victim before the man could read his fear and see the tremble in his legs. He placed wood in the small circle of ashes and lit it. Firelight sprang forth and forced back the demonic shadows. He waited until his trembling subsided and the slight fear dissolved. Taking a deep breath he turned back to his prisoner. “Are you strong enough to meet me in hell, Chris?”
Larabee glared through glazed eyes, the power behind his force shining through in the deep emotional stare. “Strength has n...nothing to do with it, Maguire. It’s w...what’s in my h...heart and the hearts of my f...friends that will stop y...you. I have no p...problem with d...dying, but I will not help you meet your d...destiny.”
“You may say that, Chris, but you won’t have a choice.” He reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew a silver flask.
The light glinting off the flask reminded Chris of Ezra Standish, the enigmatic gambler always had his flask handy.
Maguire grabbed a handful of blond hair, tilting the head backwards once more. He forced the gunslinger’s mouth open and force fed him the water.
The captive coughed in order to rid his body of the familiar tasting liquid. The nightshade drug raced through his body, but not to the point where he was sick. His vision blurred but soon righted itself and his eyes once more focused on his hated enemy. “Y...you’re a d...dead man!” he growled through his burning throat.
“No, Chris, you are!” with those softly spoken words, Chris Larabee knew his torment was about to get worse.
“There’s a house just ahead,” Dunne called over his shoulder. They’d been riding steadily harder, each man scenting the unseen blood trail that would lead them to Robert Maguire and eventually Chris Larabee.
They rode into the yard, their eyes flashing around the area in search of movement.. There was no activity in the house, barn, or surrounding grounds. The five men dismounted and moved to search the area. Buck and JD headed for the barn, Ezra, Nathan, and Vin moved towards the house.
Buck carefully opened the heavy doors and moved inside, JD close at his heels. They searched the stalls, finding two horses and a cow, her utters heavy with milk. JD moved to the hayloft and climbed the ladder. The musty smell of hay greeted his nostrils as his head moved past the floor. Nothing moved in the loft and JD backed carefully down the rungs.
“Anything?” Wilmington asked, moving towards another closed in area.
“Nothing,” JD answered dejectedly.
 |
 |
 |
 |