Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4) by Rachel Rawlings Read Free Book Online

staring at the table I knew I needed more. I wasn't get ting more help so I had to do my best with what I had. I picked up a necklace first. It was old. Older than the girl who wore it when she died. A tarnished Gothic cross hung from a simple silver chain. A small diamond chip adorned the center of the cross. I took a deep breath, pulled on the energy that made me a psychometric and got nothing.
    What I felt was Masarelli’s eyes boring into my back. I grimaced as wave after wave of anticipation hit me. I closed my hand around the cross, the points digging into my palm, and concentrated on the girl. The precog would know I handled it now but I needed a stronger connection. There was no memory link to the dead. Sometimes the residual imprints were clear and other times, like now, muddled. I blocked out Masarelli’s emotions - and the undercurrent of power from Cash's wolf - and focused like a laser beam on the first memory rippling to the swampy surface of the dead girl's imprint.
    The images didn't make sense. The town, the people, everything was different. The roads unpaved, the houses further apart. Women passed in long skirts, their shawls wrapped tightly to keep the offending cold at bay. Men with buttoned down coats followed men dressed for work in the field with a sense of purpose I knew had nothing to do with crops.
    Either this girl was obsessed with nineteenth century New England or this memory was old. I was betting the latter. I let the past consume me again and silently caught up to the men through the eyes of the original owner of the necklace.
    My hand instinctively covered my mouth to stifle a gasp. Shovels upturned the fresh grave. The farmers pil ed dirt on both sides as they dug deeper into the earth under the watchful eyes of two other men. Finally a box was lifted from the ground and set at the foot of the grave. At the insistence of the two well dressed men, the farmers pried off the lid.
    I almost cried out for them to stop but feared the repe rcussions of being discovered. What form of wickedness had taken hold of these men that they would defile the resting place of the newly dead? I had known them since I was but a child. I would no more think them capable of this than the pastor. Who were those two devils dressed in their finery, come to lead our townsfolk astray?
    Leaves crunched underfoot as someone approached. I stilled my breath and crouched behind the tree, praying whoever it was didn't see me. More devils or misguided neighbors? The sound of my beating heart roared in my ears and I hoped it did not give me away.
    I pressed my hands into the cold ground to keep from falling over as I saw who broke through the tree line. The man I had planned to go to for help! Pastor Wilkes shook hands with the well dressed devils before enthusiastically thanking them for coming. A man of God was responsible for bringing this wickedness to our doors? I wanted to scream to the heavens but instead sent a silent plea to God that the innocent be spared and these men find their way back from this devilry onto the path of righteousness.
    The horrors continued to unfold as the men pulled ha mmers and short stakes from a worn leather bag, like one was accustomed to seeing a doctor carry. The farmers stepped away from the casket holding the corpse of young Henry Wilkes, upon seeing the instruments held by the two strangers.
    One man held a stake over Henry's chest as the other drove the hammer down. The stake was pulled free, stained with what remained of the heart. The hammer came down again, this time slamming into the ribs, breaking bone. I forced my eyes shut at the sound of a saw working through bone and prayed again for an angel to save us.
    "Not an angel , my dear, but I will spare your innocent eyes from witnessing any more of this." The stranger gestured to the grisly scene.
    Had I said my prayer aloud? Could this be the delive rance I asked for? I didn't know this man but what choice did I have. I couldn't