Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(88)

“I took some of those tea bags today,” announced Dana, “and I’m going to turn them over to the cops. Then they’ll come here and arrest you and lock you away forever.”

“I never gave you drugs. God, I would never do something like that. You’re only a kid.”

“So was Karen. So were Maisie, Todd, Jeffrey, Chuck, and the others. We were all kids and you tore us apart. Maybe you didn’t hold the knife, but it’s all your fault. And you tried to blame poor Angelo.”

“Angelo’s a monster,” snapped Corinda. “He’s always sneaking around. Always listening at doors and sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He knew every single one of the kids who died. Did you know that? No, I bet you didn’t. They all came here for classes, and I saw Angelo talking to each and every one of them, one time or another. That’s how he targeted them. He was using this store—my sacred space—to select his victims. If anyone slipped you Eclipse here, it was him. He has to be the one who did this.”

“He’s in jail.”

Suddenly, the store lights went out and the whole place was plunged into darkness. Dana and Corinda both screamed.

Then there was a sound behind them, and a figure stepped out of the darkness in the back of the store, his face lit by weak light that slanted in through the windows. He was broad and muscular, and his clothes were streaked with blood.

“Angelo…?” whispered Corinda as she stepped out from behind the counter.

Angelo took another step forward, and now the light glittered off the sharp knife he held in one bloody fist.





CHAPTER 81

Beyond Beyond

9:19 P.M.

“Corinda, run!” screamed Dana, and shoved the taller woman toward the front door.

“Don’t,” ordered Angelo.

Dana whipped a heavy glass tip jar off the counter and flung it at Angelo, catching him on the cheek. The glass exploded and he reeled away, throwing a hand up to shield his eyes. Corinda cringed back against the wall. Dana was caught in a moment of terrible indecision, and it rooted her to the spot.

Angelo was here, which meant he’d broken out of jail.

Karen was dead.

Angelo was covered in blood, and he had a knife.

Dana felt like the world’s greatest fool, but instead of crippling her with self-hate, her fury welled up and focused like a laser on the monster who had destroyed her entire life.

She knew that she could not possibly hope to beat him.

It was stupid.

That thought flashed through her mind as she charged Angelo. He was still off balance, and she slammed into him with both hands outstretched, sending him crashing into a table of crystals. He hit the table and went over it, falling hard with a dozen wickedly sharp pieces of rutilated quartz crunching down on him. The silver knife went spinning off toward the back of the store. Dana jumped over the table and tried to land on his stomach with both feet, hoping to knock the wind out of Angelo, but he twisted away. Her feet thumped onto the floor beside him and one of her heels crunched down on Angelo’s left hand. He cried out in pain and lashed out with his shin, sweeping her legs from under her, and she went down hard on her butt. Pain shot from her tailbone all the way up through her head, and she pitched sideways. Angelo climbed clumsily to his feet, bleeding from a score of cuts on his face and body.

“Stop it,” he yelled, but then he staggered as Corinda stepped out of nowhere and hit him across the lower back with a big Australian didgeridoo that was longer and heavier than a baseball bat. She swung it awkwardly but with great force, and Angelo went flying into another table and fell with copies of astrology books scattering around him.

Dana reached for something to throw, but the table closest to her was full of little knickknacks and tribal fertility statues, most of them weighing less than half a pound. Even so, she began hurling them as fast as she could as once more Angelo fought his way back to his feet.

Despite being bashed and cut, he came up quickly and began slapping the figurines out of the air with one hand.

“Will. You. Stop. It,” he said, punctuating each word with a hard slap.

“I got him,” yelled Corinda, and she swung the didgeridoo again, but this time Angelo was ready. He stepped into the swing, caught the instrument with the same hand he had been using to deflect the figurines, and tore it from Corinda’s grip. Angelo snarled and flung the thing halfway across the store, where it crashed through a mass of wind chimes.

Dana dived for one of the bigger chunks of quartz, but Angelo beat her to it and kicked it out of the way as deftly as a soccer goalie thwarting a shot.

“STOP!” he roared, with such force that it froze them all. He stood there, panting, shaking his head. “This isn’t what you think.”

“You killed them all,” said Dana. “You’re a monster.”

He stared at her with a look that was nothing like what she expected. Instead of triumph or hate or contempt, Angelo’s face crumpled into a mask of pain. Of grief. Tears glittered in the corners of his eyes.

“No,” he said. “I never killed anyone.”

“You killed Karen Allenby,” said Dana.

He looked startled. “Karen’s dead?”

“Don’t play innocent. You killed her. That’s her blood all over you. You broke out of jail and killed her.”