The Devil's Destiny---7
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.
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"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.
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"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's 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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
TBC