Page 112 of Eldritch

Calm down. Just calm down.

She forced herself to slow her breathing. That’s when she noted Taggert looked overwhelmed by this development. Maybe his bravado wasn’t as fine-tuned as he’d like. Maybe the other women appearing hadn’t factored into his plan. She glanced at the covered windows and thought she saw light coming through despite the cloud cover caused by the blizzard.

“Oh my God,” Maria whispered as she sat next to Clarice. Maria crossed herself.

The older woman put her arm around Maria.

Letisha took up the other side of the couch, dropping like a stone onto the surface. She linked gazes with Sybil, and Sybil’s heart sank at the fear reflected in her friend’s deep brown eyes. It hit Sybil over the head. She’d never seen Letisha scared in any situation. Not once. Sybil’s sense of self tipped toward the direction she always went when the proverbial chips were down. The only survival mechanisms that ever worked for her were fawning or fighting. Fighting right now would mean death for her or the others. Fawning...she could do that all damn day and do it superbly well. Taggert would respond to fawning with satisfaction. With happiness. He always had before. But that was also his weakness.

Taggert chuckled, still keeping his weapon out and aimed. “If that don’t beat all. Look at you people.” He swung his gaze to Letisha. “Wait. I’m not allowed to say that, right? I mean, you people. That seems to get a lot of people’s backs up. Fucking political correctness.”

Letisha’s expression changed. Maybe a micro. The strength returned to her gaze. “I dunno, Taggert. I’m all for telling it like it is. I could call you a redneck or a racist asshole. Are you saying you aren’t? Because, as I recall, you hid some of those thoughts from the rest of us until Sybil left you. Then it all came out, didn’t it? If you’re proud of it, own it. I mean, if we aren’t being politically correct.”

Taggert’s appeared a little disarmed. Weak. His mouth flopped open.

Sybil rejoiced even as a fresh wave of trepidation took root inside her.

Taggert’s face transformed into contempt. “Maybe I should just give you the punishment you deserve, you bitch. Get up.” He gestured at Letisha. “Come on, get up.”

“No,” Doug said. “Don’t.”

Taggert grimaced, baring his teeth as he aimed his weapon at the women on the couch.

Sybil’s heart sank. She put up one hand. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret Taggert.” She edged between the other women and Taggert. “You came here for me, right? To punish me. I’m the one you want.”

Taggert stepped forward and said as his gun came up, “You’re right.”

She didn’t have time to flinch before a staggering pain sent bright lights exploding in her vision and the world went dark.

* * *

A dull pain throbbed in Sybil’s temples.

Am I dead? Did Taggert shoot me?

Sensation swamped her. A softness beneath her head. Her entire body. A warm hand touched first her forehead, then her left arm. The hand gently squeezed her arm as if trying to reassure her.

“Sybil?” Doug’s voice asked near her ear. “Wake up.”

Maybe she wasn’t dead. But damn, her head ached. She didn’t open her eyes, not ready to attempt it. Yet she could hear someone talking some more. At first none of it made sense. As if someone had created a new language. Then…

Sobbing. Shuffling noises.

Taggert’s voice growled words. “Now you see I mean business, don’t you?”

Sybil opened her eyes.

Doug’s face appeared above hers, and she realized he knelt at her left side as she lay on the couch. His eyes reflected worry, but he smiled, too. He couldn’t hide the profound relief. “Hey. Just take it easy. Rest.”

Taggert stood near the doorway, his gun still held up, an imminent threat to them all.

The throbbing in Sybil’s head dropped drastically, and she found her voice. “Did Taggert shoot me?”

Doug said, “No. He hit you with the gun.”

She wondered what had stopped Taggert from finishing her. “I need to sit up. I feel better already.”

Doug helped her, and she shifted to sitting up against the pillow.

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