Notorious Nineteen(67)

I turned to go into the bedroom and Orin was in front of me.

“Your lucky day,” he said.

He resembled the man in the photo but there were significant changes. He’d lost weight and his face and hands were badly scarred. The dimple was still there, partially obscured by the scarring. One ear was almost completely obliterated. His eyes were very pale blue, almost colorless, and his pupils were shrunk to tiny pinpoints that hinted at total insanity. I sucked in air and the coffee sloshed out of my cup and onto the floor.

“Hideous, right?” he asked. “Do I scare you?”

I was unable to speak. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was suffocating, unable to breathe. He was hideous, not because of the scars but because of the eyes. The eyes were terrifying.

He was wearing army fatigues. His semi-automatic was holstered, as was a large knife. His chest was crisscrossed with ammo belts. Two grenades and packets of what I feared were explosives were strapped to the ammo belts with black electrician’s tape. He was holding a black baton that at first glance looked like a flashlight, but there were two prongs where the light should have been. Heavy-duty stun gun, I thought. Not good news.

He swung the baton and knocked the coffee out of my hand, sending it flying toward a wall. I yelped, and he came at me with the baton. He hit me hard in the thigh, pressed the prongs against my side, and I crumpled to the floor.

When I came around I had my hands bound behind me with electrician’s tape, and I’d been propped up against the under-sink cabinet in the kitchen. Orin was sitting on a dining room chair about three feet away, looking at me. He had a lighter in his hand. It was the kind you use to light a fireplace or a grill, and he was flicking it on and off.

“Do you like fire?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” I said, working to keep my voice from trembling, not wanting to show fear. I thought about the watch on my wrist. I’d been too flustered to remember to press the button when Orin initially surprised me, and now it was under layers of tape and not accessible.

“It drives the devil out,” Orin said. “That’s why they used to burn witches. It returns everything to a pure state. It’s the only way the soul can be released from the body in its most beautiful form.”

“Does cremation count?” I asked him.

“Not if it’s done after death. We must all suffer to achieve grace. It’s important you understand this because you’re going to suffer terribly. You’re going to beg me to stop the suffering, but it will all be worth it to you. You’ll die cleansed.”

“Why me?”

“You’ve been chosen. Ranger chose you. So now I have to cleanse both of you.”

“So this is about Ranger.”

“He did a very bad thing. And he encouraged Kinsey to follow him. They abandoned the unit. When they left we were broken up and scattered to the winds.”

“They left when their tour of duty was done.”

“We were a brotherhood. It was a holy pact. While we were together we had divine protection. Once the bond was broken we were unprotected. These scars I wear are the result of that broken bond. I was attacked by the devil. It would never have happened if Ranger and Kinsey had kept us together. They did the unthinkable and now we’re all at risk. The devil stalks us and I’m the only one who can set it right.”

“Ranger thought you were dead.”

“Everyone thinks I’m dead,” Orin said. “I’m like a zombie.”

His voice was flat and soft. No emotion. No emotion in his face. I wondered if he’d always been like that or if the craziness had reached critical mass and taken away all else.

“When the lesson happened I was in a truck in Afghanistan.”

“Lesson?”

“The divine intervention that showed me the penalty for Ranger’s sin. The day the devil was allowed to visit me.”

I could feel goose bumps break out on my arm and a chill slide the length of my spine. As a bounty hunter I’ve come into contact with a good number of unhinged souls, but there was an otherworldliness to Orin that I hadn’t seen before. A total detachment from reality that could only be described as cruel serenity.

“We were under fire and the truck took a hit,” Orin said. “The impact was so violent the truck was tossed into the air and came to land in a field. There were five of us in the truck and everyone but me was blown to bits. Nothing left but bloody body parts. As it was I lost my foot.” He raised his camo pants to show a prosthetic. “That’s how I was identified as dead. Nothing left of me but my foot.”

“But you didn’t die.”