Chapter Twenty-Two Elton
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ELTON
Rayo Courant sat on a side bench against a stone wall.
His legs were crossed, fingers in lotus position as if he were in a temple or ashram, not a holding cell.
Nothing overtly dangerous about him. Still, even with the steel bars between them, something about the man made Elton want to run from the room.
He knew that he could lose his job over this, could potentially end up in jail himself if Rayo felt like retaliating.
For Elton to call in a favor with DC’s second-district commander to have someone arrested for disturbing the peace?
Charges that were clearly trumped-up? Career suicide.
Still, it would buy them time, get Rayo out the picture if he was somehow connected to the Afflicted, which Linda seemed so sure of.
Elton had been relieved when Maxine texted to say that Linda had woken up, that she’d be okay though she was banged up bad.
And then he experienced a jolt of surprise over his relief.
Wouldn’t his life be easier, a tad less complicated, if Linda Villanueva were no longer around?
The more pressing matter, to better understand this business about the amulets.
He’d had to read Maxine’s explanation around the amulets’ connection to the Afflicted several times before he could fully comprehend what she was talking about.
That the amulets themselves were a conduit for a creature supposedly draining memory and life from its victims. That their physical symptoms were a side effect of the “feasting,” as she called it.
None of the Afflicted were near their amulets now, even if they had been before being hospitalized.
Some wouldn’t have been in contact with the objects for days.
Didn’t seem to make a difference. Their condition wasn’t improving.
Elton had his people researching all of this business about the dorlis before they’d make any official proclamations that the amulet they’d confiscated from Rayo was dangerous.
Elton had glimpsed the thing as it lay in a safe with Rayo’s other belongings.
He had to admit he was frightened to get too close to the object, to peer at it for too long lest something suck away his soul.
He was bone-tired, about to drop. Hadn’t had a full night’s sleep…
in how long? Hadn’t slept at all for the past thirty-six hours.
Last night, two more demon eyes had died.
Elton knew immediately what had occurred from the droop in Ty’s shoulders and how his eyes never left the floor after he’d entered their office.
Charvi Tompkins and Kyle Sellers had perished, though thankfully, their deaths weren’t as gruesome or dramatic as Pastor Samuelson’s.
Their bodies had just slowly morphed into burnt-out, desiccated husks, as if they could no longer endure whatever force had been ravaging their flesh.
Several more staff had quit, in addition to those who’d resigned after Samuelson’s death.
“I’m not being paid anywhere near enough to deal with this shit,” a nurse proclaimed.
Elton didn’t ask anyone to stay. He understood.
He’d immediately notified his superiors late last night, was sure that the president overseas knew, callousness intact.
Elton once again had no idea what to tell the families, how to explain what had transpired.
He thought of Samuelson’s next of kin, how he’d notified his sister and a nephew himself, and how absolutely horrified they sounded.
They refused to come to DC to claim the remains.
And that was the thing with all of this.
There were no laws, nothing legally binding through which they could hold Rayo, even if they could prove he was behind the appearance of the creature.
The fools in Congress had been moving at a snail’s pace when coming up with legislation to handle the supernatural before they’d broken up for recess.
This was simply too much.
Elton refocused on his detainee. He’d assumed Rayo would have contacted a lawyer by now, had already given instructions to the police to delay his attorney as much as possible when they reached the station.
But Rayo hadn’t asked to make a call. He’d simply said, “I’m good,” when offered the option of court-appointed representation.
Rayo opened his eyes, apparently done with his meditations. “I know there’s no reason for you to be holding me,” he said to Elton. “That you’re probably shitting bricks for doing something like this. You could lose your job, no?”
There it was again, a defiant, condescending nonchalance.
As if being held in a cell was nothing for the man.
As if there hadn’t been mayhem just down the street from where he lived.
Several Georgetown residents had reported an obsidian blob floating through the air, some proclaiming it had red eyes.
A few put two and two together and linked its appearance to the Afflicted when speaking to police or reporters.
“Is there anything you’d like to share with us, Rayo?” Elton felt like a fool, unsure of what he was really asking.
Rayo raked Elton up and down with eyes full of contempt.
He didn’t move an inch. “I have what I want. I know what my neighbors are saying. The dorlis has manifested. I’ve already been given what I’ve been promised.
” He gestured to the concrete walls of the cell.
“A space like this means nothing to me. I won’t be held for long. ”
“I… I don’t understand,” Elton said as a shroud encircled his heart.
Rayo gave a calm, contained smile. “I’ve gotten what I was promised by my associates. I’m already free, and you don’t even know it. Pray for the citizens of this great city. The dorlis has manifest.”