Demonic Dreams Read online

  Demonic Dreams

  Hadena James

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are purely fictitious. Any resemblances to any persons, living or dead are completely coincidental.

  Copyright © Hadena James 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Demonic Dreams (Dreams and Reality, #13)

  Raphael

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Malachi

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Raphael

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Patterson

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Patterson

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hadena James

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  Also By Hadena James

  Also By Hadena James

  Dreams & Reality Novels

  Tortured Dreams

  Elysium Dreams

  Mercurial Dreams

  Explosive Dreams

  Cannibal Dreams

  Butchered Dreams

  Summoned Dreams

  Battered Dreams

  Belladonna Dreams

  Mutilated Dreams

  Fortified Dreams

  Flawless Dreams

  Demonic Dreams

  The Brenna Strachan Series

  Dark Cotillion

  Dark Illumination

  Dark Resurrections

  Dark Legacies

  The Dysfunctional Chronicles

  The Dysfunctional Affair

  The Dysfunctional Valentine

  The Dysfunctional Honeymoon

  The Dysfunctional Proposal

  The Dysfunctional Holiday

  The Dysfunctional Wedding

  Short Story Collection

  Tales to Read Before the End of the World

  Terrorific Tales

  Raphael

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Malachi

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Raphael

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Patterson

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Patterson

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hadena James

  Raphael

  RAPHAEL STARED DOWN at Aislinn Cain's motionless body. Only by watching was he certain she was still alive. She didn't snore. She didn't take deep breaths. Her chest barely moved as she lay unconscious. This was a woman that could pass for dead at the worst of times. He wondered if she had practiced it or if it had come naturally.

  He'd never been hesitant with a victim since the first time Gabriel had slipped through his fingers, but now he was hesitant. If she woke up in the middle of this, he would be mostly defenseless. If she didn't, she still might make a point of living to make him regret it. He could only think of a handful of people that inspired fear in him, but Aislinn Cain was one of them; because even she let him live, it wouldn't be an existence worth living. His boss was making sure of that by pinning the assaults of his family on him. Gabriel might kill him for that, but Aislinn Cain would do more than that. She'd torture him first.

  Plus, she was guarded from on high by two killers that you just didn't cross paths with if you wanted to live. Patterson Clachan might be older than dirt, but he was a better killer than his boss would ever be. It was why his boss feared Patterson, well that and the fact that man couldn't find the older gentleman. It was as if the old guy only existed in this universe when it suited him, and his boss wasn't just the only killer not up to snuff, Patterson Clachan was more dangerous than any other killer alive today. Raphael would bet money on it, except maybe from a distance. That title went to the man known as Apex, Myrna Clachan's deceased brother. Deceased in the sense that he was very much alive in the real world but dead on paper, the result of a CIA operation gone wrong where no one was supposed to walk out alive, and yet, Apex had.

  Then, of course, it was also possible that Malachi Blake in a fit of desperation would free Eric Clachan. Raphael didn't want to face him either. He knew better than to go after Eric, Patterson, or Apex, that was just smart future planning. Eric had friends almost as dangerous as his family and they weren't all locked away in The Fortress. The Fortress was Eric's retirement plan for killers that could no longer be trusted in the real world. Men like Turkish Jack who were still loyal to Eric but had gone off script one too many times for Eric's taste and killed a police officer or two because he couldn't think of an exit strategy that involved not killing police officers.

  Aislinn Cain came from a more dangerous pedigree than even she knew. Myrna Clachan herself was no slouch. He'd been read in on her file, just in case she found out about Aislinn and came looking. Myrna wasn't a serial killer, but she wasn't afraid to use death as a means to get information. At one time, she'd been like her brother, a valuable asset to the CIA. That was what happened to orphans who murdered their parents; the CIA recruited them for jobs no one else was capable of doing. They just hadn't planned on Myrna meeting Donnelly Clachan through a mutual friend and settling down to have a family. The fact that two of their three children had turned out to be psychopaths had surprised no one. The fact that only one had turned mass murderer and then only because he felt it was a good cause, now that was a little shocking.

  That kind of stuff made Raphael's boss nervous. Unfortunately, Myrna and Eric Clachan were both untouchable at the moment. He couldn't spring Eric only to kill him and he couldn't suddenly appear wherever Myrna was hiding out, like Patterson she seemed to have disappeared. That left little old Aislinn, and she knew more than she realized so she had to go. Killing Gabriel was a bonus. He'd agreed to do the job because it had the caveat that he could kill his oh-so-holier-than-thou brother.

  Raphael preferred to sign his kills with his teeth, but he'd been told he couldn't this time. So, he was improvising. He was still going to sign it, even if it wasn't through the rending and tearing of flesh between his teeth.

  A lesser man would have killed her before he got to their destination, to his damn brother. But he was willing to risk it, so Gabriel could watch her die and know there was nothing he could do about it. The only real concern was Aislinn waking up during the marking. The quarters were close, very close and she was like Patterson, she preferred to kill up close. Eric and Apex were more into long distance killings, but Patterson and Aislinn liked to be up close and personal for the deed. He was smart enough though to keep himself safe. He'd removed all of her weapons, including the knives she liked to keep hidden about her person. It had been easy enough, he'd just removed all of her clothing and replaced it with hospital style scrubs. Ther
e wasn't a weapon left on her now. She'd have to try and find one if she woke up. He wasn't worried about her taking one of his though. She was half his size in weight, only if she had all her weapons on her, and at least two feet shorter than him. He had the range and leverage he needed on her to keep her from making any serious attempts at one of his weapons.

  He jerked her pant leg up exposing a badly scarred leg. Bubbled red flesh that still looked wounded and raw was trying to share space with shiny skin that didn't seem to have hair follicles any more. He could only guess at the cause of these scars. The red raw skin looked like the newest scar. Maybe a burn that had happened over another scar. He didn't know, he'd consider asking her if she woke up soon. It would give them something to talk about. He pulled out one of her own knives. It was a bowie hunting knife. Roughly fourteen inches long, it had been strapped over this scar under her pant leg, a desperation weapon Raphael guessed because there was really no way to get to it easily. It had decent weight to it.

  He'd already put plastic down because there was a good chance this was going to be messy. The pilot of his plane knew better than to ask questions or open the door if Raphael had a playmate in the back. He was paid well and trained well. Aislinn could scream her lungs out and the pilot would just continue to fly them to their final destination.

  Raphael slid the blade across his hand. For a moment nothing happened. He touched it and blood welled up along the line of the cut skin. Razor sharp just as he had expected. Some part of him had known she'd be a strap and stone type of girl. This was the sort of weapon that could do real damage and it might take a few moments for the victim to even realize it had happened. The sharper the blade, the less it hurt. It was why good knives had to be sharpened just so, a whet stone and a leather strap were the preferred methods for most knife users. An electric sharpener could damage the blade microscopically making it impossible to sharpen correctly.

  He looked at Aislinn Cain's leg again. How deep did that scar go? What was under it? Was the muscle damaged? Was she suffering from muscle damage and possibly nerve damage as a result of those scars? She had a plethora to choose from but this one had caught his attention and held it. Scars upon scars was always fascinating for him. What had once happened underneath the Freddy Kreuger healing pattern? Unless she told him, he'd never know for sure, but he was positive that removing it was going to be interesting. He'd skinned plenty of deer and other animals in his life, but this wasn't going to be as easy. He couldn't slit it open and peel the skin back and away. It would have to all be cut. Thankfully she had a blade sharp enough to do it. He smiled as he laid the blade against her skin near the knee. This scar ran the entire length of her calf. So much damage had been done, it would have had to hurt, even if she was a psychopath. There was just no way to take that kind of damage and not have it hurt, no matter what your superpowers were.

  Many years ago, Raphael had learned that removing scar tissue was painful. Almost as painful as getting the scar itself. His mentor had taught him that removing scar tissue was both physically and emotionally painful. In this case, he didn't think Aislinn Cain would have much of an emotional reaction. Emotions weren't really her thing. The only emotion she couldn't control was her rage. He'd never witnessed it firsthand, but he had heard stories of it. After all she was the media's version of a Psychopathic Sweetheart for the Diseased Way of Life. Even after she had disemboweled someone on live V the media still loved to cover her, especially if she was bloody and beaten but had her bad guy.

  Hell, Raphael was doing her a favor, she could have an open casket funeral if they found her body, and the media could cover her nearly perfect leg as she lay still in her white satin trimmed box in a pretty white lace dress, like the sacrificial Bride to the god of psychopaths. With the Boogeyman dead, he'd be free to continue his collecting of essences and bits of souls. Her soul would never be his, he believed someone had probably laid claim to it long ago. But her essence, he could capture a piece of that. He moved the blade slowly from her knee to her ankle, not breaking the skin, not yet. He wasn't entirely sure how the best way to remove the scar would be. He didn't have the finesse of a cosmetic surgeon, just the experience of a hunter who was used to capturing his prey. The Boogeyman had been surprisingly easy. He'd just needed to set a trap and wait for her to lead herself into it. It hadn't been hard. Her desire to try and find Gabriel was the bait and it had worked just fine.

  He put the heaviest part of the blade, the section near the handle, against her knee and began to move it down, keeping the knife level. Stabbing at the scar wouldn't produce the desired effects. It took far more pressure than he expected to get the blade to enter her skin. It was hard and rubbery where the scarring began. The blade did its job. Once it broke the final bit of skin resistance, the blade disappeared below the scar tissue and Raphael only had to press it downwards to get it to pare back the flesh like an orange peel. It took maybe three minutes to get a large flap of Aislinn's skin away from her leg. The scarring showed on the muscle he had revealed. It wasn't something one expected to see when looking at muscle. Most people didn't realize it could scar like flesh. Yet there it was. Muscle damage and regrowth that wasn't entirely perfect in its flowing, sinewy encapsulation of the bone. Raphael cut the scrap of skin near her ankle and began to turn it over in his hands. It was beautiful and twisted. It was the essence of Aislinn Cain. That misshapen rough to the touch scar was so much like her very person. Like her soul would probably look if he could see it. Raphael heard the engines on the jet change ever so slightly. A small whine beginning in them. They were turning. It was a straight shot from Missouri to Maine, so he guessed they were about to arrive at their destination. He held his trophy for a moment longer, admiring it, before reaching for a backpack. He left a bloody hand print on it but didn't care. It would be invisible to the naked eye, that was the joy of black leather. Tomorrow it would wipe away clean. From within the confines of the backpack he pulled out a plastic baggy and shoved the flap of skin into it. He stuck the baggy with his trophy back inside the bag. He grabbed some gauze dressing and began to wrap her leg in it. This new scar would heal much cleaner and neater than the other hand, if she was to live that long. The muscle probably would have grown back better than it had been if he hadn't intended to kill her in the next couple of days. There was less blood than he expected. It seemed the wound was already trying to close itself off from the outside world it had been exposed to rather suddenly and unexpectedly. It took less gauze than he had planned, which just meant he had an extra roll should he need it for something.

  Chapter One

  GABRIEL SAT ON A BUNK in a room that was roughly the size of a prison cell. There were two other bunks in the room and a night stand. All of it was built into the wall. He had spent the last day scouting his new location. As far as he could tell, he was on a ship, except it had to be dry-docked or on land since it never moved. Or maybe he was just disoriented from the cocktail of drugs his brother had dosed him with as soon as Malachi had started up the stairs with Caleb. Who took the stairs while drunk? Not Gabriel. He had been patiently waiting for the elevator. When it opened, Raphael stood inside it. Gabriel had a lot of questions for his twin brother, like why he was in California and if he knew anything about the death of Nathan Green. Nathan had always been nice to Raphael. Maybe it was a coincidence that he was in California. Maybe he was there on business. As soon as Raphael had hit the button for the top floor, Gabriel had felt something enter his back and he knew that it was no coincidence and that Raphael had indeed murdered Nathan Green. He just wasn't sure on the why. And his brother wasn't giving him any answers. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen his brother for a day or so by his estimation. It was hard to know for sure since his watch was missing along with his cell phone and this prison didn't seem to have a clock except on the microwave and stove, and they blinked different times from each other. He could only use their blinking numbers to estimate how long he'd been in there. He had no idea what Raphael had planned.
Gabriel wasn't naive enough to think that everything between him and Raph was great. He knew something was very wrong with their relationship and had been for years, possibly decades, but his brother being a killer was a blow, even to him. In his solitude, his mind had tried to convince him of many things, including giving him false hope that Aislinn and the team might show up and rescue him like he was some damsel in distress waiting to be eaten by the dragon in the tower, or in his case, on a ship. He wondered if Raphael was going to kill him or just leave him in this ship to die. He couldn't get the hatch open, he'd tried. It seemed to only open from the outside. He had about a week's worth of food and drink. Raphael had even stocked the galley with some beer, I guess in case Gabriel decided to try getting drunk to pass the time. Most of the food was sandwich stuff and individual bags of potato chips, but food was food when you were trapped in a ship and desperate. He'd tried beating on the walls, but that hadn't been effective either. It had just left his hands sore. There was running water, a full bathroom, and even some clothes with him in this prison. They looked like hospital scrubs.

  He'd been in every room, they all were just like the one he had been hanging out in, except the galley which had some steel tables with benches bolted to the floor. One room was different, and Gabriel didn't dwell in that room or let his mind dwell on it.

  The walls were covered in blood. There were streaks and sprays as well as hand prints, some of them large enough to be Raphael's. Some smaller, like a woman's hand. Others were bigger than the female like hand, probably a man's hand print, but it was much smaller than Raphael's. It was closer in size to his own. If he thought about it, he began to wonder exactly what had happened in that room and why three people had decided to finger paint it in blood. And who was the second male? Did Raphael often have an accomplice? Gabriel couldn't remember much from the trip to this place, maybe some trees and something that made his ears hurt, a motor of some kind. The drugs had still been in his system and he wasn't sure if the memories were real or if he had dreamed them.