Blood Goblet (Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series Book 4) Read online

  Blood Goblet

  Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series: Book 4

  J.P. Rice

  Copyright 2018 by Jason Paul Rice

  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, without prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All names are made up and used fictionally. Any resemblance to real people is completely coincidental. Any resemblance to real events is only part of the author’s imagination.

  Cover Art by Ljiljana Romanovic

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  You have a great power that you might not know about.

  Special Thank You: | Mom, Nandita, Moonchild Ljilja, Milia Glafira Patzelt, Helen, Rute, Val, Saundra, Inger Tucker, Larry Diaz Tushman, Dani Dunivent, Shannon Marocco(cool jagoff from the Burgh)

  Clipped Wings | Book 6 - Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series | J.P. Rice

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 1

  I pressed the sharp point of the blade against the inside of my wrist.

  Sitting with my back against the bathroom wall, my sink and toilet were in front of me. My left arm was stretched out on the ledge of the bathtub. My shaky right hand held the leather knife handle.

  I’d lost control of my body. I was a puppet. My life was now being controlled by an implant in my calf. And the ultimate puppet master was the most powerful demon in the Red Cavern. A devil named Montidore. Who knew making a deal with the devil could go wrong?

  A pearl of blood pooled around the silver point. My mind visualized jamming the dagger in as far as I could and raking it up to my elbow. What was happening to me?

  I really wanted to throw the knife down and stop this nonsense that had been going on for days.

  The pain in my calf subsided and I dropped the knife to the ground. As the blade clanged on the bathroom tiles, I collapsed and curled up into a ball. I’d become a monster. My worst fears had been realized.

  With my body under my own control again, I thought about taking myself out.

  The implant could cause me to take despicable actions, out of my control. I needed to talk to the Gods about this and figure out how to remove the remote-controlled device. My calf muscle tightened again.

  I picked up the dagger without thinking and laid the point of the long blade in the same exact spot as before. Trying to fight it was futile. My hand began to shake, and the razor-sharp knife threatened to cut through a vein.

  I raised the knife and prepared to stab my left wrist. As the knife swung down, my life flashed before my face. There was so much I still wanted to accomplish.

  At the last moment, my hand swerved and the handle slipped out of my hand. The knife fell harmlessly to the ground. My life had become a carnival sideshow for a bunch of devious demons.

  The tightness in my calf abated again and I wondered how much longer I could do this. It had only been occurring for the past few days, but it scared the living shit out of me. I wasn’t worried about myself anymore. I was a danger to society at large. The same society I’d sworn an oath to protect.

  When I had been faced with the choice of the implant or death, the answer had seemed easy. Now, I wasn’t so sure. I’d planned to remove the implant, but that was before the devil named Montidore had demonstrated the self-destruct option. Once the implant was removed, it would explode and kill anyone within about a ten feet radius.

  I was in a box on this one. I still couldn’t understand how the demons were doing all this with just a tiny chip in my calf.

  My phone rang. Back in control of my body, I got up and grabbed it off the window sill. Unknown Number. I swiped accept.

  Chapter 2

  I knocked on my bedroom door. “Hey Dante.”

  “What?” he responded in a sour tone.

  I announced, “I’m coming in, okay?”

  “It’s your house.” He was becoming a sharp-tongued smart-ass, just like his guardian.

  I opened the door and said, “Get ready to go. We’re going to see someone up in Tionesta.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, sitting on my bed with the laptop next to him. I’d rescued Dante from the Red Cavern of demons. They were going to kill him until I offered to raise him myself. For some reason, the demons went for it.

  Dante looked like a typical goblin. He had an oversized, bald head, gray skin and twiggy arms and legs. Prominent black eyebrows sat above his icy blue eyes and big, pink nose.

  “It’s a place about two hours away, I think. So let’s go. You can bring the car charger so you can play on that laptop too.” Dante was still a little shy, which I totally understood. Most people’s eyes bulged when they saw him, so I carefully chose where to take him in public. Pittsburgh was more accepting of the supernatural world, but there were still a lot of skeptics.

  I left him alone and went downstairs. I grabbed Colossus’ collar and leash as I thought about the phone call. The tan cocker spaniel with white fur covering his forehead had finally recovered from his nasty cigar burns. Rescuing this little guy from a gruesome fate was one of my better achievements.

  The call had come from the friend of a Shawnee man who didn’t use a phone. Apparently, the man knew about a Native American God or high spirit that had been kidnapped. It sounded right up my alley and I asked for directions immediately. I needed something to keep my mind from thinking about Burn.

  I got the dog and the kid into the Maxima and headed toward Tionesta.

  Tionesta was Native American for ‘home of the wolves.’ It was located in rural Forest County and the population was right around four hundred. The region contained some hallowed hunting grounds and was a haven for outdoor fanatics.

  The land had a strong Native American influence. Even a few Viking remnants had been found there, although they hadn’t been tested professionally for veracity. It made sense that supernatural beings would be dwelling there. The guy on the phone hadn’t given me any details about the case, so it could be anything.

  We turned into a gravel driveway that had to be a mile long. It wound through a big field with a forest surrounding the green grass. A few minutes later, the house started to appear.

  As we pulled up, the house came into focus. It was a small, rectangular two-story house that had been painted a dull red or the once vibrant exterior had been dulled by the elements over the years.

  A clothesline was hung in the front yard with drying red dresses and men’s pants swinging in the breeze. A blazing firepit sat off to the side of the house, with an animal I couldn’t recognize roasting on a spit, just above the flames. Behi
nd the house, there was a barren winter cornfield.

  I parked about twenty feet from the house. “Let’s go,” I said to Dante as I slammed his laptop shut.

  “Hey. I was in the middle of a game.”

  “Too bad. Time to go,” I told him, and he reluctantly unhooked his seatbelt and opened the door.

  I hooked the leash to Colossus’ collar and jumped out of the car. A big man approached us, and my pulse heightened. I was nervous about how he would treat Dante. He looked at the three of us without batting an eyelash and nodded his head with a stiff smile. Relief rushed through me because most people’s eyes nearly popped out of their heads when they saw Dante for the first time. Instead, his smile widened.

  Black Hoof stood a little shorter than me. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, exposed a lean, strong face with a defined jaw. I guessed he was about forty. His strong chin, dark eyes and a heavy five-o’clock shadow created a grim appearance that clashed with his warm, welcoming smile. He wore a tight necklace made out of blue and red beads that merged into the neckline of his tan leather vest and black undershirt. Matching leather pants covered his legs and were tucked into a pair of old hiking boots.

  The man bowed slightly and shook my hand. He had a nice firm grip. “Welcome, friends. My name is Catahecassa. It is Shawnee for Black Hoof. I took the name in honor of a great warrior. I also go by Clyde. Some people find that easier.”

  I introduced myself, “I’m Mike. Is it all right if I call you Black Hoof?”

  “I would like that very much.” He walked up to Dante and kneeled down on one knee. He extended an open hand. “And what is your name, young man?”

  Dante eyeballed him suspiciously. “I’m Dante.”

  “You look like a warrior. Would you like a Shawnee warrior name?” Black Hoof’s face looked like he was always in deep thought or constantly contemplating something.

  Dante smirked and nodded. Black Hoof said, “Tecumseh. That will be your warrior name.” He leaned down and rubbed his thumb against the soggy earth. Using a steady thumb, he wiped a wide streak of mud under each of Dante’s eyes. “Tecumseh will be your name. It means panther crossing across. You’re a little panther who will one day grow strong and wise.”

  Dante smiled. He hardly ever smiled. As a new parent, I was taking notes from the master. Colossus nestled up against Black Hoof’s leg. The man scratched right behind my dog’s ears as if he knew it was the canine’s favorite spot.

  “His name is Colossus. So what did you want to see me about?” I figured it was time to get down to business.

  He rose up from his knee. He walked up to the fire and grabbed a torch that was resting against the gray stones of the pit. He lit the torch and looked at me. “We should walk and talk.” He gestured toward the woods off to the left of his house.

  We followed Black Hoof into the woods, which got dimmer by the step. Walking along a narrow dirt path in a single file line, I kept peeking back for Dante. Instead of worrying constantly, I slowed down and let him in front of me so I could keep an eye on the kid.

  Black Hoof didn’t look back, but spoke loud enough for me to hear. “Do you know anything about the Shawnee?”

  I felt embarrassed that I hadn’t done a little studying before jumping in the car. “Not much at all. Sorry.”

  He kept walking as he talked, “Don’t be. The reason most people don’t know about them is because they were never highly populated. The latest census showed that there are only fourteen thousand in America right now. There’s only four groups and three of them are located in Oklahoma. So even though they originated here, they are better known in the southwest.”

  “Why Oklahoma?” I wanted to know.

  Black Hoof slowed down a bit and raised his voice, “The Shawnee originally dwelled in Western Pennsylvania until around the 1660s. They were chased out by the Iroquois. The Shawnee returned in the 1730s only to be pushed westward by the Europeans. They went from Missouri to Kansas before the majority of the Shawnee settled in Oklahoma.”

  “Okay.” It all made perfect sense now.

  Black Hoof continued, “The Shawnee are the only tribe that believed we were created by a woman. Kokumthena. It means Our Grandmother. She’s also known as Great Spirit. We believe that she created the world. So naturally, she’s the only one who can end it.”

  I ducked under a low hanging branch and continued on the dirt path as we plunged deeper into the misty woods.

  Our guide went on with the story, “Bear with me for just a few moments longer. Cyclone Woman is a spirit, but that spirit is housed within an ageless human body. She once had a sister named Four Winds. When Four Winds died about fifty years ago, Cyclone Woman inherited all of her powers. The combination makes her the ultimate weather spirit who also controls the winds. Her long braids can cause tornadoes and she controls the thunderbirds.”

  I wondered where my good man was going with all this. Being in the back, I didn’t have to constantly look down at the path so I just continued to listen to Black Hoof.

  “Cyclone Woman is missing.”

  Oh shit. Now we were getting somewhere.

  “If she dies and somebody can tap into her spirit, he or she will inherit the control of the weather of Northeast America. And that isn’t the worst part.”

  “Well what is worse than that?” I had to know.

  Black Hoof stopped and turned around. “Kokumthena loves Cyclone Woman like a daughter. This disappearance could draw Kokumthena out into the open. And as I said, if she dies, the entire world might go with her.”

  A chilling thought to say the least. We approached a natural oval opening at the base of a hill. It was shaped like an eyeball and Black Hoof gestured for us to follow him in. He trailblazed ahead of us with the burning torch. As soon as we entered, I heard a steady stream of water.

  We walked through an underground labyrinth, following the flickering firelight ahead. We passed several offshoots stemming from the main path. Or I assumed this was the main path. As we ventured further into the earth, I hoped Black Hoof knew exactly where he was going.

  Black Hoof turned right and we both had to duck to follow the new tunnel. Hunched over, I walked awkwardly for another forty feet and our leader stopped. He moved to the side and pointed at a circular opening with a rectangular stone slab next to it.

  Black Hoof said, “This is where Cyclone Woman lives. She hasn’t been around for four days now. At first, I thought she might be visiting her sister, Whirlwind. However, she would have told me about it considering I see her every day.”

  “Why do you see her every day?” I started to wonder if my new friend had supernatural abilities.

  “I feed her. I was approached in a dream by the Great Grandmother many years ago. Her spirit awakened me from the dream and led me to this spot right here.” He pointed to the opening. “The Great Grandmother told me that this was the home of Cyclone Woman. She told me these were dangerous times and that Cyclone Woman needed to remain hidden.”

  Okay, so he was more of a shepherd.

  He traced his hand over the stone covering. “The Great Grandmother gave me the important job of feeding Cyclone Woman. Three times a day I come here and leave her food. Sometimes she talks to me and sometimes she does not. But I can always tell that she is there.”

  Black Hoof shoved the torch in first and then poked his head through the opening. He came back out, and said, “You won’t be able to fit in there, but you can look. I don’t see anything that would tell me who has done this, but maybe your eyes can.”

  He handed me the torch and I squeezed by Dante and Black Hoof, my back scraping against the dirty wall. I put my hand into the hole and followed with my upper body. My shoulders were too wide to squeeze in, but I could put my head in and look at the room. Illuminated by the dancing fire in my right hand, the small room screamed of stark simplicity.

  The single room was about ten feet wide and ten feet deep. It rivaled a prison cell for spaciousness. There were carvings on the wal
ls whose significance I didn’t understand.

  A stuffed hemp mattress with feathers spilling out the side had been smashed into the corner of the room and several red candles were lying on their sides. A trail of wax indicated that the candles had been knocked over while they were lit. The scene clearly screamed of a struggle. I noticed some little figures that appeared to be talismans in the far corner of the room. Other than that, I didn’t find any solid clues to form a suspect list.

  I pulled my head out of the hot cave. “Do you have any idea of who might want to cause harm to her?”

  Black Hoof responded, “No one that I know of. As I said, this might be part of a greater plot to get to the Great Grandmother. However, just having control of Cyclone Woman can put a person in control of the weather and winds. It doesn’t sound like much, but the destruction could be apocalyptic.”

  I agreed, “Natural disasters have often been featured in many doomsday scenarios. One of my friends says, ‘if you control the weather, you can control the world.’ I hate to say it, but this plot seems to be converging with the end of days theme.”

  “I am just a simple man who lives off the land. I came to you because my friend told me that you might be able to get to the bottom of this,” Black Hoof explained.

  I asked, “Have you talked to anyone else about this?”

  “I have not. You and my friend Terry that you talked to are the only ones. I haven’t any idea of who to talk to other than you.”

  I told him, “I do have some connections that might prove beneficial. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best to get to the bottom of this. You haven’t seen any suspicious characters around here, have you?”

  “I have not. I try to be very careful when I take meals to her and you saw how difficult the underground pathway was.”

  He had a great point. I didn’t remember how to get out of there. “Are there any other clues you’ve noticed? Even maybe tire tracks in the mud or anything like that. I just need a crumb to go on.”

  He shook his head, tightlipped. “That is the problem. I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary except for the slab covering the tunnel being shoved to the side and the inside of Cyclone Woman’s cave.”