Night Hunter
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July 2007
Dorchester Publishing
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Epilogue

Celeste Todd jackknifed to a sitting position, her hands gripping her cramping belly, her cries echoing in the empty bedroom. The pain was unbearable, like spears stabbing her mid section over and over.

"Oh, shit, oh shit! Please make it stop."

A moment later, the cramps eased. Instinct told her the reprise was only temporary. More cramps would follow until she...did what? Celeste didn't know.

Rivulets of perspiration trickled down her brow. Her disheveled nightgown stuck to her damp skin. Moaning softly, she sat with her back against the headboard of her bed and waited for both her breathing and heartbeat to slow. The clock by her bed flashed two-twenty-seven a.m.

She tried to relax but couldn't, finally acknowledging that something was wrong with her and had been for weeks.

It all started the night she'd had that terrible dream. A dream, Celeste silently reiterated. Winged monsters with horns sticking out of their forehead and two holes where a nose should be didn't exist in real life.

She decided her one night stand must have slipped her a date rape drug when she wasn't looking and come back later. That would explain why she'd awakened the following morning on the floor of her livingroom, bruised and beaten and with the unshakeable feeling of having been violated.

Since then, she'd hardly ventured out of her condo except for periodic trips to the grocery store. She refused all visitors and didn't answer her phone. Emails were her only contact with family and friends and those were sporadic. Most of her days were spent on the couch, watching TV or sleeping.

Shortly after the date rape incident, she worked up enough courage to call her boss and request an extended leave of absence. Celeste knew she was probably kissing her contract renewal goodbye, but she couldn't bring herself to face people. Not yet. Not for a long while.

Maybe not ever again.

Mild depression was her problem, she reassured herself. Brought on by stress or overworking or the rape. She'd snap out of it in another week or two. If not, she'd call her personal assistant and have her set up an appointment with a good — and discrete — doctor.

Stumbling from her bed, Celeste went into the adjoining bathroom, still holding her tender belly. Pausing at the door, she reached inside and flipped on the light switch. The sight greeting her in the mirror gave her a momentary start, and she gasped.

Her reflection was that of a stranger. Hair tangled, eyes bloodshot and sunken, complexion sallow, body no longer fashionably thin but alarmingly skinny.

Except for the bulge in her stomach.

Celeste doubled over as another cramp ripped through her and inadvertently banged her head on the vanity. The blow, while not enough to knock her out, hurt like a son of a gun. Grabbing the edge of the sink, she started to cry. Big, racking sobs.

"What's wrong with me?" she wailed.

This cramp lasted longer than the previous one and was infinitely more intense. It occurred to Celeste through an agonizing fog of pain she might not survive many more.

When the cramp finally subsided, she fought her way back into the bedroom and to the phone on the night stand. Tamping down the unreasonable fear of the outside world that had taken hold of her recently, she lifted the receiver in shaking hands and began dialing 9-1-1.

It is time.

"Who's there?" Her glance darted wildly from one corner of the room to the other. No one answered her.

She pressed her finger to the phone's key pad.

It is time.

The chorus of voices inside her head — it must be inside her head for she was alone in her condo — were insistent.

Hurry.

Celeste dropped the phone onto the floor and pressed her fingers to her temples.

"Shut up," she shouted. "You hear me? Whoever you are, just shut up."

You must leave now.

She was losing her mind. There could be no other explanation. Weeks of solitude and depression had taken a toll on her sanity. Then another cramp hit, the worst one yet, and with it came a burst of understanding.

This time, when the voices told her to leave, Celeste obeyed, listening intently to the instructions they gave her. She stopped only long enough to don a coat over her nightgown and grab her purse with her car keys before heading out the door and into the night.

She drove through the mostly empty streets, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on her belly. While the cramps continued, they were milder and shorter in duration. After a half mile or so, she came to a small building which had once been a rundown house but was recently renovated into professional offices.

Pulling into the small private parking lot, she got out and went around to the back of her car where she opened the trunk and retrieved the tool box she carried for emergencies. She opened the lid and immediately found what she was looking for. A small spade.

Despite having never been to the professional offices, Celeste knew exactly where she was going. The voices had been very specific in their instructions. Spade in hand, she walked along the side of the building to an arched entranceway which lead to a lushly landscaped garden.

She picked her way through the abundant foliage to the very back wall. There, in the narrow space between a leafy bush and the wall, she knelt and started digging. The cramps continued but she ignored them, concentrating on her task to the exclusion of everything else.

When the hole was large enough to suit her purposes, she positioned herself over it and gave birth to three egg-like sacks containing female offspring. The whole process, while painful, took only a few minutes. Resting briefly, she buried the sacks, covering them completely with dirt. Lastly, she hid the nest by arranging rocks over it.

Retrieving her spade, she walked to her car and climbed in. She drove about a mile away to an old catholic church that was something of a local landmark. The sign out front read Iglisia de San Pedro.

Along the north side of the church was a row of tall trees. At the base of the tree closest to the wrought iron fence, Celeste dug another nest, similar in size to the first one. There, she gave birth again, this time to a single offspring.

It was considerably larger than the other three — and male.

When she finished, she looked up to see a small boy intently watching her.

"Hello, Miguel." she said. "I've been expecting you.