Free Occult Assassin 4: Soul Jacker by William Massa Page A

other RAID officers, but her efforts were rewarded with the same disappointing results.
    “What’s happening here?” she asked.
    It was the old man who answered. He replied in a guarded, sober voice. “An ancient evil has returned.”
    The words hung in the air for a beat before he continued. “Ask your friend. He knows.”  
    Samia turned toward the stranger, more confused than ever. “What is he talking about?” Panic crept into her voice, her composure wavering. The seams were showing, and she hated herself for it.
    The old man responded by pointing his gnarled finger at the stranger. Draped around her mysterious savior’s neck was an amulet of some kind. A five-pointed star set inside an iron ring.
    “He wears the sign of Solomon.”
    For a moment the stranger regarded her in silence, dark eyes boring into her. Then his features relaxed, revealing a capacity for warmth—the face of a killer becoming that of a man. As he spoke his first words of accented French, she quickly concluded that he was an American.  
    “I’m here to stop the men who attacked your fellow officers.”  
    “Alright, time out. Nothing is making sense here anymore.” Her voice shook with growing panic, but Samia figured she was allowed to freak out after witnessing some psycho cleave her partner’s head in two.  
    The stranger reached out, and her first instinct was to pull away. But her body wouldn’t obey her commands. His hand closed around her shoulder, and she sensed the strength in those fingers even though he was being gentle with her. On some level, she welcomed the human contact. Needed it after what she’d witnessed.
    “My name isn’t important, Detective, but you can call me Mark. We’re on the same team. If we want to get out of this alive, we’ll need to work together.”
    To her surprise, she did trust him. How could she not? He had risked his life to save hers. His precise motives were of little consequence, at least for the time being.  
    Mark turned toward the old man. “Tell us what you know. What’s happening here?”
    The old man leaned against the wall, his lips quivering. Below the surface calm, there was fear. “After Rakan returned from Syria, everything started to change,” he said.  
    Rakan is part of this madness.  
    Some small part of Samia had hoped she was wrong about her former lover’s involvement, but the old man’s words erased any lingering doubts.  
    “I feared the worst when he arrived, but even I couldn’t imagine the monstrous evil he’d unleash upon our home.”
    Mark held up one of Rakan’s drug vials. “He brought the drug to this neighborhood.” It wasn’t a question.
    The old man nodded. “It turns men into martyrs for an unholy cause. Rakan can control them like puppets. First he took the young men, then the women. The elderly began to vanish, one by one. I’m one of the few who remain.”
    He bowed his head and stifled a sob. “I watched helplessly as old friends were dragged from their homes. I did nothing to help.”  
    He cast down his gaze with shame. “All this time I’ve hid, praying the nightmare would pass me by. Knowing in my heart it wasn’t going to.”  
    “You risked your life to save us,” Mark said. “There was nothing you could’ve done for your friends.”
    Samia tried to understand, but the pieces wouldn’t quite come together. What sort of drug turned its users into blind followers? Granted, people changed while under the influence. As a cop, she’d seen her share of meth users lose their minds and commit horrific acts, but this drug was different. The building’s residents hadn’t attacked like a disorganized mob of crazed maniacs. There was planning and thought to the violence, a level of organization and strategy to their attack.  
    “Why does Rakan need the elderly?” Mark asked.
    “I don’t know.” The old man’s body shook with a mixture of rage and fear, the horror clearly fresh in his mind.  
    She eyed Mark. “Does