A Shot in the Dark (17 page)

“We were planning on a week, so we’ve got food. Water. Our real issue is going to be Zane.” We both glanced toward the big living room. I could see the Quinns sitting quietly with Cameron, three hands clasped together. Praying, maybe?

Cam had his glass of water with him and I watched with interest as he dipped his fingers into it, tracing invisible symbols on Zane’s injured arm, paying special attention to the darkening flesh of his hand. The boy grimaced a little, as if it hurt, and the priest asked him something, to which he nodded. I lost whatever they were saying in Cole’s next comment. “At least those things can’t get close.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was only a temporary reprieve. Hopefully, we’d be long gone before Cam’s spell broke.

After a bit of discussion, it was decided that sleep was the first order of business for everyone but Cameron. We’d each take a turn at watch, and take a turn at keeping him awake too. I, of course, intended to stay up and keep watch (I can sleep when I’m dead) whether they agreed to it or not. Marty opted to go first, and stood in front of the window, watching the clearing in front of the cabin. I elbowed him lightly as I passed. “You can sleep if you want, man. I got this.” He grunted in response, but really didn’t move.

Duke’s massive form lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs, and he opened one eye when I bent down to scratch his ears. “Good boy, Duke. Very good boy.” Poor dog. I could only wonder what he thought of this whole situation.

The big mastiff enjoyed the scratching for a few moments, his doggy sigh coming in somewhere between a moan and a growl. I knew how he felt.

I settled near the dog, propping myself up against the stair rail, and we turned the lanterns down as low as we were comfortable with. Total darkness was not a happy thought.

I lost track of time. Maybe even dozed a little. But when Duke moved, I came alert. The big dog raised his head, ears pricked, and whined softly in the back of his throat.

At almost the same moment, Marty said, “Do you hear that?”

I couldn’t hear a thing at first. Duke whined again and heaved himself up to his massive feet, padding to the door. He cocked his head and raised his paw like he might want out, then dropped it. His tail was tucked firmly between his legs, and his hackles rippled up across his muscled shoulders.

Cole and Marty both got up, moving to the window again. “It sounds like . . . voices?” Once he said that, I could hear it.

“Don’t . . . don’t go outside . . .” Cameron’s voice was faint, distant. Drowned out by the plaintive call from the darkness.

Outside, someone was calling. It sounded like a man. I grabbed my sword—I wasn’t letting that out of arm’s reach again—and stood up, moving to take hold of the dog’s collar. Together, we opened the front door and stepped out on the porch, despite Cam’s continued protests. Duke seemed content to press tightly against my leg, torn between whining and growling.

“Is someone out there?” Marty and Cole joined me, both looking to me like I should have all the answers. I was getting a bit tired of that look.

The strange man’s voice called out of the night. “Order now before time runs out!”

We all exchanged looks, and the call came again. “Just jump, I’ll catch you!”

“What the hell
is
that?”

The man’s voice was joined by another, and then a third, both calling out nonsensical phrases. “The rain looks like it should hold off the evening.” “Honey, what’s for dinner?”

Soon, a woman was calling out from the distant forest, too, and I just knew it was her, the handless one. “If you don’t clean your room, you’re both grounded!”

Cole snorted a small laugh at that one, but it was mostly to drive off the growing sense of unease we were all feeling. It was gibberish, nonsense phrases taken out of context, but it made my stomach churn.

“Has anyone seen my hammer?”

“Dad, your phone is ringing.”

“Ninety-nine cent burgers after four o’clock!”

There was . . . a pull to it. Something under the voices . . .

Some of the calls came from farther away, and the words were impossible to understand, but the tone of entreaty was clear. Underneath the words was a message, wheedling at the edges of my mind.
Join us
, they said.
Help us, save us.
I felt like, if I could just get a little closer, I could make out what they were saying.
We’re cold, we’re frightened, it’s so dark . . . Help us . . .

I could help them. I could save them. I could bring them back here, where it was warm and safe . . .

Cole grabbed my shoulder, pinching a nerve cluster hard enough to make my entire arm go numb, and only then did I realize I was halfway across the clearing. Pain in my wrist made me look down, and I found my arm encased in Duke’s huge maw, the dog holding me with enough pressure to stop me, but not enough to draw blood. I had no memory of having crossed the distance. “Whoa, big brother.”

The moment I heard Cole’s voice, fog around my brain seemed to clear. “That is . . . so not cool.”

“Tell me about it.” Cole showed me his own left hand, the clear mark of the dog’s teeth visible. Duke hadn’t broken skin, but it was going to bruise bad. “Mutt bit me.”

“Thank him.” Duke, deciding that he had done his duty by me, released my wrist, and I patted him on the head. “Good boy.”

“How are they doing that? I hear them say things, but it’s like they’re tugging at me.” Cole frowned at the hidden serenade. “It sounds like . . . like a bunch of TVs left on, y’know? All on different channels.”

That was exactly what it sounded like. In fact, once he pointed it out, I recognized a few of the phrases from commercials. One of them called out, “It cleans up in the dishwasher” and I finished the sentence under my breath, “And breaks down for easy storage.” Hey, I watch a lot of late-night infomercials.

“I don’t know what it is, but I think we should get back inside.” Standing only a few feet from where Cameron’s consecration spell ended was making me twitchy. What if Cole hadn’t grabbed me in time? “Maybe keep watch in pairs.”

“Hey . . . where’s Marty?” At Cole’s puzzled question, I turned to look back at the cabin, at the now empty front porch.

The creatures called from the night, mocking. “Being a good neighbor.” “What a fashion faux pas!”

“He was right there . . . maybe he went back inside?” Nausea curled in my guts. “Marty? Hey, man, you there?”

At some unspoken signal, my brother and I bolted back toward the house, thundering up on the porch and through the door to find exactly what we dreaded. No Marty. I was back outside in a heartbeat.

“Marty!” My own voice bounced off the mountain and back to me. The insidious calls were my only answer. “Martin Shane Wallace! Answer me!”

Cole stood beside me, both of us holding our breaths, so scared we’d miss a telltale sound, a rustle in the brush, a cracking twig. Even Duke was tense and silent; his shoulders bristled as he scanned the tree line.

And then it came, the sounds of breaking limbs. “There!” Duke beat me off the porch, but only barely, and the pair of us had left Cole behind by the time we hit the edge of Cam’s magic barrier. Both of us barreled through without a thought, crashing into the forest at full speed.

11

Y
ou don’t think. You react, you move, you run. But you don’t stop to think, “Hey, I just ran into the deep dark woods full of man-eating whatsits and gorilla yeti demons.” Because that’s your friend out there. Your best friend.

I lost Duke almost immediately, the mammoth mutt outdistancing me in huge bounds, but I kept running, trying to follow the crashing ahead despite the fact that I could barely see the trees in front of me.

The branches and bushes lashed out almost like they had minds of their own, catching me across the face, and I could spare only one arm to protect my eyes. My other hand held my sword, and if running into the woods was stupid, then losing my weapon would be insane.

The cabin and its light and safety were long out of sight when I jerked to a halt, straining to hear anything that wasn’t my own heaving breath. The voices had stopped, and the freight train that was Duke had fallen silent.

The night rendered all things in shades of gray. Shapes were meaningless. That tree over there could have been one of the creatures, standing still. That reaching, grasping arm in front of me could be the limb of an old oak, knocked loose by simple age and weather, or it could have been a filthy, grimy claw, just waiting for me to walk within reach.

I relaxed my vision, let my senses search for movement instead of shape. There was nothing. Not even a night breeze coming down off the mountain. The only thing living out here was me and my heartbeat, thundering too loudly in my ears.

That wasn’t true. Duke was out here, and Marty. If I could just find them.

The screams, when they started, sent ice stabbing through my heart, and I was off again before I truly registered what they meant. That was Marty out there, screaming, and over that, the big mastiff’s bellow rang out. Duke had him, and I thanked whatever deity might be listening.

I dodged trees more by sense than sight, hurtled deadfalls without thought for what might be waiting on the other side. I know I ran a hundred yards over rough terrain before I was forced to stop again. Forced, because the screams had stopped, and silence reigned again.

Dammit, Marty, don’t do this . . .
I couldn’t go back. Even if I knew where the hell the cabin was and how to turn my ass around to get there, I couldn’t go back without him. I couldn’t leave him out here if there was any chance at all.

“Marty, answer me!” That was Cole, tracking somewhere off to my left. “Jesse!” Through the trees, I could see a white circle of light bobbing as Cole searched with his flashlight. He’d gone back for it, genius that he was.

Marty wasn’t answering us for whatever reason, but Duke . . . maybe Duke would. “Duke! Here, boy! Duke, come!”

Immediately, there was a whine to my right. Cole heard it too, because the flashlight came bobbing in my direction. Ten yards through the trees, and we found them.

Marty was sprawled on the ground, Duke planted firmly on his legs, and for a gut-churning moment, I thought they’d gotten to him. Then he moved, shoving vainly at his dog with one hand. “Gah, get off, you big dork.”

I’d never admit it to the guys, but I actually felt a bit weak in the knees for a second. Relief, I guess. “Good boy, Duke.” The mastiff grumbled and finally got up.

Cole arrived with his flashlight, playing the beam across our friend’s face. My blacksmith looked pale and sweaty under his beard. “You all right, Marty?”

“Yeah, just messed up my ankle. Tripped over a goddamn tree branch in the dark, trying to get away from this big doofus.” He roughed Duke’s short fur to show he wasn’t angry with the dog. “Thought he was a bear.” Only then did Marty glance around with a frown. “How the hell did I get out here?”

“Still working on that.” They were out there. I knew they were. Why hadn’t they pounced on Marty the second he crossed that barrier? The way they’d gone after Zane, the way they’d massed to my presence earlier, I figured fresh meat would be too much to resist. But there wasn’t a peep, not a rustle. Nothing to betray their location. “Where are you?” I muttered.

“Come on, we’ll get you to Will. He can patch you up.” Cole reached for him when the voices came again.

“Mom, have you seen my sneakers?” It was right behind me, and I whirled, sword at the ready. Nothing. Not even a twitch of movement. Cole’s light shone over the brush without revealing anything.

Duke growled softly. “Cole, grab him before he runs off. Get Marty on his feet.” There was motion behind me as they followed my orders. I kept my attention on the trees around us, waiting for whatever came next.

“Hey, take the trash out when you go!”

My head snapped around hard enough that I saw spots for a second. The voice, a woman’s, came from my left, only a few yards away. And for a heartbeat, one second of eternity, it sounded like Mira.

It wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t. After a moment to think about it, I could hear the differences, the slight change in tone and pitch that said it was some other woman, some nameless, faceless voice in the night. But there for a second . . . for a second, my world was over, and I realized belatedly that I’d shifted my weight, ready to run into the trees like a madman. Not good.

Cole’s voice was uneasy when he spoke. “We have to get out of here before they get us surrounded.”

“Pretty sure we’re already too late for that, little brother. Marty, you ready to make a run for it?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Mockingly, the random phrases echoed around us. “And it’s fourth and goal!”

“So I said she could just stuff it, if that’s how she was gonna be.”

“Daaaaadeeeeeee! I’m scared!”

Cole cursed softly under his breath. “Christ . . . that’s a child.” Even Marty winced, and I don’t think it was his ankle. It was the father in all of us, that place that responded to a frightened child even if it wasn’t ours.

“No. No, it’s not. It’s them, somehow.” Somehow, those things that weren’t supposed to have voices were having quite a nice chat out there. I couldn’t even count them all and if I listened too hard, my head started swimming again, my senses drifting. “Marty, take Duke. Cole, take Marty. Let’s get this circus on the road.” I wanted my hands free, my sword free.

“You wanna take point?”

I snorted. “Are you kidding? I have no freakin’ clue where we are. It’s all you, little brother.” I couldn’t be sure in the darkness, but I think Cole rolled his eyes at me.

Making our way back to the cabin was easier said than done, even with Cole’s uncanny directional sense to guide us. Marty was limping worse than I’d realized, and face it, the guy was short but he sure wasn’t light. It was a struggle for him to hold on to Duke and lean heavily on my brother at the same time. Cole kept his flashlight trained ahead of us, and I brought up the rear, watching for the ambush I just knew had to come.

Why haven’t they attacked yet?
The eerie, nonsensical calls came from all around us, and every one of them tugged at some place just in front of my spine, a place in my gut that churned with nausea. The worst ones were the children’s voices, and one of them kept wailing out “I’m a little teapot” over and over and over again. It might have been funny, in another time, another place, but here in the near pitch darkness, there was a wheedle to it that was simply horrifying. It was a tiny urge, a subtle entreaty to go galloping off into the wilderness, just like Marty had. I bit my lip as hard as I could without drawing blood and kept moving.