Bug Man Suspense 3-in-1 Bundle (57 page)

“No—but it sounds reassuring right about now.”

Nick caught a glimpse of movement on his left. He turned and stared hard into the darkness. He could see it now—he could make out the form of some large animal stalking them with its head slung low.

“Uh-oh,” Nick said. “It's a big thing that sounds big.”

“What
is
that thing?”

“I'm not sure, but it looks like some kind of dog—a very large one.”

The creature drew steadily closer until it was finally in full view. It was the largest dog Nick had ever seen—not tall and lean like a Great Dane, but thick and solid with paws the size of toilet plungers and shoulders that shifted like a lion's as it walked. Its fur was black or very dark brown—it was impossible to tell in the deep shadows. Its ears were plastered back along its head and its tail hung down like a whip about to lash. But the most impressive thing about the animal was its head: It was enormous, boxlike, with great drooping jowls and a sagging brow that almost covered its eyes. The dog did not look directly at them; it seemed to stare slightly to the side and toward the ground, but Nick had no doubt that the dog was watching every move they made.

“It's the witch's hellhound!” Biff whimpered.

“Well, whoever he is, he brought friends.”

To the right and behind them were two more dogs, just as large and formidable looking as the first, with dark shaggy fur and thick, sinewy limbs. But these dogs were different: One had more of a pointed snout, with slender ears that tapered at the tips; one had a shock of bright white fur down its chest and belly that made it look like an enormous stuffed animal with its seam ripped open; one had a long, bushy tail, and the other had no tail at all—just a rounded nub that jutted out from its haunches like the handle of an ax.

Biff pointed at the dog behind them. “Would you look at
that
!”

The dog's eyes were glowing pale green in the moonlight.

“I told you they were hellhounds!”

“Calm down,” Nick said. “That's just the light reflecting off a layer of cells behind its retinas. It's just like the red-eye effect you get when you have your picture taken—only his eyes glow green.”

“What do we do now?”

“Let's try something,” Nick said. “Stay beside me—do what I do.” He slowly started forward again, watching the dogs carefully; the dogs started forward when he did, gradually closing the distance between them. When Nick stopped, they stopped; when he turned and tried to retrace his footsteps the dog behind him stood its ground and made a low warning growl. When he turned and attempted to move forward again, the two lead dogs moved closer together and blocked his way. They were surrounded now, completely boxed in by three glaring dogs less than twenty feet away.

Nick nodded. “Very good. Very impressive.”

“They're going to kill us,” Biff choked.

“They don't want to kill us. If they did they could have done it before now.”

The panic in Biff 's voice was rising. “I'm getting out of here!”

“Don't be stupid—any one of these dogs could be on top of you in two strides.”

“You said they wouldn't kill us!”

“I said they don't
want
to—I didn't say you couldn't talk them into it.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We wait.”

They didn't have to wait long.

Soon they heard the sound of softly crunching footsteps in the distance. Two figures were slowly approaching, walking side by side, silhouetted against the moon; one was tall and one was short; one was a human form, and one was animal.

Biff swallowed hard. “The witch.”

“It's about time.”

Nick adjusted his glasses and watched her as she approached. She was of medium height, with straight black hair that came almost to her waist, ending in a ragged razor cut at the ends. She kept her head down as she walked, causing her hair to hang in front of her like a veil, concealing her face. It was difficult to estimate her build; she wore loose-fitting clothing that draped over her like a white shroud, with billowy sleeves that covered the tips of her fingers and a long flowing skirt that came just to the tops of her bare feet.

Beside her was a fourth dog. It was smaller and more slender than the other dogs, but still of considerable size. It was a mottled gray color, with long tufts of fur on its chest and head and along the ridge of its back. It walked with an obvious limp, and as it came closer Nick could see why: The dog had only three legs. Its right foreleg had been severed cleanly at the shoulder, and though the dog had learned to compensate impressively, the rhythm of its stride was slightly broken.

The witch and her dog stopped in front of Nick without a word. She snapped her fingers and barely lifted one hand palm down; all four dogs immediately sat, never taking their eyes from Nick and Biff. The witch tipped her head to the left and raised it slowly; when she did, her hair parted slightly and one eye peered out at them from behind the silky black curtain. She looked Nick over carefully, then slowly lowered her head again, causing the eye to retreat back into the darkness.

Nick cleared his throat. “Look, I can explain all this—”

The witch snapped her fingers and lifted one thumb—all four dogs barked simultaneously, then stopped.

Nick got the message.

Now the witch stepped directly in front of the boy. She tipped her head to the right this time and raised it; an eye slowly appeared again, like a bottle floating up in the ocean at night. She looked him over from head to foot—at his youthful face, at his high school letter jacket emblazoned with the letter
E
, at his denim-covered legs that were trembling like the tines of a tuning fork.

Nick looked at Biff too; he was panting like one of the dogs. Nick hoped that the boy wouldn't hyperventilate and suddenly pass out; he had no idea what the dogs might do if he did. The animals seemed to be trained to respond to motion—for all he knew, suddenly dropping to the ground could be the command for “dinner.”

The witch spoke to the boy in a deep voice: “Who dares to invade my privacy?”

Biff tried to speak but nothing came out.

“I asked him to bring me up here,” Nick explained.

She didn't take her eye off the boy. “Did you climb my fence, boy?”

He managed a nod.

“Did you not see my warnings? Did you dare to cross my hex on the night of a full moon? You foolish boy—whatever befalls you next is on your own head.” With that, she raised one finger and slashed an
X
across her chest, then wiggled her fingers in an ominous mystic sign. When she did, all four dogs rose up on their hind legs and began to slowly turn in circles, baying at the moon.

That was more than Biff could handle. He turned on his heels and bolted back through the woods toward the fence, crashing through the underbrush like a wounded water buffalo.

The witch snapped her fingers and made a sweeping gesture with both arms; the three black dogs took off silently after him through the woods.

Nick watched until the last of the dogs disappeared into the brush, then turned and looked at the witch. “When you said, ‘Whatever befalls you,' I'm hoping that didn't include being eaten by dogs.”

“They won't harm him—unless I tell them to.” She stepped in front of Nick again. “So who are you—the high school science teacher, come to prove to his star pupil that witches don't really exist? He'll need some convincing now.”

“I don't think Biff is anybody's ‘star pupil,'” Nick said. “Too many head tackles.” He paused. “You know, you're a hard person to get ahold of.”

“I like it that way.”

“In Endor they told me you only talk to animals.”

“That's because animals listen. They're even capable of understanding simple commands, like ‘Do not trespass.'”

“Animals can read?”

“As well as you seem to. Why are you on my land?”

“I need your help.”

“You've got a funny way of asking for it.”

“Can you suggest a better way? They told me you don't have a phone.”

“That's right.”

“What was I supposed to do, mail a postcard to ‘Witch's Lair, Endor, USA'?”

“This is not Endor—this is my land. The people of Endor have never lifted a finger to help me, and I have no desire to help them.”

“I'm not from Endor.”

“Good—at least you have something going for you.”

“Look,” Nick said, “if you'll just give me a minute to explain—” But as he said this he made the mistake of taking a step toward her. The instant he did, the three-legged dog seated peacefully beside her looked as if a surge of electric current had jolted its body awake. It widened its stance and lowered its head, barking and snarling and baring its teeth at Nick.

The witch snapped her fingers and the dog fell silent again. “Do not underestimate this dog,” she said. “She can do things with three legs that most dogs can't do with four.”

Nick took a careful step back again. “I didn't mean any harm.”

“I believe you—she isn't so sure. I think you need to go now.”

“You know, I went to a lot of trouble to come up here.”

“You mean climbing my fence and trespassing through my woods? Sorry for all your trouble.” She raised her hands over her head and clapped twice.

Nick turned and looked in the direction of the fence; a few moments later he could hear the sound of the three huge dogs bounding back toward them. “I knew we should have taken my car. Now how am I supposed to get back?”

“That isn't my problem. I didn't ask you to come.”

“Yes, you've made that clear.”

The dogs returned now, panting like the bellows of a furnace. The witch turned without a word and started back into the woods with the four dogs accompanying her.

“I'm looking for a cadaver dog,” Nick called after her.

She didn't reply.

“I wish you'd let me explain.”

She had almost disappeared into the shadows again.

“Hey! Hold on a minute!”

She turned and looked at him.

“I feel a little cheated. Aren't you going to put a curse on me too?”

“If you wish,” she said, and once again made a slashing
X
across her chest, followed by a mystical flourish of fingers. “Satisfied?”

“What does it mean? I'm not very good at interpreting curses.”

She held up one finger.

Nick nodded. “Okay—that one I understand.”

6

“Morning, Deputy,” Nick said, ducking under the yellow barrier tape.

“Hi there, Nick. Sleep all right?”

“It was a short night but an interesting one.”

“Endor's a nice little town.”

“Yeah, there's no end to the fun. I see several cars in the parking lot this morning—who's here?”

“Your people, mostly. A whole crew showed up first thing this morning.”

“Good. What about Marge and Bosco?”

“Yep—they're here too.”

“Are they having better luck?”

“Can't say. They been here since the crack of dawn, though. I sure hope they do better than yesterday.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Nick took his equipment box and headed for the graveyard. When he crossed the small rise he saw a long canvas tent set up at the foot of the four open graves, with the tent flaps pulled back and tied off at the poles. Black power cords ran along the ground like licorice whips, connected to a gas-powered generator a safe distance away. The tent was lined with folding tables covered with digging tools and forensic equipment, but no one seemed to be using them—and Nick knew why. By now he had hoped to find half a dozen forensic technicians scattered over the search area busy at work, but instead he found half a dozen forensic technicians leaning against the tables in the shade of the tent, staring stone-faced at a woman and a dog darting back and forth across an empty field.

“This is ridiculous,” Nick groaned. His instinct was to head directly for Marge and Bosco the Wonder Dog to ask if the temperature wasn't quite cool enough for them or if Bosco might need anything else—like a nose transplant. But Nick knew that would only slow things down even more, so he headed instead for the tech tent, where he found a familiar face.

“Hey, Kegan—how's it going?”

“Nick. Nice to see you again.”

“How's Charlottesville?”

“Beautiful, as always. How's NC State?”

“Raleigh, as always. So you're the forensic anthropologist—I was hoping they'd grab you since you're just down the road.”

Kegan Alexander was a petite woman, no more than five feet in height, with smooth, fair skin and eyes that were too large for her face, giving her a kind of elfish appearance. She was an endurance runner—a triathlete—and there wasn't an extra ounce of fat anywhere on her body.
Mostly bone
, Nick thought, and it seemed somehow appropriate for a woman who spent her time reassembling skeletons and uncovering their secrets. Her hair was brown and straight, cut off just above the shoulders and always pulled back behind her ears, and on the job she always wore a white painter's cap. Nick had never asked her why; he assumed it was because of all the brushing anthropologists tend to do. Kegan was a professor of anthropology at the University of Virginia, just an hour and a half to the south. Nick had worked with her at least twice before, and he wasn't surprised to see her here; she was not only good at what she did, she was from Virginia—and knowledge of the local soil is crucial to dating human remains.