Desolation (15 page)

“I’m more upset about the actual murders.”

“Unless you want your name on that list, you little bitch, you shut the hell up.”

Milo sat on his bunk, leaned back against the wall. “I would not call her that if I were you,” he said. “You know about her, right? You know why Astaroth wants her?”

“I know enough,” said Daggett.

“So you know what I could do to you,” Amber said.

“You’d have to find me first.”

“I’ve found you, Phil. You’re right there.”

Daggett swallowed. “I’m gonna get out. They haven’t charged me with anything. I’ll get out and I’ll wait for you and you’ll never see me coming.”

“Bet I’ll smell you,” said Amber.

The door clicked, and Chief Novak came back in, carrying a fold-up chair. Daggett retreated from the bars, his bravado punctured for the moment. Amber had no doubt he’d be back to full bullshitting flow after a few minutes of sulking, so she turned all her attention to Novak.

The Chief placed the chair in front of Amber’s cell and sat and crossed his legs. He folded his hands on his thigh. His uniform pants were crisp – the crease like a thin blade. His shirt was immaculate, his badge perfectly straight. His tie hung like it was weighted.

His heavy-lidded eyes were unexceptional. They were neither dull nor bright. Forgettable eyes.

He sat there and looked at Amber and then at Milo and didn’t say anything. Milo looked back at him, in no hurry to break the silence, either. Amber felt like she was the only one whose nerves were acting up. She knew it was a ploy – the first to fill an awkward silence loses the game – but she also knew that the longer she stayed quiet, the guiltier she seemed.

“We don’t know that man,” she said, her eyes flicking to Daggett. “He drove up beside me and he had a gun. I didn’t know what to do.”

Novak nodded, and said, “Why don’t you tell me what you are?”

“I’m sorry?”

Novak kept his eyes on her, but didn’t repeat the question. The way he used silence was like a weapon that both slid past her defences and battered them down.

“I’m just me,” she said. “I’m scared and I don’t know what’s going on. Please.”

“Your bottom lip trembles,” Novak said, “like you’re about to cry. Are you a delicate flower?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you in pain? Your hands are bandaged.”

“I’m just scared,” she said. “I was attacked today and now I’m in a jail cell.”

He nodded, then looked at Milo, before turning his head to look at Daggett. “How about you, Mr Daggett? How do you fit into all of this?”

“I’m gonna sue you.”

“So you have said. Do you have a licence for that gun you were carrying, by the way? I know Mr Sebastian has a licence for his, but do you?”

“Gun’s not mine,” said Daggett. “It’s his. I was returning it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And if he says it’s not he’s lying.”

“And was it you who added the sound suppressor? Because, without a signed BATFE form, such a modification is illegal in this country.”

“It was, uh, it was like that when he gave it to me.”

“I see,” said Novak. “And why are you here, Mr Daggett?”

“You arrested me without charge.”

“Why are you in
Alaska
, Mr Daggett, not why are you in this cell? More to the point, why are you in Desolation Hill?”

“It’s a free country.”

“But it’s not
your
free country, now is it? You’re Canadian. Will I find a record of you crossing the border, I wonder? I’ll have to check on that. And if you smuggled that gun through with you, you could be facing some serious charges.”

“I told you, it’s not my gun.”

“Who sent you, Mr Daggett?”

“No one sent me. I’m here of my own—”

Novak stood. “I must warn you. I am interested in what Mr Sebastian and Miss Lamont have to say.
You
do not interest me. Either you make your answers interesting, or I have no use for you.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“And yet I do,” said Novak. “Your words fail to impress. For a criminal, you’re not a very good liar.” He turned back to Amber. “We can only conceal our true natures for so long before the cracks begin to show. With each new crack, more is revealed of what lies beneath. I know what this town does to people, Amber. I know what it does to people out there, I know what it does to people like me, and I know what it does to people like you.”

Amber didn’t say anything.

“It’s taking all of your focus to stay in this form,” Novak continued. “So relax. Stop straining. Let your true nature reveal itself. Think of how good it would feel, to let go. To let it happen. Think of the relief.”

Amber started with, “I don’t know what you’re …” and then her words faded away. He knew.

Novak smiled at Amber. “There is another way it will reveal itself,” he said, and drew his gun and shot Daggett in the chest.

The shock passed through Amber quicker than electricity and she shifted even as she jumped back, her horns growing before Daggett’s body hit the floor of his cell.

“There,” said Novak. “Isn’t that better?”

She stared at him as he holstered his gun.

“I could tell you were uneasy,” Novak said. “Demons like you always are. Most of them wear their discomfort on their faces, but there are always a few who hide it better than others.” He looked at Milo now. “Mr Sebastian, it’s almost as if you’re ashamed of your dark side. Won’t you join Amber, in all of her glory?”

Milo said nothing. He hadn’t moved from where he was sitting.

Novak shrugged. “Tomorrow I’ll be taking you to meet the mayor. He has some questions he wants to put to you personally. For now, though, I’m going to have to bid you goodnight. I’ll have one of my people remove the carcass, don’t you worry, and you’ll get supper in half an hour or so. We don’t starve our prisoners, not in Desolation Hill.” He smiled for the first time. “We’re not monsters.”

T
HE BALLOT BOX STOOD
in the square like a miniature, badly designed lighthouse in a sea of concrete. But the very fact that it stood alone, that there was nothing else to distract from it, gave it a surprisingly unsettling aura at night-time. Kelly didn’t know quite how to put her feelings into words. Warrick did, though.

“That is one creepy piece of wood,” he said, peering out through the windshield.

Kelly didn’t like the way the road split to encompass the square, because it really didn’t seem like it was the square that was being prioritised here, but rather the ballot box at its centre. Suddenly the town didn’t feel quite so pretty. Suddenly it felt like there was something rotten at its core.

There was no one else on Main Street. It was a cold night, and the well-behaved people of Desolation Hill were all at home in bed. Well, most of them. Maybe even all of them – apart from one boy.

He was small, maybe eleven or twelve, but he carried a big baseball bat, and he was walking towards the ballot box like he was fixing to do some serious harm.

“We may be in for some vandalism,” Kelly murmured. “Should we—?”

Ronnie was out of the van before she’d finished that sentence. She hopped out, too, and Linda and Warrick and Two followed, Two pleased to be out in the open air once again. By the time they’d jogged across to the ballot box, Ronnie was already talking to the kid.

“Guys,” he said, “this is Austin Cooke. Austin, we’ve heard about the box. About what happens when you get the most votes. Is that why you were going to smash it?”

“Cole Blancard stuffed it with my name,” Austin said. His voice cracked. His eyes were wide with panic, but he was forcing himself to remain calm. Kelly liked him immediately. “Just cos he picked me out of everyone in my grade. I don’t even know why.”

“You take it seriously, then,” Linda said. “Everyone else we’ve spoken to says it’s harmless, just used to keep kids in line.”

“Yeah? Bet they’ve never had a hundred pieces of paper with their name on shoved into it. They wouldn’t be saying it’s harmless then.”

“You believe the Narrow Man is real?”

Austin hesitated.

“We’re not going to laugh,” said Ronnie. “We’ve encountered weirder things than this.”

Austin nodded. “Yeah. I think he’s real.”

“Have you told your parents how worried you are?” Kelly asked. “Maybe they’ll take you out of town.”

“They won’t. It’s Hell Night on Wednesday. They won’t take me anywhere.”

Warrick frowned. “Hell Night? That’s the name of your festival?”

Austin nodded. “Messed up, huh?”

“What happens on Hell Night?”

“Don’t know. It’s loud, though. And it’s nuts. The next few days, everyone’s replacing broken windows and cleaning the streets and walking around with bruised faces and broken arms … People die. Did you know that? My uncle died at a Hell Night two years ago. Other folks, too.”

“How?”

Again, Austin shrugged. “I’m a kid. I don’t get to see. I just get put down in the panic room.”

Kelly frowned. “You have a panic room?”

“Every house in town has one,” said Austin. “That’s where we sleep while Hell Night’s going on. We can’t even leave our houses the next day, sometimes the next two days. That’s when they clean up.”

“Are all kids put in panic rooms?” asked Ronnie.

“Everyone who isn’t an adult, yeah.”

“And you’ve never asked your older friends what goes on that hurts so many people?”

“I have,” said Austin. “We all have. But it’s always the same. Like, last year, the Herrera twins had just turned eighteen, so they were gonna be out on Hell Night for the first time, and then they were gonna tell us all about it. But when we went looking for them after it was all over they’d barely speak to us. Few days later, they just said we wouldn’t understand, and walked off. There was a huge group of us and we all used to hang out together, but after that night … it stopped.”

“And your parents …?”

Austin’s lip curled briefly. “My parents spend all year looking forward to Hell Night.”

“But kids go missing here,” said Linda. “We’ve seen the numbers. Crime is practically non-existent, but unexplained deaths and disappearances are through the roof. Surely someone in this town is concerned about that?”

“As long as they get their Hell Night,” said Austin, “I don’t think they give a shit what else happens.”

Ronnie looked at the ballot box. “You think you have the most votes in that thing?”

“Thanks to Cole Blancard.”

“Austin, we’re going to help you.”

“How?”

“We’re going to stop the Narrow Man.”

The boy frowned. “Why?”

“Because that is what we do.”

“But how? You don’t know anything about him.”

“We know how he picks his victims. The people cast their votes and he tallies the entries.”

“So … what are you gonna do?”

“You had the right idea, old chum,” said Warrick, adopting an English accent as he passed the cricket bat he’d been holding to Ronnie. “We’re going to smash that silly old voting box, what-ho?”

As if to mark the target, Two approached the ballot box, took an exploratory sniff, then started humping it.

“And that’s just the start,” said Kelly, taking off her jacket despite the cold. She held out her hand. “May I?”

Austin hesitated a moment, looking at the tattoo sleeves on her arms, then gave her his baseball bat.

“Everyone move back,” said Ronnie. “We are about to engage in distinctly criminal behaviour.”

Warrick dragged Two away from his latest conquest as Kelly gave Linda her jacket, and, as the others moved into the warmth of the van, she approached the box by Ronnie’s side. She took a few practice swings with her bat and looked around.

“The coast appears to be clear,” she said. “But I guess appearances can be … can be … How’s that end?”

He grinned at her. “You’re not going to make me say it, you know.”

“Sure I am. It’s your most favourite thing in the world to say, and it’s only a matter of time before it passes from your lips.”

“I admire the dedication, if nothing else.”

They pounded the box. It took quite a beating, it had to be said, but it was no match for sports equipment swung with malice. The stand splintered and Ronnie caught the box with a sweet upswing, and the whole thing was busted open.

At that moment, lights lit up behind them and Kelly turned, gritting her teeth as the lone yelp of a siren sounded. “Goddammit,” she said.

“Goddammit,” Ronnie echoed, but quieter. Much quieter.

Kelly turned back, expecting to see the square covered in little white scraps of paper caught in the night’s gentle breeze.

Ronnie prodded the remains of the box with the cricket bat, but it was a lost cause. There were no scraps of paper. The box had been emptied long before they’d stepped out of their van.

“Put your goddamn hands in the goddamn air,” said one of the cops as he approached. Kelly dropped the bat, and did what she was told.