Riverwatch (31 page)

Jake moved on, confident he had gotten himself under control. Off in the distance, he could see the glow of streetlamps from the parking lot on the far side of the park, and it was toward these that he headed.

After only a couple of steps he found his pace quickening.

"Here you go again," he told himself aloud, his words hanging in the night air.

He didn’t slow down, however. The unease that had been poking away at the rational wall inside his mind suddenly blossomed into a heavy sense of dread and was gathering momentum inside him with every step he took. He had only one objective in mind, and that was to reach the lights ahead of him. In the lights he’d be safe.

He broke into a shambling sort of run, leaning heavier on his cane and dragging his bad leg behind him, his eyes trained on the lights before him.

He left behind the slide, the seesaws, then the swings, and was coming up on the jungle gym.

One minute he was running in his lumbering gait, the next, he found himself lying face down in the gravel, dazed and disoriented.

The pain in his shoulder made itself known just about the same time the first warm trickle of blood oozed around the side of his neck.

Jake pulled himself into a sitting position. Supporting himself with his left arm, he used his right to carefully reach under the edge of his jacket.

Pain tore through him as his hand made contact with his ravaged flesh.

When he pulled his hand back, it was covered with blood.

Carefully, Jake moved the shoulder of his jacket around to where he could see it and stared at the three long gashes that extended completely through the thick material and into his flesh beneath.

He realized then that he had been struck viciously from behind and that it had been the force of the blow that had propelled him face-first into the gravel beneath him.

But there was no one behind him.

Maybe it came from above.

He froze at the thought, afraid of the implications.

But it’s dead! one side of his mind cried out. You killed it! You saw its final, blazing plunge into the river three months ago!

But the other side, the logical, calculating side that threw away the emotion and faced the facts as he found them, knew that he was right. Somehow the Nightshade had survived, managed to stay hidden throughout its recovery, and had now come back to finish what it had begun back in the garret of Riverwatch.

It had come back to kill him.

The voice of a dead man echoed in his mind.

"When it comes for you, it will come on night’s velvet wings."

He looked upward, twisting his body around to see behind him despite the pain, straining his eyes to see into the darkness.

He knew the beast was out there, yet the sky was empty as far as he could see. Why had it not circled around for another attack? Was it out there? Watching? Waiting?

Seeing nothing but blackness around him, he decided he’d stayed in one place for far too long. He located his cane, climbed to his feet and headed for the lights ahead as quickly as his legs and fear could carry him.

*** ***

High above, Moloch wheeled about in the sky, watching the human as it climbed haltingly to its feet, making its way across the park.

His bloodlust was high, but there was time.

The human would die.

And then, Moloch would feast.

Folding his wings tightly against his body, he plummeted toward the earth.

*** ***

Jake was moving toward the edge of the park when the Nightshade suddenly swept into view immediately in front of him, so quickly and unexpectedly that Jake actually took another step before his brain registered the danger.

The beast hung in the air a foot or so off the ground, the steady beat of its great, leathery wings blowing the cold night air into his face, air filled with the peculiar odor he’d noticed the last time he’d faced the beast, the smell of damp wool and wet fur.

For one long moment they stared at each other.

Predator and prey.

It seemed to Jake the moment would stretch forever, leaving them locked in that timeless space between the world and time itself, until with a sudden flash of emotion in those pupils, the beast lashed out with one clawed hand and struck Jake full in the face.

The blow sent Jake to the ground, his head spinning, his mind still trying to come to grips with the fact that he’d been struck. The blow came so fast that he had only seen it when it connected with his face.

The beast had struck with calculated force; Jake knew it could have taken his head clear off his shoulders had it wanted to.

Jake looked up to find the creature standing a few feet away, grinning at him, its razor sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.

And then the Nightshade crossed the few feet that separated them and struck again.

And again.

And again. Each time, pulling his blows just enough so that his prey was damaged but not incapacitated.

Jake hauled himself up off the ground. His head was spinning, his vision was blurry, and blood was flowing freely across the side of his face in a thick caress.

The Nightshade stood a few feet away again.

Watching.

Summoning what was left of his strength, Jake turned to face the Nightshade, his silver-handled walking stick gripped tightly in his hand as a weapon.

Chapter Thirty-seven: Requiem

Sam stared down at the body of his friend, rage and despair washing over him.

Jake was dead.

His friend had fought, fought like a demon himself, that much was clearly evident from the tableau laid out before him. Jake’s body lay crumpled where he’d last fallen; one arm lay trapped beneath him, the other flung over his head across the metal rail of the merry-go-round, his outstretched fingers firmly frozen into claws to ward off the evil that had flung him there like a used-up rag doll, discarded like so much waste.

His hands were covered with small plastic bags tied off at the wrists, the crime scene techs having worked quickly to preserve any and all evidence of the struggle, determined to drag from the ruins something to work with, some clue with which to trap the killer. Through the plastic Sam could see the splashes of violet that had dried beneath Jake’s nails, dried blood left behind from whatever injury Jake had managed to inflict on his attacker.

A technician pushed by, jostling him as he went past, causing him to look over at the expression on Jake’s face.

Raw determination and defiance were etched there for all to see, as if his last act had been to spit in the thing’s face. His lips were pulled away from his teeth, frozen now in a vicious rictus of a smile. A smile that even the pain of his death had been unable to erase.

When Sam first arrived, after receiving the call, Damon hesitantly filled him in, letting him know what they had managed to reconstruct of Jake’s last movements and the tragedy that followed.

Apparently he’d been out for a walk, and, as was his habit, he’d chosen to cut through the park instead of taking the long way around. Some hundred yards away from the road, he’d been struck and had fallen; the technicians had marked and measured the spot already, the marks of a scuffle clearly evident in the soft dirt of the ball field. The long ragged track left behind indicated that he’d re-injured his bad leg, dragging it behind him into the grass of the outfield as he tried to reach the safety of the lights in the playground. Halfway there he’d been attacked again, his blood staining the ground where he collapsed the second time. He must have turned to fight at this point, because bright blotches of the Nightshade’s own violet blood colored the grass along with his own. Somehow, and Sam couldn’t understand how, Jake had managed to pull free of the beast one more time, driving his fingers into the soft loam and pulling himself forward, ripping chunks of it free as he dragged himself, vainly believing the light might save him.

It hadn’t.

Moloch had caught him and had dashed his body down on the hard, unforgiving surface of the merry-go-round. From the angle of Jake’s body it was clear that he had struck the metal bars from a height, the shock of the landing snapping his spine like a dry twig. From there, the end had come quickly.

They hoped.

The officers were all around Sam now, trying to do their work, and he backed away, his eyes never leaving his friend’s face.

I’ll find it for you, Jake, he breathed silently. I swear to you, I will find it. He turned away then, unable to look any longer, as the coroner’s team began loading Jake’s body into the dark plastic of a body bag. Tears welled in Sam’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks. He looked around, into the gray light of the near dawn, wondering where the Nightshade had gone once it had finished with Jake. It was out there somewhere, hiding, waiting for the darkness.

He would find it, wherever it was, even if it took the rest of his life.

Then he would kill it.

He turned and walked away from the gathering group, and found Damon waiting for him by the Bronco.

The two men stood in silence for a minute, and then Damon spoke what they both knew to be true.

"It’s back, isn’t it?"

Sam could only nod.

Damon thought about it for several, long, silent moments, then said, "Whatever you’re planning, I’m in. I want to stop this thing once and for all."

For once, Sam had the distinct feeling they understood each other perfectly.

"Where do we start?" Damon wanted to know. "How do we find it?"

Sam wasn’t sure. He did, however, have an idea. He just hoped Katelynn was strong enough to go through with it. Jake’s death had driven her into hysterics.

He turned to face the Sheriff. "I have an idea of how to find this thing, but I’ll need Katelynn’s help in order to do it. Can you get someone to take me to her home?"

Damon nodded and called to one of his deputies. Turning back to Sam, he said, "When you’re ready, call me at the station. If I don’t happen to be there, have them patch you through to me on the radio, understand?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, his thoughts already far away as he considered what they were about to do. In less than twelve hours it would be dark again.

They didn’t have much time.

Chapter Thirty-eight: Hunting Once More

"You’ve got to use the necklace, Katelynn. It’s our only hope of tracking the Nightshade down."

Katelynn stared at him, hearing his words but not understanding their meaning, as if he were speaking in a foreign language.

After the sheriff’s deputies had dropped him, Sam stayed with Katelynn throughout the morning and into the afternoon. The sedative Sam had made her take had forced her into a deep sleep, but it hadn’t kept the nightmares at bay. They’d been ghastly images of blood and teeth and claws, a kaleidoscope of pain and horror that threatened to smother her with its loathsome weight, until she came kicking and screaming back out of sleep. The room echoed with her cries. She found herself being held tightly by Sam when she regained her senses, his soothing voice helping to banish the demons.

Sam.

She realized he was speaking to her then, and she focused her attention on him just in time to catch the tail end of what he was saying.

"…and that’s why you’ve got to use it."

"Use what?" she asked.

"The necklace!" he replied, exasperated. "Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?"

She looked at him quizzically, then she suddenly understood.

She went pale at the notion and her body began to shake.

"No way," she said, her voice a dull monotone. She moved shakily across the room and squatted down next to Loki. Damon had dropped the dog off at her place while she’d slept; Loki somehow seemed to sense that Jake was not coming back. Damon had assumed the two might be good company for each other, and he’d been right.

Sam wouldn’t give up that easily, however. "It’s the only way, Katelynn. You’ve got to!"

"No," she said again, more firmly this time. Doesn’t he understand what he is asking? Doesn’t he realize that whenever I wear it, I am sucked into whatever horrible acts the beast is presently committing? That I can smell the blood, taste the fear, and feel the flesh between my claws?

Does he have any idea just how horrible it all is?

She didn’t think so.

Otherwise he wouldn’t be asking.

Besides, she thought, we don’t even have the stone. She gave it to Jake when was recovering in the hospital and they hadn’t talked about it since. For all she knew he had thrown it away.

She certainly hoped so.

She said so to Sam.

"Fuck!" he cried, suddenly furious. Knowing Jake, the stone could, quite literally, be anywhere.

"We’re just going to have to find it then," Sam said.

Katelynn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She turned to face him. "No way, Sam."

"What do you mean ‘no way’? We have to."

"I said no. Even if you do find it, I won’t agree to go through with using the stone. I am not touching that thing again. Leave it alone!"

Sensing her agitation, Loki climbed to his feet and licked her face. She rubbed at his fur, and watched as he eyed Sam warily. It was almost as if the dog knew what he was saying, and disagreed with the notion too.

"I can’t leave it alone, Katelynn! The thing that killed Jake is out there somewhere and I am going to put an end to it!" He turned and kicked out in anger, smashing his foot into the easy chair next to him.

Loki instantly began to bark, and Katelynn had to hold tight to prevent him from lunging at Sam.

"I think you’d better go, Sam," Katelynn said, while the dog continued to bark.

Without answering, Sam turned and headed for the door.

*** ***

Out on the stoop, Sam sat down for a moment in Katelynn’s porch-swing to try and calm himself down. He knew that his anger was not directed at her, but at the helplessness he was feeling. Jake had been his friend, and in more ways than one he couldn’t stop blaming himself for Jake’s death.

The situation couldn’t have been worse. Even if Sam managed to locate the stone, he didn’t have a clue how he intended to stop the beast. He’d seen that bullets seemed to have little effect, so trying to corner it and blow it away with a handgun seemed to be nothing more than a fancy form of suicide. He didn’t have access to anything like a flamethrower or shoulder launched missile and doubted Damon did either. Sam supposed he could use a hand weapon, like a fire axe; maybe cutting it into smaller pieces would prevent it from harnessing its regenerative powers. But what if it didn’t? If he managed to chop off a limb, what would prevent the thing from growing a new one right then and there? Hadn’t it pushed the bullets right out of its body in front of Jake? Even worse, what if it grew a new limb, and the old limb decided to grow a new body?