“Someone lives here?” Tom asked.
“Nope. Not for a couple years. Kid went nuts, I guess. Bank owns it, but no one will move in.” Rich opened his door and unholstered his gun. The deputy was a man of action, at least; Tom would give him credit where it was due.
“Officers?” A man was calling to them from two houses over. He ran toward them, calling out. Then he stopped, panting, and pulled his bathrobe tightly over his pajamas.
“Were you the one who called us?” Tom asked.
The old man nodded, his hair a white puffy wisp. “They went that way!” His movements were rigid and exaggerated. Tom’s gaze followed the man’s finger and saw a path at the end of the yard. It was the same trail he’d used to find Brittany’s shoe. He looked at his shoes, which he’d half-heartedly washed at the station, and grimaced. He’d need to buy a new pair after this weekend.
“Who’s ‘they’?” Deputy Rich asked, his voice deeper and more sure of itself around the civilian.
“I don’t know. There were a few of them.” The man was pointing, his eyebrows bushy and raised high on his creased forehead.
A few of them? What the hell was going on? This town kept surprising Tom, and not in a good way. “And they all went down that path, on foot?” he asked.
The man nodded.
“How long ago was this?” Tom asked.
“Fifteen minutes or so.”
“Good. Get inside, lock the door, and stay put, okay?” Tom ordered, and the man seemed only too happy to hole up in his house. Without another word, he was jogging back, nearly losing a fuzzy slipper in the process.
The lights were still flickering, and the constant flashing was giving Tom a headache. “Come on, Rich. Let’s go,” he said, and they made for the pathway between the houses. Tom smelled the rain before he felt the first drop. Ozone filled his nostrils, and he cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella.
_______________
Emma sat in her car, a block from the Watsons’ house. There was a single car in the drive, and one newer model parked on the street. The boy was inside. She didn’t know his name, but she could smell him from here.
It wasn’t her own senses. It was the creature’s: the Anbieter, traveling with her. Emma looked in the mirror and saw the black mist escaping the corners of her eyes. She was an unwilling participant now, merely a vessel for the ancient creature to use until it was strong enough to move of its own volition once again. One more feeding. Then she could finally leave.
The thought came to her without thinking, and the creature pressed deeper into her mind at the blasphemous notion. Emma couldn’t leave; she knew that now. For the last few years, she’d been convincing herself that her part in this play would eventually end. Now she felt that it wouldn’t, not until either it was dead or she was. And one of them would be easier to dispose of.
Her gaze scurried around the car. She was unable to move her head, as it had taken control now. There was a gun in her glove box. If she could only grab it, press the barrel to her head, and find the strength to pull the trigger, she might be able to save some lives.
Yes, she could do it. What did she need to live for anymore? Her life was a constant struggle, a living nightmare. She’d helped this thing kill two children so far and knew it would never stop. She’d only get under its spell more and more, the stronger it got. If it fed now, there was no turning back. It would be unleashed on this community once again.
Umziehen. The single word branded into her mind, and Emma instantly knew the translation. Relocate. It was promising they would move after tonight. She closed her eyes and saw an image. She stood in a forest, somewhere at the base of a mountain; Colorado, perhaps. It had been in Red Creek too long; even the demon knew that. It was telling her to help it now, and then they could relocate tomorrow. As always, it mysteriously provided when the bargain was met. She saw a log inn as the image zoomed out, and a full parking lot.
It was promising a successful business there. Could Emma do that? What next? Where would the next sacrifice come from? From the guests staying at her establishment? Could she ask the creature for money in a bank account, or was that beyond its limited powers?
Emma didn’t get a chance to ask it as the car door opened. The whole town was under a curfew, no children allowed out after eight. It was far later than that, but she saw a girl on a bicycle heading toward them.
“No no nonononononono,” she muttered through gritted teeth, but the Anbieter wasn’t listening.
She was moving now, her sore hip aching as the creature pushed her forward. It was inside her, working her body like a puppeteer, and she felt the blood dripping from her nose again, like it always did. The girl on the bike had to be around eleven or twelve, and she rode by Emma, giving the old lady a smile.
She rang a bell and kept riding down the street. Emma let out a sigh of relief, but the creature didn’t seem to think twice about the escaping meal. The Watsons’ house was right there. She glanced to it, her head moving in quick jerks like an animal’s. She sniffed the air and felt a growl emerge from her throat. The boy was inside.
The bell rang again, and the curtains opened from the house’s living room window. Two women were looking directly at her, and the demon forced her to avert her gaze, to continue walking down the block. When the curtains closed, it had her cross the street. The girl on the bicycle was there again, and Emma went to her car.
With a last glance at the house where the boy of their blood was hidden away inside, she opened the car’s trunk. Her voice felt distant and unfamiliar as she heard herself speak, and the little kid slowed her bike.
“Hello, dear. I’m afraid I’m lost. I’m supposed to be visiting my son, and I can’t find his house,” Emma said, her head turned from the girl as she wiped her nose with a sleeve again. She wanted to shout for the girl to run, but she couldn’t.
“I can help. What’s his name? I pretty much know everyone on the block, and most of the few over.” Emma turned to her, seeing a happy, self-assured kid. The old lady’s arm snapped out like a snake and gripped the thin wrist, pulling her off the bike. With minimal effort, she threw the spindly child into the trunk, shutting it quickly and quietly.
Small fists banged against the inside of the trunk as Emma got into the driver’s seat, crying now. That was one thing the Anbieter, the Provider, couldn’t stop her from doing, and it was irritated with her lack of commitment. She could feel its annoyance as the car engine fired to life, and she started driving.
Emma glanced at the initial target’s house and saw the curtains open again. When she glanced to the rearview mirror, all that was left was a bike in the middle of the road. Her eyes were black and misty, her smile covered in blood.
_______________
“Dad, we’ve been out here for almost an hour, and it’s pouring. We need to go to the orchard,” Taylor said. She was soaked and was regretting ever coming back to Red Creek more with each passing second. Brent had been so awesome this whole weekend, and she watched as he moved his flashlight beam around the forest, searching for a sign of...what? A shadow? A nightmare?
Her dad was a few yards away, so sure he was going to discover something worth finding. He’d spent the last ten minutes muttering to himself, and Taylor was getting worried about him.
“Darrel!” her dad shouted, and her uncle stopped from his lead position. “Is that old barn still out here?”
His voice died in the storm, and Darrel had to walk toward them, his hand cupping his ear. “What’d you say?”
“The barn. There was an old barn out here when we were kids. Is it still there?” Paul asked, and Taylor wanted to tell him they didn’t need a barn; they needed to get to the cars and to get out to the orchard.
Before she could say anything, her uncle was there, scratching at his few-days-old beard. “Think so. It should be a half mile toward the orchard. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking the nest is close, and if you and Tyler say it’s not at the orch
ard, then maybe it’s somewhere nearby. That barn is as good a location as any. No one on the land, and no watching eyes nearby,” Paul shouted into the wind. The rain had picked up, and Taylor was soaked from head to foot.
Isabelle was shivering, and Darrel put an arm around his daughter. “Well, we can’t stay out here forever, so let’s go check it out. Worst case, we have somewhere to get dry for a bit.”
Taylor wanted to object again, but what if her dad was right? What if there was a nest under the barn? It would make sense, after the original was hidden by a trap door in the Smiths’ run-down wooden building. Why hadn’t they thought of this before?
Lightning started flashing in the night sky, and Taylor jumped every time the thunderclap followed. Brent was quickly at her side, leaning in. “What did he expect to see out here? This is crazy, Tay. Definitely not what I planned on doing this weekend.”
Taylor ran a hand to his wet face, lifting onto her toes as she kissed him firmly. His lips were cold, but she didn’t care.
“What was that for?” Brent asked, and Taylor glanced over his shoulder to see her dad trying to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. She sensed a new phase of her life was emerging amidst the chaos of their current situation, and her family would have to find a new way to adapt, assuming they could lay this to rest once and for all. Already she felt rejuvenated, and Brent was giving her a knowing grin.
“I just needed to feel something,” Taylor told her boyfriend.
Isabelle came up behind them and placed a hand on both of their backs, nudging them forward. “Let’s hurry this up. I can’t feel my fingertips,” she said, and Taylor started jogging forward, trying to catch up to her dad and uncle.
The forest was dense here, the land never developed in this part of town. Taylor wasn’t surprised, since even agriculture, the one half-decent industry of the region, didn’t seem to be a priority any longer. Her dad always said Red Creek was a dying town. It had been that way when he was a kid, and still was when he’d come here twelve years ago. From what she could perceive, it was only getting progressively worse.
Taylor knew it had to do with the Schattenmann. It had to be the creature preying on the town’s children. They were in some sort of stupor, like their minds didn’t quite understand the constant danger they were in. Her aunt talked about the years when the abductions were rampant, and how they’d knee-jerk for a week, then give up and move on, almost as if nothing had ever happened.
It was unnatural, and Taylor couldn’t understand why her aunt and uncle had stayed here. Isabelle was happy enough, but when this was all over, Taylor was going to do whatever it took to bring her younger cousin out of here, even if it meant dragging her to Bellton and hand-delivering her.
Taylor was trying to think about everything and anything but the wet storm around her, and the impending altercation with the creature. She knew they were going to come face-to-face with it at some point. It was out here. Trevor Hayes had seen it on numerous occasions, and she believed every word from that boy’s mouth.
She couldn’t wait for her dad and uncle to track this thing and stop it from hurting anyone else. Taylor was looking forward to going back to Gilden Psychiatric Hospital and demanding they release Trevor Hayes into his mother’s care. She was going to explain that Ms. Hayes’ son wasn’t crazy after all.
Brent was beside her as they walked quickly, flashlight beams bouncing over the soaked ground. Taylor saw another crack of lightning, and she looked behind them, something catching her eye.
“Dad! What’s that?” she asked, and Paul stopped to survey where she was pointing. They saw a light near the ground.
“Darrel, how much farther? Someone’s coming after us,” her dad asked, and Darrel shouted from ahead.
“Turn the lights off. We’re almost there. Another minute. Follow me!” Darrel yelled, and shut his light off. The rest of them did the same, and as soon as Taylor’s was turned off, she felt exposed to the night. Brent must have noticed, because he grabbed her hand, half-holding, half-dragging her along as she spotted the barn between two bare trees.
It was hard to tell, but in the darkness, the structure seemed solid, and it stood there like a sanctuary on the edge of the forest. The barn was on a slight hill, with old farmland stretching in the distance, the grassy ground undulating, and Taylor wondered if the fields had ever borne healthy crops.
Her shoe stuck in a deep muddy mess as they ran for the barn, and she stumbled, the flashlight flying through the air to land on its side. The impact jarred the on button, and a beam cast out, spreading onto the wall of the building. Taylor screamed as she saw a tall shadow project over the rust-colored wooden walls.
“Honey, it’s only me,” her dad said. He’d planted himself between the barn and the flashlight, and grabbed the light, turning it off. Her heart was racing as Brent helped her up.
Her uncle was already bearing down on a door, kicking at the lock. Brent went to his side, and together they managed to break through the wooden door enough to give them leverage as they pulled it open, the corroded hasp falling to the ground.
Isabelle waited for Taylor, and they entered together while Paul shut the broken door behind them. She instantly felt better for the amnesty from the constant rain, but it only lasted for a moment. Her dad turned a flashlight on, and Isabelle screamed at what the light revealed.
The barn was wide open inside. A few hay bales lined the walls, and in the center of the space, a ten-foot pentagram was painted in red on the dirt floor. They all stood in a row, staring at the ground. All Taylor could hear was their heavy breathing, surrounded by the heavy rainfall on the old roof. Somehow it was still sealed tightly; none of the recent storm water had broken through into the barn.
“What is it?” Brent asked, kneeling on the ground. His fingers hovered over the marking, and Taylor’s dad grabbed her boyfriend roughly by the shoulder and tugged him back, nearly sending him to his seat.
“Don’t touch that!” Paul warned. “This is a pentagram. See the candles in each of the star’s points? This is used for summoning.”
“Summoning what?” Isabelle asked, and Paul shrugged.
“How do I know? I’ve used them in a book. Taylor, do you remember Moonlit Summer?” Her dad had always loved that book, even though it was one of his lesser-selling novels.
“The one about the young witch who’d been trying to create a love potion for a guy at her college? She’d set the pentagram in the forest as directed, but what she didn’t know was that if you chanted that particular spell during a full moon, you summoned a demon. The demon appeared, and she fell in love with the perfect specimen, whom she thought had stumbled into her circle while out on a walk. He pretended to be a college student, and by the time she realized her new boyfriend was behind the school’s recent mass murders, it was almost too late.”
Taylor had read the book five times, but it was Brent who’d answered his question. Paul looked at him with an unbelieving stare.
“What?” Brent asked. “Can’t a guy read his girlfriend’s best-selling horror author dad’s novels a few times?”
Taylor smirked, but it vanished quickly as she remembered the five-pointed red star in a circle on the ground.
“So… witches?” Darrel asked, holding his rifle firmly in his grip. Beads of water dripped off his baseball cap’s brim.
“I don’t know. This might not have anything to do with what we’re after. You know Red Creek. I’ve heard about some kids in high school thinking they’re Wiccan or whatever,” Isabelle said. “A few girls have come in to the diner dressed in black – black lipstick, black nail polish, you know the type.”
Taylor did. Some students at her private school in Manhattan had played the Goth card to death.
“Is it blood?” Brent asked, and Darrel shook his head, his flashlight beam falling to the corner of the barn.
“Nope. Look, spray cans. Like you said, this was probably just kids,” Darrel said. “We should split up, search for a trap door
.”
Taylor’s dad nodded. “You take Izzy, and I’ll bring Taylor and Brent. Start over in that corner, and we’ll meet here.”
Darrel didn’t have to be told twice; he was moving across the barn with his daughter in tow. Isabelle locked eyes with Taylor, and Taylor could see the terror in her expression. She tried to give the young woman a strong, confident look in return, and silently told her cousin that everything was going to be all right. She didn’t know if she pulled if off or not. Hell, she couldn’t even convince herself of that.
The roof shook under the thunder booming outside, and a few drops of water fell, splashing to the ground at Taylor’s feet. Her dad was in the far corner, stomping the ground.
“The trap door was wooden and hidden under a thin layer of dirt back at the barn on the Smiths’ property. Brent, you take that side, and Taylor, start in the middle of the room and work toward me,” Paul said. He looked funny, hopping on the dirt floor, and Taylor wished her mom was there to see him. If they were there under other circumstances, at least.
She copied him, dust and dirt sticking to her wet pants and muddy shoes as she jumped frantically, moving toward the wall from slightly beyond the pentagram. Knowing it was there made her uncomfortable, and she had the urge to cover it with dirt so they didn’t have to see it, even if it was made by emo teenagers with too much time on their hands.
Ten minutes later, they were all filthy, standing together in their version of a huddle.
“Nothing. I was sure we’d find something here,” Uncle Darrel said, and Isabelle nodded along with him.
Taylor could tell her dad was frustrated. He wasn’t saying anything, but his eyes had the distant look he always got when he was concentrating hard on something. “Dad, what is it?” she asked him.
Brent was pacing around the room, as if he might spot something they’d missed. Taylor loved how involved he was. She tried to imagine what it was going to be like to head back to school in a week. Would they talk of this time for years to come? Were they going to stay together, or would her insane family and this weekend drive the nice boy from Connecticut away from her? Judging by the look he gave her when he noticed her watching him, she didn’t think he was going anywhere. He smiled and kept searching, running his hands along the interior walls.
Return to Red Creek Page 18
