“So where is this place?” Crystal asked.
“Between Chinatown and the Theater District,” Tim said. “I’m not sure of the street, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
They were searching for a store owned by his friend Bill Dexler’s father. “He’s a little crazy,” Tim said as they walked past a fenced-in parking lot. “Bill lived with his mom, but he’d visit his dad twice a month on Sundays. Every once in awhile, I’d go with him. He fought in the Gulf and sometimes thinks he’s still there. And for some reason, he always calls me Dave.”
Crystal rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a great guy.”
They found the place ten minutes later on the ground floor of a run-down apartment building. A tattered green awning hung over the door, and steel security shutters were raised three quarters of the way above a plate glass window. Graffiti covered the visible portion of the shutters, and a rust-flecked sign dangled from chains near the door, its left side pocked with bullet holes that may or may not have been intentional. The sign read: Dexler Gun and Survival Specialty Store.
“Nothing special about this place,” Jay muttered, looking through the window at a mannequin sporting combat fatigues and a gas mask.
A bell chimed as Tim held open the door for the others. Inside, metal racks sprang up from the carpet like toadstools, overflowing with second hand army uniforms, camouflage, and survival gear.
A smell reminiscent of moldy sweat socks permeated the air, and as Jay gazed at a rack of tattered old jackets he imagined bums wandering in off the streets to sell their clothes for a buck or two.
Except for a hunched old man lingering over a display case filled with World War II memorabilia, they had the place to themselves. Behind the counter, past an old keypunch cash register, an impressive array of weapons hung from the wall—bows, swords, daggers, axes … even a savage-looking mace.
As Jay studied these, a wiry man with gaunt features emerged from an interior office with a cigarette pinched between his lips. He drew a deep drag and blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. When he saw Tim, he leaned against the counter and smiled.
“That you, Dave?”
“More or less,” Tim said, his cheeks flushing.
“How the hell are you, boy?” He clapped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Been awhile since you was here last. Billy said you moved out of town.”
“Yeah, we moved to Glenwood a few weeks ago. It’s near the—”
“Glenwood? Ain’t that the town with all them people missing?”
“That’s kind of why we’re here.”
Dexler raised an eyebrow and motioned toward the others. “They from Glenwood too?”
Tim nodded and made a quick round of introductions. “There’s some pretty crazy stuff going on there. It’s not safe, especially not for us.”
“So you want to protect yourselves, am I right? Want to buy a gun or two without waiting around for no permit to be approved?”
Jay felt the corners of his mouth curl into a grin. Finally, something looked like it might go their way. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble. But if you could help us out, that would be great.”
“No trouble at all, so long as you understand you were never in here, never met me.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Jay said.
“Then that’ll work out just fine,” Dexler said. “Because you never seen me, and I certainly never seen your picture on the news.” He winked at Jay. “Now that we got that settled, you can follow me to the merchandise.”
Dexler led them into an adjacent room where the walls were lined with guns stored in locked cases. He brought them from case to case and spoke of caliber, recoil, and sights with a gleam in his eye.
“Now, this,” Dexler said, “this here is an assault rifle with a removable laser sight.”
“What about ammo?” Tim asked.
“What about it?”
“We need something that will really penetrate, you know, like armor-piercing bullets.”
Dexler brayed laughter. “Armor-piercing bullets? Just what the hell’ve you got yourself into, boy?” He mussed up Tim’s hair, then held up a hand. “No, no, don’t tell me. I’d rather not know.”
“All right,” Tim said. “So I guess that means you don’t have any.”
“Here? Hell no. I keep all the illegal shit in the safe out back.”
***
The Boston Public Library was a mammoth stone building that lay in the shadow of the Hancock Tower, just a short walk from the upscale stores of Newbury Street. It always reminded Jay of a fortress with its thick slabs of concrete, its giant oval doors, and its wrought iron sconces perched above the entryway.
Inside, at the research terminal, Crystal jotted down the location codes of some books she’d found. Then she led them down a series of corridors before emerging into a courtyard bursting with the vibrant colors of tulips and daffodils in full bloom.
Sarah stopped a moment to sniff the flowers, crouching down at the edge of a cobblestone walkway.
“It’s beautiful,” Crystal said, gazing at the fountain in the center of the courtyard. “You’d never even know you were in the city unless you looked up at the Prudential Tower.”
Jay nodded, but said nothing. They would be heading back to Glenwood just before dawn tomorrow and the odds were whoever entered the cave would never see daylight again. He wondered if Tim and Sarah really understood that. At their age, he had believed himself to be invincible, always climbing to the tops of trees and scaling cliffs in the deep woods, never once doubting that he’d make it home before dark without a scratch. During the long summer days before high school, he and Steve used to pedal their bikes along deserted country roads and race each other through towns twenty miles from home, cutting across railroad tracks at full speed, daring the oncoming trains.
He gazed at Tim, who had hoisted Sarah onto his shoulders so she could reach for a butterfly. I can’t let them go into the cave. I can’t take their childhood away from them. But even as the thought entered his mind, he feared it was too late. With all that had happened, all the violence they had experienced so far, it was a wonder they could even find it in themselves to smile.
Crystal touched his shoulder and, for the time being, all his dark thoughts drained away. He squeezed her hand and smiled. The words “I love you” formed on his lips, but he choked them back, fearing they would only be wasted.
“Come on,” he said, and started toward the door at the opposite end of the courtyard. “Let’s see if we can find anything helpful in those books.”
***
A series of arched windows lined the wall of a cavernous reading room. Their table sat in a row of what seemed like hundreds occupying a room almost as long as a football field. Several stacks of books teetered on the table before them, books with titles like Symbols of the Ancient World, The Book of Runes, and Ciphers of the Occult.
Tim leafed through the appendix of a book entitled The Language of Ancient Civilizations. He tossed it onto the table and folded his arms. “Who are we kidding? We’re not going to find anything in these books.” He motioned to the tattered slip of notebook paper upon which Frank had scrawled his final words. It gave him the creeps just looking at it. He couldn’t help but picture Frank dipping a shaky finger into the ruined mess of his legs before tracing his message in bloody finger paint. “Those runes are probably older than any of the civilizations in this book, maybe even older than this world.”
Jay marked his page with an index card and set down the book he’d been reading. “It says here that the ancient Egyptians decorated their obelisks with hieroglyphics that depicted the pharaohs giving offerings to the gods. It says that was the whole purpose—to raise the pharaohs to the heavens and show them mingling with the gods. I can’t find any hieroglyphics that resemble a key, though.”
“I didn’t have much luck either,” Crystal said. “I looked through a book on Druid runes and another one on Scandinavian runes, but nothing matches the symbols
on that paper.”
Jay frowned. “What if we can’t kill Trell without knowing what this message means?”
“I don’t know,” Tim said, “but I don’t think we’re going to find anything in here. And the longer we wait, the stronger Trell gets.”
Crystal nodded. “I think Tim’s right. We have to save Maria and Sarah’s mother before it’s too late.”
At the mention of her mom, Sarah’s lip began to tremble. Crystal draped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight.
Tim glanced up at the towering rows of stacks and imagined what it would be like to be trapped in here alone. In his mind’s eye, he saw the lights click off and the room go dark. He imagined Trell’s claws clicking against the tiles as it stalked him through the maze of stacks.
The hunt is finished, Tim. But the killing ... the killing is just begun.
He shook the image from his mind and pushed his chair back. “I’m ready to get out of here,” he said. “Who’s with me?”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
They moved like phantoms in the dark of night, slipping through the deserted street, faces obscured in a veil of shifting moon shadow. Stars twinkled in a velvet sky, and the bright arc of a crescent moon peered through the drifting cloud cover.
A breeze blew from the east, ruffling Jay’s hair as he slid the last box into the trunk of the car Dexler had loaned them. The late model Dodge made Jay’s LeBaron look like a luxury sedan by comparison. According to their deal, if Jay failed to return for Crystal’s Volvo in a week, Dexler would own it.
Jay closed the trunk and rubbed his hands briskly against the cold. A muted click carried through the silence—the back door of Dexler’s Gun and Survival Specialty Store closing behind its owner and leaving the four of them alone.
They stood in a rough circle around the rear of the car, each glancing at the other, no one saying a word. Their breath plumed out before them in rolling waves of white vapor. Jay glanced at Tim and Sarah and saw them as he had first met them, the astonished look on their faces as they ran into each other in the midnight woods, drawn together by the ghost of a child dead to this world for centuries.
Why us, Samuel? Why in God’s name did you choose us?
But the boy’s words drifted back to him, faint and distant, like the whisper of an autumn breeze. It is not I who sought you, but you who sought me. You have the vision. You see what others cannot.
That was the grim reality of it. Each had seen Samuel for his own reasons, each had been drawn into this nightmare that wouldn’t end.
Oh, it’ll end soon, boy. But I think you know that already.
Jay ignored his dad’s voice and wondered how he’d come to be haunted by these ghosts. He stroked the trunk of Dexler’s car with his index finger, cutting a slick track through the coating of dew. The sun would rise in a couple hours and spread like fire across the horizon. And here he was, standing in the dark with his ex-fiancée and a couple of neighborhood kids, leaning over a car loaded with a cache of weapons.
He shook his head and grinned into the dark. How many charges would he be brought up on if the police happened by? How many felonies had he committed so far?
After the others piled into the car, Jay lingered a moment longer. He opened the trunk and rechecked their supplies. He’d arranged them neatly on the gray carpet, wedging towels between the boxes to prevent them from bouncing around. He took a mental inventory of what they would carry into the cave: four heavy-duty lantern style flashlights, a Glock nine millimeter with laser sight, pepper spray, a stun gun, a high powered assault rifle loaded with armor-piercing bullets—cop-killers, Dexler had called them—and, of course, his Dad’s .45.
This last weapon he’d tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He could feel the cold steel of its muzzle pressed against his flesh. The safety was on, but it was loaded, ready at a moment’s notice should Trell send another of its assassins after them.
And then there was his insurance policy, his plan B, tucked under the false bottom with the spare tire, wrapped carefully in the towels he’d swiped from the motel. Two hand grenades.
Live ones, Dexler had cautioned. You know you only got three seconds before the sons-of-bitches explode?
Jay nodded. He knew all right. But there was no other alternative. If Trell’s scales truly protected it like armor, then it was their only option—an option that would likely kill them, but an option, nonetheless. He let out his breath in a shaky sigh and closed the trunk with trembling hands. The sky was lightening in the east, the stars already fading from view.
Soon now. One way or another, it will end soon.
He bit a fingernail and spit into the dark.
You’re wasting your time, boy. Give up this hero business and buy yourself a drink. Make your dear old dad proud.
A hand settled on his shoulder, and he nearly screamed. He groped for the butt of his gun and whirled around.
Crystal’s eyes dropped to his hand. “What exactly are you reaching for?” she asked, but her voice quavered so much neither one of them cracked a smile. “Are you okay?” she asked, finally.
“I’m fine. It’s them I’m worried about,” he said, gesturing to the car. “And you. I can’t let you guys go with me. It’s too dangerous.” He glanced down at his feet. “The truth is, if I hadn’t been drunk when Frank called, we’d know how to kill Trell. So this is my mistake, my responsibility.”
“We’re all involved now, Jay. And if the kids go, I go.”
“You can stop them. I’ll pull over at a gas station, leave the three of you stranded.”
But Crystal shook her head. “It’s not my decision. Tim’s old enough to know what he’s doing. And in a weird way, I think Sarah is too. I want to stop her. I want to stop them both, believe me. But they each have someone they’re trying to save. I don’t think I can deny them the right to try.”
“But they’re just kids! Talk them out of it—they’ll listen to you.”
“Damn it, Jay. Don’t you think I’ve tried? You think I want this to happen?” A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Hey.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this. But please think about what I said. The kids may hate you for the rest of their lives, but at least they’d be alive to hate you. Someday they’d thank you. Someday they’d thank us both.” He kissed her on the forehead, then gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Crystal.”
He placed a finger over her lips before she could respond. “Take the kids. Save yourselves. In a couple years, you’ll find someone who loves you the way I never could. You’ll settle down ... forget all about me.”
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and sniffled. It was moment before she spoke. “You’re not scared?”
“Not as much as I thought I’d be. It’s funny, before Trell came along, I was dead. If I didn’t drink myself to death within six months, I would have found some other way to finish the job. But now ... now I feel alive again. It took all this to wake me up—knowing that I was the only one who could protect Tim and Sarah, knowing that I was all they had. It saved me, Crystal. Death doesn’t seem so bad now because it’s on my terms. Does that make any sense? After all these years, I finally have a choice. I finally have control over my life. And this is what I choose. This is my destiny.”
He grinned, and it felt awful and wonderful at the same time.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Her stomach quivered as the thing inside of her fed. The outline of its body bulged against her flesh, providing a momentary glimpse of the horror within. Pain shot through her womb and radiated to every extremity, but she separated herself from it and thought of a place far away, a place where the demon couldn’t hear her thoughts. It was her sanctuary, a desperate handhold on the last thread of sanity ... a thread that had worn precariously thin.
Ghostly slivers of moonlight filtered through breaks in the budding canopy, combining with the wind to create a host of shadows skittering across the forest floor.
<
br /> Come, Margaret. The time draws near.
The Dark One commanded her to move through the underbrush. Thorns pierced her legs, and Margaret could feel rivulets of blood trickling down her calves.
It’s forcing me to the cave. Maybe for the last time.
She ordered her legs to stop, and for a moment they obeyed. But the victory was short-lived, and just as she had learned before, no act of defiance ever went unpunished.
Her knees buckled and she dropped to the ground, her face striking the damp earth. Invisible hands tightened around her neck and choked her until her lungs burned for want of air. Bright bursts of purple light exploded before her eyes, and she could feel herself slipping away.
Go ahead and kill me! I dare you!
The Dark One squeezed tighter, so tight she thought her windpipe might break. But then it relinquished its grip and left her gasping and wheezing, her head swimming in a fog of pain. She rolled onto her side and struggled to her knees.
Not finished, Margaret.
Her hand closed around a jagged rock, its underside coated with a scrim of mud. She raised the rock above her head and laid her other hand on top of a boulder.
No, please!
The Dark One laughed. Smash, smash, Margaret.
Her arm dropped like a hammer and the rock smashed into the back of her hand, breaking at least two metacarpals. She clutched her ruined hand to her breast and screamed.
Come, Margaret.
She got up. Not because she wanted to. Not because the pain was too much to bear sitting still. She got up because it forced her to. That was a half hour ago. Now, as she staggered through the woods, her mind in that dark, secret place, cut off from Trell’s probing touch, she could feel her hand throbbing.
A crippling pain stabbed her belly, and she had to steady herself against the trunk of a pine. After a few minutes, the pain subsided and she felt a strange sinking sensation inside her.
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