Brandon could only try to emulate Gerrick, fighting for all he was worth. But determination is no substitute for training and, soon, Brandon was bleeding from a half dozen wounds. None were crippling; mostly shallow cuts and a narrow furrow sliced in his shoulder by a close call with a grohlm’s axe. Brandon could feel them healing, even as he moved to engage the next grohlm in the never ending waves.
The rain intensified at the same pace as the battle, beginning to come down in sheets. Brandon could hear a faint hum in the back of his head. That was Rok. Brandon had left the stone at home, not knowing how Nina would react if she felt the presence of another god.
Until Rok proved his worth to him, Brandon didn’t think that he could rely on the stubborn and temperamental deity. Not to help him in battle as well as Nina could.
The murmur inside of Brandon’s head had an angry feel to it.
Brandon pushed it away as he fought, not letting the angry buzzing distract him. Two grohlm, both with the fur and muzzles of hounds, came at him. They bounded across the ground on all fours, their armor bouncing and jangling as they came. One began to outdistance the other, reaching Brandon first, and hurled itself at him. Its jaws snapped at Brandon’s throat, throwing slobber across the mask he wore. Its partner was trying to flank Brandon, coming around at his unprotected back.
Brandon jerked back, driving one of his curved swords into the open mouth of the first dog. The blade’s tip exploded out through the back of its skull, spraying blood, and sending the mutt spasming to the ground. Brandon spun, tearing the blade free, and ducked under the leaping form of the second dog. He raked a sword across the dog’s belly as it passed, spilling out the contents of its stomach.
Squealing, the dog hit the ground, its legs kicking wildly as it died. Brandon didn’t stand still to watch it die. Moving fast, he turned and sprinted toward Gerrick, who was dancing within a group of grohlm. There were 20 of them, at least, and Gerrick was being surrounded.
Chapter 44
Claire and the others reached the parking lot as the sky opened up and the rain was unleashed in a tree snapping deluge that threatened to knock them off their feet. The party was well and truly over and the parking lot was nearly deserted. The panic that got them out of the woods was still there, but the adrenaline fueling their mad dash was leaving them all in a hurry. Claire felt like her legs were ready to fall off and Emily seemed to have gained fifty pounds in the last minute or two. Even Bobby was breathing heavy. Gasping, he pointed at a battered pickup truck parked close to the big silo and the abandoned tent beneath. “My truck.” Anything more was lost as he started pulling them toward the waiting vehicle.
Lola was shivering hard, her teeth chattering loudly, as they piled into the cab of the truck. She went in first, helping to pull Emily up inside beside her. Claire sat by the passenger door, her arms wrapped protectively around her best friend. Bobby got behind the wheel, slamming the door and jamming the key into the ignition three times before getting it right. He got the engine running and paused in the act of putting the truck in gear. His eyes were wide and unblinking, staring at nothing. It was shock, Claire knew. They were all in shock, but she couldn’t let it cost them any more time.
“We have to get to the hospital.” Claire said, her voice numb with fear. She reached across Emily and Lola and put her hand on Bobby‘s arm. He jumped as if hit with an electric charge and looked at her, blinking away the emptiness and tried to talk. Claire spoke over whatever he might‘ve been about to say. “We have to get to the hospital and we have to call the police as soon as we can.” They all had cell phones but they were all useless out at the old mill. No cell service at all. Nothing until the city limits. “Drive, Bobby.” She made her voice as gentle as she could. “We’ll send somebody back for Jack. We wont leave him behind.”
Bobby’s face tried to crumble, but he took a deep shaky breath and faced forward. Putting the truck in gear, he reversed and got them pointed in the right direction. Lola had already turned on the heater full blast and the air was starting to get warm inside the cab of the truck. Emily made a pained noise and snuggled her bruised and shattered face against Claire’s shoulder. Claire held her tight as they drove away from The Mill, her mind not on where they were going, but on what they had left behind them.
Those things in the woods.
And the two men they’d left behind to fight them.
Chapter 45
In the forest, the rain continued to fall.
Brandon smashed into the grohlm, cutting down 3 right away, and opened a path to Gerrick. Gerrick saw him coming. He was wearing a mask like Brandon’s; the face painted black, with red rimmed eyes and a gaping mouth full of teeth. His cloak was ripped in several places and one of his sleeves was torn away. His forearm was slick with blood. He wasn’t like Brandon. The rain did not heal his wounds as they were made. Gerrick said, cutting down a grohlm with a horse’s face. “There are too many.”
Brandon would have agreed if he had time to speak. It was all he could do not to get cut down by the circling grohlm. His arms felt like they were weighted down when he swung his swords and he knew that the two of them wouldn’t hold out for much longer.
Gerrick must have come to the same conclusion, because when he looked up from beheading a boar, he shouted at Brandon. “Make for the silos. I’ll hold them back while you get clear.” So saying, he twirled his sword around and over his shoulders and cleaved the skull of a fox before launching himself into the mass of grohlm.
Brandon hesitated just long enough to kill a bear, then swung around toward the silos. The light from the party was all but extinguished, as the last of the cars hauled ass. The rain had put out the bonfire. Brandon had to cut through a few grohlm before he got to open ground. Running as fast as his tired legs would allow, he beat feet across the uneven concrete and gravel of the mill parking lot. He could hear the grohlm screeching and dying behind him. The sound was like the touch of a whip across his shoulders, urging him on.
At the silos, he stopped. He turned, his breath coming in great whooping gasps, and saw his uncle break free of the writhing mass and start in his direction. The ragged remnants of his cape flapped wetly behind the big man as he ran. Some of the grohlm followed, but not all. The rest were quickly gathering their dead and disappearing back into the forest.
Brandon saw a couple of wolves, carrying Jack’s body between them, hustling into the darkness. The rain was pouring down. Brandon could already feel renewed strength flowing into his arms and legs. Hefting his blades, he went out to meet Gerrick.
There were only 3 grohlm behind Gerrick and when they saw Brandon coming they turned tail and ran. Brandon wasn’t stupid enough to follow. Gerrick reached Brandon and stopped, saying. “We can’t wait around.”
“Why?” Brandon said, pointing over Gerrick’s shoulder, toward the fleeing grohlm. “They’re retreating.”
“Not from us.” Gerrick said, wiping his sword with his tattered cloak. “Listen.”
Brandon closed his mouth and listened. In the distance, growing louder as the two of them stood there, were sirens. Brandon looked at Gerrick. “The police?”
Gerrick nodded. He hardly seemed out of breath. He was bleeding from countless wounds, but ignored them as he walked past Brandon and said. “Let’s get out of here. We’re not in the best position to answer questions.”
Brandon nodded. Wiping the blood from his own swords, he sheathed them and followed Gerrick. He gave one last look at the tree line and the retreating grohlm. They gathered their dead in a hurry. A few had stopped to watch Brandon and Gerrick leave, standing in the downpour and brandishing their weapons. Brandon could hear howling coming from the woods and shivered.
It felt like war had just been declared.
Chapter 46
The drive to the Hospital took forever and no time at all. Claire kept her arms wrapped around Emily’s shoulders the whole way, comforting her when the truck turned too sharply or hit a hard bump. Emily stayed in a sor
t of semi doze as they rode, silent except for the occasional pained moan, but she seemed to know Claire was with her. Anytime Claire tried to move, her arms would tighten around her, keeping her in place.
Bobby drove fast, but not recklessly, as if he knew there was no real hurry. Emily was badly beaten, but not in any life threatening distress. Jack was dead though.
Bobby’s manic brain kept going back to that as he drove.
Jack was dead. His little brother was dead. What was he going to say to his mom and dad? What were they going to say to him? He had to go back for him, he knew, but Bobby knew that wasn’t going to happen tonight. Not unless he had fifty cops and the God damn National Guard backing him up.
Lola was in shock, more so than the rest of them, and fell asleep before they reached the city limits. She was still asleep when the truck came to a hurried stop at the ER entrance at Matheson General. Bobby threw the truck into park and jumped out, rushing through the doors into the ER. Within moments, he was back outside, followed by a pair of nurses and an orderly with a rolling gurney. He was trying to talk at the nurses as they helped Claire wrestle Emily out of the truck, but they weren’t interested in listening to a drunk young man babbling about monsters. They were more interested in the bruised and battered girl that was being thrust into their care.
Ten minutes later, Claire was sitting in the waiting room with Bobby and Lola. Lola was a shattered mess, her black mascara smeared against her cheeks, sobbing into her cell phone between crying jags. Bobby had quieted into a sort of shocked silence, staring between his knees at the speckled vinyl floor tiles and moving his lips in a silent mantra. Claire watched him closely, trying to read his lips. It wasn’t hard.
Jack.
Over and over, like a prayer.
Claire swallowed. The overhead lights in the waiting room were too bright, drilling into her eye and planting the seeds of a headache to come. Her phone was in her pocket. She’d already called her mom and told her what had happened. Her dad was on the way to the hospital to pick her up, just as soon as she was allowed to leave.
She wanted desperately to call Bran, but left her phone where it was. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t make the call? The anger she’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by a dull sense of regret that she hadn’t listened more closely to what he was telling her. She missed him. Maybe it was as simple as that? She missed her friend and felt like he was the only person anywhere who could help her make sense out of what her mind kept forcing her to recall.
The thing that killed Jack wasn’t human. But it wasn’t completely animal either.
When she closed her eye, she could picture it perfectly. Its sharp little teeth, grinning horribly at them as it tore open the boy’s throat. The way its fur was matted and discolored from the oiled leather armor that covered its chest. She shuddered as she remembered, rubbing her arms against the chill working its way down her spine and making her teeth chatter.
Brandon’s claim that some curse was killing his family, one by one, didn’t seem so farfetched after what she saw in those woods. Not so farfetched at all.
She became aware of the door opening and looked up just as a tall police officer entered the waiting room. She knew the man somewhat, from around town, and greeted him as he approached. “Officer Teague?” She started to stand but he waved her back down.
“Don’t get up.” Teague was one of the younger officers, but had been on the job for as long as Claire could remember. He was handsome, with a neatly trimmed goatee broken by a pale ridge of scar tissue running across his cheek, and a lot of girls at school harbored a secret crush on him. Hunkering down in front of her, he glanced at Bobby and Lola before meeting her eye and saying. “Claire, right? You’re Dr. Moody’s little girl.” When she nodded, he went on, keeping his voice low. “Claire, is there any way I can get you to answer some questions for me?”
Before Claire could answer, Bobby looked up suddenly and said. “It killed him. It killed my brother. Killed him right in front of me.” Then he started crying again, twisting his head to the side and sobbing into his shoulder.
Officer Teague looked at Bobby for a long time, his eyes fierce with concern, then turned his gaze onto Claire. “I think you need to tell me everything you remember, Claire. Starting with what your friend is talking about. Who killed who?”
Chapter 47
The death of a local teenager at the abandoned mill earlier tonight has been attributed to an animal attack, according to local law enforcement officials. In a statement issued by the Matheson Police Department, the attack and subsequent death of a Matheson High School student was attributed to feral dogs.
In the statement, issued just one hour ago, Chief of Police John Wyntrop reported that the death of the student comes on the heels of 4 other unexplained disappearances in or around Matheson. When asked if the other disappearances might be the result of the same animals, Chief Wyntrop declined to speculate.
But, in the interest of public safety, a 9pm curfew would be established until the matter was resolved. Kids are being asked to stay indoors while parents are to keep all doors and windows locked and to watch their neighborhoods for any strange animals or activity. The public is to stay vigilant and aware of their surroundings, and to make law enforcement aware of any irregularities as they occur.
Chapter 48
Gerrick turned the television off and looked at Brandon, his face unreadable. He said. “This is bad.”
“You think?” Brandon said, his expression as serious as Gerrick’s, if not more so. He’d seen what the grohlm were capable of in his visions of his grandfather. It made his blood run cold, thinking of what would happen if the things decided to run wild. He didn’t doubt that a platoon of national guardsmen wouldn’t have much trouble mowing the little suckers down with machine guns, but they were devious enough to make finding them very difficult.
Gerrick looked at Brandon. The older man was shirtless. His upper body was bandaged in dozens of places. Brandon actually had to help the older man stitch a couple of deep wounds on his back. He said. “It’s a bad sign. That many grohlm gathered in one place.”
“Sign of what?” Brandon said. He was also shirtless. His own skin was unblemished. All the wounds that he’d taken during the fight had healed. They had healed before the fight was completely over. The two of them stood in the living room at Highgarden. Both had showered and changed, tossing the ruined costumes that they had worn to battle into a clothes hamper. They had spares, but Gerrick would want to try and repair the damaged ones. Brandon shook his head and looked at Gerrick. “I stand by what I said. I don’t think the grohlm can stand against modern weapons. Give me a machine gun, instead of a sword, and I’ll go out and hunt them down.”
Gerrick smiled. “If it were only that simple.” Standing, he went into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Brandon followed him. Gerrick sat down at the kitchen counter and looked at Brandon. He shook his head and said. “Blades never have to be reloaded. Even if you’re a crack shot, most magazines will only hold ten to thirteen rounds. The bigger ones can hold up to thirty. Anything more than that and the gun is too heavy to carry around.”
“So, you work in teams.” Brandon said. He poured himself a cup of coffee, adding lots of milk and sugar. Sitting across from Gerrick, he said. “One man can cover the other while he reloads? And vice versa?”
“And what happens when both men run out of ammunition?” Gerrick asked.
Brandon shook his head. “There can’t be that many of them. They’d be all over the place.”
Gerrick finished his coffee in one gulp and went to pour himself another cup. He said. “They hide in tunnels, dug in the earth. They have all of the instincts of the animals that they appear to be. And you saw them in your dreams, remember? Now, you tell me that there can’t be that many of them?”
Brandon stared at the tile floor then looked up into Gerrick’s eyes. “And why can’t we tell the police? We can go out, kill a few of them, then take t
heir bodies in as evidence. The police would have to believe us then?”
“Do they?” Gerrick said. “In the old world, your grandfather’s world, grohlm were rare. Most men thought them tales to frighten children. It was only the ones who had fought them that knew better. And even they kept their mouths shut, for fear of being labeled lunatics.” He looked at Brandon, his eyes weary and sad. “The people of this world have a remarkable ability to delude themselves, even when the truth is holding a blade to their throats. They would find some kind of scientific explanation for what we brought them. Call it some kind of genetic mutation, or an elaborate hoax, then lock us up for perpetrating it.”
“I don’t think you’re giving Americans enough credit, Gerrick.” Brandon said. He took a drink and looked out of the sliding glass doors leading to the back yard. It was still raining outside, but not as hard as earlier. A flash of lightning bathed the back yard in light. Brandon blinked. During the flash, he saw someone standing in the yard. Back by the stone bridge, leading into the forest. At first, he thought that it might have been a grohlm, but another flash of lightning revealed that it was too tall. It was a man. He was standing in the center of the bridge, watching the house.
Gerrick must have seen something in Brandon’s eyes, because he said. “What is it?” Standing, the big man turned to the glass door and stared outside. With the next flash, Gerrick stiffened and said. “Fetch the Phoenix.” He turned when Brandon didn’t automatically move and growled. “Now, boy.”
Brandon ran. In the main viewing room, he rushed to the glass case holding the sword and worked for a second to open it. Once the case was open, he reached in and grabbed the sword by the grip and pulled it out. As soon as his hand closed on the woven wire grip, Brandon felt a terrific surge of power leap into his body. It was like liquid light, coursing through his veins. His mind was filled with flame, consuming everything. It lasted for only a split second, then vanished. The Phoenix was suddenly a normal sword again. From the kitchen, Gerrick shouted. “HURRY, BRANDON.”
Rain Of Stone (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 1) Page 20
