The angel swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a yo-yo. “When Quinn couldn’t reach any of you, he called me for help. I couldn’t sense you at all, but I could feel that Casen and Nathan were in danger. They are all at the mine.”
Jordan pushed him away, disgusted. Why was her brother risking his life while their Guardian was safely ensconced in the bathroom? She reached for the door knob. It was always the same. Angels were selfish and humans were expendable. In the end, members of the Circle had to take care of their own. She was a fool to think Gabe was different, that he actually cared about their well-being.
“Jordan, wait. Let me heal your wounds.”
She rounded on him, spittle flying from her lips as she shoved him into the cracked and yellowed wall of the bathroom. “Don’t bother. I’m sure my wounds are nothing compared to what Nathan and Case have endured. If you want to be useful, why not go help Quinn rescue my family?”
Gabe’s shoulders fell forward, defeated. He grabbed great handfuls of his tousled hair, threatening to pull it out. “I can’t!” he cried in anguish. “I’m not allowed.”
Jordan stared at him, not understanding. He couldn’t help them? Since when? They usually had no problem completing a hunt on their own but every once in a blue moon -- which was shining brightly the night she’d been attacked by a werewolf -- Gabe stepped in.
His soulful eyes bore into hers, begging for forgiveness and understanding. She could offer neither. “Remember that day in the barn when Michael told you that there must be balance between good and evil to keep this world alive? He said there were circumstances he couldn’t go into with you.”
Jordan nodded, wondering where he was going with this. It was almost as if he were saying goodbye, cutting the apron strings and pushing them out the door. The thought made her ill.
“Something has happened that we’ve never encountered before. We always seem to be a few steps behind demons in this war, a few minutes too late, and a few good men too short. Now, because of recent events, we are in danger of losing our hold completely.”
This was all very interesting, but Jordan was growing restless. “Gabe, could you move this along or save it for later? I have my family to save and I’m sure you have a harp to go play or some thrones that need polishing.”
Ignoring her jab, he continued. “I have been instructed to focus my energy on this new development with the demons. We feel it is imperative to find out what they’re up to before it’s too late…for everyone.”
What was he saying? Was he no longer their Guardian? After all these years of rebelling against the higher-ups and doing what he thought was right, Gabe was conforming to the masses and taking orders? Was he becoming one of them, leaving no time for Jordan and her family? She didn’t know what to say. She needed his help. He knew she needed his help, and he was refusing. Could this day get any worse? The one person she could always count on when she had to fly solo was jumping in the middle of the flight…with the only pair of wings. She shrugged her shoulders, surrendering without a fight. “Fine, Gabe, good luck,” she said. There was enough ice in her words to keep a family of Eskimos happy for a year.
“Jordan, I wish I could explain. I know this sounds deliberately cruel, but I don’t mean for it to be. I wish I could tell you, but--“
She cut him off. “I know. You can’t.” Jordan turned the tap off. She imagined the pain in her head would equal a hangover after a three-day bender. The ibuprofen wasn’t even making a dent. She rubbed the space between her eyes. If only she could rub out the past few days – hell, the past few years. Just rub them out and start over. “Gabe…” She really had no idea where she was going with this, but she also felt she couldn’t just walk away from him, not after everything they’d been through. He’d been there all her life. He was as much family as her brothers and uncle. She never entertained the thought that one day he wouldn’t be. Face it, Jordan. Gabe may be leaving, but you have your own slice of guilt pie to choke down.
She needed to focus on what was important now, and that was getting to the mine and helping her family. She placed a hand on her Guardian’s shoulder, blinking back tears. Damn, she’d lost so much in such a short time. “I wish you luck. Thanks for everything.”
She quickly turned away, not wanting to meet his eyes, not wanting him to see the hurt she felt inside. She heard the sound of wings as she opened the door. A gentle breeze caressed her back and propelled her forward, perhaps an encouraging last push from Gabe to keep her in the right direction.
Wendy sat up on the twin bed when Jordan entered the bedroom. She rubbed her eyes, looking more than a little bewildered that she’d fallen asleep. Jordan could only imagine. It must feel weird to know that the last thing you remember before waking up on a bed is that you were standing by the doorway and wide awake.
“What the hell happened?” she exclaimed. She jumped from the bed as if it were on fire.
Jordan smiled. “I guess you were tired. I just got out of the bathroom. I was only in there a few minutes, so you haven’t been asleep long.”
Wendy looked skeptical but didn’t press the issue, although her eyes darted to and fro (looking for the Sandman who knocked her out?), before resting on Jordan’s rumpled appearance.
“I thought you’d be craving a hot shower,” she commented, taking in her filthy jeans and wild, stringy hair.
Jordan snatched a brush from the pressboard dresser and dragged it through her hair. It caught on the snarls and tangles. She tried a few more times before finally giving up. It was about as effective as combing through a briar bush with a fork. Oh, well -- she had no one to impress and her head hurt.
“I can’t shower yet. The creature has an acute sense of smell. Scents like blood and soap would attract it faster than ringing a dinner bell and I need every advantage I can get.”
Jordan headed for the living room, mentally making a check list of everything she needed. At the very top was getting Wendy to leave. She glanced at the weapons piled on the kitchen table and detoured to Case’s room. One of their weapon bags was in the corner; she grabbed it. Inside were several hypodermic darts already filled with holy water along with a dart gun.
Back in the kitchen, she hastily gathered silver knives, a box of salt, pentagrams, regular guns, extra ammo, books, and anything else she could find. By the time she finished, evidence that might have raised suspicions if none of them made it back to the cabin was gone.
Wendy had been sitting on the couch, but stood when Jordan slung the pack over her shoulder.
“What are you doing? You can’t go after that thing alone! You need help, back-up, an extra pair of eyes!” She looked so worried, so frightened, that Jordan pulled her into a hug.
“I know what I’m doing, Wendy. It’ll be fine.” Actually, she was probably going to her death, but at least she would die knowing she tried to save her family.
Wendy pulled away, giving Jordan a little shake. “That…monster…took both your uncle and your brother! You don’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting them back alone! I’m going with you.”
Now, it was Jordan’s turn to shake her friend. Dammit, she didn’t have time for this! “No, you’re not. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you. That thing is lethal, and you have no experience in dealing with the paranormal. I do.”
Her friend pulled away. “How hard can it be to point and shoot a gun? I can watch your back while you do your thing.” When she saw Jordan shake her head, she became even more adamant. “I won’t get in your way, I swear! You need help, and let’s face it: I’m all you’ve got. I refuse to let you walk into this alone. You know what you’re getting into.”
Jordan pushed her nasty hair from her face. The weapons bag was growing heavier by the second and she had no time. She would have to let Wendy help in some fashion or the girl would never give up and let her go.
“You’re right. I do know what I’m getting into, but you don’t. You have no idea how the creature thinks or hunts. B
efore we go after anything, we do a ton research to prepare. Wendy, I can’t rescue my family if I have to worry about you, too. But, there is something you can do for me, if you want to help.”
“Anything, just name it,” she replied, her expression eager.
Jordan unzipped the bag and pulled out a small pistol. It was the first one she ever fired and she kept it for good luck – a .22 caliber. She handed it to Wendy, who took it with little reservation. Jordan was surprised, but pleased.
“There are three ways to kill the creature. One is a shot to the heart with a silver dart filled with holy water. It’s tricky, but not impossible. Another way is to get the person who summoned it to send it back.” She hesitated, not knowing how Wendy would react to what she would say next. “The last way is to…to kill the person who summoned it.”
Wendy fingered the gun, examining every inch of it. “You mean Corbett,” she whispered, not looking up.
“Yes.”
Wendy located the safety. She flicked it on and off. “So, you’re asking me to kill him?” Her tone was conversational, but Jordan heard a rumble of… something…underneath.
“No. I’m not asking you to kill him. I just want you to keep an eye out for him.” She touched Wendy’s arm and her friend finally met her eyes. Her face was sad, yet resigned. “If my family and I aren’t back by tomorrow, I want you to know how to stop this from happening again. I want you to have a way to protect yourself and your mother. This gun isn’t registered to anyone. If someone were to use it, they would need to make sure to wipe it down good and get rid of it afterwards. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Wendy looked at the gun in her hand. Jordan was so used to handling weapons that they were as comfortable in her hand as a soda can, but to someone who’d never held anything more lethal than a camera and a price gun, it probably felt as foreign as a nuclear bomb.
“I understand,” Wendy answered, nodding once.
Jordan gave her a quick lesson on how to handle the gun, the ins and out of loading it, how to work the safety, and how to shoot. Wendy listened carefully. When Jordan finished with her half-assed lesson (it was all she had time for), she made Wendy repeat everything back to her and show her that she could work the weapon. She wished she had more time to work with her, but the gun was fairly simple and she was sure Wendy could point and shoot. With nothing more either could do for the other, the two girls walked outside to the cars…to goodbye.
Chapter Sixteen
After studying the map Wendy gave her, Jordan decided she would save time by driving to the next town and hiking to the mine from there. Kennesaw was a mere spot in the road. If she blinked, she would have missed it. She drove through the business district – if one could call it that. She passed a Winn-Dixie, Phil’s Hardware, Farmer’s Bank, and the Quik-Stop gas station. She pulled in for directions. According to the map, the national park’s property line was in the middle of the armpit of nowhere. It must be against Kennesaw’s rules to put up signs labeling their roads.
The gas station attendant was a greasy-haired man with a beer belly and a Hugh Heffner complex. In the fantasy world where he lived when he forgot his stupid pills, he was God’s gift to females. He didn’t take it very well when Jordan told him he wasn’t. He got down-right nasty when she twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him into the ICEE machine after he grabbed her ass.
Back on the road, Jordan sipped her complimentary ICEE and let her mind wander. The perv had apologized profusely and given her the drink as a bribe not to tell his boss how he behaved. She kept her eyes peeled for a dirt road past Old Man Sweeney’s farm on Highway 34. Yeah, the directions he gave her were less than stellar.
She thought about Wendy and how shy and unsure of herself she had seemed when they first met. She recalled with a smile how, after only familiarizing herself for a few brief moments with the gun, Wendy had snapped the safety into place and shoved it in the waistband of her jeans. All she needed was a friend who believed in her. Jordan was proud of the strength and fortitude Wendy had gained, but it was bittersweet. In finding her self-confidence, Wendy had lost part of her innocence. She would never be the same again. Now, she knew the things that go bump in the night weren’t always caused by a tree branch scraping against a window or a house settling. Humans weren’t the only monsters inhabiting the world. Jordan wished she could have spared her that. There was enough evil to go around without worrying about nightmares becoming realities.
Jordan had seen fenced-lined pastures, barns, and farmhouses in several degrees of disrepair for miles, but no dirt road turnoff. A sinking feeling began in the pit of her stomach. She cursed herself for following such vague directions and wasting precious time.
She was looking for a place to turn around when she finally spotted the road on her left. The “road,” barely more than a dirt trail really, was partially hidden by tall scrubs and blended in with the surrounding woods. If she hadn’t slowed the car down to a snail’s pace to search for a shoulder suitable enough to make a U-turn, she would have missed it entirely.
Branches scraped both sides of the car as she maneuvered down the “road less taken,” but someone had been there recently. Fresh tire tracks cut a deliberate path through the dirt, softened by the recent storm. Jordan had no idea if this road was used frequently by anyone, but considering that Mother Nature had reclaimed most of it, she had her doubts.
She had traveled about a mile or so when she was forced to make a sudden stop. The road ended at a fence line topped with rusty barbed wire. She could have gone a few feet farther in, but Quinn’s car blocked the way. She let out a sigh of relief, but the feeling was short-lived. She had no idea how long he’d been here or if he was still among the living.
A quick look inside the Charger didn’t reveal any answers to her questions, but his cell phone was lying on the driver’s seat. It must have slipped out of the holster he kept clipped to his jeans. Jordan picked it up, staring at the tiny screen as if information would magically appear in text form. The battery was almost dead, but she tucked it into her bag anyway. From his back seat, she grabbed an item she forgot to pack -- a flashlight. Making sure his keys weren’t in the car, she locked it up tight. Jordan doubted anyone would come out this way, but there was no point in taking more chances than she already was.
Jordan popped the trunk on Nathan’s car. She sorted through the weapons bag, taking out anything that wasn’t essential. According to the map, she had a long trek to the mine and she didn’t need the extra weight. It was time to go. Daylight would be fading soon – too soon.
Scaling the fence wasn’t necessary. Someone, probably Quinn, had used a pair of wire cutters on the chain link, bending back a flap big enough to squeeze through. She was grateful. The barbed wire at the top looked nasty and there was no doctor handy to administer a tetanus shot or throw in a couple of stitches if she skewered herself trying to climb over. There was no gate that she could see and Jordan wondered what the purpose of this road had been.
She studied the landscape on the other side of the fence and got her answer. The road must have been cleared when the mine was still in use. She could make out deep ruts in the ground made by vehicles – most likely trucks – that once travelled back and forth. The fence was probably put up to keep curious people from accessing the mine after those kids got trapped inside.
Jordan followed the shallow indentations in the ground. In some places, they had been totally erased and she would have to search around until she found them again. She was so focused on the tracks that she would have missed the piece of yellow ribbon if she hadn’t tripped over a fallen branch. A little above eye level, the piece of fabric flapped in the breeze, attached to the limb of a scraggly cedar tree. Quinn. She almost laughed out loud, wondering how many ribbons she had missed while staring at the ground. Better than breadcrumbs, she thought with a smile.
Once she found her brother’s trail markers, the going was much easier…for a while. He had placed them e
very fifty feet or so, and always in a place easy to spot if one knew what to look for. She pushed herself to go faster. Her watch seemed to be plotting against her. Every time she looked at it, another hour had magically passed. At one point, she became so frustrated she almost tore it off her wrist and flung it away just so she wouldn’t have to see the time slipping away.
The woods thickened, the trees growing closer together and blocking the sun. She charged through briar bushes, jumped or climbed over fallen timber, and barely avoided stepping on a rattle-snake. She didn’t detour an inch from the path for fear of losing sight of those yellow ribbons.
The entrance to the mine was unimpressive as far as Jordan was concerned. Of course, that could have been because she was exhausted. The weapons bag, which had been so light and easy to carry when she started out, had become heavier with every mile, the strap digging into her shoulder. She was muddy and covered in leaves from falling, twigs and brambles were embedded in her hair, and she was dehydrated. She had to rest, if only for a minute or two.
She groaned with relief as she set the pack down and collapsed under a beautiful oak. Her fingers shook as she worked the zipper on the bag and grabbed a bottle of water. The first swallow cooled her parched throat and unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She immediately broke out in a cooling sweat. Jordan forced herself to take small sips, even though she wanted to down the bottle like an alcoholic on Dollar Draft night. She popped a few Tylenol and studied the cave entrance, unconsciously twirling the bottle cap between her fingers.
It was still unimpressive. The cave entrance almost looked like an afterthought. The tin and wood roof looked solid, and the darkness of the interior was enticing after her pilgrimage through the sweltering heat. However, the walls of rock framing the doorway gave the impression they would fold inward at the slightest touch. The Kongamato would never fit through this entrance. Neither would the carts that were usually used to haul the massive amounts of harvested coal. There must be another way in.
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