Waiting.
***
Harlson had just made it out of the city limits when Luke fell asleep on the passenger side of his car.
Poor guy, Harlson thought. He’s still weak.
He wasn’t concerned about finding Dreg’s lair. Luke had told him of his encounter with the ghost of Bertha Hobbs and how she had told him to look for a red lantern. So, as absurd as looking for a red lantern in the thick woods of Interstate 45 sounded, Harlson had his eyes peeled for anything that fit the description. Though how he was supposed to see anything through the veil of rain cascading down his windshield was beyond him. It did seem to be letting up, he noted.
He decided that Luke being conked out was good. It would make it easier for Harlson to protect the guy.
Just get your strength back, sport, he thought. Let me take care of the big bad wolf.
And he prayed he would be up to the task. He wasn’t in the best of shape himself. His spasm at the hospital had taken a lot of strength from him.
Harlson had to acknowledge the sudden change in his faith and beliefs. He had never given much credence to psychic phenomena, but here he was- driving through a monsoon, following a psychic’s vision. It went to show how few straws there were left for him to grab at.
He would have given himself more credit for his newfound open-mindedness, but he decided to perform that pat on the back only when he was sure that this wasn't a blind alley.
There was so little time left. For him. For Tammy Glover. It was time that couldn't be wasted, but really, he had nothing better to squander it on. Harlson was a man hunter. The Keepsake Killer was the detective's ultimate game. The only thing that had kept him alive on the force this long was either pure luck or uncanny skill and he could never decide which deserved more thanks. Dreg was a dangerous and tough customer, but Harlson felt there was no one else around who stood a chance at stopping the bastard.
He was going to slam dunk this one. And he was going to do it in his favorite fashion. Alone. No back-up. No one for him to trip over.
Luke, before passing out, had reaffirmed that backup would send the fuck scurrying away. That was fine by Harlson. He would show Fowler, Lubin, the commissioner and the mayor how it was done.
Dreg was going to take a fall. And Harlson, the dying half-breed, was going to have people kissing his backside, for once.
CHAPTER 46
The rain stopped. Dreg stepped off of the porch. He stared up at the sky. Dark clouds parted, and Le Loup peeked through. It was only a tad more than a quarter of the moon, but it was enough to make Dreg smile. He would go into the shed, approach Tammy, and tell her he was setting her free now.
‘Go, go,’ he imagined himself saying to her. ‘You is free.’
And then, as she turned to leave, he would snap her neck. She would never realize the deception. It would happen so fast that she wouldn’t have time to panic or plead. She would die joyous, and Dreg wanted it that way. As upset as he was, he still felt a deep affection for her. He wasn’t a heartless vieil homme, and his soul cried for another option.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t one. So he would give her body and soul to Le Loup and carry her memory with him for his remaining seasons. He would find another to bear his cubs, Le Loup willing. But Tammy was the one he would be with after death, on the other side of the moon, where Le Loup was. She would understand, when Le Loup consumed her and made Tammy a part of his glory. She would know him then. And she would wait for Dreg.
He started to make his way to the shed when the voice in his head shouted.
"Wha is?" he thought, disbelievingly. His earlier prediction had come true. A cowboy-man was close to him, the voice told him. A cowboy-man would be near Dreg's den soon. Dreg had been anticipating this, and the man would fair poorly against him.
He postponed the ceremony and pulled a shotgun from the porch into his hands. He checked to make sure it was loaded. Dreg waded silently into the woods. An outsider had the nerve to interfere with a traiteur’s sacred ceremony. And that outsider was about to be dealt with good and proper.
Yeh-heh.
***
Interstate 45 was deserted. Harlson drove through Huntsville, discouragement beginning to settle in. Maybe he had missed something. Maybe he should turn around and head back toward Houston, with closer attention paid to his surroundings. Or maybe this was bullshit and a total waste of time. Luke still slept, and Harlson considered waking him up to go through the details of the vision one more time.
‘That was a red lantern, right sport? Sure it wasn’t an Interstate marker or tree because there are plenty of those fuckers out here.’
His hand reached for Luke’s shoulder. Before it made contact, something caught his eye.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, applying the brakes.
He used his extended arm to keep Luke from hitting the dashboard. Luke protested groggily, and then he quickly fell back asleep, his head lolling against the headrest.
Harlson slowly backed the car up, until a large weathered sign, seemingly tacked to a group of trees, was visible in the headlights of his car. There it was. The red lantern. It was a picture of an antique lantern that emitted a red light. Below the image, the sign read: THE RED LANTERN INN AND 24 HOUR DINER OFF OF EXIT 283.
Harlson killed the engine, but he left the headlights on. He climbed out of the car, examining the sign. Upon closer inspection, he saw the left part of the sign was attached to a thick oak tree by rusted hinges. On the right side of the sign, a latch was applied to another tree. Harlson flipped the latch and the sign creaked open of its own accord, like a possessed door in an old horror movie. He took his penlight from his shirt pocket and he shined it into the forest. A clearing cut through the woods. And though the grass was as high as his knees, he could see the indication of tire tracks in the field.
I’ll never doubt you again, Mr. Glover, he thought.
He went back to the car and he cut off the lights. He checked on Lucas, who was still in a deep sleep. Harlson shut the car door, after putting his keys on his seat and locking Lucas inside the vehicle.
He walked beyond the sign, following the tracks. About a hundred yards ahead, heavier forest greedily swallowed the trail. Harlson put his penlight away and he used the little moonlight available as his guide. All he had to do was follow the lines. It would lead him right to Dreg’s doorstep.
He couldn’t help but notice that the field was on an incline. The closer he came to the woods, the steeper the incline became.
Like climbing a mountain, he thought, remembering the story of his ancestors who had climbed mountains to die on. He shook the symbolism away.
You’re acting sort of nuts, he scolded himself. You’re walking up a little dirt hill.
He wasn’t that excessively cautious until he stepped into the woods and lost a good portion of light. He moved slowly. His 9mm led the way. He took in as much as he could between steps, his eyes straining in the darkness. He couldn’t use his penlight here. It would make him an easy target. The only advantage he found was that this Dreg had the same handicap.
Harlson walked softly, toe to heel. His tread was so light that an imprint in the earth would be noticeable to only the keenest of eyes. He began to sweat, and he smiled to himself in the darkness.
Never let them see you sweat, he thought. He doubted that anyone would see him perspire in these woods.
Butterflies formed in his stomach, and the familiar pain was beginning to set in. He tolerated it, going about his business.
Searching.
Stalking.
And then he paused.
Something didn’t feel right. He stood, silently absorbing the darkness. Moisture rolled off of the tree leaves and drummed on the ground. The weather had driven most of the wildlife away, so no other sound penetrated the silence. But something was out there. He felt it now. His intuitive sense was picking up something. No one was visible. No one made a sound. But Dreg was out there. He could feel him.
&
nbsp; Harlson moved again, working his way toward a large tree for a shield. He couldn’t give his position away, so he moved slowly. He paused once more, a tingle running the length of his back. Then he felt a hammer being pulled back on a firearm.
He didn’t see it. He didn’t hear it. He felt it.
Shit! his frenzied mind screamed. Move!
A shot rang out and pain exploded in Harlson’s right leg.
“Mother fucker!” he screamed, following the curse with another cry of sheer agony.
He fell to the ground, his right leg useless. His knee was shattered. He pointed his gun into the darkness and he fired three times. Despite the agony, he tucked his gun into his pants and he crawled through the mud, determined to regroup behind the tree. He panted and gritted his teeth as he dragged his injured leg.
Come on, he thought. You can make it. Keep moving. The fucker fell back so keep moving.
Another shot came. Harlson fell back from the force of it. It had caught him through the right armpit, and it tore through every organ in its path.
Harlson shuddered, his chest flaring with pain and limbs quivering uncontrollably. His painful march stopped. He sank further to the ground, his body suddenly feeling weightless. He couldn’t breath. Blood frothed from his mouth. His face collapsed in the mud.
Then he was gone.
***
Dreg approached the body.
Dead.
He beamed at the sight, his inner voice finally quieting. Something was strange about this one. Dreg sniffed the air near the corpse.
“Bad meat,” Dreg muttered, leaving the cowboy-man to the elements.
The clouds had rolled across the moon once more, but they would soon clear.
He walked back toward his den.
There was a feast to prepare.
CHAPTER 47
Thunder woke him. Or at least it sounded like thunder. Luke jerked awake, his unfamiliar surroundings sending him into a half-awake panic. Then everything seeped back to him. He wiped his eyes.
‘Get a move on, sport.’
“Harlson?” Luke said, glancing around the car. He had just heard the man whisper, but where was he?
Luke stepped sluggishly out of the car. The wind was picking up. The storm was concentrating once again above him. The large sign, manipulated by the strong wind, slammed against the trees.
And he saw it.
A dim Interstate light illuminated the sign. The red lantern. He stared ahead at the stretch of wilderness beyond the sign. He looked around for Harlson once more.
Then he stepped inside.
***
Tammy had heard the shots. Now she strained to see what was happening through the cracks in the shed wall. Was Dreg dead? Had someone found her? Rescued her?
Her heart sank when Dreg emerged from the woods. He walked slowly toward the cabin. He seemed to be scrutinizing the sky, shaking his head disparagingly.
She slumped back to the floor, giving the wood one final pull before hanging her head in defeat. It still wouldn’t budge.
‘Who’s going to save my poor Sassy?’
“Shut up,” she muttered meekly, her body convulsing as she sank over and cried again. And just when she thought she was finally numb to it.
‘Who’s going to save my poor Sassy?’ she heard her father's words again.
She dried her eyes and she cleaned her nose with the sleeve of her blouse. Well, if there had been a knight in the forest, it was a fair bet that the dragon had won the fight.
***
Luke paused, staring down at Harlson’s body.
Oh God in heaven, he thought, as he knelt to Harlson’s motionless form.
He grasped the detective’s wrist, searching for a pulse.
Nothing.
He saw the butt of Harlson’s 9mm tucked in the front of the fallen man's pants. He pulled the gun out slowly, barely disturbing Harlson’s corpse. He had known it would happen. His power told him long ago that Harlson would die. As he stared at the dead man, Luke still felt shock and guilt.
But there was no more time to spare on the fallen detective. Luke felt his wife in the distance. Her spirit called out to him.
Despite the terror he felt at the sight of Harlson, he felt good. Better than he had in years, in fact. His head was clear and free of pain. His body felt healthy and strong.
And that was good.
He needed everything he had inside to save Tammy. He had never been much of a fighter. There were very few times that he had raised his hand against another and he hadn't physically fought someone since high school. His nerve gave a little. Luke needed Harlson. Harlson was the warrior. Luke was only the seer and if an experienced warrior like Harlson had fallen victim to Dreg, what chance did he have?
Not much of one, probably. But he had a weapon. And maybe his abilities would compensate for his inexperience in a violent conflict.
He had touched Dreg, but he feared reaching out with his mind for a fix on the monster’s position. He recalled his dream where the couchemal had first spoken to him. He remembered clearly what it had warned him:
‘He cannot feel your bond. But beware. Close proximity will give you away.’
So he was going in relatively blind. He closed his eyes, searching for Tammy. She was near. And she was still alive. He was positive of it. Lucas turned to Harlson’s body.
“I don't know if you can hear me,” he said. “But I want to thank you for getting me this far. When this is over, I'll either be toasting your memory or I'll be joining you. Rest in peace, Detective William Harlson."
He straightened back up and took a deep breath, building his courage. His plan wasn’t to defeat Dreg and Lucas encouraged no optimism regarding his own survival. He would engage the psychopath and hopefully Tammy would manage to flee. Dreg would kill him, most likely. But it was a fair bargain if his sacrifice allowed Tammy to get away from there, as far as the psychic was concerned.
He turned once more to Harlson. “Goodbye, sport.”
Luke began to walk.
***
Tammy sat in the shed, her knees drawn to her chin. The fear was gone and a new wave of resignation had her. Suddenly, her head rose, her eyes widening. She felt something. Someone. Invisible tendrils lightly probed her brain.
“Luke?” she whispered.
***
Dreg stood on the porch, exasperation setting in. He cursed the cowboy-man for showing up when the sky had been clear. Now the dark clouds had once again obscured Le Loup, as the gathering shadow stretched across the sky. The rumbling thunderstorm might never clear now. Which meant his ceremony was ruined.
He would simply have to kill Tammy and be off. There was no other way. The dead cowboy-man probably had a car parked on the Interstate, which meant that more cowboy-men might find it and descend on his den. He might have to abandon this one all together. It was a sin- all of the meat in his freezer would go to waste. He would carry as much as he could to sate his hunger on the road, but so much of it, enough to feed him two seasons, easily, would be forfeited.
He sighed, beginning to wonder if Tammy had been more of a curse to him than anything else. He heard a sound in the woods. His inner voice was quiet, so it must have been a critter. Dreg had brushed off the noise when he heard another. A heavy step, too big to be an animal.
Wha is? he thought, shocked. No one had ever been able to sneak up on him without his inner voice protesting.
A man emerged from the woods. Dreg stepped to the side of his den, watching curiously. The man, tall and thin with dark features, took in the surroundings, his eyes going over the cars and Dreg’s cabin. Finally, he spotted the shed. The man walked slowly to it, glancing around nervously.
Dreg smiled, amused. He could easily nip this in the bud with one shot before the man took another step, but he wanted this outsider to think he had managed to fool the old wolf.
He was intrigued by this meat. He had the power to be invisible to Dreg’s senses. And Dreg would know why before t
he little lamb perished.
CHAPTER 48
Tammy froze as the shed door opened. A figure lingered in the darkness, and then stepped forward into the weak lantern light.
“Tammy?” Luke said, rushing to her.
It took her a moment to believe it. She watched him approach, his arms wrapping around her.
When she felt his warmth, inhaled his familiar scent, felt his pounding heart pressed against her chest, it began to sink in. This wasn’t some fanciful dream or mirage. This was Luke, holding her, stroking her head, squeezing her so tight that she almost lost her breath.
“Luke?” she said, grasping him in return. Her eyes clouded. She hugged him tighter, pulling at his jacket. “You came. You found me.”
He broke the embrace and kissed her. She returned the kiss. He pulled back, examining her face.
“Oh my God,” he said, his expression twisting into rage. “That bastard. I’ll fucking kill him.”
“I’m okay,” she tried to assure him. She was ready to leave the shed.
Luke was with her now and he would get her out of this. But she had to steer him away from any revenge bullshit. She didn’t care if Dreg was ever caught or punished for his crimes. She only wanted away from there.
“Let’s go,” Tammy said, grabbing at him again. She had to feel him once more- know for certain that he was there and that he wasn’t a dream or hallucination. “We have to get out of here. Let the police handle it. Just find something to get these off of me.”
She held her hands up to the light. Luke saw the chain and manacles for the first time.
He began to glance around the shed. “He had you penned up like an animal,” he muttered, his voice so raw with anger that it chilled her. He had the 9mm out and he waved it around as he looked for something to pry the manacles loose.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ve got this gun and I’ll kill him if he shows up.”
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