Blood welled around the knife’s tip as Savannah worked it up Ray-Ray’s neck toward the twitching lump. Thin skin parted to reveal knotted muscle. Savannah sliced until she hit the lump.
A spade-like snout thrust through the slit, followed by a tiny, wrinkled head. Ray-Ray screamed then hooked his fingers into the flap of loose skin dangling from his neck. He tore it back toward his ear. A mole rat flopped out of the gaping wound. It reared its head back, then unleashed a piercing squeal.
“Screw you!” Savannah snarled. She flicked the knife downward, impaling the mole rat’s back. The creature tore itself free, then tumbled down Ray-Ray’s leg onto the floor of the SUV.
Ray-Ray’s hands fumbled at his wound. Blood poured between his clumsy fingers, running down his neck to soak his filthy T-shirt.
Savannah dug under her seat for one of the spare blouses she kept in the truck. She smacked Ray-Ray’s hands aside then shoved the shirt against the wound. “Hold that.”
Ray-Ray nodded then pressed both hands to the makeshift bandage. “Hospital,” he croaked.
“Sure,” Savannah said. “Soon as you tell me what you were doing.”
“Okay, okay.” Ray-Ray gagged.
Savannah could see another lump rising under his skin, just above Ray-Ray’s ear. Then another on his forearm. A bulge stretched out from his chin. Something moved under Ray-Ray’s bloody shirt.
Savannah raised the knife.
Ray-Ray screamed.
***
Savannah started with the twitching bulges closest to the surface of Ray-Ray’s skin.
“You’re killin’ me,” Ray-Ray gasped, but he did not fight. “Just get it done!”
“Tell me who was buying that crap.” Savannah drew the sharp edge of the curved blade across the center of the swelling. It parted with a sound like tearing paper. She jammed her fingers into the wound, then yanked the mole rat out of Ray-Ray’s scalp.
“Damn, damn, damn!” the junkie screamed, beating his hands against his thighs.
The mole rat tried to bite Savannah, but the Root Woman squeezed its wiry torso in her fist until blood gouted from its snout and the hellish light went out of its eyes.
“There’re too many,” Ray-Ray cried. Too damned many!”
Ray-Ray pounded his fist down on a lump in his thigh again and again, until it stopped twitching. Tiny cracking noises came from his leg as he kept on smashing the dead thing.
Savannah grabbed the junkie by the chin then turned him so their eyes met. “We don’t have much time. Tell me who bought this crap.”
“Gotta get ‘em out!” Ray-Ray found another lump on the inside of his left arm then scraped the fingernails of his right hand over it. “I’m ‘bout to lose it!”
The junkie scraped at his flesh until red welts appeared and blood began to flow. Another lump throbbed with an irregular rhythm, swelling as the creature within tried to thrust its way into the world. “C’mere, you little bastard!”
Savannah slapped Ray-Ray across the cheek. “We’ll get them out, but you have to tell me who did this.”
“There’s a list,” Ray-Ray started, then went back to digging at his arm.
The flesh tore open. The addict screeched a cry of victory, then he hooked his fingers inside his arm. He snatched the mole rat out.
Ray-Ray mashed the creature against the passenger-side window, smearing it against the glass.
“Where’s the list?” Savannah sliced Ray-Ray’s t-shirt open with a long swipe of the knife. There were three large lumps moving under his light brown skin, stretching it so tight Savannah could see the raccoons’ furry heads underneath. She stabbed the coons, skewering them through Ray-Ray’s flesh.
Savannah felt sick. The Chief Detective had lied to her. All the rest of the Porters were dead, and her last lead was just about to kick the bucket. She needed that list. Without it, she had no idea who to chase after. She would never stop this mess before it spiraled out of control. She had to get Ray-Ray to talk.
Ray-Ray panted, his eyes little more than puffy slits. He was soaked with blood that ran out of him like water from a leaky balloon.
“The list. Where’s the list?” Savannah slapped him again, trying to bring him back around. She thought of applying a tourniquet, but there was too much blood; too many holes to plug.
Ray-Ray lifted his eyelids; gave Savannah a slow blink. “Hid that shit. They’d kill me if they found out I kept it. Guess it don’t matter much now.”
“Help me put a stop to this.” Savannah squeezed the junkie’s hand. “Give me the list.”
“Don’t let ‘em take me. I was scared, that’s all. Didn’t know no better.” Ray-Ray’s eyes widened as if he saw something far beyond the horizon; something dark and hungry and drawing near. “We all was scared, I guess.”
“Who?” The Root Woman resisted the urge to shake the junkie. “I can’t help you, if you don’t help me.”
“Guess I’m gone, anyhow.”
“It’s the right thing. You know that.”
“It true what they say?” Ray-Ray’s words came out slurred and dripping with blood. “That you got the big guy’s ear?”
“Yeah,” Savannah said, trying to hide her frustration. She did not have time to explain her job and the complicated connections that bound her to the powers that be. The mayor – “the big guy” – listened to Savannah, but often he did not seem to give much of a shit what the Root Woman had to say.
“Can you forgive me?” Ray-Ray’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. “For what I helped ‘em do?”
“I can say the words,” Savannah started, but Ray-Ray kept on pressing his point.
“I did bad, Savannah. I did real bad.” Ray-Ray coughed. Blood poured from his wounds. The lump on his forearm split. Blood leaked over its edges. Ray-Ray cried as a shrieking mole rat shoved its head through the slit. “Goddamn! That burns!”
Ray-Ray dug inside his arm then ripped the mole rat out, crushing it in his shaking fist.
“Ray-Ray, I forgive you.” Savannah did not know what else to say. “You can still help make it right.”
“We were just tryin’ to make it.” Ray-Ray grimaced. The bulge on his chin slithered up toward his lower lip. He spat a mouthful of blood into his hand. “The world left the SWATS behind, Savannah. Whole damned place is dying. All we had was the old ways, and we was scared you’d take that from us, too.”
“The list. You don’t have much longer to make this right.”
“Yeah.” Ray-Ray took a deep breath then screamed. Blood sprayed against the windshield. Three of his teeth spilled out of his mouth. His tongue jutted from between cracked lips, whipping back and forth as if pulled by an unseen string. Ray-Ray pulled away from Savannah then slammed his bloody hand against the window. His fingers spasmed against the glass, tapping an erratic rhythm.
“Ray-Ray, please.” Savannah tried to pull the man back around, to see if he could at least try to read the dying man’s lips. But the junkie was having none of it. He shrugged Savannah off, spitting strange words that scorched the air and stank of feces. Writhing figures pushed against Ray-Ray’s skin. White fangs gnawed through to reveal hungry, furry faces and glaring eyes with too many pupils.
“Shit!” Savannah shouted, throwing her door open. The SUV was filling with raccoons and mole rats, their hungry mouths tearing Ray-Ray apart. He turned back to Savannah, his face stripped down to the bone in places, one eye dangling from its socket with a mole rat clutching it.
“Forgive me,” he mouthed, then a wordless scream poured out of him.
Savannah ran around the truck then yanked the passenger door open. Ray-Ray fell out onto the wet ground, his blood running into the mud as his silent scream went on and on. Savannah watched as her last lead shrieked toward the grave. She did not know what to do now, where to look, who to interrogate. The darkness was coming, and she had no idea how to stop it.
“Goddess keep your soul, Ray-Ray. May She shelter it in her furious fist and hide it from the evil
that haunted you in life.”
Savannah eased the muzzle of the revolver down onto Ray-Ray’s forehead. The red ran out of the rain, as if in answer to Savannah’s simple prayer. The Root Woman closed her eyes, tilted her face to the sky, and let the rain wash the blood off her. She let out a long, shuddering sigh, then pulled the revolver’s trigger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Spurred by his father’s words, Carter scooped Lashey into his arms then hit the stairs to the second floor at a dead run. He bounded up the steps three at a time, rushing toward the big bedroom at the end of the hall. He hit the door with his shoulder and it flew open. The door bounced off the wall, then slammed shut behind them.
Lashey wormed out of Carter’s arms then dropped to the floor. She adjusted her hood then turned back toward the door.
Carter locked the deadbolt then laid a heavy hand on his sister’s shoulder. Lashey tried to brush it away, but he held her firm.
“He needs us,” Lashey cried. “You left him alone out there!”
Carter tightened his grip on Lashey’s shoulder to keep her from bolting for the door again.
“If you promise to stay here, I’ll go see what’s happening.” Carter knelt before his sister then looked into the shadows of the hood. He could not see Lashey’s eyes at all. The spirits were gathering within her, responding to her rage and fear. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” she said. “Be quick!”
Carter nodded. “I will be.”
He slid the deadbolt open, then he pointed to a chair at the small desk in the corner. “Use that. Lock the door behind me.”
Lashey wrestled the chair over to the door.
Carter waited in the hall until he heard the door lock behind him, then he headed for the stairs. He leapt down the stairwell, landing on all fours in the living room. He could feel a presence gathering outside the house; something old and foul. He tilted his nose into the air then took a deep breath. Rot and char came to him from the back of the house. He crept into the kitchen, tracking the source of the stench.
A gray shape lumbered past one of the windows. Carter ducked low to the floor to avoid its attention. The thing moved fast for its size, flowing forward with a predator’s gait. Carter lunged, racing toward the window, roaring a challenge at the intruder. He leapt for the window, jaws spread wide. He closed his eyes then crossed his arms in front of his face to shield himself from the worst of the breaking glass.
He never saw the shadow coming at him. The window shattered, then whirling glass shrapnel exploded into the house. The shards bit into his forearms and chest, slicing slivers of flesh from him and burying themselves in his muscles. He fell to the kitchen floor, something heavy and smelling of death on top of him. Pain crawled up his sides, lanced his stomach, slashed at his head. Fangs gored chunks from his flesh, leaving him gasping and breathless from the pain.
Something hit the side of the house, rattling the windows in their frames. Carter heard his sister scream from the room above him. The sound was a jolt of energy to his system. He had to get up; he had to protect Lashey.
Carter threw his weight to the side. He rolled onto his attacker, shifting their positions, to give himself the leverage to rip his opponent apart. Blood ran into his eyes, but he could see the dark shape beneath him, a swirling mass of fur and fangs that seemed to be all talons and teeth. Wherever it touched him he bled, and the myriad thin cuts were starting to take their toll.
He slashed his hands through the swarm, tearing chunks of it free. They were and were not raccoons, clumps of fur studded with gnashing fangs. Carter kept shredding the mass, and the enemy beneath him grew weaker. Its fangs tore smaller and smaller pieces from him, leaving behind pinpricks of blood that were little more than tick bites.
Then it was gone, leaving Carter on his knees, blood running from a hundred shallow wounds. He hooked his claws into the kitchen table next to him then hauled himself up onto his feet. The little cuts were healing, a benefit of his bestial curse, but he needed meat to restore his energy. His knees were weak and wobbly, Much more of this and he would be out cold.
Carter’s head jerked up as Lashey screamed again. He had not beaten the swarm, it had just gone after easier prey. He forced himself to move. He put one weak, stiff leg ahead of the other and made his way up the stairs.
The black shadow slammed into the door, smudging it with charcoal-gray paw prints.
Carter laid into the swarm again, smashing chunks of it flat against the door. He tore other pieces of it loose, sending them skittering down the hall behind him. He tore and bit and crushed, but the swarm’s mass did not diminish, and Carter continued to bleed.
His legs gave way, and he dropped to his knees, arms buried in the swarm up to the elbows. “Lashey,” he croaked. “Hide.”
“Carter?” she whispered, her voice thick with fear. “Don’t leave me.”
“Hide,” he gasped. “You have to hide.”
He separated more squirming chunks from the monstrosity, but he knew he was losing the fight. He could not cut or bite the swarm to death, but it had no trouble doing the same to him.
“Carter?” Lashey whispered through the keyhole.
“Hide,” he gasped, but his voice was too weak to be heard. The bolt clicked.
Lashey opened the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Savannah sat on the edge of the SUV’s loadspace, finishing off the remains of a joint she found between the leather cushions of the driver’s seat. She held the tiny joint with a roach clip she kept tucked away in her glove compartment for such occasions.
Ray-Ray’s body lay behind her, wrapped in layers of blue nylon tarp and duct tape.
The rain had dwindled to little more than a thick mist – an annoying dampness that chilled the air.
Savannah hopped down from the SUV, then walked down to Ray-Ray’s Jeep, watching the road for raccoons and mole rats. The creatures had dispersed when Ray-Ray died, but Savannah did not trust them to stay gone.
The Jeep’s interior was as much of a disaster as its rusted shell. Chik-Fil-A wrappers and empty cans of Natural Ice littered the floor, filling the vehicle with a greasy, yeasty stench. The ash tray was an overflowing mound of butts and gray ash. Savannah dug around in the garbage, looking for something, anything she could use to find the bastards on Ray-Ray’s list.
Light flashed from under the seat. Savannah reached into the darkness and found a sleek glass and plastic rectangle. She pulled Ray-Ray’s cell phone out then allowed herself a sigh of relief.
The phone vibrated. Savannah tapped 1, 2, 3, 4, hoping Ray-Ray was too stupid to bother with a real password. A red bar flashed. Savannah punched in four 1s, and the bar flashed again.
Whoever was calling Ray-Ray gave up. Savannah wanted to smash the phone onto the ground. She needed the numbers out of the phone, along with whatever else she could find in its encrypted innards. But first, she had to get the code.
Savannah shoved the phone into her shirt pocket then walked back to her SUV. She stared at the mess inside and groaned. There was blood everywhere – clotted on the seats, smeared across every glass surface as if a pack of maniacs had gone berserk with finger paint. She rooted around under the seat for the rags and alcohol she kept on hand just in case things got messy and then she started cleaning the windshield.
The phone buzzed in her pocket. Savannah flopped into the driver’s seat then dug the phone out.
She remembered Ray-Ray sitting next to her, screaming, his hand pressed to the window; his index finger jabbing at the blood that coated it. Savannah looked at the window. In the smears, she could make out what looked like a pattern of smeared dots. She tried what she thought she saw: 4589. The red bar flashed. The phone buzzed again.
Savannah stared at the bloody smears. Maybe it was not a five. She punched in 4289 and the pass-code screen disappeared.
A phone number flashed on the screen. Savannah pressed the button to answer it, then pressed the phone to her ear.
“How did you get this number?”
“You don’t sound pleased to hear from me.” There was a long, liquid noise from the other end of the line, as if someone was taking a deep drink from a tall glass. “I need you to come up to the Briarcliff.”
“I don’t have time to go all the way up there. I’m working.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The mayor’s laughter reminded Savannah of a bucket of glass thrown down a stairwell. “You need to make time for this. We have much to discuss.”
“No.” Savannah felt a tingle of fear as the rebellious word left her lips. But she did not have time; she had things to do. The second conjured girl’s threat hung heavy around her neck. She did not know what it meant, exactly, but she wanted this wrapped up and buried before anything worse happened. “I can’t do it now. After this is finished, then we can talk.”
“Savannah. I am not assured there will be an after.” Rage crackled down the line. Savannah felt it like a slap across her face. “Come to the Briarcliff. Now!”
The Root Woman felt the command tighten around her neck like a noose. She had gone years without the leash being yanked, and the reminder of the mayor’s power was unnerving. She could not catch her breath, her heart raced. Worse, she felt weak; puny.
A Haunting in the SWATS (The Savannah Swan Files Book 1) Page 14
