Homecoming (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 1)

by Scott Langrel

  “No. I lost signal about ten minutes ago.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” McCoy said. “What about the radios in your cars?”

  “We can talk around town to each other, but something must have happened to the repeater on Drover Mountain. Without that, we can’t talk to anyone more than five or six miles away.”

  “Landline phones?”

  “Out.”

  “And you still think you’re being paranoid?”

  “No,” Talbot shook his head. “I guess not. But it’ll be daylight in another three hours or so. If they were going to make a move, wouldn’t they have done it by now?”

  As if on cue, there was a gunshot from somewhere nearby, followed by a man’s scream. Talbot drew his firearm, and McCoy grabbed one of the shotguns. They listened, trying to determine from which direction the sound had come.

  “Sounded like it was a block over,” Talbot whispered. “Cherokee Street, maybe.”

  “Are there other deputies out here?” McCoy asked.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know who’s where. Lyle is supposed to be coordinating everything.”

  “Then we need to get to Lyle, and he needs to pull everyone back in. Alone, everyone out here’s a sitting duck. We need to band together in groups.”

  “I’ll hop in the back.” Talbot practically stepped over the side of the bed and squatted in the back. McCoy pulled out and headed for the sheriff’s office, his eyes scanning the shadows between the buildings. More than once he caught the scent of something, like a faint odor on the wind, but it was gone quickly.

  They travelled the two blocks to the station without incident. McCoy pulled directly in front of the building, where the area was well-lit. Motioning for Amanda to stay in the truck, McCoy got out and jogged around to her side. Sensing the coast was clear, he opened her door and helped her out. Talbot hopped out of the bed, and they grabbed their things and went inside.

  There was no one at the front desk. McCoy called out and received no answer. He looked questioningly at Talbot.

  “I’ll go check Lyle’s office,” the deputy said. He walked down the hall and was gone for less than a minute before reappearing. He shook his head. “Doesn’t seem to be anyone here.”

  “Was Lyle here when you last talked to him?” McCoy asked.

  “I don’t know. I called his cell. I just assumed he was here.”

  From somewhere outside, there was another burst of gunfire.

  “Yeah, well we’d better find him, and fast,” McCoy said. “Where’s the radio?”

  “Dispatch operates from that desk.” Talbot pointed to a desk near the back wall. There was a base radio sitting on it.

  “Go see if you can contact anyone. Lyle would be best, but anyone will do. Anybody that answers, get them back here on the double.” He turned to Amanda. “Keep a check on the front door. Shoot anything that doesn’t look human. Don’t hesitate. Can you do that?”

  “Piece of cake. What are you going to do?”

  “Right now? I’m going to take a leak. My bladder’s about to burst.”

  “Sure you don’t need any help?”

  McCoy gave Amanda the evil eye. He handed her one of the shotguns, then walked down the hallway to the restroom. The heavy wooden door took some effort to push open; he was glad it hadn’t been an emergency, or he may have wet himself before he got inside.

  He was concentrating on getting his stream through one of the small holes in the bottom of the urinal when he sensed something. Something Fey. He looked toward the small window. It was just big enough for a Sluagh to slip through, but there was a metal grate covering it. He finished his business and turned his attention to the three stalls which sat along the opposite wall. The doors were all closed. He bent over and looked at the spaces under the doors. He could see no feet, but something might be crouching upon one of the toilets.

  One by one, he kicked the stall doors open. Each was empty. He began to worry about Amanda. He shouldn’t have left her alone to guard the door. Talbot was there, too, but he would be concentrating on the radio. He needed to get back out there. He turned to the wooden door and found himself staring into a face.

  “McCoy,” it said.

  He jumped back in spite of himself. It was a good thing he’d just emptied his bladder.

  The face on the door chuckled. “Getting old and jumpy?” it asked. It spoke in a male voice with a slight Scottish accent.

  “Maybe older, but not dumber, “ McCoy said as he pulled his 9mm from under his shirt. It was also loaded with specially made iron rounds. “I was wondering when the rest of you would join the party, dryad.”

  The dryad made a tsk sound and gave McCoy a look of disdain. “You would shoot the messenger bearing a white flag?”

  McCoy laughed. “White flag? The Fey? You must think I’ve gone completely senile.”

  “Not at all. I’ve been sent to offer you assistance.”

  “And why would you want to do that? Your little munchkin fairies are attacking the town as we speak. I’d think the rest of you would want to sit back and enjoy the show, if not get actively involved.”

  Another tsk. “I’m sure you’ve thought this through, McCoy. The Sluagh have gone rogue under that human bitch’s leadership. The Fey hierarchy has sanctioned none of this. What do we have to gain by our presence being exposed?”

  “Okay,” McCoy said, “I’ve thought about that. But if you’re so concerned, why don’t you stop them yourselves? Why did you even let it go this far?”

  “Because once blood was spilled, it was out of our hands. We cannot become actively involved.”

  McCoy rolled his eyes and grunted. “Good God. You’re as bad as the demons, with all your stupid rules.” He narrowed his eyes at the dryad. “Since you can’t become ‘actively involved’, what’s to stop me from putting an iron slug through your ugly face?”

  “We can offer some indirect aid,” the dryad said quickly, perhaps sensing that McCoy was plenty serious. “Your situation is dire, McCoy. In a few hours, this town will be overrun and everyone in it dead or dying, including you. I won’t lie to you and say that your demise wouldn’t please us, under other circumstances. But we have much to lose, more so than someone like you could comprehend. Therefore, it is in our greater interest that you prevail.”

  McCoy tried to count the number of times he’d just been insulted, but gave up. “Okay, let’s say you’ve got an ace you can slip me under the table, and I manage to deflect the brunt of this. It’s still too big to cover up. People are going to see, and people are going to talk. One or two might get discounted as whackos, but half the town? I don’t see any way to keep this under wraps.”

  “Do you know what happens to a Sluagh when it is killed?”

  McCoy shrugged. “The soul is released, to hell or wherever, and the body reverts back to the image of the original person. How’s that going to help? If we make it through this, we’ll be up to our armpits with bodies of folks who have disappeared throughout the years.”

  “Maybe they didn’t just disappear,” the dryad said slyly. “Perhaps they joined some cult, and they’ve been hiding in the woods all this time. Then, for some arcane reason known only to them , they attacked the town with murderous intent.”

  “Oh my God,” McCoy said. “That’s the best you’ve got? No one will buy it.”

  “But they will believe that fairies exist?” the dryad countered. “There will be no proof to contradict your story, other than accounts from a few traumatized citizens. If anyone comes looking, they will not find us. And you will have the town officials backing you up.”

  McCoy felt dirty for even having this conversation. He had not actually spoken to a member of the Fey since he’d been a child, before he had realized their true nature. Now they were wanting him to jump into bed with them, after years of trying to kill him at every turn. To top it all off, the whole thing might be a ruse to make sure he did get his ticket punched.

  On the other hand, what choi
ce did he have? He didn’t know how many Sluagh there actually were, but the dryad seemed to think that there were more than enough to get the job done. He couldn’t hope to win out if they numbered into the hundreds. He would end up getting himself killed. He could handle that, but he couldn’t handle losing Amanda. He had brought her into this, fool that he was, and he was damned well going to get her out of it. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t any room for negotiation.

  “A truce,” he said to the dryad.

  “What?”

  “That’s the price for my help. A truce between the Fey and this town. And between the Fey and me.”

  “You’re hardly in a position to bargain,” the dryad snorted.

  “Maybe. But maybe I comprehend more than you realize. If I don’t stop this, and if it doesn’t get covered up, the Fey’s time is up in this part of the world. As much as it would please me to see that happen, I can’t put the lives of all these people on the line. And if I can save them, what happens tomorrow? Business as usual? You start picking them off one by one again? I can’t live with that. I won’t.”

  “I’m not authorized…” the dryad began.

  “Then you’d better get authorized in a hurry,” McCoy said. “Otherwise, I’m going to go outside and start blasting away, and if by some chance I live through it, I’ll tell everyone you’re here. And I’ll have people backing me up. You want my help, those are the terms.”

  He knew he was taking a risk, but if it worked, the payoff would be big. He just hoped the Fey were not good poker players.

  “Very well,” the dryad said. It did not look happy. “If you come through on your end, no further harm shall come to the people of this town. Nor to you. Our business will be…forgotten.”

  “Good decision,” McCoy said. “Now, about this ‘indirect’ help…”

  “Find this man and bring him here at once. The Queen will halt the attack if she knows he’s here. She remembers him. She watches him walk the woods. You must make sure she knows.”

  “What man?” McCoy asked, but the face was gone. In its place, a single word appeared in the wood. A name. It lingered but for a moment, and then it, too, was gone.

  It was long enough for McCoy to read it. Moments later, he connected the pieces of the puzzle.

  The fortune cookie had been right. Soon everything will make perfect sense.

  McCoy busted through the door and ran for the lobby.

  Chapter Nine

  “Baracheck!” McCoy shouted as he came out of the hallway and into the lobby.

  “What?” Amanda and Talbot asked simultaneously. McCoy saw that there were now two other deputies in the room: Deidre Pratt, and a small guy that McCoy didn’t know. The little guy was bleeding from a gash in his abdomen. The wound looked bad.

  “Baracheck,” McCoy repeated, turning to Talbot. “Sixteen, seventeen years ago, his girl went missing up on Miller’s Ridge.”

  Talbot thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I remember that. I was a teenager. I helped with the search.”

  “I was out of town a lot that year, so I pretty much missed out on it,” McCoy said. “But I remember it being in the papers. Damn! I should have seen this.”

  “The Baracheck girl is the one you saw on Drover Mountain,” Amanda guessed.

  “I think so. And the girl the demon showed me.”

  “Demon?” asked Talbot. “What demon?”

  “Never mind. Would you have the girl’s photo on file?”

  “It might be in the database,” Deidre said. “I can’t get online because of the lines being down, but if it’s in our local network, I can pull it up.”

  “Do it,” McCoy said.

  Deidre went to her desk and started typing on the computer keyboard. McCoy walked over to the wounded deputy.

  “Looks like you’ve had a rough lick, Deputy…”

  “Kenner,” the wounded man said. “I’ll be all right.” He didn’t look like he was going to be all right. His skin was pale, and he was leaning against a wall for support. He looked as if he ought to be dead already.

  “Is there a first aid kit here?” McCoy asked.

  “Yeah,” Talbot replied. “I’ll get one.” He ducked into a closet and reappeared moments later with a small plastic box. “It isn’t much,” he said by way of an apology. He handed the kit to McCoy.

  “McCoy turned to Amanda. “Think you can patch him up?” he asked.

  “It won’t be pretty, but I’ll see what I can do. Cover the door?”

  McCoy nodded. He saw that they had locked the doors to the main entrance, but seeing as how they were made of glass, they wouldn’t withstand much of an attack.

  “These two the only ones you could get a hold of?” he asked Talbot.

  “Actually, Deidre was the only one who answered. Kenner came in on his own.”

  “No word from Lyle?”

  Talbot shook his head. Despite his misgivings concerning Lyle’s handling of recent events, it was apparent he was worried about the sheriff.

  “Don’t sweat it too much. Lyle knows what’s going on, and if ever there was a man good at watching his own ass, it’s him. I’m sure he’s okay.”

  Talbot nodded, but seemed unconvinced.

  “I’ve got it,” Deidre announced. “It’s an old case, so it took a little digging.”

  “Does it have a picture of the girl?” McCoy asked.

  “Yeah. It’s a little grainy, but you can make it out okay.”

  McCoy shot a glance at the front doors, saw nothing amiss, and went to look at the computer screen. Staring at him from the monitor’s soft glow was the girl whose form the demon had taken. Add seventeen years, and he was sure it was the girl from the mountain.

  “Please tell me you have a current address for the parents.”

  Deidre tapped on the keyboard. “The father, David, is still listed at the same address, 14238 Miller’s Ridge Road. I think the mother was institutionalized, or something.”

  “Okay. The phones are out, so I’ve got to go get him.”

  “What? Why?” Talbot asked.

  “I can’t explain everything. There’s no time. It’ll take me a good twenty minutes to get to Miller’s Ridge. Another twenty back. Assuming I only have to spend five minutes convincing Baracheck to come with me, that’s forty-five minutes. We’ve probably got less than an hour and a half before the town’s overrun.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Amanda said.

  McCoy looked at Talbot. “Can you three hold the fort down until we get back?”

  Talbot shrugged. “What choice do we have? But do me a favor and keep an eye out for Lyle. I’d feel a lot better if he were here. And in charge.”

  McCoy slapped the deputy on the shoulder. “You’re doing fine, big guy. But I’ll keep my eyes peeled for the sheriff.”

  He set about gathering his things. He left one of the iron-loaded shotguns with Talbot, while Amanda carried the other. They stood at the front entrance and examined the night outside. All had been quiet since the last round of gunfire. McCoy didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” he said. “John, lock the doors behind us. Don’t go out unless you absolutely have to. Those things are sly, and they’ll try to lure you out.”

  “It just feels wrong,” the deputy said. “Us sitting in here while people out there may need our help.”

  “I know it does. But Kenner needs to lie still, and someone needs to watch him. Besides, Lyle could call in or return at any time. Be patient. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  McCoy unlocked the doors, and he and Amanda cautiously hurried to the truck. Before entering the vehicle, they checked the bed and peered through the windows of the cab to make sure nothing was lying in wait.

  “Looks clear,” McCoy said. “Hop in.”

  They opened the doors and climbed into the cab. McCoy fired Boo up and took off, figuring the noisy, idling truck might draw attention. He made an illegal u-turn in the middle of the street and
they headed west toward Miller’s Ridge Road.

  The town still showed no signs of being under siege, though McCoy’s senses were going into overdrive. The Sluagh were here, all right, but they were taking pains not to let their presence be known. Possibly, the bulk of the horde had not yet arrived. McCoy hoped this was the case. If he could get back with Baracheck before the main onslaught began, he might stand a chance of diffusing the situation entirely.

  They sped through the night, McCoy going as fast as he dared while keeping a lookout for roadblocks or other traps. He wondered what had happened to Lyle. The man was self-serving and egocentric, but he was hardly a coward. McCoy found it hard to believe that the sheriff had either skipped town or was holed up somewhere. The bitter truth was that Lyle might be dead, and if that were the case, McCoy would have to rely on Talbot to help him sell the cover-up story to outside authorities. Assuming, of course, that they lived long enough to tell anything.

  “So, how did you figure it out?” Amanda asked when they’d left the lights of the town behind them.

  “It suddenly came to me,” McCoy answered.

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “Yeah. It came to me right after a dryad appeared in the bathroom and spelled it out for me.”

  “What? There was a Fey in there with you? Christ, Finn! We left those three alone in there, and you didn’t think to mention that the station was fairy-infested?”

  “Relax. It’s gone now, and it won’t be back.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “It said it wouldn’t. Well, not in so many words, but…”

  “And you believed it? After all the stories you’ve told me?”

  A large dog bolted out in front of the truck, and McCoy had to swerve to narrowly miss hitting the animal. Whether the dog was chasing something or being chased, he couldn’t tell.

  “I’ve brokered a truce,” McCoy said. “As long as we can stop the Sluagh and keep the outside world from finding out about the Fey, they’ve agreed to leave the town alone. And me.”

  “Have you totally lost it? Do you think for one minute that they’ll honor those terms?” Amanda asked, unbelieving.