Darker Things (The Lockman Chronicles #1)

by Rob Cornell

  He drove slowly, giving the visitor plenty of time to find their destination and pull to the side of the road. Lockman would coast by and see where the man headed. If it looked like he might be going toward the target grave, Lockman would turn around in the cul-de-sac and come back. If he found the man standing at the sister’s grave, or could ID Tanner...

  Well, that part would come when it came.

  Lockman made the appropriate left turn and had to hit his brakes almost immediately. The green compact had stopped in the center of the road.

  Heat waves rippled from the exhaust pipe. The driver sat still behind the wheel, but Lockman had the feeling he was being watched in the driver’s rearview mirror.

  Had he been made?

  The cars break lights dimmed and the car started backing up right for Lockman’s.

  Lockman put his hand on the gearshift, but stopped from throwing it into reverse. Instead he laid on the horn in case this person really did not see him and was merely backing up absentmindedly.

  The compact turned, curling back so that it came perpendicular to the road, driver’s side closest to Lockman. Peering through the window at him—Tanner.

  Lockman instinctively grabbed for the Desert Eagle he had tucked under the driver’s seat. By the time his hand touched the gun he heard the shots snap through his windshield and whip over his head. He grabbed the Desert Eagle, racked the slide, and thumbed off the safety, all while remaining crouched behind the dashboard at an awkward angle. A muscle kinked in his back. Despite all the working out and preparation, age had tweaked him both physically and mentally. He should have figured Tanner would spot a surveillance car right off the bat. Sloppy work on Lockman’s part. Now he would have to improvise.

  First move, take away Tanner’s offensive advantage. Lockman let his foot off the break and jammed on the gas. The engine revved and the car shot forward. Slammed into Tanner’s vehicle.

  The shots stopped.

  Lockman chanced a look over the dash and saw Tanner climbing across his front seat and out the passenger side door. Lockman aimed through the windshield and fired a trio of shots over Tanner’s head, forcing him down.

  It bought Lockman enough time to throw his car in reverse and sail back into the hub. Then he jammed the gearshift to drive and stomped on the gas again. With the added distance, this time when Lockman’s rental T-boned Tanner’s compact, he managed to move the opposing vehicle a couple feet sideway.

  Tanner scampered out from behind his car and ran for the nearest tree line, firing a few blind shots from a pistol on his way.

  Lockman threw his door open and rushed after him.

  Tanner ducked behind a tree then threw his gun arm around and snapped off two more blind shots.

  Lockman hit the ground and rolled, knowing a blind shot from someone like Tanner was better than the average gun owner’s aimed shot.

  He trained his own weapon on the tree he saw Tanner disappear behind and waited. The grass under him was wet from a recent watering. The sun had a cloudless sky to itself and took the opportunity to brutalize the earth below with a heat Lockman felt prickle across his skin like tiny, hot needles.

  No sign of movement. Had Tanner moved to another tree when Lockman dove to the ground? He scanned the neighboring trunks. Nothing. And lying out in the open wasn’t doing him any good.

  He belly crawled to one of the larger tombstones and lined himself up behind it. Meager cover, but the best he could do without getting up and making a bigger target of himself.

  Lockman wanted to call out to Tanner, start a reasonable conversation, maybe end this peacefully. But if Tanner was mixed up with the likes of Dolan, the hope for reasonable anything dropped through the floor.

  So he waited.

  Turned out Tanner called to him. “Craig? You going to kill me before I even get the chance to explain?”

  Lockman tried to pinpoint Tanner’s location from his voice. He didn’t sound like he had moved far from the first tree, if at all. “You tried to kill me first.”

  “Sorry about that. You spooked me. I didn’t realize it was you until after I started firing.”

  “Not like you to shoot so blind like that. What would Creed think about his agency spy?”

  Tanner’s laugh sounded disembodied coming from the trees. “So that’s how you found me. He still have all his files?”

  “I was sorry to hear about your sister.”

  “Yeah, well, shit happens. What do you want, Craig?”

  “You know damn well.”

  “Whatever you think you know, you don’t even know a fraction. Trust me.”

  “Why don’t you toss the gun out and come forward with your hands up so we can talk about it?”

  “So you can shoot me in the gut the second I come out?”

  “Why would I shoot you?”

  “Aw hell. Let’s stop fucking around. You know I put Dolan onto your little girl and that’s how he traced you to LA. You’re pissed off. You want revenge.”

  “I want answers.”

  “I’ve got plenty, none of which you’ll like.”

  The back of Lockman’s neck, exposed to the sun, burned. He didn’t dare let the discomfort distract him. He could tell by the tone of his old friend’s voice that he was about to make a move.

  “What’s Dolan after?”

  “You.”

  “But what do I know that he wants?”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  Any minute now, Tanner would make his play. Lockman hunkered down and kept his weapon ready.

  “Then talk slow. I’m sure I’ll understand.”

  “Don’t,” Tanner said, dragging the word out, “move.” His voice came from right behind Lockman.

  Before Lockman could react, the barrel of Tanner’s pistol pressed against Lockman’s neck.

  “But you were behind the trees. I heard you.”

  “You mean that guy?”

  Tanner came out from behind the same tree Lockman had seen him duck behind moments before. He stepped into the open and waved.

  But the gun barrel still nestled against Lockman’s neck. “A glamour of some kind? Dolan’s got you using the mojo now, too?”

  The Tanner that came from behind the tree exploded into a cloud of dust that blew away and dissipated in seconds.

  “It has its uses.”

  “Who was tortured and killed for you to pull off that trick?”

  “Toss your gun aside, Craig.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me? Dolan will have a hard time getting his information from a corpse.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can get a corpse to reveal, actually.”

  “Is that your plan, then?”

  Tanner leaned into his weapon, driving the barrel into Lockman’s neck like a dull nail. “Quit being a douche bag and toss the gun.”

  “No.”

  “You going to try and shoot me over your shoulder?”

  “Good idea.”

  “How do you expect to protect Kate and Jessie if you’re dead?”

  Lockman gritted his teeth, then threw the Desert Eagle aside.

  Tanner backed off. “Now stand.”

  Lockman pushed to his hands and knees. That muscle in his back twitched again. He froze, tried to stretch it loose.

  “We’re not as nimble as we used to be,” Tanner said when Lockman finally got to his feet.

  “Limber enough to break your windpipe with my hands.” He turned to face his former friend for the first time in over a decade.

  He hadn’t changed much, outside of the flecks of gray around his temples and the well-trimmed beard he sported that made him look more like a college professor than ex-military. The beard had a distinct patch of gray in it as well. But instead of making him look unkempt, it gave him a distinguished look.

  “You look cute,” Lockman said.

  “Don’t let the image fool you. I haven’t let myself get soft like you have.”

  “Tell that to the team o
f vamps, the shifter, and the specter that tried to take me.”

  “Yeah, well, I never put much faith in supernaturals. This plane isn’t their turf. Their physics don’t mix well with ours.”

  The heat crackled over Lockman’s scalp. It was hard to tell how much of that came from the sun and how much was pure rage. “You were my friend. I trusted you.”

  “Your mistake.”

  “So this has been going on a while? Even from the beginning?”

  “How do you think Dolan found you the first time?”

  A dizzy wave rolled through Lockman. His vision closed around the edges. “You? Impossible. You saved me.”

  “Yeah, well, that wasn’t on purpose. I had to choose between my cover and pretending to save your ass. I was too key an asset to get blown, even for you.”

  Lockman hung his head. The muscles in his neck turned to steel rods. “Why me? Out of everyone in the Agency, I was the most green. Hell, with your position you could have went straight for Creed.”

  The corner of Tanner’s mouth curled up. “You still don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Ho, man. I can’t believe Creed didn’t tell you. Even after all this time the old bastard has to keep his secrets.”

  A cold sweat washed over Lockman and his stomach roiled. He felt as if he stood on a wayward ship in the middle of a storm. “What are you talking about?”

  “Christ, bro, I’m not sure I’m the one who should break it to you. Maybe Dolan can lay it out for you.” He waved his gun toward the cars. “Your ride looks the most drivable. We need to get out of here.”

  “I’m not going with you.”

  “Then I shoot you and carry you.”

  Craig lifted his chin and stared Tanner in the eyes.

  Tanner grunted disgustedly and rolled his eyes. “You are seriously going to make me shoot you? You know, your daughter will be devastated.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Damn, you’re cold. Were you always like this? I don’t remember.”

  “You can’t fake a friendship like that. Parts of it were real.”

  “Hey, man, I’ll admit it. I thought you were kick ass. If you knew the larger picture, you’d see that isn’t such a stretch.”

  “What larger picture? Quit talking in riddles.”

  “Get in the fucking car, Craig. The last thing either of us want is local cops getting a hold of our asses.”

  “You won’t shoot me.” Lockman took a step forward, closing the gap between his chest and Tanner’s gun.

  “Do I want to? No. But I will.”

  “Dolan wants me alive.” He took another step forward. Barely half a foot between his sternum and the gun’s barrel. “You can’t shoot me.”

  Tanner smiled. “You’re right. You are to be returned to Mr. Dolan unmolested. But I’m not like those dumb supernaturals, Craig. I came prepared.”

  The electric jolt shot through Lockman’s body and rendered him immobile except for the jittering. He remained standing long enough to see the Taser in Tanner’s free hand. Then he dropped to the ground.

  Tanner crouched at his side.

  Lockman tried to command his arm to move so he could reach out and grab Tanner by the neck. His muscles twitched uselessly.

  “I could hit you again to make sure you’re down. But why don’t we do this? Why don’t you come along willingly so I don’t have to send a team of vamps to gang rape and feed on your daughter? How’s that sound?”

  Lockman could only manage a grunt.

  “Is that agreement? You still sound a little angry.”

  “Kill...you...”

  “All right caveman, you leave me no choice.”

  Tanner jabbed the Taser against Lockman’s neck and sent him rattling into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty

  Charles had lost his fucking mind.

  When he swung the hammer, he didn’t have any intention of striking the woman. Instead, he clanged the metal head against the pipe her hands were cuffed to. Just to scare her.

  He got the reaction he wanted. She screamed and fell into sobs. But hearing her cry, Charles again thought about his mother and the last conversation he had with her. How he told her he hated her and never wanted to see her again. How her cries followed him out the door before he slammed it behind him.

  That’s when he found himself trying to console the cuffed woman. Then realizing he could not kill her, let alone brutalize her in the process. Which had left him with two ugly options—tell Mr. Dolan he had to get someone else to do the job, or get the woman the hell out of there.

  Now he held her hand and peered around the corner down a hall he knew led to a back exit from the factory.

  He’s going to kill you, you dupa.

  Yeah, well, this might be the craziest move of his life, but it could very well make up for some of the dumber ones, like getting involved with people like Mr. Dolan.

  This part of the factory, they hadn’t bothered replacing or putting up new lighting. The shadows swallowed the hallway. But Charlie could only wait so long for his eyes to adjust. He still didn’t want to run through there. Some of the things working for Mr. Dolan had no problem seeing in the dark. This portion of the factory very well may have been left to those things.

  “What are we waiting for?” the woman whispered. “There’s no one back here.”

  Charles put a finger to his lips. He didn’t have time to explain about those things that lived in the dark. Frankly, the woman was better off not knowing.

  The woman gave him an impatient look. Now that she didn’t have the handcuffs on, she wasn’t so meek anymore. Charles started to regret his decision, but too late now. No way the woman would let him take her back quietly. And he’d still be left trying to explain why she was loose in the first place.

  Despite the moniker of soldier Mr. Dolan gave his mortal followers, he didn’t really have an army. But he had enough mortals and supernaturals to make Charles expendable. Besides, in this world, no death was wasted when it could fuel some ritual or other to conjure magic.

  He squinted into the darkness once more. There. Something moved. He thought. Maybe. He continued to stare another few seconds. Nothing. He must have imagined the movement. The shadows had taken on a life of their own in Charles’s paranoid imagination. The longer he hesitated, the worse it would get.

  “Okay,” he whispered. “We’re going.”

  He led the way into the shadows. The woman kept close. Too close, really. He could smell her sweat and the hint of urine, as if she had wet herself at some point during her capture. Charles hadn’t been part of the unit that grabbed her. Maybe she had more experience with supernaturals than he thought, depending on who (what?) had brought her in. The first time he saw a werewolf he had wet himself a little. Just a little, though.

  Halfway down the hall they now walked in perfect darkness. Seemed strange not to have any light back here. He tried to remember what this section of the factory had looked like on his initial walk through. Hadn’t there been windows? It was the middle of the day. Even if the windows were boarded over, there should be some light. Right?

  A cold, wet breeze licked the back of his neck and he heard something. A snort?

  “What was that?” the woman asked.

  If she heard it too, Charles couldn’t pass it off as his overactive imagination. Which meant something else was back there with them, living in the dark.

  Now he was positive there had been windows back here. Which meant someone had carefully covered those windows to block out light totally.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Another snort, followed by that moist puff of air. Something was literally breathing down his neck.

  “This one is for us?” a voice like stones in a blender said behind him.

  “I...um...no. Sorry. I’m taking her out back.”

  “Another to the fish? It isn’t fair. Tell your master we demand sustenance or we shall feed on his own.”

  “Yo
u, um, are confined to the dark?”

  “The daylight cannot last forever. In the mean time, we will take this one.”

  Charles reached to his belt where he had a mini Maglite clipped. He plucked the light from the holder. “Sorry, but I can’t let you have her.” He spun toward the voice, flicked on the Maglite, and aimed it right at where he thought the creature stood.

  The beam hit the monster right in the face—a hideous face Charles couldn’t process through his fear.

  The woman shrieked at the sight.

  The beast threw a furred arm across its eyes and howled. He grabbed the woman by the arm and ran down the hall, using the flashlight now to cut a path through the darkness.

  He could hear the rustle of waking things around them as they ran. He dared not look. He kept his eyes on the metal double doors at the end of the hall which he knew led to a loading area at the back of the factory.

  When they reached the door, Charles hit it with his shoulder while pushing the bar to work the latch.

  The sunlight seared his eyes as they stumbled through the doors. Screams echoed through the hall behind them. He shoved the door shut and wanted to take a second to breathe. No time, though. After that ruckus, they had to keep running.

  The woman whimpered, but she kept pace as he tugged her around the back of the factory that lined the Detroit River. He glanced at the water as they raced away from the building and into an adjoining property with yet another decaying industrial complex. He wondered briefly what the thing inside had meant by the fish, and decided himself lucky he wouldn’t have to find out.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Either her dad had stopped being a paranoid freak, or something was wrong.

  Jessie sat on the back porch swing at Mr. Creed’s house. The waves of green stretching to the back tree line and the music of the wind chimes soothed her. After all she had been through, a little bit of peace felt good. But she also thought a lot. Too much. About Craig. About the kind of person he was. About the danger he had pulled her and the rest of her family into.

  Yeah, but none of that danger would be an issue if you hadn’t gone looking for him in the first place.