The tactic worked, and his attacker fell off him, allowing Soren to at least see what he was facing.
He almost wished he hadn’t. The invader had been human once, probably fairly recently, but there was little humanity left in its appearance. In the pale moonlight streaming in from his bedroom window, he could see its sallow skin stretched thinly across its bones. It was so tight that Soren could clearly see the skull beneath the creature’s face. Its eyeballs lacked irises or pupils and were just a bright, filmy white. It occurred to Soren that the thing might well be blind and have homed in on him based on smell or the noise he’d made running into the bedroom.
As he watched, the creature drew back its arm. Its hand was almost human, but the fingernails had grown out sharp and straight. They had hardened into claws.
He remembered the name for the thing even as it started to attack again: a gaunt. They were made from the freshly dead and had incredible speed and agility. But Soren also remembered their weaknesses. Gaunts were quick but lacked strength and smarts. They still had a human brain inside their cranium, but after at least a few days of decomposition, they were somewhat slow-witted.
The gaunt jumped on top of Soren, its claws reaching for his face. But Soren had recovered his wits, and even with its unnatural speed, he was able to grab the gaunt’s wrist, stopping its claws bare inches from his eyes.
He struggled to hold the hand back and punched the gaunt with all his might. The blow was even harder than Soren realized. The creature had little weight to it and went flying back, smashing into the wall. It looked dazed, its mouth hanging open.
Soren realized he knew the gaunt, or at least the human it had once been. The face of Rick, the Association’s security guard, flashed in his mind. It was almost hard to square the beefy guard with the thing he’d become, but there was a distinct echo of Rick in its face.
The gaunt recuperated from the blow and leapt forward, but Soren was prepared, kicking it at the moment of attack. His foot caught the gaunt in the jaw, sending it sprawling away.
Soren jumped to his feet and, ignoring the pain in his back and legs, hurled himself toward the dresser drawer at the end of the room. His fingers grasped the handle, and he yanked it open. It made a rattling sound, and Soren got a glimpse of the revolver that lay inside. As he extended his hand to grab it, however, the gaunt leapt onto his back and pulled him away.
“Son of a bitch,” Soren yelled, feeling the claws dig into his scalp. Blood poured from a cut on his forehead and fell into his eyes. Soren flailed his arms.
Gaunts might not be known for their strength, but this one seemed more powerful than their reputation indicated. Soren fought to free himself, throwing his arms back as the two of them staggered around the room.
Soren finally reached up with both his hands and grasped the thing’s head. He yanked with all his might and tore the gaunt off him, tossing it across the room like a rag doll. The gaunt hit a lamp in the corner and a picture on the wall, which came crashing down on it.
But that barely slowed the thing down. The gaunt was up on its haunches, looking more animal than human. It leapt again, and Soren ducked, bracing for it to hit him. Instead, he looked up to see the creature clinging to the ceiling. Its claws had dug into the plaster.
“I’ll be damned,” Soren said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
He prepared for the gaunt to spring at him again, but instead it jumped over his head and past him, landing just by the dresser drawer.
“It’s a good thing you fuckers aren’t smart,” he said, thinking of the gun in the drawer.
That was when he heard the sound of the hammer being cocked back.
“Oh shit,” Soren said under his breath.
He jumped to the side just as the gaunt whirled around and fired the gun twice. He landed on the floor as the bullets hit the wall behind where he’d been standing. The shots were overwhelmingly loud within the confines of the apartment, and Soren temporarily couldn’t hear anything. A moment later, however, he heard a sound nearby like someone repeatedly clearing his throat. He realized the gaunt was laughing at him.
And why not? Soren had significantly underestimated it. It was just as fast and agile as he’d heard, but also stronger and smarter. Its eyesight was also better than he’d assumed. The weapon that he’d hoped to use against it was now in the creature’s hands. His own bed blocked his view, but he heard it stalk forward. He knew that in a moment it would be too late; it would have a clear view.
Soren scrambled up and jumped into the hallway, hearing the gun go off behind him and a bullet smack into the wall just above his head. He ran through the kitchen and into his dining room and ducked behind the wall. The creature came right on his heels, loping on two feet and one arm while still holding the gun in its other hand.
It clearly expected Soren to run to the exit, turning just as it came around the corner to continue its pursuit. But Soren was waiting for it. He threw himself onto the gaunt, both of them colliding with the small table and shattering it as they fell to the ground.
The two struggled together on the floor, with Soren briefly able to pin the creature down. He held its gun-wielding hand with one arm and threw punches with the other, smashing into its smiling, bulbous-eyed face. But the gaunt succeeded in rolling Soren off it, kicking with its legs.
It was the creature’s turn to pin Soren to the ground, and this time no matter how Soren bucked, the thing held him down. He watched as it—almost in slow motion—brought the gun to his face. He could even hear the chortling sounds of its laughter.
But before it could pull the trigger, Soren saw a small foot inside a red slingback shoe collide with the gaunt’s face, sending it tumbling off Soren. He heard the gun clatter across the floor, free of the monster’s grip.
Soren looked up to see Annika Taylor step over him and run in the direction the gun had fallen. He had no idea where she’d come from and he didn’t care. He rolled over and darted toward the gaunt, which recovered and also headed for the gun. While it was distracted, he hit it with full force, ramming it against his dining room wall. The gaunt made a sound somewhere between a screech and a yelp. As Soren held it against the wall, it tried to snap at him with its teeth.
“Soren, get back! I need a clear shot,” Annika shouted.
Soren flung himself out of the way and he heard the gun go off a second later, but the bullet never connected with the creature. Instead, the gaunt jumped to the ceiling and then back down onto the floor. As Annika aimed the gun at it, it looked back, giving Soren one last, hateful look. It jumped away, heading back through Soren’s window, which was still open. Annika never had a chance to fire again.
“Good Lord, that thing was fast,” Annika said. “What the hell was it?”
Soren ran to the window, but by the time he got there, he saw nothing but a parking lot. There was no trace of the gaunt.
“Shit!” he said.
“You’re very welcome,” Annika said behind him. “It was no problem. I enjoy saving lives in the middle of the night.”
“I was getting to that,” he said, still looking outside. “Thank you.”
She came up beside him. From far away he could hear sirens getting closer. Someone from the apartment block must have called the police when they heard the gun go off. He looked at the revolver still in her hand.
“You might want to give me that,” he said. “You also might not want to be here when the police arrive.”
“Why?”
“The police, uh, don’t like me very much. They may labor under the impression that I’ve been arrested for murder and somehow got off. They’re liable to be rough. They won’t buy that an intruder attacked me for no reason, and they won’t like the gun.”
She turned to him.
“Then all the better reason I should be here,” she said. “I can back up your story—and the gun can be mine.”
“It’s unregistered,” he said.
“Whatever,” she responded. “Wallac
e will fix it for me, and you’ll still be able to keep it. That’s the important bit. We’re in this together, remember?”
He felt unexpectedly grateful but didn’t let it show. As he turned to move back into the kitchen, the pain in his back flared up. He grimaced.
“You okay?” she asked. “Did that thing hurt you?”
The phrase “just a scratch” occurred to him, and he laughed in spite of himself. It came out sounding a little crazy, at least based on the expression on Annika’s face.
“Hurt my back, yeah,” he said. Then he rubbed his hands through his hair, sparking more pain on his scalp. “And my head.”
“Let me get a look.”
The police sirens were getting closer, but he allowed her to lead him back to the bathroom. He took off his shirt, which was torn in several places. Annika put a hand to the wound, causing Soren to jerk away from her.
“Sorry,” she said. “They don’t look so bad, though.”
“Really? It felt like the damn thing ripped my back in half,” he said.
“Barely touched you is more like it,” she said.
She rummaged in his medicine cabinet, pulled out antiseptic cream, and began applying it.
“This is gonna sting,” she said.
Annika was right. His entire back felt like it was on fire.
“What was that thing, anyway?” she asked.
“A gaunt,” Soren replied. “Nasty fuckers. According to legend, they’re the souls that hell won’t accept, so they return to earth to seek out and punish the wicked. I think that’s just a story, however. Somebody made that thing. In case you missed it, that particular gaunt was the guy that decided your car needed a wash so badly he knocked it into the river.”
“Really?”
“The Association is even more dangerous than I thought,” Soren said. “I have no idea how you create a gaunt, but clearly Randolph Chastain does. He sent his man to kill us and, when he failed, turned him into a goddamned monster.”
The sirens were even closer now, and Soren knew they would have to spend the next few hours answering questions, likely down at the police station.
“Before they get here, can I ask you something?” he said. “Why are you here? How did you come in?”
“Your window was open,” she said. “I heard a commotion inside and figured you might need help.”
“I did,” he said. “Thanks again.”
“Least I could do,” she said. “You saved my life, too.”
“I’d say ‘it was nothing’ but that would seem insulting,” he said.
“Good thing you never mentioned it, then,” she replied.
“Why are you here, Annika?”
He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. She was dressed in a black skirt, T-shirt, and silver hoop earrings. She didn’t exactly look like she was there to seduce him, but it was hard not to admire her figure. He also found it intriguing the way she felt comfortable showing up at his place in the middle of the night.
There was a knock at the door.
“Open up, this is the police!” a voice said.
“You might want to put on your shirt,” Annika said. “Not that it isn’t a good look for you, by the way. Do you work out?”
“It’s pretty much the only thing I do on a regular basis,” he said, and put on his clothes.
He walked out into the hallway.
“Coming!” he shouted.
He turned back to her.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said.
“I came because you wouldn’t answer the phone and I had news—news that wouldn’t wait,” she said. “Evan Turner, the guy who we saw down at the police station in Richmond, has escaped custody. He’s disappeared.”
Chapter Nineteen
It took another seven hours before they were back on the road to Richmond.
Soren felt a sense of déjà vu. Annika and he were once again on a road trip heading to the same place they had been less than a week before. There were some significant differences. The car was much bigger, for one. Annika had pulled up in a dark sedan with tinted windows. The car had also come with a driver and bodyguard, a large man Annika introduced as Miles Nixon.
Both the bodyguard and the car were loans from Wallace Leggett, who was clearly spooked by the incident at the Chickahominy River. Miles said he had experience as a stunt driver, in case someone tried to run them off the road again. Soren didn’t think it would be an issue. He suspected Randolph Chastain wasn’t the type of person to try the same tactic twice.
Still, having a driver and a spacious vehicle made it easier for Annika and Soren to catch up on the hour-and-a-half journey back to Richmond. As soon as they got in the car, she took a long look at him, gesturing to his face.
“You got new glasses,” she said. “Can I see?”
Soren hesitated for a moment. Now that the glasses were on again, the world felt a little more secure. He hated taking them off, much less giving them to anyone else to examine. But he thought it might seem weird if he refused, so he obliged and handed them to her. She held them up to her face and eyed them carefully. They were brand-name sport sunglasses, one of the most expensive kinds in the store, with a jet-black frame and dark polarized lenses.
“You spent money on these,” she said. “Unlike the rest of your wardrobe.”
He glanced briefly at his attire but saw nothing to be ashamed of. He was wearing jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He owned several exact copies of the same outfit.
“Fashion was never my thing,” he said.
She gave him a half smile.
“Except when it comes to sunglasses, apparently,” she said, and handed them back to him. Soren slid them back on his face and relaxed into the seat.
Fashion did seem to be her thing, however. She was dressed in a short black skirt that showed off her legs. Her red top was made of some kind of light sheer material that was almost transparent without actually revealing anything. It accentuated her chest.
“How’s your back?” she asked.
Soren brought his eyes back up to her face to see her smile had grown wider. He had forgotten about the wounds on his back and his scalp. They seemed to be significantly better. He supposed the gaunt hadn’t cut him so badly after all.
“Guess you were right,” he said. “How are you?”
“It didn’t touch me,” Annika replied.
“I meant after the accident,” Soren said.
Annika’s smile dropped from her face and she looked away.
“They kept me for a few days, but even Wallace had to let me go eventually,” she replied. “Speaking of which, I understand the two of you have now met. Thanks so much for going to see my boss without me. It really demonstrates trust and mutual respect.”
“You were in the hospital, and you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you about him,” Annika said.
“You neglected to mention his personal stake in the case,” Soren said.
“He was the one who made that decision,” Annika said.
“I know; I just don’t like it. You said we were in this together. Then no more secrets, okay?”
“Says the man with a horde of secrets,” she said.
Soren sighed. He thought of what Sara had said—“just tell somebody”—but this wasn’t the time or the place. His past was just a distraction, whatever John had told Sara about finding answers in the forest.
“I’ve told you before that it’s not relevant—”
“Relax,” Annika said. “I’m not asking you to spill your guts.”
But the look on her face indicated otherwise. She was curious.
“Maybe later,” he said casually.
Annika’s eyebrows went up. She looked surprised and pleased.
“But let’s stick to the case for now,” he finished.
She nodded enthusiastically, a half smile on her face.
“Besides investigating my employer, what have you got?” she asked.
Soren looked around the car for something to write on and then felt foolish. It was a car, not a limo, and those didn’t come with notepads either. What he really wanted was a giant whiteboard.
Annika appeared to read his mind. She reached into her bag and pulled out an iPad.
“Looking for something like this?” she asked. “Wallace gave it to me.”
“I think Wallace is having some serious guilt for nearly getting you killed,” Soren said.
“Probably right,” Annika said. “But it’s been useful in getting more equipment.”
She put the tablet on her lap and turned it on. After touching it a few times, she handed it to Soren, along with a stylus that would allow him to write directly on the screen.
“There you go,” she said. “Fire away.”
Soren took a breath. The various people and stories involved in Reapoke Forest had been banging around in his head like a jumble. He wanted some way to try and keep track of them. But he didn’t know where to begin. Did Reapoke Forest start with Coakley? He doubted it, yet somehow the preacher seemed to be at the center of everything.
“Let’s begin with Coakley,” he said, writing down the name. “You know the basic drill: maniac preacher founds a town named Bethlehem, much hilarity ensues. Your file had a lot of the story, but not all of it. It had next to nothing about Coakley before he came to Reapoke.”
“I looked into it,” Annika said. “I didn’t think there was much to know.”
“Yeah, but that’s precisely the point,” Soren said. “He’s really a relatively boring guy.”
“He was defrocked,” she said.
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“He was crazy?” she said. “Seems like a good reason.”
“That’s what I assumed, too,” Soren said. “But then I got lucky. I found a history of the Episcopal Church in the nineteenth century. And guess what? Our man Coakley gets mentioned. They didn’t throw him out because he was nuts. They threw him out because he had an affair with a young woman, who bore him a son.”
The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One) Page 18
