Ward Z

by Amy Cross

  "Hey!" calls out a voice from nearby. "Where were you?"

  Turning, I see to my horror that Nate Briggs is hurrying through the door. He's soaking wet from the rainstorm, and he quickly splashes his way over to my booth.

  "Where have I been?" I ask, trying to work out what's wrong. Damn it, Nate's pretty goddamn intense at times. "I've been around. Why? Does it matter?"

  "I thought we were gonna meet," he says, leaning down and kissing me on the cheek before taking a seat on the other side of the booth. "Like, at the motel. Wasn't that the plan?"

  Sighing, I realize that he's right. In my anger, I forgot that we'd arranged to hook up again.

  "I don't have time right now," I say. "I'm here to meet someone, okay? You have to leave."

  "I couldn't get it," he continues, apparently ignoring everything I just told him. "The stories about Darper Danver, I mean. I looked, but they weren't there. It's like someone hid them."

  "Then I guess you haven't fulfilled your side of the bargain, have you?" I reply. "Sorry, Nate. I guess -"

  "But I got this," he says with a grin, placing a small book on the table. It looks old, with a cloth-bound hard cover and yellowing pages. The idiot clearly thinks he's come up with gold, but as I open the book and flick through the pages, I can't work out why the hell this is relevant. As far as I can tell, it's just some old account of the town's history.

  "Great," I mutter. "Bedtime reading. Thanks."

  "Look," he says, grabbing the book and finding a particular page, before thrusting the book back into my hands. "I told you my Mom sometimes based her stories on local history, right? Darper Danver was some woman in the Civil War period. She lived in Fort Powell and she was all, like, crazy. People used to tell stories and write ballads about her. She was totally nuts."

  Reading a few lines from the book, I realize that he's right: Darper Danver was a real person. This certainly puts a new perspective on Cassie Briggs' weirdness, but somehow it all just feels irrelevant right now. I guess I might have been interested a few hours ago, when I could have perhaps used this new information to torture Cassie some more, but things have changed. I no longer give a damn about Darper Danver or any of the bitch's other interests.

  "So she used to go around killing people," Nate continues, filled with enthusiasm. "Like, in the Civil War and stuff. She killed people on both sides. I told you she was nuts, huh? And get this, she was -"

  "Sounds like a real role model for your sister," I reply, before closing the book and sliding it back over to him. "Thanks for the history lesson. It was mildly interesting, but like I said, I'm here to meet someone." I pause for a moment, hoping he might get the message. "It's a private meeting," I add eventually. "You can't be here."

  "So you wanna go to the motel after?" he asks.

  "Not particularly," I reply, hoping he'll get the message.

  "Come on," he says, reaching over and trying to hold my hand. "I'll make it worth your while."

  "I'm busy," I reply firmly.

  "You can't be that busy," he says, getting up and coming around to my side of the booth, before sitting next to me and placing a hand on my leg. "I don't know about you, but I thought last night was pretty cool. The only thing is, it was kinda rushed, so I was thinking we could really make a whole night of it. I can't pay for the motel room, but I can totally give you, like, a lot of other things." He smiles. "Come on," he adds eventually, "you're not gonna stop loving me just 'cause I can't afford fancy stuff, are you?"

  "Loving you?" I reply, horrified by the idea.

  "That was a slip of the tongue," he says, starting to blush.

  "For fuck's sake," I mutter, realizing that this pathetic idiot is in way too deep. "Nate, go home," I say, trying to give him a gentle push out of the booth. "This really isn't going anywhere, so why don't you accept that you had one good night, and we'll call it quits."

  "But -"

  "I'm not gonna fuck you again," I continue. "I'm really not. You don't seriously think I wanna date a twenty-one-year-old guy who still lives at home, do you? You're not my type, Nate. In fact, you're so not my type, you might as well be a different species. So just treasure the memory of the wonderful minute and a half that we had together, and go home. Whatever. Just leave me alone."

  He stares at me, and I can see that he finally understands.

  "Leave me alone," I say firmly.

  Standing up, he takes a step back, and I swear to God, he looks like he's genuinely upset.

  "Don't act like this is some big break-up," I reply, unable to stifle a grin. "Nate, we fucked. Once. It was nothing. People fuck all the time. When you think about it, the whole thing was kinda weird. I mean, your sister murdered my brother. Doesn't it strike you as a little odd that I'd go anywhere near you?"

  "Fuck off," he replies, before turning and storming out of the diner. I turn and look out the window, just in time to see him emerging into the rainstorm and running off along the street. For a moment, I actually feel sorry for the bastard. I mean, he blatantly misinterpreted our little union last night as the start of something bigger. I guess a guy like Nate Briggs doesn't get a lot of action, but that's not my fault. It was basically a pity fuck, combined with an attempt to squeeze some information from him. I got what I needed, more or less, so the whole thing is over. It wasn't a relationship. It was a transaction.

  I sit in silence for a moment, staring down at my cup of coffee. I swear to God, life would be so much easier if people weren't so goddamn stupid.

  "You mind if I join you?" asks a nearby voice.

  Glancing up, I watch as Sheriff Mulcahy takes a seat on the other side of the booth. He takes a moment to remove his hat and look at the menu, at which point the waitress comes over and takes his order. It's all very convivial and very ordinary, but there's a steely look in Mulcahy's eyes that makes me think he means business.

  "Foul weather we're having lately," he says eventually.

  I smile awkwardly.

  "So what did you want to see me about?" he asks.

  "Cassie Briggs," I say, trying not to let him see that I'm nervous. "I don't know how much you know, but she -"

  "I know everything that goes on in Fort Powell," he says firmly. "There's some New York journalist in town. She's working with Cassie on some kind of book." He pauses. "Can't say I approve. The unsolved murder of an innocent young man is not, in my opinion, a fitting source of entertainment, nor should it be used for profit."

  "She's going to make a lot of money," I point out, as the waitress sets a cup of coffee in front of Mulcahy. I wait for a moment, until the waitress is back over at the counter. "That book is going to humiliate my mother," I whisper, keen to ensure that we're not overheard. "It's going to humiliate the whole town."

  "If it ever gets published," he replies.

  "Something needs to be done," I tell him. "Cassie Briggs can't be allowed to get away with this. She's already spun some kind of bullshit excuse to Lenora Mackleberry. She's probably framed someone else for Bobby's murder, and now she's going to saunter off with a check in her pocket and a bright new life ahead of her." I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "She's going to come out of this like a fucking hero," I continue after a moment. "Meanwhile, my brother's body is rotting in the ground, and no-one is ever going to be punished for his murder."

  "Hold your horses," Mulcahy replies. "I agree, Becky. The legal system has let you and your mother down very badly. However, there are other things that can be done. At the end of the day, I'm the law around these parts, and I'm not gonna allow anyone else to tell me what I can and can't do to people who commit crimes in Fort Powell. It's my opinion that the people of this town aren't safe while Cassie Briggs is free to walk the streets, and if the feds don't think they can step in, I figure it's my responsibility to do something."

  "She won't leave," I tell him. "She thinks she has a right to stay here." I pause, realizing that I need to make him understand the seriousness of the situation. "Every day she's free," I ad
d eventually, "is another day that she makes you look like a fool. Everyone knows you think she's guilty, but they can all see her swanning around. How do you think that reflects on you? Every fucking breath she takes in this town is another mark against your authority. I thought you were a big man. Ma always said you could keep this town safe from anything. Was she wrong?"

  "I don't need you to tell me all of this," he says dourly. "People are losing confidence in the law. I know they think I'm weak. They think I don't have control over my own town. Some of 'em probably think they can get away with murder. After all, that's what happened with Cassie. She literally got away with killing your brother. Fortunately, I've already decided to do something about this situation. When the law won't respond to a travesty, the only thing left is for good men to take the law into their own hands. Justice has to be served one way or another."

  "It has to be tonight," I reply. "We can't wait another second."

  "We?"

  "I have to be there," I continue. "I have to know she's got what's coming to her. I can't..." Pausing for a moment, I realize that my hands are shaking with nerves. "I need to be certain," I say. "I need to see proof that she's gone, or I swear to God, I'll never be able to believe it."

  He sniffs. "I guess you can tag along, but I hope you understand that the situation is mine to deal with, and mine alone. It's also not gonna be something that you can talk about. This is between you and me, and no-one else can ever know about it. You got that?"

  "When I came back to Fort Powell the other day," I say with a sigh, "I was determined to make sure that Cassie Briggs suffered. I wanted to drag her pain out for as long as possible. I wanted to torture her, to push her to the brink of madness. It can't be like that, though. It'd take too long, and the bitch from New York has made things a lot more urgent. Cassie has to be dealt with, and she -"

  "I'll do it tonight," he says firmly, with refreshing confidence.

  "You will?"

  He nods.

  "How?"

  A faint smile crosses his lips, and he glances over at the counter to make sure that the waitress isn't overhearing our conversation. "The quick way," he says eventually, turning back to me. "The easy way. The way that makes sure Cassie Briggs will never bother the people of Fort Powell again." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a single bullet and places it on the table between us.

  I take a deep breath. This is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for since Bobby died. That little bitch has been laughing at the world for too long. Finally, she's going to learn that murderers never prosper.

  "Drink up," Mulcahy says after a moment. "I've got work to do, and if you want to witness the final act, so to speak, you need to make sure you can keep up, 'cause I've got a feeling we might be in for a bit of a trek." He stares at the bullet for a moment. "Now," he says eventually, "where do you think we might find Cassie Briggs on such a dark and rainy night?"

  Fisher Benhauser

  "Cassie!" I shout as I run through the forest. It's getting dark, and the rain is pouring down, but I have to find her. She's out here somewhere, all alone, and she's probably terrified.

  Stopping in a small clearing, I take my phone from my pocket and check once again to see if she's tried to contact me. I can't believe she'd try to deal with this on her own. Even with a fever, she must understand what's happening. Does she seriously think she can handle Darper Danver alone?

  "Cassie!" I shout again, even though I know there's little hope of her responding. The forest runs for miles, and although I'm convinced that she'll be trying to get to the cabin on the hill, I doubt she's capable of making the journey. She could well have collapsed by now. Hell, she could even be dead. After all, she barely survived Darper last time.

  Pushing on, I hurry between the trees. I have the torch I brought from home, but the beam is painfully narrow and I don't have time to stop and search every inch of the forest. Frankly, I could easily run right past her and have no idea that she's there, but I can't think of anything else to do. I need to cover as much ground as possible, and I can only hope that she'll hear me and call out to me. Then again, the rain is so loud, I don't know if we could even hear each other.

  "Cassie!" I yell.

  Stopping, I shine the torch through the trees. I'm soaking wet and freezing cold, but I can't stop looking, not yet. She has to be out here, and I have to find her. After everything we've been through in the past, I can't abandon her. She needs me more than ever.

  All I can do is keep searching and hope for a miracle.

  Eventually, I reach the small car park by the maintenance hut at the base of the hill. To my surprise, I realize that there's a car parked between the trees, but when I get closer I see that there's no-one inside. Shining the torch at the vehicle, I see that whoever's here, they've got New York plates. I shine the torch all around the clearing, hoping against hope that maybe Cassie is here, but there's still no sign of her. Looking up at the dark hill, I realize my only hope is to assume that she's managing to make her way there.

  "Cassie!" I shout as I rush between the trees. "Where are you?"

  I keep running, determined to find her. If she dies out here, cold and alone, I'll never forgive myself. Her mother was right: I should have waited for her. I should have had more faith, and I should have been here for her when she came home. Even after I met and married Edie, I should have treated Cassie better. She was my best friend, and I let her down when she needed me. This is my fault.

  "Cassie!" I shout, spotting a dark shape on the ground up ahead. As soon as I get closer, I realize that it's a person, half-buried in the rain-soaked mud. Kneeling, I reach down and haul her up into my arms, and sure enough, it's her.

  "Cassie," I say, wiping mud from her face. "Can you hear me?"

  I check her pulse and find that she's still alive, but her clothes are soaked and her skin is as cold as ice. After a moment, however, her lips start to move, and finally she opens her eyes and stares up at me. She blinks a couple of times, as if she's not quite sure whether what she's seeing is real. To be honest, she looks as if she's close to death.

  "She's..." she starts to say, her weakened voice difficult to make out as rain continues to fall all around us. "She's back," she whispers eventually. "You... need to go."

  "I'm taking you home," I say, brushing the wet hair from across her forehead. "We can get help this time. I promise, everything'll be okay."

  "No," she whispers. "We tried to run before, remember?" She stares at me for a moment. "We tried, and Bobby paid the price. No-one can run, not from Darper. We have to face her properly this time, or we'll never be free of her. Get me to the cabin, Fisher. I can do the rest. Just get me there and leave me to face her."

  "We can't do this," I reply, gathering her up in my arms as I get to my feet. "This isn't our fight, Cassie."

  "You're right," she replies. "It's mine. I know what to do. You just have to get me to the cabin. I can stop it all. If you don't let me do this, she'll go after everyone." She pauses. "Please. You have to trust me. Let me end this."

  I want to argue with her, but I know she's right. We tried all those years ago to get away from Darper Danver, but she got us in the end. I guess I just have to hope that Cassie's right when she says she knows what to do. Looking down at her, I realize that she seems to have lost consciousness again. I glance across at the nearby trees, and after a moment I realize that there's a faint light up ahead, coming from the direction of the cabin. Every fiber of my body wants to turn and run, but that's exactly what Cassie and I did five years ago, and Darper still found us. Looking down at her again, I finally accept that she's right. I do have to trust her.

  Slowly, I start carrying her toward the cabin. Around us, the wind picks up and starts to shriek and howl between the trees.

  COMING SOON

  Into Hell

  (Vampire Asylum 1.1)

  When she visits a blood-dealer for her latest supply, Abby is shocked to learn the story of the man's daughter, who many ye
ars ago was dragged away to a horrific asylum run by, and for, vampires. When she learns the legend of the beast that is said to be chained up beneath the asylum, Abby decides that she has to find out for certain whether or not that beast is the person she thinks and hopes it might be. Since visits to the asylum's patients are out of the question, however, she realizes that she has only one option if she wants to find out what's really happening.

  The River

  (Journey to the Library 1.3)

  Frustrated by the long journey to the citadel, Alice worries when Nodby and Table decide to take a break by the river. Unfortunately, the river is home to creatures that haven't been fed for a very long time. Meanwhile, Thomas learns a little more about the nightmares that plague Carstairs, and takes a look inside his cart. With his parents' trail starting to run cold, Thomas worries that he might never get home.

  The Letting

  (The Devil's Photographer 1.3)

  Recovering from the terrifying incident at the church, Kate is keen to get her hands on the camera she dropped. John Dagwood, meanwhile, is being strangely elusive, as if he's unwilling to let Kate's work progress too far. Soon, Kate starts to learn more about Dagwood, including his interests in medieval medicine and his involvement with a strange group that has strong links to the events that recently took place at St. Abraham's. Evil is rising across the city, but Kate isn't quite ready to believe that the Devil is in town... until a horrifying image makes her question everything she thought she knew about the world and pushes her to the brink of madness.

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