by Sam Witt
The shadows darkened across Stevie’s face. “I definitely don’t like the sound of that.”
Joe tried to explain his plan to his wife, but it made less sense when spoken aloud than it had when he’d first put it together. It was risky, and put him in very real danger of exposure to the very powers he’d been fighting for so many months, but if he could pull it off it might just change everything in Pitchfork for the better. It still sounded batshit crazy.
“No. No fucking way.” Stevie shook her head, and her knuckles were white where she gripped the table. “You’re going way out on a limb here, and there’s no way for me to back you up. If something goes wrong, there’s a good chance this gets everyone killed.”
“There aren’t any better options. No matter what I do, it’s going to put people at risk. This way, at least, most of the risk is coming down on my shoulders. And if things really go sideways, you’re tough enough to fend this thing off and get everyone far the hell away from Pitchfork.”
The anger leaked out of Stevie’s face. “It’s not that easy. With Mildred dead, the Conclave is broken. The power I had,” she threw her hands up in frustration. “We’ve sprung a leak, and until I can get it patched, I’m not nearly as tough as I used to be. If you get your head eaten, then we’re all fucked.”
Joe wrapped his hands around Stevie’s and held them tight. “I don’t know what else to do. We’re up against the wall here, and this is the only way I see to get us out. If it works, all our problems go away. Can you even imagine what that will be like? No more monsters in my head. No more monsters in Pitchfork. That’s worth risking my life.”
Stevie squeezed Joe’s hands and sighed. “I just need more time. If I can replace Mildred, if I can heal the Conclave, then I can do my part. I can help you with this. But I can’t do it now.”
Joe weighed his options. Having Stevie at his back, at full strength, would definitely be a boon. That gave him a little more room for fuckups if nothing else. But waiting meant hunkering down with a whole bunch of high-value targets. The spider was definitely going to figure out where they were soon, and if Joe didn’t have something to distract it then all of its soldiers would be headed his way. It would just keep throwing monsters at them until it found a chink in their armor. Waiting wasn’t on the table. “I don’t think that’s going to work. The clock is running down here, and I need to make a move soon.”
They held each other’s hands without speaking, both desperately trying to come up with a plan that kept them on the same page. But Joe knew it was futile. They didn’t have the time to set this up the way they wanted. He was going to have to go to war alone and hope that it worked out all right in the end.
But first, he was going to have to go round up one of the men he hated most. Joe had to protect Frank Blackbriar no matter how much they were both going to hate it.
24
Joe gave everyone their marching orders before leaving the house to round up the Blackbriars. He’d set Al outside the sheriff’s makeshift prison, with strict orders to make sure she didn’t leave. He didn’t want her blood on his hands, but he wanted her out running around causing him grief even less. Stevie and Elsa were doing what they could to strengthen the big house’s perimeter and hide it from the prying eyes of their enemies. He wasn’t sure what they’d be able to accomplish, but anything was better than nothing. Until he could put his plan into action, they were all vulnerable, and he needed the Woodhawks and Zeke protected. If anything happened to them, this was all for nothing.
He tried not to think about that outcome as he went in search of Frank Blackbriar. It was getting on toward eight o’clock, which meant Frank was probably out drinking somewhere. It was just a matter of finding out which hole in the wall he picked to do his drinking.
Fortunately, Joe didn’t have to go into every bar in Pitchfork County to find his man. When Amogen fired up their fracturing operation, they’d bought up leases on a lot of Frank’s land. Rather than use the money to fix up his badly deteriorated family home, Frank dumped a bunch of it into a ridiculous red Escalade. Joe knew when he found the truck, he’d find Frank.
He wished the sheriff had come around because he could sure use a bunch of extra eyes to help him out now. He kept listening to the police scanner on the off chance that Frank would do something stupid and get a deputy’s attention, but there was disturbingly little chatter among Pitchfork’s law enforcement officers.
As Joe drove from small town to small town, rolling past bars with his eyes peeled for Frank’s red monstrosity, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Maybe Laralaine was right: Maybe her deputies would be out looking for Joe and try to rescue her. If that was the case, this was all going to get a lot more interesting.
Or maybe the eyes on him belonged to spiders he couldn’t see. Or the feeling came from the Long Man or the Haunter in Darkness poking around in Joe’s skull. Or it could be his paranoia talking.
As the minutes piled up, Joe’s sense of foreboding grew more intense. Somewhere out there, Itsike was on the move. How long would it be before she found where Joe had hidden the rest of the founders’ descendants and threw her weight against his home? He needed to end this before an all-out war landed on his front lawn.
After an hour of searching, Joe got lucky. The Escalade was parked outside the Burger Barn, a shitty little diner that somehow managed to grill hamburgers so delicious they were worth gambling with E. coli. Joe bumped the Escalade’s back bumper with his truck’s rusted fender then killed the engine, set the emergency brake, and headed inside.
The diner was filthy, but the smell of sizzling beef patties still made Joe’s mouth water. He looked down the long dining room and was almost disappointed to find Frank seated at the end of the counter. It would’ve been nice if Blackbriar had been in the bathroom; Joe might’ve had time to order a couple burgers to go.
As it was, he had to move quickly to intercept Frank. The man had an uncanny knack for sensing Joe’s presence, and he was already making a break for it by the time Joe spotted him. The Night Marshal stormed through the diner, doing his best not to jostle too many of the place’s other patrons. He was trying to shake his reputation as being bad for business.
Frank was almost to the men’s bathroom door when Joe caught up with him. Joe gave him a hearty shove from behind and sent Frank stumbling into the restroom.
As Joe entered the room behind him, Frank tripped over his own feet and banged his head on the dented hand dryer bolted to the wall next to the filthy sink. Joe grabbed him before he could completely lose his balance and spun Frank into the wall. He threw his arm across the back of Frank’s neck, pinning him in place.
Joe leaned in close to Frank’s ear. “I’m not here to fuck you up. But if you act like a dick, I won’t have any problem throwing a few punches your way. Your call.”
Frank struggled against Joe’s superior strength for a moment then went limp. “Okay, okay. I don’t want any trouble.”
Joe stepped back to give Frank some breathing room. He was still close enough to stop him if he tried to run, but not quite within choking range. “I’m not even going to ask you why you started running as soon as you saw me coming. All you need to know is that I’m here to save you from something you oughta be scared of.”
Frank swallowed hard and nodded. Joe realized the man looked even shittier than normal. His face was wan and haggard, framed by lank hair that hadn’t seen a shower or comb in days. At this range, Joe could tell it wasn’t the bathroom that stank; it was Frank.
Blackbriar rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “I know; bad shit’s comin’. I’m just tryin’ to keep my head down.”
“Good. But I’ve got a better place for you to hide than a diner. You need to get off the street before someone sees you and you end up in a world of shit.”
Frank licked his lips. “Do you think, I mean, I couldn’t get my ma to leave the house. Can we go by there and pick her up?”
Joe weighed th
e time it would take to run over to the Blackbriar place against the trouble he was going to have if he didn’t give Frank what he wanted. He could just pound the loser into submission and toss him into the back of the pickup, but the thought made him weary. Using Frank as a punching bag didn’t hold the same allure it once had. Plus, there was a chance his mother was on Itsike’s hit list as well. “Yeah, sure. Be a tight fit with all three of us in the cab, but we might as well bring her along for the party, too.”
Joe pointed to the bathroom door, and Frank headed out. Joe followed the man out of the diner to his Escalade. When Frank tried to open its door, Joe pushed it closed. “Get in the pickup.”
Joe reasoned it would be easier for them to avoid attention in his pickup than in the Cadillac, but he also didn’t want to give Frank a chance to dig up a gun or knife. The man looked beaten, but Joe still didn’t trust him. Desperate people did desperate things.
Frank offered directions to his house, which Joe ignored. He knew damn well where the Blackbriar clan lived, seeing as how his life had nearly ended there a few months back. He pushed the memory away and focused on driving. He took side roads and dirt trails, doing his best to stay off the beaten path. He didn’t know if Laralaine’s deputies were searching for his truck yet, but he didn’t want to take a chance on running into them.
The place looked exactly as it had the last time Joe had been there, with the exception being the driveway was no longer filled with an angry mob of rednecks looking to lynch him. He’d scattered their little cult to the four winds, leaving their clubhouse squatting in its own filth as it had for years.
Frank shot him a nervous look. “I’m just gonna go and get my ma, okay?”
“Go in, get her, get out. Don’t pack any clothes, don’t grab any of your bullshit. If I have to come looking for you, you’re going to pick up some bruises.”
Joe watched Frank climbed the rickety stairs to the front door. The asshole kept looking around, glancing over his shoulders, tilting his head toward the sky, as if expecting an attack at any moment. Joe wondered just how much Frank knew about what was going on. If he found out that Frank had been holding out on him, that he’d been somehow trying to play this to his own advantage while letting the rest of the founding families die, Joe would give him a thrashing he wouldn’t soon forget. It might not be the right thing to do, but it would certainly feel good.
Joe was still jumpy. This was all taking too long. He felt like he was missing something that would cost him later. Moments after Frank disappeared under the house, Joe found himself scanning his surroundings for attackers. Every pocket of darkness seemed filled with spiders, and the waving branches of nearby trees cast shadows that reminded Joe far too much of arachnid legs. He eased the shotgun from the rack behind his head and cradled it in his lap. If something came for him, he’d be ready to blast it back to Hell.
But as the minutes passed, Joe found the day’s events catching up with him. His head bobbed, and his eyes fluttered as the adrenaline pumping through his blood was overwhelmed by exhaustion. He hadn’t eaten enough or slept enough in the past couple of days, and now he was paying the price.
He woke with a start, unsure how long he’d been out. He whipped his head from side to side looking for potential threats but saw nothing. The rapid beating of his heart slowed, and Joe glanced at the glowing numbers on the cheap battery-powered clock he’d stuck to the dash with a strip of double-sided tape. It was almost 11, which meant he’d been out of it for at least fifteen minutes. Where the fuck was Frank?
Joe shoved his way out of the truck and slung the shotgun over his shoulder. If Frank was pulling some bullshit on him, if he tried to run, Joe was going to make him wish he was dead.
He approached the house cautiously, paying particular attention to the trees that lined the walkway to the front door. The branches arched overhead and provided a perfect ambush point for a giant spider.
Nothing tried to kill him on his way to the front door, which was a welcome relief. Joe rolled his shoulders and banged on the front door with his fist. He really did not want to go inside. The last time he’d crossed this threshold, he’d stumbled into a reeking shithole filled to overflowing with bat cultists. If Joe could get Frank and his mother out of the house without having to go inside himself, that’s how he’d prefer it.
After a few moments with no answer, he banged on the door again. “Goddammit, Frank,” he shouted, “get your ass out here.”
When there was still no answer, Joe decided the time for being patient was over. He twisted the knob and shoved the front door open with his left hand, raising his shotgun into a firing position with his right hand in the same motion.
The house was dark, its interior a shadowed mystery. “Last chance, Frank!” Joe yelled. “If I have to come in and drag you out of here, you’re really going to regret it.”
Joe gave Frank a few moments to answer, but there was no response from the inside of the house. He grumbled to himself and headed inside to kick Frank’s ass.
Within a few feet of the doorway, it became too dark for Joe to see. He pulled his badge from the front pocket of his flannel shirt and trickled some of his power into it. A flat silver light blazed from the badge, banishing the darkness from Joe’s path.
Despite the light, Joe’s paranoia chewed on his nerves. There was something he was missing; he just didn’t know what it was. He didn’t think Frank would’ve made a run for it, not with his mother in the house and no car, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t up to something else. Joe stepped forward, sidling alongside the staircase to the upper floors, shotgun ready to blow a hole in anything that came at him. He stopped every few feet to listen for noises, but the only sound was his own breathing and the scratching of wind-blown limbs against the house’s rough shingles. “Where the fuck are you?”
Joe turned to his left and headed into the kitchen, but his feet felt sticky and sluggish. He tilted his badge down to see what he’d stepped in. There was a silver sheen that stretched like gum when he tried to lift his foot.
Too late, he tried to raise his shotgun again, but something splattered against his torso, pinning his arms to his chest. He looked down and saw what he feared. Spiderwebs.
Joe struggled, trying to put his supernatural strength to use, but he had no leverage. A monstrous shadow approached from within the kitchen, its faceted eyes gleaming in the silver light from Joe’s badge.
25
The spider-beast came clicking out of the kitchen, its segmented legs tapping along the walls and ceiling as it eased its ponderous bulk forward. Its almost-human head tilted from side to side as if trying to make sense of what it saw in Joe. All eight of its eyes were crammed together across its forehead, twin rows of gleaming orbs that seemed to take in everything as the head moved from side to side.
Below that almost-human head, there was very little humanity in the thing. Its torso was thin and flat and lined with spider legs that probed the walls and floor as it advanced. Its abdomen was bloated and almost translucent, a dull red glow lighting it from within. Thicker legs with clawed tips supported the bulk of the body and propelled it forward.
As the monstrosity neared Joe, articulated appendages around the gaping gash of its mouth unfolded, and a pair of enormous tusks erupted from its lower jaw. It hissed at Joe, an evil and malevolent sound that promised much pain in the Night Marshal’s future.
Joe didn’t struggle against the webs, knowing that he’d just end up binding himself even tighter. Instead, he faked a cocky grin and winked at the spider-beast. “I’m not sure where y’all are from, but around here we greet folks with a handshake. If you don’t mind cutting me loose, I’d be happy to introduce myself.”
The spider-beast released a guttural hissing, a gargling sound that Joe imagined must pass for laughter wherever this shitheel was from. “I know who you are,” it said and stomped closer. Its four front legs tapped the walls on either side of Joe’s head and bent toward him. “And soon you will know wh
o we are, and you will pay for what you have done.”
Joe wrinkled his nose. “You ever brush those teeth? You smell like you’ve been eating shit.”
The creature leaned in closer, its black eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Why do you interfere? The mistress has come to claim what is rightfully hers. Yet you defend the oath breakers?”
“It’s not like your mistress gave me much choice. She can’t come rolling in here squeezing people to death in big ol’ stinky webs and not expect some heat. Shit, my feelings are hurt you didn’t do any research at all. Have you ever heard of the Night Marshals?”
The tip of one of the spiders legs ran down the length of Joe’s jaw then lifted his chin. “Once I finish with you, I’m going to collect the others. I can smell their stink on you, the rotten perfume of the faithless.”
Joe knew he was running short of time. He needed something to distract the spider-beast. The webs had glued his badge into his left hand, which worked in his favor, but if he tried anything while big ugly was staring right at him, he had no doubt the thing would forgo formalities and skewer him with one of those spiked legs. “If you’re so hot to kill the faithless, why are you wasting time with me? I’m pretty sure one of them is hanging around not too far from here. Why not go deal with him?”
The creature reared up to its full height, towering over Joe. It braced its front legs against the ceiling and shifted its hind legs to curl the tip of its abdomen toward Joe. “There will be time enough for that once I’m through with you.”
“You sure?” Joe’s eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to reveal the wounds scattered across the thing’s pallid flesh. “Because it looks like you’ve tangled with some folks I know, and they pretty well kicked your ass. Right now, I’m willing to let all this web shit slide, but if you get serious about killing me, I’m going to finish the job my friends started. And then you’re never gonna get a chance to get your hands on the faithless.”
