"Really?" Baines said dryly. "And how about you? How are you coping with all this?"
Alex turned back to her arsenal. "Day by day." Baines turned up his glass, chugged the rest of the water. He set it down hard in the sink. Alex stood, turned to face him. "You used to tell me that we were doing God's work. Do you still believe that?"
Baines shook his head. Looked off. "I don't know what I believe anymore. You said it yourself. When you've been what you've been through and seen what you've seen, you have a hard time believing in anything holy."
"Yes, but we're not talking about me. We're talking about you," Alex reminded him, walking over and joining him at the sink. "You would tell me that we're all tested at some point. Mine was when I lost my own family. Yours was when you lost Marianne." Baines met Alex's eyes with a cold, hurt-filled stare. "What if this is another?"
Baines sighed, turned to look out the window once more. "Whether you believe we're doing divine work or not," Alex continued, "there's still souls out there who need to be saved. I don't have to tell you what will happen to this town if this goes unchecked."
"But it won't. It has you." Alex scrunched her face with confusion. "I've failed my daughter twice already," Baines said. "Once with her mother, and again last night. I'm afraid if I fail her again--"
"Which you won't," Alex interjected, grabbing Baines by the arm.
"Still. I think it's best if I entrust Kristen's safety to you. I can't afford any further mistakes on my part. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to her because I--"
"And you think I could?" Alex said, snatching her hand away, beyond offended at the insinuation. "Look, I may be a monster--"
"You're not a monster!" Baines growled. His forcefulness stunned Alex. She composed herself.
He did the same. "You're not a monster, Alex. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met--the strongest. For more so than I've ever been." Alex watched as he walked back to the table and retook his seat.
"You know my father used to tell me something when I was little," she said, coming over, yet staying on her feet. "He used to say it's not your circumstances that define who you are, but what you do in those circumstances."
Baines looked up at Alex. "I'm not the man I used to be."
"Good," Alex retorted, "Because if something goes sideways and shit hits the fan, I need someone who's gonna have my back a thousand percent." Baines nodded. Reluctant.
Something slammed outside. The two traded stares. Alex went to the window. "Great." Baines bolted from his seat and joined her. He saw who it was. Sighed. Turned to Alex.
"I'll handle it."
Baines found his guest standing at the foot of the alter in the sanctuary, looking up at the painted, wooden recreation of the crucifixion hanging against the back wall. "Been a while since I've seen you in my church," he said. "Your parents wouldn't be pleased."
Neiland turned to greet him. "No, reverend, they wouldn't. But unfortunately, that lecture's going to have to wait for another time. I need your help."
"Whatever I can do," Baines said with a shit-eating grin.
"Good," Neiland said, taking out a pad and pen. "Is your daughter, Kristen, available?"
Baines was taken aback by the question. "Kristen?"
"As far as we know, she may have been the last person to see Jenny Mooreland alive," Neiland said, eyeing Baines sharply for a telling reaction. "Kids at the high school said she and your daughter were together at the dance last night. That alone puts her at the top of our list of people to talk to, but I just got a call from Jenny's folks saying you and her were over there less than an hour ago and something weird happened, so...I'm really hoping I can speak with her."
Baines frowned. He understood that Frank wanted answers, and that sooner or later the police would want to interview Kristen for obvious reasons, but to make that call... "She's not here," he said, adding, honestly," "I don't know when exactly she'll be back."
"We just want answers," Neiland pushed. "I know this has got to be a rough time for her, but if she knows anything that might help us find whoever killed those kids--"
"Kids?" Baines asked.
Neiland realized his slip and cursed himself. Baines obviously knew about Jenny, but that didn't mean he was even aware about Derek. And from what he had seen at the banks of the river, there was nothing yet to even tie the two cases together, save for the likelihood given their proximity. At this point, the police had been directed to treat the two deaths as unconnected. Deep in the recesses of Neiland's mind, however, he was hoping to find a link and consolidate the two grisly deaths. And if there was a link to be found he hoped it would start with Kristen.
"Yes, kids. There was another body found, down by the river." Neiland consulted his notes flipping back a couple pages. "A Derek Wilson. Do you know him?"
Baines scrunched his face. "The quarterback? Only by name."
"Did perhaps Kristen mention him to you?"
Baines pretended to think about it. He knew he couldn't keep Kristen's out of the investigation completely--but he could try to contain it, compartmentalize it away from other aspects to keep her as detached as possible. Baines shook his head. "No. Not a word."
Neiland huffed. "I really need to speak with your daughter. She's a teen. Preacher's kid or not, she has to have a phone. Can't you just call her and tell her to come back?"
"If only it were that easy," Baines chuckled, strolling past Neiland and down the center aisle.
"C'mon, rev, help me out," Neiland said, following. "Something brutally killed your daughter's best friend at a dance they both went to--at their school. What if it comes back?" Baines ignored him. Neiland, laying down his trump card, "What if it was Kristen?"
Baines froze; the idea iced his spine. He could feel his pores tightening, puckering up into goosebumps. Neiland was sly, playing on his love for his daughter like that. He was good, Baines would give him that. But he wasn't good enough. In fact, he'd just made another mistake.
"You said something,"
"Excuse me?"
"You said something killed my daughter's best friend instead of someone," Baines said, cocking his head. Neiland didn't respond, realizing he'd screwed up again. Baines fought to suppress a smirk. "What do you think it was that killed Jenny?"
"I'm not sure, rev, that's what I'm trying to find out," Neliand responded. Baines studied him. Neiland sighed and looked away, then down at the worn, red carpet. "That girl's chest was torn the shreds. Looked like a single blow. No weapon that we know of could've done that. It looks like an animal did it, but again, none that I know of."
"You don't think it was the same bear that killed those poor kids in the woods?" Baines asked, meandering past Neliand back toward the altar. Neliand turned to him.
"No. And if you ask me, that wasn't a bear, either." Baines nodded. Pondering. Neiland sensed he was out in the cold."What's going on here?" He asked, approaching. "You seem like you know something. Reverend, if you have any information that can help me solve this, it would be best if you--"
"Do you believe, Craig?"
"Believe?" Baines pointed skyward. "Y-Yes. Of course. But what's that got to do with anything?"
"If you believe in the power of good," Baines said, "then you must also believe in the power of evil. Satan, his minions--"
"Seriously, reverend?" Baines watched him as he stepped away. He glanced in the opposite direction at the hallway leading to the kitchen. The coast was clear.
"If you believe in the resurrection and talking serpents, water being turned into wine and folks being transformed into pillars of salt, is it really that outrageous to think there could be some other fantastic--even supernatural--phenomena at play?"
Neiland turned to Baines with an incredulous look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak when something crashed in the back. "What was that?" he asked.
"Probably just a pan in the sink."
Another sound--suspiciously like the legs of a chair being dragged acros
s tile. Neiland pulled his pistol. "That doesn't sound like a pan." He pushed past Baines.
"Craig!"
"Wait here, reverend." He made a beeline for the hallway, molding himself against the wall. He eased toward the kitchen, gun raised. He paused at the doorway. Steeled himself. Spun into the room--
Only to find everything as it should be. Clean counters, a sink with only one glass in it--and a completely empty kitchen table. Neiland dropped his aim.
"Evil comes in many forms, son." Neiland swung to find Baines, standing peacefully just over his shoulder. "And make no mistake, we're under attack. But just as demons exist, so, too, do angels. One has been sent to protect us..."
A heavy, mechanical roar ripped the air. Neiland ran to the window as Alex's sports car blasted from behind the church and onto the road, peeling out before racing away. Neiland flashed a scornful look at Baines.
"Let her do her job."
SIXTEEN
The late-afternoon sun shone overhead as Alex's Corvette slid into an empty parking spot in front of one of Weeping Springs' older downtown buildings. She killed the engine and climbed out, pulling her purple-tinted shades from an interior coat pocket and sliding them on. She drew immediate looks from the townspeople, as everything from her car, to her clothes, to the color of her skin made her stand out. Even though stealth would've served her better in her pursuits, deep down, Alex relished the attention.
A particularly conservative couple, both elderly, gave Alex a pair of harsh stares as they passed her on the sidewalk. Alex smirked. Her walk commanded attention, her stride equally sexy and powerful. She carried herself with a distinct nonchalance, as if nothing or no one would--or could--get under her skin. She eyed each passer-by just as hard as they eyed her; they wondered who the outsider was and she wondered if there was more to them than met her eye. Her goal was reconnaissance, but as she strolled past the town post office she slowed, her gaze falling upon a bookstore just ahead on the other side of an intersection. She did need a new journal, and if there was a place in this small, airy town to find one, that would be it. She resumed her pace, crossed the intersection and setting foot on the adjoining sidewalk--never noticing the battered white pick-up waiting two cars back at the light.
Kristen, behind the wheel lip-synching a pop trifle playing over the staticky, bassless radio, however, saw her. She hit the blinker...
Patrons gawked as Alex perused the shelves of the discount bookstore. One mother, in the romance section with her young son, pulled the awestruck boy close as she passed. She stopped at a spinning rack of comic books. Picked one of them up--
The cover depicted a blonde in a tattered blue dress laying on the floor of a dirty alley between two buildings, her back to a brick wall as she cowered from an encroaching, drooling werewolf. Alex sniffed. Put the book back.
"Can I help you with something, or are you just looking?" Alex turned, looked over the top of her shades at the latest person to draw her ire. The salesgirl was young, eighteen at most, with a punchable face slathered in makeup and an air of pretension that wafted off her like funk from three-day-old roadkill under the hot Texas sun. She shifted her weight to one hip, folded her arms.
Alex pushed her shades up on her face with her middle finger. Apparently, all bitches didn't have fangs and fur. "Do you carry journals?"
The salesgirl dislodged an alabaster hand from her opposite elbow and pointed. "Aisle four." Alex turned. "I'm sorry, but we don't take personal checks, and layaway is out of the question." Alex paused...
Leather groaned as her gloved fist curled.
"Sorry about my co-worker. She comes from one of those families," another salesgirl at the counter muttered to Alex as she rang her up. She herself was black, much darker than Alex, with a sweet natural beauty that surpassed her snotty cohort even with the aid of her mask.
Alex glanced at the other girl, chirping cheerfully as she helped a Caucasian customer. Their eyes met; the salesgirl sneered. "I noticed there's not a lot of us around here," Alex said, loud enough for everyone to hear, including the young mother and her son, who were ironically behind her in line.
"Nope," the cashier said as she bagged Alex's purchase. "Seven fifty-eight."
Alex nodded. She opened her coat and casually pulled out a thick roll of cash--briefly exposing one of the P99s to the cashier.
"You girls work on commission, right?"
"Y-Yes, ma'am," the cashier said nervously.
"Good," Alex continued, pointing to the bag. "Then I'd like to place an order. Two hundred more, just like this." The snotty salesgirl whipped her head in their direction.
"Two hundred?" asked the cashier, wide-eyed.
"What can I say?" Alex replied, turning and looking directly into the seething eyes of her co-worker. "I do a lot of writing."
***
Alex laughed to herself as she strolled down the center of the sidewalk, parting oncoming pedestrians like the Red Sea. She had no idea where she was going to put all the blank journals she had ordered, but it was worth every penny to see the look on that bratty salesgirl's face when the final tally was made. Alex made a mental note to call Dr. Cook and alert her that a large shipment would be arriving at company headquarters in about a week. She would roll her eyes as usual, but as a woman of color coming up in a scientific field, Dr. Cook had encountered many of the same things, and could relate with how good it felt to put a bigot in his or her proper place.
As she walked, Alex got the sensation she was being watched. She turned and looked over her shoulder. Nothing out of the ordinary met her gaze. She exhaled and turned back to the front, but the feeling remained. She kept moving.
Nearing her car, Alex used her key fob to unlock it, hopped off the sidewalk and paused at the drivers side door. She stole a glace into the tinted window, and there they were--Lisa and Travis. Her intuition was right. Alex opened the door and tossed the journal in, closing the door and locking the car before resuming down the sidewalk.
The lycas followed, maintaining a safe distance. Unbeknownst to them, however, several car lengths down and on the other side of the street--
Kristen emerged from the parked pickup.
Alex continued her path, making sure to do nothing to tip off her followers. Lisa and Travis remained steady, their eyes dark, focused. Alex casually swerved between pedestrians, forcing the lycas to do the same in order to keep up. Seeing her lead increase, they picked up the pace.
Coming up on an intersection, Alex saw the time running down on the "walk" signal. She strode faster. The lycas saw what was happening and followed suit. It was apparent that none of them were going to make it in time, but at the last second, Alex broke out in a sprint--dashing across the intersection as time ran out. Travis wasn't about to charge after her, but Lisa grabbed his arm and held him back. They watched as Alex slowed to a walk on the other side, never looking back before ducking into an alley.
The light changed quickly, and Lisa and Travis jogged across--tailed at a distance by Kristen. She watched the lycas slip into the alley. She stopped at the corner and poked her head in. The alley went straight through to the next block; Lisa and Travis vanished around the building at the end.
Kristen entered the alley and dashed to where the Lycas had turned. They had made a right. Kristen peeked around the corner, saw Lisa and Travis' backs as they proceeded down the sidewalk. She tepidly emerged from the alley and followed, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans and keeping her head low. She trailed them as they reached the end of the block and crossed to the other.
At one point, Lisa's head turned a bit, as if sensing something. Kristen froze in her tracks, causing the man behind her, not paying attention while staring at his phone, to run into her. They quickly exchanged apologies, and she let him go ahead, walking behind him, using him as a moving screen.
The lycas didn't seem to notice. Kristen reached up with her right hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. She breathed a sigh of relief, noticed her heart was
racing. She had no idea who the pair she was trailing were, but she would've bet anything they were associated with the creatures who had attacked her the night before. In any event, they were following Alex, and although Alex wasn't her favorite person, she did save her life--and she could tell from the way her father looked at her and spoke about her that she was important to him. And if she's important to him...
Whatever, Kristen, thought. She took another deep breath, pushed her anxiety aside and continued on. They were all nearing the end of the block when Lisa and Tavis passed the mouth of another alley. Kristen walked by--
A pair of hands shot out and snatched her by the shirt! Kristen was yanked into the alley--thrown to the concrete floor. She rolled several feet, coming a sitting position. She looked up at her attacker. Her mouth fell in horror.
"We need to talk," Carly said, advancing. Kristen scrambled to her feet and ran for the other end of the alley, but she stopped short. A brick wall bisected the alley. It was a dead end. She turned back to Carly, eyes wild with terror. How had she known she was coming? Was this a trap...for her?
Kristen hesitated. She tried to bolt past Carly's right, but the taller blonde snared her easily and slammed her spine first into the wall. She pounced on her, using her right arm to pin Kristen to the mortar--clamping her left hand over Kristen's mouth for good measure. She brought hers to Kristen's ear, warming her lobe with her breath as she spoke.
"You killed my boyfriend," she hissed. "I should slit your throat right here and suck your blood from my fingertips as you bleed out. But I have a better idea. Since we're a wolf down, and it's all because of you, it's only right you replace him." She glanced at Kristen's wrapped forearm as she grasping fruitlessly at Carly's side. "You're already marked, so you'll make your first change before the night is over. And when you do, you'll join the pack."
Kristen stopped struggling and smiled into Carly's palm. She may have had her suspicions about Alex, but she didn't doubt for a moment that the spray she had applied to her arm would work. She felt so confident because Alex had left her alive--and she didn't seem the type that would have any problem finishing her off it she felt it wouldn't.
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