I frowned, wondering what, exactly, that particular gift had done for him.
“Adult hyenas fear only the big cats as predators,” Jimmy finished.
Pretty strange that a big cat had been the death of him. Or maybe not so strange after all.
“Because he was part hyena, the chindi jumped to him?” I asked.
Jimmy’s eyebrows lifted, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe so. Although humans are animals too, I’ve never heard of a chindi possessing anything but the furry. That doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”
“Could it have been sent for him?”
“Doubtful. No one knew he’d be at the farm.”
“No one was supposed to know we’d be at the farm either, but someone did.”
“And I plan to find out who.”
Silence fell between us for a minute, then I had another thought. “Springboard’s autopsy—won’t they find traces of hyena fur, blood, something?”
“He wasn’t in hyena form. But even if they did…” Jimmy let his voice trail off, and I understood.
“That would make the case more open and shut, because they probably found traces of animal fur at the murder scene.”
“Considering the number of shifters there, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t have.”
“Did you see a hyena?”
Jimmy shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean one wasn’t there.”
We were looking for a traitor. Was it possible that we’d found him already, and that he’d been killed by accident?
No.
“There won’t be any explanation for hyena fur,” I mussed. Or any other type of fur for that matter. Ruthie hadn’t even owned a dog.
“Won’t be our problem. We’ll be long gone.”
Jimmy hit the on ramp and accelerated, heading west past Madison instead of south toward home. I’d known he would, yet I still tensed at the proof of it.
“I don’t want to go there, Jimmy,” I said quietly.
“I know.”
“Then don’t make me.”
At first he didn’t speak, though his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “In a different world, I wouldn’t. But I need to talk to him, and you need to stay with him.”
“Stay?” My voice squeaked. “No. You can’t— I can’t—”
“You have to learn how to control your new ability. Ruthie would have taught you, but she’s gone.”
“She’s not gone,” I said desperately. “She could teach me—” I spread my hands. “In my dreams.”
He was already shaking his head. “We don’t have time to wait around on the off chance that might happen. You know he’s the best at training, otherwise Ruthie would never have sent you there in the first place.”
No matter how much I argued, there would always be that truth.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Jimmy said, “but as of right now only by touching something do you get any communication from the Great Beyond.”
“I had a dream.”
“You and Dr. King,” he muttered. “Bet they weren’t the same.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window.
Jimmy sighed. “You have to learn to access your power without touching the Nephilim. It’s too dangerous. The only chance I see of making that happen is to take you to Sawyer.”
I made one last attempt to thwart the inevitable. “He frightens me.”
At first, I didn’t think Jimmy was going to acknowledge my words; then he spoke softly into the darkness. “He frightens me too.”
Chapter 13
After that, there wasn’t much left to say. Jimmy was going to deliver me to New Mexico. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been dumped there before.
The summer I was fifteen, Ruthie had handed me a plane ticket and driven me to Mitchell Field. She’d walked me to the gate— pre-9/11 people could still do that—and sent me on my way with a hug and the admonition to “learn all you can. This man knows what he’s about.” But her frown and the way she’d clung just a little had made me uneasy before 1 even boarded the plane.
One of Ruthie’s friends picked me up and drove me the rest of the way. The woman appeared as old as Ruthie—probably sixty back then, but in my youth I’d figured she had one foot in the grave. She was Navajo— her face sun-bronzed and lined, her hair black and long with only a few silver threads. Her hands, clutched tightly on the wheel of her dusty tan station wagon, looked like monkey’s paws—shriveled, bony, and dark.
Her name was Lucinda, but I only knew that because Ruthie had told me, then Lucinda had nodded when I asked. She never spoke a word between Albuquerque and the reservation.
I wondered how they knew each other, when they’d met, but I didn’t ask. I was too worried about where I was going and this man I was about to meet. But now, looking back and knowing what I know, I think Lucinda was a seer too.
She’d pulled up in front of a house and outbuildings at the base of the mountains, motioned for me to get out, and when I did, she’d left in a big hurry, spraying dust and gravel behind her. I’d been too young and clueless to be disturbed by her behavior. I’d figured Lucinda was late for… something. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be running before she caught sight of Sawyer—or perhaps before he caught sight of her.
I discovered quickly that while Sawyer might know what he was about, he was also withdrawn, bleak, secretive. Though it was a relief to meet someone who was actually “weirder” than I was, it was also a bit frightening. He had powers beyond anything I’d ever encountered. I’d been fascinated by him.
At first.
The memories of New Mexico faded as Jimmy and I left Wisconsin, crossing over the Mississippi and into Iowa. On both sides of the river, the terrain was hilly, with high bluffs and lots of craggy rock formations. Within the hour it would flatten into corn fields as far as the eye could see, dotted here by a farm and there with a tiny town.
“You want me to drive?” I asked.
Jimmy snorted. “If I let you behind the wheel, we’d end up in Canada instead of New Mexico.”
“I wouldn’t—” His dark eyes pinned me, and I didn’t bother to argue any longer. He was right. I probably would sabotage this little road trip if given half the chance. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
“What happened to my car?” I asked.
“Switched it with this one. Don’t worry, it’ll be there when you get back.”
If I got back.
“Shouldn’t we ditch such a monstrosity?” I eyed the huge console in front of me. I felt like I was flying in the Millennium Falcon, the Hummer was so large and high off the ground. “We’re kind of conspicuous.”
“Don’t worry. There are DKs in every sector of life. This car’s untraceable.”
“Too bad it isn’t unseeable,” I muttered.
Jimmy’s hand covered my knee, and I jumped. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I definitely won’t let the cops drag us back to Milwaukee.”
“You won’t have much to say about it.”
He sighed and withdrew. “Soon they’ll be busy dealing with Springboard.”
“How soon? Who’s going to know he’s there?”
“I had another DK call in an anonymous tip. The cops should be at the farm by now. The uproar that’s going to cause will keep them occupied for a few days. By then we’ll be at—” He broke off.
I knew where we’d be, and he was right. No one would find us there.
“You’re going to be a suspect again,” I said. “You were supposed to photograph Springboard, then he turns up dead.”
“Except he’ll be dead by natural causes.”
I cast him a quick glance. “Really?”
“He most likely died of a stroke or a heart attack when the chindi left his body. They’ll find the cougar and believe that caused his death. There isn’t a mark on him, Lizzy.”
“Discovering Springboard at your farm isn’t going to help your cause.”
“It should ta
ke them a few days to figure out who owns that place. Longer if we’re lucky.” He shrugged. “Maybe Springboard came looking for me when I didn’t show up for the shoot. Got to the farm and ran into the cougar. I didn’t touch him, and no one can prove that I did. Besides, it won’t take long before they decide that Springboard’s their man for the Kane murder and stop searching for anyone else.”
Silence fell between us. My eyes were heavy. It had been a long day.
“Are we there yet?” I murmured.
Jimmy gave me a small smile. “Twenty hours to go. You might as well sleep. Everything will be all right.”
It wouldn’t be, not everything; we both knew that. But I went to sleep anyway. Sooner or later I’d have to drive. I preferred that to stopping so Jimmy could sleep.
Him. Me. A hotel room. Nothing good could come of that.
Besides, in dreams, I saw Ruthie.
I had barely closed my eyes when I heard her voice. “You hate me now?”
I stood next to the picket fence; Ruthie waited in the doorway. “I could never hate you.”
She shook her head, turned and went inside. I had no choice but to follow.
I found Ruthie in the backyard this time, staring at the empty swing set. The place was quiet. Too quiet.
“Where are the children?” I asked.
“Gone on.” Her sigh was the wind in my hair. “But there’ll be more.”
Since the children who came to Ruthie’s version of heaven had experienced hell on earth, her sadness was understandable. It bothered me that she would still be bearing such a burden when she should be enjoying paradise.
“I’m helping Jimmy like you asked,” I said, hoping to lift her spirits. So to speak.
She didn’t answer, instead watching the brilliant blue horizon as if waiting for someone. Was it always daytime here? Why shouldn’t it be?
“Could you give me a crash course on managing your gift so I don’t have to—”
Her gaze shot to mine. “You have to.”
Damn.
“He’s the only one who can help you,” Ruthie said. “Even if I weren’t… here, I wouldn’t be able to teach you what you need to know. You’re so much more powerful than I ever was, Lizbeth. You were destined to lead this army, not me.”
“Lead?” I suddenly had a hard time breathing. “An army?”
“What did you think you were going to do, child?”
“Your job.”
“My job was to keep the world from self-destructing until you were ready to take over.”
“I’m not ready.”
“So get your behind to Sawyer and get ready.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere near Sawyer.”
The feelings I had for him were complicated. He both attracted and repelled. He’d made things clearer, and he’d muddied them up. When I’d left him after a summer of training, I’d been stronger, but I’d never been able to learn everything he wanted to teach me. I suspected that some of the lessons were about things I really shouldn’t know. Sawyer walked a fine line between good and evil, and there were times he wallowed in the darkness, times I felt he wanted to drag me there with him.
“I don’t recall askin’ what you wanted.” Ruthie tilted her head as if someone were calling her. “Springboard’s here.” Her gaze met mine, and her eyes were moist. “There are more arriving every day. Make sure you’re not one of them.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Her eyes sharpened, and I waited for her to tell me she “didn’t appreciate” my sass. Instead, she returned her attention to the impossibly beautiful horizon.
“They’re coming,” she whispered, and the tears that had threatened spilled down her cheeks like rain.
The last time Ruthie had said “they’re coming,” I awakened to a berserker in my room. The thought of meeting whatever was making her cry had me trying to wake myself from my dream so I could face the newest nightmare. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t break free of the glaringly empty backyard where children used to play.
“Jimmy,” I said. “He’s alone.”
“He’s been handlin’ things for years without you.”
“I thought I was supposed to help him.”
“There’s helpin’ and there’s helpin’. You’re a seer, not a DK.” She frowned, listening again, then spat out a word I’d never thought to hear Ruthie Kane use, especially in paradise. “Times are hard. We’re gonna be a little short on help. You’ll be the first demon-killing seer in history. Congratulations.”
“What? I’m not a breed. I don’t have any superpowers.”
“You will.”
Aw, hell.
“Go on back now. Save whoever you can, and know”— Ruthie touched my arm, and I saw a sign, a road, a town—”the rest will be here with me.”
Lightning flashed from a sunny sky, followed by a crack of thunder that made me flinch and close my eyes. I woke up in the car. The only light on the highway was the garish golden beam of our headlights splashing across black asphalt.
I peered out the window. Acres upon acres of flat, flat land. Very few trees.
“Iowa?” I guessed.
“Kansas.”
From the look of things, same difference.
In the glow of the dashboard, Jimmy’s skin had a pasty hue, but his eyes were alert. He held himself as if he were ready for anything.
“Why’d we get off the freeway?” I asked.
“You mumbled ‘Hardeyville’ in your sleep. When I saw the exit, I figured it was a sign.”
Just then a billboard flashed past on our right, entering HARDEYVILLE —POPULATION 1256.
“Guess so,” I murmured.
The place appeared exactly as it had in my dream vision. Why wouldn’t it?
The highway ran through the center of town, becoming Main Street at the first intersection. Not a stoplight in sight. I doubted there were too many traffic jams in Hardeyville.
The buildings were old, mostly brick, occupied by the types of businesses necessary to keep a small town alive— grocer, hardware, barber, physician. Residential roofs spiked on each side road that shot off from the main drag.
The place was eerily silent. Sure, dawn hadn’t even begun to lighten the horizon, but as I lowered my window, I didn’t hear anything—not a dog, not a bird, not the distant hum of a plane, train, or automobile.
“What are we dealing with here?” Jimmy asked.
“Not a clue.”
“I hate going in blind.”
“I hate going in at all.”
“You’re staying in the car.”
I snorted. “Not.”
“Lizzy, you’re a seer.”
“According to Ruthie, I’m both.”
He glanced at me, then away. “You talked to her?”
“How do you think I knew about Hardeyville?”
“Dumb luck?”
“Yeah, that always works.”
“If she told you to come here, why didn’t she tell you what was here?”
“I’m getting the impression that ‘easy’ isn’t in my job description. So far I’ve had to touch the Nephilim to find out what they are.”
“That’s going to get old fast,” Jimmy muttered.
“It already is.”
Sooner or later, more than likely sooner, I was going to touch one monster too many.
Jimmy cursed, low and vicious, and I glanced at him with a start. He stared out the passenger window. I turned my head and froze.
Something furry, actually several somethings, more like a pack, with long, spindly legs and massive heads, slunk down a side street in the opposite direction.
“I didn’t think there were any wolves left around here,” I murmured.
Jimmy slid the Hummer over to the curb. “There never are.”
Chapter 14
Jimmy reached beneath his seat to retrieve his gun. I felt beneath my own but wasn’t so lucky.
“Stay here.” he repeated, and got out of the car.
&
nbsp; I might not have had any DK training, but I had been a cop. I could shoot things. Hit them too.
I opened the door and followed him to the rear of the Hummer. The back end was a traveling armory. Guns, ammo, knives, forks—what would he do with those?— swords, syringes.
“I can see why you didn’t want to ditch it,” 1 said.
“Get. In. The. Car.”
I reached for a box of bullets clearly marked silver and a rifle while I was at it. I grabbed a pistol, too, and the appropriate ammo. Never could tell when you might need both short- and long-range firearms.
“So,” I said as I began to load my weapons, “we just start shooting?”
“Dammit, Lizzy.” He grabbed my elbow, whipped me around, fury and fear at war on his face.
“I won’t let you go alone,” I said quietly. “I can’t. So don’t ask it of me.”
“I’m telling you.” His voice was low and desperate.
“I’m not listening.” I jerked free of his grasp, finished loading the silver bullets, and strode toward the last place I’d seen the slinking shadows.
“Wait.”
I paused, tensed to fight if I had to. But, short of winning that fight, then tying me up, Jimmy wasn’t going to stop me, and he knew it.
He joined me on the sidewalk, gaze darting from building to building, then to the roofs and the alleyways. “One shot should turn them to ashes.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
His mouth thinned. “Then they aren’t shifters.”
I remembered the chindi. That would be bad. I’d have to touch them to discover what they were; then we’d have to figure out how to kill that particular type of Nephilim. What if Jimmy didn’t have the necessary tools in his handy-dandy Hummer?
“One thing at a time,” he murmured. “First, shoot a few and see how much dust we raise.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I moved forward, but he shouldered me back.
“Stay behind me.”
I didn’t bother to argue; I just marched a larger circle around him and continued to walk at his side. “If I’m behind you, I might shoot you instead of them.”
Any Given Doomsday Page 8
