Night of Demons - 02

by Tony Richards

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Then Cassie led the way.

  The sunlight outside made Lauren squint. It seemed so bright and clear, in view of everything that had been happening. Heavy cloud would have been more appropriate. The Harley was parked on the drive, a big red beast with narrow black stripes down it, its thick body shining like an insect’s carapace.

  “Ever ridden pillion before?” Cass inquired, climbing on.

  “Sure. Got a helmet?”

  “No.”

  She ought to have expected that. Goddamn, talk about reckless. But she climbed aboard anyway, gripping Cass around the waist. The smell of hot machinery and fuel eased up around her, bringing back an image from her past.

  “My first boyfriend had one of these,” she said into the woman’s ear.

  “Me too,” Cassie answered without looking back.

  “He turned out to be a total asshole. But I’ve always liked bikes, ever since.”

  “Same here, on both counts.”

  And Cass let out a brisk, sharp laugh before turning the ignition. That made Lauren smile gently, with satisfaction. The bike shuddered underneath them, and its twin-cam engine roared.

  See, they did have things in common. There was the potential for a bond between them.

  She saw no real reason why they couldn’t be good friends.

  They appeared to be heading north. She wondered what lay in this direction. God, but Cass rode this beast hard. Ross’s neighborhood sped by her, mostly in a blur. But she managed to pick up enough detail to understand what kind of place it was. Everything was simple, unpretentious, even humble. But properly looked after to the smallest detail. All the homes were freshly painted, and the lawns around them neatly mown. The cars on the drives were mostly older models, but were clean and shiny. There was no mess or disrepair, anywhere she looked.

  A plain but entirely wholesome neighborhood, in other words. The kind of place her own folks would have loved to move to, if they’d ever been able to afford to leave their cramped, noisy apartment in South Boston.

  They began to slow after a while, a thick row of trees coming in sight. It was the forest she had passed through when she’d arrived here. This was the first time that she’d seen it in the light. It looked dense and almost endless, and she supposed it played its part in keeping Raine’s Landing hidden from the outside world. A whole ocean of tightly packed trees. And this town was like a raft on it, drifting a good distance from the shorelines of normality.

  Cassie drew the bike to a halt a few dozen yards from the tree line, and they both got off.

  “Municipal limit,” the woman announced.

  And then she simply walked across it. What about the curse? Lauren froze for a few seconds, but then followed her.

  “I don’t understand.” She hurried up to Cassie’s shoulder. “I thought you guys couldn’t leave here.”

  “Hell, we can do that. We simply can’t get anywhere else. Somebody born here could walk a week, a month, a year, and never glimpse another rooftop, never see another town. Or another person.”

  Lauren frowned uncertainly. “I’m not sure I get that.”

  “Lucky you,” was the only response she got.

  They headed in among the trees. The odors of the forest swept across them. Some finches noticed them and danced up to the higher branches, but nothing else happened. Lauren really felt that something should.

  “There’s a turnpike a couple of miles from here,” she pointed out. “You don’t even see cars?”

  “Not a one. What’s a turnpike anyway?”

  Which made her fall silent for a while. She’d never really understood, up until this point, what it meant to be this isolated.

  They kept marching steadily along. Cass apparently knew where they were going. Some kind of natural path opened up ahead of them. When Lauren looked closer, she could see that it had heavy drag marks on it.

  “Logger’s trail,” Cassie explained. “There’s a big lumber mill east of here. If this was a regular town, then we’d be famous for our furniture.”

  They left the path after a while, turning left and heading through deep undergrowth. Fallen twigs and dead leaves crackled underneath them. There was a rich, dank stink, like compost. It was dimmer here, the sunlight filtered. Pretty quiet as well, besides the noises they were making. Occasionally, a larger bird would call briefly, flap its wings, then disappear. Otherwise, they were completely on their own.

  Lauren was still trying to get her head around this whole business of Regan’s Curse.

  “So you can come wandering out here? And, besides not getting anywhere, there’s no effect?”

  “Not exactly,” Cassie answered, rather tersely. “Once you cross over the border, the forest gets pretty weird. Everything around you bleeds of color.”

  She raised her head and stared about, as if to confirm that.

  “And it all goes very quiet and still, like you’re not really in the world at all.”

  But Lauren could hear sounds and see movement. And the colors around her were the same as they had been before. So she wasn’t in the least way affected by the curse. She ought to feel relieved, she told herself.

  “Isn’t that rather scary?” she asked, trying to imagine what it had to be like.

  Cassie dropped her gaze, and mulled the question over.

  “No,” she announced finally. “I don’t mind it too much, to be honest. It may be odd. But it demands nothing of you. It’s peaceful.”

  Except it didn’t sound that way to Lauren. Moving through a bleached-out, hushed-down version of the world? That seemed awful to her. But she reminded herself of the way this woman lived her life. The violence and the urgency of it. Primed for action, constantly. Always there on the front line. She usually thought of herself as being pretty tough. But she couldn’t do that, not twenty-four seven.

  So if Cassie found the curse relaxing, who was she to argue?

  They were starting up a gradient. Lauren thought she could make out a hill, maybe a hundred yards ahead. It was difficult to be certain with so many tree trunks in the way.

  But it turned out that the ground did begin to slope up. They pressed on without another word until they reached the top. Went a few dozen more yards down the other side. Then Cassie drew to a halt. It was practically pitch-dark in this part of the woods, and full of the humming of insects.

  “We’re here.”

  Where exactly? Lauren wondered. Where was Ross? Or Saul? Or anyone, in fact? She stared around blankly.

  “Okay? So what am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “You can’t tell?”

  Lauren turned around on the spot. The only things that she could make out were the outlines of more trees and branches, exactly like the ones they’d passed through. A shape whizzed away from them that she supposed might be a rabbit.

  Faint annoyance began to seep up underneath her skin. She had been woken up and dragged along for this?

  “You still don’t get it?” Cassie asked.

  “I’m not in the mood for playing guessing games all afternoon,” Lauren replied.

  Which was when she heard a sharp rustle behind her, so sudden it made her jump. She swung around.

  Cassie had picked up a stout length of fallen branch. And her eyes had turned completely gray.

  “Absolutely right,” the woman grinned. “No guesses left.”

  And then the branch came swinging—hard—at Lauren’s chin.

  CHAPTER 36

  I had no idea where Cass was. I’d been looking for her most of the afternoon, with no result whatever. She wasn’t at any of her usual hangouts, and she wasn’t even answering her phone. I knew that there were times when she just cruised around for hours. It didn’t seem like much to do, but it was better than being at home on her own, with those dozens of photographs staring at her.

  With everything that had been going down, though, you’d have thought she’d stay in touch. Which bothered me badly. It was r
are as hen’s teeth for the Little Girl to make an inaccurate prediction. But it didn’t stop me praying that she’d made one this time.

  Evening was closing in on us once more. The town was darkening, its avenues becoming gloomy. The streetlamps came on, trying to alleviate that, but not succeeding the whole way. And the emptiness of the place made matters even worse. It’s strange how the night changes everything, turning the familiar into the opposite of that. Shadows cast across your backyard make it a faintly unreal place. And the street you live on…What else lives there, once the sun has gone?

  Most folk who weren’t in the militias had disappeared indoors. And the breeze had dropped away completely, as if the world around us was holding its breath. My fingers had begun to itch. The demons could start showing up any time, in any place. But where?

  On an instinct, I swung my Cadillac around and headed back into Garnerstown. I’m not sure why. But the place seemed to be a magnet for trouble. Saul Hobart was of the same opinion, since I found him there. We were a little west of Keane Street this time, on McAdam.

  There were two uniformed cops with him, three firemen, and a band of armed townsfolk. I squinted at them curiously in the fading light. This was the militia Saul had organized. One of the women was in her fifties, and one of the men beat her out by roughly twenty years. Nick McLeish had finally put on a proper shirt, and appeared to be in charge of them. Most of their expressions were anxious and strained. Which reminded me that being brave did not mean being unafraid. In fact, the reverse is usually the case.

  Saul could see what I was staring at. Or rather, the lack of it…the shortage of properly trained peace officers.

  “I’ve had to post men in every part of town,” he told me, bringing me up to speed. “We’re stretched as thin as taffy here.”

  Then he peered across his shoulder.

  “And we’re short a man as well. Matt Chalker hasn’t shown up.”

  He was obviously puzzled as to why. I recalled the way that Matt had been when I’d last met him, sullen and detached. But he wasn’t the kind of guy to go abandoning his colleagues and his duties. It seemed ominous…but then, so did almost everything this evening.

  A sudden angry, blatting noise announced the arrival of a Harley Davidson, and my heart jumped a little. I looked around to see a cyclopean headlamp coming down the street. Well, Ms. Mallory at last. I wondered what she’d been up to. And felt slightly unsure, watching her ride up.

  And where, for that matter, was Lauren? She couldn’t still be asleep. And if she wasn’t with Saul any longer…?

  I kept a careful eye on Cass as she climbed off her bike. She looked very drawn and moody. Somewhat diminished from her usual fiery self. But that was hardly odd, under the circumstances. There were no real signs that she had changed.

  She came over to me, thrusting her hands in her back pockets.

  “Where were you?” I asked her.

  And I studied her reaction.

  She cocked an eyebrow at me, like she was wondering what business it was of mine. Pretty typical of her. And then her face relaxed.

  “With friends. I dropped in on Pam.” Who was her half sister. “And Bella. And I wanted to see how Ginny and Karl were, and their kids, of course.”

  Her expression grew slightly darker.

  “Then I dropped over to your place. And guess what? I bumped into Lieutenant Brennan, headed off the other way.”

  “What?” Saul asked. He’d moved up to my side.

  Cassie looked down at her boots.

  “She’s left town, and in a hurry. Told me that she couldn’t take it any more. Can’t say I blame her—she’s not used to any of this. So it’s probably for the best all round.”

  I knew she didn’t care for the woman. And noticed a faint hint of triumphalism in her tone. But for myself, I felt astonished. And Saul looked dismayed.

  “She was so determined to get Hanlon,” he blurted. “She didn’t look to me like she was going to quit.”

  Cassie looked at him rather sardonically. The tired edge that I’d noticed before had dropped away completely. She was showing us a harder, slightly meaner aspect of her nature. Maybe that was what the Little Girl had meant.

  “After last night?” she asked. “Are you kidding me? One-way ticket to Boston, I’d say.”

  And when I thought about it closely, well, she had a point. But it didn’t stop me feeling disappointed. Without Ms. Brennan, we were alone once more, the outside world lost from view completely.

  I decided to put it out of my thoughts, since there was no sense dwelling on it. Leaving here was not a luxury that the rest of us had. The only thing that we could do was wait for whatever came down on us tonight. Saul stayed by his car, busy on his radio, coordinating everything. The rest of us were left to hang around at something of a loss. Our talk was stilted, coming out with difficulty across the swelling tension on the air. The police department had already checked around, of course, seeking out the few obvious misfits still remaining, and then making sure to keep close tabs on them.

  Apart from those, we had no idea who might transform next.

  Woody’s words came drifting back to me. “We all have monsters trapped inside us.”

  This area hadn’t picked up too much since Saruak had been here. There was still a lot of rust and shabbiness, and dandelions poking through the sidewalks. People from my neighborhood view Garnerstown with plain disgust.

  After a while, I found myself talking to an older cop called Harrison Whitby. In the time that I’d been on the force, we’d not had much to do with each other. But he’d been in the department nearly thirty years, and had known my father well.

  “He was a good man. A really first-class cop.” His pale, nicotine-stained moustache screwed up. “I felt real bad about what happened. In fact, the last time you and me talked, it was at his funeral.”

  And I remembered it, that long, rainy day in late October, years back. Harrison had looked marginally taller then, his hair and moustache still shiny black.

  Neither of my folks had been around to see their grandkids born. They had passed away within eight months of each other. My mom went first—bone cancer. After that, my father—who had been such a strong presence in my life—simply crumbled. It was like watching a statue fall, or a cliff-front slipping down into the ocean.

  It wasn’t that depression made him quit his job or hit the bottle. He’d never have given in to anything like that. He just stopped eating very much, his health began deteriorating. And after a while, the precise same kind of cancer began eating at him too. It was like he’d rather share Mom’s fate than remain in this world without her.

  I still missed them, and could feel their presence sometimes. But maybe that’s the kind of wishful thinking that we’re prone to when there are questions of mortality around.

  The sky was fully black by the time we’d finished talking. And the stars were out again, bright specks like grains of sand. I knew how far away they were…but, this night, they really looked it. The air was minty clear, and even misting up our breath a little. The figures around me were reduced to silhouettes. Cass was standing by her Harley like a piece of solid shadow. Normally, she is the last word in impatience, and unable to keep still. But I guessed that this uncertainty was getting to her just as much as anyone.

  On a more normal evening, the homes around us would be full of light and muffled sound. Dinners being cooked and eaten. Toddlers bathed and put to bed. TVs—and, in a few cases, pianos—gathered around. But not tonight. Most windows were dark, although there were definitely people in the houses. You could see a glimpse of movement occasionally.

  “What the hell are they waiting for?” I heard one of the militia women grumble.

  She meant the demons, naturally. Anybody in this town could turn into one, and we all knew it. But I had no idea how conscious a process that might be. Could it even be me? That made me really start to worry. How to tell exactly?

  Footsteps started coming up behind
us. And we swung around, aiming our weapons.

  But a badge flashed, the next second, on a dark uniform shirt. It was Matt Chalker. I got a better look at the man as he passed under a streetlamp. He didn’t have his cap on, and his brown hair needed cutting. His face was down as he came along to join us. And he seemed horribly robbed of energy, his gait a shambling one.

  None of which got any sympathy from Saul.

  “Where the hell’ve you been?” he demanded.

  At times like this, I knew, he expected the utmost from his men.

  “Sorry, Lieu. I overslept,” Matt came back at him.

  He was still moving in our direction when I took in the fact that there was something very odd. Matt Chalker lived in Vernon Valley, not too far from Saul’s house. Which was a good way to the north of us, a further journey than my own place.

  Had he walked the entire distance?

  He was a dozen yards from me, and getting closer. Two of his colleagues stepped across to greet him.

  That was when his head came up.

  His eyes had turned completely gray.

  His uniform melted away, revealing a far more profound darkness underneath. And then his shape began to alter.

  His torso swelled and stretched. His whole body broadened, taking on extra swathes of bulk. His shoulders grew wider, his chest stretching like a barrel.

  Then his legs bent backward, the knees reversing on themselves, the feet swelling to a massive size. His arms grew unnaturally long. And his hands had claws on them, with curving tips.

  His face changed too, the features stretching out to create a lupine muzzle. Matt’s ears lengthened to narrow points. When his lips parted, his mouth was full of hungry, pointed teeth. He stared at us balefully, then snarled. Was this the inner darkness he’d been carrying around inside him?

  When his good friend Davy Quinn had been killed, the Dralleg had been in town. And that creature had been wolf-like too. So maybe it had stuck with him, a constant presence in his nightmares.

  One of the militia people drew a bead on him. But Harrison Whitby reached across and knocked his aim off.