“I am Tally Connors,” she confirmed. “But you knew that. It’s why you’re here. Your plans to lure me into the river valley last October didn’t work. Now you’ve come to me.”
Valdeg’s lip curled up again, and Tally realized that this was his version of smiling. “I come to deliver a message.”
“From Lirgon?”
“The first among us bids you leave us in peace.” Valdeg’s tongue protruded for a second. “That is all.”
“Stop eating humans, and we might.”
“Then we would die.”
“Then I guess we can’t leave you in peace.” Tally spoke the words with more than half her mind busy calculating, assessing. What did Valdeg really want? She didn’t for a moment believe he was here to deliver a message. The clan had proved throughout the ages that they were only interested in the well-being of the Stonebrood Clan. They had lied, cheated and betrayed everyone, even other gargoyles, to improve their lot by an inch or two. They had even sacrificed themselves to forward the clan’s ambitions.
Their ultimate aim was unguessable. She didn’t have enough information. But this was an unplanned opportunity that she would be mad to pass up. “Who is helping you?” she demanded. “You have a human in your employ. Give me the name.”
“Let you kill a most useful menial?” Valdeg’s smile this time showed the upper reaches of his fangs and his tongue lolled. Was the rolling tongue laughter?
He hadn’t denied that a human was helping them, but the evidence had been overwhelmingly convincing. She didn’t need his confirmation.
“What will you give me for the name, hunter?” Valdeg finished.
Tally stared at him, her mind reeling. “You would betray the one that is helping you? Of course you would, if it was to your advantage.” But what advantage would it give them to get rid of whoever was building their bombs and sniffing out personal information about the hunters, using human information systems? “But why give him up?” she asked. “He gave you my address. He’s clearly useful, still.”
“Your address and your alliance with the other human. Connors.”
“He’s a hunter, too.”
Valdeg let his tongue out once more. “Hunter, no. A human with skills, that is all.”
Tally clenched the sword tighter. “Skills to find all of you.”
“But you were the one whose instincts told you I was here. You are standing before me. He is not. Where are his instincts?” Valdeg’s tongue swiped over his mouth. “He is not a hunter.” He said it dismissively.
“It’s Carson that you want?”
The light in his eyes blazed for a moment, bright behind the inner lids. “We want peace,” he said and Tally knew that it was true. They did want peace; but their peace meant freedom to slaughter humans whenever the urge to feed rose, which was at least once a month. “You, all of you, will not give it to us. You didn’t, before. The Sherwood swore an oath to see us ended, yet he is a creature humans used to hunt just like us.”
Did they resent Nick’s mission to exterminate them? Did they hate Nick in particular?
Valdeg stretched, lifting himself up from the squat he was sitting in. The top of his thick head almost brushed the ceiling. Then he settled again. “The menial betrayed us. You know where he is.”
The two simple sentences spoke volumes. Tally could feel her chest tighten and her heart race. They would give her the name because she could tell them where to find him and deal with him. Which meant he was known to her.
He.
“He’s one of us. A hunter,” Tally breathed, thick horror choking her. In all the months while she formed and confirmed her theory that a human was helping them, she had never once considered it was one of them. The idea was simply—“Impossible,” she breathed. “There is nothing you could give a hunter that would make him betray us.”
Who was it? Miguel? It wasn’t Carson – she didn’t even consider the possibility because she knew him and knew it was unthinkable. There were other hunters they had worked with over the last few years, in other cities and locations. Those hunters had information about the clan that they had been able to add to their own.
“Hunters will do much for money,” Valdeg replied.
Money. The one thing that was always in short supply. “You don’t have money,” Tally shot back.
“We have had money in your banks for centuries. Menials have their uses.” Valdeg’s tongue lolled again, long and black, and this time Tally knew he was laughing at the irony of using their enemy’s institutions and people to forward their own purposes. He cocked his head, tilting it sideways, a movement Tally didn’t think they were capable of making. It was a very human gesture. “Tell me where I can find Jimmy Ciallela.”
Jimmy. For a moment Tally wondered if she would be physically sick. Burning juice scorched the back of her throat, and her eyes started to water. She breathed heavily through her nose, maintaining control. “Get out of my kitchen,” she said, her voice low and level. “You’ve got thirty seconds, then I start carving you up like I promised when I stepped in here.”
Valdeg’s inner lids snapped open and he looked at her without the shielding lenses. “We will find him,” he said, “with your help or not. The first among us said you would not assist and that he would find his own way to the menial. He was right.” The gargoyle rose on his rear feet and waddled to the back door, which stood open, the knob busted in and hanging from a single screw. They were awkward on their feet, but that didn’t stop them from being superb fighters. Once they were in the air, they could maneuver and turn more easily and that was when they were most dangerous, but Tally didn’t discount the danger Valdeg posed, even as the runt of the clan. She kept her sword up in defense until he worked his way carefully through the door. She followed him out, and watched him take a jogging run across the snow-covered yard, then launch himself upwards, his wings unfurled and straining. They were like albatross taking off – it looked like they would never get into the air.
Tally watched his silhouette disappear against the silvery grey clouds low overhead.
Jimmy.
She turned and ran for the stairs.
* * * * *
Carson was a good driver, using the gears for maximum speed and traction on the icy December roads, but even he couldn’t make the old Chevy move any faster than the worn out engine could manage. The motor was making strange sounds that Tally had never heard before.
She sat silently, tight with tension, her hands clenched around the seatbelt, which she was holding under her belly so the surges from the car turning wouldn’t pull against the baby. Her throat and mouth were thick with fear.
“And he just talked?” Carson said. It was the third time he had asked the question. He kept circling back to it, like a dog gnawing on a bone.
“I don’t know what he wanted, beside the turkey,” she replied patiently. “He wanted to know where to find Jimmy. He said—he implied—that Jimmy had been helping them, but he had done something to piss them off and they wanted to find him.”
“Not possible,” Carson said, but she could hear the note in his voice. The doubt. Out of all the hunters they worked with regularly, Jimmy was the closest to a true friend, something that Carson had never had before. The idea that Jimmy had been helping the gargoyles and betraying them all didn’t sit well with him any more than it did with Tally. But she could see the possibility. She could see Jimmy reaching out for money. His life was more wretched than most hunters for he found it hard to come by even casual jobs.
He lived in a trailer park on the north side of Millwood, twelve miles down the Taconic State Parkway. They were heading there now as fast as Carson could get the beat-up Chevy to move. The others were, too, for Tally had picked up the phone on her way upstairs to wake Carson, and told Donna Jimmy was in danger.
Carson had backed the Chevy out of the driveway barely five minutes later.
They were getting close to the Saw Mill River Road exit. They would have to cut back north-
east along the road to get to the trailer park. It was maybe five minutes away now. Ahead of them, brake lights flashed as an Oldsmobile took the exit.
“That’s Donna,” Carson murmured.
There weren’t many cars on the highway. It was just after five in the morning on Christmas day. People were still asleep, the presents all wrapped and waiting under the tree. The sky to the east, low down by the horizon, was clear of the heavy snow clouds and was showing signs of the coming dawn.
Tally braced herself with one hand against the dashboard as Carson pulled the car onto the exit lane. He glanced at her. “It might be a trap,” he said. His voice was harsh. Tight with concern and worry and fear and more besides.
“It might,” Tally agreed. “But we still have to go there.”
There was nothing else to say after that. They followed the big Old’s lights up the road and behind them, shining in the rear view mirror, were the headlights of another car.
Carson glanced in the mirror. “Connie,” he said softly. “Those big square Mustang lights are unmistakable.”
In front of them, the Oldsmobile’s brakes barely flashed as Donna turned into the trailer park. Snow sprayed briefly.
“Don’t kill yourself,” Carson muttered, then braked to take the turn himself. As soon as they were inside the park gates, he killed the lights. Ahead of them, the Oldsmobile lights went out, too.
Carson eased the car through the narrow lanes, heading for the back row. The Oldsmobile swung right as they got close to the trailer.
“She’s going around, to come from the other direction,” Tally guessed.
“When I stop the car, you stay here,” Carson said tightly as he took the last turn.
Hot words of protest rose to her lips, but Tally pressed them together, holding them in. “Very well,” she said stiffly.
He is not a hunter. Valdeg’s withering tone, detectable even through his cranky speaking voice, kept repeating in her mind. “You be careful,” Tally said, fighting with the need to say anything else.
“Always.” Carson halted the car, turned off the engine and reached out to touch her. His fingers rested on the top of her belly briefly, then he was gone, the car door latching softly behind him.
The light was growing. Soon, humans would be waking. Kids jumping on parents’ beds, demanding they get up. Christmas day, and Tally wasn’t sitting beside a Christmas tree. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done something so…ordinary.
She watched Carson slip into the narrow lane between Jimmy’s trailer and his neighbors. Donna’s car was sitting twenty yards beyond Jimmy’s trailer, in the middle of the access road. The drivers’ door was open, the interior light shining. It was quite empty.
Carson came out of the trailer, this time using the front door. His head was down and Tally caught her breath and held it.
After a moment, he lifted his head to look at her and wave her to him. Tally got out of the car and hurried to where he was standing just beyond the door.
“I need you to reconstruct what happened,” Carson said softly.
Inside the trailer, Tally could hear soft weeping and her throat tightened. “Jimmy…?”
Carson’s expression was bleak. “He’s dead.”
Miguel came out of the trailer and leaned on the back of the battered sun lounger, breathing hard. His head was down, turned so she couldn’t see it.
Tears prickled in her eyes. Tally nodded. “I’ll look,” she said.
Carson guided her through the door and into the front room. It was a shambles. The window on the side, which was the biggest in the whole trailer, had been smashed inwards. Glass was everywhere.
So was blood. Lots of it. It was drying, turning dark brown. The smell made her stomach roll uneasily and she swallowed hard.
There was a gargoyle lying on the threadbare carpet. Lying very still. It was one of the bigger ones and Tally glanced at what was left of the picture window. She was surprised the thing had been able to squeeze through it. But it was there and from its stillness she knew it was dead.
Then she saw Jimmy. She hadn’t noticed his much smaller body at first. The gargoyle had taken all her attention.
Jimmy lay next to the gargoyle and it was very clear how he had died. The gargoyle’s claws were still hooked inside his chest and stomach. There were more cuts across his legs and arms. His jeans and tee-shirt were ripped open and the blood from the cuts soaked him and the floor around him.
Donna sat on the edge of the old La-Z-Boy that Jimmy had found discarded on the sidewalk and rescued. Donna’s head was in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking.
Connie and Joy stood back in the far corner by the kitchenette. Their faces were white.
Tally closed her eyes.
“What do you see?” Carson whispered.
“The blood is too widespread,” Tally murmured. “It’s all over the place. He fought even after they had cut him up. The toxin must have slowed him down, but he kept fighting.” She opened her eyes to look at the window once more. “There was more than just this one. They left this one because Jimmy killed him and dawn was too close.”
“I think this one was Doroth,” Carson said, studying it.
“Lirgon’s senior lieutenant,” Tally murmured. She looked around again. It was easier to concentrate on the minutiae, to focus on working out what had happened, than to consider the body at her feet. “Jimmy used the leg from the coffee table. You can see the end of it, jutting out under Doroth’s chin.”
The raw wood from the broken table leg was white against the dark, dirty brown of the gargoyle’s hide, a deadly punctuation mark. The coffee table had been another cast off, the spindly legs clawed and scratched. It had been shattered in the fight and Jimmy must have picked up one of the legs to defend himself. When that had failed him, he had got close enough to shove it up into Doroth’s brain, even as Doroth had been ripping and tearing at his stomach….
“They smashed in the window and came through, catching him by surprise,” Donna said, her voice husky. “He keeps his weapons in the bedroom. He didn’t get the chance to grab them, so he used whatever he could….” She drew in a breath that shuddered and hid her swollen face again.
Tally turned away, facing the door and the growing light of dawn outside. “We need to clean this up before anyone sees it.”
“Why do you know there was more than Doroth?” Carson asked. His tone was gentle.
“Valdeg…his chest was covered in blood.” She said it softly, hoping Donna was too upset to listen to her. “I thought he had been hunting, but now, seeing this….”
Carson’s jaw rippled. “And Lirgon, too?” he asked.
“Valdeg said Lirgon would find Jimmy on his own.” She dropped her voice even lower. “He said that Lirgon didn’t think we would give Jimmy up, even if we knew he had been…” She drew in a deep breath and glanced at Donna. “You know,” she finished.
Carson nodded.
Miguel cleared his throat loudly behind them. “There’s trees for miles, starting just across the road. We could set it up so it looks like a bear attack.”
“It won’t stand up to investigation,” Carson said. “A bear breaking into a trailer?”
“As long as it sows doubt, it will do,” Tally said. “We just need to get rid of anything to do with gargoyles and let the authorities try to figure out something from what’s left.”
Connie came forward, stepping over the debris. “I’ll take Donna home. She needs to be there for her kids.”
Donna wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, then lifted the hem of her shirt and wiped again. “No, I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was strained and raw. “You need everyone to work here, cleaning this up.”
“Do you know if Jimmy had a sledge hammer, Donna?” Tally asked.
She shook her head. “But I have one in my trunk.”
“Me, too,” Connie said.
Tally looked through the door at the rapidly lightening sky. “We wait for dawn a
nd this thing to go into stone sleep. Then we break it up with sledgehammers and cart it away.”
“And then?” Donna asked.
“Then you go home and be a mother,” Tally said. “And we all go home and try to pretend this is Christmas day, too, and wait for the official news.”
New Year’s Eve
Lirgon and Valdeg
It was a dark day. The heavy, low cloud that had settled in just before Christmas was still overhead, threatening snow. Even though it was mid-afternoon, the light was dim, making the thick snow cover over the cemetery look icy blue.
The headstones clustered thickly across the small cemetery, thrusting up into the air like spires punching through cloud cover. It was a silent, petrified stone forest and the most depressing place Carson had ever visited. Even the dappled shade and leafy green location where he had buried his first wife, over ten years ago, had been a peaceful and somnolent retreat in comparison.
Everything here felt chilly and unfriendly.
“Hell of a place to bury him,” Miguel murmured, looking around.
There was a gash of dark brown earth covered by fake lawn, just below them, and a small group of mourners, including Tally, standing next to the plain, very simple casket. The priest had already dashed for his car, to get out of the cold. He had left it running by the curb.
Tally’s coat barely covered her enormous belly and Carson had tried to talk her into staying home, where it was warm and safe, but she had insisted on coming to say goodbye to Jimmy.
Connie and Joy were on the other side of the grave from Tally, arm in arm. Nick and Damian stood on the sidewalk next to the row of battered junkers and beat up cars that was all any of them could afford. The two vampires could walk on consecrated ground – it was only the movies that pretended anything Christian was poisonous to vampires—but the pressure of so many spirits in one place made it uncomfortable for them, so they had hung back to watch from the road.
Carson had left the graveside before the short service was done, too upset to listen to the impersonal rites any longer. The neutral phrases just made him angry. He had climbed up the slope to where Nick and Damian stood watching and waited for it to be done so he could go home and crack the seal on the bottle of Jim Beam he had brought in honor of Jimmy. It would be the first drink he had taken for nearly six months.
Harvest of Holidays Page 5
