The detective standing with the two deputies looked their way, but his eyes skimmed right on past them. He muttered something to the deputies, and one of them turned and walked out through the front doors.
“I hope you have your badge,” muttered Mike.
Scott didn’t reply. He kept his gaze down and kept pushing.
Behind them, the elevators dinged again, and another elevator’s doors slid open. The Wayne County detective’s gaze meandered toward the elevators, and for a moment, Scott thought they would get away with it.
5
Shannon and Benny sat in the front seat of the rented Cadillac, and Greg lounged in the back. Shannon had the engine running, as Scott had ordered. “Where are you from, Greg?” she asked.
“I live in Florida—grew up there. My grandmother and grandfather had a lake house up here, though, and I spent a lot of summers here.”
“Shannon, Toby, Mike, and I are all from a little town south of here. A town called Oneka Falls.” Benny turned in place and threw his arm over the seatback. “That’s where the demons live. Oneka Falls.”
“Why do you call them demons?”
Benny glanced at Shannon, then returned his gaze to Greg and tilted his head to the side. “That’s what they are. Demons.”
“What, like in The Exorcist?”
“We’ve seen no evidence that they can possess people like they could in that movie. Also, they have physical bodies—at least they do here. To get rid of them, we have to drain their blood and then destroy their flesh. Once that happens, they can’t come back to life.” Benny shrugged. “It sends them back to Hell.”
Greg said nothing, staring down at his lap.
Benny laughed. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds.”
“Well, I’m glad you realize it sounds that way.”
“But you’ve experienced it. You had Herlequin in your head, and then there’s whoever this Lady in the Lake is—although I’ll bet you a vanilla milkshake that she’s Brigitta. And whatever happened to your mother and grandmother.”
“Someone murdered them. Savagely. Or something.” Greg looked out the window. “And as for what happened to me, it was so long ago…and I was so young… My grandfather was with me in the woods—well, not at first, but he followed me. He shot at whoever—or whatever—chased me that night. He said it was a woman dressed in black, but…”
“But you know better.” Shannon turned in the seat to face Greg. “Deep down, you understand that what happened was real, no matter what your adult brain tries to tell you.”
Greg lifted his shoulder and let it drop. “But our younger selves believe so much that our adult selves discredit. Kids are given to flights of imagination and—”
Benny leaned against the seatback, his eyes boring into Greg’s. “But you’re here, Greg. You listened to that little voice in your head, that younger version of you, when it said to get on the plane. You listened when—”
“How do you know that?”
Shannon laughed and reached across the seatback to pat Greg’s leg. “Haven’t you figured it out?”
Greg’s gaze bounced from Benny to Shannon and back again. “Figured out what?”
“Benny is our resident psychic,” said Shannon, still smiling. “From what you said about Herlequin talking inside your head, I thought you were, too.”
“Outside of my invisible—outside of Herlequin, I’ve never heard anyone else’s voice in my head. I…” Greg shook his head. “I just get feelings about where these…” He shook his head again.
“Demons,” said Benny. “You sense the location and movements of the demons. It’s your superpower. Mine is reading minds. Toby can see them, and Shannon, she can—”
Greg sat bolt upright in the seat. “They’re here! One of them is inside the hospital!”
An expression of intense concentration passed over Benny’s face. “Shannon! They’ll need you…”
Shannon already had her door open and was sliding out of the car. She turned back to Benny. “You two stay here but listen in, Benny. If we need you, I’ll call. Open the trunk.”
Benny nodded once, then opened the glove box and released the trunk.
“What’s going on?” asked Greg. “We’ve got to get out of here! Where’s she going?”
“Don’t worry about Shannon, Greg. They’ll never see her coming. She is going in to distract them, so Toby, Scott, and Mike can get away. Then, she’ll come back, and we’ll leave.” Benny clapped his hands as though knocking off dust. “Easy peasy.”
Greg slid toward the door. “But we can’t let her go in there—”
“Greg, listen to me for a minute. I was just about to tell you that Shannon can trick their eyes. She can make them see whatever she wants. As long as she has fair warning, no demon will ever notice her.”
6
Shannon grabbed one of the paintball guns out of the trunk, slammed its lid hard enough to leave finger-dents, and trotted toward the hall that connected the parking garage with the hospital. She checked the paintball gun as she ran, making sure the hopper was loaded full of their special paintballs, and that there was plenty of compressed carbon dioxide in the tank. With that done, she concentrated on the illusion she wanted to project—an old lady using a walker. An old lady without a paintball gun.
She pushed through the double doors that led to the lobby as a man in a cheap suit turned toward a Wayne County deputy and shoved his finger through the deputy’s eye. The deputy squealed in pain, and the man in the cheap suit smiled.
Across the lobby, Toby stepped out of an elevator, and between him and the man in the cheap suit, Scott pushed Mike in a wheelchair.
“Demon!” shouted Toby, pointing at the man in the cheap suit. The demon spun around and laughed at Toby.
Behind the information desk, the hospital security guard was on his feet. He had the phone receiver pressed to his ear and spoke into it rapid-fire. Scott stood frozen, staring at the demon in the cheap suit.
Too late to mask them, Shannon thought, hoping Benny was listening. There is a demon here, and they are in plain sight.
The demon crouched, then exploded upwards, leaping across the lobby to land on the reception desk. He reached down, almost casually, and swatted the security guard across the face, leaving horrible gashes in the man’s cheeks and splattering blood on the wall behind him. The phone flew away, and without even looking, the demon leaped toward Toby.
But Toby was already moving, sprinting away from the elevators in a hunched-over run like a commando—but an unarmed commando.
“Toby!” Shannon called. She bent and put the paintball gun on the floor, then shoved it as hard as she could in his direction.
Toby dove toward the gun, and behind him, the demon screamed in rage. Scott hesitated, glancing over his shoulder, but Toby waved him on. “Get Mike out of here, Scott!”
The demon squatted as if he were an Olympic powerlifter getting ready to deadlift, slapping his open palms against the floor as he pushed off, leaping toward Toby like a giant frog.
Fire! Shannon thought, putting as much energy behind the vision as she could. You’re leaping into fire!
The demon squawked and kicked his legs in midair as if he were trying to push off the wall in a swimming pool, but there was nothing to push against. Toby tucked and rolled, sticking out one hand at the last second to grab at the paintball gun, but he succeeded only in sending it spinning. The demon came down behind him but landed on its side and hissed in pain. Toby pushed away as the fiend looked around in confusion, no doubt seeing flames but not feeling them.
Shannon dredged up the memory of Herlequin’s demon visage—not his pure form, but the gargoyle-like thing he presented to the children as he ran them through the forest. Why are you attacking Herlequin? she thought at the demon. Toby isn’t here, that’s Herlequin! Can’t you see his tusks? His wings?
The demon scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands and rocked his head from side to side.
Toby scrambled toward the paintball gun on his hands and knees, and the demon peered after him as if trying to penetrate smoke or mist with his gaze. “Muh-My lord?” Again, the beast scrubbed at his eyes.
Of course, that’s Herlequin! Who did you expect to be here?
The demon squinted at Toby, then turned his head to peer around the room, as a human with lousy eyesight might. His gaze swept past Shannon once, then again, but on the third pass locked on her face. He raised a hand and pointed at her. “Trickster!” he shrieked. “Dan Delo warned me about you! I didn’t believe your kind could fool my eyes.” The demon drew his legs under his torso, his quadriceps bunching. He pulled his arms between his legs and put his palms flat on the floor. “I will take him your severed head as an apology. A nice gift, no?”
Benny, help! she thought as she turned and sprinted toward the door.
The Wayne County Sheriff’s Deputy standing post out front stood peering into the lobby through the glass double doors that led out to the portico. After seeing Shannon’s face, he drew his pistol and stepped through the doors. His eyes widened at the sight of his fellow deputy writhing on the floor with one hand over his eye, blood and gore spurting through his fingers. His gaze snapped to Shannon. “What the hell’s going on here?”
See the demon! she thought at him. Look at him, flying on his demon wings, dripping drool to the floor as he goes. She had no idea how the evil thing looked, but that didn’t matter as long as she made the deputy think he saw a demon straight out of a horror movie.
The deputy’s eyes snapped up, tracking the demon’s flight through the air. For a heartbeat, he stood frozen, mouth gaping, eyes wide, but then he lurched into action, snapping his pistol up and squeezing the trigger.
Scott reappeared from the hall that led to the parking garage, carrying one of their Remington 870 shotguns. He brought it to his shoulder and fired. “Get out of here!” he shouted.
The deputy spared him a microsecond’s glance, but his aim never wavered as he tracked the demon through the air. The reports of his pistol slapped at the air three times.
Shannon ducked past Scott, sprinting for the passage to the car park. Scott is invisible! You can’t see Scott! She flung the thoughts over her shoulder like mental hand grenades. The doors from the car park slammed open, and Benny was there with Greg at his side. She waved them back. Behind her, the shotgun boomed twice in rapid succession, and in its wake, the paintball gun fired on full auto.
Benny took a step into the hall. “Toby!”
Shannon slid to a halt and spun. The demon wearing the detective guise stood between Toby and Scott, holding the uniformed deputy by the neck. She took a step back toward the lobby. He’s on to me, Benny!
He’s not on to me, said Benny’s voice in her mind. Benny ran past her, his face a mask of concentration.
“Benny! No!” she shouted.
The demon glanced at them and sneered. Muscles bunching, he lifted the deputy into the air and hurled him to the stone tiles lining the floor of the lobby so hard that the stone flooring exploded upward as the body hit. He turned and sprinted toward the hall to the garage, glaring at Shannon. Scott fired the shotgun again, and the slug ripped into the demon’s shoulder but didn’t even slow him.
The demon barreled past Benny without a glance, charging straight at Shannon with a murderous expression on his face. He loosed a guttural growl as he drew near, throwing his hands wide.
Still unable to see his actual form, her imagination provided a vision of long claws held ready to rend her flesh from her bones. She shrank back until her shoulder blades banged into the wall, then her knees buckled, and she slumped to the ground.
The demon laughed and loomed over her, lifting his hands over his head and shouting, “Boo!” like a reject from a cheap Halloween attraction. “Now, Trickster, you will pay for your crimes!”
Are you sure you have the right Shannon? she thought desperately. It’s hard to tell with so many Shannons sitting here.
“No!” the demon yelled. “No more tricks from you!”
“How about one from me?” asked Greg. He stared at the demon with an intensity that made his hands shake. Veins and tendons stood out from his elbows to his wrists, and his cheeks burned crimson with the effort.
The demon whirled to face him, and Shannon hustled to the side, painting a duplicate image where she had been. “What tricks?” the brute demanded.
“This,” hissed Benny. Cords bunched in his neck, and twin rivulets of blood ran from his nose. He hunched forward as though walking into a category five hurricane, then brought both hands up to chest height and made a pushing motion.
The demon howled and slapped at his temples with both palms. He staggered back, stepping right through the space Shannon had just vacated, stopping only when his shoulders banged into the wall.
Benny swept one hand to the side, and the demon’s legs flew out from under him, dumping the thing to the tiles. Benny swept his other hand toward the ceiling, then brought it down, palm toward the floor.
The demon screeched and flattened against the unyielding floor.
The blood trickling from Benny’s nose gushed as though someone had opened a spigot in his sinuses, and at the same moment, the sclera of both eyes reddened with blood.
“Benny!” Shannon cried.
He paid her no mind, shuffling closer to the writhing demon, pressing downward with both hands.
Shannon turned to Toby. “Help him!” she cried.
Scott and Toby sprinted toward the demon, but it was too late.
With a sickening crunch, the demon stopped writhing, flattened against the stone floor, and Benny collapsed.
7
Mason grinned, standing outside the door to his garage. It was very late—or very early—by the feel of the night air. He’d spent ages and ages in the dark—sometimes he thought he’d spent more time outside between midnight and dawn than he had in the daylight.
It was time to drop in on his guest—to wake her up if she’d fallen asleep—and scare the shit out of her. To that end, he wore a mask—one he’d made himself and was proud of.
He slipped inside the garage, closing the door without so much as a click from the latch. Crossing to the rear door of the van, he had to fight to keep from giggling with anticipation.
Chaz and Red had taught him tricks like this—ways to drive his victims batshit with fear, ways to make it impossible for his victims to think. They’d been incredible teachers, sharing decades—or maybe centuries—of knowledge with him. Red had helped him refine his artistry, and Chaz had helped him develop his brutality.
Remembering Red dredged a strange emotion from the depths of his black heart. It wasn’t sadness—Mason’s passions bore little resemblance to what other people talked about—but he missed the big bastard. He wished he’d see Red lounging in the corner, drinking in the fear that beat off Mason’s guest in almost-palpable waves.
He shrugged and pushed thoughts of Red out of his mind. He was dead, and that was the end of it.
Mason approached the twin rear doors of the van on the balls of his feet, taking shallow breaths. He gripped the handle and put his finger on the button of his key fob—the one that would spring the locks. He took a deep breath, prolonging the moment, letting the anticipation build.
When the moment was right, he pressed the button and jerked the door open. The woman inside screamed and whirled to face him. He lurched at her, arms up above his head, fingers curled into pretend claws.
She screamed so loud Mason thought she might rip her vocal cords as she scrambled away, jerking against her restraints. The pungent aroma of ammonia and sulfur filled the van’s tight confines as the woman pissed her pants.
It was one straw too far, and Mason couldn’t stop the cackling laughter that bubbled up from his chest. He slammed the rear doors of the van without a word to his victim and hit the button on the key fob that would re-lock the doors, then turned and walked away.
As he passed the drive
r’s door of the van, he stopped for a moment to admire the mask he had made from the skin of Kelley-Ann Malley’s face and head.
8
“Help me!” cried Shannon as she sprinted to Benny’s face-down form.
Scott skidded to a halt; the Remington 870 centered on the demon’s head. “Is it dead?”
Toby spared a glance at the demon then stooped to check Benny’s pulse. He peered into Benny’s eyes and grunted. He gazed at Shannon and bobbed his head. “He’s out, but his pulse is steady.”
“What, that’s it?” Shannon turned Benny on his back. She gasped at the torrent of blood coming from his nostrils. “What’s wrong with him?”
Toby shrugged. “He applied too much—”
“Dammit! Is the demon dead?”
Toby turned and peered at the demon. “The question isn’t whether it’s dead, the question is will it stay dead?”
“And what’s the answer?”
Toby brought his gaze up to look Scott in the eye. “Your guess is as good as mine, Scott. We’d better clear out of here.”
“What about Benny?” asked Shannon.
“He’s fine,” said Toby. “The subjunctive hemorrhages in his eyes are the worst of it. He’s exhausted, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yes, Shannon. He overexerted.” Toby turned and squatted next to her. “His pulse is fine. The hemorrhages in his eyes will clear in a week or so, and the nosebleed will stop.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“If it doesn’t stop in ten minutes, I’ll pack his nose with gauze. I can do that in the car.” Toby lay a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Help me get him to the car. We need to clear out of here, even if the demon is all the way dead. The cops will be here soon.”
“Yeah, but where can we go? Back to the troll’s house?”
Toby shook his head. “Bad idea. The demons will be all over the area after tonight. We still have the rooms at the Agincourt.”
The Hag Page 37
