He pulls the keyring out of his striped pocket and peels one off. He slaps it into my palm with a “better you than me” expression on his face. I cut Lisa and Adam off before they can voice their own objections, even though I’m sure they’d be better worded.
“It makes the most sense,” I tell them. “I don’t have any magic, so it’s not going to hurt me. I’m not food for it.”
“Celeste Reese attacked you,” Adam points out.
“And she died for it.” I keep the words full of bravado, but it’s not genuine. Celeste has never been far from my mind since I woke up, but this isn’t the time to bring that up. The kiovores seem naturally able to home in on their prey, trailing their magic the way a tiger will trail a scent, but while they’ve killed normal people they’ve only fed on the Grey. I’m in neither camp, so why did she try to eat me instead of just breaking my neck?
“Look, that was a fluke,” I tell her. “None of the others tried it, so odds are this one won’t, either. I’ll be through in a snap, then we’ll get this thing moving. Right?”
She hesitates before agreeing, clearly humoring me but that’s good enough for now. “Be ready to move,” I tell them, then I leave the building and jog lightly around to the back.
Alleys. They’re always the same. Dingy, littered, foul. This one’s no different. The sign over the emergency exit has been spray-painted over, but the outline of the sign is still clear in the morning light, and even if it weren’t the alarmed door bar would be a giveaway. A short flight of steps brings me up to the door, and that’s where I pause.
The door’s too thick to let sound out, but I listen anyway. Nothing. Am I hoping there will be something to make me change the plan? I put my palm on the grip of my Springfield, but after a moment I let it go. The walls here are far from bulletproof, and a stray round could hit anyone in the area. Not to mention the fact that I’m still using the red ammo, which would be tantamount to throwing a small grenade, and there’s no chance in hell that I’m going to switch ammo now.
“It’s not going to hurt me,” I tell myself, then unlock the emergency exit and slip in before I can stop myself.
The safety lights of the gently sloping walkways keep the cavernous room from being completely dark, but they’re little more than candles in the vastness without the ambient flood of light the projectors emit. The center of the theater is a murky island of gloom, almost impenetrable to the naked eye. I have a small flashlight in my pocket, a small but brilliant LED piece, but I leave it there for the moment. I’m certain the kiovore knows I’m here, but there’s no need to risk enraging it with the light.
I take a second to orient myself. The door I slipped in is diagonally placed to the theater entrance, an inviting outline of light framing the door despite our efforts to muffle it. A carpeted walkway borders the center seating area, with a small wheelchair accessible section in the front.
Oddly, I start wondering what movie’s scheduled to play tonight.
I take a couple of soft, gentle steps. My eyes aren’t done adjusting to the absence of light. A couple more. I’m swimming in the darkness, straining my ears for any sound not made by me. It’s hard to hear over the machine-gun drumming of my heart.
The safety lights keep me from running into the wall, which is fake wooden paneling for the first four feet and thick maroon curtains from there up to the ceiling. When my outstretched fingers touch the curtains I immediately put my back to it. The theater stretches out in front of me, obscured by darkness. I can’t see the far wall, only the faint line of tiny lights on the floor of the far aisle. The rows of seats, only half visible, look like the dull teeth of a vast, subterranean beast. There’s not a breath of air.
A small sound, the barest squeak of a badly oiled joint, makes my heart skip. I flip on my light, aiming it like a weapon in the direction of the sound. The back of one of the seats four or five rows up is rocking ever so slightly, like an autumn leaf in a passing breeze. There’s no sign of whatever it was that set it moving.
I freeze, breath locked in my lungs. I don’t know if I should move towards the seat and try to flush the kiovore out, or back away and try to draw it out. Hollett’s waiting for my signal up at the entrance. Do I try to move past it and bring it closer to him, putting myself between the two of them, or try to bring it out in the open where the range will be longer but he’ll have a clean shot?
I wait. Nothing happens. The tension is singing in my shoulders. It’s right here, within a couple of yards of me, and I can’t see it. It’s like a shark swimming in murky waters right below my feet. I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate. Who knows if it’ll even try to come near me? Of the kiovores I’ve been in close contact with, only Celeste ever paid me any direct attention. The one in the street looked right at me before ignoring me and running off. This one’s been there for a relatively long time, checking me out.
Hasn’t it? Or has it moved. Damn it, I hate this. I let the flashlight beam roam over the seats and finding nothing in the air but dust.
Wait a minute. I’m doing this all wrong. It’s not going to be peering over the seats like a baby in a crib. They like to strike fast, from ambush. From cover, and there’s only one form of cover in here. Moving slowly, leg muscles creaking, I crouch down and aim the light underneath the seats.
Two kaleidoscope eyes reflect back at me from less than ten feet away, iridescent holes in a round crimson face that seems to melt into the surrounding darkness.
I jump back, instinctively reaching for my gun. The hand holding the flashlight swings wildly, the pillar of light slashing the darkness and giving me a stop-motion look at the monster as it springs at me. I scramble away, and I can hear the resounding impact of the kiovore’s body impacting against the wall with shattering force. I’m happy it didn’t realize that underneath the curtain the wall is solid, soundproof concrete. It falls in a crackling heap to the floor, shaking its horrible head. I’m amazed I was able to dodge the monster. I’m not faster than it, but maybe the light in its eyes threw off its leap.
I don’t see any of it happen. I’m already halfway up the aisle and running like hell for the door. I try to yell for Hollett but an iron shackle locks around my ankle and hauls, sending me sprawling to the floor and the cry becomes a pained ‘oof’ as the wind is driven out of me. I roll to my back as the kiovore releases my ankle and draws itself up. Before it reaches its full height a familiar length of chain, this time copper colored, whips over my head, wrapping itself around the kiovore’s body like a thin anaconda. Hollett came through.
Then the monster grips the chain, digs its feet in and yanks. Hollett has no chance in the tug of war and goes sailing over me, landing somewhere behind it. It looks from him to me, then steps towards me with a mace-like hand raised. I don’t try to cover my head. It won’t help.
The theater lights flare to life, blazing sun-bright white with no warm-up gradation. I shield my eyes with my forearm, but the light still batters my vision. I sprawl against the wall, the kiovore’s agonized hiss stabbing my ears.
A sudden shadow blankets me, and through the haze I’m able to see a perfect ass in painted-on denim looming over me. Her hands are by her thighs, her sunglasses dangling from her fingers inches from my face.
“No!” I shout, though I know already that my protest is far too late. I sink back against the cushioned wall of the theater, blinking my eyes back into focus. When I can look around without wincing I ease myself to my feet and walk around Lisa so that I can see the kiovore, or rather what it’s become.
Gorgons don’t simply turn their victims to stone. There are different flavors of gorgon, and each of them has their own corresponding rock. Some turn their prey into sandstone, some granite, some slate. Creatures who see Lisa’s doll-like eyes turn into fine marble, shot through with threadlike veins of blue quartz. They turn out looking like Michelangelo spent months on them, though I don’t suppose that’s any comfort to them.
She’d caught the kiovore in the act
of vaulting over the seats, one claw gripping the reclining cushion and one outstretched in a grasp, one foot bracing on the arm rest and the other on the sticky floor. For a single moment it’s beautiful despite the ring of needle teeth in the lamprey mouth and the alien dimensions of its limbs and torso, then the weight of the stone overbalances and it tumbles to the floor. The outreaching arm snaps off first, then the shoulder hits and the statue fractures at the waist. Tiny marble splinters rain down and rattle around the floor, gradually settling in a fan-shaped pattern.
“Ian, I’m sorry,” she says. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.”
“It’s all right,” I answer softly. I can’t really be too mad at her. I don’t really think she just saved my life, but then again it’s not like I haven’t been wrong at all the last couple of days. I put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she gives me a rueful smile.
As she does, a thin trickle of blood runs out of one of her nostrils. She touches it with her forefinger, notes the red smear, and furiously rubs the trickle away with the heel of her hand. before I can ask her about it Adam wanders into my peripheral vision. He eases himself down the aisle and folds down a seat. It creaks under his bulk. “Maybe there’s another one out there.”
“About two dozen or so,” I tell him. “But finding them is all but impossible. This was a one in a million shot, finding one in a place and time we’d have a chance at catching it.”
“Surely the Aegis has the means to track them,” Hollett says. He’s circling the remains of the statue, clearly interested. Maybe it’s the first time he’s seen a gorgon’s handiwork
“I’m sure they’ll come up with something. Once the perimeter is in place they’ll move in and sweep the town. They’ll find the kiovores and kill them.”
“You do know that you’re talking about one of the preeminent magical agencies in the world, right? If there’s anyone who can find a cure…”
“You don’t understand. That’s not how the Aegis works in situations like this. When they come in they’re not going to be packing nets. They’re not going to capture the kiovores. They’ll kill them. Their remains will be studied and yes, they’ll probably have a cure ready by this time tomorrow. The world will be safe. But these people, people I know, the people who live in my town will still be dead. I can’t let that happen, not if there’s even half a chance that they can be cured.”
“But what if there’s not?” She’s not trying to change my mind, just trying to brace me for the inevitable letdown that comes when the odds beat you.
“I have to try, Lisa. Until I’m sure there’s no hope, I have to keep going like there is.”
“Then I guess we just need to find another one,” Hollett says with the wry smile of a man who knows he’s joined up with the losing team.
“How?” Lisa asks.
Hollett looks at me. “You were about to say something about sniffers before you got this phone call. What were you going to say?”
“Sooner or later everything comes to this town,” I say as I take out my phone and start skimming through my contacts. I hit her number, but Lisa snatches the phone from my hand before it even starts to ring. I hit her with a ‘what the?’ expression that doesn’t land.
“She doesn’t like you,” Lisa says, cradling the phone against her ear. “You make her nervous.”
“You knew that, but you couldn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Hey, Jerry, it’s Lisa. We need your help.”
Jerry’s a chatterbox. It takes a good thirty seconds for Lisa to shove a word in. “Wait a minute, back up. You’re going where?”
Adam, Hollett and I trade puzzled faces.
“Who said to do that?” Now Lisa looks confused, too, but her confusion is heavily spiced by anger. “Well, that’s just goddamn stupid! Jerry, don’t… okay, okay, I’ll talk to you soon.” She disconnects and hands me my phone.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she says.
Twenty-Three
Though the air has taken a bitter, sub-sixty-degree chill as we pull out of the parking lot, the sun in the crisp air is at its apex. High noon. How appropriate.
We leave Adam back at the theater to try to coordinate some kind of action with the civilian authorities. I don’t know what kind, or how he’s going to pull off whatever he comes up with. He’s developed a few contacts in the Grey over the last few months, but coordination between humans and Grey has never come easily. Maybe seeing some clips of Gault fighting the kiovore will spur some kind of action from Mayor Parkman.
Lisa rides shotgun this time. It’s tactically smart. She’s one of the Grey, despite the taint of dating a former Envoy, so she wants to be the one they see when we get there instead of Hollett. I’m just wondering how ugly it’s going to be when we do.
If you’re looking for a solid place to make a last stand against Armageddon, you could do a lot worse than a self-storage facility. In particular, The Store-Age seems like it’s been designed as a fortress first and a handy place to stow your off-season clothes and unopened wedding gifts second. Its fence is a nine-foot cement bulwark with a single, solid iron gate. Once past that is a line of three two-story buildings of tan and sand-colored concrete that would stop anything short of a shell from an Abrams tank. The first floor of each building consists of large, non-climate-controlled units with thick, garage style doors that permit direct access and four doors, one on each of the building’s faces, that lead to the units on the second floor.
The parking lot is full beyond capacity, but the gate is raised so I drive slowly through. Beyond the gate cars are lined up along the wall as far as I can see, and more are arriving every minute. Uniformed cops are guiding them down the line, making sure they park in an orderly fashion. People are crowding around the buildings like the mother of all tailgate parties, and I can see many more peering down from the rooftops. I recognize enough of them to be able to make a guess who the ones I don’t know are.
The Grey have come out en masse, flocking to the Store-Age like they’re rats, Superstition Bay is the sinking ship and this place is the last lifeboat. I pull over to the side, allowing space for other cars to pass through, and put the Jeep in park.
“What are they doing?” Lisa asks.
“Trying to stay alive,” Hollett answers. “Safety in numbers, in the most physically impregnable building they have access to.”
“For one or two, maybe,” I add, “but there has to be a hundred and fifty, two hundred of them and more coming in every minute. They’ll draw the kiovores here like lions to a watering hole, just like at the Reese house. They’ll punch their way in there in no time.”
He’s studying the walls, making a face like he’s not so sure.
“Lisa, you’d better come with me,” I say. “Hollett, stay here. You’re sort of an outsider here. If this gets sticky they may resent you being here.”
“It’s okay, I like being the Calvary,” he agrees. I was afraid I would lacerate his ego by asking him to give Lisa the lead, but I’d forgotten whom I was thinking of. He doubtless came to the same conclusion I had and didn’t disagree with my assessment. Lisa and I get out and start walking towards the crowd.
We’re spotted as soon as we show our faces, and the reaction isn’t as friendly as I’d have hoped. The conversations all die a quick death, and the sudden silence is unnerving. A couple of faces in the crowd show a guarded greeting. Some of them look at us neutrally. A few look openly hostile. What’s going on?
The crowd begins to stir and part from the rear, whatever causing the reaction heading our way. In a moment Erich Gault makes his way out of the crowd. He’s wearing his cop uniform now, everything creased and shiny and looking very much the man in authority, or at least the male model posing for a man-in-authority pinup calendar. He’s got three more cops behind him, two of them werewolves and one of them an adept. Just a further reminder that not every cop in town is a wolf, at
least not yet.
More people are massing behind him, not cops but civilians. Tommy Hunt, a mechanic with scant telepathic gifts and a crowbar in his hand. Alicia Hamilton, nurse at Superstition Bay High School with her soothing chi power. Max something or other (I can’t know everybody), is a very polite cyclops who owns a small deli down by the boardwalk. Half a dozen others, unidentifiable in the crowd. None of them look happy to see me.
Seeing Gault standing at the forefront, for the first time I’m able to see what he’s become. The Grey don’t have a leader any more, per se, but in any crowd that has a singular focus someone eventually takes on that mantle. The last man who held sway over the Grey at large had accomplished that through fear and cruelty before he disappeared months ago, and while the Reese and Gamagori families have tried to take that seat they were always too busy fighting each other to fully claim the role.
I think someone might have finally done it. And despite our team-up yesterday he’s never wavered in wanting to kill me.
“Stay behind me,” I whisper, knowing how good wolf hearing is. I let my right forearm nudge comfortingly against my holstered gun. The red rounds have no silver content, so they won’t kill him. I wonder what they’d do to a werewolf, and I wonder if I’m going to find out. “Gault,” I say when comes within earshot.
“DeLong. I don’t remember inviting you to this party.”
“Is this your idea?” I jerk my thumb at the crowd.
“Matter of fact, yes. They need someone doing something more to protect them than making phone calls.”
“What are you doing? You know what happened at the Reese’s. You’re going to lead them right here.”
“No doubt, but the walls here are foot-thick concrete. There are no ladders to the roofs. Each unit has only four doors of double plated sheet metal. We have enough spellcasters here to seal the hole in the Titanic and they’re already fortifying the walls and getting ready to seal the doors. We’ve got beer, charcoal grills, air mattresses. Sure, they’ll come here and probably spend all night trying to get in, which they won’t. The people in here will be safe and they won’t be out there to attack anyone who can’t make it. It’ll make sure nobody dies tonight. By tomorrow the Aegis will sort the kiovores out, and we’ll all go home.”
No More Devils: A Visit to Superstition Bay Page 21