I decided not to tell him that some would eventually regain knowledge of what they’d been, knowing this guy would probably never have that happen. He appeared to be in his late fifties, and, if Betsy Strange had been correct, most of his knowledge about those sorts of things wouldn’t even start to return for twenty or more years.
He leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. “Will other hounds be able to find me?”
“No, they won’t. Regardless, though, in a few days, I should have reached all of the hounds. There won’t be any left to hunt you down.”
He breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “I can’t even begin to tell you how reassuring this is. That I don’t have to die.”
“So you want me to perform the spell on you?”
The man flicked a frog off his leg. The Russells were upstairs gathering the frogs, but with how many had gotten inside, it was inevitable that some would make it downstairs.
“Yes, of course I do. I’m surprised any would turn you down at all.”
“Well, we first attracted the bad hounds, and a lot of them weren’t excited to have their guardianship status removed.”
“Understandable, I suppose.”
Abel left the room, and with permission, I had the man repeat the words of the spell after me, and then we took him upstairs to Mrs. Russell’s front room. Austin planned to continue having their private jet come down to pick up hounds regularly—just once a day now.
I’d previously arranged with Detective Cole to have someone—a friend or another officer—pick up the ex-hounds and escort them to the Provo airport. I was grateful Cole was willing to do it. The poor guy was still healing from having been shot in the leg a couple weeks earlier. I knew he was bored out of his mind even while dealing with physical therapy and doctor appointments. My request for help had come at a good time—he attacked the project with vengeance, assuring me he’d find someone somewhere every day to be at the Russells’ house.
The man taken care of, Abel and I steeled ourselves to go outside again. It was time to get the water situation fixed.
7
After doing a lot of research, Abel and I learned that most of the water in Utah came from springs in the mountain and some from wells the cities owned. I knew of at least one spring that provided drinking water. It was up Rock Canyon, in Provo. We headed there immediately.
I led the way up the canyon, since Abel hadn’t ever been there. It took about twenty minutes to reach the point where the stream disappeared beneath a little government hut and got piped away. The water entering the hut was red, and Abel and I hiked up alongside it, wanting to get to the mouth of the spring before placing the contraption.
As it turned out, we didn’t need to. The farther we hiked, the clearer the water ran. Relief rushed over me. The springs were generating water fast enough to replace the blood.
But what about tanks? I knew there were several—one in Eagle Mountain, and a couple others across the valley. Those would take a long time to be replenished with clean water.
“How about we go to the one in Eagle Mountain, since you know for sure where it’s located?” Abel asked. “We can move the device as needed—purify the water in one location, then take the thing to another.”
“Good idea.”
We headed back down the trail, stepping over frogs, keeping up with the clean water as it replaced the blood in the stream next to us.
The drive was not fun. The frogs had had a chance to build up, and the roads were covered with dead and new ones. I was grateful Abel was driving. He had a grim expression on his face the entire time, and I knew he hated it as much as I did.
We hiked up to the tank, and Abel and I hid the device just outside of the water tank, hopefully where no one would see it. We made sure it was fully covered and not in a spot where children would be likely to find and take it. Families hiked the area frequently, and I didn’t want to run the risk of the device getting carried off.
There wasn’t a whole lot more I could do at that point. Abel volunteered to figure out where other tanks were and to transport the device every couple of days. We wouldn’t be able to reach all of them for a long time, but at least it would help.
On our way to my house, I had an idea, though. “Why not let people know about the device? We could have them move their bloody water to the tank, set it up by the device, and take it home as clean water a few hours later.”
Abel rubbed his chin, obviously thinking that idea over. “Yes, let’s do that. But we’ll want to start small—your neighbors. People we trust. And we’ll need to post a guard there. You focus on getting hounds. I’ll make sure the device is taken care of—guards in all of the locations where we keep it, people knowing how to get their water cleaned, all of that.”
I reached over and grabbed his hand. “Thank you.”
He picked up my hand and kissed my palm, not responding.
***
Halfway through the day, the frogs started dying. I wasn’t sure why. With there being hundreds of thousands of them around, they wouldn’t find enough food to sustain all of them, but I’d thought they would have lasted longer than that without nourishment. Maybe they keeled over from too much socializing. I’m an extrovert, but after all the time I’d been spending with people lately, I could totally understand that.
Of course, new frogs came to replace the old. Naturally, we couldn’t have a break from them until the plague ended.
While waiting for the next hound to show up, Abel, the Russells, Mindy, and I sat on the couch in the Russells’ front room, watching the news. Word of the frogs was spreading, and it was interesting to see what reporters thought of it.
The little animals were dying all across Utah and half of the surrounding states. Like unto the size of Egypt, as the old man had told me. We watched as people discussed the disgusting, smelly conditions that resulted from so many creatures dying. We were coming to understand that ourselves. The stench wafted into the Russells’ house regardless of how tightly closed we kept the doors and windows.
One of the reporters chuckled as a man she interviewed brought up the plagues of Egypt. She obviously didn’t believe him.
“I know you think I’m crazy,” he said. “But listen. First blood, then frogs. Neither of these are natural phenomenon. They’ve been caused by magic or by some curse somewhere. If any of you are smart,” he said, addressing the camera, “you will leave here as soon as you can. Things are not going to be nice for the next while.”
The woman’s lips twitched as she tried not to smile. “Well, if these are the plagues of Egypt, what comes next? Weren’t there several plagues?”
“Yes, there were. Ten, to be exact. The next one is lice. Other plagues include livestock becoming diseased, and boils. Have you ever had a boil before?”
She shook her head. “No, thank goodness.”
“Neither have I. But I know they’re horrible.” He shifted his position and continued, shoving his hands in his pocket. “And there will be locusts.” Again, he glanced at the reporter. “Do you know what a locust is?”
“Isn’t it like a cricket?” she asked.
“No, it’s a grasshopper. But they’re not normal grasshoppers. When there are too many of them in the same place, due to breeding or gathering or whatever, they morph into a completely different creature that we call locusts. Smaller, more compact bodies, and much, much longer wings. They fly around in swarms, devouring everything green in sight. Grass, bushes, leaves, everything.”
“It’s true,” Abel murmured. “I’ve seen it.”
The reporter raised her eyebrows. “Well, doesn’t that sound wonderful.”
The man didn’t catch her sarcasm, and I could tell she still didn’t believe him. Boy, was she in for a shock.
“What else should happen?” she asked. “If these are, in fact, the ten plagues of Egypt.”
“I’m not entirely sure,” the man said. �
�Not without looking it up. I think I forgot thunderstorms of hail and fire. But we’ll also be getting flies at some point, and absolute, complete blackness, where not even a cell phone will light up.”
The woman’s expression went from polite skepticism to complete, open ridicule. I couldn’t tell if it was because the man was hesitating with his information or something else.
The moment he finished talking, she turned to the cameraman and said, “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. If you believe him, maybe it would be smart of you to leave. But where do you go?”
The man jumped in front of the camera, grabbing her arm. It didn’t look tight enough to hurt her, but it definitely alarmed her.
“I have a theory about that, too. Have you noticed that only half of the surrounding states are being affected?”
The woman opened her mouth, shocked, trying to find words. “I . . .”
“If you place the country of Egypt right over Utah, it would take up the exact amount of space as the areas affected by these plagues.”
“That’s an astute observation,” the woman said.
The man nodded. “Someone somewhere in Utah has called down the wrath of God.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t say it’s the wrath of God, per se—just a crazy old man who loaned me a globe.”
My friends chuckled.
The woman ended her interview, and the TV flipped back to the main station where the reporters all were smiling.
I wondered if they would be smiling the next day when they realized he was right.
8
The night was insufferably long. I got called out on call after call—one came in every twenty minutes, and Mindy and I were kept incredibly busy. It seems people had decided that the frogs were a good enough reason to start doing stupid things like looting, pillaging, robbing, and damaging personal property. Of course, the cops had to treat every situation like it was an armed one, and most of the time, Mindy and I weren’t really needed. In fact, none of the ones she accompanied me on ended up being Fire Impeder related at all, and around five in the morning, Abel made me put my phone on silent.
That didn’t help me feel better, but it did allow me to get two hours of sleep.
The next plague started right at eight o’clock in the morning. Abel, Mindy, the Russells, and I were busy shoveling dead frogs into our garbage cans, and I barely noticed the lice at first due to the overpowering stench of death. I’d never experienced something so horrible.
Abel, thinking ahead as always, had rushed to the hardware stores the evening before and purchased gas and also face masks. He hadn’t been the only one with that idea, and he’d had to race through the hardware stores to find everything before it had all been purchased.
As I shoveled, I was grateful for his ingenuity. After only a half an hour of wearing the mask, I started itching, though. Still, I shoveled on, determined to help as much as possible before I gave in and removed the mask.
That was when I noticed my elderly neighbors were itching too. And not just around their masks—their hair and arms, too. Same with Abel and Mindy.
“What’s the next plague?” I asked, my voice muffled.
Abel pulled out his phone and looked it up. “Lice.”
I groaned. “Great. It’s already started.”
He nodded. “Let’s keep shoveling. There’s nothing we can do to keep the lice away. Not even going inside will protect us—they’ll find a way through every crack and crevice.”
I agreed. My house was old—it had a lot of cracks and crevices.
Once our yards were cleared, we all parted ways. Abel was headed off to check the device, and I desperately needed a shower.
The smell of death was so bad, though, even inside the house, that it made my eyes water and my stomach turn. But soon it was nothing compared to the intense itching that made me desperate for relief. The skin over my entire body practically convulsed, and I couldn’t keep my fingernails off my arms and legs. Little red bumps appeared everywhere, not just on my scalp. It was horrible.
Abel returned while I was removing duct tape from the bathtub—still needing a shower—and helped me. Just as we were finishing, Omar showed up.
“Oh, this is disgusting,” he said, looking at me and Abel. “It’s the third plague, right?”
I didn’t respond. I was too busy being grouchy about getting duct tape residue off my sink.
“Well, I have news to bring,” he said. “Whether it’s good or bad, I don’t know.”
“What’s up?” Abel asked tersely.
“Lord Kenan has broken free from his graveyard and has started to cross the European continent.”
I turned to face Omar, resting my hands on the counter behind me and leaning against it. “How much time do we have?” Please say not much, please say not much. I couldn’t handle any more of these tortures—the plagues, waiting for the hounds, all of it. I needed to get this over with. To be doing something other than scratching and cleaning up dead frogs.
“I can’t say. He’s not moving very quickly. He might speed up, but for now, I would guess you have several weeks before he comes. Maybe even months.”
I closed my eyes, dropping my face to my hands, so weary and tired of everything that I didn’t know how to compute what he’d just said.
Omar whined, not seeming to notice my stress, and I realized he was struggling with something. “What on earth are you doing to the good hounds?” he asked. “I can’t tell you how difficult it is for me to resist running to the Russells’ house this instant.”
“We’ve set up the trap for good hounds. We’ve only used it on bad hounds before.”
“It’s very powerful.”
“I’m surprised you’re resisting at all.”
“I won’t be able to for much longer. In fact . . .” He paused for a moment. “I might just go there now. See if I can get close enough to it where it won’t have such a draw on me anymore.”
Before he could leave, I said, “When do you want me to do the spell on you?”
Omar froze in the doorway and took a moment before responding. He looked back at me. When he did, his face was pale and stricken. “Please. Not yet. I need more time. I want to make sure you’ve got all the help you need. I want to be here until the very end.”
“I can understand that. Don’t worry—I won’t force you to do it.” I was willing to wait however long it took him to feel ready. Even if it was years.
Omar nodded, then left my house, presumably going to the Russells’.
Not long after he left, we received yet another visitor. This time one who was using crutches and really shouldn’t have been out and about. Of course, I scolded Cole for not staying at home the moment he entered my house.
“I’m still following the governor,” he said.
Oh. I’d forgotten all about that. “How? You should be in bed.”
He rolled his eyes. “You needed to hear this, and I’m not the only one who has been watching. Governor Boggs is preparing to act.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’ve been mentioned several times today and yesterday.”
I frowned. “To whom? His wife and kids talk about me a lot.” I knew they did—she and I texted frequently.
“I assume to Lord Kenan or Conor. Your name is always mentioned in hushed conversations. Luckily, I set up a ton of wires before that insane woman tried to kill me. I’ve been relying heavily on my bugs recently.” He sighed, settling onto my couch and propping his leg up on the coffee table. “I’ve been saddened to find that half of what he’s been doing is illegal.”
I snorted. “What did you expect from a hound?”
“I know. Regardless, almost nothing I’ve learned can be used in a court of law. Of course, we couldn’t possibly send him to jail—he’d just escape the moment they weren’t looking.” Cole leaned his head back against the couch and watched me. “He’s figured out who’s behind the plagues. I think he’s wanting you to meet wit
h him. Possibly to strike a bargain.”
Abel grumbled at that before taking a drink of water.
Cole glanced at him. “I’m so glad you guys found a way to purify water. It’s really helping. Have you been able to spread the word effectively?”
Abel nodded. “Yes. We’ve had a lot of attacks on the device, though. Glad we thought to put guards around it.”
The idea had been Abel’s, but I didn’t contradict him.
Cole shifted his position, probably due to pain. “That’s not the only reason I came, though,” he said. “Thousands and thousands of people are leaving the state. It seems a lot have figured out what’s going on and that it won’t be ending soon.”
“No, it won’t be.”
I put my hand in my pocket, feeling the smooth globe there. Even though I was still using it, I felt a need to return it, but when? It was like a cell phone. I didn’t know how I would function without it. Already, since the first good hound had come, two more had arrived. And the globe was telling me that others were close. Should I give the device back now that I had the majority of the hounds coming, or should I keep it until I got rid of all of them?
My cell rang, making me jump. I pulled it from my pocket, checking the caller ID. It was from a number I didn’t have saved. I answered the call.
“Miss Ashton?” a woman with a clipped voice questioned.
“Yes?”
“The governor would like to invite you to his mansion to meet with him. He wants you to come at five p.m. Please don’t be late.”
9
The call ended before I could even confirm whether I would be there. Of course I would go, but I hated not having an option. It made me feel like a pawn he was pushing around—powerless, weak, and not coming from a position of strength.
I relayed the conversation to Cole, Abel, and Mindy.
Demon of Darkness Page 3