Night Hunter

by Cathy McDavid

  "Find anything?" Gillian asked Nick when he came out of the pantry. He'd spent a good twenty minutes going through the rooms from top to bottom.

  "Nothing."

  "Me either." Together they surveyed the kitchen. "What do you think?"

  "I think we keep looking. The smell is definitely stronger in this part of the church." He glanced up at the ceiling, studying it astutely. Irregular brown patches identified water leaks. One of them surrounded a large metal grille sorely in need of cleaning. "Well, lookie there."

  "I noticed a stepladder in the corner by the refrigerator."

  "Did you happen to notice any screwdrivers while you were rummaging through drawers?"

  "As a matter of fact, I did." She went to fetch them.

  When Nick returned with the stepladder, Gillian presented him with three different screwdrivers. "Take your pick."

  "This'll work." He selected a flat head and stuck it in his back pocket. Setting up the ladder, he climbed nearly to the top and promptly make a face. "God, it reeks up here."

  He undid the screws one by one, dropping them in Gillian's waiting hands.

  She, in turn, placed them on the counter. "You're not going to break anything, are you?"

  "If I do, I'll leave enough money in the collection plate by the door to pay for it."

  "What's this about a collection plate?"

  Gillian and Nick both swung around to see Father Juan enter the kitchen.

  "Did the kid show up?" Nick asked, his demeanor nonchalant.

  Gillian marveled at his ability to switch gears so rapidly. Less than a minute ago he'd been a bundle of energy, intensely focused on his task.

  "No. Amaia's gone home to see if Stevie went there. Since she hasn't returned, I'm guessing all is well." Father Juan observed Nick, openly curious. "Do you think the source of the smell is in there?"

  "Possibly. We'll know soon."

  Nick had ceased removing screws to chat with Father Juan. Gillian suspected he didn't want Father Juan around when he pulled the grille off just in case the female creature was behind it.

  "Those ducts haven't been used in years. Not since the central air-conditioning system was installed . . ." Father Juan scratched his chin. "Thirty or more years ago, I'd say. Before that, fans were used to blow cool air from the basement through the ducts."

  "Is this the only room with ducts like this one?"

  Father Juan frowned contemplatively. "I think so. But I'm not sure. I only know about the fans because some of the older members told me."

  Seconds passed with no one speaking. Father Juan finally got the hint and said, "Guess I'll leave you two to your work. Stop by the office and say good-bye when you're done. I trust you remember where that is, too." He winked at Gillian. "Nick spent more than his share of Saturday mornings in there rather than catechism class."

  "Did he perhaps have a behavior problem?" Gillian pretended to be appalled.

  "A tiny one." He pinched his thumb and index finger together to indicate a small amount.

  "Why am I not surprised?"

  Only when the door to the kitchen had closed behind Father Juan did Nick remove the last of the screws. Inserting his fingers between the slats, he tugged on the grille. At first, it resisted his efforts, then finally gave, sending a shower of debris raining down upon them.

  Gillian coughed and fanned the air in front of her face. "Can you breathe up there?"

  "Barely." Nick had climbed another step on the ladder and had his head inside the opening.

  "Does it smell?" Gillian tipped her head back, trying to see past Nick.

  "I can't tell. The inside of my nose is numb." Bracing his hands on the edge of the opening, he scaled the last step on the ladder and hoisted himself into the duct. He just fit, his shoulders clearing the sides by no more than an inch.

  Gillian waited, chewing her bottom lip.

  A minute later, he called, "Coming?"

  She grimaced, realizing too late she should have clarified the Synsar employment terms before accepting the position.

  Between the stench, the dust, and the heat, breathing was almost impossible. Nick shimmied along the duct floor on his stomach, battling cobwebs and feeling his

  way in the suffocating darkness. The duct was wide enough to accommodate him, but only about eighteen inches high, which meant he and Gillian couldn't crawl on all fours. As a result, their progress was slow and arduous.

  "You doing okay back there?" he said over his shoulder.

  "Yeah."

  "That's a pretty weak yeah."

  "To be honest, I'm feeling pretty weak right now." "You want to go back?"

  Nick reminded himself that Gillian had only recently traded her safe and comfy academic job for one that put her in constant danger and tested her physical limits.

  "I'm okay." She collided with his feet again, the third time since they'd started. "Sorry."

  "No problem. We're a little tight in here."

  And they couldn't see two inches in front of their faces. She must be scared, and he suspected she didn't want him getting too far ahead of her. If the stench weren't growing stronger, he'd consider going back.

  Then again, the duct was too narrow for them to turn around and he was sure Gillian would be even less thrilled at blindly backing out. The best alternative was to continue forward until they hit an exit.

  "How much farther do you think?" Gillian asked, her voice strained, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

  "We have to be close." Talking had become difficult for Nick. The stench was everywhere, and he felt as if he were drowning in his own sweat. "Using fans to blow cool air to the kitchen wouldn't have worked unless the basement were located nearby."

  "I hope you're right."

  His hand encountered something hard and sharp, and he drew to a stop. "Wait."

  Gillian collided with his feet again. "What is it?"

  Nick felt cautiously ahead of him and detected more sharp objects, some with pieces of fur stuck to them, some completely unidentifiable, which was probably just as well.

  "I think I found the female creature's dinner remains." The pile of dead animal carcasses appeared to be huge.

  "Oh."

  He thought he heard Gillian gulp.

  "The female's not here, not that I can tell, anyway." He waved his hand through the air in front of him and listened intently. The creaks and groans of a hundred-year-old building were all he heard. "If it were here, it probably took off when it heard us coming." Or relocated to a new hiding place, which meant they'd have to start searching again from scratch. "Let's keep moving."

  Nick wriggled forward, dragging himself over the female creature's meal remains. Bones gouged his skin, poking and pricking. Sticky substances clung to his hands and clothing. He didn't want to know what the hard, pebbly stuff was.

  Eyes watering, chest heaving, and muscles aching, he moved on. "Hang in there."

  "Like I have a choice."

  "Try closing your eyes."

  "Very funny."

  He could hear the scraping and crunching as Gillian crawled through the mess. He could also hear revulsion in her voice and a determination that made him proud. Gillian possessed more strength than she realized. The trick for her would be learning to tap into it.

  "We're almost through."

  The debris had started to thin. In another minute, Nick was completely free of it. Air, marginally less stale and tepid, reached his nostrils. Thankful, he breathed deeply.

  "Slow down. I found an opening in the duct floor."

  Groping carefully with his hands, he calculated the size of the opening. He could fit, but barely. The more important question was where did the opening lead? Down, yes, but to the first floor or all the way to the basement? If the latter, it would be one hell of a drop.

  Feeling the air in front of him, he determined there was no wall or other barrier blocking their path. The duct they were in continued on, but for how long and to where?

  Nick m
ade a decision. "I'm going down the opening."

  "You sure?"

  Gillian sounded done in. He doubted she could take much more of crawling through the ducts.

  "Yeah. Stay where you are. I can't go through the opening head first so I'm going to have to crawl over it and then slide down backward, feet first."

  "What if you fall?"

  "It's narrow. I should be able to grip the sides with my feet."

  He tried to make it sound easier than it would be. If the drop were only to the ground floor, no more than ten or twelve feet, he'd be fine. If not ... well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. That, and the even bigger bridge of how to get Gillian down.

  The opening was the same size as the duct they were in. Slithering over it was a little precarious, particularly when Nick's belly was suspended above all that empty air. Rather than drag his feet across the opening, he lowered them into it, then slowly, slowly, eased the lower half of his body into the duct.

  His back muscles trembled, as did his arms, and his spine bent at a severe angle that threatened to snap it in half. Sliding the last few inches, he hung to the sides of the opening. His feet scraped the duct walls, unable to find purchase. Little by little, his fingers started to give.

  Just when he thought he'd have to let go and hope for the best, the soles of his shoes make contact with the duct walls. Resting for a moment, he took several deep breaths and then straightened his cramped fingers.

  His feet slid, but not fast. Bracing his palms on the wooden walls of the duct, he tried to slow his descent still more. Stream after stream of blistering pain shot up his legs. His ankles, bearing the burden of his body weight, were on fire. Splinters pierced his palms, his forearms. Nick bit down so hard he thought his teeth might break.

  As his strength drained, he picked up speed. No way would he make it all the way to the basement in one piece.

  Suddenly, Nick's feet crashed into something solid. A wave of pain ripped through him from toe to head. Sinking to his knees, he crumbled into a ball and gasped for breath, his legs and arms shaking uncontrollably.

  "Nick?" Gillian called from above.

  "Yeah." He sucked in large chunks air. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

  Feeling around with his hands, he discovered he'd landed in a crawl space about five feet long by four feet tall. Not exactly a room at the Ritz, but a welcome relief from the duct. About three feet to his left was another opening in the floor. The air wafting up from it was cleaner and cooler.

  "I found the duct to the basement," he called to Gillian. "As soon as I turn myself around, we'll get you down." When she didn't answer, he called again. "Gillian."

  "I'm here."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Just thinking about climbing down the duct. Or, I guess I should say, trying not to think about it."

  "You'll be fine. It's not far, and I'll be right here to catch you." Raising his arms over his head he rose slowly so that he was standing in the duct. "Ready when you are."

  "Okay." She sighed expansively. "I'm crawling across the opening."

  "Take it slow." He coaxed her along. "Worse-case scenario, you fall four or five feet right into my arms."

  She groaned and swore and cried out once. But she kept going.

  Nick cursed the darkness, wishing he could see. In the next second, when she slipped and gave a loud, "Oomph," he was glad he couldn't. Watching her struggle and not being able to help would drive him crazy.

  "I'm across the opening." Exhaustion, or maybe tears, had clogged her voice.

  "Good job, sweetheart. Now, lower your feet into the opening." She did as he instructed. "That's it."

  He could sense her legs flailing above his head, hear them bang into the sides of the duct.

  "Nick."

  "Don't worry. I'll catch you. Another foot or two.

  Then you're home free."

  She started kicking. Furiously. "Nick!" "Try to relax."

  "Oh, Jesus, Nick!" she screamed.

  He heard the hissing then, and every nerve in his body exploded. "Let go, Gillian," he hollered. "I'll catch you." An ear-splitting screech rang through the duct, bounced off the narrow walls, and reverberated inside Nick's head.

  The female creature. Christ, where had it come from? "Damn it, Gillian. Let go!"

  "I can't," she yelped, her legs thrashing above his head, just out of his reach. "It's got me."

  The creature's hissing and screeching increased, smothering the sounds of Gillian's struggle.

  Nick extended his arm as high as it would go and jumped. The back of his fingers brushed one of Gillian's feet.

  "Stop kicking." She didn't.

  Crouching as low as he could in the cramped space, he jumped again, both hands extended.

  His fingers grabbed empty air.

  He tried jumping again and this time succeeded in latching on to the heel of a shoe. When he fell back down into the crawl space, Gillian, thank God, came with him, landing on top of him in a convulsing, howling heap. They tumbled backward into the crawl space. Nick slammed into the floor with a thud. Recovering quickly, he tried to untangle himself from Gillian and shouted, "It's Okay."

  She inadvertently kneed him in the groin. "Take it easy." He groaned. "You're safe."

  She twisted around and, sobbing, threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, God, Nick. It had me by the hair and wouldn't let go."

  He detached himself from her frantic embrace. "We have to get you out of here."

  "What about you?"

  "I'm going after the female."

  "You can't!"

  The subject wasn't open for debate. He pushed Gillian toward the opening. "There's another duct here. It should lead to the basement." He hoped.

  She gasped. "I can't go down it by myself."

  "You have to."

  "No. I'll stay here." She shook her head vehemently. "Waiting for you."

  Above them, the female creature hissed and spat, warning them to leave and never come back. Nick had to somehow climb back up the duct before it took off and relocated to a new hiding place.

  "Listen to me." He gripped Gillian firmly by the shoulders and brought his face close to her. "The drop isn't far. I'll hold on to you the whole time."

  "I'm afraid."

  You won't fall more than a few feet." He didn't mention the opening could lead to yet another duct or that she might land on something besides an empty cement floor and crush her legs. "Once you're in the basement, find a door or window. Some way out."

  A strange, rhythmic thumping echoed through the duct above them, and the walls rattled. The creature's hissing grew angrier, its screeching louder. When the hell had the females become so aggressive? Nick really had to talk to Charlie if-no, when-they got out of this predicament.

  "If after fifteen minutes I haven't come down, call Charlie." He thrust Gillian aside. "He'll know what to do."

  "I don't want to leave without you."

  When she would have clung to him, he pushed her ruthlessly toward the opening. "Feet first."

  "Nick, please."

  His hands tightened around her upper arms. "I know you're scared. But you have to get out of here."

  Giving her the briefest of kisses, he helped her position herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the opening with her legs hanging over the side. "Ready?" "Not really."

  "You'll be fine."

  "Promise you won't let go?" "I promise."

  He nudged her butt off the edge of the opening with his knee."Wait!" She stiffened, resisting him.

  "Not so fast." "We don't have a lot of time, sweetheart." Hooking his hands beneath her arms, he lowered Gillian inch by inch until only her head remained above the opening. She whimpered once or twice when his grip momentarily slipped.

  "Relax," he told her. "There's no-"

  A loud whump cut Nick off, followed by a frenzied pounding. The walls of the duct began to shake as if the ground were trembling. But it wasn't. Only the duct. Too late Nick realized
what was happening.

  In the next instant, the female creature landed on his back.

  Spitting and hissing, it clawed at him, going for his head and neck, ripping at his hair. He twisted violently in a useless attempt to dislodge it, knocking Gillian around in the process. She kicked and floundered, making it harder for him to maintain his hold on her.

  "Damn it, Gillian. Stop moving."

  "Don't drop me!" she yelled, desperately grappling for a handhold.

  The female creature clamped her fingers around Nick's neck and began to squeeze. Though small, it was strong and agile and able to see better in the dark. It would also choke the life out of him in a matter of minutes unless he did something.

  If he could just get to the ritual dagger in his pants, he'd have a fighting chance. But in order to accomplish that, he needed both his hands, which, at the moment, were holding on to Gillian.

  Tiny spots of bright light danced in front of his face, an indication he was starting to fade.

  Sending a prayer to the Ancients, Nick made the only choice he could. He let go of Gillian, rolled sideways, and reached for the ritual dagger.

  As he pulled it out, Gillian's scream of terror reached inside him and tore his heart clean in two.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gillian's scream turned into a grunt when her butt impacted a hard, flat surface with such force it felt like her brain shook loose from the inside of her skull.

  Breathing took effort. So did sitting up. She lay down to wait until the world stopped spinning ... and promptly rolled off whatever it was she'd landed on. The sensation of flying, for the second time in as many minutes, lasted only an instant before she slammed into a concrete floor.

  Afraid to move for fear she'd take another dive, she remained motionless, contemplating the recent small miracle bestowed upon her.

  She hadn't died. She'd quite possibly broken every bone in her body but was alive to tell about it. Walking might be an altogether different story.

  So much for Nick and his promise not to let go of her.

  Oh, God, Nick!

  Pushing herself to a kneeling position, she glanced around, attempting to get her bearings. Wherever she'd landed-the basement, she hoped-was as pitch black as the ducts had been. From high above her came evidence of a struggle. Banging, thumping, the creature hissing and screeching.