by Lauren Algeo
He jumped when he saw Brewer standing there. He slowly came to the doors and unlocked one. He inched it open a crack.
‘I’m sorry, we’re closed for the day.’ He was in his mid-forties, tanned, with short dark hair and brown eyes that were currently red-rimmed. He looked devastated by yesterday’s events.
‘I know,’ Brewer said. ‘I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions?’
The man raised an eyebrow but stepped back to let Brewer into the shop. ‘I’ve had a lot of questions today,’ he said wearily and sat back at his table.
There was a three-quarters full bottle of Scotch whisky and a glass in front of him. He didn’t offer Brewer a drink, or even ask who he was. Police, press, or just a concerned citizen, he didn’t seem to care.
He spread his palms apart. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Umm, sorry what was your name?’ Brewer was taken by surprise at this man’s compliance. He didn’t even have his notepad on him to pretend to be a journalist, it was tucked in his pack in the car.
‘I’m Peter Smith,’ the man replied, taking another sip of scotch. ‘Pat’s business partner.’
Smith & Callaghan’s. Brewer nodded. ‘I’m very sorry about what happened.’
Smith rubbed at his eyes. ‘I just can’t believe it. I’ve got no idea why Pat would just… it doesn’t make sense. It’s too awful.’
‘Was Mr Callaghan at work yesterday?’ Brewer asked.
Smith nodded sadly. ‘He was here for the whole day. We were rushed off our feet with some large event orders and I didn’t get much time to talk to him. If I’d known that would be the last time…’ His voice trailed off again.
Brewer paused respectfully for a few moments then spoke. ‘How did Mr Callaghan seem yesterday? Was he acting any differently?’
Smith’s answer would tell them everything they needed to know.
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘He was completely normal – happy, in fact. He was joking with the staff as usual and talking about weekend plans. It’s so hard to believe what happened after he left.’
Tears welled up in his eyes and Brewer knew it was time to leave. ‘Thank you very much for your time, Mr Smith. Once again, I’m very sorry.’
Smith nodded meekly and drained his drink. He didn’t look back up so Brewer slipped quietly out of the bakery. He marched back over to the car and got in the driver’s side.
‘No hiker,’ he said as soon as he sat down.
‘What!’ Mitch cried. ‘Why not?’
‘Callaghan was acting perfectly fine yesterday. His partner in there told me he was happy,’ Brewer said.
‘The hiker could have been making him act fine so no one would suspect?’ Mitch suggested.
‘No,’ Ellen said gently. ‘He would’ve been acting very off if a hiker was involved.’
‘Believe me,’ Brewer agreed. ‘You can’t act normal with one of those in your mind. Especially not if it was whispering about him killing his own son. There’s no hiker in town.’
‘So what was this case then?’ Mitch demanded. ‘The guy really just killed his son by himself?’
‘We’ll never know,’ Brewer shrugged. ‘Could have been a long standing tension and something snapped, or even a case of mistaken identity or something if he thought there was an intruder. We could speculate all day but it’s pointless.’
Mitch sat back and folded his arms in frustration.
‘We can head to the next town and try again,’ Ellen said.
Brewer pulled away from the kerb and drove down the road, towards the interstate. They were back to square one.
Chapter 24
They crossed the state line into Pennsylvania and headed for the nearby town of Pittston. A lengthy drive around there proved fruitless and they soon re-joined the I-80 to keep going across the state.
It was dark outside, and they were contemplating stopping for the night, when Ellen picked up a hiker just outside Clearfield. She suddenly sat up straighter in her seat and gripped Brewer’s forearm. He slowed the car down immediately and glanced over at her. Her face was partially in shadow but he could see the tension.
‘There’s a hiker near here,’ she confirmed.
Mitch had been dozing in the back and was instantly alert. ‘Finally!’
‘How strong is it?’ Brewer asked. He couldn’t hear any hiker activity yet.
‘Not very,’ she said. ‘It’s just there, niggling in my gut. Like a nervous feeling.’
‘We’ll find a motel in Clearfield.’ He drove faster again and located one on the town’s main street.
‘It’s more powerful now,’ Ellen said when they stopped in the car park.
Brewer went into the reception to book a room and they took their bags into the small, generic building. Ellen looked pale in the harsh light and he got her a glass of water.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten how nice it was not to be able to feel one after spending all that time with Tabitha back at that house. It caught me by surprise again, even though I should be more than used to it by now.’
‘It’s not exactly something you can get comfortable with,’ Brewer said softly.
He wanted to embrace her in a tight hug but it didn’t feel appropriate. Plus, Mitch was standing right there.
‘Do you want to try and find it tonight?’ he asked instead.
Ellen nodded without hesitating. ‘I won’t be able to sleep knowing that it’s out there somewhere.’
They trooped back to the car with the gun holdall and Brewer’s rucksack, in case they stumbled across it.
It took half an hour of driving to pinpoint the hiker to a small, single-storey house on the outskirts of town. There seemed to be a lot of state parks around the town and some of the housing areas were spaced far apart. This house had no nearby neighbours and a long dirt driveway leading up to it. They couldn’t park outside without being noticed so Brewer drove a little way down the road and stopped by some woodland. They could still hear the hiker talking to the owner of the house from there.
‘Now you’ve lost your job too, there’s nothing left for you,’ it whispered. ‘No one and nothing.’
Ellen felt an instant ripple of pity. Every time she heard a hiker it seemed to sound worse.
‘No woman has ever loved you anyway.’
She felt a lump begin to form in her throat. It was beyond cruel of a hiker to use its power on a lonely man.
‘There’s a man living alone in that house,’ Brewer informed Mitch. His voice didn’t hold any of the emotion she felt. She couldn’t quite bring herself to be hardened against it yet, them preying on vulnerable people.
‘It’s going to make him kill himself,’ she added quietly.
‘We should stop it!’ Mitch exclaimed.
‘Let’s listen for a bit more first,’ Brewer said.
The hiker was male and spoke gently, but firmly. He wanted this man dead. As they listened to him put increasing pressure on the unsuspecting man, Brewer got the tranquiliser gun out of the holdall and an empty dart. He filled it with vodka and the last of the powdered venom.
‘Just in case,’ he said as he worked, and Ellen felt her heart leap – just in case they could save this man.
‘Drink up,’ the hiker instructed. ‘This will make it all feel better.’
Ellen’s head whipped towards Brewer, her eyes filled with panic. ‘It’s happening already! What’s he making him drink?’
Brewer held the gun in his hands and weighed up their options. It was impossible to tell where the hiker was and visibility in the pitch-black woods was nearly zero.
‘I’ll go and scout around,’ he said eventually, picking up the skipping ropes they’d used on Tabitha as an extra precaution.
‘I’m coming with you.’ Ellen unclicked her seatbelt instantly.
‘Me too.’ Mitch chimed in.
‘No,’ Brewer said firmly. ‘You’re both staying here.’
‘I agree, Mitch should,’ Ellen said. ‘But I am coming.�
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Brewer knew she wouldn’t respond to his command so he tried a pleading look instead. ‘Ellen, it’s too dangerous.’
She snatched the gun from his hands. ‘I’m the best shot here. If we come across that thing in the dark, I’m the only hope you have of hitting it.’
There was no way she was going to stay in the car.
‘Ok,’ Brewer said reluctantly. ‘Mitch you are staying though.’
He huffed loudly but didn’t protest. He knew it was pointless arguing with both of them when they were doing their best to protect his mind from hikers.
‘With the doors locked,’ Ellen added.
‘Whatever.’
They stepped out of the car into the crisp, dark night. Ellen waited purposefully by the doors until Mitch locked them from the inside then she raised the gun to her side and nodded at Brewer.
‘I’m ready.’
Brewer led the way cautiously through the trees, back towards the house. He reached behind him in the dim shadows and Ellen’s hand slipped into his own, as though it had always fit there. They crept around the tall trees, focussing on the glow of light from the side windows of the house.
The night was quiet, apart from the gentle crunching of their footsteps in the undergrowth. They reached the edge of the man’s garden and paused by the last tree. They couldn’t see any movement inside. The hiker was still instructing the man to drink something to numb his pain.
‘I can feel it much stronger now,’ Ellen whispered in Brewer’s ear. ‘It’s close.’
‘Let’s move around to the front.’
There had been another light burning in the front window that could have been a living room. They needed to see what was going on inside. They inched their way around the garden, carefully avoiding any low hanging branches.
They were almost at the corner of the house when Brewer spied movement to his right, across the garden. A fast shadow, that darted across an illuminated patch of grass. He flinched on reflex and gripped Ellen’s hand hard. She whirled around to locate the position of the sprinting shadow. Had the hiker spotted them?
Brewer turned to get them back to the safety of the car as quickly as possible but Ellen twisted from his grasp.
‘I can see it!’ She raced away from him with the gun already primed on her shoulder. She was swallowed by the darkness in an instant.
‘Ellen, no!’ Brewer lunged for where she had just been only there was nothing but black.
He ran forward blindly, his hands groping for her. He’d been staring at the bright windows and his eyes needed to adjust to the gloom again.
‘Ellen?’ His feet cracked twigs noisily but he didn’t care any more. He had to get to her before the hiker did.
He was finding it hard to catch his breath against the rising panic. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest. What was she thinking? She knew how dangerous they were.
He stumbled against a tree trunk and caught a glimpse of something ahead. Was that her? He pushed forward into the shadows. He couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood rushing in his ears.
‘Scott, quick!’ Her shrill voice pierced the night from somewhere to his right.
He sprinted towards the sound, barely feeling the branch that reached out to scrape the skin on his cheek. Suddenly she was in front of him, her pale face looming out of the darkness.
‘Quick, he’s down!’ She pointed to the ground on his left. ‘I just shot him. We need to get him secure!’
Brewer fumbled the skipping ropes from his belt and ran for the hiker without hesitating. He was on all fours in the leaves, clawing at the dart in the back of his neck. The male was dressed all in black and his skin glowed white by comparison.
Brewer grabbed at the hiker’s legs and hauled them up so he fell face first into the dirt. He bucked and snarled, unsure whether to attack Brewer or keep trying to get out the dart buried in his skin. Brewer tied his ankles together as tightly as he could. The hiker freed the dart and threw it at him.
‘You’ll pay for this,’ he sneered and forced his way into Brewer’s mind.
‘You killed my sister!’ His voice echoed around Brewer’s head as he snatched at recent memories.
Brewer struggled to restrain his hands while the hiker was occupied with his thoughts. With a grunt of effort, he managed to get the hiker’s arms locked behind his back, and looped the skipping rope around his wrists so hard it cut into his skin. He dug a knee sharply in the wriggling back beneath him to keep it still.
‘Ellen,’ he panted. ‘You need to get the Warfarin from my pack and water from the car. Go!’
She was gone without a word, sprinting back through the woods. Brewer gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping the hiker pinned beneath him.
‘So much tragedy in your life,’ the hiker teased. ‘You’d be a perfect vessel.’
He’d been snaking his way through Brewer’s memories, unchallenged, while Brewer had been physically asserting his energy.
‘Your brothers seemed to fail with me,’ Brewer growled.
The hiker gave a sinister chuckle in his head. ‘Father won’t.’
He retreated rapidly from Brewer’s mind and stopped struggling under his hold. A cold chill spread through Brewer’s veins; this couldn’t be good. The hiker’s body went limp, as if his power had left his human shell.
Brewer realised what he was doing a split second too late – he was sending a message to their father. Their ‘Master’, as they called him. Brewer staggered to his feet and yanked the hiker backwards by his arms.
‘Stop!’ he yelled but it was useless.
The hiker was still unresponsive. Brewer didn’t know what to do. In a state of sheer panic, he kicked out at the hiker’s head. The toe of his boot connected solidly with his forehead and there was a loud thump.
The hiker’s eyes flew open instantly and his body jolted. He lunged at Brewer, somehow springing to his feet even though his legs were tied. Brewer was caught unaware and the hiker knocked him backwards. He clutched at the flailing skipping rope around the hiker’s wrists and they both fell to the floor, grappling as they went. The hiker managed to land a stinging blow to Brewer’s collarbone with his forehead and he snapped at him with his teeth. The air was filled with the sound of their struggle.
One of the hiker’s wrists twisted free from the skipping rope, however in a stroke of luck, Brewer managed to loop the dangling end around the hiker’s neck. He yanked as hard as he could and the hiker wheezed as the thin leather bit into his throat. He quit fighting Brewer and tried to free himself from the choking noose.
One arm was still bent up his back in the same rope and he couldn’t get a decent grip with his free hand. He scratched and clawed at his neck but the rope was buried deep in his skin. He gasped and panted on the floor.
Brewer grabbed him by his shoulder and the back of his shirt and began to drag him towards the house. There would hopefully be a room in there to lock him in until the venom took a stronger hold and Ellen got back with the Warfarin.
‘What did you tell him?’ Brewer hissed as he tugged.
The hiker gave a gurgling laugh as a response.
‘Tell me!’ Brewer demanded and gave an extra pull on the strangling noose. There was a brief pause then he heard the word he’d been dreading.
‘Everything.’
This Master would know everything about them and they knew nothing of him yet. He ground his teeth as he pulled backwards, ignoring the strain in his arms. They would need to get answers from this hiker, whatever it took.
There was still no sign of Ellen by the time he reached the front door of the man’s house. What the hell was taking so long? The door was unlocked and he quickly let go with one hand to turn the knob, then kicked it the rest of the way open so he could keep a firm hold. The hiker seemed much more sedated and had almost quit struggling. Was the weaker dose of venom starting to work?
Brewer dragged him into the hallway then released him. He stepped back and stood bent ov
er, with his hands on his knees, forcing air back into his exhausted lungs. The hiker’s black eyes stared up at him coldly. There was a thin trail of scarlet blood from the corner of his grinning mouth down the curve of his jutting chin. His brown hair was ruffled and his white shirt was torn at the collar.
‘Scott!’ Ellen raced through the front door and nearly barrelled straight into the back of him.
She thrust a large water bottle into his hands. The liquid was cloudy and he could see small pieces of white tablet floating around inside.
‘There’s enough in there. I put…’ she paused and her gaze snapped towards the hiker. ‘Get out!’ she yelled.
He was going for her memories as well, even though he would have had more than enough information from Brewer.
Brewer quickly unscrewed the bottle cap. He couldn’t let the hiker relay whatever he got from Ellen to the Master too. He grabbed the hiker roughly by the hair and forced his head back. He jammed the bottle between his teeth and tilted it upwards, pouring the liquid into his mouth. The hiker was surprised by this action and took a couple of involuntary swallows before trying to splutter it out.
Brewer trapped the hiker’s head between his knees and held him fast – relentlessly pushing the bottle deeper and pouring the water down the hiker’s throat. He gagged and choked but Brewer didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. He stayed holding the hiker for a minute with the skipping rope noose poised to tighten if he tried to throw back up what he’d drunk. He did nothing but lay wheezing.
Finally, Brewer let go and sat down heavily on the floor. He was covered in water and his muscles were screaming with the exertion of the last fifteen minutes.
He glanced up at a terrified Ellen. ‘Are you ok?’
She barked a laugh. ‘Are you kidding?’ She helped him get slowly to his feet. ‘You should see the state of yourself!’
‘I’m fine.’ He shrugged off her concern.
They had bigger things to worry about than his bumps and bruises. He checked the hallway and saw a cupboard door to the left. It was a small, windowless space for coats and shoes, and he dragged the weakened hiker in there. He was starting to look very sick, presumably from the initial venom injection.