Drisc started to look more closely at each vacant area caused by the Blacksouls. He was pretty sure Grimm’s Blacksouls gave him power to reach a different end. He just had to find out what that goal was.
Richard sat in his apartment reviewing every scrap of evidence he’d collected on Drifter. He used to be so good at following a trail. He could connect any two pieces of information and find out how they fit together. The problem was that Drifter being hurt didn’t match up with the accident unless he got caught up in his own plot. If he meant to stop that bus so it would get hit, and he didn’t keep a safe enough distance, that might explain it. And how do you explain his knowing there’d be a snowplow there at that exact moment?
Richard threw the folder across the room, letting the papers scatter and float to the ground. He rubbed his temples with a hand, trying to clear his mind. He needed to concentrate on the victims, not the events. For the past year, Drifter had been closely associated with no fewer than ten of his victims, which meant Drifter’s real target was someone he met in the area.
Richard hurriedly cleared his desk. He ripped off a yellow sticky note and wrote “common locations” on it. He placed the files containing information on anyone Drifter knew at the school, the coffee shop, the local bowling alley, and a few bars Richard had seen the man enter.
Then he began filtering through his “potential victims” files to see which person Drifter had met in all three locations. His bowling team didn’t so much as share a drink with one another, except for Driscoll Navin. Each member of the bowling team, except Navin, had left town during the last week. That meant they were off the list.
Three teachers, a handful of parents, and the photographer were all regulars at the coffee shop. The parents hardly knew Drifter, so Richard assumed they were all safe as well.
He worked tirelessly, pausing only to clean up the mess of papers he’d thrown around the room. He started with a list of 142 names. All of them had contact with Drifter since his arrival earlier that year. He began by eliminating the names of people who only had fleeting contact with Drifter or only spoke with him in passing. Next went the names of people who knew him better but only worked with Drifter in a professional or limited capacity. The psychopath liked to really know his victims.
Richard took out the names of people who didn’t socialize with Drifter more than three times. Then the former policeman realized he had a list composed of two names. One of those names stood out like a beacon.
As Drisc studied the vacant spots in the area caused by the birth of the Blacksouls, another idea struck him. He followed one Dead Spot in the road to another, looking for the vacancies the way a normal Journeyman could look for a Death Sense trail. As he focused on the Dead Spots, Drisc could begin to sense a second small trail. It was faint, but he could feel it. He wondered if any other Journeyman could. He made his way back to his car and began to follow the trail.
He picked up his stack of obituaries and headed to the first location where Grimm may have taken the victim’s soul. The sense waned and faded as he drove, but it picked up again when Drisc came on the home of a man who had died choking on his microwave chicken dinner. Drisc didn’t go in the home, but a Dead Spot sat right about where the man’s living room couch would be. Drisc noticed a new trail from that spot.
I’m not following Grimm, Drisc realized. I’m following his Blacksouls. A little more sure of himself, Drisc drove to a construction site, where a sign sadly proclaimed it had been ten days since their last mishap. A construction worker had failed to wear his eye protection eleven days earlier, and Drisc could point right to the spot where Grimm watched the man’s soul turn black. Drisc could sense the next trail from the mishap to the house of a woman who died warm and safe in bed at the age of eighty-two. Neither Bob, Drisc, nor any of the Council members had Transported the elderly woman’s soul. The woman had died two days earlier. Drisc had an advantage that Grimm, or anyone else, for that matter, didn’t.
It wasn’t likely anyone but Drisc could sense a Dead Spot. If a Blacksoul was present recently, Drisc could follow that Blacksoul’s trail, so long as it was fresh or if Grimm had traveled a certain path often enough. He imagined Grimm stalked his victims the same way Bob traveled with his Transports to get to know them better.
Drisc threw his car into drive and followed the Blacksouls’ trail to wherever it led. He knew the area. He’d dropped Bob off once or twice at the coffee shop down the road, and he knew a bar that wasn’t too bad a mile east of the freeway. He pulled over for a moment to find out which recently deceased person he was tracking down and froze. All the recent deaths in Liverpool and Syracuse had been accounted for after the old woman. Whoever Grimm was tracking hadn’t died yet.
Confused, Drisc tried to find a Death Sense but couldn’t. The Blacksoul’s trail was as strong as he’d seen it, but no one in the area was supposed to die. “Dear God!” Drisc whispered to himself. A chill ran down his spine as Drisc headed out, following the trail. Not too far from Onondaga Lake Park, Drisc pulled into the parking area for a business cluster. It was a group of suites that housed businesses like a small-time doctor’s office, a family-owned video-rental store, and a pizzeria.
“Please lemme be wrong,” he whispered as he stared at the vacant office at the far end of the parking lot. The Clockmaker’s warning sounded in his mind again: It won’t be pleasant for you or your friend.
23
Worse Than Tragedy
December 13, 2007
I’m not OK about what happened. I’m trying to accept it, trying to let it go. Patience is helping me. Drisc has been kind enough to guard me from the other Senior Journeymen regarding my relationship. He hasn’t told me not to fall in love with Patience, which is good because I’d hate to have to lie to my best friend. That ship has sailed.
Bob turned his phone off after Drisc called for the fifth time. He realized it wasn’t a very nice thing to do to a man who had watched out for him for the past few weeks, but he was trying to take one more day to relax before facing Grimm. He had every intention of taking that task on with a vengeance, but tonight was about Patience.
“You should just answer,” she told him, holding his arm. They were ice-skating at the Square in Syracuse. Well, Patience was skating. Bob didn’t feel the need to celebrate his recently healed leg by breaking the other. She’d just finished changing out of her skates and into some boots that ended at mid-thigh in tufts of white fake fur.
“It can wait,” Bob said with a smile. He tightened his long peacoat around himself. Patience had her dark-red hair tied up in a ponytail and wore a snug-looking blue coat and some wonderfully form-fitting blue jeans. She’d spent the last four or five days with him, cheering him up in ways both tame and not. It was just what he needed.
“I’ll go get us something to drink,” she said.
“Make mine—”
“Hot chocolate, I know,” she said, smiling. “I like that you’re predictable.”
“I might have a few surprises,” he said. It took him a moment to realize he had some enormous surprises. I Transport souls of the dead; surprise!
He gave a frustrated sigh as he turned his cell phone back on. It took a few moments for the phone to activate, but the second it did, a missed-call tone sounded.
Bob started to dial Drisc’s number when a chill ran up his spine. It felt the same as if he’d stood up too fast. It was a feeling one Journeyman had when he was near another. Bob wondered if it was Drisc, but he couldn’t convince the hairs on the back of his neck to lie back down.
His Death Sense flickered before forming a weak trail. Someone was perilously close to death, but some strange circumstance might help whomever it was avoid it. Bob followed the flickering red line that only he could see, hoping to watch it fade away. He wanted whomever it was to make the right choice and jump off to the safe side of the razor’s edge. Unfortunately, the Death Trail grew stronger, flickering less with each step Bob took. It was as if the approaching Journeyman
made the death more certain. He had almost decided to stop following the trail, when it flickered again.
He heard a melodic giggle that instantly warmed him; he used Patience’s laugh to find her. He meant to look at her and smile, but the lump in his throat formed almost before he noticed that the flickering Death Trail led to her. She turned to notice him and walked over, smiling, oblivious to the fact that one wrong step would guarantee her death.
Bob nearly shouted out at her before a flash of the morning of the bus accident hit him. He’d honked his horn furiously; the bus stopped, and forty-three children died.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I don’t know what to say! I won’t let her die! Something in the shadows flickered, and a surge of fear struck Bob like a hammer. “No ...” he whispered.
Without thinking, he grabbed her and started to run across the Square. He ducked into an alley just in time to hear Patience yelp in pain. A glance back showed a coil of blackness leaping from shadow to shadow.
“Bob, you’re hurting me!” she gasped. He looked back to see her rubbing her ankle. A shape began to form out of the shadow, but it faded, leaving Bob to wonder if it was all his imagination.
“What happened?” he asked quickly. He didn’t trust his senses, so he went with the worst possible scenario. Grimm was after the woman he loved.
“I rolled it when you tore me down this alley! Not the way to get a little extra attention, by the way, Mr. Less-than-Patient.”
Bob heard a strange clicking sound behind him. He turned around to see Richard Hertly pointing a gun at him. The sound Bob heard must have been the safety coming off. The former Surprise, Arizona, police officer looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Nearly a day’s worth of beard covered his almost plump face, which had a vicious smile plastered on it from ear to ear. Bob thought the man laughed as he put his finger on the trigger of the gun.
“Oh there’s no way this is all happening at once!” Bob yelped as he pulled Patience back around the corner. He didn’t hear any gunfire and didn’t look behind himself to see if they were being chased by a vengeance-crazed policeman or a real-life monster.
“That man has a gun!” Patience shouted. She couldn’t have said anything more helpful.
A woman in the Square must have heard her and screamed. The entire area went mad. Children scurried to their parents, and men stood in front of their loved ones to protect them.
Bob weaved through the mass of people rushing around each other. He had an iron grip on Patience’s hand and tried to reassure her even as he yanked her out of the way of some kid who ran in front of him. Bob noticed a black hand reach out of the boy’s shadow.
Bob picked Patience up into his arms just as a giant black hand gripped the air that she had occupied the moment before. Bob made it to the street just in time to notice Drisc’s car screech to a stop on the side of the road. Bob shoved Patience into the car. She yelped at him again, but he didn’t really hear what she’d said.
“Go!” he shouted as he closed the door. Drisc floored the gas and they sped away. Bob held Patience as if his life depended on it.
24
Confessions
December 13, 2007
So now fate steps in and tells me I might lose her. I say fate can go fuck itself.
Drisc bolted the door while Bob helped Patience to the bed. Bob ignored her random questions while he checked the windows. He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but the heroes always checked the windows when they brought the girl somewhere they hoped was safe. This didn’t feel like the movies, and it didn’t feel like the part where he and Patience would fall into each other’s arms, mostly because Drisc was there.
Drisc paid for the room in cash, just in case Richard Hertly had some friend checking credit cards somewhere. “By the way,” Bob said flatly, “thanks for the heads up about Hertly being in town.”
“Well, lad,” Drisc said sarcastically. “It’s not like ye had a lot on yer mind.”
Bob thought for a moment and closed his mouth when he realized he didn’t have a response. Drisc pulled up the single hotel-room chair, a hard-looking thing with more plastic than cushion, and sat in front of the door while Bob turned on every light he could find. They had stopped for flashlights on the way, hoping the flashlights would take away any shadows that Grimm might decide to pop out from. Bob wasn’t so sure of it, but if “duck and cover” was the only option you had ...
All they knew was that the Blacksouls seemed to need shadows to do their thing, unless they were a part of that monster persona Grimm showed the world. Bob realized he’d have to think about how that worked. For the moment, the only thing he knew was shadows meant Blacksouls, so it seemed a good idea to try and keep shadows to a minimum.
“I don’t think those will work,” Drisc said.
“You say this now?” Bob responded sharply.
“I said it then.”
“It was your idea!”
“Yeah, din’t make it a good one.”
“The bastard wants to kill us.”
“Actually, they both do,” Drisc said, sounding completely calm.
“Someone tell me what’s going on!” Patience shouted. Her voice was tremulous. She looked like she was one bit of bad news away from a mental breakdown. Unfortunately, Bob didn’t have any good news to offer.
“How’s your ankle?” Bob asked.
She rubbed it and grimaced. “I think it’s sprained,” she answered. “It’ll hurt like hell for a few days, but I think I’ll be OK.”
“I’m going to touch your ankle, and you’ll stop feeling the pain,” Bob said softly.
She snorted a laugh. “Honey, you’re good with your hands, but I don’t think this is the—”
He gently pressed a finger on her ankle, Took her pain, and smiled at her. What if she thinks I’m a freak? What if she hates me? She smiled at him.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
“Don’t stand up,” he told her. “It’s still sprained. I just Took the pain away. It’s one of the things I can do ... to make it easier.”
“Make what easier?” she asked.
“Helping someone pass on,” he said as seriously as he could. She stared at him for a few moments. Her smile wavered. She looked ready to call him on his prank.
“Patience, I’m ...” He didn’t really know what else to call himself. “We call ourselves Journeymen. We collect the souls of the dead.”
A burst of laughter stopped Bob from explaining any more. Bob watched the woman he loved laugh away his deepest secret. He thought about letting it be a joke. He wondered if he could save her without her finding out the truth.
“There’s nothing funny,” Drisc said, a touch of anger in his voice. “I taught him when ‘e first got ‘eer.”
Her look went from humored to concerned. “Bob, you can’t really think that you’re some sort of Grim Reaper.”
“Actually, that would be the shadow that nearly ripped yer throat out,” Drisc said. “But ‘haps you missed that what with the guy shooting the gun ‘n all.”
“Drisc, this isn’t funny,” she said, trying to sound calm.
“No,” Bob said. “It’s not. Patience, when people die, or are about to die, we know. We have to be there.”
“Bob, I want you to stop this right now,” she said. Bob could tell she was thinking about everything they’d talked about the past month. He watched the Death Trail flicker around her. She will die; she won’t; she will.
“I don’t know how we’re chosen or where we come from, but we have to be there when someone dies to help his or her soul pass on,” Bob explained.
Patience stood up, sat down, and stood back up. “So, so you’re there for ... ” Bob knew where her mind was going. “The school bus?” she asked. “You ... you killed them?” A tear escaped her eyes.
“No!” Bob argued, noticing the look of shock on her face. “Patience, it’s not like that. I’m not a killer. People die. We don’t say whe
n or how or why. We just make sure they get to move on when it’s time.”
Bob watched her face go from shocked, to angry, to revolted, and back to shocked; all the while, the red trail around her flickered. Each flicker took longer to fade and flared brighter. She rushed for the door, but Drisc stepped in front of her. He probably thought she’d seal her own fate if she stepped out the door.
“Ye might not like us very much right now, and dere’s a former cop out der who’d probably try to help you,” Drisc said, grabbing her shoulders. She tried to squirm away, but Drisc managed to hold her. “But dere’s some’n else out there a lot worse and—”
“That’s enough, Drisc,” Bob said before Drisc could tell her the worst part. He looked at him as if to say, “she needs to know,” but Bob shook his head.
“I’m not staying here,” she said. Bob reached out and snatched her hand.
“For your sake, let’s say we’re crazy,” Bob said, hating himself. “There’s still a man out there with a gun who we’re not sure won’t shoot you just because he saw you with me.”
“Who?” she asked softly. “I don’t even know you.”
Bob felt the world crumble beneath him. “I’m just me,” he said, knowing it wasn’t enough anymore. “You only have to believe I want you safe. Patience, you can hate me. You can do anything you want for the rest of your life, but please, please, just wait with us here until we can figure out how to keep you safe.”
“I love ... ” Bob closed his eyes. If she says loved, I’m lost. “How can I begin to trust you?” Her Death Trail continued to flicker. She won’t die. She will. She won’t. She will.
Bob's Greatest Mistake_Part Two of The Journals of Bob Drifter Page 10