Many Waters
Page 39
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I would have dearly liked to talk to Brandon the next morning, but since he wasn’t there I didn’t have much choice except to wait till he got home from school. I consoled myself with the thought that quiet rain is a comforting kind of thing, so whatever the dream portended, it seemed to be mostly good. I sure did hope so.
I was beginning to wonder a lot about him, actually, and whether it meant anything that we had the same intensely blue eyes. I hadn’t thought about it much till Mama mentioned her little tidbit about how that was supposed to be the mark of a curse-breaker, but now it made me curious. It was hard to believe something like that could be just a coincidence, and I made a mental note to do some serious investigation into the subject whenever things settled down and I could find the time.
I did look up those words that Hannah quoted, and found the place in the Book of Numbers where they came from. They were the specific words of blessing that God told the priests to speak over the people, and the concordance noted that they’d also been commonly used over the centuries by a parent or grandparent as a blessing for a child. That seemed fitting, coming from my far-distant grandmother. Whether they always had to be spoken when setting the crystal or whether that was something she meant only for me, I couldn’t have said.
The meaning of the lightning storm on the mountain was just as obscure as ever, but as it turned out, I never got a chance to ask Brandon what the rest of it meant.
Around mid-morning I got a call from Jenny, of all people, letting me know that Lisa and Marcus had disappeared from the hospital sometime before breakfast. No one knew where they’d gone or how they could have left the building without being noticed, but I didn’t have the slightest doubt where they were.
That little tidbit of news settled all my doubts in a hurry, and so it was that I found myself packing Daddy’s 30-30 Model 94 Winchester deer rifle behind my truck seat. It was old, true, but still well-oiled and ready for use. Under good conditions it could kill at two hundred yards or more, and with a little luck I expected to have excellent conditions in the desert. I’m a pretty crack shot, if I do say so myself.
I didn’t have much of a plan, other than hunting Layla down and putting a bullet between her eyes if I had to. I was none too sure things would work out the way I hoped, though. She might not be able to use any magic against me, but there are plenty of other ways to kill a man without resorting to sorcery. I’m not immortal, not by a long stretch.
And then again, even if I succeeded, shooting someone is murder, after all. She was a cruel and evil person who’d done plenty of wrong, but the law wouldn’t look kindly on killing her. They tend not to believe in magic and curses, and I didn’t particularly want to go to prison for life in New Mexico for killing the woman.
But what other choices did I have? The police were a waste of time; Layla was surely a respectable member of society, and I had no proof she’d done anything wrong. By the time the police were willing to do anything, she would’ve had time to get rid of Lisa and Marcus in a way so that nobody would ever find them. I didn’t dare give her the chance.
I needed help in a major way, and that’s when I thought about Matthieu again. True, I barely knew him, but when you’re grasping at straws, sometimes you have to take a chance on the unknown. I fished out his number and called, praying he hadn’t changed phones.
“Hello?” someone asked, and I recognized the voice.
“Hey, Matthieu, I know it’s been a while, but how’ve you been?” I asked, not sure what else to say.
“Mr. McGrath! I’m glad to hear from you. What’s up?” he asked. So I gave him a quick sketch of all the spooky events of the past few months, including Lisa and Marcus’s disappearance.
“You should have called me sooner, Cody. That girl in Alaska sounds just like Layla Garza to me, and so does the one in New Mexico. She switches names all the time to make herself harder to track, but she’s always got the same angle. She’s a dangerous sorceress,” he said.
“Yeah, I figured out that much on my own,” I said.
“Well, never mind. The only thing that matters right now is to get Lisa and Marcus back, and then hopefully to deal with Layla once and for all. I’ll meet you at Goliad in about three or four hours, okay? I’ll have to get some stuff together and that plus the drive will take me about that long,” he said.
“I’ll be waiting,” I said, wishing it wasn’t so long. I couldn’t imagine what Lisa and Marcus might be going through in the meantime while I twiddled my thumbs doing nothing.
“Back so soon?” Mama asked, when I walked in the door.
“I never left yet. I decided I can’t tackle Layla alone. I’ve got to have some help,” I admitted, and she nodded.
It seemed like an eternity, but eventually Matthieu showed up in the same big black truck he’d been driving the first time, only now it was fitted with a mean-looking iron brush guard across the grille. He was dressed in black combat fatigues, of all things, and he’d brought an extra set for me.
“We can’t underestimate Layla. I don’t doubt she’s expecting us, so we have to be as careful as we can,” he said, handing me the extra fatigues.
“Do you think she’s got backup?” I asked.
“Possibly. But even if she does, she’s still the most dangerous one, anyway,” he said.
“How much do you know about her?” I asked.
“She drinks the life from a young man and turns him old, while she stays young forever. All she has to do is kiss him,” he said, and I thought instantly of James Fitch.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“No, it’s not. She can also change her appearance so you wouldn’t recognize her. Her brother was a lot more powerful than she is, but we finally nailed him a few months ago. Layla might still have some of his items that she can use, though; one of his crystal balls at the very least and maybe some other things, too,” he said.
“So if you got him then why didn’t you get her, too?” I asked.
“She wasn’t with him, then. She never stays in one place long enough for us to track. She likes places where there are not many women, and lots of young guys but not many locals. College towns, army bases, things like that. Prudhoe Bay sounds like a perfect hunting ground for her. Bet it freaked her out when her magic didn’t work on you,” he said, laughing a little. I didn’t think it was all that funny, myself; even the memory of it was enough to send a chill down my spine.
“Do you think she was there after me personally, or was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?” I asked.
“Who knows? We found your name in a list on her brother’s hard drive, so I’m inclined to think she probably knew about you, at least. But I couldn’t say whether she had her eye on you specifically or not. Especially when that’s a place she would’ve liked anyway,” Matthieu shrugged.
“So what’s the plan for tonight, exactly?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Well, it’s about a twelve hour drive to Las Cruces. We should get there about two or three o’clock in the morning, if all goes well. That’ll be a perfect time to hit the place; the moon will be down by then and it’ll be as dark as it gets. Catching her asleep is probably too much to hope for, but I’ll be content with surprise,” Matthieu said.
“Won’t we be tired, at that time of night?” I pointed out.
“Yeah, no doubt, but we can take turns sleeping on the way out there. That’ll help some,” he said.
“What about when we get there?” I asked.
“I remember the place well enough, if she’s really using her brother’s old place like you said. There’s a steel gate about a mile from the house with a lock on it. I can get us through that. Then we’ll drive up to the house, real slow so we don’t make any noise. I’ve got a set of night-vision goggles for both of us, so we can run with no lights on. We absolutely can’t let her have a chance to get prepared. I think our best optio
n is to do a direct frontal assault on the place. Ram the truck right through the front doors, come crashing in on her before she knows what happened. That’s what the brush guard is for. Do you think you can drive, Cody, so I can be ready to jump out immediately?” he asked.
“Sure. I ram trucks through walls every day,” I said dryly. Matthieu didn’t laugh.
“I’m serious. Can you do it or not?” he asked.
“I can do it,” I agreed.
“All right, then. I’ll take care of Layla, and anybody else who’s there. You just make sure to find Marcus and Lisa, and watch out for zombies. It’s possible there might still be a few of them left up there, too,” Matthieu said.
“Zombies?” I asked.
“Andrew Garza was a necromancer, among other things. He killed people and turned them into soldiers. Layla can’t make them herself but I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate to use one if it was available. Let’s hope they’re all gone by now and then it won’t be a problem,” Matthieu said, without a trace of a smile.
“Can you kill them?” I asked.
“Well. . . you can’t really kill something that’s already dead. You mostly want to destroy their eyes and ears so they can’t find you, or their arms and legs so they can’t reach you. It’s best to knock their heads off, if you can. Then they’re useless,” he said.
I swallowed hard, my mind giving me a hideous image of knocking the head off a dead man with a baseball bat. No game, this. But if that’s what it took to save Lisa and Marcus, then that’s what I’d do.
But there was one other thing that had to be done before we left. I had no idea yet what I was supposed to do with the crystal, but I did know I was supposed to carry it with me. Cutting that stone loose from its place would mean the end of my special exemption from the Curse, and it was no sure thing I’d survive the coming battle. But in spite of all that, when it came right down to it, the choice wasn’t so hard at all.
Matthieu knew about it, of course; I’d told him that part along with everything else. But when I got back to the house holding it in my hand, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from it.
“You don’t have any idea what that is, do you?” he asked.
“Uh, no, I guess I don’t,” I said.
“It’s a Guardian Stone. They’re very precious, and very holy, and there are only three of them in the whole world. They were a gift of God to Saint Madryn of Gwent way back in the Middle Ages, as a tool of protection against evil. Make sure you never lose it,” he said, very solemnly.
I looked at my crystal with new respect, and carefully zipped it up in my chest pocket, where it couldn’t possibly get lost. Then I thought better of it.
“You know what, I think you need this more than I do for now. You’re the one who’ll have to deal with Layla,” I said, offering him the Stone. It wasn’t the time for false humility, so he simply nodded and took it.
Matthieu liked to talk and he ended up telling me quite a few things during that long, long trip. He told me about fighting giant octopuses on the bottom of the sea, and hunting monsters in Kazakhstan, and other things even harder to believe than that. He was (he said) an Avenger, sworn to fight evil wherever it reared its ugly head. He made my own life seem tame and ordinary by comparison.
I suppose there’s a certain thirst for adventure in the heart of every young man, me included, and therefore a certain admiration that wells up unasked, for those who live such a rough and tumble life as Matthieu talked about. I can’t deny it. But all the same, if I had to choose, I think I’d rather be at Goliad with my hands in the dirt. I don’t mind fighting when I need to, but I don’t particularly like it. I’d rather be the sunshine and the rain that makes little things grow strong, a steady rock to shelter the weak. There are different kinds of strength, and different kinds of courage. So even though I admired Matthieu and enjoyed his tales, I’m glad his life is not mine.