Hounding The Moon: A Tess Noncoire Adventure

by P. R. Frost

  Scrap, we all smoked marijuana in college. Probably even the lieutenant there.

  Oh. Scrap sounded disappointed. Even you, babe?

  Even me.

  “There is a little matter of two years in Africa working for the Peace Corps,” Vlieger turned back to pierce Gollum with his gaze.

  “I gave back to the world.” Gollum shrugged.

  “Says here you come from old money in upstate New York. Why’d a guy born with a silver spoon in his mouth condescend to grub in the dirt with a bunch of primitives?”

  “Like I said. I felt I needed to give something back to the less fortunate. Money isn’t always enough. Besides, it gave me a chance to study some of their myths and folklore firsthand. I wrote my master’s thesis on what I learned.” Gollum’s grip on my hands turned fierce. He was hiding something. Possibly something even Homeland Security couldn’t find.

  Something I needed to know.

  Vlieger gave his attention to the screen once more.

  “Two Ph.D.s and you haven’t even applied for a tenure track position at a college or university?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Old money from upstate New York. I don’t have to work, so I take on short-term teaching positions in interesting places. When I find the right place to settle down, I’ll consider something more permanent.” His grip on my hand softened. Whatever he had to hide was in those two years in Africa, not in his recent career.

  “So why are you here?” Vlieger kept up his interrogation.

  “Helping Ms Noncoiré research a new novel.” Gollum grinned and scrunched up his nose in an effort to push up his glasses.

  “Why were you both poking around the casino construction site? Today? When we’d closed off the entire area because of terrorist activity nearby?” Vlieger was out of his chair and grabbing Gollum’s shirt at his throat in less than a heartbeat.

  No one else moved.

  No one breathed.

  Except Scrap. He lit his cigar with a flamelet on the tip of his thumb. Then he blew a huge smoke ring toward the sergeant at the door. Good thing the door was still closed and Scrap on the outside.

  “We need to speed this up or turn on the airconditioning.”

  The sergeant fanned the air in front of his face. Some of Scrap’s smoke did get through. “The air’s getting stale in here. Smells of old cigars and… oh, my God, who farted?”

  This time he did open the door and let in some of the cool desert air.

  Scrap remained outside, eyeing Donovan with a fierce hatred.

  Donovan eyed the door longingly.

  “We did not know the area was closed,” Gollum explained patiently. “There were no signs on the construction road, no roadblocks. We wanted to talk to some of the people in favor of the casino. Heaven only knows we’ve talked to enough people in town who are against it.”

  “All fodder for the writing mill,” I chimed in. “Conflict is the essence of plotting. I need more conflict in my new book.”

  Donovan shifted as if ready to get his feet under him and dart out the door.

  I kicked him. He glowered at me.

  I wondered what he had to hide that he didn’t want to stick around for the revelation of his background check. Even if Vlieger kicked me out right now, I doubted I’d go. I needed to know more about Donovan Estevez.

  We waited. Corporal Bolo took the handcuffs off both Gollum and me, but left them on Donovan. Vlieger had said we were free to go, but he didn’t kick us out and neither of us made a move toward the door. Lawrence kept fussing over me with his blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.

  Scrap popped up and down by the window, laughing at us mere humans.

  It’s a circus out there. Neither side seems to know how to fight this war, he chortled. Some of the media trucks are packing up and going home. Not enough action.

  Finally, Vlieger’s computer beeped.“Took long enough,” he muttered.

  We all leaned forward.

  Vlieger read the screens without comment. Screen after screen rolled past. I saw blurred photos; some looked like they’d been downloaded from news services.

  “Homeland Security wants us to hold on to you a while longer, Mr. Estevez. You two can go.”

  Did I dare ask what was on those computer screens?

  “I’m ruined.” Donovan slumped. He looked smaller, more human, and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him before.

  And sexy as hell.

  “Come on, Guilford.” I didn’t want to raise questions by calling him Gollum in this crowd, and I certainly wouldn’t call him sweetheart. “We need to check on Cynthia.”

  “Don’t even think about stealing the blanket,” Donovan snarled. “My people are armed and guarding it with their lives.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of committing a crime.” I opened my eyes wide, trying to look innocent. Though that was precisely what I was thinking. “But who will defend your claim to the artifact in court while Homeland Security has you locked up on suspicion of terrorism?”

  I grabbed Gollum by the elbow and decamped as quickly as I could.

  Fresh air never smelled so sweet as that windy hilltop in the high desert on a cloudy autumn day.

  A series of pops and bangs sounded off to our left.

  The sergeant pushed us down one step into the dust.

  “Down! Those damn Indians are trying to break through our lines.”

  Bullets whizzed over our heads. They pinged against the trailer and smacked into the dirt.

  I cringed and cowered with my arms over my head, trying to make myself as small a target as possible.

  Gollum landed on top of me. His weight became a reassuring barrier between me and a weapon I could not counter.

  Scrap, what do we do now?

  Hide! He turned bright red and elongated, thinning, ready to transform.

  Another spate of gunfire. I couldn’t fight guns with the Celestial Blade. Scrap and I were useless.

  The bullets intensified on both sides.

  I watched in stunned horror as a bullet crashed into Corporal Bolo’s forehead.

  He looked stunned for half a heartbeat. A dark hole appeared between his eyes. His blood and brains splattered against the trailer wall. Then he slumped to the ground, dead before his knees crumpled.

  Chapter 31

  Up to twenty million bats have been known to live in a single colony inside a cave—Bracken Cave in the central Texas hill country.

  DONOVAN BURST OUT of the trailer, automatic weapon blazing like some movie action hero. I half expected him to spout words in Austrian. He aimed at the figures gathered on the other side of the fence. “Stupid Kajiri fools. Too impatient. Too violent. Too young to know your ass for a hole in your heads. Everything I’ve worked for—ruined!” he screamed as he marched forward.

  Young men and women on the other side of the fence fell bleeding. Crumpled rag dolls thrown into the dirt.

  Their blood smelled like water tasted when tainted by heavy mineral salts—like the lake.

  That’s what these demons smell like, the lake. Donovan smells different, Scrap said, puzzled. Demons are close, their evil counters Donovan’s mojo. We need to go into action, dahling.

  Not until they stop shooting! I protested.

  “Stand down, Estevez!” Vlieger shouted. Wisely, he stayed in the doorway of the trailer, ready to duck back inside the dubious shelter should Donovan turn that horrible weapon on him.

  Donovan paused. His gunfire sputtered to a stop. No one was firing back. No one was left inside the compound to fire back.

  “Stand down and hand me the weapon, Estevez,” Vlieger ordered, like he was speaking to one of his own Marines gone berserk.

  An ugly sneer marred Donovan’s handsome face. But the tip of his gun lowered. His finger on the trigger went slack.

  “Hand me the weapon.” Vlieger stepped down from the doorway. He placed a gentle hand on Donovan’s shoulder as he eased the heavy gun out of his hands with the other. Keeping his eyes on Donovan, Vli
eger handed the gun to the sergeant.

  “Let’s go back inside and talk.”

  “Just lock me up and throw away the key,” Donovan said sadly. He looked toward the half-built casino with longing near despair.

  “I’m sure you can work something out, Donovan,” I said as I crawled out from under Gollum. “The siege of the fort is over.” So why was Scrap still hovering so close to me? Donovan’s presence should chase him away.

  Already I could see Marines breaking through the front gates, weapons at the ready. No one stirred among the fallen defenders.

  “Your crews can get back to work. You’ve only lost one day of work.” I kept up my soothing tone.

  He turned his bleak gaze back to me.

  “Promise you won’t steal the blanket until I get clear of Homeland Security?” He flashed me one of his charming half smiles.

  That might be a very long time. I couldn’t promise him that. I clung to my doubts and distrust with a will as strong as imp wood.

  “We’ll talk when Lieutenant Vlieger is done with you. I’m sure he’ll understand that you couldn’t have been part of the takeover.” He wouldn’t kill his own people just to prove his own innocence, would he?

  A demon would.

  Shaking and numb at the same time, Gollum and I stumbled to my rental car, or what was left of it. The Marines had been very thorough in their search for anything incriminating. The seats lay strewn about the ground. My books had been ripped to shreds. The vehicle sat on its axles, the wheels and tires stacked nearby.

  “Who’s going to pay the damage on this?” I screamed.

  My usually healthy checking account suddenly seemed vastly inadequate to deal with this. I sank onto the ground and stared dumbly at the mess.

  Tess! Scrap screamed at me.

  Before my butt hit the ground a long arm wrapped around my neck and pulled me back.

  I leaned into the arm, thinking it must be Gollum come to console me.

  Scrap dropped into my hand and began to stretch and thin and… and solidify.

  Alarmed, I slammed my left elbow backward. I connected with hard cartilage and bone. And fur. Not a normal chest.

  Curved blades extruded from Scrap’s head and feet.

  Close enough.

  I flipped the Celestial Blade over my head and stabbed the blade into what should be a demon head.

  I missed.

  A thick gun barrel pressed into my temple.

  “Put the blade to rest, or I kill you before you can breathe again,” a deep bass voice growled at me.

  I can’t risk it, babe, Scrap apologized and winked out of view.

  “He was hiding behind the tires, Tess,” Gollum explained.

  He fidgeted and tried to ease around behind me.

  “Stay put, teacher man,” the demon said, pressing the gun tighter against my skull.

  I gulped. Sweat broke out on my brow and my back.

  How could I fight a gun?

  “Everybody stay put, or I waste the chick,” the demon shouted.

  I felt him shift his grip on the trigger.

  Instantly, every Marine within view froze. Even those behind the fence.

  “What does he look like?” I mouthed to Gollum. He may have crept closer. I couldn’t tell. My whole being shook so badly the world seemed to tremble in fear.

  “He’s human,” Gollum replied in a whisper.

  I glanced sideways at the pile of bodies on the other side of the fence. They looked human, too. And there seemed to be a lot fewer of them than when Donovan had first blasted them with his automatic weapon.

  “Wh… what do you want?” I asked the man who held me hostage. My brain finally kicked in, though my feet and hands itched to take him out any way I could, despite the risk to my own life.

  “I want all those fucking Marines out of our home base,” he yelled.

  My ears rang from the volume of his demand.

  “And I want everyone to clear a perimeter half a mile from the fence.”

  The closest Marines edged away from us. Gollum stayed put. He might have come an inch or two closer.

  I couldn’t see how he’d do any good with that honking big gun muzzle pressed against my head and probably a hair trigger for a jumpy guy.

  Prayers. I should have said a prayer. My mind remained blank. I didn’t believe in God anyway. Why should I call for help now when He or She couldn’t give any?

  “And we want a million dollars and Fort Snoqualmie declared an independent and sovereign nation, separate from the rest of the country,” my captor added.

  “I’m not worth that much,” I said, wishing I could joke my way out of this.

  “Someone will come up with the money. You’re a celebrity, after all.”

  “The U.S. government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. They’ll kill me when they storm the fort just to get rid of you.”

  “Let ’em try,” my captor chortled. “Now everyone out of our way. I’m taking her inside. All those Marines in there need to get out now.”

  “Take me instead of her,” Gollum said. He stepped a little closer.

  I gulped. I tried to shake my head no, but the gun barrel kept me immobile.

  “You ain’t worth a damn, teacher man.”

  “My family has money, influence in government. I’m more valuable than she is.”

  “But she has fans that will make a big stink in the press.”

  He prodded my back and pushed me toward the gate.

  Again I noticed the pile of bodies was smaller, down to two or three. Where had they all gone?

  “Gregor, no!” Donovan called from the trailer. “This is about our people, not about any of them. Do you really want to involve outsiders?” He stepped down the one step to the ground and approached us.

  Gregor swung me around, putting my body between himself and Donovan. He began backing up until we pressed into the fence.“This has gotten bigger than you, Estevez. Bigger than me. We have a homeland now, right here at Fort Snoqualmie. No one will dare take it away from us. This woman is our guarantee of that.”

  He pushed and pulled me along the fence until we reached the gate.

  A dozen Marines filed out, all holding their weapons away from their bodies, hands away from the triggers.

  My heart pounded so hard and fast I couldn’t think beyond keeping my knees locked and my body upright.

  I could almost taste the metal of the gun and bullets.

  Gollum and Donovan kept pace with us as we sidled along.

  “Gollum, go take care of Cynthia. And call Leonard. Oh, and call my agent. And I guess you should call my mother. But whatever you do, don’t speak French to her. The numbers are on my cell phone.”

  “Got it.Why shouldn’t I speak French to your mother?”

  “Just don’t.”

  Scrap, what the hell do we do? I implored my imp.

  We play along until the moment is right. I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.

  “Don’t try anything, lady,”Gregor whispered. He yanked me into the compound. One of his friends—risen from the pile of bodies?—slammed the sliding double gate closed.

  “We’ve got guns trained on you from every corner of the compound. And we’ve got this.” He held up a long rope of mistletoe and holly twined together by vines of ivy.

  “So?”

  Scrap gagged and held his throat as if strangling. He turned a sickly neon yellowish green, then winked out.

  “Scrap!”

  “Didn’t know about imp’s bane, lady?” Gregor laughed.

  He released his death grip on me.

  I sank to my knees. Tears streamed down my face and my body shook uncontrollably. What else could go wrong?

  Chapter 32

  Bat mothers nurse their young. Specially adapted milk teeth in the young—teeth that are shed after weaning—allow the babies to cling to Mama’s nipple even during flight.

  “EVERYBODY BACK INSIDE,” Gregor commanded.

  “
They’ve got snipers all around, just waiting for the right moment to pick us off.” He grabbed my hair in one of his oversized fists and dragged me back to my feet.

  I stumbled along in his wake, too shocked and numb to do anything else.

  My total awareness centered on the gun barrel now pressed against my spine.

  And my thirst. I hadn’t eaten or drunk since breakfast.

  How many hours ago?

  “You guys got any beer in here?”

  “What do you care, writer lady? You aren’t going to live long enough to appreciate our beer,” one of the resurrected demons off to my left said.

  Gregor jammed the gun tighter against my spine. I raised my hands in surrender, but couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  “The whole point of taking me hostage is to keep me alive so that those on the outside have hopes of getting me back.” I stopped short of the doorway into the main building. A gray, squat, ugly place with few windows and no grace. “Kill me, and they have no reason to answer your demands. Kill me, and you give them an excuse to nuke the entire place.”

  “She’s right, Kaylor,” Gregor mumbled. “Gotta keep her alive and happy until the outsiders do something smart or incredibly stupid. Then we kill her.”

  “Then bring out the beer, boys. How about some sandwiches, too?”

  “Better than that. We got pizza.”

  My mouth watered.

  Okay, I’m a slave to my stomach. I think better when I’ve been fed.

  As they shoved me against a pile of packing crates that held a microwave and mini fridge, I remembered to pull the comb out of my pocket and jam it into my hair.

  The world seemed to tilt, and colors jumped out at me as if I was tripping on LSD. I saw a halo or aura of fur surrounding each of the demon faces.

  Sasquatch.

  The boys, they all looked to be in their late teens, maybe early twenties, had made a cozy nest for themselves out of brightly striped blankets in a ghastly color scheme, oversized pillows, and packing crates. The place had probably been a warehouse or a hangar originally.

  I arranged a couple of pillows to support my back and butt. My captors faced me in a semicircle, boxes of pizza and six-packs between us. The smell of warm bread and tomato sauce made my stomach growl.