The voice of the Goddess answered:
So be it.
***
Celine angled around, stepping onto the transfer table outside the new mill. Inside, Jason and the bigger wolf were killing each other. She stepped forward slowly, gun raised, and made her way onto the main cutting floor where double saw blades used to rip through massive logs of Douglas-fir. She stepped over the remains of carriages, rolls, and turners. The shadowed figures shifted and whirled before her. Rain streamed down through the mostly-missing roof. The bigger beast drove the smaller one through the remains of the wooden wall between the cutting floor and the old mill. Celine circled for a better view…
And spotted a man walking through the rough drying shed. He had a weapon raised. Celine squeezed her trigger, and the figure fell. The two beasts came crashing back toward her. She shuffled backward, tripped on the bottom step of the staircase leading to the catwalk, then turned and hurried up it. From the higher vantage point maybe she could get a bead on the larger wolf.
Beneath her, the animals battled furiously. Celine aimed… the bigger beast grabbed hold of the other and both animals spun, gnashing, rending…
Come on, just give me a shot. One clean shot…
CHAPTER FIFTY
CJ made his way behind the machine shop to where the log pond had once been. He ran to stand behind what was left of the boathouse, stopped, and listened closely. Among the patter of rain he heard a creaking noise… somebody walking on the narrow dock that wound around the boathouse and dynamite shack, ending at the dry rollway. He ejected the magazine from the AK.
Two rounds left. He should have taken the weapons from the men he had shot; should have checked Mamba for a gun. Stupid. He was in such a hurry, not thinking. No time to cry about it, this fucker was going after Jason. Therefore, the bitch must die.
Weapon raised, CJ swung around the corner of the boat house toward the dock, just as a skinny man in a baseball cap stepped out from the dynamite shack. The other man was holding a rifle, and aimed it straight at CJ.
He dove between the buildings as bullets ripped through the rotting wooden walls. An idea hit him suddenly; he rolled into the mud under the dock and waited, aiming the AK up at an angle. Water poured through the spaces between boards as the other man stepped out onto the walkway. CJ held his breath and pulled the trigger, blasting the final two rounds up through the planks…
And heard the satisfying sound of a body dropping off of the dock and hitting the wet ground.
After scooting out from under the walkway he went to the man, who looked very much dead. Sounds of crashing and thrashing came from inside the mill's main floor. CJ dropped the AK and picked up the dead man's weapon, what looked like an AR-15—something he had never fired before.
Then he ran across the back of the property to where he could see into the open main cutting floor. There, two shadowy forms were locked in the mother of all dog fights—one of the fuckers was huge. It swung a tree-branch sized arm at the smaller one's head. The shorter one locked its fangs on the elbow and shook viciously. The bigger creature brought its left fist down on the top of the smaller one's head…
There was just enough light from the machine shop fire for him to make out the forms. Then, lightning crashed, revealing both of them in brief detail. CJ gaped, mouth open, awestruck. These were wolf-men. Fucking werewolves.
Jesus Christ how cool is that?
But one of them was Jason, and CJ thought he knew which. He needed to be closer, needed to be sure, before he took a shot. He hopped up onto the log deck, lifted the butt of the AR to his shoulder, and stepped on to the main cutting floor. His breath caught.
The smaller form wasn't moving anymore.
***
Celine had sighted in on the giant wolf when her peripheral vision caught the new man walking onto the floor from the back of the mill. The figure was little more than a shadow in the darkness, but that shadow was raising a weapon toward Jason.
No you don't, motherfucker…
Celine put her sights on the figure and pulled the trigger.
***
The big fucker was grasping the smaller one by the neck now.
CJ took aim at the bigger wolf, and hesitated for just a split second. What if he was wrong?
In that very same second, CJ simultaneously heard automatic gunfire and felt several impacts to his chest, stomach, and groin. He looked up and saw the dark outline of someone kneeling on the catwalk.
Shit. Shit shit shit… I hope they don't get Jason. Fuck. I… failed…
All of the strength was quickly leaving his body. He was vaguely aware of the AR dropping from his grasp as he stumbled backward and fell out into the cold, pounding rain and then… then he was staring up at the lightning-strobing clouds… and that coldness was working its way deeper and deeper into his body.
I fucked up, Jason. I'm sorry Bro, I'm so sorry…. At least I killed that fucker Mamba. Alice. I think maybe I loved you Alice… I think—
The last thing CJ heard, or thought he heard before he closed his eyes and let the darkness and the cold overtake him, was the booming of thunder.
***
The giant wolf held the other one up with one hand, choking it. The other wolf had stopped kicking and clawing. All of this Celine noticed as she swung her weapon back into position. But before she could re-aim at the giant wolf, gunshots rang out. The big animal looked in the direction of the boiler house, dropped to all fours, and charged.
Ghost.
Celine took the stairs as quickly as possible without stomping right through the rotting wood. Once on the main floor she sprinted toward the old mill and the entrance to the boiler room on the structure's far side. She could barely see the beast approaching the threshold and then disappearing, falling from sight with a crash.
***
Get up.
From the blackness, images appeared in the Jason beast's mind: Trish, Mom, Celine…
An outside voice; Her voice: You have no strength left. Concede. Your time is done.
No!
Holding on to those faces, the beast stirred. It pinpointed the direction in which its enemy had run…
And it chased.
***
Celine was rushing forward when she heard the creak of planks and felt a rush of wind as the wolf—Jason, bolted past her toward the boiler house. Celine followed. In the enclosed space the firelight was barely filtering in. Celine saw a dark shape, that she assumed to be Jason, leap into the floor. The figure slashed in a frenzy, ripping, raking, clawing, taking full advantage of his superior position; a position that once again left Celine with no shot. As her eyes adjusted further she could make out that the hole in the planks Jason had jumped into was lined by carpet. She realized what Ghost must have done: he had replaced the planks she and Jason had laid down with rotting wood, just enough to hold the carpet, and he had spread the carpet over the hole where the mill engine's flywheel had once sat. He had then used the gunfire to lure the big animal into his trap.
Pretty smart, kid.
She could see the kid's shadowy figure now, too. He was backed up into the boiler house, watching.
There was a tearing and popping sound. Jason reared up, whipped his head to one side and ejected something unrecognizable that hit the floor with a wet smack. He then stood, his body projecting halfway out of the floor and looked at Ghost… who took two cautious steps backward. Celine couldn't quite make out his features, but she could barely see the gun he still held in one shaking hand.
Would his serum work? If not, Jason would attack the kid, and then… if the kid didn't shoot him he'd turn on Celine. What then? What about Trish and Bethany? What if Celine was forced to…
No. No no no no! Don't even think that.
Celine's problem was solved, however… as Jason turned away from Ghost, leapt out of the hole, then dropped to all fours. Even in the dim light she could tell he was in bad shape. She had already seen earlier that he was bleeding from multip
le wounds and gashes, but Celine felt confident those wounds would heal, given—
With a snarl the giant wolf rose from the pit to a standing position. Lightning revealed a black hollow in the center of its neck. Jason had ripped out his enemy's throat, but the bastard wasn't dead.
Silver. Silver bullets were needed to finish the job. Celine unloaded the rest of her clip into the behemoth, taking grim satisfaction in watching his furry body dance in the muzzle flashes. She fired until there were no bullets left. And then, thankfully, she saw the immense shape collapse once more into the pit. Ghost had been smart enough to take cover.
When she looked over, Celine saw that Jason had made his way out to the old mill. She followed through the structure and the runnels of rainwater, across the cutting floor to the log deck, where the wolf crawled to the edge, and collapsed. It sniffed at the air there and then let out one long, pitiful howl.
What was that about? She didn't think it was caused by his pain… she walked to the edge and looked down onto the ground at the man she had shot earlier. In one brief lightning flash she could clearly see his face.
Jesus Christ…
CJ.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Jason spent four hours digging the grave.
It had taken all morning… the biggest question he had was whether or not the body would remain undisturbed. He could have dug the grave out in the woods, out by the mill, or somewhere else where no one would ever find it… but that didn't seem right. So he had come here, to Clearcut Cemetery, found an unused patch of land, and dug the hole.
The headstone was a cross made from two pieces of wood they had found and lashed together. The crosspiece simply read: "CJ. He died a brother."
Celine had been quiet since sunrise. She stood now, still and silent as Jason planted the cross. His mom, Trish, and Ghost were waiting down the hill with the vehicles. At first light they had piled as much of the lab equipment as they could fit into the Bronco that had been left behind on the logging road. Jason had taken the Ford F-150 at Celine's insistence. Celine had driven her Jeep.
They were making the assumption that nobody would report the vehicles stolen. However, once a full investigation into the events at Speakers' Mill took place, it wouldn't take long for authorities to piece together that the vehicles were missing. Fortunately, Ghost knew of a chop shop in Salem that would not only take the vehicles, but offer up replacements. They would have to trade down but beggars couldn't be choosers.
Jason was going to have to get used to life on the run. But Mom and Trish… he hoped that Mom's sister in Texas would take them in. The two had grown apart over the past several years, but given the circumstances, Jason was pretty sure his aunt would help out.
And Ghost… he had been grateful enough to Jason for saving his life that he swore to continue working on the cure, and to provide receptor-blocking doses for Trish for as long as she needed them. He thought then about how amazing his sister was.
Her immunity could save us all. She's the key.
With the cross planted, Jason stood and directed his thoughts back to CJ. He said: "I'm not religious… not really good with this kind of thing, but… I don't know, I just want to say that whatever there was to forgive… is forgiven. Rest easy, Brother."
He waited for Celine to say something, but she only turned and walked away. Jason worried. When Celine got like this, it usually meant that she had gone to a deep, dark place. He had told her over and over again throughout the morning that he didn't blame her for shooting CJ. He had said it as convincingly as he possibly could. His body ached throughout his muscles right down to the bone. The wounds he had suffered from Carter had mostly healed, but standing here looking down at that cross and thinking about the deaths of Father Dreiling and his wife, and CJ.... He was tragically aware of a pain that ran to the core of him; of wounds that would surely take a lifetime to heal, if they ever healed at all.
Celine knew what she had to do. It wasn't going to be easy… but if there was anything she had discovered she was good at—hell, natural at—it was doing the difficult thing (Like shooting and killing your boyfriend's best friend); saying what others wouldn't say, doing what they wouldn't do.
That didn't change the fact that it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch. But her mind was made up. And when her mind was made up, that was that. When they got back to the vehicles, Celine called Jason over. She glanced at Ghost leaning against the Bronco, working on a Rubik's Cube. Her eyes flickered to Trish in her wheelchair, arms fully extended, glowing face smiling up at the clouded sky, open mouth catching the first drops of rain… she looked at Bethany, smiling down at Trish, wiping a tear from her cheek. She turned then to Jason.
"I'm not going to Salem," she said.
Jason frowned and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets… a jacket that had belonged to Roland. Jason looked like a kid in it.
"What? Why?"
Celine rubbed her hands against the cold. "I learned a lot about myself in the last few months… what I am, what I'm not. I tried… I tried doing it your way. Tried being someone I wasn't; tried to bury what's inside me and I never felt so goddamn weak…" she was turning red, remembering Bagby and the Dreilings. "So useless. On top of that when I tried it your way I fucking killed CJ…"
"It wasn't—"
"Don't say it wasn't my fault!" She yelled. Crying now. She hated crying. It just made her angrier.
Jason looked back at the others, then again at Celine. "That's why you were such a hardass about me taking the truck…"
"Yeah, that's why I was such a hardass. And I am, Jason… I am a hardass. That's how I'm built. This thing inside of me… in a lot of ways it's not so far from the real me. And I know that makes you sick but that's the way it is."
Jason took a step toward her. "We can figure something out."
Celine took a step back, next to the Jeep's driver's side door. "I need to be away. From everyone."
"For how long?" Jason's eyes were watering now too.
Celine shook her head.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too," Celine said as she opened the door. She climbed into the seat, stuck the key in the ignition, and closed the door. Jason walked up to the window. "You said you'd always be a part of my life."
"I will," Celine said as she started the engine, put the Jeep in gear, and pulled away.
***
Ten minutes later on the interstate Celine pulled over and cried her eyes dry. She beat at the steering wheel and screamed at the top of her lungs. She only felt mildly better when she finally rolled back onto the blacktop.
EPILOGUE: BLOOD MOON
It took Celine six months…
During that time she familiarized herself with the lowlifes, the criminal element, the drug addicts… she made enough connections to find a chop shop other than the one Ghost knew of in Salem. In Washington State she traded her Jeep for a 1970s Chrysler Newport. She slept in her car and in flophouses and she rationed her money the way someone in the desert would ration water. When the times of the turning came, she sought out remote locations where the wolf would run free, driven by the goddess' voice to kill, but unable to shed the blood of anything more than small animals.
The first time Celine had heard her and Jason's name on the radio was surreal. It just drove home what she had known but chosen not to think about; she was a fugitive. She bought a wig, wore sunglasses, avoided going out in public as much as possible. Jason was in her thoughts constantly; she spent her days dreading the announcement that he had been captured. But as weeks had turned into months, that announcement never came. She came to believe that he had a chance. Maybe they both did. Through it all she remained focused on her single objective. She used every trick learned from reading a hundred different true crime novels… as well as the same tried and true investigative methods handed down by her father: research, human intelligence, and surveillance. She made connections, asked questions, used common sense and pushed farther and farth
er north. She followed a trail that was faint at first, but took on a more distinct form until at last she found herself just across the Washington state border into Canada.
Once there, when she knew she was close, Celine took the automatic weapon that she had kept from the attack on the Dreiling farm and she sold it. With part of the money she purchased a camping lantern, a hasp, staple, and lock.
***
Ragged breathing sounds filled the pitch-black, enclosed space. There were rustling noises as her prey came to. Celine leaned over and lit the lantern. Its flickering light revealed the old man sitting twelve feet across from her, back to the curved wall:
Boil.
With the underworld connections she had made, finding a syringe and a drug that would put his ass to sleep wasn't at all difficult. This close to the turning, knocking him out before administering the drug was easy too.
The wrinkled piece of meat squinted, trying to take in his surroundings.
"That light too bright for you?" She asked. "Damn shame you went and lost your sunglasses."
She was sitting across from him, arms wrapped around herself, breath fogging in the frigid October air. The sweats she wore did little to fend off the cold, but soon it wouldn't matter.
Her prey fumbled with his right hand behind his back. "Your gun?" Celine said. "It's in my car outside. Was that the gun you used to kill my dad?"
The shitbag didn't answer; only looked around at the metal walls which encircled them. "We're in an old silo," she said, then nodded to their left. "There's an unloading door there." The lantern light showed the bottom-hinged door, with the hasp she had bought at the top, a combination lock secured to the staple. "You'd need to put in the right combination if you want to get out," she continued, then looked at her watch—Boil's watch, actually—and said "good luck figuring that out in the next eight minutes."
"You know what happens next, when the moon comes up…" She'd rip through her sweats but that was okay. She didn't want to give the old man a peep show before he died. He didn't deserve to see a naked woman in his final moments.
Whisper Lake (The Turning Book 2) Page 33