Storm Demon

by Gregory Lamberson

  Jake guided her up the steps. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  When they reached the patio, Jake tried his microphone. “Ripper, can you hear me?”

  Ripper didn’t respond; the water had damaged the headset’s control.

  “We’ve got to catch him before he leaves without us.”

  As they ran by the mansion, cats leapt into the windows, hissed, then jumped out of view to run to the next window.

  Turning the corner, Laurel collapsed beside a garden. “I can’t run anymore.”

  Jake helped her to her feet. “I can’t carry you.”

  “Then leave me. Get the hell out of here while you still can.”

  “I came here for you. I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Now what?” Laurel stared at the sky, her body radiating fear.

  The clouds turned green and grew denser, coalescing into a dark force. Then a swirling pattern formed, spinning in a downward funnel that twisted down to the earth, sucking dust and debris into it.

  The guard with the broken hip and his dead partner lay between them and the tornado. The Hispanic guard rolled onto his chest and crawled toward them with a pained expression, dragging one leg behind him.

  The tornado pulled the dead guard into its vortex, and Jake watched the corpse vanish into the swirling debris. He started toward the surviving guard, but Laurel held him back.

  Two seconds later the tornado sucked the screaming man into its fury. If the second guard’s soul escaped, Jake could not see it. He looked over his shoulder at the pool.

  “Forget the statue. She can’t control it and the tornado at the same time from far away.”

  Jake stared at her with his eye widening. “You’re saying she’s behind that?”

  The tornado, more than forty feet wide at its base and two hundred fifty feet wide where it met the clouds, roared toward them.

  Laurel held out her left hand.

  Grabbing it, Jake raised his voice. “Let’s go back inside. If she’s really controlling this, she won’t trash her mansion.” I hope.

  Laurel dragged him toward the woods at a forty-five-degree angle. “That’s exactly what she wants. We’re safer out here.”

  Running, Jake watched the tornado tear through the lawn, passing within one hundred yards of them. He couldn’t see the woods to determine if Ripper remained waiting for them, and he knew that even if the receiver for his headset still worked, he wouldn’t hear the man’s voice over the tornado’s deafening roar.

  As they passed the garden closer to the woods, the tornado stopped just short of the house and changed direction like a giant top: it pursued them at an incredible speed.

  Laurel jerked his hand, changing direction again. Now they fled toward the driveway in front of the mansion at another forty-five-degree angle. The wind at their backs pushed them faster. They passed the front of the mansion and crossed the yard. Taking the lead, Jake pulled Laurel to the left. They stopped as soon as they reached the row of cherry trees. Behind them, the tornado zigzagged across the side yard, destroying the lawn.

  Taking deep breaths, Jake glanced at Laurel, who nodded her readiness. Turning, they ran along the trees, parallel to the driveway. The woods beckoned two hundred yards to their left, but Jake knew Laurel wouldn’t make it far in there on bare feet. They stood a better chance running for the road at the end of the property.

  The roar grew louder, and as Jake looked behind him the tornado broke from its searching pattern and blew between the woods and the cherry trees, sucking branches, limbs, and entire trees into it. Laurel pulled Jake to her right, crossing the driveway. They ran onto the lawn without any protection except her invisibility spell, and Jake felt exposed and helpless.

  The tornado shifted its trajectory to the right, ripping five cherry trees out of the ground and sending them flying in different directions. Jake and Laurel stopped, trying to calculate the trajectory of one tree that sailed over their heads and struck the lawn ahead of them. They went around it and veered into the driveway, running for the guardhouse ahead.

  Behind them, the tornado resumed its zigzagging pattern, crossing the driveway and tearing up the front lawn. If Laurel was right and Lilian controlled the tornado, she wanted them bad. They reached the guardhouse.

  “Keep going,” Jake said, out of breath.

  “No more . . .”

  He slid his right arm around her waist and pressed his stump against her chest, holding her up. “Walk to the gates but keep moving. When you see them open, go through and hang a left, understand?”

  She nodded, her hair a mess and her eyes dazed. He gave her a gentle push and she staggered forward.

  Then he entered the guardhouse, where he saw a dozen monitors for cameras stationed around the property, all of them feeding into a digital recorder. He jerked the recorder away from its station, disconnecting it from cables, and dropped it on the floor.

  A separate monitor showing the gates overlooked a manual switch, which he threw to one side. On the monitor he saw the gates open. Framed within the back window like a painting, the tornado raced straight toward him. He ran out the side door of the guardhouse and after Laurel, who had already vanished.

  The tornado blasted through the guardhouse, destroying it in seconds like a model made of balsa wood. Jake pumped his legs faster. The roar of the tornado grew louder, and wind whipped at his back, debris stinging his legs. He ran through the gates and made a hard left turn onto the road just as his Maxima screeched to a stop in front of him.

  Sitting behind the wheel, Ripper reached over and opened the passenger door for him.

  Jake jumped in and shut the door.

  Laurel sat in the back, one hand clawing each front seat. “Now back up slowly. We have to be quiet.”

  His face tight with fear, Ripper threw the car into

  reverse and backed up.

  The tornado moved into the road where the vehicle had just been, spewing debris. It stood in place, like a runner debating whether or not to cross the street.

  She made the entire car invisible, Jake thought.

  The tornado veered away from the Maxima.

  “Make a slow U-turn and get us the hell out of here,” Laurel said.

  15

  Ripper executed a three-point turn and floored it, and the Maxima rocketed away from Lilian Kane’s estate, trees blurring on each side of the vehicle.

  Pressed against the seat by velocity, Jake checked his side mirror and watched the tornado move in the opposite direction. He fastened his seat belt, drew his Thunder Ranch, and popped its cylinder open. “How did you make the whole car invisible?”

  Ripper glanced into the rearview mirror.

  Still clutching the seats, Laurel stared ahead. “I created a blind spot around the car that makes it invisible to Lilian’s powers, just like I did with both of us in the yard. Since she wasn’t here she had to rely on her magic to see us, and that’s what I was able to shield us from.”

  Jake fished his speed loader out of his pants pocket. “How the hell is she controlling that tornado?”

  “She created it, just like she did these clouds, and whatever she creates, she controls.”

  With the revolver loaded, Jake snapped its cylinder shut and peered at the dark clouds overhead. “Lilian creates weather?” He holstered the gun and returned the empty speed loader to his pocket. “How does she do that, by rain dancing?”

  “She’s the most powerful witch alive. At least that’s what she told us.”

  Ripper turned in their direction with an incredulous expression.

  “Us?”

  “The members of her coven.”

  “Eternity Books.”

  “You did some research.”

  “That’s how I knew where to find you. Your letter to Jackie sure wasn’t any help.”

  “I was trying to prevent you from doing anything foolish. I should have known better.”

  “Here we are.”

  “I said thank you.”
>
  “Clear skies ahead,” Ripper said.

  “Don’t slow down,” Jake said.

  Gesturing through the windshield, Ripper raised his voice. “Will one of you tell me what the fuck’s going on? I stuck around and saved your hides when I could have taken off, and I rode to the rescue when I saw the lady here run through those gates.”

  Jake peered at the clear, darkening sky. “Keep driving. We’ll piece things together for you as we go.”

  The car passed beneath the edge of the cloud cover.

  “Slow down,” Jake said.

  Ripper eased up on the gas and the Maxima decelerated.

  Laurel stared out the back window. “If I drop the shield while the clouds are still visible, she’ll see us.”

  “You’re a witch, too?” Ripper said.

  “I used to be.”

  “This is some fucked-up shit.”

  “Cheer up,” Jake said. “You doubled your pay.”

  “I should be getting a hell of a lot more than that for tangling with witches and shit.”

  “A deal’s a deal. Besides, who believes in witches? There’s no such thing.”

  “That statue came to life. I saw it. I shot it over and over, and that Robocop gun didn’t do shit. Now she says the queen bee sent that tornado after us, and I believe her. You should have seen those clouds roll in out of nowhere. I wanted to bolt.”

  “You’re awfully willing to suspend your disbelief,” Jake said.

  “I believe in the occult.”

  “I’d have asked you for help sooner if I’d known that.”

  Ripper glanced at Jake’s stump. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Jake turned to Laurel. “I know your connection to Kane but nothing else. What did you do to her that drove you into hiding and made her come after you?”

  “If you want to spill secrets in front of a stranger, spill your own.”

  “Touché. That bag back there has my jeans in it. You’re welcome to them. Just take my wallet out.”

  Laurel unzipped the bag and took out his jeans. “Good thing there’s a belt.”

  “Are we going back to the office?” Ripper said.

  “Yes,” Jake said.

  “That’s the first place she’ll look for us,” Laurel said as she pulled on the jeans.

  “No kidding. I paid her a visit today and she knew who I was.”

  “You can’t fight tornadoes.”

  “I don’t plan to.”

  “She’ll come after us with everything she’s got. Wait until you see what she can do face-to-face.”

  “If Manhattan’s the first place she’ll look for us, then she’s going to do damage whether we go there or not. At least I have resources at my place. I’d rather take my chances facing her with them now than without them whenever she tracks us down.”

  “Why did you bother rescuing me if you were just going to take me back to where she found me in the first place?”

  “It’s in my nature.”

  “Did you two used to be married?” Ripper said.

  Jake looked at Laurel and they smiled.

  “We understand each other,” Jake said.

  “My girl’s back in New York, so that’s where I’m going.” Ripper nodded at Jake. “You’re not wearing your jacket anymore. Do you plan to wear your piece at the tolls?”

  With difficulty, Jake leaned forward and removed the shoulder holster, which he stuffed into the side compartment of his door.

  “Uh, those clouds are following us,” Ripper said.

  “She knows where we’re going,” Laurel said.

  Jake turned on the radio and searched for a weather station.

  Edgar grabbed a slice at a corner pizzeria and walked to Jake’s office building. Streetlights came on as dusk settled over the city, and he didn’t think twice about seeing the Tower reaching into the clear evening sky.

  He passed a Cajun restaurant where he and Jake had eaten several times, then stopped outside the psychic parlor near the entrance to Jake’s building. He had passed the parlor every time he had come to see Jake and had never set foot inside. Why would he? He didn’t believe in psychics, tarot card readers, or palm readers. But something drew him to the storefront now. Gazing at his reflection in the front window, which had closed curtains behind it, he felt that he had been inside before. Had Jake taken him in there during his time as a raven? If so, he had never said anything to him about it.

  Moving to the door, Edgar tried the doorknob, but it was locked. After business hours.

  Then he took out his phone and called home.

  Joyce answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Where are you? I’m cooking pot roast.”

  He didn’t want to tell her, but he had lost his taste for meat. “I’m standing outside Jake’s building. I need to see him and then I’ll come home.”

  “How was your day?”

  He sighed. “About like I expected.”

  “The phone won’t stop ringing.”

  “Reporters?”

  “Word of your return is out.”

  Damn. “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “Don’t be. It’s a small price to pay to have you back. I told them I don’t know where you’re staying. I’m afraid that if I unplug the phone they’ll just show up here.”

  “Do it anyway and don’t answer the door. I’ll call your cell when I’m close.” He ended the call, stepped into the vestibule, and pressed the buzzer for Jake’s office.

  “Yes?” a woman said.

  Edgar knew that Jake had a part-time bookkeeper, and Jake had told him Carrie now worked as his full-time office manager. “I’m here to see Jake.”

  “We’re closed. He isn’t here. Come back tomorrow.”

  “My name’s Edgar Hopkins. I used to be Jake’s partner.”

  A moment passed and then the door buzzed.

  Edgar entered the lobby and rode the elevator to the fourth floor. His footsteps echoed in the corridor as he walked to Jake’s office. He tried the door but it was locked, so he rang the bell.

  A moment later the door opened, and a woman about four and a half feet tall with piercings and tattoos stood before him. If Jake had told him Carrie was a dwarf, Edgar had forgotten that bit of information.

  “Come in then,” Carrie said, turning away from the door.

  Edgar watched her walk to her desk in leather platform boots that added six inches to her height. She wore tattered fishnet stockings, a leather miniskirt, and a bright blue belly shirt.

  Some dress code, he thought as he closed the door.

  “Jake’s on an assignment. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “Are you working late?”

  “No, I’m waiting for him.”

  “Then I’ll wait, too.”

  “He could be a while.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got time.” In truth, he wanted to get to Brooklyn to see Joyce and Martin, but he needed to see Jake. He looked around the sparse office. “I’d like to wait in his office.”

  Her smile oozed sarcasm. “I can’t allow that.”

  “All right.” He sat in one of the chairs in the corner.

  As the lights of the Triborough Bridge gleamed in the settling darkness, Jake looked out his window. Clouds raced across the Harlem River. Water appeared to rise from the river, forming a cylinder that reached the clouds.

  “Mother-father,” he said. “We’ve got company.”

  The waterspout must have been two hundred feet wide and five times as high. It crossed the river parallel to the bridge, but halfway across it veered over at an angle, moving closer to the bridge.

  Ripper weaved the car in and out of lanes.

  “Stay steady,” Laurel said. “She’s looking for breaks in the traffic patterns to locate us.”

  Ripper drew in a breath and slowed down.

  “That’s better.”

  They got off the bridge and merged onto FDR Drive, and Jake lost sight of t
he waterspout. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Ripper sat forward. Jake and Laurel turned at the same time. Through the back window, Jake saw a tornado barreling down the FDR at one hundred miles per hour. “Crap,” he said.

  The tornado raced along the FDR and hurled speeding cars out of its path, scattering them like toys, throwing them as far as thirty feet away. It absorbed a Lexus, which vanished within it.

  Ripper stepped on the gas, accelerating to one hundred miles an hour, shifting from lane to lane, racing the other speeding cars.

  One hundred feet above the ground, the Lexus emerged from the tornado upside down and sailed spinning through the air.

  Oh, my God, Jake thought.

  The Lexus crashed onto the highway, its front end flattening, and rolled several times, causing other vehicles to spin out of control. Jake glimpsed gold light flickering inside the demolished Lexus.

  “Do you still want to go back to Manhattan?” Laurel said.

  “The end game isn’t just to rescue you anymore. It’s to stop her,” Jake said. “We can’t do that unless we’re close to where she is.”

  The tornado bore down on them.

  “I can’t go any faster without crashing,” Ripper said.

  Jake read the speedometer: one hundred and ten. The car shook.

  He looked at Laurel. “Any ideas?”

  With fear visible in her eyes, she shook her head.

  “Slow down, pull a U-ie, and skirt along the edge of the highway in the opposite direction. Maybe we can squeeze by it without getting sucked in.”

  “You’re bugging,” Ripper said.

  “You’re our only hope.”

  Ripper took his foot off the gas and the Maxima

  decelerated.

  The approaching tornado sucked an SUV into its vortex and spat it out in the opposite direction. The debris inside the cone filled the rear window.

  “It’s going to be on top of us before we slow down enough to turn,” Ripper said.

  Jake stared at the speedometer: sixty miles an hour. “Step on the brakes!”

  Ripper screamed and slammed on the brakes, and the car shook from the force of the oncoming tornado. Just when Jake thought the tornado would swallow them, Ripper jerked the steering wheel hard right and continued to turn it even as the car went into a spin so fast that Jake thought the tornado had them.