by Simon Holt
“What it’s like in the darkness. I’m the only one who understands what you’ve lived through. What you’re living with now.”
Reggie pulled away, but Quinn continued.
“You feel a shadow around you. Inside you. Growing. And it terrifies you. I know what you fear most, Reggie.”
“Stop…”
“Turning into one of us.”
Reggie stepped back, and now she was pressed against the wall. Quinn drew nearer so that he loomed over her. She could feel his lean but strong body against her own, and she wondered if he noticed how hard she was breathing.
He raised his hand and drew it gently down her cheek. Reggie felt tears springing up and tried to look away, but Quinn turned her chin upward so that his eyes were looking down into hers.
“The darkness gives you power,” he murmured. His colorless lips were inches from her own. “More power than any human. Don’t deny it. Use it. You and I are more alike than you think.”
Reggie shuddered and pushed him back.
“I will never be like you,” she said through gritted teeth. “You disgust me.” She ran to the edge of the storm drain. The clouds seemed to be clearing up and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. She hadn’t heard the motorcycles in some time. She pulled on the grate; it clanged back and forth but held fast. “Unlock it.”
Without another word, Quinn unlocked the gate and swung it open. Reggie dragged her bike out of the storm drain, and Quinn watched her silently as she sped down the path toward town.
12
Reggie found Henry playing in his room when she got home. She strode through his door and wrapped her arms around him in a great bear hug.
“Reggie, that hurts,” Henry complained.
“Sorry. I was just worried.”
“Why? I’m fine.”
Reggie sat down next to him on the floor.
“Henry, you know how you told me the other night that you got that funny feeling, like the heat was being sucked out of you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Have you ever gotten that feeling before?”
Henry thought for a moment.
“I don’t think so.”
“You’ve never felt it when you were at Thornwood? Or with Dr. Unger?”
Henry shook his head.
“No. Why?”
Reggie sighed. It was comforting that her brother hadn’t expressly felt the Vours’ presence at the hospital, but it wasn’t proof positive that they hadn’t infiltrated it. She wasn’t sure when this ability of his had developed; maybe it was something relatively new.
“Henry, you can’t go to Thornwood anymore. It’s too dangerous.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing yet. I just found some things out—Vours might be at Thornwood.”
“What?” Henry started backward, knocking over a toy pirate ship. The pieces scattered everywhere.
“No, I don’t want you to be scared!” Reggie insisted. Internally she swore at herself for dumping such information on him so casually. “It’s just something I heard. Maybe it’s not true, but it’s too risky. I’m going to talk to Dad—I’ll make up some excuse why you can’t go there anymore. I’m sorry, Hen—I know Dr. Unger was helping you. We’ll find you someone else really good.”
Reggie began gathering up the plastic pieces of ship.
“Why did you think I felt those things when I was at Thornwood?” Henry asked.
Reggie sat up on her heels.
“What?”
“My heat being sucked out. Why would that happen at Thornwood?”
Reggie hesitated. She worried that if Henry did have an internal Vour detector, it might freak him out too badly to know about it. Sometimes not knowing Vours could be anyone around you was a blessing.
“I want you to tell me what it is,” Henry said. “I’m not a baby. I won’t be afraid.”
Reggie knelt back down on the floor.
“I know you’re not a baby, Hen. But these are really scary things, and I don’t want you to have to deal with them.”
“But I’m already dealing with them. Sometimes I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”
Reggie bit her thumbnail.
“I know. I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Henry said. “Everyone’s always sorry. That doesn’t do any good. I want to know what’s happening to me.”
“Henry—”
“Am I turning back into a Vour?”
“What?” Reggie jerked her head up.
“Is my heat going away because I’m turning back into a Vour?”
“God—no!” Reggie pulled him into a hug, but he remained still. “No, that’s not it at all. Don’t ever think that!”
Henry’s face was resolute, but he was breathing fast, and his lips trembled.
“Well, what then?” he asked.
“It’s just… okay.” Reggie sat back, keeping her gaze even with Henry’s. “Look, we’re not totally positive or anything, but Aaron and I were thinking that… maybe that feeling you get is a sign… a sign that Vours are nearby. Like a warning. It gets stronger when they’re closer.”
“But it happened the other night in our house!”
“I know,” Reggie said quickly. “There must have been a Vour outside someplace, and you sensed it.”
“Oh my gosh.” Terror flitted across Henry’s face, but he stayed calm.
“Don’t worry, Henry,” Reggie went on. She stroked the side of his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you. If anything, this is a good thing. It will help you avoid Vours.”
Henry shook his head.
“But if you think there are Vours at Thornwood, wouldn’t I have felt them already?”
“It might not be that simple. Maybe it’s still developing. Maybe you just haven’t felt them there yet. But that’s why I don’t want you to go back.”
Henry pulled his knees up to his chin and sat huddled like that for several minutes, pensive and silent. Reggie watched him anxiously.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” she said. “It’s so much to handle, and after everything you’ve already been through—”
“I can try it out Tuesday.” Henry looked up at her. “Dad told me we’re all supposed to go for another family session, and he’s going to make you come.”
“What? No. No way. I don’t want you anywhere near that place. And if you ever get that feeling again, I want you to run.”
“I’m tired of being scared,” Henry said softly. “I was always running in the fearscape, running away from the scary things.” He stood up and put his hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “You made me face them, remember? That’s how we got out. That’s what we should do now.”
“Henry, you shouldn’t be involved in this.”
“Why not? Because I’m younger than you? I’ve seen the same things. And now I want to fight back. So we’re going to Thornwood on Tuesday.”
Henry crossed his arms and stared sternly at Reggie. She was surprised to see the same look her mother used to give her when she was serious about something.
It was actually a good plan, one that could possibly save her a lot of time. Both she and her father would be there; Henry wouldn’t really be in any unnecessary danger. More than anything she was astonished at his resolve, his courage. She had no right to dictate what he could and couldn’t do—he’d beaten a fearscape, after all.
“Tuesday?”
“At ten.”
“Let’s do it.”
Aaron had kept his phone on and by his pillow all night in case Mitch called, but he had heard nothing more from him by morning. Though technically the first day of summer break, Aaron rose early and headed to Something Wicked; he had to open the shop this morning since Eben had errands to run in Fredericks. Aaron suspected those errands involved Vours, but Eben stonewalled him every time he asked. If Aaron was to learn anything about Eben’s connection to these monsters, he was going to have to find out in more se
cretive ways.
One of the things Aaron liked most about working for Eben was that his boss didn’t believe in busywork. Once the Internet orders were packed and shipped (all two of them), the incoming books received and shelved, Aaron was free to read. Every shift he dusted off old pulps, horror reprints, science texts, and horror history books. In the past six months, both at home and at work, he had obsessively researched monster lore of all kinds. Before Sorry Night Aaron had always preferred true crime—before the fairy-tale nightmares called the Vours became true stories themselves.
Today, Aaron spent the hours combing through volume after volume, determined to unearth something useful about the monsters and what link existed between them and the solstices. Even if the answer lay in myth, it would be a place to start. But the going was slow, and he found very little to help him.
The bookstore was like a cave, dark and cool, the air-conditioning turned up high to help preserve the aging tomes. Normally Aaron appreciated the atmosphere, especially compared to the sweltering summer outside, but now, alone amid the scent of old paper and mustiness, his memories of the Vour in his head closed in on him. Focusing on his research and on how he could help Reggie was the only thing that kept the mania at bay. Time was running out.
Right up until closing he scoured Unspeakable Cults but found more of the same trite tales—accounts of demented charlatans, demon worshippers, and dark spirit conjurers, but nothing shed further light on the secrets of the Vours.
The bell above the door chimed just before seven o’clock. Eben knocked dirt from his shoes with his cane and stepped inside. It bothered Aaron that Eben still used the cane, now that he’d witnessed just how capable he really was. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, Aaron still heard the sickening crack of Quinn’s wrist moments before Eben let the monster sink into the freezing lake. He locked the door and flipped the sign over in the window.
There was much to fear about the old man. But deep down, Aaron knew they needed him, even if Reggie refused to believe it.
“Find any first edition Poes today, boss? Can we retire rich?”
He slid the book beneath the counter behind the register.
“Nothing but junk today. Though the drive was rather pleasant. So much green this time of year.”
Eben walked behind the counter and hung up his hat. He eyed the title of the book beneath the register and shook his head in disappointment. “After all you’ve been through, you’re still sticking your nose where it can get chopped off? Let it go, boy.”
“Believe me, I want to.” Aaron followed Eben to the register. “Are you going to tell me what you did to that detective to get me out of jail?”
“No.”
“Candy? Flowers?”
“Enough. I’ve warned you too often.” Eben glared at Aaron. “But you’re not the only one I should be warning, am I right?”
Aaron said nothing. The old man leaned toward him, his gray eyes boring into the boy’s own.
“What does she mean to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need you to tell me.”
“Eben, I don’t know anything.”
“You’re a bad liar, boy. If you let her get in harm’s way again, could you live with yourself? Tell me what she’s planning.”
Aaron bit his lip. He made a decision.
“There’s a Vour at school. He came after her the other day. Reggie didn’t want me to tell you, but I trust you can listen and not flip out.”
Eben clutched Aaron’s shoulder. His fingers tensed like a clamp. Aaron pulled away, startled by the elderly man’s grip.
“Or maybe not.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She thinks she can save him.”
The color drained from Eben’s face. “And what do you think?”
“I think she’s braver than all of us.”
“She’s a fool. You’re both fools.”
“Look, I’m not saying I agree with her, but—”
“Then convince her that this path is reckless—worse, downright idiotic! It’s suicide!”
“Don’t you think I’ve told her this, Eben?” said Aaron. “It doesn’t matter. Reggie is the hero in this story, no matter what you and I think.” Eben glared at him icily. Aaron could feel his pulse quickening. “Did you ever ask yourself, why her? It’s because she’s just better than us. She chooses to fight, to save the victim, at risk to herself. I don’t like it—I hate it! But it’s what makes her the perfect one to fight the Vours. And there’s nothing you or I can do about it except watch her back!”
Eben slapped Aaron across the face. Aaron staggered back, cupping his cheek in shock.
“This isn’t one of your novels!” Eben shouted at him. “The villain can’t be vanquished, and the hero won’t win!” He grabbed Aaron by the collar. “There are fates far worse than mortal death. Do you understand? I will not let her risk a suffering beyond human understanding for the slim hope of saving strangers! Would you? Would you let her soul die for this?”
Aaron ripped himself free from the old man’s white-knuckled grip and pushed him hard in the chest. Eben stumbled backward, tripped on a box of books, and fell. A dull crack pierced the air as Eben struck the wooden floor.
Protruding from the thin, liver-spotted skin on Eben’s wrist was bone, blackened and brittle, like a chicken wing left to burn in an oven. Droplets of dark blood seeped from the wound.
“Eben!”
Then the man convulsed and broke into a horrific coughing spasm. He gasped for breath but choked on a wetness building in his throat and lungs. His eyes widened and he tried to stand, but a stream of red and gray ooze poured from his mouth and nostrils.
Aaron stood, frozen in shock and disgust.
Eben extended his broken arm upward and hacked, noxious fluid spraying from his mouth. Aaron snatched the phone from the counter and dialed 9-1-1 while he knelt and cradled Eben’s head. The emergency operator picked up on the first ring.
“Send an ambulance! My boss—”
“No! Aaron!” Eben gurgled, slapping at the phone.
“My boss collapsed. There’s blood…”
“Please… don’t…”
“The Something Wicked bookstore on Main. Send someone. Please, send them now.”
Aaron dropped the phone and lifted Eben into an upright position, hoping to ease his coughing. He tried not to look, but his eyes moved involuntarily to the diseased bone sticking out of the man’s wrist.
It was gruesome and unnatural. Repulsive.
The coughing continued, though Eben’s breath now drew a bit easier and the flow of bloody toxins from his mouth and nose slowed to a trickle.
“Eben. I’m so sorry…”
Eben closed his eyes and shook his head, pained by something much greater than his physical injuries.
“It’s all over now. I am found out.”
13
Reggie raced into the Cutter’s Wedge Emergency Room lobby. The place smelled like an infected wound soaked in bleach. When Aaron had called her and told her about Eben, all of her anger had turned to worry for the man she had once loved like a second father.
Reggie pressed her palms against the cool marble counter. The clerk on the opposite side had thin wisps of yellowish gray hair and thick glasses that made his brown eyes look cartoonish.
“Can I help you?”
“Where is Eben Bloch? An ambulance brought him in—”
Aaron’s long fingers clutched her arm. “Come on, he’s on the third floor.”
They moved quickly to an open elevator and dashed inside as the doors closed. Fluorescent bulbs lit the small space, and canned music played from the speakers. Shivers erupted over Reggie’s skin as the tune summoned up the hospital images from her brother’s fearscape in her head: the demon infants, the cancerous ghosts of dead children, the monstrous surgeon—all of the visceral horrors from her memories pressed down upon her. She felt the acidic burn of the surgeon’s needle in her neck, the b
ites of the fanged baby zombies in her calves and thighs…
“Reggie? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I just don’t like hospitals.”
Aaron took her hand and held it until they stopped on the third floor and the doors dinged opened again.
They approached the nurse’s station, where a young woman sat and scribbled onto one of many medical charts stacked beside her.
“Hi,” Aaron said nervously. “We’re here to see Eben Bloch?”
The nurse shook her head and stood up.
“Dr. Kwan wants him to rest. No visitors for the evening. Perhaps first thing in the morning? I’m sorry.”
“But I’m his daughter,” Reggie lied. Aaron said nothing.
The nurse shuffled through her charts and examined one closely.
“This says Mr. Bloch has no immediate family.”
“We’ve been—estranged,” Reggie stammered. “Please. I’m all he’s got.”
The nurse looked around furtively, put down her clipboard and then stepped out from behind the station. She looked to Aaron.
“You will need to stay here.”
Aaron nodded respectfully.
“Thank you,” Reggie squeezed Aaron’s hand.
“Take your time. I’ll be here.”
Reggie drew a deep breath and followed the nurse down the hall and around a corner to the farthest room in the unit. Outside the door the nursed stopped and turned.
“Put these on.” She handed Reggie a mask and a pair of latex gloves. “Do not take them off for any reason. Dr. Kwan may decide to quarantine your father if the tests come back and cause concern. We haven’t…” The nurse struggled. “I’ve never seen these symptoms in a patient before. I don’t mean to frighten you by saying that, it’s just—”
“I understand.” Reggie tied the mask behind her head and pulled the gloves on her hands. “I’m not afraid.”
The nurse nodded and left Reggie at the door. She stepped into the room, which seemed more like a cell than a hospital suite. The throb of beeping machines and labored breaths filled the air. From behind an olive green curtain a choked voice called out, “Aaron?”