Dark Rain

by Tony Richards

  He glanced briefly in my direction, looking for confirmation. I’d not had the time to tell anyone about the way we had gone after Saruak this morning, and could only shrug back. But there was an urgent question in his gaze as well. He was wondering, as I had been, what had gotten into everyone. They’d never behaved like this before.

  But the man had the sense to cover up his true feelings about the matter. He was managing to look as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

  “And something will be done about it,” he continued. “That much is for certain. As for the Reunion ceremony? It’s an option, and I’ll concede that. But we’ve recently been approached with the opinion that it might somehow be used against us, rather than for our benefit.”

  I started to exhale with relief, but could see that I was being premature. Because that didn’t last for long.

  “Who’s idea was that?” the woman in the apron asked.

  Levin was careful not to look at me again, and I felt grateful for that. If these folks found out that it was me who’d tried to get the ceremony cancelled …

  “That doesn’t matter. The one thing we’re sure of is we’re dealing with a very tricky adversary. Merely the suggestion, from a reliable source, means that we have to consider it.”

  So it seemed I’d gotten to the adepts, after all. They had been so stubborn, back up on the Hill, so heavy with objections. But for all their shortcomings, all of them were smart. And they’d had examples, at first hand, of what our visitor could do. So maybe they were beginning to see my point.

  The ordinary people didn’t, and were starting to grow restless again.

  “What source?”

  “Yeah! Where’s the evidence of that?”

  Then a young girl yelled out desperately, “We just want to leave!”

  Levin retained his composure. I had never seen him lose that. He was standing like a rock, his hands folded in front of him. An understanding smile was playing on his face. He waited for the noise to die down, then opened his mouth to answer.

  Except he never got that far. Next moment, a completely different sound rang out across the square. Then another. Then a whole load of them.

  Over to our left, the air was being torn apart by anguished, high-pitched screams.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Gazes started jerking around. Mine, the crowd’s. Even the guys up on the Town Hall steps. Hobart and his men all stiffened. And Cassie took a couple of smart paces forward, hoping to bring her shotgun to bear. But on what?

  Nothing had happened to the crowd that any of us could see. There was nothing attacking them. The screaming wasn’t coming from this area at all.

  Every eye swung toward O’Connell, to the west of here. The street where I had wound up just a couple of nights back. The neon lights were off by this hour and most of the bars were closed. But there were cheaper stores dotted along its dingy length, and it was always fairly busy.

  There was pandemonium down there. Some people were running, I could make out. Others were just standing, howling, frozen in the grip of terror.

  The traffic in that direction had stalled, and a few folks were abandoning their vehicles. For some reason that I couldn’t really see from here, a town bus had stopped dead, slewed off to an angle, in the middle of the blacktop.

  I threw a glance at Cass, and then at Hobart and his men. We all had the same idea. We started going forward, at a jog at first, then running.

  Yesterday hadn’t been quite enough. Not for Saruak, apparently. His taste for mayhem seemed insatiable. My own gun was in my hand. The cops all had their side arms drawn.

  And all of it too late, by the time we got there. We were too late to do anything but call for more assistance, which Hobart promptly did.

  The bus was one of those driverless kinds. It was full of passengers and its doors were wide open. But nobody was getting out. Even before I got the whole way there, my heart began to sink.

  A middle-aged man’s head was leaning against the inside of one window. He was wearing a smart business suit, a stripy tie. And he might have been fast asleep. Except his eyes were open.

  And his mouth …his throat …

  There were straight, clean wounds across his windpipe, parallel ones. The Dralleg again. I forced myself to pull my gaze away. Everywhere I looked along the glass panes, there was blood. Most of it had been spattered there, for sure. But some of it was smeared.

  Fingertips and palms had done that. I imagined all these injured people, scrabbling to escape. Trying to push themselves away from danger. Precious few had managed it. There were a couple of wounded lying on the asphalt, and Hobart’s people were tending to them. A young man came running out of a store with a blanket and some bandages. Some motorists were going to their trunks for their first-aid kits.

  But all of it was after the event. There was no way of stopping this from happening time and time again, or even of predicting it. I felt completely numb once more. But Cassie didn’t pause.

  She went up immediately through the doors, her gun at her shoulder. Swung it around carefully, saw that the culprit had already left.

  Then she stooped down and called out, “We’ve got someone alive in here!”

  And disappeared from view.

  When I looked inside, she was kneeling over a thin guy in his thirties, pressing down with both palms on a severed artery. She didn’t look as if she needed any help, and the ambulance crews would be here soon. They were getting plenty of practice, let’s face it.

  As for the rest of the passengers … my God, it was remarkable that anyone was still alive at all. The Dralleg had gone through here like a lawnmower through grass.

  Sirens were approaching. I was getting rather too accustomed to that sound.

  I tried to think. Saruak … why would he do this, other than from sheer malice? He was capable of that, but he’d already made his point. Captured our complete attention.

  Then I took in the gawping faces all around me on the street – more people were approaching all the time. And looking at their expressions, I believed I understood what this was genuinely about.

  In broad daylight, this time.

  I could see it in their eyes. I could almost hear it in the way that they were breathing. The first attack had been at night. The later ones had come in the evening. And they’d all happened in enclosed places, churches and in private homes.

  Whereas this attack was in broad daylight and plain public view. I began to see where this was heading.

  There was a growing horror in their gazes. They all looked the same way, and were coming to the same conclusion. Nowhere in the Landing was safe at any time. The nightmare that the Little Girl had talked about was taking shape, becoming wholly tangible and real.

  A few more people were unfreezing, moving in to help. But then, one teenaged girl started wailing.

  “Did you see that thing?”

  Her fingernails went to her cheeks. She was on the verge of hysteria, shaking furiously and almost dancing on the spot.

  “Did you see it? It … it just appeared, out of nowhere! Is that what’s been killing people? Oh my God, is it coming for us?”

  Someone tried to calm her down, but she jerked out of his grip and started crying.

  You had to hand it to Saruak, he’d timed this just perfectly.

  As if to prove the point, the rest of the crowd from Union Square started showing up and mingling with the people here. Judge Levin pushed his way to my side. He climbed up on the step and took a good hard look inside. I could hear him suck in a breath and curse. And when he got back down, his face was even more ashen than it had been.

  There was a glint, the bead of a tear, in the corner of his eye. But his mouth was rigid. And he held his shoulders squarely. He was fighting to stay calm. He had an example to set.

  Everyone behind him started pushing in, then groaning when they saw what had transpired. He turned to face them, his spectacles glittering.

  “You’re going to just ‘c
onsider the matter’?” someone demanded, when he tried to open his mouth again.

  He shut it.

  “How many more times does this have to happen before something gets done?”

  “What else are you offering us? What else is there but the ceremony?”

  Other voices lifted in agreement. Even people who had not been part of the original mob were joining in. All Saruak had had to do was unleash his creature once again, and this was the result.

  Levin might have had dignity and weight, but he was losing his authority with all this going on. There was no way he could ignore these people. I watched as he took in that fact, and it was not something he was used to.

  He looked slightly flustered, running a hand through his hair. His lips formed a tight circle, then unpuckered. If the townsfolk were demanding action, he could no longer deny it.

  He cast a helpless glance at me, as if to say, “What can I do?”

  Then he cleared his throat, puffing out his chest inside his sharply-tailored suit.

  “Very well, we’ll bring it forward. But we can’t hold it immediately.”

  “Why not?”

  “If we’re going to make it work this time, the adepts must all gather in the square and bring their full powers to bear, all at once. And that will take some organizing.”

  Except that Saruak thrived on magic too. I thought about so much arcana concentrated in one place. Oh, this kept on getting worse.

  When someone else tried to argue with that, the judge stared him down angrily.

  “Would you like to carry the responsibility for this, sir? No? Then kindly take my word for it.”

  And was he telling them the truth, or giving me some kind of temporary reprieve?

  “It will take us at least a day to get everything ready. We shall bring Reunion Evening forward to tomorrow. Friday evening, eight o’ clock. That’s my final word on the subject. I’ll see you all there.”

  They still weren’t exactly happy about it, but there was nothing else that they could do. Even the dumbest person here had to realize the ceremony didn’t have a chance of being successful without the adepts showing up.

  Squad cars and ambulances started rolling up around us, uniformed men pushing their way through. A paramedic went up to take over from Cassie, and some of the civilians began moving out of the way.

  They started wandering off, dispersing, murmuring unhappily among themselves. All the stores and cafes round us were now empty, except for a few remaining staff. The cops had begun moving the abandoned cars out of the way. O’Connell, never the most cheerful street, seemed sunken in gloom despite the brightness of the day.

  I felt the deepest pity for these people, watching them all go. They were so determined, sure that they were doing the right thing. And had no way knowing they were running headlong into a deadly trap.

  If I could only get Willets down here to explain it to them. But they’d probably run away from him. I wondered why I couldn’t choose more personable allies.

  Cassie came back down. She’d gotten hold of an old cloth from somewhere and was wiping the blood from her hands, grumbling under her breath and looking pretty sickened. It became perfectly clear to me the way she lived two separate existences, her life at home and the one out here. Whereas, I only ever seemed to have the one.

  “He okay?”

  “He’ll live,” she told me.

  So my gaze went back to Levin. He was staring at me grimly, his eyes bright behind their thin glass discs.

  “I think I’ve taken the right action,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Maybe you are wrong, have you considered that, and this really is the town’s best hope. If you can prove otherwise, Devries, then you’ve a day left to convince me. Otherwise, Reunion Evening goes ahead.”

  He became a depthless shadow, which just disappeared in the next moment. Leaving me to wonder how in God’s name I was going to manage that.

  THIRTY-TWO

  There’s a saying that goes, ‘If you’ve dug yourself into a hole, stop digging.’ And what exactly had I been achieving, up until this point? For the most part – between bursts of violent activity – just doing the rounds, making inquiries. Pretty much like the workaday cop that I had been for a long while.

  Considering the danger that was crashing through the walls of our world, all I’d managed, really, was to plug up a few cracks.

  Which wasn’t nearly good enough, and I could see that. It had gotten me plain nowhere. And I’d just been told the truth of the matter, by one of the highest authorities possible. I was running out of time, and very badly.

  Cass and Hobart were looking at me. They could both see what the problem was. Only the most persistent voyeurs from the crowd were still hanging around. The final rescue teams had shown up, body bags were being shipped down from the stricken bus. Not a job that anybody ought to have to deal with. But we were all doing what we could.

  I turned to my old boss.

  “Can you make sure,” I asked him, “that, at least until tomorrow, there are no more gatherings like this?”

  A gleam of annoyance came sparking up in his usually mild eyes.

  “Since when did I start taking instructions from you?”

  We’d all been left, let’s face it, pretty jumpy by what had just taken place. And I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound so hostile, but the strain was showing in his whole demeanor.

  “No such thing,” I told him calmly. “Merely a polite request.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I have the power to do that. People gather, Ross. That’s what they do.”

  I could see the sense in what he was telling me, but it wasn’t good enough. There had to be some way …

  I couldn’t think of one immediately. And all Hobart did was stare at me and work his jaw around.

  Thank God we had Cassie with us. She might not have too much in the way of an education, but when it comes to getting her own way she can be pretty shrewd.

  “Hey?” she suggested lightly.

  She turned to Union Square and took a few steps back there, her boots clacking.

  “What’s that I can smell?” she asked us. “Maybe … gas?”

  There was no such odor. But she raised her head and flared her nostrils all the same, like she was perfectly convinced that she had noticed it. Saul and I glanced at each other.

  “Um … yeah,” the Lieutenant offered. “I think you might be right about that.”

  “Do you reckon it’s coming from in front of the Town Hall? A cracked main, maybe?”

  And she had a point.

  “I could call the gas company in, when I’ve time to get around to it,” Hobart began suggesting. “And in the meantime, I guess, put up some barriers, for safety’s sake. Sure, I could do that.”

  Which would do the trick for the time being. Things were bad enough already, without any private citizens getting it into their heads to try and start the ceremony early. They’d have to evict the Town Hall too. I could just imagine Mayor Aldernay’s face.

  “And how about me?” Cass asked. “I can’t go round telling people what to do.”

  Armed the way she was, that was a statement I took issue with. But there was nothing I could think of at the moment. I was going to be headed, before too much longer, in directions that she very definitely wouldn’t want to go.

  “Best thing you can do,” I said, “is to patrol the town the next few hours. You’ve always had a pretty good nose for trouble. Why not use it now?”

  But she looked unconvinced.

  “You want me to just ride around in circles?” she asked, a knowing gleam appearing in her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re trying to get me out of the way?”

  I gazed back at her squarely.

  “Let’s just say you’re not going to like what happens next, Cass. This far in? I think we have to use the biggest guns we’ve got.”

  The wasps were still humming back and forth, when I pulled up outside Sanderson’s
Supplies again and killed the engine. They had a casual, almost lazy air, like they didn’t even understand that these might be their last few hours before darkness fell for good.

  The sun had tilted over to the west. Shadows were leaning all around me, a reproach, reminding me how rapidly the hours passed. A raven landed on a branch out in the forest. There was a rustling that might have been a deer. I had my window wound down again, and could hear it clearly.

  Christ, I should have done all this the first time that I’d been here. I rummaged in my glove compartment for the two items I needed. Stuffed them in my pockets. Then got out, headed across.

  The music of another saxophone came floating up to me, when I pulled open the metal door a second time. It was deeper, more melodious, than the one I’d heard before.

  The turntable was back. He’d simply made it appear out of nothingness. The bulb in the ceiling had been switched off. The only remaining light in the basement came from the little fire he’d built. And there was no ash, no debris. The twigs blazed brightly but did not disintegrate. Being around Willets was like being in those dreams I’d mentioned. Cause and effect did not work the same.

  The doctor and his bed were little but pale shapes in the flickering dimness. But he looked up startledly as I came rattling down the stairs. Smaller outlines were still moving, all around him. Tiny eyes were fixed on him. His bright red pupils winked like distant beacons in the gloom.

  “You again?”

  He sounded bemused. Maybe he’d been focused inwardly, and had not noticed I was coming back. But then he pointed at the record player.

  “Cannonball Adderley,” he told me, sounding rather pleased with himself. “’Alabama Concerto,’ in four movements.”

  He made the discs pop into being, just like the plinth, just like the books. But I wasn’t here for any music lesson this time.

  I just marched across to where he was seated. Reached down. Grabbed the collar of his jacket, and then hauled him to his feet.