Ike nodded. It was then I realized that I knew very little about my uncle, and even less about the society. I would need to learn more.
It was weird to be back in the school. Last time I’d been there, I’d been kidnapped. What really got me was none of the kids or teachers seemed to notice I’d been gone or that anything peculiar was happening.
Ike said it was because kids were always getting sick with stuff in the transition from fall to winter. Our absences had easily blended in.
I walked past Melanie’s locker and remembered Albert shoving me across the hall and into the locker bank. How had I not known he was a demon, a jinn? Was I really that ignorant, or blinded? It had been Melanie’s objective to throw me off; that was clear now, and she’d done an excellent job.
I felt an ache in my chest, my heart for that matter. I recounted her touch on my hand, her smile, our conversations. Had they all just been some ploy to further her efforts in summoning the BloodSage? The lump in my throat told me they had. I felt betrayed, but worse I felt used.
I went to my homeroom and waited as the clock slowly ticked by.
Next was math and then English.
Mrs. Mullen sat behind her desk as I entered. The bell rang as I took my seat.
Mrs. Mullen walked to the white board and started to write across it in large black letters, “What is truth?”
It was an interesting question to pose to a freshman English class.
“Class, today I will be assigning a paper that will take you the rest of the year to write, but I believe the question will take you longer to answer,” Mrs. Mullen said. “What is truth?”
Several hands shot up. I looked around, a couple of the hands belonged to the regular geniuses. But one caught my attention; it belonged to a kid I’d often overlooked. I’d seen him talk to Ike after Sunday School a couple of times, but I couldn’t remember what his name was.
He spoke without being called on. “Truth can be different depending on one’s paradigm,” the boy answered.
“Indeed it can,” our teacher nodded, “but the question is not for us to answer now. I want this assignment to be an opportunity for you to reflect, for you to look inside of yourselves. What is it you believe truth is?” She sat down on the edge of her desk. “I expect many of you will come to similar findings, but be sure that you can defend your conclusion.”
Mrs. Mullen walked back to her desk and picked up a stack of papers. “I have graded your essays on media persuasion. I must say I was quite impressed and I’d like a few of you to share your papers with us.” She began handing back the essays.
Mine had gotten a B-, and thus wasn’t among those to be read out loud. Instead, I sat back and listened as several of my peers read from their A+ graded papers.
Once the bell rang it was off to my favorite class, Greek mythology with Mrs. Diordean. I’m being sarcastic, if you couldn’t tell.
After an agonizing hour on some Titan guy eating his brothers or father or something, it was time for lunch. As I entered the cafeteria, I didn’t feel the freedom I thought I would. Instead, I found myself sitting with Ike, unable to eat. I looked at the table where I’d eaten with Melanie. Where she’d touched my hand, where we’d become friends. Had it really all been a lie? She’d been working me over, trying to win me to her side of the battle. To distract me while she and my cousin helped Albert summon a BloodSage back into existence. And within a few hours their efforts would pay off and the BloodSage would be a reality if I didn’t stop it.
When Uncle Matt pulled up, I realized I hadn’t put much thought into his request. But there was something I could tell him that I hadn’t gotten to yet. I climbed into the passenger seat while Ike got in the back.
“I remembered something I needed to tell you,” I started.
Uncle Matt nodded.
“One of the first few nights I was on the hunt, I had a dream,” I began. “I awoke in my room to a blazing fire and before it sat the HowlSage. He invited me to sit with him, but I didn’t. But for some reason I couldn’t speak or move.”
“I read that that is very common in dreams,” Ike added from the back seat.
I’d nearly forgotten he was there and listening.
“The HowlSage called me forward and my feet followed; I had no control over my own body.” The dream played like a movie in my mind. “Every step took me closer, until I was staring into the beast’s face. The HowlSage remained sitting, it didn’t advance on me, nor did it feel like a threat. My body involuntarily sat in the chair across from it. Then it spoke, ‘Taylor, you should know something. You are a skilled adversary.’”
I could hear its low growling voice in my head. But I knew it was just an echo from my memory.
“Its mouth wasn’t moving, yet I understood its every word.”
I decided to leave out the HowlSage’s jabs at my cousin.
“‘You and I could be a strong team; we could rule this city,’ the HowlSage continued. ‘We could rule this world, if we wanted. We would be unstoppable.’” I took a breath. The dream was becoming far too real. I closed my eyes.
“Keep going,” Ike encouraged.
“Yes, Taylor,” my uncle said. “This is important, you must explain what happened next.”
“Well, after that I felt something cold on the back of my neck. An icy gray mist slid over my shoulders and pooled near my heart.”
A shiver coursed over my body as I relived the gray mist sliding across my body.
“The HowlSage spoke again asking for me to, ‘let them in.’ It said they could change me. But then a bright light flashed across the room; a rumble followed.”
I looked out the windshield toward the winding road that would lead to The Pink Hippo’s driveway. “Somehow, my voice returned to me, ‘You would change me to evil,’ I accused. The HowlSage laughed and asked ‘What is evil?’”
That reminded me of Mrs. Mullen’s assignment, “What is truth?”
“How did you respond to the HowlSage?” Ike asked.
A shiver coursed my body again. “The gray mist swirled over me again. And my mind became blurry, but I tried to think of an answer for the HowlSage. What was evil? Who decided what evil was?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I felt so cold. I continued; the dream was so clear. “Lighting flashed again, shaking my windows. Then the HowlSage asked for me to join them. But first he wanted the belt. For some reason, I obeyed and started for the belt. But the lighting flashed again and I saw my father’s face. His sword was in his hand. He spoke, but I couldn’t hear what he said. I tried to ask him to repeat it, but the HowlSage interrupted. ‘Yes, your father, we can bring you to him. We have him,’ it said.”
I frowned; it was true they had him. I knew my next mission—should I live through this one—was going to be near impossible.
“Is that it?” Uncle Matt asked anxiously.
“Yes, after that the room swirled in light and I woke to find myself sitting next to my door. But it was closed. That was it.” I paused. “Can we turn the heat on?”
My uncle tapped the dash and adjusted the temperature. “It is rather cold,” he mumbled. “And look, is that snow?”
I looked out the passenger side window. Sleet had started to fall. It’d been cold for the last few weeks and it’d snowed off and on, but nothing significant.
“Wow, it’s really coming down,” Ike said. “The trees are already white.”
Sure enough, the branches of the pine trees were becoming heavy with snow.
“It wasn’t even sleeting at the school,” Uncle Matt said.
“Yes, but the road to the inn does increase in elevation by nearly a thousand feet,” Ike explained.
Uncle Matt turned on the windshield wipers and they swiped back and forth across the window. A moment later, he had to increase the intervals of the wiper blades. The snow had begun to fall more quickly.
Soon, the roads were slick and the car began to fishtail left and right, so Uncle Matt had to decrease his speed to twenty miles an hou
r.
“I’ve never seen it come down so heavy,” Ike said. “There was no weather predicted for tonight when I checked this morning.”
Uncle Matt sighed.
“It is October,” I added. “It’s not unusual for it to snow.”
“No, it’s not, but Ike’s right, there was nothing like this in the forecast for this evening.” My uncle frowned, his brows narrowed just above his eyes as he concentrated on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel.
“But when is the weather man ever right?” I joked.
My uncle ignored me, “Ike, I want you to pull the seat beside you down and get the gear that’s in the trunk,” he said. “Set it beside you on the seat.”
I heard Ike pulling on something and I turned around to see the backseat cushion next to him lean forward. He strained against his safety belt to retrieve the gear.
“Why does he need to—?” I started.
“Taylor, in just a minute I’m going to come to a stop, I want you to climb in back and change into the gear,” Uncle Matt said.
“But what—?” I was cut off.
“This isn’t just weather. It’s a spell.”
I looked back again and saw Ike. He’d unstrapped himself and half his body was in the trunk.
Wham!
My body flew forward. A strip across my chest burned as my safety belt dug in. The front of the car was lower than me, the back rising upward. I looked at the windshield as the glass splintered like a spider web. I felt myself being inverted as the car flew into a front-over-end somersault. It came down hard on the pavement with a deafening thunder of metal against asphalt.
I was suspended upside down, restrained in my seat by the safety belt. I looked to my left and saw Uncle Matt. He was stuck as well. I heard him groan.
Ike! I remembered him crawling into the trunk; he’d been free of his harness.
“Ike?” I cried, and worked to release myself from my belt. I maneuvered to see between the seats. I could only see the backside of Ike. He wasn’t moving.
“Ike? Are you OK?” I called.
“Taylor, quick, in the dash. There’s a pack of flares. Get them now!” Uncle Matt ordered.
“But Ike—”
“In a moment, but if you don’t get those flares, we won’t be alive long enough to save Ike.”
I turned back for the glove box and undid the latch. There were several maps and other pieces of paper in the way. Then I saw the small box. I grabbed it and opened it. There were a dozen small orange cylinders, none larger than a Crayola marker.
“Give me a few and—” Uncle Matt started, but the car suddenly spun around on its roof. It didn’t stop, it spun faster and faster.
I heard a groan from the backseat. Ike was alive.
“Hang on, Ike,” Uncle Matt yelled.
I reached for my seat back and held on. Uncle Matt was holding onto the steering wheel. He reached his hand for me, “Give me one.”
I strained and grabbed two from the box, then placed one in my uncle’s outstretched hand.
He pushed something on one end, and an orange flame shot out the opposite side. The windshield looked like a spider web, but it was still in one piece; after all, that is what windshields are designed to do. Uncle Matt used his good foot to kick it clear.
The car was still spinning around.
“Taylor, give me another,” my uncle said as he chucked the lit flare from the car.
I did and in thirty seconds we deployed all but two. With every rotation, the glow from the flares created what looked like an unabridged wall of fire. The car’s spin had begun to slow.
“Taylor, when the car comes to a stop I want you to get Ike free. Then get into the woods and make your way back to The Pink Hippo. We’re close,” he said, holding the eleventh flare in his hand. “I’m going to distract it. You keep the last flare; you may need it.”
“Wait, what are you going to distract?” I asked.
“The BlizzardSage that’s outside,” he said in mock casual tone.
“The what?”
“Think of the abominable snowman, but five times larger and way more dangerous,” he explained. “Its only weakness is fire—that’s its greatest fear.”
“But should I be the—I mean, I’m younger,” I said.
“It’s not about speed or strength with a BlizzardSage, it’s about the bluff,” he explained. “Now go.”
The car had come to a stop. My uncle opened his door and crawled from the car. A flare was lit on the ground before him, the one in his hand was still dark. I clambered between the seats and to the back. Ike had rolled over and was looking at me, clearly dazed.
“Whoa, that was quite the ride,” he murmured slowly.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips. “We have to go.” The rear passenger side door opened with a creak and I backed out of the car. Ike was in better shape than I’d thought and climbed free without help. As I stood up, I nearly fell backward in awe at what stood on the other side of the car and across the road.
The beast stood twenty feet high and ten feet wide. It was covered in a thick, stringy, shaggy coat of white and gray fur. Its face looked like an ape’s, even black in color. It had large bulky arms, with hands and fingers—those, too, looked like an ape’s. I saw it snarl, displaying a top and bottom set of yellowed fangs.
And there, standing before the BlizzardSage at a height of five foot eight, was my uncle Matt, a single lit flare in his hand. He waved it back and forth, and I heard him shouting. Not threats, but a prayer. “For the Lord thy God is a consuming fire, even a jealous God,” He was quoting Scripture.
The giant beast seemed to be transfixed by the flames. It didn’t move, but its lip quivered. I wanted to go to my uncle’s side, but I remembered his orders. And from what I’d learned so far, it was smart to obey my uncle’s commands.
“Come on, Ike, let’s go,” I said, but Ike was already at the tree line. He’d pulled his hood over his head and he held out a small tablet computer before him.
“This way,” he called, and started into the trees.
We arrived at the split-rail fence surrounding The Pink Hippo three hours later. My uncle had said we were close, but it certainly hadn’t felt like it. The deep snow had slowed us, and we had to climb over several ridges and through several valleys.
I boosted Ike over the fence, then pulled myself up and swung my legs across. The snow had continued to fall and it was now up to our knees in some areas. A cold wind had picked up as well. The moon was blocked by the heavy snow clouds, but I knew that it was nearly full. By tomorrow night it would be, and the HowlSage would be venomous.
Another twenty minutes and we came to the front steps of The Pink Hippo. Ike had tried to radio his dad, but the reception was poor. Inside we found The Gathering gathered together in prayer. As soon as my aunt Mary and Mrs. Swigart saw us, they ran to us.
“What happened?” Mrs. Swigart asked. “Where have you been?”
“We were attacked on the road by a Blizzard—” Ike started.
“Yes, it’s quite a blizzard out there,” my aunt interrupted in cover, then added in a whisper, “Let’s take this to the workshop. Mr. Swigart is waiting for you.”
I realized what she was doing. Members from The Gathering were watching. They couldn’t know what was really happening. We had to protect the secret. I’d seen what could happen if a human believed they could control a demon. I now knew firsthand why secrecy was so important.
The four of us made our way to the workshop where Mr. Swigart had several computers open, parts everywhere. The moment he saw Ike and I, he stopped and came for us. He gave Ike a giant hug.
“I’ve been worried. I tried to load your homing devices, but the reception for everything is out,” he explained.
“I know exactly how to fix that,” Ike said. “I had to do it while you were gone.” Then he disappeared down the hall.
“Where is Matt?” Mr. Swigart asked.
“Ike sta
rted to mention a BlizzardSage,” my aunt Mary said.
Mr. Swigart shook his head and sighed. “All right, I’m going to take the Diesel and go after him. At least it was only a BlizzardSage,” he added.
“Only a BlizzardSage?” I asked, exasperated. “Have you seen one of them things? They’re like—”
“Thirty feet tall,” Mr. Swigart finished. “I know. But they’re dumber than an ox.”
“Thirty feet? The one we saw was probably twenty. You mean to tell me they come bigger than that?” I asked.
He laughed. “Yes, the largest reported was over forty-five feet tall.”
Ike reappeared. “All right, try it now.”
Mr. Swigart booted up the computer. The screen glowed to life and clearly on the map heading our direction was a small blue dot tagged, ‘Matt Rivers.’
“Looks like he’s on his way. Let’s go get him,” Mr. Swigart said.
Ike and I followed him to the back of the workshop and into the motor-pool garage. We headed right for the “Diesel” as it was called.
A large Caterpillar tractor with a bucket bigger than McGarrett’s Rolls Royce, the Diesel could get through just about anything aside from solid rock, and even that I wasn’t sure it couldn’t dig through. We climbed up the ladder and into the closed cab.
Mr. Swigart fired up the engine, and Mrs. Swigart pushed the door opener. She waved to us and blew kisses as we rolled out of the garage and into the falling snow. We lowered the bucket and plowed the lane as we went. Ike held the small tablet computer up and I watched the blue dot representing my uncle get closer. He hadn’t stopped and was still moving toward us.
Ten minutes later, we found him. He was hobbling through the deep drifts of white precipitation. He shivered with no coat. His left hand was pressing tightly against his right shoulder, under it a large stain of crimson blood.
The three of us climbed down from the tractor to help him.
“Matt, your arm,” Mr. Swigart exclaimed.
“It’s fine for the moment. It looks worse than it is,” my uncle explained.
We helped him up and into the toasty cab of the Cat tractor.
“What happened?” I asked. “Did you kill it?”
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