“All hail King Damien,” I say under my breath.
Damien juts out his chin as he says through clenched teeth, “Pretty much.”
One of the hunters grabs my hair and yanks my head back. Damien licks his lips as he brings the knife up to my scalp. “I want to look in your eyes,” he says, “as I peel back your scalp. I want you to know pain.”
And there’s a shit-eating grin on his face that shows that he’s OK with that.
More so, he’s embraced it.
“If you’re lucky,” he says, “I might let you come back as one of us.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
Damien snarls. “I’ll make that decision!”
There’s a gurgled grunt. Jim’s body twitches. He’s turning. Coming back to life. Becoming one of them.
But Damien seizes a tomahawk from one of the hunters. Pounds Jim’s head into the ground until it’s mush. Between Baxter, Jim, and Damien, I’m not sure who’s the sickest of the three.
Damien tosses the tomahawk aside. Shrugs. “Jim wasn’t invited back.” He pulls out a bone knife. “Now, where were we?”
I try to stall him by asking, “I thought this RV park was protected?”
“Um, no.” Damien pauses. “No more protection spells. Mac came to us. Taught me the shaman’s chant. And how to unbind it. Besides,” he says, pointing the knife toward the park, “this is all our land anyway. None of it should be protected from us.”
“You’re not Kenneh’wah,” I tell him. “You’re a punk kid from the suburbs.”
Something wicked explodes in Damien’s eyes. “Their blood is in my veins now.” He knocks the hunter’s hand off my head and grabs my hair, pulling it painfully upward. He presses the blade against my forehead. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“No’h kala no’h koloh!” a voice bellows.
Damien freezes. Looks up. Narrows his eyes. He releases me and steps back. He points the blade toward the voice and barks in Kenneh’wah to several of the hunters. They take off running. I turn to see where they’re headed.
Baxter is on the porch of his RV. Shotgun in hand. The quartet of hunters stampede toward him. He fires, and one of the hunters squeals and drops dead. But the others are fast approaching.
The shotgun roars again.
Another hunter drops.
Baxter aims and pulls the trigger, but he’s out of rounds.
“No’h kala no’h koloh!” Baxter tries rolling himself back inside the RV, but in his wheel snags on something and he’s dumped onto the ground. He moans in pain, flips himself over onto his stomach, and just as the hunters surround him, he smacks the ground as he cries out once more, “No’h kala no’h koloh!”
The hunters suddenly stop in their tracks.
The red glow on the ground around Baxter dims. The eerie light fades away in one giant ripple that expands outward in all directions.
The hunters whirl around back toward us, but as the red light dwindles under their feet, they scream out. Mid-sprint, their bodies sizzle, crack and burst like human fireworks. They may as well have been vampires escaping sunlight.
Or seeking refuge under the protection of the red glow.
Damien freaks. He knocks me aside, steals the spear from the other hunter, and bolts toward Baxter. The fading wave of the red light rushes to meet him—but Damien drops to his knees, presses a palm flat against the ground. “Nenah’ ka lo!” he chants, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Nenah’ ka lo!”
A brilliant red circle of light pulses from under him. It explodes outward, enveloping the RV park in a brighter, more intense shade of red.
Baxter smacks the ground again, shouts, “No’h kala no’h koloh!” and worms his way back toward the porch. The red light once again fading back outward—
“NENAH’ KA LO!” Damien shrieks as he closes in, feet thundering across the ground like horse hooves. Dirt kicking up in his wake.
The red glow reignites.
As Baxter pulls himself onto the porch.
Damien skids to a halt. Cocks back the arm that’s holding the spear.
Baxter reaches up toward the handle on the front door. Mutters, “No’h kala no’h—”
The spear rips through the air. Pegs Baxter’s hand against the door. He screams in agony.
If not for the gang of hunters still hanging with me, this would’ve been as good a time as any to take off running. But I’d never make it. I’m outnumbered and still reeling from Jim’s beating, among other things.
Damien joins Baxter on the porch. “Figured that would shut you up,” he says as he unpins Baxter and retrieves the spear. Damien turns back to us, barks something out in Kenneh’wah, and the group of hunters escorts me toward the trailer. Meantime, I can’t stop worrying about Kylie. How things have suddenly changed. The rules of Baxter’s game have changed, even to his surprise. Seems Damien has learned a lot more than anyone could have expected. Especially Baxter.
Perhaps Baxter’s game inadvertently granted the Kenneh’wah a wild card. Someone viler than himself. Someone who needed a way to channel his anguish. And by bringing Damien here, Baxter has unintentionally helped supply the kid with enough supernatural ammunition to spread the hostility and violence that has tainted these grounds.
Damien said it best.
He is the dynamite.
I can only guess what this power-hungry, angst-ridden kid has planned after he’s done with us.
As we approach, Baxter wails and cradles his bloodied hand. “How?” he mumbles. His face frosty white with fear. “How are you all walking around in daylight?”
Damien thumbs the necklace.
Baxter gasps. “Where did you get that?” Spittle sprays out from his mouth as he says, “That’s mine!”
“Then you should’ve been wearing it,” Damien answers with a wicked grin.
“It was in my safe!”
“Wasn’t safe enough.”
“And the protection spell?” The remaining color drains from Baxter’s face. His lower lip quivers as he asks, “How did you break that? Who taught you that chant?”
“Mac.” Damien chuckles. “Can’t trust anybody these days, huh?”
Baxter’s gaze falls to his hand. He’s bleeding profusely. If Damien doesn’t kill him, the wound just might. Though something tells me the former is a lot more likely, given Damien’s track record.
“I think these woods got to him,” Damien says. “Can you blame him?” Damien turns to one of the hunters and gestures for his knife.
Baxter shakes his head. “So now what?” All of this is sinking in, an anchor of horrifying reality. “What’s your plan, stud? You just going to kill me and take over the game?”
“Fuck your game.” Damien kneels next to Baxter and says very pointedly, “Me and my new family here are going to hunt down every piece of shit on this planet who screwed with me. Gonna wreck their lives. And when we’re done with them, we’ll do whatever we want. Go wherever we want.” He grabs a handful of Baxter’s hair again, yanks his head back, and brings the bone knife close to Baxter’s face. “We’re gonna spread like cancer.”
Baxter’s eyes swell to the size of golf balls as Damien rises, brings the knife up above his head.
Baxter lifts his good arm up to shield his face. “NO, PLEASE—”
Damien brings down the bone knife with one swift blow. The old man goes limp, and I feel my chest tighten.
I know I’m next.
Chapter 29—Darkness on the Edge of Power
Baxter’s dead body slumps forward. Damien kneels and scalps him. He hops off the porch and approaches me, tossing Baxter’s scalp aside as if it were a handful of weeds.
The red glow lights the underside of Damien’s face. The sunlight exposes the vertical lines of dried blood and mascara.
If Satan were a mime, it’d be this kid.
“Sorry,” Damien says flatly. “We keep getting interrupted.”
I’m kicked from behind, legs buckling. Once again, I’m forced down onto m
y knees.
Damien grabs my head and glares down at me. “You’re lucky I’ve got shit to do.” He brings the knife up to the thin skin of my forehead. “So, we’ll just make this quick—”
There’s a loud, angry hiss above me. Followed by an explosion that hits Damien’s chest. He releases me, screaming, as he swats away at the sparks erupting from his body.
Damien’s been hit with a flare. He goes berserk, arms whipping about. He screams out in the Kenneh’wah tongue to the other hunters, gesturing wildly for them to head toward the woods.
Amid the chaos, I yank the hunter’s hand off my shoulder, and in one swift motion, I rise, scoop up his body under mine, and throw him over me. I hear a bone snap, and the hunter cries out. I drop my knee onto his windpipe, crushing it. He lets out a muffled cry, but he’s not done yet. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him fishing out a bone knife—but I plant my other knee into the inside of his elbow, pinning him down. His grip weakens, I steal the knife from him and stab him repeatedly until he stops moving.
I slide off him and get to my feet. My knees are wobbly. Lungs heaving. Heart pounding. The adrenaline coursing through me is cranked up to eleven.
I could probably lift a car right now.
Damien rolls on the ground, caking himself with dirt and mud, desperately trying to calm the flames. It works. But by the time he spots me, I’m standing above him. I drive my foot into his chin, knocking him flat on his back. I grasp the necklace and rip it off him.
“NOOOOOOOO!” Damien’s shrill scream makes him sound like a girl. He tries to get to his feet, but I land a foot on his torso and kick him back down. I put all my body weight on that one leg, anchoring him in place, grinding into the still sizzling flesh of his chest.
“Game over,” I say as I shake the necklace, “you twisted little shit.”
Damien seethes. Spit spraying from his mouth as he says, “That’s mine!”
“Not anymore.”
I hear a woman crying out, fighting for her life.
Kylie!
I turn to see her ushered toward us by several hunters. Arms pinned behind her back. Spears and knives aimed at her as the group moves toward us.
They’re also carrying the scalps of what I’m guessing are the remains of Baxter’s men.
“Well lookie here,” Damien nods toward the group as they approach. “Seems we’ve finally caught that cotton candy–haired bitch.” To the approaching hunters, he utters a few phrases in Kenneh’wah. To me, eyes fuming with hate, he says, “Get off me.”
Reluctantly I remove my foot and step back.
Damien grimaces and hops to his feet. The skin on his chest is a mixture of charcoal, singed flesh, and gore. It matches his head. He gestures for Kylie and the group to come close. He plants his face in her crotch and sniffs her as if she were a rose.
Kylie knees him in the face. Damien stumbles backward, laughing. A trickle of blood seeps from his nose. He touches it, looks at it, then to her. “You’re spunky.”
“You’re a sicko.”
“True.” Damien shrugs. “Girls like you never look in my direction.” Then his eyes light up as he advances on her. Brings his face close to hers. “But that shit’s gonna change.” He runs a finger down the bridge of her nose, and she turns away in disgust.
“Hey, Rupert!” I shout.
Damien spins on his heels, eyes ablaze now. “IT’S DAMIEN!”
I hold up the necklace. “Touch her again, and I’ll spread your precious teeth like seeds.”
“Do that,” Damien says with a snarl, “and I’ll slice a smile across her neck!”
“You’re such a wannabe, Damien!” Kylie shouts.
“Me?” Damien points at himself. “A wannabe?” He laughs as he exchanges looks with the Kenneh’wah. Their stoic expressions never change. “I don’t wannabe anything anymore.” His eyes flash. “I am something.”
“Yeah,” Kylie says as she struggles against her captors. “A creep. A weirdo. A freak!”
“Aww, come on, Rainbow Brite.” Damien backs away, tilts his head to the side as he studies her. “You know you like the attention.”
“Touch me again, and I’ll show you some attention.”
He closes in. Grabs a handful of her hair. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve said that.”
“Rupert!” I shout. “I told you not to touch her!”
Damien looks back at me. Eyes like wildfires. “MY NAME IS DAMIEN—”
Kylie jams her knee into his nuts. He doubles over.
“Yooooooou stupid bitch!” He rises back up and grabs her face. “I live for pain. And once you join me, you’ll understand.” He pushes her away.
“I’d rather die first,” she says.
“Well, that’s the plan.” Damien looks back at me, skin gleaming with sweat and blood. He extends his grimy hand. “Now give me the fucking necklace.”
“Let her go!” I say.
“No.”
I start to slide the teeth off the necklace.
Damien puts out both hands, palms facing me. Eyes wide. “Wait!”
I pause.
“You want her?” he asks.
I say nothing, knowing full well he knows I do.
“Toss down the necklace”—Damien nods toward the patch of dirt between us—“and I’ll let her go.”
“No.”
Damien looks in my direction. “Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” I say. “And instead, I’m willing to die in her place.”
“Rodney—” Kylie protests, but Damien presses a finger to her lips. To me, he says, “Go on.”
“Fight me,” I say without flinching.
Damien pauses. Mulls over my words.
“Fight me,” I say, “without your necklace, you little pussy.”
“What’d you call me?” Damien approaches me with a scowl on his face.
“You heard me. I know you’re afraid.” I say this though I feel the same trembling fear inside of me. The fear that I might lose.
That I don’t know Damien’s strength.
That I don’t have enough strength of my own.
“We’re doing this on my terms. Fight me.” I nod toward Kylie. “And if I win, she and I both go free. You win, she’s all yours.”
“Ohhhh no-no-no-no!” Damien waves a finger at me. “I can do whatever the hell I want. You don’t get to bargain with me.”
I exchange looks with the hunters, their eyes studying me with equal interest. I tell them, “Your boy here is scared shitless. Only a real leader accepts a challenge. Do you want to be led by a man? Or by a pussy?”
“HEY!” Damien stomps his foot. Snaps his fingers at me, bringing my attention back to him. “They can’t understand you, dumbass—”
“JEK NA TOK NAWAHKA!” a voice booms from the RV.
Damien freezes in place.
Everyone turns to look.
Baxter is on his feet. Damien spins around and just watches him for a beat. The petrified, reanimated remains of Damien’s corpse brain realizing that he forgot Baxter would come back.
“They understood that,” Baxter says with a wicked grin. “I just told them that you’ve been challenged—”
“I know what you said!” Damien screams. Here he was, so wrapped up in dealing with Kylie and I, the little prick forgot to tie up the one loose end.
Baxter.
To prevent that one loose end from coming back.
“Gosh, it feels good to stand up,” Baxter says with a stretch and a sigh. “I’m sure my legs aren’t the only part of me that’s working again.”
“You!” Damien screeches.
“Whoops. Guess you forgot that I’d come back?”
“Slipped my mind in all the excitement. But no biggie.” Damien advances toward Baxter—but the other hunters jump between them, spears and weapons raised. “The fuck are you all doing?” He takes a step back. “You all follow me!”
Damien repeats the phrase in their tongue, but the
hunters hold their ground.
“That’s not how it works,” Baxter says. “I’ve known about the Kenneh’wah since long before you took your first breath of air. They don’t respect you just because you’re their substitute leader. They respect you because you’re a warrior who can defend his people. Who can take on any challenger.” Baxter’s gaze falls on me. “And now that Rodney is holding the necklace, he’s challenged you. You must either accept the challenge or die.”
Damien’s gaze shifts from hunter to hunter.
Baxter points at him. “Are you willing to fight for your tribe?”
Damien makes fists. Grinds his teeth and stomps his foot. “This is bullshit!”
“No, it’s not bullshit,” Baxter says. “It is the way it is. The way of the Kenneh’wah. Now go on, chief.” Baxter nods to me, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Fight him.”
Damien groans as if he’s upset that he has to do chores. “All right! Fine!” He turns back to me. “Let’s make this quick.” He marches toward me, that hate-fire burning in his eyes. But a spear aimed at his throat stops him short.
“Nek tha, nah la, jo la ke!” a hunter tells Damien in a deep voice. The hunter then offers me his tomahawk. Gestures with a stern nod for me to take it. I do. Then I shove the necklace into my pocket. Tuck the bone knife into one of my belt loops.
Damien whips out a tomahawk as well. Arms up in a guarded position.
Here it goes.
I guess the undead still believe in a fair fight.
Or at least a man-to-man challenge.
Chapter 30—The Quick and the Dead
Damien roars and charges straight at me. His lips are pulled back, glowing fangs exposed. His eyes big, bright, and boiling with malice. Tough to believe that in a mere twenty-four hours he went from a rebellious teenager with a shitty attitude to a supernatural powder keg of aged torment and adolescent rebellion.
Doesn’t matter.
Either way, I’m going to rid the world of this teen menace once and for all.
Damien makes a wide lunge with his tomahawk. I duck as he throws all his weight into the swing. He spirals out of control. I drive the eye of my tomahawk into his chin as if nailing his jaw to his skull. There’s a loud thwap, followed by a grunt as he’s sent stumbling backward.
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