The Whittier Trilogy

by Michael W. Layne

  Trent and Zana made their way to their room, holding hands like the couple they were becoming.

  Before they had made it ten feet, two bone-thin dogs about as high at their shoulders as Trent’s thigh, walked out from the shadows and stopped twenty feet in front of them. Their fur was patchy, which probably meant that they at least suffered from mange, but Trent was relieved to see that they didn’t otherwise look sick and weren’t foaming at the mouth.

  If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the dogs had been waiting for them to step out of the motel’s office.

  The lead dog was brindle in color and lowered its ears as the hair on its back stood up in a perfect ridge.

  Trent cautiously took one step forward and moved Zana behind him.

  As soon as he did, the lead dog crouched down and growled in a deep tone. It pulled back its lips, revealing its deadly, sharp canines. The other dog followed the alpha dog’s lead and did the same.

  “We can make it back to the office before they get to us,” Zana whispered, with a slight quiver in her voice.

  Trent slowly shook his head.

  “I don’t think so, Zana. Just stay still. Don’t run for the door unless they come after us. Then go as fast as you can, and don’t look back.”

  Upon hearing Trent’s voice, the lead dog dropped lower, ready to pounce. His fierce growl seemed like it was shaking Trent’s internal organs.

  He knew that the key to understanding dogs was to understand how they viewed the world. They might not understand English, or at least not much of it, but they were keen observers, just like most animals. They registered every movement humans made, even the ones people didn’t realize they were making.

  The last thing Trent wanted to do was to show his fear. He kept his face as free from emotion as possible, slightly raised his shoulders to make himself look bigger, and held his ground.

  He was trying to make himself look more formidable at the same time he was doing his best to avoid any direct eye contact that could be interpreted as an aggressive act.

  The dogs, with their pitch black eyes, did not share his concern, and continued to stare directly at Trent, almost daring him to stare back.

  Trent focused on keeping his breathing steady and calm, and suddenly he felt his fear for the dogs lift like a gossamer curtain. He couldn’t explain it, but the ferocious beasts in front of him no longer seemed a threat at all.

  Without a second thought, Trent met the dogs’ glares dead on.

  Almost immediately, their growls turned to whimpers and squeals as they backed up and looked around nervously, unsure of what to do. Something was confusing or scaring them—something Trent couldn’t hear or smell. In another instant, they turned and ran away, their tails covering their hindquarters as they retreated.

  “They’re gone,” he said. “I think they heard someone else coming.”

  Zana stepped from behind Trent and looked up, into his eyes.

  “They ran because they were afraid of you, Trent—because they could sense the same dark spirit inside you that I can.”

  Chapter 4

  THEIR ROOM WAS FAR from elegant, but the Queen-sized bed only smelled a little musty and it looked like the most comfortable thing Trent had seen in days.

  They both eyed the mattress. This was the first time they had really had a chance to relax since the tunnels, and Trent figured that Zana was as exhausted as he was.

  They dumped their bags, then Trent closed the door behind them and made sure the slatted hanging blinds were pulled shut as tightly as they would go. Trent took the side of the bed closest to the window, while Zana tucked her bag away on the side of the bed closest to the wall, where it would not easily be seen.

  Trent let her take the first shower. Even though he was sorely tempted to join her, he instead sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out one of the many decks of cards he always carried with him.

  After a few one-handed cuts of the deck, he pulled out an Ace of Hearts and flicked it across the room with the skill born from years of practice. It hit the doorknob with such force that he heard a ping. As quickly as possible, he threw the next four cards, one after another, and hit the exact same mark each time.

  Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

  He smiled, then lay back on the bed, drifting off to a comfortable sleep.

  The next thing he felt was Zana’s gentle touch on his arm.

  She stood naked in front of him, beads of water still dotting her skin from her shower. Her slim and toned body was a study in efficient, sleek lines. Even though his mind was willing, his body was beyond tired. He forced himself to stand and gave her a sensual but short kiss before stumbling into the bathroom to wash up.

  After his shower, he felt even more tired than before, but at least he was clean, free of the dried sweat from the day’s drive. He looked over and saw Zana asleep under the covers, and with his last ounce of strength, he switched off the lights and crawled into bed next to her.

  As he moved in close to her warm flesh, his libido started to spark, but within seconds, he was asleep.

  In his dreams, he walked through a dark forest at night. From the spruce trees and the moonlit glacier in the near distance, he knew that he was back in Alaska. He walked along a narrow dirt trail—the same one he and his cousin had hiked only a month and a half ago, despite the warning signs about bears being sighted in the area. But in his dream, something was different.

  This time, Trent walked without fear. More than that, he strode along the path as if the land belonged to him, and all the other animals, including men, should stand aside as he passed.

  In his dream, he could not see his own reflection, but he knew that he was the apex predator of the forest. Despite the dangers that most likely lurked in the darkness, he felt at peace.

  Then he awoke.

  And Zana was gone.

  He sat up in bed and reached for the light on the nightstand, but before he turned it on, he heard a soft breathing coming from somewhere in the dark room.

  It sounded like Zana’s breathing, but it was too dark for him to see who was there.

  He waited as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the details of the room emerged in subdued grays. Once he could see better, he quietly slid out of bed and walked to the foot of the bed.

  There was no one there.

  As he rounded the edge of the bed, he looked down and saw her, asleep on the floor, using her bag as her pillow.

  Living in the tunnels was a habit that would take her more than just a few nights to erase.

  Staring at her perfect face, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her at all costs. If there had been enough room for him to wedge himself down there with her, he would have done so.

  He also knew that he had played the role of the knight in shining armor before, and that he had a compulsion for always trying to save a woman.

  What he wasn’t quite as familiar with was the other feelings that coursed through him when he looked at her—the desire to make her happy—to make her smile.

  Those compulsions were new to him, and he didn’t hate the way they felt.

  He quietly slipped back into her side of the bed and positioned himself on his left side, so he could look down on her.

  Even though her body didn’t move, he detected a slight variation in her breathing.

  Her head was turned away from him, but he could tell that she was awake.

  “I woke up from a terrible dream and couldn’t fall back asleep,” she said in a quiet voice. “Sorry.”

  He reached his hand down and grazed her shoulder with his fingertips.

  “Leaves more room for me to spread out up here anyway.”

  They both laughed.

  “Just remember that the Hunter’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “I know. I just feel better down here for now. I’ll get used to being a normal person again. Eventually.”

  Trent swallowed hard. He would wait as long as it would take.
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  “Sleep wherever you need to,” he said, “but I’m not holding my breath waiting for you to become normal.”

  Zana turned over and looked up at Trent, smiling.

  “You’d better go back to sleep, and get some rest,” she said.

  “I’m not feeling so tired anymore,” he said.

  “Down boy,” she said with a laugh as she turned back to face the wall. “I’m glad you’re full of energy again, but I still need some more sleep, and the smell of this floor is divine. Give me at least until dawn, and if you behave, maybe I’ll give you a little something special for breakfast.”

  “But I’m hungry already,” he said, with a smile, as he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

  It took him more than a few minutes to fall asleep this time, and when he did, he didn’t remember his dreams at all.

  He awoke to the muted sounds of tires crunching over parking lot gravel and the screams of kids running around outside their window. He looked at the alarm clock and saw that it was just 8 AM, early for him normally, but just in time for them to get some breakfast down at the front office before getting back on the road.

  He rolled over and looked down at the floor where Zana had been sleeping, but she was gone again. He laughed to himself, wondering if she ever stayed in one place for very long.

  The next thing he heard was a toilet flushing, and then he saw her walking out, wearing only a smile.

  This time, they were both well rested, and Trent quickly lifted the sheets for her to join him in bed.

  Zana may not have felt comfortable sleeping on the mattress the night before, but she had no problem with it as she straddled him and took him deep inside her. Trent reached up and kissed her as the two became one for the better part of the next hour.

  Afterward, they lay together, holding each other, with their bodies slick with the sweat from their exertions.

  “I think we missed the free bagels,” he said with a laugh.

  Zana responded by hitting him in the head with a pillow.

  “I’ll make sure I bring snacks the next time we do it in the morning.”

  “My God, you are the perfect woman,” he said, with a chuckle, as she pushed him out of bed, and the two headed into the bathroom for a shower.

  After they had dressed and made sure they weren’t leaving anything behind, they stepped out into the crisp, bright day, and made their way to the motel office to settle their bill.

  The first order of business was stopping somewhere soon for breakfast. After that, it was going to be a long day of driving, before they made it to Great Falls, Montana. They wouldn’t arrive until late into the night, but Trent was happy they’d gotten a late start.

  He knew they were heading to Alaska to learn more from Christina about the dark spirit that had attached itself to him for some unknown reason. Even more so, he wanted to find out how to get rid of the damn thing before the next full moon.

  But despite the serious reason for their journey, he had to admit that he was starting to enjoy being on the road with Zana.

  He wasn’t looking forward to the two women meeting each other, but even with that looming over his head, he was happy that Zana had insisted on joining him.

  He liked being around her, and with each passing mile, they were farther and farther away from the tunnels under Vegas and the nightmare of the Hunter that still seemed to plague Zana’s thoughts.

  Chapter 5

  THE HUNTER’S BODYGUARD drove him back to his penthouse suite and didn’t ask a single question. The Hunter made a mental note to reward the man appropriately once this was all over.

  Back home, he showered, scrubbing extra hard in an attempt to scrape the memories of the last few days from his mind. The hot water stung him all across his body, but when he looked in the mirror afterward, he was surprised at how much he had healed since leaving the hospital—everything except his face, of course.

  You can thank me for that. Hospital didn’t do a thing for you. You’re lucky you got out of there without a staph infection.

  The Hunter heard his father’s voice in his head and accepted its presence. He couldn’t deny how fast he had healed, and if the voice of his dead father wanted to urge him on, then he was fine with that as well.

  After making his arrangements via cell phone with his staff, the Hunter searched through the files of information his surveillance teams had collected on Walker and the woman, Zana, when they were being evaluated for the hunt. He easily found some basic information on the mentalist, including his current Virginia residence and his agent’s contact information.

  He decided to start there.

  He called to inquire about booking Walker for a show, but his agent seemed genuinely confused about his client’s whereabouts. The Hunter scanned through the surveillance logs some more and noticed that Walker had stopped by the shop of a local merchant who also made a living off of taking money from tourists—a woman named Doreen who offered her psychic services to all paying customers.

  Let’s get on with it, boy.

  “What’s your hurry?” the Hunter said out loud, half expecting for his father to walk around the corner in physical form. “You never gave a shit about what happened to me when you were alive. Why start now?”

  The Hunter’s mind was suddenly filled with faint glimpses of memories that weren’t his.

  He saw Walker and his father standing somewhere underground in the dark. From his childhood, he recognized it as the Buckner Building, abandoned by the military after World War II. There was a woman with them, too. Someone pretty. Walker and the woman escaped as his father fought another woman. But this one raged like an animal. She was another of the aberrations, as his father called them. But his father was strong and killed the she-creature before starting after Walker again.

  But he only made it as far as the bottom of the stairwell before a true beast descended upon him—one of the largest grizzlies the Hunter had ever seen. There was the slashing of claws and a flash of teeth.

  And then there was darkness.

  That was how his father had died—with his intestines spilling out in front of him and his limbs torn from his body.

  Even as much as he hated his father, that was no way for a man to go.

  Now you know what happened and why I want Walker to pay so badly. He has to die because he ain’t natural. His kind wasn’t meant to exist in this world. And it’s up to us to make things right.

  The Hunter rubbed his head and washed down several anti-inflammatories from his medicine cabinet.

  Most of him was healed, but the pain from his face was enough to be distracting.

  He thought about wrapping his face in gauze but decided that the way he looked might make for a good disguise given the kinds of things he was most likely about to be doing.

  He glanced in the mirror at his swollen, raw face, and even he couldn’t recognize himself. He was in his forties, but was stronger than most men half his age. His tall, broad-shouldered physique remained, but his handsome face that used to show the high cheekbones and the perpetually tanned skin of his native Alaskan heritage would never be the same again. On the way out the door, he cursed, grabbed his Stetson hat, and headed for the elevators.

  Within seconds, he was on the strip in his brand new four-wheel drive truck. It was mid-morning, and the main drag was full of people—tourists, pimps, businessmen.

  Until a few days ago, he might have been out there with them.

  But now, he drove with his Stetson pulled down low in front and his mirrored sunglasses on to hide his deformity from curious onlookers. Even so, he was sure at least a few drivers gawked at his bulbous face when they were waiting for the traffic lights to turn green.

  After another ten minutes of driving, he turned off the main strip and parked on one of the side streets. He slid down from his truck with its large tires and walked slowly along the sidewalk, his head bowed low. He stopped at the shop with a ridiculous array of crystals and rocks in the display window
and a neon sign that read, Psychic.

  A quick glance through the window showed what looked to be a store devoid of customers, so he walked in and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the cool air of the shop as a set of chimes overhead announced his entrance. Despite the fact that it was almost fall in Nevada, the weather was still hot, and the cold air soothed his face.

  An older, black woman in a flowing purple dress walked out from the back of the shop, but she stopped when she was still ten feet away from him. He got the distinct feeling she wasn’t just reacting to his face.

  “Excuse my appearance,” he said as he removed his sunglasses. He tried to speak in the least threatening voice he could muster, but his words came out partly garbled from his still damaged throat. “I just had a terrible accident.”

  The woman cocked her head to one side and studied him, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.

  “What can I help you with today?”

  He took a few casual steps closer to her while pretending to browse some of the shelves along the way.

  Just fucking shove the bitch to the back of the store and make her give you the information we came here for. There ain’t no need to act like a fox in this situation.

  “I am looking for two things, ma’am. Anything you have that might help my face heal a bit faster would be very much appreciated.”

  Instead of moving or looking for some kind of bullshit salve she could overcharge him for, the woman took a few small steps backward. She fingered some new age symbol hanging at the end of one of the many necklaces she wore around her neck.

  “And the second?”

  “I’m trying to find a friend of mine you might know. Mr. Trent Walker. I saw his show last week at the Lucky Imp and was hoping to hire him for a private event. But he seems to have disappeared and no one knows where he is.”

  “Mister, you’re a horrible liar,” she said, as she turned around and ran for the back of the shop. The Hunter followed her so quickly that his speed surprised even him.

  He caught her within an instant and grabbed her arm just as she turned around and swung a brass candlestick holder at his head.