That made him feel a little better until he saw his reflection in the bedroom mirror and paid attention. There was a large red mark and a slowly growing bruise along his face and arm where Frank Blackbourne had swatted him into the wall in Neal Crawford’s place. But those weren’t the blemishes that caught him off guard. There were marks on his legs, his stomach, his neck. He knew the marks well enough and had seen them on his body a few times in the past when dealing with particularly amorous paramours.
Carl looked closely to make sure he was right. Oh yes. He was right. Hickeys. Several of them.
Carl took in a deep breath to calm himself and caught the scent of a woman’s perfume. Not just any woman’s scent, either. But that of the female who had so often caught his attention lately.
For the first time he was aware of the pleasant ache that often accompanied a vigorous bout of sex. He’d have noticed earlier if not for the
adrenaline and the sea of bruises he was already handling.
No one was in the house but him. He was certain of that.
At least he was certain no one was there now.
Carl took another shower. He scrubbed until his skin felt raw and the water came out first tepid and then cold. It was all he could think to do.
***
Griffin said, “We’ll have to wait to get Jerry’s files and talk to Carl. I just called his office and he’s out and doesn’t plan on coming back this evening. The dispatcher didn’t know what he was up to, or wasn’t willing to tell me.”
“Couldn’t you give him a call? He needs to know what we found out from Decamp.”
“He does, but it can wait, I guess. Much like myself, Carl doesn’t like anyone looking over his shoulder when he’s running an investigation.”
“Present company excluded, I hope,” Charon said.
Griffin thought she sounded just a tad hurt. And truth be told, she was right. He didn’t mind her company one bit. Aside from all the crazy stuff going on, he had enjoyed spending the entire Sunday with Charon. He had forgotten what it had been like to actually have that kind of companionship.
He said, “Present company definitely excluded.” That got him a smile. “Now since Carl isn’t available and we don’t have much in the way of food, what say we get some Chinese take-out? There’s a place that delivers not too far from here.”
“I like the sound of that. I need to study up on the warding spells anyway. What are you going to do?”
“A little net surfing. Still a couple of things I want to look into.” Actually there was just one thing. Griffin went into what had once been his office. His desk was still there and he placed his laptop on it. Funny how much furniture he had left here, but then when he had left he had been trying to forget a lot of things. Somehow it had just seemed easier to buy new furniture when he moved to the apartment. New everything really.
Griffin turned the laptop on and brought up Google. He typed two words. Carter Decamp. He got a bunch of hits instantly and the first one supplied the answer to the nagging feeling of familiarity he’d had since meeting the man. Decamp had been a Gold Medalist fencer at the Olympics. Jeez, Griffin had seen video of the matches. He had also apparently been a professor of Literature at Emory University. The guy got around. Most of the articles Griffin found were about Decamp’s fencing career or his time at Emory. Not much personal information aside from a lot of speculation as to why he had retired from teaching so early on. Almost an hour of surfing didn’t turn up much more in the way of hard facts. He did find some posts on various forums that both Decamp and Charon visited, but most of the subjects and books being discussed were totally beyond Griffin’s field of knowledge.
Griffin’s stomach growled. He switched off the laptop and went back to the living room where he found Charon reclined on the couch, surrounded by books. “Sorry, got carried way. You ready to order?”
Charon looked up over the top of a book.
“Maybe we’d better pick something up while we’re out. We’re going to need to do some shopping. I think I know just what we need to keep the monsters from our doors.”
“Really?”
“Um hmmm. Pretty much all the texts agree. I need some sea salt and some sage and couple of other things.”
“We can get those things around here?”
“It’s mostly spices, Griffin. We can get it at K-Mart.”
“K-mart, for all your demon stopping needs.”
“More or less. Of course without your favorite witch none of it would do you any good. I have to chant some spells and put some stuff on the doors and windows, but if the various grimoires are right we should be able to keep out whatever it is that wants in. Unless this is all hokum.”
“But you don’t think it is.”
“No, I don’t. Now, what’s a girl got to do to get some dinner around here?”
***
The screaming started sometime after midnight. Griffin rolled out of bed, snatched the . from the nightstand, and ducked into the hallway in a shooter’s crouch. He was relieved and a bit confused to see a very sleepy Charon standing in the doorway of her room, clad in an oversized t-shirt.
“Are you all right?” Griffin said.
“Yes, are you?”
“I’m fine. So who the hell is...”
The scream came again, louder and more sustained. Griffin said, “Stay behind me.” He padded toward the living room. Even just awakened, Griffin’s night vision was good, and the slight glow from the streetlights outside allowed him to see that there was someone near the front door and that someone seemed to be writhing in agony. Griffin felt his heart rate pick up, as he smelled a familiar foul odor. Two silver eyes glared from the darkness. Griffin flipped on the light.
The thing looked to be one of Fish-Breath’s brothers but even the events of the other night couldn’t prepare Griffin for what he was looking at now. The creature seemed to be halfway through the door. No, that was wrong. The door was intact, but Griffin could see part of a pale white upper torso which seemed to terminate at the pelvis just before meeting the door, but there was an area of distortion, a blurred and indistinct region, between the creature and the door. Like part of it was somewhere else. There was a lot of dark brackish blood and the creature’s thrashing seemed to be making things worse. The dark viscous fluid ran from several ugly cuts and splattered about as the thing twisted and screamed.
In his time Griffin had seen some things he wanted desperately to forget. Rows of overflowing mass graves in South Africa. A man slowly decapitated with a hacksaw in Columbia. But as horrific and as mad as those things had been, they were the products of human evil. This? This was enough to make a man want to turn and run.
“God, Griffin,” Charon said. “What’s wrong with it?”
When Charon spoke the creature turned its face toward her and it screeched again. Its lips pulled back and Griffin could see rows of sharp teeth and a black tongue. In the brightly lit room the thing’s eyes seemed to be black as well, like those of a shark. It hissed and screamed and tried to reach out with long, clawed fingers toward Charon and Griffin.
“I can’t stand this screaming,” Charon said, backing away. “Is it in pain? It looks like it’s wounded.”
“I think it’s trapped,” Griffin said. He took a long, slow, breath, willing himself calm.
The creature screamed and writhed and seemed to be trying to push itself through the door, leaving bloody hand prints on the wooden panel. It jerked and twisted and howled at Griffin. He couldn’t remember ever hearing so much rage and pain in a voice. He didn’t think the thing could get loose, but he couldn’t take any chances. Not with Charon here.
“Cover your ears,” Griffin said. He raised the . and chose a spot on the creature’s forehead. He squeezed the trigger and the back of the misshapen skull exploded outwards. The creature gave another spasm and then was still. Pistol ready, Griffin inched forward until he could see the thing from a side angle. “It’s like part of it goes somewhere else and part
of it is in the door panel.”
Charon lowered her hands and said, “I thought it might disappear when you killed it.”
“No such luck. It’s still caught between dimensions.”
“Huh?”
“I think this is the thing that visited your shop. One of the othersiders who could move in two dimensions.”
“Of course,” Charon said, moving a little closer to the dead creature. “That’s why it could come and go as it pleased. It could reach around our three dimensional world from the other side and unlock doors. You think it came here to leave another message?”
Griffin said, “I’d guess that this time it came to kill us. It may not have come alone, but it was the first one to try and come through the door. And your wards stopped it.”
“You think so?”
“What else could it be? The thing couldn’t cross into this dimension and it couldn’t step back. It was literally tearing itself apart trying to get into either dimension, but your spell held it in place.”
“My spell,” Charon repeated.
“Yeah, I think you’ve graduated to witch first class now.”
“Jesus.”
“Don’t think Jesus has much to do with this thing.” Griffin looked down at the twisted body. “Decamp said bullets wouldn’t necessarily work on the othersiders who could move between the dimensions. Looks like he was wrong in this case.”
Charon said, “Or the ward spell weakened it enough that you could kill it.”
“That’s possible too.” Griffin moved up to the door and threw the deadbolt back. Then he unlocked the door.
Charon said, “Griffin what are you doing? What if there are more of them out there?”
“Then they’ll end up like their trapped, dead brother here if they try and cross the threshold. I want to check something.” He swung the door inward and looked at the other side. He had half expected to see the lower half of the creature’s body but there was nothing but the smooth, flat door panel.
“What do we do now?” Charon said. “We can’t just leave that thing in your door.”
“In the morning you can remove the ward from the door and maybe the thing will fall into one dimension or the other. After that you can replace the ward.”
Griffin couldn’t quite believe how easily he was getting used to using words like wards and spells, but in some ways he was starting to think of them the same way he thought of bullets or body armor. Just another weapon. And Wade Griffin understood weapons.
“This is not happening,” Charon said. “It’s not. This is just too much.”
Griffin sensed that the young woman was close to coming unglued. She had already stood more than most people could have handled in the last few days. He put his arms around her and stroked her hair. “It’s too much for me too. But it’s dead now. We have to hold it together.”
“I’m sleeping in your room the rest of the night. No funny business, I promise. I just can’t sleep alone right now.”
“To tell you the truth, I’d just as soon not be by myself either.”
***
“Sounds like this Decamp guy knows his stuff,” Carl Price said. “Also sounds like he’s not telling you all he knows.”
Griffin said, “I agree, but I don’t think he was trying to hide anything. I think he was just being cautious, not exactly sure of how much he should share with a couple of people he just met.”
Griffin, Carl, and Charon were seated at a picnic table behind the Sheriff’s department. All three had steaming cups of coffee, and Griffin had brought a box of Dunkin’ Donuts. The fall wind was sharp but not uncomfortable. The usual up and down autumn weather for Georgia.
Carl took a bite of donut and leaned an elbow on the table. “You’re perpetuating a stereotype, bringing these donuts to a cop shop, Wade.”
“You don’t have to eat them,” Griffin said.
“I’m okay with the stereotype. Anyway, most of what Decamp told you jives with what I got from Neal Crawford about this pre-humanity stuff.” Carl took a long breath. “And I cannot believe we’re sitting here talking about this crap. The world has gone crazy.”
Griffin said, “You got that right. And if the rest of what Decamp said was true, it’s going to get a lot crazier.”
“You mean about the deadline?”
“Yeah. Something bad is coming and Halloween looks to be the day, which means we’ve got less than a week to find out what’s happening and who’s involved.”
Carl said, “Don’t think there’s much question about who. No matter which way we turn there’s a Blackbourne standing there grinning at us. Which reminds me,” He turned toward Charon. “You said you were able to keep those, what was it Wade called them, othersiders, out using a spell. Could you fix my place up that way?”
“I’d be glad to, Carl,” Charon said.
“Good to know. I don’t want you to do it yet, but I may need it quick-like when I need it.”
“I’ll have the preparations ready. You just call Griffin.”
“I’ll do that. Speaking of which what happened to the one in your door, Wade?”
“It was halfway decomposed when we went to check it in the morning. I thought I might have to bury it in the backyard, but when Charon removed the ward from the door, the thing just sort of faded away.”
Charon said, “Carl, when you were talking to Neal Crawford about the Moon-Eyed people, did he mention any old ruins in the area?”
“No, nothing about that. He just said they were supposed to live on the bluff.”
“You’re familiar with the legends, Charon?” Griffin said.
“There are a lot of references to the Moon-Eyed folk in local Native American lore. Theories abound about who they might have been. Everything from wandering Norsemen to a lost Welsh prince. But those all came later. The original Cherokee accounts say the Moon-Eyed people were small in stature and that they lived underground and couldn’t abide light. That’s why they called them Moon-Eyed. They could see in the dark. They’re usually connected to old stone walls like the ones on Fort Mountain and Blacktop Mountain. No one knows who built those walls.”
“We’ll ask Whit Gramling about it when we talk to him today,” Griffin said.
Carl said, “Whit would know. He’s some
thing, let me tell you. I drove out to his place to check on him after that big thunderstorm a couple of weeks back. He was out back of the cabin, chopping kindling. I hope I’m in that good shape at .”
“I’m not sure you’re in that good shape right now,” Griffin said. “No offense, Carl, but you look like hell.”
“Rough night like I told you.”
But what aren’t you telling me, Griffin thought. He had the feeling that Carl was holding something back. His account of his encounter with Frank Blackbourne had been harrowing enough, but it seemed that something else had happened too. Oh well. He’d talk about it or he wouldn’t.
Griffin said, “Guess Charon and I had better go and keep our appointment with Whit, but I’ll tell you Carl, I’m getting a little tired of just gathering information. These creeps made a run at me last night and I’m thinking it may be time to push back a little.”
“Don’t worry, Wade. We’ll do some pushing soon enough. We can’t just go bulling our way in though. I told you what Frank was capable of. Shooting him didn’t do much good.”
“Maybe we just need bigger bullets.” Carl grinned. “Maybe.”
***
Sometimes it’s the smallest things that lead to the biggest discoveries.
Take as an example the case of Tony Moreno. Tony Moreno lived in Tennessee and traveled through Brennert County on the way to Savannah, Georgia. He was going down that way to see his old Army buddy Bill Walker and Bill’s growing family. It was only supposed to be a brief stopover, really. A pit stop on his way down to Miami, where the company he was selling auto parts for was located. He never made it to Savannah to say hello to his old chum, his chum’s wife or the newborn little
boy that was the main reason for the side trip.
No, Tony stopped to take a leak on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and was unpleasantly surprised by the four men who seemed to come out of nowhere to grab him. Men, as if that word could properly describe the genetic aberrations that grabbed him and hauled him further into the woods.
There are places in the woods where no sane human being would go without substantial backup. Tony got to see one of those places intimately before the spikes were pounded into his eyes and his scrotum. He also got to learn exactly how much a knife stroke can hurt well before he was blinded.
And while Tony was dying, another member of the same group took the time to first loot and then remove Tony’s car from the side of the road.
The car was a rental, not that Leland Blackbourne gave the least bit of a damn. Instead he drove the car down rutted tracks that were seldom used and moved deep into the lowest areas of the Hollow, where the Ford was stripped of radio, tires and several untraceable engine parts.
By the time he was done the manufacturers of the vehicle would have had trouble recognizing what was left.
Still, not everything was taken from the car. No, what was not really understood by Leland╤whose physical appearance was less than pleasant and who had never attended school and whose education was limited to basic math and reading taught him by his mother and the fine art of auto-stripping taught by his cousin Owen╤ was that certain precautions are often taken by auto manufacturers and rental car companies. The GPS tracking device hidden in the frame was activated exactly one week after the car was not returned and only after several attempts to reach Tony Moreno had failed. The signal was not the strongest, and the location didn’t help with detection, but be it the right combination of cloud cover and luck or merely that a sheriff’s department squad car came close enough, the signal was eventually noticed.
Deputy Will Bradbury expected to locate a stolen car. It wasn’t all that unusual to run across them and, frankly, the Blackbournes had been known to jack a car from time to time. What he didn’t expect as he started his search was to find so many damned cars.
Blind Shadows: A Griffin & Price Novel Page 13