It cawed again and a third time and several others of the same species answered from other places in the woods.
“What’s got you all riled up, buddy?” Carl looked around as the crows kept up their noises. He wasn’t used to them making quite that much noise, and he certainly didn’t like unexpected changes in routine when he was off in the woods alone. In fact, he was seriously considering making one of his deputies drive with him for a while, because the way the last few days had gone, he didn’t much mind the idea of someone watching his back.
Something in the woods answered the crows. The sound was so low that at first he didn’t really hear it so much as feel it, a low vibration that rose slowly in pitch and in volume, carrying across the woods and bouncing back from the hillside. A train, maybe? The tracks were a couple of miles away, but distance could certainly distort the sound of a train horn. Possibly, but that didn’t feel right.
The sound grew louder still, a prolonged noise that vibrated through the trees and made his skin feel rubbed raw. And he wasn’t alone in thinking the noise unsettling. As he looked for the source of the noise that great old crow rose from its perch in a kudzu sheathed tree and flapped into the air, screeching for its companions. They listened, and rose up as well, taking higher and higher into the sky before swarming away from the woods. Carl watched, shocked, having never seen that many of the carrion birds in one area before. Other birds, smaller for the most part, also took off, startled by whatever was out there, or maybe simply sensing what Carl himself sensed, that whatever it was, it was hungry.
Carl didn’t exactly run toward his truck, but he moved at a fast clip, keeping his eyes on the ground because the vines and the rocks made moving through the area very treacherous.
And somewhere behind him, something damned big moved through the trees. He could hear the sound of thick wood cracking and the hiss and rattle of leaves falling from their branches. His mind painted a picture of Frank coming for him, a hideously bloated, warped Frank, three stories tall and bellowing from whatever mouth hid inside the thickly scarred area of his stomach that lay hidden when he spoke with his other voice.
Fuck caution. Carl hauled ass, moving for his truck and whatever weapon he could find that might stop the thing making that noise and breaking past branches. The trip was mostly uphill, and he was starting to feel the burn by the time he reached the side road where he’d parked. His truck was not alone, and he recognized the car the instant he saw it. Siobhan Blackbourne’s Jaguar glinted in the autumn sun, freshly polished and about as pretty as a car could be. The fact that she was leaning against the hood only added to the attraction.
Carl’s mind flashed to the night before, the ache in his body, the marks on his skin and the vivid fantasies of sex with the woman he was looking at. They had to be fantasies, didn’t they? He couldn’t have slept through the experience and he didn’t remember anything clearly enough to believe they’d happened.
The air was crisp, but in the distance there were clouds gathering again, dark shapes in the sky that piled higher and higher and headed for the area like ships heading into a port. The woman smiled breezily at him, fully relaxed in the bright day and comfortable in her blouse and skirt combination. She was always in a skirt and blouse or a dress. He rather liked that. He also hated the fact that he was thinking about her that way. She was a Blackbourne, and currently that should have put her on the list of serious public enemies.
He kept his distance, far enough away that he wasn’t tempted to touch her. Damn what was it about her that made him feel so stupid and weak?
“Hello, Sheriff. I was buying myself some apples and saw your car. Thought I might take a moment to apologize if I was brusque with you the last time we saw each other.” She looked at him without any hint of teasing, without any sign that something had happened between them.
It was only as she spoke that he realized whatever had been making so much noise in the woods behind him had stopped. There was no roar, no sound of trees shaking, not even much of a breeze.
“Not at all, as I recall. I was the one in your house waiting for you, not the other way around.” That sounded good, like he wasn’t ready to start stuttering in front of her. Like he didn’t want to grab her and find out if his vague memories of what had happened the night before might match up with the reality of╤No. He made himself stop thinking that way.
She nodded and looked away, once again indifferent to him, like he wasn’t exactly important and neither was the authority he represented and damned if he didn’t dislike that notion. “What brings you up here besides the apples?”
She squinted a bit against the glare and he flashed on her daughter making the same facial expression. It was unsettling how much they looked alike. “Maybe I just like traveling through the hills. Maybe I wanted to see the place where magic still happens.”
“Magic?”
“Don’t you believe in magic, Sheriff?”
He looked away first. Damn it. “Not really sure if I do, Ms. Blackbourne.”
“Now, see, I think you can feel it in the air up here. I think if you listen, you can almost hear the sound of something waiting to happen.” She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “My mother used to tell me stories of little people in the woods up this way. Said they came out when the stars were just right in the sky.”
“The man claiming to be your cousin Frank claimed his grandmother had a magic charm. Said it was stolen from her grave and that was why he was back.” Oh that did it. Her expression changed in an instant. She became guarded. He could see the shutters falling behind her amazing blue eyes.
“Did he now?”
Carl nodded. “Seemed to think it would protect her from something, even though she’s dead.”
“Well, if it’s the same Frank I knew, the one that’s been dead for twenty years, I suppose he might have a different opinion of death than most people, don’t you?”
“If it’s a hoax, someone’s been going through a lot of trouble.” Carl looked her in the eyes. “Frank Blackbourne’s grave is empty. Abigail Blackbourne’s grave is only a short way from his, and it looked like it had been disturbed.” Amazing how well she carried that calm exterior. “He said something about a charm necklace or maybe a bracelet.”
“I’m sure whoever you’re dealing with has an agenda of his own that I know nothing about, Sheriff.”
Carl nodded his head and moved toward his truck. “You be careful up here, Ms. Blackbourne. I thought I heard something rolling around in the woods back that way.”
“There’s not much that can hurt me, Sheriff. I’m tougher than I look.”
He looked back at her. The clouds were still a ways off, but for a moment they blocked out the sun and he looked at her, surprised by the light that seemed to shine from somewhere deep inside her eyes.
***
On the drive back from Whit Gramling’s place, Griffin noted that Charon was more quiet than usual, obviously considering what Whit had told them. She spoke up just as they reached downtown Wellman. “Griffin, do you remember what Carter Decamp told us about sacrifices? How the othersiders would have to have a mass sacrifice to create enough power to, as he put it, sunder the veil?”
Griffin said. “Yeah and from what Whit just told us, I think Decamp might have had first hand knowledge of that up on Blacktop Mountain.”
“Right, that’s what I was thinking too. But see, if the current group of othersiders is planning the same sort of ceremony, then won’t they need the people to kill? I mean it’s five days until Halloween. If they’ve been gathering sacrificial victims, shouldn’t we have noticed? I know Whit said they usually went for transients and such, but you’d think there would be some sign that people were disappearing.”
Griffin said, “You’ve got a really good point there. I should have thought of that.”
Charon said, “And if that’s the case then there are who knows how many people being held prisoner somewhere right now. Jesus, they must be terrified.
”
Griffin didn’t like to think about what conditions those people might be being held under. He said, “I wonder how many victims qualify as a mass sacrifice? I bet your pal Decamp could tell us.”
“I can call him and ask.”
“Let’s wait a bit. I may want to see him again in person for our next chat.”
“I really don’t think he was trying to deceive us, Griffin.”
“No, I don’t either. When you’ve been in one version of law enforcement or another as long as I have, you come to realize that no one ever tells you the entire truth. Despite your internet chats, Decamp doesn’t know us from zip. I think he would be more forthcoming if we saw him in person though. For now, we need to think about those possible sacrifice victims. Who they might be, and for that matter where are they being held? When we get to the house I’ll give Carl a call. That’s the kind of thing he could check out.”
Griffin turned onto the street where his house was located. It was early afternoon and the sun was still bright, but there were dark banks of clouds in the distance. Griffin noticed a black BMW sedan parked in front of his house. He slowed as he approached it, and rather than pulling beyond it into his driveway, Griffin parked the truck behind the car. He could only see one occupant to the vehicle, but that didn’t mean others hadn’t disembarked earlier and were now waiting in positions advantageous to blowing Griffin and Charon away.
“What are we doing?” Charon said.
“Well, I’m going to have a chat with that guy who’s parked in front of my house. You’re going to wait here.”
“Why do I always have to wait?”
“I might need you to run over him,” Griffin said. “Speaking of which, you ever fired a gun?”
“I used to shoot with my dad some but it’s been years.”
Griffin reached into the holster hidden in the truck door and pulled out his Beretta 9mm. He thumbed the safety off and worked the slide. “Okay, this is a semi-auto and it’s cocked now. That means that every time you pull the trigger a bullet is going to come out. You’ve got 17 rounds counting the one I just put in the chamber.”
Griffin handed the gun to Charon. She took it a bit gingerly but not fearfully. She said, “I really, really don’t want to shoot anybody.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that. I’m just going to have a chat with Mr. BMW here, but I want you to be ready.”
Griffin unholstered his 357. and got out of the truck. He held the gun down by his leg and started toward the car. The driver got out when he saw Griffin coming, but he did so in a slow, almost leisurely way and then leaned against the BMW. The guy was tall and seemed to have a Johnny Cash fixation. He wore black slacks, a long-sleeved black shirt with thin black tie, and black boots. His skin was pale white and his hair matched it. An Albino? Perhaps, but he was wearing dark glasses, so Griffin couldn’t see his eyes. Griffin was willing to bet they would have the ╘Blackbourne look’ though.
“You can lose the cannon,” the man said in a raspy voice. “I’m not here to make trouble today.”
“What are you doing here then?” Griffin said.
“Just came to have a look at you. You killed one of my brethren last night. That’s not easy to do.”
“I am daring and resourceful.”
The pale man smiled a thin smile. “So I’ve been told.”
Griffin said, “I’d ask you in but I imagine you might have a little trouble at the door.”
“That seems likely. But don’t let that make you too comfortable. Some of my brothers are human enough to come in despite the wards.”
“Probably human enough to get their brains blown out too then,” said Griffin.
“Doesn’t mean they won’t come,” said the pale man.
“How many brothers you got, pal?”
“More than you have bullets, if it comes to that.”
“Your parents must be prolific.”
“Yes though I hardly think it will take all my younger siblings.”
“You’re the eldest?”
“My mother’s first born. Isaiah Blackbourne is my name.”
“Nice biblical, name. So tell me, Isaiah, what’s to keep me from just shooting you right now?”
“Nothing at all. I’m unarmed. Couldn’t stop you. But somehow I don’t think you will.”
“As you said, wouldn’t let that make you too comfortable.”
“I won’t. I don’t suppose telling you to stay out of Blackbourne business would do any good?”
“Probably not. Guess you’ll just have to try and kill me again.”
“It could come to that, but personally I’d rather you stay alive.”
“And why’s that?”
Isaiah Blackbourne grinned a wide grin and Griffin could see his very sharp teeth. “I’d like for you to see what happens to your world when the path is opened.”
Griffin caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and he twisted toward it, but checked himself when he saw it was Charon. Her hand was extended toward Isaiah, and Griffin could see something glittering in the air.
“Gaah,” said Isaiah, staggering backwards. As Griffin watched, the air around the pale man seemed to shimmer and Griffin imagined he could see something, a distortion sort of like the one he had seem around the othersider who was trapped in the door. He had a vague impression of more limbs and greater mass than Isaiah should have, but then the effect was gone.
Isaiah spewed several curses as he got into his car. He pulled out with much screeching of tires and burned rubber out of the neighborhood. Griffin looked back at Charon. “What did you do?”
“Tested a theory. I had some mixed sea salt and sage in my pocket and I threw it at that weirdo.”
“And what the hell happened?”
“I’m not sure, but I think we got a look at the parts of him that aren’t in our dimension.”
***
Arlo’s jaw wasn’t mending so well. And cousin Beau’s arm was swollen and starting to stink to high hell.
“Ya’ll aren’t exactly getting better.” She looked at Beau and stared at the traces of angry red that were moving away from the makeshift cast. She wasn’t exactly a college graduate, but she knew blood poisoning when she saw it.
“We’re gonna get better, Jolene. You just watch,” Arlo’s voice rasped and wheezed as he spoke. He was always a little optimistic. Like how he thought they’d have sex someday.
“Arlo, honey, you aren’t going to get better. You fucked up. You let that pretty man go and break your face. And look at it. Go on, look in a mirror. It’s all swollen and puffy and the only reason I can understand what you’re saying is
because your brother always sounds that way.” Beau started to react and she shook her head. “Not you, Beau. I mean Caleb.” He nodded, mollified.
“We was just doing what you asked.” Beau was whining a bit. The fever was starting to get the better of him.
“No sir, you were not. I asked you to clean up your mess, not make it worse.” She’d wanted the reporter stopped, and she’d wanted to make a point at the same time. That was why she’d asked her cousins to handle the matter. She’d given them very simple instructions, written out exactly what they had to do, even drawn them a diagram. And in their defense, they got the words right and even carved them in the right places, but they got sloppy.
If she hadn’t been there to clean up the mess when they went back for the things they’d left behind, she didn’t want to think about what might have happened. Her mother wasn’t exactly the sort of woman you were supposed to disappoint.
“Jolene, I don’t feel so good.” Arlo looked at her and trembled a bit. The fever was doing a number on him, infection settling into his body for the long haul. He wasn’t as bad off as Beau, but he was getting there.
“I know, honey. Finish your soup.” She smiled for him and he tried to smile back. He was so easy to play with. “It’ll make you all better.”
Arlo looked down at the bowl. It was empty. “A
ll gone.”
Jolene ran her fingers through his hair and across his sweaty scalp. The poisons would do their business in the next few minutes. “You get some sleep, sweetie. Jolene will watch over you.” Her smile was sincere enough.
It took time, a good fifteen minutes or so before the rat poison finished what it had started. Beau died first, not surprising when you considered his infections. Arlo took longer and vomited a thick pool of blood and other things before he died. When he was finished with his death throes, she turned on all of the gas stove’s burners, taking the time to put out the pilot lights first. The weather was getting colder and no one would be too surprised by a crappy heater catching the place on fire. Just to be extra sure, Jolene nudged Arlo with her foot until his hair was actually touching the heater’s coils and she could see the hair starting to burn. After that she got the hell out of Dodge.
She was a quarter of a mile through the woods when the place exploded. She watched with her binoculars, just to make sure that no one got in or got out.
“It’s true. You want something done, you just have to do it yourself.” She sighed. Life was really a lot easier when she could just make other people handle the dirty work. Still, now and then you had to finish what you started and this time around, there was so very much to finish.
“First, I guess it’s time to give Carl a hint or two. Cute, but slow. That one’s gonna take some time to settle up proper.” She moved through the woods at a surprising speed, and around her the animal life froze, careful not to catch her attention. They knew a predator was close, even if that predator looked mostly harmless.
She had, of course, already given him a clue, and in the process inadvertently awakened Frank. That was a special sort of chaos that she hadn’t expected.
Frank was a legend. He was one of the first to survive, and his death had caused so many members of the family trouble that for a while no one was allowed to leave the Hollow, except for her mother. Those had been good times, when she hadn’t needed to deal with the more unpleasant members of the family.
Blind Shadows: A Griffin & Price Novel Page 15