“I’m here,” I said. “That’s what matters. I’m here for Teddy. I just want to stand here awhile.”
She studied me, her mouth forming a tight line. Finally, she nodded, turning back to Teddy’s gravestone. I put my arm around her and we stood there as a cold wind whipped around us.
It was a simple gravestone. Just his name and the dates of his birth and death. Not the true date of his death, of course. Just the official one. But that was okay. It was just a date.
“He was taken,” I said.
Alice tensed against me, but she said nothing.
I licked my lips and closed my eyes, trying to make the words come. “You remember that night he first started screaming? The real screaming, I mean. When we went in there and found the windows wide open and he was screaming like he’d never screamed before. You remember that?”
“I remember,” she said.
“That wasn’t him. He’d been taken. Replaced with something else.”
“Replaced? What…what are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t him,” I said again. “The thing that was lying there screaming, it wasn’t him, Alice. It wasn’t even alive.”
She shook her head, face twisted in pain. “I don’t—”
“It was a puppet. A doll, designed to look like Teddy. You understand?”
“No. No, I don’t understand.” She wiped a hand across her face, silent for a moment. “Who? Who took him?”
“Something that wasn’t human.”
“What—” She swallowed. “What did they want with him?”
I shook my head. I still didn’t know for sure. “Mischief, maybe. Power. There’s power in the bones of the young and innocent.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
She pulled free of me, turned away to cover her face. I let her go. There was a lump in the back of my throat, and I couldn’t swallow it down. I didn’t want to talk about this. I’d spent years trying not to.
But I had to. She had to know. Someone had to know, after I was gone.
After a few minutes, she straightened her back and turned to me again. “Those years you were away. You were looking for him.”
I nodded. “Someone…someone told me the truth. Told me what I’m telling you now. Gave me a chance to find him.”
“And did you?”
My cheeks were wet. I nodded again. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Alice touched my arm. “And?”
“I was too late.”
She already knew that. She had to. I didn’t look at her face as I said it.
She slipped her arms around me once more, hugging me. It was all I could do not to fall to my knees and bawl like a baby.
“This isn’t where he’s buried,” she said after a while, her face pressed against me.
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“By the bottom of the falls. I thought he’d like that.”
“He would.” She broke the embrace. “You should’ve told me this before.”
“I know. I just couldn’t.”
“So why now?” she asked.
I hesitated. I’d just finished laying a whole lot of truth on her, but there were still some things I couldn’t bring myself to talk about. Like my impending death. And the black rage that was bubbling away deep in my stomach.
I hadn’t felt rage like this since I saw what’d been done to Teddy. It was a part of me I wasn’t proud of. But it was there nonetheless.
The monster inside me wanted to be let off the leash.
“Ozzy,” Alice said, looking at me like she could sense what I was thinking. “What’s going on? Where have you been?”
“Job got more complicated than I expected,” I said. “I have to finish sorting it out.”
Her face hardened. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“You’re shutting down again. Like you always do.”
I smiled. “And you’re nagging me again. Like you always do.”
“Ozzy—”
I grabbed her by the shoulders, kissed her forehead. “Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me, okay? Not even Early. I need to keep things quiet a little while longer.”
“Wait—”
“Love you,” I said.
And then I turned and strode away.
Promise kept. Now I had one more matter to attend to.
It was a while until Alice’s swearing finally faded into the distance behind me. She sure can shout, my sister.
I didn’t take the main driveway to my place. I didn’t want to risk getting caught by Early if he was around. So I turned down a narrow forest road about a quarter-mile from home, parked my van, and walked along the river until I came to the back of the property.
I’d found my kit in my van, just like the Dealer promised, but that was all cunning man’s stuff. For what I was planning, I needed a couple more things. Things that Early had once made me swear up and down that I’d destroyed.
I scanned the property carefully as I jumped the fence, but I couldn’t see anyone moving in the windows. Rhodes’ pickup was in the driveway, but Early’s car was nowhere to be seen. He was probably out on a job. Maybe my luck had turned.
There were notes pinned to my front door from both Alice and Early. And one—interestingly enough—from Lilian. Hadn’t expected her to come all the way down here looking for me.
Then again, I had promised to go have a look at the hag’s place with her on Sunday morning, see if I could learn anything. That must’ve been what prompted her visit here.
I hoped she wasn’t too mad at me. Chances were the hag had reappeared by now anyway.
I supposed I might not end up seeing her before my body was no longer my own. We’d never get to see who won our little bet. Surprising, how much that thought ached.
I forced the feeling aside. It was a distraction, a distraction I couldn’t afford. There was a clock in my mind, slowly ticking down.
The monster wouldn’t wait much longer.
Someone had been into my cabin while I was gone. I knew it as soon as I walked through the door. Had to be Early. He was the only one allowed through the warded doorway. He probably wanted to make sure I hadn’t had a heart attack on the toilet or something.
There was another note on the table from Early, telling me that Alice was threatening to make a police report about my disappearance. I hoped Early had talked her out of it. He knew how badly that would work out for everyone.
I found an old crowbar with my tools under the laundry room basin. I took it with me into my workshop, where dusty glass vials reflected the light of the orange bulb overhead. I stripped off my fancy new suit jacket and tossed it out of the room.
“Sorry about the floor, Early,” I said.
Then I plunged the sharp end of the crowbar into the space between two floorboards.
It took five minutes to open up a large enough hole in the floor. When you’re still recovering from a couple of gunshot wounds, five minutes of work really takes it out of you. Panting slightly, I wrenched off the last splintered floorboard and reached into the space beneath.
The coat was shabbier than I remembered. It was bundled up, but I could already see how frayed the hem was. I pulled it into the light. The leather was dark brown. As I unwrapped it, I could hear parchment crackling. There were dozens of protective charms stitched into the lining. I hoped they were still functional.
I pulled on the coat, feeling the weight of it settle about my shoulders once more. Glass vials clinked together in the many pockets. The sound made a shiver run down my spine.
There was another bundled package in the hole in the floor, right where I’d left it. I swallowed as I took it out and laid it on the undamaged floor beside me.
I could still back out. I could still put all this stuff away, bury it back where it belonged. I could go have a beer with Early, tell him what a crazy few days I’d had. I could go around to Alice’s place, hug her wife and get my ass kicked on the Playstation by the twi
ns. I could go to a movie with a couple of friends. Hell, I could even see if I could score an actual date with Lilian, and to hell with our bet.
I could’ve done a lot of things. But I didn’t.
I untied the string on the bundle and let it fall open. It contained two items. A wax doll and a book. I tucked the wax doll into my pocket, next to the revolver the Dealer had given me.
The book was the same ancient tome I’d found after I crawled out of that ice bath. A black, evil book.
I wouldn’t need it. I already knew everything I needed to.
I laid the splintered floorboards back in place, leaving the evil tome there in the hole I’d opened up in the floor.
I just wished I couldn’t hear it laughing at me as I switched off the light and left the cabin.
There was still no sign of Early when I reemerged into the sunshine. I wasn’t stupid enough to think Alice would actually keep my presence secret. He’d be coming back soon, and I didn’t want to be around here to face him.
I crept around to the front of his house, pulled a scrap of paper out of my pocket, and penned him a note.
Early,
I’m sure Alice has blabbed by now, but anyway, I’m back, so you can stop worrying about me.
The job went bad, and I have to set it right. I’ll tell you about it when I can.
Do me a favor. Check in with Alcaraz, make sure she hasn’t turned our little friend into some new ornament for her entrance hall. She said she wouldn’t, but I don’t trust that woman. Did you know she keeps a live baiter vamp in her house? Who the hell does that?
Anyway, got to go do some things. Stay out of trouble, old man.
Ozzy
I paused, looked back at the driveway, and then brought the pen to the paper once more.
P.S., Tell Rhodes I’m sorry for stealing his car.
17
I didn’t take Rhodes’ pickup truck purely to be an asshole. Brandon Mills would recognize my van if he saw it. The pickup was less conspicuous.
And I desperately wanted to get the drop on the bastard.
I crunched through the gears of the worn-out pickup all the way across town. Rhodes did a pretty good job tending to Early’s gardens, but he apparently had a lot less interest in keeping his vehicle in shape. I was worried the whole thing would rattle itself to pieces at any moment.
Brandon Mills’ house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, which meant I couldn’t drive by the place while I was scouting it out. Instead, I parked up on the side of the road a few doors down and slid down low in my seat.
The weeds seemed to have gained another foot in height since I’d last laid eyes on the house. Mills’ station wagon was missing from the driveway. He was out. Murdering some other poor sap, maybe.
I settled down in my seat, eyes on the house, and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.
Half an hour later I heard a car approaching from behind, and a glance in the mirror showed me it was Mills’ station wagon. I slid down further in my seat as it passed, but Mills didn’t look in my direction.
He pulled into his driveway and got out of the car. Shooting me didn’t seem to have improved his mood any. With the look of a prisoner at a hard labor camp, he got some grocery bags out of the car and lugged them toward the house.
Strange, I never thought about murderers visiting the supermarket. Guess they still have to eat.
When his back was to me, I slipped out of the pickup and pushed the door quietly closed. With a glance at the empty street, I hurried toward Mills’ house.
Mills was busy fumbling with his keys while both his hands were full with bags from an upscale grocer. He got the door open as I reached his driveway. He still hadn’t noticed me.
I withdrew the wax doll from my pocket. A bloodied clump of Mills’ hair was stuffed in its mouth, and it had been washed in a potion of stagnant water and bog grasses. A vague sense of disgust washed over me as I gripped it in my hand, like I was holding something dead and rotten. My heart hammered in anticipation just the same.
As I came up the driveway behind him, Mills finally seemed to hear me. He turned and his eyes met mine. I bared my teeth at him. With a look of silent shock, he dropped the shopping bags and reached to the small of his back.
Our ancestors used to be terrified of witchcraft, with good reason. It could wrack a man with agony, or wither his flesh, or destroy his livelihood. It could strike at any time, unseen, unknowable. People were so terrified they started accusing anyone and everyone of being a witch. Thousands of innocents were drowned or burned or hanged in the frenzy of fear.
You want to know the difference between that kind of witchcraft and the kind of magic I can do?
There isn’t one.
I squeezed the wax doll in my grip, crushing it tight. Mills went suddenly rigid, arms pinned to his side. The air was pushed from his lungs. His eyes bulged above his open, gasping mouth.
“How does that feel, Brandon?” I said as I stepped over a puddle of spilled milk. “How does it feel being unable to breathe? How does it feel to know you’re dying?”
His eyes rolled with panic. I shouldn’t have been enjoying this. But I was. Oh, I was.
I grabbed his rigid body by the front of his shirt and shoved him inside. He hit the floor like a sack of shit. I kicked the door closed behind me and crouched beside him, grinning.
“You see, I chose to become a cunning man,” I hissed in his ear as I relieved him of the pistol tucked into the back of his pants. “Someone showed me I could use my power to help people, instead of hurting them. And I was glad to leave that part of my life behind.”
Mills stared at me, desperately trying to take a breath. I squeezed the doll harder, and his face grew even redder.
“But I didn’t forget, Brandon. I still remember how to hurt people. I had a lot of practice, after all. And you made a big fucking mistake crossing me.”
I eased my grip on the doll, and Mills sucked in a wheezy breath. Grabbing him by his collar, I dragged him down the hall.
“Where’s your mother?” I said.
“B…bed,” he wheezed. “She’s ill.”
I grunted. It was probably a mercy for her. She wouldn’t have to watch her son die.
I dragged Mills into the light of the living room and dropped him in the middle of the floor. My rage was burning through my muscles, giving me strength. The monster inside me was straining at its chain, demanding to be let loose entirely. Demanding I open Mills’ throat, hack him to pieces, bury him in a shallow grave and salt the earth above him.
Once, I might’ve done that. But there was an Early-shaped angel on my shoulder, trying to rein the monster in. Telling me this wasn’t right. Telling me this would solve nothing.
Truth was, I didn’t want to solve anything. There was nothing to solve. I was a dead man already.
But I stayed my hand, at least for the moment. With Mills gasping on the floor, I stood up and began to pace.
“You have no idea how badly I want to end you,” I said. “You killed me, you bastard. You fucking killed me!”
He strained for the tiny amount of breath I allowed him. “I…I’m sorry.”
I barked a laugh. “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!”
“Sorry,” he rasped.
I shook my head, paced across the room, slammed my hand down on the table. I sucked air through gritted teeth.
“What did you do with the hobgoblin?” I said.
“I…”
“What?” I turned back. “What was it about? Huh?” I waited, got nothing. “Tell me!”
He shook his head, or at least I could see him trying to. He could move his limbs maybe an inch each way at the moment. I was tempted to crush that out of him again. Or maybe just toss a vial of witch’s fire onto him, watch him try to writhe. Yeah, that sounded satisfying.
“Can’t…” he said.
“Can’t what? Can’t tell me? You will.”
“No. I’m sorr—”
I crushed the wax do
ll tight again, tighter than I had before. Panic flooded his eyes once more as he went rigid.
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” I snapped. “We’re past sorry, Brandon. Tell me why you did it.”
I eased my grip, giving him enough air to speak. He remained silent.
“Tell me, Brandon,” I said. “Tell me!”
With a snarl, I took the doll’s right leg between my thumb and forefinger and began to bend it up. Brandon groaned with pain as his knee was slowly twisted the wrong way.
“Why did you do it?” I demanded.
“They took my son!” he screamed.
His words went through me like a knife. I released the doll’s leg. Mills let out a sigh of relief.
I dropped to his side, grabbing him by the collar. “What did you say?”
“My son. Michael. They took him. They have him. They made me do it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tears began to well up in his eyes.
“Shut up,” I said, but it came out a whisper. I couldn’t hold onto my rage; it was slipping through my fingers, pouring away like sand. And in its place there was only shame. “What are you talking about? Who has your son?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know!” he said, and he really was crying now. “I didn’t have a choice!”
I realized I was still gripping the wax doll, keeping him paralyzed. I released it and he instantly put his face in his hands, curling up into a ball.
“Hey!” Grabbing him by the shoulders, I hauled him to his feet and shoved him into a tattered armchair. I leaned over him. “Hey! What the hell is going on? Where is your boy?”
“They took him,” he whispered again.
I pulled his hands from his face. “Tell me how it started, Brandon.”
He licked his lips, looking up at me through wet eyes. “It was at night. They took him at night. Took him right out of his crib.”
“When?”
“A month ago. And they…they replaced him. They replaced him with something else. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Michael.”
Cunning Devil (Lost Falls Book 1) Page 11