Harvester

by Erik Henry Vick

  harvester

  the bloodletter saga

  vii

  Erik Henry Vick

  Table of

  Contents

  Title

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Dedication

  For the best damn kid a father could ask for.

  I give, you take

  This life that I forsake

  Been cheated of my youth

  You turned this lie to truth

  Anger, misery

  You’ll suffer unto me

  Harvester of sorrow

  Language of the mad

  Harvester of sorrow

  —James Alan Hetfield, Lars Ulrich

  I hope you enjoy Harvester. If so, please consider joining my Readers Group—details can be found at the end of the last chapter.

  Chapter 1

  Saturday

  1

  Power crackled in the air as bolts of electricity arced from Lilitu’s crouched form, piercing the scaled yellow mazzikim flesh she loomed over or charring the macadam. She threw back her head, laughing as she consumed the last bits of the creature that had called himself LaBouche. A betrayer, a sycophant, a fool.

  A dead fool, she thought, smacking her lips. But a satisfying snack.

  She rocked back on her heels and allowed the lifeless husk to fall to the macadam where it broke, then collapsed in a flurry of ash and dust. She wiped her hands and turned to take in the scene of the battle, her indolent gaze drifting around the parking lot, taking in the bent and broken forms of the dead humans, lingering on the bodies of dead demons.

  In the road beyond the parking lot, the black Suburban roared and spun its rear tires. Lilitu lifted her face and narrowed her eyes at the vehicle, and the shrieking grew louder. “Is it true?” she mused. “Could they be so stupid?”

  Behind her, Abyzou took a step. “Did you say something, Mistress?”

  Lilitu cocked her head to the side and sniffed. “Are they all in the one vehicle?” She tittered for a breath, then snapped her head to stare to the northeast. “No,” she murmured. “Not all of them.” She stood and glanced at Abyzou and said, “You three know what to do with those I leave behind. I’m going to cut the head off this snake.” She spun, a smile on her lips, and strode toward the road.

  2

  Three hundred yards into the trees lining the park side of the macadam lot, Dan Delo perched high in the canopy. His camouflage wouldn’t fool anyone determined to find him, but the ifrit, the djinn, and Mother Chaos weren’t interested in the forest.

  The goddess strode toward the road, her stride long and determined. She was the most beautiful being Delo had ever seen—even wrapped in the skin of a human woman. His heart twanged as she reached for the black SUV.

  He wanted to go to her, to call out for her attention, but the text he’d gotten from Chaz Welsh’s phone had made him wary of Brigitta and Sally McBride—both of whom turned out to be much more than they had pretended. Not mazzikim, but an ifrit and a djinn guardian.

  It would be better to have something for them—a gift with which to buy his way back into their good graces. His gaze jumped from Mother Chaos’s divine form to the SUV, and a smile flashed on his lips.

  He extracted himself from the treetop. Keeping his distance from the road and skimming just above the highest branches, Dan Delo tracked the SUV.

  3

  The tires of the Suburban shrieked as Toby planted his foot on the accelerator. He held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, fighting to keep the SUV in the lane. “Are they coming?”

  “Go!” shouted Eddie. “Go, and don’t stop! No matter what, don’t stop!”

  “She’s coming,” said Amanda in a voice curiously devoid of emotion. “The redhead.”

  Toby glanced toward the parking lot, and for a moment, his gaze locked on the eyes of the thing walking toward them. Her eyes brightened, her irises glowing, spinning. A small smile played on her lips; the kind of smile people use when they want to tell an inappropriate joke.

  He snapped his gaze away, back to the road ahead of him. The engine of the Suburban roared and whined, its tires scrabbling along the road’s surface, fighting for traction.

  “Oh, good Christ,” whispered Amanda in the same flat voice.

  “GO!” screamed Eddie.

  A strange song began to play in the back of Toby’s mind, though he was sure he’d never heard anything like it in his life. It sounded rough and raspy—as though hummed deep in the throat. The tune danced along his neurons, whole circuits coming alive at its call. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he imagined dots of color dancing on a wall.

  “Do you hear that?” asked Toby, his voice sounding distant.

  “Oh, shit,” muttered Eddie.

  “Hear what?” asked Mike.

  Though he didn’t want to, Toby turned his head toward the oncoming thing with red hair and orange eyes. His gaze skimmed past hers, and it was as if he’d touched a live wire. The electric sense of connection with something of vast, ungovernable power jolted him, and, at the same time, the volume of the lament worming into the back of his mind increased. The melody evoked a primal fear, the dread of something unknown, of something moving in the dark, of being stalked by a man-eater. Again, their gazes met and locked on one another. It was as if her eyes had become a powerful magnet, and his focus locked on her eyes.

  Where are you heading, gringo? she asked in a sultry voice that sounded from deep inside his own mind. Where is it you believe you can hide where I can’t find you? She tilted her head to the side, a grin broadening on her lips. Don’t you see me, chulo?

  Why are you doing that?

  Doing what, chico mio? Her grin became a lopsided one, and a mechanical, monotone chuckle rang inside his mind as though she stirred his thoughts with a spoon. Oh! The slang? It’s just who I am, Tobes. You don’t mind if I call you ‘Tobes,’ do you? The dreadful melody playing in his mind took on a spectral wailing, a frightful, eerie quality.

  Toby felt time sliding away from him, his body sliding away from him. He tore his eyes away from the redheaded fiend’s gaze and watched his hands drop away from the wheel and his foot come off the accelerator. He struggled to grasp the wheel, to plant his right foot, and the melody playing in his mind doubled, then trebled in volume. A countermelody began, high-pitched and reedy in opposition to the throaty hum of melody. He fought to control his limbs, and the spectral lament grew stronger until agony speared through his head.

  Do not try to resist me, vato. Je ne pense pas que j’aime ca. No, I don’t think I like that at all. Inteendo?”

  His hands twitched, his forearms quaking with the attempt of lifting them, but his efforts only slowed their fall toward his lap. The reedy countermelody demanded his attention. He seemed to sense it through his eyes—blotches of color dancing before his eyes. Sorry, lady, I only speak English.

  Kei te pai tena, Tobes. I speak all the best languages, more than enough for both of us.

  Even shaking his head seemed beyond his ability. The song wormed its way into his thoughts, unlaying every impulse, every idea. It sapped his will to resist, scrambled his mental commands to grab the steering wheel, to plant his foot.

  “Toby! What the hell are you doing?” cried Mike. “She’s almost on us! Drive!”

  Toby’s foot twitched, his toe pointing toward the gas pedal. His hands no longer slowed their fall, only the tips of his fingers fluttering in time to the dirge that rang in the hallways of his mind. As if beyond his control, his head lifted, taking his attention away from his lap, then tur
ned toward her. His gaze snaked to her face, circling and circling its boundaries as if trying to prolong the moment. His gaze spiraled inward, toward pits of blazing orange warmth.

  When their eyes locked, Toby fell away, sliding toward darkness, toward the relief from his war against the demons, toward bliss.

  4

  When Toby slumped, Mike had already begun to move, lunging forward, reaching for the steering wheel. When Toby disappeared with a pop and a whoosh of air, a startled yell escaped him.

  “Holy fuck! Holy fuck!” shouted Eddie.

  The hysteria in the man’s voice—the cold slap of terror—burned through Mike’s own fear, his own desire to give in to panic. “Calm yourself, partner. Here’s what I need you to do. Slide over here, under my arm, and drive. I can’t hold the wheel and climb over the console.”

  “Where did he go?” asked Eddie.

  “Get a move on, Eddie! There are other demons back there who might take an interest in us!”

  Eddie jumped, snapping his head to stare out the window. After a heartbeat, he scrambled into the driver’s seat and took the wheel.

  “You don’t understand,” mumbled Eddie, but he stopped shouting. He planted his foot, and the Suburban leaped forward like a racehorse coming out of the gate.

  “What?” asked Mike. “What’s scared you so bad?”

  “She’s‍—‍”

  “Was that the scary lady?” asked Amanda.

  Eddie swallowed hard and shook his head. “Worse.”

  “Scary lady?” asked Benny, dragging his gaze away from Shannon’s pale face. He nudged Mike’s arm and pointed at his cell phone.

  Mike swiped the screen of his cell phone and punched in three digits, then turned to the window and began a hushed conversation.

  Eddie drew in a deep breath and let it out all at once. “When I was a kid, my dad bought my mom this lamp.” He pointed at the lamp with his thumb, staring straight out the windshield. “After a little while, it changed. All the colors, the images portrayed on the shade, they all changed, and when they did, this woman—Abby—started showing herself to me. She only stared at me and smiled her black toothed grin—her obsidian werewolf fangs. A year of fighting later, my dad murdered my mom and committed suicide.” Eddie looked down at the lamp and snarled at the hateful thing at his wife’s feet. “From the day my dad brought this damn thing home, my life turned hellish.” He raised his head and stared at the road ahead. “All of it, the abuse my uncle dished out, the pain, and our troubles as adults…” He shivered and ran his hands through his hair. “Abby caused it all. She’s my ‘scary lady.’”

  “But you seemed to recognize the redhead.”

  Amanda squeezed Eddie’s forearm. “Yeah,” he breathed. “She showed up two or three times with Abby. She…never did anything. Well, maybe the once, but if she did, Abby asked her to.” He opened his eyes and found Benny in the rearview. “All I’m saying is this: Abby is a nightmare—the worst moment of your life magnified by about ten thousand‍—‍”

  “Benny’s got his own nightmare,” said Mike, hanging up his cell.

  “‍—‍and the redhead is worse yet.” Eddie swallowed hard and scratched his head. “I don’t know how, but I do. Abby commands more power than the others back there, but the redhead dwarfs Abby’s power.”

  Benny threw a sharp glance his way. “How can you gauge how powerful they are?”

  Eddie twitched his shoulders up and down. “It’s… Look, I don’t understand it, but I do know the limits of their power.”

  Benny turned his gaze to the medics working on Shannon in the space behind the seats, then looked at Mike, raising his eyebrows. “What does the ambulance service say?”

  “They want us in Cuba, Eddie,” said Mike. “They said the best place for them to land is at the helipad there.”

  “Hold on,” muttered Eddie, jamming his foot on the brakes. He turned the SUV across the road and got moving in the opposite direction.

  “Is what he claims even possible?” asked Mike.

  “I…” Benny took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. “I didn’t pay much attention to the story, but…” He stared at Eddie, an expression of intense concentration shrouding his face. “Yes…” he whispered. “I can almost see it.” He shifted his gaze to Amanda. “Her gift is…different. I mean, she can peek behind their masks, but not their power. She can…” Benny gasped and let his eyelids fall shut. “I’m sorry about the baby.”

  A small cry escaped Amanda’s lips, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  Benny’s face lit up with wonder. “You fought her? Like, a fist fight? That’s amazing.”

  Eddie nodded. “Abby came after her, and I‍—‍” A blush blossomed on his cheeks.

  “You tried, Eddie,” said Amanda. “You hit her with the chair.”

  “As much good as that did…”

  “And you figured out how to get her off me.”

  “Listen, you two can talk about that later,” said Benny. “The point is that you fought her. Hand-to-hand.”

  Amanda gave a brief shake of her head. “So?”

  Benny laughed. “So? So, she could have ripped this vehicle down the middle. Any demon could. In fact, one of them just picked up a car and smashed another demon with it.”

  “Abby didn’t seem that strong,” said Amanda in a small voice.

  Benny laughed again. “And that’s why it’s amazing. I need to think about what that may mean.”

  “How did you know about the miscarriage?” asked Eddie in a cold, lifeless voice. “What kind of game is this?”

  “No game,” said Mike. “A demon named Herlequin kidnapped Benny, Shannon, and Toby in 1979. He fed on their terror as he chased them without mercy. They survived, and because of that, they have developed certain abilities. Toby isn’t affected by their illusions. Shannon can do her own form of illusion. Benny…” He flashed a lopsided grin at the man beside him. “Benny can read minds, amongst other things.”

  Amanda and Eddie exchanged a look.

  “What? You can believe that a demon has haunted you your entire life because of a fancy lamp, that you can see their true form, that you can assess their power through some kind of psychic instinct, but mind reading is just too hard to believe?”

  A rueful grin spread across Eddie’s lips, but it faded as he spoke. “Listen, we have to pass by the parking lot again. Everyone keep‍—‍”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Amanda. “What if they see us? What if they chase us?”

  “What if they’ve got Toby back there? What if he’s their prisoner? Do we stop?” asked Benny of no one.

  Eddie’s shoulders tensed. “We’ll deal with that as it comes. There’s no choice. This is the fastest way to the helipad at Cuba Memorial.” He glanced at the medics working on the two casualties in the rearview mirror and fed the Suburban’s eight-cylinder engine more fuel.

  Mike peered ahead. “Benny, we might need the badass you if they come after us.”

  “Fine,” said Benny, his voice seeming to crackle with anger. “I almost hope they do.”

  “The rest of you keep your eyes peeled. Catch as much detail as you can.”

  “But why‍—‍”

  “Information,” said Mike. “We are always battling an information deficit. We can’t beat what we don’t understand, and we need to understand who and what these new threats are—the redhead, for sure, but also this Abby and whatever Brigitta is. We need to understand their real nature.”

  Amanda shrugged but said no more.

  “Get ready,” said Eddie. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and though he told himself not to, he couldn’t resist gawking at the demons as he drove past.

  5

  Even before Toby opened his eyes, he could see the quality of light had changed. The air smelled different, drier, and flintier than Western New York had a right to be. The music still wailed and cavorted in his mind, but the quiet sound of the wind cut through t
he melody.

  He lay against the side of something warm, almost hot, and it shifted as he moved. A cascade of warm sand fell over his shoulder as the wind gusted. Toby opened his eyes.

  Dirty gray clouds stretched from horizon to horizon, and the sun lit them from behind, turning everything a shade of golden-brown. Golden sand stretched as far as he could see, dune after dune after dune, without a single human-made mark. No footsteps in the sand, no roads, no buildings, no signs, nothing.

  Sand shifted down over his shoulders again, but this time, without the wind. Toby leaned his head back and looked up into her orange, whirling eyes. “This won’t work,” he said.

  She threw back her head and laughed, but not in the creepy, mechanical monotone she’d used before. She seemed genuinely amused. “Ah, Tobes… Do you know how many men have said something like that to me?”

  She is gorgeous. The desert sunlight filtered through the dirty clouds and painted her with colors beyond pale cream, cherry red, and black. He shook his head, unable to trust his voice.

  “That’s sweet of you to think, kisa. But take a guess. It will be illustrative.”

  “A guess?”

  Again, she laughed, and gooseflesh shivered across Toby’s back. “A guess at how many men have said ‘This won’t work’ to me. Then take a guess at how many were right.” She stood and dusted the sand from her dress.

  Toby tore his gaze away from her, choosing to view the desert’s grandeur as opposed to her ravenous beauty. “All I meant‍—‍”

  “No, guess. It’ll be fun.” She came down off the face of the dune, walking with confidence as though she’d been born to the desert. “Don’t you want to have fun, cazador?”

  Toby frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

  The woman waved it away. “Guess, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  Toby blew out a breath, savoring the spicy flavor of the air that took its place. “Ten.”

  “No, chavo. Not ten,” she whispered. “More.”

  “A hundred, then.”

  She mocked him with a grin. “You’re no good at guessing games.”