Hell Fire

Page 48

“Trying to cut down on the infamy. And I have enough money to get by. At this point, I just want to go home. Now, you heard my wish. Make it so.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You won’t live to see it done.”
That hit me hard. “I won’t?”
“Cooper caught you in an artery.” The demon sounded genuinely regretful. “The minute anyone pulls out the knife, you’ll start hemorrhaging. Sure you don’t want to change your favor? You could wish for eternal life.”
Ah, Jesus. I recognized the certainty of its words. Sometimes demons needed only to tell the truth to torment you best. Well, the people of Kilmer—those who were innocent of this madness—would still appreciate finding their loved ones. I squared my shoulders.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then handed me a folded sheaf of paper. “Done. There’s your map.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Before you go, before you send me back . . . could you . . . would you tell me what happened here? What was this all about?”
“In a nutshell? Well, the original twelve wanted to keep Kilmer safe and clean, uncontaminated from the outside world. They wanted to pick and choose what technologies were acceptable. They wanted to shield their kids from unwholesome influences.”
I blinked at that. “So they summoned a demon?”
“Yours truly. What better way to safeguard the town than to put a demon of entropy and decay on the job?”
“And they paid you in sacrifices.” I got it now. The pain from my body came in a raw, red wave. I wouldn’t remain here in this half dreamworld much longer.
He agreed with a nod. “I prefer the Gifted ones. Tastes great, more filling. Ironically, I think my presence here made Kilmer something of a hot spot. Once they summoned me, you Gifted started being born like there was something in the water supply.”
“Martha Vernon, Holly Jarrett, Timothy Sparks, David Prentice—”
“And their families. It was a package deal, remember. When you ran to me and hid during the fire, you broke the terms of the pact. Since you didn’t die, I didn’t get my sacrifice that year, and that was a deal breaker. Every year thereafter my bonds weakened a bit more, and I could roam a bit farther and cause a little more trouble closer to town. When you came back, I guess they thought they could fix things by killing you now, but it wouldn’t have helped. And with the twelve dead, I’m free now.”
Ah, damn. I could have lived without knowing that.
“Uh, you’re welcome. I guess.”
His expression became grave. “I never wanted your mother, Corine. She was one of the truly good souls. They started using my price to purge the town of those they considered undesirable. But I didn’t take her, even when they performed the ritual around her body. Her death was clean. I don’t know where she is now.”
“I guess it’s time for me to go,” I said.
“I won’t see you again,” Maury answered with finality. “Unless . . .” His expression became crafty. “Oh yeah, I like that idea. I like it a lot.”
Before I could ask, I spun outward, hurtling back toward my injured body at breakneck speed. With a strangled cry, I struggled upright to find myself in Chance’s arms. He ran full out, carrying me. I felt every jolt, every rough patch. I moaned, both hands going to the knife in my side. I’d gotten what I wanted; they were all gone.
Why didn’t I feel better about it? I should have felt vindicated. The twelve had to be stopped; their ancestors had done a terrible thing to this town, and their descendants had been carrying on their work.
Instead I only felt sick. We’d loosed a demon on the world, even if we hadn’t conjured the thing in the first place. Then it got worse.
Last Call
The knife . . . melted into my skin, and I felt a searing heat against my wound. I screamed, startling Chance so that he nearly dropped me. I rubbed my fingers downward, back and forth across my side. My fingers came back slippery with blood, but they found no wound.
How was that possible?
His voice sounded raw. “I’ve got you, love. You’re going to be fine, I promise. We’ll get you out, and—”
“Put me down,” I demanded.
Chance stopped running. I guess he noticed that my voice sounded stronger, because he complied, keeping a hand on my shoulder. “We need to get you to the doctor, Corine. We’re done here.”
I raised my shirt, twisted, and peered down at my bloody torso. Healed. But I hadn’t imagined the pain that felt like the hole had been cauterized and plugged with metal. I pressed harder. Had the weapon actually become part of me? I knew I hadn’t removed it.
“Did you pull the knife out?”
Chance, now studying me with equal parts fear and confusion, shook his head. “No, that’s too dangerous if you don’t have a med kit at hand.”
I exhaled slowly and then spun in a circle. It wasn’t gone. I could feel it watching; sense its amusement. “What did you do?” I shouted.
The earth rumbled, and its voice boomed like thunder, sending an awful chill down my spine. “Why, I healed you, darling child. It seemed a fitting tribute to your mother. But now you owe me a boon. I’ll see you soon, Corine. . . . You know my people never forget a debt. So long, and thanks for all the fear.”
Darkness split in a white beam that made it seem as though lightning had hit nearby. Once my eyes adjusted, I could tell we were alone. We stood in a dark forest now, where fell a soft and natural rain.
I owed my life to a demon? Owing Maury a favor would obligate me to any number of horrible things, and it didn’t matter that I hadn’t agreed to the terms. Unless I killed myself right now, I’d have to pay up because I was enjoying the extension of life it had provided. My mother had explained this kind of thing; it was called tacit acceptance. I sank to my knees, shaking.
Chance pulled me upright, not understanding what had happened, but his determination to get us out of the woods hadn’t waned. I ran with him, feet sliding in the mud. His hand felt warm and firm on mine. He hadn’t left me; hadn’t given up, not even when I fell over with a knife in me.
We ran until we broke from the trees to the quiet of the access road. When we reached the SUV, Jesse and Shannon were waiting.
“Done?” Jesse asked. “Are you guys okay?”
My instant recovery would cost a pretty penny down the road, but yes, I was. I didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.”
Chance donned a pair of driving gloves. “I’ll move their SUVs so it looks like they didn’t go missing right here. Maybe park them off road somewhere.”
Jesse nodded. “Good idea. I’ll follow you, but not into the fields. We don’t want two sets of tire tracks.”
I thought that plan might be overly cautious, but I didn’t want anyone asking questions later. As far as I was concerned, the sooner we left Kilmer now, the better. I kept seeing the shredded meat of England’s stomach. Jesus, I’d put a bullet in another human being. I suspected I might also set off metal detectors at the airport.
The whole endeavor took half an hour, and then Chance wiped down the trucks quickly. I could tell by Saldana’s expression that he thought Chance was a former criminal, based on his ability to dispose of a vehicle like this, not to mention the smooth way he managed the hot-wire.
Saldana drove us to the house, glancing at me every now and then in the rearview mirror. I knew I looked pale and shocky. After so much death, after a demonic intervention, I couldn’t appear otherwise.
I’d done this. I’d wanted this. I hadn’t stopped until I accomplished it. And I’d set a demon loose in the world. My insides felt tied in knots.
“The trucks were still there when we left,” Jesse told us.
“That’s the official story.”
“Got it,” Shannon said with a nod. “In one sense, it’s even true.”
When we got back, we found that Dale had made soup. It gave the place a ridiculously homey smell. The crazy reporter seemed to like the farmhouse, where he wandered around describing every little thing as “cool” and “groovy.”
I had a feeling he’d stay on after we left. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go, and he had a hell of a story to write, assuming they’d let him. The body count astounded me. Could I honestly say it had been worth it?
Then I looked at Shannon, who might’ve been sacrificed in my stead. Yeah. On the whole, I’d do it again. She smiled at me, bare faced from the shower, full of trust and sweetness. Before we left town, we’d go looking for her dad. He deserved a good-bye.
Butch ran up to me, yapping his discontent about being left behind. I ran my hand over his head and said shakily, “You wouldn’t have liked it, boy. You’d be as dirty as me if we’d taken you out there.”
He yapped his agreement and followed me to the bathroom, where I tried to clean up without him. But the dog whined until I let him in. He hopped up on the lid of the toilet seat and stood guard while I bathed.
I huddled in the shower until the water ran clear, washing away the traces of blood and mud. The ground had swallowed up the dead. I kept replaying the way it buckled under my feet. I wondered if the others had felt the tremor.
The next few days we devoted to playing with Butch, letting Jesse recover, and tying up loose ends. Honest to God, the sheriff thanked me for finding the bodies. He didn’t say a word about new missing persons. Maybe their families hadn’t filed reports yet.
Kilmer held a party in our honor. We ate lemon cake at the church and drank sweet tea. People seemed livelier, their spirits almost joyous. I think they knew they’d turned a corner. Now this was just a normal little dying town in the middle of nowhere—nothing spooky, nothing unholy.
More people should start arriving. Tourists might even find the place charming now, a well-preserved slice of Americana. Missy England would take over when she realized her dad wasn’t coming home, and she’d probably do a better job. She seemed a smart young woman, even if she had slept with Curtis Farrell. Her brown eyes were sad and grave as she thanked us for our efforts. Maybe she already knew, deep down.
On our last day there, we found Shannon’s father. Sandra had locked him in the cellar so that he wouldn’t interfere with her plans. She’d left him food and water, and the time to go quietly mad with grief and fear. Mr. Cheney hugged Shannon so tight, I thought he’d break her bones.
“I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m sorry. Months ago, when I first suspected what was going on, I should have—”
“Don’t worry.” Shannon managed a smile through her tears. “It’s okay. But you understand why I have to get away from here, right? I’ll write.”
“I understand,” he said gravely, but his misery never lifted. I suspected he would always feel he’d failed her. “I’m leaving too. I can’t stay here. I’m sure I’ll be able to get work somewhere as a handyman.”
That left them standing there, awkward, trying to figure out how they’d stay in touch when neither of them had cell phones—and they didn’t know where they’d end up—so I gave him my address in Mexico. “You can write to Shannon there. I’ll know where she is, if she doesn’t come to stay with me.”