Feast (20 page)
Authors: Merrie Destefano
Chapter 76
Fingers of Ice and Fog
Ash:
I tasted primitive magic in the air, an age-old incantation spoken with a strange accent—the voice of the unpracticed. Enchantments take a lifetime to learn and this one was out of control. It snaked down streets and pushed open doors. It was looking for me.
But I didn’t want to be found.
Not now. Not when Maddie was so near. I could feel her pulse, could smell her dreams. I laughed lightly. Humans were the ones with the true magic, though they didn’t realize it. Sometimes a heavy emptiness had rushed through my veins when I envied humans their ability to sleep and forget, how they could rebuild their lives in a single evening. Those were the times when I realized how truly alone I was in this world. But right now, for the first time in a century, I felt as if I had just met a friend who could bring dreams to life.
And in a moment, it was all going to be ripped away.
I reached out, took Maddie’s hand in mine, tried to hold back the heat that had blistered her skin earlier. Her lips parted as if she was going to speak but didn’t know what to say. I gently turned her hand over and kissed her palm. Her hands had been burned and were now stained with my red-black blood. Just like Iris Wimbledon—Joe’s grandmother, the woman who had nursed me back to health after my injury, after the curse. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have surely died from that wound. Because of it, her hands had been scorched, my blood on her palms. The old woman with silver-white hair and tormented dreams had become my first Legend Keeper.
But now, everything was changing.
I wished that I could cast a Veil and stop time, prevent the inevitable.
Instead, I released Maddie’s hand and braced myself.
Maddie:
Ash pressed his lips against my palm and a rush of heat flowed up my arm; it spread across my shoulders and then spilled down my back like a waterfall. His eyes met mine and time stood still. An instant turned into eternity, and I knew then, that despite his flaws, this creature was more noble than any man I had ever met.
Then the door burst open.
A distant song reached into the room, followed by ghostly fingers of ice and fog.
Ash’s human skin cracked, fissures clicked and snapped along his jaw and his forehead. A thin black crevice snipped down his neck, branched into a thousand crackling tributaries, veins that circled from his chest to his back and then around again.
Then they all burst.
An explosion of color—a mock tornado—surrounded him, almost hid him from view. Now I could see through to his true skin, and I knew for sure that this truly was the creature that I had met in the forest, so many years ago . . . dark gray flesh, broad black wings, teeth that sparkled and eyes of silver. And he was still more handsome than anyone I’d ever met. His true self had been revealed, and for the first time I could see what a beautiful creature he truly was.
“Ash.”
It was all I could say.
The smoky mist wrapped possessive tendrils around him, lifted him off the ground.
“No!” Joe rocked to his feet, as if he only now became aware of what was happening. “Don’t let them take you!” He lashed out at the supernatural cloud that roped about Ash’s chest, that bound his arms and wings to his sides.
Then the song of incantation stopped. In a flash, the smoldering vapor yanked Ash out of the room and out of the house.
Both Joe and I ran to the door, watching helplessly as Ash soared down the street until he disappeared in the distant gloom.
“Get your coat,” I called to Tucker, but he already had it on. No one needed to speak of what had just happened or what we planned to do. It was instinctive. It was part of the incantation, though none of us realized it at the time. We all rushed out the door after Ash, even the dog galloped down the street, feet scuffing up clods of snow and dirt.
We ran, slipped and jogged down snow-covered streets, not even bothering to take the sidewalk or to get into a car. And as we ran, we were joined by other villagers, some wearing coats and hats, some dressed in pajamas, bathrobes and slippers. All of us hurled ourselves down the street as if in a panic, as if our lives—our very existence—depended upon it.
And not one of us stopped, from the youngest to the eldest, until we all stood at the junkyard.
Sheriff Kyle:
The pristine chill evaporated, turned into a sweaty panic-throbbing heat. I got ready to hike back up the ravine for the fifth time, my coat open, hat pushed back. Flashing lights spilled through the woods and over the highway. Three more deputies combed the woods and the deputy coroner picked his way down toward the dried-up riverbed.
“Nicole’s in labor,” he said, explaining why it took him longer than expected to show up.
“ ’Bout time she had that baby,” I answered, trying to smile but knowing that it hung wrong on my face. “Rodriguez is down there waiting for you.” I gestured back toward the pool of light that glowed in the mists. “We saw some coyotes earlier.”
“Lovely.”
“I was just getting ready to head over to the junkyard,” I said as we passed each other on the trail. “I want to check up on the kids. This might be our second body of the evening, and if it is . . .” I paused.
“You don’t need to explain it to me.” The deputy coroner held up a hand and kept walking. “I’d rather the body count didn’t get any higher. Do what you need to.”
I braced myself for the wind that had been howling through the mountain pass, but when I climbed back out onto the road I was met with silence instead. The wind had died down.
It felt like that awful quiet right before a storm.
I wasn’t sure why, but ever since we found Agnes’s body I’d been worried about all the kids still out wandering the streets. The snow had slowed down. Only a stray snowflake fell as I jogged across the highway and got into my car. A quick glance to the locked rack between the two front seats gave me a surge of confidence.
My weapon of choice. A Ruger Mini–14 semiautomatic rifle.
I hoped whoever killed Agnes would cross my path sometime tonight. Because I was going to take him down, blow the legs right out from under him, knock him flat on his back.
Maybe I’d even blow the bastard’s head off.
My SUV plowed through snow and slush, faster than I ought, still, not fast enough. My skin rippled with gooseflesh, the sort of thing that used to happen when someone told ghost stories when I was boy. I couldn’t stop thinking about Agnes, all alone back there in the woods with no one to rescue her. Something swooping down from the hell-black sky to drag her off, screaming.
And then, sucking out her life, drop by drop.
Some evil beast was stalking this town and it was my job to catch it and kill it. Before it struck again.
I whipped around a corner, passed the line of cars with cracked windshields. Only a few more blocks and I’d be at the junkyard. Hopefully, all the kids were together. There was safety in numbers—though not much if they were trying to defend themselves against some unnatural demon.
That was when I heard it—an awful ripping and tearing, as if the village itself were being torn asunder, from foundation to crowning sky. An explosive crack rumbled and a massive furrow bolted down the highway, dissecting the road in two. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that an earthquake had just missed me. A second earlier and my car would have been tossed into the flanking woods like a toy.
I pressed my foot against the gas pedal, leaned into the steering wheel, not daring to look behind me. Strange clouds were forming overhead. And a song began to wend through the air; tendrils of unearthly smoke snaking down the street, testing every window and door that they passed. Then one vaporous hand reared up alongside my car window, seemed to hover beside me as my vehicle raced down the street.
Don’t look at it. It’s not real.
Ghostly fingers tapped the glass.
“Go away!” I shouted.
Then it paused, seemed to nod at the other serpentine branches of mist, and it slithered on down the street. Hunting.
My Chevy Tahoe swiveled. Skidded to a sloppy halt.
I climbed out of the car, grabbed my rifle, made sure it was loaded and that the safety was off. I took a couple spare magazines and stuffed them into my jacket pockets. Then, clutching the weapon like a talisman, I strode through blackened brush and weeds.
Toward the junkyard and the town’s children.
Toward any beast that might even think about harming them.
Chapter 79
A Thousand Yellow Eyes
Maddie:
The heavens seethed with a mass of black wings and sharp claws, they rocked with the bellowing cries of those trapped in their midst. I slid to a stop at the edge of a weathered field, just outside a battered, fenced-in enclosure—a junkyard. Right now, hordes of children were clambering out of its narrow exit, climbing over refuse, Halloween costumes ripping, masks cast aside, makeup running in tear-stained rivulets. I latched onto Tucker, kept him at my side, all the while staring up at the tumultuous sky, at the storm of Darklings that continued to grow.
The creatures poured in from surrounding communities, a murder of black wings that surged over distant hills until they all collided overhead. A thousand yellow eyes smoldered in the skies. A wild fury charged the air, forced a panic in my chest that made me want to run and hide.
But I couldn’t.
The incantation held all of us in place. Darkling and human alike.
“Mom, I’m scared,” Tucker whimpered beside me.
Me too
, I wanted to say. “No one’s going to hurt you, Tuck. I promise.” I kissed his forehead, lifted his chin until he gazed into my eyes. “My seal of protection, remember?”
He nodded.
At the same time Samwise bristled. The dog grew, his chest widened, his teeth got longer, sharper, and he braced himself in front of us. He was watching the sky. Ready to protect us from anything that might be foolish enough to try and attack.
Meanwhile, I sensed Ash somewhere in the darkness above. We were united now, bound by the red-black blood that stained my hands. I could hear his thoughts, disjointed, grief-stricken over what had happened.
Flee.
He was speaking to me through a darkened corridor of my mind. I saw him then, recognized his shape amongst the puzzle of black. He was tumbling, unstable as a babe.
No, I can’t leave you,
I whispered back, realizing what truly held me here.
Nor do I want to.
At that moment, in the shadowed edge of town, a chill wind brushed against me.
I knew then that the century-old curse was gone. All it would take was one Darkling to realize how vulnerable we were, to launch down from whirlwind skies and claim the village with another curse. There would be no one to save us. Even Tucker and I would be prisoners here, bound.
I shivered beneath the wild black sky, remembering the two beasts that had cornered me earlier, and I tightened my grip around my son.
My kiss on his forehead. My vow to protect him, no matter what.
Then the crowd parted and I saw Sheriff Kyle standing akimbo, a short distance away. Rifle in one hand, he was staring up into the sky. He was getting ready to fire into the cloud of Darklings. But he couldn’t—Ash was up there.
“No!” I shouted.
In that instant, before I could get Kyle’s attention, the crowd closed around me and I couldn’t move.
Sheriff Kyle:
I hoisted my weapon and braced it against my shoulder, training it on the Darkling-filled sky with a well-practiced aim. The first shot landed square in the center of the vile flock that circled overhead. I grinned as I took a step back from the recoil. Years of hunting paid off, for I managed to hit two of the wild beasts with one strike; both creatures screamed and writhed in pain.
Both of them now fell from the sky.
They pitched forward in turbulent spirals, wings outstretched and thumping without strength, limbs seeking purchase though none was found. They scratched at sky and cloud as they fell, leaving behind a trail of sparks. Then a sea of grass and earth met them both. They crashed to the ground with a loud, sickening thud.
Their dead bodies were quickly surrounded by a mob of angry villagers.
I aimed the rifle, ready to shoot again when several other winged beasts managed to break away from the flock and soared toward the ground. At first I thought one of them was coming for me and that was fine.
I had the creature lined up in my sights when the beast suddenly changed direction. It swooped down and grabbed one of the teenage boys—Hunter Callahan. Then it charged back up into the sky, heading toward the woods.
Toward another uninterrupted feast, no doubt.
Just like what had happened to Agnes.
“Drop the boy, put him back!” I shouted.
The winged beast glanced down and laughed, a deep throaty cackle. It was flying too high now, taller than the treetops, almost as high as the clouds.
I wiped my brow, squinted to keep my focus on the beast as it whisked away from the junkyard. “Bring him back, safe, or I swear, I’ll shoot you out of the sky!”
The creature hovered over the trees, at least eighty feet off the ground. Hunter screamed and flailed in his grasp. I could hear the lad begging for his life.
That was when the creature laughed again and looked right at me.
Then it flung the boy toward the lance-sharp field of forest and death.
At that instant—when the beast cast Hunter to the ground and a sharp gasp swept through the crowd—the sky cracked with my second round. The cartridge blasted straight through the monster’s chest, stained the sky red with his blood.
And now the beast was tumbling to the ground too.
Then the black hurricane that had been churning overhead slowed and stopped as bits of wing and tooth began to fly off; one by one, each beast had finally found a way to break the spell.
They were all soaring down now, hungry and mad, toward the people that scattered, helpless, before them.
Despite my efforts, the feeding was about to begin.
