Ghoul Interrupted (12 page)

“My mother isn’t welcome at the Pueblo,” Heath said softly. “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that my uncle Rex is in charge of the library where the histories are kept, and if she asks, he might—and I do mean
might
—let her look through them.”

“Ah,” I said. I realized that I probably shouldn’t probe too much deeper about that sore subject.

Teeks folded her napkin and picked up her plate. “I’d better pack,” she said, excusing herself from the table.

That left just the three of us, and I thought that maybe Heath could use some time alone with his mom. I glanced at the clock. Doc would be anxious to come out of his cage anyway. I’d checked under his blanket right before heading to breakfast and he’d appeared calm and sleepy. “I better see about Doc,” I told them, and started to push my own chair back when Heath laid a hand on my arm and pulled me forward to kiss me.

“Thanks,” he said.

I felt my cheeks redden at the PDA in front of his mom. “For what?”

“For everything, but especially for not packing and getting on that flight with Teeko.”

Okay, screw the embarrassment. I leaned in and kissed him back.

 

Later, after the handyman came and fixed the door to Mrs. Lujan’s room, we saw Teeko and Wendell off. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take Doc?” she asked, giving me a big hug next to the limo.

I was truly conflicted about whether to send my bird back with Karen or keep him here with me. I didn’t yet know exactly what that thing was that had come prowling around the house, but I knew it was trouble. Still, I’d missed my bird so much that I just couldn’t bear to part with him yet. If things got really dicey, I decided, I could find a local bird vet or aviary to house him for a few days. “Thanks,” I told her. “But I think I want to keep him close for as long as I can.”

Teeks patted me on the back and then stepped away to hold my shoulders at arm’s length. “Are you sure you won’t stay here?” she asked. “I mean, you don’t know for sure the demon will come back here, right?”

“Which is exactly why we should go,” I said. “The uncertainty is what’ll keep us up at night. Plus, with those big picture windows, it’s way too dangerous. We’d be too exposed. I think we’ll find a hotel somewhere close to downtown with lots of traffic and people to play it safe.”

“Okay,” Teeks said. “But you guys don’t have to leave right away. Just lock up anytime and throw the key under the mat, okay?”

“You got it, gal pal,” I said, squeezing her hand. Heath and I had already discussed it, and we’d decided to do some investigating while there was still an abundance of daylight out, then go for an early dinner and come back here to pack up before dusk.

Teeks leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, “Stay safe, you hear?”

I nodded vigorously, and then I watched her get in the limo and waited until it’d driven out of sight before going back inside, all the while knowing I’d miss her something fierce.

 

Around two o’clock the driver came back and took us over to get Heath’s car out of a garage on the south end of town. I wasn’t surprised to find that he drove an immaculately clean Dodge Durango polished to a shiny, silver sheen. We all piled in and Gil asked, “Where to now?”

“Now we go find some answers,” Mrs. Lujan said.

I could feel her nervous energy all the way in the backseat. “Where do you want to start, Ma?” Heath asked.

“Your uncle Milton’s cabin,” she told him. “The scene of the first crime.”

Heath started up the car and we pulled out of the garage. He drove in silence and not ten minutes into the trip I felt Gil’s head hit my shoulder. That boy can fall asleep at the drop of a hat—or a nice cruise in a car.

Heath wound his way northwest, and we made our way back toward the Pueblo, but took a detour just before we got to the entrance, hanging a right instead of a left onto a narrow road that wound its way up into the foothills. Just when I was starting to nod off myself from the warmth of the car and the lull of the engine, Heath slowed and made a left-hand turn onto a hidden dirt road. “This is tucked away,” I muttered as the SUV bounced and jostled its way along the uneven terrain.

Beside me, Gilley snorted and woke up. “Are we there yet?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Almost,” said Mrs. Lujan. “Milton kept a hunting lodge in these hills and it’s at the end of this road.”

Heath had to slow way down because the road became even more difficult to navigate. It was littered with potholes and large rocks. After a bit we were all bracing ourselves against the sides of the Durango to keep from bouncing around in our seats.

Finally we came around a large bend and there was a small but well-built cabin littered with debris and broken glass. Something caught my eye even before Heath put the car into park. I felt a wave of shivers creep up my spine.

Just below the window were three long grooves that looked like talon marks, just like we’d seen in the tree Beverly had hit, and along the back of Teeko’s lodge.

We got out silently and I could see the effect of the condition of the cabin on both Heath’s face and his mother’s. They wore identical expressions of horror and shock. I’m sure I wore it as well.

The four of us stood by the Durango for a moment, and to a person we closed the doors quietly, almost as if we didn’t want to disturb the scene with an obtrusive noise. I moved quickly to Heath’s side and took his hand. He jerked a little when I touched him, as if he hadn’t been aware of anything except his uncle’s ruined cabin.

Mrs. Lujan approached the entrance first. She walked carefully around the bits of glass and splintered wood. The door was open and as I squinted into the interior, I realized that the door had swung inward and was hanging haphazardly on its hinges.

Just behind me Gilley squeaked, the telltale sign that he was scared witless. I reached back and took his hand with my free one. “Stick with me,” I whispered.

He edged closer and when he moved, Heath did too. The three of us stepped to the door just behind Mrs. Lujan. She paused in the doorway and I could see over her shoulder. A gasp escaped me. The inside looked like a five-hundred-pound tiger had decorated it.

Furniture was smashed and broken and flung about with such violence that I could hardly believe it. There were deep gouges along all four walls and the furniture was barely recognizable as anything other than scrap.

Broken pottery also littered the floor, and when Mrs. Lujan stepped through the door into the chaotic scene, she bent down to retrieve one of the shards and a small cry escaped her.

She hugged the piece to her and pinched her eyes closed. Heath let go of my hand and went over to comfort her, his feet crunching on the debris. Gilley and I waited in tense silence just inside the door. We both looked around nervously and I could see Gil’s face was as pale as when he was battling the worst of his flu. “Let’s go!” he mouthed, tugging on my hand and turning his body toward the car.

I shook my head. “Not yet,” I whispered.

Gil continued to eye Heath’s SUV longingly. I had the feeling he was calculating how fast he could run to it.

With a sigh I let go of Gil’s hand and began to move around the small space, being careful not to bump or move any of the mess. There was a plastic glove on the floor smeared with blood—probably what was left from the coroner when he came for Milton’s body—and I felt my stomach turn over.

As I walked around and took in the scene, the hairs on the back of my neck rose and I became light-headed. It wasn’t until I was over by the fireplace that I realized what was happening to me. “M. J.?” I heard Gilley ask, but his voice sounded very far away, as if he were calling to me from a tunnel.

I didn’t answer or acknowledge him. Instead I focused on the scene around me and tried not to fight the lightness that was making my limbs tingle. And then, almost in the blink of an eye I saw it—the one-room cabin the way it had been before it was demolished.

There had been a fire crackling in the fireplace that night, and a man with long silver hair who looked remarkably like Sam was hunched over the hearth. He was putting some logs into the bin right next to me and I could smell bacon frying in a pan on the tiny stove at the other end.

The cabin was lit by the fire and two lanterns hung from the center beam. Outside, the wind howled.

Wiping his hands, the man stood up with a small grunt and I could literally hear his joints creak. He put a hand on his knees and grimaced and then he walked stiffly with a slight limp back over to the stove. I watched him crack a couple of eggs right into the pan next to the bacon, and when they were done, he scooped them onto a plate and moved over to the large stump that served as his kitchen table. Pulling up a wooden chair, the man I knew was Milton sat down and got ready to enjoy his dinner, but suddenly, from outside there was a loud
THUMP
.

I shivered. I recognized that sound.

A digging noise came from the back of the cabin and my attention went there, but there was nothing to see. I focused again on Milton, sitting very still as he looked about, alarmed and alert, the fork still clutched in his hand. Silently he stood and moved over to where I was standing. Reaching straight through me, as if I wasn’t there, he pulled his hand back and I could see he had a hunting rifle.

Slowly he moved to the door, the gun held up high, and pointed it at the ceiling. He seemed to mutter something in that same tongue that Heath had spoken in.

I jumped. This time the noise had come from the side of the cabin, to the right of the fireplace. Whatever was out there was on the move. Milton lowered the muzzle of his gun, pointing it at the door. He muttered again in Zuni and outside, that low rumbling growl emerged. I began shaking and my heart raced in earnest. I tried to yell at him. I wanted him to hide, or fire the gun, or stay still and quiet, but my voice got stuck in my throat. Try as I might, no sound came out of me.

And then, the growling stopped. Abruptly, like a motor turning off, the low rumble quit and only the wind outside filled the background with noise. Milton lifted his head from the sight of the gun and I could tell he was listening too. Nothing but the wind came back to our ears.

Milton moved to the door, tipping the barrel to his shoulder before reaching for the handle. I shook my head. “No!” I tried. “Wait! Don’t!”

But again, no sound escaped my lips, and Milton proceeded to open the door very slowly. He didn’t open it far, just a crack really, and he put his eye to the crack to peer out when suddenly the entire door exploded inward, sending the poor man flying through the air to land on his back on the floor.

“M. J.!” I heard as something ancient and horrible screeched from just outside.

I could feel my chest heaving and air was coming into my lungs, but I couldn’t get it to stay. Something ferocious and alien filled the doorway. Gleaming black scales and white elongated claws . . .

I squeezed my eyes shut, ducking away from the terrible scene in the doorway. I could still hear it, though, and sense the demon slithering into the room. Milton began to scream—high-pitched, the sound of absolute terror—and then I knew he was being attacked and I screamed too.

In the next moment I was on the ground, bits of glass cutting into my shins as Heath shook me again and again by the shoulders. “Come back!” he shouted. “M. J., come back!”

“S-s-s-
stop
!” I stuttered, reaching up to seize his hands. He stopped shaking me abruptly, and then he scooped me to him and clutched me in his arms. I started crying. Milton’s terrified screams still echoed loudly over and over in my mind.

“Let’s take her out,” I heard Mrs. Lujan say.

Heath tried to get me to stand, but my legs just gave out. I was shivering so hard my teeth were rattling and I felt frozen from the inside out. Heath picked me up, even though he was still recovering from a back injury, and carried me to the car.

Somehow he managed to put me into the backseat and then he climbed right in after me, scooping me up again to hold me close. I heard the jangle of keys and Heath say, “Gil. Drive us out of here.”

A moment later the engine started and the car was in motion. I sobbed through all of it, feeling like I was coming unglued. “I think she saw what happened to Milton,” Mrs. Lujan said. “I think she had some kind of vision and saw who killed him.”

She didn’t even know the half of it.

We made it to the end of the dirt road before Gilley pulled over. I’m pretty sure he would have driven us straight back to Boston if the sheriff’s car hadn’t blocked our exit. “We’ve got trouble,” Gil said, and I lifted my face from Heath’s chest to see red and blue strobe lights whirling.

Mrs. Lujan sniffed impatiently. “Let me handle this,” she said.

“Hey,” Heath whispered to me. “How you doing?”

I swallowed and worked to steady my breathing. “I’m fine.”

He hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek. “I think I need to be out there with Ma. It looks like Sheriff Pena’s pissed.”

I cleared my throat and dabbed at my eyes with the Kleenex Mrs. Lujan had given me a minute before. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Heath said quickly. “It’s probably better if you stay here. You too, Gil,” he added. “Stay put, okay?”

“No problem,” Gil told him seriously.

I watched Heath get out and approach the patrol car. Sheriff Pena was standing next to the door, his arms crossed and a definite frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He wore those mirrored sunglasses that a lot of cops wear, and they made his face look alien and detached. Mrs. Lujan appeared to be doing her best to talk to him, and he just stood there, grumpily listening to her. Then, when Heath arrived, Pena pointed angrily at him and began reading him the riot act, although I couldn’t make out any words.