Laws of Nature -2 (28 page)

“A little rest will do me a lot of good," Bill replied. “Maybe a few stitches. One of you is going to have to drive my car." His eyes went to the journal in Jack's hands. “Is that the book?"

“Yes."

“Bring it with you," Bill said. “It should make interesting reading."

After they were certain that Tackett had help on the way, they left the sheriff still on the phone and went back out to the Jeep. They drove back to the inn with the headlights off, and Molly slipped across the lot to get Bill's car. The two vehicles moved quietly through the dark until they were well outside of town.

They were exhausted, and Bill was wounded, and they were a long way from home. But Jack knew it would be all right now.

For as they drove out of Buckton, he did not see a single ghost on the sides of the road. The victims of the prowlers, the souls who had wandered lost among these mountains, had finally left Buckton behind.

On Monday Courtney let them sleep all day as business went on as usual in the pub. She counted the hours until the kitchen would close and not once did she let slip that three of Bridget's best employees were lazing around like slugs upstairs. After Jack, Molly, and Bill had rolled in that morning, just after six A.M., they had given her the wee-hours-of-the-morning version and all fallen into bed, exhausted.

At last, going on eleven-thirty that night, the restaurant area was cleared. Courtney had Matt make last call at quarter to midnight. By ten past twelve, the place was empty of patrons and staff, and Courtney locked up after Matt with a gentle smile of thanks and a hasty wave. Tired, but thrilled to finally be able to ascend once more to her apartment, Courtney limped across the pub, her cane thumping on the hard wood, and climbed the stairs.

When she opened the door, she heard tinny television voices from the living room. She locked up behind her and went in to find them lolling on chairs and sofas with some ancient black and white rerun on Nick at Nite unfolding to canned laughter on the tube.

Jack spotted her first. Courtney's heart had been so heavily burdened by fear for him in his absence, and now she felt so much lighter, in head and heart.

“Hey," Jack said.

Molly and Bill both glanced up at the sound of his voice, then smiled when they saw Courtney enter.

Her brother rose from his chair and walked over to her. He wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, and it was clear they had been his uniform all day. It had been that kind of day.

Jack took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Then he hugged her close and Courtney let herself lean on him.

“Gotta tell you, little brother," she said in a half-whisper, “for a minute there I - "

“Don't say it," Jack interrupted.

“I know, I know. It's over now."

A frown creased his forehead. “Over? I wish it was. Just getting started, I think."

Courtney wanted to argue, to trot out all her fears for their safety, all the reasons why it was not their problem that there were other Prowler Packs all over the country, probably all over the world. But she could not, because she agreed with him. It had been she, after all, who had set them on the path to Buckton in the first place.

It wasn't over. It would never be over.

Gently, she hugged him, kissed his cheek, then limped over to Molly. The girl gazed up at her, a wan smile on her face, seeming happy and content, and yet there was a shadow over her eyes. Once they had sparkled brightly. That sparkle was still there, but Courtney thought it might have been dimmed somewhat.

She hoped it was only an illusion.

“You all right?" she asked.

Molly took the question seriously, seemed to turn it around for a moment. Then she nodded with grave sincerity. “I'm all right."

Courtney turned toward Bill. “And you," she said. “Mister ignore-those-blood-stains-I-heal-pretty-fast. You come with me."

Without another word, she turned and moved away from them, into the hall. Bill got up and followed, padding silently after her.

Jack watched, a bit taken aback, as Bill followed his sister into the hall. A moment later he heard Courtney's bedroom door open and close, and then the sound of soft music began to drift out to where he and Molly stood in the living room, gaping stupidly at nothing in the hall.

“Wow," Molly said at length.

“Yeah," Jack agreed. “I'd say we missed something."

Their eyes met then, and Jack felt his chest tighten. His breath caught in his throat, and it was as though something was tickling his stomach from the inside -

only he wasn't ticklish there.

“I don't think we missed anything, necessarily," Molly told him, a bit of a rasp to her voice. She swallowed visibly and her smile seemed uncertain. “I'd say it was there all along, like a puzzle somebody only built halfway. We just weren't paying attention when the rest of the pieces got put together."

With a tentative chuckle, Jack shrugged. “I guess. All the same to you, though, I'm going to try to block it out. She's my sister, y'know?"

Molly smiled sweetly. “Yeah. I know." With a tiny shiver, she stretched, and tried to stifle a small yawn. “I'm glad we're all back in one piece, Jack. And I'm . . .

I'm glad we went. It was the right thing to do."

I'm glad we went.
Jack's mind swirled with images of horrible violence and bloodshed, and he shook his head in amazement.

“Yeah. Me, too."

For a moment, Molly searched his eyes. Her smiled faltered. “Well, good night."

“Night," Jack replied.

Molly paused, then started for the hallway. Just short of the open door, she stopped. As he watched her hesitate there, Jack held his breath. Molly half-turned toward him, eyes downcast, lips pouting slightly. Her mane of red hair fell across her face, partially obscuring her expression.

Then she lifted her head, chin raised, and strode toward him. Her step was determined, but her eyes were wide with fear. Molly reached up with both hands, grabbed Jack by the back of the head, and pulled him down to kiss her. Their lips met, and Jack felt as though they burned a little. It was a deep kiss; his heart thundered in his chest, and it seemed he had never felt so invigorated and yet so weak at the same time.

The kiss slowed, became softer, more gentle, as if they were merely tasting each other's lips.

Molly lay her head on his chest a moment. Jack caressed her upturned cheek. A sweet smile blossomed again at the edges of her lips. She stood back, shook her head as if in disbelief, and then turned to walk toward the hall again.

“Good night," he called weakly after her.

“Sleep tight," Molly replied almost in a whisper.

She hurried from the room and he stood and stared after her until he heard her door close softly down the hall.

“Oh, my God," Jack gasped. “What the hell do I do now?"

“What you have to do."

Jack spun, startled, and yet he was not truly surprised to see Artie shimmering there in the middle of the room. Through the spectral form, Jack could still see the television screen, and the canned laughter that filled the room made the scene even more surreal.

“You were watching?" Jack asked quietly.

“Just the last few seconds. I just got here," Artie explained. “Sorry. I wasn't peeping, though. Seriously."

As if slowly deflating, Jack sank onto the sofa. “What do I do now, Artie? This whole thing . . . you . . . Molly . . . it's too complicated. Before it was hard enough, but now I feel like you're this big secret I'm keeping from her. It feels wrong."

Artie nodded solemnly. “I know, Jack. But you know it's for the best. As for what you're gonna do now, you're gonna just keep doing what you've been doing.

Taking care of business, and taking care of Molly."

His black eyes flickered, and the ghost glanced away. “You should be with her, Jack. It's . . . it's harder for me to take than I thought it would be. I mean, I know it's the right thing, but . . ." Artie's entire form seemed to ripple, as though the air itself was folding in around him. Then he solidified again, and he stared at Jack.

“This is the way it should be. Let it play out."

Jack exhaled slowly, with a shake of his head. “I just . . . maybe, Artie. But can we change the subject? Not talk about this for a while?"

For the first time, Artie had turned to look at the television set. Onscreen, Dick Van Dyke was having a bad dream, restless in bed.

“Oh, I love this one," the ghost said excitedly.

As though he could still feel it beneath him, the spirit of Artie Carroll settled down on the sofa next to Jack. They watched television in silence for a few minutes.

In some ways it was wonderful for Jack, filled him with a nostalgia for simpler times with Artie. For those same reasons, it was also painful.

“What you did up in Buckton was really something," Artie said at the commercial break. “Lot of lost souls not so lost anymore, thanks to you."

Jack frowned. “They really have moved on, then?"

Artie nodded. “But why the long face? You should be happy for them?"

“Well," Jack said slowly, “no offense, but, we took care of what was keeping you here a long time ago, but you're still around. I just . . . I mean, why?"

The ghost smiled.

“Somebody's got to watch out for you, bro."

The wind whistled through the trees on Pine Hill, but aside from that, the mountain was dead silent. It was as though even the wildlife was afraid to move, afraid to cry out. Below, in the town of Buckton, people tried to make sense of the disappearance of more than two dozen of the small town's citizens.

In the clearing upon Pine Hill where the Bartleby place had once stood, the two survivors argued about what to do next. One was determined to have vengeance upon Sheriff John Tackett. The other wanted simply to flee. And so they argued, and they hunted for meager sustenance, and they lingered there together, wondering how long it would be before Tackett came to the clearing.

They were still there when
she
arrived, tall and thin, with eyes so cruel they both lay quickly before her, offering their throats. They had not the heart to fight.

The face she wore, the faÆade, was dark and exotic by human standards, but they could sense the power of the beast underneath. She demanded to know what had happened, and they told her all of it.

“This cannot be," she whispered. “This was supposed to be the sanctuary, the place to rest and to start again."

“The sheriff killed them all. A boy and a girl, outsiders, they helped him," one of the survivors replied, “and one of us. He killed his own."

The female sniffed the air. “I can smell them. They have been here, fouled this sanctuary with their presence. Their scents are familiar."

Fury raged in her, but she forced herself to be calm. “Come then. We'll begin again together, we'll gather others around us. A great Pack, just as Tanzer dreamed of. And when the moment is right, we shall all have our vengeance upon these murderers."

The survivors bowed their heads to their new mistress. She laid a hand upon each of them, reassuring, and yet also establishing her place as their pack leader, their Alpha.

“Just as you say, mistress," said one of the survivors.

“Jasmine," she corrected. “Call me Jasmine."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHRISTOPHER GOLDEN is the award-winning,
L.A. Times
bestselling author of such novels as
Straight on 'til Morning, Strangewood, Prowlers,
and the
Body of
Evidence
series of teen thrillers.

Golden has also written a great many books and comic books related to the TV series
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and
Angel.
His other comic book work includes stories featuring such characters as Batman, Wolverine, Spider-Man, The Crow, and Hellboy, among many others.

As a pop-culture journalist, he was the editor of the Bram Stoker Award-winning book of criticism,
CUT!: Horror Writers on Horror Film,
and co-author of both
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Monster Book
and
The Stephen King Universe.
s

Golden was born and raised in Massachusetts, where he still lives with his family. He graduated from Tufts University. He is currently at work on the third book in the
Prowlers
series,
Predator and Prey,
and a new novel for Signet called
The Ferryman.
There are more than four million copies of his books in print.

Please visit him at www.christophergolden.com

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14