Point Pleasant (41 page)

Fear and panic revved through him like a flooded carburetor. He kicked and scrambled for purchase in the sludge of the mud. When he rose onto his elbows, the
thing
still wrapped around his foot yanked again and forced him onto his face.

Ben’s right hand closed around the barrel of the shotgun. He held onto it as he pushed up and rolled over so that his back was in the mud and he could see what had taken hold of him.

A tall, lean figure with impossibly long arms was silhouetted against the shadowy forest. Dark, undulating appendages billowed from behind its arched shoulders; they seemed to writhe with satisfaction as Ben’s fright levels rose into pure, unadulterated terror.

As a mass, the shapes looked almost like wings. They thrashed, and Ben saw that the strange, tattered limbs were not joined.
Tentacles
, Nicholas had called them. And one was wrapped around Ben’s foot.

In the waning daylight, Ben saw that the
thing
was not simply dark because it stood in the shadows on the edge of the forest. The skin that covered its long, gangly form was entirely absent of color.

Raziel’s words reverberated.
Stained black by his pride and tainted from the stench of Hell.

This, Ben realized, was
Azazel
.

The thing’s eyes opened to reveal bright, unnaturally red orbs that settled on Ben with fixed malice. Ben wanted to scream, but no sound emerged from his throat. With his hand still on the Remington, Ben raised the gun, pumped the forend, and fired.

The crack of the discharge rang through the otherwise quiet forest. The modified round hit the
thing
square in the jutting cavern of its ribcage.

A high-pitched, ear-splitting scream far louder than the gunshot rang through the trees. Ben fired again, sending another salt round into the creature’s chest. The grip around his foot diminished as Azazel stumbled then seemed to evaporate into nothing with a crackle of what sounded like the same sick electrical hum of a battered power station that Ben had heard the day before.

Ben fumbled in the mud, struggling to stand. He grabbed the duffel bag, tossed it into the factory, and took the sword and flashlight. He slipped and skidded until he threw himself over the salt line.

“Fuck,” he whispered, panting for breath, and his heart thudded in his chest. “
Fuck!
”

Ben’s hands shook, and his eyes tore around the tree line outside of the north wall. He edged further into the factory but kept the gun trained on the broken wall.

“What the
fuck?!
” he screamed out at the forest, clutching the shotgun with bruising force while his brain grappled to register what he had just seen.

“Ben?”

Ben spun around and nearly shot at the voice behind him, which rose from the entryway on the other side of the factory floor.

Nicholas ducked with trained ease. “Don’t you dare fucking shoot me!”

Ben lowered the barrel of the shotgun. Nicholas had his Glock in his right hand. The sheriff straightened when Ben was no longer pointing the Remington at him.

“Fucking shit goddamnit!” Ben cursed. “Asshole!”

“I heard shots,” Nicholas said as he crossed the room.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Ben screamed in full-blown panic. “I shot it in the fucking chest! Twice!”

Nicholas reached to take the shotgun from Ben’s still trembling hands; he was gentle enough but firm just the same. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. Just let go, Ben.”

Ben released his hold on the stock. Nicholas secured the safety. He assessed Ben’s mud-soaked front and peered over to the gaping wall that led out to the forest.

“Stay here,” Nicholas said. His gait was calm as he strode toward the north wall.

“Don’t! Fucking
don’t
cross the salt line!”

Nicholas said nothing, but he stopped at the edge of the salt line. He stood with his back to Ben while he assessed the forest. Nicholas pulled the flashlight off his duty belt and flicked it on so that its bright beam illuminated the dark thicket of trees facing the factory.

Satisfied that they were alone, Nicholas stalked closer to Ben. The sheriff’s right hand connected hard against Ben’s chest, shoving him back a step.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Once again, what the
hell
were you thinking?”

Fiery umbrage licked at Ben’s already unsettled nerves, and he returned the shove. “Fuck you, Nic.”

Nicholas’ eyes shone fiercely in the dim light of their flashlights, and the muscles of his jaw clenched.

He was afraid
, Ben realized.
For you
.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Nicholas said. “I
told
you not to come out here alone.”

“I’m fine!” Ben said. “I can take care of myself,” he added and grabbed for the shotgun.

Nicholas pulled it out of Ben’s reach and gave an authoritative glare as if to dare Ben to try to take the gun from him. “Just fucking stop,” he said and put a hand to Ben’s chest to keep him away. “Just stop and tell me you’re okay.”

Ben gritted his teeth, and some crazed part of himself wanted to hit Nicholas in the face when he heard the worry crack through the other man’s controlled tone.

“I’m fine,” Ben repeated.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and neither spoke a word.

Ben lowered his head, unable to meet Nicholas’ gaze any longer. He moved toward the shield. Its eerie light shone prominently against the contrast of the dark factory floor. Nicholas cradled the Remington in his arms. Ben gripped the sword and knelt down on the floor beside the shield. Finally, he cast a brief, uncertain glance to Nicholas.

Nicholas adjusted his hold on the shotgun and nodded at the unspoken question that hung on the air like the particles of dust that danced in the beam of his flashlight.

What if it
does
go nuclear?

Ben pushed the thought out of his head and raised the sword with both hands secured around its handle. He took a breath before he brought the sharp end of the blade down onto the center of the shield.

Unbearable radiance engulfed the factory, and a loud keening overwhelmed Ben’s senses. Heat blazed through his fingers as if he had reached into some smoldering caldera. A torrid light traveled up his arms to his shoulders before the blast hit him.

Raw, untamed energy burst forth. Ben had a few seconds to wonder if this was what it felt like to throw yourself on top of a bomb before everything went white, loud, and hot when the shield beneath him seemed to explode.

Ben felt like he was flying. He was thrown across the length of the factory from the discharge. The light went dark, and Ben lost awareness.

Ben? Ben?

The sound was distant and muted under the ringing in his ears.

Open your eyes, Ben. Look at me.

Ben fluttered his eyelids.

Keep your eyes open, can you hear me?

Ben stared up at Nicholas when his vision cleared. He was reminded of the wet-fist-in-a-power-socket sensation from Marietta Abernathy’s sitting room. His veins seemed to hum with electricity while every inch of his skin tingled uncomfortably.

Nicholas was talking to him, but Ben only saw and heard him on the periphery of his senses. The sheriff’s face was pinched tight with worry, but Ben felt a ripple of
something
in the dark corner of his mind. Compelled, he turned his head and gazed at the north wall.

Standing there in the opening a hundred feet away with its wings outstretched was the creature that had terrified him as a child during a misguided adventure into the forest surrounding Point Pleasant one late summer night.

The tall, thin, humanoid being with gray skin and wings more akin to that of a bat than a moth treaded across the salt line and into the factory. His pace was slow but assured. Raziel’s wings folded in behind his back as he strode forward to the center of the room, leaned down, and took up his sword.

Nicholas hoisted himself to his feet. He positioned himself in a protective stance over Ben and cocked the shotgun.

Raziel regarded them, and his piercing red eyes glowed in the darkness. He opened his mouth and let out a soft screeching noise that, though controlled, was still jarring to Ben’s human ears.

Unconsciousness took hold of Ben once more.

He watched Carmine from the kitchen window as she tended her garden. A single blue tulip had bloomed to life in the early hours of the morning, and its petals opened to drink in dew and daylight for the first time. He was a ghost in their home and restricted to dark corners and empty rooms. But in the quiet moments of her private reveries, he watched her undeterred by his fear of discovery or recognition.

“
Can you hear me?
”

The voice from Ben’s dream bled into reality, and he woke with a start. He shifted and felt something soft underneath him. He was on a small sofa. A scan of his surroundings revealed he was in a cramped room with concrete walls. The presence of two chairs, a round table which bore a box of Kleenex, and Daniel Ford alerted Ben that he was most likely in the Sheriff’s Department and in a room typically reserved for the victims of crimes. The space had obviously been decorated to appear as relaxed but official as possible for the process of taking statements.

“Oh, good,” said the voice. Ben blinked at Daniel and realized it was the deputy’s deep tenor that had roused him from his stupor.

Ben tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness swept through him like a gust of fierce wind.

“Just stay down for now,” Daniel said. “You have a concussion.”

Ben blinked a few times until the words registered. “What happened?”

“Do you remember anything?” Nicholas asked, and Ben noticed the other man for the first time. He stood behind Daniel, his posture rigid. The sheriff’s face was taut with worry, and the shoulders of his uniform were drenched with rain.

Ben closed his eyes and saw Grant Harper put a bullet through his head. He grimaced as the scene looped like a short film at the Marquee.

“Not right now.”

“There was an explosion,” Nicholas said, and he glanced over at Daniel in a way that confused Ben even more. “Sent you flying into a wall. I couldn’t get you to wake up. I brought you back here. Tried to take you to County General, but the roads are out. Flooded. Storm came in not too long after you went down.”

Ben tried to process Nicholas’ account, but he felt only bewilderment.

“I brought you back here,” Nicholas repeated, and he tugged at a pocket on his duty belt as if to keep his hands occupied. “To the station.”

Daniel offered a terse but reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “I think it’s pretty mild. I don’t see any cuts or contusions aside from your forehead, but Nicholas said you had that before the explosion. You just need to rest for now and head over to County tomorrow for a scan to make sure everything’s clear.”

Sarah appeared in the doorway with a bottle of water. A relieved smile crossed her lips when she saw Ben. “Oh, he’s awake!”

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine,” Daniel said with greater confidence. He straightened when Astrid entered behind Sarah.

“Good,” Astrid said. “But we’re still fucked for communication. Can’t get anyone on the radio. Majors is still trying.”

“Any calls coming in on the landlines?” Nicholas asked.

Sarah shook her head and passed the bottle of water to Ben. “No. All the phone lines are out too.”

“Fuck,” Nicholas sighed. “I’ll be up front when I’m done here.”

Sarah headed out of the room. Daniel cleared his throat and tilted his head to the door. Astrid seemed to be on the same wavelength and peered out into the hallway.

“All clear,” she said.

“So did this explosion have anything to do with our so-called friend in the woods?”

Ben listened to the officers discuss the details of the explosion, realizing that Nicholas must have informed them of Raziel’s situation at some point earlier in the day.

“I still think this whole business is bullshit,” Daniel said, his voice loud enough to cause Astrid to shush him and give a meaningful nod toward the hallway.

“Yeah, but c’mon Thomas,” Daniel said. “Angels? I know your folks are all hopped up on Jesus Juice, and Wisehart over there writes about this shit for a living, but this is the kind of talk that we used to toss Jack Freemont into the drunk tank for.” He faltered and turned to Ben. “I mean, no offense, Ben. I like your books. I fucking loved the zombie one.”

“At least someone did,” Ben said, his voice a croaky whisper.

“Oh, but there was offense intended to me?” Astrid asked and shoved Daniel’s shoulder in a gesture of good-natured reproof.

“Stow it, both of you,” Nicholas said. “Go check on Majors. See if he’s gotten a hold of anyone yet. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Astrid rolled her eyes as if she was accustomed to the sheriff’s curt mood swings. She exited the room with Daniel, and Nicholas dropped down to his knees at Ben’s side.

“How do you feel?”

“Like someone trimmed the footage off my reel.”

“Fuck, I don’t even know—” Nicholas said after a long silence. He seemed to struggle to gather his words. “You stabbed the shield with the angel sword, and it just exploded. There was light everywhere. It was like someone set off a nuke. I couldn’t see anything, it was so bright. Then it cleared, and you weren’t there. I found you on the other side of the factory. Couldn’t get you to wake up at first, and then you did, but just for a minute.”

Ben blinked rapidly as he remembered the figure who strode into the factory to reclaim his sword. “Raziel was there.”

Nicholas nodded. “He walked right in.”

Ben’s missing reel clicked into place. “He got the sword.”

“He picked it up, made that noise he makes, and walked right back out. The storm started after that.”

“The storm?”

“It was just thunder and lightning at first, then it started pouring,” Nicholas said, and a grim expression settled over his features. “I got you out to my car, but it was hell driving back. The rain was so thick, I could hardly see. All of the roads leading in and out of town were completely flooded by the time I made it to the end of River Bend.”