The Dark Communion (The Midnight Defenders) (32 page)

Brom shook, convulsed rapidly. There was a loud siren, like a fog horn, yet disorienting. I staggered backward, shielded one ear with my shoulder, and dropped the piece of mirror as my good hand covered the other ear. But the noise grew louder. It occurred to me that it wasn’t a noise at all, but rather some kind of psychic attack, some mental backlash.

I collapsed to the floor, and Brom grabbed his severed hand and disappeared past the flames into the darkness near Anna’s pool. There wasn’t anything over there…nothing except the boy.

I couldn’t move and called, “Taboo!”

The dog bolted forward, his growl tearing through the chaotic noise in my head. I couldn’t see what happened, but heard a scuffle, and Brom staggered through the darkened entry. As he moved away, the psychic noise faded.

Beside me, the fire crackled, and one of the curtains fell like a dying phoenix. In the space beyond, I saw the dog standing atop Adam’s body, straddling him, teeth bared in a snarl, a low growl reverberating in his throat.

“Good boy,” I said.

Taboo appeared at my side, panted heavily in my ears. Licked my face. I patted him on the top of the head and felt the warmth from the dark, wet stain on his fur. Another deep gash just behind his right foreleg. He limped a little as he walked, but still seemed eager and pleased with himself.

There was a loud, shrill whistle, and Taboo barked once in response and trudged through the doorway. I tried to move, couldn’t get my fucking legs under me as the smoke and flames grew in intensity.

Crestmohr entered the room with Nadia. She gasped and fell at my side.

I caught her eye and said, “Adam’s back there. He’s unconscious.”

“I have the boy,” Crestmohr said and stepped over to Adam, picked him up. He handed the boy to Nadia. Stooped and lifted me. Held me with unfaltering strength. As they ducked back through the doorway, I caught a deep breath of fresh, smokeless air.

“Take me back,” I said. “Leave me with Anna.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Nadia said. “He’s delirious.”

“Fucking let me go,” I yelled. “You’re going the wrong way. My daughter…”

But I was so tired, so weak. I tried to protest, but nothing came. The more steps he took, the more desperate I became, and as he stepped out onto the old brick road, the pain inside of me seemed to rival the physical pain in my body. I closed my eyes.

Nadia said, “Where’s Ape?”

“He must still be in there,” the Chinook said.

“I’ve got him,” somebody said. “We’ve found him.”

“He’s alive?” somebody said, surprised. I didn’t know if they were talking about Ape…or me.

“For now. He needs medical attention. He’s lost a lot of blood.” Probably me.

“He’s lucky.”

Yeah, lucky me. Fuck. I guess my truck was on time today.

.

39

The path Crestmohr took to lead us out of the Underground was through an old, abandoned utility shed in the fairgrounds, not even half a mile from the subterranean, brick street. It took maybe an hour to get everyone topside again, and by that time, Ape was feeling much more like himself. He was still a little shaky, but he insisted on helping the Chinook take a few treated timbers of Gopher wood back into the Underground.

I was only half conscious, but I lay in the bed of Crestmohr’s pick-up, my head in Nadia’s lap, an old blanket underneath me, and the stars blazing in the cloudless night sky above. I’d never been so happy to see the fucking sky.

The dogs curled up together beside me, along with Adam. Barnes’ wrapped body lay at the tires on the ground until a police team could come and claim it.

Anderson and Chuck regained consciousness and agreed to wait ‘til we had gone before rendezvousing with Stone.

Turns out the warehouse where they found James Wright also housed the bodies of over thirty children, their bones displayed in an upstairs office that was made into a charnel house not unlike the one Ape and I had found before. With so many bodies discovered at once, it wasn’t difficult for Stone, Chuck and Anderson to convince the Powers that Be that the idea of an underground ring of serial-kidnapping bums wasn’t all that crazy.

The warehouse also had a silk room, or a chrysalis chamber, as Finnegan had referred to it. According to Finnegan and whoever he consulted with, the room was used for a cocoon orgy of sorts, allowing multiple inhabitants to undergo their metamorphosis all at the same time. Of course, the room was never used, but Brom either couldn’t, or didn’t see a need to, stop them from creating it.

James Wright and Adam Gables were delivered safely home.

I wasn’t there for that. I was sleeping in a hospital bed after getting stitched and bandaged. The dragon’s claw hadn’t pierced anything vital, but my arm was fucking broken, and they had to put me in a cast. Nothing ended up being wrong with my legs, and the numbness was blamed on phantom nerves from my previous incident at the Song. I was given an IV of morphine for the pain and a quiet room. I finally got the rest I needed, didn’t get up until about three the next afternoon. I would have gladly slept longer, but they sent me home.

The next day was Nadia’s birthday.

Chess had prepared a multi-tiered chocolate cake that put most celebrity wedding cakes to shame. We were going to throw her a party, but she asked us not to. She swore she’d had enough excitement for a while and decided to celebrate with a movie rental and a pizza delivery, which was fine with me. I’d just gotten out of the hospital and ached all over.

Later that evening, I made my way down to the barn. I’d never been inside before, and it was nicer than I would’ve guessed. Of the two small rooms on the side of the building, one had been turned into a den with a fireplace and a futon, a small table with two chairs. There was a colorful, hand-woven rug in the middle of the room and a large cushion in the corner for the dogs. The other room was a small bathroom with a toilet and stand-up shower and a small kitchen with a mini-fridge, a stove and a sink. There was a closet for clothes and another for storage.

I stood in the doorway for a moment before I knocked.

Crestmohr sat at the little table, drank hot tea and read an old paperback by candlelight. Thai greeted me as I entered. The fire blazed in the hearth, and Taboo lay on a cushion next to it, his ribs wrapped in white medical bandages. He lifted his head toward me, and his tail began to wag excitedly when he saw me. He didn’t get up. He let his head fall back to the cushion, tail flopping lazily.

Crestmohr looked up and smiled absently. “Good evening, John Swyftt.”

I nodded to him and entered the room. “I wanted to…check on your dog. How is he?”

My left hand hung at my side, and Thai nuzzled his head into it.

“He will be just fine,” he said with a knowing grin. “My dogs are tough. It takes much more than a dragon to put them down.”

I nodded and walked to Taboo, knelt down beside him, rubbed the top of his head.

“How are you?” Crestmohr asked.

“Me?” I looked up, a little surprised. “In pain.” I shrugged. “It’ll pass.” I looked back at the dog for a moment, rubbed him idly, watched his eyes close. Taboo took a deep, relaxed breath. I looked back at the Chinook and said, “Look, I…I wanted to say…”

“You are welcome,” he said with a smile. “How is everyone else?”

“Anderson has a few second degree burns, some nasty cuts. Chuck’s okay: bumps and bruises, mainly, but he thinks I saved his life.”

“That is good.”

There was another moment of silence and I said, “You’re not a normal hunter.” He watched me patiently, but said nothing. He folded his hands before him. “Were you with the Hand?”

“The Hand of Shanai?” he asked as a curious expression played across his face. “No.”

“But someone trained you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“The same people that trained Ape?”

He shook his head. “I am afraid not. My people are old, John Swyftt. There are many things we know, and we train our children to know them as well.”

“Your people?” I said. “The Chinook?”

He smiled, nodded. I thought back to the cave, the image I saw when I awoke: the Groundskeeper fending off a dragon with nothing but a crossbow. I turned, and whether by magic or coincidence, saw the weapon standing in the corner.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

He nodded.

I motioned to the bow. “How did you do that…with the dragon? Hold him back like that. Dragons aren’t warded off by crosses.”

“The crossbow is made of Gopher wood,” he said. “Dragons are animals. They are bigger, and they are meaner. But they were created the same as a stallion or a heron or the great ox. The Wood works on them like any other.”

“What happens to the dragon? We just leave him there?”

“No,” he said. “We fenced him in. He will be safe there until your priest friend can arrange for the Hand of Shanai to pick him up and take him some place safer.”

“You aren’t worried he’ll try to break free?”

Crestmohr shook his head. “He was hostile only because he was under the control of the Bogey.” He took a sip of his tea.

“You seem pretty sure about that.”

“I looked into its eyes.”

“He didn’t have any eyes left.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

I waited for some deeper explanation, but that’s all he gave, like that answered everything.

“How does a Bogey get reigns on a dragon, anyway? Or more importantly, why?”

“Ours is not to question, John Swyftt. A dragon is a formidable weapon, to be sure. Perhaps he had need of such a weapon.”

“That’s one sodding hell of an arsenal to stockpile. Dragon and a legion of meat-suit zombies? Gotta make you wonder what the bloke was running from…?”

Crestmohr didn’t say anything, just smiled as though he’d remembered something funny.

“Whatever.” I scratched the dog’s head once more and stood up. “It’s a special dog,” I said. “The way it stood up to Brom. How it carried Ape. It…” I looked down at Taboo, and he cocked his head at me. “He…he saved my life.”

“He has saved my life before as well. It is what he does. What they both do.”

I nodded at him. “I’ll let you get back to the book.”

“You are welcome to stay.”

“I need to take my medicine,” I admitted. “I’m tired and in pain.”

He nodded, and I went back to the house.

I was glad to have him around after that.

The following Tuesday, when the pain was a little more tolerable under high doses of medication, I drove out to see Eric Gables. It was early in the morning, and he stood on the curb waiting for the school bus.

When I pulled up in the El Camino, he smiled. “Mr. Swyftt,” he said. “I didn’t know if I’d get to see you. I’ve been calling your office. I even stopped by once. I wanted to thank you in person.”

“I’ve been catching up on some sleep. How’s your brother?”

His smile darkened. “He’s…I don’t know. He’s fine, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s different,” he said.

I arched an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“Well…,” he stopped, looked around a bit awkwardly. “It sounds stupid, but he…I think he can read my mind.”

I shrugged. “What’s so strange about that?”

“My brother’s autistic, Mr. Swyftt. He’s not psychic.”

“Lie down with dogs, mate, you get fleas.”

“What does that mean?” he asked with a puzzled look.

“The thing that took your brother was a little psychic,” I said. “I don’t know. It’s more advanced than you really need to know, but like you said, your brother’s special. Maybe he picked up on it?”

“I guess.”

“Look. I don’t know any more than you do, but as far as I know, your brother lived with that fucking thing for weeks. There’s no telling what was done to him. Only Adam knows that, and if he starts talking…give me a call.”

“Okay,” he said and was silent.

“Listen,” I said. “I wanted to come by and talk to you about the money.”

His eyes got a little wider, a hint of panic reflected in them. “Oh,” he said. “How much do I still owe you? I’ll get it. It’s gonna take some time, but I promise to pay it all.”

I handed him a bundle in a crumpled, brown paper sack. He took it, his brow furled, an uncertain look in his eyes. “What’s this?”

“I can’t take your money. I…I wouldn’t feel right.”

“No,” he said, pushed the bag back at me. “You helped. You brought my brother back. I…it’s the right thing to do.”

I shook my head. “Kid, trust me. What I got from this…,” and my thoughts filtered to the vision of Anna in the cave, “means more than anything you could offer.”

He watched me for a minute, maybe trying to tell if I was kidding. “No shit?” he said, his eyes beginning to water a little.

I laughed. “No shit.”

“Umm…thanks.” He slid his backpack off of his shoulder and slipped the sack into one of the zippered pouches. He looked back up at me, and I could see in the rearview mirror that the bus was approaching.

“Well, I’ll let you get on.”

He nodded to me, and then as if he just remembered something, he said, “Hey, wait. One more thing.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been wondering, and I don’t know if you can answer this or not, but…Adam was missing for weeks.

The other kids had been missing for days and they were all dead. Why didn’t he kill Adam?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think Adam was kept alive because he was different. He wasn’t like the other kids, and that intrigued the thing that took him.”

“So he was kept alive,” Eric said, “because he’s autistic?”

“It’s a theory.”

“Will…,” he started to say, but there was a reluctance in his voice. “Do…do you think he’ll get better? Maybe he’ll be normal again?”

I had no fucking clue, but as I looked at him and those big, sad, dopey, hopeful eyes, all I could do was sigh deeply and shake my head. “I don’t know, kid,” I said. “As far as I know, Adam’s the only one to survive…what he did. It’s possible, I guess, but….” I shrugged.

I wanted to say more, thought the kid expected more, but he nodded at me as if to say, I understand.

“Thanks again, Mr. Swyftt.”

I waited until he climbed aboard the school bus and drove off.

In the days that followed, Arthur’s body was released into Ape’s custody, and the Towers’ family, with Ape at the helm, planned a quiet funeral. I don’t know how he managed it, but the press never got word of anything. Typically, when eccentric, world-famous explorer billionaires have a funeral, it's scattered across the Times, Newsweek, CNN, and all the fucking tabloid papers. Hell, late night comedians made jokes about it.

I didn’t go.

After the funeral, I found Ape out at the apple tree in the back of the estate, the one he’d planted as a boy.

He didn’t seem to hear me approach, and stood silently against the trunk. One hand absently caressed the rugged stump where the tree had lost a limb in the storm.

I watched him for a long moment, then said, “How was the service?”

“Quiet,” he said, took a deep breath. “It’s okay you weren’t there, Jono. If you’re worried about that at all, what I might think or say. He wasn’t your family.”

“I meant to be,” I said. “Nadia said it was nice.”

He nodded. “How’s Anna?”

I shrugged. “Still dead.”

“But at least you get to see her.”

“Sometimes, that’s harder.”

Ape nodded, and he turned to me. “I know. You’d let her go, and she came back to you. It rips open the old wounds that had healed. It’s not good that you spend so much time there.”

“Ape…”

“You’re not going to start quoting poetry again, are you?”

When I was younger, after Anna and Lara died, I used to quote songs, poetry, Bible verses, anything to keep my head clear, whatever kept my thoughts from wandering too long where they didn’t need to be. I hadn’t done that in years. Hell, I hadn’t even thought about it.

When Anna was sick, I read a lot to her. It kept us from talking about what was happening to her, kept her from asking questions like, if God loves me, why doesn’t he heal me? Of course, I had a different opinion of God back then.

I read to Anna because it helped keep her mind off things. She loved stories, poetry. Maybe I quoted poems because it helped me forget her. Maybe the quoting helped keep her close.

I shrugged. “Seeing her’s the only thing that helps the pain,” I said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Your uncle, maybe? How you had to pull the trigger? I don’t know, mate, I’m just saying. Sometimes it helps to talk the shit out, sometimes it doesn’t matter either way and you just want to hold the pain of his memory close because it’s all you have left to hold on to. Do you…want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Good.”

“I know he loved me,” he said. “And I know the kind of man he really was. He wasn’t the monster that Brom turned him into. I know that. And he lived a much fuller life than most ever could.” He closed his eyes. “I think I’m at peace with it. And I can let go of the pain, because it’s not all I have left.” He put his palm flat against the trunk of the tree.