Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) Page 14

  Gerrick said. "Your grandfather's kingdom was only one continent on a world, much like this one. It's hard for me to believe that nobody was ever able to finally stop the grohlm."

  Brandon shook his head. "It was a dream. It doesn't have to be true."

  Gerrick said nothing. Standing, he walked over and opened the sliding glass doors leading to the back deck. Cold air slammed into Brandon, causing goose bumps to form on his arms. Gerrick stared out past the tree line, toward the heart of the woods and whatever evil things might be waiting within. He turned to Brandon and said. "We're still not ready. But it wont be long. Until then, keep your eyes open and protect those that you can. And protect yourself."

  "I'll do what I have to, to make sure Claire and everybody else is safe." Brandon said. He stood and took his plate to the sink. As he rinsed it clean, he spoke to his uncle. "I'll be ready when the time comes. I wont let you down." He met his uncle's gaze for a long time, then left.

  Gerrick watched Brandon leave, saying nothing. He hoped that the boy's words weren't false bravado, forced by his desire to protect the girl he loved. Brandon was strong, that was certain. Stronger than his father ever was. Possibly as strong as his grandfather. But was he strong enough for what was coming? Gerrick didn't know and hoped that he wouldn't have to find out anytime soon.

  Underhill waited for Brandon to pass by on his way to town, before coming out of the trees and finishing his journey to Highgarden. It was cool, but not painfully so. He was wearing a light jacket and an old deerstalker cap for extra warmth. The sun wasn't up yet, but there was plenty of light to see by. He felt bad hiding from the boy, but he wasn't there to see him. He didn't want to have try and explain why he was all the way out at Highgarden, on foot, so early in the morning.

  Underhill continued slowly, using the time to go over what he planned to say to Gerrick in his head as he walked. He still couldn't believe he allowed himself to be talked into such a foolish task. He would be lucky not to get shot for trespassing, especially considering Gerrick's opinion of Stephen Merryweather's friends from his time in Matheson.

  He came to the stone wall that served as Highgarden's border and stopped. It had been years since he'd been out this way and he wondered if the effect was as strong as it was so long ago. Taking a deep breath, he stepped across the invisible line surrounding the Merryweather home and instantly felt the old magics wash over and through him. It made his skin tingle and his wiry gray hair tried to stand up on top of his head.

  But with the tingling, he also felt the peace that accompanied the wards of protection that made Highgarden so special to those that lived behind its walls. For the first time in months, the overwhelming sense of doom that had seemed to follow him everywhere he went was gone. Or was at least hidden by the countless spells of protection laid down on the property. He took another deep breath, enjoying the fresh air, and said. "You can come out, Gerrick. I'm not here to cause trouble."

  There was movement on his right and Gerrick materialized from the forest as if a ghost. The big man was unarmed as far as Underhill could see, but that didn't mean anything. The Tower Knight was just as dangerous unarmed as he was with a sword in his hand. Gerrick stared hard at Underhill for a long time before saying. "I'm impressed, old man. It's a rare person who can see me when I don't want to be seen."

  Underhill didn't respond right away. He watched Gerrick closely, looking for any sign that the younger man was going to live up to his violent reputation. But Gerrick just watched him, his hard face impassive. Underhill cleared his throat and said. "I'm here to ask for your help." Gerrick said nothing. He turned and walked away from Underhill, heading back to the house. Underhill followed, talking as he walked. "You have to know what's happening here in Matheson? What's out there in the woods?"

  Gerrick stopped walking and faced the grizzled old man. He smirked as he said. "You know, it always surprised me that you took to Stephen so well? From the stories, I expect you and I have a lot in common? Yet, you never sought me out? Not like with Stephen?"

  Underhill wasn't sure how to respond. He risked taking his eyes off of the other man long enough to check the woods on both sides of the road. The peace of Highgarden made his skin itch. As if he missed the constant feeling of being watched by hostile eyes. It was a false sense of peace, he knew, created by the magic surrounding the Merryweather's property. Perhaps that was why he disliked the feeling so much? He knew, whatever the magic made him feel, that he wasn't safe. When he brought his gaze back to Brandon's uncle, the man was simply watching him. Waiting for an answer. Underhill said. "I never sought Stephen's friendship, Gerrick. That came later. I just wanted to help him. I felt I owed that much to his family. To his father." His scar tightened as he grinned. "Besides, I never got the impression you liked me much?"

  Gerrick said. "You weren't mistaken." He started walking again, leading Underhill up the drive and up the path to the front porch. The was a set or iron work furniture on the porch, a small round table and two chairs, which Gerrick gestured at. "So sit and start talking. What sort of help do you come begging for?"

  Underhill paused in the act of sitting, glaring hard at the other man. "Is that how a Tower Knight speaks to a guest under his roof? If so, I see that your reputation is well earned."

  Gerrick actually chuckled. He sat down opposite the old man and said. "The old dog still has teeth, it seems. Good. If I am to ally myself with you and those that you represent, I need to know you are serious about what you're about. You all very nearly got yourselves killed in the woods on your last hunt. I will not risk Brandon's life helping fools."

  Underhill nodded as he met the other's gaze. He said. "I thought we might have had help out there. The grohlm were too unfocused. Was Brandon with you?"

  Gerrick shook his head. "He was at the dance, with the Moody girl. He was making sure nothing happened there, while you and your friends played in the woods. There is more than one front in this war."

  Underhill agreed, but didn't say so. Instead, he said. "You call this a war? You’re mistaken on that account, Gerrick. These are just skirmishes. The real war is still on the horizon. My foolish friends, as you’d like to think of them, are trying to stop it coming to that. You think them foolhardy, but at least they are thinking more than one step ahead.”

  Gerrick said nothing.

  Underhill said. “I’m here, because we need help closing the gateway that the grohlm are using to get here. We know, as well as you do, that is the only explanation for their numbers.”

  “You realize the grohlm are only part of the problem.” Gerrick said, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “The doorway is being controlled by someone or something that the grohlm fear. Otherwise the things would be pouring out of the woods. They’re being held back by something stronger and more dangerous.”

  “And that scares you?” Underhill said with a raised eyebrow.

  Gerrick laughed. “It worries me. As it should you and your friends. There’s not much question in my mind who is controlling the grohlm. And Bran isn’t ready to face that kind of challenge. Not yet.”

  Underhill sighed and shook his head. “Are any of us ready? When the time comes, will you be?”

  Gerrick didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t know the answer. But because he didn’t like it.

  Brandon stopped walking when he heard the Krueger’s broken laughter from behind the Bus barn. He was alone, between classes and walking across campus. Lost in thought, in memories of the dream from the night before, it was a couple of seconds before his mind caught up with his ears and he paused. He heard another snicker, unmistakably Luke’s, then silence.

  Brandon’s first instinct was to rush off to see what sort of twisted nastiness they were up to, to rescue their latest victim, but he stopped himself. It was most likely another trap. Something cooked up with Albert’s help. He scanned his surroundings, noting a couple of other kids moving between classes, but no teachers.

  No witnesses to worry about. No teachers
to stop it from going bad.

  Brandon took a deep breath and prepared to walk away, then another voice cried out in sudden surprise and pain. It wasn’t Albert or either of the Kruegers. Brandon was moving before he made any sort of rational decision, swift and silent as he slipped around the large metal building that housed the school’s small fleet of buses. The building sat close to the fence surrounding the school, creating a narrow alley that kids sometimes used to sneak cigarettes or the occasional joint.

  He found them halfway along the ally. The twins stood over another boy who was just pushing himself up after being knocked down. It took Brandon a moment to put a name to the kid’s face. Eric Golph. Brandon remembered him because Claire had pointed him out once. His father was one of the officers that disappeared with the Chief of police.

  Eric’s face was red with embarrassment and rage and he swung at Luke as he came to his feet. The punch went wide, but Luke flinched away as if it was a powerful haymaker, and saw Brandon watching. Perry’s nasty smile wilted and he looked around, as if expecting backup from somewhere. Possibly Albert, but the smaller boy was nowhere to be found.

  Everybody in the alley froze.

  This was the first time Brandon had faced the Kruegers since the dance and he was uncomfortably aware of how nervous he felt. He felt exposed. He kept expecting Albert to leap out of the shadows. It took a complete act of will for him to empty his mind of that nervousness, the fear that he didn’t want to admit was there, and face down the twins. Taking a step forward, he said. “Just walk away. Let’s not do this today. I’m too tired to play this game right now.”

  Luke looked from Brandon to his brother and snorted. Perry never took his eyes from Brandon’s gaze, but he directed his words to Eric. “This isn’t over, piggy. Next time, the orphan won’t be around to save your ass.” Then he gestured at his brother and said. “Let’s leave these two fairies alone. Looks like they wanna make out or something.”

  And they left. As simple as that.

  Brandon watched them go, tense until they disappeared from sight, then turned to help Eric up. And stumbled back a step when Eric shoved him hard in the chest. The boy was a freshman and smaller than Brandon, but he managed to knock the older boy back a couple of steps. Brandon caught himself before he did anything to retaliate, looking around to make sure the Kruegers hadn’t turned back.

  But they were long gone. It was just him and Eric, alone in the alley.

  Eric was crying, his face red as he took another swing at Brandon. Brandon swatted the boy’s fist away without hurting him and said. “Eric, stop it. They’re gone. They’re not going to hurt you anymore.”

  Eric backed off a step, but he wasn’t calming down. His face was still red as he said. “Fuck you, Merryweather. Just leave me alone.” Turning, he stalked away, not seeming to care if he ran headfirst into the Kruegers, just so long as he was away from Brandon.

  Brandon watched him go, not at all sure how to feel. The Kruegers had left without a fight and Eric had escaped with minor damage. It should have felt like a win. But Brandon had never felt less like a winner before in his life, except maybe when he was on the ground being beaten by Albert. He left the alley slowly, watching for Eric and the Kruegers, but found himself alone as he went to class.

  He didn’t see Sha’ha’Zel watching from the bus barn’s roof, his cloak moving in the non-existent breeze. The Curse studied the school below and felt the endgame moving closer to completion. All he had to do was make sure Brandon Merryweather lived long enough to meet his appointed end.

  CHAPTER 14

  The weeks leading up to Thanksgiving were quiet. At least by Matheson standards. After the disastrous attempt by the remaining police force and the F.B.I. to hunt the things responsible for the missing children, the town council extended the curfew for the foreseeable future. Despite the extension, there were 4 more disappearances during the month of November. The first was the manager of a local motel. Rijul disappeared while taking out the trash. Leaving behind a smear of blood and a single mangled shoe, he was listed as missing. Possible animal attack. His wife was distraught, but after a visit from the town council’s representative she agreed that more publicity would only hinder the investigation. She refused to talk to the local paper.

  The next to vanish were Eddie Young and Carla Smith. The young couple decided to go parking near the lake. For some light necking and maybe a little on top of the clothes action. Only their car was found, the interior splashed with blood and gore. The dash and seat were torn to shreds. Bits and pieces of the couple were splattered all over the inside of the car.

  The last person to disappear was a teenager named Donny Meltzer.

  Donny blinked at the girl on the other side of the table and said. "You're kidding, right?" He leaned on his elbows and shook his head. "You want to break up with me?"

  Heather flipped her hair over her shoulder and sighed. She smacked her chewing gum loudly and wouldn't meet his gaze when she spoke. She said. "Don't make a scene, Donny."

  "Why?" Donny said. He sat up and looked at the rest of the room. The Lumberjack was only half full that evening. "You scared that someone might hear how you just broke my heart? Or are you just afraid I might embarrass you again?"

  "Jesus, Donny." Heather stood up and drew her purse strap up over her shoulder. She glared down at him. "You're only embarrassing yourself. Like always. When you finally decide to grow up a little, give me a call." She left, leaving Donny sitting there with a dumb look on his face as the rest of the diners tried to ignore the scene he’d just made.

  Donny got up and followed Heather outside. She turned, catching him as the door closed behind him, and said. "Stop it, Donny. Please, just stop it." She shook her head. "I need some time. Can you do that for me? Just give me time."

  Donny shook his head and said. "You can't leave me, Heather. Not like this. Not after all we’ve been through together. I love you." He tried to grab her by the arm, to stop her, but Heather shook his hand off.

  "I'm going home, Donny." Heather said. She tossed her hair and ran a hand through it as she thought. "You should too. There's still a curfew, you know?"

  "Fuck the curfew." Donny said. "We need to finish this talk before you leave."

  "I told you what I need, Donny. I need you to leave me alone." Heather turned and left.

  Donny watched her go. She hopped into her car, a bright yellow VW Bug, and drove away without looking back. Donny stood on the sidewalk and watched her vanishing taillights for a long time before turning and heading in the opposite direction. There were people on the sidewalks of downtown Matheson, moving about, going from shop to shop like there was no curfew and no reason to be afraid of the night.

  Donny left main street, cutting across Lake View Avenue, and walked through Wrenn Park. There weren't many people in the park. Those stupid enough to be out after dark were at least smart enough to stay away from the darker corners. Everyone was scared of being the next one to vanish into the night, but didn’t want to let anybody see that fear.

  But not Donny. He didn’t care who saw him and who didn’t. And he wasn’t scared of the dark. Never had been. Walking through the dark, he heard traffic moving on the street and laughter from the happy people. He was sure none of those people were going through the same things as himself. How could they be, walking around with their happy smiles and oblivious eyes?

  He was crossing over a low wooden bridge, the sodium arch lights reflected in the water below, when he heard a splash from below him.

  Stopping, Donny leaned over the bridge's wooden railing and stared down into the black. There was a ripple below him as something moved in the water. Donny stood up straight and said. "What the hell?"

  With a screech and an explosion of icy cold water, something leapt out of the lake. It flew straight up at Donny's face, hitting him in the chest, and knocked him back into the other rail. Donny screamed and tried to fight the thing, whatever it was, as it dug its claws into his shoulders and began to
chew on the side of his neck. The only impression he could make of it in the darkness was of teeth and wet slimy skin. Its skin was slick and covered in thin scales, like a fish, and Donny's hands could find no purchase on the creature as he tried to pry it off.

  Spinning, Donny dropped to the ground, trying to pin the attacker between his body and the wooden bridge. It stopped biting him long enough to hiss in his ear, before snapping its jaws and biting the ear off. Hot blood ran down the side of Donny's neck and his scream turned into an open throated bellow. He could smell the monster's breath as it pulled back and threw its head back long enough to swallow Donny's ear. When it looked back down, its black eyes blinked in the pale glow of the streetlights. Instead of trying to pull the fish thing off, Donny decided to change his tactics and punched it in the chest.

  It tore loose and hit the side of the railing, squealing and lashing its tiny clawed arms at the air, and Donny kicked out at it before it could come at him. His boot caught it in the side of the head and it tumbled off of the bridge and splashed back into the water below.

  Getting to his feet, Donny ran for his life. Crossing to the other side of the bridge, he followed the little track that ran through and around the Park, leaving the water behind him. He heard splashing around him as more of the things came out of the water and pursued him into the darkness. He screamed as he ran. Surely a cop or some good Samaritan would hear him and come to help?

  Donny was crossing under the light of one of the overhead lamps, when he stopped running and caught his breath, listening for the little monsters. His neck was still bleeding pretty badly and he was beginning to feel a little lightheaded. He pressed one of his hands to the wound in his neck, trying to stop the flow of blood, and turned in a circle, studying the shadows.

  It was quiet.

  Donny began walking, leaving the reassuring cone of light and moving in the direction of main street. He just had to make it to other people and he'd be safe. They wouldn't attack him if other people were around. He didn't know if he was right about that, but it felt right. Walking quickly, his hand still pressed against his neck, Donny stayed on the sidewalk as much as he could. Listening hard for the sound of anything that might be following him, he didn't realize how much trouble he was in until it was too late.