A Gathering of Crows

NINE

The darkness deepened. The moonlight dimmed. Thick, sluggish clouds crawled across the sky, blocking the feeble stars. Gone were the gunshots and screams. Gone, too, were people fleeing down the streets or across yards and vacant fields. All across Brinkley Springs, the dwindling number of survivors huddled in their homes and basements, tool sheds and root cellars, storefronts and barns, cars and trucks, praying for help and waiting for the inevitable.

And one by one, the inevitable found them. The shadows arrived… hungry.

Stu Roseman was pulled, kicking and screaming, from beneath his queen-size bed before being disemboweled. Mara Dobbs was yanked from her closet, where she’d hidden beneath a pile of blankets and towels, and was then drowned in her own toilet. Don and Jamie Mahan cowered inside their Ford Explorer, desperately trying every few minutes to start the unresponsive vehicle until both it and them were torn apart. Jerrod Hintz and Scott Balzer were discovered hiding in the butcher shop’s walk-in freezer and were clubbed to death with half-frozen slabs of meat. Candy Winters ended up with her head sticking out of her vagina. Toby Paulson was suffocated with his own severed penis. Bob Parker was strangled with his own intestines. Rocky Quesada and Joy Oliva had their heads repeatedly bashed together until both were nothing but paste. Aaron Milano was impaled on a flagpole. His two cats were impaled above him. Jeremy Garner, Peggy Stanfield and Michelle Broadhurst were discovered cowering in a far, dark corner of Herb Swafford’s hayloft. They were stabbed, cut, chopped and impaled by a variety of Herb’s farm tools—pitchforks, axes, shovels and rakes. Herb’s head and entrails lay in the mud outside the barn. His pigs would probably have eaten the scraps if the pigs hadn’t been killed, too. So were his cows, sheep and one lone horse.

No matter where they hid, no one was missed. No matter how desperately they tried to escape or how valiantly they fought to save their lives, the end result was the same. Everyone had their turn. Everyone died. The shadows were as methodical and precise as they were ravenous and cruel. Human candles were snuffed in the night, never to shine again, and after their souls were devoured, the shadows moved on, leaving corpses in their wake.

A small few died of natural causes. Keith David, Rebecca Copeland and Bobbi Russo all died of heart attacks brought on by fear and stress. Tim Draper and Perry Wayne suffered massive strokes that left them paralyzed and unconscious, and ultimately breathless. Don Hammerton tripped while running down the street and cracked his head open on the curb. Robin Clark suffered a seizure, bit through her tongue and bled to death. In each of their cases, their souls drifted slowly upward, flaring brightly but briefly as they were absorbed by the invisible barrier.

Regardless of how they had died—murder or something more natural—the corpses didn’t last long. There was no slow progression of decay and decomposition. Shortly after their death, the people of Brinkley Springs returned to the ashes and dust from which they had originally sprung.

And then, eventually, even the dust disappeared.

Donny stood beneath the tree in Esther’s front yard and looked both ways down the dark street, trying to figure out which direction Levi had gone in. Nothing moved. Even the wind had stopped. He listened for footsteps, or any other sound that would give away Levi’s presence, but there was nothing. The silence made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He’d been scared and nervous many times in Iraq. Hell, he’d been scared every day. But those fears were nothing like what he felt tonight.

And not all of it had to do with what was happening in the town.

He glanced back at the bed-and-breakfast, hoping to see Marsha peeking out the window at him, but the curtains remained closed. His heart sank, but what had he expected? He wished he could tell her how he felt, wished desperately that he could find the words to explain his revulsion from Brinkley Springs and his steadfast refusal to linger here any longer than he had to—even if it meant never seeing her again. But every time he tried to tell her, all it did was lead to miscommunications and further hurt feelings. It would be better for her if he just left again. She was stronger now. It wouldn’t affect her the way it had the last time he’d left. She’d get through it. She was older now, and she had Randy and her—

Well, she didn’t have her parents anymore, did she? After tonight, she didn’t have anybody left at all, other than her little brother… and him.

Something twisted in Donny’s gut. He felt a hot flush of anger and resentment that his decision to leave had now been made even more difficult. How could he abandon her now, in the aftermath of all this? He hated himself for feeling that way and would never have admitted it out loud to anyone, but the emotions were there all the same. What the hell was wrong with him? Had the last few years fucked him that goddamned bad? Was he so self-fucking centered that when his ex-girlfriend’s parents were murdered, the only thing he could think of was how inconvenient it was for him?

Ashamed, he had a sudden urge to run back inside, take Marsha in his arms and apologize to her.

What was he doing out here, anyway?

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Donny gasped but did not scream. He was too startled to scream. He spun around quickly, pulling his arms in tight over his midsection and kicked out with his foot. The blow swept by Levi but didn’t faze him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude! You scared the shit out of me. Don’t you know not to sneak up on someone like that?”

“Language. I don’t mind cursing, but neither do I appreciate you taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Sorry. You just really spooked me.” Donny straightened to his full height again. “So, what…? You can read minds, too? How did you do that?”

“I have my ways.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have crept up like that. I mean, damn… I could have killed you just now,

Levi.”

“No, you couldn’t have.”

“You sure are a cocky bastard, Levi.”

“I’m not cocky. I’m confident. Arrogance is a sin. Being prepared isn’t. Now what are you doing out here? I told you to stay inside the house.”

Donny grinned. “And I told you I don’t take orders anymore.”

Levi stepped closer, until his forehead was only inches from Donny’s chin. As he stared up into the younger man’s eyes, Donny saw the anger in his expression—and something else, too. Fear. Levi was afraid, he realized, and that only increased Donny’s own uneasiness.

“Do you think this is a game? This isn’t some comic book or movie fantasy, where we defeat the bad guys with no consequences during the battle. I meant what I said, Donny. I can’t protect you out here. I need you to go back inside, for my own sake as well as yours.”

“I can handle myself, Levi. Trust me on that.”

“I know you can. I have no doubts about your abilities, and I’m sure you’d be good to have at my side in a tough situation, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about? What do you mean when you say for your sake as well as mine?”

Levi’s voice softened. “I… I have enough blood on my hands. Enough ghosts following me around. I don’t need to add any more.”

“Me either, Levi. You think I don’t know about guilt? You think I don’t know what it’s like to kill somebody—I mean, what it’s really like? That feeling you get in your stomach. The way it follows you through the day. Or how it feels to lose a friend—to watch them die right in fucking front of you— while you go on living? I reckon I know how that feels better than you think.”

Levi stared at him for a moment. His expression changed, and for a moment, Donny thought the older man was going to cry. But then his features smoothed out again.

“Okay,” Levi said. “I’m still not sure I understand your motivations, especially when you have a fine woman waiting inside who clearly loves you. In truth, though, I appreciate the company. It’s not often somebody walks this road with me. But understand me, Donny. Your fate rests squarely on your shoulders. I can’t protect you beyond the house. I can mask our presence somewhat, so that we can move about unmolested. But we’re not going to be evading them for long. I need to confront them. That’s the only way I’ll get the information I need to stop this.”

“Well, let’s get to it, then. We can go find them or we can stand around here talking all night long. Which is it going to be?”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Of course I’m afraid, Levi. I’m fucking terrified. And so are you. I can see it on your face. But if you think you’ve got a way to stop these… whatever they are, and I can help you do it, then I say we do it already.”

Levi nodded. “Let’s go. I have to find something first.”

Donny followed him across the street, resisting the urge to glance behind them and see if Marsha was watching. A part of him hoped that she wasn’t, but an even bigger part of him would have been disappointed if he turned and didn’t see her. He hesitated, his steps faltering. His legs felt heavy.

“Do you happen to know which—?” Levi paused, noticing Donny’s discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“No,” Donny insisted. “I’m fine. What were you doing out here, anyway? Myrtle looked outside right after you left, and said she didn’t see you. We thought you’d gone.”

“I was, but then I remembered that I had to do some shopping first.”

Donny frowned. “Shopping?”

“Yes, in a way. I was trying to figure out which one of these homes belonged to Myrtle. I’m certain that, given her proclivities, she probably has what I need.”

“Proclivities? You mean all that New Age stuff?”

“Yes.”

“So why not just knock on the door and ask her?” Levi shrugged. “At the time, I was worried that if I returned, I’d have to argue with you about not coming with me again. But now that you’re here anyway…”

Donny pointed across the street. “That’s her house, over there.”

“You don’t want to go back to Esther’s either.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It is to me,” Levi said as they crossed the street.

“And to Marsha, I would assume. And to anyone else who has eyes and has ever been in love.”

Donny’s ears began to burn. His skin felt flushed. “I don’t mean to pry,” Levi continued, “but it’s clear to me that you love her as much as she loves you. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

“You hurt her once? Infidelity?”

“No, nothing like that. I’d never do that to Marsha. It’s just… it’s complicated. I don’t like it here. I never have. This town… it weighs on you. It eats away at people. You know what I mean? It just never felt like home to me.”

“So you ran away?”

“Yeah, I reckon so—if you call joining the army and going to Iraq running away.”

“And did you find what you were looking for overseas? Did war feel like home?”

“No. It felt like hell.”

“So you returned.”

“Not by choice. Believe me, this was the last place I wanted to come back to. But my mom got sick. Cancer.”

“Where is she now?”

Donny sighed. “She passed. I stayed long enough to take care of her estate. Put the house on the market. Made sure the funeral director was paid. I was leaving tonight, in fact. A few minutes earlier and I wouldn’t have been here when all this started. I’d have been on the road and miles away.”

“Where were you going?” Levi asked as they approached Myrtle’s front door.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest. Anywhere, I suppose. Anywhere that felt right, you know? Some place where I could find myself.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You telling me this is all fate?”

Levi shrugged. “Fate. God’s will. Call it what you want. Some people think the universe is chaotic—that there’s no rhyme or reason to why things happen. I think they’re wrong. There’s a specific order to things. We don’t always like how things turn out, but they turn out that way for a reason. You were going out to find yourself, but maybe your self was here all along.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m still not sure I understand your hesitation to get involved with Marsha, though.”

“The first time I left, Marsha got so depressed that she dropped out of college and tried to kill herself. That’s my fault, you know? I don’t want to let her in, because I’m gonna leave again and I don’t want to put her through that once more.”

“I see. That’s a heavy burden for a young man like yourself.”

“You’re telling me.”

Levi fell silent and cocked his head, as if listening. “You hear something?” Donny whispered after a moment.

“No, I was just making sure the coast was clear, and it is. Let’s go inside.”

“I reckon the door is locked. Brinkley Springs may be a small town, but folks still tend to lock their doors when they leave.”

“That’s okay. I have a key.”

“Myrtle gave you her keys?”

Levi shook his head. Then he grasped the doorknob with his right hand and closed his eyes. As Donny watched, he took a deep breath, held it for ten seconds or so, and then exhaled. Levi opened his eyes as the latch clicked. He turned the knob and the door swung open.

“How the hell did you do that?”

Levi winked. “How do you think? Come on.”

They went inside, Levi first, with Donny following close behind him. Myrtle’s house was a dusty, spider webbed monument to clutter. Every inch of available shelf space or tabletop was piled high with a bewildering array of items—stacks of magazines and paperback books, vials of scented oil, votive candles, potpourri, incense burners, crystals, beads, pewter fantasy figurines, tarot cards, ceramic unicorns and dolphins, assorted knickknacks and more. One bookshelf was stuffed with Myrtle’s self-published books, and next to the shelf were six open cardboard boxes filled with more. A large angel figurine perched precariously atop the television. Donny didn’t like it. Rather than being comforting, the angel seemed somehow sinister, as if it were watching them reproachfully. The air in the house was thick with the competing smells of various incense that made him half-nauseous.

“Crap,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Levi said, eyeing a shard of quartz that was lying on the coffee table. “A lot of it is. Most of it, in fact. But hopefully she has a few things here that are worthwhile.”

“So what are we looking for, anyway?”

“Two things. Why don’t you go into the kitchen and find us some salt. Doesn’t matter what kind. Table salt. Sea salt. Iodized salt. They’re all fine. Get all the salt she has—as much as you can carry.”

“Salt?” If not for the seriousness of their situation, Donny might have thought that Levi was fucking with him. “What do we need salt for?”

“It’s a weapon. You heard what Randy said. The thing that killed his parents had an aversion to salt.

Many supernatural entities do, at least when they’re in corporeal form. Salt is always a good magical failsafe.”

“And here I just thought it made food taste better.”

“It does that, too. Now, go on. I’ll poke around in here and see if I can’t find us some sage.”

“Sage?”

“Yes. I have a small quantity with me, here in my vest pocket. But we’ll need a lot more.”

“Personally, I’d be more comfortable with an M16.”

“But we already know such a weapon would be useless against our foe. Salt and sage are what we need.”

“If you say so.”

Levi nodded, his attention focused on the clutter. Shaking his head, Donny went into the kitchen and poked around in the dark. He found a salt shaker on the table and slipped it into his pocket. Then he opened the pantry door and found a large canister of salt on the top shelf. When he returned to the living room, Levi wasn’t there.

“Levi?”

“I’m upstairs,” he called. His voice was faint. “I’ll be down in a second.”

Donny waited. He sat the salt canister down on the table and flipped through a towering stack of magazines that leaned against the wall in one corner of the room. The titles were ones he’d never heard of before—Fate, the Fortean Times, Angels, the Coming Changes, Conscious Creation, Lightworker Monthly and others. Levi bustled around above him. Donny heard footsteps creak across the ceiling, followed by the sound of a drawer opening. He picked up an issue of the Fortean Times and flipped through it. There was a lengthy feature article about mermaids, including a report of a supposed mermaid sighting off the coast of Haifa, Israel the previous year. Most of the other articles seemed to be culled or clipped from various newspapers and magazines from around the world. All of them focused on the odd or paranormal— ghosts in London’s Highgate Cemetery, a man in Beijing falling seventeen stories and living, sightings of everything from Bigfoot to panthers in Manhattan, a rain of fish in a small French town, a Vietnamese man who had grown horns from his head and more. Each story was stranger than the previous, and all of them were supposedly true. Although Donny had never heard of the magazine, he certainly recognized some of the credited sources for the reports— the Associated Press, the Times of London, the Washington Post and others.

Donny suddenly felt lightheaded. The room began to spin. His pulse throbbed in his ears. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. It was all so bizarre. Most of the time, he felt like a young old man. He’d seen things—done things—that the rest of his former friends in Brinkley Springs would never do or understand, but even after seeing as much of the world as he had, he was faced now with the realization that he knew nothing and had seen nothing. There was an entire other world that existed in the shadows of the real world, a world populated by people like Levi and creatures like the ones outside. Skimming the articles in the magazine had just made the realization more concrete.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, breathless. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

He heard footsteps on the stairs. Donny composed himself. Seconds later, Levi appeared, carrying a small bundle of what looked like dried-up hay. He waved it as he approached.

“I found some. I just knew she’d have some on hand. Even an amateur knows about the properties of sage. Now we’re ready.” His gaze darted down to the magazine still in Donny’s hands. “Oh, the Fortean Times. That’s one of my favorite magazines.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. I read it every month.”

“I should have figured you would.”

Levi feigned offense. “I’ll have you know that I also read everything from National Geographic to Soldier of Fortune.”

“How about Penthouse?”

“Only for the articles.” Grinning, Levi pointed to the magazine in Donny’s hand. “That’s an old issue. If I remember correctly, there’s an interesting article about Namibian bloodsuckers in it. Very thought provoking, since the classic chupacabra legends originated in South America.”

“I don’t know about that.” Donny’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “I didn’t read anything about bloodsuckers. I saw a big piece on mermaids.”

“Ah, mermaids.” Levi nodded. “Leviathan’s handmaidens. Beautiful and utterly evil. They’re vampiric, as well, though not in a sense that you’d probably understand. Nasty creatures, to be sure, but not nearly as bad as what we’re facing tonight.”

“Are… are the crows vampires?”

Levi frowned. “No, I don’t believe so. They’ve given no indication of such. Something similar to vampires, perhaps, given that they seem to feed on the souls of living things, but I’m not sure yet.”

Donny didn’t respond. With one trembling hand, he put the magazine back on top of the pile.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asked. “You’re sweating.”

“Levi… how long have you been involved in this?”

“In what?”

“This.” Donny made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “All of this fucked-up occult stuff.”

Levi lowered his head and stared at the floor. When he looked up again, his voice was softer and his air of self-assuredness was gone. He looked and sounded tired.

“All of my life. I was born into this. My father, Amos, practiced powwow, as did his father before him.”

“So, your dad taught you how to do these things?” Levi shrugged. “Some of them. He certainly taught me powwow, but his lessons—and tolerance— stopped there. He didn’t approve of the other methods I learned. He didn’t see that they were essential for battling the very things we were supposed to be taking a stand against.”

“He wanted you to grow up to be just like him.”

“In a sense. Although, to be honest, I think my father would have been happiest had I grown up to be just another farmer like my brother. I couldn’t, of course. Magic would have found me whether I’d been taught or not. The same can be said of Marsha’s brother.”

“Randy? Is that why you were acting so weird about him? But Randy’s not magic. Trust me, I’ve known that kid since he was little. He’s just a yo-boy. There’s nothing magic about him, unless you count how he can keep his pants from falling all the way down when he walks.”

“I’m not sure what a yo-boy is,” Levi said, “but trust me when I tell you that Randy has the gift. He was born with the abilities. They’ve just never been awoken in him. Probably because there’s been no one in his life who recognized his talent. I would guess that he’s had moments of luck—like tonight, when the vehicles started after he touched them. Little bits of synchronicity such as those are very much part of what we do. The trick is to recognize them when they happen and harness or control them, bending them to your will. Had he been properly taught, he’d be formidable against our foes.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Train him?”

“No!”

Levi said it so strongly that Donny took a step backward. At first, he was afraid that he’d somehow offended Levi. The older man stood stiffly, his expression serious and grave.

“No,” Levi said again, softer this time. “I’m sorry. That came out sounding harsher than I meant. But no, I won’t teach Randy. I won’t teach anyone.”

“Why not?”

Levi paused. At first, Donny didn’t think he was going to answer the question. He stuffed the sage in his pocket and glanced around the room. Then he looked back up at Donny.

“When I wanted to learn about other disciplines— other workings—my father balked, so I went elsewhere. In my former faith, young people are given a year to explore the outside world and determine if they really want to commit to the Amish way of life. I used my year to learn. I went outside of our community on a pilgrimage of sorts and sought out the training of others. I was young and arrogant and brash, and so certain that I was better than my father or anyone else.”

“You said earlier that arrogance is a sin.”

“And it is,” Levi said. “I was sinful. I didn’t see it that way at the time, though. I was so righteous in my desire to be one of God’s chosen warriors, using the enemy’s own tricks against them. And I was right. Powwow wouldn’t have been effective against some of the foes the Lord has led me to face over the years. I’ve had to use other methods. My father thought that me learning those methods was a blasphemy against God, but I disagreed. I learned those methods to further God’s will. Eventually, my insistence led to my downfall. I was cast out of my community, disowned by my family and forced to leave the only home I’d ever known. Sent out to live among the English—our term for the outside world. I was just about Randy’s age when this happened.”

“When what happened? They disowned you just for learning magic?”

“No. At least, not just for that. Something else happened.”

“What was it?”

Levi didn’t respond.

“Levi, why did they kick you out?”

“There was a girl. Her name was Rebecca. I…”

“Yeah?”

“I loved her. I’d known her all my life. We grew up together, much like you and Marsha. She was… impacted… by something I did. Something decidedly darker than powwow. Something I’d accidentally unleashed. And when I tried to undo what had happened, Rebecca… she…”

“Go on,” Donny urged. “I’m listening.”

“Never mind. We don’t have time for this now.”

Levi strode toward the door. His expression was grim and purposeful. Donny reached for him as he passed by, but Levi shrugged him off. He reached the door, paused, tilted his head and then opened the door. He hurried outside. Donny rushed after him.

“Hey.” He grabbed Levi’s elbow. “Listen, man. I’m sorry if I pissed you off back there.”

Levi smiled sadly. “You didn’t. It’s just been a very long time since I’ve had to talk about it—Rebecca and everything else. Doing so feels like ripping a scab off before the wound has healed. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does. Believe me, I know the feeling. And for what it’s worth, Levi, I’m sorry you lost your home.”

Levi patted his hand. “Well, let’s just make sure we save yours. I know you said that you don’t think of Brinkley Springs as your home, but ask yourself this: If this isn’t home, then why are you fighting for it? If you’re not fighting for the town, then who are you fighting for? Are you doing this for Marsha? If so, then perhaps she is your home?”

Donny opened his mouth to respond, but Levi silenced him with a finger.

“No,” he said. “Don’t answer me. Just think about it. It’s like the old saying goes—home is where the heart is. What you need to ask yourself, Donny, is where does your heart lie?”

Once Greg, his brother and Paul were safe in Axel’s cellar, they’d recounted everything they knew, sparing Jean’s son the gorier details. After that, they’d grown quiet. Greg kept expecting Paul to urge them back outside again, but he seemed to have abandoned his insistence that they go for help, opting instead to just stay where they were. So they did. Bobby huddled in his mother’s lap. Jean kept one arm wrapped protectively around her son. Axel hummed a tuneless version of “Big Rock Candy Mountain.” Gus just stared straight ahead at the wall. Paul breathed heavy through his nose, and at one point, Greg thought the mountain man had fallen asleep.

Eventually, Greg broke the silence by saying, “I reckon the Mountaineers are going to have a good season this year. Might go all the way.”

He paused, waiting for a response, but Gus, Paul, Axel, Jean and Bobby only stared at him. He couldn’t really see them all that well in the darkness because Paul had made Axel blow out the candles after their arrival. But Greg didn’t need to see them to know that they were staring at him. He could feel their eyes upon him. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling foolish.

“Well, that’s what I think, at least. They got a fella from New Jersey. A good Christian boy. Come out of the ghetto in Newark and has one hell of an arm on him. Studying to be a horticulturist or some such thing.”

Gus stirred. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me? I’m just talking college football. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“How can you be talking sports at a time like this? How in the world would you think that’s appropriate, Greg?”

Greg shrugged and propped his feet up on the kerosene heater. Axel had told them that the unit wasn’t working, so Greg wasn’t worried about burning his shoes.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It was just so quiet. We’re all sitting here and ain’t none of us talking. I just thought some conversation might lift our spirits.”

“He’s right,” Paul murmured.

“You want to talk sports?” Gus sounded incredulous.

“No, I don’t mean that. I couldn’t care less about football right now. But Greg is right about it being quiet. There hasn’t been a sound from outside in quite a while.”

“Do you think it’s over with?” Jean asked. “Could they be gone?”

“Maybe,” Gus said, “but I ain’t sticking my head out there to see.”

“One of us should,” Axel replied. “It doesn’t make much sense for us to be sitting down here freezing our butts off in the dark if the danger is over with. At the very least, we’ve got to alert the authorities like you boys had originally planned.”

“Still do plan on it,” Paul said. “Soon as we get out of here.”

“You didn’t seem in a hurry to leave,” Greg pointed out.

“Neither did you,” Paul snapped. “And besides, I figured we could use a rest.”

“Well…” Greg sighed. “We got one. And our situation ain’t changed none while we were sitting here on our asses. I reckon Axel is right. We should go check.”

“You go right ahead,” Gus said. “I’m staying down here.”

Paul stood up. “We’ll all go. That’s the safest way.” Jean hugged her son tighter. “Bobby’s not going anywhere until we know for sure it’s safe.”

The men glanced down at her and then back to Paul.

“She’s right,” Greg said. “Don’t seem right to send the boy outside with us.”

“No,” Paul agreed. “I don’t guess it does. Jean and Bobby, you stay here. We’ll let you know if the coast is clear.”

Gus and Greg got to their feet. Groaning, Axel did the same. He put his hands on his hips and arched his back. His joints popped loudly.

“Damn arthritis,” he muttered. “Sitting around in this damp basement hasn’t improved it at all.”

Bobby reached for Axel. “Mr. Perry, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with me and Mommy.”

Greg noticed the emotion on the old man’s face as he turned to look at the boy. Axel looked happy and sad all at the same time. He shuffled over to where Jean and Bobby sat and handed the boy his gnarled old walking stick.

“Here.” Axel handed the boy the cane. “You take this. You remember what I told you about it, right?”

Bobby nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. You said it was magic because it came from Mrs. Chickenbaum.”

Axel laughed. “That’s right. Mrs. Chickbaum. Now, we’ll only be gone for a minute. We’re just gonna creep upstairs and have a look-see—make sure all of the bad men are gone. While we do that, you just hold onto this old stick. It will keep you and your mother safe. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” Axel patted his shoulder and then turned toward them. “All right, let’s go see what’s what.”

The four of them hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, each one waiting for someone else to go first.

“Age before beauty,” Greg said to Axel and Paul as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You two were the ones who wanted to go.”

Grumbling to himself, Paul started slowly up the stairs. Gus followed him. Greg and Axel stared at each other.

“Go ahead,” Axel said. “I insist. I’m old and I’ll only slow you down.”

Greg followed along behind his brother. He heard Axel creeping along behind him. The wooden stairs creaked beneath their feet and the handrail shook slightly. Greg worried that the stairs might collapse under their combined weight. After all, the house was nearly as old as Axel was. There was no telling how much damage time and insects had done over the years. That would be a hell of a way to go— surviving the massacre outside only to break their backs in Axel Perry’s basement.

When they reached the top, Paul opened the door. They turned around and glanced back down the stairs. Jean and Bobby stood at the bottom, staring up at them from the darkness. Greg raised his hand and waved.

“You guys be careful,” Jean called. “And please hurry back?”

“We will,” Axel said. “And Bobby, you just hold on to that walking stick. Okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Perry.”

“We’ll be right back. I promise.”

As they crept through Axel’s house, Greg turned to the old man.

“You shouldn’t tell the boy that old stick is magic.”

“Why not? It makes him feel better—safer. Where’s the harm in that?”

Greg shrugged. “I guess.”

“And besides,” Axel continued, “how do you know it’s not magic?”

Greg shook his head. “Crazy old man.”

“I’m not the one who thinks the NOW controls the world.”

“It’s NWO, not NOW. How many times do I have to tell you people that before you’ll listen?”

Paul and Gus crossed to the windows and peeked outside.

“See anything?” Greg asked.

“Nothing,” Paul said. “Even the bodies are gone now. It’s like nothing happened.”

“Well, that’s the worst part, isn’t it?” Gus turned away from the window. “Not really knowing what’s happening? I mean, if this was a tornado or a blizzard or a flood, we’d know what to do. We’d know how to protect ourselves. But after everything that’s happened tonight, we still don’t have the faintest fucking clue what we’re dealing with here.”

Greg walked to the front room. The others followed him. When he began unlocking the front door, his brother stopped him.

“You sure about this?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Greg replied. “You and Paul looked through the windows and didn’t see anything, and it’s quiet now. I reckon that whatever happened, the worst is over now.”

The locks clicked open. Greg turned the doorknob and opened the door—

—and something tall and black and foul-smelling grabbed his face and yanked him outside. Smothered, Greg was unable to scream.

The others did it for him.

“So,” Donny asked as they walked along, “if you’re not Amish anymore, then what’s up with the clothes and the beard and the hat? Couldn’t you dress a little more… I don’t know, modern? Stylish?”

Levi sighed and tried to conceal his annoyance. He’d been asked questions like this hundreds of times, and his answers always remained the same.

“I’m single,” he said. “I thought that women might be attracted to the beard. All of the magazines and talk shows say that beards are back in style now. And as for the hat, I wear it for the same reasons anybody else wears one—to keep the sun out of my eyes and the rain off my head. And to hide my bald spot.”

“Shit, Levi. Just get hair plugs.”

“Haven’t you ever read the story of Samson? Mess with a man’s hair and you take away his power.”

Donny chuckled nervously. Levi could tell that the younger man wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, and that was fine by him. In truth, Levi privately wished that Donny would stay quiet. Even though they were currently shielded from the enemy, there could be other dangers around, and there was no sense in advertising their presence. Plus, he needed to think and he could do that better if Donny was silent.

“What about the buggy? Why do you drive a buggy if you’re not Amish?”

“Have you seen the price of gas lately?”

“Good point.”

Finally, Donny stopped talking. Gritting his teeth, Levi tried to focus. He sensed the soul cage overhead, just as Randy had said it was. The boy hadn’t known its true name or purpose, of course. He’d thought it was merely a prison to keep them from leaving the town. In truth, it was a construct of great willpower and malice, a mystical barrier designed to capture the souls of all living things that came into direct contact with it. Judging by the amount of energy it was giving off, the cage had captured many souls indeed. Levi wondered if he could dispel it before the soul cage’s creators had a chance to feed off its contents, but then decided against doing so. Better to save his strength for the main task, rather than wasting it on the cage. If he was successful, the souls trapped in the cage would be free. He only wished it wasn’t too late for those the entities had already fed on directly.

The corpses that had filled the streets earlier were missing now. A few small piles of dust remained behind, but most of these had vanished, as well, eradicated by the cool, swift breeze. Levi slowed their pace as they passed by the hanging tree that Randy had mentioned. The carving was still there, stark against the bark: CROATOAN.

How was it connected to what was happening here? The methods and goal—eradicating every living thing in an entire town—were those of Meeble, but their adversaries obviously weren’t him. What did it all mean? Levi couldn’t help but picture their dilemma as a puzzle spread out on a tabletop. In the center of the puzzle was a hole, and until he found that missing piece, the full picture wouldn’t be revealed. Somehow, the entities stalking Brinkley Springs were connected to Meeble and the Thirteen. The question was, how?

His thoughts turned to revenants and shades. Could the black figures be one of those? Shades were spirits, the shadowy ghost of a dead person. The term stemmed from several sources, including Homer’s Odyssey and Dante’s Divine Comedy. In Greek mythology, the dead lived in the perpetual shadow of the underworld. The Hebrew version of the shade—the tsalmaveth—translated as death-shadow. While the entities certainly had shade like attributes, he didn’t think that was what they were. Likewise, they didn’t seem to fit the definition of a revenant. But then again, many of those definitions were faulty. The term had been assigned to creatures that were not revenants, but Siqqusim, a race of beings able to inhabit the bodies of the dead. In Akkadian literature, when Ishtar and Ereshkigal threatened to “raise up the dead to eat the living and make the dead outnumber the living,” they were referring to casting Siqqusim into corpses. They were zombies, rather than revenants, but it was a distinction that was lost on both.

Medieval revenants were more similar to what he faced now. Levi considered the Anglo-Norman legends and folklore of that time—the documented accounts of William of Newburgh, the chronicler Walter Map, the Abbot of Burton and the bishop Gilbert Foliot, and the later writings of Augustus Montague Summers. Though the accounts varied, all had agreed that revenants who returned from the dead were wicked and evil while alive, and that the only way to destroy one was through exhumation, followed by decapitation and the removal and subsequent immolation of its heart.

Was it possible that his foes were some new form of revenant, a type thus far unknown to occultists? If so, how was he supposed to defeat them?

He was still thinking about it when they heard the screams. Without a word, Levi and Donny ran toward the sound. Their footsteps pounded on the asphalt, punctuating the cries. They rounded a corner, emerged onto another street and found a house under siege.

“That’s Axel Perry’s place,” Donny said.

The five dark figures had surrounded the home.

Two of them were in the front yard. One had just torn the face off an unfortunate victim. The man’s body lay jittering and twitching on the wet grass. Three other men stood on the front porch, watching in terror. Levi recognized one of them as one of the two owners of the local garage.

“Oh, shit,” Donny moaned. “I think that’s Greg Pheasant lying on the ground. But what’s wrong with him? He doesn’t look right.”

Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out his copy of The Long Lost Friend. He kissed it and then handed the book to Donny.

“Here. I’m about to drop our concealment. Keep this on you and don’t let it go. And Donny, for God’s sake as well as our own, stay here and do exactly what I tell you.”

“What are you going to do?”

Levi gritted his teeth. “I’m going to pick a fight.”

Without another word, he inched toward the house.

The injured man was still twitching, but his movements had slowed. As Levi crept closer, the man’s killer leaned over and thrust a hand into his back. He could hear the flesh rip from where he stood. The killer fished around inside the body and then wrenched the spine free, snapping it off at the base of the skull and then holding it in one hand like a dead snake. The man’s movements abruptly ceased.

The man in black held the grisly trophy high over his head. “Now we’ll feed on the rest of you.”

“No,” Levi said, stepping forward. “You won’t.”