Dark Rite

Chapter 14

Grant walked into the Cup Of Joe diner, feeling thoroughly bemused. He needed coffee and time to think. What exactly had happened this morning? His suspicions grew on each other like mold on old bread, hideous and consuming. More than ever he wanted to get into his car and drive away, far from Wallen's Gap, and never look back. But it seemed that Jazy had been determined to make him do just that and he couldn't help wondering why. Her mood, her disposition toward him, had changed so quickly and so dramatically. Over his confusion, his guilt sat heavier than anything else. He couldn't get thoughts of Cassie from his mind and felt as though he’d let her down. But he didn't know what to do. The finger in his shirt pocket writhed almost constantly and he couldn't bring himself to look at that either. It felt as much a danger as it might be a help, and how the hell could a disembodied finger keep moving around anyway? For some reason, though, it was important to keep it with him, though he had no idea why. Surely he was losing his mind, hallucinating, imagining conspiracies everywhere.

On the counter were various candies for sale. One was a tin of small, round breath mints. He forced a smile to man behind the counter as he bought a tin, even though the man looked at him like he was a giant walking turd that was smearing up the diner by its presence alone. Grant went directly from the counter into the bathroom and tipped the contents of the small tin into the garbage bin. He took the finger from his shirt pocket, refusing to even look at it, and pushed it into the tin, which he jammed deep into the hip pocket of his jeans. He wanted to throw the hideous thing away, but something compelled him to keep it. Even though it darkened the edges of his mind, laid a stain on his very soul, he couldn't get rid of it, couldn't even leave it behind somewhere. He had to keep it with him, even if he had no explanation why. At least now he wouldn't constantly feel its horrible movements.

He pulled the book from his back pocket, thumbed through to the chapter on the banishing of Kaletherex. He read the first few paragraphs, standing in the coolness of the bathroom. It talked of a man who had moved to Wallen's Gap when it was little more than a camp, and how that man had uncovered the activity of a very nasty group of people praising a thing called Kaletherex. A daemon the book said. Grant paused, shook his head. A demon?

He read on.

Grant stopped reading the old professor's words, his blood turning to icicles in his veins. Josiah Brunswick? Like Cassie Brunswick? Was it even vaguely possible they were related? In a town like this, it was highly unlikely that two unrelated families would shard the same surname. He needed to learn more about this and quickly. He stuffed the book back into his pocket and headed out into the diner. He needed a big coffee while he sat and read the rest of the account.

He pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out, and something hard struck him across the cheek. With a cry of pain and surprise, he fell to one knee, his vision blurred.

“You just can't take any kind of hint, can ya?” Jesse Stallard said, and kicked him in the ribs.

Pain blossoming through his chest Grant hurled himself at Jesse, and caught him on the chin with a hard right cross. Jesse staggered back and Grant bore him to the ground. But, before he could do any damage, Jed and Cliff were on top of him. He struggled to break loose as they hauled him to his feet, but the two were strong, and held his arms in twin vise grips. Jesse kicked him in the groin and Grant's knees gave way. Next he knew, the three brothers set to punching and kicking him as he curled up in a ball and tried to shield himself from the worst of the blows. He caught sight of the diner's owner standing by the front door, one hand on the lock as he watched the street outside.

“Help me!” Grant croaked, but the man didn't even turn to look.

The blows became distant and the pain a dull roar all over his body as consciousness receded. In a dark haze, he was dimly aware of being lifted, and felt the cold air of outside wash over him before the hard, rutted metal floor of a pick-up truck rose to meet him with a jarring impact.

Everything hurt. He swam in and out of awareness as the truck roared to life and pulled away. There was nothing else in the back with him and he slid left and right as they drove, banging into the metal sides with dull thumps and grunts of pain. Was he going to die now? Thoughts of throwing himself from the truck, heedless of further injury, rose in his mind. Anything was better than lying here awaiting his fate.

He braced himself to rise despite the pain in every part of him, pushed himself to hands and knees. Something hit him in the jaw and he fell sideways, stunned again. Through a haze of pain and semi-consciousness he saw Cliff Stallard sitting on the side of the pick-up, hanging onto the roof-mounted hunting lights with one hand, leering down at him. Cliff raised his boot again and Grant gave up and let the darkness in. His last thought was that he had let Cassie down and would never get the chance to save her, to help her away from Wallen's Gap.