Riverwatch

Chapter Thirty-three: First Strike

Jake stared at the Nightshade with a mixture of awe, fear, and dreadful fascination. It was hanging before him, suspended by its feet upside down from one of the ceiling rafters in the garret, its claws gripping the rough wood securely, its body swaying slightly in the light breeze that entered through the open window. The low light from the lantern glistened off the creature’s form, the beast’s scaled hide wet with the dew that gathered during the early morning hours. He could see it was large, probably over six feet when standing. The multiple folds of its wings meant they would probably somewhere over ten feet when fully extended. Now they curled gently about the creature’s body like some kind of protective screen, making it seem the beast had wrapped itself in its own awesome embrace. The Nightshade’s head was tucked down against its chest, the edges of its wings against its temples, and Jake was suddenly glad that he wasn’t going to get a good look at the creature’s face.

Jake set the lantern down slowly, gently, taking care to be as silent as possible, not knowing how good the creature’s senses actually were. Does it know I’m here? he wondered. Can it sense me? Smell me?

With his right hand Jake reached behind his back and slowly withdrew the pistol from the waistband of his jeans, never once taking his eyes off the beast. So far the it hadn’t moved; that was good. Maybe I was right, he thought to himself with sudden hope, maybe the damnable thing goes into hibernation during the day after feeding so much at night. Maybe I’ll be able to end this right here, right now, before it even has a chance to defend itself.

Adrenaline kicked and surged through his system, forcing him to take a more secure grip on the pistol as his hands began to sweat. Slowly, he shifted into the classic shooter’s stance; legs slightly bent and shoulder-width apart, left hand cupped over the bottom of his right, arms extended before him. His sneaker scuffed the floor as he shifted weight and instantly he froze, but the beast never moved, never even flinched. After a long, fear-filled moment, he released the breath he had been holding and prepared to fire.

He surveyed the beast’s form for a moment, settling on the head as his best possible target. He knew he had to make the first shot count, hoping it would be enough to slow down the creature long enough for him to empty the whole magazine into the thing. If nineteen bullets weren’t enough to stop the thing, then there wouldn’t be much else that he could do except to say a quick prayer and run like hell for the staircase behind him.

The Nightshade still hadn’t moved. If it was going to wake up, it already would have already done so, he told himself.

Steadying his aim, Jake crouched slightly lower in his stance and locked his arms in their current position. He drew in a deep breath and slowly began letting it out, squeezing the trigger as he did so, the motion one long steady pull just the way he’d been taught at the range, his eyes never leaving the target.

The creature opened its eyes and looked at him in the same instant that the gun fired.

The Nightshade took the shot high in the space between its shoulder and its neck, snapping its head back with an audible crack. As force of the shot slammed its body against the wall, its feet suddenly losing their grasp on the crossbeam overhead, causing it to drop to the floor.

Jake adjusted his stance, sighted, and fired again before the sound of the first shot stopped echoing around the small room, putting the second bullet cleanly into the side of the beast’s head. The passing slug tore a hole through the creature, taking a large chunk of skull with it as it tore its way back out, spraying the wall and floor with a grisly mixture of blood and bone.

Silence filled the room as the echo of the two gunshots faded away.

Jake held his ground, waiting for the beast to move.

It’s dead, it has to be. Nothing can take that kind of damage and survive, he thought to himself. Even so, he held his ground, his breath frozen in hopeful anticipation, the adrenaline surging through his body like a raging river.

The minutes slipped away.

Neither he nor the beast moved.

Jake waited a full five minutes before lowering his arms, his muscles shaking with the sudden release of tension and the overload of adrenaline in his system. It seemed he suddenly remembered to breathe again, and the air came rushing into his lungs.

Relief flooded his system.

Then the sudden rasp of a claw on stone sent his heart slamming into overdrive.

The Nightshade was moving!

The beast had pushed upwards on its arms while at the same time drawing its feet underneath itself for support, forcing its body up into a crouch, its claws scraping the floor as its limbs fought to obey the commands its damaged brain was sending out to them. Yet that wasn’t what made Jake stare in dumb amazement; it was something far worse.

The Nightshade’s skull was slowly beginning to heal right before his eyes.

The bullet had left an exit wound the size of a grapefruit, as he knew it would. The edges of this cavity were slowly drawing themselves together now, new flesh and bone flowing out of the skull like clay, matting itself to the other sides and knitting them together. In a matter of moments there would be no evidence that the wound had ever existed.

And then the beast opened his eyes.

In the space of a second, Jake realized two things with cold hard certainty.

The first was that the creature was laughing at him.

The second was that he was about to die.

It was a testament to his stubborn pride that the second fact unfroze him from his pose of immobility and got him moving again, his right arm swinging back up, his finger tightening on the trigger even before the gun was in line with its target.

Unfortunately, this time the Nightshade was faster.

Jake managed to get off one shot, the slug slamming into the creature somewhere between its left shoulder and ribcage. Then the beast’s clawed hand smashed into Jake’s own, leaving bloody furrows down the length of his forearm and knocking the gun from fingers that had suddenly gone numb from shock and pain. Without any hesitation, the same arm that had struck him seconds before came back around in the opposite direction, this time striking the side of his head with the back of its hand, the blow hard enough and strong enough to knock Jake clear off his feet and halfway across the room.

The Nightshade moved closer, and suddenly it did laugh, the sound striking Jake like ice pouring into his veins, the hair on the back of his neck rising in response.

The laugh was low and chilling, and utterly inhuman.

Unless he did something, and did it quickly, Jake knew he was going to die.

He could clearly see that his left leg was bent at an unnatural angle just below his knee. Moving caused white-hot pain to flare in his leg and he had to clamp down his teeth to keep from screaming aloud.

The creature was halfway across the room now, no more than ten feet away. Its arms were outstretched, its hands, if you could call them that, clenching and unclenching in what Jake imagined anticipation of sinking those great claws into his unprotected flesh. As it approached the Nightshade unfurled its wings like a cobra spreading its hood. Their length cast him in shadow as they blocked out some of the light from the lantern on the other side of the room, the sound of their movement like the rustling of reeds in the gentle spring breeze by the riverside.

The sound was anything but reassuring.

Knowing that he had only seconds before the beast was upon him, Jake gritted his teeth against the pain he was feeling and tried to gather his good leg underneath him, using the wall against his back to support his weight as he pushed himself into a semi-standing position.

By the time he managed to accomplish that, the beast stood before him.

Jake stared into the creature’s inhuman eyes and fear washed over him in a wave.

But the stubborn side of him, the one that forced him to try to shoot the beast even after he’d seen it heal itself, that side again rose and coaxed his courage back out of hiding.

If he was going to die, at least he would do it on his feet, facing whatever was to come. His left hand tightened into a fist at his side, a meager defense considering what he was facing, but reassuring in its own, simple way.

All right, you bastard, he thought fiercely, let’s see what you’ve got.

As if in answer, Moloch reached out swiftly and grasped both of Jake’s shoulders in his iron grip. He dragged Jake closer, a hideous smile splitting his mouth open to reveal the double-rows of needle-sharp teeth that lined his jaws.

The pain from the motion of his broken leg was too much for Jake.

Darkness closed in around him.

Out of that darkness came a voice, a voice full of menace and hatred, a voice that scurried up his spine with millions of tiny, ice-cold feet to reverberate against the walls of his skull with enough intensity to cause physical pain. It was a voice that was felt, not heard, directly inside his mind.

"You are cattle," said the beast, with the confidence of a predator trying to explain to dull-witted prey. "You have always been cattle. That is your rightful place. Watch!"

Suddenly the darkness was swept aside, to be replaced by visions of violence and gore, of a land and a time long since forgotten and passed behind. Jake’s senses were overwhelmed by the blood and sudden violence, by the smells and sensations that came through the tide of the Nightshade’s memory. They were so real, so vivid; a drama of such scope that he was not only an observer but also a participant, locked within the creature’s mind.

As he hung there, desperately trying to fathom a way out of his predicament, the beast’s voice echoed inside his mind.

"Cattle! If it were not for the meddling of the Elders, things would not have changed; the balance would not have been disrupted. Now you can find no solace amongst them. This time, things will return to the way they were supposed to be." His tone turned to one of grim satisfaction. "Cattle you were, and cattle you shall become again.

"There are none left to oppose me!"

Moloch leaned forward, his mouth opening wide to reveal those rows of gleaming teeth. A forked tongue flicked out to dart here and there about Jake’s face, leaving trails of glistening mucous where it came in contact with his flesh.

Moloch’s vile laugh filled the tiny room.

Jake stared death in the face, and realized that he no longer had the strength to resist. The pain in his leg was overwhelming, and it had quickly sapped what little strength he had left, so that all he was able to do was hang limply in Moloch’s grasp and meekly wait for what he knew was to come.

As the beast’s jaws came slowly closer, Jake braced himself for the pain. The mocking scorn in the creature’s laugh told him it would be anything but swift and painless.

The teeth descended.

Katelynn was riding in the back of Damon’s Bronco, listening only vaguely to the conversation going on between Sam and Damon when it happened. Her left hand held the necklace Gabriel had given her, sliding the stone back and forth on the gold chain on as she gazed out the window nervously, praying they would be on time. When the stone first glimmered with the faint flickering of red light from deep within, she didn’t immediately notice. It was only several moments later, when the faint glow suddenly flashed into blazing incandescence in the blink of an eye, filling the back seat with its eerie red glow that she did.

Katelynn felt a faint tickling in the back of her mind, a sensation she barely noticed over her surprise at the light emanating from the stone. When that tickle turned abruptly into pain, like two great icy hands squeezing her mind between them, she realized that she was in trouble. By then it was already too late, for she only had time to gasp softly in pain before the darkness that had begun swimming on the edges of her vision rushed in like the swell of the tide and she lapsed into unconsciousness without uttering a word.

The first sign that Sam and Damon had that anything was wrong came when they felt something violently strike the back of their seat. Turning to investigate, Sam almost caught Katelynn’s next kick full in the face. As it was, he was struck high on his shoulder with enough power to elicit a sharp grunt of pain.

"Holy shit!" was all he managed to utter in surprise.

The rear seat was filled with a deep scarlet glow that sprang from the stone clenched tightly between Katelynn’s fingers, a bright, lurid light that made everything it touched seem to be drenched in a thick tide of blood. In the middle of this, Katelynn thrashed back and forth violently, lashing out with her feet, slamming her sweat-drenched head from side to side against the leather of the seat, obviously in the grip of some kind of bizarre convulsion.

For one long moment, Sam could only stare.

The Sheriff glanced back over his shoulder and, seeing the weird light and the seizure that held Katelynn securely in its grip, he reacted with the quickness of years of training.

He skidded to a stop on the shoulder of the road abruptly enough to toss Sam against the security of his seatbelt. Damon was out of the car and opening the rear door to get to Katelynn before Sam even realized they had stopped.

For her part, Katelynn felt a sudden, sickening swirl of light and color, and the sensation of falling down a long dark well where she found herself looking through the eyes of the Nightshade.

Directly into Jake’s face.

He was there, no more than three inches in front of her, and she could tell by his position that the beast must be holding him in its grasp. Jake’s face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, his brow contorted with pain. The Nightshade continued to stare directly into his face, so Katelynn was unable to see the rest of Jake’s body to determine how badly he was hurt, but at least he was still alive.

The question was, for how long.

The two of them stood that way for what seemed like hours to Katelynn, but what in reality was only a few seconds, before Jake’s eyes suddenly popped open and she found herself staring into their depths. Her heart cried in anguish at the intense pain she could see reflected within them; he was suffering, there was no question of that. Along with the pain, Katelynn could see the blaze of his anger and determination; a wave of emotion that caused those usually gentle eyes to go icy blue with resolve. Jake was still fighting, but Katelynn wondered how much longer he could keep it up.

They had to get there in time!

Suddenly, she sensed a third presence in the link, one that emanated from the Nightshade itself. It was aware of her presence in return, might have even pulled her into the link intentionally, for the waves of anger and fury that were directed at her almost swamped her.

A realization came to her; the necklace worked in both directions! As long as she had it, the beast could seek her out in turn, at any moment, any time it liked, and could pull her into the twisted depths of its mind.

Before she could react to that knowledge, the beast suddenly plunged both her and Jake into the well of its memories.

She came to in the back of the Bronco, with the doors open on either side and Sam and Damon leaning in to help her. When they saw that she was conscious they released her and backed up slowly, the concern on their faces evident.

"Sam!" she cried, grasping his arm tightly. "We’ve got to keep moving. The Nightshade has Jake!"

Sam didn’t have time to answer. Damon was already sliding behind the wheel, and Sam had to hustle to keep from being left behind. In seconds the car was moving, speeding toward Riverwatch.