Shades

TEN

His mother was still asleep when he woke up. Danny tried again to rouse her, but she didn’t respond. Sunlight streamed over her pale face. As he looked at her, fresh guilt overwhelmed him again.

Gustav was already awake. Danny heard the shower running, and Gustav’s deep voice signing a song in Russian. Despite his guilt and sadness, Danny smiled. Singing in the shower didn’t seem like Gustav’s style. Next, Danny called his mother’s job, explaining that she was throwing up and had a fever. Her supervisor didn’t seem surprised. His mother called in sick a lot. As Danny hung up the phone, Gustav emerged from the bathroom.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep?”

Danny shrugged. “A little.”

“You need rest. It begins soon, I think.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Always with the questions. That time has passed. I said last night, we act like normal.”

“But what if I see Mr. Bedrik? What am I supposed to do?”

“Do?” Gustav’s voice was stern. “You do nothing. You smile and pretend. If he talks to you, you answer. But do not tell him anything you don’t want him to know. Just make—how you say—small talk.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“I will prepare.”

“But what about my Mom? We can’t leave her here by herself all day.”

“I stay and watch your mother. I can do both at same time. You go to school and act like everything is fine.”

“Is it?”

“Da. Yes. Everything is fine.” He waved his hand impatiently. “Now go get ready for school. I make your breakfast.”

Danny was doubtful. “You can cook?”

“Of course I can cook,” Gustav grumbled. “I am a good cook. You’ll see.”

Danny took a quick shower—cold, because Gustav had used all the hot water—and got dressed for school. As he pulled on his jeans, he smelled bacon. The aroma filled the house. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled it. His mouth watered, and he hurried into the kitchen, where Gustav handed him two fried eggs and bacon on white bread. Impressed, Danny inhaled the sandwich. When he was finished, he felt much better.

“You see?” Gustav asked as he scrubbed the frying pan. “You are full, yes? Feel better. Good food. Good for brain and body. Keep you strong and recharge your power.”

“I do feel better,” Danny admitted. “Maybe everything will be okay.”

If Gustav heard him, he didn’t respond.

789

Dead people began arriving at Michael Bedrik’s home shortly after nine that morning. Edward T. Rammel was the first to arrive, along with the body of Tony Amiratti Junior. Matt was next, the adult rapist inhabiting him now cowed and apologetic. With him was the possessed Sam Oberman, Gethsemane’s watchman. Within minutes, several police officers and town officials—all housing shades—arrived, as well.

Bedrik gave them their orders. Then they dispersed.

The magus smiled. It was going to be a good day, and an even better night. And when the sun rose over Brackard’s Point tomorrow morning, there would be no one left to challenge him. The town would belong to him, his own private empire.

789

Danny didn’t see Mr. Bedrik when he got to school. After homeroom, he peeked into the teacher’s classroom and learned that he had called in sick. A substitute was standing at the front of the class. Danny breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to encounter the magician after all.

The same couldn’t be said of his friends, no matter how hard Danny tried. Chuck and Ronnie were in several of his classes. They glared at him like a traitor, and when he tried to talk to them, they ignored him. He saw Jeremy in the halls and had to walk away when Jeremy threatened to kick his ass. Val kept her distance too, and that confused him. He’d catch her from time to time looking in his direction, pouting, eyebrows lowered in either thought or anger. As soon as Danny met her gaze, she’d turn away.

He tried to ignore them all and simply get through the day. It wasn’t easy.

At lunch, he sat alone and felt like dying.

Danny looked down at his lasagna. He toyed at it with his fork. He wasn’t hungry, but Gustav had said it was important to build up his strength. He lifted the fork to his mouth but stopped as shadows suddenly blocked his light.

Chuck, Ronnie, and Jeremy looked down at him, their faces solemn.

“Matt’s out,” Ronnie said. “We saw him out behind shop class while we were smoking.”

Danny put the fork down. “How can he be out already?”

Ronnie and Chuck didn’t respond. Jeremy shrugged. They continued staring at him.

“Did he say anything?” Danny asked.

“He wants to see you after school,” Ronnie said. “You’re supposed to go to Gethsemane.”

Danny shoveled limp pasta into his mouth and chewed slowly, looking from one friend to the other.

“Yeah, so you guys plan on helping him?”

Jeremy snorted. “Matt don’t need any help. He’s gonna fuck you up.”

Danny shook his head and kept eating.

“What are you gonna do?” Chuck asked.

“Just go away. You guys want to take his side, that’s cool. It doesn’t matter and neither do you.”

Ronnie and Jeremy glared at him. Chuck seemed confused and hurt. Danny didn’t care.

Jeremy leaned down, placing his hands on either side of Danny’s plate. “Matt said you’re supposed to meet him in the graveyard. Unless you’re chicken shit, that is. Are you?”

Danny stood up quickly and pushed Jeremy in the chest. Jeremy staggered backward. His fists curled.

“Go ahead,” Danny challenged. “You want to fight? Then let’s go.”

He regretted saying it immediately. A fight with Jeremy would delay him from getting home and finding out how his mom was, or what Gustav had planned. He didn’t have time for detention. He stared hard at Jeremy. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, a lot of things he wanted to do at that moment, but he refrained.

Rather than responding, Jeremy paled and took a step backward. Chuck and Ronnie’s eyes widened.

“I’ll let Matt kick your ass first,” Jeremy said, but his words had no conviction. “Come on, you guys. Fuck this noise. Let’s let the pussy eat his last meal.”

They turned to leave, but Danny wasn’t finished. Jeremy’s words stung him. He felt the familiar energies building inside him, and forgot all about his mother and Gustav’s warnings.

“If you see Matt, tell him to come find me.” Smiling, Danny picked up his plate. “Fuck the cemetery. Let’s do it right here. Tell him that I’ll be waiting for him.”

789

Gustav’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow and shallow. He sat cross-legged on the floor, motionless except for his hands, which he folded through a series of motions—Earth, the god Set fighting; Air, which symbolized Shu supporting the sky; Water for Leviathan; Fire for the Teraphim; Spirit, the rending and closing of the veil; the cross for the One slain; the Pentagram for the One risen; Isis mourning, the Swastika, and finally, the Trident.

Music played softly in the background. Danny’s mother had a small, battery-operated cassette deck, and Gustav had turned it on. The soothing strains of Vivaldi filled the room. Gustav let the music envelop him. He felt strong. Ready. As long as Danny didn’t waste any more power, things would go in their favor.

The music slowed, then faded and stopped.

Gustav’s eyes snapped open. He got up and checked the cassette player.

The batteries were dead, their power drained.

Synchronicity?

Whatever it was, sign or coincidence, Gustav was suddenly afraid.

789

After the last bell rang, Danny filed outside with the rest of the students, losing himself in the center of the crowd. He walked slowly, his head turning from side to side, looking for Matt or for Chuck, Ronnie, and Jeremy. There was no sign of them.

He joined up with a dozen classmates going in the same direction as him. One by one, they turned down side streets or stopped at their individual homes, bidding goodbye to the others. Their numbers dwindled to six, then four. When the last of them turned up his driveway, Danny was left alone.

And Matt walked in front of him, emerging from an alley.

“Hey, Danny. How’s it going?”

Matt stood sneering in the center of the sidewalk, hands on his hips. There was no sign of the others, and for that, Danny was silently relieved. Fighting Matt was bad enough. He didn’t want to tangle with Chuck, Ronnie, and Jeremy as well. Not now. Not today.

“You were supposed to come to the cemetery,” Matt said.

Shrugging, Danny dropped his New York Jets book bag to the pavement.

“Fuck the cemetery. Let’s get this over with. You and me, right here and now.” Danny took one step forward and balled up his fists.

Matt shook his head. He wasn’t much bigger than Danny, but he didn’t seem nervous or scared.

“Look, Danny, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this doesn’t have to happen. I don’t want to fight you.”

“You don’t want to fight?” Danny scowled. “Then what’s the deal with telling the guys you wanted to meet me in Gethsemane? What’s that all about?”

“I wanted you to come there so we could talk. Not fight.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, Danny. Why would I want to fight you?”

“Why,” Danny sputtered. “Maybe because I told on you? Because you got in trouble?”

Matt smiled. “That was all just a misunderstanding. Let’s talk about it. I’m sure we can reach an agreement. Work things out. We’re friends, Danny. We shouldn’t let something like this come between us.”

Danny frowned. Something was wrong. Different. Matt wasn’t talking like himself. The voice was the same, but the words, the grammar—they belonged to an adult.

“Come up to the cemetery with me,” Matt urged him.

“Why? Whatever you have to say, you can say it here.”

“No,” Matt said. “I want to show you something.”

Danny lowered his fists and took a step backward. “No way. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Matt, but just get the hell away from me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“What’s gotten into me?” Matt laughed. “You don’t have any idea, little boy. None at all.”

Danny’s stomach clenched. “You’re not really Matt are you?”

Sighing, Matt turned his back on him. Hesitant, Danny took a step forward, reaching for him. Suddenly, Matt whirled around and punched him in the face. Danny’s lips burst. He stumbled backward, stunned, and collapsed to the pavement. Matt took full advantage of Danny’s position and kicked him in the balls. Danny cried out, gagging from the pain.

“That hurts, doesn’t it?” Matt aimed another kick, catching him in the thigh. “I know. I’ve been kicked there twice myself in the last three days.”

Danny sucked air and tried to respond.

“I tried to do this the easy way,” Matt said, looming over him. “But you had to be difficult. My Master wants you in the cemetery, and I’m going to haul you there if I have to.”

Coughing, Danny rolled over and curled into a ball. Through teary eyes, he glanced around the street, hoping for an adult or passerby, but the sidewalks were deserted.

“You think you’re something special, don’t you? Just because you learned a few tricks from that old man, you think you can screw me over and get away with it?” Matt’s grabbed Danny’s hair and jerked his head up. “Think again. Nobody fucks with me! Nobody fucks with Tim Wells.”

The name cut through Danny’s pain. Tim Wells? Wasn’t he the rapist who’d died a few years ago, gunned down by the cops when he wouldn’t surrender? Timothy Wells had worn a Casper the Friendly Ghost mask while he committed those crimes. He’d even raped his wife. He was crazy.

This was crazy.

“Get up,” Matt ordered, yanking Danny’s hair. “Let’s go. Don’t make me carry you.”

Grunting, Danny struggled to his feet. His lips pulsed and blood ran down his chin. His testicles felt like grapefruit.

“Is that who you are? Tim Wells?”

Matt grinned, tipping an imaginary hat. “Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name.”

“How did you get inside my friend?”

“I was given a second chance. And you almost fucked it up for me. But now, now I’m going to fuck you up instead.”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“You told me your name,” Danny said. “Names have power, dumb ass. If you know something’s name, the rest is easy.”

Matt/Wells lunged at him, and Danny unleashed the energy inside him. The power left his body in a rush, a wave of energy that erupted from his fingers and struck the other boy in the chest. There were no pyrotechnics announcing the attack; merely thought and the action that followed. Danny focused, tried to visualize pulling the shade of Timothy Wells from Matt’s body, and blasting it back to the grave.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Matt screamed as his flesh blistered, turned gray and sloughed onto the sidewalk. His eyes dribbled down his face, his exposed bones blackened. He took a step forward and his charred ribcage snapped, spilling his insides with a wet, red splash. He fell apart, liquefying where he stood, decimated by gravity and his own violent convulsions. His bones cracked and splintered. The skeletal fragments turned to dust.

Danny stared in revulsion. His stomach heaved. He turned away and threw up all over his shoes. His vomit splattered into the puddle of gore. Something dark coalesced in the center of the remains—a dark, swirling form that grew in size and then erupted into the air. It was a shadow, a human shadow, and it screamed.

Then it was gone.

The street remained empty. There was no movement from the windows of the homes. The yards were deserted. Nobody had seen. That didn’t make it better. Danny trembled, horrified at what he’d just done. Just like the liquor store, the destructive wave had flowed out of him, uncontrollable and overpowering. And now, one of his best friends was dead as a result. Because of him.

Because of magic.

No, he thought. That wasn’t Matt. It was somebody else.

But was it really? Yes, Timothy Wells’ shade had been inside of Matt, but where had Matt gone? Could his spirit—his consciousness—still have been trapped inside his own body, a prisoner? If so, then Danny was a murderer.

He stared at Matt’s remains and willed his friend to come back. He balled his fists and pushed with his mind, wishing for it to be reversed. He visualized the puddle reconstructing itself, flowing and shaping into a body.

Let me take it back, please!

Instead, the thing that had been Matt dribbled down a storm drain.

Danny sobbed. Gustav had told him that magic had a price. He’d said that sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

But he hadn’t told Danny that it would hurt so much—or that the cost would be so high.

789

Bedrik felt Timothy Wells die for the second time.

Cursing, he picked up the phone and dialed the police.

789

Edward T. Rammel watched the house through Tony Amiratti Junior’s eyes. The old man and the woman were inside. There was no sign of the boy.

Edward had enjoyed his new life so far. Power, wealth, sex—what wasn’t to like? He got to play a tough guy, just like the mobsters in the movies he’d loved when he was alive. It had been daunting at first, pretending to know people he’d never met and trying hard to fit in, to not give away that he wasn’t who they thought he was, but he’d managed. Maybe the fear Tony Amiratti inspired in people had helped. But since taking possession of Tony’s body, Edward had given them all new reasons to fear him.

A police car rolled slowly down the street. Edward grinned in satisfaction. The others were arriving right on schedule, eager as he was not to disappoint their Master. Bedrik was already angry over Wells’ failure. If they screwed this up…he shuddered, unable to contemplate the ramifications.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the house and two men got out. They glanced in his direction, looking at the bushes where he was hiding, and then quickly turned away.

Careful, you morons, he thought. Don’t let him know I’m here.

The others approached the house and Edward tensed, preparing himself.

“Showtime!”

789

Gustav felt their presence seconds before they knocked on the door; three men who were not men but something else.

He glanced at the bedroom. Danny’s mother slept soundly. He’d checked on her throughout the day and was satisfied with her progress. Another twelve hours or so and she’d awake, fully recovered.

Moving quickly, he ducked into the kitchen and rubbed salt onto his hands, feeling the tiny grains scratch against his calluses.

The knock came again, insistent. Gustav crossed the room and opened the door. Two policemen stood on the porch. Their badges glinted in the late-afternoon light. Their uniforms were crisp and clean. The men were young, mid-thirties, and in strong physical shape. One of them wore a gold wedding band. The other had a neatly trimmed mustache. Their police car sat at the curb, washed and glinting in the evening sunlight. But despite appearances, Gustav knew the men were not police officers. Oh, they had been, once. But no longer. Something else was inside them now—someone else. The dead lived, walking the earth in borrowed bodies.

The policemen who were not policemen didn’t smile.

He’d felt three presences, and wondered where the third had gone.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said the first. His nametag read, ‘STINE’. The other’s nametag said, ‘PUGLISI’.

Nodding, Gustav returned their frowns.

“How may I help you?”

Stine hooked his thumbs into his belt and hitched up his pants. “We had a noise complaint, sir. Care if we come inside and have a look?”

“Da, I care. I do not invite and you cannot cross.”

“Police business, sir. We do have the legal right to search these premises if we have reason to believe—”

“A policeman could, yes,” Gustav interrupted. “But you are not policemen. Nyet. You are not men at all. You are little shades, playing at being men. Is not Halloween, little spirits. Take off your costumes and return where you came from.”

Puglisi reached for his sidearm and Stine took another step forward. With a speed that belied his age, Gustav’s hand shot out. He grabbed Stine’s arm and pulled with his mind. Stine jerked as if electrocuted. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came forth. Gustav’s fingers dug into his flesh, squeezing. Darkness flowed from Stine’s pores and orifices, forming into a shadow and hovering above the body.

Puglisi fumbled with his holster, obviously unused to it. Without releasing his grip on Stine, Gustav laughed at the other.

“Your master should have given you more time to get used to your new body. You’re slow on the draw, ‘pardner’. Not make good cowboy. Me, I watch many westerns. I will show you.”

Gustav cocked his free hand like a pistol and pointed it at Puglisi. A bolt of energy erupted from his fingertip and hit the officer in the chest. Such an attack, launched by a more inexperienced magician, would have had much more explosive results. But under Gustav’s control, the shade inside Puglisi flowed from his pores, mouth, and nose, just like the other had.

Both shades floated in the air, tethered to their hosts by a thin wisp of shadow. Then Gustav made a scissors motion with his hand and the shades screamed.

“I have bound thee,” Gustav shouted. “Now I sever those ties. You thought to challenge me, no? I have defeated the Nerpa in the cold wastes of my home. I have spoken with the Siqqusim and wrestled with Belial and danced with Pan as the leaves change color. I have walked through fire and rain and the spaces in between. You have no power over me.”

The shades began to dim.

“You will not return to your graves,” Gustav continued. “Nyet. You will not go to next plane or the Labyrinth or anywhere else. Even the Void is not for you. No Heaven. No Hell. You are not even dust. You return to nothing.”

As he spoke, the shades faded until there was nothing left. The soulless bodies collapsed on the front step like sacks of flour.

Gustav stared at the police car.

“Easy to deal with shades,” he grumbled. “Harder to make car and bodies vanish.”

He stepped out onto the porch and dragged the lifeless officers inside. Then he straightened up, wincing at the pain in his back.

“Now,” he muttered, “where did third one go?”

He no longer sensed the third’s presence. Could he have been mistaken initially? Could there have only been the two? He hurried to the bedroom to check on Danny’s mother. When he opened the door he cursed.

Danny’s mother was gone.

The bedroom window was open. The curtains fluttered gently in the breeze. The sheets on the empty bed still held her body’s impression. He could still smell her perfume—the only lingering trace that she’d been there. Gustav ran to the window and looked outside. There was no sign of anyone. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, but felt no presence. Whoever had abducted her—if indeed she’d been abducted—was already gone. How could he have been so stupid? The policemen were only a distraction, keeping him occupied while Bedrik got his real target. But why was Bedrik interested in Danny’s mother? Gustav opened his eyes and turned back to the bed.

I have her, old man.

The voice inside his head belonged to Michael Bedrik.

Why, Gustav asked. She is not part of this.

Perhaps, but the boy most certainly is. And if either of you want to see her alive again, you’ll both be at the Gethsemane Cemetery at midnight. Don’t dally. Don’t be late. And come alone. Just the two of you. No one else. If I learn that you’ve informed anyone else, especially your precious Kwan, death will be the least of her worries. Every Hell I know I will make her suffer. Do I make myself clear?

Gustav didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he snapped off the telepathic link as easily as turning off an appliance. A slow smile spread across his face. Bedrik wanted Danny to accompany him to the graveyard.

That was perfect.

Gustav turned his attention back to the two dead bodies and the abandoned police car, intent on cleaning up all loose ends. He’d have to use magic, reluctant as he was to do so. It was the only way to make them disappear quickly and safely. Doing so would leave him taxed for tonight’s confrontation, but that was okay.

He knew where he could get more power.

789

The house felt wrong. That was the first thing Danny noticed when he burst through the door. His mother’s car was still in the driveway, but there was no sign of her or Gustav. The television blared to an empty living room. Phil Donahue was arguing with people who didn’t believe in paying child support. Danny switched the channel to The Transformers without even thinking about it, and then turned the volume down.

“Gustav?” he called. “Mom?”

There was no response. The furniture was all in place, the shades drawn, just as he’d left it that morning, but something still seemed…off.

He checked the bathroom, but the door was wide open and there was nobody inside. Trying to ignore the feeling of dread building inside of him, Danny made his way down the hall to his mother’s bedroom. It was empty. The window was open. Gnats buzzed into the room. He called out again, louder this time, but got no answer. Outside, the breeze shifted, making the curtains around the open window rustle. Danny sniffed the air. He smelled something pungent burning in the back yard. The barbeque grill? No, that didn’t make sense. After a moment, he realized what it was—burning hair.

He ran back down the hall, stepped through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen, and darted out onto the patio. Gustav was stooped over the grill, his back to Danny. He was muttering something under his breath, a phrase or spell, not in English or Russian but a language Danny had never heard before. The barbeque grill’s lid was closed, but thick, black smoke and flickers of orange flame shot out from beneath it. Danny’s eyes watered. Here was the source of the stench.

Gustav did not turn around. “One second, boy. Am almost finished.”

“What are you doing? Where’s my Mom? What’s burning in the—”

Gustav did not turn around. Instead of responding, He merely held up a hand for silence.

Danny did his best to stay quiet. He moved away from the choking smoke and staggered out into the yard. He saw no sign of his mother. The yard was full of weeds and trash. A leaning, sun-bleached fence separated their property from the alley. As Danny glanced around, he noticed something odd in the alley. There was one spot immediately behind his home where his vision grew blurry. He turned his head back and forth. Every time his eyes came to rest on that one place, his vision went out of focus. He’d read about this effect at Gustav’s, had experienced it first hand when he’d discovered Martin Bedrik’s body along the Hudson—even though he hadn’t known it at the time. Hiding in plain sight—Oriental magic, more a trick of the mind than anything else. Ninjas used it, and Danny thought ninjas were cool, especially Snake Eyes on G.I. Joe. That’s why he’d remembered it. He also remembered how to overcome it.

He stared directly at the blurred area and let his eyes un-focus. It was harder than the book had made it sound. He kept going cross-eyed in the attempt. Behind him, Gustav continued chanting softly, ignoring him. Danny tried again, seeing everything and nothing. His vision blurred again and then—

—swam into focus. The hidden object appeared.

A Brackard’s Point police car.

“Hey, Gustav, did you know there’s a—”

“Nyet,” the old man barked. “Ten more seconds.”

Danny sighed in frustration, and held his tongue.

Finally, Gustav turned around to face him. The old man tried to smile, but faltered. The smoke and flames inside the grill died down, but the stench still filled the air. Danny stared at the grill, and then his mentor. He gasped, noticing that Gustav’s hands were bloody. The old man picked up a roll of paper towels and a bottle of degreaser that had been left beside the grill and proceeded to clean them. As he scrubbed his hands, he looked up at Danny.

“Now, you had questions, yes?”

“You’re damn right I have questions. One, where’s my Mom? Two, is that blood on your hands? Three, what’s in the grill? Dinner? Because if it is; then it smells horrible. Four, do you realize there’s a cop car back there?”

“Yes.” Gustav nodded his head. “Yes, yes, and yes. Your mother is not here. Yes, this is blood. No, is not dinner on grill. Is very old magic. Make fire hot enough to burn meat and bone and teeth to ash very, very quickly. I think you do not want to eat what I’m cooking. And yes, that is a police car. It is our ride later on tonight.”

Danny barely heard any of it. “What do you mean she’s not here? Where’s my Mom?”

Gustav lifted the hot barbeque lid and dropped the bloody paper towels inside it. Danny saw a mound of ash inside, and wondered what it was. Then Gustav closed the lid and stepped towards Danny. His expression was solemn, and when he answered, his voice was low and mournful.

“Bedrik has her.”

Danny tried to speak, and couldn’t. The yard seemed to spin. Swooning, he reached out and grabbed the fence to steady himself. When Gustav spoke again, the old man’s voice sounded like he was far away.

“He sent his shades. I fought two of them. A third took your mother. But I know where she is, yes? We will get her back. Will get him, too.”

Danny shook his head. His ears rang and his knees felt weak.

“You said you’d protect her…”

“I did.” Gustav’s tone was sad. “And I am sorry, Danny. I did my best. But it was three against one, and I am an old man. I think I do good, despite the odds.”

“Do good?” Danny let go of the fence and lurched unsteadily towards him. “Good? That crazy fucker kidnapped my mother. How did you do good?”

“I dispatched two of his shades. Bedrik looses power, yes? And I know where he has taken her. To the cemetery. We will meet him there. We will finish this, and rescue your mother.”

“How? If you weren’t strong enough to take on three shades at once, then how are we going to fight him? He’ll probably have a whole army up there with him.”

Gustav stroked his beard. “He may. But I have tricks up my sleeve, too. And I have you. We go together, yes?”

Danny nodded.

“But first,” Gustav turned back to the house, “we rest. You expended power on the way here. I know. I felt it. I did, too. Both of us rest and then we go.”

“Rest? We’ve got to go now!”

“No. Midnight. Those are his terms. He has chosen the location and the time. We must adhere. If we go before, he might hurt your mother. We need to be strong first. And I still need to finish cleaning up, yes?”

Danny stared at the old Russian’s hands. “Looks like you got all the blood off.”

“Yes,” Gustav agreed. Then he bent over and rummaged through a plastic garbage bag. He held up two police uniforms, along with underwear and socks. “But have not taken care of these yet.”

“Where did you get—never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Da, you do not.”

Shaking his head, Danny went back inside the house and tried to rest. He didn’t think midnight would ever arrive.

But it did.

Before they left, Gustav slipped a salt shaker into his pocket and insisted that Danny do the same. He did not explain why.

They climbed into the abandoned police car. Gustav drove. Danny stared out the window and watched the town pass by. He thought of Ronnie and Jeremy. Chuck and Matt. Val and the other kids at school. His friends from the Hill. The assholes from Snowdrop. Everyone in between. He thought of his mother, and of his father, and wished that his Dad was here now. But he wasn’t. In the end, this place had killed him. Now it would probably kill Danny, too. He’d always hated Brackard’s Point. Had always wanted to leave. For all he knew, he might very well be doing just that tonight. Leaving. There were no guarantees that they’d return from Gethsemane. This could be his last look. Danny shivered, afraid. Gustav turned on the heater. Hot air blew gently across their feet.

They drove in silence. Soon, Danny felt better. He reminded himself that with Gustav at his side, there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. Gustav was his friend. Gustav cared. Gustav would protect him and his mother—protect them all.

“Everything’s going to be okay, right?”

“Da. You will see. Everything will be just fine. Soon, we all be back to normal.”

789

A few minutes later, after they’d grown quiet again, Gustav glanced over at Danny and gave him a reassuring smile. Then he looked into the rearview mirror. He kept his expression neutral, careful not to give anything away. The road and the town were lost beneath a sea of black. The darkness was following them, flowing after the car like a wave, just as he’d hoped it would.

The darkness wore the face of a dead man.