The Dark Ones Read online

  “I’m old, not a fool.”

  “We caught up to her,” Engel said. “She used the Light and drove off my children. Soon enough, I’ll find her.”

  I should destroy you now, Charles thought. At least try.

  “Did you really think you had a chance coming in here?” Engel asked.

  “What are you planning?”

  Engel chuckled. “Everything outside this mill,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “will be gone. And if the girl has come here, as my Master has said, she will suffer and die.”

  Not this time. Not on my watch.

  Charles flicked his hand and a bolt of white light streaked toward Engel. It hit him in the face and the force of the beam turned his head. Charles heard a sizzling noise. Then, he felt something heavy and dull strike the back of his head. He fell to his knees. He rubbed the back of his head. The winged beasts roughly grabbed his arms and hoisted him up.

  Engel stepped forward, teeth clenched. The side of his face had been scorched. Smoke curled up from his skin.

  Extending a pale hand, he gripped Charles’s chin and tilted his head up. “Now you’ll suffer. You’ll tell us about the girl, whether you want to or not. You’ll die like your bitch wife did.”

  If I fail, at least I tried something. God help us all.

  CHAPTER 14

  David watched Frank approach across the expanse of the armory’s main hall. The tanks, most of them Vietnam-era, seem to dwarf the Reverend. He joined Dave, who sat on a bench next to one of the behemoths. They sat for a moment, watching men and women haul crates, load rifles, and stack boxes of supplies.

  “I’m going,” Dave said finally.

  “We could use you,” Frank said. “We could use everyone.”

  “Sara’s on her own.”

  “If we fail here, it won’t matter.”

  “You don’t have kids, Frank.”

  “That’s not fair,” Frank said. “I care for Sara, too.”

  “Who’s cared for her? Ripped her out of schools when people started asking too many questions? Worried that Engel and his freaks were looking for her?”

  “We all have,” Frank said.

  “No one more than me. I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve kept going. I’ve wasted time.”

  “Know what?”

  He felt his muscles tense. “What, Frank?”

  “You’ve become a pretty damned good father,” Frank said, and clapped him on the leg.

  “I’ve lied to her all these years,” David said.

  “It was for her protection,” Frank said.”

  “Still.”

  “Go find her.”

  “Good luck, Frank.”

  “We’ll need it.”

  “I’m going to say good-bye to Jenny.”

  David crossed the main hall. He came up on heavyset guy in a hunting jacket, who was busy clicking shells into a shotgun. Dave tapped him on the arm. “You seen Jenny?”

  The man pointed upward. “Roof. Go to the rear stairs, all the way up. There’s an access ladder at the top of the stairwell.”

  Dave thanked him and proceeded through the building and up the stairs. His footsteps echoed as he walked. He found the ladder to the roof and saw an open hatch above.

  He climbed the ladder. The roof was vast and black and spotted with bird droppings. Chen stood in one corner with a auburn-haired woman dressed in overalls. Chen was pointing off in the distance.

  Dave crossed the roof, winding around air-conditioning units and ventilation stacks. He looked out over the valley. The hills were brown and the leaves yellow and orange.

  He approached Chen and the other woman. They turned around. The woman with Chen was built like a baby bull and had an open, friendly face. Chen introduced her as Madeline. David shook her hand, feeling the callused palm and pegging her for a farmer.

  “We were planning the defense of the roof. The winged ones will present the biggest problem. If they gain access to that hatch, we’re in trouble,” Jenny said.

  “You think three dozen of us will be enough?” Madeline asked.

  “They start swarming, it’ll be like a shooting gallery for you.”

  Madeline nodded. “I’ll go tell the others who’ll be on the roof. Nice meeting ya.”

  “You, too,” Dave said. Madeline walked across the roof and disappeared down the hatch.

  “What’s up?” Jenny asked.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “We could use you,” she said.

  Don’t lay a guilt trip on me, please. “I need to find Sara.”

  “Be careful?”

  “As careful as I can, given the situation.”

  She stepped closer him, reached up, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace and she pressed against him. Last night had been wonderful, however brief.

  “Thank you. For last night,” she said.

  “It was my pleasure, believe me.”

  She looked up at him. He kissed her wetly on the mouth.

  “Good-bye, David.”

  With that, he let go of her and crossed the roof. He took one last look. Jenny Chen stood at the edge of the roof, hands on hips, as if daring all comers to knock her off. If the Guardians were to have any chance of victory, they would need her.

  He stepped on to the ladder and climbed down.

  Dave’s car pulled away from Chen’s house. When he arrived in Buffalo, he would look up Laura Pennington’s address and start there. If she wasn’t there, then it was on to Buffalo General Hospital, where Frank had told him she worked. He left Routersville with a sick stomach. It might be the last time he ever saw the Reverend, Chen, or any of them.

  Reverend Frank climbed onto a tank, and Jenny followed him. He looked over the crowd, perhaps three hundred strong, not counting the hundred or so Guardians. A buzz rose from the crowd. He had expected—and hoped for—more people. The ones who didn’t attend were dooming themselves.

  Frank waved his arms to get the crowd’s attention. Then, sticking his pinkies in the corners of his mouth, he whistled. That cut the crowd noise, and now most of them faced him.

  “I’ll say this quickly,” he boomed. “I’m glad you’ve all come. How many of you read about the family slaughtered in Iowa, the Littles?”

  A sea of hands shot up.

  “The forces that were responsible for killing the Little family are on their way here. We’ve gathered at the armory because this is the best defensible position in town. We’re expecting an attack at any time. We have enough food and water for two weeks. If we haven’t driven them off by then, we never will. You’ll be protected in here. Beyond those doors, you’ll be slaughtered.”

  The murmur rose to a low roar. Heads shook, and people exchanged puzzled looks. A man wearing a leather jacket and a blue bandanna raised his hand.

  Frank said, “Yes?”

  “You expect us to believe this?”

  “Believe what you want. Just know that you’re safer in here.”

  “What is this, a cult?”

  “Yes sir, it’s the cult of save your own ass. That’s the cult.”

  The man looked as if he’d been slapped. “What about this attack?”

  He glanced at Chen, hoping for some suggestions. Chen shrugged her shoulders.

  “Demons, sir. Demons that travel the night and look for flesh. They want some of us dead, and will kill anyone who gets in their way. If you go home, you’ll be dragged from your houses. Some of you will be tortured. All of you killed.”

  “You’re all crazy. Certifiably fuckin’ nuts.”

  A woman in a dark overcoat raised her hand. “He might be right. My sister-in-law lives down in Wickett’s Corner. There’s been trouble, weird things moving around in the night.”

  “Yeah, right,” the bandanna man said. “I’m out of here.” He nudged his way through the crowd.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” Frank asked.

  “Agnes Bush. My sister-in-law saw something flying over her house a few
nights ago. Man-sized, with wings.”

  An elderly man in a Caterpillar ball cap stepped up to the front of the crowd. “Just say we are under attack, how you going to help? And how you do you know about these things?”

  “We have guns and ammo. And we have ...”

  Should he tell them? Give them a demonstration? People had already begun to file toward the main doors. He looked at Chen. She gave him a look that said “do something.”

  “They’ve been around for centuries, that’s how we know. As for how we’re going to defend ourselves, watch.”

  Frank raised his arms in a Y. He closed his eyes. Warmth surged through him and slowly brilliant white light appeared around him. He opened his eyes. A lone tank stood off to the side, away from the crowd. He flicked his wrist and a bolt of light streaked across the hall and struck the turret. It popped, leaving a scorch mark on the turret. The smell of burning metal filled the armory.

  The woman named Agnes approached the tank. “How did you do that?”

  The old man in the cap said, “How did you do that?”

  Frank lowered his arms, and the light dimmed, then disappeared. The crowd had gone silent. Chen joined him on the rear of the tank. She said, “Time’s running out. Stay with us and have a chance, or go back to your homes and die with the ones who didn’t come here.”

  In the end, Frank estimated about half the crowd remained, Agnes Bush included. He heard talk among the departing crowd of a “fireworks show” and “trick lighting.” After the crowd left, Chen ordered the steel doors shut and barred.

  When the doors were shut, Frank asked her, “Now, let’s see the Everlight. Who has the stone?”

  “McGivens. Let’s find him.”

  They found Digger McGivens in the armory’s kitchen, stacking cases of canned fruit salad against the wall. He slung the cases with relative ease, his tattooed biceps flexing and pumping. Despite the apparent lack of exertion, sweat poured down the back of his neck and he cursed in a low voice.

  “Digger,” Jenny said.

  He turned around, wiped his hand across his brow. Frank looked at him and thought biker. The man’s wild gray hair was kept off his brow by a blue bandanna, and he had a beard that had never seen a razor.

  “Oh, hey Jenny. Man, these cases is a bitch.”

  “This is Reverend Frank Heatly.”

  Frank extended his hand. Digger contemplated shaking for a moment, then quickly shook hands. “Meet ya. Not much on going to church, I’m afraid. I’m a lapsed Catholic.”

  “I’m not here to convert you, don’t worry,” Frank said.

  “Is the light safe and sound?” Jenny asked. “We should go retrieve it.”

  Digger stroked his beard. “Yeah, my brother’s still got it.”

  “Where exactly is it being kept?” Frank asked.

  Jenny said, “At the Warlords’ clubhouse. Digger’s brother is club president.”

  Frank couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You let a bunch of bikers hold on to it?”

  Digger took a step forward. Frank saw a fight brewing in Digger’s eyes. “And what’s wrong with bikers having it?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Frank said. “I’m sure it’s as safe as Fort Knox. Why would I ever question that strategy?”

  “You making fun of me, Reverend?”

  Jenny stepped between them. Digger backed off, sat on one of the cases.

  “It’s been safe there, Frank. First of all, the Enemy wouldn’t think of looking for it there. Second, no one in their right mind would try and steal it from the Warlords. They’ve got a pretty bad rep in these parts.”

  Still, he didn’t like this. Not one bit. “Let’s go get it, then.”

  “Who’s going with me, him?” Digger said.

  “That’s right.”

  “You’ll need me. You walk up to that clubhouse door by yourself and they’ll tear you apart.”

  “Do they know you’re a Guardian, Digger?”

  Digger stood up. With the front of his shirt, he wiped his brow. “Don’t exactly go flaunting something like that, not even to your brother.”

  “Do you want me to send some of the others with you?” Jenny asked.

  “You need all the help you can get here. Still prep work to do. Now why don’t we get going?” Frank said.

  Digger eyed Frank up. “Let me get my bike, and we’ll go.”

  “I’ll need a vehicle,” Frank said.

  “I’ll round one up for you,” Jenny said.

  “They’d better have it, Digger.”

  “Let’s just go.”

  Reverend Frank followed Digger in a borrowed pickup truck, the biker going hell-bent for leather. Frank pushed the truck to seventy-five and was still a hundred feet behind him. They drove about two miles out of Routersville. Digger turned right down a road cut out of the woods, and Frank followed. Digger slowed to a more reasonable speed. That allowed Frank to take a peek at his watch. It was two thirty, time enough to get the Everlight and return to Routersville before dark.

  The road passed over a short wooden bridge, which led into a parking lot. Frank saw a row of motorcycles parked in front of a long two-story building with a covered front porch. The faded sign over the porch read JOHNSON’S INN. Frank guessed this place ran out of vacancies long ago.

  Digger parked his bike, and Frank parked next to him. He got out of the truck. From inside, a southern rock band wailed on guitars. Frank thought it was Molly Hatchet. He’d spun a few of their tunes as a college DJ a lifetime ago.

  Digger eyed the place. “Used to be a fancy joint, one time.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “Owners went into bankruptcy. Building sat here. Warlords bought it cheap.”

  “Looks like they painted recently.”

  “Yeah, you surprised?”

  “A little.”

  “We take care of the place, believe it or not.”

  “Are we ready now?” Frank asked.

  Digger scratched his beard. “Stay close to me. Don’t say nothing less I tell you, got it? They’re not going to like that I brought you here.”

  Digger went up the front steps and in the door. Frank followed and found himself in a large foyer. An abandoned coat-check room and counter occupied one-half of the room. The counter had a film of dust on it.

  They entered the inn; the main stairs were straight ahead. Around them was a great room, one end with a stone fireplace and the other end with a bar. Dirty-looking bikers in leather and denim sat at tables scattered around the room. Frank took a step and the floorboards groaned. He got dirty looks.

  A biker came in from a doorway off the bar. He was a slimmer, clean-shaven version of Digger. As he approached, he eyed Frank with suspicion. He had the faraway stare of a convict in a mug shot.

  “Hey, bro,” the biker said. “Who’s this?”

  “Hey,” Digger said. “This is the guy we’re holding the stone for, Frank. Frank, this is my brother Ray.”

  “Call me Nitro.”

  “Okay, Nitro. And it’s actually Reverend Frank.”

  “Reverend?” Nitro asked. “Digger, you go bringing a clergyman in here?” He looked at Frank. “You don’t mess around with little kids like some of those priests, do you?”

  That’s a heck of an icebreaker. “No, do you?”

  “I look like a queer to you?”

  “Frank, shut your hole,” Digger said. “Where is it, Ray? We need to take it.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “You don’t have it?” Frank asked.

  “Nope.”

  Digger said, “What the hell’d you do with it?”

  “It’s here, I just don’t have it.”

  “Who does?” Frank asked.

  “Roddy does. Came in yesterday from Pittsburgh.”

  “Shit,” Digger muttered.

  “Who’s Roddy and why does he have the stone?” Frank asked.

  Digger said, “Club president, mean as a wolverine.”

  Frank
turned to Nitro and said, “Why on earth would you give it to Roddy?”

  Nitro said, “Well, my bro here pulled that stone out and it starts to glow and doesn’t he give us a little demonstration, making light glow from his fingertips. I called up Roddy and says you’ve got to come see this. Something like that’s bound to be valuable.”

  Frank shot Digger a look designed to stop hearts. “I thought you didn’t ‘flaunt’ your powers, didn’t tell your brother.”

  “I didn’t think he’d call Roddy, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Fool,” Frank said. “Where’s this Roddy?”

  “Upstairs. First room on the right. But you can’t go up there,” Digger said.

  “Why, is he up there studying calculus?” Frank asked.

  “Frank, don’t push it,” Digger said.

  “Smart-ass, why don’t you get out and we’ll keep the damned stone.”

  This called for action. Reasoning with them would do no good, and time was running short. Frank shoved off of Digger and bolted up the stairs. He heard Nitro yell, “Get him!” The stomp of boots followed him and he knew the bikers that had been at the tables were giving chase.

  He reached the top of the stairs, huffing and puffing. He turned right down a corridor, found the first door, and entered. Frank saw a mustached man leaning back in an office chair, desk in front of him. His head was back, his eyes closed. A woman’s head bobbed up and down from over the top of the desk. Needless to say, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

  More importantly, Frank spotted the Everlight stone sitting on the desk. He barged into the room. The redhead stopped and picked her head up, a runner of saliva on her chin. The guy in the seat opened his eyes, saw Frank, and jumped up. He yanked up his pants and underwear and fumbled with his zipper. Frank grabbed the stone. The bikers plowed into his back. Two grabbed his arms and another wrenched the stone out of his hand, nails scratching his skin.

  The recipient of the oral affection now had his pants zipped, a bulge still in his crotch. The redhead, dressed in cutoff jeans, black T-shirt, and cowboy boots, retreated to the corner.

  Nitro stepped in front of Frank. Nitro had the stone in his hand, and he set it on the desk. The biker from behind the desk, presumably Roddy, said, “Who is he and how did he get in here?”