Hell Fire

“Waiting for Godot”

The book was a gold mine.

Crazy Dale Graham had all kinds of news clippings coinciding with the December 21 disasters. He also had a mess of pictures documenting the secret meetings, and everything he’d compiled corroborated our theories. Mainly, it was good to see pictures of our enemies; we’d be out in the woods with a bunch of different people today, and I didn’t want collateral damage if we could help it, so I memorized names and faces.

This would be a different sort of final showdown, not of weapons, but of wits; not of action, but attrition. I didn’t intend to fight fair.

After the sun came up fully, I took the list of casualties to Shannon. “Can you call them to you?” I asked. “I know it’ll take a lot out of you, but I think it’ll be worth it. We’ve got a stash of chocolate you can have if you need it.”

“Everyone but Mr. McGee,” she said. Right, the blockage. “Why?”

I told her.

“Oh, that’s fiendish,” she breathed. “I’m on it. What’re you going to be doing?”

“Waiting for Godot.”

At nine a.m. sharp, he arrived in the form of Sheriff Robinson. When I opened the door, he doffed his hat and twisted it in his hands. His brown uniform pulled across his gut as he fidgeted. I didn’t make things easier on him, but just stood there studying him.

“Morning,” he said.

I nodded. “What brings you out this morning? Not bad news, I hope?”

His answer came in a rush. “The good people of Kilmer have taken heart from your bravery. They’d like y’all to lead a search party for the other missing folks.”

I couldn’t seem to acquiesce too easily. Robinson might not be in on this, but England would doubtless ask for a recap of the conversation. So I furrowed up my brow, feigning puzzlement. “How come? We’re not professional search and rescue.”

“Well, I reckon they’re hoping your good luck will rub off,” Robinson offered.

I barely stifled a snort. If only he knew.

“To tell the truth,” he went on, “those woods spook a lot of folks around these parts, but y’all have shown us there’s nothing to be scared of out there.”

I wouldn’t go that far.

He peered at me a little closer. “What happened to your neck anyhow?”

Oh, here was my chance. I could level charges now, and England might pay for what he’d done to Curtis Farrell. But if I blamed August England at this point, it would queer the whole deal, and they’d doubtless wonder why I hadn’t come forward before. In a town like Kilmer, you could accuse England of anything and he’d likely walk away clean.

No, this was the better opportunity. How else would I get all twelve of them in one place outside of their secret meetings?

“Got it stuck in the can ring of a six-pack of cherry cola. People should really take more care not to litter.” He responded to that with a puzzled blink, but before he could say that didn’t make a lick of sense, I added, “I’ll ask the others if they’re game for another hike, then.” I called out, and the guys appeared within a few seconds.

“What’s up?” Chance asked.

I filled them both in.

Civic-minded soul that he was, Jesse nodded first. “Sounds like a good idea. What time should we meet you?”

“And where?” Chance added.

“Three . . . the access road at mile marker forty-seven,” Robinson suggested.

I thought it might seem suspicious if I agreed too readily. They knew I wasn’t stupid, so I pretended to haggle. “Now that’s not going to give us enough daylight, is it? Make it two.”

“Done.” The sheriff squeezed my fingers, then briskly clasped hands with Jesse and Chance.

I gave a sweet smile in parting. “Looking forward to it. Let’s bring some of those poor souls home.”

Chance grinned as I shut the door. “Your accent becomes pronounced when you talk to the locals, you know that? I keep expecting you to fling your hand to your forehead and say, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’ ”

I smiled back, but my heart tugged because I knew that when this was all over—and it would be soon, one way or another—we were going to talk, and he probably wouldn’t like the outcome. After calling to Shannon and Dale, I led the way into the front parlor. With the couch and the chairs, we had just enough seating for everybody.

Settling with Dale’s book of secrets in my lap, I rubbed my hands together. “We have a little less than five hours ’til showtime. Let’s get to work.”

At one forty-five p.m., we sat waiting near mile marker forty-seven. We’d left Dale at home keeping an eye on Butch. The little dog hadn’t been happy, but I knew damn well this would be dangerous. I only wished we could have left Shannon there too, but she wouldn’t have stayed put. I’d seen the movies where you forbade the teenage girl to do something, and then she would run off to do it all by herself. We weren’t going to let that happen.

Thanks to Dale’s good records, I’d recognize the twelve when they arrived. I just hoped a lot of innocent townsfolk wouldn’t volunteer for the search party, as it would shortly turn into a wicked game of cat and mouse. In that case, things could get . . . complicated.

Well, we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.

To my delight, they arrived in just two vehicles, which meant they hadn’t brought any bodies along for the ride. I signaled, and Jesse pulled in behind them. We’d agreed it wouldn’t be smart to let them block us in.

I hopped out of the SUV, settling into my role as cheerful, helpful former resident. It probably wouldn’t fool anyone, but it might annoy them. As I’d already known, mostly men climbed out of their vehicles. Only Sandra Cheney and Regis’s receptionist added estrogen to the mix.

Agnes Pettigrew? Really?

That revelation startled me. I hadn’t sensed any killing animosity from her—just the typical bureaucrat’s annoyance at having her system circumvented. Even now, she didn’t look frightening—just a plump, middle-aged woman geared up for a ramble in the woods—but I did notice she wore a horseshoe pin on the lapel of her jacket. She must have been in the top tier, part of the council leadership.

August England, Harlan Cooper. I located them with a casual glance and covertly watched them as they discussed their options in a low voice. I wished I could read lips. They had no visible weapons, but I would have been surprised if they didn’t have guns beneath their jackets. They even wore orange vests so they wouldn’t be mistaken for game if someone happened to be hunting. I glanced down at my black hoodie. So that was how they meant to play things. It was strange how they saw me only as an old mistake to be erased.

The rest of the men looked like they must have been retired; I recognized none of them from prior encounters in town, but they matched the dossiers Dale had compiled. I twitched, knowing I was standing before the men and women who had casually decided to feed my family to the demon. I wanted to scream, to spit at them, but that would have tipped our hand. They thought they’d been so clever, running me around town looking for answers.

By the goddess, I had them now.

I pinned a smile on my face. “Are y’all ready to take a look around out there? There’s a lot of ground to cover.”

Sandra Cheney looked as if she’d had a bad face-lift. “That’s why we’re wearing our walking boots.”

We set off in two groups: us and them. I think they expected me to lead the way, but they were crazy if they thought I intended to let them get behind me. Once we stepped into the woods, all bets were off.

The path narrowed as we stepped into the trees. A chill wafted all around us, telling me we weren’t alone. I recognized the heavy, watchful feeling from the other times I’d ventured in here. By the way the twelve reacted, they hadn’t expected the demon to find us so quickly. A few of them shifted, looking restive.

Don’t run, I told them silently. Yet.

I patted my pocket where I’d stashed my Tri-P. The others caught my movement and did the same. We were protected from bad magick, but not from bullets, stab wounds, or being rent limb from limb. I wouldn’t think about any of those possibilities. Sometimes you just had to gamble.

“Remember the plan,” Jesse breathed. “Chance, you stay with Corine. She’ll need the most protection because they’re gunning for her, and I have a bad arm.”

I acknowledged him with a nod. Chance stepped closer to me, tugging lightly on one of my braids. Smiling at him hurt because I knew what was going to happen after we left the forest.

“Who brought the maps?” I asked brightly. “We’ll divide the territory and split up into teams of two so we can cover more ground.”

After some mumbling, the Kilmer crew worked that out among themselves. Taking care not to touch him, I discussed the division of forest with England. “We’ll take this section over here.” I pointed to his map. “Jesse, Shannon? Would you take this part?”

Yeah, I wanted them close by, preferably within screaming range. But I wasn’t prey like they thought. No, indeed. Instead, I was bait.

“Sounds good,” Saldana said.

“We’ll meet back at the vehicles in three hours,” England said. “If you find something, mark it with one of these stakes.” He handed two DayGlo orange wooden markers to each of us. “Then make sure you map a route to the body, so we can locate it and give that person a proper burial.”

Oh, well played, sir. Makes it seem like you mean business. Makes it seem not your fault.

I tucked them into my backpack. “You ready, Chance?”

“Absolutely.”

We set off, ostensibly to search our quadrant of woods for missing persons. In fact, I wanted to get some distance between us and everyone else. Instead of searching, they’d be stalking us. There was no telling what would happen now.

The wind kicked up, whistling through the skeletal branches. I recognized the feeling from the attic; it meant Shannon had done her part. The restless dead had arrived, searching for those responsible for their wretchedness. She’d called them to her and whispered how they could confront their tormentors at last. I didn’t know if they could inflict physical harm, but mental damage and hallucinations might be enough.

A shiver rolled through me. In the distance, I heard the staccato report of gunfire; then screaming. Yeah, it had begun.

It seemed much later than midafternoon. Within the shadow of the trees, the wan sunlight struggled to penetrate the tangle of wintry limbs. As we walked, I lost all sense of direction. I couldn’t tell how far away the noises were.

And then I heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being cocked. I froze, surprised I didn’t feel a bullet tearing into me right away. Beside me, Chance spun in a slow circle, looking frantic.

Of all the hunters in the woods, I felt mildly astonished to see Agnes Pettigrew step from the trees. Her hands trembled visibly on the grip. Unsteady as she was, she had as good a chance of hitting the man beside me or a squirrel in a distant tree. Her moon face was tinged green, pallor so profound I thought she might be in shock.

Chance measured the distance between us with his gaze. I could see him weighing the risk she might get a shot off before he took her down. Then I saw him decide not to risk it. He couldn’t be sure how effective Shannon’s charm was; if it was even slightly off-kilter, in this scenario, if anyone got shot, it would be me. He knew that—his luck would see to it. So he stood still and quiet. I sensed how difficult that was for him and spared him a smile. I knew he hated being powerless.

Would it do any good to bluff?

“What’s wrong, Ms. Pettigrew?” I ventured. “Is everything all right?”

When she spoke, her voice sounded shrill. “Nothing will ever be all right. Not until you’re dead.”

“Do you really think that will fix it?” I asked, trying to keep my tone steady and gentle. “You’ve always known there was something wrong here. You couldn’t have approved of going to people’s houses in the middle of the night, doing what you did there.”

Pure anguish flashed in her wild, glittering eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m a legacy.”

“What does that mean?” Chance asked softly.

“My father participated in the initial summoning. Our family has been part of this since the beginning—and I don’t have a choice.” Agnes shook even as she raised the gun. “Once I . . . take care of you, things will return to normal. We’ll have our sweet, quiet little town back again.”

“You’ll have to live with killing me,” I whispered, watching her finger tighten on the trigger. “Not just standing by while someone else does the dirty work.”

The wind whipped up, cold as ice as it wailed in the trees. To me, it sounded like a storm was coming, but by the way Ms. Pettigrew’s eyes widened, she’d heard something else entirely. She stared past me. I didn’t dare turn, but from Chance’s puzzlement, he didn’t see anything else.

“No!” she screamed. “You’re dead. We killed you!”

As she raised her hands to cover her ears, her gun dropped to the forest floor and she turned to flee. I still didn’t see anything, but I thought she might do something stupid, and to my surprise, I no longer wanted anything awful to happen to her. She seemed to have suffered enough. I snagged her weapon as I went by, thinking I might need it.

Chance and I gave chase, following her through the underbrush. Ms. Pettigrew fled in a blind panic, disregarding the branches that tore at her clothes and slashed at her face. I called out to her, breathless, as we ran, but she ignored us. Maybe she thought we were part of her horrific hallucination; maybe our pursuit was only frightening her further.

I heard her sobbing as she ran, but she never called out to God, never asked for aid or deliverance. I heard a crack and a thump, as if she were rolling. And then all sound cut off. We burst from the trees to a small clearing and teetered on the edge of the gully. Chance grabbed my arm and pulled me back. My heart pounded in my ears.

Halfway down the steep incline, I spotted Ms. Pettigrew’s body. She’d fallen at an odd angle, twisted so it was obvious she’d broken her neck.

And she wore a positively beatific smile.