Soultaker

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The house felt like the inside of a long-sealed tomb. Some ancient pharaoh’s crypt, maybe. A dead place, devoid of even the hint of life. It was just an illusion, but that’s how it felt. Kristen was somewhere nearby. She was in one of the bedrooms. Jake could just make out her voice from the living room. She was talking to yet another relative, but mostly listening, only on occasion responding with a few clipped words. She sounded subdued. Numb. Much the way he’d felt in the immediate aftermath of his own family drama yesterday.

Thinking about that caused him to reflect again on his confrontation with Trey. His jaw still stung from the blows he’d absorbed. The memory of the hate in his brother’s eyes caused a different kind of hurt, one he knew would last far longer than any physical pain.

The air conditioner kicked on and Jake welcomed its uneven hum. It made the thick, oppressive silence a touch more bearable. The old window unit sent a blast of cool air his way that felt good on his face. It soothed him inwardly, too, allowing him to banish the bad thoughts for a time. It didn’t matter that the relief was only temporary. He needed a mental respite, however brief. And he needed to gather strength for the hard times ahead. Because more hard times were coming. It was the one thing of which he was absolutely certain.

He sat slouched on the sofa, at a loss as to what else to do. Kristen had family duties she would need to deal with, of course, and he’d help her with these if he was able. But for now-and at least for a few minutes more-he was on his own. He relished the relative solitude and wished it could last longer. Wished again he could be somewhere far from this cursed town.

He shifted on the sofa and one of his feet kicked a leg of the coffee table. A crumpled Budweiser can toppled over. The coffee table’s surface was littered with empty cans and bottles. An ashtray was filled with Kristen’s cigarette butts. Looking at all the dead soldiers awakened the old thirst again, and in a few moments he craved a drink with a burning intensity that easily matched anything he remembered from his worst pre-AA days. The urge to get up and go to the kitchen to fetch a beer from the fridge was almost too powerful to resist. He thought again of the way Kristen had plied him with drinks as part of perhaps the most unsubtle seduction in the history of sex. There was still a bit of regret attached to this memory. It didn’t say much good about him that his resolve had crumbled so easily. But now the hangover haze had lifted and other, more pleasant memories were coming back to him. A flashing image of Kristen, nude and bent over the edge of the sofa as he thrust into her from behind, made his breathing quicken. They’d gone at it with heedless abandon, in several positions, here on the sofa, on the living room floor, up against the wall, on the hallway floor, on the bed, in the fucking shower…

Christ.

It was all coming back to him in a wild, X-rated rush, like a series of scenes from the hottest porn movie ever. An erection pushed against the crotch of his jeans as memory shifted seamlessly to fantasy. He imagined Kristen on top of him again, straddling him on the sofa, writhing against him while thrusting her tongue into his mouth. His hands kneading her soft breasts, thumbs massaging swollen nipples…

He shook his head to dispel the images before he could get lost in them. These were not appropriate thoughts. Not with Stu dead and Kristen crying softly in a room down the hallway. The craving for a drink returned to fill the void. No. Fuck that. Maybe he’d have that drink later. Maybe he’d have a few of them. But now was certainly not the time.

Then he thought of something productive he could do to occupy himself until Kristen needed him again. He got up and went into the kitchen, where he looked under the sink and found a box of plastic garbage bags. He shook one open and returned to the living room. He and Kristen had made quite the mess over the course of their wild evening. Cleaning up prior to the inevitable appearance of other Walker family members was the least he could do. The bag soon grew heavy with the weight of empty bottles and cans. A few of the bottles still contained an ounce or two of flat beer. These he poured out in the kitchen sink before dropping them in the bag. This all took maybe ten minutes. The last thing was dumping the contents of the overflowing ashtray into the bag. This done, he began to tie the bag with the intent of taking it out to one of the big garbage cans outside. A sudden sound startled him before he could finish.

“What the…”

The sound came again and this time he recognized it as the rapping of the brass knocker against the front door. He twisted together the loops of plastic threaded through his fingers and set down the bag. Then he went to the door and peered through the peephole. A young girl he didn’t recognize stood on the front porch. She appeared to be alone. She was slender, with hair the same dark shade as Kristen’s, but cut in a pixie style. His hand moved to the doorknob, but he didn’t open the door immediately. Though he was sure he’d never seen her before, there was something familiar about her. Something in the set of her features. Frustration gnawed at him. His mind was struggling to make some kind of connection, but it was eluding him.

The girl let out a frustrated puff of breath and reached for the door knocker again.

Yet another strident rap on the door, this one close enough-and loud enough-to rattle his fillings.

“Jake!” Kristen cried from her bedroom sanctuary. “Will you get that, please?”

“Sorry! I’ve got it!”

It hit him that this was probably some member of the Walker clan. Which probably also accounted for that nagging sense of familiarity.

He turned the doorknob and pulled open the door.

The girl’s lower lip pushed out in a display of youthful petulance. “It’s about fucking time.”

“Sorry. I was just-”

He stopped talking because two teenagers with guns were suddenly filling the open doorway. The boys must have been crouching out of view while the girl knocked. Their guns were aimed away from Jake, but that gave him little comfort. The crazy thing was he wasn’t afraid. Not yet anyway. He was too angry to be afraid. This was ridiculous. How many more insane things could happen in one fucking day?

He glowered at the juvenile home invaders. “Do me a favor, assholes, and save it for another day. I’ve got enough shit on my table for now.”

One of the boys piped up. “We’re not here to rob you. We just need to talk to you. You’re Jake McAllister, right?”

“Yeah. What do you want with me?”

His hand tightened on the doorknob. He weighed the advisability of simply throwing the door shut in their faces. Shutting and locking the door would take hardly more than a second. And even if they were here for some nefarious purpose, he doubted they’d shoot their way in. This was the middle of the day in a nice neighborhood. Gunfire would bring the cops running in minutes. So, yeah, a quick door slam seemed the wisest course of action.

“What’s going on here?”

Kristen’s voice, behind him.

Jake groaned. “It’s nothing. Stay back, okay?”

“Stay back?” He could hear her getting closer, curiosity apparently overriding the urgency in his voice. “Is it Uncle Don? I’m expecting-”

She pushed his hand off the doorknob and opened the door wider. She gasped. “Oh my God.” She flashed Jake a terror-stricken expression. “Jake, is it…them?”

“Them?”

She put a hand to her chest and stumbled back a step. “It’s them. The bastards who killed my brother. Oh my God.”

One of the teenagers said, “Dude, what is she talking about?”

Jake glowered at him. “Her brother was murdered last night. Tortured and murdered. And now here you are waving guns around. Connect the fucking dots.”

Both boys looked aghast at the implication. The taller of the two said, “Oh. Shit. Look, I’m sorry. I know this looks bad, but you’ve got to believe me when I say it just can’t be helped. We did not torture and murder anybody last night.”

“Or ever,” said the other one.

“Right. Or ever,” the tall one continued. “We sure as shit shot a bunch of motherfuckers yesterday, though. But that’s only because they were trying really fucking hard to kill us.”

“Which we sort of took issue with.”

The tall one nodded. “Right. We’ve been through a lot, Mr. McAllister. And it’s not over. A lot of people are in danger. It is extremely important that we talk to you.”

Jake was aware of Kristen trembling next to him. He grabbed one of her hands and held on tight. “I sympathize, guys. I really do. But we’ve got major problems of our own to deal with, and this sounds like a matter for the police anyway.”

The shorter kid gave his head an emphatic shake. “Uh-uh. Fuck the police.”

Something stirred in the back of Jake’s mind. He peered more closely at the boys. There was something familiar about them, too. Then he had it. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. He’d seen their faces on the late news last night. They were Trey’s friends. That surely had something to do with why they’d come to see him. But Jake wanted no part of them. They were wanted for several murders. Maybe they were telling the truth and maybe not. It didn’t matter. They were fugitives and he wanted them gone, pronto. Let them sort their shit out elsewhere. It wasn’t his problem.

“Look, guys-”

“Oh my God.”

Jake glanced at Kristen. She seemed a little less on the verge of falling to pieces. She was staring intently at the girl on the porch. “Kristen? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, her features set in wonderment. “She looks so much like you. Can’t you see it?”

Jake looked at the girl. It wasn’t something he would have noticed on his own, but a closer study of the girl’s face did reveal some similarity. They had the same strong cheekbones and full lips. He and the girl also had the same shade of dark brown hair. And the eyes…

Fuck.

The similarity was too strong. He didn’t know the girl and had never seen her before. But given the hyperpromiscuity of the McAllister clan, that meant nothing. Factor in an absurdly high level of infidelity and the strong possibility of a familial connection became a probability. She was almost certainly the product of some sordid one-night stand or back-door rendezvous involving a McAllister male and some poor woman. But he couldn’t dwell on it or allow himself to get sidetracked.

He put himself between Kristen and the fugitives and began to close the door. “Sorry, but I can’t help you. Now get off this property before I call the cops.”

The boys traded a single quick glance, then surged through the narrowing space between doorjamb and door. Jake cursed and pushed back against them. His feet slid on the hardwood floor. He was older and stronger than either of them, but it was two against one and a losing battle. He threw all the strength of his upper body into the effort, but his feet continued to slide backward. Then the girl who looked so much like him joined them and the battle was lost. Jake let go of the door and staggered backward as the three intruders came stumbling into the house. The girl threw the door shut and turned the lock.

Jake struggled to catch his breath. He looked at Kristen. “Go…out the…back. Run to the nearest…neighbor. Call the cops.”

But Kristen just stood there. Her eyes pleaded with him. Rescue me, they said. Please make this go away. He’d been angry before, but now he was shaking with barely checked fury. He burned with the need to beat the shit out of these little snots for putting her through this so soon after the trauma of losing her brother.

The taller boy recognized the promise of violence in his eyes and held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Just listen to me for one goddamn minute, okay? If you still want us to leave after I’ve had my say, we’ll get out of here and figure something else out.” The boy had been panting, too. He paused to catch his breath before continuing. “That fair enough?”

Jake held his breath and counted to ten. He unclenched his fists. “No. I’d rather take those popguns and shove ’em up your fucking asses. But I just want you gone, so I’ll take you at your word. Have your say and get the fuck out.”

The tall one tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants. He looked Jake in the eye and said, “This has to do with your brother, our friend Trey, and his demon girlfriend.”

The other boy said, “He means that, by the way. Literally.”

“Excuse me?”

The tall one said, “Trey’s girlfriend is a demon. A for-real demon. She feeds on the souls of young people, and later this afternoon she’ll pig out on the students of Rockville High.”

“The Harvest of Souls.” The girl stepped closer. The eyes that so resembled his own shone with a startling intensity. “I only learned about it last night. They’re telling the truth. I wouldn’t have believed it myself, but last night some things happened. Incredible, horrible things. And now I know. Demons are real. I’m half demon myself, you see.”

Jake blinked slowly before his eyes went wide.

He felt as if he’d been slapped.

He surprised himself with a laugh. “Is this a joke?”

The girl and the boys exchanged glances. They fidgeted a little. Jake tried to find some meaning in the silent communications passing between them. Some instinct told him they were far too earnest to be lying. They knew their story would sound absurd to other ears, but they believed what they were saying. Maybe they were on drugs. No. Jake knew drugs, was very familiar with the effects of all major narcotics and hallucinogens. Dope wasn’t the culprit here. A simple solution occurred to him and it made him groan inwardly. These were just kids, after all. And perhaps very gullible or suggestible ones.

“If this isn’t some kind of stupid prank or joke-”

“It isn’t!” the girl snapped.

Jake held up a hand to head off any further outbursts. “Chill a sec, okay? I take it you’re all aware of what I do for a living?”

The girl blew out a breath. Her features conveyed disdain. “What? Are you supposed to be somebody important? I never fucking heard of you before today.”

One of the boys said, “You write horror novels. I’ve read them. I liked the first one.”

His friend said, “I have them, but haven’t read them.”

Jake smiled. “Okay then.” He directed his next comments at the girl. She was the most volatile of the three and he figured he should establish a more intimate rapport with her. “And no, I’m not important. I’m nobody. You haven’t heard of me? Guess what? Hardly anyone has. My books are supermarket paperbacks. They’re on the racks for a few weeks and then gone forever. I’m not complaining, mind you. I like what I do. But in my chosen genre there are some stock cliches, things that have been done a million times. One of the most hackneyed is the plot involving a writer, often a horror writer, who returns to the small town of his youth only to wind up battling a real supernatural evil. So…think about it. What you’re telling me is I’m living the cliche.” Another of those unexpected laughs came. It was followed by another. He choked back yet another.

He wouldn’t let the laughter take him again. For Kristen’s sake, it was time to wrap up this farce. He coughed and sat up straighter. “I’m sorry.” He strove for a more sober tone and almost made it. “Really I am.” He heaved another big breath and this time successfully killed off the last of the hysteria that had been bubbling inside him. He looked the scowling girl in the eye and said, “Trust me on this, okay? Whatever you think is going on…there’s a logical explanation for it. You’ve maybe let your imaginations run wild and-”

The girl said, “It’s all true and I can prove it. Right now.”

Jake stared at her with his mouth hanging open for a long moment, his mind still stuck on his interrupted sentence. Then he did another slow blink and shook his head. “Come again?”

The girl’s scowl vanished. A small, almost imperceptible smile crimped the edges of her mouth. “I told you. I’m half demon. I can do things. I’ll show you. Then you’ll believe.”

Jake stared at her a moment before saying, “Uh-huh. Okay.” He looked at Kristen, who was staring at the girl with a rapt expression, hanging on her every word. There was no evidence of the anger he’d expected to see there. He looked at the girl again and smiled. Okay. Whatever. As long as Kristen wasn’t freaking out, he could play this game, too. See it through to its logical-and quite likely anticlimactic-conclusion. “Fine. You’re a demon and you can prove it. What are we really talking about here? Magic tricks?”

The girl’s inscrutable smile remained in place as she shook her head. “A kind of magic, yes. But real magic. There won’t be any trickery involved.”

Jake grinned. “Cool. Awesome.” He rubbed his hands together and clapped them once. He shot a wink Kristen’s way. “Hit me with the smoke-and-mirrors routine, girl.”

“The name’s Jordan.” A corner of her mouth twitched, a near smirk. “And I’m about to wipe that smug grin off your face. I told you. No trickery. No smoke and mirrors. Just real-deal magic.”

Jake shrugged. “Okay, okay. Show us your stuff, Jordan. I’m expecting some serious razzle-dazzle here.”

Jordan moved to the center of the room. The rest of them backed away from her, instinctively giving her space to do her thing. Space for what, Jake couldn’t imagine. Jordan closed her eyes and bowed her head. She held her hands in front of her, splayed fingers pointed at the floor. The pose made her look as if she were praying. She moved her lips and sounds emerged, but nothing intelligible. Jake scanned the faces of the others. The attention of all was focused solely on Jordan. They were absolutely spellbound. It was absurd. Nothing was happening. Why-

And then he felt it.

A sudden shift in the atmosphere. The fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. His heart began to speed up and he felt a strange kind of crackling in his fillings. A strange warmth suffused the air, displacing the air-conditioned chill in the space of maybe a second. He glanced at the others again, saw they were all feeling the same things. Kristen’s hands were clenched in tight fists at her sides. Her knuckles were a stark white. Her cheeks looked gaunt, the flesh stretched taut. It was then that Jake began to experience true terror. A terror of the unknown. He had written of this feeling in his books, but he knew now he’d gotten it all wrong. He had never fully conveyed how it could strip a man of his defenses and lay him bare. He was in the presence of something unnatural and dangerous. Something supernatural. Accepting the truth of this in his gut made him feel exquisitely vulnerable. Like he knew nothing and understood nothing. He hadn’t felt anything remotely like this since those childhood nights of crouching in a dark closet while his drunken parents screamed and threw things at each other. And even that had been a mere shadow of what he was feeling now.

The hell of it was she hadn’t even done much yet.

There’d been no genuine supernatural pyrotechnics of the sort he wrote about in his books. The kind of things he always pictured as rendered in cheesy CGI.

As if sensing his thoughts, Jordan lifted her head and her eyes snapped open.

They were red. Not just the pupil and the iris. Each eye…the whole fucking orb was red.

And they were glowing, projecting a sinister light that lit up her whole face. Sinister because there was a strange darkness swirling in the midst of that fiery, unnatural light, a shifting, half-formed presence that suggested capering shadows and phantoms. It was like a glimpse of hell. She smiled and Jake sensed the same darkness in the expression. He was starting to think maybe the boys had gotten it all wrong. This girl was the real threat, not Trey’s punk girlfriend. He glanced at them and saw awestruck expressions he figured must mirror his own.

Then Jordan lifted her hands and aimed her outstretched fingers at him.

Jake gulped.

Maybe the time had come to make a run for it.

Before he could act a field of unnatural energy enveloped him. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t open his mouth. Every inch of his flesh tingled in a way that was almost pleasant. Waves of blue-white electricity rolled over his body. Then she lifted her hands higher and he began to float.

Even as it was happening he thought, This is not possible.

The top of his head touching the ceiling seemed to suggest otherwise, though. He looked down at the others staring up at him and felt for a flashing moment like a man in the midst of a particularly weird dream. It was tempting to believe that. The problem with it was he’d never felt so alive and real than he felt in this moment.

And in the very next moment the unnatural energy suffusing the room’s atmosphere simply turned off, as if someone had thrown a switch.

Jake gasped and dropped.

Kristen screamed.

His rear end hit the floor. Hard. A jagged spike of pain shot up his spine as he rolled over. Then Kristen was at his side, her fluttering hand on his back as she alternately cursed Jordan and begged him to tell her he was all right. In a moment he realized he was okay, except for the lingering pain caused by his awkward landing. Nothing was broken. He was intact. Well, his body was. His mind felt as if it might fly into a million pieces any second now. He got up muttering assurances to Kristen.

He looked at Jordan. She looked normal again.

Then he looked at each of the boys. Both looked stunned.

Jake shook his head.

He settled into the recliner again and was silent for a long moment.

Then he said, “Well, fuck me.”

Jordan bit down on a smile. “Told you.”

“That you did. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Sorry I made fun of you.”

She looked sheepish now. Almost shy. She looked at the floor. “It’s okay.”

Jake grunted. “No. It’s a long fucking way from okay.” He slapped his knees and stood again. He put an arm around Kristen, felt the live-wire thrum of her body. “We’re taking this party to the kitchen. I need a drink like never before. And then I want to hear your story in detail. Every fucking bit of it. Including why you think I can do anything about your problem. Got it?”

He waited a beat.

Nods and half-mumbled words of assent followed.

Jake led them into the kitchen.