“I’ve never seen anyone blush like that before,” he told me in a dusky whisper.
“Why, you little weasel,” Hunter said then as he clapped Jake on the shoulder. “Hooking up with my girl when my back was turned.” His words slurred and a grin curved his cheek, then he turned back to the rest of the crowd. “Apparently I’m free for the evening. Now which one of you ladies would like an escort?”
Three teenage girls giggled.
Hunter slid his arm around the waist of the prettiest one. “Come on,” he said. “It’s time we got this party started. Who thinks it’s time for some Halloween mischief?”
A chorus of cheers and hoots rang around us.
Meanwhile, a sliver of fear ran through me as I wondered how quickly I would be able to get away. If the rest of them somehow realized who and what I was. If they suddenly turned and attacked.
Chapter 52
Honey Wine and Starlight
Joe Wimbledon:
I climbed out of my Toyota Sequoia, then reclaimed a bag of groceries from the backseat, all the while thinking about Rachel, my wife. She had left yesterday to stay with her sister in Bakersfield, couldn’t bear to be here for another hunt. She’d endured twenty-one, total, since we’d gotten married and I’d convinced her to move to Ticonderoga Falls. As far as she was concerned, that was twenty-one too many. I remembered grinning indulgently as she packed up the Subaru Outback in a hurry, as if the full moon was a boogeyman that had crept up on her when her back was turned.
I understood.
But I always missed her when she was out of town. Our double bed was too big, the house was too cold, even my clothes didn’t seem to fit right when she was gone. And now the snow was drifting down, settling in the low places, turning the back mountain roads slick and dangerous. Rachel wouldn’t want to come home until the snow melted.
I had a feeling this snow was going to stick.
Meanwhile, the Hunt was beginning sooner than I had expected. I could already hear the Legend overhead, chittering through the treetops, scratching holes in the sky, folding reality. It circled above me, stronger than usual, words that seemed to drop from the sky, mixing with the snowflakes: poison, trickery, death. I could feel the Darklings coming closer—everything felt different this year. More dangerous. I sensed something in the air, serpentine and thorny. I limped up the wooden stairs, leaves tumbling from trees, whispers and chants ringing in the chill wind, breeze slicing me with frost. I jumbled a handful of keys, tried to slide the right one in the lock and missed, just as something black slipped from the bushes on the side of the porch. From the corner of my eye, I saw a long shadow, heard a moan. I jostled the groceries from one arm to the other, refused to look behind me.
“I got the mark,” I said. “Can’t take another.”
“Yes, you can.” A voice spoke behind me, silver and silken, as the shadow took form and substance. I heard the porch creak beneath its weight.
“No.” I still fumbled with my keys. “ ’Sides, you’re not invited in. Just run along and play with somebody else now.”
“I’d rather stay here.” It was a female, her scent like honey wine and starlight.
“Already told ya, no. Got me a deal with Mr. Ash, so you just go ’way. Right now. Scat.”
“I’ll go if you sing it. Let me hear you sing.”
My key was in the lock and I shoved the door open with my shoulder.
“I don’t need ta sing to no one. Move along. Get.” I didn’t look back, just thrust my body in the door, swung it shut behind me in a fluid movement and latched it. Then I rushed from window to window, latching each and every one, finishing off with the basement door. No way I was going down there now, not with the moon already full and bright in the sky. I should have gone down earlier. If my ferret hadn’t gotten sick and needed to go the vet, I would have. Would have locked the outside cellar door too, and all those narrow basement windows that no human could ever slide through.
They could slide through, though. If they were invited.
I opened the fridge, pulled out a Coors, popped the cap and took a deep slug.
Then I hitched my way into the back parlor and tossed some logs and kindling in the fireplace, scratched a match, watched the whole mess turn into flame. The heat didn’t seem to penetrate, couldn’t thaw the chill that poured in every glass orifice that faced the outer world. I thought about the groceries still sitting on the kitchen table, the sandwich that I had Agnes over at the Steak & Ale make me special. But my appetite was gone now. All I wanted was another beer.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 53
All Alone