I bundled up in my coat and put on my newest acquisition—a black ski mask—and jumped.
Mr. Crowley was too far gone for me to follow his lights, so I rode as fast as I could to the Flying J, hoping he would look there for another drifter. The Flying J was hard to reach by bike, so I rode to the base of the hill behind it and hiked up, avoiding the freeway and the lights. Crowley was just pulling out—alone. He hadn't found anyone yet. I tumbled back down the snowy hill and rode the few blocks to the freeway off-ramp, where I saw him come back into town and head over toward the wood plant. Maybe he'd try to get a night watchman or something; some innocent nobody in the wrong place at the wrong time. His car was swerving dangerously, and I realized he probably couldn't wait for a victim nobody would miss—he had to kill the first person he found. At one in the morning, that would still be almost impossible. I followed a few blocks behind, as black as the night.
He turned a few streets early, and when I reached the corner I saw him pull up behind an idling diesel cab. The truck engine turned off, the door opened, and a man jumped down; his breath floated like a ghost in the freezing air. The man jogged toward the front of the truck but Crowley got out of his car and called out to him. The man paused and called back.
I couldn't hear what either was saying. The man pointed at a house behind him—a duplex.
My heart froze. I looked up at the street sign above me: Redwood Street.
That was Max's dad.
"No!" I screamed, but it was too late—Max's dad looked up, looked right at me, and Crowley staggered toward him, claws out, knocking him to the ground with a gleaming claw and then falling on him with animal fury. Max's dad went down in a whirlwind of blood and claws, and Crowley stood over him unsteadily for a moment before collapsing next to the body. Both men lay inert in the frozen slush. The street was silent as a grave.
I took a tentative step forward. Crowley had pushed himself too hard—maybe he'd pushed himself past his own ability to regenerate. He hadn't even taken an organ yet. Maybe Max's dad was still alive, and I could help him. The houses were dark and still—no one had heard my scream, or the attack.
I trotted slowly across to the bodies, nearly slipping on a patch of ice. Nothing moved.
As I got closer, I could see that Max's dad was beyond hope—his body was in pieces, ragged and bloody. A pile of entrails lay steaming on the frozen asphalt. I felt the monster inside of me stirring more strongly than ever, urging me to kneel down, to feel the glistening organs. I closed my eyes and fought for control. When I opened my eyes again I looked at Crowley, face down and still half demon, his elongated arms corded with inhuman muscle. His long, black fingers ended in terrifying claws as white as milk. Like the exposed entrails, Crowley's body was steaming in the cold.
I wanted to kick him. I wanted to punch him and beat him and pound him into the street until there was nothing left— no demon claws, no human body, no clothes, no memory at all. My mind raged to think of all the evil he'd done, but it was more than that. I was jealous. He'd killed himself, and taken away my chance.
The steam boiled around him, and suddenly his body spasmed. I jumped back, slipping on the ice and falling onto my back. The demon's head came up abruptly, gasping for breath through a mouth too full of fangs to be real. I scrambled to my feet and backed away again. The demon feebly pushed itself up on its arms, and turned to face me. Its dark eyelids slid grotesquely over its wide, crystalline eyes, as it if couldn't see me clearly. I felt my face to make sure the ski mask was still there. In this darkness, it probably couldn't tell who I was. Its fangs glowed faintly in the darkness, pale and phosphorescent. It crawled toward me one faltering claw-length before collapsing again on the ice. It coughed and turned its head, searching for something, and when its gaze fell on the tattered remnants of Max's dad, it forgot me and painfully crawled toward them.
I took a few quick steps around it, trying to see if I could move the body—drag it out of the demon's reach—but it was too close. I'd missed my chance. The demon was going to regenerate, and then it was going to come after me. I could only hope that it hadn't recognized me in the dark. If I could get away quickly, and stay ahead, it might never know I was there.