He stopped. So did Kenny’s footsteps. His gasping breaths.
Zach struggled to catch his own breath, slow his heartbeat. Struggled to remember the last time he had caught a glimpse of the bartender. How long had it been? Two minutes? Ten? More?
He realized his mistake. He should have called Micki when he’d had the chance. Or Parker. He needed back up.
He couldn’t stop now.
Suddenly, the world went deathly silent. A heavy energy rippled along his nerve endings, cold as ice against his overheated skin.
The end of the block went black as pitch. The Dark Bearer, he realized. Waiting for him. He felt its presence. Its pull.
He had gone from being the hunter to the hunted.
He turned and stumbled in the opposite direction. His heart raced in a way it hadn’t when he was at a flat-out run. Fear. Real fear, like he had never experienced before. It coursed through his blood, pushing him on.
Was this what Brite Knight had felt that night? This smothering energy? Its relentless pull?
The feeling that no amount of resistance would be enough? That she was going to die?
Parker. . . I’m in trouble . . . I need . . .
This was it, the end. He had nothing left, nothing more to— Help . . . Parker—
A safe house. St. Mary’s at the old Ursuline convent.
Where?
Ursulines and Chartres. Can you make it?
Zach nearly collapsed in relief. He’d seen that cross street. He knew he had. I don’t know, he answered. Maybe.
A side door. With a gold bell. I’ll tell them you’re—
Static drowned out Parker’s response. Zach ran. His heart felt as it might burst from his chest, his lungs burned, muscles fatigued.
He wasn’t going to make it, Zach realized. He was going to die here on the street, murdered by a monster that shouldn’t even exist.
His steps faltered, slowed. Would his death be classified a heart attack, same as Brite Knight’s? Or did the Dark Bearer have other plans for him?
He could all but hear the monster’s triumphal laugh. Fear choked him. Stole his will to fight. And what of Mick? She would know the truth but be unable to prove it. Would she be punished for his stupidity? Demoted?
Would she miss him?
Let go of your fear, son. He feels it, then controls you with it.
The woman. From before. Not Brite. Who—
She called him son.
His mother.
The one who had given him up. Who he had spent his life longing to know.
Breathe, my love. You’re not dying tonight. Follow me.
The street opened up before him. Like a light to chase, showing him the way. Zach blindly followed, oxygen returning to his lungs, feeding his heart and muscles.
Dumaine, crossing St. Phillip, turning onto Ursulines. Hard right onto Chartres Street. A church ahead. Rising up out of the night, monolithic. Rose window, gold letters on the stucco facade St. Mary’s Catholic Church.
Almost there, he thought. A few more steps. A sound from the darkness. A howl or roar. Or was that the screaming rush of blood to his head?
Zach went around the side. An entrance. A bell. He rang it, then pounded on the heavy wooden door.
It opened. Zach slipped through. Collapsed on the cold stone floor.
A priest. Old and stooped. Bending over him. Eyes the color of a spring sky.
Mother. Don’t go.
A sound from beyond the church walls. The scream of the wind. A siren.
An ancient evil.
Don’t leave me, Mother.
The heavy door thudding shut. The priest’s kind eyes. Others he sensed but couldn’t see. An echoing quiet.
Then nothing at all.
Chapter Forty-four
Thursday, July 18
9:15 A.M.
Zach awakened to the obnoxious squeal of his cell phone. His head hurt. Sledgehammer-meets-blade kind of pain.
He blindly reached for the phone, knocking it off the nightstand and onto the floor. It stopped squealing.
Nightstand. He cracked open his eyes, moved his gaze over the room. His apartment. Light streaming through the blinds.
It stung and he moaned and rolled onto his side. Every muscle ached. Chest and lats, neck and shoulders, arms.
What the hell? Why—
Kudzu’s. Mr. Twitchy. Numb fingers, wobbly legs.
But what after?
Zach pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing. He climbed out of the bed. Feet on floor, full weight on them. Agony.
He sat back down, checked them. Blisters on his feet. Raw. Weeping.
Zach stared at them.
Running. Feet pounding on pavement. Heart thundering.
Fear. Mind blowing.
His pulse quickened in response to the memory. He dragged a hand through his hair and stood again, fighting past the pain. He pulled on gym shorts, a T-shirt over his head.
He stank. The smell caused his eyes to water. He remembered. The dark night. Sweating. Near collapse.