“He’s a psychopath.”
“I can see that. I meant why didn’t the gun go off?”
“There was only four live rounds in the cylinder. Before I went to sleep, I set it so the hammer was on the first empty, just for safety’s sake.” Quinn grabbed the flashlight and shone it on the chain that bound Alice’s hands.
“But how did you know he hadn’t readjusted it?” she asked.
“I didn’t.”
He set to work on the bolt and nut holding the chain tight around her wrists. The chain came free, and Alice rubbed the ragged skin there, slowly trying to stand. Quinn steadied her on one side with Ty on the other.
“He hit me on the side of the head,” Alice said. “We were talking in low voices since you both were asleep. He was being really pleasant, even charming. I had the rifle. And then he moved so fast I couldn’t react, couldn’t even scream. He hit me, and I woke up on the cot a minute or so before you struck the match.”
Quinn shone the light on the shallow grave, the skull a dull yellow in the beam.
“How many more do you think are down here?” Alice asked in a low voice as she hugged Ty to her side.
Quinn shook his head and was about to answer when a heavy footstep thumped on the floorboards directly above them.
There was a deep croak that shook the air around them, and the trap door began to jump on its hinges.
Chapter 24
Royal
Wood groaned and splintered as the door was wrenched upward.
Quinn flicked the light off. He grabbed Alice’s hand in the dark and then managed to find Ty’s shoulder. Without a word, he led them around the perimeter of the cellar, stopping in the narrow space behind the stairs as the trap door was torn completely away and the stench of rotting fish filled the air. Denver began to growl but fell silent as suddenly as he’d started.
Quinn reached to the side, finding the edge of Hilton’s cot. He stretched, feeling with shaking fingers until he brushed the stock of the rifle near the wall. The base rumble came again, and a deeper shadow in the darkness glided down the stairs.
Quinn froze.
It was an arm. Thin and crooked with a long-fingered hand at its end. It slid down into the space like a snake hunting its dinner. With a jabbing motion, the hand encircled Hilton’s leg and drug him up from where he lay. The old man’s head bounced once on the top stair, and Quinn heard him mumble something incoherent.
They waited another moment, then Quinn grasped the rifle and pulled it close, leaning in to Ty and Alice.
“We have to move,” he whispered. “We’re trapped if it comes back.”
Hilton moaned somewhere above them and then began to scream.
“Now,” Quinn said.
He went first, climbing the stairs into the cool air of the open night. A half moon hung midway in the sky, the wink of some ancient, alien god. In the field, three stilts were tearing at something between them that writhed and rasped out words filled with agony.
Quinn helped Ty out of the cellar, holding his hand as Denver came next and Alice last. He motioned to the woods behind the shack, and Alice led the way, Ty trailing behind her with his hand locked to Denver’s collar. Quinn shot a final look back in time to see Hilton separate three ways, dark, ropy things falling to the turned earth at the creatures’ feet.
They ran.
They plunged as one into the woods, flying past gnarled pines, their feet cushioned by decades of fallen needles. The moon followed them, lighting their way. They traveled steadily down, the forest tumbling into a gully scarred by a silver stream. They splashed across it and paused on the other side, listening for sounds behind them.
Silence except for the chuckle of water.