It rolled over Caden, awakening a memory of sulfur and chaos, a being born of nightmare. The sound pulsed and thrummed, growing louder. A second later it exploded in a shrill burst that drove him to his knees. Dropping the flashlight, he clamped his hands over his ears. Anger pummeled him, raw and beet-red. Not his emotion, but the intrusion of something alien. A disorganized mind locked with his, battering him beneath a blizzard of fury and pain. Wind howled through the trees, the branches chattering like the dead. He clamped his jaw, grinding his teeth.
Stop! I can’t—
And just that quickly, the wind died and the conduit of emotion snapped. Something crouched five feet away. The hum remained, a muted drone at the back of his skull.
Slowly, he stood. The glowing eyes of the Mothman tracked his movement.
It was hard to look at the creature, its face a mere suggestion of form. There was nothing where the head should be, just two enormous eyes, red as scarlet wine. Much like a human, it had two arms and two legs, but its feet were three-toed, ending in long, lethal claws. Talons took the place of fingers, and two massive gray wings sprouted from its back. Half humanoid, half bird-like, it was wholly demonic and nightmarish in appearance.
Caden wet his lips, unsure how to communicate. The thing seemed able to project emotion, so he tried to do the same. In the dark, he couldn’t tell if the Mothman was injured, but did his best to mentally convey concern.
Instantly, he was blasted by rage. Staggering beneath the violent onslaught, he took two steps backward. The Mothman rose to its full height, towering well over seven feet. The tips of its wings arched above its back. Caden flicked on his flashlight, passing the beam over the creature. It didn’t as much as flinch, but he spied a bullet hole near the top of its right wing. Duncan had shot the thing. Far from mortally wounding the creature, he’d only served in ticking it off. Royally.
Another surge of rage pummeled Caden. No words, only a pulsing need for retribution.
“Don’t.” This time he spoke the word aloud. “They were afraid. They reacted like anyone would. You can’t—”
The hum swelled in savage retaliation.
He grunted, doubling over. His fingers clamped down on the flashlight, and the beam wobbled over the ground. Mercifully, the loud vibration retreated. He breathed raggedly through his mouth, anger mushrooming within. His own.
“These are my friends. My town. You will not terrorize them.”
The Mothman shrieked. With a burst of motion, it launched straight up into the sky. The thunder of its wings was almost as painfully loud as the humming synonymous with its presence. It hovered only seconds. Long enough to drill Caden’s mind with a primeval need for vengeance.
He raised an arm to shield his face when a gale-like wind buffeted him. He didn’t have to look to know the creature was gone.
Or that Point Pleasant was its target.
Chapter 12
Katie was happy to take a lunchtime break when noon rolled around. She’d snagged a booth at the River Café for her and Sarah. Eve was unable to join them, but Sarah wanted to get together, and Katie agreed it would be nice to chat about something other than the Mothman. For three days, the monster had terrorized the town. It stampeded cows in several farm fields, chased a carload of teenagers on Route 2 more than a mile, and buzzed Warren Gardner in his backyard—or so the stories went. True or not, the reports had everyone on edge, Point Pleasant plagued by the same heightened sense of fear that overshadowed it in the mid-sixties.
Ryan and Caden, along with a number of deputies, had been working double shifts, frightened residents calling if they heard so much as an unusual rustle at night. Duncan and Donnie, having recruited a few followers, still tromped around the igloos hoping to spot the creature, but so far, the cryptid had proven elusive. Duncan was disappointed he hadn’t killed it or gained overnight fame, but several reporters had shown up to talk to him. Thrilled by the attention, he and Donnie made the most of the limelight.
Business at the hotel boomed with curiosity seekers arriving daily, requesting directions to the TNT. A few claimed to have experienced their own encounters, but many simply wanted to soak up the atmosphere of Mothman fever. As a result, the café was busier than normal for a Monday. Everyone seemed to be chatting about Point Pleasant’s famous “bird.” UFOs were forgotten, and Katie hadn’t heard of anyone spying a man in black clothing for days. With the exception of one, the mysterious strangers had gone low profile.
Lach Evening strolled into the café from the lobby, halting just inside the door. His black eyes swept the room before pausing on her. A strikingly handsome man, there was something unsettling about him.
Katie glanced at her watch, hoping Sarah would arrive. Lach made her uncomfortable despite being nothing but polite each time they spoke.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Lynch.” Evening appeared on the opposite side of the booth, looking woefully out of place in a tailored black suit with crisp white shirt.
Who walked around like that during the day?
“I wonder if I could speak with you?” His voice was almost melodic.
She took a sip of the soda Nancy had brought earlier. “I’m meeting someone.”
“It will only take a moment, I assure you.” Inviting himself, he slid into the seat across from her. His smile was staged to perfection as he rested one long-fingered hand on the table.
She tried not to stare at his oddly shaped fingertips.
“I’d like to ask you about Lyle Mason,” Evening said.
“Like you asked me about my mother fifteen years ago?”
His smile faltered. “I beg your pardon?”
“The night the Silver Bridge fell.” She could be wrong, but wouldn’t know without pressing. “You were looking for my mother, Doreen Sue Lynch. I was outside of her hair salon and you asked where you could find her.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. It must have been someone who looked like me.”
“I don’t think so.” She gazed pointedly at his fingertips.
Evening cleared his throat. Withdrawing his hand, he laced his fingers in his lap. “I don’t believe I’ve ever visited Point Pleasant before.”
She didn’t buy it. “You look the same.”
He chuckled. “There, you see? I would have aged a great deal after fifteen years. I do not want to take up your time, Ms. Lynch, only ask you about Lyle Mason. I believe he might try to contact you.”
“Ryan told me about him.”