I looked back toward the thing at my feet. It raised a stony appendage in my direction, moving lazily, tiredly. It reached toward my feet. I took a step backward. The thing stirred itself like a tired old man and rippled in weary pursuit.
The cop on the sidewalk chuckled around his cigarette. “It still wants to get you. Talk about dedication! Ninety percent dead and almost burnt out, but it still goes for you.”
I took another step back, then a third. The thing at my feet looked up at me reproachfully, but with exhausted determination, it squirmed its form closer. As it moved, I heard a faint sound like that of two bricks grinding against one another.
“What is it?” I asked the man on the sidewalk.
The man ignored my question. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to come back? I’ve endured long days on this stakeout. My back is sore from sitting in my car for so damned many hours. You owe me, Draith.”
“I take it you want to investigate this obvious case of arson?” I asked. Maybe Holly had been right and the cops weren’t going to be helpful.
“Ha,” said the cop. “Yeah, right. Come out of there, man. Nice and easy. Do you know I had no idea that thing was still alive? It must have smelled you or something and woke up again.”
“What put it to sleep?”
“The water from the fire hoses, I figure. It likes fire; cold seems to mess it up. But how the hell do I know? You’re the expert on freaky shit like this. Don’t you read your own blog? Get over here, Draith. You’re under arrest.”
I backed away from the thing, which still pursued me in relentless slow motion. I tried not to stumble in the ashes and debris. I didn’t want to turn my back on it, suspecting it might leap upon me in that moment. When I crossed onto the scorched yard, I turned toward the cop.
The cop had stepped closer while I retreated from the thing in the ashes. He pressed his car remote and the headlights flashed. I caught a glimpse of him then. He was a little taller than I was, with an athletic build, and I guessed him to be about forty. He wore a gray blazer over a yellow dress shirt. His gray slacks were as nondescript as the rest of his clothing, intended to make him blend into any crowd. His face had strong features, with a thick brow ridge and a large chin. His eyes and hair were dark.
“Come on,” he said, waving me toward his car. “Get in. I’m taking you downtown.”
“Let’s see your badge first,” I said. I took out my sunglasses and slipped them on. I figured I might need them. Then I reached into my pocket and touched my gun. That was a mistake.
“Here’s my badge,” he said, flashing a shield in his wallet. “Detective Jay McKesson, Las Vegas Metro. And here’s my gun.”
McKesson hit me in the face with his pistol. I went down to one knee. I’d been suckered, and a burst of anger boiled up inside me.
“I should leave you here,” the man said, standing over me. “That thing will come close eventually and burn you. One more freaky death for one more freak.”
“What was that for?” I asked, rubbing my cheekbone. It didn’t feel cracked, but it did feel numb.
“Making me wait. And because you’re armed and dangerous. Everyone says so. Just like that thing you summoned up to burn down your own house for the insurance money. You’re not going to collect, you know. Not on my watch.”
While he talked, I put my sunglasses back on and climbed slowly back up to my feet. I was surprised the sunglasses didn’t seem damaged.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he said.
McKesson kept his gun on me. He clicked on the cuffs, then spun me around to face him. “Not so tough in bracelets, are you, Draith? They never are.”
I didn’t answer. He holstered his gun and gave me a tight smile.
“Shades? You’re wearing shades at night? Are you trying to be cool?”
I still didn’t answer. Inside I was boiling, but I bided my time.
The creature made a sound then. This was something new. We both glanced toward it. The slug had crossed the border of what had once been the concrete slab foundation of my house. It had squirmed its way into the flowerbeds and then out onto the open lawn. At that point it had made a squeaking, bubbling hiss, a sound that was both unpleasant and alien. Like hot coals dropped into a bucket of water, the hissing continued as it approached us with painful slowness. I thought perhaps the grasses it crawled over stung it. The greenery twisted and blackened at the creature’s approach and it left behind a trail of scorched earth.
When McKesson turned his attention back to me, he realized I’d freed myself. It had been easy. I just twisted my wrists and the cuffs fell apart. I was sure he was willing to go for me, but then he felt my .32 automatic under his chin and froze at the cold touch.
“Surprise,” I said.
McKesson eyed the cuffs that dangled from my wrists. The right bracelet hung open. With the sunglasses on, there had only been a rippling sensation of resistance that quickly gave way. It was as if the lock had turned to rubber. I’d hoped it would work that way, and it had.
“You don’t want to do this, Draith,” he said quietly.