Kitabı oku: «A Cold Day In Hell», sayfa 2

“What’s changed?” he said, ever persistent. “If there’s something to be worried about I need to know what it is or I can’t help.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” Yet. And there probably wouldn’t be. “Angel, has Sonny done jail time?”

A silence followed and went on so long she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“No, he hasn’t,” Angel said, opening the door again. “What made you think he had?”

“Oh, forget I said anything. He’s a lot more mature than Aaron and sometimes I worry there could be things Aaron doesn’t need to know yet, that’s all.”

Angel propped himself in the doorway. Behind him, colored lights blinked on and off on display trees. “How did you make the leap from Sonny being mature to his having done jail time?” Angel asked.

She felt ashamed, and judgmental. “He was sent to you for some reason. You told me he needed extra discipline.”

“I said he needed a man’s hand, a man’s guidance. He doesn’t have a father.”

Like Aaron didn’t have a father. Or hadn’t. And Eileen wanted Chuck out of town again. Now.

“Look,” Angel said. “I don’t want to say this but I’ve got to. You give me the impression you think Sonny’s no good for Aaron. You’ve pegged Sonny as a bad boy.”

“No!” Was she that transparent? “Aaron got in his own trouble. He’s not perfect.” She hadn’t told him how silently belligerent Sonny often was with her.

“But Aaron was just acting out and he did it quietly. You told me that and I believe you. He got muddled up after his father left. Finn told me all about it. He tried to fill in but Aaron got the idea it was his fault his dad ducked out.”

Finn Duhon was Eileen’s brother. His wife, Emma, used to own Poke Around but sold it to Eileen when she came into money from the sale of the Duhon family home. Finn had insisted she take all the proceeds because he didn’t need them. That money had changed Eileen’s life.

“Say something,” Angel said.

She thought she saw movement outside the front windows of the shop. Her heart missed a beat, then another, then pounded rapidly. She was getting too jumpy. “Leave it, I said,” she told him, hearing her voice rise. “I can’t do this now. You’re pulling me apart like you’re suspicious of everything I say. Let me be.”

“Eileen, please—”

“No. I’d better go home on my own. I’m not good company.”

“I’m coming with you.” He reached for her but she tried to evade him. Angel caught her as she backed into a file cabinet. “Hold it,” he said quietly.

She began to shake and she had to stop it. Some things had to be dealt with on her own. “I’m fine,” she told him. “I’m just overworked.”

“You’re not fine,” he said. He pulled her against him. For an instant she resisted, but then she softened and leaned into him. “You’re making too many excuses and you’re trembling. If I’m not scaring you to death, something else is. Now tell me because I won’t quit asking until you do.”

She wanted to close her eyes, breathe him in, hold on tight. How many times had she dreamed about this moment? Now she couldn’t relax and enjoy it.

The phone in his pocket rang and he switched it off.

“That could be Sonny,” she said.

“We’re going back to your place now. I’ll deal with him when I get there. Hold my hand. You’re important to me. Let me be here for you.” He held her hand and led her into the shop.

Nobody had ever told her such things, and he said them without pushing for anything more intimate.

Hammering on the front door made her jump so hard her teeth ground together.

“It’s okay,” Angel said, but he shoved her behind him and opened the door. “Hell, will you look at this!”

Sonny just about fell inside. Drenched, covered with mud and, unmistakably, smeared with blood, he staggered and Angel stopped him from tripping.

“What’s the matter?” Angel said.

Eileen rushed to him. “Where’s Aaron?”

“I gotta get back,” Sonny said, dragging in breaths, not looking at Eileen. “You gotta come with me, Angel.” He looked into Angel’s face, a hard stare as if he was sending a silent message.

“Where’s Aaron?” Eileen felt herself losing it. “Sonny—”

“Hush,” Angel said, but his face wasn’t expressionless now.

“It’s all my fault,” Sonny said. “I shouldn’t have been…I went where I shouldn’t have and talked to the wrong people. They kind of dared me. I got Aaron and me into trouble. It’s bad.” His big, dark eyes stretched wide and she could feel his fear. “Angel, do you think someone—”

“Let’s go,” Angel said.

“Tell me where Aaron is,” Eileen begged.

“Oh, God,” Sonny moaned, hanging his head. “He’s in the swamp. North of town. I know how to get back. Chuzah made sure. I hope he made sure. He sent me in his, er, car.”

“Stop it,” Angel said. “Calm down, both of you. Chuzah is?”

Sonny looked as if he could cry. “Um, a doctor.”

“Oh, thank God,” Eileen said.

“In the swamp?” Angel said. “This doctor just happened by, huh?”

“He lives there.”

“Aaron hurt himself?” Eileen said.

“No, someone else…” Sonny swallowed. “He got hurt.”

“But there’s a doctor there? A general practitioner?”

Angel pushed them both through the door and locked it behind him. “Eileen, we’ll have to take your van. My truck’s at home.”

“I’ve got to drive Chuzah’s vehicle back,” Sonny said. “I’m afraid he’d do something awful to me if I didn’t get his car back. I know the way. Follow me.”

Angel grabbed Sonny’s arm and spun him around. “What do you mean, something awful?”

“Oh,” Sonny said. “He’s a root doctor.”

Eileen felt faint. She held Angel’s sleeve. “We need a real doctor. I’ll get on to Mitch Halpern. And let’s call Matt—”

“No,” Sonny said. “Chuzah knows about other medical stuff. If we show up with some new guy he doesn’t expect, he won’t let us find him.”

“You said you knew the way,” Angel said.

Sonny scrubbed at his oiled scalp. “Do what I’m tellin’ you. Please. I know how to get to where there’ll be someone waiting to guide us in.”

To the right, at the curb, was a dark green vintage Morgan sports car. Again, all Eileen could do was stare.

“This root doctor threatened you,” Angel said.

“Well…he was nice about it.”

“I’m calling Matt now,” Eileen said. “Some voodoo practitioner has kidnapped my son.”

“Anything could happen if you call the law,” Sonny said, with his familiar hard stare. The streetwise kid from Brooklyn was back. “I know Aaron’s okay with Chuzah. He helped us.”

“That isn’t his Morgan, is it?” Angel said.

“Uh-huh. He’s really weird.”

“And you left Aaron alone with him?” Eileen said.

Sonny broke away and hurried toward the driver’s door on the Morgan. “He saved Aaron’s life,” he said and climbed in, then slammed and locked the door.

3

“I’m worried about complaints,” Emma Duhon said. “The merchants like the pedestrian traffic that comes to the fair, but they don’t like competing with the stall owners for business.”

She looked around the circle of women gathered at Ona’s Out Back—Ona referred to it as a tea shop—to discuss the finer details of the Pointe Judah Christmas fair. The event was only days away and lasted over a weekend. They sat in a motley collection of armchairs pulled up to a big low table intended for magazines. The magazines were stacked on the floor to make way for coffee, wine and empty dishes formerly piled high with fried shrimp.

Emma doodled on a looseleaf notebook. “It’s really late to be haggling over this. Why not suggest the shopkeepers have tables at the fair, too?” She’d been in a good mood when she agreed to help with the fair, but wished she’d thought it over for much longer before saying she would. How she got to be in charge, she couldn’t remember.

“They’d have to pay rent for their tables, just like all the others,” Lobelia Forestier said. She had been president of the Pointe Judah Chamber of Commerce for five years. “They should want to do their share for a good cause.”

The truth was that nobody else would take over Lobelia’s unpaid job which, apart from guaranteeing prime gossip rights, had no function other than to sit in on other people’s meetings.

Delia Board, Sabine Webb and Gracie Loder made up the rest of the committee. Delia was Pointe Judah’s most celebrated inhabitant and ran a world-famous cosmetics firm. Sabine, Delia’s housekeeper, also moonlighted at the Board-room, and Gracie worked at Buzzard’s Wet Bar during the day and the Boardroom at night.

“How do we insult these shopkeepers without insulting them?” Delia said, running her fingers through her hair and drawing a laugh. She crossed her elegant gray boots at the ankle. “No fair, no extra traffic. End of problem. The fair benefits everyone.”

Emma clamped her hands behind her neck and grinned at Delia. “Sometimes I think a really small town is more difficult to run than a major company. You would know, Delia.”

“You’re right, but we have to suffer for all the village charm we get around here.”

Lobelia grunted and Emma shared a private smile with Delia and Sabine.

“You got a lot done tonight,” Gracie said. “Sorry I was late but I’d better get on to Sarah’s place. There’s not much more to do except for deciding about the shopkeepers. And we’ve got to make sure everyone turns up to finish the decorations. We want this to knock everyone’s eyes out. More flash, that’s what we need, so folks will come from all over to see it.”

“And buy,” Lobelia said.

“That, too,” Gracie said. She shook out her damp jacket and swung it around her shoulders. “’Night, all.”

Lobelia shook her head. She coated her entire face with loose powder, including her eyebrows, and flecks clung to strands of dyed brown hair. “Barhopping the way you do isn’t good for your reputation, Gracie,” she said. “You go on. We’ll finish up without you.”

“Barhoppin’?” Sabine said and laughed. The red and green beads in her many braids clicked together. “Gracie works at Buzzard’s, then she works at the Boardroom. She’s busy makin’ her way is all. You never had to rush around trying to keep your head above water. Gracie’s either going to work or coming from work, so give her a break.” Her deep bronze skin shone, especially where a dusting of gold sparkles curved over her high cheekbones.

Lobelia gathered herself up and pursed her lips.

“I’m already parked at Sarah’s. I’ll take a shortcut through Ona’s kitchen and walk over.” On her feet, Gracie made for the kitchen that separated Out Back from Out Front, Ona’s licensed diner that faced the street. Rounded in the nicest way, with short black hair and large, smiling brown eyes, Gracie pretended to stagger into the kitchen.

Everyone but Lobelia laughed. “That girl’s trouble,” she said. “She knows Ona doesn’t like people in her kitchen.”

Emma was tired. In her seventh month of pregnancy, she ran out of steam much more easily than she was used to. “Can I leave you three to talk about the best way to make everyone happy?” she said. “If we’re going to charge the business owners, it shouldn’t be as much as the stall people just in for the fair.”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” Delia Board said. Her red hair expertly cut to sweep up, and her makeup flawless, Delia managed perfect posture even in a sagging armchair. “You’re doing too much, Emma.”

That wasn’t true, but Emma enjoyed the concern. She had parked in the lot behind the building and set off, glad she’d remembered to bring an umbrella.

Finn would be waiting for her and fussing that she was late. Whenever she went out these days she was automatically late. She smiled, concentrating on her white leather sneakers as she walked the gradual incline toward her car. Out Front was busy tonight and an overflow of vehicles from the diner filled many of the slots on this side of the lot, too.

The baby did a slow somersault and Emma stood still, a hand on her belly. This was the longed-for child she and Finn had come to doubt they would ever have.

She walked on, warm with happiness.

“Mrs. Duhon?”

At the sound of a man’s voice, she paused again and looked around. She couldn’t see anyone. No moving shadows. Maybe she’d imagined the voice.

The lights inside Out Back seemed a long way away. The wind plucked at Emma’s curly hair, tossed it across her face and back again. She fought with the umbrella. Branches shook on a row of trees between the parked cars.

The wind died.

Emma’s skin crawled but she carried on.

“Wait, Mrs. Duhon! I want to talk to you.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Emma made sure she was in the middle of the open space between the rows of cars. She calculated how far she’d have to run back to the restaurant.

“You don’t think about Denise anymore, do you, Mrs. Duhon?”

Emma’s heart seemed to fill her throat.

“You’re too important to waste your time on the past.”

Denise. Poor, dear Denise. Dead two years now, murdered at the hands of a sick pervert. Emma and Finn had literally run into one another after a whole lot of years. They had stood talking and catching up on their lives, when Denise’s body had tumbled from a nearby garbage container. The killer had been caught, but the horror never quite went away.

“Of course I think about Denise. She was my friend. I loved her.”

“Did you? Doesn’t stop you from carrying on like she never lived. Do you think that’s fair? I don’t think it is. Do you remember how Denise died?”

Emma considered running. She was fit, she always had been. Of course she couldn’t move the way she did when she wasn’t pregnant, but what choice did she have?

“I always said pregnant women were sexy.”

Emma didn’t know the voice. A shadow separated itself between two trees.

She was a little closer to Out Back than he was and he wasn’t likely to draw attention to himself by causing her to fight him…she would fight him if she had to.

Since she was a bit nearer to the building, she had a chance of catching him off guard by running. She sidestepped back the way she’d come.

“Aw, you don’t want to do that. All I want is to talk. You start trying something fancy and you could do damage to that baby of yours. You wouldn’t want that.”

Emma opened her mouth but only a rasping sound came out. She needed to scream and yell and draw attention to herself.

“You want your baby, don’t you?” he said, his voice difficult to hear now. “They say you didn’t think you could have one. What a shame if you killed it now.”

She backed away from the place where the shadow hovered, skidded on one heel and dropped her purse. She left it where it fell and turned to run. Clumsy, she was so clumsy.

“No, no, no,” he shouted. “You stop that right now or you’ll hurt yourself. You’re overreacting.”

She kept running, the weight of the baby pulling her forward.

“You want to murder your kid? Is that what you want? You want to kill that baby you don’t deserve?”

His voice kept up with her.

Emma’s knees shook. She felt tears on her face.

He had followed, and he intended to catch her. The notebook flew from her hand and she saw a sheet of yellow paper dip and sail. She managed to hold on to the umbrella. It had a point at one end. She might need that.

“Why are you runnin’? What d’you have to be afraid of? Your conscience? Stop, right now.”

No, no, no.

She heard the singing sound of something lashing through the air. A cord or rope coiled around one of her shoes. Emma couldn’t run anymore.

The toe of her other sneaker jammed against a crack. Her umbrella slid through her fingers and tangled with her legs. Stumbling toward a parked pickup, she grabbed for the truck’s tailgate.

Emma missed; she hit her shoulder and hip on cold metal. Sound hammered, louder and louder, in her ears. She was going down.

Her hands slammed into the gritty ground, then her belly. Tearing pressure under her diaphragm winded her so hard she couldn’t breathe. Then her knees gave out.

She skidded under the back of the pickup.

“You stay where you are, and keep still,” the man said. He kicked the sole of her shoe and acid rushed to her throat. “You move before I say and you and that kid are finished—if the kid isn’t done in already.”

4

“Don’t let his taillights get too far ahead of you.”

“I’m doing the driving,” Eileen said, without raising her voice. “You’re safe with me. I won’t lose Sonny.”

At least he hadn’t made the mistake of suggesting he take the wheel. He could only imagine what the response to that would have been. “I trust you, Eileen. You’re a good driver.” His face felt tight. Everything about this evening was wrong—or had gone wrong.

“Thanks,” she said and he could hear the sarcasm in her tone.

There were things Eileen didn’t know, like the true story behind Sonny being in Pointe Judah. Angel didn’t want her to find out. She had already carefully minced around whether or not Sonny was a good role model for Aaron. She hadn’t been so subtle that Angel missed the message, but at least she didn’t know how close she was to the truth.

Sonny was a kid with potential—and a lot of past baggage weighing him down. Angel’s job was to keep the boy alive until certain people forgot about him—if they ever did.

She stared sideways at Angel. “I think Sonny was telling us Aaron got shot but he didn’t like saying it right out.” Her voice shook.

“That could be. He didn’t sound completely sure.”

“Aaron will be okay, won’t he?”

She wanted him to say yes, because that’s what she needed to hear. “Of course he will,” he said. He’d better be, and there had better not be anything that suggested whatever had happened was anything other than an accident.

“Could have been a hunter who made a mistake,” Eileen said.

Angel wasn’t aware of hunters firing indiscriminately in the swamps. “Could have,” he said. “This rain makes it hard to see. Sonny’s getting farther away.”

“I don’t mind anything but the fog,” she said, leaning forward. “Look how thick it’s getting.” She rolled her window down an inch and succeeded only in letting cool, heavy vapor into the van. “Your headlights bounce back at you.”

She reached for the gearshift and her fingers closed on the thigh he’d hitched up instead. Eileen whipped her hand away. Angel felt singed. He got a backlash, a hot backlash all the way to the base of his spine. They had touched so little—mostly accidentally.

Tonight he’d planned to be alone with her, for as long as he could keep her with him. And he’d planned to point out the benefits of getting closer, much closer. Eileen had been the perfect, immaculate mother for long enough. Too long, from Angel’s point of view. When a woman’s accidental hold on his thigh gave him pre-orgasmic spasms, the waiting game had gone too far.

“I should have kept a closer eye on what Aaron’s been up to,” Eileen said.

Shit. “You’re not on your own with this. Not that I think there’s anything to worry about.” Unless someone had put out a hit on Sonny.

Angel gritted his teeth.

“This isn’t a road, it’s an overgrown, abandoned track,” Eileen said, and right on cue the van bumped up and over the buckled blacktop.

“You’re right, it’s not much of a road.” He turned in his seat to peer through the fog toward the trees. “The bayou can’t be so far away.” He had never explored out here.

“Farther than you think,” Eileen said. “It’s close back toward town but around here there’s a lot of swampland before you get to the water.”

“What’s in there?”

“In the swamp?” She glanced at him. “It’s not pretty unless you get-off on mud and standing water and sodden ground in every direction. And critters—the kind you’d rather not meet.”

Angel said. “And voodoo stuff, too, huh?”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Are you afraid of that bull?” Angel asked. “Don’t waste fear on superstitious crap. Unless you fancy one of those little velvet spell bags filled with—grave dust, is it? That’s supposed to keep you safe, isn’t it?”

“I doubt it.”

“Make you wildly passionate then?” Angel said, deliberately trying to catch her off guard. “Mixed with snake droppings and skunk hair? A pinch of dried fire ants to make you hot, and puree of hundred-proof alcohol to make you helpless? Sounds good to me.”

He saw how she bit her lower lip and figured she hardly heard him babbling to fill up any silence. Just as well.

She surprised him when she said, “There are things in these parts that you don’t mess with. Ignorance can get you into big trouble.”

Angel bit back a retort. Eileen was the last person he would have expected to believe in the old arts.

The little red taillights on the Morgan glowed, then faded to pink as the fog thinned and thickened.

“Watch out! Will you look at that?” He grabbed the dashboard. “The kid slammed on the brakes with no warning.”

Eileen pumped the brakes on the van and came to a stop with inches to spare behind the Morgan

“I’m terrified for Aaron,” Eileen said. She found his hand and wound her fingers in his. “Call Matt Boudreaux now. We ought to have the police here. And our own doctor. We could get hold of Mitch Halpern. You know he’d come right out.”

“You heard what Sonny said. This Chuzah doesn’t want any official company.” He rubbed her hand between his. It wasn’t her way to reach for comfort.

“If it turns out we have to go to Matt about this, he’ll be steamed.”

Angel made sure he didn’t show how much he liked that idea. “Go with me on this. Matt would do the same if he was in our position.” Maybe he would; maybe he wouldn’t. Eileen didn’t need Matt Boudreaux around—for any reason.

Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and pushed out of the van. Sonny didn’t appear but Eileen walked toward the Morgan.

Angel said, “Sonny?”

Sonny didn’t answer. Angel reached Eileen and they saw that Sonny wasn’t in the sports car. He stood a few yards ahead at the very edge of the road. His back was rigid and he repeatedly looked around the area.

“Look,” Eileen said, backing into Angel. “Over there. What is it? Sonny!”

“Quiet,” Sonny said clearly. “Keep it down. He doesn’t like noises.”

“Chuzah?” Angel and Eileen asked in unison.

Angel peered into the darkness at the side of the overgrown road. Two small, pale lights blinked on and off. “Get back in the van and lock the doors,” he told Eileen.

“Forget it,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m going after Aaron. He’s my son.”

He reached for her; the backs of his fingers met the side of her face. “You’re burning up,” he said. “Are you sick?”

“No! It’s humid.”

It was humid. Rain fell hard enough to stick his shirt to his back. He had water inside his shoes. Eileen’s long, dark hair clung to her neck and shoulders and her face shone pale and wet in the near opaque darkness.

“Those lights,” Eileen said. “They’re not normal. They look like shiny stones. What are they?”

“Probably nothing. Just something picking up reflections.” He’d never seen anything like them before. And he didn’t like that one bit.

“Angel,” she said, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. “They’re moving. They go one way, then the other. I want Aaron.”

“Look,” he said quietly, “it would be quicker if I went on my own with Sonny. Please, wait in the van.”

“Don’t say that again. I’m getting a flashlight.” She turned around and started back.

Angel didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he took a few steps closer to Sonny and said, “Eileen’s gone for a flashlight. Quick, tell me what happened.”

“No flashlight.” Sonny hissed. “Chuzah doesn’t do flashlights.”

The silver lights drew closer and Angel said, “Get away from there. What are those glowing things?”

“It’s Locum,” Sonny said. “Chuzah’s buddy. He’s come to guide us into the swamp.”

“Don’t play any stupid games,” Angel said. “Eileen’s already scared out of her mind.”

“No, I’m not,” Eileen said, arriving at his side again. “I’m worried about my boy. Sonny! What’s that thing?”

“Don’t use the flashlight or we’re done for,” Sonny said. “Cool it, will ya? Just follow me.”

“It’s a ghost,” Eileen whispered. “My legs are wobbly.”

“There aren’t any ghosts.” Angel eased the flashlight from her fingers and pushed it into his waistband. He put an arm around Eileen and guided—or half pushed—her forward. With each step she leaned back against him.

“It’s a ghost,” Eileen repeated. “It’s floating. Look! The lights went out but I can see a silvery shape wafting above the ground.”

“It’s Chuzah’s friend Locum,” Angel whispered. “Sonny told me.” He had a wicked temptation to laugh.

“Locum?” Eileen said. “Do you think Chuzah’s a ghost, too?”

A few steps behind Sonny, they left the overgrown road and set off onto ground that soon became soggy beneath damp brush. Trees loomed, their pale trunks hung with strips of peeling bark.

“It’s a shape-shifter,” Eileen said. “Sonny! You come here at once. Don’t you go anywhere near that thing.”

“He’s not twelve,” Angel whispered.

Her face turned to his. “Sometimes they behave as if they are. Do you know what that thing is?”

“Looks like an animal.”

“Exactly,” she hissed. “Aaron’s been taken by a shape-shifter.”

“No such thing.”

“Oh, yes there are. I’ve read about them.”

Angel kept a tight hold on her. “That’s called fiction.”

“It is not.”

“Will you two keep it down?” Sonny said.

The trees had closed around them. Each time Angel lifted a foot, it broke from a seal of sticky mud. When he set his foot down again, water splashed. The overpowering scent was of mold and dank, wet things. “You should have a coat on,” he told Eileen.

“So should you.” Her voice got higher and suspiciously squeaky.

“You’re crying,” he said.

“You ought to be crying, too. We shouldn’t be here like this. We should have called the police.”

“To report that Aaron’s been taken by shape-shifters?”

“Sonny said Chuzah was a root doctor.”

“That gray thing up there is an animal and—”

“A wolf! Angel, make Sonny come here.”

“Relax. Some joker’s playing a number on Sonny. They set him up for this.”

Eileen sniffed now. “You do think Aaron’s okay?”

“Yes.” He didn’t damn well know. “Sonny—I see more lights. They’re different.”

“They’re colored,” Eileen said. “Like Christmas lights. Oh, they’re way up high. This is all horrible. I’m getting out my gun and I don’t want any arguments from you.”

“You won’t get ’em unless you start firing,” Angel said.

Sonny came back to them. His eyes resembled blank, black circles and Angel could see him shivering.

“We’ve got to do what Chuzah said, but I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Sonny said. Angel only recalled one other time when the boy admitted to fear. That had been on the night his father—a gutsy guy who went against the family—died.

“That Locum is a shape-shifter, isn’t he?” Eileen asked, and jumped. A rattling noise reached her, growing louder.

“What’s a shape-shifter?”

“Never mind,” Angel said. He listened to the eerie sounds.

“Don’t worry about that,” Sonny said. “It’s just Chuzah sending a signal to Locum—I think.”

“That’s it,” Eileen said, shaking away from Angel. She ran, as best she could, toward the lights strung somewhere high in the trees ahead.

Angel took off after her and said, “She’s got a gun,” over his shoulder.

Eileen couldn’t stop crying. She sniffed, swiped at her face. “I’ve got to hold myself together,” she muttered, and skidded to a halt, her mouth open.

She had broken into a clearing, a clearing just big enough for a large wooden cabin built on stilts about six feet tall. No, the clearing was bigger than it had seemed at first. Around the structure, there was enough space for a shed, on shorter stilts, what looked like a carport, and a row of lockers. Sure enough, the roof on the cabin was strung with unevenly looped, multicolored lights. Four small windows in the front were covered with patterned curtains and a faint glow showed from inside.

A hand on her shoulder all but sent her to her knees. “It’s just us,” Angel said into her ear. “Put the gun out of sight. Quickly.”

She sighed, but put the Glock in her purse. “Where’s the wolf?” she said.

He stroked her back. “There’s no wolf.”

“Don’t you try to tell me I was imaging things,” she told him. “You saw it, too.”

Sonny moaned.

“I’m going up there,” Eileen said and went to the bottom of a sturdy-enough flight of stairs. She stopped and covered her face. Through her fingers she saw a big gray animal, a dog with silver eyes, standing halfway up the flight. He had huge teeth and she could see every one of them. “Help.” She mouthed the word but didn’t hear a sound. “Help!” Still she couldn’t hear her own voice.

The shack door flow open. “Aha,” a great voice, a very deep, right from the boots voice, called. “You would be Eileen, perhaps?”

She nodded. “Where’s my son?”

“Are you, Chuzah?” Angel asked. “Sonny’s told us about you. Sounds like we owe you.”

The keeper of the major voice appeared in the doorway and spread his arms. A rope of bones and bells clanged and clacked around his neck.

“Welcome, welcome. My humble home is your humble home. If you see what I mean. You come in. We been waitin’ for you. They here, Aaron, and they look like they been seeing ghosts. There’s that quiet boy, too. You come on up, quiet boy. Chuzah, he don’t bite.” He threw back his head and laughed, showing two rows of gleaming teeth.

Eileen pursed her lips and started to climb. The dog didn’t move.

“Locum,” Chuzah said, “you get your sorry ass up these steps and get in the house. You ain’t nothin’ but a poser. Fierce? You don’t know about fierce. You embarrass me. Excuse him, please.”

The dog’s mouth took on what looked like a smile and he tootled up and inside, looking back once with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and, Eileen was almost certain, giving her a wink.