Terry Brooks - Running With The Demon

Junior kept shaking his head. "Damn it, Derry, you're talking about murder!"

"No, I ain't. Don't use that word. It ain't murder if it's a war. This is just–what do you call it? — a sacrifice for the greater good. For the community, for you and me and all the rest. You can see that, can't you?"

Junior nodded doubtfully, still trying to come to terms with the idea. "All right, okay, it's a war. So that's different. And it's gonna be an accident, right? Just part of something else that happens?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked carefully at Derry once more. "But it's not gonna be deliberate, is it?"

Derry Howe's expression did not change. Junior was such a dork. He forced himself to smile. "Course not. It's gonna be an accident. When there's an accident, people get hurt. It will be a real tragedy when it happens. It will make everyone feel bad, but particularly the company, because it will be the company's fault."

He reached out, fastened his hand around the back of Junior's neck, and pulled his friend's tensed face right up against his own. "Just you remember that, Junior," he whispered. "It won't be our fault. It will be the company's fault. High–and–mighty MidCon's fault." He squeezed Junior's neck roughly. "They'll crawl over broken glass to get back to the bargaining table then. They'll beg to get back. Hide and watch, Junior. Hide and watch."

Junior Elway reached for what was left of his beer.

Nest stayed in the swing another few minutes, lost in her thoughts of John Ross, then climbed out and stood looking off into the blackness of the park. She wondered if the demon he hunted was hiding there. She wondered if it preferred the dark, twisting caves where the feeders concealed themselves to the lighted houses of the humans it preyed upon. Miss Minx crept by, stalking something Nest could not see. She watched the cat move soundlessly through the dark, silken and deadly in its pursuit, and she had a sudden sense of what it would be like to be hunted like that.

She moved toward the house, thinking to go in, knowing she would have only an hour or two of sleep before it was time to meet Two Bears at the Sinnissippi burial mounds. She wondered what Two Bears knew about all this. Did he know of the demon and John Ross and of the war they fought? Did he know of the Word and the Void? Was he aware of the existence of this other world, of its proximity to the human world, and of the ties that bound the two? She felt certain he knew a great deal he wasn't telling her, much like John Ross. She wondered if they shared a common purpose in coming to Hopewell, perhaps a purpose no one else recognized, one tied to both the spirits of the Sinnissippi and the coming of the demon. She sighed and shook her head. It was all speculation, but speculation was all she had.

She moved up to the screen door, then slowed when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Her grandparents were arguing. She hesitated, then moved down the side of the house to the window that opened above the sink to eavesdrop. It wasn't something she normally did, but she'd heard John Ross's name, and she was curious to know if he was the cause of the argument. She stood silent and unmoving in the shadows, listening.

"He seems like a fine young man to me," her grandfather was saying. He was leaning against the counter at the sink, his back to the window. Nest could see his shadow in a pool of light thrown on the ground. "He was pleasant and straightforward when he came up to speak to me at Josie's. He didn't ask for a thing. It was my idea to invite him to dinner."

"You're too trusting, Robert," her grandmother replied. "You always have been."

"He's given us no reason to be anything else."

"Don't you think it's a bit odd, him showing up like this, unannounced, uninvited, just to see us, to talk about a girl he hasn't seen in over fifteen, sixteen years? A girl who's been dead all that time and never a word from him? Do you remember Caitlin ever saying anything about him, ever even mentioning his name?"

Old Bob sipped from his coffee cup, thinking. "No, but that doesn't mean she didn't know him."

"It doesn't mean he was a friend, either." Nest could picture Gran sitting at the kitchen table, bourbon and water in hand, smoking her cigarette. "I didn't like the way he took to Nest."

"Oh, for God's sake, Evelyn."

"Don't invoke God for my sake, Robert!" Gran shot back. "Use the brain he gave you instead! Suppose, for a minute, John Ross is not who he claims. Suppose he's someone else altogether."

"Someone else? Who?"

"Him, that's who."

There was the sound of ice cubes tinkling in an empty glass and of a fresh cigarette being lit, then silence. Nest watched her grandfather place his coffee cup on the counter, saw his leonine head lower, heard him sigh.

"He's gone, Evelyn. He's not coming back. Ever."

Her grandmother pushed back her chair and rose. Nest could hear her move to the counter and pour herself a drink. "Oh, he's coming, all right, Robert. He's coming. I've known it from the first, from the moment Caitlin died and he disappeared. I've always known it."

"Why would he do that?" Old Bob's voice sounded uneasy. "Evelyn, you can't be serious."

Nest stood transfixed in the heat and the dark, unable to turn away. They were talking about her father.

"He wants Nest," Gran said quietly. She drew on the cigarette and took a long swallow of the drink. Nest heard each sound clearly in the pause between her grandmother's words. "He's always wanted her."

"Nest? Why would he want Nest? Especially after all this time?"

"Because she's his, Robert. Because she belongs to him, and he doesn't give anything up this side of the grave. Don't you know that by now? After Caitlin, don't you know that?"

There was another pause; and then some sounds that Nest could not identify, muttered words perhaps, grumbling. Her grandfather straightened at the window.

"It's been fifteen years, but I remember him well enough." Old Bob spoke softly, but distinctly. "John Ross doesn't look anything like him, Evelyn. They're not the same man."

Gran gave a quick, harsh laugh. "Really, Robert. Sometimes you appall me. Doesn't look like him? You think for a minute that man couldn't change his looks if there was reason enough to do so? You think he couldn't look like anyone he wanted to? Don't you realize what he is?"

"Evelyn, don't start."

"Sometimes you're a fool, Robert," Gran declared sharply. "If you want to go on pretending that I'm a crazy old woman who imagines things that aren't there, that's fine. If you want to pretend there's no feeders in the park, that's fine, too. But there's some things you can't wish away, and he's one of them. You saw what he was. You saw what he did to Caitlin. I wouldn't put anything past him. He's coming here, coming for Nest, and when he does he won't be stupid enough to look the same as he did when he left. You do what you want, Robert, but I plan to be ready for him."

The kitchen was silent again. Nest waited, straining to hear.

"I notice you didn't worry about letting him take her into the park," Old Bob said finally.

Gran didn't say anything. Nest could hear the sound of her glass being raised and lowered.

"So maybe there's not as much to be afraid of as you'd like me to believe. Maybe you're not sure who John Ross is either."

"Maybe," Gran said softly.

"I invited him to come to church tomorrow morning," Old Bob went on deliberately. "I asked him to sit with us. Will you be coming?"

There was a pause. "I don't expect so," Gran replied.

Nest took a long, slow breath. Her grandfather moved away from the window. "I invited him to picnic with us in the park afterward, too. So we could talk some more." Her grandfather cleared his throat. "I like him, Evelyn. I think Nest likes him. I don't think there's any reason to be scared of him."