Terry Brooks - Running With The Demon

Pick shrugged. "I don't know what she was doing. She was young and wild, your grandmother, and she did a lot of things I didn't much agree with. Running with the feeders was one of them. She did it because she felt like it, I guess. She was different from you."

Nest looked at him. "Different how?"

"She was the first to have the magic in your family when there was no one to guide her in its use," he replied. "She didn't know what to do with it. There wasn't any balance in her life like there is in yours. Not then, at least. She's given you that balance, you know. She's been there to warn you about the magic right from the first. No one was there for her. Opal, the last before her, was dead by the time she was eight. So there was only me, and she didn't want to listen to me. She thought I was out for myself, that what I said didn't mean anything." He pursed his lips. "Like I said, she was headstrong."

"She said she was in love with the demon."

"She was, for a time."

"Until she found out the truth about him."

"Yep, until then."

"What did she do to keep him away from her?"

Pick looked at her. "Didn't she tell you?"

Nest shook her head. "Will you?"

Pick sighed. "Here we go again."

"All right, forget it."

They walked on in silence, passing the east ball diamond and turning up toward the parking lot that fronted the toboggan slide. Ahead, the trees shimmered hotly in the midday sun and the river reflected silver and gold. In the backyards of the houses bordering the park, people were working in their flower beds and mowing the grass. The smell of hamburgers cooking on an open grill wafted heavily on the humid air.

"I shouldn't tell you," Pick insisted quietly.

"Then don't."

"I shouldn't."

"All right."

Pick hunched his shoulders. "Your grandmother," he said wearily, staring straight ahead. For a minute he didn't say anything else. "The demon underestimated her, too bad for him. See, she understood him better than he thought. She'd learned a few things running with him, being part of his life, those nights in the park. She knew it was her magic that attracted him to her. She knew the magic was everything to him. He wanted her because she had it. She was very powerful in those days, Nest. Maybe as powerful as he was. So she told him that if he stayed in the park, if he kept after her, she'd use it against him. She'd use it up, every last bit of it. She'd kill him or herself or both of them. She didn't care which."

He paused. "She would have done it, too. She was very determined, very tough–minded, your grandmother." He scratched his mossy beard. "Anyway, the demon was convinced. He backed down from her. He hated her for that afterward. Hated himself, too. By the time she was finished with him, he didn't want anything to do with her anymore."

Nest tried to imagine Gran confronting the demon, threatening to kill him if he refused to leave her alone. Frail, weary old Gran.

"Now, that's all I'm saying on the subject," Pick interjected heatedly. "If you want to know anything more, ask your grandmother. But I'd think twice about it, if I were you. Just my opinion. Some things are better left alone, and this is one of them. Take my word for it. Let it be."

"The Beatles, 1969?"

"What?"

"Never mind." Nest was sick of the whole subject. Nothing she had heard was making her feel any better. Pick was just irritating her with his refusal to talk about it, but she guessed that he was right, that it should come from Gran. Maybe it was time to ask about her father, too. Maybe it was time to insist on an answer. There were too many secrets in her family, and some of them needed revealing. Didn't she have a right to know?

"I have to be going," Pick announced, rising to his knees on her shoulder. She stopped and looked at his narrow face. His fierce eyes stared back at her. "Just make sure you bring John Ross to the maentwrog's tree so he can have a look for himself at what's happening."

Nest nodded. "I'll bring him up after the picnic."

She lowered Pick to the ground, and he disappeared without a word, vanishing into the grass as if he were an ant. " 'Bye," she murmured at the space he left behind.

She walked on across the grass into the parking lot that fronted the toboggan slide, kicking at rocks and staring at the ground as it passed beneath her feet. Her skin was hot and sticky already. She brushed at her curly damp hair, moving it off her forehead and away from her eyes. She felt awkward and stupid. She hated who she was. She wondered what she could do to change things.

Someone yelled at her from the ball field, and she glanced over. A group of boys was standing by home plate looking at her; she thought it was one of them who had called to her. Worse, she thought it was Danny Abbott. She looked away and kept on walking.

She crossed the parking lot to the toboggan slide and saw Cass and the others grouped at a picnic table under one of the big oaks. Behind them, down the hill, the river flowed with sluggish indifference beyond the levy. A few boats bobbed gently on its surface, their occupants hunched over fishing poles and cans of bait. She strolled over to her friends, trying to appear casual, trying to make herself believe that nothing was different. They were all there‑Cass, Brianna, Robert, and Jared. They looked up as she approached, and she had the feeling they had been talking about her.

"Hey," she said.

"Pete and Repeat are out walking," said Robert, straight–faced. "Pete goes home. Who's left?"

"Elvis?" she asked, squeezing in between Cass and Brianna.

"Nice try. Two guys walk into a bar. One's got a Doberman, the other a terrier. Bartender says …"

"Robert!" snapped Brianna, cutting him short. "Geez!"

"Enough with the jokes," Cass agreed. "They weren't funny the first time, back when Washington was president."

"Oh, big yuck." Robert looked annoyed. "All right, so what are we going to do, then? And don't tell me we're going to spend the day trying to heal any more sick trees." He gave Nest a pointed look. "Especially since we didn't do so well with the last one."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean, it looks terrible." He pushed up his glasses on his nose and brushed back his blond hair. "We walked by it on the way over, and it looks like it's a goner. Whatever we did, it didn't help."

"We could go swimming," Brianna suggested brightly, ignoring him.

Nest shook her head. "I can't. I have to be back by two. How bad is it, Robert?"

"The bark's all split open and oozing something green and there's dead leaves everywhere." He saw the look on Nest's face and stopped. "What's going on? What's this sick–tree business all about?"

Nest took a deep breath and bit her lower lip. "Someone is poisoning the trees in the park," she said, giving a slight edge of truth to what was otherwise an outright lie.

They stared at her. "Why would anyone do that?" Cass asked.

"Because…" She shrugged. "Because they're nuts, I guess."

Robert frowned. "How do you know this?"

"Grandpa told me. He heard it from the park people. I guess it's happened in some other places, too." She was rolling now, sounding very sure of herself. "It's one guy that's doing it. He was seen in another park, so they got a description. Everyone's been looking for him."

Robert frowned some more. "This is the first I've heard of it. My dad never said anything about anyone poisoning trees in the parks. You sure about this?"

Nest gave him a disgusted look. "Of course I'm sure. Why would I say it if I wasn't?"

"So they know what this guy looks like?" Jared asked quietly. He looked tired, as if he hadn't been sleeping well.

"Yep." She glanced at them conspiratorially. "I'll tell you something else, too. Grandpa thinks he might be in the park this weekend. See, sometimes he dresses like a park maintenance man in order not to be noticed. That's how he gets away with poisoning the trees."