Terry Brooks - Running With The Demon

"Oh, that's a nasty piece of work!" Pick spit indignantly. "Your grandmother would have been a match for him once. More than a match for him, fact of the matter is. I told you as much. Would have split him up the middle if he'd tried something like this!"

Nest knelt at the windowsill, her face even with his. "So why didn't she, Pick?" she asked. "She always said she had magic, that we both did. Why didn't she use it?"

Pick scrunched up his seamed face, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, his mouth disappearing into his beard. "I don't know. She wouldn't have needed a shotgun if she'd had the magic. She was powerful, Nest–strong–minded and able. She'd studied on her magic; she'd learned how to use it. She might not have been as strong as he was, but he would have come out of a fight with her with a whole lot less skin! And there wasn't a sign of her magic amid the leavings of his!" He rubbed his beard. "Truth is, I haven't seen her use it in a long time–not in a very long time, girl. Not since your mother…"

He trailed off, staring at her as if seeing her in a new light.

"What?" she asked quickly.

"Well, I don't know," he answered vaguely. "I was just wondering."

She let the matter drop, choosing instead to tell him about the note. She took it out of her pocket and unfolded it so that he could see that it was Gran's writing, and then she read it to him. When he heard the words, his face underwent a strange transformation. "Criminy," he whispered.

"What is it?" she demanded. "Stop making me guess what you're thinking, Pick!"

"Well, it's just that…" He shook his head slowly, his lips still moving, but no sound coming out.

"Why would the demon be coming after me?" she pressed, poking at him insistently with her finger.

Then the bedroom door opened, and her grandfather looked' in. Pick disappeared instantly. Nest stood up, smoothing down the front of her T-shirt, composing her face.

"Your friends are at the back door," her grandfather said. "I think you ought to see them."

Reluctantly Nest came out of the bedroom and followed him down the hall. The old grandfather clock marked the cadence of their steps. As they passed the living room, she glanced in at the pictures of her mother and Gran resting on the fireplace mantel. Gran's cross–stitch project rested on the arm of the old easy chair, unfinished. Her crosswords sat in a pile on the floor beside the chair. There were small pieces of her everywhere. Dull slants of gray light wedged their way through the drawn curtains and window shades, but the room felt musty and empty of life.

In the kitchen, dozens of containers of food sat unattended on the table and counters like forgotten guests. Her grandfather slowed and looked vaguely at the array of dishes. "I better see to this. You go on outside. It might be more private for you in the backyard."

She went the rest of the way down the hall to the screen door and opened it. Robert, Cass, and Brianna stood waiting for her. Cass held a bouquet of daisies, mums, and marigolds.

"Hey," she said by way of greeting.

"Hey," they replied in jumbled unison.

Cass passed her the flowers, dark eyes bright with tears. "Sorry about Gran, Nest. We'll all miss her."

"She was the best," Brianna agreed, wiping at her nose.

Robert shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at his shoes in a way that suggested he had never seen them before.

"Thanks for coming by." Nest sniffed at the flowers automatically. "These are really pretty."

"Well, daisies were always her favorite," Cass said.

"You remember when she laid into me for cutting down that stand out back?" Robert asked suddenly. He seemed surprised he had said something and gave Nest a quick, hopeful look. "Man, she was upset. But when you told her I was taking them home to my mom, she said right away that it was all right, and she took us inside and gave us milk and cookies. Remember?"

"I remember when she helped me make that Cinderella costume for Halloween when I was six," Brianna said, smiling. "She did most of the work, but she told my mom we did it together."

"I still can't believe she's gone," Cass said.

They were silent a moment, and then Robert said, "What happened to her anyway, Nest? There's all kinds of stories floating around."

Nest crossed her arms defensively. "She had a heart attack." She tried to think what else she could say. Her gaze shifted away from Robert and back again. "I suppose you heard about the shotgun."

Robert shrugged. "Everybody's talking about that part, and you can guess what some of them are saying. But my dad says people will talk no matter who you are or what you do, so you might as well get used to it."

"People are mean," Brianna said to no one in particular.

No one spoke, eyes shifting uneasily in the silence.

"Thanks for not leaving me last night." Nest tried to change the subject. "You know, for getting Grandpa to come back over and find me."

She told them what had happened to her, only leaving out the part about the demon, then adding at the end that she was all right, no harm had been done, and they should all forget about it.

"What about the man who's poisoning the trees?" Brianna said, her brow knit anxiously.

Nest shook her head. "I don't know. He's still out there."

"Danny Abbott is a butt–face." Robert muttered angrily. "You should have let me punch hirri out when I had the chance, Nest."

Hearing him say it made her smile. She came through the doorway, and the four of them walked out into the shady backyard and sat down at the old picnic table. Thick, gray clouds floated overhead, drifting out of the west where the sky was already darkening. Rain was on the way, sure enough. In the' park, the first of the softball games had started up. Families were arriving by the carloads to set up their picnic lunches and to settle in for the day's events and the evening's fireworks. Nest watched a line of cars crawl down Sinnissippi Road past the townhomes.

"Where's Jared?" she asked, wondering for the first time why he was missing. No one said anything. Nest saw the discomfort mirrored in their faces. "What's wrong? Where is he?"

"He's in the hospital, Nest," Cass said, her eyes lifting. "That's what we came to tell you. It was on the news this morning, but we thought maybe you hadn't heard."

"George Paulsen beat him up real bad," Brianna said softly.

"He beat him within an inch of his life!" growled Robert, shoving back his shock of blond hair aggressively. "The jerk."

Nest felt her stomach go cold and her throat tighten. She shook her head slowly, awash in disbelief.

"I guess it happened right after your grandpa sent us home," Cass explained. Her round face was filled with pain, and her dark eyes blinked rapidly. "Jared came in the door, and George

got mad at him for something and hit him. Jared hit him back, and then George really unloaded."

"Yeah, and then he runs off before the police arrive." Robert's face was flushed with anger. "But it didn't do him much good. He fell trying to climb the cemetery fence and tore his throat open on the exposed ends. Bled to death before anyone could reach him. My dad says it's the best thing that could have happened to him."

Nest felt a vast, empty place open inside. "How's Jared?"

Cass shook her head. "He's in a coma. It's pretty bad."

"Mom says he might die," Brianna said.

Nest swallowed and fought to keep the tears from coming. "He can't die."

"That's what I said," Robert agreed quickly. "Not Jared. He's just gone away, like he does sometimes. He'll be back when he's feeling better." He looked away quickly, as if embarrassed by what he had said.

Nest brushed at her eyes, remembering the shy way Jared always looked at her. She struggled to bring herself under control. "Why would George Paulsen do something like that?"