Unearthed, p.33
Unearthed, page 33
part #4 of Southern Watch Series
*
The ride back had been rough, but there was nothing for it. It had to be done; either that, or take Hendricks to a hospital, and Arch hadn’t been ready to cave to that idea just yet. He suspected Hendricks wouldn’t have cared for it either, and since Dr. Darlington hadn’t protested, back to the house they went, Hendricks splayed out in the back seat with Darlington fussing over him the whole time.
When they pulled into the driveway, Bill and Brian were outside on the porch, silent. Arch hadn’t cared for the thought of Brian sticking his nose into this, and it was something of a relief that he hadn’t bought into the concept of demons. It hadn’t exactly been surprising, though. Brian was far from salt of the earth; more like dust of the stars, too far out to even consider a concept like demons as reality. Unfortunately, Arch suspected, the man was going to have evidence thrust upon him in due time.
Everyone in Midian would, if this kept going the way it was.
When Duncan pulled up and threw the car into park, Arch was out lickety-split. He opened the door and saw Dr. Darlington already prying herself out of the space between the seats where she’d been sitting. He offered her a hand, and it was predictably ignored as she struggled to get her narrow frame out of the back seat. She made it in due time, and wobbled as she regained her balance. “Careful with him,” she said.
“I’ll let Duncan do the carrying,” Arch said.
“That guy carries the big cowboy all by himself?” Brian asked helpfully from the porch, descending a few steps behind his father. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Is he alive?” Bill asked, loping toward Arch. He didn’t limp, but he looked stiff, like he’d been idle too long on settled joints.
“He is,” Arch said as Duncan swept past him, grabbing Hendricks under the arms and gently pulling him headfirst out of the car. “Not sure how long that will last, though. Doctor?”
“He’s stable-ish,” Darlington said, all business. “I have no idea what’s been done to him, but his pulse is normal, he doesn’t seem to be laboring under anything but some serious bruises and phalangeal amputations.”
“The—wait, what?” Brian asked, troubling himself to come around the door to see for himself as Duncan slid Hendricks out and cradled him like a baby, lifting him into the air. “Whoa.” His eyes widened at the display of the OOC’s strength. Duncan looked unassuming to Arch, too, but he’d long since learned to stop with the assumptions. “And now I see it. Nice lift, bro.”
“I’m going to put him upstairs,” Duncan said, heading toward the porch. The long grass brushed against Arch’s legs, streaking his pants with dew as he followed the OOC toward the house. He could feel it through the dirty denim, his knees still dusty from where he’d knelt last night to fire the rifle.
“Gently,” Dr. Darlington said, hurrying to follow the demon and Arch. She had that aura of irritation that always seemed to bubble up around Arch, and she was laboring to not fall behind them too far. “His torso has suffered serious bruising. Internal injuries are still a possibility.” Hendricks groaned in pain. “Also, broken ribs. I need to assess once we get him inside.”
“If he’s got broken ribs,” Arch said, “won’t you assessing—which I take to mean pressing on them—hurt like hell?”
“Pain’s not bad,” Dr. Darlington said, looking crossly at him, “at least not in and of itself.”
“How long does something like broken ribs put a man out?” Bill asked, trailing them.
“Weeks of recovery,” Darlington said. “Probably more, given the toes. He’s not going to be walking right ever again. Toes are the things that propel our motion.”
“Damn,” Bill said mildly as Arch entered the house behind Duncan, who eased through the threshold with utmost care. “That means he’s out for the season, I reckon.”
“He’s alive?” Alison’s faint voice reached out from behind the curtain. “Is he alive?”
“He’s alive,” Arch said.
There was a sound of movement behind the sheet, and Alison’s small fingers pulled it aside a moment later. “Bring him in here,” she said, looking fatigued, dark circles under her eyes. The reporter, Belzer, inches behind her, looked pained, as if he wasn’t sure if he should intercede to get her back to bed or not. “Don’t carry him upstairs. I’ll move.”
“You should be sleeping,” Dr. Darlington said—again, crossly, not to Arch’s surprise.
“Shoulda woulda coulda,” Alison said, crawling on all fours to get out from under the sheet, which fell back behind her. “I feel better by worlds.”
Duncan didn’t even spare a moment to argue, just headed right for the sheet and knocked it aside like so much frilly lace. It fell back into position with a sweep as the OOC knelt to deliver the cowboy to the mattress. Without the coat, the hat and the boots, he didn’t look much like a cowboy, though. He was still wearing the formalwear pants which, in Arch’s opinion, had looked out of place on him even before they had been bloodied and torn.
“What do we do now?” Bill asked. “Go after the duchess?”
“Can’t,” Arch said, standing behind the sheet like it was an impenetrable barrier. He had mixed feelings about crossing it, so instead he walked over to where Alison was leaning against one of the few undamaged segments of wall, back on her feet but not looking like she could stand without aid. “Duncan says Hendricks’s word counts in a demon court about as much as a cow’s testimony would weigh in ours.”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” Bill said, hand on his chin, “not to be too snide.”
“You’re talking about demon courts,” Brian said, lingering at the back of the conversation, “it’s impossible to be too snide right now.”
The sheet moved again, and Belzer fumbled his way out, looking more than a little embarrassed. “Any chance you’d care to elaborate on this concept of ‘demon courts’?”
“No,” Arch said.
“Fuck no,” Bill said.
“I’ll tell you everything your keyboard-jockey heart has ever desired to know about the subject,” Brian said seriously. “Starting with … there’s no such thing as demons.” He switched from faux serious to lighthearted about halfway through, and Belzer’s expression turned sour.
“There are demons in this world,” Belzer said. “It’s a real thing.”
“How about … no,” Brian said.
“What do we do, Arch?” Bill asked as Dr. Darlington disappeared behind the sheet. “Hendricks is out of the fight. The lady who put him there seems to have won this round.” Arch turned to look at his father-in-law. “Do we go back for another?”
Arch looked toward the sheet, thought about Duncan inside. His answer came out independent of the OOC’s thoughts and feelings. “I don’t think so. Maybe we should count our blessings that her little trap didn’t turn out worse for us than it did. Because she definitely saw us coming.”
“You will need to fight her,” came a voice from behind him, causing Arch to swivel. He knew that voice, that flat inflection, and wasn’t surprised to see the glow of her fire-red hair in the back of the room.
“What the—?” Brian asked, swiveling to see the figure of the woman at his shoulder. “When did she get here?” He looked toward the door. “I didn’t even hear the hinges squeak. Was she hiding in the basement?”
“Doubtful,” Arch said, turning to face her head-on. “What do you want, Starling? Haven’t you done enough damage here?”
Starling cocked her head, pale face almost aglow in the early morning light that was just starting to make its way through the windows of the kitchen. “I seek to bring you warning.”
“You sought to bring him a warning not that long ago,” Arch said, feeling a slow burn of temper rolling up inside. “Motivated him to do something real stupid in the process, sent him after a woman he couldn’t possibly stop.”
Starling just stared at him, as though he’d said nothing, but when she spoke, he knew she was listening. “He will stop her.”
“Oh, will he?” Arch asked. “Because right now, it doesn’t look like he’s going to be up on his feet anytime soon.”
“He needs to rise again,” Starling said.
“Why?” Bill asked, stepping in. “Because you didn’t get him close enough to killed last time? Want him to go that last mile?”
“I mean him no harm,” Starling said, now looking at Bill.
“Well, regardless of what you meant, harm came anyway,” Arch said.
“Wow, this is all really super interesting,” Brian said, staring at Starling. “But what the fuck is up with this girl’s eyes?” She looked at him and he waved a hand in front of her face. “Is anyone else seeing this? It’s like looking into a disco ball or something—”
“Brian,” Bill said, fury oozing out, “you’re high. Shut up and sit down.”
“What?” Brian asked, looking around, almost alarmed. “I’m so not—at the moment,” he added in the end. “Does no one else see this? Really? Because this is—I mean, I’m not saying demon, because that’s bullshit, but this is some weird-ass—”
“Shut it,” Arch said to his brother-in-law.
“Is she a demon?” Belzer asked. Arch could feel the reporter practically breathing over his shoulder. “Should you be fighting her?”
“Tempted,” Arch said.
“Mighty tempted,” Bill agreed. “But I’ve seen what she can do, and I’m not that interested in the outcome.”
“Starling,” Alison said from her place against the wall, “why did you set Hendricks against Katlin Elizabeth?” Every word seemed to be a struggle for her to get it out, and Arch moved toward her, but she waved him off. “Why would you do that?”
“He would have gone after her anyway,” Starling said. “He had to. Just as you have to.”
“I ain’t got to do anything I don’t care to,” Bill said.
“She will destroy—” Starling began.
“Please don’t say the world,” Alison said, “because that refrain is getting tiring.”
Duncan made his way out from behind the curtain. “How would Katlin Elizabeth end the world?”
Starling’s dusky eyes, looking nothing but shrouded to Arch and not remotely like a disco ball, fell on the OOC. “She plans to unite the Rog’tausch. This will culminate in—”
“Oh, fuckkkkkkkkk,” Duncan said, bowing his head and uttering frustration to the floorboards. “The fucking Rog’tausch. It would be the—”
“What’s a rug toss?” Brian asked. “Flip the toupee on the baldy? Because the carnival took all the games when they left town—”
“Rog’tausch,” Starling corrected. “The—”
“End of the world,” Arch said, “yeah, we got that. But how?” He looked to Duncan, who had just raised his eyes again, looking miserable. “What is it?”
The OOC sighed, a very un-Duncan-like sound. “I don’t know for a fact it comes to the end of the world, but it’s been said that the Rog’tausch could lead to it. At the very least … get ready for destruction. Because the Rog’tausch is one of the ancients, a near-invincible demon juggernaut that is purposed for one thing—laying to waste anything in its path.”
“And the duchess is uniting it here, of course,” Alison said, “because there’s nowhere else on earth that needs to be wrecked like Midian.”
“There is yet time,” Starling said. “The pieces are not assembled—”
“There are pieces?” Brian asked. “Like a puzzle?”
“The Rog’tausch was dismembered by demons during the last war,” Duncan said.
“Iraq?” Brian asked. “Afghanistan?” He smirked. “So hard to keep track—”
“The last demon war,” Duncan said, letting his annoyance shine through. “Thousands of years ago. He was torn apart by a council of demons with incredible strength, because they weren’t ready for the Armageddon the Rog’tausch was set to bring.” The OOC cringed. “For humans … he’ll be well nigh unstoppable.”
“This is way better than daytime television,” Brian said.
“How do we stop him?” Alison asked.
“Before he’s put together,” Duncan said. “We need to stop Katlin Elizabeth.”
“And to stop her,” Starling said, “you will need Hendricks. Hendricks and one other thing.”
“Just one thing?” Bill asked. “Well that sounds promisingly easy.”
“Really?” Dr. Darlington’s voice sounded from behind the curtain. “Because the view from over here makes it look impossible. I can assure you that this man is out of the fight for the time being.”
“Not necessarily,” Starling said.
Arch blanched unintentionally. “You want to brew a potion for the man? Be my guest.”
“She’s not serious,” Duncan said. “Definitely not serious.”
“I am always serious,” Starling said.
“And are you a demon?” Belzer asked. “Because—”
“Little man,” Duncan said, stepping over to Belzer, fury lingering around him like rainclouds, “I have had about enough of your inquiries. If you can’t make like a fly on the wall, right now, you’d better be ready to get swatted.”
“He needs the serum,” Starling said.
“Wait a minute,” Arch said.
Duncan turned his head to stare at her. “You know there are consequences. Even if he can get Spellman to give him some … this is his third time, by my count.”
“The cost is a pittance,” Starling said.
“Easy to say when you’re not the one paying it,” Duncan said.
“What’s the cost?” Arch asked. “And you said we couldn’t even get to this Spellman—”
“Oh, you can get to him,” Duncan said, looking right at Arch. “You can definitely get to him.”
“But you can’t?” Arch asked.
“Nope,” Duncan said and looked away with a little rueful laugh. “Not I.”
“You must go to him,” Starling said, and Arch realized she was speaking directly to him.
“Why me?” Arch asked. “Why not anyone else?”
“Because you believe,” Starling said into the quiet that follows.
“Because the idea of tempting you, Christian,” Duncan said, “is like ice cream to freaks like Spellman. He wants you—your soul, everything he can get from you. Like leaving your spiritual car in a bad neighborhood, you come back and it’s up on blocks, nothing but the chassis—and that’s if you’re lucky.”
Arch gave it a moment’s thought. “And if I’m not lucky?”
Duncan looked right at him, but it almost seemed like he was looking through him. “Then there won’t going to be enough left of you to even deliver the serum to Hendricks.”
12.
Reeve had a surprising moment of relief when County Administrator Pike stepped into his office. That was a first. Every other time before the last that the man had stopped in, Reeve had expected and received nothing but grief. Pike’s hesitancy was a change that bordered on the surreal, and Reeve found he didn’t mind at all.
“Have a seat,” Reeve said, waving toward one of the chairs. “Want some coffee?”
“You’re in early,” Pike said, dropping his thin frame into one of the visitor chairs across the desk from Reeve. “And don’t mind if I do.”
“Donna,” Reeve called and saw his wife already in motion. “No rest for the wicked, as I’m sure you know.”
“You’ve been a very bad boy, then,” Pike said. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this, unannounced. I figured I’d be waiting in the parking lot until you dragged in, maybe head out to Surrey’s to fill the time.”
“No, you caught me at my desk,” Reeve said, “and it’s been a hell of a night, but luckily one that was absent fatalities.”
“Fortune smiles,” Pike said, delivering a half-hearted smile of his own as Donna stepped in to hand him a cup as brown as the coffee within. Steam curled up out of the top. “And you—why, you almost seem happy to see me.”
“I admit we’ve had our differences,” Reeve said, trying to keep to the polite side of the line. The business with Arch was dragging him down, but he didn’t want to leave that stink all over his office by bringing it up. “But your statement of support meant a lot. Reminded me that we’re all in this together, that no one wants to see Midian go down in flames.”
“Indeed,” Pike said, taking a sip and cringing, like it burned his mouth. “Whew. Hot.”
“Take her easy, there,” Reeve said, leaning back in his chair. His own cup had cooled a long time ago. “So … what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to talk to you about our latest opportunity,” Pike said.
Reeve stared at him, not quite sure what to say. “Excuse me?” he finally got out.
“JFK had this thing he said in a speech—inauguration speech, maybe?” Pike paused, looking upward for recall. “Anyhow, the gist—in Chinese script, the word ‘crisis’ is only a pen stroke away from the word for ‘opportunity.’”
“I think you might want to hold off on using that in a speech to the public,” Reeve said, tasting the bitter swirl of cold coffee between his lips as he took a sip. “Not a whole lot of people in Midian are going to be too jazzed about the ‘opportunities’ that have come our way lately. Well, no one outside the funerary services industry, in any case. I suppose they’re awash in ‘opportunity’ at the moment.”
“Everyone sees crises,” Pike said, “when what we should be looking for is the innate opportunity to turn things around.”
Reeve just stared at him, and withheld the thought that floated to mind: Is he fucking serious?
“I can tell you’re struggling with this,” Pike said, “and that’s fine. Almost everyone would. These are dire times, the news is not improving—”
“Well it’s been a few days since we’ve had a mass slaughter,” Reeve said, trying to think on his feet. “That’s … something, I guess.”
“It’s something,” Pike agreed. “So … here’s our opportunity. We need to unite the community.”
