Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) (7 page)

      The Kruegers both rolled onto their backs, holding their arms around their heads and bellowing in pain. Brandon looked at the two of them for a moment before turning to look for Albert. But Albert was nowhere to be found. He must've run away when the fight started. Brandon didn't blame him, though. That was what he'd told him to do whenever the Kruegers were involved.

      Brandon left the Kruegers on the floor, leaving the gym and heading for class. He spared a thought for the Krueger's father and his warning from before, but wasn't really worried about it. The big man had seemed like just as big a bully as his sons and was probably just as cowardly. He wouldn't do anything but bluff and bluster, Brandon was fairly certain. He put the big man and his twin sons from his mind and focused on getting to class.

      It was lunchtime before Brandon saw Claire. She was waiting at the cafeteria entrance when Brandon got there, dressed in a light blue sweater and jeans. Her eye patch was pink, a round eye staring wide from the center. She smiled when she saw Brandon coming, but her smile slipped away when she saw the expression on his face. She said, stepping forward to take his hand. "I was going to tease you for being late this morning, but you look like it was something bad. What happened?"

      "Nothing important." Brandon said, shaking his head and giving Claire's hand a squeeze. "Have you seen Albert?"

      "He went into the cafeteria a few minutes ago." She looked at him, her single green eye curious and worried. "Have the Kruegers been bothering him again?"

      Brandon didn't say anything. He was watching the street that ran the length of the cafeteria. The street was normally closed during school hours, but a black SUV had gone around the arm blocking the street and cruised slowly past the cafeteria. Brandon watched it go by, cutting around the high school parking lot, and felt a momentary sense of disquiet.

      Claire must've sensed his unease, because she said. "Creepy, right? Dad says it's just a team of State Police with one FBI guy helping them out, but it's still spooky."

      "I know what you mean." Brandon said. They went inside, both trying to forget the black car and what it meant. Brandon couldn't help but think of Phillip and strange incident in the boy's storm cellar. He wondered if the other missing children had been investigating the sound of some poor trapped animal when they went missing? He hoped they hadn't suffered, but he couldn't really fool himself into believing that the grohlm treated children any different than they treated men. He'd seen what they did to the men in his vision and he shuddered to think that they did the same to children.

      In the cafeteria, Brandon and Claire got their food and found a spot off to themselves. Brandon saw Albert across the large room, looking in his direction. The boy saw Brandon looking and dropped his face into his plate, going red. If his arm was hurting him, he didn't show it. Brandon decided that his ears were playing tricks on him when he thought he heard the bone snap. Albert was probably ashamed that he ran, instead of staying to help Brandon. But Brandon didn't blame him. He was glad that Albert had run away, actually. It made it easier for Brandon to fight if he didn't have to worry about somebody besides himself getting hurt.

      When they sat down, Claire leaned over and said. "So, have you decided what we're going to dress up as?  For the Halloween dance, I mean?"

      Brandon blinked at her. "I figured they were going to cancel it, because of the disappearances?"

      Claire shook her head. "No. They're going to go ahead and have it. Some of the parents wanted to cancel, but Mr. Marcus talked them onto going ahead. He said that with all the bad things going on around us, we needed some sort of normalcy, even if it was just a school dance. They're just going to make sure that there are plenty of adults there. Teachers and parents, to watch out for the students coming and going."

      Brandon shook his head. "They should have canceled it. There's no way that they can watch all the kids, all the time."

      Claire leaned over. She said, smiling at him. "Guess we'll have to go then, huh?"

      Brandon frowned at her. "I'll have to go, you mean? You're going to stay home. And be safe and warm, while I'm playing bodyguard to a cafeteria full of kids."

      "Oh, really? And how EXACTLY are you going to stop me from going? And I suppose I'll need your permission to leave my house too? Maybe you should choose who I vote for too?" She arched an eyebrow at him, her smile frosty. Before he could respond, she broke into fond laugher. "Just wanted you to hear how sexist you just sounded just then, my love. But, seriously, I am going." Claire ate a bit of French fry and said. "I could help. An extra set of eyes could mean the difference between life and death. Well, one extra eye can't hurt." She grinned crookedly.

      "I know." Brandon said, looking at her. He smelled jasmine in her hair as it brushed his shoulder. "But I won't be able to focus as well if I'm worried about you all night."

      "Then don't worry about me." Claire said. She tossed her hair and looked at him. Her smile was wan and beautiful. "If it wasn't for you and your uncle, Emily would be dead. I want to help. And you can use me. You know you can."

      Brandon didn't say anything for a moment. He just looked at Claire and thought of the way her lips felt against his. The way they tasted. She met his gaze for a second then dropped her eye, her cheeks going a little bit pink. Brandon said. "I don't want to use you, Claire. But if you want to help, I guess I can't stop you."

      Her smile lit up her face. "Good. Because I have the perfect idea for our costumes."

      Brandon blinked at her. "Perfect?"

      The sun was a bright ball in the sky overhead when the radio crackled to life on Faux's hip, cutting through the uneasy hush hanging over the woods around him. Teague's voice came low and clear. "We may have found something. Over."

      Faux thumbed the radio and spoke into the microphone clipped to his shirt collar. "Copy. I'll head your way." He stood in the middle of the woods, flanked by searchers on either side of him. The men looked to him for direction, so he keyed his radio. "Everybody else hold position until we give the all clear. Stay within sight of each other and come running if your hear gunfire."

      A chorus of "Copy"s came across as Faux moved off in Teague's direction. Or, at least, the direction he thought the acting chief had went. After a couple of minutes of walking and searching, it was Teague who ended up finding him. He called out from where he stood by a tangled copse of trees and brambles. As Faux walked up, Teague crouched and pointed at what looked like a hidden dugout. Covered by broken branches and torn vines, prickly with thorns.

      Faux hunkered down next to Teague and said. "What have you got, Chief?"

      "Acting chief." He said, by rote, before pointing at what looked like the entrance of a tunnel. "I have a feeling we're going to find more dugouts like this all through the woods. The mountains around here have been all mined out. For coal, mostly, though there was iron too. The woods and hills are riddled with caves and sinkholes, perfect for something to hide out in."

      "Shit." Faux said, standing and eyeing the woods around them. It was colder than yesterday, but the sun overhead cut some of the bite out of the wind gusting through the trees, making the back of his neck break out in gooseflesh. He looked at Teague and shook his head. "You know what this means, right?"

      Teague nodded. "We go in after them or we draw them out to us. Either way, men will die."

      "What about gas? Some kind of poison?" Faux asked. "Just toss a couple of canisters into the hole and smoke them out?"

      Teague appeared to consider this for the briefest moment, then shook his head. "It would take calling in Game and Wildlife, maybe even the Corps of Engineers, and there's no way the town council is going to approve that. Unless you have some way to get a hold of a few barrels of pesticide we can use?"

      Faux just shook his head and looked at the ground. He studied the tunnel mouth for a long time before looking up, saying. "There's no way we go underground and not lose somebody."

      Teague said. "I agree."

      "Then we call it a day" Faux said. "Regroup at my hotel later this evening and figure out how we go about drawing these bastards out."

      Teague gave a tight nod before getting on his radio to start reeling in the search party. Faux knelt beside the dugout and peered into the pitch darkness. It wasn't hard to imagine there was something staring back out at him. But was that whispered sound, like raspy laughter, in his mind? Or was it something worse? Something real?

CHAPTER 7

      Brandon was trying on his costume when Gerrick knocked on his bedroom door and came inside. When the older man saw the green leotard and dark green tunic, his craggy face broke into his version of a grin. "Am I interrupting something?"

      Brandon shook his head. "Just seeing how ridiculous I look in my Halloween costume." He stepped back and posed in front the tall stand mirror that he borrowed from the upstairs guest bathroom. He stood with his fists on his hips, posing heroically. He said. "What do you think? Pretty stupid, eh?"

      "Peter Pan? Sort of ironic, isn't it? Here I am, trying to teach you to be an adult, and you're dressed up as the boy who never grew up." Gerrick crossed his arms and gave his head a rueful shake. "I take it Claire is dressing up as Wendy?"

      "Tinkerbell." Brandon said. He adjusted the belt cinched around his waist and bent to lace up his boots. He was impressed that Gerrick had been able to guess who he was supposed to be. Brandon thought that he looked more like Robin Hood than Peter Pan. He picked up the plastic sword that came with the costume and looked at Gerrick.

      Gerrick smiled again and said. "I might have something better, depending on how well you do in your training tonight?"

      Brandon nodded. "Then let's get to it. Just let me change."

      Brandon stood across from Gerrick, the candlelight reflecting off of the sweat glistening on his chest, and raised his wooden practice sword. The sword felt like it weighed fifty pounds and the tip tried to dip toward the ground, though Brandon didn't let it drop far.

      Gerrick waited for him, balanced on the balls of his feet, his own practice sword held in an attack stance. He wasn't even breathing hard. He stepped sideways, sliding into another stance, and the blade of his sword flickered forward and swept in at Brandon's head.

      Brandon snapped his own blade up and caught the other. Sweeping around and dropping low, he counter attacked and cut at Gerrick's legs. Gerrick hopped above the sweeping bundle of wooden lathes and tapped his own blade against Brandon's shoulder. It was a light tap, but still stung. Brandon had done well not to get tapped very often this evening, though there were small whelps in about a half a dozen places on his chest, back, and arms.

      Brandon twisted, his blade missing the back of Gerrick's leg by an inch, and danced back a step. Gerrick went on the offensive, his wooden blade a blur as he moved forward.

      Brandon danced backwards, his blade moving on its own to block each strike that came his way. His mind was empty. The little lock box holding all of his fear and doubt closed up tight. He was getting better at achieving emptiness, though it was still difficult to maintain it while fighting Gerrick. The man was just too good with a sword. Brandon did his best to defend from every strike, but he still ended up taking a solid hit to the chest at the end of the attack.

      Gerrick stepped back, letting his sword drop, and said. "That's enough for tonight, I think."

      Brandon stepped back. Using his free hand to massage his chest, he nodded and said. "I'm not going to argue." He started for the patio, leaving Gerrick standing in the center of the circle, but stopped when his uncle spoke behind him.

      "What's left of Matheson's police force is planning a hunt on Halloween night." Gerrick said, bending and putting out the candles. He stopped and looked up at Brandon. "I'm going to shadow them and try to minimize any chance encounters with the grohlm."

      Brandon said. "Do you want me to help?"

      "No." Gerrick said. "I want you to go to the Halloween dance, like you planned. Keep your eyes open and watch out for anything strange. I don't expect the grohlm to try anything at the school. It's too open. Not enough cover."

      "And if they do?" Brandon asked.

      "You'll handle it." Gerrick said. He stepped around Brandon and went into the house. Brandon followed, carrying his practice sword. Inside, Gerrick looked at Brandon and said. "I have something for you. Something to complete your costume."

      Brandon followed Gerrick out of the kitchen and through the house. They went to the weapons room. Gerrick picked up a short ornamental sword with cursive looking runes carved into the blade and handed it to Brandon. It had a supple leather sheath that belted at the waist. Brandon looked at the blade, then at his uncle. "There's no way I can take this to school with me."

      Gerrick said. "I called Principal Marcus while you were changing. He is going to allow you to wear it, but you'd do best not to let anyone else know that the blade is real."

      Brandon nodded. "No problem." He sheathed the sword and met his uncle's gaze. "Let's hope that I don't have to use it."

      "Let's hope so."

      Claire stood in her room, examining herself in a mirror much like the one that Brandon had in his room at Highgarden. The dress fit surprisingly well for a costume she found on the rack at Wal-Mart. She had tossed aside the flimsy plastic belt that came with it, replacing it with a supple leather belt of her own. Unlike Brandon, the dagger sheathed on her hip was made of plastic. But its lack of realness didn't spoil the illusion in the least. She had her long golden locks pinned up and her bangs were teased out to look exactly like Tinkerbell's. Her hair wasn't perfectly coifed, but it looked very close to what she wanted it to look like the following night.

      Her mother came into the room carrying a pair of glittery fairy wings. She said. "I did the best I could, but I want your opinion?" She held them out, extending them so that Claire could examine the intricate scroll work and the pretty lace edging.

      Claire loved it and told her mother so. "They're beautiful!" She reached to grab them, but her mother pulled them back and eyed the hem of her skirt.

      She said. "You don't think that skirt might be just a tad short? It's supposed to be cold tomorrow night, you know?" Her tone was just oh so casual.

      Claire suppressed a sigh and smiled at her mother. "It really was the only one I found that even halfway fit. But, if it will make you feel better, I was planning on wearing tights with it."

      Her mom just laughed and shook her head, handing over the wings and turning to leave. Claire resisted the urge to stick out her tongue and stepped back in front of the mirror. Getting the wings on and situated took a minute, but soon she was posing in front of the mirror. She made duck faces at the mirror and practiced some of Tinkerbell's signature poses. The dress might have been a little snug in the hips but she didn't mind. Otherwise, it was perfect. She was tempted to take a selfie or two, but didn't. She was still getting used to Brandon not having a cell phone. She wasn't sure what she would do without hers. Though, lately, her's was nothing more than a glorified calculator and camera. She had gone whole days now without having a signal that was worth a damn. She could text usually, but actually making a phone call was hit or miss.

      She did a slow pirouette, holding her arms out as she spun in a circle and laughed aloud. She knew that being happy while surrounded by so much darkness and uncertainty could maybe be took as a sign of being crazy, but she didn't care. Just thinking about Brandon made her feel so good inside. So safe.

      So loved.

      Without warning, the room around her sank into shadow. The light above and from her bedside lamp dimmed and was extinguished by the growing shadows. Claire slowed her spinning until she finally stopped in front of the mirror, the only thing in the room still visible. The air in her bedroom was chilly, clammy against her arms and legs, and raised goosebumps on her bare skin.

      She knew that she should have been panicking. She didn't know what was happening. She could have been having a seizure? For all she knew, she was lying on her bedroom floor, convulsing and choking on her own tongue. Or it could be something far worse?

      The Curse.

      Brandon's enemy could have decided to strike at Brandon through her? Attacking her with some kind of dark twisted magic?

      But neither of those were the answer. She wasn't panicking. She wasn't on the floor or being attacked. She didn't know why or how she could be so sure this was the case, but she was. Whatever was happening was real and it was something that she had caused herself. Maybe by letting herself fall into a daydream about Brandon? Thinking about their love for one another?

      She stood in front of the mirror, not the least bit surprised that she couldn't see herself in it. Instead, she saw a bird's eye view of the town of Matheson. The view wasn't static. It dipped and rushed toward the earth, flying low over the rooftops. Claire's stomach lurched with the illusion of movement and she realized she was no longer standing in front of her mirror. She was flying through the air, as light and formless as the darkness that enveloped her. Below her, the low slung rooftops of the town gave way to the treetops of the Briar Woods.

      She dropped ever lower, flashing through the tangled branches of trees that were old before the town was born. Lower, Now scraping the forest floor, scattering leaves and pine needles in her wake, she chased after darting shadows. Trailing the evil that fouled her world as it slipped through the forest like a poison in its bloodstream, she had only the barest notion of self as the vision took her completely.

      One of the lurking shadows moved into the moonlight, revealing a nightmare mix of bird and man. Its hooked beak was crusted with black dried blood and its eyes were large black pools that reflected the light. The thing stopped and tested the air with a jerk of its head, seeming to sense Claire's presence. The tiny part of herself that still existed within the vision pulled back in sudden fear, but the thing dropped its head and continued into the forest.

      The vision lurched and spun, carrying her deeper into the forest. Past narrow streams and thick tangled copses of trees, deep into the heart of the Briar Woods, until Claire was in a place that hadn't seen a living human being in twenty years. Breaking through a heavy barrier of broken trees and thorns, she found herself in a sudden clearing. Hidden from above by a screen of overlapping branches, the clearing was about twenty paces across. In the center stood a circle of tall stones. Some were whole while others were broken and jagged, fragments of shattered rock littered around their base.

      She moved toward the stone circle and there was a rough hole cut into one side, leading down into the earth. Down into the hole she went, flying along a staircase made of pitted stone, deeper and deeper into the earth. The spiraling descent was pitch black at first, but soon a strange light began to brighten Claire's surroundings. It seemed to emanate from the walls, casting a golden glow on the surrounding stone and the doors that had begun to appear every so often. Each door was identical, except for different symbols carved into the ancient looking wood.

      The vision shivered around her, temporarily returning her to her bedroom, before snapping back into place. Claire stood in front of a door, the symbol marred by a bloody hand print, and watched it swing open, revealing yet another vision. She saw herself standing in the middle of an open field. She was alone. She held a brightly glowing sword in her hands. All around her, thousands of monsters were howling and rushing at her with their weapons out and waving above their horrible heads.

      Claire watched the horde crash down onto the lonely figure below, extinguishing the light from the burning blade, and felt despair in her heart. If their was a deeper meaning to the vision before her, Claire couldn't see it. But she felt it.

      She was in danger.

      A light bloomed in the darkness below, sparking between the lashing claws and snapping teeth, and Claire felt a flutter of hope stir in her breast. The lone girl below slashed and stabbed and battered her way to the top of the heap. A bright and shining light in the darkness.

      Then she looked up at the sky, meeting the gaze of the invisible thing hovering above her, and the vision shattered.

      Claire hit her knees, gasping for breath. She stared at her bedroom floor for a long time before pushing herself back to her feet. She avoided looking at the mirror as she made her way to her bathroom and knelt on the floor beside the toilet. She sat like that for a long time, wanting to throw up, but not able to do it.

      The vision was still vivid inside her head. She felt she could still see the darkness creeping in the corner of her eye. She didn't know what was happening to her. Why she was suddenly seeing things and spouting out the kind of stuff you usually expected to see on a little slip of paper taken from a broken cookie? It had started when Brandon came into her life, she knew that, but it wasn't anything that he did on purpose. She loved him, nothing had ever been more clear to her, but the magic surrounding him was touching the other people in his life. Changing them. Into what, she did not know. But she knew that whatever happened in the next few months, Matheson and the people that dwelled there would never be the same.