It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t look out the window at night without growing uncomfortable. It sat there on the other side of the glass, black and thick, watching, waiting, looking for the smallest opportunity to break into the light and snatch another life out from under his very nose.
Damon turned away from the door, intending to return to the papers in front of him, when the sound of car doors slamming reached his ears.
He glanced at the digital clock on the other side of the room.
7:30 a.m.
Who the hell?
Maybe there was a break in the case, he thought suddenly. Maybe they didn’t want the information to go out over the radio for fear of the press catching wind of it. While he knew it was wishful thinking, Damon’s steps grew lighter, a sense of heady anticipation welling inside him.
The bell sounded, and its echoes hadn’t even faded before he slipped the lock and opened the door.
'Mind if we come in?' Sam asked the Sheriff. 'We really need to talk to you.'
Without a word Damon stepped back, allowing Sam and Katelynn room to step inside. After Sam introduced Katelynn, Damon indicated the hall that led to the living room and they all headed in that direction.
Katelynn took a seat on the sofa, Sam beside her, and, without thinking, Damon chose the seat across from them, the coffee table like an unconscious dividing line between them. It was only after he sat down that Damon felt the first traces of the adversarial nature of their choice of seating, a feeling which grew as his police instincts recognized he’d been right; Sam and his friends did know something about what was happening in Harrington Falls.
Damon spoke first. 'I know I suggested you make an appointment to see me this morning, Mr. Travers, but I didn’t expect to see you this early,' he said lightly, hoping to dispel some of the tension he could feel slowly enveloping them. 'What can I do for you two?'
He watched as they glanced at each other, saw Katelynn nod her head to Sam, and so wasn’t surprised when it was the latter who addressed him in reply. The ball had quite clearly been dropped in Sam’s court.
'Sorry it’s so early, but we needed to speak to you.'
Damon nodded for him to continue.
'I, we, need to tell you a few things, but before we do, we need to get your promise that telling you won’t cause us further trouble. If we don’t get your word on that, I’m afraid we can’t continue.'
Puzzled, Damon stared at the two of them for a moment without answering. Just what had they gotten themselves into?
Cautiously, Damon said, 'As long as whatever it is doesn’t break the law and would therefore violate my oath as an officer, I guess I can agree to that.'
Sam hesitated, and glanced at Katelynn.
'I think that’s the best we’re going to get, Sam. Tell him,' Katelynn replied, and Damon was surprised to hear the pain and resignation in her tone.
Turning to the Sheriff, Sam said bluntly, 'We know what has been committing the murders.'
So shocked was he at the announcement that Damon didn’t pick up on Sam’s choice of words. He leaned forward eagerly in his chair. 'Who?'
Taking a deep breath, Sam told him.
About the statue.
About Gabriel and his tale of the Age of Creation.
About the Nightshade and the attack at Riverwatch.
He told him everything they knew. When he was through it all, Sam told the Sheriff where Jake was headed and what his friend intended to do.
Then he sat back and waited for a response.
For his part. Damon had been running a gauntlet of emotions ever since Sam had started speaking. Now, forty-five minutes later, he didn’t know what to think. He’d started with disbelief, moved to sarcasm, and then developed a deep-rooted conviction that they had both gone crazy. As Sam had continued speaking, this gradually gave way to a surprising sense of belief.
As crazy as it sounded, God help him, it also made a weird kind of sense.
Provided you believed in monsters.
'What, exactly, is it you want me to do?' Damon asked Sam.
'Go with us to Riverwatch. That’s where Jake is headed. If my story is true, you’ll get your shot at the killer that’s been terrorizing this town. If it’s not, I apologize for wasting your time.'
Damon thought about it for a few minutes. What would it hurt to go with them? he asked himself. It was likely they really had seen something out by the river; Sam had not displayed even the slightest sign of lying, something Damon’s trained eyes would have detected instantly. And the fresh wounds on his back and shoulder were certainly proof they’d run into something. It was entirely possible that they had seen the animal that Strickland had been talking about after the autopsies, and had simply let their imagination run away from them. Could he blame then for that, considering the present circumstances?
Damon didn’t think so.
If there was a chance they had actually seen the thing, he was duty bound to look into it.
Besides, it was the only lead he’d had in days.
'Okay. I’ll go with you.'
He stood up and moved to the gun cabinet on the opposite wall. Taking the key ring from his belt, he unlocked the doors and selected a high-powered rifle from the rack within. He reached inside a second time and filled his pockets with spare ammunition for the weapon. If it turned out that Sam was right, Damon did not want to be caught unprotected.
When he was ready, he turned to face them.
'Let’s go have a look at this thing,' he said.
Chapter Thirty-three: First Strike
Jake stared at the Nightshade with a mixture of awe, fear, and dreadful fascination. It was hanging before him, suspended by its feet upside down from one of the ceiling rafters in the garret, its claws gripping the rough wood securely, its body swaying slightly in the light breeze that entered through the open window. The low light from the lantern glistened off the creature’s form, the beast’s scaled hide wet with the dew that gathered during the early morning hours. He could see it was large, probably over six feet when standing. The multiple folds of its wings meant they would probably somewhere over ten feet when fully extended. Now they curled gently about the creature’s body like some kind of protective screen, making it seem the beast had wrapped itself in its own awesome embrace. The Nightshade’s head was tucked down against its chest, the edges of its wings against its temples, and Jake was suddenly glad that he wasn’t going to get a good look at the creature’s face.
Jake set the lantern down slowly, gently, taking care to be as silent as possible, not knowing how good the creature’s senses actually were. Does it know I’m here? he wondered. Can it sense me? Smell me?
With his right hand Jake reached behind his back and slowly withdrew the pistol from the waistband of his jeans, never once taking his eyes off the beast. So far the it hadn’t moved; that was good. Maybe I was right, he thought to himself with sudden hope, maybe the damnable thing goes into hibernation during the day after feeding so much at night. Maybe I’ll be able to end this right here, right now, before it even has a chance to defend itself.
Adrenaline kicked and surged through his system, forcing him to take a more secure grip on the pistol as his hands began to sweat. Slowly, he shifted into the classic shooter’s stance; legs slightly bent and shoulder-width apart, left hand cupped over the bottom of his right, arms extended before him. His sneaker scuffed the floor as he shifted weight and instantly he froze, but the beast never moved, never even flinched. After a long, fear-filled moment, he released the breath he had been holding and prepared to fire.
He surveyed the beast’s form for a moment, settling on the head as his best possible target. He knew he had to make the first shot count, hoping it would be enough to slow down the creature long enough for him to empty
