The Awakening

'Then I need you to stay here, with the doors locked and the engine running. No, don't argue.'

He closed his mouth against the automatic protests.

'If anyone shows up, anyone suspicious, drive away, but only go around the block and then come back. If you aren't here when I come back out of the woods, I'll hide and wait for you, okay?'

'This isn't a very nice part of town.'

So much for him playing sidekick. 'No shit, but you'll be safe enough. I promise.'

Big eyes turned to her. 'You'd feel it if anyone tried to hurt me?'

Hell, she honestly didn't know. It came down to that contrast of commonplace evil versus the deviant, preternatural evil. If a bully came after Mort, a drug dealer or a punk from a gang, that'd be an everyday type of crime, and she might not have a clue. 'Look, just keep the doors locked and pay attention, and nothing can hurt you, right?'

His bony shoulders straightened. 'Right. I'll be here, Gaby. I won't let you down.'

She did not want him to take any stupid chances. 'Stow the melodrama and keep alert. I'll be back in fifteen minutes.' She slammed the door, waited while Mort secured all the locks, and then faced the anomalistic presence that hid in aged brick and mortar.

This, she decided, was where the core of malevolence issued forth. She would find her answers here.

Uneasily, Gaby moved forward. She remembered that the research hospital hid the smaller buildings behind it, especially the isolation hospital. That's where the auras had been most frenetic and disjointed, as if many discontented souls had coalesced into one excruciating, violent emanation.

She felt it now.

Drawing her. Pulling her in.

Being receptive to the energy of others had its drawbacks; Gaby sensed it wasn't only evil spirits at play. The emanations could also be coming from those who had led desperately unhappy lives—or those who faced terrible deaths.

The grip of so many forces had the ability to bleed her of her own resources. In the normal course of things, she'd withdraw from the area, from the person or people depleting her.

But this wasn't normal.

This was her mission, not God's. She wasn't His conduit, as was usually the case when she faced evil, and that alone made it exceedingly dangerous. If she didn't fight the allure, it might consume her. And if that happened, who would look after Mort?

Who would protect Luther?

Uncaring whether curious eyes might notice, Gaby withdrew her knife. Having it in her hand amped up her courage. High weeds and prickly scrub shrubs knicked the skin on her feet and snagged in her jeans. Gaby pressed forward, past the looming structure, into the woods, and beyond.

With each step, her heart beat harder and faster until it pained her. 'Fuck,' she whispered, just to hear her own voice. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who are you?'

Far ahead, she saw a faint illumination through the shrouding woods.

Fear evaporated in the face of discovery.

Hunkering down behind a broken tree trunk, Gaby watched. Weaving with the cadence of footsteps, the light shifted, dimmed, and grew brighter.

Ah. Someone carried a flashlight and the uneven ground made the light bounce and shudder. Who? And why be in the woods this late at night?

Sounds reached her attuned ears, footsteps, crunching leaves, soft crooning.

She also heard great suffering.

Then… coercion. And joy.

Horror at those combined murmurings kept Gaby still. She saw it all as a human, and hated the view. Why did God do this to her? Why now, and why with this particular wickedness?

There were no answers, and she strained her ears to hear more. A small brook, relaxing in its monotone flow. Bubbling. Gurgling…

Choking.

Comprehension brought Gaby to her feet. No! That wasn't water; it was… spittle. Life.

Being crushed out of another.

Unthinking of her own possible peril, of where to go or what to do, Gaby charged forward. She tripped over fallen branches and rocks, rushed back to her feet only to be snagged in dead foliage and grabbed by thorny weeds. She fought wildly to free herself.

All in vain.

With the first thundering rush of her footsteps, the light went out and the woods fell dead silent.

Oh please. She searched, but there was nothing, no life and no death and no noise, movement, or light of any kind.

It was so silent that she knew it wasn't natural. The night breathed and shifted; it made its presence known. But not tonight. This night was utterly still.

She couldn't do anything about it. Not in the darkness, alone.

In the daylight, she'd come back.

In the daylight, she'd make someone, or something, very sorry.

Defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth and filled her heart with heavy stones. Her weakness had allowed someone to die.

Someone to murder.

She found Mort where she'd left him, and he was so relieved to see her that at first he asked no questions. Anxious to be out of the area, he just drove.

It wasn't until a few minutes later when they'd reached the apartment that he said, 'Well?'

'Nothing,' she lied. 'A dead end.' She wouldn't take Mort back there with her. She wouldn't involve him. Never again. Her skin still crawled with the taint of iniquitous depravity. She would destroy the evil, but she'd do so while protecting Mort, whatever it took.

It struck Gaby that she'd once thought her life complicated, when in fact, it was absurdly simple. But now, the more she interacted with regular, normal people, the more twisted and gnarled it made her life, and she feared she'd never get it unraveled again.

One thing was certain: having a friend was a real pain in the ass.

Midafternoon on the next day, Gaby found Luther on a basketball court. A much smaller bandage had replaced the wrapping around his head.

Hell of a way for a man with a concussion to behave, Gaby thought. He didn't exert himself overly, but he didn't sit on the sidelines either.

Rather than call out to him, she sat cross-legged on the lawn beneath the shade of a tall tree, and just observed. He played with a bunch of inner-city kids in a rainbow of colors: ebony, pink, beige, brown, caramel. Boys and girls. Some barefoot, most stick-thin. They looked to be around nine or ten.

They enjoyed themselves.

So did Luther.

It felt odd to see someone so carefree and happy, someone who knew about the cancer, and the malevolence, and the doctor…

Had he even checked into it all, as she'd asked?

Or had he blown off her directions to play instead? That is, if you could call civic duty on a hot afternoon 'play.'

Gaby looked up at the blistering sun. It had to be eighty-five, which was cooler than they'd had lately, but under a cloudless sky was still hot enough to roast. The blacktop court would amplify the heat. A concussion would amplify the discomfort.

Luther didn't seem to mind.

He looked good in dirty white sneakers, gray sweatpants.

and nothing else. Gaby had seen men without shirts before, but none like Luther. He had a naturally strong body, not muscles carved in a gym. Sweat gleamed on his sleek shoulders and darkened his chest hair. Gaby