a rope. The limbs popped from their sockets. Sinew and muscle twisted and tore. The girl’s shrieks reached a fevered pitch. The crow swooped downward, resuming its human guise.
“Don’t play with your food.”
Its brothers laughed. They pulled harder and the limbs came free. The girl toppled to the ground, unconscious yet writhing. They jostled one another for the departing soul, but stopped suddenly.
“Do you feel that?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“Someone in this town still knows the ways of old. He or she seeks congress with the realms beyond.”
“If they can do that, then perhaps they are skilled in other works. Perhaps they can defeat us?”
“Reach out. Do you feel their power? This one is dangerous.”
“Indeed.”
“Find them immediately. But be careful. This one isn’t like the others. This one is like those we faced of old.”
Without another word, all three reverted to crow form and flew into the night, leaving the mangled bodies where they’d fallen. The birds soared in different directions, searching the darkness for the source of the disturbance, and their cries were terrible to all who heard them.
***
At eighty-nine, Jack McCutchon was the oldest man in Brinkley Springs. He lived by himself and fended for himself, something which he took great pride in. He still exercised every day, walking from his front door to the end of the driveway and back again, and still had most of his teeth. Sure, he had to wear hearing aids, but other than that, he thought he was in pretty good shape.
Jack wasn’t afraid of being old, and he wasn’t afraid of dying. He wasn’t afraid of much, in fact. As a radioman in the air force, Jack had flown bombing missions over Japan during World War II. One night, they’d been only eight thousand feet over a Japanese village. At that height, they’d been able to smell burning flesh even inside the plane’s hull. The heat and thermals from the explosions had buffeted the aircraft, tossing it about like a child’s toy glider. One moment, they were cruising along at eight thousand feet. The next, they were shooting straight up to ten or fifteen thousand. Some of the other planes in the bomber group had actually flipped over from the turbulence. Jack’s crew had made it safely back to base, but he’d never forgotten that night. It was the most frightening experience of his life.
Until the man dressed in dark clothing broke into his house and confronted Jack in his chair, where he’d been doing a crossword puzzle. His hearing aids sat on the end table next to him.
“What are you supposed to be?” Jack wheezed, his hand going to his chest. Suddenly it was very hard to breathe. “A pilgrim or something?”
Jack died of fear before the intruder even touched him.
***
Hand in hand and gasping for breath, Donny and Marsha ran, turning down one street and then another, darting through backyards and alleys and glancing over their shoulders as they fled. Marsha stumbled, but Donny pulled her upright and urged her onward. Panting, she resisted and tugged her arm away.
“I’ve got to rest. Please? Just for a minute.”
Nodding, he guided her to a row of shrubbery in front of an abandoned house. They ducked down behind the untrimmed bushes and caught their breath. Their stifled gasps were punctuated by screams and cries from nearby streets.
Marsha shivered.
“Are you cold?” Donny asked.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
“Me, too.”
“Even after . . . what you saw over there?”
“Sure. Iraq was Iraq. This is different. I lived here.”
Despite their situation, Marsha noticed that he referred to Brinkley Springs in the past tense rather than the present. She decided not to mention it. Now wasn’t the time.
Donny reached out and took her hand again.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I don’t know. Everything. Brandon . . . He was just a kid. We shouldn’t have just left him like that.”
“No,” Donny agreed. “We shouldn’t have. It wasn’t right. But if we hadn’t, then we’d both be dead right now. I don’t give a shit about me, but I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Marsha stared at him, unable to speak. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Then Donny cleared his throat and peered through the branches, watching the street.
“I hope my parents and my brother are okay,”
Marsha said. “They have to be, right?”
“Where were they tonight?”
“At home. Mom and Dad were watching TV and Randy had friends over—Sam and Stephanie.”
“You mean little Stephanie Hall?”
“I sure do. Except she’s not that little anymore.”
Donny grinned. “No kidding? Is he going out with her?”
“Who knows? I think she likes playing him and Sam against each other.”
“Well, that’s not right. I always liked your little brother. He’s a good kid. Little weird, what with all the hip- hop stuff, but still a good kid.”
“You don’t have to live with him. He’s a pain in the ass.” Her voice softened. “But he likes you, too. He was excited when he heard you were back. I think he hoped you’d stick around. He missed you, Donny. We all did.”
Donny didn’t reply. Instead he focused on the street again. Marsha sensed that she’d struck a nerve and decided it might be best to change the subject.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “We should hide somewhere. I don’t reckon it makes sense to go back to my mom’s place. No way of knowing if those fuckers are still around there or not. If they are, they’ve got us outnumbered.”
“Who were they?”
“Something . . . not normal. Did you see how fast they moved? Nothing normal moves like that.”
“What are you saying, Donny? That they were demons or something?”
“Hell, I don’t
Marsha opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.
“Look, forget it. All I’m saying is that we need to be careful. We got lucky back there, and if we come across those fuckers again, I don’t think we’d get that lucky a second time. I need to make sure you’re safe.
I don’t know what I’d do if one of them got you.”
“Donny . . .”
He turned toward her, and Marsha saw the tears in his eyes. She reached for him, cradled his face in her hands and then pulled him toward her. He didn’t resist. Their lips met, and when Marsha closed her eyes, the darkness seemed to fade a bit.
Somewhere overhead, a bird cried out.
***
Levi stopped chanting and frowned in concern.
There had been no reaction to his summons. By this point in the ritual, the departed soul should have returned to the body, regardless of which plane of existence it now inhabited. He checked the symbols and incantations and reconfirmed that all were in place and correct. Then he addressed the corpse.
“Can you hear me? If so, then I command you to tell me who did this to you.”
The dead man didn’t answer. Levi watched the corpse’s face, looking for some sign of movement or
