CHAPTER TWELVE
1
The thing on Seti’s back was driving him crazy. It hurt worse than his bullet wound, which, fortunately, had turned out less severe that he’d originally thought. The bullet had passed right through him, and had miraculously missed any vital organs. Monique, who had been a nurse before she and her twin sister joined him, had been able to patch him up and stop the bleeding. But she couldn’t do anything about the monstrous growth that had appeared on the back of his neck.
The thing itched constantly with a stabbing pain that was worse than knives being driven into his flesh.
“It’s your own fault,” the thing had informed him. “Since you took the girl away too quick, I have to feed on
Seti vowed that he’d find a new victim immediately to placate the demon. If it didn’t drive him insane first. He’d also need to replace Tony to make up the twelve he needed to follow him. Tony’s death had been fortunate, he thought. He’d wanted to get rid of him anyway, so it couldn’t have worked out better. The demon had instructed him what to do; they’d carefully moved the big man’s body and left it beside the road on Route 102 where an early morning commuter would be sure to find it.
“The bullets will match those in the Indian’s gun,” the demon had said. “And he’ll be arrested and out of our way. Until we want him, that is.”
Seti had to admit, it couldn’t have worked out better. Now, if only he could get something decent to eat. Rhonda, the pregnant one, was supposed to be bringing him food. Where the hell was she?
He got up and looked out the window of his small camper. There she was, talking with Ryan. It looked as if they were up to no good. He didn’t trust Ryan anyway.
The pain in his neck flared up like a volcano, burning and hot and sharp all at the same time. He tried to rub the thing with his hand, but it was hot to the touch. The pain only made him angry. That bitch! Why isn’t she here with my food!
The pain died down just enough to fuel his fit of rage further. He stormed out the door and over toward her. Both Rhonda and Ryan looked suddenly very guilty, as if they’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar.
“Damn you!” Seti fumed. “Where’s my food? I’m hungry, damn it!”
“I…I have some soup here for you,” she said, nervously, holding up a small pot.
“Soup! It’s July and hotter than hell. I don’t want soup! I want real food.”
He lashed out and sent the pot flying. The hot liquid scalded Rhonda’s bare arms, causing her to scream. This only infuriated him further.
“Stop whining, you ugly bitch!” he screamed. Then in a moment of pure hatred, he forgot everything: who he was, where he was, and what he was supposed to do. He rolled his fist into a ball, wound up and punched the woman so hard in the stomach that he dislocated his wrist. The pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder blade.
Too late, he realized that he’d hit something else, too. He felt something pop inside the woman, felt her hard, pregnant belly suddenly go flaccid. She staggered backwards, holding herself and gasping for breath. Then her water broke, unleashing a putrid stream down her legs, a stream of blood-soaked liquid that suddenly reminded him of the child, and the reason he was here.
“No!” he heard himself scream, and then realized it wasn’t him screaming at all, but the thing inside him, the thing that was living in the growth on his neck.
He had killed the unborn child, all right. He’d felt it and known it as soon as it had happened. And the thing living inside him was not pleased. It had had plans for that baby. And for the second time in one night, its plans had been spoiled.
2
Erik had a restless night filled with bad dreams, then his wife woke him up early.
“Wake up, Honey,” she said. “Sheriff Collins is downstairs. He wants to speak with you.”
“Ok. Tell him I’ll be right down. Maybe you can offer him some coffee.”
“I already have, and I’ll fix you a cup too.”
“Thanks, Vic.”
He threw on a pair of jeans and a T shirt and went downstairs. It was a little after nine o’clock and Collins was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Erik said. “What brings you out so early?”
Collins stood up and shook Erik’s hand.
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“Ok. About what? Did you find the missing girl?”
The sheriff looked down at his feet for a moment. “I’m afraid we did. We found her stabbed to death by the side of the road. Route 102. She’d been tortured and abused.”
“Oh, God. I am so sorry.”
“Yeah. We all are. We also found a man’s body a few feet away. He’d been shot.”
“Was he the killer?”
“I don’t think so. But I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you see Johnny Dovecrest last night?”
“Dovecrest? What does he have to do with this?”
“We think he may be the involved. The bullet taken from the man’s body was shot from the type of gun that he owns. We’ll have to do ballistic tests to be sure. There aren’t many.45 caliber Beretta’s around here. And I know Johnny Dovecrest has one. I’ve seen him with it at the range.”
Erik swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say. He supposed the truth was best-at least as much of it as the sheriff would believe.
“Well, actually Pastor Mark and I saw him at about nine o’clock, I’d guess. Where is Dovecrest? Have you spoken with him?”
“We can’t find him,” the sheriff said. “Tell me about last night.”
“Well, I was talking to Pastor Mark about some photos I’d found in the library. About an altar stone in the woods. A stone where they used to do human sacrifices, so it is claimed, anyway. We decided to go see Dovecrest and ask him if he knew anything about it.”
“Go on.”
“When we got to his house, he was gone. We heard gunshots in the woods, so we went to find him. He was coming back to his cabin when we found him. But I don’t think he killed the girl, sheriff. He may have shot that man, but if he did I’d say he was trying to help the girl. I think something is going on in those woods, something you should investigate.”
“Something is going on in those woods, Mr. Hunter. A teenage girl was tortured stabbed to death and a man was shot in the head with Dovecrest’s gun. And we definitely plan to investigate. We’re looking for Dovecrest right now. I know he knows something he’s not telling us. And I want to find out what it is. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“No, Sheriff. I don’t. But I’d like you to look at something. Just wait here a second.”
Erik went into his study and retrieved the pictures of the altar stone. He passed them across the table to Roy Collins.
The sheriff looked at them and snorted.
“I’ve heard about this kind of thing before, Mr. Hunter. I even believed it for awhile. But I’m telling you there’s no such thing as an altar stone in these woods. I’ve looked myself. And so haven’t the people from the university. This is just an urban legend. It doesn’t exist.”
