The gate at the bottom of the drive was closed. Holding his penlight in his teeth, Cormac picked the lock quick enough. Slower than he wanted, though. He forced himself to keep calm, keep breathing steady. He might not have had his guns, but this was a hunt just the same. Like his usual prey from the old days, the vampires and werewolves and so on, this target was hunting him, too. He just had to get there first. Easy.
Finally, the gate swung open. He returned to the Jeep and raced up the hill to Weber’s cabin. A half-moon didn’t do anything to make the forest any clearer. Looking up through the treetops, stars blazed.
He reached the clearing, which this time of night was stark and full of shadows. The cabin lurked, the pair of windows somehow darker than everything around them, something out of a goddamn horror movie. Striding toward the front door, Cormac reached into his pocket for one of the charms Amelia had him put there, a glass Turkish eye the size of a quarter. Not that it would help, but it was something to do.
At the steps up to the porch, he stopped.
What is it?
He simply nodded at the piece of rib bone sitting there. He’d have to walk right past it to get inside.
Two things, she demanded. A protective circle, and alarms. It’s coming, we’ll know when it gets here.
He got to work, quick and calm.
Pouring from a bag of salt, he made a circle some twelve feet in diameter. At the four cardinal points Amelia set a new alarm spell, string and paper resting on the ground. He kept the torn pieces in his hand. If any magic passed this way, they’d know. In the center she had him build a fire, but not light it. He set out a bundle of sage, a candle, a knife. He and Amelia weren’t quite sure what they were up against. Something that killed with malice. But they would be ready.
“Now what?”
Patience, Amelia said. We just have to be patient.
He sat on the ground in the center of the circle, to keep watch on the trap they’d set. The summer night was crisp. No breeze touched the air.
He scratched his jaw, which was going past feeling like sandpaper into actual beard territory. Waited. This was so like a hunt it was almost comforting. Up at dawn, waiting for a bull elk to walk into his sights. Time seemed to freeze in those moments. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.
Cormac, light the fire. Light it, now!
He smelled burning and tried to swat it away, as if it was part of a dream, as if he was still asleep. He didn’t think he’d been asleep for that long, but a chill had settled over the forest. He shivered.
Cormac!
The scraps of paper from the magical trigger had turned to ash. They’d been on the ground in front of him; a wisp of smoke still lingered. He was supposed to be watching them. He looked around—which trigger had been sprung? Which direction was the danger coming from?
All of them at once. All four scraps had burned simultaneously. The danger was here, and everywhere. He felt strangely leaden.
This is it! Cormac, it’s here! The curse is here!
The circle of protection hadn’t worked because it was already here; they’d locked it in with them. He couldn’t stand up. He knew that he ought to. He was sure he needed to stand, right now.
Cormac!
He remained rooted to the ground, nerveless. “I can’t move,” he murmured, staring at his legs like they belonged to someone else. Fear blasted through him—Amelia’s fear, a panic rooted in the back of his mind. He’d never felt fear like this from her. Something was very wrong.
When was the last time you ate?
Dinner, a fast-food burger before going back to the motel. His stomach cramped, far beyond hungry. He was starving.
Don’t you have a. . .a. . .what is it, a power bar in your shirt pocket? Some jerky? You always carry around a bit of jerky. Eat it. Just a bite.
“I can’t.” He winced, knowing he should be angry, unable to find the energy for it. Well, at least he was right—whatever had gotten Weber and Bellamy was right here. Maybe it’d been here the whole time. They’d finally managed to draw its attention.
Cormac, did you hear that?
He listened. Held his breath to hear better, and there it was. Not a voice, this was only a suggestion. A thought on the air, directed at him. He’d probably heard it before, but not with his conscious mind. Now, he listened hard and heard the words.
What’s it saying? What’s it telling you?
“It’s telling me to eat.”