Harvest Web Read online

  I watched over you the best I could while you were with him, but his energy dampened your abilities. He’s a spell-blocker—his very nature is set up to keep magic away from him. And that energy muted your own. No wonder you felt like a shell of yourself.

  I sighed. My time with Ellison had been far more damaging than I had thought. The fact that he was still texting me and trying to convince me to give him another chance only served to make me angry that he could truly think I’d be that stupid.

  I tried to focus, to pull my attention back to the woods. Rebecca was leading us off the trail. She looked like any normal little girl, except that she had a faint outline around her—an aura that was a dark ruddy color, almost invisible in the daytime. But I could see it, and I had the feeling that the others could too.

  Hank was watching her closely, a wary look on his face. Caitlin was next to him. They went first since they were the ones who had the weapons. Tad and I followed behind.

  I kept my hand on the bowie knife, still in its sheath. I didn’t want to impale myself and figured that I could unsheathe it when I needed to. Tad had hold of the switchblade, but from the way he was holding it, it was obvious he had no clue how to use it. I thought about taking it away so he wouldn’t hurt himself, but then again, he needed something, and at least the switchblade was still closed.

  The farther we pressed into the wood, the more I began to see swirls of mist. The magical fog made its perpetual home here, though it usually vanished during the heat of the summer. But now it was back, flowing and swirling as it eddied around the tree trunks like wisps of a shattered spirit.

  We were fully off-trail right now, stepping over roots and branches, wading through knee-high ferns and waist-high vines. I began to sense something watching us—whether they were creatures or spirits, I wasn’t sure, but the hum of the forest set me on edge. Everywhere, I caught sight of bees gathering the last pollen of the season, and the tree tops were filled with birds who were singing a rain song, their caws and chirps reverberating through the canopy overhead.

  A wind sprang up, and I shivered as I glanced up to see a regiment of rainclouds. Others, darker still—low-hanging thunderheads—were close behind as the scent of ozone wafted through the afternoon.

  Tad shivered. “It’s going to storm.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” I said. “We’re due for a good one.” Once again, I was grateful we were under cover and wouldn’t be the first targets for a lightning strike.

  “I was terrified of thunder when I was little,” he said. “I was out in a field once, with my father, when I was seven. We were at a campground, out on the water in a rowboat when the storm appeared out of nowhere. My father thought we had time to make it back to the car. We were headed toward shore when the lightning started, and it was forking down, coming close to the boat. We managed to make it to shore and just as we stepped onto land, a bolt of lightning hit the boat, splintering it.”

  “That would make me afraid of thunderstorms, too,” I said.

  “My father always wondered if the mark the Lady left on him when he was in Whisper Hollow followed him. That was the last time he ever went out on the water. I’m inclined to think it was coincidence, but I’ve seen a lot of supposed coincidences, and after a while, it’s easy to make correlations that you wouldn’t otherwise. Anyway, I’m no longer afraid of thunderstorms, but I don’t necessarily like them, either.”

  He fell silent as Rebecca turned around and hissed at us.

  “Hush, unless you want the creature to hear you. We’re nearing the spot where I last felt his presence.”

  “His?” I asked.

  “Yes, his. It’s male, whatever it is.” She skirted a fallen log, which had a faerie ring of brown toadstools next to it, and then stopped about two yards beyond. “Over there,” she whispered. “That’s where I last felt him, near that clump of huckleberry bushes.”

  We stopped and held our breath, waiting. But nothing came out. “Do you know if he’s there now?” I asked.

  “No, but I sense him nearby, so be wary.” She slipped back toward me. In an uncharacteristic move, she reached up to take my hand.

  Startled, I almost jerked away, but she squeezed my fingers and, for the first time since I had ever encountered her, I felt fear radiate off the imp.

  “Get behind the fallen log,” I told her. “You’ll be safer there.”

  She nodded, letting go and trundling around the back of the log, where she could peek over, but was still protected.

  I wiped my hands on my jeans, feeling odd. The fact that she had gravitated toward me made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to care about her. After all, she had tried to kill me when I was little, but her glamour made it hard for me to think of her as anything but a little girl. As I was staring at her, ruminating, a noise caught my attention. It was coming from off to the right.

  The next moment, my alarm bells went off. Danger, Danger, Will Robinson time. I was about to say something when the huckleberry bushes near me shook and something came charging out from behind.

  The creature was massive, looking for all the world like a bipedal goat-man and it was clear: he was definitely male. He had long bony hands with curved talons on most of his fingers. One claw was missing.

  Before I could jump out of the way, he knocked me down, slamming me to the forest floor where I landed with my back across a protruding root from one of the nearby trees. My muscles screamed, then went into spasm. Even as I shrieked from the sudden cramp, the creature loomed over me, his eyes glowing with the deep black of night. I tried to think, tried to roll out of the way but my back seized up again and I screamed, more from the pain than the fright.

  “Get out of the way,” I heard Caitlin shout.

  The next moment, the creature dragged me up, holding me in front of him. I could definitely tell he was male by the rod poking against my backside. Both in pain and disgusted, I tried to wrestle out of his grasp, but he began dragging me back behind the bush.

  Oh crap, I thought. He was going to get me alone and kill me. I struggled, but my back cramped again, and then, we were behind cover of the bushes and he was dragging me off into the depths of the forest, his arm around my waist.

  The devil was incredibly strong. I couldn’t seem to budge his arm so I tried kicking backward, to kick his shins, but even my boot heel seemed to make no dent.

  “Let me go. What the hell do you want? Who are you?” If kicking him wouldn’t do any good, maybe talking to him might produce a response. But all I got was a grunt in return. I let out another loud scream, making sure the others could hear me and follow. He just squeezed me harder so that I could barely breathe.

  He moved fast, through the undergrowth as though it wasn’t even there. I struggled again, trying to push away from him. We were passing a tree with a sturdy limb just above our heads and I reached up and grabbed hold, trying to make it hard for him to move.

  The Whatcom Devil snarled, but gave me one good yank and my hands came loose from the branch, bleeding where the bark scratched them. At that moment, I noticed we were heading toward a dark opening against the bank of a ravine.

  “Cave in the wall!” I screamed, hoping the others could hear me.

  But the Whatcom Devil just let out a growl and dragged me into the opening.

  The cave was more of a lair, looking like it had been dug out recently. It wasn’t large as far as caves and lairs went, but there was ample room for the devil to lay down and move around. I struggled again, but this time, instead of squeezing me, he threw me onto the ground.

  I scrambled away as quickly as I could, feeling something long and hard next to me. Thinking it was a branch, I grabbed it, hoping to use it as a weapon, but when I had it in hand, there was just enough light for me to see that I was holding a long leg bone that still had splotches of dried flesh on it. I screamed again, but forced myself to keep hold of it. At least it would make for a good club.

  Run to your left, Esmara shouted in my ear.

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nbsp; I scrambled to my feet and stumbled backward, finding the wall at my back. Scooting to the left, I darted out of reach as the devil came toward me. I swung the bone as hard as I could toward its face and managed to land a direct hit.

  He backed away for a moment and in that second, I remembered the knife. I fumbled it out of the sheath, holding it in my right hand, the bone in my left. While I was left-handed, I cut my meat with my right.

  The goat-man raised one of his hands, his talons shimmering in the faint light that entered through the opening of the lair.

  I held up the knife as a warning, moving yet farther to the left. Where am I going? I asked Esmara.

  There’s a narrow cleft in the lair about two yards farther. You can fit in there, but he can’t. It’s deep enough so that he won’t be able to reach you if you shove yourself all the way to the back.

  I wasted no time. I scuttled my way left and sure enough, there was the opening. Trying to avoid thoughts of spiders and bugs, I slipped into the cleft, pushing as far back in as I could until I reached the end. I could barely see now, the light was dim as it filtered in, but I held my bowie knife out in front of me. If the goat-man tried to reach me, I could slice him a good one.

  Sure enough, he tried to push into the crevice toward me, but he couldn’t fit. Instead, he leaned as far in as he possibly could, trying to grab hold of me. I slashed at his hand with the knife, making contact, and I put enough effort into it that he shrieked. I slashed again and again, trying to ward him off. A spray of blood splattered back on me, and I tried not to flinch.

  Then, a single shot rang out. I froze, hoping the bullet wouldn’t pass through him and into me. But the devil’s arm dropped away, and the next moment, I heard a thud.

  I waited, not sure he was dead.

  Another moment and Caitlin said, “Come out, January. We got him.”

  As I eased my way out of the narrow chasm, I whispered a prayer of thanks to Esmara and to Druantia that I was safe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The devil was on the ground, bleeding out. I was covered with blood from the wounds I’d inflicted on his hand, but I didn’t even notice right then. Instead, I knelt beside him, watching as Hank took pictures. The Whatcom Devil let out a ghastly moan and tried to thrash at me. I pulled back, making certain I was far enough out of the way. Eventually he stopped moving.

  “He really is a monster, isn’t he?” I asked, feeling both relieved and yet, inexplicably sad.

  I was used to dealing with ghosts, and since I had gone to work for Conjure Ink, I had seen a number of freaky beasts, but this was the first time I was getting a close-up look at one.

  “I wonder what the Woodlings think of him,” I added, glancing up.

  “Hard to tell,” Hank said. “I don’t think they take well to those who shatter the peace of their forest. What should we do with the body? Is there some place that could preserve it?”

  “I suppose I could call the Museum of Urban Folklore,” Tad said. “They have several specimens from various organizations. I’ll step outside and give Gwyneth a call. She’s in charge of the museum in Seattle.” He took a quick photo of the creature, then headed out of the lair.

  “Got a flashlight?” I asked, and Hank handed me a high-powered one that was almost as bright as daylight. I returned to the cave and started looking around. To the far left was a nest of leaves and pine boughs. As I poked it with a stick, several items fell out. A couple watches, several wallets, a necklace, a ring or two.

  I turned back to Caitlin, who had followed me in. “He killed more victims than just Danielle. There’s a number of items here that indicate additional victims. We need to get Millie and Dr. Bones out here to sort out just who ended up on the menu.”

  Caitlin was leaning against the wall. “I never thought I’d need my gun for anything like this, but I’m glad that I bought it. I think we need to invest in some serious weaponry, if we’re going to start hunting down creatures as well as just investigating them. And we all need to get our asses to the gym and learn some basic maneuvers.”

  Feeling singled out, I blushed. “Hey, I just came into this gig in December. I had no idea it was going to involve getting skewered by devils and pounded on by ghosts. At least I can fight back against those.”

  “Oh, I’m not just talking about you,” she said. “With the exception of Hank, we’re all out of shape. I haven’t spent much time at the gym lately, and I’ve made friends with far too many boxes of cookies and bags of marshmallows.” Caitlin laughed, shaking her head. “I’m so glad that I remembered to brace myself, though. The recoil on this baby is a lot stronger than I thought it might be and my shoulder’s complaining.”

  Tad returned. “I called Millie as well as Gwyneth. The museum said they’d love to have the body, if the cops don’t insist on keeping it. Millie and her men will be out here in about half an hour. I gave them the best directions I could to finding us, but finally just shared my Find-A-Friend app so she could follow the signal. She asked us to wait outside so we don’t disturb what evidence is in here anymore than necessary.”

  We headed outside. I inhaled a deep breath, trying to clear my lungs from the dank stench that had permeated the creature’s lair. “If there’s one of these buggers out here, then there are probably more. Unless it slipped in through a different dimension, it’s probably got friends and family somewhere.”

  I stared into the woodland, looking for Rebecca, but she had vanished. “I’ll ask Rebecca later if she thinks there might be more than this one.” I also owed her two slabs of pork ribs with Killian’s special sauce, and I texted him a quick note to remind me about a gift for an imp. He was usually in with patients at this time, so I didn’t expect an answer until later.

  “Where do these things come from, do you think?” Tad asked.

  “Where does Bigfoot come from? Where do the Woodlings come from? When was the first witchblood born? Who knows? For that matter, where did humanity spring from? Humans evolved, yes, but when did that jump occur that made people who they are? There’s always a tipping point, but so often people don’t recognize it when they see it. That’s how life works. We might as well ask, when did humans first figure out how to cook their food? Who decided that you could break open a coconut and eat the inside?”

  The whole of human existence was like that. One big riddle. Oh, we could approximate points in history when major shifts happened, but the nuances—the first person to ever draw a pictogram, the first person to throw a steak on the fire—those were moments we’d never be able to pinpoint.

  “I guess you’re right, though I think we might someday be able to find out the origins of the Woodlings and Bigfoot. We just don’t have the necessary information yet.” Hank shrugged. “I don’t like having to kill something that may be one of a kind, but when it comes down to my skin or theirs? I’ll opt for my life, any time.”

  The clouds had opened and it was pouring, but there was enough shadow from some of the trees that we were able to duck beneath the foliage and stay relatively dry. We huddled in the rain, waiting, until we heard Millie calling my name.

  “Over here!” I called out.

  She followed my voice until she and several officers broke through the trees. “You’re really in the thick of the woods,” she said. “Where’s the body?”

  I pointed to the lair. “In there.”

  She disappeared with two of her men, but a moment later, she was back, looking perplexed. “Where is it?”

  I stared at her. “In there, on the ground. Caitlin took it down with her gun.”

  Caitlin held up her rifle. “Worked like a charm.”

  “That’s a nice piece of weaponry. You have a license for that, right?” Millie asked.

  Caitlin nodded. “Yep, all up to date.”

  “Well, if you left the body in there, it’s either invisible, somebody dragged it away, or it melted.” Millie turned back to me. “There’s nothing there.”

  “What the hell?” I strode o
ver to the opening and ducked inside. Sure enough, the bones and everything else were still there, but the body of the Whatcom Devil was gone. I walked over to where we had left it. There was no blood on the ground. But I spied something shiny, and knelt to see it better. It was a very large bullet. “Millie, over here.” I pointed out the shell. “That’s what Caitlin hit it with, and it was in the creature’s chest.”

  “Well…are you sure it was dead?”

  By then, the others were inside as well, crowded around me. I glanced up at Hank and Caitlin. “Was it? Dead, that is.”

  Hank nodded. “Oh yes, it was dead all right.” He glanced around. “No drag marks—so nobody could have dragged him off while we were waiting outside. We didn’t see anybody enter or leave this cave. What else could have happened?”

  “The crack that I hid in—maybe somehow it managed to get through there?” I motioned for Millie to follow me and led her over to the niche where I had escaped the monster. “I was hiding in there. It couldn’t make it through while I was in there, but maybe, somehow, it managed to?”

  She sent one of the officers in with a flashlight, but when he came out he was shaking his head. “Nothing, Chief. The fissure ends at a wall of dirt. No way could anything vanish in there.”

  I turned to Tad, feeling a brief well of panic rise up. “What if he’s still alive—” But even as I started to ask, Esmara whispered in my ear.

  No, he’s dead. But he’s not the only one of his kind. I’m not sure where he’s from but it’s not this world—not this dimension. When they die, they return to their home.

  You’re sure?

  Yes, trust me. There’s so much for you to learn. I think you need to start your formal lessons with both Rowan and Teran now.

  I will. I’m also apparently joining the Crystal Cauldron.

  Esmara laughed. Oh, good. I’m glad to hear it’s still around. Your great-grandmother started it…she brought the original lineage of it with her from Ireland. Rowan took over when Colleen died.