Running with the Demon Part 17

"No, not exactly." Mel Riorden paused. "Hold on a minute, will you? I want to make sure Carol's not back from the store yet." He put down the phone and was gone for a minute before picking it up again. "I don't want her to hear any of this. I don't want anyone to hear."

"You want to meet me someplace private and talk about this?" Old Bob asked him.

"No, I want to get it out of the way right now. Besides, I don't know how much time we've got if we're going to do anything."

"Do anything? What are we going to do, Mel?"

"Bear with me." Mel Riorden cleared his throat. "My sister tells me, when I get her calmed down a bit and off to the side, that someone called her, some friend, and said they'd heard that Deny was out at Scrubby's last night drinking with Junior Elway and talking about some plan to shut down MidCon. The conversation wasn't all that clear, but there was some mention of an accident, maybe someone getting killed."

Old Bob shook his head slowly. "Maybe they heard it wrong."

"Well, with anyone else, you might shrug it off to talk and booze. But Derry's been short-circuited since Vietnam, and he knows a lot about weapons and explosives. My sister begs me to talk to him. I don't want to do that, because I know Deny thinks I'm an old fart, but I tell her I'll give it a try. So when I get home, I give him a call. He's sleeping, and I wake him. He's not pleased. I decide it's best to get right to the point. I tell him about the conversation with my sister and ask him if there's anything to it. He tells me, h.e.l.l, yes, there's a lot to it, but it's got nothing to do with me. I tell him he'd better think twice about whatever it is. First off, people already know that if something happens, it's because of him; he made sure of that at the tavern. Second, anything he does outside the union will just get him in trouble with us. He says he doesn't care who knows and that the only way anything will ever get done is outside the union."

"What do you think he's got in mind?" Old Bob pressed.

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. But he might tell you. He's still got some respect for you, which is something he doesn't have for me. And I think maybe he's a little afraid of you. Not physically, but... you know, of your reputation. If you were to ask him what he's planning, he might open up." There was a long pause. "Bob, I don't know who else to turn to."

Old Bob nodded, thinking it over. Deny Howe was full of himself and his wild ideas, but he was mostly talk. The danger came from his army training and his inability to adjust to any kind of normal life since his return from Vietnam. Mel was right about that; you couldn't just dismiss his talk out of hand.

"Bob, are you still there?"

"I'm here," he answered. He didn't want any part of this. He wasn't sure at all that Deny Howe thought anything about him one way or the other. He wasn't sure at all that Derry would give him the time of day. Mel had more faith in him than he had in himself. Besides, he had problems of his own that needed his attention, and the biggest was sitting just down the hall in the kitchen. This whole business with Derry sounded like trouble he didn't need. "I don't know, Mel," he said.

"You and Evelyn going to the park today? For a picnic and the dance? Didn't you say you were?"

"We're going."

"Well, Derry will be there, too. He's going to enter the horseshoe tournament with Junior and some others. All I'm asking is that you take five minutes of your time and talk with him. Just ask him what's up, that's all. If he won't tell you, fine. But maybe he will. Maybe, if it's you."

Old Bob shook his head. He didn't want to get involved in this. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand. "All right, Mel," he said finally. "I'll give it a try."

There was an audible sigh of relief. "Thanks, Bob. I'll see you there. Thanks."

Old Bob placed the receiver gently back on the cradle. After a moment, he stood up and went over to open the door again.

"Nest, I want you to listen to me," Gran said quietly.

They were seated at the kitchen table, facing each other in the hazy sunlight, eyes locked. Gran's hands were shaking, and she put one on top of the other to keep them still. Nest saw disappointment and anger and sadness in her eyes all at the same time, and she was suddenly afraid.

"I won't lie to you," Gran said. "I have tried never to lie to you. There are things I haven't told you. Some you don't need to know. Some I can't tell you. We all have secrets in our lives. We are ent.i.tled to that. Not everything about us should be known. I expect you understand that, being who you ar,e. Secrets allow us s.p.a.ce in which to grow and change as we must. Secrets give us privacy where privacy is necessary if we are to survive."

She started to reach for her drink and stopped. At her elbow, her cigarette was burned to ash. She glanced at it, then away. She sighed wearily, her eyes flicking back to Nest.

"Was it you, Gran?" Nest asked gently. "In the park, with the feeders?"

Gran nodded. "Yes, Nest, it was." She was silent a moment, a bundle of old sticks inside the housecoat. "I have never told anyone. Not my parents, not your grandfather, not even Caitlin - and G.o.d knows, I should at least have told her. But I didn't. I kept that part of my life secret, kept it to myself."

She reached across the table for Nest's hand and took it in her own. Her hands were fragile and warm. "I was young and headstrong and foolish. I was proud. I was different, Nest, and I knew it - different like you are, gifted with use of the magic and able to see the forest creatures. No one else could see what I saw. Not my parents, not my friends, not anyone. It set me apart from everyone, and I liked that. My aunt, Opal Anders, my mother's sister, was the last to have the magic before me, and she had died when I was still quite young. So for a time, there was only me. I lived by the park, and I escaped into it whenever I could. It was my own private world. There was nothing in my other life that was anywhere near as intriguing as what waited for me in the park. I came at night, as you do. I found the feeders waiting for me - curious, responsive, eager. They wanted me there with them, I could tell. They were anxious to see what I would do. So I came whenever I could, mingling with them, trailing after them, always watching, wondering what they were, waiting to see what they would do next. I was never afraid. They never threatened me. There didn't seem to be any reason not to be there."

She shook her head slowly, her lips tightening. "As time pa.s.sed, I became more comfortable with feeders than with humans. I was as wild as they were; I was as uninhibited. I ran with them because that was what made me feel good. I was self-indulgent and vain. I think I knew there was danger in what I was doing, but it lacked an ident.i.ty, and in the absence of knowing there was something bad about what I was doing, I just kept doing it. My parents could not control me. They tried keeping me in my room, tried reasoning with me, tried everything. But the park was mine, and I was not about to give it up."

A car backfired somewhere out on Woodlawn, and Gran stopped talking for a moment, staring out the window, squinting into the hot sun. Nest felt the old woman's hand tighten about her own, and she squeezed back to let Gran know it was all right.

"The Indian had no right to tell you," Gran said finally. "No right."

Nest shook her head. "I don't think it was Two Bears, Gran. I don't think he was the one."

Gran didn't seem to hear. "Why would he do such a thing? Whatever possessed him? He doesn't even know me."

Nest sighed, picturing Two Bears dancing with the spirits of the Sinnissippi, seeing anew the vision of Gran, wild-eyed and young, at one with the feeders. "When did you stop, Gran?" she asked softly. "When did you quit going into the park?"

Gran's head jerked up, and there was a flash of fear in her narrowed eyes. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Gran," Nest pressed, refusing to look away. "I have to know. Why did I have this vision of you and the feeders, do you think? I still don't know. You have to help me."

"I don't have to help you do another thing, Nest. I've said everything I have to say."

"Tell me about the other - the shadowy figure whose face I couldn't see. Tell me about him."

"No!"

"Gran, please!"

The door to the library opened and Old Bob shambled down the hall. He stopped in the kitchen doorway, his coat and tie draped over one arm, his big frame stooped and weary-looking. He stared at them, his eyes questioning. Gran took her hand from Nest's and picked up her drink. Nest lowered her gaze to the table and went still.

"Robert, I want you to change into your old clothes and then go out and haul that brush out to the roadway for Monday pickup," Gran said quietly.

Old Bob hesitated. "Tomorrow's a holiday, Evelyn. There's no pickup until Tuesday. We've got plenty of..."

"Just do it, Robert!" she snapped, cutting him off. "Nest and I need a little time to ourselves, if you please."

Nest's grandfather flushed, then turned wordlessly and went back down the hallway. Nest and her grandmother listened to his footsteps recede.

"All right, Nest," Gran said, her voice deadly calm. "I'll tell you this one last thing, and then I'm done. Don't ask me anything more." She tossed back the last of her drink and lit a cigarette. Her gray hair was loose and spidery about her face. "I quit going to the park because I met someone else who could see the feeders, who was possessed of the magic. Someone who loved me, who wanted me so badly he would have done anything to get me." She took a long pull on the cigarette and blew out a thick stream of smoke. "Hard to imagine now, someone wanting this old woman. Just look at me."

She gave Nest a sad, ironic smile. "Anyway, that's what happened. At first, I was attracted to him. We both ran the park with the feeders and used the magic. We dared anything. We dared things I can't even talk about, can't even make myself think about anymore. It was wrong to be like that, to do the things we did. But I couldn't seem to help myself. What I didn't realize at first was that he was evil, and he wanted me to be like him. But I saw what was happening in time, thank G.o.d, and I put a stop to it."

"You quit going into the park?"

Gran shook her head. "I couldn't do that. I couldn't give up the park."

Nest hesitated. "Then what did you do?"

For a minute she thought her grandmother was going to say something awful. She had that look. Then Gran picked up her cigarette, ground it out in the ashtray, and gave a brittle laugh.

"I found a way to keep him from ever coming near me again," she said. Her jaw muscles tightened and her lips compressed. Her words were fierce and rushed. "I had to. He wasn't what he seemed."

It was the way she said it. Nest gave her a hard look. "What do you mean, 'He wasn't what he seemed'?"

"Let it be, Nest."

But Nest shook her head stubbornly. "I want to know."

Gran's frail hands knotted. "Oh, Nest! He wasn't human!"

They stared at each other, eyes locked. Gran's face was contorted with anger and frustration. The pulse at her temples throbbed, and her mouth worked, as if she were chewing on the words she could not make herself speak. But Nest would not look away. She would not give it up.

"He wasn't human?" she repeated softly, the words digging and insistent. "If he wasn't human, what was he?"

Gran shook her head as if to rid herself of all responsibility and exhaled sharply. "He was a demon, Nest!"

Nest felt all the strength drain from her body in a strangled rush. She sat frozen and empty in her chair, her grandmother's words a harsh whisper of warning in her ears. A demon. A demon. A demon. A demon. A demon. A demon.

Gran bent forward and placed her dry, papery hands over Nest's. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you, child," she whispered.

Nest shook her head quickly, insistently. "No, Gran, it's all right."

But it wasn't, of course, and she knew in the darkest corners of her heart that it might never be again.

Chapter Nineteen.

Gran did a strange thing then. She rose without another word, went down the hall to her bedroom, and closed the door behind her. Nest sat at the kitchen table and waited. The minutes ticked by, but Gran did not return. She had left her drink and her cigarettes behind. Nest could not remember the last time Gran had left the kitchen table in the middle of the day like this. She kept thinking the old woman would reappear. She sat alone in the kitchen, bathed in the hot July sunlight. Gran stayed in her bedroom.

Finally Nest stood up and walked to the doorway and looked down the hall. The corridor was silent and empty. Nest nudged the wooden floor with the tip of her tennis shoe. A demon, a demon, a demon! A demon, a demon, a demon! Her mind spun with the possibilities. Was the demon Gran had known the same demon that was here now? She remembered John Ross saying he didn't know why the demon was interested in her, and she wondered if it was because of Gran. Perhaps the demon was trying to get to Gran through her, rather than to John Ross. Maybe that was its intention. Her mind spun with the possibilities. Was the demon Gran had known the same demon that was here now? She remembered John Ross saying he didn't know why the demon was interested in her, and she wondered if it was because of Gran. Perhaps the demon was trying to get to Gran through her, rather than to John Ross. Maybe that was its intention.

She looked down at her feet, down her tanned legs and narrow body, and she wished that someone would just tell her the truth and be done with it. Because she was pretty certain no one was doing that now.

After a few more moments of waiting unsuccessfully for Gran to emerge, she went back into the kitchen and picked up the phone to call Ca.s.s. The house felt oppressive and secretive to her, even in the brightness of midday. She listened to its silence over the ringing of the telephone. Ca.s.s Minter's mother picked up on the third ring and advised Nest that Ca.s.s and Brianna had already left and would meet her in the park by the toboggan slide. Nest thanked Mrs. Minter and hung up. She looked around the kitchen as if she might find someone watching, haunted by what Gran had told her. A demon. She closed her eyes, but the demon was there waiting for her, bland features smiling, pale eyes steady.

She glanced at the clock and went down the hall and out the back door. The picnic with John Ross was not until three. She had a little less than two hours to spend with Ca.s.s and the others before getting back. She stepped out into the heat and squinted up at the brilliant, sunlit sky. The air was thick with the rich smells of dry earth and gra.s.ses and leaves. Robins sang in the trees and cars drove down Sinnissippi Road, their tires whining on the hot asphalt. She wet her lips and looked around. Her grandfather came up the drive, returning from carrying up the yard waste. He slowed as he approached, and an uncertain smile creased his weathered face.

"Everything all right?" he asked. His big hands hung limp at his sides, and there was sweat on his brow.

Nest nodded. "Sure. I'm on my way to meet Ca.s.s and the others in the park."

Her grandfather glanced toward the house hesitantly, then back at her. "John will be here at three for the picnic."

"Don't worry, I'll be back." She gave him a rea.s.suring smile. How much did he know about Gran and the feeders? "Bye, Grandpa."

She stepped around a sleeping Mr. Scratch and crossed the yard quickly, eyes determinedly forward so she would not look back. She felt as if her grandfather had read everything she was thinking in her eyes, and she did not want that. She felt as if everything was kept secret from her, while she had no secrets of her own. But there was John Ross, of course. She was the only one who knew the truth about him. Well, some of the truth, anyway. Maybe. She sighed helplessly.

She was pushing her way through the gap in the bushes when Pick dropped onto her shoulder.

" 'Bout time," he grumbled, settling himself into place. "Some of us have been up since daybreak, you know."

She gave him an angry look. "Good for you. Some of us have been trying to figure out why others of us aren't a little more truthful about things."

The wooden brow furrowed and the black-pool eyes crinkled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She stopped abruptly beside the service road and looked off into the park. There were families laying out blankets and picnic baskets on the gra.s.sy lawn farther east where the shade trees began. There were baseball games under way, softball pickup contests. Two boys were throwing a Frisbee back and forth and a dog was running hopefully between them, giving chase. It was all familiar to her, but it felt quite alien, too.

"It means you were awfully quick to disappear last night after the spirits of the Sinnissippi appeared." She glared at him. "Why was that?"

The sylvan glared back. "Bunch of mumbo jumbo, that's why. I got bored."

"Don't you lie to me!" she hissed. She s.n.a.t.c.hed him off her shoulder by the nape of his twiggy neck and held him kicking and squirming before her. "You saw the vision, too, didn't you? You saw the same thing I did, and you don't want to admit it! Well, it's too late for that, Pick!"

"Put me down!" he raged.

"Or what? What will you do?" She felt like tossing him out on the gra.s.s and leaving him there. "I know who it was! It was Gran! I knew it from a picture on the fireplace mantel! I thought it was Mom at first, but it was Gran! You knew, didn't you? Didn't you?"

"Yes!" He lashed out.

He stopped squirming and stared balefully at her. Nest stared back. After a moment, she placed him in the palm of her hand and squatted down in the gra.s.s next to the service road, holding him up to her face. Pick righted himself indignantly, brushing at his arms and legs as if he had been dumped in a pile of dirt.

"Don't you ever do that again!" he warned, so furious he refused even to look at her.

"You stop lying to me and maybe I won't!" she snapped back, just as angry as he was.

His mouth worked inside his mossy beard. "I haven't lied to you. But it isn't my place to tell you things about your family! It isn't right for me to do that!"

"Well, what kind of a friend are you, then?" she demanded. "A real friend doesn't keep secrets!"

Pick snorted. "Everyone keeps secrets. That's part of life. i None of us tells the other everything. We can't. Then there f wouldn't be any part of us that didn't belong to someone else!" He tugged on his beard in frustration. "All right, so I didn't tell you about your grandmother and the feeders. But she didn't tell you either, did she? So maybe there's a reason for that, and maybe it's up to her to decide if she wants you to know that reason and maybe it's not up to me!"

"Maybe this, maybe that! Maybe it doesn't matter, now! She told me when I asked her, even though she didn't want to! She told me, but it would have been easier if it had come from you!" Nest shook her head, and her voice quieted. "She told me about the demon, too. Is it the same one that's here now?"

Pick threw up his hands. "How am I supposed to answer that when I haven't even seen him?"

Nest studied him doubtfully for a moment. "He probably wouldn't look the same anyway, would he?"

"Hard to say. Demons don't change much once they're demons." He blinked. "Wait a minute. You haven't seen him, have you?"

Nest told him then about the encounter in church, about the appearance of the feeders and Wraith, about poor Mrs. Browning, and about John Ross. When she was done, Pick sat down heavily hi her palm and shook his head.

"What's going on here?" he asked softly, not so much of her as of himself.

She looked off into the park again, thinking it over, searching for an answer that refused to be found. Then she stood up, put him back on her shoulder, and began to walk once more along the edge of the service road toward the east end of the park. "Tell me about my grandmother," she asked him after a moment.

Pick looked at her. "Don't start with me. I've said all I have to say about that."

"Just tell me what she was doing with the feeders, running with them, being part of them." Nest felt her voice catch as the ugly vision played itself through again in her mind.