DarkWalker (25 page)

Special Note
: (Cross-Reference MIL 92 and WAS 219) On two known occasions, watchers have been adversely affected by contact with imps. Case Study MIL 92 was struck by Specimen 138 (Wild) in London, 1523 AD. Blood drawn. Contact caused MIL 92 to lose immunity, and to attract other supernatural entities. Numerous apparitions sighted. See file (MIL 92) for details. MIL 92 died 18 hours after contact (killed by
K’uei
Specimen 19 (Wild); see file MIL 92 for details).

WAS 219 was wounded by Specimen 211 (Captive) in 1929 AD. Contact caused WAS 219 to lose immunity, and to attract other supernatural entities. Numerous apparitions sighted. See file (WAS 219) for details. Immunity restored when Specimen 211 was destroyed 6 hours later.

5.

The file contained nothing else. But it told Jack Harlow everything he needed to know.

He looked up. Nick and Lisa had stopped arguing, and were staring out the window.

A skull with yellow eyes under a black hood floated there. The rest of its cloak fluttered in the wind. It tapped on the window with a bony finger, and then beckoned.

“Ghoul,” Jack said, shutting his computer. “I’ve seen one before.”

“How do we kill it?” Nick asked.

The ghoul tapped the window again, then scratched it, leaving a line in the glass.

“We don’t,” Jack said. “We run.”

1.

Before any of them were
out of the apartment, Jack devised a plan. He paused in the hallway. “Split up.”

“What?” Nick said.

“No,” Lisa said.

“You’re both safer without me,” Jack said. “I know what I have to do.”

“No,” Lisa said again.

He grabbed her, kissed her—too quickly—and said, “You stay here. Hide. When the ghoul is gone, go back inside and stay there.”

“But . . .”

He lowered his voice so only she would hear. “Do what you have to do.” He didn’t want to leave her in harm’s way, but there was no escaping it now. He hoped this would be the lesser evil.

“We don’t have time,” Nick said.

“You have more weapons, right?” Jack asked.

 “Of course.”

“Get them. As many as you can. I know what happened now.”

“What?” Lisa asked.

“The imp,” Jack said. “It didn’t attack you randomly. It knew I was there, knew I’d try to stop it. It . . . I don’t know how, but it stole my immunity.” He reached the stairway and pulled the door open. “We’ve got to kill it.”

“That’s it?” Nick asked. “That small little shit that attacked Lisa last night?”

“If you find it, kill it,” Jack said. “There’s a clearing by I-4, east of the office. One hour?” Nick nodded, and Jack went down the stairs.

2.

Lisa wanted to follow. Didn’t want to give him up. He was right, she was safer without him, but she felt less alive. If whatever he intended failed, she’d be left guessing, never knowing for certain. She didn’t want to deal with that.

Nick looked at her a moment. “You still have my knife?”

She nodded.

“Keep it,” he said. One of the elevators slid open. He held the door. “I think Jack knows what he’s talking about.”

“You didn’t find it yesterday,” Lisa said.

“No,” Nick agreed, “but I didn’t know then what I know now.”

“What’s that?” Lisa asked.

“It didn’t run very far,” Nick said. “If it’s anything like everything else out there, it’ll be sticking close to Jack.”

“That’s a good thing?” Lisa asked.

Nick stepped into the elevator. “It narrows the search.”

The doors slid shut.

Behind her, glass shattered.

Lisa took a deep breath. No place to run, she ducked into the maintenance closet, hoping—praying, if it wasn’t too late—the ghoul wouldn’t even care about her. It wanted Jack.

There wasn’t much room: a few shelves, a mop in a bucket, an oversized sink and a drain on the floor. The room might have fit two, standing side by side and close. A single, low-watt bulb provided dingy light.

She held her breath. If the ghoul came through her apartment, it made no sound as it entered the hallway. She strained to listen. As far as she knew, it stood on the other side of the closet door.

Under the door, a sliver of light was visible from the overly bright hallway. No shadow crossed it.

A door closed.

Lisa drew a deep breath. She clenched her fists so tight, the knuckles turned white. With effort, she put a hand on the doorknob.

Turned it.

The hall was empty. Her apartment door was still open. She didn’t even look through the tiny window on the stairwell door; the ghoul had probably gone that way, chasing Jack—just as he expected.

Lisa hurried to her apartment.

Shards from one pane of glass were scattered on the couch and floor. The wind wasn’t too bad, enough to flutter the end of a magazine on her coffee table but not actually flip the page; it carried moisture, but not the heavy rain from earlier.

With a deep breath, uncertain if she was about to make a mistake, she sat in the middle of the room. She ignored the broken glass and the noise from outside, and there was no way in Hell she’d look out there to see what else she might find. She knew what was out there:
Kaz’azeal
.

Closing her eyes, miles from serenity, Lisa chanted the words the demon had given her.

3.

Nick didn’t like it. Sure, separating gave him a chance to rearm. But it also gave Jack a chance to be killed; and Lisa
would
summon that demon.

Damn, damn, damn. When the elevator slid open in the lobby, he didn’t know if Jack had made it down the stairs yet. He held the doors open, waited a moment. Hearing nothing, he stepped into the lobby.

Nothing to be seen, either.

He strode calmly through the vestibule and onto the sidewalk outside. Though the rain had stopped, it left puddles big enough to be ponds.

He had no intention to go anywhere near the lake again, not after what he’d seen inside it.

Nick walked casually down Central, as he might on any other rainy night if he’d been a regular man. Maybe he was headed to a bar downtown, or a restaurant—for a date, even—or perhaps just to his car, parked around the block.

In fact, he was headed for his truck, maybe two miles away, north of downtown. He’d pass the office building to get there, but was unconcerned.

This was probably his last opportunity to simply walk away. Whatever Hell Lisa unleashed by calling the demon, he was under no obligation to face it. And the watcher . . . Jack had never asked for his help. Why did Nick insist on giving it?

Because Nick Hunter was stupid. No other explanation sufficed.

He walked briskly, confidently, certain nothing would rush out of the shadows at him now. He wasn’t the target.

4.

Hope.

Such a simple thing. Maybe it was the information on the disc, the existence of a solution (difficult as it may be to obtain), an explanation of the change (and, further, a complete eradication of suspicion that
love
had altered his fate). That little bit of information meant Jack Harlow
could
reclaim his life.

But it was seeing Lisa, alive and well, breathing, sitting in her own apartment—more than anything else, that gave Jack hope. A reason to live.

Lisa’s embrace, her kiss, restored his hope. He could live a life he’d never imagined, empowered and supported by Lisa Sparrow. There’d be a home, a place to call his own, and a woman with whom to share it. He’d never even considered these things before. Now, possibilities burst wide open. Anything, absolutely
anything
, could be achieved—provided he survived the night, found the imp, and killed it. Just that one little tiny improbable thing.

Hope
. Jack never imagined how powerful it could be. It gave him strength when he thought he had none. He’d taken the stairs three and four at a time, reaching the ground level before the door above fell shut.

The ghoul pursued him.

He ran out of the apartment building, nearly knocking someone over on the sidewalk. As far as Jack could tell, he had only one chance. If the children of the night were so drawn to him, he had to pull them in closer—all of them—anything and everything that might be out there. If ghouls, wraiths, vampires, and zombies felt the pull, then certainly so did that damned imp.

He ran toward downtown. Not daring to look back, taking no moment to catch his breath, he never slowed. When he reached the red light at Magnolia, he ran with traffic and crossed the three lanes as soon as there was a break. Cars honked. Someone cursed out their window. A couple on the street paused. Jack ran between them.

The next block inclined slightly, putting him between the courthouse and a parking garage. He didn’t want to guess what demonic creatures lurked here.

At the top of the incline, the road leveled off and headed straight toward downtown. He passed a bookshop, clothing store, tattoo parlor, club, bar, and underground garage. Sushi and pizza, another club, a pair of ATMs outside a bank at the corner, and Jack reached Orange Avenue.

It cut through the heart of downtown. He paused a moment, looking in both directions. South, there was the bar where he’d first met
Jia
Li and the storytelling ghost; north, the vampire’s office suite.

He hoped she’d survived her fall. He couldn’t help it; she’d tried to protect him out of love (lust). How could he not reciprocate? It was her damned perfume, her sex, her mind-fuck . . . she’d infested him.

But there was Lisa now.

Behind him, people walked in and out of the various shops. Some looked in Jack’s direction, but few focused on him. Others went down the slight hill; they’d walk straight into the ghoul if it followed Jack’s every step.

He didn’t see it. That meant nothing.

He glanced skyward. The skeletal figure had floated five stories above the ground when it knocked on Lisa’s window; it was not limited to a running chase. This corner building was one of the tall banks, maybe as high as
Jia
Li’s place. Nothing skimmed down the side of it.

Despite the momentary reprieve, Jack did not hesitate. He crossed the street (another one-way, in the opposite direction), pausing only when a blue minivan with a loud horn almost ran him down.

Down one block, almost as far as the ghost’s bar (where
Jia
Li had captured Jack), he turned right at the corner. He ran alongside the parking lot, across the street from the police station, and pulled keys from his pocket.

His Mustang was ahead, the interstate not far beyond it. If he had the ten seconds it would take to get to his car, he might lead the night creatures away from the city—and then right back to a fully armed and waiting hunter.

Jack thought it was a good plan. But someone waited next to his car.

5.

“Fancy meeting you here,” the stranger said, stepping forward. His cane, tapping the asphalt, sounded uniquely loud, drowning out even the thunder that still rumbled in the distance. His black suit glistened in the misty night air. His shaved head nearly glowed.

The mist thickened around them. Darkened. It flowed from all directions, centering on the stranger.

“No,” Jack said—not in fear or awe, not in disbelief, but in defiance. “Won’t happen.”

The stranger lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Jack pulled the gold coin out of his pocket. The stranger had given it to him before all this began. “What, do you want this back?”

“I have no need,” the stranger said, closing the gap between them.

The mist shrouded the entire street, hiding everything but the two of them. Even the Mustang was invisible. If he ran, he might hit a wall, a car, the ghoul . . .

Jack rushed forward.

The stranger fell back a step, raising his cane to defend himself—or tap the ground. Jack remembered the blinding flash of darkness before the woman—just informed her life would be long and happy—burnt so quickly to ash. There was never a flame.

He wouldn’t allow that.

Jack grabbed the cane with both hands. Tried to yank it out of the stranger’s hands. Briefly, he thought he might succeed.

Then he was on the street, on his butt. The stranger towered over Jack, neither laughing nor smiling. He raised the cane.

As the stranger lowered it, Jack kicked. He caught the edge of the ebony wood, shifting it just enough so it hit the stranger’s shoe instead of the street. In the flash of dark that followed, Jack had enough time to wish he’d done something else.

6.

After reciting the foreign (ancient) words, Lisa Sparrow waited. She didn’t know what to expect, or when, nor even if it would work.

She sat, hands on her knees, palms up, in a yoga position. Breathing. Relaxing. Listening.