HEX (31 page)

Steve nodded. “It must have been before four, because that's when Matt and I came home.”

Her eyes grew bigger and bigger, and Grim didn't like the expression in them at all. “Can you be more precise?”

Steve turned to the MacBook, tapped the video file with two fingers, and opened the properties menu. “Look, there it is. Content created: Thursday, November 8, 2012, 3:37 p.m.”

“Oh my God.” Claire slapped her hands over her mouth. “That's when that old lady died.”

Grim didn't know what she was talking about. “Who?”

“Rita Marmell. She was a patient at Roseburgh. She had a stroke Thursday afternoon while she was playing cards. Her doctor said it was completely unexpected because she was in relatively good health, but these things happen at her age, so I didn't think anything of it. It said on the death certificate that she was declared dead at a quarter to four, after CPR failed.”

Pete VanderMeer and Steve exchanged shocked glances. “Isn't that exactly what she did back in '67?” Pete said. “When those doctors were trying to cut her mouth open. Three elderly people in town dropped dead of strokes.”

Warren understood what he was getting at. “Years go by and she's just standing there, like a chained hibernating bear. But get too close and…” He clapped his hands and everyone jumped at the hollow sound.

Like a chained hibernating bear,
Grim thought with a sudden shiver.
Waiting for … what?

“Apparently she sends out this freak energy when she's under great physical or emotional stress,” Warren said. “And it makes the weakest among us just … snap.”

“If that's true, then these kids killed that woman,” Grim said, his voice flat. Under the harsh, unforgiving striplights, the group looked pale and gutted, but at the same time restrained. What if this were to leak out in town, God forbid?
If you want to know what restraint looks like, take a good look around you,
he thought,
because this is the last you're going to see of it for a long time
.

“Good.” Grim took off his glasses and began polishing the lenses. “We've got to bring those jerks in as quietly as possible. If this leaks out before they're safely locked up, all hell will break loose.”

“And you think that won't happen if people find out afterward?” Pete remarked.

“It probably will, but at least these boys won't get lynched.”

“I hope not.”

Grim stared at him. “You don't really think…”

“What do you think the Council will decide if word gets out that the boys are responsible not only for last week's panic and the death of Steve's dog, but also for the death of an elderly woman? Master Mathers will insist that it's one of his town matters and he'll get everybody to vote on it under the guise of democracy. But if this isn't handled with delicacy there'll be total anarchy. Haven't you noticed how frightened people are out there? They'll be capable of just about anything when they find out who caused it.”

Warren brightened up. “And that's why we're going to be one step ahead of them. We'll pick 'em up quietly and try them under the laws of the Emergency Decree.”

“Right, and what does that say about willfully causing a ‘serious threat to the municipal public order,' which I'm pretty damn sure covers stoning as well?”

“Come on, Pete, that's just a stupid old law from the eighteenth century,” Grim snapped.

“The Emergency Decree
is
the law here. Don't be so sure about that.”

“Listen, this is bullshit. We still live in America, for fuck's sake. I don't know how long it's been since any incident occurred that fell under that particular law, so the statutes have never been adapted to contemporary criminal legislation. We'll figure it out in the Council.”

But the others avoided each other's glances and looked at the floor with visible discomfort. Warren was the only one who dared to open his mouth. “People have been sent to Doodletown for far less serious offenses.”

“Guys, come on!” Grim shouted with disbelief. He felt cornered, and that fed his anger. “You don't really believe that, do you? I don't want to jump the gun on the sentence, because that's up to the entire Council, but don't worry, we'll come up with something trendy. I'm sorry, but I can't keep this quiet. What they did is criminal, make no mistake. Who knows what those fuckers will cook up the next time? Maybe burn her, because that's what we do to witches, after all. Do you want to wait for that to happen? If things had turned out just a little bit differently we'd all be dead by now.”

“I'm well aware of that,” Pete said softly.

Then Steve spoke up. “Tyler and Lawrence are terrified of these guys, especially Jaydon. Also of what's going to happen after they're released.”

“Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,” Grim said. “I'm assuming they won't be seeing the light of day for a while.”

“Say, you have the authority to call in The Point if you think it's a good idea, right?” Pete asked, suddenly hopeful. “Now would be a good time. If Mathers wants to keep it internal, like the Roth case, the town will be under even greater strain. Releasing some of the pressure might not be a bad idea, with a little outside supervision.”

Grim laughed bitterly. “Listen, my friend, if that was at all possible I'd be on the phone with them right now. The Council has forbidden me from alerting them about what happened last week.”

“What?”

“Because of Roth. If I don't obey the order I'll lose my job.”

That was true, but this new development was shocking enough to justify acting on his own initiative. Robert Grim couldn't exactly nail down why, but VanderMeer's words had upset him in some indefinable way. People were slowly losing their minds, and if this persisted, nothing would ever be as it had been before. He knew it would probably be wisest to neutralize the situation and stay one step ahead of Mathers, but Mathers wouldn't stand for it. Grim guessed that the councilman wouldn't go so far as to fire him—after all, who could replace him?—but he couldn't exactly be sure. Colton Mathers was a life-form who had a lot in common with a marshy swamp: immune from evolution and sucking up every little mishap in its stinking depths, where it would never be forgotten.

“I don't think you should go that far,” Steve said suddenly. Pete was surprised, but Steve shrugged. “I know there's no way to justify this, but if you go to The Point, the Council will be on your ass. I think you'd be better off keeping everyone calm and trying to get the Council to use their heads.”

“Exactly,” said Grim, who swept his doubts aside, and in so doing made a terrible miscalculation. “I'll inform the Council tonight and we'll get that scum off the street. It'll be all right. We may be Black Spring, but we're not animals.”

 

NINETEEN

GRISELDA HOLST CAME
to the conclusion that her sacrifice had been a supreme achievement. For the first time since the birth of her son she felt something that was both spine-chilling and blissful: unsurpassed happiness, the way other people were made happy by a sultry summer breeze or the smell of lilac bushes growing against the wall of a garden house. Tragically, Griselda's happiness only lasted for four days, until it was permanently cut short on Saturday evening with the arrest of her son.

At first she had felt offended—put on the spot, even. She had prepared such a lovely offering, but Katherine, instead of disappearing, had refused to vanish, so the sacrifice was never completed. Not only that, but now there was a fairly good chance that Griselda would be unmasked. After closing the shop on Monday, she had had the urge to go and ask what the deal here was, but she didn't dare, fully aware she ought to be careful. The next day, however, when it began to look as if she might have gotten away with it, she began to see things differently. Katherine had held on to the peacock because she wanted to show everyone how grateful she was to her friend, Griselda! And, lo and behold, the creek stopped bleeding. It began to dawn on Griselda that what she had done was nothing short of an act of heroism. Silently, she took intense pleasure in her achievement and engaged in frivolous fantasies. If only the people knew, they'd carry her through the streets on their shoulders. There'd be a great party with dancing and singing, and everyone would want to eat her pâté. Still, Griselda didn't long for recognition or fame. All she wanted was the good favor of her beloved Katherine.

Saturday came and she stood behind the shop counter in a particularly good mood. As the specialty of the day, she had made her “lukewarm meatballs à la gravy.” People poured into the shop, as if they all secretly knew that she was their savior. Even Mrs. Schaeffer greeted her wholeheartedly and bought a two-pound rump steak like it was nothing.

That evening, Griselda lay in bed watching
Saturday Night Live
with a tray full of liverwurst and a sense of satisfaction when she heard a loud banging on the door downstairs. She was surprised; no one ever came to visit her, and Jaydon had shut himself up in his room after dinner.

“Jaydon, the door!” she screamed. Nothing, only the thumping from his stereo in the attic.
“Jaydon!”

Resentfully, she slid into her slippers and went out to the hallway in her pajamas. She was about to go upstairs and give Jaydon a piece of her mind—how often had she told him that his affairs with his friends were
his
business, not hers? But there was more pounding, even louder this time, and she lumbered back down the stairs, grumbling all the while. As she turned on the light in the shop the doorbell began ringing nonstop. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming,” she snarled, shuffling around the counter. “I'm not sixteen anymore, you know!”

Behind the braided window curtain were three hefty figures. There—Jaydon's friends, just as she'd expected. She unlocked the door and was about to greet the visitors with a harsh
Couldn't you guys have called him on his goddamned phone?
but the words died on her lips. It was Rey Darrel and Joe Ramsey from Rush Painting, accompanied by Theo Stackhouse, owner of the garage on Deep Hollow Road where Jaydon had had some lousy-ass job last summer, as he had called it himself. Three big, overblown guys full of testosterone who looked as if they were about to pop. Only now did she notice Colton Mathers in their wake, two heads shorter and hidden away inside his overcoat. Rey Darrel's Chevy was idling in the distance, lights still on.

Griselda looked nervously from one face to another. “What can I do for you guys?”

“Is Jaydon home?” Darrel asked abruptly.

“What mess did he get himself into now?” She looked suspiciously over her shoulder and the men took the opportunity to squeeze right past her and enter the shop. “Hey, what do you think you're doing! Colton, what's this all about?”

The councilman looked at her with a contorted mask of anger. Suddenly Griselda was struck with fear, burning fear. “These officers of the law have come to arrest Jaydon, Griselda. You'd be well advised to let them do their work without any resistance.”

“Arrest? What on earth for?”

The three men ignored her and walked around the counter to the private comfort of Griselda's home. “Hey, get back here! This is my house! Jaydon!”

Colton Mathers placed his hand on her arm and called her name, articulating each syllable, but Griselda, in the spur of the moment, turned and went after the intruders, who had shamelessly started up the stairs. They couldn't just do that, could they? With a shock, Griselda realized that indeed they
could
if the situation called for it. Black Spring's local police force consisted of nothing more than a bunch of volunteer officers supervised by the HEX staff, who were called in for internal matters. There were no clear rules for carrying out arrests and it often came down to improvisation, but who could you turn to and complain about the lack of a search warrant? The authority was standing downstairs in the shop, waiting.

Ramsey, Stackhouse, and Darrel followed the music and went straight to the attic. The first of the three slammed Jaydon's bedroom door against the wall with a house-shattering bang. Griselda was right behind them, out of breath, and saw Jaydon, who had been gaming on his laptop in bed, sit bolt upright.

“Jaydon Holst, you are under arrest for breaking just about every goddamn law in the Emergency Decree,” Rey Darrel said. He almost shouted it out, and for the first time Griselda realized that the men were not only worked up about their task but were also sincerely outraged. “You have the right to remain silent, but I wouldn't count on an attorney, you stupid little fuck.” With a loud crash he hurled Jaydon's desk chair to the floor.

“Are you out of your mind?” Griselda screamed. She grabbed him by the sleeve, but Darrel freed himself with a simple twist of the arm.

“What the fuck?” Jaydon stammered. He turned to Griselda for help. “Mom…”

“What kind of psychopath are you?” Theo Stackhouse asked, his lips white with rage. He walked up to Jaydon and grabbed him by the arm, fusing his hand to the boy's skin. “This is not what I hired you for! You fucking ate lunch at my house with my wife and kids, every single day!”

“Theo, chill out, man. What's this all about?”

“
You're
the one who should've chilled out!” he roared, and Jaydon shrank back. “Not so tough without a stone in your hand, are you?”

Jaydon raised both his palms. “Listen, that was just a joke, nothing more.”

“I'll show you a joke.” With one quick move he grabbed Jaydon's wrist and twisted his arm onto his back. Jaydon bent forward and screamed.

“Stop it!” Griselda screamed, but Darrel held her back with fingers that felt like steel cables. “Rey, I'm never going to sell you that ground beef you like so much unless you tell me
right now
what the hell you think you're doing!”