The Shadowkiller (43 page)

W
hat was that?” Ronnie said, almost to herself, not sure whether Greta or the kids were within earshot.

The faint yet disturbing screech sounded like it came from somewhere outside.

“Greta?” she called out, then headed toward Greta's room on the other end of the house, past the TV and utility rooms.

“Greta?”

Greta appeared in the hallway down from her room, candle in hand.

“Did you hear that noise?” asked the young Swede, her eyes circles.

Ronnie nodded. “It sounded like, I don't know, a cougar maybe.”

“What's a cougar?” Greta asked with trepidation.

“A lion. Well, like a lion, only smaller.”

“A lion?” Greta said, her voice dropping to an awed hush. “Here?”

Ronnie didn't mean to scare her. “Really nowhere near as big,” she said, trying to comfort her foreign charge. “But don't worry, either way it couldn't get into the house.”

“I hope not,” said Greta fearfully.

Ronnie touched Greta's arm reassuringly and headed back toward the other end of the house. She was beginning to worry about her husband.

The small two-leg he had just killed was not the one that let loose the thunder on him. As he walked around the big wood cave, he searched for the mind voice of the one with the thunder, the hating one.

He didn't sense the one with the thunder inside but knew there were females and some young in the cave, probably belonging to the one he wanted. If he killed them, the hating one would come.

A few minutes passed, and when no more strange sounds came from outside, Greta went back to her room to continue writing her letter by candlelight. After determining the kids were probably upstairs, Ronnie went into the kitchen, found an open bottle of cabernet, and poured a glass. She figured if nothing else she'd have her own Christmas party. She took a sip of the wine, breathed deeply, and tried to relax.

She hoped Ty would be home soon because she not only missed him, she felt safer with him around, what with the lights off and possible cougars in the yard. Then she felt like the heat pump just blew a faint burst of warm air onto her, yet she knew there was no power. If anything, the house was getting colder.

She shook off the feeling and was about to go check on the kids when a flash of lightning disclosed an out-of-place shape by the pool. It was so fast, she reasoned her eyes were playing games with her brain. She stared intently out the window, trying to discern what she thought she had seen.

Another moment went by and she was about to dismiss it and walk away when a great sustaining bolt of lightning lit the yard like a military flare, and what it revealed, in unmistakable electric detail, caused Ronnie's hand to go limp. The wineglass crashed to the floor. In that one bone-chilling second, the hulking form and glimpse of semi-human features told her two things, that her husband had been right all along and that she and her babies were in mortal danger.

Two stunned seconds later, a short spark of sky fire showed this fearsome night demon moving toward the house. Recoiling from the window, she experienced a terrible suspicion that it knew what she was thinking. Ronnie ran for the front of the house, forcing calm over her voice. “Kids? Kids? Come here, where are you?”

Greta loved the peace of the golden light illuminating her little manuscript. She loved America but had a few aches for the taste of home. She had decided to seek solace in a long letter to a former boyfriend whom she knew still carried a torch for her. Writing in Swedish in case anyone found it before she could post it, she waxed poetic in her native language.

Pausing to gather her thoughts, she picked up her iPod, stuffed the earpieces in, then scrolled up a soulful song by Alicia Keys. Setting the player back down, she glanced up into the tall bay window two feet away and her heart stopped. In the glass a huge, terrible face appeared, animal-like yet hideously mannish, a scraggly crown of hair cascading to mountainous shoulders. Its yellow eyes met hers and she fell back in horror, believing it to be the monstrous cougar Ronnie had so blithely described.

Then this monumental apparition reared back and exploded through the polygonal structure, a spray of glass and wood framing raining inward, blowing out the candle. Greta scrambled for the door but the thing was on her, grabbing her hair and growling viscerally. She screamed as her head snapped back and she was slammed like a sack of flour, first up into the twelve-foot ceiling, then onto her dresser, sending her perfumes, brushes, and mirror spinning across the room.

Utterly dazed, she had just enough awareness to know she was in the grasp of some dreadful monster. Her mind sparked past a shred of Christopher's description of Bigfoot. Suddenly she was airborne, tossed like a puppet through the shattered window onto the grass.

The cacophony of smashing and screaming and ungodly bellowing spurred Ronnie to race to protect her children.

“Meredith! Chris!” she screamed. Then she heard it, coming down the dark hall.

Ronnie turned to see an unreal humanoid shape filling most of the fifteen-foot-high passage and moving toward her. She ran into the kitchen and fumbled around the counter in darkness, trying to locate the knife rack. In her panic she knocked it over, sending knives flying. On the floor she quickly found the handle of a ten-inch butcher knife. Keeping low, she scurried on her hands and knees, below the counter line.

It came around the counter, its breaths like steam evacuating a boiler. She could feel it, not just its sickening odor and amplified sounds, but its anger, like a malevolent radar seeking her out.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Ronnie's blood froze. Her younger child was just outside in the hallway, unaware of what awaited her around the corner.

“Run! Run, baby! Run upstairs!” Ronnie screamed.

Then she heard it turn toward her child. Popping up from behind the counter, Ronnie saw the towering form moving to the hall. Instinct took over as she lunged at the beast, the big knife gripped like a dagger. Leaping up, she landed on its lower back and grabbed a handful of long, gritty hair. With her other hand she rammed the knife home with all her might. The ear-blasting metallic scream it emitted was something the likes of which no human had ever heard.

Meredith shrieked and ran toward the stairway as fast as her little legs would carry her. The creature whirled, throwing Ronnie across the polished wood floor. Howling in fury and pain, it reached back for the knife.

The monster danced in rage and Ronnie saw no way to get past it to protect her children. It withdrew the blade, and its jet-plane bellow told Ronnie she was about to die in a most awful way. As it came for her, she leaped away through the opening to the hallway and realized there was only one way out.

The giant came out of the other end of the kitchen, into the hall, and bore down on her. She had three seconds—her hands found the secret panel—two seconds—she pushed and the hidden door popped open—one second—she smelled it as she tumbled inside, pulling the wine cellar door shut and falling down the stairs into the blackness.

Up above she heard it, muted now but still louder than any living thing she had ever heard. Her entire body shook, the shock of the last two minutes shorting all her circuits. The momentary relief from the terrible tension, mixed with her fear for her children, made tears roll from her eyes. She squeezed them shut against the darkness, relived Greta's mortal scream, and knew the poor girl was no more.

As the creature smashed at the walls above, she feared it would inadvertently pop the secret panel, open the hidden door, and somehow squeeze its massive frame down the stairs. Dying in the dark in the hands of that thing was not a death she deserved. Her shaking escalated to uncontrollable shivers. How could this be? If this is what Ty had faced, then why hadn't she believed him? But how could anyone believe this?

T
he Cavalier's bald tires caused Ty to nearly slide off the road several times as he took corners too fast in the rain. He hurtled through Snohomish, trying not to get the attention of the police but maintaining a speed well above the legal limit.

He prayed the car's owner hadn't yet reported the theft. He flew through a stop sign outside town and nearly hit an Explorer. Inhaling deeply, he realized he hadn't taken a good breath since leaving the highway ten minutes before.
Five more minutes.

The female was hiding and he pounded holes in the walls trying to find her place of refuge. He could feel her but could not reach her. She had hurt him and he was going to destroy her.

Then he heard small voices of terror in his head. Her cubs. They were in the cave, somewhere above. Their mind voices were clear, pure. He would find them, kill them. Then the female would come. Females were stronger than the males and more reckless when it came to their young. He gave up on the wall.

Chris and Meredith sought refuge in Meredith's room. It was farthest from the stairs and offered access to the attic. Candles in hand, they climbed the wooden ladder onto the small balcony loft overlooking the main floor of the bedroom. His sister was crying and Chris tried to be the little man, still not sure what was loose in their house but knowing his mother's screamed instructions had been pretty specific: run.

“Here,” he said, handing his candle to Meredith.

Chris climbed the short mahogany ladder to the hatch in the angled ceiling that led to the space above. From a gap in the molding he pulled out his secret key, a bent hairpin.

“Is Mommy okay? What's that downstairs?” sobbed Meredith, the candles in her hands shaking.

Chris worked the lock. “I don't know, a bear I guess.”

“Is it Daddy's monster?”

Chris was surprised she knew about that. He'd assumed she'd been too young to remember. “No, I don't think so,” he assured her. “Couldn't be.” But he wasn't completely sure. He got the lock to snap and pushed the panel aside. “C'mon, I'll boost you up.”

“No, no, it's too dark, you go,” she said tearfully.

“You go,” he said. “Hurry.”

“No, it's scary,” she said, near panic.

Then they heard it, quickly climbing the stairs,
thump, thump, thump
—five at a time. Meredith squealed in terror and almost climbed up her brother's back. Her candles went flying, down to the plush carpeted floor. While Chris took a moment to heft his little sister up into the opening, tongues of flame from the carpet began to animate macabre shadows on the walls.

When it rounded the corner, in the growing firelight Chris saw the most terrifying sight of his short life, an impossible two-legged creature—so huge it took his breath away—its carbon-hued face twisted with pain and demented rage. Chris's jaw fell open as the thing ducked under the eight-foot doorway and headed straight for him. Chris knew the indoor balcony's height was nine feet and saw that the monster's head was well above that. The thing could easily reach out and pluck him from it.

It took a swipe at him, missed, and knocked the little veranda from its moorings. Chris leaped to the carpet, and as the flames swarmed around his feet, his sister's tiny scream from the attic opening was drowned out by the inhuman roar of the beast looming over him.

It grabbed for him, then charged, forcing him into the corner. Chris had only one option and took it, the way he'd seen a zillion stuntmen do in movies, only this wasn't a movie. Putting his hands behind his neck, he leaped—staying as close to a ball as he could manage—and crashed through the window.

The Cavalier sailed down Ty's street at seventy. He slammed the brakes a hundred yards before his driveway, skidding sideways to a stop directly in front of the chain fence. An unmarked police sedan parked nearby caused his hopes to soar with the possibility that the situation was under control. He climbed around the chain-link gate and headed up the driveway to the house. With no lights on, it was hard to see any detail. Rounding the corner, he could barely make out the large, dark gray outline of the house in the acre clearing. Ty headed for the front door, praying he was early. He intended to get his family out and head to the safety of Bellevue.

Several steps from the door something caught his eye, a small shape bobbing as it came around the corner.

“Hey!” Ty yelled to get its attention.

“Dad? Is that you?” Chris said, running toward Ty.

As he got closer, Ty saw his son was limping and heard his heaving breath.

Ty went to one knee. “Jesus! What happened?”

“It's in the house…it chased me…room's on fire…Mere's in the attic,” he exploded in a breathless stream of consciousness.

Ty's legs nearly collapsed. “Slow down,” he said frantically. “
What's
in the house?”

“The thing,” Chris said, near tears. “Your monster.”

His worst fear realized, Ty asked,“Where's Mommy?”

“I don't know,” Chris said, now starting to cry. “I heard real loud noises, then it came up and went for us. Mere's in the attic and the room's on fire,” he repeated.

“Where's Greta? Is she home?” Ty asked.

“I don't know if she's okay. I heard her scream real bad,” said the little boy, breaking down at those last words.

A loud crashing inside validated everything Ty's son had just said.

Ty held his son's shoulders firmly and summoned his calmest voice. “Go to the garage, get in Mommy's car, and lock the door and get on the floor on the passenger side. Okay?”

Chris sniffled and nodded. “Okay. Is Mommy all right?”

Ty gave his son a quick hug, then gave him a push toward the garage. “She'll be fine,” he said,“we'll all be fine. Go. Hurry.”

Chris took two steps, then turned back. “Dad? Are there any more…of them?”

“No, son, just the one. Go ahead, you're okay.”

Chris headed off and Ty followed his small shadow until it entered the garage, then he moved around the house, hoping to locate the thing before going inside. The last thing he wanted to do was barge in and come face to face with it. He pushed back the horrific visions assaulting his senses, that of his wife and daughter torn asunder by this enraged man-beast.

Hugging the perimeter of the structure, Ty turned the corner and followed the side of the house. A half dozen steps later he made out what looked like a person lying on the lawn. He approached, knelt down, then to his horror realized it was headless. Sickness gripped him as he tried to make out detail in the near blackness. Then he spotted another, smaller item a few yards away. He moved toward it and saw it was the head. Too dark to make an identification, but he could tell it was a man, which ruled out the body being Ronnie's or Greta's. But who?

When he turned the next corner, he saw illumination from above: his house was on fire. The flames in Meredith's bedroom were now blazing merrily away and spreading to the roof. Ty heard nothing else and feared that calling out might alert his foe. He had to find it before it found him.