Vision of Shadows (19 page)

Payne was at a nearby desk. His back was to me as he continued to look at something he’d found.

“Payne? Are you okay?”

Payne straightened
, his fists clenched beside him. When he turned, it didn’t take my abilities to see the murderous rage that was barley being contained. The look on his face, a face still so beautiful, was the same face I‘d seen in countless dreams. 

Instinctively, I took a step back. For the first time since meeting Payne, I felt afraid.

“It was him,” Payne hissed. “He killed Jared. It’s here.” Payne held up the notebook and gave it a quick wave before throwing it to the table. “He even says how he regrets hurting my aunt, but that it’s
for the best!”

“I’m so sorry,” I said
, keeping my voice soft and calm. “Jared deserved better than this. We need to call my uncle.”

Payne had a look of disgust on his face. “So Weeder can get a lawyer
, and a fair trial, and someone who will say he was insane?”

“Payne, we need to let the police handle this,” I insisted. “Nothing you do is going to bring Jared back. If you do anything to Weeder, your life will be over. Your aunt needs you. Your family…”

“My family is in that book!” Payne shouted. “He’s been watching us all. He thinks that all of us need to be killed. He thinks we’re evil. Demons from hell.”

“Payne,” I said
. “We really need to call my uncle. Please.”

Payne took a step closer to me
, and for a second, I felt that cold shiver of panic on the back of my neck. Then Payne pulled me to him, put his arms around me, and held on. As I held him back, I felt him gather control of the rage within him. 

“Call your uncle,” Payne said.

“I don’t think so,” someone said.

Instantly, Payne shoved me behind him. There was a man who’d come in from behind us. He was tall, reed thin, dressed in dirty blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. He wore a red ball cap that had seen better days and boots caked with dirt and grime. Most importantly, he was holding a shotgun and had it aimed directly at us.  

“Payne,” he said. “I suppose telling you that you shouldn’t be here would seem useless at this point.”

“You might say that,” Payne responded.
“Why, Mr. Weeder? Jared was a good kid.”

“I thought so,” Weeder said
. “But that boy wasn’t what he seemed to be. In fact, I’m wondering if you are either.” Weeder then motioned toward me with the barrel of his shotgun as if he’d just noticed me for the first time. “Who’s your friend there?”

“None of your business
,” Payne snarled.

“Well now,” Weeder said
. “This here shotgun says it is my business. What’s your name, girl?” 

I jumped as he aim
ed the shotgun toward me.

“I ain’t waiting all day for an answer
, Missy,” Weeder yelled. “Now! Or so help me…”

“Bristol
,” I said in an embarrassingly squeaky voice. “Bristol Blackburn.”

For a second, he lowered the barrel of the gun just a touch.

“Blackburn? Well hell, what’s a Blackburn doing down here with a McKnight? It ain’t natural. Y’all are supposed to hate each other.”

“I’ve heard,” I replied. “I’m new in town
, so I’m still trying to get the rules down.”

“That right?” Weeder said. “Let me educate you. McKnights are a bunch of evil S.O.B.s you can’t trust worth spit. And some of ‘em, maybe even this one right here, are mo
re evil then the rest. Some of ’em been touched by the devil ’emself. No one knows that better than a Blackburn. I shouldn’t have to tell you nuthin’. You of all people. I heard of you, Bristol Blackburn. Aint you livin’ with Gregory Blackburn?”

I didn’t like discussing my personal life with people I didn’t know, most especially people who
were pointing shotguns at me and had killed little boys and kidnapped their dogs. However, I really couldn’t think of a way to not answer without upsetting the man with said shotgun, so I nodded. “Yes I do.”

“I’ll bet he could tell you,” Weeder said. “Your grandpa knows all about them McKnights. He’ll tell you that they ain’t right. For years
, I thought your grandpa was full of it. Thought to myself, that Greg Blackburn, he’s nothin’ but a loon. No offense.”

I shrugged. “None taken. To be honest, I’ve kinda thought the same thing myself.”

“Well, let me tell you, he ain’t as crazy as people might say,” Weeder said. “If he knew what I’d done, he’d tell me I’d done right.”

“No, he wouldn’t
,” I scoffed.

“I find that hard to believe
, little Missy,” Weeder said.

“First off,” I said
. “Grandpa would never justify killing an innocent boy. Second, and I can’t stress how important this is, don’t call me
little Missy
. I hate that.”

Payne slowly looked over his shoulder and sent me an
are you insane?
look.

“That boy,” Weeder continued, “was hardly innocent. I’m not even sure he was human. He did things. Did things with his mind. Now I’m sorry for the hurt I caused his mother. She seems like a fine woman. She deserved better.”

I could feel Payne’s rage building. He wanted to leap across the room and tear Weeder’s heart out. 

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What do you mean did things with his mind? What could Jared do?”

“Kid had a way with animals,” Weeder said. “Was able to talk to them. Tell them what to do. I watched him for a long time doing that.”

“Are you
nuts?” I asked. “A boy talking to animals makes him demonic? I talk to my hamster all the time. What does that make me?”

Weeder laughed. “A silly little girl. I’ll bet you talk to your hamster, but I doubt he listens.”

“Ricky listens to me all the time. Just wait until I tell him about you.”

“Is she serious?”
he asked Payne, although the gun was pointed more toward me.

“I can only wonder,” Payne answered. “Look
, Weeder. I don’t know what you think you know, but Jared was just a boy.”

“Was he now?” Weeder asked.

“What does it matter?” I said. “What does it matter if Jared could talk to animals, or even if he could make them dance? You didn’t have to kill him.”

“I thought that way at first,” Weeder admitted. “Thought it was none of my
business, never mind what he did. But then the voices, they started to whisper in my ear. Telling me what needed to be done.”

“Voices in your head?” I said. “You know that’s not exactly normal, right? Had it occurred to you that there was nothing wrong with Jared, but that you might be just a tad bit, oh I don’t know…
insane?”

“You might think I’m crazy
, girl,” Weeder answered. “But I believe those were the voices of angels, telling me God’s will.”

“If you believe that,” Payne said. “Then let’s go talk to Sheriff Blackburn. He’ll understand.”

Weeder narrowed his eyes. “Sheriff’s a good man, but he’s made it pretty clear where he stands. I don’t blame him. It’s hard to look past the shell of that thing I killed. Realize it wasn’t…” Weeder started to look around, as if he was hearing something in the walls.

I heard it
, too. It sounded like the echo of fingernails on a chalkboard. My skin crawled as it reverberated through the room. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a shadow. The shadow rushed one way, then the other, each movement accompanied by the same shrill sound.

Weeder look
ed around wildly now. Panic crossed his face. He took a step back, and for a moment, he lowered the barrel of the shot gun. 

Payne tensed, ready to spring into action
. But before Payne could, Weeder looked our way again. His eyes filled with tears as he nodded.

“What’s happening?” Payne whispered. 

“Something’s here,” I answered. “Not human. I’ve never…” I remembered the other night’s dream. “Once. In a dream. Oh, Payne…”

“What?” I heard worry for the first time in Payne’s voice.

“He’s not just crazy,” I said. “There
is
something.”

“Shut up
,” Weeder yelled. Up until now, he had been calm, almost nonchalant. Now he was openly weeping. I felt waves of hatred pouring out of him. Underneath that was a steady stream of fear. Then came what I dreaded the most. Resignation.

“I was hoping there’d be a different way,” Weeder said
. “But apparently not. I’m ready. Looks like God has given me one last mission.”

“You try and kill Bristol,” Payne threatened, “I swear, you will not walk out of here alive.” 

“That ain’t in the plan,” Weeder said.

“Payne,” I said
. “He’s going to kill himself when he’s done.”             

Weeder nodded. “Dog there? He’s a good dog. I’d appreciate him being cared for after today.”

“Mr. Weeder, please,” I pleaded. “You don’t want to do this.”

His face was a mixture of sadness and fury. “Want got nothing to do with it
. Just step away from him. No need for any extra blood to be spilled today. Go stand over there.” He indicated the adjoining wall, which was covered with a variety of hanging tools. 

I shook my head. “No, I won’t go
. You can’t make me.”

“You go
, girl,” Weeder demanded. “Now!”

I was still shaking my head when Payne turned and grabbed me. He gave me one quick look of determination before throwing me across the room. I screamed his name, but he just pointed his finger at me. “Bristol
,” Payne yelled. “Just go. Please.”

I looked at Payne and cried. How could I have ever dream
ed of Payne hurting me when he was so ready to die for me? I could feel such relief emanating from Payne now that he believed me safe. 

I heard Eli whine.
That’s when it struck me; Weeder clearly wanted me away from Payne, and Payne was right near Eli. If Weeder shot Payne, Eli might get hurt. Something was wrong.

Eli wasn’t in danger because Payne wasn’t the target.
I was.
 

Weeder aimed the shotgun away from Payne and
toward me. Payne’s face registered shock and anger. He thought he had been protecting me by pushing me away from him. Instead, he’d just signed my death warrant. 

“She ain’t what she appears to be, boy
,” Weeder said. And with a look of both pity and loathing in his eyes, he pulled the trigger. 

Payne leap
ed out to protect me, taking the entire blast in his stomach and chest. I slammed back against the wall, causing several tools to fall and clatter around me. 

With a thud, Payne fell to the floor.
His blood pooled around him. I felt the burning agony of his wounds.

Weeder
gazed down at Payne with a look of regret. “I didn’t want to do that,” he said as the shadows started to speak to him again.

I looked at Payne on the floor, dying for me. 

I was scared beyond belief, but even more, I was enraged. My hand reached out and found something hanging on the wall, something that hadn’t fallen. I think it was a hammer. I threw it at Weeder. It flew across the garage and hit him in the arm, breaking him out of his trance.

“Ow,” he yelled. “That hurt!”

“That
hurt?”
I screamed. I started to grab other objects from the ground. 

“You!” I chucked a screwdriver. “Killed!” A wrench. “Payne!”
A small saw hit him in the forehead, causing him to bleed. I grabbed the only other thing within reach. It was a plunger. I held it like a bat in front of me when Weeder recovered and aimed once again at me.

“I wasn’t going to take any pleasure in this,” Weeder said
. “But maybe it would be okay to enjoy blowing you away.”

I prepared to die
.

Payne rolled onto his knees and leapt up onto Weeder. I was shocked beyond belief as he quickly punched Weeder in the gut and grabbed the weapon. 

Weeder and Payne each gripped the shotgun as they struggled, pulling it back and forth. Payne slammed his head forward, hitting Weeder’s forehead and making him stumble back. That gave Payne the leverage to smash the butt of the gun into Weeder’s face. 

Payne was alive and uninjured. It was impossible, incredible
, and beyond imagination.

Weeder fell backwards into a workbench. More tools clattered to the ground, as did Weeder. His face was bleeding badly. Payne had broken his nose
, and one eye looked like it was ready to swell shut.

Payne took a quick step back, cocked the shotgun
, and aimed it at Weeder. 

“You were going to kill
, Bristol,” Payne spat.

“You should be dead
,” Weeder rasped.

“You killed
, Jared,” Payne said, shaking with fury. “He was just a boy.”