Blood Creek Beast Page 22

  More applause filled the room, somewhat more subdued than the first round. Once the applause faded, Ferik glanced at the queen, and then turned back to Jack. “My lovely queen discovered yet more in our history books. It seems that my dear great-grandfather made an additional promise to sweeten the pot and attract bold giant-slayers to our cause, after a defeat of the 110th Regiment at the hands of Korak and his band of marauding giants. Now King Lars, as many of you know, was the father of many beautiful daughters, including my beloved grandmother, Queen Delcina, for whom my daughter was named. He once promised to offer the slayer of Korak the hand of one of his daughters in marriage. Sadly, my only surviving great-aunt, Vivian Bolen, is one-hundred-five years old and already quite married to her second husband, and so I am unable to fulfill my great-grandfather’s promise to you, Jack.”

  Nervous laughter rose around the room. The king waited for it to die down, and then he turned his gaze to Delcina. “However, I thought it fitting that I should honor my great-grandfather’s promise in my own way. You are an example to all throughout the kingdom, and I feel you would be a good role-model for others. I would be honored, Jack Parsons, if you would consider my daughter Delcina’s hand in marriage.”

  Two people laughed, and then silenced themselves when no one else joined in. An elderly woman coughed. The king continued to smile benevolently, his gaze passing between Delcina and Jack. Jack stared back, not caring how much his face looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Now, there’s absolutely no need to answer right away, and these things take time to arrange. I know this public announcement took you by surprise. But I also know how fondly my daughter spoke of you after you went out on your quest. I don’t believe my decision will meet with her disappointment.”

  Jessabelle-the-cat made her way northwest along the winding road. She avoided the burning pavement, but the brush and weeds she walked through slowed her even more than her diminutive form, and concealed any number of potential threats. Twice something slithered nearby that might or might not have been a venomous copperhead. Perhaps it wasn’t any more dangerous than a walk through the woods when a giant, dragon-like snallygaster hunted overhead, but her size made her feel all the more vulnerable. The direct sunlight on her black coat irritated her and made her paws sweat.

  Every time she heard a car approaching, she bolted for cover. It was dusk before the two cars from the Coven passed her. She kept to the weeds and didn’t look until after the cars passed. The windows in back were tinted, so she couldn’t see anyone in the back seats, but she was sure Min and Leon were with them. On one hand, she felt relieved that the Coven had given up their search for her. But now Leon needed a rescue, and she felt powerless to help him. Even if it was his own fault, guilt gnawed at her.

  The sun had set when the road she had been following teed, with only a ridge descending into the valley beyond. A larger, better-paved road went left and right. Right would be north, theoretically toward Morgantown.

  Her paws hurt. She pushed through the pain as she continued along the road. Far to the north, she could see light pollution obscuring the sky. It seemed a long way off. She told herself she’d stop and rest at certain landmarks ahead—an intersection, a house, the next level, clear stretch. But then she’d think of how the Coven had Leon and another plan. If they succeeded, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill Jack and her family Around the Bend.

  Fewer cars passed by as the night deepened. Up ahead, a gas station glowed in the darkness of the ridge. She promised herself again that she only had to get as far as the gas station, and then she could rest. A short rest would be okay, wouldn’t it?

  Ten minutes later, she hid herself in a pool of shadow behind a low concrete barrier at the gas station. She collapsed on the dirt. She didn’t know when her eyelids drooped and closed, or how long she was asleep, but at some point a Ford F150 pickup truck pulled into the station and startled her into wakefulness. The driver got out and started the pump, then entered the gas station. Jessabelle willed herself up, but her sore muscles resisted. Normally, she could alleviate an injury or pain by changing shape, but did she want to risk it now? Just a few more feet...

  With strained effort, she padded across the cool pavement of the parking lot and hopped onto the rear bumper. One more leap took her to the edge of the truck bed. In the daytime, she’d be obvious, but at night, there was a chance she could hitch a ride unseen—if she could find shadows from the glaring halogen lights over the pumps. In the driver’s-side front corner, nearest the gas pump, lay a bundle of orange straps and multicolored bungee cords, hooked onto a tie-down anchor. Jessabelle dropped into the truck bed and pressed herself into the corner, pulling loops of the bundle over herself with her claws to offer some tiny amount of cover.

  Moments later, the driver came out of the station, bearing two new packs of cigarettes, a Diet Coke, and a Slim Jim meat stick. Jessabelle didn’t see him come around the front of the truck. The metal scraped as he removed the gas hose and hooked it back onto the pump. She got a good look at his shoulder and the back of his head.

  The man entered the truck and started the engine. Jessabelle waited, watching the stars to see which way they turned. She exhaled the cat equivalent of a sigh when the truck turned north along the two-lane highway. Jessabelle stood and moved farther toward the tailgate, holding to a bungee cord with one claw tip, and watched the terrain go by. After ten minutes, the road widened and began to resemble a major highway. The truck slowed at a left-hand turn as they passed a sign pointing to the freeway, labeled “Cumberland, MD.”

  Maryland? The freeway? Jessabelle leaped up and sprang from the truck, heedless of traffic or what might be below her. She instinctively twisted in the air to land on her paws, but her panicked escape and the truck’s remaining speed left her lurching off the median. The headlights from the only other car on the road loomed large as it hurled toward her. Pure adrenaline kicked in and propelled her forward. The rush of air from the passing car whipped at her tail. It hadn’t slowed; the driver hadn’t even seen her. Her sore muscles kept pushing as fear and momentum propelled her to the other side of the road.

  After a few moments of settling down, she realized she was not only panting, but drooling. She didn’t know if that was a normal reaction or not. She’d never been so terrified in her cat form. She wanted to flee to the nearest bush and hide. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jessabelle-the-girl told her there was no time, fighting the instinctive reactions of Jessabelle-the-cat. She stood frozen at the side of the road, indecisive, as the immediate danger passed. Even so, Jessabelle-the-cat was petrified. Jessabelle-the-girl was only marginally better, realizing full well how close she’d come to being road-pizza—just some dead, squished cat at the side of the road for drivers to ignore the next morning.

  Sounds of unseen passing cars from the freeway to the north nagged at her, reminding her that she had more traveling to do before the night was over. She tried to get her slobbering under control, without success. Seeing no other cars nearby, she transformed back into Jessabelle-the-girl. A portion of her pain and fatigue went away, and she felt her heart slow to a respectable rate. Best of all, the slobber was gone.

  “That’s much better, ladies,” she told herself. If the cats listened, they didn’t answer.

  She made her way along the road, across the overpass above the freeway. The overpass didn’t have a sidewalk for pedestrians, but there was enough room along the side of the bridge for a car or truck to pull over. A sign advertising a chain hotel jutted out from the hill, glowing with an internal light to make it visible from anywhere in the valley. The freeway and a hotel chain, not to mention the light-pollution glow of the hills ahead, suggested she was close to a city. What city, she didn’t know. She wished she’d paid more attention in school to the details of West Virginia geography. It had never crossed her mind that maybe someday she’d be jumping off vehicles by a random freeway and have to figure out where she was.

  She continued
toward the lights. Sweating in the humid night air, she took off her jacket, carrying it under her arm, taking care that the revolver didn’t fall out to the side of the road. Not that she’d mind being rid of it. It was heavy and useless, but it wasn’t hers to throw away. She could give it back to Leon when she rescued him.

  Assuming he wanted to be rescued after the jerk move he’d made by giving himself up.

  After the first half-hour of walking, the pain and fatigue she’d left behind in the cat’s body caught up to her. Her little scratches and bruises always went away when she changed form, as well as any dirt or tangles. She’d even found her cold symptoms lessened once. She wondered where the dirt and injuries went, but she had never been curious enough to test her limits. A few weeks ago, fighting alongside friends and her cousin against an ogre, she’d discovered some of those limits. She was certain that if Jessabelle-the-cat got run over by a car, there’d be no escape as the panther or the girl.

  Houses and business appeared closer together as she hiked. Intersections grew more frequent. It reminded her of the short time she’d lived in Georgia before her papa died. Georgia had been even warmer and muggier than West Virginia in the summer. They’d been happy there, but then papa had been shipped out overseas, and never returned.

  She stumbled. It was well past midnight on a day that had started in a low-speed chase from a monster, and she didn’t have much energy left. She played the same head game with herself she’d done earlier as a cat, promising herself just a little farther, but never letting herself actually stop. She couldn’t play that trick much longer. Could she become the cat again and take a snooze? Up ahead, a diner that advertised twenty-four-hour service became her next goal. This time, she went inside.

  An electric chime announced her presence. A woman in her mid-forties who was holding a broom greeted Jessabelle with the same kind of fatigue etched on her face that Jessabelle felt. Jessabelle waved and picked the nearest booth. She sighed involuntarily as she took a seat.

  The woman set the broom aside and approached the table. “What can I get you, hon?”

  It was like the hospital cafeteria all over again. Jessabelle wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond. A picture over the front counter caught her eye, and she pointed to it. “Waffles.”

  “With eggs?”

  Jessabelle shrugged and then nodded.

  “Anything to drink?”

  The stacks of artificial sweetener on the table suggested an appropriate answer. “Um, coffee?”

  “Sure thing. So you’re a student?”

  Jessabelle nodded. The woman smiled knowingly and nodded. “Is it finals time again for summer term at WVU? I didn’t think they were that close.”

  Jessabelle opened her mouth to answer, but then shook her head. The woman mistook her for a college student! So often in the last weeks Jessabelle had felt like a lost little girl. She liked being mistaken for an adult and in control. If only it were true. “Just a long weekend.”

  The woman nodded again. “Right.” She disappeared for a few moments, and then reappeared with a cup of steaming coffee and a tiny pitcher of cream. “Your waffles and eggs will be up in a couple of minutes. Look hon, I know it ain’t none of my business, but I know you kids get a little crazy when you are on your own for the first time. I’m sure your mama would like to know you are taking care of yourself and not getting into too much trouble. You be careful, okay?”

  Jessabelle nodded. “I’ll, um, try and remember that. I don’t actually aim to get in any trouble at all. Sometimes it just kind of happens.”

  The lady chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth! I’ll go check on your food.”

  A few minutes later, after filling up on waffles laden with syrup and runny eggs, Jessabelle walked up to the counter to pay for her food. She asked the woman if she was supposed to leave a tip.

  “It’s customary to tip fifteen to twenty percent.”

  Once Jessabelle had calculated the amount, she said, “That don’t sound like much.”

  “It ain’t. But it helps.”

  Jessabelle wasn’t sure if she’d need the money later or not. If she was right, she wouldn’t need money again for a long time. She paid an extra couple of dollars over the suggested tip. The woman tried to give it back. “Look, hon. You might need this more than I do. Y’all kids always seem to be hurting for money.”

  “No, it’s really okay. I... look, can you help me find a place? Is it close?” Jessabelle pulled out the address. The woman grudgingly accepted the extra tip and looked at the address. “You are still a couple of miles away.”

  “That’s fine,” Jessabelle lied, dreading the extra walking. After receiving directions, she thanked the skeptical woman, and set off into the night.

  An hour later, Jessabelle had returned to her cat form, and peacefully hid under a poorly kept hedge to watch the glass door of Bowman Holdings. At least, she “watched” in the sense of dozing throughout the rest of the night and opening her eyes whenever something stirred her. Nightmare images waged war against her exhaustion to keep her from falling too deeply into sleep. Amazingly, it wasn’t the dwayyo that gave her the worst visions. It was Leon lying to her and leaving with Min. She consciously recognized that he had done it to protect her. Just like her mother had signed her away to protect her. In both cases, she knew the act was wrong even if the intention was right. The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

  How good were her own intentions?

  As dawn arrived, she struggled to remain more alert. Traffic increased along the road nearby. Two cars parked in the small lot, but the drivers entered other nearby businesses. Finally, a car pulled into the lot just in front of the office door. Jessabelle darted out from her shrub as the driver exited, a middle-aged man in a white shirt and tie. With a tall, insulated cup of coffee in the same hand as his briefcase, he unlocked the front door and opened it wide to the alarm chirping warning noises. Jessabelle slipped through the door a moment before it closed, darting behind the reception desk as he punched in a code to shut off the alarm. He turned on the office lights, unlocked an office door, and stepped inside.

  Jessabelle raced past him when his back was turned. Relatively alone, Jessabelle explored the small office. It was made up of four offices, six cubicles, a locked storage area, a larger area with filing cabinets, a break room, and a meeting room.

  Each of the cubicle desks had computers. Jessabelle leaped on one desk and touched the space bar with her paw. A password screen appeared. She tried two more computers, each showing a locked password screen. She had no idea what she could do until someone came in and entered their password.

  As if in answer, the office door opened again. Jessabelle jumped under a desk and hid. A woman’s voice greeted the first man, and they asked each other if they’d had a good weekend, and then Jessabelle heard keys unlocking another office.

  Safe for another few moments, Jessabelle crept back to the filing cabinet area beside the cubicles. The cabinets created an artificial wall around the area. Drawers were labeled alphabetically. The bottom drawer of the first cabinet was labeled “Au-Ba.” Jessabelle considered transforming into the girl when the office door opened and two more people entered, walking toward the cubicle area. Jessabelle dove into a gap between filing cabinets in a corner, pouring herself against the dusty, dirty wall, certain that she was completely visible to anyone that might glance in her direction.

  The rest of the office arrived within the next ten minutes. Jessabelle tried to make herself more comfortable, but there was simply no way to do it. She could barely find room to sit. Over the next twenty minutes, two people came into the filing cabinet area, both dressed professionally. Neither went to the first filing cabinet. Most importantly, neither noticed the cat lurking in the shadows.

  The middle-aged man who had unlocked the building came into the hallway. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s have an all-hands meeting in the conference room.” Everyone filed through the hallway and into the small
conference room. They left the door open, which meant that Jessabelle could hear them easily, but it also meant they could hear her.

  She squeezed out of her hiding place as the middle-aged man, obviously the boss, spoke. “As some of you have heard, we had a major security breach over the weekend,” he said. “What you may not have heard was that this breach had been occurring for weeks, perhaps months.” They were talking about Leon, Jessabelle thought.

  With a peek down the hall to make sure no one lingered outside the conference room, Jessabelle transformed into the girl, wearing the heavy leather jacket in the middle of summer. Her clothes smelled of sweat, but her skin was clean, as if she hadn’t spent hours hiking in the muggy night along the side of the road. She slowly opened the third drawer of the first filing cabinet, which weighed considerably more than she expected. She fought against her nerves, which wanted to go as fast as possible before anybody stepped out of the meeting and spotted her.

  “Naturally, the main office is not happy, and they are demanding an audit of our security procedures. I want to stress, nobody’s in trouble or in danger of losing their job. They only want to find out what happened and how to avoid it in the future.”

  Jessabelle suppressed a snort as she searched through the drawer. If the “main office” was the Coven, then somebody was definitely in trouble. If they only lost their job, they should consider themselves lucky. She continued fingering through the files until she came across a tab labeled “Arnot.” With extreme care, she pulled the folder out of the drawer and opened it.

  The pages and pictures were yellowed and brittle with age. The first picture was of Debra Arnot, recognizable from a handful of Grandma Annie’s photographs. Jessabelle knew about the girl, of course. Grandma’s childhood friend had been murdered while attending the University of West Virginia back in the 1970s. Sean had met her ghost. But Debra Arnot was a person, not a place. Jessabelle continued to leaf through the old pictures and paperwork.