Dark to Mortal Eyes (66 page)

The helicopter was a smoldering heap. Glass and metal glistened in the grass. Kara, along with the others, waited for movement in the wreckage. Apparently, though, no one had survived.

Will any of us survive this night?

Kara felt numb. The way she had in the cellar. Trudi had ordered her daughter’s death, and here Kara sat with soup and wine and bread crusts down the front of her shirt. The vintage wine bottle stood in the center of the table, flanked by candles. The canister in Trudi’s hands bounced moonbeams across the tableau.

“They should be here by now,” Trudi said. “Not that far from Florence.”

But Josee won’t be returning. My daughter. Gone
.

Kara dipped her head to sip again at her wineglass. Her pants were sticky with salt and wet from the dash through the waves with Marsh. That’d been a surprise. He seemed different. Maybe one good thing would come from this mess—if they survived.

Trudi scooped her beloved canister to her nose and sniffed. With a mischievous grin, she puffed her aged chest and arms as though possessed by unearthly might. To her four adherents, she said, “Tonight’s deadly distribution shall be our pièce de résistance. With the vials released, ICV shall make its mark for eternity.”

They answered in spirited unity: “Audentes fortuna juvat!”

A red Buick was easing into the parking area on the far side of the keeper’s house, and Trudi eyed it with elation. “At last.”

With her attention diverted, Marsh was sawing the tape on his wrists against the wooden table leg. Kara tried not to check his progress, afraid she might telegraph his movements to the others. She waited for the Buick to park.

Before it could stop, a figure emerged from the disabled helicopter.

Old Man Ridder made a point to let out his wife’s cocker spaniel every night before the reruns of
Seinfeld
. He loved the show. Reminded him of his East Coast relatives. Abrupt. Self-absorbed. A million miles an hour.

“Go on, girl. Do your thing.”

The spaniel was getting up in age. She waddled through the screen door.

Standing on the porch, Ridder heard the chattering burp of a semitruck’s air brakes. Up there along the tree line, Highway 126 was the site of many a fender bender. Fool trucks. The road was rain soaked and dark. The blast of a horn confirmed Ridder’s fears, even as a Toyota pickup slashed across the pavement, nothing more than a rodent caught in the rectangular sweep of the truck’s headlights.

But the Toyota’s lights were dimmed. Now if that wasn’t the dangedest thing.

Old Man Ridder forgot about the spaniel, about the rerun, and shook his head. “They just never learn, the fools. Never learn.”

With the blare of a horn, the hurtling tanker swerved to avoid the smaller vehicle. It skidded and began to jackknife. To escape, the Toyota kicked mud and hopped over the grate, but a front tire dropped into the drainage ditch, and the driver’s eyes shone white as the front grill slammed into the escarpment. A star crack appeared where his forehead hit the windshield. For a moment, he and his passenger were stark silhouettes in the glare of the overturning semi’s lights. Then the entire night became an outline of trees and metal against the orange-blue explosion that erupted from the toppled tanker as it careened into the paralyzed pickup in the ditch.

A fist of heat punched Old Man Ridder back through his screen door. He felt slivers and metallic threads snag at his overalls. His head bounced against the carpet.

He groaned. Gritted his teeth. Extracted himself from the heap of wood.

The smell of burnt hair pierced his nostrils, the enormous blast still rang in his ears, but there at the top of the drive the wreckage was a sight to behold. From the cauldron of fire, from the heart of the flattened pickup, green flames rose like departing spirits. In matching color, wisps of smoke snaked down toward the house and passed over the still form on the front grass.

He never did like that dog.

Old Man Ridder took a deep breath, steeled himself to make an emergency call and to face the reaction of his wife. Within seconds, however, he was aware of nothing other than the pain sparking through his extremities and the convulsions rippling through his muscles.

Allhallows Eve. The night for trick-or-treaters had arrived. Emerging from the torn cockpit of the helicopter was a man Marsh assumed must be his online foe. The man stumbled forward dazed, a jagged blade in his hand. As though part of a macabre costume, lacerations and blood marked his arms and face.

This was no trick; the man needed medical attention.

“Stahli,” Trudi whispered. “You’re a fool.”

“He needs help.” Marsh worked his wrists against the duct tape, using the distraction to his advantage.
If I can just …

Two bug-eyed recruits took steps to assist the crash victim, but a command from Trudi stopped them short. “Let him be. He should never have come.” She cocked her head, amused by his advance on ungainly legs.

The man swayed. Halted. “At last we meet, Marsh. I’m Karl Stahlherz.”

“Steele Knight, your chess skills are weakening. You fell for my gambit.”

“Game’s still in progress.” Stahlherz coughed, spit blood. “I had to meet my brother before handing to him a final defeat.”

“How’d you get dragged into this? I understand Trudi’s motive here, but why’d you choose me and my family to torment? I don’t get it.”

“Aren’t you listening? I just told you, Marsh. You are my brother.”

“I don’t have a brother.”

“Virginia can verify it for you. She gave birth to me years before your arrival.”

“My brother was stillborn.”

“Stillborn? No, that’s where you’re wrong. Is that what they’ve told you, the lie you’ve believed while frolicking in the role of favored son? No, no, see I deserved all that which you claim as your own. It should’ve been mine. I was the firstborn.”

Marsh felt like yelling at this impostor. Was there any truth in his words?

“I don’t see a resemblance. I don’t believe it.”

“Think as you will. You’ve usurped all that should’ve been mine, assumed the role that belonged to me. Chance did not want a child. With an army orderly’s help, he deceived even his own wife and left me for dead. But Trudi stepped in. Rescued me.”

“And she’s the one who’s fed you these lies? She’s full of it, Stahlherz.”

“Ha-ha! Yes, I’ve come to see that.” He glared at the old woman.

“It’s all been a lie,” Marsh said. “Let’s put the whole thing to rest. Call it a draw.”

“Nooo! All or nothing. I’d rather die than let you claim even partial victory.”

“Stahli.” Trudi shook her head with pity.

Marsh was shell-shocked. No wonder this had become personal. Could his opponent’s claims be true? He was sure that Virginia knew nothing of this, but perhaps Chance had taken the truth to his grave. Perhaps they would never know for certain.

From the direction of the Buick, a lone figure was walking their way. She was a cutout shape against the lights behind her, but Marsh couldn’t mistake the silhouette.

“Josee!” He and Kara and Trudi called out her name in unison.

As arranged, Josee took her time. She moved along the keeper’s house, giving Chief Braddock an opportunity to slip from the Buick and circle around by the demolished helicopter. Her step quickened though when she caught Kara’s eye at the table. Disregarding the others, she pressed in beside her mother on the bench seat. Felt her nearness. Overhead, beams of light from the tower sliced the darkness.

“Josee. We thought they were going to kill you.”

“Guess you thought wrong, I’m here in one piece.”

Trudi was agitated. “You’re a survivor, Josee. That’s to be admired. Have the vials been distributed and sent out? The driver told me they had been.”

“Yep.”

“Then why,” Trudi asked, “are you here? He was to remove you from the game.”

“Guess his aim was off.”

The old woman closed her eyes with exaggerated languor. Holding the silver canister over her head, she seemed to squeeze from it a vile green vapor that encircled her head and washed down over her body. Her recruits watched with masked stares, and judging by their backward steps, Josee decided they must share her sense of foreboding. The profuse vapor formed tight curls about Trudi’s scalp. Thus empowered, she strode around behind Josee.

“What happened? Tell me! Something happened, I’m quite certain of it.”

“I got the stuff from the bank like you said. Then the guys split it up and went their separate ways.”

Trudi leaned in, and Josee felt a tug at her eyebrow ring. “I told them to kill you. You could have been my granddaughter, but no, you shirked that connection.”

“Think you’ve got the wrong chick.” Josee jerked her head from the invasive touch. “I’m done helping you with your psycho little plan!”

Trudi cupped her hands over Josee’s tufted hair. Josee tried to move forward, to shake off the old cow, but a burst of heat seemed to ooze down her cheeks and jaw. She was staring out at the rolling breakers, paralyzed by fear. A set of white fingers lowered before her eyes. Curved fangs. They latched on to her eyebrow ring.

“Leave my daughter alone,” Kara protested.

“You’ve disrupted the game, Josee. Your fabrications are self-evident. I can smell that you’re not telling me everything. My orders—disobeyed!” Trudi tugged at Josee’s ring, fangs hooked into pewter, stretching her skin to the breaking point.

“Arhhh!”

Josee’s scream was involuntary as the fangs created a tear. The searing heat was intense. The eyebrow ring was still there, held by the remaining tissue.

“Hands off!” Marsh rose from the bench.

“Stay
back!
”

Marsh ignored Trudi’s warning.

“Baaccck!”
Trudi clutched fingers to Josee’s ears.

Marsh stopped. Josee could feel droplets down her cheek.

“In your seat!” The fangs clutched tighter at Josee’s head. “Do it now!”

From behind them, a snarl broke through the darkness. “Gertrude Ubelhaar!”

With bits of glass dug into his skin, with scars throbbing and left elbow hanging useless, Turney’s reserves were dwindling. He was shaking, and his head was spinning. He lifted himself upright and fought to regain awareness.