Fall, page 11
As it turned out, though, that didn’t happen. Season’s cab stayed ahead of theirs, turning off the Strip at Flamingo and cutting down to the Maryland Parkway, which ran parallel to Las Vegas Boulevard but without as much traffic. Josh watched the dollars mount up on the taxi’s meter as the car swallowed up the miles toward downtown. He knew he should call the rest of the summer gang, but he didn’t want the cabbie to hear what he had to say; bad enough that by not having a destination, but asking the driver to follow another car, he was creating a memory that would stick with the guy.
Finally, the other cab stopped at a motel near downtown, the Come-On Inn. It was nothing special—not the kind of place Josh would have expected Season to stay. But then again, he thought, if privacy was her primary consideration, the big casinos probably weren’t ideal. They had cameras everywhere, they had staff who tried to remember the guests, especially regulars. At this place one could probably get a room without even showing identification, and the staff most likely made a point of not prying into a guest’s affairs.
Josh glanced at the meter again. Thirteen bucks, and still climbing. He had just the quarter roll and a couple of dollar bills on him. “Stop here,” he said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the paper roll of quarters, and split it with his hand. When the driver reached around to collect, Josh punched the roll toward him, spraying him with change. “Sorry!” Josh shouted. He grabbed the door handle, opened it and darted from the cab while the driver struggled with the coins.
The guy shouted at him, but Josh ran into the shadows behind a vacant commercial building. He stayed there for a few minutes, breathing hard, his heart pounding, while the cab circled the block. Josh felt terrible—he hated to rip off an honest cab driver just trying to make a living—but this was an emergency situation. As it was, he’d been left with just a few quarters of his own, and the two bills. Damn Whirlwind, he thought.
When the coast was clear, Josh emerged from the shadows, just in time to see an upstairs door close behind Season. He moved a little closer until he could see the number on it: 17. Behind heavy drapes, a light turned on. It looked as if she was alone in the room, and, he hoped, in there for the night.
Now he dug out his cell phone, scrolled through his saved numbers, and dialed Rebecca. “Happy Halloween,” she answered cheerfully.
“Beck? It’s Josh.”
“Hi Josh, how are you?”
“Listen, Rebecca, this isn’t a social call. It’s Season. I found her.”
There was a long silence from the other end. When Rebecca spoke again, there was a tremor in her voice, and Josh felt sorry for having to put her through this. “If this is a Halloween prank, Josh, it’s not a very funny one.”
“It’s not a joke, Beck. She’s here, in Vegas. I just tailed her to her hotel. We have to do something.”
“What can we do, Josh? You’re better off getting out of there before she sees you.”
“But … Rebecca, she’s not going to stop being a threat. To us and to others. Don’t you think we should try to fight her while we have the advantage?”
“What advantage is that? She has all the power.”
“We have surprise,” Josh countered, hoping he didn’t sound as foolishly desperate as he felt.
“We had that before, too. And we also had Daniel. Look at where it got him.”
“Yeah, but she was ready for Daniel. She knew he was around, knew she’d be facing him sometime. She doesn’t know that we know where she is.”
“Because she’s not worried about us, because we can’t do a thing to her,” Rebecca pointed out. “We’re powerless against her, Josh. Get out of there while you can.”
“Maybe we’re not so powerless after all, Beck,” he argued. “Didn’t you say that Kerry was learning magic from Mother Blessing? Maybe there’s something she can do.”
Another pause from Rebecca. Her hesitation surprised him. Sure, it was stupid to think they had any chance against Season. But it was suicidal to just leave her roaming freely around his town. “Maybe,” she said at last. “Are you sure she hasn’t seen you?”
“I’m sure.” Josh realized that another advantage of this crummy motel was that in any of the big hotels, security would have thrown him off the premises before too long. Here, though, he should be able to keep an eye on her door at all times. “Can you try to get through to Kerry? I’ll call Scott and Brandy. I’m sure if we all get together we can think of something. But it’s got to be fast—I don’t want to lose her again.”
Rebecca sighed loudly enough that he wasn’t sure he needed the phone to hear it. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll reach Kerry, somehow, and then I’ll catch the first plane out there. I’ll call you when I get there, and you can tell me where you are.”
“That’s great, Rebecca. Thanks. I really think this is important.”
After he disconnected the call he tried to figure out why he thought that. She was right, of course. They had no way to mount a successful offense against Season Howe. Unless, that is, Kerry had learned some really impressive magic in the weeks she’d been gone. Even so, the chance that in such a brief period of training she had picked up any skills that Daniel hadn’t acquired after hundreds of years was worse than slim.
But really, he thought, that doesn’t matter. Daniel died. Mace died. Others will die. Now that we have a lead on her, we have to play it out, no matter what. To turn our backs on her would be the only unforgivable thing.
He scrolled down to Scott and Brandy’s number and pushed send.
With every passing day in the Great Dismal, Kerry felt more comfortable there—so much so that when she had to leave, she was surprised by a pang of regret, as if she were leaving a home she’d known for years. She bade Mother Blessing goodbye before first light, having missed the whole Samhain observance, which the older woman had said had had to go on as scheduled before midnight changed the date. After the ritual was over, Mother Blessing had called her back into the kitchen, which was, once again, just a kitchen, and they had sat down together at the table with glasses of milk and a plate of cookies between them.
“Y’all have to go,” Mother Blessing had said.
Kerry had come to the same conclusion, but she had expected to have to convince Mother Blessing. That the witch herself suggested it came as a surprise. “I know,” she agreed. “I’m just not sure what I can do.”
“You’ll do whatever you can. The woman is just evil. You know why she was at a casino instead of celebrating Samhain like she should’ve been? She thinks she’s nontraditional, but it’s the tradition that is so important to the craft. She just likes to do things her own way, no matter what.” Kerry could tell from Mother Blessing’s tone, and the sneer on her lips, that this was an enormous sin in her eyes. “I want y’all to understand why it’s so important that Season Howe be stopped,” Mother Blessing continued. “And sooner better than later.”
“Well, to start with, she’s a killer, right?” Kerry offered.
“She is that, true,” Mother Blessing said. “More urgently, though, did Daniel ever tell y’all about the Witches’ Convocation?”
“Yes, he mentioned it.” Every five hundred years all the world’s witches gathered for a festival, a sharing of information, and a combination social and business gathering. Kerry remembered, with a pain in her chest like a spike to the heart, that he had been looking forward to his first one.
“Well,” Mother Blessing went on, “this one’s the first since Season destroyed Slocumb. I’m fixing to bring charges against her for it. But word is she’s got a counterattack planned—that she’s thinkin’ she’ll demand sanctions against us for chasin’ after her for so long, and she’ll use that as a forum to deflect blame for Slocumb onto someone else. Maybe even me.”
Kerry was astonished to hear this. “Could she get away with that?”
Mother Blessing tucked a cookie neatly into her mouth and chewed while nodding. “It’s all political,” she said when she had swallowed it. “If she could sway enough votes to her side, she could pull it off.”
“What would the sanctions be?” Kerry wanted to know.
Now Mother Blessing shrugged. “Could be just about anything. I might have to give up magic until the next Convocation. I might have to pay a fine of some kind. Could be I’d even have to pay with my life.”
Kerry had been about to sip some milk, but now she put the glass down hard. “You’re kidding.”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that, would I, child?”
“I guess not. It just seems sort of extreme.”
Another shrug. “If her accusations were true, it might be a fair judgment. Since they’re not, though, I have to keep her from bringin’ ’em if I can. Be better to stop her before she ever makes it to the Convocation so I don’t have to worry about tryin’ to outmaneuver her once we’re there.”
After sorting through the logistics of how to get to Vegas from the Swamp, Kerry had turned in for a few hours of resdess sleep. As soon as the morning light filtered through the trees into the swamp, she was in Mother Blessing’s skiff, rowing for the old Slocumb site, where her van still waited. By the time she reached it her arms and shoulders were sore from the workout, and she was covered with a film of sweat in spite of the cool of the morning. She hiked across the wasted, barren land with a deeper appreciation for what had occurred there than she’d had before reading Daniel’s account of that catastrophic day. When she reached her minivan she thought for a moment that she saw shadows slipping away from it into the reeds. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it wouldn’t have surprised her to know that Mother Blessing had sent simulacra to guard it until her return.
The van started right up. Sitting behind the wheel felt oddly foreign to her, as if hiking through the swamp had already become her everyday life, and the world of cars and roads and cities a kind of half-remembered dream. But she hadn’t forgotten how to drive, so she put the vehicle into gear, turned it around and headed back toward the highway, back toward Norfolk and an airport from which she could fly to Las Vegas.
Season was there. She wasn’t sure what she’d do to Season—Mother Blessing had armed her with some potent spells, though she’d had no time to practice them—but that would come. The important thing was finding her again. Confronting her.
Making sure she paid for what she did to Daniel. And making sure she would never make it to the Witches’ Convocation, where she might compound her crimes by blaming them on Mother Blessing.
Kerry’s resolve was tempered steel. The Bulldog was back.
14
Josh spent the night huddled in the doorway of the vacant building, drawing his coat around him for whatever warmth it could offer, smoking for the same reason, wishing he had a car he could sit in or a credit card so he could take a room at the Come-On Inn for himself Las Vegas was a desert city, which meant that on summer days the sun could be merciless, but on October-melting-into-November nights, the same lack of cloud cover that let the sun beat down during the day allowed the city’s heat to be quickly dissipated. The result was nights that felt positively arctic, at least by Josh’s standards. He figured frostbite was not a genuine concern, but he’d spent more comfortable nights, and he couldn’t think of many worse.
Finally, though, the sun did reappear above the eastern horizon, and with its glow the city began to awaken. Parts of it, of course, never slept—the casinos were open 24/7—but most of the city, away from the bright lights and high rollers, operated on a more traditional schedule. As the sun warmed the air, birds began to chirp their morning songs, cars and buses emerged onto the streets, and Josh felt his bones start to thaw.
He also realized another downside to his plan. His stomach woke up too, and it began churning hungrily. He’d hardly slept, he’d had nothing to eat or drink, and he’d been smoking like a chimney. He needed to eat something now, and have some water, or he’d be sick. But there was nothing he could see within immediate range, no handy market or diner, and if he went looking for something he could buy or steal he’d run the risk of missing Season, should she emerge from her hidey-hole. He wondered what Philip Marlowe would do in this situation, or Mike Hammer. Fictional private eyes didn’t need to eat as regularly as real people, he decided, so they’d probably just buck it up, maybe knock back a shot of whiskey, and continue the surveillance. Sooner or later someone would knock them out, and then they’d have the opportunity to grab a few winks and maybe a sandwich.
The sound of his cell phone’s electronic tune starded him. He fished it from his pocket with a shaking hand. “Yeah?”
“Hi, Josh.” Rebecca Levine. She sounded close, but that was meaningless these days, he knew. It had more to do with how strong the cell signal was at any given spot than where someone was in relation to the caller.
“Beck, hey. Where are you?”
“At the airport,” she said.
“McCarran?”
“Here in Las Vegas.”
He moved the phone from his ear long enough to check the time. Seven-fifteen. “Listen,” he said, regretting the words even before he spoke them. “I think our bird’s gonna stay in her cage a while longer. Why don’t you rent a car, but then stay at the airport a while? Brandy and Scott are supposed to get here at 10:12. You might as well wait and bring them when you come.”
“I talked to Kerry last night,” Rebecca reported. “She’ll be here this morning too.”
“That’s great,” Josh said. “I’m glad you were able to reach her.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I could use some grub,” Josh admitted. “And I’m sure I need a shower. But I’m fine, I guess. No movement from Season after she went into her room last night.”
“It’s so amazing that you found her,” Rebecca said. Josh thought he caught a hint of disbelief in her voice, as if Rebecca questioned whether it was, in fact, simply coincidence that put Josh and Season in the same building at the same time. Josh didn’t know how to answer that, because he’d had the same concern himself.
If it’s not coincidence, then we could be playing right into her hands.
That idea chilled him to his core. But in fact, he remembered, Rebecca had seen her first—or had thought she had. Which didn’t mean this wasn’t a trap of some kind. In fact, the more he dwelled on it, the more it seemed to confirm that idea. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now, but at least we’ve got her pinned down.”
“I think Kerry will have some ideas,” Rebecca offered.
“She’d better. I sure don’t.”
“She will.” Rebecca sounded more like someone trying to project confidence than someone who actually felt it, but Josh was willing to take what he could get. “You’ve got my number, so if anything comes up, give me a call, okay?”
“Absolutely,” Josh assured her. The fact was, as much as he liked Rebecca, he could think of no one less useful for surveillance or combat, if it came to that. Her manner of dress tended toward flowing skirts and tie-dye, which would make her stand out in a crowd or in a casino—not that Josh didn’t, in his Goth blacks and jet hair. But at least during the night his chosen wardrobe had helped him blend into the shadows. Then there was the fact that Rebecca was just about the most peaceful soul he’d ever known. He was vegan, but even so, he was willing to swat a hungry mosquito. Rebecca would argue for the creature’s life, then extend her arm to it. She had needed to be informed of Season’s reappearance because she was part of the original group that had faced the witch during the summer, but keeping her at the airport, taking care of logistical things like renting a car, was the best use for her.
Still, he thought as he squirmed in the doorway, I could have had her pick up some granola or something.
Two more hours had passed when the door to Room 17 opened. Josh looked around anxiously, hoping to spot a cab. If she was going somewhere by car, or had a ride coming, he was out of luck. This was what he had hoped wouldn’t happen until Rebecca showed up with the others in her rental. He watched Season step outside onto the walkway that ran past all the second-floor doors, her honey-blond hair catching the morning sun. She wore what looked like a brown leather suit, snug pants and a jeans-style jacket with a white shirt underneath it. Josh pressed himself back against the door, as deep in shadow as he could get, while she slowly surveyed the neighborhood.
Instead of getting into a car, though, Season descended the staircase and walked across the street to a bus stop. Almost no one used public transportation in Vegas, Josh knew, except those so economically disadvantaged that they just couldn’t afford a car. Which was probably precisely why Season was using it—if she were hiding out she’d want to vary her routine, not be predictable. Cab last night, bus this morning. Made perfect sense.
But that didn’t solve his predicament. He had an idea that might, though. So far, no bus was in sight. Bus stops weren’t too terribly spread out around this neighborhood. He had an opportunity, then, if he hurried, to reach the next bus stop down the line, and to get on the bus before Season did. Of course, that came with a couple of pitfalls, too. If he missed the bus he’d lose Season. If she changed her mind and didn’t take the bus, or crossed the street and hopped one going in another direction, he was screwed. And if she recognized him once she got on, she’d … well, it didn’t help to dwell on such things. It was a gamble, but Josh was a gambler. He ran.
He went around behind the building next to which he’d spent the night, knowing as he did that letting Season out of his sight only decreased the odds in his favor. But if she saw him running, her guard would certainly be raised. This way she’d only have a brief glimpse of him, if at all, when he ran across the distant intersection more than a block away from the one where she waited at the bus stop. Josh put aside his exhaustion, his hunger, and his fear, and sprinted full out. Two blocks beyond Season’s location, he cut back over to the street she was on.
From here, he looked in both directions, spotting a bus stop one more block away. He started for it at the same time that a city bus swung around the corner, coming toward him. He had been running with everything he had—he was not, he’d readily admit, exactly track-star material—but now he reached deep down inside, knowing he had to find a little more speed, a little more endurance, if he hoped to beat the smoke-belching vehicle. Feet pounding pavement, head jarring with every step, aching lungs sucking air, he ran, finally reaching the bus stop just as the bus lurched to the curb.
