Driven (29 page)

Amy’s long black hair hung straight and heavy across her face, her head hanging in limp surrender. She wasn’t moving.

“Amy?” he said hoarsely.

She remained still—dead still.

“Amy!” He grimaced as he struggled to his feet.

Ever so slowly, Amy’s head turned and her hair fell away from her face. With a groan she opened her eyes and focused at him.
“Gavin,” she said weakly as water dripped down her face to hang from her cracked lower lip. “Untie me.”

Ignoring the pain, he jumped, grabbed a cleat, and pulled himself up until his face was next to hers. “Are you all right?”

“I will be, now,” she said with a sigh.

Something heavy hit the ground on the other side of the lobster boat. Their eyes widened.

“It’s him,”Amy said. “He’s getting away again. Hurry, untie me.” “No,” Gavin said, dropping to the ground. “You’ll be safer
here.”

G
avin focused grimly on his opponent. Krogan, shotgun in hand, was limping toward the ghostly ruins of what used to be the
detention complex of Ellis Island. His gait strengthened with each step.

There was only one thing in the world that could keep Gavin from immediately untying Amy’s tortured wrists and ankles: the
chance to finally get his hands on Krogan. He would shoot Krogan in the leg—both legs. Two shots in each leg and then the
remaining five in the arm holding the shotgun. The thought of shooting the monster energized him as he imagined the bullets
zipping through the air, each in honor of a fallen friend. Grampa… Mitchell Clay-borne… John Garrity… Mel Gasman and the
flight crew… all the other unnamed innocents…

In anticipation Gavin reached for his gun.

Nothing.

He reflexively checked his ankle holster.

Nothing.

Frantically, he looked back toward the racer and then back to
Krogan. There was no time to look for it. Krogan was getting away… again. He was on an island surrounded by Coast Guard and
police, and he was going to get away. Gavin knew it. A wild seething rage filled him. The only scrap of human reasoning that
remained told him death to the creature equaled its freedom and capture meant its death. It was an unacceptable paradox.

Gavin picked up a baseball-sized rock that had been unearthed by the plowing steel hull of the lobster boat and then another.
His mind on fire, he bolted after the object of his madness, ignoring the crippling pain in his side.

“Gavin! No!”Amy cried, desperately craning her neck to watch.

When Krogan spun around, Gavin was already halfway to him. He leveled the shotgun and appeared ready to fire. Gavin screamed
into the face of the barrel, unwilling—unable—to stop himself. To dive out of the way or serpentine his straight line of attack
was suddenly unacceptable.

Krogan laughed loudly, his eye fixed behind the gun sights.

Less than thirty feet away, Gavin’s blind rage saw something that horrified him more than the thought of his own head being
blown apart—something so unexpected and devastating he could only dive to his left with a choking cry, hoping the shot would
find him… and not Amy. He didn’t understand why, but Krogan had shifted his sights to Amy, which made as much sense as a
hunter shooting at a caged animal when a deadly tiger was about to leap at him. But Krogan was not a hunter. He was a monster.
He was a demon beyond understanding.

Horizontal in midair, Gavin heard the firing pin strike… but no resounding blast followed. Krogan pumped, aimed again.

Click.

Gavin was galvanized. As he hit the ground in front of Krogan, he threw one of his rocks at Krogan’s head. Krogan quickly
deflected
it with the shotgun, like a pro ballplayer bunting a wild fastball. He laughed.

“You can do better than that,” he sneered, then set himself in a mock batting stance and deflected the other rock.

Undeterred, Gavin dove at full speed for Krogan’s midsection.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Krogan said in a mock little-girl voice, then laughed as he fell backward.

Without the slightest hesitation Gavin sprang to his hands and knees, ramming his right knee into Krogan’s groin and smashing
a hard, straight-armed fist into Krogan’s Adam’s apple. There wasn’t a man on earth that could remain conscious after such
a combination; most would die outright. Not Krogan.

In a deeper and raspier than usual voice, he said, “Should I pass out now so you can cuff me? I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Astonished and enraged and sitting on Krogan’s abdomen, Gavin hit the monster’s jaw with the hardest left cross he could manage,
then a right, and a left, and right and left, his splitting knuckles smearing blood on Krogan’s face. “I’ll… wipe… that
… smirk… off… your… face,” he said, hitting Krogan again and again with each clearly enunciated word.

“Not likely,” Krogan said, then grabbed Gavin by his right arm, his giant hand closing around Gavin’s entire bicep, and threw
him off him as easily as he would a kitten. He stood, leaving the empty shotgun on the ground.

Enraged, Gavin rolled to his feet and charged, refusing to yield, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Enough,” Krogan bellowed, swatting Gavin off his feet with the back of his left hand. The move instantly reminded Gavin of
Sabah.

Before Gavin could rise again, Krogan was on him, his knee on Gavin’s chest and one of Gavin’s baseball-sized rocks in his
hand.

“I’ll see you in hell,” Krogan thundered, his crazed gaze boring
a hole through Gavin’s head. He drew back his arm, giving Gavin a moment to focus on the rock about to crack his skull.

Gavin spit at Krogan’s cold, volcanic eyes. “Do it!”

Krogan didn’t even blink as the saliva hit his face. “Very nice. For that, I just want you to know I’m not going to leave
the rock in your head. I’m going to take it out and leave it in your girlfriend’s head,” he said matter-of-factly, motioning
with his eyes in Amy’s direction.

There was movement behind Gavin. Krogan’s eyes shifted. His expression suddenly changed; the smirk engraved on his high cheekbones
vanished as his jaw dropped. Gavin looked over his shoulder to see what had hijacked Krogan’s attention.

The Reverend Buck.

B
uck dropped to his knees fifty feet away, the wooden chest cradled in his arms. Blood dripped from his nose to soak the antique
wood. His cheekbone was swollen, throbbing; the ground moved and slid under his feet. Nauseated, sweat and saliva dripping
from his chin, he fought for consciousness. The chest fell from his embrace, hitting the ground with a thud. He fell onto
it, gagging. He knew if he passed out, he would never again open his eyes. Krogan would make sure of that.

“You!” Krogan said, unable to hide his shock. “You were dead. I
killed you in Norway.” Below him, Gavin lay still, watching the exchange.

“There is one who lives in me who will deal with you today, evil one.” Even to his own ears, Buck’s voice sounded weak.

Krogan laughed. “Look at you. You are nothing.”

Krogan’s voice was fading in Buck’s ears, his words swirling with the darkness that threatened to swallow him. He fought for
consciousness.

“Where have you been, Preacher? Hiding from me? Afraid?” Krogan mocked loudly.

“I am here,” Buck said, shaking.

“You are not strong enough for me, old man. You’re a fool to come here, but I’m glad you did. Killing you will make this a
most excellent day.”

Buck slumped, his forehead hitting the top of the wooden chest. Darkness.

K
ROGAN TURNED
back to Gavin and drew back his arm again, the jagged rock staring Gavin in the face. “Is that your secret weapon? An old
man?” he scoffed. “Men like him have tried before, Cop. They always fail in the end. Always.”

Gavin winced as Krogan’s arm began its downward swing. His only regret was Amy. He heard her scream his name.

“Cease! Be still!”

Gavin waited for the stone’s impact. When it didn’t come, he forced his eyes to open. Krogan was straining to drive the rock
into Gavin’s face but nothing was happening. Gavin quickly jerked his head away as Krogan dropped the stone, apparently unable
to hold it any longer. He looked toward Buck. He could not believe what he saw. Lying on the ground next to the chest, Buck
was pointing
at Krogan. What Gavin could not do with his fists, Buck was doing with his finger. Or so it seemed.

Krogan’s face flushed redly, swollen neck veins rippling as he strained against an invisible weight. His wild eyes, transfixed
on Gavin, moved slowly in Buck’s direction.

Gavin did not know what would happen next, but he didn’t want to be under Krogan when it did. With Krogan unable to move anything
but his eyes, Gavin clawed at the surrounding weeds and grass until he was out from under the hulking statue of a man. He
thought better of his first instinct to go toward Buck; if there was some kind of invisible force traveling between them,
Gavin didn’t want to cross it. He tried to run, but the insanity that had blocked the pain in his side was gone. He fell to
his hands, then crawled like a wounded animal until he was about twenty-five feet away.

Amy was still tied up, obviously in pain, but watching the scene unfold. Gavin wanted her untied and with him, but worried
that her own hatred toward Krogan would cause her to try to help Buck. That was the last thing he wanted to see. Regretfully,
he left her where she was.

There were no earthly explanations for what was happening between Buck and Krogan. Power of suggestion or hypnosis could not
begin to explain what he had witnessed today—what he was witnessing now. The gray area between belief and unbelief was gone.
There was nothing more to read between the lines. Nothing left for interpretation… or even imagination. This was what it
really was: a battle in the universe’s oldest war—the war from which all other wars were made. Or, as Sabah had stated, “The
only war.” Two beings from opposite worlds engaged in a contest not commonly seen or understood by human eyes. Light against
darkness. Good against evil. God against…

Suddenly Buck and his finger collapsed to the dirt. Just as suddenly Krogan’s fist pile drove the ground where Gavin’s face
had been. Krogan quickly looked at Buck’s motionless body. He shot
Gavin a drilling glare, but said nothing. He was not laughing anymore. He took off toward Buck.

Whatever this gift was that Buck had, it did not seem to have much effect on Krogan now. Without Buck, Gavin figured he stood
zero chance against Krogan if they tangled again, which was sure to happen once Buck was dead. Gavin bolted toward Buck, stifling
a scream as white-hot pain shot through his side.

Gavin saw motion enter his peripheral vision to the left, but couldn’t turn to see what it was. He pumped his legs hard, watching
as Krogan reached Buck and grabbed at the old man’s short-cropped silver hair. Just as Krogan lifted Buck’s head out of the
dirt with his left arm and drew back his massive right fist, Gavin hit Krogan in the side at full speed, tackling him away
from Buck and to the ground. Krogan rolled to his feet like a panther and faster than Gavin could react he found himself on
his knees with Krogan’s right hand around his neck. How had he moved that quickly? The demon stood upright, dragging Gavin
up with him like a weightless rag doll.

“Hold it right there, big guy. You twitch and you’re dead,” yelled a voice Gavin didn’t recognize.

Gavin was held so tightly around the neck he could barely breathe and could only look out the corner of his eyes to see two
ESU officers outfitted in bullet-proof Kevlar helmets and shields with assault rifles at their shoulders. More officers were
pouring in from every direction. Some were headed toward the lobster boat to attend to Amy.

Krogan smiled and opened his arms wide, now holding Gavin out at arm’s length on his tiptoes. “Go on. Shoot me. Shoot me or
I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t shoot!” Gavin gargled, holding his right hand out while his left pried at Krogan’s fingers. “Don’t shoot him!”

As other officers circled, Krogan’s grip tightened around Gavin’s neck. Gavin pried at Krogan’s hand as his air supply was
cut off.

“Come on. What are you afraid of? You said you would shoot.
Shoot me!
” Krogan demanded. “Shoot or I’ll rip his head off.”

“Release him now or I
will
shoot,” the ESU officer ordered.

Krogan laughed.

The officer fired. Krogan remained standing, blood dripping from the arm that was holding Gavin. The officer fired again into
the same arm. Nothing.

“You missed,” Krogan taunted. “In the face. Don’t you want to shoot my face?”

“Let go of him, Krogan,” Buck said weakly, conscious again. “In the name of him who conquers all, I command you to release
him.”

Slowly, Krogan’s grip weakened. Gavin inhaled, coughed, and finally fell to his knees as Krogan released him.

“Be still,” Buck commanded as Krogan took a step in Buck’s direction. Again, Krogan found himself straining fiercely to move,
blood dripping down his arm and off his fingertips.

“Get down on your face! Now, mister,” the ESU officer ordered, his and several other rifles aimed to kill.

“Stay out of this,” Buck said to them without taking his eyes off Krogan for even a second. He drew himself to his knees and
opened the wooden chest. The confused ESU troops looked like they would like to contest Buck’s authority, but something in
his manner stopped them. Instead they stood uncertainly at the ready.

Buck reached into the wooden chest and lifted out what looked like a large, brownish turtle with a domelike shell—an old,
dirty army helmet with bumpy, stubby legs and head. He placed it on the ground before him where Krogan could clearly see it.
It momentarily tucked into its shell, but then a curious head poked slowly out, followed by its legs, although it did not
move from its place.

A turtle? A freaking turtle? Gavin thought. This was Buck’s secret weapon? Not a big, jewel-laden gold cross or an artifact
from a holy crusade? Not ancient shackles that had once held an apostle or saint?
Not even balloons filled with holy water? Gavin didn’t know what he had expected, but… a turtle? Gavin spared a glance at
the ESU officers; he could only imagine what they must be thinking.

Apparently, though, Krogan saw something in the turtle that Gavin did not, because shock rushed into the demon’s face. Buck
closed his eyes for a long moment, then fixed his gaze upon the man before him.

“Krogan,” he spoke firmly. “In the authority of the Lord of lords and King of kings, whom I serve, I loose you from the man,
Karl Dengler and bind you into this tortoise…
now.
”

Krogan roared. His face, his whole body, appeared pained. He took one step toward Buck, his leg straining as if deeply rooted
into the earth. “Who are you to command me?” he hissed.

Most of the ESU officers took a step back.

“I am nobody, Krogan. But in the name of him whom I serve, come out.
Now.
”

Krogan buckled sharply as if punched in the abdomen, then fell to one knee. Sweat dripping off his face, he struggled to get
back to his feet, grunting and groaning loudly as if lifting a great weight. Gavin could have imagined reading about something
like this in some isolated, remote part of the world, but seeing it played out before him in real life right here in New York
made him wonder if he was dreaming. He saw Buck, Krogan, and the tortoise. They were right there. Amy was watching them, too,
as were a dozen or more of the ESU, albeit in disbelief. They could not all be having the same dream. This was really happening.

“
Now!
” Buck repeated.

Krogan’s gaze snapped skyward and his mouth dropped open in sudden silence. He did not even appear to be breathing. Gavin
reflexively followed his line of sight, but saw nothing. Just then, Krogan collapsed.

As soon as Krogan’s—or actually, Karl Dengler’s—face hit the
dirt the tortoise was on the move… away from Buck. No longer paying any attention to the man with his face in the dirt, Buck
went for the tortoise and carefully picked it up from behind. Its previously sleepy head was now animated, snapping vainly
for Buck’s hands. Without a word Buck put the animal into the chest and shut the lid.

The ESU converged toward Dengler, who was struggling to get back to his feet, but Gavin held up his hand, badge in palm, asking
for them to wait. He limped toward the man whom he now felt confident was just a man. He grabbed a handful of shirt and stood
the man up. “
Shadahd
this,” he growled and roundhoused his right fist as hard as he could into Dengler’s jaw, sending him back to earth.

“Next time, ask your tenant for a reference,” Gavin said. He massaged his right hand for a moment, then pulled out his handcuffs,
slowly crouching down so he could shackle the man’s hands while the ESU crew waited. With Krogan’s consciousness supposedly
gone, he wondered if Karl even understood what was happening.

“In case you feel like you just got here, pal, and you’re wondering what all the fuss is about, you killed my grandfather,”
Gavin said, then motioned to the ESU to take their man. They swarmed around Gavin and helped him off Dengler, pinning down
the fallen man’s head, cuffing his ankles, and yelling out his rights. Outside the circle of men, Buck was still on his knees
and had latched the chest with the tortoise inside. A couple of officers helped him to his feet and tried to hold the chest
for him, but Buck insisted on holding it himself.

Gavin turned to look for Amy, who had finally been untied and helped off the lobster boat. Several policemen were gathered
around her, apparently advising her to be still until medical help arrived, but breaking free and ignoring their calls, she
hobbled toward Gavin and Buck, collapsed into Gavin’s arms, and wept. “I thought I would never see you again,” she said.

“It’s over,” Gavin said, as the police passed by with a heavily manacled Karl Dengler, his feet plowing the dirt as they pulled
him
by the armpits. He appeared drunk—very drunk and beaten. Strangely, Gavin no longer hated the man with the same intensity
as he had. The reality had finally registered: the enemy was not the man being dragged away. For the first time Gavin saw
him as nothing more than a host, albeit a now used and empty host. This new logic demanded that his hatred and anger be refocused
onto the being in the tortoise. This was what Buck had spoken of. No wonder the preacher had always been able to stay so emotionally
detached from the people the demons were using. The people were pawns—pawns who had allowed themselves to be used, but pawns
nonetheless.

“Not over yet,” Buck said, stepping up to them with an officer at his side and the chest in his arms.

“Huh?” Gavin said.

“We’ll take him from here,” Amy said to the officer, who nodded and left them.

“Sabah,” Buck said.

“Katz!” Gavin said. Borrowing a phone from a nearby officer, he tried calling Karianne’s number. The phone rang four times
before the answering machine picked up. Gavin yelled for Katz to pick up, but there was no response. He called again and then
once more before slapping the lid shut on the cell phone.

“Something’s wrong. Something’s definitely wrong.”