Hard Times (A Sam Harlan Novel Book 2) (23 page)

“Just for show,” Billy said. “I needed the money. I figured Jack was gone and you wouldn’t notice. He told me he was leaving you with plenty—”

“You conned us,” I said. “You sonofabitch! Are you even a medicine man, or was that just a part of the con?”

Everybody stared at Davenport. He wiped his hands on his jeans. “I never lied about that,” he finally said. “I can see the spirit world. I can
interact
with the spirit world. It’s … less useful than you would think.” He bit back a hysterical laugh. “Most of the time it’s terrifying. I can’t protect against a vampire. My power is nothing compared to that.”

The pressure in my trigger finger mounted. “I’m sorry, Billy. I brought you into this and now I’m taking you out.”

I was pulling the trigger when Callie knocked the Kimber up, causing me to fire into the ceiling. The bullet tore through the popcorn finish and caused a snow of plaster to fall to the floor.

Everyone jerked. Everyone but Billy.

His eyes followed the trajectory of the bullet and he stared at the hole in the ceiling in disappointment.

“Sam!” Callie yelled. “You can’t kill him.”

“Why not?” I asked. “He almost got everyone killed.” I pointed at the bodies of Carrie and Duane Glick. “He got them killed. I wouldn’t have left them here if I had known it wasn’t safe.”

“Normally I’d be on your side,” Tommy said to Callie, “but Sam has a point. If we hadn’t split up, we might not have gone to Bent’s house. We wouldn’t have gone to the motel. Elias and Angie might still be alive.”

“You can’t kill him,” Callie said, “because you’re
not
a killer. He may be a liar and a thief, but he’s no monster. Not like Santiago.”

“Elias is dead?” Colden asked, choking up. I had almost forgotten about him. He stood in front of his mother, shaking uncontrollably.

“Elias is dead,” I said, “and so is his girlfriend. We found the vampire. Its name is Ignacio Santiago. It almost killed us on the south side of town, and it murdered them before we could stop it.”

I shook my head and left unspoken the part where the vampire came to the Glick house while we were busy tending to the dead at Angie’s house.

It’s all going wrong.

The people I tried to protect were dying. I was making mistake after mistake. I stared at Billy. He seemed resigned to whatever punishment I deemed fit to dole out.

My options were limited and the clock was ticking. “Can you track the vampire?” I asked.

Billy slumped forward, still avoiding my eyes. “No.”

Before I could stop myself, my hand lashed out and cracked him over the head with the butt of the Kimber, not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough to split his scalp open. “Don’t lie to me, Billy.”

He winced and ran his hand through his hair. He drew it back and his hand was covered in scarlet. “I—I don’t want to. Wait!” he said hurriedly, before I could smack him again. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I tried to explain to you, it’s the time of year. They’re so close.”

“And?” I asked.

He sighed, all the fight gone from him. “They might pull me away.” He searched our faces, looking for a hint of understanding or forgiveness. “Don’t you understand? I could lose my soul! It would be worse than death!”

I pointed to the bodies of Duane and Carrie Glick. “Hey, asshole, you’re not getting any sympathy from me. They died because I trusted you. If your soul is the price to pay to keep everyone safe, then so be it.”

Callie and I
were arguing in the Glicks’ kitchen. We left Tommy guarding the front, standing between the busted door and the shattered window, and I kept glancing down the hallway to make sure he was okay. His shoulders were drawn tight and he had his Glock drawn and ready to shoot. Mary Kate had taken up a position in front of Colden and Lori, both clearly distraught.

For all that, they were still lucid and still aware of their surroundings.

Either that or they’re still in shock.

“You can’t do this,” Callie said.

“The hell I can’t,” I said. “Billy will track it down. It’s the least he can do.”

She stood close, not backing down. “You heard him, Sam. He could risk his soul.”

“So?” I asked. “He practically killed Duane and Carrie. Jesus, Callie.
He’s
to blame. It’s
his
fault.”

“He didn’t kill them,” she said. “Santiago did.” She frowned. “You’re not mad at him. You’re mad at yourself.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m mad at Billy.” I stared into the Sister’s eyes. She was still reeling from the loss of Elias and Angie, and yet was willing to forgive.

I couldn’t understand it, and I felt maybe she was right about Billy, but then I noticed how she grimaced in pain whenever she moved. She was still clearly hurting from the attack at the motel, and watching her suffering hardened my heart to the risk to Billy’s soul. “I trusted him because he knew Jack, just like I trusted Mary Kate. They used us.” I turned away, afraid she might see me cry. “They
both
used me.”

“People are people,” she said quietly. “We’re all born sinners. Did you expect anything else?”

“Yes,” I said. “I expect people to be good. I expect them to fight for what’s right, and good, and just.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, her eyes locked with mine. I saw empathy there and a great amount of sadness. “Oh, Sam. If you really expect that, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Shouldn’t you be offering encouraging words from Jesus or something?” I said, trying not to let the bitterness creep into my voice.

She smiled then, a small quirk of her lips, but the smile warmed me to my toes. “I’ve said it before, Sam Harlan. You’re a good man and these are hard times. You’ll find a way.”

I yanked my hand from hers. “I don’t know what to do, Callie. I don’t know where Santiago went.” I finally spoke the truth I had been denying to myself. “I’m scared. Terrified, really. I’m afraid Santiago will kill you. I’m afraid he’ll kill everyone.”

“I’m scared, too,” she said, “but if anyone can stop it, you can. The change made you stronger and faster.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I’m not that strong. Or that fast. I’m hurt, Callie, and you are, too. I can tell your back hurts by the way you’re moving.”

I had given her ibuprofen from the medical kit on the drive from Angie Bent’s house, and I had swallowed some myself, but it wasn’t enough to combat the pain. I was stronger and faster and still hurting.

It has to be murder on her.

“We can’t give up,” she said. “We need to save those girls
without
sacrificing Davenport’s soul. Their survival depends on us. We’re their only hope.”

“We don’t even know if the girls are still alive,” I said. “This could all be for nothing.”

“If we give up now,” Callie said, “those girls are surely dead. Offering another man’s soul
isn’t
the way to save them.”

I sighed. I was still angry with Billy, but the Sister was right. “We’ll have to find another way.”

* * *

We went to the living room and everyone was where we had left them.

Everyone except for Billy Davenport.

He knelt in the corner where the Glicks had cowered just minutes before. He was fumbling through the contents of his leather satchel. A chill air was blasting in through the broken window and missing front door, but beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead. He glanced up as we entered, his face drawn and his eyes closed in thin slits. Deep lines around his eyes made him look like he had aged a dozen years. He glanced up and said, “I wish—”

“You could have saved them?” I asked.

“That, too,” he said, glancing mournfully at his bag, “but I was
going
to say I wish I had a drink.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’ve come to a decision. You don’t have to do it.”

The Glicks sucked in their breath, and Tommy turned in surprise. “We’re not?” he asked.

“No,” Callie said firmly. “We can’t put a man’s soul in danger. We’ll have to find another way.”

Davenport stopped rummaging through his satchel. “What other way?”

“I haven’t worked through that part,” I admitted, “but there has to be
something
.”

Davenport laughed, a sound lacking in amusement. It was so out of place that I almost stepped back. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I might as well help,” Davenport said finally. “If I don’t, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

I shook my head. “We can’t—”

“No,” Callie said quickly. “We can’t
force
him to risk his soul. He’s offering freely. Mr. Davenport? Do you understand the risk?”

The room was deathly quiet as everyone waited for Davenport to speak. The bodies stank, the foul stench of bowel and the coppery scent of blood filling the room. Billy turned to them and shuddered, then removed the small bowl and another sprig of sage from his satchel.

He looked up, his eyes sad. “Better than you, girl. You wear your faith like a badge, but you haven’t seen what waits on the other side. I
know
what I’m risking.”

“Then why do it?” I asked.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “It only matters that I’ll do it.” He paused, clenching his jaw. “I need you to do something.”

That threw me. “What?”

He held the bowl between the fingers of his left hand and stared at it like he saw something none of us could, and I realized he might
actually
be looking at something none of us could. “If anything comes through,” he said, “I want you to put a bullet in my head.”

“What?”

He looked up with hard eyes. “I said—”

I wave my hand, shutting him up. “I heard you. What might come through?”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just do as I asked.”

* * *

When the smoldering sage had filled the room with its sweet but acrid smell, Davenport moaned softly and said, “Oh.”

“What is it?” I asked.

He was sweating profusely, and heavy drops ran down his long, angular nose and dripped onto his denim shirt, leaving a series of wet spots down his thick chest. His black hair was plastered against his head and he swiped at it nervously, trying to smooth it. “It’s better if I don’t say,” he murmured.

“Better?” Callie asked. Billy sat cross-legged on the carpet, and she had joined me near him. “How is it better?”

He opened his right eye and stared across the room, near the bodies of Duane and Carrie Glick. “You don’t want to know. I promise you that.”

I turned and followed his gaze. There was nothing there. Then I thought about what he might see in the spirit world. If he saw spirits around us, or even ghosts, he might be looking upon a remnant of the murdered Glicks.

My stomach churned and my vomit rose. It was one thing to know that ghosts existed; it was quite another to know they might be lingering in the room where only minutes before they were living, breathing people before being violently murdered.

“Get on with it,” I said, trying not to think about the implications. There were some rabbit holes I wasn’t prepared to go down.

Not yet.

He nodded and used his right hand to raise the feather from near his feet, twirling it slowly and speaking words I couldn’t quite make out, then his breath caught in his throat. “There are so
many
,” he said. His breathing quickened and he began to tremble. “I didn’t expect so many. God, they see me!”

“Mr. Davenport,” Callie said soothingly. “You will be fine. Just focus on your task.”

He wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged himself. “They’re speaking to me,” he said, then sobbed heavily. “So many stories. So much …
desperation
.”

I gave Callie a raised eyebrow. If I had any doubts that Billy was pulling a con, those doubts had evaporated. Whatever he saw was clearly causing him distress, and I don’t think
anybody
was a good enough actor to pull off the fear I heard in his voice.

“Billy,” I said. “Focus. We need to track Santiago.”

He moaned again. “I don’t think I can track him this way. There are too many spirits. They’re everywhere.”

The Glicks huddled in the corner, wide-eyed, and Tommy stood protectively in front of them. “There are ghosts here?” he asked.

A chill ran up my spine. I felt something brush against the nape of my neck, like the tickle of a spider’s web against the fine hairs. I don’t know whether it was the thought of ghosts or an actual spirit that brushed against me, but suddenly the air in the room grew cold.

I don’t mean the air cooled. I mean the temperature plummeted, well below any winter’s day I had experienced in Ohio.

It wasn’t a natural cold. A million pinpricks stabbed my eyes, and my breath formed a billowing cloud when I exhaled. The icy blast seared my lungs when I managed to take a breath. The overhead light dimmed and came back, then the light appeared to collapse on itself, plunging the room into darkness lit only by the ruddy glow of the burning sage.

Everyone hugged themselves to stave off the bitter cold, but before they could speak or shout, Billy raised his head, his eyes wide. “Someone is coming. They see me and they’re coming to me!”

The smoke from the burning sage thickened and began to swirl around him. I grabbed Callie’s arm and pulled her back, away from Billy and the smoke that danced in the air like a living thing.

“Billy!” I shouted. “What’s happening?”

“It’s close,” he said, his head whipping from side to side. “It’s almost touching me. I
don’t
want to
do
this. Don’t touch me!” The smoke condensed in front of him, forming a humanoid outline, and he waved his hands against it, trying to push it away.

I stared in a mixture of fascination and horror as bright sparks appeared in smoke, right where eyes would be, then Billy collapsed.

“Billy?” I asked.

His head snapped up and he stared through the smoke. The voice that answered back had the same pitch and timbre but spoke in heavily accented English with a barely repressed anger. “I tried to warn you,” the voice said, “but he slaughtered me like an animal.”

It all clicked into place. “Maria?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Maria Diaz?”