Nightwitch (36 page)

* * *

The white tiger without a face roared, trying to frighten Brad into firing, but he’d been on too many hunting trips with his father to waste his last two shots. He kept the gun up and pointed, moving it along with the tiger as the animal paced the street. His shoulder ached with the pounding it was taking from the powerful kick of the shotgun. The screaming roar frightened the holy shit out of him, but he wasn’t going to run.

And he promised God that if he got out of this alive, he would never pick on another kid again as long as he lived. He would never miss Mass on Sunday and he’d even become an altar boy. If only Arty would hurry up.

The tiger charged in midroar. Brad fired as it crossed the curb. He pumped and fired the last shot, taking off the head of the beast as it crossed the sidewalk and he saw flying bits of fur, skin, blood and bone splatter and turn into sparks, as once again the beast turned into a ball of flame and shot skyward.

* * *

Arty heard the last two shots and knew his time was up. Then he figured it out. He was the only paperboy in town and he never missed. It wasn’t a soggy newspaper. It was what he was looking for. He scrabbled back to where he’d chucked the trash he’d found under the bushes. He smiled when his fingers dug into the soggy skin.

“
This is for Harry Lightfoot.” Arty pulled the container of cayenne pepper out of his pocket and poured it over the skin. Then he jammed it inside the bundle, emptying it. He tossed the plastic container aside and dug out the other one. “And this is for me and Carolina.” He poured the mixture of rock salt and ground chili pepper inside the bag of skin. “And this is something extra.” He sprinkled some salt from the salt shaker over the skin.

Then he put it back where he’d found it and scurried under the bushes, back out to the front yard.

* * *

“
Thank God,” Brad said.

“
We gotta go,” Arty said. He took off across the lawn and across the street, sliding under the bushes between the two houses directly across from Carolina’s. Brad slid in right behind him.

“
Now what?” Brad panted as he tossed the shotgun behind them.

“
Don’t know. I guess we wait.”

Several porch lights started coming on and doors started opening.

“
What’s going on?” a man from one of the porches said.

“
This neighborhood is starting to become like the wild west,” a woman from another porch said.

“
Someone call the police,” another woman’s voice screamed out.

“
My wife’s doing it now,” the first man answered, and all of a sudden the neighborhood was full of people, but Arty and Brad stayed in their hiding place and waited.

Five minutes passed before a police car turned onto the street and it was immediately surrounded with people complaining of gunshots and loud noises. Then another cruiser joined the first as more residents came out to mingle with the crowd. Still Arty and Brad stayed hidden, watching it all.

And finally a third police cruiser turned onto Lark Lane, slowly easing its way through the crowd. The two boys watched as Carolina and Ray jumped out of the backseat. Arty smiled when he heard Condor bark from inside the car. Then Miss Sadler got out of the front seat and helped Carolina’s father climb out.

“
Look,” Brad whispered, pointing to a small mongrel dog walking up the sidewalk. “Its eyes,” Brad said.

And Arty saw them flash red for a second, before the dog turned and slunk into the place between Carolina’s house and the house next door.

A few seconds later they heard a scream, a wail that sounded like it came from the depths of a hot fiery place. Then the bushes were parted by the flinging arms of an aging, screaming black woman. Every person in the crowd turned to watch as the woman wailed and scratched at herself.

Arty and Brad left their hiding place and walked across the street, through the gawking crowd, toward the woman.

“
Skin, skin you no know me,” the woman shrieked as she scratched. Then she caught fire and burned, but this time she didn’t turn into a flaming ball and shoot skyward. Instead she fell onto the grass, burning white hot, giving off enough heat to drive everyone in the crowd back, except Arty and Brad, who stood over the burning body and shook hands.