The Demon Trappers: Foretold (20 page)

In the distance Riley spied a huge bird sailing over the water to land in a pine tree. ‘Wow. Look at him! What is he?’

‘That’s a Great Blue Heron.’

As they drew closer, the bird took to the air again, swooping a short distance, and then landed along the bank. She guessed its wingspan to be at least six feet and its faint blue colouring
seemed to blend in with the greyish Spanish moss. Once again, it took flight, moving further down the canal, as if it was guiding them. A harsh croak floated across the air, the bird announcing its
territory.

Near the bank an alligator surfaced like a living submarine, then pulled itself on to solid ground with its stubby front legs. It was at least ten feet long, big enough to take down a man.

Ray pointed out another lounging on the far bank. ‘As the temperature warms up, they’ll pull themselves out of the water on to the bank to sun themselves,’ he said. ‘This
time of year they’re still sluggish. They’ll get livelier as the temperature rises. In the summer they’re really active.’

Riley’s hope began to fade. What chance did they have of finding one guy in the middle of this vast wilderness? What if Beck was injured and nowhere near the canal? Would he even know they
were searching for him?

She called out his name and there was no reply. ‘Do you think he can hear me?’

‘Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky. If you see anything odd, let me know and we’ll check it out.’

It all looked odd to her, but she tried her best. As they moved deeper into the swamp, there were more basking alligators and the occasional turtle on a log. The trees appeared in mourning with
heavy veils of Spanish moss. It would have been eerily captivating if the guy she loved wasn’t out here somewhere.

Time passed and so did long stretches of swamp. They glided by a fork in the canal that led north. Riley would call out every now and then, but other than the occasional response from a bird
there was no sign of Beck. As the hours moved by them like the slow water, her heart grew heavier. Ray pulled up to the bank a few times, checking for signs that someone had exited a boat. He shook
his head each time.

Where are you?

At five and a half hours into the search Riley’s throat was raw and there had been no sign of Beck. When Ray broached the subject of turning round, she nearly cried.
Instead, she reluctantly agreed as dark would come soon. Behind her, she heard Ray calling the sheriff to give him a report. When he’d finished, she asked if the other teams had had any luck.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head sadly. ‘They didn’t find him.’

The last time she’d seen Beck he’d been sitting on the back of the truck, beer bottle in hand, grieving for his mother. She’d never told him she loved him. She’d never
told him a lot of things that she had sheltered inside her heart, believing they still had time to be together.

Oh God, please no. It can’t end this way.

As they floated back down the canal, another heron kept them company, flying ahead a short distance, landing and then waiting as they caught up. Riley would have enjoyed it if she didn’t
feel like it was mocking them.

When they drew closer, the bird held its position. As they passed it, the heron squawked and Riley turned to study it. Where the creature stood the bank looked different. She blinked, her eyes
so tired she was sure they were playing tricks on her.

It’s nothing. There’s been nothing for the last five hours.

The bird squawked again. It was refusing to move on.

Her instincts took over. ‘Ray, we need to check something out.’

He must have heard the urgency in her voice. ‘OK. Show me where.’

Ray turned the boat round in a lazy arc and returned to where the heron still roosted. When they drew near, it flew off with one loud squawk.

As the boat moved towards the bank, Riley held her breath.

Please let us find him. He wants to come home to me.

Ray cut the motor and they drifted. He gave her a quizzical look. ‘What did you find?’

‘There . . . see that?’ she said pointing at a break in the brush. ‘It looks different.’

The area she pointed at appeared as if something had been dragged across it, bulldozing small branches and leaves out of its way.

‘Could have been an alligator, but we’ll make sure.’ Ray rose, using a long pole to manoeuvre the boat slowly towards the spot.

‘Looks clear. I’ll tie us up.’ He crawled out and after securing the boat, he examined the stretch of bank she’d indicated. ‘There’s no gator tracks
here.’ He knelt and pointed. ‘But that’s a boot mark and it’s pretty fresh. We need to check this out.’

Riley felt a thrill course through her body.

Something made her uneasy, as if someone was watching them. Was it a demon? Ray had mentioned seeing them in the swamp on previous trips. Ill at ease, she extracted a bottle of Holy Water from
her pack. Maybe she was being paranoid, but most times that was the best way when dealing with Hellspawn.

Riley handed out the heavy backpack, then Beck’s duffel bag. It was just as heavy, fully loaded with bottles of water and food.

‘We could leave these here,’ Ray tactfully suggested.

‘I have this feeling we’ll need them.’

‘OK,’ Ray said, hefting Beck’s duffle on his back. ‘Follow right behind me and watch where you step. I’m searching for more footprints, scraps of fabric, anything.
If you see something, tell me, but don’t go after it on your own. I’ll do that.’

She filed all that away as they began the painstakingly slow hike through the swamp. The ground was uneven: tree roots and broken branches were everywhere. Critters moved in the brush around
them. Riley didn’t want to know what they were, but she figured they were all keen to nosh on trapper. Something above them began to make an unholy hammering noise.

‘What is that?’ she asked, scanning the trees.

‘Pileated woodpecker.’ Ray halted and then pointed at something. ‘What does that look like to you?’

She peered round him. In the earth was a footprint, but it wasn’t human.

‘It’s a demon. See the claws?’ she said. ‘It looks like it was dragging something.’

‘Maybe it was our missing trapper,’ Ray replied.

The further they walked, the more Riley could hear the clock ticking. Dusk would be coming soon and they had to find Beck tonight. She called out every now and then but other than the sounds of
the swamp there was no reply.

Ray put up a hand for her to halt and then he pointed again. Sitting near a log was snake, a big one, though any reptile seemed huge in the middle of the wilderness. It began a dry, ominous
rattle.

Riley gulped. ‘Is it poisonous?’

‘Yes. Pretty, isn’t it?’

She had to admit it was kind of cool all coiled up like that, grey with sort of black chevrons. ‘What kind is it?’

‘Canebrake rattler. We’ll just wait until it wanders off. They’re not aggressive unless we get stupid.’

Hope the snake knows that.

After letting them know it wasn’t amused at being interrupted, the creature slithered away, five feet of reptilian beauty.

As Riley waited for her heart rate to drop, something came across the wind, faint and distant.

‘Wait,’ she said, touching Ray’s arm. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to separate the sound from everything else around them. Then she smiled. ‘It’s
Beck. He’s singing. Can you hear him?’

Ray shook his head.

The voice stopped. Had it all been an illusion? Was she so desperate she was hearing something that wasn’t real? Or was it a demon luring them deeper into the swamp?

The singing started up again and this time she knew she wasn’t hallucinating.

‘It’s him!’ she cried. ‘It’s a Taylor Swift song. He plays it in the truck all the time.’

They moved forward faster now, but still with that caution that came with not knowing what might be underfoot. The voice faded in and out. Finally it stopped.

‘Beck?’ she called out. ‘Beck!’

They kept going forward, hoping to hear the song again, until they entered a broad clearing, an open space with a few massive cypress trees. It took her a moment to find Beck in the scene, his
light brown jacket serving not only as a cover, but as camouflage. He was propped up against a massive tree, his bearded face crimson and sweaty, his hair matted down and eyes distant. He stared up
at her in bewilderment.

‘Get away from me, demon!’ he croaked, flailing his arms at her.

That wasn’t good news.

‘Ya can’t have my soul,’ he said, then began coughing so hard it was difficult for him to breathe. ‘Yer not Riley. She’s not here.’

‘Oh, yes I am.’ She hurried forward, not caring if there was any kind of creature in her path. The moment she dropped to her knees next to him, Beck swung at her.

‘Stop it!’ she commanded.

He blinked at her, his eyes still not focusing properly. ‘Yer real?’

‘Sure am.’

‘No, you can’t be. Yer with that damned angel . . .’

Ray hunched down near the trapper, laying the duffel bag on the ground.

‘Hey, guy, we found you,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘Just in time, I think.’ He traded a worried look with Riley.

‘Ya are for real. Oh, thank God,’ Beck murmured, then began to shake. ‘I thought ya’d forgotten me.’

‘Never,’ Riley said, touching his burning hand. ‘We’ll get you back to the boat, then to the hospital. You’ll be OK.’

‘I’m …not goin’ nowhere,’ Beck said, shaking his head, each movement exaggerated. When he gestured towards his left foot, Riley stared in horror at the thick log
chain around Beck’s ankle.

‘What the hell?’ Ray blurted.

‘Demon did it,’ Beck said. ‘That damned McGovern was gonna kill me . . . and . . .’

‘We know. We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry,’ Riley said, more for his benefit than for the truth.

She noticed a dark stain on Beck’s jeans below the left knee and knew what it was on sight: the fiend had injured him. That explained his fever and his disorientation.

The demon must not be that powerful if it had to resort to such a bizarre trap. With Beck unable to escape, it had given him a wound, one that would keep pumping toxins in his system. Even if he
was hallucinating, he could still hand over his soul and it’d be a one-way trip to Hell’s front door. Trappers would no doubt rate special treatment down there.

That’s not going to happen. Not to him.

‘Any way we can get that chain off?’ she asked, the joy of having found her guy fading.

‘I’ve got some tools in the boat,’ Ray said. ‘I’ll go fetch them. One way or another we’ll get him free.’

That’s what she’d wanted to hear.

Riley pulled a Holy Water sphere out of her backpack and handed it to the guide. ‘If the demon gives you any trouble, hit it with the sphere. The Holy Water will burn it like acid and
it’ll back off.’

The man nodded and headed towards the canal.

‘Hang in there, Backwoods Boy.’

Beck’s eyes were closed now and he was quaking with the fever. Seeing him so ill freaked her out. It’d probably been the same for him when he’d found her dying in her apartment
after she’d tangled with a Three. Riley pushed down her fears and began laying out supplies to treat his leg. Once that was done, she’d try to get some water down him before they began
the long trip back to the landing.

When Ray returned, there was nothing in his hand but the sphere. His troubled expression wasn’t comforting.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘The tools are gone. Every one of them.’ He looked around, nervous. ‘And my cellphone isn’t getting a signal. That’s not normal. What’s going on?’

Riley did a quick check of her phone. Same issue. ‘It’s the demon – it’s messing with us.’

It took a moment to locate it near one of the trees, a mud-coloured and hairless monster with those blazing red eyes she’d come to despise.

It moved a few steps forward, its head cocked. ‘Blackthorne’s daughter,’ it cried out.

‘Give us back those tools. Now!’ she demanded.

The fiend laughed, shaking its head. ‘The trapper is mine. Leave him or you will die.’

‘We’ll have to get some help,’ Ray whispered, his attention never wavering from the Hellspawn.

Beck stirred. ‘Get out of here,’ he said, waving them away. ‘Leave me some water and . . . I’ll be fne.’ As if to prove he was lying, his body began to quake from
another spike of fever.

By the time we come back, you’ll be dead.

There was only way to do this.

‘I’m staying here,’ Riley announced. ‘Please go get us some help.’

Ray stared at her like she was a lunatic. ‘That’s crazy,’ he protested. ‘I can’t move through the water that fast in the dark. It could be tomorrow morning before I
can get back. I know you’re a trapper, but spending a night in the swamp with one of those things is . . .’

‘What a trapper does,’ Riley replied, her voice amazingly calm. ‘Beck won’t make it on his own. I can treat his wound and keep him alive while you get those
tools.’

‘You sure about this?’ the guide asked.

She nodded, her insides fluttering like a bird trapped in a cat’s claws.