He smiled at me, that slow sinister grin I was familiar with. This was an Axel I recognized. “Are you willing to let your friends die, the boy’s soul be ripped out, over a sense of moral outrage, Jesse?” He tsk ed softly at me and stepped away, putting distance between us as he moved down the gravel road. “There might be hope for you after all.”
“Does the Yeti have his little pets with him, attacking the hospital right out in the open?”
“Mmhmm. A few. He’s become very short on cannon fodder, thanks to you.” His boots crunched on the gravel, every step taking him farther and farther outside the reach of the truck’s headlights.
“And if I call him away, those things will go apeshit again, like earlier.”
“Mmhmm. But if you don’t call him away, little Zane will be one of them. I wonder if he’ll even realize when he’s ripped his own father’s throat out, eaten his tongue.”
“If I call him away, I want something from you in return.”
That made him pause, and he raised a pierced brow at me. “And what might that be?”
“Help them.” The Yeti had rightful claim on my soul at the moment. I couldn’t offer that to Axel and he couldn’t ask. What was the worst that could happen? The demon pursed his lips thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. “C’mon, man. Whatever little spat you’re having with your own kind, you’ve already picked a side by helping us earlier. Help them again.”
He made a great show of thinking it over, rocking his head from side to side, going through the hemming and hawing. Finally, he smirked. “All right. If you call your Yeti away, I’ll help them. But you will owe me a favor. Not your soul, I won’t even try that. But.. . something. Something I’ll ask for later.”
“Fine.” Part of me expected that deal to burn itself black into my skin, like the Yeti’s brand, but nothing happened. Maybe these ephemeral “rules” covered only set contracts, not vague favors.
“Decide quickly, Jesse. They don’t have much time.” He took two more steps backward, and the darkness swallowed him up. Sulfur wafted to me on the tiny breeze.
What else could I do but throw my head back and yell “FUCK!” at the empty night sky? Then I kicked one of the tires for good measure, mud splattering everywhere.
Well, I could try to get Cam-or anyone else for that matter-on the phone. Of course, every single number I tried went unanswered. It did occur to me at some point that Cole’s phone was one of those fancy ones that would let me look up things, so I found the number for the hospital in Fort Collins. And that one went unanswered too. I hung up when it hit fifteen rings.
As much as I hated to believe that Axel might be telling the truth (and trust me, I knew he was doing it only for his own benefit), I couldn’t think of any reason for a hospital phone to go unanswered, unless major shit was going down.
Sadly, I was in no shape to be fighting the Yeti. I had my sword in the truck, yes, but my armor was all the way back in Missouri. I threw open the back doors of the truck, pawing through what was left of my friends’ belongings. They’d taken their packs at the hospital, and with them they’d taken their paintball markers. No holy paint for me.
As a last resort, I patted my pockets down, wishing futilely for any of my little antidemon gadgets and doohickeys. I discovered something hard and flat in one pocket, and investigation revealed it to be a quarter. It tingled against my fingertips.
Great. One sword, and one holy quarter. This was my arsenal.
Second concern was location. Fighting in the middle of a blacked-out gravel back road was probably not the best idea. Not to mention that our terms said it had to be in the mountains. Immediately, my eyes lit on the peak, looming large over me. I grinned. Perfect. This time of year, any campgrounds would be deserted, and hopefully the park rangers would be long gone home for the night. If I was lucky.
With the judicious application of a crap load of gas and a colorful variety of curse words, the Suburban gave a lurch, a shudder, and then it was free of the muddy ditch, albeit quite a bit dirtier. I drove back toward the lights of the city until I found the first sign that pointed toward Pikes Peak, and I took that turn. Whaddya know, Marty’s truck will squall tires. Probably shouldn’t mention that to him.
I’d never actually been to Pikes Peak before this, but I knew you had to buy passes in order to drive up the mountain. And where there are passes required, there are gates. And where there are gates after closing time, there are gate crashers. Guess what I was.
I don’t know if there was supposed to be some kind of barrier across the drive or what, but there wasn’t. There was a light on in the little guard shack, but I didn’t see anyone sitting in it as I blew right past it. I did hope briefly that: one, no one tried to chase me up the mountain, and two, that I didn’t get anyone in trouble for not being at their post.
According to the posted signs, it was at least an hour drive to reach the tippity top of the mountain. The guys didn’t have an hour. I’d have to make my stand somewhere lower down, preferably somewhere I could find cover, use the terrain to my advantage.
The road wound upward in sharp turns that seemed more about inconvenience than actual necessity. There were no guardrails on the serpentine highway, and I took the corners at unsafe speeds, straying dangerously close to the edge of the pavement. Each turn made my head swim, my damaged ears contributing a mild case of vertigo to all the other crap I had to deal with. The Suburban cornered like a brick, and my arms ached with fighting it, despite the power steering. No wonder the drive up took so freakin’ long.
How long did I have? How much time had passed since Axel dropped his bombshell? Was I far enough up the mountain for it to count? Would Axel hold up his end of the bargain?
The tall trees that lined the road hid the top of the peak from view, and I kept my eyes open for anywhere I could pull off the road. Big trees were good; they gave me something to put my back against. Not to mention that they’d help hide the truck in case the absent guard actually saw me speed through.
When I spotted the roadside sign that jokingly indicated a Bigfoot crossing, I figured that was omen enough. Bigfoot, Yeti, same diff, right? I swerved the truck off the road, feeling the damp soil give under the heavy vehicle, and hoped vaguely that I’d be able to get the truck unstuck later. If I was alive to get it unstuck. I hopped out of the truck and didn’t even stop to strap my sword on, just carrying the scabbard in one hand.
The trees there were mostly of the evergreen variety, their low-hanging boughs interlacing in places to provide an almost solid canopy. In the uppermost reaches, they were dusted with snow, fallen sometime during the day I guessed. For yards around, the only thing underfoot was dead pine needles, treacherously slippery to the unwary. That wasn’t going to work.
The night was quiet as I jogged into the tall pines, lacking in the usual birds-and-bugs noises, but still within the range of “mundane and normal.” I was just starting to wonder where the wildlife had gone, when I remembered that my ears weren’t back to normal yet, hence the cone of silence effect. That was gonna suck quite a bit if the Yeti brought his little pets. I needed to be able to hear them coming. Last thing I needed was them dropping out of the trees onto my head.
Accordingly, I found a small area with relatively few low tree branches. The needles crackled under foot, faintly, and I strained my hearing to see just how impaired I was. The burble of trickling water reached me, proving that I wasn’t entirely deaf, and I went to investigate.
It was a small stream, small enough that it probably wasn’t even there all the time. A recent rain, or melting snow, or something, had given birth to the tiny trickle, no more than three feet wide and a couple of inches deep. The water ran swiftly, carrying needles and twigs with it, proof that the debris had existed here long before the creek.