“Gwen, that’s not how…” Nick stopped, cut off by her look and the grim knowledge that she was right. Was it even possible to not live in that place anymore? Could there be anything after this? A normal life was such a far and distant memory that Nick could not be sure he would even know how to live one. His gaze fell to Jackie, shivering on the floor, huddled around herself as tightly as she could manage.
Gwen shook him gently. “Promise me, damn you, so I can finally move on.”
The words were a slap to the head. The notion she had wanted to and could not move on because of him had never occurred to Nick. Was everyone here waiting as well? “All right, I promise.”
She kissed him. “Good, thank you.”
The rest of the crowd was gathering in close now, looking as though their long-lost brother had finally returned home. It hit him then, what Gwen had said, and who he now realized were missing. “The children? Are they here?”
“No,” she replied, her features turning at once from stern to sad. “They moved on a long time ago, Nicholas. I couldn’t let them stay here, not with Drake. I helped them let go.”
Tears welled up in his eyes, realizing that, ghosts or not, he had truly wanted to see them again. “That’s good. They don’t belong in this place. Nobody does.” There were murmurs of assent among the crowd, and Nick finally turned and looked at them all, acknowledging them for the first time. Most he recognized, and there was not an angry face among them. They were glad the sheriff was back in town, such that it was.
“What’s the plan, Sheriff?” someone asked.
“How do we get him?”
Yes, exactly. How did they get Drake? What possible tools did Nick have at his disposal here, other than a couple guns? They needed something positive, but as he stared out over the sea of hopeful, eager faces, hoping that something brilliant would spring to mind, that something would be different this time, Nick realized he had nothing. He had nothing to give them.
“Folks,” he began, but faltered. The usual sheriff’s bravado, the confidence he had so long ago to bring the bad guys to justice, had been beaten out of him by the continual years of failure.
“Nick.” Gwen’s cold hand touched his arm. “I have a notion about what might-”
“Ah, Nicholas!” Drake’s voice boomed like hollow thunder through the room.
Nick had felt him the moment he entered, a cold wash of stinking dread invading all his senses. He was there, standing in a doorway on the far side of the large room, the blood-red tie shining like a beacon against his black pinstripe suit. The crowd of ghosts instinctively parted, leaving an open path between them.
“Finally, you surprise me. Good show, I say. I am pleased.”
Nothing in Drake’s voice sounded pleased, and Nick did the only thing he could think to do. Pushing the flaps of his coat aside, Sheriff Nicholas Anderson drew his old six-shooters and prepared for the end.
Chapter 57
Jackie did what any self-respecting agent would do when confronted by the man who had killed her partner and friend. She emptied her Glock into the man’s body, though her aim was not nearly so lethal, given her trembling hands.
“Die, you son of a bitch,” she said through gritted teeth, pulling the trigger for several rounds even after the clip had emptied.
Drake had begun to walk forward but stopped, flinching for just a moment at the initial shots. He stood there, a faint smile on his withered face, as if the bullets were little more than annoying mosquitoes. Small, pasty white smears appeared where the bullets hit him, one on his stomach, a pair in the chest, another in the throat, and finally beneath the cheekbone. When she had finished, he glanced at Jackie, a “what do you know about that?” look on his face, and then adjusted the suit on his thin frame and continued stepping forward.
“Fuck,” she muttered and let the now useless weapon clatter to the floor beside her.
“It would seem, my dear agent, that real bullets have little effect in the world of the dead, but the thought is appreciated just the same.”
Above her, Nick did nothing but stand at the ready, the handheld cannons aimed in Drake’s direction. To Jackie, it appeared comically out of place. If bullets could do nothing, what the hell was Nick going to do to him? She watched the ghostly crowd cower back from Drake’s presence as though he had some dead-repelling force field around him. Their fear was palpable. A few more steps, and Drake stopped, still a good twenty meters away.
At Nick’s side, Gwen spoke quietly. “Nicholas, listen to me.”
Behind Jackie, Shelby spoke to Nick with grim determination. “I’ll handle the goons, babe. Focus on him.”
Drake, meanwhile, casually scanned the crowd, his hand tracing a slow arc from left to right. The act had the crowd of ghosts shrinking back in terror. When his arm stopped and the fingers curled up into a “come here” motion, he smiled and said, “Miranda Davenport, it is time to move on. Come, child. Come.”
The young, faded form of a woman stepped from the crowd and walked toward Drake as though his order could not be denied. There appeared to be no hesitation in her steps. Why, Jackie wondered, would anyone willingly approach that thing? Perhaps it was some kind of hypnosis. Perhaps he had control over all of them in some way in this place. If so, they all were more than screwed.
Miranda Davenport did not stop when she got close to Drake but instead walked right up to his outstretched hand. Her back was to Jackie, but her distance indicated Drake’s hand had pushed directly into her body. The pale, faded form shuddered, and Miranda’s head arched back, her mouth open to scream, but no sound issued forth. Her body kept bending, folding awkwardly back, quaking against Drake’s stiffened arm. For a moment, Jackie swore he was pulling the dress from her body, but as the woman’s body stretched and contorted, she realized with horror that the woman’s body was being drawn directly into Drake’s outstretched hand. The body lost shape, folding down until it appeared her back had snapped in two, and then shrank and evaporated until finally she was gone, drawn up into Drake’s body like the result of some soul-sucking vacuum cleaner.
Jackie looked over at Laurel, who still crouched beside her. “Jesus, Laur. What the fuck was that?”
She shook her head. “I think he just consumed her soul.”
Drake shrugged his shoulders and gave his neck a soft, twisting pop, the smile on his face a bloodless, sinister line. “You see, Nicholas? Even in death, my victims feed me. I have more power than your morally rigid soul could possibly fathom.” He began to walk forward again with slow, deliberate steps. “I knew from the beginning your righteous constraint would keep you from ever doing what needed to be done. You’ve never had a chance, dear boy. Smart blokes know you only play games you are guaranteed of winning.”
“This game isn’t over yet, Cornelius,” Nick grated, but Jackie could sense the lack of confidence in his voice. Who would blame him after seeing that?
Gwen’s hands clasped around Nick’s then, finally drawing his attention away from Drake. “My love, we can help. We’re ready to move on from this. You just have to be willing to let us go.”
He turned, the twisted sneer on his face melting away when he looked down at Gwen. “What are you talking about?”
Drake laughed. “Are you so dense as all that, Nicholas? They accepted their fate long ago, unlike you, who has proven stubborn to a fault.” He gave a mirthless chuckle, stretching out his arms to encompass the crowd. “In the end, my friend, you cannot accept what you are, and the fact that you are here, still living, makes it so much the sweeter. Now then, Ralph Morris, come to me and accept your fate.”
The man stepped from the crowd, approaching Drake with no resistance. Jackie turned her gaze away. Watching the process had slimy worms of dread crawling around in her gut. She would kill herself before going out like that. But, then, did it matter one way or the other? Being slowly consumed by the chill of death could not be much worse. The ache was getting excruciating, thin shards of ice being driven into the marrow of her bones. She would be lucky if she could get to her feet now.