A strange mewling cry, the likes of which Aaron had never heard before, filled the cave. The man returned to the examination table, his arms full, and Aaron had to blink twice before his mind could adjust to what he saw. It was one of the … things that Katie had shown him in the basement freezer—only this one was alive, cradled gently in the man’s arms. The animals in the chamber howled and clawed at the walls of their cages. The cat thrashed against its restraints and spat as the man set the abomination down next to it. The twisted animal looked as though it might have, at one time, been a dog—a terrier of some kind, maybe—but now it was horribly more than that.
The man had begun to pet the awful beast, his filth-encrusted hand stroking the beast repeatedly from the top of its misshapen head to the patch of bare, pink flesh in the small of its back. His attention to the animal was growing rougher, more frantic, when Aaron noticed the bulbous growth forming within the barren swath of skin.
The cacophony of animal wails was almost deafening, and Aaron wanted to look away. The poor beasts knew what was about to happen, and it brought them to the brink of madness. The angelic nature residing within him suddenly began to stir; it, too, sensed the potential for danger here, and was attempting to assert itself.
The swollen mass on the creature’s back had more than doubled in size and was pulsing with a life all its own. The monstrous animal panted with exertion as the tumor continued to grow, and the man looked on with a dull expression of disinterest, as if he saw things like this every day.
Suddenly the flesh of the beast’s back exploded with a faint pop, and a geyser of fluid shot into the air. What Aaron saw next chilled him to the bone. As the fluid drained from the ruptured growth, something emerged from the hollow of the wound. It was spiderlike, crablike. He’d never seen anything quite like it, but was certain that this was what had been lurking in the back of Mrs. Provost’s throat. It was black and glistening, the chitinous shell that covered its body catching the light of the Coleman lanterns placed around the cavern. The creature crawled from the open wound of the animal’s back and scrambled onto the tabletop.
The caged animals barked, howled, and screeched in protest as the spidery thing approached the restrained feline. Aaron could understand their intensifying terror, but had to ignore their frantic cries, for there was nothing he could do. The cat didn’t have a chance. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he watched the multilimbed life-form throw itself at the cat’s face and force its way into the panicked animal’s mouth, disappearing down its throat. The cat thrashed and coughed, but in a matter of seconds the panic halted, and the cat relaxed, lying perfectly still, its large, bushy tail languidly waving in the air. He could have sworn he heard it purring.
His mind raced as he wrestled with what he should do, but the decision was put on hold when he heard the sound of his name being whispered.
“Aaron,” the voice hissed in the tunnel behind him, and he backed away from the cavern and turned the corner to see Katie coming closer. His finger immediately went to his lips, urging her to be silent.
She smiled at him strangely, and he felt the hair at the back of his neck suddenly stand on end. Something wasn’t right, and he found the sword of light suddenly in his hands—just as her throat bulged and a spray of the grapelike objects spewed from her open mouth. He swatted them away and watched with unease as Katie recoiled violently from the blade’s light. The idea of one of those spidery things crawling inside her mouth made him feel sick to his stomach, but he stood his ground, sword aloft, waiting for the next attack.
There was movement in the tunnel behind her, and the people of Blithe moved through in a wave, pushing past Katie to get at him. The angelic essence inside him roared to be free, but he could not unleash that kind of power against these people—they weren’t responsible for their actions.
Aaron waved the blade in front of them, hoping to drive them back, hoping to buy himself enough time to flee deeper into the tunnel system—but there were too many, and they were much too fast. The citizens of Blithe were upon him. He had no room to maneuver, no room to block the spiny objects that erupted from their mouths. And the power that resided at his core bellowed its frustration as a rain of projectiles pierced his flesh, clinging to his cheek, his neck, and the backs of his hands—and the numbing effects of the toxin began to course through his blood.
“I will not hurt them,” he said stubbornly to the angry power, and the residents of Blithe swarmed upon him, bringing him down to the tunnel floor.
And the power that was his birthright resigned itself to its fate, and allowed the darkness of unconsciousness to enfold them in its welcoming embrace.
CHAPTER TEN
The tide rolled in with a soothing rumble, rushing up to greet him, flowing around his bare legs like eager lapdogs excited to make his acquaintance. Aaron gazed out over the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, watching the seabirds ride the gentle breeze, and felt a peace that he had not known in quite some time.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it, Aaron?” asked a young voice.
Aaron looked down to see Stevie sitting in the sand beside him. The boy had a plastic pail and shovel and was busily digging a hole in the wet ground.
Aaron glanced into the hole and saw that it was far deeper and larger than he had first imagined. I’ll bet there are tunnels under here, he thought for some reason. Miles and miles of tunnels.
“Did you hear me, Aaron?” Stevie asked, drawing his attention away from the hole.
Aaron looked into the boy’s expectant face. “I’m sorry, Stevie,” he said. “I guess I zoned out for a minute there.”
The little boy was only wearing a pair of bright red swim trunks, and Aaron could see that he was getting sunburned. If we aren’t careful, he thought, the kid’ll get sunstroke—just like that time when …
“I just said how beautiful it is here, that’s all,” Stevie interrupted his train of thought. The child continued to work at his hole. “I don’t ever want to leave.”
Aaron laughed as he knelt down beside the boy. The surf flowed over his bare feet, so warm. “We have to go home sometime,” he said as he ruffled the boy’s blond hair. “Don’t you want to see Mom and Dad again?”
Stevie turned and pointed up the beach. “They’re over there,” he said. “I can see them anytime I want.”
Aaron looked up and saw Lori and Tom Stanley sitting in beach chairs beneath a large, yellow umbrella, a red and white cooler between them.
They’d bought Dr Pepper, he unexpectedly recalled, the first and last time they had ever used the red and white cooler. Something had been left inside it after the beach trip, and it had spoiled, leaving behind a nasty odor. They were never able to get the smell out of it, so they’d thrown the cooler away. Aaron tried to remember how long ago that had been. It was the same trip that Stevie got sunstroke.
Lori and Tom waved happily from their beach chairs, and Aaron tentatively waved back, suddenly overcome with a sadness he couldn’t comprehend.
“Don’t feel sad,” his foster brother said, filling his pail with sand. “There’s nothing to be sad about here.”
“How did you know I was feeling sad?” Aaron asked.
Stevie did not answer, and continued to dig in his hole—making it larger, deeper.
Aaron stood and gazed out over the ocean. Dark clouds were forming off in the distance—perhaps a storm coming in. “This all seems so familiar,” he said, more to himself than to Stevie, as the wind ruffled his dark hair.