He didn’t. After five brisk rings, his voice mail invited me to leave a message. I sighed and said, “Hey, it’s me. I just, um. I miss you. Gimme a call if you get a chance, okay? I’m back in the States, I’m in North Carolina, I’m... It’s too much to put in a voice mail. Call me when you can.” I hung up, then went and did as I’d s di. I sighed promised Les I would—checked the power circle.
It was in fine condition, as I’d predicted. I stayed within it, but wandered the school grounds, breathing in the warm night air and listening to bugs sing. Probably it would’ve been smartest to try snatching a few hours’ sleep, but despite what I’d told Les, I wasn’t positive the circle would remain active if I paid so little attention as to take a nap.
Eventually I wound up in the mechanic’s shop, which was as close to home as anywhere in the world might be. I’d spent a lot of hours banging around in there when I was a teen, and the smell of grease and oil put me right back where I belonged. There was still a wreck of a stereo against one wall—it might have even been the same one—and I dug through a box of dust-covered CDs until I found a classical one. I put the CD on repeat and settled into a corner, letting myself drift into a semisomnolent state where the swoops and falls of Beethoven filled me with a slow-building exuberance. It wasn’t as good as a drum circle, but it did the job. I felt Rattler finally beginning to regain his strength, after two weeks of being put through the wringer. I retained just enough awareness to know nothing wicked struck from beyond the power circle. Hours later, the circle’s connection with the earth let me know that the sun was rising, and I slowly shook off the music’s power and got to my feet.
Everybody in the gym who was still awake had to be exhausted. I thought maybe I could run to the supermarket and come back with all the doughnuts in town. It was a cheap way to buy myself into the community’s good graces, if it worked. I left the shop and went back into the main part of the school, passing the music room on my way to check and see how many people had made it through the night awake.
A couple steps past the music room’s open door I stumbled, my brain catching up to what I’d seen there. I backed up, one hand already on the door frame for support, and the other one knotted over my stomach like I could keep sickness at bay until I was certain of what I’d seen.
The floor was littered with the vigil-keepers, whose mouths and eyes gaped in rigid horror. Above their unseeing eyes, fingertip-size burns were seared into each forehead. A few of them had fallen in ways that suggested they’d been running and had simply been felled where they moved, bodies instantly going into rigor mortis. It was so macabre and senseless that for long moments I just stood there, swaying, unable to see what else was wrong in the room. Finally, though, it struck me.
The elders’ bodies were missing.
Chapter Ten
Saturday, March 25, 5:38 a.m.
From the outside. I had set the circle to warn against threats from the outside. I hadn’t thought to check for evil already within the school, and I wasn’t certain it would have triggered any wards even if it had. Not the way I’d set it up, anyway. The thoughts ran through my mind, splashes of cold and hot, while I stared at the wreckage in the music room.
I didn’t notice when I started moving. I just saw it happening from above, watched myself turn around and walk out of the music room like my body had decided to go on walkabout while my spirit stayed with the dead, struggling to understand how I could have prevented another massacre.
By not letting Danny Little Turtle push me around, obviously, but I’d thought we were safe and I’d thought he had a point. I would never, ever refuse a request from an elder again.
My stomach dropped and I looked more carefully at the bodies. Somehow, inexplicably, Les Senior was not among them. I didn’t know if he’d stepped out for a bathroom break or what, but he’d been spared a second time inside of twenty-four hours. For one heartbeat I was grateful, and for the next I wondered if he’d cut a deal with somebody to make sure he survived.
I shuddered. The motion snapped me back into my body, which was getting into the rented Impala and offering a genial wave at the guys maintaining the traffic patterns and salt circle. By the time I really felt like I was behind my eyeballs again, I was halfway out of town. When I figured I had a good ten minutes’ head start on any pursuit, I broke the law and made a cell-phone call while driving.
Les picked up on the second ring, his voice hoarse like he’d been talking all night. “Sheriff Lee.”
“This is Joanne. Something’s gone wrong.”
The rough quality left his voice. “What? Where are you? I’m on my way.”
“I’m not at the school anymore. The elders are missing and their vigil-keepers are dead.” I couldn’t think of a way to soften the blow, so didn’t try.
His breath hitched, then turned gruff with professionalism. He reminded me of Morrison right then, and I wished desperately that the captain had picked up last night. “They’re dead and you’ve left the premises? Joanne, that doesn’t look good.”
“Heh. I know. I know, and I’m sorry, but I made a huge mistake and I’m going to try fixing it before it gets any worse. The trouble wasn’t coming in from outside, Les. It was already in the school, waiting for us. Dammit!” That was twice I’d been sucker punched, and I was starting to get pissed.
“You’ve made a mistake by leaving, Jo. Please come back before I have to explain to anyone why you left the scene of a crime.”
“It’s not a crime.” It was, of course. Just not the kind Les was going to be able to do anything about.
“Joanne.” The professional edge was getting harder. “If you don’t come back I’m going to have to consider you a suspect. You kn— Jesus.”
That, I judged, was the sound of him getting to the music room. “Jesus, Joanne, what happened here? Where are the bodies? The—the first bodies, I mean? You don’t have them, do you?”
“No. Either somebody in the school attacked the vigil-keepers and stole the bodies, or...” I didn’t much want to think about, much less say, the or, because I was considerably more convinced of its probability than of someone making off with seven dead people and not being noticed.
Les, grimly, said, “Or what?”
I sighed. “Or they got up, killed their watchers, and left on their own.” I was in the mountains now, and wishing the phone’s reception would start cutting out so I’d have an excuse to hang up. I didn’t want to convince Les that there were seven undead running around the North Carolina hills. I wished I didn’t feel so confident of it myself. It said something about my life that undead seemed more likely than body snatchers.
“Joanne....” Les’s exhalation came over the line, and his words were measured. “Just come on back so we can talk about this, all right?”
“Sorry, Les. I’m losing reception. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up, then swore creatively for about a quarter mile, and called Sara. “Go to the music room. Les is going to need your help.”
“Joanne?” Sara sounded fuzzy with lack of sleep, but like Les, she sharpened right up. “What’ve you gotten us into now?”