Midnight Moon (The Unbidden Magic Series) Page 13

  “Looks like rain,” Faye said, peering anxiously at the sky.

  “Could be snow where we’re going,” Beck said.

  “No way,” Nicole said. “It’s June, and I’m wearing cut-offs.”

  “We’re climbing to 5,000 feet,” Beck said. “That’s why I made you bring a coat.”

  Nicole ignored him and turned on her iPod. She popped her earbuds in and stared out the window.

  The weather worsened as we climbed steadily upward. The only cars we saw were four-wheel rigs, and they were all heading back toward town. Gripped by an uneasy feeling, I leaned forward and whispered to Beck. “Are you sure we can make it?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “With other women? No. Driving a car? Yes.”

  Beck laughed. “Then you have your answer.”

  I’d barely settled back in my seat before the storm hit. A flash of lightning lit up the inside of the Jeep, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Startled, Faye and I screamed. Nicole ripped out her earbuds and yelled, “Crap! We should turn around.”

  Beck just gripped the steering wheel tighter and leaned forward, peering through the slashing rain. He pointed up the road. “The sky looks brighter ahead. We might drive out of it.”

  I knew, barring a raging river or forest fire, there was no way Beck would turn back. And he was right. A few miles up the road, the rain softened to a fine mist and blue sky was visible between fast-moving clouds. Patches of snow appeared alongside the road.

  “Watch for the Lake Simcoe sign,” he ordered.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Nicole muttered.

  The road became a winding ribbon between mounds of piled-up dirty snow left over from winter. By the time we spotted the sign and turned onto the rutted dirt road leading to the lake, Nicole was complaining non-stop about the cold, even though the heater was going full blast.

  Finally Beck yelled, “Shut the hell up, Nikki! Why did you come along if all you’re going to do is bitch about the cold?”

  Faye and I exchanged a subtle low five, and Nicole lapsed into a sulky silence.

  A tiny jewel of a lake appeared on our right, rimmed with patches of ice. The primitive campground was empty except for a white pick-up truck with an empty boat trailer hitched on the back.

  “That’s Dennis McCarty’s truck,” I said.

  We stepped out of the Jeep into the eerie silence. Treading carefully, we picked our way down the frozen path to the lake’s edge and scanned the water for boats. Nothing.

  Faye put her hands on her hips and shook her head in disgust. “Of course they’re not here. That would be way too easy. The truck’s here and their boat’s gone. Now, what do we do?”

  Beck, looking determined, said, “We look for them.”

  He pointed toward the far end of the lake. “It looks like the lake curves around to the right. We can’t see what’s around the bend. People park here because that’s where the boat launch is. The road probably goes to the other side.”

  “Can’t we just call their cell phones and ask where they are?” Nicole asked.

  “Mike’s wife tried calling him,” Faye said. “They must be in a dead spot.”

  The words “dead spot” made me shiver. Like Nicole, I wasn’t too keen on bouncing down another rutted mountain road. But Mike had left the message for me. Not for the police. Not for my half siblings. Not even for his wife.

  “Worth a try,” Nicole said, pulling her phone from her pocket.

  Faye recited the number, and Nicole punched it in. She looked at the display, then shook her head and cut the connection.

  “We didn’t come all this way just to turn around and go back. If there’s a road around the lake, let’s check it out,” Beck said.

  The road—if you can call it that—was more like a twisting game trail. With the Jeep in all-wheel drive, Beck had to steer around stumps, boulders and icy mounds of snow. Our seatbelts were fastened, but still we clung to seatbacks and grab bars as we bounced along at a snail’s pace.

  After fifteen minutes of teeth-jarring misery, Nicole began to mumble under her breath. Faye, eyes closed, emitted little squeaks of misery. Beck remained focused on the road directly in front of the Jeep. I gazed further ahead, irrationally believing that I was helping him drive.

  “Hey, is that a person?” I said, pointing at the dark speck in the road ahead.

  Beck stopped, and we all peered through the windshield. The dark speck was moving toward us, becoming larger.

  “Yeah, it’s definitely a person,” Beck said.

  He hit the gas pedal, and we jounced down the primitive trail, hanging on for dear life.

  Nicole yelled, “Dammit, Beck, my butt’s gonna be black and blue for days.”

  About a hundred yards away from the figure, Beck slammed to a stop. “We’d better wait. Could be a Trimark.”

  The hair rose on the back of my neck. Was I ready to do battle with Revelle and company again? I was still stiff and sore from the first encounter. At least, this time, I had backup.

  Faye opened the door and stood on the running board, staring intently at the man trudging slowly toward us. “It’s Mike!”

  “Are you sure?” I said, scrambling through the other door.

  “Yes, and something’s wrong. He’s limping.”

  “Get back in the Jeep,” Beck said. “We’ll drive to meet him.”

  We were barely inside before Beck punched the accelerator. By the time we reached Mike, my head had bounced off the roll bar a couple of times, and Faye was sprawled across my lap.

  We piled out of the Jeep.

  Mike staggered toward us, his face gray with fatigue and stress. His jacket was splattered with blood spots. He stopped, closed his eyes and murmured, “Thank God,” before he crumpled to the ground.

  Beck got to him first. He squatted next to Mike’s prone body. “Mike? Can you hear me?”

  Mike groaned and tried to sit up. “So tired. So damn tired. Gotta get back. Gotta help Dennis.”

  My heart leaped in my chest. Help Dennis? I wanted to pepper Mike with questions, but now was not the time.

  “Just rest, man. It’s okay,” Beck said. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Dennis’s blood, not mine. Twisted my knee. That’s all.”

  Beck helped him sit up. Faye slipped under Beck’s arm and positioned her body so Mike could lean against her. Speechless, I watched as she smoothed Mike’s hair back from his forehead. Whoa, it was almost as if she liked him.

  “Mike,” she murmured. “Tell us what happened.”

  “Car first,” he said, pointing at the Jeep. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

  We helped Mike into the front seat. Nicole squeezed in with Faye and me in the back. Thankfully, Mike’s condition put a stop to her bitching.

  Mike leaned weakly against the door and told us what happened. “Dennis got a call Friday night from Revelle. He said he had a package for us. That’s what he called Trent. A package.”

  His voice quavered, and he fought back tears.

  Beck groped around under the seat and came up with a bottle of water. He handed it to Mike and asked, “Trent?”

  “Star Seeker. Undercover guy. Good man,” Mike said. He twisted the cap off the bottle and drank until the water was gone.

  I clutched the back of Mike’s seat. “What happened to him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  My heart plummeted to my shoe tops. Undercover guy now had a name. Trent. He was dead, and so was our last best hope for finding the Trimarks’ location on the night of the summer solstice.

  Feeling sick to my stomach, I slumped back in the seat and put my head on Faye’s shoulder. She wrapped both arms around me and held me tight.

  Beck fired up the Jeep, and we headed for the end of the lake.

  Mike continued. “Revelle said we could pick up our package at the far end of Lake Simcoe. There’s a little cove there with a rickety old fishing dock. That’s where Revelle said we’d find Trent. He told us to start plan
ning the funeral. Then, he’d laughed and said, ‘You’ll see what happens when you try to screw with us.’”

  Mike paused and took a couple of shaky breaths. “Bottom line, we came to the lake to pick up Trent’s body. We launched our boat and searched up and down the shoreline. No Trent. Didn’t make sense.”

  Ever hopeful, I said, “Maybe he’s not dead.”

  Mike blinked rapidly. “Yeah, Allie, he is. We decided to wait a couple of hours before we pulled the plug. I tried to call Lisa so she wouldn’t worry, but there’s no cell service. Then we saw a powerboat flying across the lake. It throttled down and pulled up to the dock.”

  He gulped, and his face turned paper white. “Revelle. Benny. Shane. Trent was still alive. Beaten and bloody, but alive. Shane had a knife to his throat. Revelle called the shots. Said they’d kill him unless we let Benny pat us down for weapons. Dennis said, ‘Why should we believe you?’ Revelle said, ‘I guess that’s a chance you’ll have to take.’ We didn’t have a choice. Trent was counting on us to save him. Benny threw our cell phones and Dennis’s gun in the lake. Then, he sunk our boat and all hell broke loose.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  OVERCOME WITH EMOTION, Mike couldn’t hold back the tears as he related the rest of the story. “Revelle stayed in the boat, shouting orders. He told us to back up and they’d bring Trent to shore. Hoping to save Trent, we did what he asked.”

  Mike’s voice faltered, and he swallowed hard to gain control of his emotions before he continued. “Benny and Shane dragged Trent from the boat onto the dock. Before we could react, they slit his throat and threw him on the ground.”

  Faye gasped and hid her face in her hands.

  “Then,” Mike said, “We charged onto the dock and tackled Shane and Benny before they could climb back into the boat. Coward that he is, Revelle took off and left his buddies to fend for themselves.”

  With nothing but their fists and a rage-filled need to avenge Trent’s brutal murder, Mike and Dennis had fought for their lives.

  “Dennis took the worst of it,” Mike said. “Shane got in some nasty licks with his knife before Dennis threw him in the lake. Without the knife, Shane wasn’t so tough.”

  “Is Shane dead?” Beck asked.

  “Very,” Mike said. “And so is Benny. I made sure of that.”

  Faye gasped, and my mouth dropped open. My carpet-selling father, Mike Purdy, killed a Trimark? We wanted to know so much more. Like, did Mike drown Benny in the lake? Strangle him? How did he do it? Details, please.

  But Mike had other concerns. “Dennis lost a lot of blood. There was no way he could make it back to the truck on foot. I patched him up the best I could and built a makeshift shelter. We had matches, so I started a fire. I wasn’t sure if you got my message, Allie. That’s when I decided to hike out.”

  We rode the rest of the way in silence. Mike had shut down. He closed his eyes after he murmured, “Get ready. Lots of blood. It’s not a pretty sight.”

  That statement turned out to be the equivalent of, “The Pacific Ocean is a lovely little pond.”

  We stepped out of the Jeep and into a scene of mayhem.

  Faye grabbed my arm. “Don’t look, Allie.”

  I pulled away. “I have to.” I steeled myself against what I was about to see. If I allowed my emotions to take over, I’d be useless.

  Benny was on the dock, sprawled on his back. The left side of his head was caved in. A bloodied softball-sized rock lay next to the body. Okay, now I knew how Mike did it. Shane’s head was under water, his dead eyes gazing heavenward. The rest of his body was on dry land.

  Nicole looked at me curiously. “Are you glad they’re dead? They both tried to kill you.”

  I looked at the bodies and touched the silver cross lying next to the moonstone. What did I feel?

  “No, not glad. Maybe a little relieved,” I said. “I have two less Trimarks to worry about. Actually, it’s kind of sad. Benny and Shane trusted the wrong guy. They did exactly what Revelle ordered, and he left them here, not caring if they lived or died.”

  Star Seeker Trent was facedown on the ground in a little patch of snow, now crimson with his lifeblood. His arms were outstretched as if desperately reaching for help. His feet were in the lake, the water licking at the back of his denim-clad legs. Nicole made the sign of the cross, grabbed my hand and we both whispered a prayer. Hers was clearly Catholic. Mine was, well, pretty much a mash-up of traditional religion plus a dash of Mother Moon and Father Sky. I hoped God would understand.

  Dennis McCarty was lying inside a U-shaped shelter made of piled-up pine branches covered with a blue tarp. In spite of the bonfire, he was obviously in shock, shivering uncontrollably after his tussle with Shane in the lake. Mike had used a torn up tee shirt to bandage the knife wounds, but the bandages were soaked through with blood. Dennis needed stiches. He needed antibiotics. He needed a hospital.

  I knelt down next to him. “Hey, Dennis.”

  He managed a weak smile. “Allie Emerson to the rescue. Good work, kiddo.”

  After a brief meeting of the minds, we came up with a plan. Dennis was in no condition to sit up, so he would lie across the back seat of the Jeep. Beck would drive Mike and Dennis back to the boat launch. Mike said he was strong enough to drive Dennis to the hospital in Vista Valley. Faye, Nicole and I would hang out here with the dead bodies and wait for Beck to come back for us. Creepy, but necessary since we couldn’t all fit in the Wrangler.

  The guys were concerned about leaving us alone in case Revelle came back. Actually, that thought had crossed my mind too.

  Faye patted the bulging handbag hanging from her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m packing heat. If Revelle shows up, he’s a dead man.”

  Mike’s mouth dropped open. “You carry a gun?”

  “Smith and Wesson .38 special. Five rounds. More in my purse.”

  Mike grinned. “Since when?”

  Faye’s expression turned grim. “Since Revelle’s buddies kidnapped me and threatened to chop off my fingers one by one. Don’t worry. I practice every week. I’m a good shot. The girls are safe with me.”

  “What about, um, the corpses?” I asked Mike. “Are you going to call the police? Report them dead?”

  Mike looked grim. “No. When we get out of the mountains and have cell service, we’ll call people to take care of them. People we trust. Star Seekers.”

  Beck, always prepared, grabbed a blanket from the Jeep. We lifted Dennis onto the blanket, carried him to the Jeep and loaded him into the backseat.

  Before they left, I took hold of Mike’s arm and pulled him away from the others. “Is it okay if we move Trent out of the lake and cover him up with the tarp? It doesn’t seem right to leave him there.”

  “Of course,” Mike said. “Can you deal with, you know, all the blood and stuff?”

  “Yeah, I can handle it. Nicole and I will take care of him.”

  An empty feeling engulfed me when Beck, Mike and Dennis drove away. Faye, Nicole and I watched them until they were out of sight. The sun was sliding down into the trees, painting the mountaintops purple and pink. The days were long this time of the year, but I hoped and prayed Beck would be back before nightfall.

  Faye, looking pale, said, “I’m going to sit over there, away from . . .” She waved a hand at Benny and Shane. Without waiting for an answer, she walked down the beach and plopped down on a stump, averting her eyes from the carnage.

  “Nicole, we need to move Trent,” I said.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Move him? As in, do I have to touch him?”

  I sighed. “Yes, in order to move him, we’ll have to touch him. Stop being such a baby. If he was your relative, would you leave him lying there, half in the lake?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Gross.”

  “Fine,” I snapped. “If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself.”

  I started toward Trent’s body. I really needed Nicole’s help. She was super strong, and Trent was a big
man, not to mention he was, pardon the expression, dead weight. Maybe I could roll him onto the tarp and drag him. I changed course and went to the shelter. It took a couple of minutes to separate the tarp from the pine branches. When I turned around, there was Nicole, carrying poor Trent out of the water and onto solid ground. All by herself.

  I joined her. “Thanks, Nicole. Let’s cover him with the tarp.”

  Nicole didn’t answer. She was staring intently at the ground where Trent had been lying. Beck and Nicole both have heightened senses. Because of their demon blood, they see and hear things the rest of us can’t.

  “What is it?”

  She ignored me and walked to the bloodied patch of snow. Squatting, she continued to study it. I started to walk toward her.

  “Stay back,” she said. “He wrote something in the snow. I saw it after I moved the body. Stand behind me and look where I’m pointing.”

  I leaned over her crouched form, peering into the gory snow. “Where? What am I supposed to see?”

  Nicole flashed me a disgusted look. “Right there, where the snow’s still partially white. Can’t you see it?”

  She pointed at a section of ground next to where Trent’s left arm had been. All I saw were red scratch marks in the snow, like he’d flailed around before he died.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t see what you’re seeing.”

  “Two letters.” She reached out with her right hand and used her finger to trace the letters in the air. Then, she sprang up and turned to face me, her eyes bright with excitement. “The letters are D and T. Don’t you get it? Trent found out the Trimarks’ secret location and left us a message. You and I almost had it figured out. We were so close. Now we know for sure.”

  Utterly shocked, I just stared at Nicole with my mouth hanging open.

  “Say something,” she said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  I hugged her and said, “Looks like I’ll be heading for the Devils Tower.”

  “Looks like we’ll be heading for the Devils Tower,” Nicole said.