Blue Noon (20 page)

More images poured into him—the world moving at darkling speed, the seasons flashing past, only one hour in twenty-five visible, every day almost a month. He saw the prime contortion that the old ones had made, the secret hour itself, groaning under the weight of all that missing time. It was beginning to fray, a steady drumbeat of eclipses until it shattered, and then the hunt would begin.

Unless… Rex saw a bolt of lightning, the ancient pressures released and spreading across the earth, the rip diminishing.

“We can stop this,” he whispered.

She can. You must take her.

“No.”

More images, like his hunting dreams but a thousand times more vivid. He saw a pile of burning bones, human forms wearing horned masks. He felt the rush of galloping pursuit, smelled the fear of the prey, tasted the warm vitals of the kill. Rex felt himself gorging on flesh.

His stomach clenched against the vision, but what horrified him most was how complete it made him feel, how sated. And how powerful. As Rex Greene, he was trapped in a body that was weak and small, that would sicken as it grew old and certainly die in a laughably short time. But the old ones were offering him millennia.

All he had to do was let his humanity slip away. He could join in the feast.

Just take her. You alone can bring her down.

He shook his head, fighting back with his shredded humanity. Then a long-buried Aversion rose up in his memory, one Dess had taught him long ago.

Join us, they coaxed him.

“Unconquerable,” Rex spat at them hoarsely. His mind almost split from the effort, but the grip of the old ones shuddered again, disgusted with him.

Then away with you.

With astonishing suddenness his mind was released from the creatures’ awful grip. Rex felt his muscles unlock, and he was falling like a dropped rag doll, every ounce of will expended in the struggle. They had given up, he realized. Somehow he had beaten them.

Rex opened his eyes and found himself lying facedown on the desert floor, dirt in his mouth, his jaw muscles aching. But he managed a smile. The darklings had shown him something about the coming hunt… something important.

But as the cluster of nightmare shapes moved away, leaving him there exhausted and spent, Rex felt his mind contracting, his senses turning back to merely human. Like a great maw closing around him, darkness consumed the new knowledge, leaving only disjointed images and scents and the taste of dust in his mouth.

By the time the old ones had disappeared on the horizon, he hardly remembered what had happened at all.

Rex shambled back across the desert like a zombie.

His face was pale, his hands shaking as they had immediately after his transformation weeks before. He looked strangely like his father—eyes glazed and milky, his gait barely a shuffle.

He wasn’t bruised or bleeding, and his clothes weren’t torn, but the empty expression on his face made Jessica’s skin crawl.

“Are you okay, Rex?” she said.

He didn’t answer, just turned to Melissa. “Did you touch her?”

“No, I waited. I promised, didn’t I?” Melissa reached toward him. “Loverboy, you look like crap.”

“Feel like it too.” Rex took her offered hand and shuddered, then straightened, as if taking strength from her. “Thanks.”

“What the hell, Rex?” Jonathan said. “Are you
trying
to get yourself killed?”

Rex thought about the question for a few seconds, like it was a tricky one, but finally he shook his head. “I’m just trying to get all points of view. I think I’ve been a pretty crappy historian.”

“Pretty crappy
driver,
more like!” Melissa cried. She pointed at the old Ford, which was listing to one side; both tires on the right were reduced almost to bare metal rims. “The first time I let you take my car somewhere without me, and you totally kill it?”

“Yeah. Looks that way.”

“I can’t believe you, Rex! Mr. Responsible, who always gets his library books back on time, but when it comes to
my car,
you don’t even bother to use the
road?
The front axle’s busted!”

As Jessica watched Melissa continue her tirade—holding Rex tighter with every insult, their fingers intertwining, their bodies leaning against each other for support—she realized how well the mindcaster had concealed her fear that he might never return. Even when they’d touched, Jessica had only caught a glimpse.

Finally Melissa’s diatribe sputtered to a halt. Rex held her in silence for a moment, then said, “I’ll always remember the old beast fondly. It died saving me and Angie.”

Melissa pulled away and turned to stare at the frozen figure in the wrecked car, her voice lowering to a growl. “Well, she’s my consolation prize, then. She
really
owes me now.”

“Wait a second,” Rex said.

“No way. I’ve already waited too long for this.”

He drew Melissa back to him, placing one palm against her cheek.

After a moment her eyes widened. “What? Why
not?”

“I made a deal.”

“Well,
I
didn’t make any deal!”

“You did. With me.” He shook his head. “We have to wait for midnight to end.”

Jessica wondered if anyone else was having trouble following this. “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah,” Dess added, still holding a bloody rag to the cut above her left eye. “Could those of us who aren’t psychic at least get some subtitles?”

Melissa yanked herself out of Rex’s arms, stumbling back a few feet and glaring at him. “He doesn’t want me to mindcast Angie.”

“Excuse me?” Dess said.

“Angie’s told me some things about the past,” Rex said. “About midnighters and Grayfoots. And we made a deal. We’re going to wait till midnight ends, then we’ll talk to her. Just talk.”

“Hang on,” Jonathan said. “Are you saying we all risked our lives tonight to have a
chat?”

“No way!” Dess cried.

Rex looked at Jessica, his exhausted eyes asking for her help. “We don’t have to use mindcasting,” he said. “We can trust her.”

“To what?” Melissa spat. “Kidnap us less often?”

“I’m not saying Angie’s our friend or anything,” he said, his gaze not wavering from Jessica. “Far from it. But she is like us in one way: she wants to learn the truth about midnight. We don’t have to take her thoughts against her will.”

Jessica drew in a slow breath. The night they’d rescued Cassie Flinders, she’d tried to talk them out of erasing the girl’s memories, and they’d basically ignored her. But if Rex himself was actually having second thoughts, maybe this time it wouldn’t have to work out that way.

“I agree with Rex,” she said. “I think.”

The other three stared at her, and Jessica half expected one of them to shout,
Who cares what you think?
But as the silence stretched out, she felt something shift within the group. Even Melissa’s manic energy seemed to fade a little, like a child’s tantrum left unanswered.

Jessica crossed her arms. Apparently they did care what she thought.

After a long moment Dess said quietly, “So let me get this straight. I’m bleeding here. An inch lower and psycho-kitty would have taken out my eye. And we’re just going to talk to her, which would imply that we could have done this with a
phone call?”

“Possibly resulting in less damage to my car?” Melissa said.

“Not really,” Rex said. “Here in person you can make sure Angie isn’t lying. I believe her, but the rest of you also have to be certain.” He let out a short laugh. “And frankly, I don’t think it would have worked this way on the phone. Sometimes a little shared danger helps.”

“Well, no problem then, you two wrecking my car,” Melissa said, “as long as you
bonded.”

“No, no.” Rex shook his head tiredly. “My bonding tonight happened out there. Angie’s just confused.”

“Confused!” Melissa groaned. “She’s a kidnapper, Rex. She should be in jail forever! And
nothing
happens to her?”

He smiled, his eyes flashing with the dark moon’s light.

“I didn’t say that.”

As the dark moon set, real time swept across the desert, followed by the sudden return of the cold autumn wind. Next to Jessica, Rex jumped a little, like dishes left behind by a yanked tablecloth—as if he didn’t belong in normal time anymore.

He had refused to answer their questions about what had happened to him out in the desert, saying he couldn’t remember. Not yet, anyway.

In that same instant Angie’s face sprang to life, emotions fluttering across it like a TV flipping through channels: confusion, fear, suspicion, and finally
lots
more confusion. She touched her own head gingerly with her fingertips, as if checking to make sure her ears hadn’t fallen off at the stroke of midnight.

The five of them were standing in a row in front of the car, arms crossed—sort of like a band posing for an album cover, Jessica thought. Even the still-seething Melissa had decided to join them, once she realized that this little moment of surprise was the only revenge she would get to wreak on Angie.

The woman’s eyes widened as she saw them through the front windshield.

“Come on out,” Rex called. “Let’s talk.”

Angie slowly pulled herself out from the battered Ford and stood facing them, staying behind the protection of the open car door.

“Wow,” she said softly.

Jessica guessed that people appearing out of nowhere might be a lot more impressive than a few dominoes jumping around.

“How’s your mind doing?” Rex asked. “Still feel like yourself?”

Angie puzzled over that one for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Like I would dirty my hands with your rank little brain,” Melissa said.

Jessica gave her a sidelong glance.
So
not true.

“Then let’s talk about the history of Bixby,” Rex said.

“I thought we already covered that.”

“Maybe I want to hear it all again.” He patted Melissa’s shoulder. “And this time I can be sure you’re telling the truth. Or at least, if you
think
you’re telling the truth.”

“It’s all true,” Angie said. “I can show you the documents.”

“Just talk,” Rex said.

Angie nodded and began telling them all about the early midnighters, the Grayfoots’ revolution, and the rest of the
other
secret history of Bixby. She started slowly and softly, her baffled expression at their sudden appearance taking a while to fade. But gradually her voice gained in strength, and soon she was declaiming with the utmost confidence.

Rex had already explained most of it to them while they’d waited for the blue time to end, but as Jessica heard the revelations repeated in Angie’s methodical tones, the story began to settle in her bones alongside the desert chill of the Oklahoma autumn night.

If this was all true, then how much had Madeleine known about everything that had gone on back in her day? She’d only been seventeen when the Grayfoots had swept the midnighters from power, but she carried the memories of generations of mindcasters. Wouldn’t she know about it if midnighters had been doing creepy things for thousands of years?

And would any of them have the guts to ask her what she thought about all this? Of course, Melissa wouldn’t have much choice in the matter the next time the two of them touched. Jessica was just glad it would be Melissa, and not her, doing the asking.

By the time Angie drew her lecture to a close, she didn’t seem scared of them anymore. She was smoking now, looking at them like they were just kids.

“So now that I’ve explained reality to you,” Angie finished, “what are you going to tell me in return?”

Jessica narrowed her eyes at the woman. She was glad Melissa hadn’t turned her into a drooling idiot, but that didn’t mean she
liked
Angie. Not at all.

“Here’s the main thing you need to know,” Rex said.

“As far as we can tell, all hell’s going to break loose on November first.”

“The midnight before, actually,” Dess added. “When October 31 rolls over into November.”

Angie smirked. “Midnight on Halloween, huh?”

“It may sound cheesy,” Dess said coolly. “But numbers don’t lie.”

“I don’t know if I believe all that numerology stuff.”

“Numerology?” Dess’s jaw dropped open. “This is
math.,
you dimwit.”

The woman stared at Dess skeptically for a long moment, but then a troubled look crossed her face. “You know, before they cut me off, Ernesto Grayfoot kept saying that something was arriving soon. And after the darklings stopped answering, everyone started getting anxious about it. He said it had to do with the flame-bringer.” She looked at Jessica. “That’s you, right?”

Jessica nodded.

“But the Grayfoots never got all their instructions before the halfling died.”

“What exactly did Ernesto say?” Rex asked.

“All he told me was a name—the old man was nervous because ‘Samhain’ was coming.” She shrugged. “He never told me who that was.”

Melissa shook her head. “Not ‘who,’ dimwit,
when.
Samhain is the ancient name for Halloween.”

“Spot the goth,” Dess muttered.

“Like
you
should talk,” Melissa answered.

“Halloween again.” Rex sighed tiredly. “Can’t seem to get away from it.”

“Come on, you guys. Don’t be stupid,” Angie said. “Halloween’s just pop culture nonsense. It didn’t exist here in Oklahoma until a hundred years ago, and as I’ve explained to you, the monsters got here a lot earlier than that.” Her gaze drifted across the five of them. “They’re still here.”

“Monsters?” Rex said. He took a step toward Angie, then another, and Jessica felt a nervous tingling in the bottom of her stomach. Something was changing in Rex, exhaustion leaving his frame. He seemed suddenly taller, his expression harder, a threat implicit in every line of his face. Then the most astonishing thing—Jessica saw his eyes flash violet, though the dark moon had long set.

He was arm’s length from Angie, but the woman stumbled backward, shrinking against the broken car. The cigarette dropped from her fingers.

“Maybe you’re right, Angie,” he said. “Maybe monsters have lived in Bixby for a long, long time. But you should just remember one thing.”