Chills (25 page)

Morris laughed through his ragged breathing and clapped Jack on the shoulder.

“Kathy,” he said. “Kathy and Teagan. They did it.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, it looks like they did.” The kids ran to him and he hugged them tightly. They were okay. He felt tears in his eyes that he blinked away. They were okay.

There was a sharp crack, and then pieces of the altar began falling inward until, inexplicably, the rubble of the altar covered the opening completely. The four of them still in shock, watched it happen with exhaustion and satisfaction.

“Daddy?” Jack looked down at the tear-streaked face of his son. “Can we go home now?”

T
he following morning found the task force assembled in Jack's office, bruised and cut but otherwise alive and kicking. All around Colby, the snow was melting. The temperature had risen to sixty-five, and in the days that followed, it was expected to hit the high seventies. There would be clean-up and inquiries, paperwork and follow-ups, none of which interested Kathy. Usually, after a case, she tried to get as far away from the location as possible—leave the bad juju behind and all that. She intended to hang around long enough to debrief Jack for the final reports and collect her check. But she had plans with Teagan, as well, which was far more incentive to take that time off in earnest and stick around town. In fact, all of them were planning some time off to relax.

It was, after all, the beginning of the summer.

* * *

In a hospital just outside of town, Toby Ryan sat in his cell. He hadn't eaten in a day and a half nor slept in twice as long. He was given to fits of moodiness which he found, at times, absolutely crippling since they'd stripped away his freedom and his means of... expression. He missed killing. God, he missed it. It gave him purpose. It gave him power. It satisfied him in a way that even the Hand of the Black Stars never had. But this wasn't about that.

It was about the dreams.

He would have given anything to have been a part of bringing about the ritual. Well, almost anything. If he had been in charge instead of that blithering idiot, Cordwell, it just might have worked. Then again, maybe not. He thought of his beloved Kathy, and her pretty little scar....

And he thought of the ritual gone awry, thanks to her, and it made him morose. The Hand had failed... again. The only Hand survivor had reported to him what had happened. The failure had been spectacularly complete. Little sister had done well, for an outsider.

Still, there was hope for a new world, one in which the limits of this one would be wiped away. The door had been opened, and the Old Gods had had a taste of this universe. That would make any repeat attempts a little easier. He smiled to himself. Sometimes, it really was the little things that kept one going.

In the dreams, the Blue People spoke to him, offering him ways to improve on what Cordwell had started. Offering ways to get around this delicate issue of Kathy. He could have her, they promised, if he could make good on what his brothers and sisters had failed to do.

When he was awake, he was surrounded by constant reminders of everything he was denied. But in the dreams, there was hope.

Kathy had closed the door, but she hadn't locked it. And it was an old door, with rusty hinges, so to speak.

In the dreams, there was the promise of release.

And in his cell, under his bed, was a shiv carved with a certain symbol he'd been given in those dreams. It was just a matter of time and opportunity. The Blue People would guide him, through dreams.

Toby settled into bed and closed his eyes and welcomed the darkness.

In the dreams, the endless winter was only the beginning.

Mary SanGiovanni
is the author of the Hollower trilogy (the first of which was nominated for the Bram Stoker Award),
Thrall
,
Chaos
, and
Chills
(aka
The Blue People
), and the novellas
For Emmy
,
Possessing Amy
,
The Fading Place
, and
No Songs for the Stars
, as well as the collections
Under Cover Of Night
and
A Darkling Plain
, and numerous short stories. She has been writing fiction for over a decade, has a Masters in writing popular fiction from Seton Hill University, and is a member of The Authors Guild and Penn Writers. She can be found online at
www.marysangiovanni.com
.