Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) (29 page)

      “Asset?” Teague shook his head. He said. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are they claiming they already have people here, besides yourself?”

      “I have no idea.” Faux said. The waiting car’s horn gave a short blast and Faux gave it a dirty look before saying, half to himself. “But somebody in Matheson knows what’s going on, that’s for sure. You should talk to Underhill.”

      “You still think he’s holding back?”

      “You don’t?” Faux put his hand out and said. “Take care of yourself, Chief. Don’t go out into those woods alone, not if you can help it.”

      “Take your own advice.” Teague said, taking the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake. He smiled wryly. “I’ve got the feeling you’re leaving one fire for another that’s just as hot. And just as likely to kill you bloody. Watch your back.”

      “You many be right.” Faux said, giving one last companionable nod of his head before leaving.

      Back inside the car, Campbell signaled the driver to take off before turning in her seat to meet his troubled gaze. She said, her tone casual. “I am sorry to pull you out like this, Darius. Teague has a good reputation with a lot of the right people. I’m sure he’ll be okay without you.”

      “I hope so.” Faux watched the neighborhood flashing by, empty at a time of day when there should’ve been children playing in the streets, and felt like a coward and a quitter for leaving the way he was. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t his choice, he still felt low about it. Matheson needed all the help that it could get.

       Teague watched the car circle and leave the cul de sac, the taillights receding into the darkness, and suddenly felt exposed out on his porch. But the feeling of defenselessness didn’t last, before turning into determination and anger. He went inside, closing the door as he pulled out his cell phone. There wasn’t much of a signal, but there was enough for the calls he had to make tonight. He figured he would start with Underhill, wanting to take care of the easiest call first.

Chapter 28

      The first day of school after the break was an ordeal for Brandon. He walked to school with his head down, carrying his bag over his shoulder. He tried not to think of time slipping away like sands from the hourglass or what would happen when the last grain fell and the glass was empty. Instead, he thought of Claire and what he was going to say to her when he saw her. He argued with himself about whether or not he should tell her about Thanksgiving night, about what happened after he left her house. He talked to her on the phone the day after, but only long enough to assure her that he was alive and well and that he would definitely see her at school the following Monday. He said nothing about the Kruegers or headless policemen.

      Gerrick hadn't said 3 words to him since their talk on the morning after Thanksgiving, but he watched Brandon closely anytime he thought the younger man wasn't looking. The looks he directed at his nephew were cool and speculative, as if he were being weighed and measured on a set of unseen scales. But, if that was the case, Brandon had no idea how he balanced out. Or what Gerrick was watching for. He ignored the looks, as best he could, and focused on his training.

      At Matheson High, the atmosphere was even more tense. By the end of 2nd period, the only thing anybody was talking about was the Kruegers. It was different than the other disappearances. This was the first time there were remains to recover.

      Little that there was.

      Reactions varied from the students. Like rabbits, poking their heads out of their boroughs after a long winter, the Krueger's regular victims wandered the halls. Hopeful eyes above tentative smiles, they moved along the lockers like recovering trauma victims. Testing the waters with their toes, still afraid that the sharks might be just under the surface, despite knowing that the sharks were chum now. Literally.

      Brandon was probably the only person in the school who felt anything other than relief that the Kruegers were gone. He'd seen what happened to them. Nobody deserved to die that way, even a couple of high school psychopaths like Luke and Perry Krueger. But he kept to himself as much as he could. If anybody mentioned the Kruegers around him, he just shook his head and said. “Crazy.” For most, it was response enough.

      Claire found him when he was at his locker, getting his books for 3rd period. Leaning into his arm, she looked at him and gave him a sad little smile. "Hi."  She looked a little tense, but was otherwise a beautiful and welcome sight for his sore eyes. Her patch was pink today, with a smiling sun in the center.

      "Hi." Brandon closed his locker and slipped his hand into her own before pulling her into a fast hug. He snuck a kiss, just a peck on her cheek and said. "How are you?"

      "Surviving." She laughed, running a hand through her hair as her laughter died. She met his gaze and said. "What happened to the twins?"

      "I didn't kill them." He said, wincing when he realized how guilty his voice sounded. “I think they must’ve been taken. Either by grohlm or the Curse.” He tried to make his tone more natural and must have succeeded, because Claire just shook her head, going on.

      "Of course you didn’t kill them. You couldn’t have." She sounded shocked that he would think she would even suspect such a thing. She stepped close, peering up at him with her unblinking green eye. She looked fierce, angry even. But her voice was gentle when she said. "If the Curse took them, it must be ready to come for you. For both of us. That doesn’t give us much time, does it?”

      “I suppose not.” He hated how defeated his voice sounded.

      She reached up, moving her finger along the pale slash of skin under his eye, almost as if she could see the cut that had come so close to taking his sight. "You would tell me if something happened, right?"

      "Of course." He lied, hating himself for it. But there was no way she could handle the sure knowledge of his impending doom. Hell, he could hardly handle it himself. He couldn't burden her with that, not and live with himself. He touched her hand where it rested against his cheek. He said. "I was a little slow last night, in my training. Caught a slash under the eye, instead of cracking my skull." He pulled her hand down, kissing her palm, and prayed that she believed him. "It's nothing."

      After meeting his gaze and studying his face for a long 5 count, she smiled and kissed his hand in return. He couldn’t tell if she believed him, but if she didn’t, she didn’t let it show in her voice. "I wish you would be more careful. Don't let your uncle do the Curse's job for it."

      Brandon shuddered. That was too close to what the Curse had insinuated.

      A pursing of the lips and the tightening of her hand on his made Brandon turn. Albert walked down the crowded hallway, head down, his shoulders hunched. People eyed him as he passed. Some sneered openly. Not everyone knew that Albert had been pulling the Kruegers strings near the end of their brutal reign. And nobody could have possibly suspected what was hidden behind the short boy's round cheeks and watery eyes, but he had alienated the rest of the school when he started helping the Kruegers in their bullying.

      Claire watched him walk by, her hand tightening on Brandon's. She had more reason than most to distrust the boy, but she was still in the dark about his true identity. And she would stay that way, if Brandon could help it. She grimaced when Albert cut his eyes toward them and looked away.

      His gaze locked onto Brandon's and a smile tugged at the corners of the boy's mouth. For an instant, his eyes flashed blood red.

      Brandon held himself in check though his fingers itched to wrap themselves around the little bastard's throat. Instead of attacking, he made himself smile back at the monster. He turned Claire, moving her away from Albert's bloody eyes. He spoke into her ear, keeping his voice low. "Stay away from Albert. Don't let him catch you by yourself."

      Claire stiffened against him and her eye narrowed. "I'm not afraid of Albert. Without the Kruegers, he's just a little weasel with no friends. And nobody to help him if somebody decides to push in his face if they don't like the look of it."

      "Please." Brandon said. He tried to keep the pleading note from his voice. He doubted he succeeded. "Just do as I ask."

      Albert looked back as he went into his classroom, as if he could hear what was being said. He smiled and gave the briefest nod of his head as the door closed behind him.

      Claire watched Brandon's face, her single green eye troubled, but she said. "I'll do what you ask because I love you, Bran. Not because I’m scared of that little twerp."

      Brandon stopped himself from heaving a sigh of relief. Instead, he bent forward and planted a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth.

      A loud throat clearing behind them made Brandon turn and his stomach tightened with worry.

      Principal Marcus watched them from a few feet away. His arms were crossed and his expression was sharp enough to cut wood. His voice was very dry as he said. "When you have a moment, Mr. Merryweather, I'd like to see you in my office."

     He left them standing there in the empty hallway. The second bell was about to go off.

      Before Claire could voice her concern, Brandon stopped her and said. "I'm sure it's nothing. You're going to be late. And remember to stay away from Albert." She watched him walk away, her face tight with fear. And worry.

      Marcus wasn't alone in his office when Brandon stepped though the doorway. He stared from the principal to the uniformed policeman seated in front of the man's desk. Mr. Underhill was perched on the corner of the desk, his arms across his chest and his mouth set in a grim line. He gave Brandon a tight nod as he entered and nodded toward the only unoccupied chair in the room. “Have a seat, Brandon.”

      Brandon hoped they took his sudden insecurity to be the same as any student being called to the principal's office and not as something more. He understood now the frosty look that Marcus's secretary had directed his way before sending him into the office.

      Brandon sat down, the knot of unease in his stomach tightening. He wasn't scared. It was hard to be scared of human beings when you had faced down bloody death and worse, no matter their authority. But these men could make his life more difficult. He stayed weary. Meeting Marcus's gaze with a level stare, Brandon said. "What's this about?"

      For a moment, the principal said nothing. His eyes flicked to the police officer sitting across from Brandon. Brandon recognized him. Acting Chief Teague had been pointed out to him a few times, since he came to Matheson. From everything he’d heard, Brandon was under the assumption that the man was tough but honest. Teague gave a tiny nod and Marcus looked at Brandon and said. "I’m sure you’ve heard about Luke and Perry Krueger. What happened to them, I mean?"

      “You mean that they were murdered?” Brandon said. He looked at each of the three men in turn and gauged their reactions as he said. “Or that they were torn to pieces by some kind of animal?”

      Marcus cleared his throat and grimaced. Underhill narrowed his eyes at him and said. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? I know that you and they weren't the best of friends."

      Brandon almost laughed. But he didn't. Instead, he remained silent. He stared at all three men, but focused most of his attention on Teague. The acting chief was the most dangerous man in the room. Though, his instincts told him to be just as weary of Underhill. Despite his age, the scarred old man carried himself with compact strength.

      "Where were you on Thanksgiving night, Brandon?" This was the first that the policeman spoke. His gruff voice was at odds with his youthful face. He might have been trying to make it sound harder than it normally was. He had a short beard and mustache. A faded scar cut through the beard, from the corner of his mouth to the center of his cheek.

      "At home." Brandon said. "With my uncle."

      "You were there all night?" He asked. He sat up in his chair and leaned forward. It was a tactic designed to pull Brandon into his physical space. As if including him in on a secret. It was supposed to inspire trust. "You didn't come into town at all?" His tone said that he would know a lie when he heard it.

      "My girlfriend came out to Highgarden, to see me." Brandon said, choosing truth over any sort of misdirection. "When it started snowing, I drove her to her house. Then headed straight home."

      “Who is your girlfriend?” Teague looked genuinely curious.

      “Claire Moody.” It was Underhill who answered. He didn’t sound approving or disapproving. Just a man stating a fact.

      But Brandon couldn’t fail to catch the meaningful look that the older man shot Teague. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

      Instead of answering, Teague asked. "You have a car?" His voice was extra casual. He was just a guy having a conversation. Just shooting the shit.

      "No." Brandon said, keeping his voice just as casual. Concentrating, he took a breath and wrapped himself within the emptiness. Instantly, all of his anxiety drained away. His heartbeat dropped and his breathing slowed as he directed all of his senses at listening to the policeman. He was in a battle, he realized. In this fight, words were as dangerous as bared steel, but the rules for this battle were unknown to him. As well as the stakes. He said. "I drove my uncle's car."

      "And you went straight home?"

      "Yes."

      "Do you think your uncle would mind answering a few questions for us?" Teague asked. Still casual. But his eyes were tense. He was holding it in check, but he was nervous about something. Brandon had missed it before, but now, within the emptiness, he could see the tension in the room. All three men were nervous as hell.

      "Don't see why not." Brandon said, shrugging. He looked from one to the other before stopping at Teague and asking. "What this all about? Do you think I had something to do with what happened to the Krueger's?"

      "No." Marcus said, standing and coming around his desk to stand between the other two men. The 3 of them faced Brandon, a united front, and Marcus said. "We don't think anything of the sort. But you're new to town. You’re seeing it from a much fresher perspective than we are?”

      Underhill said. “You've explored Matheson somewhat, Brandon. I’ve seen you lurking around. Have you noticed anything strange in your wanderings? Anything you can't explain?"

      "What do you mean?" Brandon said, keeping his voice even.

      "The disappearances." Marcus said, clearing his throat. "Not just kids, though that's bad enough to make me sick at night. But grown men have gone missing. Police officers. Nothing like this has ever happened in Matheson before."

      Teague flinched at that, but Marcus didn't seem to notice. The cop met Brandon's gaze, his direct stare a challenge for Brandon to hold. "Anything you can tell us, would be more than helpful."

      The 3 men watched Brandon closely, faces tight with strain. And uncertainty. These men were worried and they were asking for help. They were asking it of the one person who might have some idea about what was going on and it didn't matter that he was just a kid. They were that desperate.

      But that wasn’t all, Brandon realized. They were also holding something back. It was all there in their postures, the way they kept shooting each other meaningful glances and little shakes of their heads. These 3 knew more about what was going on than they were letting on. Brandon took a deep breath and did something that he was afraid he would regret later.