The Demon Signet (8 page)

“Earthquake.”

“Huh?” Marcus turned toward Ashley while Ian tried finding her in the rearview.

“That’s what it was,” Ashley said, shaking her head as if she was so stupid for not seeing it before.

“What ‘what’ was?” Ian looked confused.

“The mailboxes.”

“You think that was an earthquake?”

“What else?”

As ludicrous as her theory was, no one had a different explanation.

“Earthquake,” Ian repeated, nodding as if he could actually accept it.

But Heather knew that earthquakes couldn’t drum up a person’s secret past through a Smartphone. She wrapped her arms around her chest and leaned forward, eyes still closed.
Half an hour
.

Ian turned the radio up.

“…The weather outside is frightful…”

And indeed, as the remaining light of day melted into the earth, snow began falling faster and harder, as if encouraged by the lyrics ringing through the tiny speakers.

“
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…
”

Ian turned the windshield wipers on, and the fast
swish-swoosh
of rubber squeaking over glass seemed only to hasten the rate at which the space was closing on Heather’s vulnerable psyche.

Half an hour…

But Snowy was standing in her way, grinning at her.

Seven

He’s getting closer. He can hear it calling out to him through the lesser-known fabrics that make up this world’s constitution. He likens the effect to a book he read when he was a child, some ridiculous story about a hobbit. He knows where the author’s ideas came from, the truth that inspired the fiction. There are too many similarities shared for it not to be so.

The thought of his childhood sends a shudder through his body, and he pushes the past from his mind.

The road comes at him quickly, the snow that’s falling making it nearly invisible, but he doesn’t dare slow down. Not when he’s this close.

He senses something up ahead, a presence nearing his path. He isn’t certain what it is, but he knows where it will be, and he turns the wheel, taking his dark chariot into the oncoming lane beside him. A moment later, in his periphery, he sees the shape of a leaping deer. It materializes out of the woods and lands a mere foot from his car. Had he not sensed its warmth, its life-force, ahead of time, his pursuit of the ring would have been severely hindered. He thanks his Company for the warning and swerves back into the eastbound lane. He adjusts his glasses with a gloved hand, pounding snow reflecting across their lenses.

Behind him, the deer stands still on the invisible road and watches after the glowing taillights. Like glowing red eyes that close for sleep, they finally disappear into the fury of the storm. Above it, somewhere from within the white oblivion, crows begin to sing.

The deer’s knees bend in a flash, and the animal is suddenly soaring away from the asphalt, disappearing into the safety of the forest.

Eight

By the time the red rental rolled into Watertown, the sun had disappeared from the sky and no cows had yet been seen. The snow was heavier, and the wind was hurling it horizontally across their path. The headlights’ twin beams poked through the frenzy while traffic lights flashed yellow from somewhere in the distance. Plows were already out, and their own yellow lights could be seen blinking beneath the moving shroud. A few people were running along the sidewalks with their heads down, fighting against the frigid air and blinding snow, trying to find their way indoors. The whole town would be shut down soon.

“We should get off the roads now,” Heather said. There was no missing the dread in her voice, her fear of being trapped inside another car.

“Yeah, I’m pretty hungry, myself,” Ian muttered. He was peering into the blur before them, squinting as if it might help.

Ashley pointed to a line of lights standing off to the left. “I think that’s a shopping mall.”

It was hard to tell what it was.

Ian turned the wheel, but the Taurus slid straight into the intersection, the backend swinging counter-clockwise. Compensating by turning into the slide, Ian let the car slow on its own before trying to accelerate again. He navigated the rest of the turn into a powdered field he believed to be a parking lot.

“This is crazy,” Marcus observed. “Can’t see a thing.”

“Mom and Dad aren’t gonna be happy.” Ashley sighed, feeling the Christmas party gradually slip from reach.

“They’ll be happy we’re still alive.” Heather was rocking back and forth in the seat.

“You okay?” her sister asked.

“I’ll be fine. Just gotta get out of this car.”

Ian pulled up in front of the lighted windows.

“Thank God,” Marcus whispered. The shining lights were not coming from a shopping mall, but a diner.

Ian turned the car around and parked it in proximity to where he figured the first parking slot should be. “Looks like we’re the only ones here.”

But two people, bundled in winter coats with their hoods up, just materialized in the glow shining forth through the diner’s front door. They eagerly entered the building and then had to fight the wind in order to pull the door closed behind them.

“Looks like it’s open.” Marcus got out of the car.

Ashley yelped when the air hit her through the open door. “It’s freezing!” She thrust her phone into her pocket and opened the door beside her.

Ian took the key out of the ignition and looked back at Heather as Marcus and Ashley closed their doors simultaneously. “You okay?” he asked.

She forced a smile. “You think they have tomato pie? I could really go for a tomato pie.”

“Let’s go find out.”

They stepped out into the freezing night and hurried after Marcus’ and Ashley’s footprints. They led to the diner’s door, which Ashley was holding open for them. They ran past her and into the warm embrace of the foyer.

Following Heather into the restaurant, Ashley took Marcus’ hand as they all absorbed their new environment.

Marcus turned toward her. “Your hand’s freezing.”

“It’s cold outside.”

A man with an apron tied around his waist appeared from behind the kitchen doors.

“Hey, folks. Mighty nasty out there, ain’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus nodded.

“You from around here?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “It’s just that most of the locals don’t really venture out in this sort of weather.”

“Who does?” Ashley asked, peering out the window and wondering where the parking lot went.

The man looked back and forth between her and Heather. He appeared to be in his early fifties, and there was a worn wedding band on his ring finger. There was nothing threatening or inappropriate in his gaze, just pleasant honesty. Ashley liked him.

“Where you headin’?”

“Back home,” she answered. “Maryland.”

The guy whistled. “You’ve got quite a drive ahead of you.” His eyes focused on the storm, and he shook his head. “Don’t imagine you’ll be goin’ anywhere tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow.” He picked up a handful of menus and slapped them against his thigh. “Damn. Sure hope you folks can make it back for Christmas.” He turned and waved the menus, encouraging them to follow. “How long you been driving?”

Ian rubbed his jaw as they neared an empty booth. “A few hours.”

“A few hours? Where you coming from?”

“Quebec.”

He stopped at a booth near the back of the diner, surprised. “Canada? And it only took you three hours?”

As they all slid into the booth, Marcus explained, “Our flight had to make an emergency stop at Adirondack Regional. They didn’t have any other flights out of there, and we heard bad weather was coming so…”

“Ah. Well, it’s here all right. Question is: how long’s it gonna stay?” He distributed the menus. As he did so, he took notice of their attire, their shoes and light shirts peeking out from beneath their coats. “You folks don’t look to be dressed for this sort of weather.”

“Our luggage is still at the airport,” Ashley said.

He smiled a warm smile. “Hmm. I imagine you’d like something hot, then. Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee,” they all said in unison.

He smiled again. “Name’s George, by the way.”

Ian was leaning against the table with his arms crossed and managed to lift a couple fingers in a curt wave. “Nice to meet you, George.”

George nodded and turned away from them, walking back to the kitchen.

Ashley looked around the diner again until she found the two people who’d come in right before them. A young boy and girl. The place was empty otherwise.

“How late do you think he’s open?” she asked.

Marcus placed a hand on her knee and squeezed it while leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t know.”

Ashley watched as Heather pulled her cell phone from her pocket and set it on the table. She punched the first three numbers of her four-digit code…and paused. Her forefinger hesitated, hovering dumbly over the final key as if afraid to unlock the phone. Ashley was sure no one else noticed, but her sister’s hand was still trembling even after unlocking it and turning it around so that everyone could see the radar on her AccuWeather app. The whole state was covered in white.

“Doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon,” she said, and Ashley thought she could detect a slight tremble in her voice.

Letting Heather’s shaking hand go for now, Ashley said, “Mom and Dad gotta be freakin’ out.”

Marcus frowned. “I wonder why they haven’t called any of us.”

Something in Ashley’s gut twisted in response to hearing those words, but Ian just shrugged, still staring at the menu. “Maybe they’ve been trying, and they just can’t get through.”

Heather already had the number dialed and the phone held to her ear, waiting. But she shook her head in frustration. “Line’s busy or something.”

“Let me try.” Ashley took out her phone and called. “Same. That’s weird.”

“Tomato pie!” Ian announced from behind his menu. “It’s your lucky day, babe.” He put his arm around Heather and gave her a playful squeeze, trying to lighten the mood.

George was back to their table with a pitcher of coffee, mugs, and packets of sugar and cream. “I’ll give you folks a few more minutes,” he said happily, and he turned and disappeared again.

Ashley wrapped her hands around her mug, relishing the heat’s upward crawl through her arms. She was instantly transfixed by the wispy fingers rising from the black liquid.

“It’s good coffee,” she heard Ian saying from across the table. She didn’t look up, though. It seemed she couldn’t. There was another small slurping sound and Marcus’ voice whispering an “amen” to Ian’s pronouncement, but still Ashley couldn’t lift her eyes away from the twirling tendrils of steam spinning toward her face. They churned inwardly, the eye of a hurricane hovering above her coffee mug, hypnotizing her.

The letter R appeared.

Ashley’s eyes, still under some spell, narrowed. There was no mistaking it for anything else. It was as clear as a 3D image coming out of a movie screen, growing, expanding, drifting higher.

She could hear her name being called, but it sounded a thousand miles away. The steam continued moving. And then, right before her eyes, the letter R transformed into an A.

The A to a P.

She blinked, and the letters were gone. A surge of electricity slithered up her spine.

“Ashley!”

She blinked, feeling Marcus’ hand on her arm, shaking her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Finally, she moved her gaze from the coffee to his concerned eyes. “Yeah…”

“Where’d you go?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. And though there were no longer hovering letters spelled out in the steam still rising from her cup, she didn’t dare sip from it. She pushed it away from her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Heather asked.

She forced a transparent smile that she knew wasn’t fooling anyone. The fun, light-hearted, spunky, always seeing the good in everything, “We can do this—ra-ra!” Ashley wasn’t in character right now. Before she could manage an answer, however, George was back.

“Here you go, folks.” He slid hot bowls of soup onto the table in front of each of them. “Cream of chicken. My special recipe. On the house.”

“Thanks,” Marcus started, “but you didn’t have to—”

“No, no. I insist.” Then he stood straight and put a hand on his hip. “Listen, I have a lost-and-found box for things people leave here. You know, in case they call or come back. I’ve only ever had people come back for wallets, credit cards, keys… Anyway, there’s a few sweatshirts and jackets back there that I’ve had for a few weeks now. At this point I was just gonna give them to charity, but it looks to me like you folks might be able to use them yourselves.” He blinked, looking back and forth between them. “What do you say? Want me to bring them out?”

Ian shrugged in his peacoat, suddenly conscious of only the white T-shirt beneath it. “Sure.”

Marcus nodded, and Heather thanked him.

“All right.” George walked away again.

“That’s nice of him,” Heather commented, lifting the mug to her lips.

“You know what you want to eat?” Ian asked her.

“Yeah. Tomato pie. Three slices.”

“Whoa.”

“What is it they say, ‘Eat when you can because you never know when you’ll eat next’?”

“Something like that.”

Ashley found the implication disturbing. “I want French toast.” Then she looked at Heather. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“Me, too.”

Sliding out of the booths, the boys let the girls escape to whatever it was that a girl couldn’t face alone in a public restroom.

“Order for us?” Heather asked.

“Yup.” Ian returned to his coffee. So did Marcus.

“What’s wrong?” she asked Ashley once they were out of earshot. “What happened back there? You drifted off or something.”

Ashley shrugged, but there was no hiding her feelings. “I don’t know.”

They approached a sign nailed to the wall in the back of the diner that read LADIES and pushed open the door beneath it.