He couldn’t stay. He hadn’t Lucian’s powers, but even he was suddenly afraid that they were running out of time.
He lit one of his own cigarettes, smoked it, crushed it out.
Then closed his eyes.
A moment later, a terrible sound erupted from the cell. In the anteroom, two of the skeleton night crew in the station, standing at the desk, stared at one another. Officers Deauville and d’Artoine were both young, new to the force, thus drawing the late night hours.
They drew their weapons, and went rushing into the hall where the four small cells were situated.
“He’s gone!” Deauville said.
“No ... no, there’s something in there,” d’Artoine said.
“Where?”
“At the end of the cot.”
Deauville unlocked the door to the cell. Both men walked in cautiously, their weapons aimed. Deauville stared where d’Artoine had directed. He saw nothing but...
Eyes. Gold. Glittering. Lethal. Like the eyes of a ... demon.
He swallowed hard, wetting his lips.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“A ... dog?” d’Artoine said hesitantly.
“That’s no dog.”
“It’s an animal.”
“Where’s the prisoner?”
“Escaped?”
“What do we do?”
“Shoot it?”
As they debated, the creature in question suddenly sprang to life. All d’Artoine knew before the thing landed on him, knocking his weapon to the floor, was that it was huge and powerful. He screamed, certain that he was about to be killed.
The weight lifted from him. He was aware of noise. It was Deauville, at his side, still screaming.
He hit Deauville. “It’s out!”
They both leaped to their feet, rushing to the front of the station. Other officers were milling there, looking around anxiously.
“What is it?” someone called.
“A beast!” d’Artoine said, and realized how ridiculous he sounded. “I don’t know, some kind of an animal.”
The door to the street suddenly opened. The men all straightened as the man from Paris walked in.
Trusseau. He looked around at them, contempt in his eyes. But then, he always seemed to have contempt in his eyes. He was from Paris. They were just villagers. Inept
“What is going on here?” he asked.
Deauville had accompanied Javet and his arrest warrant to the DeVant chateau. And he narrowed his eyes suddenly, remembering that the American granddaughter had been saying that Trusseau was an impostor.
And now, he wondered. It wasn’t impossible, even if the girl had been saying anything to save her grandfather, and her lover.
Of course, it was the American digger, the woman’s lover, who was now gone, and who had somehow left some kind of a beast in his stead.
Still...
“We are looking for a creature, some kind of beast, which has gotten loose in the station,” he said to Trusseau.
“Ah,” Trusseau said. “A beast.”
“Yes. It is here, somewhere. You must take care.”
“Oh, I will,” Trusseau said.
“Do you need a weapon, Inspector Trusseau—that is your name, sir, correct?”
“Is it my name?” The man seemed amused, but he didn’t reply to the question. Instead, he said, “I carry my own weapon. Where is this beast?”
“Here ... somewhere.”
Whether he was an impostor or not, Trusseau seemed willing to look for the beast. He drew his weapon, a gleaming silver pistol of a make with which Deauville was not familiar, and backed against the wall.
There was silence as they barely breathed, and waited.
There was a clanking sound from the far wall. They all spun around. Two men fired. Chunks of concrete and stone spewed from the wall.
Then there was a sudden burst of... something.
Something huge, moving with the speed of light It leaped over and past them, charging straight for the station door. They were all taken by such surprise that instead of firing too quickly as they had before, they fired too late.
All except for Trusseau. His gun went off.
The door, however, had gone down.
The creature was off in the street...
Leaving a trail of blood.
Trusseau smiled at them.“Don’t worry. I’ll hunt down your beast” Deauville decided to take it upon himself to discover the truth. He kept seeing the American girl. Tall and slim, so beautiful, and so indignant and well spoken, even as she argued so passionately for her grandfather.
Something wasn’t right.
“I don’t think so, sir. I think we can catch the beast on our own. You’ve been accused of being an impostor, sir. I’d like you to remain here while we give a call to the Paris office.” Trusseau lifted a brow. He smiled.
Then he lifted his weapon, and aimed at Deauville.“Sir, what the hell—?” d’Artoine began.
Trusseau’s bullet exploded in the night.
Tara fumbled at the fireplace, finding the long matches that lit the logs. As she did so, Jade DeVeau produced a flashlight.
“Roland!” Katia said in a wail.
“Don’t worry; I’m going for him,” Tara said.
“I’ve more experience,” Jade said. “I’m going out You’re too valuable here right now, Tara. I’ll find Roland.”
“And Eleanora,” Tara said softly. “But you can’t go out there alone.” They all jumped as a rich masculine voice with a deep Southern accent suddenly interrupted them. Rick Beaudreaux made his way into the room. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m going out. But Tara, get up there with Ann right away. And Jade, you stay here with Jacques and Katia.” Both Tara and Jade were ready to argue.
“You know I’m the best one for the job!” Rick said.
“I’m going up to Ann right now,” Tara told her grandfather. She cast Rick a glance, then went racing up the stairs. She tripped, trying to go too fast in the darkness. She had to catch herself on the stairs.
She stopped at the hall closet, feeling her way to open it, and finding the large battery-powered lantern they kept there for emergencies.
Her hands curled around it. She quickly turned on the light and headed for Ann’s room. The door to the hallway was closed. She reached for it, then felt a sense of dread filling her. She paused, then threw it open.
She didn’t need the lantern in Ann’s room.
The balcony doors and drapes were open. Moonlight was pouring in.
The drapes drifted in a ghostly field of moonlight. The air that rushed in was cold.
The bed where Ann had lain was empty.
She walked to it disbelieving. “Ann!” she cried softly, looking to the balcony. But her cousin was gone.
Just barely gone.
There was a note on the bed. Next to several drops of blood.
It read:
She has perhaps ten minutes to live. Unless she is saved, of course. By the new Alliance. Such sweet blood. Perhaps I cannot wait so long.
He limped, cursing himself, gritting his teeth, praying for the strength he needed—just for that night.
Well, at last he had seen him again. And while he hadn’t known that Andreson had been behind the evil in the village, Andreson had definitely known that he was there. He had come prepared with the right weapon.
The only weapon ...
He slunk into a side street. After his escape, it seemed that all hell had broken loose at the police station.
Officers were running all over the street. The only thing he could do was find the darkest alley, and pray that he could stanch his own wound.
But as he sat against the wall, listening to the shouts and pounding footsteps all around him, he became aware of the shadows overtaking even the darkness. For a moment, he tensed. If Andreson were to find him now ...
“What the hell happened to you?”
Lucian was there, kneeling beside him.
“Andreson is here, and damned bold at that,” Brent said dryly. “Walked right into the police station—and took a shot at me.”
“I thought you’d done something yourself to rile them all up,” Lucian said. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig”
“Well, hell, he got me with a silver bullet.”
“You’re slowing down, my friend.”
“Just get the damned thing out,” Brent said.
Lucian pulled a knife from his jacket pocket, flicked it open, and dug in. Brent gritted his teeth, nearly crying out at the pain.
“Got it,” Lucian said.
“None too gently.”
“You needed it out, right?”
“I did.”
Lucian sat back on his haunches. “He isn’t around here anymore,” he said softly.
Brent struggled to his feet. “We’ve got to get back to the chateau.”
“You’re going to be about worthless.”
“No ... and anyway, about worthless isn’t totally worthless.”
“Still ...”
“You said that he isn’t around here anymore. The chateau ... well, Rick is there, I know, but Andreson knows a hell of a lot more tricks than a young fellow like your Southern friend. We’ve got to get back.”
“Yeah, take my hand.”
Brent struggled to his feet. He swallowed hard. “Go— ahead of me. I’ll catch up. I don’t want them there alone.”
Lucian didn’t argue with him.
“What the hell is it? You know there’s something wrong there, right?”
“I’ve a sudden sense of darkness. I know the man as someone other than Andreson, but if he was here
...”
“Then she might have been at the house,” Brent said. “Go!”
Lucian was already on his way.
Brent paused, bitterly resenting every moment it took to summon his strength. At last, he closed his eyes, and found the power to move. He went silently through the village streets, avoiding the prowling officers.
At length, he came to the outskirts beyond the square, started out along the road, and felt the light of the moon upon him.