literature

SHDYCF2 Chapter 31 Rescue!

Deviation Actions

snore23's avatar
By
Published:
2.4K Views

Literature Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE



Rescue!



Taryn couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling she got as she walked towards her house with Josh beside her. She tried to analyze it logically, but couldn’t find an answer, which was frustrating.

She sighed and walked into her house, which was brightly lit and the TV roaring in the corner. Her mother looked up from where she’d been glued to the couch and rushed towards her, looking very pale and frightened.

“Taryn, thank god you’re okay!” she cried, flinging herself against Taryn’s chest looking like a very young child hugging her mother.

“What is it?” Taryn asked in alarm.

“Tenebrae Cultor is back in town.” She told her worriedly. “They hit the museum and killed the guards there and took the Bloodstone.”

“That rare beryl?” Sylvie asked in surprise, her mind instantly springing to the diamond beryl that hung around her neck.

“Yes.” Her mother nodded. “Ben’s on the scene with Bengal now.” She pointed to the TV where Taryn could see the chief and the agent working in the background of the shot while the reporter babbled about the brazeness of the assault.

“Crap.” Taryn frowned, trying to think through the problem in her mind.

“All right, so we know from Mister Markson that beryls are sometimes called elfstones, and that they are reputed to have powerful magics.” She said slowly.

“And we know that both the Bloodstone and yours were discovered only very recently.” Josh pointed out thoughtfully. “There might be a connection there; it could be that they channel different wavelengths of magic, tuning in on certain frequencies.”

Taryn looked at him. “Hey, that’s an idea! It could be that they are like element stones, better at working one set of spells, say for air or fire, then the other.”

“Possibly. What spells have you tried working with it.” Josh asked, his brow furrowing.

“Hmm.” Taryn thought. “Well, I have moved socks and created a fine mist with the magic, and I’ve tried to dig a hole with it at the reservation…which didn’t go over so well.” She added, remembering the thirty foot deep hole that opened up before her.

“Huh. Well, that doesn’t seem to hold to our theory then.” Josh said reluctantly. “They all appear to be using different elements: air, earth and water. What’s left?”

There was a long pause as the three of them thought. At last her mother spoke.

“Good and evil.” She said quietly.

Taryn looked at her in amazement. “Of course.” She breathed. “That’s it! The white stone represents the power of good, but the Bloodstone—”

“Would be evil.” Josh said in horror. “And now it’s in the hands of those sick—”

“Josh!” Her mother snapped.

“Sorry Missus Grogan, but they are.” Josh said defensively.

“Yes, but that’s only going to be one half of the puzzle.” Taryn said slowly, thinking rapidly.

“Remember what Sara said? She said that one of us was going to be needed, but why?”

“Perhaps you two are the only ones that can control the stones.” Josh suggested.

“Hmm, I wonder.” Taryn took off the stone and handed it to her mother.

“Mom, could you put this on?” she asked.

“Of course, but what do I do with it?” she asked as she slipped the chain over her head. The white beryl nestled between her breasts and shone like a fallen star on her pale skin.

“Well,” Taryn cast about for something until her eyes fell onto a small cup full of something…coffee, by the smell of it.

“Mom! Coffee?” She asked, aghast.

“What? I needed the caffeine, sweety, and it won’t hurt me now.” She said severely.

Taryn opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again: her mom was right, the disease that had attacked her body and made drinking anything but the foul medicine was completely gone, and her mother could go back to the simple pleasures that had been long missed.

“Never mind.” She said quietly, feeling a pang of sorrow as she remembered Sylvie’s words from the phone conversation:

You don’t want to give up taking care of your mom even though she doesn’t really need a nursemaid anymore, because it’s something that you’ve always done. I can get that, but Taryn, you’ve got to let that go. You’re mom isn’t going to vanish in front of your eyes again, she isn’t going to suddenly drop back to being sick again.

“All right.” Taryn sighed. “I’m sorry about this, but can you repeat after me?”

“Sure sweetie.” Her mom said as she looked at the coffee cup with a sigh.

Taryn coached her through the Cherokee words, and soon a fine mist bubbled and rose from the suddenly boiling liquid, rising and swirling in the air in a dim shape like a running horse over a silver sward.

“Well.” Josh said, staring at the at where the phantom horse had been running in mid-air. “It looks like anyone can use the stone.”

“SO why would Tenebrae Cultor need one of us?” Taryn asked.

“Nightshade (her mother said the word with the same warmth as if she’d discovered a leech in her bathtub) suggested that they wanted to acquire their magic from you girls.”

“Wait, maybe that’s a key there.” Josh said thoughtfully. “I mean, perhaps they can’t use the stone yet.”

“What are you thinking?” Taryn asked.

“Well, you know how when you get a new credit card, you can be physically holding the plastic but it isn’t any good yet? You have the card, but you can’t use it until after you call up the company and activate it. Perhaps the stone needs to be activated in a similar manner, by someone who can use magic or is touched by magic.”

“But Sylvie doesn’t use magic.” Taryn pointed out. “I do.”

Her mother looked fearfully at her, and immediately looked out the window as if expecting thugs with guns to be standing there leering.

“I think you’re wrong.” Josh countered. “I think Sylvie uses very great magic as well.”

“What do you mean?” Taryn demanded.

“Taryn, she hit a target with an antique weapon, granted a very good weapon and practically brand new, but an antique still, at a distance that would be challenge even for a modern sniper rifle.” He shook his head wonderingly, remembering the shot. “No, it has to have been her homemade rounds that made the difference. Somehow, someway, when she was making those rounds she put in some sort of magic into them that made them fly straight and true directly to where she aimed. She missed the first one because she hadn’t aimed just right, and she was expecting to miss a little at that distance. If she’d believed she’d made the ten spot when she’d fired, the first time? I have no doubt she would have put a hole dead center.”

“So, you’re saying Sylvie’s magic…” Taryn started disbelievingly.

“…Is in her gun, yes.” Josh nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s powerful, but limited in its way. I wonder what all she can do with it, but the point is Taryn, you’re more general in magic, able to command elements and magic rather than channeling, I think is the word, through your spear.”

“It is a theory, dear.” Her mother said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, and a good one as far as it goes, but I’m not sure if its the right one.” Taryn sighed.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.” Josh sighed. “Cause it means that right now, Tenebrae Cultor only has half of their puzzle.”

“Yeah, that’s true…and Sylvie had better now about it.” Taryn said firmly, reaching for the phone.

The sound of rifle fire came to her ears and she looked horrified at her mother.

“Seems they are trying for both pieces!” Josh shouted in surprise as he reared and turned towards the door. However, in doing so he struck his head on the ceiling and collapsed to the floor, dazed.

“Josh!” Taryn cried, stepping towards him.

“Taryn! Get to the phone!” her mother snapped as she went to her knees next to Josh. “Get the Chief and tell him to get to Sylvie, now!”

Taryn lunged for the phone.



Taryn howled in rage and frustration when she saw the remains of a fierce battle strewn about the lawn in front of Sylvie’s darkened house. She didn’t dare look inside yet, with the darkness pressing behind the shattered door.

Josh raced up behind, weaving only slightly from the blow to his head. On his back her mother rode, still dressed in her pajamas but carrying her pistol and a furious expression.

“Taryn, you’re supposed to wait for the police!” she bellowed as soon as they got close enough.

“They took her!” Taryn raged back. She flung her spear in fury and it pierced the side of an armored truck, passing halfway through. The staff quivered in the night.

“Taryn!” her other gasped. “I…I’m sorry about Sylvie, but it won’t do you any good to get yourself hurt or captured. The only hope she has lies with Ben and Bengal, and the best thing you can do for her is to come home and stay out of their way.

“Look at what they’ve done already!” Taryn screamed, waving her hand around to encompass the entire area. “Do you see them here? Where are they?”

She glared hotly at the barracks where the agents had gone as soon as they’d come back. She’d find out what had happened!

She strode to the barracks, but stopped halfway when a small car pulled up, it’s headlights on. Taryn recognized it as Sylvie’s mom’s, and froze, suddenly unsure. She threw a glance back at her mom and saw the same look on her face as well.

Sylvie’s mom leapt from the car, a large gun in her hand as she stared at them with wide eyes.

“Taryn! Mary! Josh! What are you doing here?” she asked in a loud voice.

“Anne—” her mother began quietly but Taryn burst out:

“They’ve taken Sylvie!” she said. “We’ve got to find her!”

“WHAT!” Her cry filled the night, echoing down the empty street. “My baby, gone?!” she rushed towards the house and stopped with a sob when she caught sight of the bodies on the lawn.

Spinning towards the command center she rushed past Taryn who followed close on her heels. They came to the steel door, which was closed. Her mom pulled and pulled, pounding the keypad over and over again, but the door refused to budge.

Taryn laid hold of the handle and pulled with far greater strength. The door trembled, it squealed in protest and the handle warped in her hand, but it remained stubbornly shut.

Taryn drove her spear through the keypad in a shower of sparks and a sound of angry hornets. The lock clicked: the door swung open: and they looked through the dimly lit door.

Bodies were slumped everywhere throughout the trailer. Some still sat in their chairs, their dead hands clutching the handles of coffee cups, while others lay next to their weapons, some only partly drawn. Blood puddled on the floor.

Mrs. Mathison gave a shriek, and dove for a body lying on the ground right in front of the door, as if he’d been walking through the doorway when he’d been attacked.

“Greg!” she said in choked voice, tears sparkling on her cheeks. She pulled his limp body up to her chest and cradled it.

“Greg! Greg! Don’t leave!” she wailed, while Taryn looked on in horror.

“Wait!” she said, noticing something. “He’s still breathing!”

They looked and sure enough his chest rose and fell steadily, and Anne hugged him tighter. Taryn looked him over carefully and spotted a bloody patch on the side of his head where he’d been struck by something.

“They hit him when he came in,” she guessed, “and thought him dead, I guess. Or they were in too much of a hurry to make sure he was. Probably Sylvie, I think. She fought the ambushers and killed a lot of them, maybe she seemed on the verge of escape and these guys had to rush and chase her down.”

“But where could they have taken her?” Mrs. Mathison asked in anguish.

“Don’t know.” Taryn replied, stepping outside and seeing the lights of Ben’s cruiser come screaming down the street, smashing through the two police cars that still stood emptily blocking the way.

“But I will find out.” She promised.



Ben was not pleased in the slightest that she’d come looking for Sylvie. He raged and ranted, told her that she couldn’t do the cowboy stuff anymore and that she could have gotten seriously hurt. Taryn just tuned him out; she was trying to deal with the enormous sense of loss that left her torn and bleeding on the inside. It felt as if someone had opened her up, scooped out her guts, and sewn her back up again leaving her hollow and cold.

Sylvie was gone.

Those were the words that echoed in her mind.

Come on girl, focus! If Sylvie is going to have any chance tonight, I’ve got to figure this out.

Yet for the first time Taryn felt completely out of ideas. She paced wildly in frustration, muttering to herself as she tried to think of anything, anything at all to save Sylvie. Yet nothing she could manage to pull from her shattered mind seemed plausible: track her phone? The thieves had probably already gotten rid of it; use hounds? Sylvie wouldn’t have walked off with them, so they would have had to haul her out by vehicle, and dogs couldn’t track vehicles; a search by air? How could they tell if it was her below them if she was in a covered trailer or something?

“Come on, think!” she snarled, her fist lashing out and striking the car next to her. It squeaked in protest and bounced, rocking on its tires, bringing everyone’s attention to her again.

“Taryn!” her mom snapped. “That isn’t helping!”

“I know mom!” Taryn yelled. “But I can’t think of anything to help her with! Nothing will work, there’s simply no way to track…” she stopped speaking, her eyes widening.

“What?” her mom asked.

Taryn didn’t answer; she didn’t even see the world around her, instead she seemed back in the fields of the reservation, Running Water’s grandfather telling her about the ancient shamans of the tribes, and how they would help hunters find game through ancient tracking spells.

“Could it be that easy?” she whispered.

She reared and turned, racing into the house and tearing for the garage, dimly she could see the others following in her wake.

Turning abruptly she raced for the house in mid-rant. Ben gaped after her and then gave chase, the others following as well.

Inside the house Taryn raced directly for the back room, looking for anything she could use.

Her eyes fell on a stack of boxes next to Sylvie’s workbench, and the ammunition that she’d so carefully made.

Josh said they were magic too…maybe that will help!

She seized a box and pulled out a rifle bullet. She held it up into the light and chanted the spell, now speaking loud and commandingly, now soft and pleadingly. The bullet twitched in her hand, shuddered, and spun rapidly like a compass placed too close to a lightning blast. It lurched to a stop pointing towards town.

“You mind telling me what this is all about?” Ben demanded coming in behind her.

“Tracking spell.” Taryn said shortly. “Come on, Sylvie is this way!” she turned and rushed towards the door, everyone following on her heels.

“How can you know?!” he demanded, but Taryn didn’t reply, keeping her eyes locked on the bullet as she ran.

Josh came up behind and smoothly picked the chief up and put him on his back, and Bengal too. The two men looked surprised, flailing their arms to find purchase on his hide, but then settled as the two centaurs moved at a great pace, following the point of the compass.



They’d passed the outer businesses and offices in town when they came upon the scene of a wreck. A battered pickup truck hissed and burbled, it’s engine and hood wrapped around a street lamp. It’s driver looked dejectedly at it under his cap, a strange look of sorrow and anger on his face. He looked up as they approached.

“Did you see a vehicle, a large one, pass by here?” Taryn asked breathlessly.

The man nodded. “Yep. I did. Came at me so fast that I had to swerve into the light pole to keep from hitting them. Damn delivery truck, didn’t even stop to see if I was hurt or not, they jus’ kept driving.”

He spat in disgust and looked up at her. “You must be Taryn.” He said.

She looked at him with arched brow. “Well, I know Sylvie, and you’re the only other female ‘taur I know of, so it makes sense.” He shrugged.

He looked back at Josh and nodded respectfully, then at his passengers.

“Evenin’ stranger. Hello Chief.” He said.

“Evening Stetson.” The chief replied tersely. “You say it was a delivery truck that hit you?”

“Yep.” He nodded, frowning now as he glanced between them. “From one of them new businesses in town, I think. Saw a chicken on the side of it at least, and I didn’t recognize that one.”

“No, but I do.” The Chief growled. “It’s Speedy Chicken Delivery Service based out of that old warehouse on the far side of town. We’ve got to call it in now.”

“You’re not goin’ without me.” Stetson said firmly, reaching into his truck and pulling out a large handgun. Taryn thought it might have been a 1911. “If Sylvie is in trouble, then I’m going to help her out.”

Without speaking Taryn grabbed his arm and slung him on her back. He seemed surprised at her strength but easy rode back there as if he’d been on horseback all his life as they clattered into the night.



Taryn looked at the lit warehouse in front of her. The light in the windows flickered redly, and Taryn thought that it had to be firelight and not electric at all, which was strange. She realized they’d must have disabled the fire suppression system in order to accomplish that feat.
It was long, perhaps two hundred feet in length and seemed dingy and ill-kept. The sparse grass in the beds at the office were uncut and brown; the walls may once have sported gray paint but were mostly brown and the windows were dirt covered and so stained as to make seeing anything through them impossible.

“What are we going to do?” Taryn asked quietly.

The others were strung out behind several moving vans, observing the building closely, looking for the guards they were certain had to be there. Behind them were the bodies of five that they had come upon unexpectedly. Taryn fingered her spear haft; she’d killed four of them and Ben had killed the last one with a blow from his pistol butt, before any could give warning. Taryn felt nothing for the dead she’d killed; and that worried her.

“What are we going to do?” she asked again, looking over the pickup truck she was standing behind. “We don’t have time to wait for reinforcements,” she continued. “For all we know they might be performing their ritual now. We have to go in and get her.”

“That we do, but we have to be careful about it.” Ben said. “If we don’t do this just right, she will die and a lot of us as well.”

Bengal grunted as he eased up from his crouch again.

“Four of them on the upper levels, I can see the shadows when they pass by the glass. I’ve called in backup, their fifteen minutes out though.”

Ben sighed. “I’ve got some coming a lot faster than that, but they’re newbies. Don’t have much field experience yet.”

“They wouldn’t be good at this.” Bengal growled. “We have to wait for my guys to get here.”

“It’ll be too late by then.” Taryn growled. “We’re going after her now.”

“If we do, she’ll die.” Ben said flatly.

“No, she won’t.” Taryn said firmly. “You forget I have the stone.” She brushed it with her hand.

“And I an make quite a big splash if needed. They won’t know what hit them until it’s far too late.”

They looked at her warily. All that they’ve told her in attempt to stop this madness had been in vain. She looked at them with a stubborn set to her jaw; she would not abandon Sylvie now! If she had to go in herself, then so be it!

“All right.” Ben sighed. “We’ll have to go in, and this is how we’ll do it…”



Sylvie felt as if her head was in a vice and somebody was tightening it for all they were worth. It took her a while before the pain receded enough for her to hear the chanting going on around her.

Everything came back in a flash: the battle at her house, the prick of the dart, the blurred figure walking towards her. Where were her parents? Her father had been walking to teh command center, and her mother! Had she been home? Where were they?

Her eyes slammed open. Her vision swam and the hammers were redoubled, but the pain passed. When she could see without squinting, she realized that she was standing in the center of an enormous steel cage, a huge padlock glinted on the door.

Outside she could see maybe fifty people, kneeling on the bare concrete floor towards where a stage had been laboriously built with great skill. Its wood gleamed, sanded and polished, and lacquered to a red hue.

On the stage stood a large table set off to the left was set with red bunting and on it she could dimly see her rifle laid in state there, and she could only assume her pistols were there as well. More objects were on its surface, but she couldn’t make out what they were.

In the exact center of the platform there stood a tall altar, broad and flat and fashioned like the stone altars of the Aztecs she’d seen on television, but this one was made of a red wood like blood and it gleamed with anticipated malice, the sides seemed stained with dark marks and Sylvie trembled at the sight of it.

Around the altar were four robed figures, one on each side, and they held their arms outstretched and were speaking in a low tones. Sylvie couldn’t make out what they were saying, except that it sounded dark and menacing.

Gaining her feet she found the cage was not quite tall enough to let her stand upright, but forced her into a sort of hunched posture that took up all the available space and made her wish to lie down again. She did not, however, give in to that temptation, for if she did she would be helpless when they came for her. If she could, she would fight her way free when they came for her.
To that end, she tried to study the building they were in, but while the fanatics had lit many torches to provide light, all of them were smoky and fouled the air, so she could only dimly see the walls and couldn’t even begin to guess at their layout.

Abruptly one of the robed figures took notice of her standing in the cage. He threw back his hood and Sylvie saw at once it was the clean-shaven individual from before. He had short-cropped black hair, a oversize, bold nose, a glittering eyes that seemed touched with madness.

“Ah, you’re awake!” he rubbed his hands gleefully. “That is good! Welcome, welcome to ranks of Tenebrae Cultor, Sylvie Mathison!”

Sylvie realized this had to be Jacob Meyers and felt a fresh fear awaken, but she didn’t let it touch her face.

“Thanks, but I’m not interested.” She said coolly. “Perhaps you should have asked first?”

He bent his head back and laughed delightedly. It made the air seem chillier somehow.

“How delightful, you think that this is a choice you have to make! You are all alone here, and are alone in the world! There is no one to help you now!”

Sylvie narrowed her eyes and spoke in an equally cold voice. “You are not going to get away with this, Ben will kick your ass clear to prison, or the ground!”

“Ah yes, your town’s bulldog police chief.” He grinned unpleasantly. “I had the pleasure of meeting him once before you know, when he wanted to fly down to Rio to come and rescue you, but I told him no. Quite frankly I expected him to go anyway, but he didn’t.”

“Probably had something to do with the Riot that happened that night.” Sylvie snapped.

“Hmm, yes. I would wager you’re probably right.” He said unconcernedly. “But no matter. Things fell out exactly as I’d hoped. You came back to me.” He smiled unpleasantly.

“I came back for my parents, and we drove you out of Red Leaf.” Sylvie rejoined. “Or have you forgotten the thugs that we sent to prison and the battle where you tried to get a hold of us the first time? Lost a lot of your guys then, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Casualties of war.” He said casually. “Something I learned about a long time ago. It is a lesson I intend to teach to you tonight.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Sylvie asked, though in her heart she felt a flutter of fear.

“Well, by showing you this.” He went to the table and picked up a leather briefcase. It’s edges were bloody and the leather had a neat hole in the middle of it as if from a gunshot. On its lid it had a monogrammed ‘M’.

Sylvie’s hearts stopped: she recognized the case and could still remember when she’d found it in a department store and gotten it for her mother for the office.

“NOOOOOO!” The cry that tore from her throat was barely recognizable, it filled the room and made the cultists step back a pace.

“Yes. Do not trouble your head too much,” Jacob said consolingly. “She did die fairly quickly. Not instantly, but fairly fast. The look in her eyes was priceless.” He grinned. “And she didn’t die alone either.”

One by one he held up different items: a bloody police badge, a bent iron bar, her father’s watch and a broken spear with eagle feathers on it.

Sylvie fell to her knees in despair as the last item was paraded in front of her cage. All of her friends, her family, dead. Dead because she wasn’t there to help. Dead because they were after her and she hadn’t gone over to them.

She bent her head and wept.

The world blurred, but then she felt something on her cheek and recoiled. Wiping her eyes she saw Meyer withdraw from the cage, a smile of exultation on his face and a crystal vial in his hand that he quickly capped.

“The tears of the centaur.” He said softly. “Tears of despair. The catalyst to activate the power of the Bloodstone.”

“This has been the culmination of all our dreams!” he turned and spoke in a grand voice to his followers. “Tonight we shall open the gates to Hell and take our Rightful place as the Masters of this new world!”

There came an excited murmuring from the congregation and some leaned forward eagerly.

This is why my family died? A flame kindled and burned in her heart. And Taryn and Josh?! This is all so this nutcase can believe he could rule the world?

She got to her feet and hurled herself at the door. It rattled and boomed as the bars actually slid a little over the floor with a horrible grating sound.

Everyone turned and looked at the unexpected noise, but Sylvie didn’t care! With another heave she smashed into the door again. It squealed in protest, and Sylvie thought the lock might be bending, but she couldn’t be sure.

Meyer evidently didn’t think she was a threat in her cage. He chuckled and waved at her.

“Such rage!” he laughed. “Such anger now! That’s very good! You will be the first sacrifice to the hunger of the Masters, but not the last!”

He ascended the steps to the altar and placed the crystal vial upon it. From a pocket in his robe he withdrew the bloodstone and set it next to the vial. Then he drew out a curious, serpentine dagger from his sash and began to intone or chant:

Bloodstone! Bloodstone! Awaken to me
Hear my cry and grant my wish of thee



For the hunger of the stone,
The blood of the willing I loan!



He cut his finger and wiped the blood over its surface. Sylvie paused in her efforts and watched in alarm as the stone seemed to shine and glow as if it fed off the blood.



For the darkness to follow a painful light,
These tears we stole from despairs bite



He upended the vial and three drops of clear liquid fell, tears Sylvie recognized he’d collected from her cheeks and which she touched now in sudden understanding.



Now grant my will, oh Bloodstone dark and perilous fair
Send us a champion of despair!



All at once a dark vapor appeared from the stone, swirling outward in a growing, expanding mist.

The robed figures stepped backwards as the mist continued to grow, and Sylvie realized that it was the same as in her dream; a dark gray mist nearly coal black with no form to be seen, yet an evil will and malice drove it, it didn’t move with the wind or like smoke at all, but with definite shape and purpose; a night without stars, or the black of a cave could not vie with it, and the light grew dim.

Sylvie trembled as the cloud grew ever taller, reaching the ceiling as the torchlight seemed to die, as though the flames were being smothered even while they danced and burned. The congregation cowered, the reality proved too much for them, and they shrank back.

Only Jacob stood tall, gazing reverentially at the thing as it hovered above the table. On his face a grin of exultation stretched the shadows on his skin until his face appeared skull like, and his smile nearly demonic.

“At last.” He cried. “Dominion is mine!”

Sylvie felt a hot wrath well up in her, and she drove herself at the cage again. This time the lock bent and the cage groaned, but the noise attracted the cloud’s attention.

“Yes, yes, my pet!” Jacob cried. “This is your first sacrifice! She who’s despair gave rise to you! Let her be your first victim! Taste her despair!”

“He’ll taste nothing of me!” Sylvie snapped, her ire keeping the fear at bay. She kicked at the door again, and this time it gave.

The cage door snapped open, bent on one hinge, and the lock flew from the door in two pieces, the lighter band skittering into the darkness with a ring of metal.

“Get her!” Jacob screamed. “Get her, you fools, or you will feed Him!”

With a shout the congregation jumped to their feet and started to give chase, but they went the wrong way! Instead of going towards the doors and freedom, Sylvie took the right-hand route to circle around the people. Her plan, barely formed as it was, was to get to Jacob Meyer and kill him, either with her bare hands or under her hooves and smash his face into a pulp.

She made it across half the distance when the crowd caught up to her and began to block her path. She ran several of them over, but the impacts slowed her and she felt more hands snag her jacket or grab her legs, trying to pull her down.

“Noo!” she cried out in rage and frustration. “Jacob! You’ll pay for this!” she screamed defiantly, hearing only his cold laughter in reply.

Guns roared suddenly from the office, and three of the people in front of her sprawled across the floor, dead. A thrown spear hurled across the darkness roof and took another off her back.

Sylvie gaped in astonishment as Taryn burst into the room, bellowing something in a tongue like water. Sylvie assumed it to be Native American, possibly, but the effect was obvious.

The smoke gave a shriek of rage as it seemed to tear at its edges; it began to drift backwards away from them as if it were being pushed by a huge wind that no one could feel.

“NOOOO!” Jacob roared. He pulled from his robes a handgun, (A Magnum .45, Sylvie realized numbly) and squeezed two quick shots at Taryn in succession. The first missed but the second tore a hole through her shield and grazed her arm, but she didn’t appear to care, only swerving a little as she crossed the floor.

Cultists rose up before her, but were driven under her hooves, or skewered on the end of her spear and cast aside.

Josh, too, charged with her, and his face was grim as he swung his iron crowbar with all his might, smashing heads and hurling cultists across the room where they lay crumpled on the floor.
They were at her side in an instant, while behind the office wall the three gunmen continued to pour fire at those nearest the centaurs.

“KILL THEM!” Jacob shrieked from behind the stage. He’d thrown himself off the moment he’d fired his gun, realizing that he’d marked himself as a priority target for the three gunmen in the gallery.

“Let’s get out of here!” Josh shouted as more came at them.

“Not without my guns!” Sylvie shouted, and dashed for the stage.
Her friends followed, and from the table where they’d been lying she’d quickly grabbed her weapons.
She spotted Jacob glaring at them from behind one of the stadium seats. In a fit of rage she pointed her pistol at him and pulled the trigger, screaming “THAT’S FOR KILLING MY PARENTS YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!”

Click!

She screamed in frustration! The gun was empty, and her target had ducked anyway.
“After him!” she screamed. Taryn and Josh grabbed her arms and hauled her back, her front legs kicking and flailing as she tried to go after him.

“Sylvie! Knock it off!” Taryn puffed.

“No! No! He killed mom and dad! Taryn! He’s MINE!” Sylvie raged, trying to go after her target whom she saw flee towards the far doors, he would soon escape into the night.

“Sylvie! They’re fine, even your dad! They’re at the hospital with Doctor McMillan and Doctor Merrick. You’re dad’s in bad shape, but he’ll be all right. Sylvie, we’ve got to go!” Taryn said desperately. She saw all too plainly the thirty men left trying to surround them, brandishing ceremonial knives, most likely for some dark later part of the ceremony they’d interrupted.

Sylvie was about to reply when she saw something that struck her speechless.

The black cloud had reached out a long, sinuous tentacle, looking like some twisted, smoky eel or snake. With terrific speed it reached out and snagged Jacob about the ankle and hoisted him into the air. He let out a surprised scream that froze everybody, and they turned to watch.

The tentacle pulled the struggling man into it and he vanished with one last despairing cry.

Icy fingers clutched at her spine; Sylvie whispered to Taryn who gazed wide-eyed at the tableau, “I think it’s become…him.”

Taryn looked at her. “What do you mean?” she asked in a shaken voice.

“I mean, I think the cloud has become Jacob Meyer.” Sylvie whispered. A thought tickled the edges of her mind. “I think it was meant to be me, but I got angry at the end, and it grew confused. When Jacob ran at the end, he saw the end of his dreams and he despaired, and the thing latched onto that and ate him.”

A cold chuckle filled the room. HOW RIGHT YOU ARE.

The voice seemed to great for the building to contain; the floor shook and the metal groaned as if under pressure, those that were there clapped their hands to their ears and fell to the floor in agony.

Sylvie regained her feet first and pulled Taryn up.

“Now! Run for it!” she shouted, tugging Taryn along. She stumbled the first few steps before gaining steam. Josh pounded along behind them.

None reached to stop them, or followed them, or even shouted at them to stop as they raced to the office and out the back side, the three gunmen following along as quick as their feet would carry them.

Sylvie didn’t think it fast enough, and she pulled one of them onto her back. She caught a momentary glimpse of his face.

“Stetson?!” her voice broke in her astonishment.

“Yeah,” his shockingly familiar voice sounded. “Wound up following Taryn when she clattered by. I should have realized when that delivery truck ran me off the road that it had to have been something about you.” He said apologetically.

Sylvie waved it away irritably as they raced across the parking lot and reached the buildings on the far side. “Don’t worry about it. For all you knew, they might have been really bad drivers.”

He chuckled.

She looked at the others as they ran: Bengal rode on Josh’s back, one hand holding his gun against his flank to steady himself, the other holding a radio up to his mouth as he shouted orders at somebody, his voice snatched away by the wind of their passage; Ben rode Taryn in a similar manner, and Sylvie guessed he was calling for deputies or backup from the operator.

A deep booming laugh came from behind them, and they ran all the faster, racing for town. Sylvie risked a glance behind her and saw the warehouse still standing there, but now no light came from within and it had a decidedly evil and decrepit look about it. She feared what lay in wait inside the thing, and realized that her vision from so long ago was coming true. She looked obliquely at Taryn and knew that no matter the cost to herself, she couldn’t allow all of it to become true.

And here is the next chapter in the saga. Things are really heating up now! What will happen next?

Next:
SHDYCF2-Chapter 32 There Will Follow a StormCHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
There Will Follow a Storm #
It seemed hours she’d been running, but she realistically knew that it couldn’t have been that long. They’d escaped the warehouse (the cloud hadn’t pursued them, as if unsure what to do now) and were now running through the main parts of town. No one seemed out on the streets except for an unshaven, rumpled man weaving on the sidewalk and singing some song only he knew in a badly off-key voice.
Sylvie grabbed him as well on the way by, though the smell of him nearly knocked her down; he was filthy and stank, as if he’d not bathed in a year!
“Yaaaah! The mad chicken woman’s got me!” he shouted, remarkably clearly for a drunk.
“Shut up.” Stetson told him coldly, holding onto him and looking disgusted as Sylvie kept moving. “You’re drunk.”
“Darn right! Booze is great!” the man said cheekily. Sylvie didn’t bother listening anymore a


Prev:
SHDYCF2 Chapter 30 Attack!CHAPTER THIRTY
Attack
It turned out that there would be no need to talk to Taryn the next day, for when Sylvie walked out of her house (she’d decided she’d had more than enough of hiding) she found Taryn and Josh walking to her.
“Hi there!” she shouted cheerfully to the couple. “I was just heading over to your place!”
“Well, we’re here now.” Taryn said cheerfully.
Sylvie grinned when she noticed her hand in Josh’s. Perhaps last night hadn’t been so bad after all.
“So, what are you guys up to today?” she asked.
“We thought we’d come over and play some games, or something.” Josh said.
A flash of mischief struck her and Sylvie pretended to look thoughtful.
“Actually, that sounds a little boring.’ She said disinterestedly. “How about we do some skydiving instead?”
The horrified looks of the other two centaurs sent her into a fit of gigg
© 2017 - 2024 snore23
Comments2
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In