The Dark Divine(34)

Aunt Carol chuckled. She always got a kick out of our Divine little family.

“Pastor? Pastor?” a loud voice shouted from behind the door. The second I pulled it open, Don Mooney came barreling into the house. He almost knocked me flat. “Pastor D-vine!” he shouted.

Dad shot up from the table. “What is it, Don?”

“Pastor D-vine, come here quick. You have to see.”

“What’s going on?”

“There’s blood. Blood all over the porch.”

“What?” Dad flew out the door, and I followed. There was blood—a small pool of it on the porch step and several drops around it.

“I thought maybe one of you was hurt,” Don said. “Maybe the monster—”

“We’re all fine,” Dad said.

I followed Dad as he followed the trail of blood. Our porch wrapped around the side of the house, and so did the trail—little red gems of blood instead of bread crumbs. It led to the outside of the study’s open window. There was a spattering of blood there, like someone had shaken a wounded hand. Or paw. Dad crouched to inspect the mess. I looked inside the study. James’s Portacrib was on its side next to my father’s disheveled desk.

“Mom!” I whirled around, almost smacking into Daniel, who was suddenly behind me. “Mom, where’s Baby James?” I couldn’t remember him being at dinner.

“He’s still asleep,” Mom said. She’d appeared on the porch with most of the dinner crew. “I’m surprised he didn’t wake up with all that racket….” She looked at the blood at her feet. Her face went white. She bolted into the house.

Dad, Carol, and Charity followed. I didn’t have to. Mom’s screams were enough to confirm my fears.

Daniel inspected the window frame. “Was the screen missing before?”

“Yes. Jude broke it out a couple of months ago. We locked ourselves out of the house. No one knew how to fix it.”

Mom’s voice grew shriller from the other side of the window. Dad tried to calm her.

“Perhaps James wandered off,” old Leroy said. “Everyone, let’s go search the yard.” Leroy hobbled off the porch. “James?” he shouted as he went around to the back.

Pete and April followed.

Dr. Connors, Mom’s friend from the clinic, handed his tiny baby daughter to his wife. “Stay here. I’ll go down the lane.” He and most of our other guests fanned out into the yard. They all shouted for James.

“Do you think it was the monster, Miss Grace?” Don asked. “If only I had my knife … I could kill it … hunt it down like my great-great-granddad.”

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” I said.

Daniel winced. He’d found the nail I’d almost snagged myself on earlier. His finger was stained with blood—but not his. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. He closed his eyes, as if to think, and smelled the blood again.

Don made a blubbering noise. He sounded just like my mom.

“Is there anywhere James loves to go?” Daniel asked me.

“I don’t know. He really likes the horses at the MacArthurs’ stables.”

“Don,” Daniel said. “Go get as many people as you can and search the route toward the MacArthurs’ farm.”

I knew I should go, too, but I waited for Daniel.

He wiped the blood on his sleeve. “Pastor,” he called into the open window.

Dad held Mom to his chest. “He’ll be okay,” he said, and cradled the back of her head with his hand.

Mom was usually so on top of things. Seeing her act so helpless made me shake with anxiety.

“Pastor,” Daniel said.

Dad glanced at us. “One of you go call the police. They’ll organize a search party.” I started to move.

Daniel grabbed my arm. “No.” He looked at my dad. “The police can’t help us.” Mom whimpered.

Daniel let go of my arm. “I’ll find him for you.”

Dad nodded. “Go.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN

Revelations





INTO THE WOODS




Daniel launched himself over the porch railing and flew around to the backyard. I stumbled down the steps and went after him. Pete and Leroy inspected the wood fence Dad had had installed after Daisy was killed. It shielded our yard from the encroaching woods. Daniel stopped where the fence ended in a narrow gap. It was the same section that blew down whenever there was a windstorm like the one this morning. He scanned the ground as if searching for tracks. I didn’t see any.

Daniel squeezed through the gap. “Go help Don search the way to the MacArthurs’,” he said through the fence. It sounded like a blanket order to all three of us.

I started after Daniel. “Grace?” Pete asked.

“Go call the shelter,” I said. “Tell them to send Jude home as soon as he gets there. Then take Leroy and help Don.” Pete nodded.

I slipped through the fence.

Daniel was up ahead. He scratched at the dirt near the hiking path we used to explore as children. I rubbed my arms for warmth, wishing I’d grabbed my coat. My thin sweater and cotton slacks would have to do.

“You really think he’s in the woods?” I asked.