Cruel World(78)
Rain dribbled off the broken glass hanging from the window. The bedframe was flipped on its side and a full-length mirror was in pieces on the floor. The sleeping bag and blankets were a tangled mess.
The woman was gone.
“What the hell?” Alice said, coming in behind him. She crossed to the window and looked down. “She’s gone.”
Quinn knelt beside the bedding and inhaled. The stink was low, ventilated by the fresh air and rain, but there. The blankets were wet, the floor around them slick with fluid. His heart began to hammer. He raised his eyes to meet Alice’s.
“What?” she said.
Glass broke downstairs.
Ty screamed.
Chapter 17
The Hollow Hope
Ty’s scream fell and then rose again, a klaxon of terror.
Alice shouted something, but he was already moving, vaulting over the railing, air shrieking past him as he landed ten stairs down, tripping and falling the rest of the way. Quinn rolled to his feet, his ankle and shoulder burning but he barely noticed. He jerked the XDM from its holster and pelted down the hallway before bursting into the sitting room.
A stilt was leaning through the broken window that faced the front yard. A thin arm outstretched and beginning to retract, its grotesque hand gripping Ty around both legs. The boy held tight to the back of the loveseat, which was almost tipping over. The monster’s eyes, so human they were startling, found him in the doorway, and a snarl split its lips revealing gray teeth.
Quinn centered the handgun on its face and pulled the trigger as it yanked hard on Ty’s legs.
The shot cut the air where the thing’s head had been, tearing out a chunk of window trim in a spray of splinters. The bullfrog sound gurgled from its throat but still it kept its hold on Ty’s legs as it dragged him across the room toward the window. Quinn leapt forward and caught hold of the stilt’s wrist, shoving the barrel against its forearm. He yanked the trigger again.
The bullet tore through the pale flesh and buried itself into the floor. An inhuman cry ripped from the stilt’s throat, and it released Ty before smashing a fist the size of an ice-cream pail into Quinn’s shoulder. The blow knocked him off balance and he fell, bits of glass sinking into his palm. Then Alice was there, scooping Ty up from where he lay whimpering on the floor and racing out of the room. Quinn gained his feet and peered through the open window, arms outstretched, gun shaking in bloodied hands.
The rain fell on the empty yard.
It was gone.
The air in Quinn’s lungs was acid, burning with each breath. His eyes flitted between the Tahoe and the trees, then to the other side of the yard. He moved into the hallway and jerked the front door open, leading with the XDM.
Rain soaked the top of his head and then his shoulders as he stepped outside. It was cold and he shivered, turning toward the nearest corner of the house. Nothing. Sweeping back the other way, he stepped down from the stoop, blinking against the water running in his eyes. Below the shattered window was a pool of blood that led away around the far side of the house. Quinn followed it, its path beginning to run pink in the onslaught of rain. Thunder shook the air as he lunged around the corner, finger tight on the trigger, and nearly fired at a solitary birch tree, its narrow arms outstretched toward him. He swung the pistol left, then right, moving forward, his eyes darting down to the blood trail. A scratching sound came from the rear of the house and he broke into a run.
It was trying to get inside again.
Trying to get at Alice and Ty.
He rounded the corner and slid to a stop. The rain coated the yard in a wet sheen, muddying the little dirt path that led to the back door, which was shut. Quinn glanced down, finding the dollops of red, almost black in the dim light. He followed it around the next corner where it ended in a small pool. There was no blood trail continuing on. It simply ended. He turned back the way he’d come, panning the tree line. Where had it gone? It couldn’t have gotten by him, not without him seeing it. He spun in a circle, glancing down at the pool near his feet, its crimson depths popping with each raindrop falling from above.
Above.
A cold, twisting fist clutched within his stomach, and the hairs on the back of his neck stiffened.
He pivoted and brought the XDM up as the stilt dropped down at him from the rooftop. The gun boomed as the creature’s weight slammed into him. His shoulders connected with the earth, and it felt as if he’d fallen from a much greater height. The XDM’s blood-slicked grip sprung from his hand. The stilt had fallen forward when it landed and was rolling to its feet when he lifted his head. It screamed again, its voice deep with hard edges that made his eardrums quiver.
Joe Hart's Books
- Blow Fly (Kay Scarpetta #12)
- The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery
- Visions (Cainsville #2)
- The Scribe
- I Do the Boss (Managing the Bosses Series, #5)
- Good Bait (DCI Karen Shields #1)
- The Masked City (The Invisible Library #2)
- Still Waters (Charlie Resnick #9)
- Flesh & Bone (Rot & Ruin, #3)
- Dust & Decay (Rot & Ruin, #2)