Shade

When I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need

Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o’er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.”

 

-- John Milton

 

Prologue

 

A moonlit night. Silver-frosted shadows frozen in the stillness of an early Minnesota fall. A weathered farmhouse looms over a fog-cloaked bog, leaking soft candlelight from a second-story window. Flickering silhouettes beat against the window panes. Clacks and sharp cries, injecting the silence with echoes of ringing pain.

Rising out of the mist, a dark shadow rolls through the clearing. Blotting out the farmhouse. Obscuring the moon.

 

“Recite the Gateway Prophecy. Now!” A hooded man swung a staff in a sweeping arc toward a young boy's face.

“`The ancient enemy–’” the boy ducked and hopped backward on feet bound together with new hemp rope—“`–in the last dark days of hunt shall rise up to destroy the Standing.’” The boy twisted his staff upward, deflecting the next blow in one fluid motion that circled his staff beneath his master’s defense. “`Only the long-awaited shall stand.’”

The man sprang back, spun around and swept at the boy's feet, but the boy leaped into the air even as he brought his staff down on the man's shoulder, pulling back on the blow an instant before impact.

“Good!” The old man smiled against the strain of another swing.

“`By becoming the enemy, he shall shield the world from the enemy’s dark–’” The boy flinched, just managing to parry the next blow. He shuddered as a cold shiver crawled up his spine. Something…something dark…touched his mind like a foul stench.

“What is wrong, child? You’ve dropped your guard.”

The boy frowned up at his beloved master. “Do you not feel it?”

“Feel what? Are you ill?”

“I don’t know. It’s awful–wicked!”

“Don’t use slang with me, boy. If it’s wickedness you feel, you need look no further than yoursel—” A rasping gurgle choked off the old man’s voice. His eyes rolled back, then clamped shut until the creases surrounding them showed white against blood-red skin. Veins bulged at his neck as his lips drew back from his teeth in a piercing scream.

“Evil!” The man’s howl echoed around them as he smashed his staff into the boy’s shoulder, knocking him to the floor. 

The boy tried to roll to his feet, but the force of the blow left him stunned. The air around him swirled with rage. A deep, dark unquenchable hunger.

“Pay attention, foundling!” The old man glared down at him, his face twisted into a mask of loathing and disgust. “Think you get a second chance with It?” The master swung his weapon down upon the boy’s now upheld staff. “Never underestimate its capacity for evil.” The staff struck again, sending pain radiating through the boy’s arms. “No atrocity is ever too small. Too twisted. Too profane!”

Again and again he rained blows down upon the boy’s staff until it splintered in his aching hands. The boy rolled to the side, dimly aware of a sharp smack inches away from his ear. Springing to his feet, he hopped to the window and dove at it headfirst.

But the window mullions were too heavy.

With a sickening crunch he bounced off the window and sank to the floor.

A crash sounded above his head. The spray of glass and splintered wood. Shielding his eyes with his hands, he pushed onto his feet. “Master, please. I don’t under—”

Pain exploded in his arm as a powerful blow knocked him back through the jagged window. Icy darkness. The shriek of howling wind. He hit the ground with a soul jarring thud.

Pain.

Glorious, wonderful, delicious pain!

Every heartbeat, every movement that convulsed his body with searing fire was answered with surges of perverse pleasure. Lying in the weeds, curled around his throbbing arm, a dark presence pressed down on him, rose up within him.  

The sound of a slamming door broke him free from the nightmare’s grip. He struggled to his feet, but tripped on the rope and toppled back to the ground. A dark shadow, invisible to the eyes but chilling to the soul, passed over him as he lay on his side fighting with his good hand to work the rope over his bare feet. 

A low growl rumbled in the night. Feet free at last, the boy rose to a crouch and searched the swirling darkness. The sound… it was all around him. Everywhere, nowhere, filling his mind, his soul, the spaces in between.

The angry voice of his master lashed out at him from the front of the house. The boy sprang to his feet and fled for the barn. Leaping against the bolted door, he attempted to run up its reinforced surface, but slipped and crashed back to the ground.

Risking a backward glance at his approaching master, he took a deep breath, and then, his right arm dangling, picked his way up the exterior braces of the door. He jumped out into space, twisting in the air to catch with one hand the rope that dangled from the loft beam overhead. He clung desperately to the rope, wrapping his legs and feet around it as he squirmed his way toward the overhanging beam.

A dark, rumbling growl filled the night, freezing him where he clung. A sharp cry of agony followed by a rasping wheeze. Wave upon wave of unholy exultation battered him as he clung, trembling, to the rope. He looked down at the twisted shadow on the ground, but even without seeing, he knew.

His master was gone.

The steady, familiar presence had disappeared. For the first time in his life, he was alone.

A blurred, man-shaped shadow moved toward him. The hazy figure flickered like a moth beating erratically against the light. Hunger. A dark terrible longing. Invisible eyes locked onto him. An irresistible tug on his soul. He was hungry. So very hungry. There was no escape. Weariness sang through him. Despair. Surrender. He had to give up. Climb down. He moved to lower himself down the rope…

Searing pain exploded in his right arm. The boy cried out, blinking into the night as if waking from a nightmare. His fingers tightened and he clung to the rope for his life. The dark presence reached toward him from below, but he didn't look down.

Relax. Release the rope. All will be well.

“No!” Scrambling blindly against the tears and pain, heedless of the crashing of the barn door and the roar that echoed in his mind, he pulled himself onto the overhanging beam.

He couldn’t escape. Mustn’t.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped out onto the practice cable that stretched between the barn and the old farmhouse.

He couldn’t do it. It was too dark. He was weak, cowardly, full of loathsome sin.

Fixing his eyes on the light from the second-story window, he took a faltering step, feeling for the thin cable with his bare feet.

He was going to fall. He’d never practiced in the dark.

A jolt passed through the cable and rattled in his mind like a thunder clap.

And then he ran.

Across the cable, over the rooftop, down the trellis. Through field after field after screaming, shrieking field, he ran. Through the night and long into the morning until exhaustion left him panting in his sleep, cradling his arm in the fork of a tree in front of a small Minnesota farmhouse.

 

Chapter 1

Melchizadek

 

A tear ran down Melchi’s cheek, losing itself in the curl of his wild beard. He had found his dear friend Telemakhos, but not the way he had hoped. Crouching at the edge of the >graveled trail, he pulled the well-worn copy of The Odyssey out of the mud.

He knew he should be grateful to recover his book at all, but the cover was so muddy and torn… it was difficult to conjure up the appropriate feelings of gratitude. He dabbed at the mud with the dusty sleeve of his tattered overcoat and slid the book into the duct-taped pocket of his innermost jacket.

Now if he could just find his other treasures… He searched the area in an ever-expanding circle. Twenty yards ahead a patch of white caught his eye. His Reader’s Digest family! He ran up the trail and retrieved the ragged magazine clipping from a tangle of dusty ivy. Smoothing the picture across his thigh, he drank in the image of two laughing parents pushing their daughter on a swing. At least it had escaped the mud. He leaped to his feet and continued searching until he found a white corner protruding from a puddle. Just beyond that a half dozen newspaper clippings clung to a thicket of tall weeds.

He reached down with a sigh and pulled the old Polaroid free of the water. Miss Lila had given him the photograph after he helped load her things onto the moving truck. He wiped the picture on the cleanest part of his sleeve and inspected the likeness of the kindly old lady. Not too bad, considering. If he could just find his backpack, he’d be okay. It would take forever to find another one. People hardly ever threw out backpacks.

Melchi gathered the newspaper clippings and arranged them by date. A few of them were missing, but that didn’t matter. He still had the last three:  “Three Homeless Found Mutilated,” “Sunset Teen Still Missing,” “New Evidence in Golden Gate Murders.”

Turning to make sure he was still alone, he rolled up the wad of clippings and stuffed them into the lining of his inner jacket. Then he sprang to his feet and took off down the trail, searching from side to side as he ran. At every intersection he dropped onto all fours and searched for fresh disturbances in the sand. The thief was almost certainly following the path to Stanyan Park, but Melchi couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Halfway to Stanyan, Melchi finally found what he was looking for. A complete set of footprints. His thief was definitely another homeless. A man, from the size of the prints. He wore two different types of boots: the left sole was worn and smooth, like a cowboy boot, while the right sole had a shallow wavy tread. Most likely a hiking boot. And yes, his homeless was headed toward Stanyan Park. Either he was one of the crazies, or he was a long-timer. Either way, for him to risk stealing from another homeless, he was probably in pretty bad shape.

Melchi sprinted down the trail with long, ground eating strides. When the long-timer’s section of Stanyan Park came into view, he slowed to a less conspicuous pace and made for a cluster of homeless men lolling in the shade of a large pine tree. He’d seen most of them before, but that didn’t mean anything. The homeless kept pretty much to themselves. He didn’t really know any of them.

One of the men, a snake-faced Caucasian with long greasy black hair, backed away at Melchi’s approach. Melchi raised himself to his full height and stepped closer, intentionally invading his space. The man’s eyes went wide, and he fell back onto the ground, revealing a pair of matching athletic shoes. Melchi turned back to the others and stared down at their feet. They all shifted, and a few mumbled, but that was only natural. He towered head-and-shoulders above even the tallest of them. Unfortunately, none of them displayed the furtive, down-turned eyes of a guilty conscience. And none of them were wearing mismatched boots.

Melchi walked past the men and turned toward the fashionable section of the park, across from the McDonald's. He didn’t expect to find his homeless playing hackey-sack, but there were still a lot of commuters out. The thief could be working the sidewalks to pay for his next meal.

Melchi was halfway across the park when he noticed a covered shopping cart sitting by a clump of wind-swept trees. Among the trees, wrapped in an old blanket, lay an old man. Melchi recognized his own wool blanket even before he saw the mismatched boots on the old man’s feet. This was his homeless–the man who threw his dear Telemakhos into the mud. The man who stole the best pack he ever owned.

Melchi marched up to the man and spoke in a deep grating voice. “I have come for my pack.”

The man didn’t move.

“I have come for my pack.” Melchi reached out and shook the sleeping man.

The old-timer sputtered and opened his eyes.

“I have come for my pack.”

The man’s eyes went suddenly wide. With fluttering, trembling limbs, he staggered to his feet and stumbled toward his cart. “Didn’t know. Didn’t know it was you.” He reached a shaking hand behind him and rummaged under the tarp. “Thought it belonged to nobody. Didn’t know...” The man pulled out the battered nylon backpack and thrust it forward, cringing behind it as if it were a shield. “Thought it was nobody’s. Nobody at all…”

Melchi took the bag and pulled back on the zipper. It was still there! He took out a bundle and shucked off one plastic bag after another until he came to a small hard-covered book. Relief so powerful it made his hands tremble surged through him.

He had his Milton back, and it was perfect.

Then Melchi frowned. “Where is the spray bottle? It is very important.”

“Didn’t know. Nobody… Didn’t know it was you...” The old man turned and started pulling things from the shopping cart. Crumpled trash bags, twisted knots of clothing, clumps of soggy fast-food wrappers…

“About as big as my hand, a white spray bottle, full of clear liquid.”

Finally the man pulled out a spray bottle and turned to show Melchi.

“Did you use any of it? Did you get any of the liquid on your skin?”

The man shrank back against the cart. “I didn’t know. I didn’t. Didn’t know...”

Melchi took the bottle and held it up to the light. It was still full. Maybe all would be well, after all. He reached down and retrieved his blanket from the ground. Then, wrapping his Milton back in the plastic bags, he folded his blanket around it and slipped the whole bundle back into his pack.

“Taking the backpack was wrong. Do you understand?  Beware the curse:  ‘For every one that stealeth shall be cut off as on this side.’” Melchi watched as the man went back to digging in his cart. Apparently the import of his words were lost on the man. He stood already too close to the veil.

“I am sorry.” Melchi bowed his head and turned to walk back to Golden Gate Park. The man was still murmuring to himself as Melchi crossed the street and broke into a jog.

Half a day! He’d wasted half a day tracking down his backpack. Half a day he could have been inspecting graveyards, searching for underground vaults or mausoleums, hidden gateways to the great interdimensional beyond. There would be no time tonight. He hadn’t visited the roof of the mental hospital for days. Tonight was supposed to be his night for a stake out.

He pulled his Telemakhos out of his pocket and thumbed through its well-worn pages. The text was still readable, but the cover was a mess. He’d need a clean cloth to remove the mud. And if he didn’t repair the tears soon, the whole front cover might fall o.

Besides, he hadn’t seen the Booklady in two days. She might need some help with boxes. And he was so… he might as well admit it. He was hungry and she would probably offer him something to eat.

A visit to the Booklady would be selfish and totally irresponsible, but he was so tired. He hadn’t slept since yesterday morning, and then only for a few hours. Would it hurt so much to take a break? Just a few minutes, and then he would sprint the distance to the mental hospital. It would hardly take any time at all.

Melchi looked up at the setting sun. If today were Tuesday, he would have to get there fast. He broke into an all-out run and sped across a hard-packed trail. Without breaking stride, he hurdled a four-foot oleander and weaved through a stand of evergreens until he reached a towering cedar.

Leaping into the air, he grabbed a high branch and pulled himself up and over in a single, fluid motion. Then, racing like a squirrel through the branches of the tree, he came to a heavy rope stretched between the cedar and an enormous eucalyptus twenty feet away. He scanned the forest floor below and then stepped out onto the rope and walked quickly across it to a rope mesh platform woven between two large branches.

No time for a ceremony. He grabbed the knotted string of a blackened silver medallion and slipped it over his head. Then, digging inside a canvas duffel bag, he brought out a handful of sharpened stakes and tucked them into his overcoat pocket as he felt his way back across the tightrope. He plummeted down the tree in a barely controlled free-fall and hit the ground with a smack.

Tuesday nights the Booklady went home early. He hoped it wasn’t Tuesday.

One eye on the dying sun, he swerved and dodged and ducked his way through the park to burst out onto the city streets at a full run.

He slowed to a walk before reaching the Booklady’s store and smoothed back the tangles of his wild hair, using his fingers as a crude comb. A yellow light shone from the part of the window that wasn’t covered by shelves. Warmth and comfort and light. Delicious. His mouth was already watering. Maybe if she still hadn’t eaten...

No! Melchi swallowed and turned away from the shop. The Booklady had given him food two nights ago. He had no right to expect more.

He was being selfish, carnally self-indulgent. He started to step away from the building, but the staccato clack of high heels brought him up short. Somewhere ahead of them, a woman was walking through the semi-darkness. For all he knew, she could be a Standing, walking alone and unprotected into the clutches of the eternal enemy. No, she wasn’t alone. He could just make out the soft scrape of another pair of feet. A man, judging by his weight – probably wearing athletic shoes. The woman would be fine.

Brushing his hair away from his eyes, Melchi glanced back at the book store. How could he even think of delaying? He still hadn’t checked the morgue, and then there were the rooftops, and the disappearance of the sixteen year old boy…

But he was tired and Telemakhos was torn. He listened as the taps of the lady’s shoes faded into the distance. No, he had to try. How would he feel if someone else were killed while he indulged his flesh? He would check out the rooftops first and spend the rest of the night at the mental hospital.

“Well?” The Booklady’s gravelly voice sounded from within the store. “Are you going to come in or am I going to have to bring your supper out to you?”

He froze where he stood. “I am sorry to disturb you. It is me, Melchi.” Was he not obligated to enter now? Out of respect for his elder? Perhaps, if he only stayed a little while… What could thirty minutes possibly hurt?

A bell clanged as he tugged on the weathered door. Just like a real home. He ducked beneath the doorway and turned sideways to squeeze between the overloaded book shelves on either side of the entrance. The air was heavy with stale cigarette smoke and the musty smell of old books. So inviting. Deliciously warm. He stood with bowed head before the Booklady’s cluttered counter, shuffling his feet as he waited for her to look up from the books spread open before her.

The Booklady slid her reading glasses up onto her head, and pushed a straggle of gray hair behind her ears. “In the mood for some fried chicken? I’ve got mashed potatoes too. Made ‘em myself. Hungry?”

“I am fine. Thank you. It is good of you to offer, but you must not feel like you have to give me food every time I visit. You do too much as it is.”

“Hmmph. I’m hungry. I’ve been waiting for you all day. Thought you were going to come yesterday.”

“I am sorry. I—”

“I didn’t eat until 7:30, but that’s all right. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your time than visit with a grouchy old lady.”

“No, that is not it at all. I love being here. You are the best friend I have.”

“Hmmph.” The Booklady smiled severely and lit a cigarette. “Too bad you’re not hungry. There’s too much for just me. I guess I’ll just have to throw most of it away.”

“Well, I guess I could eat a little. If you really have enough.”

“If I really have enough? Hmmph.” The Booklady reached under the counter and pulled out a large box of chicken. “Think I can eat all this myself?” Her features softened as Melchi stepped closer and examined the contents of the box. “Come on, boy, help yourself. I’ll get us forks for the potatoes.”

Melchi took a small chicken leg and moved behind the counter to his spot on the floor. He knelt, holding the chicken upright before him like a candle, and whispered a short prayer. “Holy One, for your over-generous providence, for your abundant kindness and mercy we give Thee thanks. Amen.”  When he opened his eyes, the Booklady stood over him with a Tupperware bowl full of mashed potatoes.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten, Melchi?”

He looked down at the floor. His ears beginning to burn.

“I thought so. I was only asking because—” she plopped a dollop of potatoes on a paper plate and put it on the floor in front of him—“because, I don’t know. I just wish you would come by more often. I don’t get much company, you know.”

“I am sorry. I don’t wish to presume upon your generosity. You do too much as it is. I have nothing to offer in return.”

“Fiddlesticks! You clean the shop. You unload the truck and arrange the books. I should be paying you, you know. If the IRS ever found out about you, they’d slap my butt in jail for violating labor laws.”

Melchi twisted to sit cross-legged next to her chair and looked up at the shopkeeper with a grin.

“So eat now! The chicken’s already cold, if that’s what you’re waiting on.” The Booklady put three more pieces of chicken on his plate and nibbled at her own piece.

Melchi gobbled down the chicken, trying his best to be appropriately thankful. It was very good. Perfect. He tried to think of something to say, but words failed him. The warmth of the bookstore; the rich, salty chicken; the creamy, peppery potatoes. It was too much. He could only look up at the Booklady and hope she would understand how much more he wanted his piteously inadequate thank-yous to convey. She picked at her food and gazed down on him with that pinched little smile.

For all of Melchi’s size, he could never eat very much at one time. When the meal was over, the Booklady gave him a damp paper towel for his hands and then took up her book and started reading. Melchi pulled his overcoat and backpack off and then took his copy of The Two Towers from one of the shelves. He opened it to his place and sat back down in his spot by the Booklady’s chair.

He drank in the heady words, savoring them as he had the chicken. Delicious...

A gentle touch brushed across his hair. Melchi went rigid, not sure what to do. Another touch sent an electric jolt prickling down his neck. She was combing his hair. He should do something. It had to be wrong. He would be marime.

Unclean.

He knew he should leave, but he couldn’t. He sat, transfixed, drinking in the strange sensations. It was so… wonderful. If only it could last forever. He turned his head away to hide the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

This was what it meant to have a mother.

 

Chapter 2

Hailey

 

Chocolate. Hailey opened her eyes slowly, squinting against the glaring light of Tiffany’s shabby-chic lamp. The rich smell of chocolate tickled at the back of her brain. Hadn’t she been eating ice cream?

Jerking suddenly awake, she grabbed at the sticky container of Häagen Dazs on her lap. Great… Just great! It had tipped over while she slept, leaving a chocolaty smile on her sweatshirt. She sucked tentatively at the stain and climbed to her feet to inspect the damage. A large brown blob stood out against the off-white fabric. The sofa looked like one of her old neighbor’s Holsteins. Tiffany was going to have a Rocky-Road meltdown.

The soft scrape of footsteps sounded at the door. Hailey whirled around. The sound of a muffled voice. A male voice…

God, please… Not again! Glancing around the living room, she flipped over the sofa cushion and stuffed the ice-cream container under the coffee table. Then, gathering up a stack of photocopied journal articles, she ran toward the stairs.

The deadbolt slid back with a snap.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Her roommate’s slurred voice shamed Hailey into stopping. “Barely. I’m on my way to bed right now. G’night, Tiff.” Hailey started up the stairs without turning around.

“Come on, silly. It’s Friday night. You gotta stop working sometime. Besides, I got someone I want you to meet.”

Hailey brushed back her hair and wiped a sleeve across her mouth before turning around. Not just one, but two guys stood in the doorway. Hailey couldn’t believe it. Her roommate had the morals of an alley cat, but this...

Then she noticed how tall the redhead was. So that’s what her roommate was up to.

Tiffany tugged on the redhead’s arm, but the shorter guy stepped in front of them. He looked part Asian, with that silky black hair and those soft, handsome features.

“Hi, I’m Louie. Glad to meet you. Tiff’s told me all about you.”

Hailey shook his hand, careful not to fall into her habitual slouch. “Hi Louie. Good to meet you too. A minute later and we’d have met in... I mean, well, if you’d have gotten here a minute later, I’d have been in…” Hailey cast a longing look up the stairs. So much for being smooth. “Look, I have to get up really early in the morning.”

“Sorry about that. Tiff said you were a night owl, and well… here we are.”

“That’s okay.” She grimaced as the words escaped her lips. Why couldn’t she just tell them to go away? Tiff never worried about being rude.

Said roomie pulled the lanky redhead forward and took Louie possessively by the arm. “Hailey, I want you to meet Mark. Mark, this is Hailey.”

Mark reached out to take Hailey’s hand.

“Mark’s a scientist kinda doctor, and you’re a doctor kinda scientist, right? You’re both brains and must have tons and tons in common.”

Like we’re both skyscrapers. Hailey forced a smile and turned to look him in the eye. “Hi Mark. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.”

“Well, my job is done. I’d stay and talk, but I’m sure the conversation would be way above my head.” Tiff let out a dull laugh that clanked like a cowbell flung down a concrete stair. “Louie and I’ll just leave you two scientists to get acquainted.” She ducked under Louie’s arm and pulled him toward the stairs.

“Wait a second.” Hailey moved to block their way. “You haven’t told me… anything about Mark.”

“Yeah, I did. He’s a med student. What more do you need? He’s smart, rich–obviously good looking.”

Hailey forced a smile as the ungainly student shuffled his feet. It wasn’t his fault he’d been dragged into this. He seemed almost nice.

Tiff stepped behind her, making for the stairs. Hailey made one last attempt to halt the invasion. “So what about you, Louie? What do you do?”

“He’s a med student too. But he’s already taken.” Tiff grabbed Louie by the arm, and the two tromped up the stairs.

“But...” Hailey sighed as the couple disappeared from view. She turned and studied her roommate’s idea of a perfect match for her. Mark had a long face and unruly hair. He was easily six foot five. At least she’d be able to wear heels.

“Sorry if that was embarrassing. I shouldn’t have let them talk me into coming. Were you going to bed?”

“Not any more.”

“Oh.” Mark fidgeted with his hands and turned to look around the room. “So… Louie says you’re a scientist. What field?”

“Biochemistry. I’m a third year grad student in Werner’s lab.” Hailey cast one last look up the stairs and trudged over to the sofa. The whole room reeked of chocolate.

“So, what kind of research are you doing? I’m really interested in biochemistry.”

“Mark, there’s something you should know.” She dumped the articles on the coffee table and plopped down on the sofa. “I’m nothing at all like my roommate.”

“Okay.”

“Birds of a feather may flock together, but I’m not a bird and I’m not into flocking. We’re just sharing a room until they finish remodeling my apartment. My real roommate is staying with a friend, and I… I’m babbling like an idiot, aren’t I?”

“No problem.” Mark moved to the sofa and sat down beside her. “I really am interested in biochemistry.”

“Wait until you’ve done it for a while. The interest dims a little when you’re playing personal handmaiden to a billion demanding bacteria.”

“Right…” Mark went back to studying his hands. “So what do you think about the epidemic?” He shifted in his seat, stretching out his arm to rest it on the back of the sofa.

She scooted away from him and pulled her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Hailey?”

“I’m sorry. I—” She glanced back at his arm—“I just realized. I have to go back to the lab. I started a culture this afternoon, and the bugs have been growing a lot faster since I changed their media. It was really good meeting you.” She leaned forward. Come on. Take the hint. Please.

“Right now? I could go with you if you want. You shouldn’t be walking alone—not with all the stuff that’s been happening lately.”

“That’s okay. I do it all the time. One of the hazards of the trade. And I really shouldn’t let you in the lab.”

“Top-secret research, huh?”

“Something like that.” Hailey slid onto the edge of the couch. “I really should get going.”

Mark didn’t move.

“Okay…” Hailey pushed up onto her feet and started across the room.

“I’m going back up the hill anyway, so I might as well come along.” Mark followed her to the door, hovering over her as she fumbled with the deadbolt. “Louie’s probably not going to be leaving any time soon.” He nodded in the direction of the stairs.

Hailey’s face was beginning to glow. She opened the door and pushed out into the cold San Francisco night. A fog-drenched breeze blew icy needles through her sweatshirt. She really should have gone back for a jacket, but all her clothes were in Tiffany’s room.

And she was not going in there.

Pulling her hands inside her sleeves, she hurried up the street. A damp fog hung in the air, muffling the streetlights in a shroud of glowing orange. Mark’s footsteps slapped the sidewalk a few steps behind her. She could hear him huffing and puffing up the steep hill.

“So what do you think about the epidemic? Think it could be caused by prions?” Mark pulled even with her, blowing on his hands.

“What epidemic? What are you talking about?”

“Sudden onset dementia.” He drew out the words like a waiter at a froofy restaurant. “Three cases in the last two weeks—all of them from the Sunset district.”

“Three cases don’t exactly make an epidemic.”

“Maybe, but we think they may have had contact with each other. And Frates called in Prusiner for a consultation. All the interns have all been talking about it.”

“A new form of Mad Cow disease?”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe not.” Hailey didn’t put much stock in the UCSF rumor mill. All the same, she wished she’d sent back the burger she’d gotten at Deli Nine. It had been awfully rare.

A tremor of nausea shuddered through her body. She stopped and searched the darkness. Her back and arms tingled with the chill of cold sweat. Sensations of overwhelming dread crawled up her spine. What was going on?

She was shaking from head to foot.

“Are you okay?” All of a sudden Mark was in front of her, staring into her face. “Hailey?”

“Huh? Yeah, okay. Fine.” As suddenly as they had appeared, the strange sensations passed, leaving her weak and trembling. “Just thinking about a hamburger I probably shouldn’t have eaten.” Hailey took a deep breath and started walking. Speaking of hamburgers, she was starting to get hungry. Very hungry. She wanted so much to—what?

She shuddered and quickened her pace. Turning into the entrance of the UCSF parking garage, she passed through a dimly lit corridor between two sets of bike cages. She stared at the convex safety mirror mounted at the end of the passage. Funny, she had never noticed the mirror before. She couldn’t see anybody near the elevator, which should have comforted her. Instead, it only made her more uneasy. When she got to the elevators, she pressed the “up” button and waited. Was Mark planning to follow her up?

The elevator opened with a ding, and Mark stepped in front of her. He reached around her to hold the door, brushing her back with his arm. Hailey stumbled inside and hit the button for the top floor. Slumping against the back wall, she watched the display above the doors light their upward progress.

“You know, I bet this is the only place in the world where you can get in at the ground floor, go up ten floors and walk out of the building on ground level.” Mark licked his lips and smiled.

“Go up nine floors, you mean.” Hailey kept her eyes on the level indicator, willing the elevator to go faster.

“No, you’re forgetting the stairs. The elevators go to level i and then we have to take the stairs up a level to get to the Parnassus street entrance.”

The elevator doors opened and Hailey stepped out with Mark right behind.

“Right, there are ten floors total, but we only go up nine.” Hailey turned back to see a frown on Mark’s face and then jogged up the stairs two at a time. Before he could catch up with her, she pushed through the doors and turned to wave. “Bye, Mark. Thanks for the walk!”

She ran across the street and up the steps of the science building, digging in her pocket for her keys. Unlocking the heavy glass door, she turned just enough as she pulled it open to assure herself Mark wasn’t still following.

The door closed behind her with a sigh. Hailey shivered. A chill brushed across her mind, leaving behind the disturbing aftertaste of decay and wet rat. She hurried toward the elevators, fighting the urge to break into a run. Hollow footsteps echoed loud and lonely in the empty marble hallway. Stepping into a waiting elevator, she punched the ninth floor button and leaned back against the wall. The door shut with a clank, sealing her in.

“Stupid! How could I have been so stupid!” She blurted out at the elevator ceiling. “I can’t believe I did it again. He wasn’t so bad. I can’t—”

The elevator opened onto the ninth floor and Hailey fell suddenly silent. The floor was quiet as a tomb. What was she doing there anyway? What was wrong with her?

Hailey lunged forward to escape the closing doors. Walking through the halls, the swish of her jeans, the tap of her shoes, the wheeze of her breathing—everything seemed to shout her arrival.

She held her keys with both hands to keep them from jingling as she eased the key into the lock and opened the door of the lab. The room was dark. Where was everybody? She turned the lights on and checked her watch. It was only 12:30.

She circled the room, glancing behind each lab bench before returning to her desk. Digging in the bottom drawer, she came up with a granola bar and wolfed it down. She reached for another one, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She was hungry, but not for granola.

Sliding the desk drawer silently back into place, she cast a wary glance at the door.

“This is stupid!” she hissed. “Check the stupid bugs and get your stupid self home to bed where you belong.” She stopped the shaker bath and pulled out a flask. The medium was already milky. She should check their optical density, but...

A burning sensation rumbled up her spine and into her brain, erupting in fiery plume of rage.

Forget it! She could start another stupid culture tomorrow. She hated having her life ruled by bacteria. She hated spectrophotometers; she hated the whole stupid lab, the whole stupid school!

She screamed and flung the flask at the floor. It burst into a blossom of jagged-edged liquid. Kicking a glass shard into the wall, she pushed her way out of the room.

Hunger welled in her chest, churning, raging, beating at the walls of her sanity. She started to run, but the floor teetered beneath her feet, throwing her sideways against the wall. Anger exploded in her mind, filling her, surrounding her, flowing through her.

A soft tapping sound stabbed through her senses like a honed knife. Something was behind her. She could feel it watching her, feel its hunger. Hailey tried to turn, but her muscles wouldn’t respond. A will, stronger than her own, bound her. Steel bands, cutting into her muscles, pressing in on her chest until she couldn’t breathe.

Shaking with the effort, she pushed herself away from the wall. The hallway before her dimmed and then separated as another image invaded her vision.

The image of herself as seen from behind.

A ragged scream erupted from her lips. She tottered forward—just enough to keep herself from falling—then, propelled by an explosion of fury, she broke into an all-out run. Down the hallway, past the elevators, through the stairwell door. Leaping down the stairs a quarter flight at a time, her screams punctuated only by sobbing breaths, Hailey spiraled downward. Half-jumping, half-falling, she plummeted toward the first floor.

There’s no escape. There can never be escape!

She burst through a set of steel doors at the bottom of the stairs and stumbled out into the moonlit darkness. A construction sign stood by a roped-off sidewalk. Ripping the temporary sign out of the ground, she jammed its metal post through the two door handles and yanked down on the end to bend it into place.

A low rumble sounded on the other side of the door. She backed away, screaming. It was coming for her. She could feel it seeping through the doors! She turned and ran for the campus security office. Mr. Hemphill was on duty. He’d be able to help. He had to be on duty.

A wave of nausea bent her double, sending her crashing into a parked car. She rolled over and over across the cold cement, clawing at the foul presence that enveloped her. Putrid. Slimy. She felt it slithering into her mind. She was worthless trash. Rotten. Unspeakably dirty.

Yes, go to campus security. Honey-sweet words oozed through her brain. Go to campus security. Go and wait.

“No!” Hailey sprang to her feet and charged down the street. Shrieking, screaming, clawing and scratching at the voices swirling in her head, she bounded down the hill. Darkness. She needed someplace to hide. Her shouts turned to whimpering sobs as she willed herself to calm. She had to focus, think through her options. Tiffany’s apartment? A stranger’s?

Making for the lit doorway of the closest townhouse, she scrambled up the concrete steps and jabbed at a glowing doorbell. Come on. Answer the door! The rage was starting to come back. With one last shake of the door handle she turned and fled back down the sidewalk.

A wall of darkness rose up before her at the end of the road. Golden Gate Park. She ran out into the street bordering the park and waved her arms. Where were all the cars? The road was always busy. Always. Did they know something she didn’t? White-hot fury erupted inside of her. They hated her. The whole stupid world wanted to see her dead.

No! Hailey shook herself, tried to clear her mind. She stumbled across the street and leaped over the ditch. The presence knew where she was. Vaulting a low fence, she plunged into the cloying darkness. Tree branches slashed at her face and tore at her arms, but she kept running, zig-zagging back and forth to lose herself in the tangle of vines, limbs, and leaves. If she didn’t know where she was, maybe it wouldn’t either. It was her only chance.

Running until she couldn’t run anymore, Hailey limped to her right and collapsed into a dark thicket.

Calm down. Calm down. She lay in the semi-darkness, hugging her knees to her chest. Throat open. Mouth open. No vocal chords. A remote part of her brain fought for control. She couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked her body, but she had to be quiet. She buried her eyes in her hands, let the rush of her breathing fill her world.

The snap of a twig tugged her back into awareness. Something was moving—a shadow through the trees. She gulped back a swallow of air and fought against burning lungs to quiet her breathing, but still it advanced. Headed straight for her.

Hailey jumped to her feet and started to run, but her foot caught in a tangle and her ankle turned beneath her. She hit the ground hard and rolled onto her back to face her pursuer.

It was a man. And in his hand he brandished a knife.

 

Chapter 3

Melchizadek

 

How could he have been so weak? Melchi carried box after box of books from the supply room and arranged them on the overflowing bookstore shelves.  The few minutes he had allowed the Booklady to touch his hair could well cost him his life. Worse. The life of another. He was marime—unclean. His investigations would have to be postponed until after the duration of his penance. If he survived that long.

But first he had to demonstrate his gratitude. The Booklady had given him food. She left the bookstore late, letting him read much longer than usual. He didn’t have much time.

Taking up his bucket and mop, he scrubbed the floor of the bathroom and then dusted the bookshelves with a feather duster while he waited for the floor to dry.

As he stepped back into the bathroom to clean his mop, a burning sensation tickled at the back of his mind. He leaped across the room and swatted at the light switch, plunging the room in darkness. Clenching his eyes shut, he backed against the bathroom wall as the crushing weight of darkness pressed in on him from all sides.

A silent scream quivered up his spine. He held his hands over his ears, but he couldn’t shut it out. Rage washed through him like water through a saturated sponge. Not tonight. Please, not tonight. Holy One, help me. Please don’t let it hunt tonight.

A tremor snapped his head back, bashing it into the hard edge of the cast-iron sink. Another silent scream. Pain and terror—the cries of a woman…

A child of the Standing.  

Please, no. Melchi crawled out from under the sink. What could he do? He was marime. Besides, he’d never be able to find it in time. If only he hadn’t been so lazy. Ortus always told him it would be his undoing.

Feeling for the bucket of dirty water, Melchi emptied it into the toilet. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. Not only had he spent the night in self-indulgence, but the Booklady had touched his hair. If it found him, it would kill him. And if it found him in the Booklady’s store...

Clamping his eyes shut, he crawled across the floor. Holy One, we thank Thee. Holy One, hide us in Thy almighty hands. He repeated the words over and over, letting them fill his mind, willing them to blot out all awareness of his surroundings. Climbing to his feet at the front door, he pushed it open, and the bell clanged before he thought to grab it.

The cold night air bore down on him with searching eyes. Holy One, hide us. Holy One, hide us. He opened his eyes and fumbled with the lock, imagining he was closing the massive door of a great castle. The dragon was coming; he had to lock the gate. The dragon was coming. He turned and fled into the night, letting the city buildings spin by him in a dark and dreamy blur.

Up a hill, down a street, up another hill, over, across, around, he closed his eyes and flung himself between two parked cars. With burning lungs he pressed himself against the asphalt, letting the cold seep into his bones. A sudden hush fell over the city. Soft, gentle silence. The bookstore was safe. It had to be. Maybe the woman had managed to escape too. He hadn’t felt the exultation of a death cry.

Melchi climbed to his feet and jogged back down the hill toward the park. He didn’t have a choice. He had to reach the safety of his nest. There was nothing else he could do. The Booklady had touched his hair. He was unclean. If it caught him, he was dead.

Safe within the cover of the forest, Melchi started to relax and fell into the rhythm of a slow trot. It was unusually cold out—even for San Francisco. He tried to blank his thoughts and forget himself like Ortus had taught him, but a vague worry gnawed at the corner of his mind.

The scream. The Mulo had found another Standing. If it hurt her, it would be his fault. He was worse than a murderer. The Holy One could never use such a damaged tool. He was so selfish, wretched, vile…

The image of the trembling old-timer leaped into his mind. What if he didn’t have another blanket? Melchi cast the thought aside. Of course he had a blanket. He was a homeless. Blankets were essential.

But what if he had been forced to steal? What if his blanket had been stolen by someone else? Melchi wrestled with the thought, but it wouldn’t go away.

Leaping high into the air, he caught the limb of his cedar and swung himself up to the safety of his nest. He pulled the blanket out of his pack and crushed it to his chest. He didn’t deserve such comfort. How could he even think of sleep after everything he had done?

But he couldn’t go out into the night. He was unclean. If the Mulo found him, it would kill him. Melchi searched for a new argument, but he was already climbing down the tree. The night was too cold.

He couldn’t have another death on his conscience.

 

Hailey

 

Hailey scooted away from the skeletal form of a man standing over her. She looked up, numb, disbelieving, as he sauntered toward her, knife advanced, mumbling and nodding to himself. Working up his nerve.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. A whining, simpering moan sounded in her ears. With a start, she realized it was coming from her. Some detached part of her being rose above her panic and observed the advancing man with shocking emotional flatness. She was supposed to scream, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how. She could only stare like a silent spectator in a dream.

The man reached toward her with the long blade of his knife and slid it slowly under the bottom edge of her sweatshirt. Cold metal touched her skin, shattering her calm like a dropped flask. Her whole being retched as she lost herself in a single, prolonged, soul-tearing scream.

 

Melchi

 

Cold air stung Melchi’s lungs and cleared his head as he bounded down the moonlit street. Vaulting a low fence, he ran through the shielding darkness.

He slunk along a dark path. The man was so old. The pathos in his eyes hit him like a slap to the face. How could he have been so heartless? So selfish? Why couldn’t he do anything right?

A vision filled his mind. The old man lying unprotected on the ground, too spent to shiver against the cold night air. He started to run. Faster. He had to go faster.

A loud scream rocked the night. Melchi skidded to a halt, spinning about in an effort to locate its source. It was a woman’s scream, and it came from nearby.

He plunged through the undergrowth, crossing his arms before his face as he crashed through the tearing branches. It was too dark. There was no way he could find her.

A flash of silver. Ahead and to his left. The vague shadow of a man. Without slowing, Melchi adjusted his course and plowed through the intervening saplings.

The man turned to meet him just before impact. Only then did Melchi see the knife.

 

Hailey

 

A loud crash sounded through the trees. Hailey snapped back into herself. A rescuer! It had to be a rescuer! Her attacker turned to face the noise. He swung the knife around just as a dark figure launched itself straight at him.

The knife flashed as the rescuer whirled up and over her attacker, pulling him down with a sickening snap. An agonizing scream tore through the night.

Hailey sat rigid as a dark shadow rose from the ground. The knife in its hand glinted in the moonlight. Raising it in the air, the shadow launched it spinning into the trees.

The moonlight caught the man’s heavily-bearded face. Hailey gasped, suddenly overwhelmed by a deep abiding sorrow. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at the huge man standing before her.

He stood wide-eyed and stoop-shouldered, staring back at her. He was enormous, and his eyes... She saw herself as in a mirror. She was so beautiful. Painfully, agonizingly beautiful. If only she could—he could?

“No!” Hailey screamed. It was still in her head. He was in her head.

The giant jumped back and searched the clearing with wide, darting eyes. Mouth open wide, chest heaving, he stood at a half-crouch, balanced on the thin edge of indecision. To pounce on her? To dart away? Hailey was afraid to move. She didn’t want to trigger either reaction.

Fear rippled across her spine. The sensation was all too familiar, yet so completely different. Was it her fear or his she felt? Did she feel anything at all?

She stared back at the wild man, not daring to blink. Fingers outspread, head thrust forward, he circled her with intense, probing eyes. Sparkling pools of moonlight. Two shining stars, fixed and certain above her spinning careening world. The stars grew brighter, larger, filling the night with their light.

A gasp tore her eyes from the giant’s. The wiry man had risen from the ground and was charging. Her giant just stood there, mute and staring. Then, in a flash of motion, the charging man went sailing over his head. Across the clearing, crashing into a shadowy hedge.

The giant turned toward the flailing man. “That was bad. Go now and trouble us no more! Stray from the straight and narrow one more time, and I shall surely find you.”

The skinny man cursed and climbed out of the tangle of bushes, hugging his right arm to his body. The giant turned toward Hailey, head bowed and eyes turned downward. Her attacker stood watching him, considering. Then, with an oath he turned away and fled through the surrounding trees. 

“I am sorry,” the big man said at last in a broken, uneven voice. “I did not intend to break his arm. It happened too fast... I didn’t get a chance to...but that’s not an excuse. I should have thought of something else. I am very sorry.”

Hailey stared at the man in front of her, blinking against the distortion of her tears.

“Are you unwell?” He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child.

Hailey nodded her head and tried to stand, but her ankle collapsed beneath her.

The man jumped back, his face distorted with pain.

“No, it’s okay!” Hailey felt herself tossed in a sea of raging emotions. What was happening to her?

“You’re hurt.” The man took a step forward and then stopped. He rocked back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching, staring at the ground, listening, longing...

Hailey forced her eyes away. She had to get a grip. He was just a normal guy. A street person. Something else was going on. Food poisoning maybe? Sudden onset dementia?

Climbing onto her knees, she pushed herself up onto her right foot and tried to stand but a dark wave crashed over her, tipping her off balance. She took a step and her ankle flashed out in pain. The man reached toward her and then pulled away to let her fall backwards in a crumpled heap.

“Please help me.” She fought through a storm of swirling emotions. “Please. I’m sick. I need to get to a doctor.”

“Wait here. I will return soon.”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shriek. “Please, don’t leave me! Not here!”

“What can I do?”

“Help me up. I know I can walk. Please… Don’t leave me.”

The man turned away. “I—can’t.”

Hailey crawled after him, reached out for his leg. He wanted to help—she knew he wanted to help, but he was afraid…of her?

The man stepped out of reach and she collapsed back onto the ground. Something was wrong. She had to get to a doctor. She had to get out of there.

He stooped down next to her, reached out a halting hand. Was he trembling or was it her? His touch would kill her. Kill him?

He gasped as one of his hands slid behind her back. An arm hooked under her knees, and he lifted her gently from the ground.

So close. She wrinkled her nose and turned her face away. She wanted so much to hold him. She was so close. 

A dark canopy of interlacing silhouettes moved across the orange-tinted sky. He carried her through the park, holding her away from his body. She could feel his tension, hard as steel, stabbing into her bones.

“Put me down. I’m too heavy.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’m too… tall. You can’t carry me.” Panic rose up inside Hailey. She was so awkward, so huge. He shouldn’t, couldn’t—

“You’re not heavy at all, you’re—” His voice choked off.

Hailey sucked in her breath. Beautiful. He was going to say beautiful. Warmth suffused her body. She sank into its soft embrace, relaxed as it soothed the tension from her shoulders. An alarm rang out inside her head. He was a stranger. A filthy, smelly homeless man. But somehow it didn’t seem to matter.

Leaning against his chest, she reached her arms around his neck. A gasp sounded next to her ear. She was so close… She clung tighter to the giant as a storm of raging emotions beat down on her. She was so beautiful. Too beautiful. Too achingly, wondrously beautiful!

“Holy One, please help me…” What was she saying? How long had they been standing like this? Why weren’t they moving? She had to see a doctor—a real doctor. Did she even want to be a doctor? She wasn’t even sure any more. Holy One, help me. Please… Hold me.

A fiery rage cut through her turmoil like a knife. She could feel it beating against her, insinuating itself into her mind like a foul stench. The monster was back. It was getting closer. She could run, but she’d never be able to escape.

Hailey clasped the giant tighter, burying her face in his chest. Sinewy bands stood out like bulging cords beneath his coat. Knotted and twisted. So horribly deformed… Pushing herself away, she looked up into his eyes. Who was he? What was he? None of it made any sense at all.

 

Melchizadek

 

Melchi broke into an all-out run, straining to hold on to the girl as she struggled and twisted in his arms.

“Try to quiet your mind,” he hissed in her ear. “The Mulo searches for us. It knows we’re here.”

“Put me down!” The girl beat against his chest and face with a hail of flailing fists. “Something’s wrong. I need to see a doctor!”

“But the Mulo! It will kill you.” Melchi stopped at the edge of the park, searching the surrounding city. The park was the safest place for them. They could lose themselves in the trees. But the girl. She said she needed a doctor…

“Please.” The girl went limp in his arms. He could feel her shuddering as sobs convulsed her body. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’d never… It’s the Mulo. I…” Melchi cast one last look back at the park and leaped out onto the street. She was sick. Possibly dying. He could feel the razor edge of pain cutting beneath her fear.

Charging up the hill, he dodged in and out between the trees and parked cars. If the Mulo found him, it would kill him. Especially now. How could he have been so weak? To be touched by the Booklady was bad enough, but to touch such a beautiful girl – willfully and of his own volition…

If he could just get her to the hospital before the Mulo found them.

He was halfway up the hill when it hit him. A wave of twisted exultation, lashing at his back like a bull whip. The Mulo was at the edge of the park.

It knew where they were.

“It has found us. I cannot to hold it off long.” Melchi stopped and tried to lower the girl to the ground, but she clung tighter to his neck. “You must go from here. Run as fast as you can. Find a place to hide.”

“No, please… Don’t leave me. I can’t walk. Don’t make me go. Please…”

Melchi stood rigid, fighting a million temptations at once. His heart pounded against his ribs. The Mulo was coming. He had to do something. He couldn’t let it get to her.

Swinging her legs back over his arm, he started running. Up the hill, out onto the road. It didn’t matter if it saw them now.

“Yell for the police as soon as you are inside.” Melchi called out as he turned at the top of the hill. “I will do what I can to slow it down.”

The girl’s head lolled against his chest. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t seem to understand.

“Did you hear me? Call the police. They cannot stand long against it. You must find someplace to hide.”

Melchi was gasping for breath as the semi-circular drive of the hospital building jolted into view. The Mulo was right behind them. They wouldn’t make it. He was too weak, tired, filled with loathsome sin.

The glass doors slid open as he pounded into the emergency room lobby. “Police!” Melchi shouted between heaving breaths as he set the girl on the floor. “Remember, you must hide!” He called back over his shoulder as he turned and fled back through the open door. “Try to stay calm. It can hear your emotions!”

The doors shut behind him with an ominous clank. He stepped away from the building and reached out with his mind. Faces pressed in on him from all sides. Terror, confusion, unbridled hysteria. The girl’s emotions swirled around him like a raging sea. A bright and shining beacon the Mulo would be able to see for miles.

Jogging out into the street, Melchi turned in a tight circle to search the gloaming shadows. “I know you are here! It is me you want. Come out and get me!”

The night air pressed down on him, holding him like a vice. White hot needles prickled at his skin. He could feel the malice closing in. Putrid, dirty, unspeakably evil. He stumbled forward and almost tripped over a bulge in the pavement. He had to get away from the hospital, but he was too tired. So weak… He took a few more staggering steps and lurched to the side. How could he walk? How could he even move? He was starving to death. He’d been hungry for so so long. So hungry. Hungry for… the girl?

A vision flashed before his mind’s eye. Soft luminous eyes, a delicate oval face, shining black hair flowing like silk across slender shoulders. Melchi squeezed his eyes shut, jammed his palms into his eye sockets. He had to resist. Stand firm against the evil. Stand firm against… himself.

He was the evil. He always had been.

A low rumbling growl rattled through his frame. Right behind him. Too late to run.

 The Mulo was already there.

 

Hailey

 

“Let go of me!” Hailey swung her fists and kicked out with her right foot. “It’s here. Don’t you feel it?” She wrenched free of the doctors’ grasp and flung herself at the floor.

A half dozen hands caught her and forced her backwards, pinning her to the bed. Faded green togs. The smell of ethanol. A heavy strap pressed down on her chest. “No, please! It’s killing him!” She kicked out, crying out in pain as her ankle was snared and lashed against the bed.

An antiseptic face filled her vision. Cool hands cupped her face. “I need you to calm down, okay? Calm down and tell us what’s wrong. We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.”

“They’re fighting. It’s trying to kill him—the giant who rescued me.”

“Shhh… It’s okay.” The doctor’s head bobbed up and down. “We’ll take care of it. I promise you, but first I need you to tell me your name. Do you remember your name?”

“Hailey Maniates.”

“Good!” The man smiled and nodded. “Now Hailey. Tell me who’s fighting. Do you know where they are?”

“Don’t you feel it? In the air. All around. He’s hurt. The giant that rescued me.”

The doctor glanced at one of the others. “And this giant. Who’s he fighting?”

“Not a giant giant. A huge homeless man. He rescued me from a skinny guy with a knife—back in Golden Gate Park.”

“And they’re still in the park. You think they’re still fighting?”

“No, they’re here. Somewhere near the hospital. I can feel them. The homeless man and… some kind of a monster. I know what this sounds like, but I’m not crazy! I’m a grad student—here at UCSF. Something attacked me in my lab. It was in my head. I saw myself through its eyes. The giant carried me and now he’s—”

A wall of rage hit her in the chest. Twisted pleasure. Intense pain. Hailey screamed and tried to squirm free of her bonds. It was coming for her. The air was thick with it. She could feel it getting closer.

She kicked out and shrieked as pain stabbed up from her ankle. The storm clouds swirling in her mind parted to reveal the doctor’s intense face. He was shouting at her. Calling her name.

“— any medication? What drugs have you been taking? It’s okay. You aren’t in any trouble. We need to know in order to help you.”

Her arm was forced back. The prick of a needle in her vein.

“No! Let me go!” Hailey jerked her hand back and swung at the doctor’s face. “It’s coming. It’ll kill me! You can’t hold me against my will. Let me go!”

“Where’s that Geodon!” The doctor grabbed her flailing head with both hands. “And get that other hand secured. Now!”

“No… You can’t!” Hailey arched her back, pushing back against her bonds. “It’s coming. Please…”

“Hailey, I need you to listen to me, okay?” The doctor’s fingers tightened around her face. “You’re perfectly safe. What you’re experiencing isn’t real. It’s just a hallucination. I’m going to give you a sedative to help you calm down, okay? The sedative will make everything better.”

“A hallucination?” Hailey’s voice broke. Hot tears streamed down her face, tickling her ears. “No… It can’t be. The knife. He cut my sweatshirt. I could see myself through his eyes!”

A needle-sharp pain jabbed into her shoulder, pumping her arm full of biting coolness.

“No. Please…”

A tingling chill spread out through her body, easing into her mind like a long drawn-out sigh.

A cruel laugh rumbled up her spine and echoed in her brain. The monster was coming for her. And this time it knew she couldn’t escape.

 

Melchizadek

 

Melchi spun in a powerful roundhouse kick, but his leg swished through empty mist. Crouching low to the ground, he braced himself for the charge as dark phantoms danced at the periphery of his vision. Lurid shadows. The stench of decaying flesh.

“Show yourself, Mulo!” He held up his pendant and turned in a tight circle.

The snap of fluttering fabric. Behind him, to his left.

He turned toward the sound, searching the blackness of a recessed doorway. The flicker of shadow against darkness off to his right. An echoing laugh to his left. It was all around him. Suffocating, pressing down on him like a crashing wave. 

Melchi backed away from the hospital as the streetlights around him sputtered and dimmed. Hatred beat down on him from every direction. Putrid, malicious…it invaded his thoughts with degrading passions and blackest guilt.

The girl. He had touched her; he had raised his eyes to the beauty of her visage. He was already fallen. Even standing, he could not hope to stand.

Staggering backwards, he turned and broke into a run as an explosion of rage swept over him. Tongues of scorching flame licked at the recesses of his mind, consuming all but thoughts of escape. He darted toward a tall building and vaulted off a low window sill. Hurtling through the air, his fingers closed around the bars of a second story window as he slammed chest first into the concrete wall.

Running was useless. He was already dead.

Melchi kicked with his feet, tried to scrabble up the wall. The Mulo was right beneath him, reaching up for him. Lashing out at him with the force of his presence.

Cease striving. Know that I am your god. Smooth words insinuated themselves into his mind. Relax. Be still. You have already fallen. You cannot be raised again.

A soothing numbness seeped through Melchi’s body. The bars were slipping. He could feel himself floating softly to the ground, buoyed up by the whisper-soft brushes of angel’s wings. Rest. Total relaxation. He’d worked so hard for so long. Didn’t he deserve a break? Hadn’t he earned it?

“No!” Melchi slammed his forehead into the concrete, clinging to the pain like a lifeline in a raging storm. Pulling with all his remaining strength, he climbed up onto the window sill and hugged the bars to his chest. One more level. Just a little higher.

He jammed his fingertips into a seam in the concrete and pulled himself up the wall. Wedging his feet between the bars on the window, he regripped with his fingertips and pulled himself even higher. One more pull. Just a few more inches… His fingers closed over the edge of the third story sill. Kicking with his feet, he pulled himself up onto the ledge.

Good. Just one more level. All he needed was—

The foul presence receded like a spent wave on the shore. Melchi gasped and sputtered in the cold clean air. He clung trembling to the wall, waiting for it to return. The last stroke of death after the illusion of calm.

Nothing. Leaning out from the building, he searched the empty streets below. The Mulo… Had it broken off the attack? It didn’t make sense. He’d been as good as dead.

“The girl!” Melchi pushed away from the wall and pivoted as his coat whipped and crackled in the rushing wind. Windmilling his arms against the shrieking air, he smacked into the ground, buckling and rolling to absorb the impact.

His left foot screamed out in pain. Another stupid mistake. Tonight he couldn’t do anything right.

“Here I am!” He shouted out into the darkness. “Come and get me!” He limped back to the hospital, ignoring the pain in his foot. If the Mulo got to the girl... how could he ever live with himself?

The glass panels of the hospital doors swooshed aside as he reached the entrance. Skidding to a stop inside the lobby, he reached out with his mind. She was there. Her panicked thoughts clung to him like a terrified child. She was frightened, weak, reeling from terrible pain.

A shout called after him as he plunged through a doorway and raced down a brightly lit corridor. Something was wrong. The girl’s presence was getting weaker. Fading like a tiny ember removed from its fire. Her soul. It was as if it were being slowly siphoned away.

He stumbled to a stop and collapsed onto the floor as the last tremulous wisp of her presence faltered and finally winked out.

He had failed. Again.