Jake stumbled backwards, the mud from her boots sticking to his face.
She jerked her legs back, rolled over backwards, and sprung to her feet. She assumed her stance, but even before Jake had recovered her dad was there. It was magical. One moment she's alone, the next her father is there, holding the Spear, and moving like lightning. Two kicks—one to the gut and one to the face, and Jake crumpled, the knife fumbling out of his hands.
Jimbo and Dale stood like statues, too surprised to react. By the time Jimbo finally lifted his shotgun, Mr. Long had his hand and was twisting hard, turning him and forcing him to fall to his knees. Two sharp kicks to the face, and Jimbo let go of the gun.
Dale, having slipped in from behind, put his arms around Mr. Long and began to squeeze him in a bear hug. Lizzie didn't hesitate. She jumped on Dale's back and wrapped her arms around his fat neck. He smelled of sweat and sweet wintergreen chewing tobacco. She positioned her forearm across his windpipe, and she pulled with all her strength. He made a rasping noise as he tried to breathe.
Releasing Mr. Long, Dale reached back and tried to grab Lizzie. With his chubby arms, he could barely get his hands on her, and he clawed at her with his fingernails.
Lizzie saw her dad swing the shotgun, felt Dale's head jerk as the butt caught him in the ear. He fell to his knees. Lizzie let go, and stepped away. Again, Mr. Long swung the gun, this time hitting Dale on the back of the neck. He fell limp to the ground, chewing tobacco spilling from his mouth.
Jimbo stood up, nose bleeding and crooked, and staggered toward them. Mr. Long jabbed the butt of the shotgun into his forehead—whack—and he flopped back to the ground and lay still.
“Drop the gun, and turn around slowly.”
Lizzie turned to see Jake holding his pistol.
“Drop the gun. Now.”
Mr. Long dropped the shotgun.
Jake showed his crooked teeth with a wicked smile. “I'm gonna enjoy killin' you. I'll cut up that little witch first...so you can watch.”
“Go to hell,” Mr. Long said. The Spear he kept at his side, but it pointed at Jake. “Damnari inter manes.”
Jake backpedaled, his eyes wide in fear, firing an awkward shot at the darkness as it came at him. He cowered down, holding his hands in front of himself. Then his face sagged into a blank expression and he went limp.
Lizzie wasn't sure if she should move. Jake lay motionless, but he still held the pistol and his eyes were still open.
Mr. Long sighed. “We need to go.”
Lizzie nodded toward Jake. “Is he dead?”
“No. No,” Mr. Long said, shaking his head. “But...good as dead. The Spear took his spirit, and the body cannot live without the spirit.
“Come on. We need to get out of here before these other two wake up.”
Chapter 24 — Missing
They were on the highway before Lizzie spoke. “Why did they want to kill me?” she asked.
“They're growing marijuana. You know—pot.”
Lizzie shrugged. Marijuana's a drug, and doing drugs is bad. But still, why did they want to kill her?
“When you are caught growing it,” her dad explained, “you go to prison for a very long time.”
Lizzie nodded, though she still couldn't believe someone would want to kill you over a bunch of plants.
“And since I recorded the position of their farm on GPS,” her dad continued, “that is exactly what is going to happen. I'm going to stop at the first truck stop we come to and make an anonymous phone call to the authorities.”
After a long silence, her dad said, “Uh, Lizzie?”
“Yes'r?”
“That was pretty scary wasn't it?”
She nodded, but 'scary' didn't seem to quite cover it. Movies were scary. Roller coasters were scary. This went way beyond those things. This was horrifying. She was still shaking. And she felt like crying, but of course she wouldn't dare.
“Don't tell mom,” he said. “No sense in having her worry any more than she already does, okay?” For a moment, he took his eyes off the road to look at her. He wanted to see her answer.
Lizzie nodded.
“Hey kid,” he said, flashing a smile toward her, “you did great. You're a great Second—a true heir of Longinus. I am proud of you.”
With so much emotion bottled up, the sense of pride caused it to all bubble over, and a lump formed in her throat. If she had tried to answer, she wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears.
When they pulled into the driveway, Lizzie jerked awake. She hadn't meant to fall asleep; she hadn't thought it would be possible after what she'd been through. It was five in the morning—not even the hint of sunrise yet. When she shut the door of the truck, the sound echoed in the stillness and hush of the neighborhood. She shivered in a cool early-morning breeze. It was Labor Day weekend. Perhaps she would get in some swimming before the pool closed for the winter.
She yawned. But the swim could wait until after she got some sleep. Sleeping in late sounded good. If only her brat sister didn't wake her up.
They tiptoed up the stairs together. At the top, her father hugged her, kissed her, and whispered, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight dad.”
Lizzie grabbed a towel and a washcloth from the linen closet. Dale's stink of sweat and wintergreen still clung to her like the memory of a nightmare. She wanted it off. Now.
The hot water felt good and she lay in it a long while. When she almost fell asleep, she knew it was time to get out. She wrapped the towel around her and walked to her room. The door was closed. That was odd. Lori—too scared to sleep with it closed—always wanted it open.
Lizzie turned the doorknob and eased the door open, hoping the hinges wouldn't creak. The little light from the glowing angel nightlight cast shadows about the room.
They each had their own twin-sized bed, Lizzie's in one corner, Lori's in the other. Lizzie stopped on the way to her bed and stared in the darkness at Lori. She couldn't hear her breathing. The sheets, all bunched up into a mound, were perfectly still. It had been a long, frightening night. It had to be her imagination.
Lizzie touched the lump in the bed, prodded when she didn't feel anything solid, and then tore back the sheets. Lori wasn't there.
Her heart raced, but she took a deep breath. There had to be an explanation. Of course, Lori had got scared and went to sleep with mom. Yes, that made sense.
And yet...something didn't feel right. She shivered. There was a draft. She gulped to see one of the windows open and something moved there. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. With small, careful steps, she approached the window. The screen had been ripped to ribbons; they lifted and fluttered in the early morning breeze.
She ran as fast as she could to her mom and dad's room. She looked in their bed for Lori, though she knew she wouldn’t be there.
“Wake up. WAKE UP! Lori's missing!” she cried.
Chapter 25 — Detective Cole
After they called the police, Mr. Long grabbed the Spear and left to search for Lori in the fields and woods behind their house. Before he left, he instructed Lizzie to tell the police detectives that they had gone on a night hike, but she was not supposed to say anything about the Spear or their encounter with the marijuana growers. “If you have to lie,” he told her, “then lie.”
Soon the squad cars came, three of them. The lead detective began asking Mrs. Long questions: “How long has she been missing?” “Do you have a recent photograph of her?” “Are you married?” “Where is your husband?”
She answered the questions by nodding or shaking her head because she was crying and couldn't get any words out. Lizzie had to answer his last question.
“He went out to look for Lori,” she said.
“Where?”
Lizzie pointed toward the back yard. “In the woods.”
The lead detective walked away and huddled together with the other three officers. They spoke too quietly for Lizzie to hear what they said.
> When they were finished, the detective sat on the loveseat and motioned for Lizzie and her mom to sit on the couch. The other officers left the house through the backdoor. Snapping open his briefcase, he pulled out a voice recorder and a pad of paper. He stared at Lizzie for what seemed like an hour. He had two or three warty bumps on his face, and Lizzie thought his eyes were too close together. Not able to hold his gaze, she looked down at her hands.
“Hello Lizzie. I am Detective Cole.” He smiled a quick, close-lipped, phony smile. “You share a room with your sister, correct?”
“Yes'r.”
“Were you in the room last night with your sister?”
“No sir.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Where were you?”
“Me and my dad went on a night hike.”
“A night hike? Did your father tell you to tell me that?”
“Yes'r,” she answered, but quickly explained, “I mean...he told me to tell you the truth.”
“Hmmm,” he grunted, jotting something down on the pad in his lap.
He leaned close enough to Lizzie she could smell the cigarettes and coffee on his breath. “Do you know that if you don't tell me everything you know you can go to jail?” he asked.
“Don't threaten the child,” Mrs. Long said. A few strands of her blonde hair were stuck to her face where her tears had made it wet, but her blue eyes blazed. “Stop wasting your time with her. If she knew anything, she would have already told you. Go find my baby.”
Lizzie sighed, relieved. If her mom hadn't snapped out of it, she might have told him about the Spear and everything.
“Okay,” he said, shaking his head, “but your failure to cooperate will make the investigation that much more difficult.”
Mr. Long returned after noon. His shoulders slumped and he carried the Spear with the point hanging down limply. Lizzie ran out to him.
“They're looking for you,” she said.
He nodded. “I noticed.”
“There's a detective inside.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “Take the Spear. Hide it. When you get a chance, lock it away.”
She waited for a moment before following him inside. Detective Cole was already asking him questions in the living room as she slipped the Spear under the couch in the den.
“I need to interview you in private,” the detective said to Mr. Long as Lizzie came into the living room.
Mr. Long nodded toward the study. “In there.”
In an hour they reappeared, Mr. Long's hands behind his back in handcuffs.
Mrs. Long opened her mouth in disbelief. “No,” she cried.
“He isn't under arrest,” Detective Cole said. “We are just taking him down to the station for further questioning.”
“You people don't know what you are doing. My daughter is out there somewhere, and you're here...” she shook her head, “you're here! The one place we know she isn't. And you are arresting him, the one person best able to find her.”
“I told you, he isn't under arrest,” the detective responded sharply. But then he added in a softer voice, “We have our best men on the job, Mrs. Long. We have an APB out for your daughter, and we've declared an Amber Alert; the radio and TV stations will make sure everybody knows there's a little girl missing.”
He turned and began to lead Lizzie's dad out.
Mr. Long resisted. “Wait a minute. Can't I say goodbye?”
The detective hesitated, and then nodded.
After letting his wife hug and kiss him, he leaned down to Lizzie. He whispered, “Do what you can. You are Lori's best chance.”
Detective Cole tugged at him hard, and looked back at Lizzie with eyes full of suspicion.
Gaap, alias Tap, a great president and a prince, he appeareth in a meridionall signe, and when he taketh humane shape he is the guide of the foure principall kings, as mightie as Bileth...But yet I will not hide this; to wit, that he maketh a man woonderfull in philosophie and all the liberall sciences: he maketh love, hatred, insensibilitie, invisibilitie, consecration, and consecration of those things that are belonging unto the domination of Amaymon, and delivereth familiars out of the possession of other conjurors, answering truly and perfectly of things present, past, & to come, & transferreth men most speedilie into other nations...
Pseudomonarchia daemonum - Johann Wier (1583)
Chapter 26 — Gaap
Other police came. They put a tap on the phone, asked more questions, and investigated Lori and Lizzie's bedroom. When finished, they put a yellow ribbon that said 'POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS' across the door.
The police didn't leave until well after dark. Lizzie told her mother, “I'm going out to look for Lori.”
“No you're not, young lady,” Mrs. Long said.
Lizzie could tell her mom wouldn't change her mind. Still, she had to try. “But mom...”
“It's too dangerous. What would you do if you found her? What's to say that whoever took her wouldn't get you too?”
Yes, it would be scary. But with the Spear she'd be okay. “Dad said—”
“No!” her mom shouted.
The house felt empty. Lifeless. Lizzie's mom watched the television in the den, hoping for 'late-breaking news' on the kidnapping.
Lizzie didn't like sitting around. If only she could do something. The waiting made her sick to her stomach. Seeing her mother sitting on the couch, crumpled up tissues in her fists and staring at the TV like a zombie only made her worry more. No matter what, tomorrow she would search for Lori with the Spear.
The lead story on the news that night was Lori's kidnapping. They showed her kindergarten class picture—although they were home schooled, they still had class pictures made. Then they showed the officers leading Mr. Long into the police station.
“Is the father under arrest?” a reporter asked.
“No,” Detective Cole answered. “He is just being held for questioning...for now.”
“Is he a suspect?”
Detective Cole ignored the last question.
With a glittering smile, the lady news anchor went right into the next story about Madison Akers, the Congressman now running for the U.S. Senate. Lizzie didn't really care about such things, but he was talking about the kidnapping. He said that he would make laws that would make it easier to find missing children like Lori. That seemed like a good idea, but she didn’t like the Representative. The man, she guessed, just wanted votes, and she didn’t appreciate him using Lori’s kidnapping as an excuse to get on TV.
Without her father there, Lizzie tried to take care of her mom. She got her a diet Coke and made her a sandwich. Her mom drank the soda but only nibbled at the sandwich.
Midnight came and went, and exhaustion began to pull Lizzie down. On the drive home the night before, she had slept only a little. Now she curled up on the couch, resting her head on a toss pillow. With Lori out there somewhere it didn't seem right to sleep, but it couldn't hurt to relax just for a moment.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
Lizzie opened her eyes. She looked around the room. What was that noise?
Tink. Tink. Tink.
She sat up and looked in the direction of the noise.
Lizzie nearly fell off the couch in surprise. Nick stood perfectly still on the other side of the Long’s sliding glass door. Her heart raced from the scare.
Nick didn’t move but watched her with his eyes.
Lizzie’s shock turned to apprehension. There was something unnatural about Nick, something more than the obvious. He seemed to fit in the woods, but for him to be here on Lizzie’s back patio with her dad’s grill and the outdoor chairs was wrong.
She stared at Nick a long while, unsure, and Nick simply stared back at her with his black eyes. Then she remembered Lori, and she wondered briefly if Nick could help, if he had seen something. But then his oddness struck her as ominous. When she’d first seen him, Lizzie thought that Nick seemed, well, cute. Now he frightened her.
She ran to the door and slid it
open. “My sister Lori, you...”
“Yah,” Nick answered. “I know. She is in safe place. But you must listen.”
“What did you do?”
“Me?” Nick asked, giving a slight shake of his head. “Nothing. It is another. Come wiz me.”
Lizzie looked around the back yard. Birdie slept—or more likely was under Nick’s spell—but she could see nothing else suspicious. But...he knew where Lori was. Had he been involved?
“Where?”
“Just beyond your fence zere,” Nick turned and looked back toward Crawdad Creek and the woods beyond.
“Why?”
“You must do zis,” Nick said. “For your sister.”
Lizzie studied Nick’s eyes. “Can I trust you?”
Nick hesitated before answering. “It will be very scary, zis. But it must be. And you will not be harmed, Lizzie Long, zey promised.”
“Who promised?”
“The sorcerer,” Nick answered. He cringed and his eyes squinted in pain, then he said, “Now. It must be now. For your sister.”
Lizzie stepped through the door and shut it behind her. She followed Nick out through the back gate. He jumped with surprising agility across the narrow ditch and she followed. A few steps further and he stopped.
Lizzie followed his eyes to a tree without branches, and gasped as the tree moved. Huge bat-like wings spread out to either side, and she heard the sticky sound of them as the flaps were stretched apart, and they made a curtain of black blotting out everything else. Its head bowed foreword, two twisting and bent horns jutting out just above his forehead.
His skin was black—black not like human skin but like rubber. Muscles popped out all over his hairless body like on a bodybuilder; his powerful looking arms he held crossed in an X across his chest. He wore no clothes, but he had nothing to hide—he had neither boy nor girl parts. He didn't even have a bellybutton.
Lizzie didn't move; she didn't even breathe.
The demon’s head lifted, he opened his eyes, and they glowed like an ember.
A scream escaped from Lizzie’s mouth, but only for a moment, because Nick’s hand shot out and clamped over her mouth.
“That is the only sound you will make,” the demon said in a deep voice Lizzie could feel rumbling in her own chest. “Otherwise,” he continued, waving a hand in front of her, showing her the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers, “I shall rip the lungs from out your body. Do you understand?”