When I opened my eyes, the van wasn’t moving and I saw only darkness. A stab of pain in my leg reminded me where I was.
A car door opened. I felt a cool breeze on my scalp. “Come on,” a voice growled, and when I didn’t move, hands grabbed my legs and pulled.
I yelped and tried my best to cooperate, and then my feet were on gravel and I was leaning against the side of the van, my head spinning. Night had fallen, and I saw stars trying to peer through the clouds overhead.
Cory—Abilosh—stood in front of me, his dark red hoodie covering half his face. He held a bow in his hand, and I saw a quiver full of arrows hanging from one shoulder. Fowler stood behind him, swaying on his feet, eyes drifting aimlessly.
I saw trees, and then I saw tombstones and a mausoleum on a hill. A cemetery. This couldn’t be good.
“This is the hunting ground,” Cory said. “Miles from anyone who might interfere. I am the hunter. You are the prey.”
I flashed on that short story, “The Most Dangerous Game.” It was a movie too. But being a demon, Abilosh probably wasn’t a big reader or movie buff. “This isn’t very sporting, is it? I’m wounded.”
“I’ll give you time.” The van was parked by the side of a dirt road. He pointed. “I will walk 500 paces down that road. Then I will count to 500. You may hide, or try to fashion a weapon, or pray for a quick death. It’s up to you.”
“And if you don’t get me? You’ll let me go? We’ll go find a tavern and laugh over a tankard of ale?”
He glowered at me. “If you can escape me? Or be the better hunter?” A hollow laugh. “Yes, then you can go. With my blessing.”
I didn’t need Rachel’s psychic powers to know he didn’t mean it at all. He didn’t believe I could get away, and I wasn’t sure I believed it either.
I looked around. “Where’s Gabler? Your nephew?”
“He had—business.” Cory spat on the ground, as if the idea of business tarnished the purity of his precious hunt.
I looked past him at Fowler. “So he drove? Or did you let Cory have his body back to get here? Is he going to hunt me too?”
“Usually this one is my hound. He signals me when the prey is close. I don’t think I need that for you. He will remain and ensure you don’t try to take my vehicle.” He patted a pocket. “I have the keys you need. You can’t get them from him.”
I looked into his eyes. I had so many questions. Too many. But if I could get him talking I’d buy a little time to think of some way out of this. Maybe. “How did Abilosh—”
“Enough!” Cory waved an arm. So much for that idea. “It’s time, Tom Jurgen. Get going.” He pointed a finger toward a tombstone.
So I was never going to find out how Cory had gotten possessed by Abilosh. But I had bigger problems at the moment. I took a step, almost fell, and hobbled forward in the direction of the nearest mausoleum. Cory watched me, then turned and started walking down the road. The journey of five hundred steps starts with just one. One, two, three . . .
I took a few more steps myself, but I wasn’t going to get far enough. I needed to try something different.
I staggered toward Fowler. “Greg.”
Fowler looked at me, then turned his eyes away.
I couldn’t attempt a full exorcism on him. I mean, I’ve seen them performed, and I did one once, but not while someone was actively trying to kill me. I’d never be able to stay focused. I had to break through to him somehow.
“Greg.” I took his shoulders in my heads and leaned forward, trying to peer into his eyes. “You don’t have to follow him. You don’t have to do—”
He shoved me. I staggered back, fighting to stay up. “Greg.” I swayed on my feet. “Remember Lynda? Remember your wife? Your kids?” What were their names? “Your daughters—they need you.”
His eyes twitched, staring at me.
“You have a family, Greg, a family! Don’t forget them! Don’t let him make you forget—"
Fowler sagged against the side of the van, closing his eyes. He planted his hands over his ears, trying to block me out. I stepped forward and grabbed for his pockets.
He had to have a phone on him. I hoped.
For a moment he didn’t react. Then he swung an arm and punched me in the face.
It was awkward and didn’t have much strength behind it, but it made my ears ring. He was slow, though, and I grabbed his arm and yanked, twisting his wrist as hard as I could.
Fowler stumbled forward and hit me in the chest with his other fist. I grunted, stepped back, and then slugged him in the stomach. He gasped and doubled over, toppling to the grass.
Then I jumped on him, trying to knock the wind out of him while my hands scrambled over his pockets. I pulled everything out—keys, wallet, a pen, and finally found his phone.
Fowler kicked at my wounded leg. I yelped, rolled off him, and crawled away, snatching the phone as I forced myself to stand up. Fowler was in a crouch, catching his breath.
I turned and ran as fast as I could up the hill away from the van.
The pain in my leg made me want to shriek with every step, but I clenched my teeth and kept going, aiming for a mausoleum about 50 yards away. I looked back, but Fowler was still by the car, looking confused and unsure of what to do without Cory—or Abolish—to give him orders.
I fumbled with the phone. It needed a code, but there was an emergency button at the bottom of the screen. I jabbed a finger at it as I reached the granite wall of the mausoleum. “Hello? Hello?”
“911, what is your—”
“The Archer is trying to kill me!” I knew I sounded crazy but I could only hope the cops would check out any call they got. “I’m in a cemetery, I don’t know where, my name is Tom Jurgen, and the Archer—”
An arrow flew by the side of my head and slammed into the stone behind me. I saw Cory running, sliding another arrow from his quiver, and I hobbled as fast as I could before he could shoot another one. “He’s shooting at me! Help me, help me!”
I threw the phone as far as I could, hoping the police could trace it before Cory found it. Then I scooted around the granite building. It had a sliding gate that was closed, but when I pulled on it, the gate slid aside, creaking with rust. I stumbled inside and shoved it back, then clamped my fingers around the bars, holding it closed.
Cory appeared. Smiling. “You’re making this too easy.” He pulled back his bowstring, just a foot from the metal bars. “But this is appropriate. Get ready to—”
Desperate, I reached through the bars and grabbed the arrow, shoving it away from my face before Cory could release it. He growled and tried to pull it out of my hand, but I held on, grabbing it with both hands, struggling with Cory until he gave up and backed away. “Fine. Keep it.” He reached back for his quiver.
Then Fowler came charging around the side of the building. He was moving faster than I thought he could, but his eyes were clear and his face was tense, as if he’d somehow gotten free of whatever demon was possessing him, at least for a moment.
He tackled Cory to the ground. Cory roared, hitting him, and Fowler tried to wrap his hands around his throat, but Cory was squirming and kicked him. Fowler groaned, rolling around on top of him, battering at Cory’s face with his fists. Cory pushed him off, cursing, and started rising again.
Then I stabbed him in the back with the arrow.
Cory howled. He swung to me, and I pulled the arrow out and shoved it into his stomach and twisted. I didn’t want to kill him, but I was in pain and scared and I didn’t much care how badly I hurt him as long as he stopped trying to kill me.
He lurched forward, trying to bring his bow up. I hit him in the face, and I felt his nose bend, and his blood over my fist. He yelled again but staggered back, and Fowler kicked at his legs. Cory fell down, swearing.
I dropped to my knees, panting, but I made my way forward. I pressed the point of the arrow into Cory’s throat. “You gonna stop?” My voice was raspy. “You gonna settle down?”
Cory swallowed, then nodded.
I looked over at Fowler. “Greg? You okay?”
He stood up, shaking. “I’ve got to got to get out of here.” He stumbled a few steps back. “Before it comes back. I’ve got to . . .” He turned and ran back toward the road.
I watched him go, sitting next to Cory. Keeping the arrow at his throat. I bit my lip, fighting to stay conscious. If I fell asleep again, he’d probably kill me and get away.
I looked down at him. “Abilosh?”
Cory shook his head. “N-no. He’s gone. Don’t kill me.”
“Stay there.” I didn’t trust him. “Just stay there and let’s wait for the cops.”
Rachel looked down at me in the hospital bed. “That’s it. I’m quitting my job. How else am I supposed to keep you safe? Jerk.” She punched my shoulder.
“Don’t quit,” I murmured sleepily. “We need the insurance.”
The Evanston police had shown up faster than I expected. Cory lay motionless on the grass, but I still held my arrow at his neck.
I told them everything. Of course they assumed we were all crazy. The guy terrorizing the city was a demon archer and a possessed henchman? Cory helped me by suddenly starting to rave and rant about Abilosh’s vengeance as they slung him on a stretcher and carried him down to the ambulance.
I called Rachel from the hospital. She’d tracked my phone to the park where Cory had shot me, and she’d been talking to the Chicago PD when my call came. She reached Evanston Hospital five minutes before the cops, just long enough to make sure I wasn’t going to die and then explain how she was going to make me suffer when we got home. It was a relief when the detectives showed up.
One of them knew me: His name was Cruz, and the other was a woman named Perez. Cruz shook his head. “Jesus Christ, how the hell did you end up mixed up in this, Jurgen?”
I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”
I told them the whole story. When I finished, Cruz sighed and Perez shook her head. “You were right,” she told her partner. “He is crazy.”
“Hey.” Rachel stiffened. “He’s my husband. I tell him he’s crazy at least once a day.”
“You have my sympathy,” she told Rachel.
“What about Greg Fowler?” I asked. I’d heard that the cops had found him lying in the gravel under the van, trembling, unable to speak, as if he’d gone catatonic.
“They’re talking to him down the hall. What I hear, he’s not saying much. Still in shock, or whatever. His wife’s with him.”
Oh-oh. She wasn’t going to be happy with me. Not that I could blame her. But I probably wasn’t going to get paid. “And Gabler?”
The two cops looked at each other. “Someone’s been demanding the city pay $1 million to stop the Archer. We thought it was probably a hoax, but we set up a sting tonight. You’ll find out who we caught in the news tomorrow.”
Gabler. That made sense now. I nodded. “Glad you caught him.”
“It wasn’t hard.” Cruz reminded me to come down to make a formal statement once I got discharged, then left.
Rachel made me sit up to fluff my pillow. “You okay? Need more pain pills?”
“Not right now.” I closed my eyes. “Just give me a few minutes. If I fall asleep, you can—”
“Mr. Jurgen?” Lynda Fowler’s voice.
She stood at the door, uncertain, looking at me and Rachel, as if deciding whether to speaking or run away. Finally I nodded. “Come in.”
Rachel put a hand on the safety rail, ready to jump between us if she planned to scratch my eyes out or something. “I’m sorry,” I said. “For whatever it’s worth, I’ll testify that your husband attacked Cory and saved my life. Something in him must have broken free at the last minute.”
Her eyes were red, and she clutched a tissue in one hand. “Are you okay?”
My leg still hurt, along with other parts of my body, and Rachel’s status remained uncertain. But I didn’t want to add to her worries. “Yeah. They gave me stitches and antibiotics. And a sandwich. I’ll be here tonight at least. Maybe tomorrow.” I tried to force a reassuring smile. She was trying to be nice. “How about Greg?”
“He’s starting to talk like himself. He says—he wanted me to check on you. To make sure you’re okay.”
“Tell him I’m fine. Tell him thank you.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I hope you feel better.” She looked at Rachel. “I’m, uh, Lynda Fowler—”
“I’m Rachel. Tom’s wife.” She looked Lynda over sympathetically. “How are you doing?”
Lynda sighed. “I don’t know. It all feels so weird.” She wiped her nose with the tissue. “I—I should get back.” She turned. “Good night.”
We watched her go. “You should probably refund her retainer,” Rachel said. “She hired you to help her husband, and you ruined his life.”
“I didn’t ruin it, his so-called friend Gabler did that. Not to mention Abilosh.” I sighed. “But yeah, you’re probably right.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. “You don’t have to stay.”
For a moment I thought she’d leave. Then she pulled a chair over to the bed and picked up the remote. “Let’s see what’s on TV.”
I smiled and went to sleep.
# # #
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