Headlights(114)

He tosses the knife and catches it.

“You woke up the Witchwalker. And me too.”

He tilts his head. “I just … wanted to put my mark on the thing. I was looking for Hannah, following her light, and I saw the camera with her and thought, Why not? I didn’t know if the feds were gonna get her for eating the bodies. But both Hannah and the victim being taken to the motel, now that was a twist. I didn’t anticipate it, I’ll admit. I just thought if the feds did take her, it would just be a fun little trick.” He leans back, smiles at her again. “Maybe I have a vindictive streak. I’m not too proud to admit I’ve been quite jealous of you both.”

I strain against the ghost again. Father Sky is only a foot away from me. I can’t move. What a fucking joke.

“So, in conclusion, because we don’t have all night, I am here because the Witchwalker has attached itself to you,” he says to me, then points the knife to Hannah. “Both of you. And I want it for me.”

“To do what?” Hannah asks.

“With the kind of power the Witchwalker could confer on me, the kind Danny here won’t just reach out and take for himself, well, I think I’d be pretty unstoppable. Sky’s the limit, you might say.” His smile grows wider.

“Why Jack and Josie?” I ask. “Why did they need to be a part of this? Why Tillman?”

“You should know better than anyone that the Witchwalker flocks to pain. I needed you to send out your beacon, and…” He stands. Takes a few steps back toward the bed, his eyes still on us. “Thank you, for keeping me on track. It’s time for the big trick!”

He sits down beside Jack and pins his eyes on me.

“Ta-da!”

He slides the knife across Jack’s throat.

Jack—

Blood.

Blood.

Mom—

JACK!

“There it is,” Father Sky says, holding the knife to his own chest, Jack’s blood spilling down over his hands, into his lap, from the knife. He taps his fingers against the handle.

Tap tap.

“Jack!” I yell. “JACK!” I push with every ounce of strength I have, and I can’t move, can’t get to him. This can’t be real. This can’t be— Jack slumps forward, his body tipping over the edge of the bed.

I fight against the ghost hands holding me.

Father Sky’s fingers tap against the knife. Tap tap.

Jack falls to the floor, and I yell.

Father Sky tilts his head back to the ceiling, eyes closed, and smiles. “Thank you,” he says. “So, so bright.” Tap tap.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” I say. “I will—”

“Bring him over here,” he says. And I am lifted off the ground. Shoved forward. Thrown to the bed where Jack was a moment ago. Father Sky stands, and the ghost, and another, pin me before I can reach for him. They turn me on my back and hold me down. I kick and fight.

Hannah calls my name, screams in the other-place. I see her, out of the corner of my eye. Fighting the one now holding her back again.

Tap tap.

I can’t do it. They’re too strong, I can’t—

“So now the next trick,” Father Sky says. “I need to get the Witchwalker to first detach from you and then attach to me. I’ve done research. A lot. And I found some stories, way way back, of something very like a Witchwalker entering the world. Another time, another place. But they determined that it needed a tether, something physical to tie itself to the person it was attached to. And I was thinking … well, there was the tongue in Hannah’s mouth. And the hair wrapped around the tongue of every Drifter. Tongues are sacred.

“So my thought is this—maybe this is crazy, but I think maybe I take your tongue. And I put it in my mouth. Maybe I have to eat it. I’m not sure. But I’m thinking, if I take it for myself, if I make it mine—”

Tap tap.

“The Witchwalker might think I am you. I might be able to trick it.”

Tap tap.

“And if I can’t trick it, well, you’re going to die here tonight either way. If you’re dead and it’s still stranded here, it will want to attach itself to someone new. And I don’t shine like you two, but I shine.”

Tap tap.

“And if none of that works, then at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing a total stranger ruined your life just like you ruined mine.”

He flips his hair back. “Want to see another trick?”

He smiles at me. Cocks an eyebrow.

Mountain, snow, trapped.

Hannah cries out.

Jack on the floor, beside me. I can’t—

Friend, teeth, meat, hate, hungry, hate—

Scream. In the other-place. No—

Hannah. She’s sitting in the corner with her head tucked into her knees, rocking back and forth. Whimpering. No ghost holds her down now. She’s just … sitting.

“What are you doing to her?” I say to Father Sky, who stands at the edge of the bed, watching her.

Snow, wind, blood, meat, ripping, tearing—

“Little supernatural hypnosis trick I learned,” he says. “Memory is powerful. And our worst ones can trap us. You know that, Danny. I just led her to it. She’s doing the trapping herself. And isn’t that always the way.”