It meant they were desperate.
There was no way they could outrun a dirt bike and it was coming fast. Camden grabbed Alonzo, shoving him in a large east-facing crevice between two boulders. The approaching light wouldn’t find him there. They’d have to pass him and look back to see Alonzo, and Camden didn’t intend to let that happen. He’d create a distraction. They were coming for him anyway, not his brother. He took the bag from around his body, and strapped it to Alonzo. Then he handed him the spear. “Hide,” he whispered. Alonzo squatted behind the boulder, gazing up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He’d obviously known that word. “Hide,” Camden repeated, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
The dogs were behind the dirt bike, but there was too much open space here for Camden to hide for long. Even if the dirt bike rider missed him, the dogs would be close on its tires and would scent him out, and he’d give his brother’s hiding spot away. The dogs wouldn’t be tracking Alonzo, nor would they have an item from which to do so. For all intents and purposes, his brother didn’t exist. He was nothing but a ghost, a horned “demon” haunting these woods.
Sadness gripped him, but so did a dreadful sense of acceptance. Scarlett would come back for Alonzo. He had no doubt of that. She’d use the files Kandace had collected and she’d exact justice. A strange peace descended. He trusted her, knew her strength. Her conviction. She would fight for him and for Kandace. For Alonzo and all the others who’d been sacrificed at the altar of Lilith House. Sacrificed by the men of Farrow.
With one final nod at his brother, Camden ran ahead, putting as much distance between Alonzo’s hiding spot and himself as possible. He ducked around one rock and then another, slowing as he walked out into the wide-open space, heading for the edge of the canyon.
Novaatngar. It was where it had all started, wasn’t it? And perhaps it was right that it was where it would end.
Camden went down on one knee, choosing a rock from the ground around him, clutching it in his grip, and then waiting. The engine grew louder, coming closer, its headlight appearing through the trees moments before it darted out of the woods. Camden took aim and threw the rock with all of his might.
The driver jerked, flying off the bike and landing with a loud thud on the ground, the person who had been riding behind him, throwing himself off and rolling. The dirt bike continued forward, zipping past Camden on his right and soaring over the edge of the canyon. Camden stood, breathing hard, adrenalin pumping, as the man who’d been behind the driver, staggered to his feet. The sheriff. It was the sheriff. His father. Their father. The other man—Dr. Bill Woodrow Camden now saw—remained still, his head twisted at an unnatural angle, his neck likely broken. Dead. Over his shoulder, Camden heard the very distant sound of the bike hitting the ground far below.
The sheriff raised his firearm. “Raise your hands, Deputy West. It’s over. You have to take responsibility for what you did to that girl. You killed her, didn’t you? Where’d you hide the weapon, Camden? The one you used to murder her? Will we find it in your vehicle? Your house? Maybe with those friends of yours?”
He heard men crashing through the woods toward them, the light sweeping overhead but still a good distance away. The dogs were even farther back. The younger guild members would be slightly behind their fathers, slowed by the tracking hounds. How far away were they? Ten minutes? Fifteen at the most? Then there’d be thirty men, if not more. The Farrow Religious Guild, all of them.
He prayed that Mason and Georgia had hidden safely. They’d be able to use the gun for evidence later, but it would be flimsy on its own. He could think of a hundred ways the sheriff could twist things, make it look like Camden was the guilty party. They’d been doing it for centuries, and getting away with it. Justifying evil in the name of God.
No, Scarlett and now Alonzo were the only hope.
As if he’d read his mind, the sheriff said, “The dogs scented her, son. They’re on her trail. Tell us exactly where she’s headed and I’ll let you live.”
No, he wouldn’t. There was no way he could. Not now. They’d have to kill him, Camden had no illusions about that. His gut churned. The dogs scented her. They’re on her trail.
Run, Scarlett, Haddie, Millie. Please run.
“I don’t know where she is,” Camden said.
“We’ll find her, Camden. Whether you help us or not. We need that little girl to assist us in locating the devil. We need her to help us kill it so we can save our town.”
It. This man’s son, though he didn’t know it. Believed he had perished in these woods as an infant after they’d left him to die. “I came out here to search, but I didn’t find them.” All he could do now was buy time, wait for the men to bypass Alonzo so the man could slip away, and then let them do with Camden as they would.
He didn’t want to die, God, he didn’t want to die, not now when he felt like his life was truly just beginning, but he was prepared. He wouldn’t go fearfully. He’d face death the way Taluta’s warrior had done: with honor, even gravely injured, he’d carried her broken body up the side of a cliff to a hiding spot where they could die on their terms. Camden had done all he could. He had to trust that those he loved would take it from here.
The sheriff sighed, glancing behind him where the sounds of the men’s voices grew more distinct. “I wish you could understand, son. The world is a fallen place, draped in darkness. Some men are tasked by God to keep that darkness at bay. Farrow’s sons have always known this.” He swept his hand around, indicating the canyon. “It’s been that way since the township began. It’s the way it will always be. We failed but we will reconcile. We will always cast out sin. I’m sorry you couldn’t grasp that and become one of us. I truly am.”
Without waiting for a response from Camden, the sheriff raised his gun and fired. Heat blossomed between Camden’s ribs, and he doubled over, clutching a hand to his abdomen where he’d been shot. He staggered, blinking at the sheriff who stood stock-still in front of him, watching. His ears rang, the close sound of voices, the more distant barking of dogs becoming muted, then fading away completely. The sheriff raised his gun again, aiming, when a blur of movement caught Camden’s attention. He looked behind the sheriff, his eyes growing wide. The sheriff, having apparently heard the movement, looked over his shoulder, his scream rising into the night as a monstrous creature flew from the darkness, a spear raised in its hand, its horns outlined in shadow, its voice raised as it chanted the chant of the dead.
The sheriff fired wildly, the shot missing as the creature continued in its rush forward. It raised its arm and then lowered it, the spear plunging into the sheriff with a sickening sound of wetness. The sheriff emitted a yell that quickly faded into a gurgled whoosh of air. The creature kept running forward, driving the sheriff backward with the long spear as he helplessly flapped his arms, flying past Camden and directly over the edge of the cliff.
For a breathless beat, Camden’s eyes met the sheriff’s as he desperately grabbed at the spear that wouldn’t help him. The creature had let go and now stood at the edge of the cliff. They both watched as the sheriff dropped, his horrified shriek echoing, fading, and finally ending abruptly as his body hit the canyon floor far, far below.