“Yep. Then we can tackle a cure for cancer and get that out of the way, too.” She snuggled her face into his shoulder, her dark hair spilling over him like silk.
“I liked our dinner,” he ventured, trying to take the edge off his frustration.
She nodded into his coat. “Good. I liked it, too.”
They rounded the corner of Main at Elliott Bay Book Company and started for home. Occidental Park sprawled ahead of them, empty of life, watched over by the wooden totems, spectral sentinels in the gloom. The homeless had moved on to warmer spots for the night, abandoning their daytime haunt. Some would find a bed in one of the shelters. Some would make their bed on the streets. Some would wake up in the morning. Some would not.
“There are just not enough of us,” Ross said quietly.
She lifted her head to look at him. “Not enough of who?”
“Not of who. Of what. I misspoke. Not enough shelters for the homeless. Not enough schools for displaced children. Not enough food banks. Not enough care facilities. Not enough churches working with the needy. Not enough charities. Not enough programs or funding or answers. Not enough of anything.”
She nodded. “There’s a lot of competition for people’s money and time, John. The choices aren’t always easy.”
“Maybe it would be easier if people remembered there’s a lot of competition for their souls, as well.”
She stared hard at him for a moment. “Then everyone should be able to figure out what to do, shouldn’t they?”
They crossed Main to Waterfall Park, peering into the blackness where the sound of rushing water welled up and reverberated off the brick walls. Amid the cluster of rocks and trees and garden tables, shadows shifted with barely perceptible movements. Ross thought he caught a glimpse of lantern eyes peering out at him. He didn’t see the feeders much anymore-only brief glimpses. It bothered him sometimes that he couldn’t see them better. He had wanted to remove himself from their world, and it didn’t help knowing they were there and not being able to see them.
It reminded him of something Owain Glyndwr had asked of him.
Do you think you can ever be as you were?
He found himself thinking of the dream again, of the way he had appeared in it, of the way it made him feel. He might not ever be as he was, but at least he could keep himself from being like that. He could manage that much, couldn’t he?
He stared into the shadows in silence, Stefanie clinging to his arm, and dared the things that lurked within to come into the light. It seemed to him as he did so that he could feel them daring him, in turn, to come into the dark.
CHAPTER 10
Even though its hunger had become all-consuming, the demon waited until after midnight to hunt.
It crept from its lair as silent as the death that awaited its victims and slipped out onto the empty streets of Pioneer Square. The weeknight city had closed its eyes early, and even the bars and restaurants had shuttered their doors and disked off their lights. The air was damp and heavy with mist and the beginnings of a fresh rain, and the moisture glistened on the concrete in a satiny sheen. Cars eased past in ones and twos, carrying their occupants to home and bed, strays following in the wake of the early evening rush. The demon watched from the shadows dose by Occidental Park, wary of being seen. But the park and sidewalks and streets were empty and still. The demon was alone.
It crept from its hiding place in human form, standing upright, maintaining its guise as it made its way to the place where the hunt would begin. It wore running shoes and sweats to mask the sound of its passing, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, sliding along the walls of the darkened buildings, across the shadowed stretches of the park, and through the blackened tunnels of the alleys and walkways. The homeless who spent their days in the park had all gone elsewhere, acid the Indian totems loomed above the empty stone .”spaces like hunters in search of prey, eyes fearsome and staring, beaks and talons at the ready.