A Knight of the Word by Terry Brooks

Her feet splashed loudly through the rain that puddled on the concrete, spraying surface water everywhere. Her clothing was soaked through, and her curly hair was plastered to her head. She could no longer see or hear the demon, but she knew it was back there. She thought of Ariel, and tears filled her eyes. Dead because of her. All of them-Boot, Audrey, and Ariel-dead because of her. She ran faster, sweeping past grassy picnic areas with tables and iron cookers, swing sets and benches, and a small pavilion with a wooden roof and a concrete floor. To her right, the sound lapped against the shoreline, driven by the wind. The world about her was a vast, empty, rain-swept void.

She wished desperately that Wraith was there. Wraith would protect her. Wraith would be a match for the demon. A part of her, deep inside, shrieked defiantly that he was still there and would come if she summoned him. She almost thought to do so, to wheel back and call for him, to bring him to her side once more. But Wraith was gone, disappeared over a year ago, and there was no reason to think he would come to her now, after so long.

She cast aside the last of her futile wishes for what couldn’t be, and concentrated on gaining the safety of the city streets. She could see the residences clearly now, bulky shapes hunkered down against the misty gloom, lights a blurry yellow through rain-streaked windows. She could see cars moving on the street further south, distant still, but recognizable.

She risked a quick glance over her shoulder. In the darkness, beyond the feeders trailing after her, the demon’s larger shape was visible.

The concrete path rose ahead of her, leading out of the park’s lower regions. She swept up the rise without slowing, ignoring the hot, raw feeling in her lungs and the cramping in her stomach. .She was not going to give up. She was not going to die. She gained the summit of the rise, broke through the empty parking lot, and was on the street.

She crossed in a gust of wind and rain that blew sideways at her, making for the houses on the other side. The park was a black mass behind her, an impenetrable wall of darkness, the jagged tips of the ancient trees piercing the skyline. The street was momentarily empty of cars; she would find no help there. The feeders stayed with her, keeping pace easily, yellow eyes gleaming in the night. She ignored them, concentrating on the houses ahead. Several were dark or poorly lit, and there was no sign of life. She passed them by. Please, she prayed silently, let someone be home! Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement behind her at the head of the pathway leading out of the park. The demon was coming.

There was a brightly lit picture window in a brick cottage that lay ahead, and she could see a man reading a newspaper in an easy chair. She crossed the lawn in a rush, leaped onto the cement steps, and tried to wrench open the screen door. It was locked. She pounded on it wildly, looking over her shoulder as she did. The demon was in the middle of the street, its massive body stretched out as it ran, coming straight for her. All around her the feeders leaped and scrambled anxiously. She hissed at them and pounded on the door again.

The heavy inner door opened and the man stood there, staring at her through the screen with a mix of irritation and surprise that quickly changed to shock when he got a better look.

“Please, let me in.” she begged, trying to keep her voice even, to keep the fear out of it. She could see herself reflected in his glasses, dishevelled, muddied, scraped, and bruised.

“Good Lord, young lady!” he exclaimed, wide-eyed. He was an older man, white-haired and slightly stooped. He peered at her doubtfully. “What happened to you?”

He was still talking to her through the screen. She felt her desperation threaten to overwhelm her, felt the demon’s breath on her neck, its claws and teeth on her body. An accident!” she gasped. “I need to call for help! Please!”

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