When the dancing motes tightened suddenly, beginning to take form in the air before him, he cast the net. It billowed in the wind as if it had become a sail, taking shape as it flew through the darkness to close about the gathering light.
Instantly, the wind died away and the light went out. An abrupt, blanketing silence descended over everything. John Ross stood frozen in place, his ears still ringing and his shoulders hunched, his eyes trying to readjust to the sudden change in light. He breathed slowly and deeply, listening, watching, and waiting.
Then the eyes of the feeders began to reappear, lantern bright against the gloom in which they crouched. Outside, the screams of gulls and the roll of the surf could be heard. He edged forward on the rock shelf, feeling his way over the smooth, cold, wet rock. He did not want to turn on the flashlight, afraid of the reaction the light might bring.
He found the netting with its prize nestled in a hollow at the center of the shelf. The netting was opaque and still until he touched it, and then its captive moved and light emanated from within. He picked it up and carried it to the cave’s entrance, where the dim sunlight fell upon and revealed it.
The netting was changing shape with such rapidity that he could barely follow what was happening. It squirmed and shook and twitched, and with each movement, a small amount of light escaped.
A quick check of the beach outside the cave revealed it was momentarily deserted. Clutching the netting and its writhing contents to his chest, he started back down the beach at a rapid walk.
He had almost reached his car when the first demon appeared.
-=O=-***-=O=-
A young woman and a little girl appeared suddenly in the kitchen doorway, and John Ross went silent. The young woman was thin and worn looking, and she had the look of someone with problems sleep alone could not solve. Her dark eyes fixed boldly on Ross and stayed there, assessing him, reading him, seeing him in some secret way.
Nest, her back to the entry, turned in her chair. “Good morning,” she said, smiling at them. “Did you sleep well?”
The young woman nodded, her dark, intense eyes still on Ross. “Did we miss breakfast?”
“No, we were waiting for you.” Nest glanced at Ross. “This is John Ross. John, this is Bennett Scott and her daughter, Harper.”
Ross nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Bennett Scott replied, but looked doubtful about it. “Guess you got in late.”
“After midnight sometime.”
“Is that your son?” She gestured toward the living room, where the boy who was the gypsy morph kneeled on the sofa and stared into the park.
Ross hesitated, not sure what to say. “Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
Ross glanced at Nest. “John Junior. We call him Little John.”
“Little John,” Bennett repeated thoughtfully.
“Kind of corny, I guess.” Ross gave her a rueful smile.
“Appo juss,” Harper said softly, tugging on her mother’s hand.
Nest rose to retrieve the container from the refrigerator and pour some into one of the sealed cups the little girl drank from, leaving Ross to deal with Bennett, who continued to stare boldly at him.
“How old is Little John?” she asked casually, but there was an edge to her voice.
“Four years and two months.” Ross held the smile. “We’re just visiting for a few days, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Bennett Scott pursed her lips. “There was a minister here last night looking for you. Findo Cask. Odd name. I told him I didn’t know you. But now I kind of think maybe I do.”
He shook his head, holding her gaze. “I don’t think so.”
She brushed at her lank hair, then folded her arms under her breasts. “Nest doesn’t seem to think much of this minister. I guess I don’t either. He was kind of pushy.”
Ross stood up slowly, levering himself to his feet by leaning on the tabletop. “I’m sorry if he caused you any trouble, Miss Scott. I don’t know who this man is or what he wants.” But I can guess, he thought to himself.