RUNNING WITH THE DEMON by Terry Brooks

I have enemies to eliminate.

Nest could still hear his words, spoken to her in the blackness of the caves, disembodied and remote and rife with malice. The demon had gone about the business of eliminating Gran quite deliberately. He had taken great pains to sidetrack everyone who might protect her, and then he had come for her. Nest knew it was so. She had never been so certain of anything in her life.

Now Gran was warning her, in the crumpled note she held in her hands, that the demon was coming for her as well.

Why?

Nest had pondered the question all night and she still didn’t have an answer. She had assumed all along that the demon’s interest in her was strictly secondary to his interest in Gran or John Ross, that he was using her to get to them. But Gran’s note suggested that his intentions were more personal. Gran obviously believed the demon was after Nest as well. Use your magic. Trust Wraith. Gran could have written anything in those last few moments, but she had chosen to write this.

Why?

Because Gran had thought it more important than anything else. Because she knew what was going to happen.

Which was more than Nest could say.

What did the demon want with her?

She rolled onto her back and stared at the flat surface of the ceiling. Use your magic. Trust Wraith. As if the magic had done Gran any good. And where was Wraith last night when she was fighting to keep her sanity as the feeders crawled all over her? Why should she believe either one would be of any use against the demon? Questions buzzed in her mind like gnats, and she closed her eyes against their persistent whine. The answers that would silence them were nowhere to be found. God, she was going to miss Gran. Her eyes filled with tears immediately. She still couldn’t believe her grandmother was gone, that she wasn’t sitting there at the kitchen table with her orange juice and vodka and her cigarette and ashtray, that she wouldn’t be asking Nest what time she planned to be home from the fireworks that night, that she wouldn’t be there to talk about the feeders and the forest creatures and the magic in the park.

Nest sobbed quietly. She could still see the look on Gran’s face as she lay lifeless on the porch, the shotgun clutched in her hands. She would always see that look, a cold haunting at the fringes of her warmer memories. She had known the truth about how Gran died the instant she had seen her face. The note only confirmed it.

She turned on her side again, staring at the curtained window and the clouded sky beyond. The back of her throat ached with what she was feeling. She would never get over this, she thought. She would never be the same again.

Footsteps approached along the hallway beyond her room and stopped outside her door. A moment later the door opened, and someone stepped inside. She lay without moving, listening to the silence. She hoped that whoever was there would go away.

“Nest?” her grandfather called softly.

She did not respond, but he crossed to the bed anyway and sat down next to her.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.

She closed her eyes against the sound of his voice. “Yes.”

“That’s good. I know it wasn’t easy. But you needed to get some rest.” He was quiet for a few moments, and she could feel his eyes on her. She remained motionless beneath the sheet, curled into herself. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“There’s a lot of food out there. People have been stopping by all morning, bringing casseroles and tins filled with everything you can imagine.” He chuckled softly. “Looks like some of them emptied out their entire kitchens. We’ve got enough food to feed an army. I don’t know what we’re going to do with all of it.”

His hand rested on her shoulder. “Why don’t you get up and come out and keep me company?”

She was silent a moment, thinking it over. “I heard voices.”

“Friends. Neighbors. Everyone’s gone now. It’s just you and me.” He shifted on the bed, and she could hear him sigh. “They say she didn’t suffer, Nest. She was gone almost right away. Massive heart attack. I spoke with the doctor a little while ago. He was very kind. I’ve got to go down to the funeral home and pick out a casket this afternoon. A notice has already been sent to the paper. Reverend Emery helped prepare it. He’s agreed to speak at the funeral on Thursday.”

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