Page 119 - Hunter - The Vigil

ht
ow
gl
ty
Honestly, Taylor said, staring down in the empty shot glass set before h him, I m not
d,
s
s
s
g
as
as
in
t
w
n
n
i
p
d
ty
”
i
mp
ng
im
“H n t l ” T l i d s t ri n d ow n in t h e mp ty s ho t gl as s se t b f r e h i “ I ’ nt
h
d
i
o
n
really convinced lycanthropy is even real.”
n
e
in
cl
m
ry
v
b
The man next to him perked up, blinking. EEvery muscle in tthe lumberjack’ss body tightened.
l
g
u
be
rj
ac
k’
n
he
le
The cords of his neck tightened like steel cable.
ab
i
c
ke
ro
“What did you just say?” the man growled.
g
Ba
ou
j
n
u,
yo
e
ba
p
“Oh, we can talk about it. Look around you. Bar’s empty, juust you, me andd the barkeep, and
,
m
o
b
he’s in the restroom. I’m Doctor Welsh, by the way.”
.
,
h
a
ng
i
bo
r
ut
e
ba
a
t
ng
h
ou
’r
i
is
“Fuckin’ fascinating. You mind telling m mee what it is y you’ree babbling about over there?”
u
of
l
ri
si
ni
el
“It’s just that, welll, c consider ergot. Bread mold. Whole reason the Puritanical fools of
ca
th
w
on
fo
ta
Pu
de
m
ol
ad
d.
s
i
i
y
te
lu
a
h
Salem had to worry about witches and the devil. They ate moldy bread, they hallucinated
y
d
so
ti
l
na
tc
.
No
lu
th
w,
things that weren’t theere, end of story. No wwitches. No Devil. Rational solution. Now,
n
lycanthropy —”
ar
a
ng
t
“M
It
The man twisted his barstool toward Taylor. It was like watching a mountain move.. “Maaybe
ai
ow
n
hi
nt
d
ve
be
mo
tc
you ought to stop talking, Doc.”
e
th
yc
t
an
at
n
“Hold on, hear me out. Lycanthropy…nobody’s everr sseen a lycanthrope, at least none that
pe
n
e
py
’s
,
at
th
g
do
ru
g
ee
A
i
d
s
ll
in
o
n
nn
I’ve met. They see different things. A madman bollting throughh a mall. A big dog running
i
g
a
a
r
.
u
em
T
l
hi
t
be
se
fu
o
e
m
c
de
an
ho
se
sc
ng
ri
through traffic. Someone in a costume. Those whho can remember anything useful describe
t
r
i
th
He
ve
d
little more than feelings of hysteria.”” He toyed with the shot glass, turning it oover and
it
y
te
an
as
over again in his hand. His heart, though, was b beating a mile a minutte.
w
u
h,

il
g
i
a
o
ip
ed
am
b
pe
n
t
The big lunk’s hand shot out and grabbed hold of Taylor’s shirt. Damn near rrippedd it off
it
r
ff
oo
with that grip. Some chest hair came free, too.
t
f
“Hemophages — of course we know they exist.. Werewollves, tthough…couldn’t itt be a product
“
e
a
ro
e
ct
wo
h
p
u
h
w
ou
s
i
ds
T
in
?”
he
e
of a shared hallucination? Many derannged minds?? SSome airborne pheromone, perhaps?” The
e
p
a
ps
ir
ph
bo
s
st
r
at
,
,
e
r
ts
to
h
man’s grip tightened. Buttons popped. “Caree to share yyoour thoughts, Mister, aahhh, what’s
your name again?”

e
om
et
i
The man was about to open his mouuth to say somethhing —— but he didn’t gget the chance. The
c
n
’t
i
h
o
dn
bartender rose up behind the man and stuck aa neeedle tthrough tthe tendons of tthat thick
b n d h te n s o ha t
neck. The man tried to lurch to his feet, but the drug worked fast: one lleg crossed in
n ur ch e e u t th ug e d a t : e g cr d in
front of the other and hhe face-planted iinto aa table. AA few teeth skittered bloodyy acrross
o
w
nt
o
e
s
f
h
on
od
t
ac
f
t
i
the woodeen floor.
d
“Messsy,” Taylor said. The bartender — Jimm Cotton, not a Null Mysteriis associate, but a
“M es i o tt on o M
h
i
friend nevertheeless — shrugged.
“Messy’s fine,” Jim said.
“M e
ng
t
“Will you call Evelyn for me? Have her bring the truck around? There’s just one last thing
a
he
t
e
he
j
ck
ng
us
?
hi
e
H
’s
ve
here I need to check…”
d
d
r
t
d
T
r
m
ro
u
ay
un
ne
lo
a
Jim nodded, went off to grab the pphone from under thee bar. Taylor crouched ddown and took
ok
n
r
ow
an
cr
th
,
ou
ed
f
r
of
e
out a small fork: a piece of silverware, sterlingg silver. He pressed the tips of the fourr
p
He
re
t
l
ss
h
f
he
th
e
ro
e
of
tines into the flesh of the man’s exposed foreaarmm. Tiny strings of smoke drifted ffrom the
ed
ne
t
ri

m
ng
r
f
skin. Four dots, burned into the flesh.
r
”

er
,
l
“That,” Taylor said, putting the fork away, “still demands further study.”
th
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