Running with the Demon - Terry Brooks [159]
“Your dad doesn’t know everything, Robert,” Cass said evenly.
“Tell him that.”
“Mom says they tried to he about it at first,” Brianna interrupted, “but then Mrs. Scott broke down and told them everything. They didn’t arrest her, but they took her kids away and put them in foster care. I guess she’s in big trouble.”
Everyone in that family is in trouble, Nest thought sadly. But it’s Jared who’s paying the price. Someone should have done something to help him a long time ago. Maybe it should have been her. She’d helped Bennett when she was lost; why hadn’t she found a way to help Jared? Why hadn’t she seen he might need her help? She could picture George Paulsen hitting him, could see the feeders rising up out of the shadows to spur George on. She could see Gran as well, standing on the porch with the shotgun pointed at the demon as hundreds of lantern eyes stared hungrily from the shadows.
“It just isn’t fair,” said Brianna.
They talked a while longer, sitting out under the oak trees in the seclusion of the backyard while beyond the hedgerow the park continued to fill with picnickers. Finally Nest told them she had to go in and get something to eat. Robert wanted to know if she was coming over to the park later for the fireworks, and Cass gave him a look and told him he was an idiot. But Nest said she might, that she had been thinking about it and there was no reason to just sit around the house. Gran would have wanted her to go. She would ask her grandfather.
She waited until they disappeared through the hedgerow into the park, then rose and walked slowly back toward the house. She had a curious, unpleasant feeling that everything was slipping away from her. She had always felt secure about her life, able to face whatever changes might come. But now • she felt her grip loosening, as if she might no longer be able to count on anything. It was not just losing Gran and maybe Jared; it was the dark way the world beyond the park had suddenly intruded on her life. It was John Ross and O’olish Amaneh appearing. It was the coming of the demon. It was the danger the maentwrog posed, threatening to break free of its centuries-old prison. It was the sudden emergence of so many feeders in places they had never been seen before and Pick’s warning of a shift in the balance. It was the revival of the mystery surrounding her mother and father. It was Wraith’s failure to protect her last night.
But mostly, she thought, it was the fear and uncertainty she felt at the prospect of having to rely on her magic to stay alive — her magic, which she mistrusted and disliked, a genetic gift come out of her own flesh and blood that she had never fully understood. Gran had left her with a single admonition. When he comes for you, use your magic. Not “if he comes” or. “should he come.” There was no room for debate on what was going to happen or what was required of her, and Nest Freemark, at fourteen years of age, isolated by loss and doubt and secrets kept hidden from her, did not feel ready to deal with it. She was still wrestling with her sense of vulnerability, standing alone not ten feet from her back door, when the demon appeared.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The demon stepped from behind the garage where it opened onto the driveway leading down the lane, emerging from a patch of shadows cast by one of the old shagbark hickories. Nest froze on seeing him, the thoughts that cluttered her mind disappearing with the quickness of fireflies in daylight. She was so surprised by his appearance that she didn’t even think to call out. She just stood there, staring at him in shock. His bland face was expressionless, as if coming upon her like this was quite natural. He studied her with his washed-out blue eyes, and his gaze was almost tender. He seemed to be seeing something about her that she herself could not, measuring it, weighing it, giving it full and deliberate consideration. She could hear Gran’s words screaming