Running with the Demon - Terry Brooks [160]
Then the demon cocked his head, as if his attention had been drawn away. He smiled at her, a quick, empty gesture, a reflection of some private amusement. He lifted his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss off the tips. A moment later, he was gone, stepping back into the shadows in the lee of the garage and fading away.
Nest stood rooted in place, her hands shaking. She waited for him to reappear, to come for her as Gran had said he would. But nothing happened. The ringing in her ears faded, and she began to hear the sounds of the people in the park again, the robins singing in the trees in her yard, and the cars passing down Woodlawn Road. She took a deep breath and held it, trying to still herself. “
“Nest!”
John Ross limped slowly into view through the gap in the hedgerow from off the service road. A surge of relief flooded through her. She ran to him without thinking, racing across the backyard, barely able to contain the cry of gratitude that rose in her throat. Her legs churned and her arms pumped, and she threw off the last links of her immobilizing chains. She ran to outstrip her fear and revulsion, to leave them stymied and powerless in the wake of her quickness.
When she reached John Ross, she threw herself into his arms and clung to him.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” he said quickly, bracing himself with his staff, his free arm coming about her shoulders reassuringly. “What’s wrong, Nest? Hey, stop crying.”
She shook her head against his chest, fighting the tears, gasping for breath as she tried to speak. Everything washed out of her in a hot flush, all the rage and fear and horror and sadness of last night, evaporating like rainwater on hot concrete in the aftermath of a summer storm.
“I heard about your grandmother, and I came right out,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Nest. I wish I had known he would do this. I would have tried to prevent it. I know how you must feel. I know how hard it must be.”
“I hurt so bad,” she said finally, the words coming from her mouth in little gulps.
“It can’t be any other way,” he replied. “Not when you lose someone you love so much.”
She shook her head slowly, rubbing her face against his shirt, still pressing against him. “Why did this happen? Why did he do it? Was he just trying to get back at her for what happened when she was a girl? Is that it?” The pitch of her voice began to rise and the words to come faster. “John, he was just here, standing down by the garage, staring at me. I couldn’t move! If you hadn’t come...”
“Nest, slow down, it’s all right.” He patted her back in an effort to calm her.
She clutched him more tightly. “Gran left a note, John. Just before she died. She knew what was going to happen. The note says the demon is coming for me, too. For me! Why?”
The words hung sharp-edged and immobile in the silence that followed. John Ross said nothing, but in doing so said everything. Nest felt the precipice she had sought to escape drawing near once more. Ross knew, but would not tell her. Like Gran, he had secrets to hide. Her resolve began to falter. She heard the screen door open and saw her grandfather emerge, looking for her. She felt besieged on all sides, boxed in by her ignorance and confusion. She had to know what was happening. She had to know before it was too late.
A surge of wild determination and reckless courage flooded , through her. “John,” she said quickly, lifting her face away from his chest to look at him. Her heart pounded. “Are you my father?”
The pain that filled his eyes when she spoke the words was palpable. He stared at her with such intensity that it felt to her as if he was unable to convey with words what he was feeling.