snake.
“It’s just an address in town.”
“Who sent it?” I asked.
“No idea, I don’t recognize the number.” The phone rang loudly in his hand, making everyone jump.
He answered and put it on speaker. “Hello?”
Slow, ragged breathing.
“Hello? Who is this?”
More breathing, but hitching now. Then a strangled sort of wheeze, and then silence.
Leon hung up. “Do we go?”
All eyes turned to me. “No choice. Even if we’re playing into Prime’s hands, it’s not like we have any other information to go on. Our only other plan is to randomly search the woods in this corner of North Carolina, which isn’t exactly promising.”
Everyone grabbed their guns and I buckled on Hunger’s sheath. As always, it felt fever-warm to the touch, even though the house was cool.
The address was on a street in Halfway, so it took us twenty minutes to get to town and another five to find the place we were looking for, a brown single-story house at the end of a residential street. The driveway and the street in front of the house were full of cars and trucks, late model and mostly sporting dark tinted windows and oversized rims.
Nobody answered when I knocked and rang the bell. The door was locked.
“If we’re going to break in,” I said, “we should probably do it out of sight of the neighbors.”
The area out back looked like the aftermath of a year-long house party. Mounds of garbage bags formed a barracade around overflowing bins and cigarette butts and beer cans fought to obscure any hint of grass that may have survived in the backyard. Lots of young men living in a house together leave some pretty unmistakable signs. Between that and the kind of cars parked out front, I had a pretty good idea who lived here.
The back door was open a few inches. I stood to one side of the doorway and shouted through the crack. “Hello?”
No answer. A foul odor seeped out of the house.
Anne touched my arm. “Smells bad. I mean, obviously, but the other way, too.” She drew her pistol.
I nodded and pushed the door open. It opened into a laundry room, dirty clothes piled onto every available surface. I pulled Hunger from its sheath and stepped across the tiny space to the next door. There was no sound from the other side, so I slowly turned the knob and peered into the adjacent room.
I’m not a squeamish guy, but even I had to look away and collect myself for a second before stepping inside.
The smell was like a physical thing, thickening the air until you felt like you were pushing against it. The source was immediately obvious. KC was splayed out on his back on the kitchen table, his intestines heaped in a greasy pile on his chest.
21
C huck spun around and ran back to the yard, retching. Anne covered her mouth and nose with one hand, but I don’t think it helped. The smell was the kind that coated the inside of your nose and the back of your throat. She followed Chuck outside.
A quick survey of the house showed that KC wasn’t alone. There were rubbery, shriveled bodies everywhere. I counted six in the kitchen, stacked in the corners like cordwood, and five more in the living room, perched on the sofa and chairs as if watching TV. Each was contorted horribly as Paulie had been, and obviously had been balanced on the furniture after they had died.
Back in the kitchen, Henry was leaning over KC’s body, carefully avoiding the blood that had run off the table and onto the floor.
“Look here, inside the body.”
“Come on, Henry. Seriously?” The stomach had been cut open from ribcage to pelvis. The intestines had been pulled out of the way, exposing wet lumps and shapes underneath.
He ignored me. “See here, where the liver has been cut open?”
“Not really. It’s just one big mess to me.”
“This was an act of heptomancy. Entrail reading. Somebody was looking for answers.”
I stepped back from the body and turned my face away. “Any idea what?”
“Usually it’s a yes or no kind of
“It’s just an address in town.”
“Who sent it?” I asked.
“No idea, I don’t recognize the number.” The phone rang loudly in his hand, making everyone jump.
He answered and put it on speaker. “Hello?”
Slow, ragged breathing.
“Hello? Who is this?”
More breathing, but hitching now. Then a strangled sort of wheeze, and then silence.
Leon hung up. “Do we go?”
All eyes turned to me. “No choice. Even if we’re playing into Prime’s hands, it’s not like we have any other information to go on. Our only other plan is to randomly search the woods in this corner of North Carolina, which isn’t exactly promising.”
Everyone grabbed their guns and I buckled on Hunger’s sheath. As always, it felt fever-warm to the touch, even though the house was cool.
The address was on a street in Halfway, so it took us twenty minutes to get to town and another five to find the place we were looking for, a brown single-story house at the end of a residential street. The driveway and the street in front of the house were full of cars and trucks, late model and mostly sporting dark tinted windows and oversized rims.
Nobody answered when I knocked and rang the bell. The door was locked.
“If we’re going to break in,” I said, “we should probably do it out of sight of the neighbors.”
The area out back looked like the aftermath of a year-long house party. Mounds of garbage bags formed a barracade around overflowing bins and cigarette butts and beer cans fought to obscure any hint of grass that may have survived in the backyard. Lots of young men living in a house together leave some pretty unmistakable signs. Between that and the kind of cars parked out front, I had a pretty good idea who lived here.
The back door was open a few inches. I stood to one side of the doorway and shouted through the crack. “Hello?”
No answer. A foul odor seeped out of the house.
Anne touched my arm. “Smells bad. I mean, obviously, but the other way, too.” She drew her pistol.
I nodded and pushed the door open. It opened into a laundry room, dirty clothes piled onto every available surface. I pulled Hunger from its sheath and stepped across the tiny space to the next door. There was no sound from the other side, so I slowly turned the knob and peered into the adjacent room.
I’m not a squeamish guy, but even I had to look away and collect myself for a second before stepping inside.
The smell was like a physical thing, thickening the air until you felt like you were pushing against it. The source was immediately obvious. KC was splayed out on his back on the kitchen table, his intestines heaped in a greasy pile on his chest.
21
C huck spun around and ran back to the yard, retching. Anne covered her mouth and nose with one hand, but I don’t think it helped. The smell was the kind that coated the inside of your nose and the back of your throat. She followed Chuck outside.
A quick survey of the house showed that KC wasn’t alone. There were rubbery, shriveled bodies everywhere. I counted six in the kitchen, stacked in the corners like cordwood, and five more in the living room, perched on the sofa and chairs as if watching TV. Each was contorted horribly as Paulie had been, and obviously had been balanced on the furniture after they had died.
Back in the kitchen, Henry was leaning over KC’s body, carefully avoiding the blood that had run off the table and onto the floor.
“Look here, inside the body.”
“Come on, Henry. Seriously?” The stomach had been cut open from ribcage to pelvis. The intestines had been pulled out of the way, exposing wet lumps and shapes underneath.
He ignored me. “See here, where the liver has been cut open?”
“Not really. It’s just one big mess to me.”
“This was an act of heptomancy. Entrail reading. Somebody was looking for answers.”
I stepped back from the body and turned my face away. “Any idea what?”
“Usually it’s a yes or no kind of
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