Devil's Throat (The River Book 6) Read online

  Steven focused on driving and ignoring Roy. He loved his father, but there were times when Roy’s perspective on things didn’t help Steven’s mood. This was one of those times.

  Steven’s relationship with Roy had changed dramatically in the past year. When Steven’s home became haunted last year, it was Roy who helped him solve the problem, and in the process, showed Steven how to use latent abilities he wasn’t even aware of. They both could enter the River at will – an invisible, moving flow of information, always available to those with “the gift.” Once in the River, they could see things not normally visible to most people, things like ghosts and other creatures and objects usually kept hidden from mankind. When Roy’s father was alive, he too had the gift, and taught Roy how to use it. Roy’s grandfather and great-grandfather were all practitioners of the gift – and recorded their experiences in a book that was passed from generation to generation. Roy was the current keeper of the book, but it would pass to Steven at some point.

  Steven’s mother seemed to sense her children might be heirs to her husband’s gift, and she wasn’t a fan of Roy’s abilities. She kept Steven and his brother, Bernard, wrapped up in church schooling and activities all through their youth, and Steven’s relationship with his father during those years was strained. After he left home, Steven became a rational skeptic and would have found the idea of “the gift” ludicrous. It was only when his own home became a source of nightmarish hauntings that Roy stepped in and helped him discover his own abilities. In the process, Steven developed a new relationship with his father.

  But it wasn’t all wine and roses. Roy was crass and opinionated. Steven knew there was still a lot he needed to learn from Roy, and normally he would question him to his liking, but there were many times when Steven found biting his tongue to be the best way to handle Roy. Arguing with him on certain points, like politics, would only end in disaster. As long as the conversation stayed on topics like the River and their immediate goals, they seemed to get along fine – better than they had in years.

  “Ten miles to Pendleton,” Roy said. “I can smell the coffee from here!”

  And then there was the funny and charming side of Roy. When he wanted to, he could be very charismatic, far more charismatic than me, Steven thought. He can flip from one extreme to another at the drop of a hat. Not sure if that’s part of the charm, or my cross to bear.

  After stopping in Pendleton, they switched driving, with Roy taking the wheel. The route through Deadman Pass with I-84 snaking through the Oregon mountains called for slower speeds than the normal interstate, and Steven had to keep an eye on Roy’s speed, which tended to creep up without Roy noticing. There were one or two sudden bends in the road where Steven felt that Roy was driving way too fast, and he was afraid he might flip the car. After another hour they came to a calmer, straighter stretch of the interstate, and Steven felt the adrenaline slowly leave his body. Steven never could sleep in the car, so he was surprised when Roy woke him up hours later.

  “We gotta decide,” Roy said. “Turn onto Highway 93 here and go straight south down through Nevada, or keep on the interstate and go down through Utah.”

  “Which will be faster?” Steven said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching.

  “Probably the interstate,” Roy said. “But it means going through Utah,” he added, grumbling.

  “You say ‘Utah’ like it’s walking on coals,” Steven asked. “You don’t like Utah?”

  “No, I do not,” Roy said.

  “What is it?” Steven asked. “Too many mountain passes? You don’t like the scenery?”

  “The scenery’s beautiful,” Roy said. “It’s the people.”

  “Oh, the Mormons?”

  “It’s not them so much as everybody’s so goddamn nice all the time,” Roy said, scowling. “Really bugs me.”

  “You’re the only person I know who has an aversion to nice people,” Steven said. “If the interstate is faster, I say we take it, and we’ll just have to find a way to deal with all the troublesome friendliness.”

  “Humrf!” Roy growled, and pressed down the accelerator. “Your turn to drive when we hit Burley.”

  “Can’t believe I slept,” Steven said. “I normally don’t.”

  “You were sawing logs like a sailor!” Roy said. “Wished I could have recorded it. You wouldn’t believe it.”

  “If you think you’re a silent sleeper, guess again,” Steven said. “Sharing a room with you is like sleeping with a broken washing machine.”

  They switched in Burley where Steven took over. Roy was out almost as soon as he hit the passenger seat, and Steven was left to his own thoughts as he drove through the barren wasteland of southern Idaho and northern Utah. Things picked up as he approached Salt Lake City, and soon he found himself driving in six lanes of traffic, virtually empty in the dead of night. He drove until he reached St. George, when the sun started to come up. He pulled the car off the freeway and into a fast food drive thru for a quick bite. Roy woke up.

  “We’re only an hour away now,” Steven said.

  “Good,” Roy said.

  “You’ll be glad to know you slept through almost all of Utah.”

  “Good,” Roy said again. “That worked out nicely.”

  ◊

  An hour later, Steven drove the car slowly down the main drag of Overton. It was a small town, thriving on the business generated by tourists to Lake Mead. Roy had the map on Steven’s phone, and was giving Steven directions.

  “That’s got to be it,” he said, pointing to an old and outdated motel on the left. It was a two-story row of cheap rooms. The harsh sun of southern Nevada had baked and peeled much of a recent paint job, and there were weeds growing between cracks in the pavement.

  Steven pulled his car next to the office and went inside to talk with the motel clerk while Roy waited in the car. Soon Steven returned, and drove the car over to one of the rooms.

  “At first she wouldn’t tell me which room he was in,” Steven said. “But when I gave her ten bucks, she opened right up. He’s in number 17. Upstairs.”

  They walked to a stairwell that was made of concrete. Pieces of the cement were breaking off. “Watch your step,” Steven said to Roy. “I’m surprised this place isn’t condemned.”

  They reached the door to room 17 and Steven knocked. They waited and he knocked again. No answer.

  Steven began to yell through the door. “Jason! Jason, it’s your dad. Open up.”

  He banged again on the door. Still no response.

  “Must be out,” Roy said.

  The door to room 18 opened and a man stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. He turned to look at Roy and Steven. It was Michael.

  Roy bolted towards him. Michael raised his hands and stepped back. “Whoa!” he said. “Back off!”

  “Where’s Jason?” Steven said. “Tell me!”

  “He’s here,” Michael said. “Inside.”

  “Do you have a key to his room?” Steven asked.

  “No,” Michael said, “but we have adjoining rooms.”

  “Take us to him,” Roy said. “And don’t argue, or we’ll throw you off this railing.”

  Michael smiled and opened his door with a key. Inside was a small, dingy room with two twin beds. Michael’s bags were open on one of the beds, and the other looked slept in. The door to the adjoining room was open.

  Steven and Roy walked into the adjoining room. Jason was lying on a bed.

  “Jason!” Steven called. “Jason! Wake up!”

  Roy stepped over to Jason and sat down next to him. He shook him gently. Jason didn’t stir.

  “What have you done to him?” Steven asked, turning to Michael.

  “Well, I taught him how to enter the River,” Michael said. “And how to trance.”

  “Why is he unresponsive?” Steven demanded. Jason’s state reminded him of how Jonathan looked at the Unser estate after he’d had his soul removed.

  “I expect he’s gone s
omewhere,” Michael said.

  “Where?” Steven asked.

  “I don’t think I’ll tell you,” Michael said.

  Steven walked over to Jason and slid his arms under his chest and legs, lifting him from the bed.

  “Come on, Dad,” Steven said. “We’re going!”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Michael said. “You might kill him.”

  Steven turned to Roy. “Is he right?”

  “Maybe,” Roy said. “Depends on what’s going on with him. We don’t know.”

  Steven replaced Jason in the bed and turned back to Michael. “You’re going to tell me where he’s gone, and what’s happening to him, you sonofabitch.”

  “No, I don’t think I am,” Michael said, a smug look on his face. “I don’t like your tone.”

  “I’ll call the cops,” Steven said. “What will they think with my son lying comatose in your adjoining room?”

  “They’ll probably think he’s on drugs,” Michael said. “And haul him out of here, which I guarantee you, you do not want to do.”

  Steven stared at Michael. Michael stared back. “Your move, gentlemen,” Michael said, moving to sit in a chair.

  “Why did you bring him down here?” Steven asked.

  “That’s your move?” Michael asked, and smiled.

  “Tell us, or we’ll beat it out of you!” Steven said.

  “I think we all know that’s not going to happen,” Michael said. “I’m sure you remember how successful you were with your little pop gun in my house.”

  Steven remembered; Michael had caused Roy’s gun to misfire without touching it.

  “And I’m sure you remember how we finished off Lukas,” Roy said. “So don’t be so cocky, asshole.”

  “Oh, I do remember that,” Michael said. “I can’t forget it. I spent a good year mourning his loss. All that work down the drain. I had resigned myself to starting over with someone new, when who should show up next door? Jason Hall, son of the prick who killed Lukas. I was reinvigorated. Purpose came back into my life.”

  “Why can’t we move him?” Steven asked.

  “I don’t think I’ll tell you that either,” Michael said, “but Roy’s right, you could kill him. Boy, would I have loved to see your face when you got that voicemail message and you realized it was me who had stolen your son! That must have been agony for you!”

  Steven began to steam. Roy could see he was beginning to turn red. “You goddamn sonofabitch!” Steven said, charging Michael. He grabbed his shirt and pulled him out of the chair, then pushed him back into the wall of the motel room. The picture hanging on the wall behind Michael swung and fell to the floor.

  Roy grabbed Steven, attempting to pull him off Michael. “It’s not worth it!” Roy said. “I don’t blame you, but he’s got the upper hand at the moment.”

  Steven dropped Michael, who settled back onto the floor. Michael straightened his shirt. “You’ve got a great way of handling things,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “So sophisticated. The opposite of mature. Works well for you, I can tell.”

  “What do you want?” Steven said. “Tell me what you want to let him go.”

  Michael’s face contorted in anger and he stepped forward towards Steven. “I want your son to be the opposite of everything you are. I want him to plague you the rest of your life. I want him to hate you, to despise your name every time he hears it. I want him to spend his life trying to reverse everything you’ve ever done. That’s for starters.”

  Steven swung at Michael and connected. Michael’s head flew to the right and blood flew out of his mouth, hitting the wall. His body followed his head, and he spun around, facing away from Steven. Roy stepped up again to stop him, but Steven’s second punch had already landed and Michael went down. Steven held his fist with his left hand; the swings had obviously hurt.

  “He’s out,” Roy said. “Wow, you really clocked him, just like Jonathan! This is getting to be a thing with you!”

  “Let’s tie him up while he’s out,” Steven said, shaking his fist open, trying to dispel the pain. “Then we can torture him.”

  “We’re not going to torture him,” Roy said. “It won’t work with him. You’re lucky he didn’t see the punch coming, or he would have defended himself in a way that was worse than the way your hand is feeling right now. I don’t want to be around him when he comes to.”

  “What are we going to do?” Steven said. “Leave Jason here, under his control?”

  “Do you want to risk hurting Jason by moving him?” Roy said.

  “Is that really true? Could moving him really hurt him, or is Michael full of shit?” Steven resisted the temptation to kick Michael as he lay on the ground.

  “Who knows?” Roy said. “Maybe he’s bullshitting, maybe he’s not. We’ve got to learn more before we do anything. That’s our next step, not torturing this asshole. He’s more dangerous than you think, and he’s already angry enough to just go ahead and kill Jason. Let’s let him think that what he’s doing to Jason right now is the worst he could do to hurt you. That at least keeps Jason alive while we investigate.”

  He’s right, Steven thought. He’s almost always right. Playing this any other way right now would be stupid and risky. For a moment he regretted punching Michael, concerned that it might come back on Jason, but the concern was fleeting when he thought of how good it felt to connect his fist with Michael’s left cheek.

  “Alright,” Steven said. “What do we do? Clear out?”

  “We’re gonna walk down to the motel office,” Roy said, “and get our own rooms in this dump. Then I want to make a few calls and see if we can get some help.”

  Steven stood aside so Roy could walk out of the motel room. He turned to look at Jason lying on the bed, and his heart fell in his chest. Here was Jason, just feet away, and there was nothing he could do to help. Some father I am, he thought. Roy was right, I shouldn’t have ignored him. If he ever recovers from this, I’ll never ignore him again.

  Chapter Three

  Twenty minutes later, Steven and Roy were moving their bags from the car into their own set of adjoining rooms, ten doors down from Jason and Michael’s. Michael will wake up and be pissed, Steven thought, and he’ll find out we’re still here. As long as he thinks what he’s doing to Jason will hurt me, he’ll keep doing it. And Jason stays alive in the meantime.

  Once settled in their rooms, Roy asked Steven to call Dixon and then Eliza. He asked each of them if they knew of anyone in the area who might be able to help. Dixon, normally a fount of information when it came to expert contacts in various locales, came up dry. Eliza said she thought she might know someone, but it was through a friend and she’d need to contact the friend first to get their name and info. She promised to call right back as soon as she got it.

  “In the meantime, the book,” Steven said, referring to the family book Roy brought with them. It was a hand-bound book with several sections, each part having been added by another generation of gifted Halls. The first section was written by Roy’s great-great-grandfather Thomas. He’d passed it down to his son Thomas Jr., then to Charles, and Charles had given it to David, Roy’s father. Each of them added to the book in their own way, tacking on a new section that was a slightly different shape and binding than the one before it. It made for a hodge-podge of a book that always looked one step from falling apart.

  Roy was much better at understanding what was in it since he had more experience than Steven, and the book’s meanings only revealed themselves once the reader brought some personal context to their reading. For Steven, much of the book was impenetrable. It read like English, but any given sentence seemed like jumbled words. That is, until he developed some experience of the subject the words were written to explain – then the words became clear. Still, ninety percent of the book was pure gibberish to him. Roy understood much more of it.

  “I’ll start going through it,” Roy said, “if you’ll go out and find us something to eat. There was a mart at t
he end of town; it must have something we can ingest.”

  “Let me guess,” Steven said, “cheese and crackers?”

  “You got it,” Roy said, “if they have it. If not, anything except anchovies.”

  “Somehow I don’t think anchovies will be an option here in bustling Overton,” Steven said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Steven left Roy reading the family book and descended the broken cement steps to the ground floor. He climbed into his car and turned out of the motel and onto the main drag of Overton.

  Steven decided to drive the length of the town, to see what was available. He turned left and proceeded to the south end of town. There was a grocery store near the middle of town, bigger than the mart Roy had seen as they entered. Steven decided he’d come back to it after he reached the end of town. He passed a couple of places to eat, a hardware store, and a Radio Shack. At the far end of town he found a museum where he decided to turn around. He retraced his route and stopped at the grocery store. He grabbed supplies and drove back to the motel.

  Roy was inside, reading. “Any luck?” Roy asked.

  “Found a full-fledged grocery store a few blocks the other way,” Steven said, “so your cheese and crackers are here. And I got you some beer. What about you? Any luck with the book?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “There’s plenty about trancing, but nothing about a catatonic state like Jason is in.”

  “You think he’s in some state other than a trance?” Steven said. “Something deeper? I didn’t think there was anything deeper.”

  “Oh, there are all kinds of states,” Roy said, “and plenty of them are deeper than a trance. I’ve never used them because I’ve never needed to. But who knows what that little fucker Michael is up to.”

  Steven’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID.

  “It’s Eliza,” he said, and raised the phone to his ear. “Eliza?”

  “Steven, is that you?” Eliza said.

  “Yes,” Steven said. “Hold on, I’m going to put you on speakerphone so Roy can hear.”