The Gatekeeper's Sons

Chapter 24

When Todd pulled onto the gravelly drive of Therese's home, Therese said, "Stop here. You don't have to go all the way up to the house."

"Don't be silly," Todd said.

"Seriously!" she cried with full panic. "I need to walk. I'm, I need some fresh air after all that smoke."

Todd turned off the engine. "Fine. We'll walk with you, won't we Ray."

Ray shrugged. "I don't care, but I have a feeling Therese doesn't want us to."

She met Ray's gaze. "I'm just a little worried, that's all. I've had a great time with you guys, as always. Please don't be offended."

Ray shrugged again, "Who's offended?"

Todd opened his door and jumped out. "Give me your hand," he said.

As she stepped onto the huge tire, Therese listened to the quiet night air, wondering if the gods were here, or the murderers waiting for her. She took Todd's hand and jumped. "Thanks," she said softly. "And thanks for the ride. I owe you big time."

"Big time," he teased. "I'll collect. Don't you worry." He climbed back in to his truck. "Night."

"Night." She watched him back up, the crackle of pebbles spitting out from beneath his huge tires, and pull away. When she could no longer see his taillights, her knees shook.

She stepped quietly up the drive toward her house. There were no lights on—not even the porch light. She wondered whether she should take the stairs up to the front screened porch or enter through the back as she crept slowly up the drive, her heart thudding in her chest.

A sound from the dark forest behind her house startled her. She sucked in a breath and froze, just like the chipmunks on her deck always did whenever they became aware of her. Like they, Therese stood perfectly still, waiting. The dying branch of the elm was just visible in the moonlight, and it pointed at her like an omen: You, Therese Mills!

The fact that Clifford was not alarmed by her presence or the presence of the thing in the woods filled her with terror. He would be barking by now. He would smell her scent. He would be aware of the other thing, too.

She decided to move toward the front door, away from the woods. She slid her key from her front jean pocket and had it ready to gouge someone's eye if needed. She took a step up. The wooden board beneath her foot creaked. Otherwise, the house was silent and still.

On tiptoes, she slipped through the screened porch to the front door. Before she could put her key in the lock, she found the door ajar. She pushed it in, gently, hesitantly. She stood there in the crack of the door, vigilant. Except for the dim light of the moon washing in through a skylight above her, the living room and kitchen behind it were bathed in a curtain of darkness. The hallway to her right, leading to the two bedrooms, was in shadows, but Therese could now hear a vague sound—like someone breathing—coming from it. Her own heart pounded so loudly, and her own breath moved through her so quickly, she found it difficult to trust her hearing.

She swallowed hard and reached for a lamp, but it failed to illuminate the room. She remembered then that the bulb had burned out and hadn't been replaced since...since before everything had happened. She took a few steps into the room to find the light switch. A low whine, barely above a whisper, came from the hallway. Therese froze like a statue.

When the whine came again, Therese recognized it, and she flew for the switch. The room was showered with light. "Clifford?" She ran to the hall. Lying on the wooden floor on his side, not moving, but still breathing, was her dog. She rushed beside him on the floor. "Clifford!" He didn't move. She used her hand to feel around his body, but she couldn't find any injuries. There was no blood, but he could barely open his eyes, and his tongue was hanging from his mouth like he was dying.