3

The tires of the Suburban shrieked as Toby planted his foot on the accelerator. He held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, fighting to keep the SUV in the lane. “Are they coming?”

“Go!” shouted Eddie. “Go, and don’t stop! No matter what, don’t stop!”

“She’s coming,” said Amanda in a voice curiously devoid of emotion. “The redhead.”

Toby glanced toward the parking lot, and for a moment, his gaze locked on the eyes of the thing walking toward them. Her eyes brightened, her irises glowing, spinning. A small smile played on her lips; the kind of smile people use when they want to tell an inappropriate joke.

He snapped his gaze away, back to the road ahead of him. The engine of the Suburban roared and whined, its tires scrabbling along the road’s surface, fighting for traction.

“Oh, good Christ,” whispered Amanda in the same flat voice.

“GO!” screamed Eddie.

A strange song began to play in the back of Toby’s mind, though he was sure he’d never heard anything like it in his life. It sounded rough and raspy—as though hummed deep in the throat. The tune danced along his neurons, whole circuits coming alive at its call. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he imagined dots of color dancing on a wall.

“Do you hear that?” asked Toby, his voice sounding distant.

“Oh, shit,” muttered Eddie.

“Hear what?” asked Mike.

Though he didn’t want to, Toby turned his head toward the oncoming thing with red hair and orange eyes. His gaze skimmed past hers, and it was as if he’d touched a live wire. The electric sense of connection with something of vast, ungovernable power jolted him, and, at the same time, the volume of the lament worming into the back of his mind increased. The melody evoked a primal fear, the dread of something unknown, of something moving in the dark, of being stalked by a man-eater. Again, their gazes met and locked on one another. It was as if her eyes had become a powerful magnet, and his focus locked on her eyes.

Where are you heading, gringo? she asked in a sultry voice that sounded from deep inside his own mind. Where is it you believe you can hide where I can’t find you? She tilted her head to the side, a grin broadening on her lips. Don’t you see me, chulo?

Why are you doing that?

Doing what, chico mio? Her grin became a lopsided one, and a mechanical, monotone chuckle rang inside his mind as though she stirred his thoughts with a spoon. Oh! The slang? It’s just who I am, Tobes. You don’t mind if I call you ‘Tobes,’ do you? The dreadful melody playing in his mind took on a spectral wailing, a frightful, eerie quality.

Toby felt time sliding away from him, his body sliding away from him. He tore his eyes away from the redheaded fiend’s gaze and watched his hands drop away from the wheel and his foot come off the accelerator. He struggled to grasp the wheel, to plant his right foot, and the melody playing in his mind doubled, then trebled in volume. A countermelody began, high-pitched and reedy in opposition to the throaty hum of melody. He fought to control his limbs, and the spectral lament grew stronger until agony speared through his head.

Do not try to resist me, vato. Je ne pense pas que j’aime ca. No, I don’t think I like that at all. Inteendo?”

His hands twitched, his forearms quaking with the attempt of lifting them, but his efforts only slowed their fall toward his lap. The reedy countermelody demanded his attention. He seemed to sense it through his eyes—blotches of color dancing before his eyes. Sorry, lady, I only speak English.

Kei te pai tena, Tobes. I speak all the best languages, more than enough for both of us.

Even shaking his head seemed beyond his ability. The song wormed its way into his thoughts, unlaying every impulse, every idea. It sapped his will to resist, scrambled his mental commands to grab the steering wheel, to plant his foot.

“Toby! What the hell are you doing?” cried Mike. “She’s almost on us! Drive!”

Toby’s foot twitched, his toe pointing toward the gas pedal. His hands no longer slowed their fall, only the tips of his fingers fluttering in time to the dirge that rang in the hallways of his mind. As if beyond his control, his head lifted, taking his attention away from his lap, then turned toward her. His gaze snaked to her face, circling and circling its boundaries as if trying to prolong the moment. His gaze spiraled inward, toward pits of blazing orange warmth.

When their eyes locked, Toby fell away, sliding toward darkness, toward the relief from his war against the demons, toward bliss.