Part 64 (1/2)

In the End.

*”hree weeks later, David, Nia, and Jahlil left Atlanta, where i they had been staying in David's home, and returned to Dark Corner. They went to retrieve their belongings. And to pay their respects to the lost.

”The Lost” was how the news media had taken to describing the town residents who had mysteriously vanished over Labor Day weekend. Previously, Mason's Corner had been noteworthy only as the hometown of its famous native son, Richard Hunter. But the town gained a sudden, unwelcome notoriety when news of the ”displaced” residents leaked out. Those who continued to live in Mason's Corner refused to discuss with the media what had happened, stating only that a terrible storm had come and wreaked havoc on their quiet hometown. They claimed that they did not know where ”The Lost” had gone, and shut their doors when pressed to answer further questions.

David had followed the media coverage from Atlanta. After three weeks, when the media's interest in the taciturn residents waned and the news crews moved on to fresher stories elsewhere, he told Nia and Jahlil that it was time for them to go back.

Neither of them was surprised. They understood that they had unresolved business to handle there.

They drove back on an overcast Sat.u.r.day. Nia drove, as David's arm was still healing. Throughout most of the drive, they were in good spirits, enjoying the familylike camaraderie they had developed. When they drew within ten miles of Mason's Corner, however, they grew quiet. When they entered the city limits, the only sound to be heard within the SUV was the music playing on the stereo.

This place looks a lot like it did when I first came here, David thought. Main Street had been cleaned up, the broken windows replaced. Cars and trucks drove back and forth along the road. People walked in and out of shops.

But there were differences, and they went beyond the orange-red autumn leaves. Everyone appeared to be in a hurry, as if afraid to meander outdoors for too long. Many of the storefronts had bars across the windows. And the residents who took note of them driving through town regarded them not with curiosity, but with quick, anxious glances.

”I could never live here again,” Nia said in a brittle voice.

”Yeah,” Jahlil mumbled. ”Me neither.”

Perched on the hill on the east side of the city, Jubilee gazed down on them, an ineradicable scar.

David's chest tightened. He looked away from the house.

They reached the park. The three of them, and King, climbed out.

With his left arm encased in a heavy cast, David grasped Nia's fingers with his right hand as they strolled along the gra.s.s. They had first met here; he would never forget that day. As he looked into her eyes, he knew she was thinking the same thoughts.

They stopped in a quiet corner of the park. Jahlil set down the potted magnolia sapling that he had been carrying.

They planted the magnolia there, in the rich soil. Finished, they formed a circle around the young tree. Jahlil had written a poem, ent.i.tled ”Always,” to dedicate the tree to those, friends and strangers alike, who had been lost when darkness had fallen over the town. He recited the bittersweet poem from memory; he had spent many hours preparing for this day.

By the time Jahlil finished speaking, tears trickled down his face. He lowered his head. David took him into his arms, and held him.

The next morning, after spending the night at a hotel in Southaven, they rented a U-Haul trailer, hooked it to the rear of the SUV, and went to each of their families' homes, to pick up the items they wanted to bring back to Atlanta. They visited Jahlil's place first, then Nia's. They arrived last at the Hunter family home.

David was crossing the sidewalk, lugging a suitcase packed with clothes to the trailer, when a champagne Lincoln limousine slid down the street and parked in front of the house.

Frowning, he placed the luggage on the ground.

A chauffeur, attired in a formal black suit and a cap, stepped outside the limousine. He nodded at David, strode to the rear pa.s.senger door, and pulled it open in a reverential manner, as though he were serving a member of royalty.

Two figures slipped out of the limo. The first was a tall, lean black man who wore shades, an elegant hat, and a fine dark suit. For a reason that David could not define, the man was familiar-looking.

But the second person was the stunner: an exquisitely beautiful black woman clothed in a midnight-blue dress and a matching, wide-brimmed hat. She wore a pair of tinted gla.s.ses, too.

After all that he had experienced, David had thought that it would be impossible for him to ever be shocked again, but he felt as though he had closed his hand over a live wire.

The woman's movements were so smooth that she appeared to glide across the distance between them.

”It's you,” he said, breathlessly.

The ancient vampire, Lisha, smiled.

”I received word that you had returned,” she said. ”I had intended to visit the town, to see it with my own eyes, and what better time to come than when you would be present?”

His mouth was dry. ”I ... I don't know what to say. All I can say is, thank you for helping us. I don't know why you did it, but I'm glad that you did.”

”Diallo was a cancer upon the earth,” she said. ”He would have consumed this world had I not intervened. In the process, his ill-advised actions would have drawn attention to our kind and brought destruction and misery upon us all. I could never allow such a disaster.”

David nodded. ”So you used me to save yourself. What about your son, Kyle?”

”Kyle had too much of his father in him. He would have become a problem in his own right, in time.”

What kind of mother could so callously dismiss her own son? David comprehended how inhuman this creature really was. Although she looked like a woman, and had a woman's voice, and a sweet, feminine scent, too, there was nothing genuinely human about her. She was as alien as a species that might be found at the edge of the galaxy.

She appeared to sense his opinion of her, and looked amused. ”You would have to live a millenia to understand, my child. Humans place their hope in heavenly salvation. But my only religion is self-preservation.”

Alien. He would never understand her, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, either.

”Okay, can I ask you one thing?” David said. ”The ghost that Diallo saw before he died, who was it?”

”That was not my doing, child,” Lisha said. ”Every soul has its hopes. Even the soul of a monster such as Diallo.”

”I don't get it.”

”It is not relevant for you to understand. You have fulfilled your family's legacy, David Hunter. Be proud of that. Not all of those in your bloodline were quite as capable. You are very special.”

David blushed. ”Well, thank you”

Lisha reached forward and touched his cheek with her long, slender fingers. Her touch was warm.

”One day,” she whispered, ”perhaps we shall meet again. Until then, someone else would like to converse with you.”