Blood Trail

With both weapons pointing at them from different angles, an attack, whether it succeeded or not, would be fatal to at least one of their company. There had to be another way and they had to find it quickly for although Storm's heart still fought to survive, Henry could hear how much it had weakened, how tenuously it clung to life.

    "You keep your goddamned mouth shut," Mark suggested. His hands were sweating around the shotgun but even with his uncle covering their "guests" he dared not wipe his palms. He was well aware that the moment the shooting started and it no longer had anything to lose that creature would charge. This had to be carefully choreographed so that he and his pelts came out in one piece. And if he couldn't bring Uncle Carl around ... Poor old man, he wasn't entirely sane, you know. "All right, the lot of you, turn around and line up facing that wall."

    "Why, Mark?"

    "So that I can cover them and you can send them back to hell where they belong." With a sudden flash of inspiration, he added, "God's will be done."

    Carl's head came up. "God's will be done." It was not for him to question the will of God.

    "Mr. Biehn." Celluci wet his lips. Time to lay all the cards on the table. "I'm a Detective-Sergeant with the Metropolitan Toronto Police Department. My badge is in the front left-hand pocket of my pants."

    "You're with the police?" The rifle barrel dipped toward the floor.

    "He's consorting with Satan's creatures!" Mark snapped. The cop would die by a rifle bullet.
    Poor Uncle Carl...

    The rifle barrel came up. "The police are not immune to the temptations of the devil." He peered at Celluci. "Have you been saved?"

    "Mr. Biehn, I'm a practicing Catholic, and I will recite for you the 'Lord's Prayer,' the
    'Apostles Creed,' and three 'Hail Marys,' if you like." Celluci's voice grew gentle, the voice of a man who could be trusted. "I understand why you've been shooting these people. I really do.
    But hasn't it occurred to you that God has plans you're not aware of and maybe, just maybe, you're wrong?" As they were still alive, it had obviously occurred to him; Celluci attempted to make the most of it. "Why don't you put down that gun, and we'll talk, you and I, see if we can't find a way out of this mess." And then, up out of the depths of childhood when his tiny, black-clad grandmother had made him learn a Bible verse every Sunday, he added, " 'For there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known.' "

    "St. Luke, chapter twelve, verse two." Carl shuddered and Mark saw that he was losing him.
    "Even the devil quotes scripture, Uncle."

    "And if he is not the devil, what then?" A muscle jumped in the old man's cheek. "Would you murder an officer of the law?"

    "Man's law, Uncle, not God's law!"

    "Answer my question!"

    "Yes, answer him, Mark. Would you commit murder? Break a commandment?" Now, Celluci used his voice like a chisel, hoping to expose the rotten core. "Thou shalt not kill. What about that?"

    Mark had escaped death twice already this night. From the moment he'd recognized the creature that had attacked him in the woods, he'd known that escaping death a third time would take more than luck. In order for him to live, everyone in the barn would have to die.
    And he was going to live. This goddamned bastard of a fucking cop was manipulating the one thing he needed to pull his ass out of the fire and still be able to make a profit. The old man as a live stooge was preferable to the old man as a dead excuse.

    "Uncle Carl ..." Stress the relationship. Remind him of where the blood ties lay, of family loyalty.

    "These are not God's creatures. You said so yourself."

    Carl looked down at Cloud and shuddered. "They are not God's creatures." Then he raised his tormented eyes to Celluci's face. "But what of him?"

    "Condemned by his own actions. Willingly consorting with Satan's minions."

    "But if he is a police officer, the law ..."

    "Don't worry, Uncle Carl." Mark didn't bother to hide the sudden rush of relief. If the old man was concerned about repercussions, then he'd already decided to take action. It was in the bag.
    "I can make the whole thing look like an accident. Just be careful when you kill the white wolf - dog, whatever - that you don't ruin the pelt."

    Just a little too late, he realized he'd said the wrong thing.

    The old man shuddered and then straightened, as though he were shouldering a terrible weight.
    "So much I'm unsure