Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 28

Broderick Street was deserted as John drove towards the only occult store in Portsmouth, The Moon Goddess. He silently chastised himself for not making the connection earlier. He should have remembered this shop from his prior investigations, and even though he had never met the owner, John was familiar with her reputation around town. Active in the community, a member of the Chamber of Commerce, the owner, Minerva Donovan, had gone to great lengths to distance herself from the negative connotations usually associated with an occult store. She kept a small apartment over the store and lived a quiet, respectable life as far as the police were concerned.

The Moon Goddess sat alone on a large lot recessed from the street with the nearest neighbor a full block away. The lights were off in the apartment upstairs and the store looked abandoned. John pulled up in front, letting the car idle while he stared at the building. Something wasn't right; he couldn't put his finger on it, but his skin was tingling. It was just too quiet all around him.

"What are we gonna say to her?" Roddy asked, startling John enough to make him flinch in the seat. Groaning with both frustration and annoyance, John gripped the steering wheel tightly as Roddy ranted on.

"I can hear it now, 'Uh hi, we're the Guardians and a dead guy said for us to find you because we are being hunted by the Old Ones'."

"Well, that's about the rub of it," Rattle said as he got out of the car.

John glared at Roddy, who was fidgeting in the seat again, and his annoyance at the man's constant doom-and-gloom routine threatened to boil up and out like a shot.

"You know what, Roddy? I'm getting real tired of the whining asshole shtick," John muttered.

Roddy's face darkened for a moment and he started to say something, but a rap on his window broke the tension.

Rattle pulled open the car door and shook his head as he spoke. "Guys, I wish you two would knock that shit off. We're on the same team here. Let's just go. She'll either help us or she won't."

Roddy watched Rattle stalk off towards the front door in a huff. The M.E. put his head down briefly and then turned to John, an embarrassed flush settling over his face. "Hey, amigo, I'm just running on empty, man. I don't mean to be such a little bitch about everything." He held out his hand and John shook it.

"We'll get through this. It's been a weird couple of days." John got out and stretched, his own anger ebbing into chagrin. He searched the darkened shop window for any signs of life, a hint at what was waiting inside. "Let's just go see what happens next."

John felt it first, a brief wobble in the air, and then Rattle's panic-filled voice knifed towards him.

"Guys! I think we're too late--"

Rattle's shout was muffled as the front door exploded outward, spraying shards of wood and glass in a deadly arc. John and Roddy hit the ground with slivers of glass embedded in their cheeks and hands. Rattle was knocked flat on the ground with a dagger of wood protruding from his thigh; blood poured out of the wound in a frothy stream. The old man reached down and tried to pull the piece out of his leg, screaming with the effort and struggling to sit up.

"Stay down!" John yelled, and Rattle went limp.

John heard footsteps behind him and rolled over to see a large crowd, some he recognized from around town, moving into position to form a human wall around the store and cut off his escape route. It was the Shadow Army, and the air pulsed with the buzz and hum of the Old Ones' voices. John watched in horror as shadows peeled away from the front of the store and inched towards Rattle, who was struggling to sit up again. The old man looked over at John and Roddy, and waved them away.