Chain of Souls (Salem VI) by Jack Heath, John Thompson Page B
Authors: Jack Heath, John Thompson
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many of these people are there? How do we ever figure out who they are? Are they
everywhere
around us? How do we ever trust anybody?"
"That's exactly what they want. They want you to be afraid to trust. They want you to think there are hundreds or thousands of them, that they're all around us. They're
not,
John. This is a head game. These people are not as strong as they want you to think they are. They worship the Devil. That means they worship entropy and chaos and the end of everything we know. I'm not even sure they understand what they're worshipping because I can't imagine why any living creature would worship death. They
can't
be as strong as they're making you think they are. You have to believe that."
"Then what about Card? Was he one of them, too? And if he was, why did he string me along and want me to believe he was a cop?"
"We don't know the answer. Maybe we never will."
John threw his hands in the air, unable to contain his frustration. "So what do we do? How do we start to fight? How do we get a clue to where Sarah is?"
"Baby steps. You're going to go upstairs and get into your jogging clothes. You're going to go out and walk or jog for at least an hour. You're not doing yourself or Sarah any good in your current state. You need to get your brain clear. You understand that, right?"
John blinked at her and after a few seconds he nodded, grateful to have somebody telling him what to do. He stood slowly and went upstairs and came down a couple minutes later in his running pants and a sweatshirt.
"I'll be right here when you get back," Amy said.
John nodded and stumbled out the door. He jogged a couple very slow blocks to warm up and then started picking up speed. After fifteen minutes he felt heat and oxygen and blood coursing through his body, and he began to feel better. He began pushing hard, not exactly consciously, but imagining he could outrun the guilt and sadness that had nearly paralyzed him and that he could catch the rage he imagined was someplace ahead. He knew his rage was something he desperately needed, a weapon against the weight of fear and uncertainty.
He ran harder and harder, sucking the cold air deep in his lungs, blowing out what was left of his hangover, feeling stronger and faster as he went. Gradually, and then more and more, he felt it, his rage starting to boil up from his guts. It was almost like when Rebecca Nurse's spirit had come into him down in the Coven's underground lair. Rage was power, the denial of fear, the willingness to take risks, the ability to receive pain and endure it so that he could inflict even more on his enemies.
The Coven had told him they had Sarah, and they told him to stop. Stop doing what? Stop restarting the
Salem News?
Stop trying to find Jessica Lodge? It didn't matter what they wanted him to stop. He needed the mouthpiece of a newspaper to fight the Coven when the time came to fight them in print, and he needed to find Jessica Lodge because she had so many of the answers he needed. The Coven might have Sarah, but there was nothing he could do to save her without information and leverage. He knew what the Coven did to the people it captured. Obeying them wasn't an option because it wasn't going to help Sarah.
Finally understanding what he had to do, he turned for home.
CHAPTER TEN
BACK IN HIS HOUSE, JOHN WENT OVER TO AMY and took her in his arms. Holding her tight to his chest, he said, "Thank you for kicking me out of my despondency. For a while there I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything. I was just stuck."
Amy pulled away from him and looked up. "You've taken a huge blow. I don't have a child, but I think I understand what this means to you. But I also know you're a fighter." She smiled. "You're as good a fighter as I've ever seen, good enough to save my life when I didn't think there was anything that could save me. I just want you to know that I'm with you for whatever it takes to get Sarah back, even up to and including a trip to
everywhere
around us? How do we ever trust anybody?"
"That's exactly what they want. They want you to be afraid to trust. They want you to think there are hundreds or thousands of them, that they're all around us. They're
not,
John. This is a head game. These people are not as strong as they want you to think they are. They worship the Devil. That means they worship entropy and chaos and the end of everything we know. I'm not even sure they understand what they're worshipping because I can't imagine why any living creature would worship death. They
can't
be as strong as they're making you think they are. You have to believe that."
"Then what about Card? Was he one of them, too? And if he was, why did he string me along and want me to believe he was a cop?"
"We don't know the answer. Maybe we never will."
John threw his hands in the air, unable to contain his frustration. "So what do we do? How do we start to fight? How do we get a clue to where Sarah is?"
"Baby steps. You're going to go upstairs and get into your jogging clothes. You're going to go out and walk or jog for at least an hour. You're not doing yourself or Sarah any good in your current state. You need to get your brain clear. You understand that, right?"
John blinked at her and after a few seconds he nodded, grateful to have somebody telling him what to do. He stood slowly and went upstairs and came down a couple minutes later in his running pants and a sweatshirt.
"I'll be right here when you get back," Amy said.
John nodded and stumbled out the door. He jogged a couple very slow blocks to warm up and then started picking up speed. After fifteen minutes he felt heat and oxygen and blood coursing through his body, and he began to feel better. He began pushing hard, not exactly consciously, but imagining he could outrun the guilt and sadness that had nearly paralyzed him and that he could catch the rage he imagined was someplace ahead. He knew his rage was something he desperately needed, a weapon against the weight of fear and uncertainty.
He ran harder and harder, sucking the cold air deep in his lungs, blowing out what was left of his hangover, feeling stronger and faster as he went. Gradually, and then more and more, he felt it, his rage starting to boil up from his guts. It was almost like when Rebecca Nurse's spirit had come into him down in the Coven's underground lair. Rage was power, the denial of fear, the willingness to take risks, the ability to receive pain and endure it so that he could inflict even more on his enemies.
The Coven had told him they had Sarah, and they told him to stop. Stop doing what? Stop restarting the
Salem News?
Stop trying to find Jessica Lodge? It didn't matter what they wanted him to stop. He needed the mouthpiece of a newspaper to fight the Coven when the time came to fight them in print, and he needed to find Jessica Lodge because she had so many of the answers he needed. The Coven might have Sarah, but there was nothing he could do to save her without information and leverage. He knew what the Coven did to the people it captured. Obeying them wasn't an option because it wasn't going to help Sarah.
Finally understanding what he had to do, he turned for home.
CHAPTER TEN
BACK IN HIS HOUSE, JOHN WENT OVER TO AMY and took her in his arms. Holding her tight to his chest, he said, "Thank you for kicking me out of my despondency. For a while there I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything. I was just stuck."
Amy pulled away from him and looked up. "You've taken a huge blow. I don't have a child, but I think I understand what this means to you. But I also know you're a fighter." She smiled. "You're as good a fighter as I've ever seen, good enough to save my life when I didn't think there was anything that could save me. I just want you to know that I'm with you for whatever it takes to get Sarah back, even up to and including a trip to
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