Page 35 of The Rut in the Road

He pulleda cigarette out of the pack sitting in the cup-holder, seething. How dare that fucking freak touch him? It wasn’t right, having monsters walking around like they were just like everybody else. When anyone could see that they’d been cursed by God for their sins.

His hand trembled a little as he held a lighter to the end of the cigarette, and he almost swerved into the oncoming lane, hissing a curse out between his teeth and around the end of the cigarette. But he righted the SUV, still stalking behind his quarry.

The faun looked back, and he wasn’t sure if the creature knew he was being followed or if he was just paranoid. Or twitchy. He thought he’d been pretty stealthy, going back to the SUV. He was hanging back a little. Not directly behind. There was another car—a red sedan—between them.

The faun took a corner, and the sedan didn’t. He followed the Nid, but slowed even more. This street was empty except for him and the monster.

It was like a sign from God. Adrenaline surged through him, pushing the gas pedal closer to the floor, almost as though it had a mind of its own. As though the leg and the foot attached to it pressing the pedal down didn’t belong to him. Like it belonged to a higher power.

He liked that idea.

That he was doing the work of a higher authority.

A God who wanted to rid the world of the corruption that was these fucking Nids. Inhuman monsters.

He’d listened to the word of God. Been a church-going, God-fearing Christian his whole life. Had faith. In God, in Jesus, in humanity. And he’d never gotten sick from this magical corruption. Not once. Even though as soon as he’d realized what it was, he’d stopped wearing a mask. Stopped hiding his face from the judgment of God.

God had chosen him. Had been merciful to the righteous. Kept him safe.

He wasn’t going to turn into a monster. Not him.

But he worried for his kids. Six and ten years old, and living in a world of the corrupt. They didn’t understand. Not yet.Didn’t know enough to keep away from those who had been marked by sin. The mark of Cain, Preacher Dale called it.

He’d warned them.

But then Chastity had gone and played with some filthy fucking Nid-spawn. Fallen and scraped her knee.

And the fucking teacher had said it wasn’t the Nid-spawn’s fault. That kids were just kids. They fell. Scraped their knees.

But he knew the little demon had pushed her.

Tried to corrupt her.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, savoring the flavor of the tobacco, his heart pounding, the headlights focusing just to the left of the hunched figure, its demon-hooves glinting in the light.

Just like the little Nid-spawn that had pushed Chastity.

Not the same one, of course. That one had been little. This was a big one.

He didn’t know the monster, but heknewhim. It. Knew that it was sinful. Corrupt. It had to be, or God wouldn’t have made it in the shape of the devil.

It had bumped against him as it left the ATM, and his skin had crawled, his body’s revulsion telling him just how evil it really was.

So he’d gotten out of the line—because money was a sign of greed—and followed, getting back into his SUV where he’d stopped it by the curb, following the unnatural path the demon took through the city streets, waiting for his chance.

It looked back over its shoulder, then picked up the pace.

He grinned, his teeth biting down on the end of the cigarette, his blood thrumming with righteous judgment.

He saw the creature turning, heading for an alleyway, and spun the wheel?—

I setthe butt down on the table, slowly, deliberately, swallowing to ease the dryness in my throat from the constant stream of speech. “I’m not sure what happened then,” I said. “But the memories stop. I assume the cigarette fell out of his mouth.”

I looked up, finding both of them staring at me, Hart’s mouth slightly open.

“Jeeeesus fuck, kid,” he said.

I blinked. “What?” I asked, confused.