by T. G. Ayer
I didn’t turn around, just nodded and reached for the small plastic bag. It sat in my palm, looking a bit out of place. The tooth was very white, and tiny, with flecks of red-brown blood left on the root. I stood up, paying little attention to the chair scraping across the floor, focusing on the tooth and the vibrations it set off. I hurried to the sitting room, then made myself comfortable on the overstuffed couch.
I needed to relax for this. It wasn’t going to be as easy as jumping to see Chloe. I knew Chloe’s signature almost as well as I knew my own, having tracked her countless times in the last nine years.
Tracking a new feedback thread was always an unpredictable experience. Like walking in a jungle in the dark, holding onto a thin cord to guide me. I never knew where I would end up with a new tracking, so it paid to be extra careful.
I rested against the pillows and opened the bag. Just the act of exposing the tooth to the air was enough to start me up. The tooth helped—plenty of feedback from the child, which was a good thing. It meant I’d be able to piggyback on the tangible link between Samantha and what was essentially part of her body.
I tipped the incisor onto the bare skin of my palm and was slammed back into the pillows, as hard as taking a punch to the gut. The link was strong—the regular thud of a heartbeat assured me immediately the girl was alive. I didn’t have time to enjoy the relief. The next thing I smelled was blood and I didn’t dare to imagine what that meant. All I could sense was a rich odor, a coppery aftertaste. I couldn’t be sure the blood belonged to the girl and I couldn’t be sure it didn’t, so no sense in panicking. Wherever Samantha Cross was right now, she was alive.
But it didn’t mean she’d stay that way.
I breathed and attached my mind to the energy resonating from the tooth, then began to feel my way forward, to follow it as gently as I could without breaking it. I’d never broken a feedback thread before and I didn’t plan to start now. Inch by inch I moved, testing its strength until I reached the point where the link became intangible. This was where it entered the ether and translated into a jumble of interconnected light, sensory, and electric waves.
Now I could move fast. My mind remained tightly connected to the feedback thread, and I raced along at light speed, reaching the Veil in five seconds flat. I only paused long enough to check that the partition between the worlds was intact and my transition through it wouldn’t cause any lasting damage. I moved through the Veil, feeling the pulsing energy of the magic of the wall between the earthly plane and wherever it was I was going. The problem with astral-projection is that often you can’t identify where you are going until you get there.
That’s why I had no idea I’d arrived in the demonic plane until I was fixed in place. I remained invisible, still holding onto the link to the child. The thread had brought me this far, but it would do nothing to help me save Samantha unless I jumped.
And I couldn’t. Not yet.
She sat on a cot bed in the middle of a small room. Rusted metal walls and ceiling closed in on the space, an almost suffocating and definitely threatening cell. Her captors had prepared the space for her. They’d given her a small table, crayons and paper to draw, and a pile of books to read.
Someone had at least cared that she was comfortable. But disappointment twisted in my gut as I took note of the drawings on the stone floor beneath her. The spell protecting Samantha vibrated with power, so strong I could feel it push against me all of ten feet away. A large pentagram patterned the floor, so large it encompassed almost the entire room. The outer circle was the source of the odor of blood I’d smelled on first contact with Samantha. A pentagram drawn in blood was a bad sign. Dark magic. Any hopes I could be wrong were dashed at the items in the center of the circle. More blood, bones, hair, a skull. And a scattering of words written in a language I didn’t understand.
I shuddered.
I’d need a powerful mage to help punch a hole in this magic.
Are you here to save me? I almost jumped when the voice resonated within my head. I stared at the girl and was disconcerted to find that though I wasn’t really there, she looked at me with the most penetrating blue eyes I’d ever seen. It was almost as if she could see right into my mind.
And then it hit me. Samantha Cross was a paranormal. She had just spoken to me in my head. How the eff do I answer? I studied the girl’s face again then just nodded.
She giggled, her cheeks going a little pink. My daddy does that too. When he wants to swear and I’m around. I smiled and shrugged. Astute kid. But easy to be if you can read minds.
My thoughts whirled. The kid had powers, but what was the extent of them? Could these powers be the reason she was taken?
Okay, so if she could hear my thoughts, maybe I could think my questions to her. My name is Mel Morgan. I’m here to take you home. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?
She shrugged and spoke again, her voice resonating in my head, A little when I first got here. But not anymore. Now they just want me to get inside people’s heads for them.
Is that why they took you?
Yes, they want to train me to work for them. She watched me, her face pale now, her forehead scrunched.
Where are we?
Dastra—the demon plane. She spoke as if demons were a run-of-the-mill occurrence for her. And maybe since they abducted her, they were.
Saman—My thoughts were cut off as the sound of bootsteps came rushing along the passage outside. The sounds grew louder as they encroached on the solid metal door at the other end of the room.
Samantha gasped softly. Go. Before they get here. She spoke in my mind again. They have magic. They might know you are here.
I hesitated, unwilling to abandon the child. But what choice did I have? Even if the demons couldn’t see me, I certainly couldn’t take her home until I was able to breach the ward. Okay, but I will come back. She nodded and smiled at her hands.
I retreated along the thread just as a group of demons entered the room. I couldn’t stay to hear what they wanted, and I just had to hope that she would be ok.
I arrived back in my body, exhausted and a little shocked. Drake stood by the window peering through the part in the curtains and I hid my shaking hands under my thighs.
Drake left the window and walked toward me, a frown creasing his brow. “How are you feeling? Did you find her? Is she alive?”
“Okay, yes, and yes.” I sighed, slowly regaining some energy as I brought Drake up to speed.
“So, she’s a paranormal. Well whaddya know.” Drake stroked his chin and looked at my face. I knew what he was thinking. He was comparing her abduction to all the recent disappearances. I’d just done it myself so I couldn’t fault him, but I was on edge.
“Yeah, I thought about that too, but let’s not go crazy on the speculation. All we know is she’s alive and will probably remain alive as long as she serves her purpose.” When Drake raised his eyebrows in question, I said, “Seems they’ve taken her to use her to read people’s minds for them.” I sighed, knowing I was being stupid to ignore it. “So, we have to assume they’ve taken other people too, other paranormals for whatever reason. Means we should keep our eyes open on all new cases. And maybe check on the recent ones, too.”
“I’m on it.” Drake nodded and we both looked at our watches at the same time. “Time for you to go.”
I projected to the Murdoch apartment.
Chapter 7
Mel
I entered the kitchen, not too keen on catching the couple in any kind of amorous encounter. I shuddered. Just the thought of it made me start thinking of Chief Murdoch, with all his burly bulk, in a different way.
Okay, thinking clean thoughts, Mel.
The low hum of voices filtered to me from the dining room. Slowly, I shifted my location into the other room and moved to the corner near the kitchen door, remaining in projection state in case they had company, but I was safe.
They were both hunched over a box on the dark oak table, which was current
ly littered with papers, photographs and files. From the expression on Chloe’s face, I could tell she was bursting with questions but couldn’t ask a one. When the Chief brought evidence home for me, they never spoke about it and I never spoke while I visited. We had to take precautions in case someone was watching the Chief. And with Omega, one just never knew.
I waited near the door, giving it one light knock. It was the most I was able to do, being non-corporeal. The couple looked up in unison staring in my direction. They couldn’t see me, but they knew I was there. And they knew the routine.
Before I began to look at any of the paperwork I had to do a quick recon inside and outside the apartment, just in case. I headed off, checking doors and windows, the patios and their tiny backyard.
Satisfied all was clear, I returned to my body and made the jump straight into the Murdochs’ dining room.
Chloe flinched as I arrived beside her, then shook her head and laughed silently at herself. She pointed at the table and I made for the evidence box giving the Chief a grateful wink. They both stood beside me as I went through the box, but not to guard the evidence. I knew they were hoping to see what I would find, that they were as eager as I was to find out where Samantha was.
I was rifling through the paperwork when the Chief pointed out a stack of papers sitting beside the box. The reports I needed. Lists of all substances found at the scene, including a collection of four hair samples. Two identified as Martin Cross and Samantha Cross, and the third confirmed as belonging to Samantha’s mother, who had left her husband and child two years before.
I gritted my teeth. What kind of mother do you have to be to leave your baby behind? Did she even know what happened to Samantha? I couldn’t dredge up an ounce of pity for a woman who could abandon her own child like that. I took a breath and noted that the fourth sample was “unidentified humanoid” hair. I frowned at the description but reached into the box to pull out the sample envelope.
I laid the unidentified sample on the table, then paused to withdraw a small pair of scissors, tweezers, and a plastic bag from my pocket. I set them beside the envelope. Inside I found a pair of red strands of hair. I picked up my plastic packet and propped it open.
Using the tweezers, I lifted a single strand free from the police sample bag and inserted the top end into my packet. I reached for my scissors then cut a piece of the hair off and let it fall into the plastic, not wanting the sample to come into contact with my skin yet. I returned the rest of the strand to its bag and turned my attention back to my piece of the unidentified hair.
Normally I would project immediately and track the whereabouts of the sample but this time something held me back, a dark, sinister feeling that roiled in my gut. I wouldn’t have projected at all if it hadn’t been for the Chief.
He stepped closer to me and met my eyes, urged me with a flick of his hand, and I understood his need. He wanted a lead even if he couldn’t do anything with it. Knowing something was better than knowing nothing at all.
I glanced between him and Chloe, whose expression mirrored her husband’s. I gave in—we all pretty much wanted the same thing. I nodded and held the plastic bag in my hand. Slipping two fingers inside, I gripped the hair between the two digits. The strand vibrated with resonance confirming the potent power of its owner. I followed the feedback slowly, an inch at a time, more careful now because the owner was an unknown entity and because the amount of power I felt made me nervous.
Following the thread, I reached the ether without a problem, then began to move toward the Veil. Once I approached it, I sensed the demonic plane on the other side. Not Dastra—where I’d been before—but someplace else.
An unfamiliar entrance to the Veil wouldn’t tell me what’s on the other side, making jumping an almost death-defying act. I could, however feel the vibrations of the plane, and recognize parallels. All the demonic planes resonate at a similar level. Not the same, but alike enough for me to recognize them as demonic.
Which made projection the only choice.
Once I transitioned through the Veil, I lost all control. A powerful force grabbed me, tugging on me and I stiffened with shock. I jerked back instinctively, my heart thudding against my ribs.
That was not supposed to happen.
I was always in control of my projections. I tugged back as hard as I could—but nothing happened. I felt as if I was in a tug-of-war but only I was standing in a field of mud, being dragged across the slippery ground toward a deadly cliff.
An iciness twisted in my gut. If I didn’t get out of there immediately I was as good as toast. I listened to my instinct and pulled again, putting every iota of strength into it. The hold on me snapped and I flew backward through the Veil. I skittered along, barely holding on to the thread, flying through the ether. The force threw me right back into the Murdochs’ dining room, shaking in confusion, unsteady on my feet.
Chloe and the Chief stood in front of me, eyebrows raised at the state I was in. Chloe put a hand on me but I brushed her off. I needed that adrenaline if I was to get my head around what had just happened. I still held the hair sample in my fingers. I shuddered and dropped it back into the bag, wiping my fingers on the back of my jeans.
I slipped the packet in my pocket and was about to turn to tell the Murdochs I was leaving when the air shimmered before me and a blast of energy sent the three of us flying through the room and plowing into the far wall. Wood splintered and dust rained down on us. After a chorus of grunts and coughs we tried to stand, but when I lifted my eyes to the vortex of liquid air before me, I knew we had to get the fuck out of there.
Right now.
I held out my hands, and each of them took one wordlessly. Then I jumped, and even as we surged through the air all our attention remained focused on what was coming out of the vortex. The last thing we heard was his scream of frustration as we disappeared.
I had learned to cover my jump signature so well that few people could track me. We were safe, but from the expression on the Chief’s face he knew what was about to happen.
“I hope you have insurance, Chief.”
The Chief nodded, his jaw tight. All Chloe said was, “Oh.”
Chapter 8
Mel
“What the hell was that?” Chloe asked, her voice breaking the tense silence that hung in my living room like a dense and suffocating fog.
“Something very bad,” I said, my tone harsh and slightly afraid.
“Did you see it?” Chloe herself was in shock, and the last thing I intended to do was to touch her. My mind was a jumble as it was and I didn’t need her to instinctively try and make me calm and tranquil.
“Yeah. I saw him.”
“It’s a him? Is he a demon?” Her question ended in a high-pitched lilt.
“Yup, it’s a him, and nope, he’s not a demon.” I shivered a little, still unable to believe what I’d seen.
“Is he going to be looking for us?” asked the Chief, glancing quickly at his wife.
I considered his question for a moment. As possible as it sounded, I didn’t think so. “No. He won’t waste his time. He used my feedback signature to follow me back to your place. He’ll be after me. He can project, which is not good. I just hope he can’t jump too.” I allowed my senses to reach out around the house and feel the edges of the magical protection sheilding it. All intact. Good. “He hasn’t breached our protection so that’s a plus.”
Drake walked into the room and his gaze went from Chloe, to me, to the Chief, and then back to me with raised eyebrows. I dusted myself off and said, “Long story. First you need to help me get the Chief and Chloe to a safe place.”
“That’s all right, Mel.” Chloe waved me away. “Just get us to my office. We’ll arrange for transport on our own. Maybe it’s best we not be seen together?”
I nodded and got up, walking to them quickly. “I’ll take you there now.”
Chief Murdoch placed a hand on my arm. “Melisande, if I know you at all, you will be blaming you
rself for this and I would prefer you didn’t.”
“But, your apartment . . .” The reminder of what they were about to lose weighed me down.
He raised his hand to stop me from speaking. “It’s just an apartment. We’re all safe and that’s what matters. It’s not your fault.” He smiled. “In the line of duty, shit happens.”
I snorted, but I relented, preferring to avoid an argument with the Chief. “What are you going to say about the evidence?”
“What I would say about any evidence that burns up in my house. I signed it out, and it was destroyed along with my house. What can I do about a freak accident like that?” The Chief shrugged. “Now, if you could get us to Chloe’s office we will go home and discover the destruction of our property.”
I nodded and held out my hands to them.
Chapter 9
Mel
With the Murdochs safely at Chloe’s office, I returned home and threw myself onto the couch just as the clock struck nine. Was it really only an hour that had gone by? It felt like days.
“You look like shit,” Drake said as he walked into the room with a tall glass of soda. He placed it on the tea tray next to the couch and sat beside me. “You’ve had a bit of an exciting day.”
I glanced at Drake, getting only a very neutral expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why does something have to be wrong?” He looked at me innocently, but innocence and Drake didn’t go together.
“Drake. I have enough shit to deal with right now. I do not need you keeping things from me.” I turned to face the large gargoyle. “So start talking or I will have to make you.” I choked down a smile. Here I was, threatening a paranormal with the ability to crush me with his bare hands.
Brazen.
Drake turned and headed out the door. “Fine. You don’t have to get all violent on me. Follow me if you want the information straight from the horse’s mouth.” I hurried out of the sitting room after him. Drake took the stairs two by two, but I followed at a more sedate pace. I knew where he was going. Stephanie Maxwell was our resident computer geek, and her computers lived upstairs in the attic, well-hidden just in case the cops decided to raid my home.
