Grace Under Fury

by Annabel Chase

  “Hope isn’t necessarily realistic.”

  “Would you really go back to San Francisco if you were given the opportunity?” he asked. “What about Chief Fox?”

  “What about him?” I shot back. “I’m not able to be in a relationship with him.”

  “No, but you’re able to watch out for him and save him from supernatural threats he’s oblivious to,” Neville said. “How would you do that from across the country?”

  “Paul Pidcock didn’t have to do that for Chief O’Neill,” I said.

  Neville leaned back against his chair. “Have you forgotten how Mick O’Neill died?”

  “Of course not.” The former chief of police died at the hands of the same demon that killed Paul Pidcock.

  “The portal may be dormant, but the fact remains that Chipping Cheddar is a magnet for supernaturals,” Neville said. “We have our very own vortex. Without someone in this post with your capabilities, Agent Fury, this town is likely to suffer preventable fatalities.”

  I picked up my pen and tapped the end rhythmically on the desk. “We’ve already suffered fatalities since I’ve been home.”

  “And think of how many more there might’ve been without you.”

  It wasn’t a number I cared to contemplate.

  My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket to see Verity’s name. “Hi. Everything okay?”

  “Where are you?”

  “At my office,” I said.

  “Oh, good.” Her relief was palpable. “That’s the best place for you right now.”

  “That sounds ominous. What’s up?”

  “Bad news,” Verity said. “I got the test results and you’re not going to like it.”

  “Is it Lyme disease?” Those little bloodsucking ticks have nothing on vampires, as far as I’m concerned.

  “No.”

  “Malaria?” Mosquitoes are minions straight from hell.

  “It’s not an earthly disease. The cause is supernatural.”

  Double-decker crap sandwich. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Have you heard from the chief yet about the singer’s autopsy report?”

  “No, it’s too soon,” I said. The body had been transported to Baltimore where the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner is located.

  “I guarantee you that report won’t show anything unusual,” Verity said.

  “So you think it’s the same infection?” I asked.

  “Yes. I suspect that’s why it killed the human,” Verity replied. “Supernaturals have more resistance to their own infections.”

  “This thing seems to be spreading quickly, though,” I said. “That means the human population is at risk.”

  “Which means you need to figure out the source and how to stop it,” Verity said.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?” I asked.

  “Only that it’s likely to be an Otherworld strain,” Verity said. “I’ve never seen it here before and it was potent enough to kill a healthy, young male.”

  My gears were clicking away. “So someone could’ve brought it back from Otherworld as a carrier and then spread it here?” If that was the case, my own father could be the culprit. He was constantly back and forth between realms due to his job, although the trip he mentioned today was the first one in a couple of weeks, so his involvement was unlikely.

  “It’s possible there’s a Patient Zero and they don’t even realize it,” Verity said.

  “The band,” I said suddenly. “Three of them are supernaturals and the drummer was also sick.” And still alive.

  “One of my nurses told me there’s a tribute to Ray Langdon downtown later,” Verity said. “I’m sure the rest of the band will be here.”

  “Not ideal if the werewolf is responsible for spreading this,” I said. “Thanks for letting me know.” I hung up the phone and turned to see Neville with his surgical mask back on.

  “You think the drummer might have brought back a souvenir from Otherworld?” his muffled voice asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but that’s what I intend to find out.”

  Chapter Eight

  I arrived at Pimento Plaza where a makeshift stage had been erected in front of the statue of Arthur Davenport. The plaza is one of the most attractive parts of town, surrounded by pretty historical buildings with the Chesapeake Bay as a backdrop. Under different circumstances, I’d be happy to be here.

  “Eden, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Clara said. “I would’ve picked you up.”

  “I’m not here for fun,” I said.

  Clara cocked her head. “No one is. It’s a tribute.” She reached for my arm and seemed to feel the stress and uncertainty swirling inside me. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  My gaze flicked to Sassy. “Not right now. Maybe later.”

  “I am not wearing one of those stupid masks,” Sassy said. “It completely covers one of my best features.”

  “Your nose?” Clara asked.

  “And my mouth,” Sassy added. “Basically anything that covers a portion of my face is a loss for humanity.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind while we listen to the band’s tribute.” As they mourn an actual loss to humanity.

  As I surveyed the plaza, it seemed that Neville wasn’t alone in his paranoia. People were wearing surgical masks and standing an arm’s length apart. Instead of waving phones and lighters in the air, they held citronella candles. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to blame mosquitoes.

  “Need a spritz?” a young woman asked through her surgical mask. She held one of those small bottles with a fan that sprayed water that I’d seen at amusement parks and the beach.

  “You want to spray me with water?” Sassy asked. “I mean, as sexy as I look when I’m wet, it’s not that hot outside.”

  The young woman shook the bottle. “It’s not water. It’s antibacterial gel. Just make sure to close your eyes.”

  “We’ll pass, thanks,” I said.

  I scanned the faces in the crowd and recognized the drummer, whose bright red nose suggested she still had the cold symptoms, but at least she was still alive. She could thank her supernatural blood for that.

  “The vibe here is super low-key,” Sassy said. “Where’s the energy?”

  “Do I need to explain what a tribute is?” I asked.

  “It’s when they play songs someone else wrote,” Sassy said.

  Clara and I exchanged glances.

  “She’s not wrong,” Clara said.

  “Okay, in some circumstances, that’s true,” I said. “However, Ghost of Billy Crystal is playing tonight in honor of Ray, their lead singer.” I paused, waiting for the news to register. Sassy’s expression remained blank.

  “He died in the middle of a performance,” Clara added.

  Understanding rippled across Sassy’s perfect features. “Oh, that guy.”

  Clara shook her head. “You really need to start paying attention.”

  “When did you tell me?” Sassy asked.

  “When we were standing out front of the office and I mentioned going to the tribute tonight,” Clara said.

  Sassy snapped her fingers. “That’s when I spotted Ian across the street washing windows.”

  Clara looked at her expectantly. “And?”

  Sassy shrugged. “And he’s hot. Sorry, I got distracted. His shirt was off.”

  If ever two people deserved each other, it was Sassy and Tanner. The more time I spent with her, the more convinced I became. As much as his betrayal hurt, I dodged a diseased bullet with that guy.

  “I have extra masks if you want,” a guy offered. He held out a couple of masks by their ties.

  Clara reached for one.

  “Five bucks,” he said, snapping it back.

  Clara yanked her hand away. “Criminal!”

  He smiled. “Capitalist.”

  I started to think the masks weren’t such a bad idea for Sassy and Clara. If they were more susceptible to whatever disease this was,
I wanted to protect them.

  “Hey, capitalist.” I flashed my FBM badge, which identified me as FBI to human eyes. “I need two masks.”

  His gaze darted to the shiny badge. “Sure thing. Sorry about that.” He tossed the masks at us and disappeared into the crowd.

  The tribute for Ray kicked off with the remaining band members playing a few songs, including It’s A Shame About Ray by the Lemonheads, and I couldn’t decide whether that was in poor taste or genius.

  “Eden, what are you doing here?” My cousin Meg wove her way through the empty space between bodies to reach us.

  “Same as you, I expect,” I said. “Paying my respects.”

  “They were such a good band,” Meg said. “I saw them play at a bonfire a few months ago.”

  I noticed she held an old-fashioned sparkler, still unlit. “That’s your light?”

  Meg glanced at the stick in her hand. “I’m saving it for the end.”

  Despite her teen status, Meg eschewed technology, much to her mother’s dismay. Julie wanted to be able to keep constant tabs on her daughter, a goal that technology definitely supported.

  “If you have any human friends here with you,” I said in a low voice, “I’d encourage them to go home and avoid crowds for the time being.”

  Meg’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean these masks aren’t overkill?”

  “I don’t want people to overreact,” I said, “but until I know more, that’s what I recommend.”

  Meg nodded solemnly and slipped back between the throng of bodies.

  “I’m bored,” Sassy announced.

  “The music’s about to finish. Why don’t you take her home?” I said to Clara.

  She got the message. “We’ve paid our respects. I don’t mind leaving.”

  I gave her a grateful smile before turning toward the band. They were about to finish their final song and I wanted to swoop in and speak to the drummer before they were inundated with mourners.

  “Yvette,” I called from beside the makeshift stage. When she turned in my direction, I flashed my badge.

  She hit the drums with one last flourish and hopped off the stage before anyone could intercept her.

  “I’m Agent Fury,” I said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Ray died of natural causes,” Yvette said. “Why would the FBM get involved?”

  “It’s about your cold,” I said.

  Yvette pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. “I can’t get rid of it. I’ve taken every tonic and potion in the pack dispensary. Nothing’s helping.”

  “Have you taken any trips lately? Maybe a visit to Otherworld?”

  Yvette’s eyes popped. “Otherworld? I’ve never set foot there. It’s not like going to another state, you know. It’s not even like going to another country. There are all sorts of restrictions and paperwork.”

  I held up a hand. “I’m familiar with the bureaucracy, thanks.” A few people tried to come over to talk to her and I waited to continue.

  “I’ll see you in a minute,” she said and shooed them away.

  “How about anyone you spend time with?” I asked.

  Yvette shook her head. “I don’t know anyone with ties to Otherworld. What’s this really about?”

  “This sickness,” I said. “It’s not from this world. It’s a supernatural strand. That’s why Ray died.”

  Yvette gasped. “How? How would we be infected by something from another realm?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to piece together. In the meantime, I’d like you to pay a visit to my sister-in-law tomorrow. Dr. Verity Fury. She’ll take a blood sample and confirm.”

  Yvette’s head bobbed up and down and I could tell she was still digesting the information. “Am I danger to society?”

  “I would recommend that you avoid contact as much as possible.”

  “Is there something I can take?”

  “Until we know exactly what we’re dealing with, I don’t know that she can recommend anything that will help.”

  Yvette looked around at all the people gathered in the plaza. “I’m going to sneak home now. I don’t want to put anyone at risk.”

  “Humans are in the most danger,” I said. “Their immune systems aren’t equipped to handle it.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” Yvette said.

  “If you hear of anyone else, send them to Dr. Verity, not the human doctor.” Unfortunately, no human would be able to help them.

  “I will.” Yvette blew her nose one more time before fleeing into an alley, away from the crowd.

  I arrived home to find a familiar figure on the porch. “Mr. Bannon?”

  He turned to look at me. Even in the dim light, I could see that his face was haggard and his eyes lined with red.

  The front door opened, revealing Grandma in her fuzzy robe and slippers. I was beginning to wonder if something—or someone—had happened to her wardrobe.

  “Someone keeps ringing my doorbell,” he said.

  “So answer it like I did,” Grandma said. “It’s easy.”

  Michael dragged a hand through his thinning hair. “You don’t understand. I’ve been answering it, but no one’s there. I think my house might be haunted.”

  It wasn’t beyond belief, considering my mother’s house was technically haunted. Alice wasn’t any kind of threat, though. Because I was the only one who could see and hear Alice, it seemed only natural that we became friends.

  Grandma cackled. “I don’t think so. Dudley left that house in a box, but that’s only because his car is the size of a postage stamp.”

  “It might be kids,” I offered. “Sometimes they like to play pranks.” Although we didn’t have many kids of that age in the cul-de-sac.

  “I thought that, too,” Michael said, “but my security camera isn’t picking up anyone. The bell rings, but no one’s there.”

  “A mechanical malfunction then,” I said.

  Michael nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll call an electrician.”

  “Sound like a good plan,” Grandma said. “Good luck to you.” She shut the door before he could say anything else and left me standing on the porch with him.

  “I regret moving to this neighborhood,” Michael said. “The people are strange.”

  “People are strange everywhere,” I said.

  He scrutinized me. “Only a strange person would say that.”

  “You really have a way of insulting people,” I said. I patted his arm. “You’ll fit in better than you think.” I left him on the porch and went inside, careful to avoid the common areas. I zipped straight to the attic before anyone could intervene.

  “Alice, are you watching Wonder Woman again?” I demanded. Her transparent body hovered in front of the television in the attic.

  “It’s female empowerment at its finest.” Alice gestured to the screen where Wonder Woman was lifting a car over her head. “Can you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never tried.”

  “You should carry a sword like hers,” Alice said. “It would really add to your overall look.”

  I smoothed my sides. “I don’t need an overall look. Besides, people might get a little nervous if I start walking around town with a sword.”

  “You should at least consider magic bracelets,” Alice said. She touched her wrist. “They’re so handy in a crisis.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement. Listen, are you aware of any other ghosts in the neighborhood?” I asked.

  “On Munster Close?” Alice asked.

  “One of the new neighbors is having an issue,” I said. I explained the doorbell situation.

  “I don’t think there are any ghosts in Chipping Cheddar who would bother with such shenanigans.”

  “Due to their busy schedules?” I asked wryly.

  “Due to their integrity and maturity,” Alice said.

  “Oh,” I said. “We don’t really have that here.”

  Alice kept her eyes on th
e screen. “He doesn’t seem like a very nice man. I’ll say that much.”

  “No, not much of a charmer.”

  “How was the tribute?” Alice asked.

  “Helpful. Turns out the sickness is supernatural, probably from Otherworld. Unfortunately, Yvette’s never been to Otherworld, so she’s not Patient Zero.”

  “Wow. You’ve been busy today,” Alice said.

  “And here I thought it was nothing to be concerned about.”

  Alice’s mouth formed a tiny ‘o.’

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Olivia’s sick,” the ghost said. “She came home from school with a fever and congestion.”

  “The good news is that supernaturals seem to be more resistant,” I said. “It’s the humans we need to worry about.”

  “In that case, you should worry about John because he’s sick, too.”

  I froze. “John Maclaren?”

  “Yes. He sent a text to your mother earlier, letting her know he wouldn’t be here tomorrow to work on the barn.”

  I shook off my nerves. “It could still be a regular cold or allergies.” Even so, I’d make sure Verity took a blood sample.

  Alice folded her arms. “I suppose you ought to suit up, Agent Fury. Agent assemble!”

  “First, there’s no suit. Second, there’s only one agent, so I can’t assemble. You need a group in order to assemble.” I glanced helplessly at the screen. “Go easy on the superhero movies, okay? Maybe try The Sound of Music or something.”

  As much as I preferred to hide in the attic away from my family, I needed to talk to Verity and check on Olivia and Ryan. I didn’t worry about my mother. She’d survive the apocalypse. Hell, she’d probably cause the apocalypse.

  I found Verity and Anton in the family room, snuggled on the couch. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “They’ve gone to bed early,” Verity said. “Olivia wore everyone out with her demands before she fell asleep.”

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “She seems to be fully functional, other than her symptoms,” Verity said. “I’m trying not to be overly concerned. Like I told you, I think supernaturals can ride it out.”

  “John’s sick,” I said.