The Rhiannon Chronicles

by Maggie Shayne

  We spoke a bit longer, the children telling us of Christian’s progress and of their indecision about Halloween costumes, before I wished them all good night and promised we would be together again soon. And yet, as I ended the call, I felt the cold breath of mortality on the back of my neck. Death hovered near, and one misstep on our parts would allow Her to sweep us into the dark folds of Her cloak, and carry us away across the River Styx.

  All too soon, we were exiting the car. Sarah Bouchard’s house was a two story brick structure at least a hundred and fifty years old, in a suburban neighborhood that held many like it. Victorians and Georgians were the majority. Here and there, an odd home of more modern design looked out of place and ugly by comparison. Unimaginative and dull.

  We circled the place and I opened my senses. I would feel her fear, should she discover our presence. And I would relish it.

  But then my excitement ebbed. We were behind the house now, at the back door. I looked up and met Roland’s eyes. “I don’t feel anyone inside.”

  “Wait, there’s a security system,” Roland said. He pulled a small pouch from a pocket, a gift from Eric that had included a brief demonstration of how to use it. He removed tools from the kit and tinkered with the panel near the door. When he finished, he twisted the doorknob and slammed his shoulder against the door. It opened, the wood splintering around the lock. Either Bouchard was too stupid to install a steel door, or too smart to think even that precaution would keep out a vampire who wanted to get in.

  This was too important.

  By the time we’d crossed the kitchen, there was no longer any doubt in our minds that the place was completely empty. “She could be at The Sentinel,” I said. “That is where she works.”

  I headed off in one direction, Roland in another, to search the place as thoroughly and as quickly as possible. We returned to the kitchen at the same time. “There are clothes on the bed,” Roland said. “Things scattered on the dresser, drawers left open.”

  “Are you saying she’s a slob, or that someone has ransacked the place before us?” I asked.

  Roland crooked a brow. “I am saying her bedroom looks the way ours looks right now, the way it looks any time we are forced to pack in a hurry.”

  His meaning came to me like a flash of light. “She’s gone on a trip.”

  “The bathroom is in the same condition,” Roland said. Then he frowned. “But there’s no clue where she’s gone. I’m not certain what to do next.”

  I looked at the wastebasket and made a face. Roland followed my gaze.

  “Right. Maxine said to check the garbage.” As he spoke, he yanked the lid from the wastebasket and looked down into it. “It’s a fresh bag, completely empty,” he said. Then looking up again, he went into the living room and opened the drapes to look outside. “Trash cans on the curb. I hope they haven’t been emptied yet. Come on, love.”

  “I’ll...just wait here,” I said.

  Roland went out through the front door, across the lawn to the curb. I watched through the window as my beloved removed the lids from trash cans and smiled at the putrid refuse he found inside. Pulling my cell phone out, I texted Maxine and hoped she was standing by.

  Besides the garbage, what else might provide a clue?

  She responded instantly. Clearly she was following our progress with genuine interest. She cared about us.

  She have a landline by any chance?

  Landline? I typed back.

  A telephone. The kind that plugs into a jack in the wall. As in not a cell phone.

  I looked around the kitchen and spotted a telephone mounted to the wall.

  Yes, there’s a phone.

  Before I could ask for further instructions, my cell rang. Maxine spoke as soon as I picked up. “Easier to talk than text,” she said. “Click Re-dial to see who she called last. Oh, and after that, key in star-sixty-nine to see the last number that called in. I’ll hold on.”

  Where did she learn these things? I picked the telephone set from the wall and pressed redial. The number rang a few times, and when someone picked up, I moved the cell phone closer, allowing Maxine to listen in. She did this sort of thing for a living, after all.

  “You’ve reached Pine Tree Realty. We can’t come to the phone right now. Our regular business hours are weekdays, eight to five. For more information on current listings, please visit our website, Pine Tree Realty dot com.”

  I hung up when the message tone sounded and pulled the cell back to my ear. “She’s looking for real estate, Maxine,” I said. “But where?”

  “Hang on, Rhi, I’m looking up the website.” I could hear the soft padding of computer keys as Maxine’s fingers raced over them. “Got it. Let’s see, location is…oh, hell, Rhiannon.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “That realtor is in Cornucopia. She’s…she’s here, Rhiannon. She’s in Maine, and not far from your place.” She was still talking as I raced outside to find my husband looking almost as stricken as I felt, a mosaic of what looked like retail price tags dangling from his palms.

  “Dr. Sarah Bouchard is in Maine, right in Cornucopia, the nearest town to us,” I blurted. “We’re here, and she’s there!” My entire being wanted to burst free of my skin. I held up the phone, Maxine’s voice squawking from it as Roland pulled me into his arms. “She can’t know where the children are,” he said. “They’re safe at Maxine and Lou’s.”

  “Of course they’re safe,” Max said, as Roland shoved the tags into a deep pocket. He took the cell phone from me, and spoke to Maxine, telling her to put everyone on alert, keep the doors bolted, curtains closed, children indoors, just in case.” Then he disconnected and said, “We should go. We need to get back before dawn.”

  “And what good will we do?” I cried. “We’ll be unconscious. As good as dead and useless to the children. All of us.”

  “Not all. There are Roxy, Maxine and Lou,” Roland said, trying not to let his fear make his voice quiver the way mine was doing. And yet I felt his fear.

  “Yes, three mere mortals, exceptional though they are,” I said. “All by themselves all day tomorrow, facing off against Dr. Bouchard and whatever DPI thugs she has at her disposal.”

  We were moving toward the car. We hadn’t re-locked the doors of that mad doctor’s home, but I did not care. I reached the car first, then turning around, held out my hand to Roland, my palm up. “Show me what you found in the trash.”

  He sighed, and I knew he didn’t want to comply, but he shoved his hand into his pocket all the same, and handed me the crumbled mess of tags. I opened my palm, picking a tag to unfold and read.

  Girls Size 6X.

  My head snapped up and I met Roland’s eyes.

  “They’re all the same, my love. Tags from children’s clothing she must have purchased very recently. Right on the top of the trash, not wet, no smudged ink.”

  “She’s found a place to live in Maine, near us, and she’s stocked up on children’s clothing. She’s coming for the children, Roland.”

  “Perhaps. But all the tags are from girls’ clothing. None suggest they’re for boys.”

  “We need to be back there. Now.” I got into the car, Roland beside me. Soon we were heading north at speeds that were probably unsafe and certainly illegal. Thank the gods that it was fall and the nights, a bit longer. We would have time to make it back. Barely.

  “Five more hours,” Roland said, looking at the navigation system in the dash. I was surprised he would make use of it at all. “We’ll get there just before dawn.

  “Roland, what about the drug Eric created, years ago? When Jameson was just a boy and he needed our protection by day. Remember? What did he call it?”

  “Diurnal,” Roland said with a grimace. “And you of all people should remember the side effects. Increased aggression, lack of impulse control, outbursts of temper, violence. I could’ve killed you when I used that formula.”

  “If one could die of pleasure,” I said softly.

  He
met my eyes, and we shared a brief moment of intimacy, or shared memory, of passion. We’d had so many of them. And I cherished each one.

  “Do you think Eric has access to the drug on short notice?” I asked him.

  Roland sighed, lowered his head briefly, but brought it back up again. “In his emergency kit, yes. He has everything you could imagine in there. I’d be shocked if his selection did not include Diurnal.”

  “Then I shall not sleep today. I’ll simply warn everyone to…give me a wide berth.”

  * * *

  Sarah Bouchard had been a Marine back in her younger days, had been in the middle of firefights and missile attacks. She’d got a top notch education on the GI bill, and had earned three Ph.D’s. She was a skilled neurosurgeon and one of the top geneticists in the country.

  This was the most afraid she had ever been. This little creature she was babysitting could burn her alive just as easily as look at her. It was dangerous. It was deadly.

  Sarah had to tread with extreme caution here.

  “What do you think, Gamma?” she asked.

  They were standing in front of a yellow cottage with white trim. Beyond the cottage lay the rocky Atlantic shore, with patches of sand here and there, all of it being rhythmically massaged and caressed by the ocean.

  It just stood there, looking at the sea.

  Sarah broke off her own thought there and corrected herself. She, not it. If Sarah was going to convince the creature she was on its side, she had to try to think of it as a little girl. So...she just stood there gazing at the sea, and then at the sky, and then at the little house. Then finally, blinking, she looked at Sarah. “Is my cell in there?”

  “No, Gamma. You don’t have to live in the cell anymore. Come on, I’ll show you inside, then we can go down to the water for a while before we unpack.”

  Sarah started toward the house, but the little Offspring remained planted right where she was. Sarah thought she might be trembling.

  Yes, she supposed it must be overwhelming to see nothing but four windowless walls and a locked door your entire life, and then suddenly to be outside, beneath the endless sky, beside the endless sea.

  Sarah went back to her, hunkered down in front of her. “I can’t keep calling you Gamma, can I?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because it’s not a proper name, that’s why not. I’ll tell you what, let’s go inside and talk about it. I’ll tell you lots of names and you can pick the one you want.”

  “Can a name be a color?”

  Sarah blinked, thinking it was creepy how little emotion the thing showed. But then again, where would it learn such things? She shrugged. “Maybe a name can be a color. What color?”

  “Blue. Like that.” She pointed at the sky. “And sometimes, like that.” She lowered her arm and pointed at the sea.

  “I think Blue is a very nice name,” Sarah said. Then she turned. “You and I are going to live here together, Blue. You’ll have your own room, but not like your room at the old place. You’ll like this. And we’re going to play in the sand and the water—”

  “What means play?” she asked.

  Sarah blinked. An unfamiliar fingertip plucked at her heartstrings. She would have to be careful about that. Still, one would have to be made of stone not to feel a little something when what looked like an innocent angel child did not know what the word “play” meant.

  “I’m going to have to show you. But rest assured, it’s a good thing. Come on, let’s get our things inside, and then we can get started. There’s so much to do. You know, your siblings live around here somewhere, or so I was led to understand.” It was the first time she’d broached the subject, which was, after all, her reason for being here.

  “What means siblings?”

  “Well, Blue, you have a sister and two brothers. Your sister is a little girl just your age, who was born at the same time you were. And your brothers are little boys. They’re like you. They escaped from the cages where they were kept, and now they live in the real world. Except....” She lowered her head. “Well, I don’t want to ruin our day.”

  “Except what?” she asked.

  “Well, all right. Except that they live with vampires.”

  “Vampires?”

  “Yes. The vampires took them prisoner. If only I knew where they were, we could find them and rescue them. You know, like I rescued you. We could all live here together.”

  “They are like me?” she asked, staring back in the direction they’d come from.

  “Very much like you,” Sarah said.

  “If they are like me, then they will kill the vampires and get away.”

  “I wish they could. But I fear they’re outnumbered. When I knew them, they could sense when each other were near. Hey, I wonder if you could do that? Maybe if we drove around up here, we could get close enough for you to sense them. Do you think?”

  The pale, silvery haired child stared at Sarah for a long moment. Then she shrugged and walked toward the little cottage, apparently ready now to see inside.

  Not a hint of emotion about her long lost siblings, Sarah thought. This might make things just a bit more difficult. But she would get it done. And by the time she finished, she hoped to have four of the escaped Offspring back in her lab where they belonged.

  * * *

  Roland and I kissed passionately in front of our home, where I left him behind. He still insisted he not be around the children, in case DPI could command him to commit violence again. Eric met us there, feeling that Roland shouldn’t be alone.

  I didn’t believe he would hurt anyone. I didn’t believe he could, but there was no arguing him out of it.

  I helped myself to the emergency kit in the trunk of Eric Marquand’s little red sports car after he and Roland went inside. The Diurnal was clearly labeled, its dose spelled out on its face. I filled a syringe and injected myself, then sped to Maxine and Lou’s, arriving just before dawn. I dashed inside as the sun began to rise. The heat of it touched me. I felt my hair begin to singe just as I pulled the front door closed behind me.

  Maxine Malone saw me and jumped to her feet, sloshing coffee over the rim of her cup. “Rhiannon? Holy, Moses, woman, how are you...what did you...?”

  “There’s a drug. I took it. I’ll be dangerously short tempered, but–”

  “More than usual, you mean?” Roxanne called.

  I turned as she spoke to see her coming in from Maxine and Lou’s kitchen, carrying her own mug cupped between her palms as if for warmth.

  “But,” I continued, irritated, “at least I can help protect the children throughout the day today.”

  “That’s good, Rhiannon,” Maxine said. “We can use all the help we can get. Lou stocked us up on donations from the local Red Cross. It’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  “Right after I see them,” I said.

  Maxine smiled, and nodded toward the staircase. “They’re all in the same room. They didn’t want to be apart. Right at the top, third door down.”

  Nodding, I hurried up the stairs, moving silently, so not to wake them, but aching to touch their little faces and to look into their eyes. I turned the knob, opened the door quietly, and stepped inside to see the large barrel of a handgun pointing at my face.

  Almost as quickly as I saw it, it lowered, revealing the face of its owner, Lou Malone, and my own cat, standing beside him, looking lazily up at me. Lou frowned at me, then looked at the window, where the sunlight streamed through, and then back at me again.

  “I appreciate your vigilance,” I said in a soft whisper. “But you can go.”

  Nodding, he moved toward the windows, which flanked the bed, quickly drawing the shades, and then leaving me alone with my children. Pandora came to rub her head against my thigh, and I stroked her and told her I’d missed her without a word, as I gazed at my angels, lying sound asleep. My little girl’s hair had been braided, each pigtail sporting a pink bow at the end, and a doll was tucked into her arm.

  I
moved a chair nearer the bed and sank into it. Pandora lay down too, right on top of my feet. For a long time, I just sat there, looking at the children, relieved that they were all right, grateful to be with them again, and yet aching for my Roland. I hated being apart from him. But the children needed me right then.

  My gaze skimmed the room, seeing their familiar things, and some new ones— toys and dolls and brightly colored Lego blocks scattered about. On the nightstand, a “coloring and activity” book lay open. It showed a picture of a woman and a little girl. They both had long, curly hair that had been colored purple, and they appeared to be holding hands. Underneath the figures were names, written painstakingly in a childish hand. “Nikki” was printed underneath the little girl. And beneath the woman, “Tamara.”

  Frowning, I flipped the pages, and saw many others pages that had been used as well. There were pages with letters of the alphabet, which had been copied with care by young hands. There were pages with simple three letter words with pictures depicting the objects they represented. There were dot-to-dot games and find the difference puzzles.

  Tamara had been teaching my children basic things like the alphabet and how to print their names, I realized. I had not yet thought to do anything like that.

  For a long time, I stayed there, looking at them as they slept peacefully. But my body was too twitchy to stay still for very long, a condition that seemed to grow worse as Eric’s drug apparently took hold. Eventually, I had to get up and go downstairs, or risk waking the children. When I did, Pandora came with me, and Maxine took my place watching the little ones sleep.

  * * *

  I was as high as a manic, and Pandora knew it. It seemed she was picking up on my agitated state, pacing and chuffing and looking at me as if to say, “This isn’t right. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  But I didn’t feel as if I would ever sleep again. My eyes felt wider than usual, and my gait, as I paced, was rapid. I knew it, was aware of it, but could do nothing to control it. Time seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace while my mind was moving at the speed of light. Scenarios played out, one after the other, in my imagination. What if DPI raided this place today, with weapons and tanks and men? How would I fight them all and protect the children?