by R. D. Hunter
“Hey,” Captain Barker said gently, “Bill Perkins is a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him. And as soon as you recover, I want you back at your desk ready to work. You passed your probationary period.” I opened my eyes and looked at him in confusion.
“But Hawkins…”
“… Is no longer your problem, at least until the trial,” he said firmly. “We’ve got every badge in the state on the lookout for him. We’ll get him. In the meantime, there are plenty of other cases that require your attention, Detective.” He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
I know his words were meant to encourage me and give some sense of pride and hope, but all they filled me with was dread. If a regular cop or trooper came across Hawkins and tried to affect an arrest, he’d blow them to kingdom come without a moment’s hesitation. And, if it was caught on a body cam or dash cam, it could reveal the existence of the supernatural community to the entire world, and not in a good way.
“Get some rest,” Barker said, then left through the open door.
More minutes passed, and I was getting antsy. Despite the enormous amount of pain in my body, it was nothing compared to the growing feeling of disquiet slowly eating at my soul. I had to get up. I had to get out there. People would die if I didn’t.
I started trying to move. Every muscle and bone in my body seemed to cry out at the faintest jostle, causing my eyes to water and my breaths to come in short, ragged gasps. At last, after an eon or two of torment, I’d managed to raise myself to a sitting position.
Great, another year or two and I’ll be out the door and hot on Hawkins’ trail. Evil doers beware!
I had just started working on the I.V. in my arm, when my grandpa decided to return, but he was different. His normally vibrant and cheerful features were pale and gaunt. His silver hair was disheveled and a sheen of perspiration glinted off his brow. He leaned on the doorway for support, breathing hard and looking like he might collapse at any moment. To say I was alarmed would be a massive understatement.
“Gramps!” I yelled, redoubling my efforts to free myself from the bed and make it to him. I relaxed somewhat when he waved a casual hand at me, indicating I should calm down.
“I’m all right, my Dear,” he said thinly. “Just a little winded. I’ll recover soon enough. I have something for you.” He came over to sink heavily into the chair beside my bed, then pulled an obsidian amulet out of his leather bag. Even before he handed it to me, I could feel the waves of power emanating off it.
“Wow, Gramps,” I breathed. “What did you do?”
“I made this pain-relieving amulet a few days ago, to help Mr. Coolidge with his arthritis. He has it terrible in his hands, you know. In fact, I was on my way to deliver to him in person, when the GPS in my uber ride malfunctioned and I wound up here, just as they were bringing you in.” Thank you, universe. “All I had to do was boost it up a little, and now it should fit your needs nicely.”
So, that’s where he’d been. When he realized I was hellbent on getting out of here and finding Hawkins, he went off and found a nice quiet place to channel his own power into the amulet, effectively supercharging it. No wonder he was so weak.
“Gramps, I can’t accept that. You have to take it back.”
“No, no I don’t,” he said firmly. “You have a job to do, an important job. And while I wish you weren’t in the state that you are, there’s no help for it at the present. The least I can do is give you the tools you need to see it done, so you can get back here and heal.”
He had a point. Hawkins had to be stopped. Lives were on the line. I gratefully took the amulet he offered and slipped it around my neck.
Almost immediately, a delicious warm feeling began spreading throughout my body. The shards of glass that felt as if they were grating against each nerve miraculously vanished, to be replaced by a soothing, aura that made me want to lay back and just luxuriate in the sudden absence of pain. I experimentally moved my arms, then my legs. The functioned perfectly. The only discomfort I felt was a thin echo in the back of my head that told me something wasn’t right. I could deal with that. Damn, my grandpa did good work.
“Thank you,” I said to him in a whisper. He smiled, almost sadly.
“It won’t last long, I’m afraid. No more than a few hours. Try to be back here by then.”
“I will. You rest. Recover your strength.” I hopped off the table and gave him a fierce hug which he returned in kind.
My clothes were in no shape to be worn, having been shredded in the blast, then cut off me in the ambulance, so I procured a set of scrubs from a nearby closet and shrugged them on. They hung off me loosely, but that was all right. I just needed something to wear home.
“Melanie,” my grandpa said quietly. I turned to look at him, knowing it was serious. He hardly ever called me by my true name. “You can’t beat him as you are. He’s too powerful. You know that, right?” There was a quiet desperation in my grandfather’s voice I’d never heard before. I wasn’t sure what it meant or where it came from, but I didn’t like it.
I gave him a quick smile to let him know that I knew what he was saying.
“Yes, Gramps. I know what I have to do. And it’s ok. Really.” I bent down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” He nodded and leaned back in the chair, asleep before I even reached the door.
It was time for a change.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I walked quickly, with my head down and my eyes on the floor. Leaving against medical advice wasn’t illegal, but I didn’t want to waste time having to answer a lot of questions. And if my boss, Captain Barker, was still in the building and got wind of my departure, he’d likely have every cop in the vicinity looking for me. I couldn’t have that.
I passed by the waiting room on my way down the hall. I risked a glance inside and saw Pam, Bill’s wife, sitting in a chair, her shoulders shaking silently as sobs wracked her frail frame. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rush forward and comfort her, but Captain Barker was sitting beside her, gently holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement in her ear.
Besides, Pam Perkins was a fighter, just like her husband. She’d rather see the man that injured Bill brought to justice, rather than receive empty words of encouragement from me. I said a quick, silent prayer, then continued on my way.
I made it to the elevators and down to the lobby, when the sight of Harold Mason and his big, beefy bodyguard coming in the front entrance made me freeze in my tracks. Up to this point, I hadn’t given much thought towards my emotions. I was worried about Bill, of course, but the majority of my thoughts had been centered around Hawkins; what he was going to do and what, if anything, I could do to stop him.
But as soon as I saw Mason striding through those double-glass doors, his suit neatly pressed with a million-dollar smile capable of wooing even the coldest of hearts, a new sensation hit me; anger. I was pissed. I was pissed that a young girl lost her life to a power-mad psycho who was still out there, planning to send even more souls to the grave. I was pissed that my carelessness had resulted in my partner and friend being hurt, maybe killed, and I was pissed that the man who had put it all into motion was coming towards me, not a hint of guilt or remorse on his face.
“You!” I snarled, marching towards him like a woman on a mission. Perhaps sensing the rage seething off me, Bo-Bo the Gorilla stepped between us, his hand outstretched as a reminder to keep my distance.
Say what you will about him, he was obviously well-trained. Almost by instinct, he adopted a firm, wide stance, his gun side away from the advancing threat (which was me), and kept his other hand free to employ any defensive or offensive techniques. But he made the one mistake I had been counting on. Seeing a ticked off, 5”6, 130 lb. girl in all her majestic glory, he did what almost everyone else in his position would have done; he underestimated me.
He didn’t go for his weapon. His outstretched hand was more symbolic in nature, rather than any sort of active
restraint. The only thing really keeping me from my target was the mean look on Bo-Bo’s face, which promised severe consequences if I became a true threat to his charge.
I wasn’t impressed.
I slipped inside his guard with one deft step, hooked my foot behind his and rammed by shoulder into his solar plexus. Caught off guard, he let out a low whoofing noise, then stumbled backwards and fell on his ass with a look of supreme surprise and embarrassment. His right hand shot inside his coat, obviously reaching for a gun. I didn’t move, betting he wouldn’t shoot an unarmed female in public.
“That’s enough, Mr. Meadows,” Mason said in a commanding tone. His bodyguard froze. “It seems Detective Graves has something on her mind she wishes to convey. The least we can do is hear her out.” Bo-Bo climbed to his feet and stood to one side, glaring razor blades at me the whole time. I ignored him and fixed my gaze on Mason.
“You did this,” I said coldly. He blinked.
“If you’re implying…”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it outright. You used your money and your connections to find the most unscrupulous private eye in the city, and hired him to locate a class of people who didn’t want to be found. Now, he’s out there on a mad power trip, and my partner is in there fighting for his life.”
“I just came to offer my condolences…”
“Don’t! We don’t want them. There is nothing you can do here to make anything any better.” He seemed to consider this for a moment.
“I see. Then what should I do?” I got right in his face, although I had to look up to make eye contact with him.
“Own it.” He blinked in again, this time in surprise. “Own the fact that your hubris caused innocent people to die and get hurt. Go to bed at night with that knowledge. Let it eat at you. But, most importantly, let it drive you to do better.”
From the moment I first walked in his office earlier today, Harold Mason had been treated me with a certain amount of indifference, bordering on amusement. To his eyes, I was an errant child; something to be humored but not taken seriously. But hearing the venom in my voice as I called him out, he began to regard me with something different. I think it was respect.
“I see,” he said quietly and with great difficulty. “Then I’ll be going. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
He turned around and started walking towards the front exit. His gait was a little slower, a little less confident. More than likely, I’d just committed career-suicide. Dressing down a major financial backer of the police department tended to have that affect. But right now, all I cared about was nabbing Hawkins, which meant I had to practice what I preached.
I took a deep breath.
“I need a ride,” I called after Mason. He stopped and turned around, looking at me as if I’d just announced I could fly to the moon on a broomstick. “My car’s not here and I have to get home. Think you can get me there?” Damn, that hurt almost as much as the Hawkins’ explosion.
To his credit, he didn’t gloat or mock me. He simply nodded, gestured towards the door and said, “Please.”
I half expected a posh limousine to be waiting outside, but instead he motioned towards a black, newer-model Mercedes Benz SUV. It was tricked out with every available option known to man and looked like it could wade into an active war zone without sustaining any serious damage. The inside was a model of comfort and function. Mason had converted most of the back seat into a make shift office, with computer monitors and keyboards built into the back of the front seats, as well as a miniature fax machine and even a mini-bar that held a wide assortment of designer waters. I helped myself to one without asking. It tasted like a rain cloud had a baby with a glacier, and I sipped it appreciably.
Bo-Bo drove, and after I gave him my address the rest of the trip was passed in near silence. No one thought idle chit-chat was a good idea.
It was late afternoon by the time we got back to my house. Tilly was lounging on the front porch, but perked up when we pulled up the winding driveway. I didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop before opening the door getting out, muttering a hasty “Thanks” in my wake.
Inside, I went straight to the phone and dialed Beth, Nichole Barret’s friend. She’d said during her interview that I could call on her if I needed something during the hunt for Nichole’s killer. I was about to put that to the test.
“Hello?” she answered on the third ring.
“Beth, this is Melanie Graves. I spoke with you yesterday.”
“Yes, Detective. How can I help you?”
I briefly told her what I needed, why I needed it, and if she could get enough people to do it. There was a thick pause on the other end of the line.
“I can make it happen,” she said at last. “When do you want to do this?”
“As soon as possible. Hawkins is going to strike as soon as the Imbolc festival is under way, and I don’t have a lot of time before I’m going to be in no shape to go up against him.”
“Ok. I’ll gather the girls and be there soon.” I gave her my address and hung up, already planning my next move. First things first; I needed a shower.
I went through the kitchen and into the master bathroom, stubbing my toe along the way. There was the usual flash of pain, but, thanks to Gramps amulet, it melted away like an ice cube on a wood stove within seconds.
In the bathroom, I stripped out of my shanghaied scrubs, and got my first good look at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. My hair hung in untangled clumps that still had bits of wood and dirt in it. The glamour spell I’d used to hide my swollen face had been shattered in the face of Hawkins’ attack, so it looked like I had a baseball under the skin of my right eye.
The rest of my body wasn’t much better. Bruises and lacerations covered almost every square inch of skin. Several of the cuts still oozed blood, and I found the sixteen stitches Gramps had told me about. The whole left side of my body was worse than my right. That had been the side facing the door when Hawkins burst through it in a magical fury. All in all, I’d been lucky, but I wasn’t looking forward to the butt load of pain that was going to hit me when my amulet ran out of juice.
Well, nothing to be done for it now. I had to prepare myself.
The shower was just this side of orgasmic, but I had to be careful how much hot water I used. Thanks to Gramps’ amulet, I couldn’t tell if it was just pleasantly hot or scalding, and I didn’t want to face Hawkins looking like a boiled lobster. Magic always had a downside.
I got out, finished drying, then laid out my clothes. Instead of my usual ensemble of jeans, t-shirt and jacket, I put on a white, ceremonial gown I hadn’t worn in probably four or five years. I combed my hair as best I could, then took a few deep breaths while looking at myself in the only full-length mirror in the house.
Was I really going to do this? I didn’t have much choice if I planned on taking on Hawkins. Gramps was right; if I tried it like I was now, he’d eat me for breakfast. This was the only way.
Besides, I’d known for a while that things couldn’t go on as they had been. Work had taken over every aspect of my life, to the point where I was neglecting the people and things that were important to me. I needed something different. I needed balance.
The ringing of the doorbell pulled me out of my funk, and I went to the front door to find Beth and three other women of roughly the same age, all holding candles, sticks of incense and herb pouches. They looked a little nervous. I could relate.
“Hi. Welcome. Please, come in,” I said, as cheerfully as possible. They filed in one-by-one and I directed them where to put their packages on the coffee table. Then we sat down and Beth made the introductions.
“Detective, this is Amelia, Denise, and Janice,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn. They all nodded politely, which I returned in kind. God, this was awkward. Time to break the ice a little bit, and make it snappy. Time was running out.
“First of all, please call me Melanie or even Mel,” I
said. “I appreciate you all coming on such short notice. I’m sure Beth filled you in on the way here.” They each nodded, the one of them, Janice, a pretty black woman with flawless skin spoke up.
“She filled us in one what you wanted and why,” she said timidly. “And we’re happy to do it. Anything to bring Nichole’s killer to justice. What we don’t get is why you need us to do it. I mean, something like this, you usually have friends and family set up.” I winced inwardly. Another sign of my imbalance.
“Unfortunately, I’m in short supply of those, particularly in the magic department. I have a grandpa who would be up to the task, but he’s watching over my partner in the hospital and he put everything he had into this amulet, which is the only reason I’m sitting up talking to you now.” They all nodded sympathetically, then Beth gave a little start, like she’d suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, we’ll need to use your crystals for the ceremony.” My heart sank.
“My crystals?”
“Yeah, Nichole had all of ours, remember? It makes me sick to think that bastard, Hawkins, has them attached to his body and is feeding off them like a parasite.” She gave a little shiver.
“Um, I don’t have any crystals,” I said, a little embarrassed. It was true. The only crystals I had were shoved in a drawer somewhere, forgotten for so long that any charge they might have had was negligible at best. What kind of witch didn’t keep a charged crystal or two on hand for some impromptu spell work? Not much of one, in my opinion.
The girls and I sat around for a moment, stumped. There was no way we’d be able to pull this off without some extra power. Then another one, a pretty blond with pale skin who went by Amelia, piped up.
“What’s upstairs?” I blinked. Her voice was distant and unfocused, like she was addressing someone else in the room who we couldn’t see. I recognized the signs of a seer, someone who gazed beyond the surface fabric of our reality.
