Sudden Death

by Donald Hanley

  What’s going on, Mrs. Kendricks? I wondered uneasily as she backed out of the parking slot and turned onto Jefferson Street. What have you done?

  5

  Hypnotism, basically, is the act of placing someone into a state where they’re receptive to suggestions. Subjects perform acts under the command of the hypnotist that they generally wouldn’t consider doing under ordinary circumstances, often to the delight of an audience. In some cases, they may even accomplish deeds that they otherwise would never believe they could do, like playing the piano, speaking a foreign language, or lifting the back of a car off the ground. Freed from its normal self-imposed constraints, the human brain can achieve some incredible feats.

  Hypnotists say they can’t make people do anything against their will, like jump off a cliff or murder someone, and yet it’s hard to imagine some corporate executive voluntarily flapping his arms and quacking in front of a group of strangers. Either there’s more to hypnotism than medical science realizes or people are just easily manipulated. I suspect it’s a little bit of both.

  It does seem true that people have to be willing to be hypnotized to start with. You can’t just run up to someone on the street, wave a gold watch in their face, and then order them to strip naked, as awesome as that might seem. After all, what would happen if you tried to take control of another hypnotist? The two of you would end up just standing there, watches swinging in the breeze, waiting for someone to make a suggestion. The next person to come along would have a field day.

  Mrs. Kendricks slowed down as we approached the library, eyeing the barricades and cones that a city work crew had set up across the entrance to the parking lot. A backhoe was tearing up the broken pavement in the back while a dump truck awaited the fragments of concrete. Four other men in construction helmets and bright orange vests stood off to the side, silently observing the proceedings, and another sat on the steps leading up to the front doors, eating his lunch.

  Getting inside unseen was clearly impossible now and I expected her to continue on home instead. She surprised me by pulling over to the curb half a block further down and getting out, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she strode quickly towards the library.

  I hurried after her, wondering if she was just going to brazen her way inside. I doubted the crew really cared whether anyone went in or not but I couldn’t imagine Mrs. Kendricks wanting any witnesses. Everything about this venture screamed Top Secret! to me.

  She hurried up the stairs and the guy on his lunch break paid absolutely no attention to her, which I thought was strange. Even if he wasn’t the sort of man to whistle at passing females, Mrs. Kendricks was an attractive woman. He should have at least looked up as she went by. She must have cast a glamour on herself, I reasoned. Either that or his burrito is really really good.

  She stopped in front of the right-most door and pulled a wad of keys out of her purse, searching through them with a pensive frown until she finally selected one. It fit into the lock and turned with no problem and she eased the door open just enough to slip through.

  I passed through the door into the foyer but Mrs. Kendricks had already reached the hallway beyond, almost jogging as she made a beeline for her office. I caught up with her just as she grasped the door knob. It was locked and she had to dig through her keys again.

  “The door was open when I found Mrs. Phipps,” I told her doubtfully. “Who locked it?”

  She didn’t answer, of course, as she got it open and stepped inside. She paused for a moment to survey the room and I peeked over her shoulder. Nothing had changed since my last visit. She dropped her purse on her desk as she passed, heading directly for the filing cabinet closest to the window.

  Mrs. Kendricks located a third key in her collection, a small flat shape, but she paused with it in her outstretched hand. The cabinet lock protruded from the frame, indicating it was open. She clearly wasn’t expecting that. She chewed on her lower lip, looking anxious and obviously wondering if she’d left it that way in the frantic events leading up to Bellaxragor’s appearance behind the library.

  She finally set her keys on top of the filing cabinet and squatted down to open the bottom drawer. Dr. Bellowes’ satchel, the same one I saw Mrs. Phipps pawing through, was jammed in there and she wrestled it out with difficulty. She brought it back to her desk and opened it, just as a metallic clatter sounded in the distance, echoing down the hall.

  She froze, one hand lifted to the wands in her hair, and then she let her breath out slowly. She moved to the office door and looked out carefully and then the tension in her shoulders eased.

  “You got here sooner than I expected,” she said, relieved.

  “It sounded important.” If I still had a beating heart, it would have stopped in my chest. I knew that voice. I’d heard it just about every day of my entire life. A moment later, I stepped into the room.

  At least, he looked like me, from the brown hair and hazel eyes to the tan-and-brown HPD uniform. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze passing right through me, and then he turned a twisted smile on Mrs. Kendricks. “So what’s up?” he asked in my voice.

  I just stood there gaping at him. I hadn’t really believed Olivia’s tale about the intruder looking exactly like me. I figured she’d been fooled by a chance resemblance and the uniform but he looked exactly like me. I stared at his – my – face, trying to comprehend how there could possibly be two of me. Magic, I told myself, but that really didn’t explain anything.

  Mrs. Kendricks obviously didn’t notice any discrepancies. She returned to her desk, looking very sober as she rested her hand on Dr. Bellowes’ satchel. “Do you recognize this?” she asked.

  Not-Peter eyed the case casually, but for a fleeting moment, something hungry flashed behind his eyes. “No,” he lied. “What is it?”

  “This is Dr. Bellowes’ equipment, the tools he used to trap Dara and the rest of us.”

  Not-Peter raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Why did you keep them?”

  “I intended to destroy them,” she confessed. “Most of these items are tainted by Metraxion’s touch.”

  “Metraxion.” The demon lord’s name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, something I could never accomplish no matter how much I practiced. That was one difference between us, then. “The demon he enslaved.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “Metraxion kept him alive all those centuries, in exchange for innocent souls.”

  “Until I killed him.” That matter-of-fact statement was so out of character for me that Mrs. Kendricks blinked. “I still have nightmares about that,” he went on, shuddering, and she relaxed fractionally.

  “Dr. Bellowes had a ring that he used to control Metraxion,” she said. “Do you remember it?”

  “I was a little busy at the time,” Not-Peter replied sardonically. “What about it?”

  “It still possesses an incredible amount of power, dark power. I could feel it when I held it in my hand.”

  “Did you try it on?” he asked curiously.

  Now it was Mrs. Kendricks’ turn to shudder. “I didn’t dare. It was too ... seductive.”

  “But you didn’t destroy it.” Not-Peter reached out to close the office door and then locked it. “We don’t want anyone wandering in while we’re talking about these things, do we?” he explained at her doubtful frown.

  “No, certainly not.” She looked down at the satchel under her hands. “I couldn’t destroy it.”

  “You wanted it for yourself?”

  “No,” she retorted, shaking her head. “I couldn’t destroy it. Nothing I did had any effect on it.”

  “Ah.” Not-Peter moved closer, tilting his head to look at her. “Couldn’t you find someone more powerful? Agent Morgan, perhaps?”

  “How do you know all this stuff?” I asked incredulously. It was like he’d been there with us when all this happened.

  Mrs. Kendricks hesitated, looking anxious and embarrassed at the same time. “I – didn’t think that would be wise. Somethi
ng this powerful is a danger and a curse.”

  “You don’t trust her,” he observed slyly.

  “It’s not that,” she insisted, although I doubted either of us believed her. “I just think it’s best if no one can be tempted by it.”

  “So why am I here?”

  “I want you to destroy the ring.”

  Not-Peter lifted his eyebrows mockingly. “Am I supposed to throw it into Mount Doom? It’s quite a hike from here, I understand.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Peter,” she snapped irritably. “Your Lorecraft spells are much more powerful than my witchcraft.”

  For the first time, Not-Peter looked uncertain, but he recovered quickly. “But why now? You’ve had that stuff locked away for weeks.”

  “The incident this morning with Mrs. Phipps worries me,” she said. “There was no reason for her to be in the library unless she was looking for something. The ring is the only thing of value in here.”

  “Maybe she just wanted something to read,” he shrugged.

  “She was possessed,” she argued. “The signs are all there. I think a demon is searching for Dr. Bellowes’ ring.”

  “What possible use could a demon have for a demon-snaring ring?” Not-Peter asked. The smile playing on his lips would have sent a chill up my spine if I had one. Mrs. Kendricks didn’t notice.

  “That’s not what the ring does. Dr. Bellowes’ journal described it as a soul trap. It allowed him to control other souls and bend them to his will.”

  Not-Peter leaned forward with sudden eagerness. “His journal?”

  “He recorded his experiments, decades of capturing demons and enslaving innocents.” She shivered. “I had no idea one man could become so – evil.”

  “And the journal’s here?” He scanned the office intently but Mrs. Kendricks shook her head.

  “No, it’s at the house. I’ve been trying to decipher it, to see if he mentioned how the ring might be destroyed.”

  “But you kept the ring here.”

  “I thought it best to keep them apart.”

  “So were you able to find anything ... useful?”

  “Not much, unfortunately,” she admitted. “Most of his writings are in demonic script. I barely recognize a few phrases.”

  “Surely Agent Prescott can read it,” he pointed out. “He’s been hunting demons for years.” Mrs. Kendricks didn’t respond to that and Not-Peter cocked an eyebrow. “I see. He doesn’t know you have the ring.”

  “I ... didn’t want to get him involved,” she confessed. “He’d be obliged to report it to Agent Morgan and she already suspects we were involved in Dr. Bellowes’ disappearance.”

  “With good reason,” he smirked. “Well, let’s see this mystical ring of yours.”

  Mrs. Kendricks shot him a doubtful look but she opened the satchel and began to remove its contents, setting them neatly on the desk. I recognized some of them from the heap Mrs. Phipps had been scouring through, although I couldn’t begin to guess what most of them were for. The further down she dug, though, the more anxious Mrs. Kendricks looked.

  “Is it gone?” she asked in dismay. “Did Mrs. Phipps find it after all?”

  “She didn’t have it on her when we arrested her,” Not-Peter assured her. He moved around to stand beside her. “It probably just fell to the bottom. Keep looking.” His left hand slid into his pocket, out of her line of sight.

  “What are you doing?” I asked uneasily. I reminded myself that this man, whoever he really was, was probably the guy who killed me and stashed my body somewhere. I tensed, ready to throw myself at him, except I was a ghost. Nothing I did would affect him in any way.

  “It’s not here,” Mrs. Kendricks reported worriedly. She picked up the satchel and shook it out. A splintered stick, probably a broken wand, clattered onto the desk, but that was it. “Someone took it!”

  “Don’t worry,” Not-Peter assured her smoothly. “Everything’s fine.”

  He removed his hand and I gaped at the large gold ring on his middle finger. The engraved symbol on its face glowed a deep, eerie purple, wrapping his hand in a midnight nimbus.

  “Oh, shit,” I breathed. “You have it?”

  He placed his palm on the small of Mrs. Kendricks’ back and she drew in her breath sharply. “What –?”

  “Relax,” he murmured in her ear. “There’s nothing to worry about. I just need you to do something for me.”

  “No, I ... I ...” She shook her head, swaying on her feet. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing,” he purred. “Your wardstones are reacting to Metraxion’s taint, that’s all. Take them off.”

  “My wardstones?” Her hand lifted to one of her opal earrings. “No, I need them,” she protested faintly.

  “What are you doing to her?” I demanded. “Leave her alone!”

  “Take them off,” he ordered. The symbol on the ring flared brighter and she gasped as if some electric thrill had passed through her. Her pupils were dilated as she slowly unfastened one of her earrings.

  “No, don’t do that!” I shouted. I tried to stop her but my hands passed through her arms without resistance. She dropped the earring on the desk and the second one followed it a moment later.

  “Keep going,” Not-Peter told her with a triumphant smile that looked completely wrong on my face. Mrs. Kendricks began unbuttoning her blouse and I could only watch in helpless horror as her silky bra came into view. She continued downwards until the large opal piercing on her navel appeared. It joined her other wardstones on the desk.

  “One more,” he ordered. “You have four, don’t you?”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed. I’d never seen her fourth wardstone, even when she was standing in my bedroom wearing only panties and a smile. “Don’t,” I pleaded but her hands moved obediently. She didn’t reach for her skirt like I expected, though. Instead, she slipped off her plain gold wedding band, the one she used to convince the library board she was actually married to someone, and set it on the desk. “It’s your ring?” I asked incredulously. “That was it all along?” I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed but either way, Mrs. Kendricks was completely without magical protection now.

  “Perfect. You won’t be needing these either.” Not-Peter pulled her wands from her hair and let them fall to the floor. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and he brushed a lock back from her face before guiding her towards the door, keeping his hand against her back. “And now you’re going to give me that book.”

  “No!” I yelled in alarm. I didn’t know if he could read demonic, but he just took control of one of the most talented witches in Hellburn with just a touch. Who knew what he could do with Dr. Bellowes’ notes?

  “All right,” Mrs. Kendricks said softly. She had no expression at all on her face.

  “And maybe afterwards,” he smiled, licking his lips, “we can get to know each other a little better.” Mrs. Kendricks’ blouse was still open and her full breasts strained against her bra.

  “All right,” she said again, as if he’d suggested having a cup of tea with her.

  “No! Oh my God.” I looked around frantically for something, anything, that could break Mrs. Kendricks free from his spell, but without the ability to interact with the physical world, I was completely helpless.

  In desperation, I plunged my hands into Not-Peter’s back, hoping to squeeze his heart like Olivia did with Uxbranidorn, but I felt nothing and he didn’t react at all, not even to the cold that everyone else seemed to feel. I tried grabbing Mrs. Kendricks’ arm again and she sucked in her breath, but that was it. Not-Peter unlocked the door and led her into the hall, moving his hand from her back to her shoulder, as if he needed to maintain contact with her. Maybe that’s the trick, I thought hopefully. I need to separate them. I had no idea how to do that, though.

  I followed them back to the entrance, where Not-Peter paused and eyed Mrs. Kendricks thoughtfully. “You’d better put those away for now,” he said with a crooked grin. “People wi
ll talk.” Mrs. Kendricks silently did up her blouse, leaving the top buttons undone at his order. Between the cleavage she was showing and her disheveled hair, it looked like the two of them had already gotten to know each other pretty well.

  Not-Peter pushed the door open, shading his eyes as he left the gloom of the foyer for the punishing daylight outside. Mrs. Kendricks stumbled as she crossed the threshold but he grabbed her arm to keep her upright, pulling her down the stairs towards the sidewalk.

  The work crew was still there, gathered around a particularly large hunk of concrete protruding out of the ground at an angle. One of them happened to glance up and then nudged his neighbor, indicating Not-Peter and Mrs. Kendricks with his thumb. They eyed the departing couple, exchanges smirks and a couple of words, and then turned back to the task at hand. I wasn’t going to get any help from that quarter.

  Not-Peter hustled Mrs. Kendricks north along Milton Street towards her car, but my attention was focused on the bright red Mustang parked behind it. “Oh my God, that’s my car!” I exclaimed. I ran past them and peered through the windows. “You didn’t damage it, did you?”

  Everything seemed to be in order, thankfully, but then I remembered my theory about what he’d done with my dead body. I gulped as I stared at the trunk and then steeled myself, pushing my face through the metal to look inside. It was pitch-black in there, though, and I couldn’t see a thing.

  The two of them passed me as I extracted myself but then they had an exchange of words that I couldn’t make out. Not-Peter glanced back at the library with an irritated scowl and then he pulled his – my – key fob out of his pocket and unlocked the Mustang. He wanted Mrs. Kendricks to drive, I realized, but her keys are back in her office.

  He practically shoved her into the passenger seat and hurried around to the other side, quickly starting up the Mustang and shifting it into drive before placing his hand back on her arm. That brief interval wasn’t enough for Mrs. Kendricks to break free from his control, though. I barely had time to dive through the side of the car into the back seat before he pulled out into traffic.