by Kami Garcia
“And if I don’t?” Mulder challenged him.
The killer bolted across the room and picked up the pink bike. He hurled it straight at Mulder. The bike missed him by inches, and it crashed into the cage.
“If you don’t, I will throw this blanket over you and beat you until you lose consciousness again.” Rage flashed in Earl Roy’s eyes. “Then I’ll deal with Stormbringer.” He raised his other hand and Mulder finally saw what he was holding.
A baseball bat.
Fear ripped through him, destroying his false sense of calm. “You don’t want to hit me with that. I’ll bleed even more.”
“That all depends on where I hit you.” Earl Roy dropped the blanket and kicked it across the floor. “Get under the blanket.”
“Wait. Just listen,” Mulder pleaded.
“I’m done listening to you and the sword.”
“Just give me a second.”
“Get under the blanket now!” he shouted.
“I’m doing it.” Mulder crawled under as Earl Roy closed in on him.
Then Mulder heard a sound—
Pounding.
Followed by stairs creaking and voices.
An army’s worth of black boots came down the steps.
“County sheriff. Put your hands in the air,” an officer shouted at Earl Roy.
“Don’t touch the paintbrush on the floor,” Mulder warned. “It has poison all over it.”
When the deputies realized Earl Roy wasn’t armed, three of them rushed the killer and threw him to the ground, while another cop grabbed Mulder by the shoulders and dragged him out of the way.
“There’s a little girl over there.” Mulder nodded in Sarah’s direction. “I think she was drugged. Her name is Sarah Lowe. Please help her.”
Another officer rushed to the child’s side.
The cop quickly untied the rope around Mulder’s wrists. “Are you all right?”
Mulder nodded.
Not even close.
Earl Roy was lying on his stomach, with his hands cuffed behind his back. Most of the white paint had smeared off his face, and he looked more like a regular person.
Monsters shouldn’t be able to blend in with normal people. If a kid came face-to-face with one, how were they supposed to know?
A deputy freed Sarah Lowe and wrapped his jacket around her small frame to scoop her up into his arms. Mulder rushed over and wrapped the edges of the jacket tighter around the little girl.
“Will she be okay?” He swallowed hard, afraid of the answer.
“I don’t know what he gave her, but an ambulance is on its way.” The deputy noticed the worried look in Mulder’s eyes and added, “But she’s breathing and her pulse rate is normal, and those are good signs.”
The sheriff surveyed the symbols painted on the walls with a look of pure disgust and stormed over to the spot where the killer was lying on the floor.
“Earl Roy Propps, you’re under arrest.” The sheriff nodded at one of his deputies. “Read the son of a bitch his rights.”
Earl Roy began to sing. “‘As Chaos lays me down to sleep, I beg the Law my soul to keep.…’”
“What are you waiting for? Get those kids out of here.” The sheriff motioned to the stairs, then returned to issuing orders to the rest of his team. The deputy carried Sarah as he led Mulder along the perimeter of the room to the stairs.
The sheriff caught up with them on the first floor. “I’ll need to take your statement. But I’m curious. How did you end up here tonight?”
“Didn’t my friends tell you?” Knowing Phoebe, she probably hadn’t wasted any time on the details.
“You mean those kids outside in the orange car?”
“Yeah.”
“We haven’t talked to them yet,” the sheriff said. “Someone called in an anonymous tip. The caller said he witnessed a man dragging an unconscious teenager into a house and gave us this address.”
An anonymous tip?
This house was in the middle of a wildlife refuge, and nobody except Mulder’s friends had been around when Earl Roy choked him out. Why would Phoebe and Gimble call in a tip instead of just telling the cops what happened?
When they reached the front door, Mulder stopped. “Sheriff, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s on your mind?”
Mulder rubbed the back of his head, where a huge knot had formed. “Earl Roy wasn’t working alone. He has a partner, and the other killer is still out there.”
The sheriff put his hand on Mulder’s shoulder. “You’ve had a rough night, and I think you’re in shock. It can cause paranoia. But it’s normal. It’ll pass.”
“I’m not in shock. Earl Roy can’t stand the sight of blood. He’s terrified of it. I cut my hand and—”
“You need some rest, son.”
“I’m fine. I swear. If you could just—”
The deputy nudged open the front door, and when the paramedics saw the child in his arms, they descended on Sarah Lowe and whisked her away. The dirt driveway was now a sea of police cars and flashing lights.
“Fox?” Phoebe shouted, racing up the porch steps. Her pigtails had come loose and her hair was tangled. She threw her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m sorry. We tried to find the police station.”
“But we went the wrong way,” Gimble said apologetically.
“The sheriff said someone called in an anonymous tip. Why didn’t you just tell them who you were?” Mulder asked.
Phoebe looked confused. “It wasn’t us. I turned the wrong way on the main road. Eventually, we figured it out and turned around. Then we saw the police cars, so I followed them.”
“Then who called in the tip?” Mulder was stumped. The hair on the back of his next stood on end. Had someone else been watching them?
Gimble shrugged. “I don’t know. Just be happy they did.”
A paramedic slipped past Gimble and Phoebe and approached Mulder. “I need to check you out.”
“I’m okay.”
“Let’s make sure.” The paramedic examined Mulder’s hand.
“Is the little girl all right?” Mulder asked.
He nodded. “She’s still disoriented, but her vital signs are good.”
“You saved her life.” Phoebe rested her head on Mulder’s shoulder and reached for his hand. She noticed the blood and gasped. “You’re hurt!”
“It’s no big deal.” Mulder smiled as Phoebe studied his palm with the intensity of a surgeon. Secretly, he loved having her fussing over him.
The paramedic swabbed the cut with some antiseptic and wrapped a bandage around it. Then he asked Mulder some questions and shined a light in his eyes to check for a concussion. “Everything looks good, but you should still go to the ER and let a doctor examine you. And get a tetanus shot for the cut. A deputy found a bunch of rats in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” Mulder said, although he had no intention of going to the ER. He wanted to get as far away from this house as possible.
The sheriff asked Mulder some questions, and he recounted his story while Phoebe bit her nails and Gimble paced.
“If I hadn’t seen that basement for myself, I’m not sure I would’ve believed it.” The sheriff handed him a business card. “Give me a call if you remember anything else.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Phoebe took Mulder’s uncut hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about this place.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Phoebe squeezed his hand and leaned closer. “You don’t really sleep anyway.”
“I did when you were in my bed,” he whispered. “Maybe you need to be in it more often.” Mulder wasn’t actually flirting. He meant it. His emotions were too raw right now to joke about anything.
Phoebe’s blue eyes searched Mulder’s brown ones, and her eyes welled.
“What’s wrong?” He wrapped his arm around her back, their fingers still interlaced, and pulled Phoebe against his chest.
She shook her head. “I’m going to sound heartless for saying this after you just saved a kid’s life.…” She took a shaky breath.
Mulder watched her long lashes brush her flushed cheeks. One day he’d work up the nerve to tell Phoebe how he really felt about her.
“Come on, tell me.”
“Don’t do anything like that again, Fox. Please. I need you to start caring about yourself. Because I care about you … a lot.”
“How much is a lot?” He flashed her a sheepish smile.
She gave him a little shove. “You know what I mean.”
Mulder pulled her toward him. When their lips met, the kiss didn’t feel like any of their previous kisses.
This kiss burned its way through his body, right down to his soul. It was made of fear and heartache, relief and anticipation, promises and hopes. It reminded him that he still had someone to hold on to in this screwed-up world.
Mulder and Phoebe clung to each other, kissing in the darkness, and for a few minutes, his life was perfect.
CHAPTER 23
Washington, D.C.
April 3, 2:00 A.M.
Mulder had mentally rehearsed the story he planned to tell his father on the ride back from Craiger to DC. He was done lying and holding back to make his parents happy.
Maybe happy was the wrong word.
Nothing made his mom and dad happy. Nothing had since the night his sister vanished. Mulder was just something that Samantha’s kidnapper had left behind, like a smudged fingerprint—proof that the kidnapper had been there, without leaving anyone a trail to follow.
When he finally made it home, all that rehearsing in the car turned out to be a waste, because his father wasn’t there. Phoebe curled up on the sofa while Mulder took the longest shower of his life. He scrubbed his skin until it burned. Being in the same room with a monster who killed kids had left a permanent stain on him, like a different kind of poison.
He toweled off and slid on his last clean pair of jeans. The clothes he had been wearing earlier lay in a heap on the bathroom floor. Mulder picked them up and stuffed them in the trash can, then washed his hands, twice.
In the living room, Phoebe was asleep on the sofa. Mulder thought about waking her up, but she was out cold. He unfolded an afghan from the chair and draped it over her. For a few minutes, he just watched her.
What if Earl Roy had been outside his run-down house earlier tonight, and he had grabbed Phoebe instead of him? He never should’ve put her, or Gimble, at risk.
I should stick to screwing up my own life.
With Phoebe on the sofa, Mulder had no choice but to sleep in his room—meaning lie awake all night in there. He walked down the hallway and stopped in front of his bedroom door. He put his hand on the knob and closed his eyes. It was the same thing he did whenever he stood on this side of the door alone.
Mulder kept his squeezed eyes shut until he entered the room. He imagined opening them and seeing Samantha sitting on his bed, mixing up his basketball cards, as if she had never left. As a kid, he had believed that if he kept doing it, one day he would open his eyes and Samantha would be there. His heart thudded in his chest, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Like all the other times, Samantha wasn’t sitting on the bed.
The room was empty.
The Illuminates of Thanateros were wrong. Believing in something enough couldn’t make it happen, at least not for him.
Mulder spent most of the night rereading chapters from psychology textbooks, serial killer autobiographies, and John Brophy’s The Meaning of Murder. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall, surrounded by books about killers, and for the first time in months, he fell asleep before the sun rose.
* * *
Mulder woke up the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing. He jumped to his feet and bolted to the phone in his dad’s room. If it was his mom, he didn’t want her to worry.
“Hello?” he said, out of breath.
“It’s your father.” Mulder’s dad always felt the need to get that out, as if he was worried Mulder might forget.
“Where are you? I thought you were coming home last night?”
His dad sighed, and Mulder knew what was coming next. “I’m still in New Mexico. I need to stay here for three more days. Some unexpected things happened, and now I can’t leave. The Project is at a critical stage.”
Some unexpected things happened here, too.
Mulder heard his dad cover the receiver and talk to someone in the room with him. “… timeline changed … results … the merchandise … okay … tell Openshaw I’m on my way.” Then his dad came back on the line. “Mulder, did you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” he said, feeling strangely immune to the disappointment. He wasn’t going to bother telling his dad about what had happened. He could find out when he got home.
“I’ll call you tonight.” His father didn’t even mention Phoebe or remind him to sleep on the sofa, which meant he’d forgotten she was visiting.
“Okay.” Mulder hung up. He wouldn’t call, and they both knew it.
The weird part?
He didn’t care anymore. Mulder was more interested in talking to Gimble’s father than to his own.
After witnessing Earl Roy’s reaction last night when Mulder cut himself, it was obvious the man couldn’t have hacked up anyone to steal their bones. And his delusion wasn’t what they had originally thought. There was another serial killer walking the streets.
But how was Mulder supposed to find him? The killer must have left behind a clue that he’d missed, and nobody knew more about the Eternal Champion or the adult victims than the Major.
Mulder called Gimble, hoping the phone was plugged in. After the third ring, he was about to give up.
“Hello?” Gimble asked hesitantly.
“It’s me. I need to come over and talk to your dad.”
“Are you doing okay? I’m still pretty freaked out.”
“I’m fine, but I’m coming over.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. I’m leaving as soon as we hang up,” Mulder said.
“I’m not going to be home. I’m heading to a D and D game. After watching Earl Roy put you in a choke hold, I need a few hours without serial killers.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Mulder didn’t want to act like a jerk, but this was important.
“You don’t need me here.” Gimble was scrambling to come up with a solution. “The Major knows you. I’ll tell him you’re coming. Just knock on the door and give him the code words when he asks.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want him coming after me with a mop.” Mulder got the impression that the Major was even tougher than he looked.
“Wait five minutes. I’ll call back if there’s a problem,” Gimble said. “Otherwise, you can come over.”
“What did you tell him about last night?” Mulder didn’t want to slip up and get Gimble in trouble.
“I told him that you’re a crappy driver and you got us lost in the middle of nowhere.”
“Got it. But shouldn’t you tell him the truth? What if the sheriff’s office calls?” Mulder asked, relieved that his own father was still out of town.
“I didn’t think about that.” Gimble was quiet for a moment. “I’ll just unplug the phone and take it with me to the game.”
“If I don’t hear back, I’ll leave in five.” Mulder hung up.
“Where are you going?” Phoebe’s voice came out of nowhere, and she startled him. Getting knocked out and thrown in a dog kennel had made him jumpy.
“I thought you were still asleep,” he said.
She leaned against the doorjamb. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m going to Gimble’s house to talk to the Major. I think he might be able to help me find the other killer.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you want to come?”
She shook her head, tangled blond hair grazing her neck. “I’m going to call my parents. They’re going to find out eventu
ally. It’s better if they hear it from me.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Not that he was doing it. “Can you ask them to not say anything? Just tell them my mom would be embarrassed to talk about it.”
“Did you actually tell her?” Phoebe asked, shocked.
“That would be a no. My dad can deal with that when he gets home.”
Gimble didn’t call back, which gave Mulder the all clear. He hung out with Phoebe until she was ready to call her parents.
“Wish me luck,” she said on his way out.
He smiled at her. “Luck.”
For both of us.
* * *
Mulder rang the doorbell and waited. The Major was expecting him, but navigating the man’s rocky mental terrain without Gimble there to help him still felt strange.
“Code words?” the Major asked from the other side of the door.
“Agent of Chaos.” The name gave Mulder the creeps now.
The sound of five dead bolts unlocking one at a time was a relief.
The Major cracked the door open and peeked out. “Get in here before they see you.” He ushered Mulder inside.
Mulder wondered if by they he meant the government or the aliens.
“Thanks for letting me come over, sir.”
“So what’s on your mind, airman? Gary said you need my help.” He walked into the living room. The television was on, set to a local news channel. “I assume the conversation we’re about to have is classified?”
“Absolutely.” Mulder nodded and drifted toward the map on the Major’s wall. “I wanted to take another look at all the information you’ve collected.”
“Take a look, and I’ll get us something to drink.” The Major didn’t have to ask him twice.
Mulder looked up at the newspaper articles and grainy photos, and the larger crime scene photographs Sergio had stolen from the coroner’s office. He was instantly transfixed. The grisly photos drew him in, as if the images had their own gravitational pull. He had missed something the first time he stood in this spot. But that was before Earl Roy inadvertently revealed that he wasn’t the only killer. He heard the Major banging around in the kitchen. Mulder peeked in and watched Gimble’s dad remove the bicycle chain from the refrigerator door handles.
