by Steve McHugh
“How far away are these people?”
“A few miles. I will not help you kill them, but I will not stand by while they do as they wish, either.”
“Just point us in the right direction,” I said. “We’ll do the rest.”
CHAPTER 9
The hike through the woods was long and, on more than once occasion, dangerous. Loose dirt and a lack of handholds, made climbing some of the steeper hills a treacherous proposition. I had my magic to fall back on, but Bill had nothing more than his natural skill and a bit of good luck.
Rean on the other hand, barely stopped to take a breath. He walked in a straight line, never deviating from the path, no matter how much hard work it was. He glided up hills without the use of a handhold or slipping on the surface. It was impressive to behold, as if his own weight shifted itself to ensure he remained in balance at all times
By the time Rean stopped walking and motioned for us to crouch low, the sun was setting behind us.
We were laying prone on top of a cliff, fifty feet above the house that Rean had led us to. It gave us an excellent vantage point, and the dense bushes all around afforded us some extra protection from any wandering eyes below.
“Are you sure Sally-Ann’s killers are in there?” I asked Rean.
The wood troll nodded. “This is where they were tracked to.”
“How do we get in?” Bill asked. “There are only two of us, and we have no idea how many of them there are, or what weapons they have.”
Bill had a good point. The house was a large two-story wooden building that had probably been constructed during the late-seventeenth or early-eighteenth century. It had been re-painted a deep brown at some point, but small patches of white showed through the side facing the cliff.
There were no windows facing us, but even without them any approach would be difficult. The driveway, clearly a new addition to the property, was made of deep red brick, with large irregular sized rocks sat on the verge on either side. It curved with the land, vanishing behind some trees after a few dozen feet. The rear of the property was mostly woodland, but the trees were sparse and there was a fifty-foot gap from their edge to any side of the house.
“Rean, can you take Bill back to the car?”
Bill opened his mouth to argue, but I got there first. “We’ll need backup; you have to arrest whoever is alive in there after I’ve gotten Simon out. Unless you plan on either marching them all into town or making them all sit in the back of your car, you’re going to need more people. Besides, I need you to get hold of Galahad and get him here; I assume your captain knows a way.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stay right here and watch,” I said. “And when it’s dark enough I’m going to try and find out exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“The cliff slopes down to the ground a short distance that way,” Rean said. “You’re still going to have a sizeable gap between there and the house though, so you’ll need to be careful.”
I thanked Rean and he began moving back from the cliff edge. “Bill, give me twelve hours, then turn up with the cavalry. I should have Simon dealt with, and hopefully anyone else in there will go quietly.”
Bill shook my hand and then followed Rean back into the forest.
Once alone, I returned my attention to the house and wondered if it were possible to get around to see the front and back of the building without giving myself away.
The rear of the building was simple enough, I just followed Rean’s directions and made my way down the slope to my right, ensuring to keeping far enough back that any sudden movements didn’t give me away.
The back of the house contained seven windows—three on the lower floor and four above it. There were no lights on in the house itself, but a large shed sat nearby and light spilled out from the small windows.
I moved back up the slope and along to the left of where I’d started, but was unable to get all the way around to the front of the house as the cliff stopped short. The only way to move any farther was to use the huge trees. I glanced around to ensure there was no one about and took a few steps back. I started to run toward the cliff edge, but just then the house’s front door opened. I managed to stop myself before I hit the point of no return and dropped to the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt and snow for my trouble.
A man, wearing an expensive long coat, stood on the front porch in the light of the open front door and looked around the forest in front of him. His collar was pulled up, obscuring his face, but a second man joined him, wearing only a dark t-shirt and jeans.
Even with air magic, there was no way I was going to be able to hear anything the men said to one another, but the conversation was short and the better dressed of the two men was clearly the one in charge. After a few minutes, the well-dressed man walked around to the side of the house, and a short time later there was the roar of an engine starting.
The second man hadn’t moved from his spot in front of the house. He turned and watched as the car sped off down the drive, but didn’t immediately go back inside. Instead, he glanced around the forest and removed a cigarette from his pocket, which was quickly lit.
He stayed where he was for a few minutes, the only movement was the removal of the cigarette from his lips and the exhale of the toxic smog. He turned toward me and stared at the exact spot where I was hiding. I wasn’t concerned he’d spotted me; he couldn’t have seen me if he were only a few feet away, much less the few hundred that separated us.
All of a sudden a scream sounded out over the quiet night and the man dropped his cigarette onto the ground, using his foot to extinguish it.
A second man walked out of the woods. He was a huge brute of a man; at least a foot taller than me and probably several stone heavier. He was dragging a young woman, her blonde hair wrapped up in his fist to ensure that escape was impossible. She flailed in his iron grasp, twisting and turning as her feet scraped along the ground behind her. I couldn’t hear her words, but I could see her pained expression. Anguish and fear were obvious beneath the grime. She kicked snow up constantly from the ground, covering everything it touched. The man dragging her stopped and kicked her in the stomach one, twice, and a third time. I winced with the last strike as the fight left the young woman and she sagged, defeated. Dragging her was easier now, and he continued to perform his task with a smile.
A second man came into view, equal in size to the first, with a prone male thrown over his shoulder like a bag of flour. As they reached the light from the still-open front door, I saw the blood that had covered one side of the male victims face. It had matted his long hair and dripped steadily onto the ground where it was swallowed up by the snow.
The first brute dropped the woman onto the house’s porch, and she immediately tried to bolt, but she was grabbed once more and thrown through the front door. The second brute followed with the unconscious man, while the smaller man glanced around quickly as the woman’s screams started, then joined the others in the house, closing the door behind.
The screams died with the closing of the door—the house was probably soundproofed, although I doubted there was anyone within a few miles who would have heard anything even if it wasn’t.
I couldn’t just leave the newcomers to the company of these brutal men, and I hesitated to think about whatever horrific end would befall them if I didn’t act. But rushing in would likely end in disaster, either for me or the new victims.
I moved back a few paces and once again sprinted to the cliff edge, launching myself toward the nearest large tree and using my air magic to land on one of its thickest branches. I swung myself down onto another branch and then dropped onto the soft ground ten feet below, my air magic ensuring I’d be silent.
I used the cover of foliage to make my way around to the front of the house, where I could see the front door for the first time. It was a well-made
wooden door that had been painted a deep red color. Several marks, which appeared to be from a claw of some kind, sat in the middle of the door. The window next to the door was broken, the bars on the inside clearly visible. I’d have wagered that the house was a well-fortified structure, probably not easy to break into without some serious help.
I wondered if Simon had sorcerer-proofed it—he must have been aware that someone would come for him. So, if he’d sorcerer-proofed the door with some runes, it probably wasn’t worth trying. Just in case.
I’d decided that the window closest to me was probably my best place to gain entry. I’d all but made my mind up when Bill walked toward the house, with Rean behind him, occasionally pushing him forward. They reached the front door and Bill knocked twice, which was answered by the man in jeans I’d seen on the porch earlier. He spoke, but I couldn’t have heard him even if I’d been standing right next to them, my anger took over. Rean had betrayed us.
“You’re out there,” the man said. “Nathan, I know you’re out there.”
Rean pointed in my direction. Apparently a wood troll’s vision was even better than I’d heard about.
“Come out, come out,” he said and punched Bill in the face hard enough to knock the big man to his knees. “Or do I need to start on your friend here?”
He punched Bill once again, and blood exploded from his nose and mouth as he fell to the porch’s wooden floor. A second later there was a knife in the attacker’s hands and it was held to Bill’s throat.
I held my hands up and walked out of the forest. Magic was no use, it would have gotten Bill killed.
“Kneel,” the man said and pointed to the ground. “Fingers linked and placed behind your head.”
I did as I was told. The ground was cold and the snow crunched under my knees.
“My name is Simon Olson,” he said. “My friend Rean here tells me you’re interested in finding me. Well, congratulations.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?” Simon replied, a quizzical look on his face.
“Not you.” I nodded toward Rean. “Why?”
“After my son tracked them, they came to our colony and I met with them. They said they’d kill everyone in my colony if I didn’t stay away from them. So I made a deal with them. They stay away from my colony in exchange for me giving them you. Simon said someone might come around trying to find him.”
“The one over the many, eh?”
Rean glanced down at the ground for the briefest of moments before raising to his full height and keeping eye contact with me as he spoke, “No, just the one who isn’t my colony against those who are.”
Simon walked toward me, a smile spread across his bearded face. His long dark hair was tied back, and his cold black eyes held nothing but hate and anger.
I’d expected gloating, but the punch came out of nowhere, knocking me to the ground. Before I could move, the two brutes from earlier were next to me, moving much faster than their size suggested. They held me down while Simon stood above me, showing me the silver gauntlet that covered his hand like a glove. A second later it vanished, turning into several silver bracelets on his wrist.
“Do you see this?” he asked, showing me the bracelets. “Do you know how long it took for me to perfect the use of using a small amount of silver to cover my entire hand? Many years. I’m a patient man, as you’re going to find out over the course of your stay here. I’ll show you just how much I’ve learned.”
Before I could do anything to show him the error of his ways, he spoke again, “If you use your magic at any point in the next few minutes, your friend the cop dies.” He got right next to my ear, the smell of blood overpowering whatever aftershave he’d used. “And then I go find that freak’s family and make him watch while I butcher them.” He jumped back up and walked over to Bill, kicking him in the ribs.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Simon said as he kicked Bill once more. He spun around and with a flourish of his hands motioned toward the house. “Welcome to my home. Welcome to the House of Silent Screams.”
CHAPTER 10
Stratford, Maine. Now.
The drive from New York to Maine was long and not exactly exciting, but it was also without incident. By the time I’d reached the outskirts of the town, whatever energy I’d gained from Felicia was beginning to wane.
I figured I’d probably need to get some sleep sooner rather than later, but I also wanted to check out the house before finding a room for the duration of my stay.
I remembered the route to the house without problems, pulling up outside the old building with a little trepidation inside me. I seriously doubted that whoever had attacked me and murdered Bill was stupid enough to be staying in the first place I’d come to look. They clearly wanted me to be a part of some sort of game, and I doubted me finding them and killing them all factored into it. They might have been insane, but they didn’t appear to be stupid.
I switched off the Audi R8’s engine and stepped out into the cool Maine air, scanning the area around me just in case I’d been wrong about my assailants and they were indeed utterly incompetent idiots.
After making a complete circuit of the house and noting nothing of interest, I found myself looking at the imposing front door. The red paint had peeled off; like the rest of the house, it had been left in a state of disrepair. The grass was overgrown and dirt had blown all across the porch. The window next to the front door had been smashed long ago, showing one of the metal bars that had been fixed inside. They’d blocked escape and turned the old house into a prison.
I placed my hand on the door handle and twisted—it felt cold beneath my fingers—but the door was locked. The sound of a car coming up the driveway reached my ears just as I stepped off the porch. I made my way to the side of the house and waited to see who’d turned up.
I didn’t have to wait long, as the police car pulled up behind my Audi and two officers got out. The driver was an older man, probably mid-forties, with an army-style haircut and alert eyes that moved slowly over everything around him.
The second man was taller and skinnier than the first, and didn’t have his companion’s calm demeanor. He glanced around skittishly. It was possible he’d had too much caffeine, but as he was also much younger, the likelihood was that he’d only been a cop for a short time and was still nervous.
I stepped out from the side of the house and the officer’s attention was immediately centered on me.
“Hold it right there,” the younger cop said, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.
I raised my hands. “Not here for any trouble. Was just looking around. I don’t think the gun is necessary.”
“We don’t like people around here,” the older cop said. “What were you looking for?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words came out slurred and my head felt as if full of cotton wool. Apparently when Felicia said I was going to get hit when the energy ran out, she wasn’t exaggerating.
I only managed another step before my entire world started to spin like washing machine drum and I crashed forward onto the ground.
I woke up slowly, my brain registering that I was awake well before my eyes decided to bother opening. And once they were open, I decided I’d preferred it when I was asleep.
I was laying on small bed, in a jail cell that apart from the bed contained a toilet, a sink and a small barred window. Another identical cell sat next to mine, and three more opposite, with a short but wide corridor separating them.
“You’re finally awake?” someone asked as they entered the corridor from the set of double doors at the far end.
I glanced over and saw a young woman place a folding chair in front of my cell and take a seat. She had light-green eyes and dark hair that was cut to shoulder length, part of which was pulled back and secured with what appeared to be a chopstick. She had a metal bracelet on one wr
ist, matching the ring on her thumb, and her trouser suit was well-tailored and expensive. Her shoes, black Adidas with a white stripe along one side, went against the rest of the image somewhat.
“I’ve got a few questions for you,” she said as she sat down.
“Me too,” I said. “I assume I’m in the Stratford police station.”
“Good assumption. Your name is Nathan Garrett, yes?”
I nodded. “And yours?”
“Agent Caitlin Moore of the FBI. You should know, this isn’t an I ask a question, then you ask one type of moment. This is a you’re in deep shit and should be telling me what I want to know moment.”
“Okay, exactly why am I in deep shit?”
“You passed out in front of two officers. They thought you were drunk or sick or something. I ran your name and came up with nothing, so I got some friends of mine at the Bureau to do me a favor. Guess what came back?”
“It said I was innocent and should be allowed to go about my business?”
“It said they didn’t have clearance. Your name being searched on got them a phone call from someone much higher up the pay grade. They wanted to know why anyone was searching for you. Then I got a phone call telling me to leave it alone and forget I ever saw your name. Why would that be?”
“You don’t appear to be following orders very well. I assume my mobile went off not long after?”
Caitlin nodded. “They told me I was to put you on the phone; I told them you were unconscious in a jail cell and you’d call them back when you woke up. They were less than happy.”
“Was her name Olivia?”
Caitlin nodded again.
I’d put Olivia as the point of contact for anytime someone without clearance searched for my name in any government database. She gets a text telling her who has tried to gain entrance. To be honest, considering it was the first time it had been used, I was impressed it had actually worked.
