by VK Fox
“Mm . . . that’s a pretty sweet deal.” Jane let her eyes close as she rested against him. Maybe she should get her shirt, but she was comfortable, and her mind was already drifting. She’d get it tomorrow.
Chapter Sixteen
Spiders . . . spiders . . . where was the information about the spiders? Eileen knew the article was somewhere on the First Alert message board. Digging through old posts was a significant task, even though Eileen checked daily. With so much buzz about the kidney thefts, locating anything else became daunting. Eileen clicked her tongue a few times while her gaze skimmed over the seemingly endless wall of text.
After ten unfruitful minutes, she typed out:
GuardianAngel777: Sorry for the repost request, but does anyone have the info from a few weeks back about the parasitic spiders? I think we may have an outbreak locally, and we need to get on top of it!
Then she let her eyes lose focus, waiting for a response. With twenty-six members online, someone would reply soon. The extra minutes were worth seeing the article as soon as it appeared. She might need to lay in supplies or disinfect the house. An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.
Eileen’s attention slid across the darkness in the corners. The room was mostly nothing, now. The desk, her computer, the desktop lamp . . . those were her island. The light of the lamp was swallowed by shadows on all sides as the nothing closed in. David was gone. She couldn’t hold onto him. The nothing might take him away forever.
A post notification snapped Eileen back to the screen.
Vigilante234:Hey Angel! In re to your post for predators—check this out: Axe-Wielding Murderer Kills Animals and Teens and Hangs Mutilated Bodies. Some reports say dressed as a giant bunny, and some say a bunny-man hybrid. Escaped mental patient or phantasm living in the woods. Say his name three times and he will appear. Bunnyman, Bunnyman . . . JK, I wouldn’t even type it three times. Could this be what’s nabbing cats your way?
Eileen frowned at the screen. Another monster in the woods? It didn’t sound like what happened to Major and Athena. Their bodies had been eaten . . . more like the work of a bear or a Jersey Devil. Going by the print in Betty’s backyard, dollars to dumplings it wasn’t a bear. A shiver went from her shoulders to her toes. A devil in the woods. Eileen clicked through the articles on the Jersey Devil, pursing her lips as she read again about Mother Leeds and her thirteenth child. According to the information on First Alert, the Devil wasn’t the real villain. Drunken father and thoughtless mother, cursing her unwanted baby. Well, no wonder he’d killed them all and fled into the woods. He must have been confused and scared. No one had ever taught him right from wrong. He was feral. Eating cats couldn’t be much fun. He was trying to survive, and who could blame him?
A second post notification brought Eileen back to her repost request.
B@st1an:Hi, new member here. Not sure about the spiders. Are you okay?
GuardianAngel777:Yes, I’m holding up. A lot going on in the area. Doing my best. Let me know if you find any info.
B@st1an:Sure, happy to share, but I know you have everything you need.
Eileen pursed her lips. The vote of confidence was nice, but poorly timed. How could she possibly have everything she needed? She tapped out:
GuardianAngel777:Reaching deep for strength! O:-)
B@st1an:What’s inside is only half the story.
GuardianAngel777:?
B@st1an:You already know what you need to do.
GuardianAngel777:I don’t understand.
B@st1an:You’ve let what’s inside out. Now it’s time to let what’s outside in.
Eileen furrowed her brow at the screen. They needed some way to filter new members. Every so often, someone would get on the board to cause trouble and make jokes. First Alert was not the place for humor.
GuardianAngel777:Stop talking nonsense. This is serious.
B@st1an:It’s true. You have a solution. It just needs a name.
GuardianAngel777:A name?
B@st1an:Names, especially the right name, are what give things and beings reality. Only the right name gives beings and things their reality. I’ve been trying to tell you I’m here to help. You’re the hero of your own story. I’ve seen it. I’ve been watching over you the whole time. I was with you when you were afraid of someone hurting you, and you imagined the kidney thief. I was there when you tried to find answers for Betty about what happened to her cats. I saw you were lonely and needed a new friend, so I helped you find Morty. I heard you when you argued with your husband about the spiders, and you needed him to be late, so you proved him wrong at the same time. I know you want to protect your town from threats inside and out. These things are real to you because you believe them, but they’re not whole. They’re still lies: parts of a truth. It’s time to make them whole. The men in black are coming. Who will stand against them? You just have to name them. You already have them picked out.
Eileen’s ears buzzed and her head was cottony. The men in black were coming. She’d always known they would. Eileen focused on the nothing in the room, wishing she understood. In emergency situations, people became victims because they refused to accept what was happening in time. They refused to embrace the crisis and do what had to be done. Not Eileen. Not this time. Eileen found herself on her feet, facing the darkness. She called out in her loudest, bravest voice, “What am I supposed to do?”
A surge of vertigo hit as a small white bead of light zipped away into the dark, illuminating what was hidden. Her eyes drilled into the shadows, and through it, she could see plain as day: a rip. A tear in the fabric of the room allowed a fluttering peek at things beyond. Someone had been naughty. Someone had poked too many holes too close together and now the whole wall was coming apart. Now the things on the other side could step through if she called them. Do what you wish. Eileen snorted. More like make it happen, and that was an idea Eileen could get all the way behind. So the men in black were coming? They thought they could seal the tear in the world and bring things back to the status quo with Big Brother on top and everyone else clueless underneath? Not on her watch.
Eileen stood at the desk, grasping the edge for support as she squared her shoulders, raw power curling through her veins and a bruised, sand swept landscape sprawling endlessly away. Her opponents lurked in the shadows, but she could see them and knew what they were. The holy woman with her gun. The giant made of dreams and ancient shadows. The baby-faced boy who reminded her so strongly of David. They were about the same age. He was like Eileen, with an ally in his mind to guide him. And the girl ripping the fabric of reality apart. She was coming after Eileen for a tiny peek at what lay beyond when all the while she sheered through the barrier like tissue paper? Hypocrite.
Who would stand with her against them? Eileen called their names, the noise swallowed by red deserts. “Bunnyman. Mothman. Jersey Devil. Morty.” Four on four was better odds. Wind rushed through the tear in the world with a violent, scorching gust, and the room slipped away to nothing.
The garbage can was on its side again, which was not the best way to start the morning. After the last time, Eileen had secured the big Rubbermaid to the lattice under the porch with bungee cords, but whatever was eating the garbage had pulled the whole mess off, lattice and all, and carried the can a hundred yards into the woods.
Eileen stood, clad in latex gloves and wielding a metal gripper. Last time she’d tried to use David’s old T. rex plastic gripper arm, but it had broken within three minutes, and she’d been left scooping trash with her hands. Afterward, Eileen had purchased a metal trigger gripper like the prisoners used when they cleaned up trash on the interstate. She’d be crazy not to get herself the same luxury afforded to incarcerated degenerates.
As salt in the cut, the majority of the garbage she was picking up for the second time was the result of diligent house decluttering Eileen had been working on since David moved out. A good top-to-bottom turnout was just what the doctor ordered. Well, not exactly the doctor; attri
buting anything undeserved to those quacks was a social tendency Eileen worked hard to change, but putting the tangible items in her life in order always helped her organize her mental state as well. Until some bear dumped her orderly state all over the back patio, lawn, and into the woods.
Eileen pursed her lips, surveying the mess across the patio, lawn, and tree line. It must have been a bear. Bears were the only thing big enough to lift a loaded Rubbermaid and carry it such a distance. A dark fog curled around the edges of her vision, and Eileen shook her head sharply to clear it, wishing she could rub her eyes but avoiding her face with the latex gloves. Her raw throat and spinal headache made the bright sunlight annoying. Falling asleep at the desk had led to strange dreams and a stiff neck. She’d been yelling. Had she been in a shouting match? She regularly shouted with someone, but the name kept slipping away. Someone else who came to the house regularly . . . maybe lived there? Not David. No one else was here now, but the presence of items Eileen wouldn’t choose for herself was unsettling. Men’s clothing and shaving items. Books on geology and hunting she had no interest in. Photos of a strange man holding David as a baby were the most disturbing and the hardest to come to grips with. What could the reason for those pictures possibly be? Whenever she got close to pinning it down, the memory of shouting resurfaced and washed it all out again, like trying to remember a dream. Well, either it would come back or it wouldn’t. No use dwelling on it. Eileen huffed and focused on the task at hand.
The first bag, kitchen trash, was spread over the brick patio and plastic furniture. Inedible kitchen waste such as paper towels, a broken glass, and plastic grocery bags were tossed on the ground. All of the food trash was piled on the patio table in stacks. Eileen nabbed one of the yogurt containers with her gripper arm and strained to examine it at the end of the lengthy pole. The interior was licked clean, not a morsel of nonfat vanilla remaining. The Saran Wrap and butcher paper used to package her weekly proteins were spread out on the table as well. Eileen smiled fondly at the wrappings. Somebody was hungry. She should have left food out, but she’d been exhausted after checking the message board. Her eyes focused on the fluttering plastic of the kitchen trash bag, and for a heartbeat, it looked like another tear in the world: a gateway to a different place.
Eileen’s focus snapped back to the here and now as she finished bagging the rest of the garbage on the patio and gave the table and chairs a brisk wipe with Pine-Sol. The next two bags strewn across the lawn contained David’s old clothing that wasn’t fit for donation or keepsakes. Only a few shredded articles remained on the sun-drenched lawn. Most of the worn articles were nowhere to be seen. Eileen’s grin widened. Somebody was cold. She should have left blankets out. She was better than Mother Leeds and whoever else was responsible for her friends’ feral conditions. She’d set a stack out as soon as she got the yard tidied. A stack of blankets and a plate of sandwiches would put everything right. Maybe they’d come back and help themselves.
The last trash bag was ripped open inside the can and the contents mostly missing, although the polyester fluff and assorted colors of fun fur reminded Eileen it had contained almost two dozen stuffies that David, naturally, hadn’t wanted to take to college but had neglected to deal with before leaving. Eileen prodded the bag with her gripper arm, revealing a dilapidated teddy bear, and her grin was ear to ear, beaming out from her heart for the first time in far too long. Somebody was lonely, but they had their stuffies to cuddle, and Eileen knew they would all be together again soon.
Chapter Seventeen
Voices filtered through the sunlit air, pulling Jane out of slumber. She opened her eyes a slit, realizing she was alone in bed.
Dahl was rage whispering from the direction of the doorway. “—which is why we take our walkie-talkies with us when we choose to keep our friends awake with unspeakable noises. Our friends, Ian. Who have never done anything embarrassing to us. Who would treat their friends like that?”
Ian’s chuckle began before Dahl had finished. “You know, I have some questions—”
“No, Ian. No. We are not going to have a kindred heart-to-heart. We are going to speak about it in as few and as general terms as possible and not make eye contact.”
“In your experience—”
Dahl was fighting laughter. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stop. I have no gems of wisdom to impart. You can’t get sick, and she can’t get pregnant. Boom. Done. Next topic.”
Jane shifted in bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. Why couldn’t she get pregnant? Something to ask about, but maybe not right now. A repetitive tapping from the window was drawing her attention. She propped herself up and spotted a small crow pecking lightly at the glass.
“Ian,” she called, keeping herself swathed in blankets, “you have a visitor at the window.”
Both men’s voices died down, and Ian crossed the room. He had a walkie-talkie in one hand. Dahl attempted to glare at Jane from the doorway, but his annoyance had bled away, and he couldn’t pull it off. She ducked her head beneath the lip of the blanket to hide her grin.
Ian detoured to kiss her on the top of her head, and Dahl retreated, closing the door behind him. His voice came through the walkie a few seconds later. “Let me know what it says. I’m getting coffee in the dining room.”
“Roger that.” Ian grabbed a few crackers from his coat, which was draped over the back of a chair, and opened the window to the frosty morning.
Dahl’s voice came through the walkie much more quietly. “I’m happy for you, dear friend.”
“Roger that. I don’t think it was what you think it was, though.”
After a note of static, Dahl responded. “Don’t spoil our moment with untoward details.”
Ian put a cracker on the sill. The crow tilted its head, hopped sideways, and then snapped it up. Ian made a low, soft, fluctuating sound. The light twisted, and his antlers appeared for an instant before they faded. The crow peered at him and clicked its beak. The exchange went on in a similar way for a few minutes, and Jane sat watching in absolute rapture. What an awesome power. Jane would use this one nonstop if she had it. She wondered if Ian could talk to her wolf. What would it say? Where had it come from?
After the crackers were gone, the crow hung around for a few more seconds, eyeing Ian. Once it determined he wasn’t holding out, it hopped a few times and took flight. Jane watched it wing into a nearby tree, sleek and graceful.
Jane grinned ear to ear. “That’s incredibly cool. And I saw your antlers, which are like my light, right? I can see when you’re using magic?”
Ian smiled back. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“How come I saw them the first time we met at my work?” Coming across Ian in the aisle of the toy store felt like someone else’s memory. Her life as a lonely girl, scared of everything and pissed off at her boss over a scheduling issue.
“Because of the effects that are always on—my strength, size, toughness. Most people can’t see the antlers, only people who are in tune with magic. You must have a constant effect too.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been glowing a little since you used your magic at the hotel breakfast table yesterday. You must have turned something on. It’s hard to see unless it’s dark, but it’s beautiful. Like bioluminescence.” Ian’s eyes were soft and roaming over her.
Jane glanced down and cleared her throat. “So what did the crow say?”
Ian shook himself a little. “It said monsters are in the forest—strange creatures it doesn’t know. It agreed to tail one and report back tonight in exchange for food. We should check out what we can from our end too.” Ian stood and gathered his things. “I’ll give you some privacy, and then we can reconvene with Dahl. Make sure your walkie is on.” He winked at her and was out the door.
Arriving at the breakfast table, Jane found the boys already in female company. The lady was short, tough, and wearing practical, all-black clothing: cargo pants and combat boots topped with a white-edged bandanna t
ied over buzz-cut silver hair. Her face was kind, older and sun worn. Dahl was sitting straight, his body language stiff and formal. Ian was leaning back a little and intently listening to the older woman. When he saw Jane, he gestured her forward, which was a huge relief, since she was mid-mental panic trying to figure out if she should pretend she didn’t know them. On the heels of her worry about monsters roaming the forest they’d strolled through the night before, she was glad she didn’t have to attempt pre-caffeine deception. After speedily grabbing a cup of coffee, she slid into the empty fourth chair at the square, linen-covered table.
“Jane, this is Mary Benelli of the Sisters of Perpetual Help. The sisters have a convent about an hour from here. She happened to be following a lead in town and wanted to say hello.” Ian paused briefly, turning back to the older woman. “Sister, this is Jane, a linked contractor we are working with. We’d appreciate your discretion about her presence here for the time being.”
Sister Mary smiled at Jane, extending a strong, calloused hand. Jane timidly smiled back and shook as firmly as she could. She glimpsed the letters JMJ tattooed in simple script on the side of the woman’s index finger. “It’s nice to meet you, Jane—?” Sister Mary’s voice was gravelly and no-nonsense, questioning but not unkind. For a split second, Jane couldn’t remember what surname she’d used most recently or if it was clean anymore. Pausing to think about it meant whatever she said was going to sound fake anyway, so she didn’t even try.
“Nice to meet you too. So you’re a nun?”
“Going on twenty years. Ian and I worked together a few times back in the day. I had to come say hi when I heard he was in the area.” Dahl was giving Ian an ill-concealed, slanty-eyed look. Sister Mary pressed on. “So you’re investigating all the weirdness in Kennett Square and Philly, I take it?”
“That’s right.” Ian was focusing on playing conversation host to Sister Mary and not making eye contact with Dahl. “Since you’ve been here longer, you may have some details we don’t. Want to team up? We bring talent and warm bodies to the table.”
