“Yet you wanted me to analyze the configurations on a Saturday. You have to know something.”
“I wish I did. I told you about that odd feeling I had during the night, that something was wrong. By this morning I began to have my doubts as to whether or not it was real, so I wanted to see if anything was reflected in the analysis. It appears it was real.”
Rhys tapped the screen. “I don’t like this ‘must cease’ bit. It sounds, well, sinister, a sense of finality to it. I don’t want anything to happen to Daley, Dad.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to anyone.”
“Oh, really? A few days ago you saw ‘must go’ on the screen and sicced the porthors on her.”
“Not on her—her store. There’s a big difference. The last thing I want is to see someone hurt. That’s not what the Pendrys are about, and you know it.”
The screen went dark as Rhys powered down his workstation.
As he rose, he said, “That’s what I’ve always thought, and I’m trusting you’ll stick to that.”
“I think I’m insulted that you feel you need to say that.”
He watched Rhys leave, then turned back to the dark monitor where he still saw THE DUAD MUST CEASE on its screen.
Elis had known since the instant he saw the girl’s hair that she was the Duad and had to be eliminated. Now the stars were confirming that. No surprise. But what about last night? Something happened here, something he wasn’t supposed to know about. But what? Had there been a trespasser?
If only Cadoc hadn’t disabled the CCTV camera, Elis might have a clue about—
Wait …
Elis wanted to kick himself. A year and a half ago he’d attached a motion-triggered, wireless Minicam, little bigger than a button, with a fish-eye lens, to the base of the dead CCTV camera. It recorded all the comings and goings from the Lodge and none of the dead space between. For a while he’d monitored it from the app on his iPhone, but had soon wearied of checking it. When he upgraded the phone, he never bothered replacing the app, and essentially forgot about the camera.
Until now.
He’d left his phone upstairs on the breakfast table. He hurried to retrieve it.
5
Daley almost overslept the shop’s opening time. That damn film had kept replaying in her head all night. But she managed to grab a quick shower, run across the street for a coffee, and reach the front door in time to unlock it at exactly 10:00 A.M.
(“I don’t know why you were in such a hurry,”) Pard said. (“Not as if we’ve got a crowd of people lined up waiting to get in.”)
A matter of principle. The sign I put out front says “Open at 10 A.M.,” so that means I open at ten A.M.
(“I’m proud of you.”)
Really? Why?
(“Well, you usually take a rather laissez-faire attitude toward schedules.”)
Only between games when my time is my own. I feel, I don’t know, responsible for this place. And if I don’t do it, it won’t get done.
The glazier hadn’t been by yet, probably because the entire Imperial Valley was a mess of broken glass, and so the blue tarp still stood in for the front window. Since Daley couldn’t watch the street through the glass, she opened the front door and leaned in the doorway.
I hope nobody gets the wrong idea.
(“Like what?”)
I’m thinking I look like an Amsterdam hooker.
(“What do you know of Amsterdam hookers?”)
I’ve seen pictures.
Daley watched the street. Pretty good foot traffic out there. She imagined with the coming of spring that more tourists would be making their way south to soak in one of the various springs at this end of the desert: Borrego, Jacumba, and of course Nespodee.
A fair number of locals were trailing in and out of the food market, along with members of the various families of the Pendry Clan. Everybody had to eat, and it didn’t look like the Pendrys had any dietary restrictions. At least she’d seen no evidence of any in the way Rhys had scarfed down pretty much everything in sight at dinner the other night.
Off and on, when she wasn’t thinking about that film and what might be on disk two, she thought about Rhys, wondering what he was up to. She had no doubt she’d see him again. But after last night’s text about their relationship becoming an item, they needed to be discreet.
A few tourists wandered in and out of Healerina without buying anything. Around midday two native women pulled up in a pickup and brought in a number of dream catchers. Pard moved off to his spot where the window used to be.
“Juana sent us,” the older of the pair said.
“Where’s Juana?”
“She couldn’t make it today,” said the younger. “But she wanted us to check to see if you needed to restock any dream catchers.”
Daley gestured to where they were arrayed on the wall. “Not now. Business has been slow. Is Juana okay?”
The younger said, “She has duties at the reservation this morning.”
“Oh, good. I thought her mother might have taken a turn for the worse.”
They both stared at her with puzzled expressions.
“Mother?” said the older.
“Yeah. The one in the hospital with the horrors.”
Now they looked at each other.
The older said, “We’re Juana’s sisters. Our mother died years ago.”
“No, wait. She told me—”
Both were shaking their heads.
“Our mother is long gone.”
(“Well, now, isn’t that interesting,”) Pard said.
Isn’t it, though?
After they’d driven off, she resumed her spot at the shop door. Pard moved up beside her.
(“So … all those times you ran into her in the hospital, she wasn’t there for her mother, she was there for you.”)
Sure seems that way. But why?
(“Her duty to ‘help and guide you,’ I assume.”)
She didn’t have to lie.
(“I’m sure she didn’t want you to think she was stalking you.”)
When all the time she was doing just that.
(“I’m wondering … the ‘guide you’ part … didn’t she encourage you to leave LA?”)
Yeah. That night she dropped me at Gram’s place.
(“Right. Get out of LA, away from the ‘loudmouth crazies’ … find an out-of-the-way small town where you can work discreetly.”)
She made a good case for getting some experience under my belt before a small audience.
(“But it’s not like she gave you a list of possible venues. She brought you straight here.”)
But you’re the one who fell in love with the place.
(“Guilty as charged. I felt an immediate homey vibe.”)
Got to admit it’s been growing on me.
(“Only the Pendrys have been less than welcoming.”)
An interesting way to say “hostile.”
(“But not all of them, need I remind you?”)
She smiled. No need.
(“Everyone else in town has been very open, and it’s been a good place for us. We’ve had two definite cures and possibly saved that girl Wynny’s life. And yet…”)
And yet what?
(“And yet I still can’t escape the feeling that Juana steered us here for reasons that go beyond ‘help and guide,’ that she wants us here for a very specific reason.”)
What possible … Oh, you don’t mean that film, do you?
(“I don’t know how she could know about the Pendry film, but then, I get the feeling Juana knows an awful lot of things she doesn’t share.”)
Amen.
Daley didn’t like the idea of being part of anyone’s agenda, even less so when she had no clue as to what that agenda might be.
She jumped at the sound of a hoarse, terrified scream. One of the tourists, a middle-aged man, was staggering across the street, arms waving wildly before him like a blind man. He dropped to his knees and screamed again. His scream was joined by a high
-pitched cry as a woman—his wife?—ran to him.
Pard said, (“Let’s go see,”) but Daley was already moving.
She reached him right after his wife, who was screaming, “Timothy! Oh, God, Timothy, what’s wrong?”
He screamed again and fell over onto his side. As he began to curl into a ball, Daley grabbed his hand.
Can you check him out?
(“We’ve never witnessed a case but it looks like the horrors. I’ll take a peek. Keep a grip on him.”)
“Does he have any medical conditions?” Daley asked the wife, more to distract her and give Pard time to break through than to learn anything useful.
The woman shook her head, panic in her eyes. “No. Healthy as can be! Is this—oh, God, don’t tell me this is the horrors!”
Other people were gathering around as Timothy curled into a progressively tighter and tighter ball.
Pard said … (“Contact! Taking a look.”) … and disappeared.
A big, hyper-muscled, buzz-cut guy pushed through the onlookers, growling, “Back off, people! Give him air!” He dropped to one knee by Timothy’s head and pointed to the wife. “Who’re you?”
“I’m his wife.”
Then to Daley, “And you with the weird hair?”
Daley bit back a Fuck you! and said, “Just trying to help.”
“You got medical training?”
“No, I just—”
“Okay, then, back off. I’m taking charge here.”
Daley didn’t want to release Timothy’s hand until Pard had had enough time.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Certified EMT, and I got this.” He jabbed his index finger at her nose. “Now back off.”
Daley backed off and had to break her grip.
“What’s his name?” the guy said to the wife.
“Timothy—Timothy Blaine.”
As the EMT started shouting Timothy’s name, Pard reappeared.
(“Damn, I needed more time. Just a wee bit full of himself, isn’t he.”)
Just a bit. What’d you find?
(“This fellow’s mind is filled—as in crammed—with the most horrific images. But to him they’re not images, they’re real. He feels as if he’s just been swallowed into a pit of hell and can’t see any way out.”)
The horrors.
(“Right, the horrors. It’s finally reached Nespodee Springs.”)
She shivered. It seems so random.
(“It does. But not to worry. I’m pretty sure I can shield you from it should it strike.”)
Good to know. But can you do anything for Timothy?
(“I didn’t have time to find out, but I may not be able to help.”)
Why not?
(“Those images … they’re not from him. He’s not generating them. They’re coming from outside.”)
Outside? What’s that mean?
(“Either he’s tapped into something horrible, or something horrible has tapped into him.”)
6
It took Elis half the morning to access the Minicam. He’d hardwired it to the CCTV power supply upon installation, so he was sure it was still operating. But the camera app hadn’t transferred to his new phone, so he’d had to hunt it down online and install it anew. Then he had to find the right access code. Smartphones and apps were not his forte, but he finally managed to access the video memory.
So now he sat in his upstairs study and explored that memory.
The Minicam’s SD card could store an hour’s worth of video, then it began overwriting. But since it recorded only when triggered by motion, it stored only a snippet at a time. He had to scroll through all the snippets to find whatever it recorded early this morning. If nothing else, it would have caught Cadoc’s comings and goings. Fortunately they were all date-and time-stamped, and he quickly zeroed in on the most recent, slowing as he approached March 6.
All right, here was last night, the night vision clearly showed Cadoc leaving at 10:02 and returning at 11:37.
Odd … he hadn’t been around when Elis had wandered the house after two A.M.
The date shifted to Saturday, March 7, and showed Cadoc leaving again at 1:31 A.M. this morning.
Okay, that explained his absence.
He returned less than twenty minutes later and backed into the shadows of the doorway alcove, but the infrared showed him quite clearly. He didn’t enter, simply stood there. Why?
At exactly two A.M. a young woman appeared. Elis’s gut coiled as he recognized her: the Duad, the Pairing, the interloper who called herself “Daley.”
What was she…?
Cadoc handed her a sheet of paper and held a light for her. Elis wished he could magnify the image to reveal what was written, but that lay well beyond the app’s abilities. After she’d read it, he took it back and led her inside.
Cadoc … what … why? What possible reason could he have for giving her entry to the clan sanctum? Had she somehow seduced him like she was seducing his brother? What sort of siren was she? What did she want here?
It struck him then that the two of them had been in the Lodge when Elis made his search. Where had they been hiding? He’d searched everywhere.
The AV room … he remembered the door had been closed. But he’d looked in and …
No, he’d just glanced in. He’d had such low expectations of finding anything he’d trusted the light from the hall instead of turning on the room lights. They could have been in there, but why? Were they having a movie night? Or—
He jolted upright in the chair.
Oh, no! Oh-no-no-no-no-no!
He dashed downstairs to his office and flew to the safe. He punched in the combination and yanked open the door. Relief flooded him upon seeing the disks where he’d left them, then drained away when he realized they weren’t how he’d left them.
He always left disk one on the right—he was right-handed and since disk one was used far more frequently than two, he always shoved it back on the right. But it sat on the left now.
And on the floor before the safe … familiar gray flakes.
Elis felt sick. His own son … Cadoc had betrayed him … betrayed not just his father, but the entire clan.
How had this happened? Like everyone else in the clan, Cadoc had seen the first half of the film, but never the second. That was shown only to Elders or to firstborns who’d reached thirty and were in line to be elevated to Elder status. Due to his compulsive reclusiveness, Cadoc had recused himself from consideration as an Elder, so that had put Rhys on track.
So how had Cadoc even known about the second half? Its existence had always been kept a secret; otherwise all the families would be clamoring to see it. And that would never do. The hoi polloi of the clan had to be protected from its contents.
Because they would not be able to keep their mouths shut. Some might even consider it their duty to expose the plan. And that would tear it. A leak would prove catastrophic. Worse, it would bring the population of the entire Imperial Valley storming through Nespodee Springs and into the hills to drag all the Pendrys from their homes and rip them to pieces.
But Cadoc … somehow Cadoc had learned of the second half. More than learned of it, he had seen it.
What other explanation could there be? Cadoc was a phantom, a wraith, a spirit in the night, wandering the darkened halls at all hours. His nightly rambles had undoubtedly revealed a way to eavesdrop on the Elder gatherings, to peep on the AV room during the regular viewings of the second disk. Undoubtedly he’d found a way to spy on his father’s office and memorize the sequence of combination buttons that opened the safe.
All bad enough, but all forgivable.
This, however …
What could possibly have possessed him to align himself with the Duad against his own clan?
And the worst part, Elis thought, is that I’ve been warned time and time again over the past few weeks, but was too lackadaisical to act. I let Rhys’s protestations that the Healerina woman was not the Duad persuade me and p
ut me off, turn me hesitant. The warnings in the configuration analyses kept growing progressively stronger and yet still I dithered.
And then this morning: The Duad must cease.
That had come after the Duad’s invasion. The analysis had issued a virtual gut punch: Do something decisive or forever suffer the consequences.
The Duad had seen the entire film. She knew the plan. No question about what had to happen. But first Elis had to lay the groundwork, set the stage.
And then she must … cease.
7
Elis knocked on Cadoc’s door and then entered his quarters without waiting for a response. He found his son, a shadow within the shadows, seated at a table in the center of the room. As usual, the room-darkener shades were pulled. The daylight seeping around them provided the only illumination.
“Ungh?”
“You betrayed me, Cadoc. Not just me, your entire clan—your blood, Cadoc.”
“Ungh?”
“Let’s not play games, son.” He held up his phone. “You were recorded early this morning letting that woman, that charlatan, that threat to everything we believe and hold dear, into the base of our operations.”
“Ungh-ungh!”
“Don’t deny it! I don’t know what hold she has on you or what spell she cast over you, but it’s not bad enough that you allowed her in our sanctum, you showed her the film!”
“Ungh-ungh!”
Elis stepped forward, jabbing a finger at the silhouette of Cadoc’s head, where his face should be. “You haven’t earned the right to see the second half, and yet you show it to an outsider?”
“Ungh-ungh!”
Elis felt on the verge of tears but forced them back.
“I’m so disappointed in you, so disgusted with you, so ashamed of you, I-I-I’m almost at a loss for words. This is the worst sort of betrayal. If I didn’t have a meeting in San Diego on a matter crucial to the future of the clan that demands immediate attention, I would gather the Elders and bring you before them tonight. As it is, I am forbidding you from further contact with that woman. You are confined to your quarters until I return tomorrow.”
With that he stepped back into the hallway and slammed the door.
Both levels of the Lodge had been modernized and updated when they had to rebuild it in 1940, and it had undergone a number of renovations since then, but the locks on the doors had remained unchanged—the original lever tumbler locks from the old days. Elis had searched out the ornate original key to Cadoc’s room, and used it now. He prayed the antique lock was still functional. He nodded with satisfaction as his turn of the key was rewarded by the sound of the bolt clanking into the strike plate.
Double Threat Page 32
