Unmasked

by Dale Mayer

  It was late and, even with Jeremiah coming to help, Sebastian still couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, his mind filled with bad memories of so long ago. He couldn’t remember much about the powerful psychic he had spoken to way back when, right after he had escaped the Mayan site with his life and right before he began his own research into these psychic happenings. Stefan had been young to be touted as the best in his field, about the same age as Sebastian is now. He’d warned Sebastian ten years ago how according to the locals, the energy released at the Mayan site, Kisin—or his servant the jailor—would always be attracted to him in the future. That once a connection was made … it was always there. And connections could be made in many ways.

  Sebastian dozed, woke up, suddenly alert, sitting up in bed and looking around his apartment. He pushed his hair off his forehead wishing he could talk to Stefan about his current mess. But it seemed so minor compared to their last conversation.

  But just the reminder of the steadfastness, the deepness of that man’s voice, reciting his message almost ten long years ago as if in a trance, had been beyond freaky. Stefan had had a profound impact on Sebastian, which led to his further studies of all things paranormal and supernatural, looking for answers. Hell, he was still looking.

  Sebastian tossed off the bedcovers and headed to grab his laptop from his study. “Well, Stefan, maybe you were right. And maybe that energy always lives and breathes around us. Whether or not it knew me back then, it’s certainly back in my world now. The question is, what has it been doing in the meantime? And what are its plans for me? Is this personal? If so, why?”

  Settled in bed again but with his laptop, he looked through his emails for the name. But he had nothing with Stefan at all. He searched the internet for contact information, a website. But again found nothing. He frowned.

  He remembered coming across something about Stefan years later, seeing some of the paintings the man created. They were incredibly difficult to look at and yet transfixing. It was even worse trying to tear his gaze away. Sebastian still couldn’t remember what Stefan’s last name was. He typed odd things into Google—Stefan psychic, Stefan artist. And very quickly Sebastian came up with a name—Stefan Kronos.

  The darkness had settled heavily into his bedroom as Sebastian stared at that name. Feelings of fear and panic rolled through him as he remembered the Mayan ruins. He worked on his breathing to stop from hyperventilating at the onslaught of the younger version of himself crowding through his mind and warning him to stay away from Pompeii, to get the hell out of Italy and to leave this thing alone.

  He glanced around his bedroom and said, “Well, Stefan, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to contact you, but you’re the only one who made any sense back then.”

  There was, of course, no answer. Sebastian tossed out another attempt to contact Stefan. “If we’re meant to connect, find a way please.” Still nothing happened.

  He slammed shut his laptop, tossed it on the other side of his bed and slipped back down so he was prone again.

  Until a ball of light shone in the center of his bedroom.

  He roared in surprise, jumped out of his bed, grabbing the weapon he always kept hidden under his pillow and backed against the wall, the small snub-nosed handgun pointed at the light. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  A man’s face appeared. No body, just a glowing orb and a face.

  Sebastian frowned at it. “Do I know you?” The face in the orb had shoulder-length blond hair, pulled back in a low ponytail.

  “You just called me,” The glowing ball said, the voice tired but tinged with humor.

  “And you always answer everybody who calls you?” Sebastian asked in astonishment.

  The man shook his head. “No, I don’t. But, just like you have a prior bond with that evil from the Mayan ruins, I have a prior bond with you.”

  Slowly Sebastian lowered the revolver and admitted the impossible was happening. And yet, after what he’d been through, he knew nothing was impossible. He didn’t want to let go of the gun, just in case, but it was foolish to shoot something that wasn’t even here.

  Stefan nodded. “I appreciate you not shooting me,” he said humorously. “It takes a lot of energy to be here as it is. It would be instinctive for me to protect myself, and that would be a foolish waste of energy—I’d like to think—because I don’t imagine you can shoot around dimensions.”

  Sebastian stared at him. “But you’re human. You’re alive. Yet you’re acting like a spirit being. How are you doing what you’re doing?”

  “Lots of practice and lots of energy,” he said quietly. “You called me because of that energy you found in the Mayan ruins. Have you come into contact with it again?”

  Sebastian nodded slowly. “Back then you said that energy could always recognize me again. Did you mean that?”

  Stefan said, “All energy has a signature. It’s unique to who you are. Just as you should be able to recognize that energy again, it too will recognize you.” He hesitated then added slowly, “However there have been several instances where that energy has managed to change its appearance. So although I say you should recognize that energy, it’s also possible that you won’t be able to.”

  Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. He dropped the handgun back under the pillow and sat down on the side of the bed. He was still wrapping his mind around the fact he was speaking to a ball of energy, projected from God-only-knows-where to his rented apartment in Pompeii. “You’re really here talking to me?”

  “I’m really here talking to you,” Stefan said, but the humor had gone. “Look. I can’t maintain this. Maybe we can talk via phone or email.” And he started to fade.

  Sebastian jumped to his feet and walked around the corner. “Wait,” he said. “Things are happening on the dig that I’m working on. It feels like the same energy. But I didn’t see it at the dig, just down the hallway from here. I thought I saw the same footprints, the same pattern of footprints.”

  “What kind of footprints?”

  Sebastian took a deep breath. “Psychic footprints.”

  Stefan stared at him for a long moment. “The glowing outline of a footprint?”

  “Yes, and a trail, where it’s going forward and back.”

  “And do you recognize its energy signature?”

  “As much as I can recognize anything from ten years ago, so yes and no, but it feels the same.” He hesitated then filled him in on the Kisin lore.

  “I remember hearing something about that back then,” Stefan muttered.

  Silence fell.

  “Don’t doubt yourself,” Stefan finally added. “You know by now, this many years later, and I’m sure you’ve researched the topic thoroughly, just how much danger this type of evil can cause.”

  “I don’t know why it’s here and if it is exactly the same.”

  “It might not be exactly the same,” Stefan murmured. “Once a negative energy awakens, it causes ripples underneath, giving other energies much-needed power. So it is possible an energy, an old entity, has now been released from the site you’re at currently. Could it be connected to this Kisin energy—maybe? But as we know there are no gods of death, just men with hearts willed with evil. Chances are your Kisin made a reputation for himself slaughtering many people. Once he was finally dead, the locals would have blamed any catastrophic event on him for centuries.” He sighed. “Sure it’s possible this Kisin is back. His servant’s energy could have been sealed in that tomb you opened, but it could be any number of other assholes trying to reclaim all they lost and live again—in whatever form they can.”

  Dread filled his heart as he stared at Stefan. “That sounds like the absolutely worst thing possible.”

  Stefan gave him a sad smile. “It isn’t. It’s unpleasant, and it’s definitely not anything we want to deal with. But think about hundreds of these gathering in one spot. That would be worse. And you can’t lump all entities into being evil. There are many spirits caught between—neither aliv
e nor dead—through no ill will of their own.”

  “A battle between good and evil again.”

  “There is no again,” Stefan said quietly. “Because it never stopped.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “It’s important that you track each energy you feel, see how strong it is. Every time you see those footprints, try to figure out if its energy changes. Try to communicate with it and see if it will give you any answers as to what it wants.” Stefan stopped for a moment. “How serious are these incidents?”

  “Minor yet,” Sebastian said cautiously. “Which is why I had worried I was overreacting. But then tonight I saw the footprints, and that terrified me.” He had no problem admitting it. He’d be a foolish man to see something well beyond the scope of his personal experiences and beliefs and to not be concerned about it. “And what about other specialists nearby? Is anybody local around who you might know? I will contact Hunter too.”

  Stefan frowned. “No one I know. I can contact Hunter too. Send him your way if he’s free from the current job he’s been working on for me.”

  “Anything you can do would be appreciated,” Sebastian said. “I have a good team of young people to protect.”

  Stefan nodded. “You need a support system to stop your doubts. Preferably energy workers like myself. If you have other psychics, other people who can see these footprints, it will give you validation that you’re not crazy.” He started to fade. “Get my email from Hunter as that’s the best way to contact me after this, but I’m always available if it’s an emergency.”

  And just like that he faded from sight.

  Chapter 5

  Getting out of bed the next morning redefined Lacey’s understanding of what pain was. She sat on the edge of the bed, catching her breath. She hoped a hot shower would allow her muscles to move. Right now she felt ninety years old. All her joints had seized. Using the headboard, she got into a standing position, then hobbled toward the hallway bathroom—the only one in this apartment and to be shared by all four who lived here. It was early, but she needed to loosen up her body. And definitely time for more painkillers. She had to at least look like she wasn’t badly hurt, so Sebastian couldn’t bar her from going onsite today.

  Standing under the hot water in the shower helped a lot. It was all she could do to keep her moans of joy to herself as she leaned against the shower wall and let the heat pound on her side, back and hips. Not wanting to steal too much of the hot water supply, she reluctantly turned off the taps and dried off. With her hair braided to one side, her teeth brushed, she headed back to her room, still wrapped up in a towel. She had never thought to pack a bathrobe. Luckily nobody else seemed to be up to care. When she walked into the bedroom, she saw Chana was already dressed. She was bent, making her bed.

  She turned to look at Lacey and, with a critical eye, said, “You look better. I wasn’t sure when I watched you get out of bed.”

  “Yeah, getting up was a bit rough,” Lacey admitted. “But a hot shower helped.” After her cousin left, Lacey quickly took her muscle relaxants and one of the painkillers. She stored the medicine bottles in her camera bag, making sure she took a bottle of water with her, and headed to the kitchen where the others stumbled around, looking for coffee and breakfast.

  “Do we wait for Sebastian?” Lacey asked.

  “You tell us,” Brian said cheerfully from the kitchen doorway. “You’re the one who went out with him last night.”

  That brought on a lot of teasing and joking from the others.

  Lacey shook her head. “Yeah, he took me to a doctor who checked me over, cleaned my scrapes and bandaged me up,” she said blithely. “Very romantic.”

  As a conversation stopper, it was pretty good.

  “How are you feeling now?” Mark asked in a solicitous tone.

  “I’m feeling much better,” she said. “Looking forward to getting out there today.”

  “Make sure you don’t overdo it,” Chana said. “No more mishaps for anybody, got it?” Her gaze went around the group.

  The rest of the team from Katie’s apartment—Brian, Matt and Denny—had come in the kitchen right behind Tom. Most had coffee and waited while the others ate breakfast. Apparently this was their informal meeting as they discussed the day before and headed to the site every day. Lacey listened in as they made plans for the day. But soon enough it was time to pack up and go. She made sure she had extra water and packed a pair of socks, in case blisters formed on her heels after the scrapes. She had checked her ribs in the shower but figured she’d be good enough to go. As long as she had on a loose shirt and didn’t sweat too badly, nothing should be touching her bruised ribs, and she’d be fine.

  The group crossed the street, heading toward the entrance to the excavation site. This time several people were around her, maybe subconsciously making sure she didn’t step off the curb into the street traffic accidentally.

  She didn’t say anything. She just wanted her camera out to take pictures. The crew was somber as they approached the site. And their boss had beaten them to work. She realized just how much Sebastian’s presence was a bit of a downer.

  “Does he come very often?” she asked when a lull in the conversation came.

  The others nodded.

  “But normally he’s the most amiable person you could ask for,” Chana said. “So he’s worried about something. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so short-tempered and so tense.”

  “Is he the only one who comes?”

  “No, Colin, his business partner, comes every once in a while,” Chana said, as they all neared the Stabian Gate. “He was here a few days ago, and the foundation warehouse has a manager who pops by irregularly, but I haven’t seen him in a while. He might be on vacation. Sometimes it seems like too many bosses.”

  “Like any job then,” Lacey confirmed with a smile. “My students like to think they’re my bosses, but the school board in the school district I work in are my bosses.”

  “I couldn’t do your job,” Katie said.

  “It’s fun most of the time,” Lacey said comfortably. “But there are lots of things I don’t like about it.”

  “I think that comes with every job,” Chana said.

  They were at the site now. The place was deserted at this hour.

  “Do you guys start the earliest here?” Lacey looked around but couldn’t see anyone else at their dig site.

  “We want to get in a lot of work before the heat gets high,” Tom said. “So the earlier we get here, the better. I don’t know what other archeological groups are doing, as we’re not working anywhere close to them anyway. We don’t see them very often.”

  “I thought I saw a group here yesterday,” Lacey said, sure she’d seen several people close by.

  They looked at her and frowned. “Nobody’s around here at all except for us. Never has been.”

  She stayed silent, wondering, wanting to get her camera out so she could take a look at the pictures she’d taken yesterday without doing so right in front of everybody. Regardless she was pretty damn sure she’d seen people working on another site close by.

  Soon as the crew got busy, she pulled out her camera and studied the shots she’d taken. She hadn’t had a chance to download anything yet, so they were still on her SD card. She flicked through again and again until she got to the spot where she’d been near the stairs. She stopped at one of the images, showing the stairs disappearing into the ground, and smiled. It had an incredibly powerful impact. A few photos earlier, she came across the ones she had taken of the other team. It was really hard to see them through the trees. She thought she’d captured more details there. But found only black smudges.

  “I’ll have to get in closer next time,” she said, then realized that might not be the smartest thing to do. Because she probably had to have permission from the other team in order to photograph them. “I’ll discuss it with Sebastian later,” she muttered as she flicked through her pictures.

  “Do you always talk to
yourself?” Sebastian asked as he stopped in front of her. “And what do you want to discuss with me?”

  She looked up and, since she was one level down, he stood just above her at ground level.

  He crouched in front of her. “Ask me now.”

  She motioned to where she’d seen the team. “Yesterday I saw a group working over there. I tried to take photos, but I see only black smudges on my camera.”

  He stiffened, and the smile on his face fell away.

  She quickly added, “I just wanted to know if we were allowed to take pictures of other people or if we needed permission first.” As the look on his face darkened, she held up her hand and straightened. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m still figuring out what I can and cannot do.”

  Slowly he stood up tall above her. He had to be at least six-two, maybe six-three, as he towered high over her. “The rule is, you can only take pictures of our team and the site,” he said almost too quietly. “And, if we have a reason to take photos of another group, we get permission and signed waivers.”

  “Oh, good,” she said with relief. “In that case, it’s a good thing those pictures didn’t turn out.”

  He motioned at the camera in her hand. “Do you have them up?”

  Thinking he was more concerned about the legal aspects of her taking those pictures, she nodded and flicked back to where she had been so he could see the sequence of photos. “See? Right here. I came upon them and took a few photos, and then I was talking with you and taking the photos of the stairs.”

  He stared at the photos with the dark smudges, pointing. “These dark … smudges here and here and here?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you email these to me please?” he held out a card with his information.

  His tone was so neutral and seemingly not angry that she was happy to comply. “Sure. As you can see, absolutely no new faces are captured there.”