Seams in Reality

by Alex Siegel

  "That's Dr. Larson." Williams pointed to a man standing in the yard.

  Larson had his hands cuffed behind his back, and a deputy was guarding him. The exorcist was wearing a shirt made of white leather. A brass crucifix hung from a chain around his neck, and it looked uncomfortably heavy. More crosses were tattooed across his face and on the backs of his hands. A riding crop was tied to his black leather belt.

  The deputies had gathered three of his victims together a short distance away. There were two girls and a boy, all teenagers. Their clothing was dirty and tattered. Bruises marked their faces, and one girl had a torn lip. They were so exhausted they could barely stand or keep their eyes open. None of them were Jennifer Lemay.

  "Take a look around," Williams said. "Search for clues, but don't touch anything. It's all evidence."

  Andrew and Charley stayed together as they entered the small compound through a gate. The deputies gave the apprentices curious looks but nobody stopped them.

  Andrew looked through a cracked window into a shack. It contained beds, but the mattresses were just sheets of plywood. Steel shackles were attached to the beds in locations where they could secure a captive by the wrists and ankles. Drops of blood marked one of the beds.

  "This is awful," Andrew said.

  "Yes," Charley said. "Even worse than I imagined. Was it exorcism or torture?"

  They walked around and found more implements of pain, humiliation, and confinement. He tried to mentally distance himself from what he was seeing. It wasn't necessary to imagine how the victims had suffered. At least their nightmare was over now.

  One building was in good condition, and Dr. Larson obviously lived there. Unlike the rest, it had electric lights and indoor plumbing. A four-poster bed with an extra-thick mattress was wide enough for two.

  "I don't see anything that will help us find Serkan," Andrew said.

  "Me neither," Charley said. "Maybe the guy knows something."

  "I might hit him."

  "I won't stop you."

  They walked over to Dr. Larson. Agents Dan and Williams were already engaged in a tense conversation with him, and Andrew listened closely.

  "I don't know any Jennifer Lemay," Larson said.

  "Of course you do," Williams said. "Her father paid you three grand."

  "I don't remember that."

  "It's on your bank statement."

  "I never look at my statements," Larson said. "Money is evil."

  Andrew stepped forward. "Why did you torture those kids?" He pointed at the three young victims.

  Larsen turned to Andrew with a disdainful expression. "I didn't torture them."

  "Then why do they look like they were on the wrong side of a bar fight?"

  "Separating the Devil from an innocent soul is rough work. Extreme measures are necessary."

  "How do you know the Devil was in them?" Andrew said.

  "I could tell their prayers weren't sincere. Their love of the Lord wasn't genuine. I'm proud to say children don't leave here until their faith is fully restored and their souls are as pure as fresh snow."

  "In other words, you brainwash them."

  "Sounds like your soul could use a good scrubbing, too." Larson sniffed the air. "I can smell the evil on you."

  Andrew snorted. "Evil has an odor?"

  "Pagans, atheists, witches, and warlocks. They reek of the foul stench of heresy. I have to bathe my children in water mixed with turpentine just so I can stand to be near them."

  "What about sorcerers?"

  "Satan's henchmen," Larson said with a sneer. "Condemned to eternal fire."

  Andrew was too angry to continue the conversation. He stalked off and left through the gate.

  The sound of footsteps in the grass made him turn. Charley came up to him, and she appeared just as angry as him. Her face was pink.

  "I can't believe that guy," Andrew said. "He was actually proud of his crimes."

  "A very sick man," she said.

  "We could use sorcery to get the truth out of him."

  "No."

  "I'm sure Keene knows how to do mind-control," he said.

  "No! That's an infernal art."

  "Larson deserves the same kind of nightmare he put his victims through. I say we lock him in a delusion of burning Hell until he goes crazy."

  Charley grabbed Andrew by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Stop it. That's a line we can't cross, and if the BPI catches you saying that, you'll be in big trouble. We already have enough difficulty convincing them to trust us. The last thing we need is to start showing off how nasty we can be."

  He shrugged her off and stewed for a moment. She was right, of course. His suggestion was exactly the kind of thing that made ordinary people afraid of sorcerers.

  "I'm just as upset as you," Charley said, "but that's no excuse for doing something crazy."

  Agents Dan and Williams approached. They looked very professional in their sharp blue suits. If the conversation with Larson bothered them, they weren't showing it.

  "Is there a problem?" Dan said.

  "No." Andrew shook his head. "I'm just not used to dealing with assholes like that."

  "You never get used to it," Williams said, "but it's comforting to know justice will be served. There is enough evidence to put him away for a very long time."

  "I suppose so." Andrew took a deep breath. "But what about Serkan? We still need to find him, and Larson wasn't helpful."

  "Unfortunately, he might not know anything. According to his victims, Larson hasn't left this place in days. He certainly didn't bring Jennifer Lemay here. I don't think he abducted her at all. Maybe he was waiting for the check to clear."

  "So this is another dead end?"

  "It could be," Williams said. "I'll have another conversation with Larson after he spends a night in jail. That experience tends to loosen a person's tongue, but I'm not very optimistic. Let's get out of here."

  The group headed back towards the black limousine. A cool breeze and a warm sun soothed Andrew's anger.

  "What's next?" he said.

  "I don't know," Williams said. "My team of investigators is digging for another lead. We have to wait for them to do their jobs."

  Andrew frowned. He had thought he and Charley were running the investigation. It sounded like Williams had quietly taken over without even bothering to ask.

  "Unless you have a better idea," Williams added. His phone rang, and he answered it. "Yes?"

  His expression darkened as he listened. Andrew could tell it was bad news.

  After the call ended, Williams said, "Change of plan. We have to check out a mass murder. Twenty victims and counting."

  "What happened?" Charley said.

  "The survivors claim a killer ghost attacked them. Let's go find out the truth."

  Chapter Thirteen

  The limousine arrived in a village in rural Georgia. Andrew hadn't seen any sign indicating a name, but he presumed it had one. The place was just a collection of buildings at the intersection of two back country roads. He identified a post office, a general store, a fire station, and a few homes. They were built out of a combination of red bricks and white wood. A Baptist church had the place of honor at the center. Dense, native forest bordered the village on all sides.

  Andrew expected it was a very quiet place under normal conditions, but not now. Emergency vehicles jammed the streets, and flashing lights were everywhere. State police, sheriff deputies, firemen, and paramedics roamed like packs of wolves. Forensic technicians were taking pictures like paparazzi at a glitzy Hollywood premiere. Three helicopters hovered above.

  Some bodies were still lying in the open, covered by blue sheets and surrounded by yellow police tape. Andrew didn't see any blood though, and no other evidence was marked. For a mass murder, the crime scene was remarkably clean.

  The news media had also arrived. Reporters in nice suits had cameramen in tow. They were fighting for access to any authority figure willing to give an interview. Andrew
spotted two female reporters engaged in a shoving match.

  "I feel a seam," Charley said.

  Andrew focused on his sorcery. A strong source of energy drew his attention to the fire station.

  He pointed. "It's in there!"

  The crowd was particularly thick around the fire station. Police and paramedics were going in and out the door in a constant stream. Sometimes, they emerged with a body on a gurney. Reporters orbited the building but cops were keeping them out.

  "That seam is unregistered," Williams said from the front seat. "A renegade sorcerer must've discovered it. Park somewhere. Anywhere."

  Dan was driving, and he nodded. He turned into the grass beside the road. The limousine bounced over bumps until it was clear of traffic, and then he killed the engine.

  "You three check out the seam," Williams said. "I need to call the office in Atlanta and maybe headquarters in Washington. We have to contain this situation."

  Andrew, Charley, and Dan got out of the limousine. Andrew filled his lungs with fresh, cool air. The gorgeous weather contrasted with the grimness of the scene.

  They started walking through the grass towards the fire station. It was a small, brick building with only one opening for an engine. Railroad tracks were a short distance away, and Andrew expected the firemen were tired of hearing freight trains.

  "What do you think happened?" Andrew asked.

  "A banshee," Charley said grimly.

  "That's a kind of sprite, right?"

  "Yes, one so powerful it can suck your mind right out of your skull in seconds."

  He looked at the bodies all around. "It wiped out the whole village?"

  "That's my first guess. The only good news is banshees don't live long once they run out of victims to feed on. Hopefully, this one is gone." She glanced over her shoulder nervously.

  As they approached the fire station, a deputy moved to block them. He was wearing a light green shirt, a dark green tie, and brown pants.

  "Stop," he said. "What's your business?"

  Dan took out his wallet and showed his BPI badge. "I'm a federal agent."

  "What about them?" The deputy pointed at Andrew and Charley.

  The apprentices were dressed like college students. The usual story about being reporters from a campus newspaper probably wouldn't fly. Even the real reporters couldn't get past the police line.

  "They're specialists," Dan said.

  "Specializing in what?" the deputy said.

  Andrew could feel the seam pulsing inside the fire station. It was close enough for him to perform a little sorcery, but he fought the temptation.

  "Specializing in none of your damn business," Dan said. "This is a federal matter. Let us through, or your sheriff is going to get a call from Washington."

  It didn't sound like much of a threat to Andrew, but the deputy stepped aside.

  Andrew and Charley followed Dan into the fire station. The interior was swarming with men and women in uniform. A fire engine took up half the space, and the other half was a small living area for the firemen. There was a table, some comfortable chairs, a television, a couch, and a small kitchen.

  Two bodies in blue uniforms were lying on the floor without sheets to cover them. Their faces were frozen in expressions of pain and terror. Andrew didn't see any blood or other signs of violence. It appeared the victims had died of fear.

  Definitely a banshee, Andrew thought.

  Looking at the corpses made him think about his own mortality. One day, he would be rotting in the earth. It might happen sooner than he expected. He was getting the impression that sorcery was a high-risk line of work.

  A seam was spinning in the center of the room like a gyroscope made of black fire. He could see it clearly, yet policemen were walking right through the thing. The energy it was throwing off filled Andrew with a sensation of warmth and power.

  "That feels so good," he murmured.

  "It does," Charley said, "but we're here on business. No messing around."

  "You're no fun."

  Dan leaned towards them. "Well?"

  "A big, fat seam is right in front of you," Andrew whispered. "The BPI didn't know about it?"

  "No, but this location is pretty far off the beaten path. It's not a surprise the seam was missed."

  "Some sorcerer must've known," Charley whispered. "Banshees don't appear for no reason. I think we should talk to a witness, if there are any survivors."

  "Let's see if there are. Come on."

  Dan led the apprentices back outside. Andrew squinted in the bright sunlight. He looked around, but it wasn't obvious which way to go.

  Williams was jogging towards them. Dan, Andrew, and Charley moved away from the crowd so they could talk to him privately.

  "Report," Williams said.

  "I'm pretty sure it was a banshee," Charley said.

  He grimaced. "Every available BPI agent is coming, including Director Webster, but it will be a while before reinforcements arrive."

  "The whole world will hear about this."

  "Let us worry about that. The BPI has plans in place for dealing with these situations."

  "What about other sorcerers?" Andrew said. "We need experts to help us figure out what happened."

  "Keene will be here in an hour or two," Williams said. "Tonya is also on her way, but she won't get here until the end of the day. For now, it's just us."

  Dan nodded. "We were about to interview a witness."

  "Good idea." Williams furrowed his brow and looked around.

  His gaze settled on a Georgia State Patrol officer who seemed to be the center of attention. The man was giving orders in a loud, firm voice. A cluster of reporters stood nearby and were waiting to talk to the commander. Williams walked straight over, and Dan, Andrew, and Charley followed.

  Williams took out his badge. "I need a moment of your time."

  The officer was wearing a blue uniform with darker pants. He was a big guy in reasonable physical condition. A wide-brimmed hat covered his head, and only a few strands of brown hair poked out.

  He looked at Williams and then looked at the badge. "I'm a little busy."

  "We have a few questions," Williams said.

  "So does everybody else." The officer glanced at the reporters. "Wait in line."

  Williams frowned. "I don't want to get nasty about this."

  "Don't threaten me. The State Patrol is in charge here, not the feds, and you're not even FBI. I've never heard of the Bureau of Physical Investigation. Is that even a law enforcement agency?"

  Williams cleared his throat. "Captain," he said in a tight voice, "this isn't an ordinary murder investigation. Homeland Security has jurisdiction. As soon as enough of my people arrive, we'll take over. I'd rather not humiliate you in front of your men, so I strongly suggest you clear the area and have a private conversation with us. I'll be happy to explain everything."

  The officer narrowed his eyes. Williams stared back at him without flinching.

  Eventually, the officer nodded grudgingly. He ordered the other troopers to push the crowd back. A circle of men and women in blue formed a barrier, and the people stuck on the outside had expressions of annoyance. Andrew, Charley, and the BPI agents remained inside the circle.

  "This had better be good," the State Patrol officer said.

  "An experimental nerve gas was accidently released here," Williams said in a quiet, urgent tone. "The symptoms are insanity and death."

  The officer's eyes widened. "Where did the gas come from?"

  "The U.S. military was transporting it, and I'm not authorized to tell you anything else. Obviously, this is a national embarrassment, but the last thing this country needs is hysteria about nerve gas. The BPI is a covert organization which cleans up sticky messes. We make national embarrassments go away. I trust you'll keep this information to yourself. We have to start by decontaminating this entire area. Specialists are already on their way."

  Andrew was impressed. Williams had delivered the lie with
the sincerity of a professional actor working off a script. He hadn't stumbled or hesitated in the slightest. Andrew wondered if he could've done any better.

  "Oh." The officer furrowed his brow. "Is it safe for us to be here?"

  "As long as you don't have any hallucinations, you should be OK," Williams said with a disingenuous smile. "We'd like to talk to some witnesses now. Maybe we can figure out exactly what went wrong."

  The officer swallowed. "Nerve gas?"

  "Yes, Captain. Where are the witnesses?"

  He pointed to the Baptist church. "In there."

  "Thank you," Williams said.

  He, Dan, Andrew, and Charley escaped from the circle of state troopers. They headed towards a red brick church with a white roof. The building had a very plain architecture and except for a sign out front, it wasn't obviously a place of worship.

  "I like that story about nerve gas," Andrew said.

  "It's an old standby," Williams said. "The more misinformation we spread around, the better."

  A state trooper at the door of the church tried to keep them out. Williams explained the situation and flashed his badge, and the trooper was satisfied.

  When the group entered the church, the sounds of hysterical screaming assaulted Andrew's ears, and he winced. Victims were lying on the pews surrounded by paramedics and police. As Andrew walked down the aisle, he saw some were comatose. Others were thrashing so violently they had to be physically restrained.

  "Can we do anything for these poor people?" Andrew asked Charley.

  She shrugged. "I don't know. We'll ask Keene when he gets here. This is way beyond anything I'm trained to deal with."

  He was getting angry. Some sorcerer was responsible for this mess and needed to be punished.

  Charley pointed at a woman who appeared more rational and calm than the others. "Let's talk to her."

  Andrew walked over to the victim. She was in her thirties, husky, and light-skinned. A white tank top and shorts with a green camouflage pattern made an odd clothing combination. She was wearing an oxygen mask even though it didn't seem necessary.

  Williams flashed his badge and told the paramedics to clear out.

  Charley knelt by the woman's head. "What's your name?"