Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

* * * *

  Chapter Thirty Three

  * * * *

  “Well?” Heather asked, as Ginny shook her head and slowly replaced the phone. “Marsha’s not at the hospital. She hasn’t been since yesterday. She hasn’t even called.”

  “Did you try at the store again?”

  “Heather, of course I did.” Ginny sat down on her stool behind the store’s counter and clasped her hands together in her lap. “All anybody there seems to know is that neither she nor Lucy are expected in today. She’s not answering her cell phone. And there’s no answer at Lucy’s house, either.”

  “Did you check at—”

  “The nursery? Yes, but they weren’t there either.”

  “You know, I’m beginning to wonder whether Lucy might not have had a point last week,” Heather said, idly flipping the cover of the book she’d been attempting to read. “Have you noticed how, ever since Scout came to town, things have really gone to hell around here?”

  “Oh, yes,” Ginny answered grimly. “I certainly have. And considering she’s the last person we know for sure was with Marsha yesterday – Do you think you can keep an eye on things here, if I—”

  “Oh no you don’t.” Heather slammed her book down on the counter and got to her feet. “If you’re going somewhere, I’m coming with you. I don’t know what all this is about yet. But we’re not taking any chances.”

  * * *

  “Okay. This is good. Pull over here.” Glenn’s voice broke the silence, startling Lucy and making her jump. The car rumbled off the pavement and jerked to a halt, hard up against the dusty, scraggly coyote brush that grew at the base of the cliff. “Hey! Watch what you’re doing,” he growled. “What, are you crazy? Don’t you know how to drive?”

  “Well, excuse the hell outta me,” Lucy muttered through clenched teeth. Her anger, that warm sustaining flame, flared up again brighter than ever. He was planning to kill her, the moron. He was holding a gun. And he wanted to know if she was crazy? She glared at him. “Do you really think I care about how I park the fucking car, Glenn?”

  “Get out,” he said, but so quietly she couldn’t hear him over the loud pulsing of blood in her ears.

  “What?”

  “Get. Out.”

  Out? She stared at him blankly.

  “Get-out-of-the-car, Lucy. Now!”

  Scout watched the others as they exited the car – both of them from the driver’s side door. First Lucy, face screwed up in a frown, her aura pulsing with anger and fear. And then Glenn. His aura was all but non-existent. Dark. Muddy. His movements were sluggish and imprecise as he struggled to manipulate his bulky frame over the console without loosening his grip on the gun, unable to use the passenger door because of the way Lucy had all but skidded into the side of the hill.

  Way to go, Luce, Scout thought, as she pushed the driver’s seat forward and unfolded her legs. Lucy’s attitude had Glenn thoroughly rattled. If Scout could’ve afforded another emotion right now, she might almost have pitied him. But she had to stay focused; remember what she was doing. The keys dangled in the ignition. She removed them almost without thinking, pocketing them even as she braced her other hand on the doorframe and levered herself out of the car.

  Stepping out of the air-conditioned interior of her Mustang into the warm, spicy air of the canyon was like walking into a wall. Scout felt the impact with all of her senses. She took several breaths of the heady, chaparral-scented air in an effort to regain some measure of control. She stiffened. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a faint howling.

  It seemed to grow louder as she listened. She could scent the anguish that lay just beneath Glenn’s anger now. It was like... like blood in the water, she thought, slightly startled at the image. It aroused sensations she couldn’t ever remember feeling before – primal, vicious, cold. She knew an insane desire to sink her teeth into his jugular and tamped it down, impatiently.

  Not yet!

  Once again, Scout let her eyes sweep over Lucy and Glenn, taking in every detail of the energy that surrounded them. Perhaps it was time to turn up the heat a little more.

  “Shit, Lucy,” she drawled, noting with approval the effect of her voice on Glenn’s already raw nerves. “Park a little closer to that bush next time, why don’t you. You just scratched the shit out of my car.”

  Lucy’s eyes snapped closed for just an instant. Her aura vibrated like a tuning fork that had just been struck. “You are such an asshole, Scout. You know that? Next time? What the hell are you thinking? I’d like to see you try driving while some maniac holds a gun on you. You really think you’d do better?”

  “Ha. No contest.” Smiling, she turned to Glenn. “You know, Glenn, I’ve been thinking. If your plan was to kill her, you really should’ve done it back at the house. ‘Cause no one’s ever gonna believe I’d want to kidnap her. And now, hell, you’ve got her fingerprints all over the steering wheel. How’d you plan on explaining that away?”

  “Why are you even talking to him?” Lucy seethed. “Jesus, Scout, are you just congenitally stupid, or something? Don’t you realize he’s insane?”

  “I’m just pointing out the obvious, Luce.” She shrugged. “Even if he’s insane, he should be able to see that much. Come on, Glenn, you do see what I’m talking about, don’t you? I mean, isn’t it obvious? It’s never gonna work this way. She’s just not cooperating. And I tell you, her cousin’s not gonna play ball with you, either. He’s got a real bad temper. And you know how fond he is of her. He’s likely to be real ticked off if she gets killed. You might want to reconsider.”

  “You can’t even hear yourself, can you?” Lucy shook her head in disbelief. “Shit. No wonder Nick ran out on you this morning.”

  Scout winced as the disgust in Lucy’s voice whipped right through her defenses and slapped down, hard and fast, on something already painful and raw.

  “Lucy. Shut the fuck up!” A cascade of fiery energy crackled through her. For a moment she saw nothing but blood-red rage.

  In its wake came another sensation. An alien, unfamiliar energy washed into her. Her brain reeled at the impact. She felt her consciousness shoved abruptly aside; pushed to the outer edges of her mind, where she could only observe what was happening, as if from a great distance.

  “How about both of you shut the fuck up,” Glenn growled as his nerves hit the skids.

  “Or what, Glory, honey?” Scout heard herself purr, in a voice she barely recognized as belonging to her. She moved toward him. “Are you gonna hurt me, Glenn? Again? You don’t really want to do that, do you?”

  “Back off, Scout. I got no choice,” he spoke fiercely, but his hands were trembling.

  She crowded in closer, chuckling softly. “Ohh, sure you do, baby. You always had a choice. No one ever made you do anything, Glenn, honey. It was always a matter of your own free will.”

  She was right in front of him now. So close she could feel his breath, see the sweat shining on his face, taste the turmoil seething just beneath the surface. The thrum of his blood was something she had missed for too long. She wanted it back. She smiled, barely able to contain the impulse to lick her lips. “You don’t really want to kill me again, do you? After all we meant to each other. I know you remember what it was like. What we had once. What we could still have.”

  Glenn shook his head. “That won’t work, now. It’s too late. Lucy’ll talk.”

  “Shhh, not to worry. Let her talk. It’ll be her word against ours, after all. Who’s gonna believe her?”

  For a moment, a long, tense moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. She read desire and indecision in the glassy blueness that stared back at her. She read hope there. And disbelief.

  Glenn frowned, his tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Lisa?” His voice was a cracked and broken whisper.

  She smiled wider. “Hey, baby. Long time no see, huh?”

  “I – I’m sorry. I never wanted it to be like this.”

  “I know that, baby,” she soothed. �
��I know.”

  He blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again, as he swung the gun up – right into the side of her head. Shit. So close… Guess it’s all up to you now, Luce. The thought skittered across Lucy’s mind, feather-light and fleeting. She watched, with an eerie sense of detachment, as Scout crumpled to the ground.

  Glenn stood motionless as well. For a long, long moment, they neither spoke nor moved. At last he raised his eyes to her, raised the gun in his hand and motioned her back toward the car.

  “Is she dead?” Lucy asked. Her voice sounded surprisingly steady and dull.

  “I don’t know.” Glenn’s eyes traveled back to the body at his feet. “I don’t think so.” And then he refocused on Lucy. He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Quit stalling. Let’s go.”

  Lucy was aware of the tension vibrating in him, but she still couldn’t quite get a grasp on her own emotions. She seemed to be somewhere beyond both fear and anger now. And beyond rational thought, as well. “What are we doing here, anyway?” she asked, feeling stupid. She was missing the point of this whole exercise.

  “I’m going to put you in the trunk,” Glenn explained with surprising patience. “And then I’m gonna put her in the front seat, put the car in gear, and roll the whole friggin’ package over that cliff out there.”

  Lucy swallowed hard as the reality of her predicament finally sank in. She was going to die. No question about it. She was definitely going to die.

  She was kind of surprised she hadn’t figured that out until now.

  “Oh,” she heard herself replying, faintly. “I guess that could work.”

  * * *

  “Try the bell again,” Heather suggested.

  Ginny shook her head impatiently. “No. The door’s not locked. I’m goin’ in.”

  “Jeez. I’m goin’ in? Aren’t you supposed to say something like cover me first?” Heather muttered sarcastically, but Ginny wasn’t listening. She pushed the door open and cautiously stepped into the hall. She paused, listening to the silence. Dust motes swirled lazily in the still air.

  “Do you hear anything?” she asked in a loud whisper.

  “Besides us, you mean? No. Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m not sure.” Ginny glanced around. “It just seemed like the right thing to do, you know?”

  Heather shook her head in disgust. “And you had the nerve to say I read too many thrillers? I don’t think so. Come on, we better get moving.”

  Heather looked briefly into the living room, and the small powder room near the front door. “We’d better hurry. There’s no telling how long we have before the axe-wielding maniac shows up. Where’d you think we should look first?”

  Ginny gave a shaky giggle, and pointed down the hallway. “Well, the cat seems to want us to follow her. And I must say, I do think you’ve picked the wrong genre, dear. This is clearly a tale of supernatural suspense. The danger will undoubtedly take on a much more esoteric form. Nothing so mundane as an axe-wielding maniac.”

  Yeah, you’re probably right,” Heather muttered. “More’n likely it’ll take the form of a shape-shifting-cat-demon-from-hell. But what the fuck, let’s follow her anyway.”

  “Oh, please. A shape-shifting cat? That’s just ridi – wait, be quiet a minute. Did you hear something, just now? Like... like someone groaning?”

  Heather glowered. “Oh now, cut that out, Ginny. That’s so not funny.”

  “I’m not – listen. There it is again.”

  “Holy shit. I don’t believe this. Come on, she’s gotta be back here somewhere.”

  * * *

  “So... uh, where’re the keys?” Glenn asked, staring stupidly into the car.

  Lucy rolled her eyes. Yeah, this was some great plan. First the trunk was locked, and now the keys were missing.

  “Gee, I dunno, Glenn, but it’s Scout’s car. Maybe she would know. Too bad you can’t ask her. Since she’s fucking dead now!” Her voice rose into a shriek as shock morphed back into the edgy irritation she’d been feeling earlier.

  “She’s not dead. At least, I don’t think she is,” Glenn muttered uncertainly.

  Lucy glared at him. “Oh, well, that’s certainly a relief. We don’t want her dead, if you’re gonna kill her now, do we?”

  “Go check her pockets,” he said, waving the gun.

  Lucy balked at the suggestion. “N’uh! Not if she’s dead, I’m not.”

  “She’s not dead,” Glenn insisted. “I didn’t hit her that hard. She’s just – oh, never mind, I’ll do it myself, damn it. But first... you are definitely going into that trunk. Right the fuck now.”

  * * *

  There were too many voices. They echoed in the darkness, all of them talking at once. And she couldn’t make sense of anything that was being said, although the words seemed to bounce around in her brain like rubber balls. Pinging and ponging in a most unpleasant manner.

  There was something familiar – about the words as well as the voices. But the way they bounded and rebounded in the emptiness was excruciating; aggravating the pain in her head, which already felt as if it had been split into several pieces.

  She closed her eyes more tightly, but the voices refused to recede. She opened her mouth, determined to tell them all to shut up and go away. But the words that came out sounded different than those she’d planned to use. In fact, they sounded rather incongruously like: “We’re out in Domingo Canyon. Hurry!” At least, that’s how she thought they sounded. But perhaps she was mistaken.

  The darkness increased. The voices faded into oblivion. Somewhere in the distance, Scout could hear the faint barking of a dog. Then a blessed silence swept her away again.

  * * *

  The blood pounded in Lucy’s ears so loud she could hardly think above the din. She was conscious of the gun trembling in Glenn’s hand as he reached back inside the car to pop the trunk. She was aware of his labored breathing, her own heart’s panicked racing and the tremors that afflicted her whole body, making movement of any kind extremely difficult.

  Glenn pulled her around to the back of the car. Fear narrowed her vision until the only thing she could see was the trunk looming in front of her.

  That trunk would be her coffin.

  She gulped for breath. It was hard to focus, hard to think. It took several seconds before she even noticed how her hands had closed, of their own volition, around the tire iron.

  She barely felt it as her arms swung the heavy metal bar around in a vicious arc. Almost failed to register the way it connected with a solid, satisfying impact, dead in the center of Glenn’s chest. Before he even hit the ground, she was sprinting back toward the spot where Scout lay, still as death, on the dusty ground.

  * * *

  Nick swore savagely as he swerved around yet another car, and then spun through the next curve. His car shuddered violently as two of the wheels left the pavement and bounced over the loose scree of the shoulder.

  He was never going to make it.

  He knew it with icy certainty. There was no way he could get there in time. If they were counting on him to save them, they were shit out of luck. They’d both be dead before he even got close. If they weren’t dead already.

  He had been stupid. So amazingly, abysmally, irredeemably stupid that he couldn’t – even now – grasp the enormity of his mistake. How could he possibly have been so blind?

  If Scout had not been with Glenn the day of the murder, then she didn’t have an alibi. And neither did he. Damn it, why hadn’t he realized that sooner?

  He should have seen it last night – as soon as she told him. And if he hadn’t been consumed with jealousy, he was sure he would have, too.

  Now she would die – because of him. Because he’d been stupid and jealous and blind, he would lose her forever.

  His eyes barely registered any of the familiar landmarks as he flew past them. His every thought was focused on the turnoff for the canyon, still several miles away. He didn’t even recognize the thirst fo
r murder building in his blood. The wailing of the siren drowned out every thought but one. He would be too late.

  * * *

  Scout was conscious. Sitting up finally, one hand clutching the side of her head, a dazed, angry expression on her face. Lucy crouched in the dirt by her side. “C’mon. Get up. Let’s go!” she urged, but she wasn’t sure the words were getting through. There was no change of expression on Scout’s face – just that odd, abstracted look. As if she was looking at, or listening to, something beyond what Lucy could see or hear.

  “Scout!” Lucy shouted angrily.

  Scout turned to look at her. “Lucy, where’s the gun?”

  Oh shit. She’d forgotten all about the gun. She gazed in horror at the Mustang. She could sense motion from the other side, where Glenn had fallen. “Shit. We gotta get out of here. We gotta—”

  Too late. He was on his feet now. He was coming after them again. Goddamn it, why hadn’t she thought to take the gun? Anger brought her surging to her feet. She took a step forward, placing herself just in front of Scout. Her eyes locked with Glenn’s, determined to stare him down with her last breath.

  “No. Lucy, wait!” she barely heard Scout speak, neither understood nor cared about the sudden urgency in her voice. She continued to glare at Glenn as he approached, his gait unsteady, his face a ghastly mask of desperation. Scout had gotten to her feet as well, now. Lucy felt her clutching at her arm, breathing hard. Taking long, slow, deep breaths.

  Suddenly, there was a strange pulsing of electric blue energy everywhere in the atmosphere around them, as if a storm were rolling down off the mountain. Everything grew muffled, indistinct. A fitful wind rose, seemingly right out of the canyon floor, and gusted over the road, kicking up so much dust she could hardly see.

  Lucy’s lungs strained. She felt as if she were trying to breathe through heavy layers of grayish yellow cotton candy. Through the confusion that swamped her senses she heard an odd, keening sound. It seemed to hang like a mist in the air. She watched the gun in Glenn’s hand rise slowly. Saw his hand shake violently—

  And then Scout was speaking, cool and implacable, infinitely regretful, in a voice that sounded eerily like Marsha’s... and yet... not quite.