The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One)

by Rob Blackwell

  Trent stepped protectively in front of her.

  “I don’t know what the hell you are, but stay back,” Trent said.

  Its eyes shifted to Trent.

  “Me get away from her? You’re the one that takes her for granted, Trent. You’re the one who drinks too much and never listens to her. You don’t deserve her.”

  They were all going to die unless Soren figured out a plan of attack. He scanned the room, looking for something he could use against the monster. But all it had were built-in bookcases and a couple windows. Beyond throwing a few novels and other heavy tomes at the thing, he had no options.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Trent said.

  “Maggie, think about all those conversations we had,” the pretender said. “You truly opened up to me in a way you never had with him. We shared everything.”

  Margaret looked at the creature by the door, her mascara running down her face.

  “I’ve never met you before tonight!” she said, and then looked at the real Madame Noelle next to her.

  “Look into my eyes, sweetheart,” the thing said. “I’m Tom. I’m the man you love, not the man trying so feebly to protect you. I was going to take care of you. I was going to make you happy.”

  Soren ran through his options again. The sword was useless, and he’d left it back in the other room anyway. The gun had at best a couple more shots, but it was even less effective than the sword. Sooner or later the thing would get tired of talking and it would start killing. He might hold off a couple blows, but it was faster and stronger than him. None of them were going to last very long.

  But there had to be a way to hurt it. Pretenders couldn’t be invulnerable; he refused to believe that. It had to have some weakness.

  Trent was looking at his wife.

  “Were you having an affair with Tom?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “No, we were just friends. We talked a lot.”

  “We were more than friends!” the creature screamed, and took a step forward. “I know it wasn’t physical yet, but that doesn’t matter. We had a connection. I’ve loved you for five years, ever since we started working together. And you loved me. I could have become Trent, but with all the baggage he and you had, I knew it would never work. You love me, not him.”

  Soren had been barely paying attention to the drama playing out in front of him, but when the pretender said the word “physical,” something clicked in his brain. He didn’t know how to hurt the creature physically. But there were other ways to cause pain.

  “Tell him the truth, Mrs. Richardson,” Soren said. “Tell him you never loved him.”

  Margaret looked away from Trent and the monster before her and stared at Soren.

  “What?” she asked.

  Soren took a step toward her.

  “You stay out of this,” the pretender said. “I’ll deal with you soon.”

  “What happened to your son, Mrs. Richardson?” Soren asked, keeping his eyes on her. “He died in a car wreck, didn’t he?”

  She seemed confused by the sudden change in questioning.

  “Yes,” she said uncertainly. “The brakes on the car failed. The mechanic doesn’t know how it happened. Why are you asking me about this?”

  Soren nodded in the creature’s direction.

  “Because the man you called Tom did it,” Soren said.

  The creature looked alarmed and upset.

  “It was a mistake, Maggie,” it said. “A simple mistake. I just wanted to get Trent out of the way so we could be together. I didn’t know Tad would be borrowing the car.”

  Margaret looked from Soren to the pretender.

  “It was an accident,” she said.

  “No,” Soren said. “It wasn’t. This thing did that to him. So I need you to tell it once and for all that you don’t love it—that you could never love it.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Trent said. “I’ll kill you myself.”

  He started to move forward.

  “Stay right where you are!” Soren said in a commanding tone. “If you move, we all die. This is between Margaret and Tom now.”

  Margaret ignored this outburst and stared at the creature.

  “You killed Tad?” she asked. “Why?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” it said. “It was an accident. I still love you.”

  “Tell it, Mrs. Richardson,” Soren said. “I need you to tell it what you think of Tom. Do you love him?”

  “No,” she said, looking right into the monster’s face. “I don’t.”

  “You don’t mean that,” it protested.

  “Could you ever love it?” Soren asked.

  “No,” she said. “Not after what it’s done. I will never forgive you. Do you understand me? Never. You killed my son, you bastard. You killed my son!”

  “Maggie, please . . .” it said.

  “Finish him off, Mrs. Richardson,” Soren said. “Tell him everything in your heart.”

  “I hate you,” Margaret said. “I don’t care if you kill us all. I despise you. I want you to burn in hell for what you’ve done.”

  The thing began pulling at its hair and looked at Margaret in obvious agony. Then it began to cry. Soren carefully backed himself up to stand in front of a window.

  “No!” the pretender said. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe her,” Soren said. “She doesn’t want you. She never wanted you. She had a family, Tom. You were just a distraction to her. Hell, I bet she took pity on you. That’s the only reason she ever talked to you. You’re pathetic. Just look at you. Who could love a thing like you?”

  The pretender wrenched its attention away from Margaret and stared at Soren. It moved across the room in a split second, leaping off the floor with its arms stretched out, looking like it was going to tear into Soren and rip him to shreds. But at the last moment, Soren stepped out of the way.

  The pretender burst through the window, falling the two stories to the street below. It landed with a sickening thud.

  Annika came to stand beside Soren and they looked outside. They could see its fallen shape in the light of the street lamp.

  “Will that kill it?” Annika asked.

  “The fall? No,” he replied. “But the rejection might. I’d say that can kill a lot of people in the end. Love can destroy you.”

  “It could come back here and murder us,” Annika said.

  Soren looked at her.

  “Might happen,” he said. “But this was our best shot. Margaret was keeping it here. We needed to cut that connection, or it would have never willingly left.”

  They turned back to look out the window and saw the pretender pick itself up. It tottered uncertainly on its feet and looked back up at the house.

  “Here we go,” Soren said. “Moment of truth.”

  Soren heard Annika hold her breath. If it moved toward the house, there was no plan B. Soren would fight it, but he would lose. That would be okay with him if it weren’t for the others, who would also die.

  For a moment it looked like that would happen. The thing took a single step toward the house before turning suddenly and running down the street.

  As it went, Soren could hear it sobbing.

  Chapter Three

  Soren heard sirens in the distance and realized he had a new problem. He turned from the window to look at the others in the room and clapped his hands together.

  “Okay, that was fun,” he said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. The police are going to be here soon, and I would really prefer if you didn’t mention me at all.”

  Noelle stared at him.

  “What do we tell them?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth to tell her “the truth” but realized how foolish that would be.

  “Smartest thing is to agree on a story,” Soren said. “There was a séance, and when the lights went out, Tom Mahood attacked the medium. Nobody knows why. When the lights came back on, he fled. But I’d l
eave out the whole changing-into-another-person thing. Also the decapitation. Unless you fancy a fun field trip to the mental asylum.”

  The sirens were closer, and Soren desperately wanted to leave.

  “Is there a back way out of here?” he asked Noelle.

  Her partner answered.

  “Through the kitchen,” she said.

  Soren flashed a thumbs-up and walked to the doorway. He turned just as he left.

  “Two more things,” he said. “One, I wouldn’t do any more séances, Lou Ann. They tend to attract the wrong kind of crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Richardson, I don’t think this will happen, but be wary if any of your other existing friends take a sudden intense interest in Margaret. Sometimes pretenders don’t give up that easy.”

  He didn’t wait for them to respond but went down the steps, found his way to the kitchen, and left by the back door. The police arrived just as Soren sneaked away undetected.

  He moved in the dark through the backyards of several houses before finding his way to a street. He tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible as he walked back to his car. After a few minutes he heard footsteps following him. He knew without looking who it would be.

  “God, you move fast,” Annika said, running up to get next to him.

  “It wouldn’t be good for me to be there when the police arrive,” Soren said. “We don’t get along.”

  “What makes you think they won’t find you later?”

  Soren shrugged.

  “I did save those people’s lives,” he said. “I was kinda hoping that would convince them to keep their mouths shut. But if it doesn’t, what are the cops going to do? There’s no body, no evidence of foul play, and no crime for them to charge me with.”

  Soren kept up a brisk pace as they turned a corner. Annika kept walking beside him. Once they had gone several blocks, he stopped near a parking lot. He yanked the keys out of his pocket and approached a run-down silver Buick.

  “Nice car,” she said.

  Soren didn’t bother to reply but opened the door and got in without saying good-bye. He was surprised when she opened the passenger-side door and got in next to him. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

  “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to get into a car with strangers?” he asked.

  She smiled like she had at Madame Noelle’s, and Soren was struck by how deceptively disarming her expression was. When she smiled like that, she seemed warm, friendly, and absolutely guileless. And because that was impossible, it meant she was more dangerous than Soren realized.

  “Oh, you’re not a stranger,” Annika said. “I know all about you.”

  Soren thought about his options on how to respond and decided intimidating silence was his best approach. He stared at her without saying a word, a tactic that often caused people to wilt. But she just looked back at him without comment and then began adjusting her hair. It took Soren a minute to realize she was primping herself by using his sunglasses as a mirror.

  “Are you done trying to scare me?” she asked after several minutes.

  “I’m trying to figure out what the hell you want,” Soren replied.

  “You could just ask, you know,” she said.

  Soren sighed and threw out his hands in mock surrender.

  “Okay,” he said. “What the hell do you want? Why are you in my car?”

  “I want to hire you.”

  Soren immediately shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “Now get out.”

  She smiled at him again.

  “Oh, come on,” she said. “You haven’t even heard the job I want to hire you for.”

  “I don’t need to,” he said. “You endangered those people back there.”

  “No, I didn’t,” she said. “Why in the world do you think that?”

  “This whole thing was a setup,” Soren said. “You were my informant. You purposely invited me to the séance to see what would happen. But we could have died.”

  “We didn’t, however,” she replied. “I admit I was the one who told you the pretender would be there. We thought that would whet your appetite.”

  Soren noted the use of the word “we” but didn’t respond.

  “But I saved those people by bringing you there,” she finished. “The séance wasn’t my idea, it was the pretender’s. We got wind of it, wanted to stop it, and thought we’d kill two birds with one stone.”

  “A poor choice of words,” Soren replied. “It could have killed a lot more than two birds.”

  “You stopped it,” she said. “And may I add, you were amazing to watch.”

  Annika shifted in the seat, and Soren noticed the way her skirt lifted to expose more of her long and supple legs. He had to will himself to look away. Unfortunately, when he did, he looked up at her chest, noticing her substantial cleavage. When he forced himself to look into her eyes, she smiled as if she knew exactly what he’d been examining.

  “You were the control voice during the séance, weren’t you?” he said. “The one who was calling him a ‘thief.’”

  Annika grinned.

  “Pretty good, right?” she said. “I’ve been practicing all week just in case.”

  “It was dangerous to draw it out like that,” he replied.

  Annika rolled her eyes at him.

  “Would you relax?” she said. “If someone hadn’t made a move, we were never going to get anywhere. I had to make sure Mahood knew he was made. He needed to try and make the transference if we were going to catch him.”

  “It could have killed Noelle,” he said.

  “Like that would be much of a loss,” Annika replied. “What a fraud.”

  “Wow, I take it back,” Soren said. “I really want to work for you now, what with your casual disregard for life and all.”

  Annika arched an eyebrow at him and smiled slyly.

  “Come on,” she said. “You know what I’m trying to say. Besides, I knew you’d stop it.”

  “I almost didn’t,” he said. “Strange that you’re so confident.”

  “You’re a legend,” Annika replied. “You know that, right? Not to the outside world. You’re just a crank and a . . . well, let’s not get into that right now. But to the rest of us you’re a damn myth. Soren Chase, who somehow has managed to encounter more supernatural creatures in the past five or six years than most other paranormal investigators combined. You’ve fought ghosts, ghouls, shades, dreamweavers, shrills, doppelgängers, and—if rumors can be believed—even a gorgon. And you’ve managed to survive. As far as investigators go, you’re the best bar none. And that’s why we need you.”

  Soren frowned.

  “Well, when you put it like that,” he said, “my answer is no.”

  “Would it help if I said you’re pretty hot, too?”

  A playful smile flitted across her lips, and although Soren couldn’t be sure, he thought she hiked up the skirt a tad higher.

  “Not really,” he said.

  “Too bad,” Annika said. “The job would have been fun—and paid well. How does twenty thousand dollars sound?”

  Soren was glad he had the sunglasses on so she couldn’t see his eyes bulging. He’d never come close to making that much on a single job. But it also set off alarm bells. Anyone throwing around that kind of cash was potentially dangerous. He tried to appear nonchalant.

  “Not really in it for the money,” he said.

  “Can I ask you at least a few questions about the pretender?”

  Soren looked around the parking lot. He kept waiting for the police to arrive, but maybe the other participants at the séance had actually kept quiet. That would be a nice surprise. Still, he wanted to get home in case the situation changed.

  “If you keep it quick,” he replied.

  “How did you know what to do at the end?” she asked. “You taunted it.”

  “I didn’t exactly have many options left,” Soren said.

  “But why did it care about Margaret Richardson at all?” Annika asked. “Fro
m what I understand, doppelgängers are dangerously psychotic. Yet that one seemed to genuinely love her.”

  “Pretenders are hands down the most ruthless creatures I’ve ever met,” Soren said. “According to legend, they once ruled most of the planet, until humans discovered them and fought back. Nowadays people see them in the news all the time, they just don’t know it.”

  “Really?”

  “Think about it,” Soren said. “All those stories you hear about a guy who suddenly kills his family and then himself, or goes on a rampage at work—that’s a pretender. The police usually say there was a ‘history of mental illness,’ but it’s a cover story. What’s funny is we tend to mock the neighbors who say ‘he was such a nice man,’ but it’s often true. The man himself did nothing; the pretender took his place and then destroyed everything around him.”

  “Why?” Annika asked.

  “Because that’s what they do,” Soren said. “They thrive on chaos and bloodshed. They’re smart, incredibly strong, and unbelievably quick. They’re also almost completely indestructible. Once upon a time our ancestors must have known how to defeat them, but that knowledge has been lost. You saw what I did to it back there. I’ve tried other methods in the past. Fire, drowning—I’ve even shoved one off a skyscraper. Didn’t kill ’em.”

  “I knew it was bad, but not that bad,” she replied.

  “About the only weakness I’ve identified is related to their strength,” Soren said. “When they take a person’s identity, they take their memories. I don’t know if they take all of them or just some, but it’s enough that they can reasonably fake being that person. Pretenders don’t tend to stay as one identity for long, but they can if they need to. I’ve heard of one who was the same person for sixteen years. But the memories are as much a burden as an advantage. When was Mahood taken? How long had that pretender been him?”

  “From what we can tell, two years,” Annika said. “I happened upon his case while I was researching something else. Tom Mahood was officially missing on the Appalachian Trail for several days. Then he walked out of the woods, saying he’d been lost but found his way back. After that his behavior was erratic. So we think it happened then.”