Satisfied that I was indeed Alec Harbinger, he gave me the package and tapped at the tablet again before asking me to sign for the delivery. After he’d gone back down the stairs, I watched him through the open window as he got into a small, blue, unmarked van that was parked across the street and drove away.
“That was quick,” Felicity said. “Was he a Society courier?”
I nodded. “The Society doesn’t normally use the regular delivery companies. Its own couriers are much faster.” I opened the cardboard box and placed it contents on the desk. The crystal reader was unremarkable in appearance, just a silver box with a depression on the top in which to place a crystal and a hole on one side to project the contents onto a wall or screen. There were no dials, buttons or switches. The device was enchanted and worked by using some sort of spell that was anchored inside the box.
“Would you like to come over to my place later for a special showing of Whitefish Island: The Movie?” I asked Felicity.
She smiled and nodded. “I’ll bring the popcorn.”
I almost said, “It’s a date,” but stopped myself. Instead, I said, “I was thinking of driving over to Clara this afternoon. Want to come?”
“You’re going back to that creepy place again? What for?”
“I think I’ll try to talk to the Fairweather family, the people who own the church. Maybe they know something about what happened on Christmas Day, something they haven’t told the police. They don’t sound like the type of people who would talk to outsiders.”
Felicity looked incredulous. “So why would they talk to you?”
I shrugged. “They probably won’t but I want to meet them face to face. Maybe I can pick up some vibes from them that’ll give me a clue about what was actually being worshipped at that church.”
“You think the church was dedicated to some evil deity?” she asked.
“You saw those windows.”
“I don’t buy it, Alec. Why would Amy Cantrell’s mother get involved in something like that? And why did everyone in the church that day end up dead, including the pastor, one of the Fairweather family?”
“Black magic is dangerous.”
Felicity didn’t look convinced. “I’ll come with you to Clara but I don’t think the church was dedicated to evil. Mary Cantrell wouldn’t have had anything to do with it.”
“We never knew Mary Cantrell,” I reminded her, picking up the Caprice keys.
“Do I need to change?” Felicity asked.
“Yeah, it might be a good idea. We don’t know how nasty the Fairweather family might be to outsiders. There might be running involved.”
She went into her office to change her clothes and I closed the windows before picking up the crystal reader and sliding it back into the cardboard box it had been delivered in.
The wards on the building would activate automatically as soon as the office was empty and locked up, but someone had already gotten past them and I didn’t want to have to explain to a Society officer in Bangor why the crystal reader had gone missing while it was in my possession.
Felicity met me in the hallway, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. The T-shirt was blue, tight-fitting, and had Outpost #31 across the chest in white stenciled letters.
“You a fan of John Carpenter’s The Thing?” I said as I led the way down the stairs.
“Who isn’t?” she asked.
“Well, at least I’ve confirmed that you have good taste in movies.” I locked the office door and we walked around to where the cars were waiting.
“You’ve confirmed it, have you?” she joked. “It didn’t exactly take any investigative skill on your part. All you had to do was look at my chest.”
“Err, yeah.” I unlocked the Caprice quickly. “We’ll take my car.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Are you armed?”
“I’ve got an enchanted knife in a backpack.” I reached into the back seat and held it up to show her.
Felicity nodded slowly and got into the car. She didn’t say anything but I knew what she was thinking. I should be carrying the knife. I took the sheathed weapon out of the backpack and attached it to my belt. I hadn’t been kidding about the Fairweather family earlier; they could be trouble, especially if they ran some sort of monster-worshipping cult.
When we got onto the highway headed east of Dearmont, I got that feeling again that I was being watched. Checking the vehicles in the rearview mirror, I made a mental note of the colors and models. If we were being tailed, it would soon become obvious, especially once we took the road to Clara.
After almost an hour of driving along the highway and constantly checking the traffic behind us, I took the turn toward Clara. As we drove along the tree-lined road, I checked the rearview again and saw nothing but empty road behind us.
Maybe I was just being paranoid. For the rest of the journey, as I navigated the Caprice around the narrow roads that wound through the trees, we were alone.
The six ramshackle houses came into view and I pulled over and killed the engine.
“What are we going to do?” Felicity asked, peering at the houses through the windshield. “Just go and knock on one of the doors?” Her voice had lowered to barely more than a whisper.
“Seems like a good place to start,” I said. My own voice was at whisper-level too. There was an atmosphere among these quiet houses that made me think that if I spoke too loudly, I might wake up something that was sleeping in the gloomy woods. Something that would be better left asleep.
I took the crystal shard out of my pocket and slid it out of its pouch onto the dashboard. It glowed bright blue. “That creepy feeling,” I told Felicity, “I think it’s a spell. Good way to keep strangers out. Anyone who comes down here is going to just keep driving until they’re far away from this place and the creepy vibe it gives off.”
I got out of the Caprice and closed the door softly, reassuring myself that the dagger was within easy reach by letting my fingers brush over the leather sheath.
Felicity joined me and we walked over to the nearest house. The place was set back from the road a little behind an overgrown lawn that was more weed than grass. A gray stone path was losing a battle against an army of crabgrass. We walked along the path and up three rickety wooden steps onto a porch that leaned to one side at such a steep angle, I felt like I might slide off it and into the weeds.
I knocked on the front door and stepped back, taking Felicity’s arm and leading her to the edge of the porch.
“What are you doing, Alec?”
“These people might have a ‘shoot first’ policy. I’d rather we weren’t in the line of fire.”
But after a couple of minutes, it was obvious that nobody was even going to answer the door, much less shoot us through it.
“Maybe no one is in,” Felicity said.
I wasn’t so sure. “Let’s take a look around the back.” I stepped down off the porch and followed the side of the house to a rear area that was just as overgrown as the front. A dilapidated barn sat at the far edge of the property and there was a large pond beside it, green algae floating on the water. A smell of mold and stagnant water hung heavily in the air. Beyond the barn and the pond, the woods were dark.
“You hear that?” I whispered to Felicity.
She nodded. “Frogs.”
From the pond, there came a series of croaking sounds that I was sure had only started since we’d come around the back of the house.
“Let’s check out the barn,” I said, moving toward it through the weeds that seemed to grab at my legs.
The rear door of the house burst open and an old woman with long gray hair stepped out onto the rear porch, leveling a shotgun at us. She wore a yellow dress and I was sure she was the same woman who had stared at me as I’d driven past the house after searching the church.
She didn’t say anything. The shotgun told us everything we needed to know.
Two bearded men came out onto the porch, armed with revolvers. They wore loo
se shirts and jeans and they were both big and burly with similar facial features, definitely brothers. One of them spoke. “You need to leave now before you get hurt.”
“I just want to ask you some questions,” I said, keeping my voice level and calm.
“We don’t answer questions,” the other brother said.
The old woman spat. “He’s that supernatural investigator from Dearmont, the one Luke warned us about.”
“I don’t know anyone named Luke,” I said. “I just want to find out what happened to one of your family, Simon Fairweather, and the other people in the church. Maybe you can help me do that by answering a few questions.”
She grinned toothlessly at me. “Oh, we know what happened to them, mister. We don’t need no fancy investigator coming here and telling us our own business.”
“Okay,” I said. “So maybe you know what happened to a colleague of mine, another investigator. She was at the church that day.”
“We don’t know what happened to Sherry Westlake. She was an interfering bitch and I hope she’s dead. Or worse.” The calm voice came from the direction of the barn and I turned to see the young man with the piercing blue eyes I had seen in the vision at the lake. He was wearing a black hoodie just as he had been at the lake.
He walked with a calm air of authority. Despite his age, the other family members probably bestowed him with his authority because he possessed greater power than they did.
“I assume you’re Luke,” I said. “So are you going to tell me what happened on Christmas Day?”
He halted ten feet away from me. “Yes, I am Luke Fairweather, But as for the glorious events of Christmas Day, I’m not sure you’d understand.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully and looked into my eyes. “Or maybe you would. The police and the FBI had no idea what they were dealing with, of course. But you, Harbinger, you’re different. You know what can come to this world when the veil is torn, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen a few things,” I said. I wasn’t sure how he knew my name but I guessed that any self-respecting black magic practitioner like him would be aware of who the local preternatural investigator was.
He grinned at me with an amused expression on his face. “Yes, I’m sure you have. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen the dark things in this world.”
“Seen them and killed them,” I said.
The amused look vanished from Luke’s face. “You’re a blasphemer, Harbinger. Killing the creations of the Dark Mother is a sin.” The frog chorus grew louder, filling the stagnant air with angry croaking sounds.
I shrugged. “If killing frog-eyed monsters is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.”
Luke Fairweather shook his head in disgust. “You’re a filthy blasphemer just like my father. He led the church but he never truly believed. Well, he learned the error of his ways when he was sacrificed to Gibl. Now he is one of the thirteen, writhing in eternal agony for the glory of the dark gods.”
Dark shapes began to emerge from the pond and clamber up onto the weeds and grass. Frogs of all colors and sizes. There must have been thousands of them, hopping and crawling toward us, their croaks growing louder as they got nearer to us.
Luke smiled. “I suggest you leave.”
Felicity and I both stood our ground. “I haven’t finished here yet,” I said.
He sighed as if bored with me. “Yes, you have.” Nodding to the people on the porch behind us, he pointed at me and then turned back to the barn.
I heard a shot crack through the air and felt a hot stinging sensation in my left side. The impact knocked me off my feet and I tumbled into the long grass, clutching at my side. When I inspected my hand, it was covered in blood.
“Felicity, get out of here,” I shouted.
But suddenly, she was standing over me, looking down at me with panic in her dark eyes. “Alec!”
I fumbled for the dagger at my belt and managed to draw it from the sheath. The glow from the blade bathed the long grass around me blue.
“Can you move?” Felicity asked me. “No, you shouldn’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.”
“I’m not staying here,” I said, struggling to my feet. Pain flared in my side and I gritted my teeth against it, forcing myself to ignore it. Felicity helped me over to the side of the house, where I leaned on the wall for support. The three Fairweathers had gone from the porch and there was no sign of Luke. He had obviously gone back to his barn. Frogs swarmed over the entire area, turning the ground into a carpet of jumping and crawling wet, slimy bodies.
I managed to get to the Caprice and hand Felicity the keys. “You’re going to have to drive.” I felt light-headed and I wondered how much blood I’d lost.
She helped me into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel, adjusting the seat to accommodate her shorter height while saying to herself, “Eastern Maine Medical Center. That’s the closest.”
She cranked the engine and spun the steering wheel, turning the Caprice around in a flurry of dust, smoke and squealing tires.
Felicity floored the accelerator and the Caprice shot away from Clara like a bat out of hell.
12
Almost four hours later, I was sitting on a hospital bed at the Eastern Maine Medical Center watching night fall through the window. I wasn’t in the bed wearing a hospital gown or anything. After being poked and prodded by doctors, X-rayed, and put on a morphine drip, I was fully-clothed and sitting on the bed. The staff looking after me were all Society members, trained to deal with things like demon venom, magical attacks, and faerie enchantments.
Felicity had called the Society’s Bangor headquarters while driving me over here and told them that an investigator would be arriving at the medical center. When we’d arrived, the Society team at the center had tended to me immediately. The doctor in charge of my care, a friendly, bearded man named Dr. Davis, had been disappointed that my wound was a simple mundane gunshot wound.
Now, after being bandaged up and sitting on the bed for hours, I was more than ready to go home. The pain in my side had eased and apparently the bullet had gone straight through flesh and muscle and come out the other side, avoiding anything vital in the process.
The door opened and Dr. Davis came into the room with a large manila envelope in his hand. There was a confused look on his face. “Alec,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed, “the X-rays have come back from radiology and there’s something I’d like to show you.”
He flicked a switch to illuminate the light panel on the wall but before attaching an X-ray to it, he took a sheaf of papers from the envelope and passed them to me. They were pictures of X-rays of what looked like a child’s ribs.
“Do you remember when you fell out of a tree at age four and your parents took you to the hospital because they thought you might have fractured your ribs?” Davis asked.
“I was told about it, but I don’t remember it,” I said. “I was too young.”
He nodded and pointed at the papers in my hand. “Those are copies of the X-rays you had done back then. Your ribs were only bruised, as it turned out.”
“Yeah, they look okay in these pictures,” I said, wondering if there was a point to Davis showing me X-rays of my four-year-old ribs.
“They do, don’t they? I got those from your medical records after I saw the X-rays from today. You see, at first I thought the radiographers were playing a practical joke on me when they sent me your X-rays today. Then, after I went to their department and talked to them, and they assured me there was no joke, I got them to check the machine to see if it was faulty. It wasn’t.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying, Doc. Is there something wrong with my ribs?”
He looked perplexed. “I don’t even know how to answer that question, Alec. It might be better if I show you. Maybe you can explain what I’m seeing.” He fixed a series of X-rays to the light panel and stepped back so I could see them.
Felicity gasped. I just sat there and stared, shocked.
The X-rays showed my ribs as white against the dark background but there was something else, something that wasn’t in the X-rays that had been taken when I was four years old.
The bones had magical circles and symbols etched into them. The circles and symbols showed as an even brighter white on the bone, almost as if they were glowing. They covered every bone visible on the X-ray.
Dr. Davis said, “I can see from your reaction that you know nothing about this.”
“No, I don’t. How is it possible?”
“I have absolutely no idea. Certainly not by any medical procedure. This has to be magic. The lines that form the symbols are no thicker than a hair’s breadth and the depth of the cut is even less than that. This is magical artistry, performed by someone with great skill and accuracy.”
I had a pretty good idea how the markings had gotten onto my bones. My father had already had the Coven erase some of my memories, so why not have them inscribe my bones with magical symbols too?
But I was sure this would have been done before the memory wipe. It was probably because of these symbols that I was able to summon the power to kill DuMont. They were the reason I had been able to hurl a ball of energy at Tommy the bully when I was nine years old. The memory wipe had been my father’s attempt to make me forget that incident. So the markings on my bones must have already been there when he got the Coven to lock my memories away.
How many times had my father taken me to the Coven and had them cast an enchantment on me?
I remembered something Devon Blackwell had said to me, and grinned.
“What is it, Alec?” Felicity asked.
“When the Blackwell sisters told me I was enchanted, I said their runestone might be picking up on my tattoos. Devon said no, the enchantment was much deeper than that. I didn’t realize she was being literal. It doesn’t get much deeper than being in your bones.”
Dr. Davis said, “Alec, you know I have to report this. Society protocol says I have to report any abnormality found in an investigator’s condition, especially if that abnormality is caused by magic.”
The Harbinger PI Box Set Page 41
