“Thanks for seeing me,” I said, watching as she pulled a set of keys from her gargantuan brown leather purse and opened the door to her office.
“Not a problem. Please, take a seat.” She gestured to the comfy armchair across from her desk. Settling into it, I glanced around her closet-sized office. The walls were pale lavender and hung with numerous degree certificates and plaques commemorating her work. The space was barely big enough for her desk and the chair, but lit nicely from the one small, albeit dirty, window. She dropped her purse in a drawer behind the desk and booted up her silent computer. When she’d logged on, she turned to face me, her hands clasped and elbows on her desktop. Platinum blonde curls made her pleasant face soft and feminine. For a woman with the extra weight of motherhood, complete with double chin, she was very pretty. “How may I help you?”
I crossed one leg over the other, fighting against my skirt. “Mrs. Manning, I’m not a visiting reporter.”
To my surprise, she nodded. Pushing her cat eye glasses up a little higher on her nose, she answered, “Dear, I’ve been an investigative journalist for well on thirty years now.” She gave me a smile. “It’s hard to get anything past me.”
Clearing my throat, I was suitably chagrined. “Good point.”
“I suppose you’re here to ask me about the Wild Hunt.” At my questioning look, she chuckled, cheeks jiggling merrily. “Everyone knows it’s my area of expertise! Ask away, dear, and I’ll answer to the best of my knowledge.”
From the depths of my shoulder bag, I pulled out my folded list and smoothed it open on my lap. “What makes you think the Wild Hunt is real, and behind the deaths, rather than someone else? Say, a serial killer?”
Hilda shuffled some papers on her desk while she composed her answer. “The big mystery to consider is the absolute absence of physical trauma to the victims. I’ve been to each scene since I began covering the issue back in the seventies. No marks, no bruising, no defensive wounds. For all intents and purposes, the victims appear to have fallen asleep. Save for the looks on their faces.”
Frowning, I asked, “Looks?”
“Terror. Unadulterated terror. Imagine being bound to the rails while a train barrels towards you and your imminent death looms…the look that would be on your face.” She shrugged. “These people did not die well.”
I digested that. That hadn’t come up in my research. Interesting. “What about autopsies?”
“An autopsy has been performed, oh, I’d say four out of every five cases. No internal trauma. Cause of death, heart failure.”
My head was starting to hurt. I’d been expecting to hear that something would be different then I’d already been told…I know the small town mentality of togetherness. Nothing could possibly go wrong, crime is an impossibility, etc etc. Trashing my written questions for the moment, I leaned forward on my knees. “What do you personally think, Mrs. Manning?”
“Call me Hilda, dear. I haven’t been Mrs. Manning for quite some time.” She paused and pondered a beat before answering, “I believe that every myth and legend has its basis in fact. Yes, we as a race have an amazing talent for imagination, but myths become so because they are so heavily believed to be true. I can’t prove the Wild Hunt is real, or isn’t, but I hear the noises. You can’t miss the thundering and the howling and the yelling.”
Goosebumps rose on my skin and I shivered. “I haven’t heard the yelling.”
“There’s a legend here, as a matter of fact, that those who believe in the Hunt are the ones with the ability to hear the calls of the lost souls riding within it.” Her lips thinned. “And those who have lost a loved one to it.”
Huh. “Have you?”
She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing against her prominent cheeks. “No, I’ve been lucky. Many people have lost siblings, parents, and friends. We’re careful here.”
“What else can you tell me about the deaths that tie them together?”
“Anyone in the same house as the victim has unanimously agreed they thought they heard their loved one’s name being called in the night. Even in the case of the several backpackers who were taken, the innkeeper, Meredith Lowe, she heard it.” She picked up the heavy crystal ball paperweight on her desk and put both hands around it, staring down into it. “Time of death always narrowed to between midnight and three. Nothing on the person but the clothes they were wearing for bed. Absolutely no medical history, whatsoever, besides common colds. No broken bones, no heart disease, diabetes, even sexually transmitted diseases. Almost as if the Hunt searches only for those it can use.”
“Do you think they were each chosen, or were there some happy accidents?”
Hilda shook her head. “No, I don’t think any were accidents. Only one person has seen the Hunt and lived, and she’s in a mental institution in North Yorkshire.”
I jerked my head up from my scrawled handwriting. “Someone claims to have seen it.”
“Yes, Amelia Brewer. Her twin sister was taken when they were sixteen years old and Amelia claims to have been with her at the time. The problem is, she’s completely insane, so her babble makes no sense.”
Babble resonated with me, but I couldn’t place why. Standing, I stuck out my hand. “Hilda, thanks for your time. You’ve made me reconsider my position on the Hunt.”
The matronly woman walked me five steps to the door, patting my back. “It takes outsiders a longer time to come to terms with a living myth. I imagine it’s harder for someone like you, so grounded in your belief that if you can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. You don’t even believe in God, do you dear?”
I gave her a tight smile. “I’ll be in touch.”
*********
The Cooper was freezing. Under my black wool coat, I shivered violently in the driver’s seat while the engine ran, waiting for it to heat up. I couldn’t agree with myself whether the journalist had helped or hindered me. After spending the last week determined to prove the Wild Hunt fiction, I found myself leaning more towards the idea that it was real. That, coupled with the fact I had powers most of the populace didn’t, obligated me to do something about it. I ran my cheap black mittens over the black fur of my steering wheel cover, my mind wandering into the I-like-black-too-much territory.
I pulled out of the spot and hit the street, marveling at how deserted it was on a Monday afternoon. Live your life in a small town and you still feel like the world is much too big and busy. Lack of traffic meant lack of red lights and I made it down the road towards home in record time, passing a couple shoppers who waved, bringing a smile to my face.
The ninety degree curve that turned Main Street into the highway that would run to my apartment was coming up fast, the wall of the forest behind which the Temple hid dark and ominous in the daylight. I pushed the brake pedal, thoughts so mired in the Wild Hunt it took a minute too long to realize my brakes weren’t engaging. When the realization hit, I jerked my steering wheel to the left, heart like a hummingbird’s wings, and closed my eyes. There was a sensation of weightlessness, the sound of metal crunching and a roaring train, and all I could focus on was the hard wheel beneath my hands.
Then there was nothing.
Chapter 16
I knew I was dreaming. Either that, or I was dead and heaven was a Technicolor temple where donkeys grazed on lollipops. Cerridwen smiled knowingly down at me, her stone face peaceful and loving. I leaned against her, but couldn’t feel her on my back. Katherine the happy receptionist bounced up to me holding an ornate dagger, not unlike mine, that she tapped on the bright blue suit jacket that covered her breasts. Her lips moved, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. It sounded like Latin and the best I had was high school French.
Ignoring her, I walked around the statues to relight the jasmine. I couldn’t smell it, which meant someone had let it go out. Anya was already there, waving the smoking stick in the air above the altar. Her body was more solid than I’d ever seen it. “You’re dead,” I told her, coming to stand beside her.
/> She shook her head. “Not yet.” She carefully inserted the unlit end of the incense back into the holder, staring thoughtfully into the smoke. She glanced up at me. “You’re not supposed to die, you know.”
“Excuse me?” To tell the truth, I was sick to death of trying to translate her babbling and ramblings. Just because she was a ghost didn’t give her any reason to not speak in plain English like a normal person.
Suddenly, she reached out and took my face in both her hands, her thumbs pushing at my eyelids. Bright lights exploded in my vision and sounds I didn’t understand accompanied them. “Go back, Vale. You have a job to do.” I shook my head, moaning as her fingers dug deeper in my eyes.
I tried to raise my hand and brush her away, but it wouldn’t move. Stumbling backwards, I fell a long time, expecting the ground over and over, and when I finally did hit, the pain exploded inside me.
“We’ve a heartbeat!” a gruff male voice yelled excitedly. I really wanted to tell him to lower his voice, that he was in a Temple of the goddess, be respectful. My mouth opened but I couldn’t find the sound. Hands were all over my body and my head felt like a drill was on the inside attempting to get to my hairline.
“Miss? Miss, can you hear me?” A polite English woman’s voice broke through the darkness. Huh, my eyes were closed. I sent the message to my brain to open them, and it cursed me, telling me it was injured and trying to fix itself. Angrily, I informed it that I was in charge and it should do as it was told.
My eyelids fluttered open and I was blinded. “Lights,” I croaked, closing my eyes once more. The pink glow behind my lids faded and I blinked open again, catching sight of a pale, young face full of concern.
“Sorry,” she said, placing a cool, gloved hand to my forehead. “Can you understand me?”
Confused, I nodded. “Of course I can.”
“You’ve been in an accident. We’re going to transport you to the hospital. Is there someone we can call?”
I racked my brain for a local number and Melissa’s was the one that came to mind. I rattled it off quickly, and the petite blonde with a pixie cut punched it into her cell phone. Hands were still tending to my body. “What’s wrong with me?”
She held up a finger to her lips. “Is this Melissa? Yes, my name is Jasmine, with the Yorkshire Ambulance Service. Someone we believe to be a friend of yours has been involved in an incident. Would you meet us at the hospital?”
Jasmine listened intently for a moment, getting to her feet as I was lifted and loaded into the ambulance at her side. “Yes. Thank you.” Clipping her phone shut, she nodded at me before the doors closed. “She’ll be there.”
*********
It was some time later before I woke up again. I gazed around at a sterile, white hospital room, the kind of generic place I tried vainly to stay away from. Melissa was in the chair beside my bed, head leaned back and eyes closed. A light brown door was pushed closed, a thin line of light showing at the edge. I could hear the chatter of nurses and various annoying beeps.
I tested my toes and found I could move them. Thankful for that, I moved on to my fingers. Right hand, check. Left hand, nope. Nothing but the fuzzy feeling that comes from a well medicated injury.
“It’s broken,” Melissa’s voice broke the semi-silence of the room. I looked over to find her leaning forward, a wry smile on her face as she reached to pat my good hand. “You got lucky, kid.”
Using my one good arm, I tried to push myself to a sitting position. Melissa reached out, moving a remote closer to me. She tapped a big green button pointedly. Thank the universe for technology. A couple seconds of depressing it found me in a somewhat upright position. Through the haze of medication, I could feel that my body was one big bruise. I prodded a particularly painful place on my forehead, covered in gauze. Telltale stitches stood out in my skin beneath it.
“What happened? My car?”
Melissa looked down at my good hand and took it in both of hers, playing gently with my fingers. “It’s totaled.”
“Uhhh,” I grunted, closing my eyes. “I love that car.”
“Vale, you could have died! If you weren’t a freaking superhuman, you probably would have!” Melissa said sharply, smacking the back of my hand as if I were an errant school kid.
“Ow!”
“Your car rolled three times. If you hadn’t had a seatbelt on, the police said you’d be dead and flat as a pancake.” Technically speaking, of course, I thought. I stared at her, wide-eyed, as she continued her rant. “It hit a tree sideways. I think a gash in the head and a broken wrist is significantly worth a totaled Mini Cooper. Your heart stopped!” She glared at me and I shuddered. The wrath of Melissa. Her face fell, and she pressed the back of my hand to her cheek, concern in her eyes. “I just got you. A friend, finally, after being in this accursed place for so freaking long. Then, you almost left me.”
Believe it or not, my eyes teared up. Ugh, girly stuff. “Oh.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Sniffing, she dropped my hand and sat back in her chair, tossing one khaki cargo leg over the other. I tentatively prodded my chest. It was sore. “I called Brett. His cell phone said he’s out of town for a couple days, so I left a message about what happened. Did he tell you he was leaving?”
“No. He came in for his shift this morning. I can’t believe that jerk!” I raged, banging the mattress at my side. “He just took off and didn’t tell me!”
“That’s a man for you,” Melissa said sagely. We both looked towards the door as an older woman with a loosely wrapped bun of pure white hair knocked and entered the room, a stethoscope wrapped around the collar of her white lab coat.
“She’s finally awake!” she enthused, her voice ridiculously close to that of Mary Poppins. “How are you feeling, Vale?”
“Drugged,” I answered honestly, lifting my plaster cast of a hand.
“That’s brilliant,” she answered, clasping her own unbroken hands together at her trim waistline. “We’d certainly rather you feel drugged than in pain! Your injuries are substantially better than they could have been, and due to the nature of them, we’re going to release you to Melissa.” Whipping out a pad and pen, she scrawled some chicken scratch across the pad. I suppose medical handwriting is similar across borders. “Take your painkillers and let your friend take care of you.”
I nodded, rather than argue with her. I could feel Melissa glaring at me and daring me to say I could take care of myself. “Absolutely, Doctor.”
*********
Melissa turned the key in my lock and went in before me, calming a very excited Hunter. “I could have opened it myself,” I told her irritably as she tossed my purse and its contents, salvaged from the wreck site, on my couch. “It’s my left hand that’s hurt. You know, not my good hand?”
“Shut up. Where’s Hunter’s leash?”
“The counter.”
She grabbed it and checked the phone. “You have a couple messages. Wanna hear?” Pressing the button without waiting for an answer, she clicked on Hunter’s leash and led him out the back door. I fell onto the couch, pressing my face into the pillow.
The first was from the police officer I had been scheduled to see before my accident. He left a short message letting me know I could call and reschedule. I'd get around to it.
The second…
“Vale, hey, it’s me. Look, I’ve left for a couple days to see a friend down south. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you need to get me, just try my cell and I’ll call back when I hear it.” He paused, the silence coming through on the machine. “I’ll miss you.”
Melissa came back in, wiping her shoes on the mat inside the kitchen door. “Was that Brett?”
I lifted my head and gave her a goofy smile. “He called to let me know he was leaving.”
My best friend rolled her eyes, turning her back to me and opening the fridge. “I’ll make us dinner.”
*********
I was really getting sick of waking up to the damn phone.
The pain meds sure were kicking up my imagination. I’d been having some delicious dreams about Brett, and to jerk so abruptly from the sensation was a slap in the face. Fumbling in the dark on my floor, I found the cordless hanging out under my bed, from whence the ringing shrilled. Hunter snuffled at my face as I clicked it on and pressed it to my ear. “Hullo?”
“Vale, it’s Mom.”
“Hey, Mom,” I murmured, pressing my cheek back into my pillow, her voice warming my soul. Moms are always welcome in my world, and just the sound of her voice was enough to soothe any homesickness I may have harbored after my accident. I’d finally kicked Melissa out against her wishes after two days of having her wait on me hand and foot. I was also going back to work, against her wishes.
Silence dragged on. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I pushed myself to my elbows, careful to keep weight off my cast. “Mom? What’s going on?”
I heard her take a trembling breath that struck fear into my heart. “I need to tell you something, hon, and it’s not good news.”
“Then tell me.” I dragged the comforter closer to my heart and sat up, pulling my knees into my chest.
“My doctor found a lump in my breast, sweetie.”
My breath caught in my throat. I reached blindly out to where I knew I would find Hunter fur and hooked my elbow around him, pulling his warm, fuzzy body against me. “A lump?” I said stupidly, the word reverberating in my head and feeling like a plague on my tongue. Flashes of images overtook my mind, tumors, cancer, death, fear, and I felt the bottom of my world fall out.
“Honey, we don’t know anything yet. It could be completely benign. But, they’re going to have to take it out. They don’t want to wait, it’s rather large, so I have to go in tomorrow.” I listened to her breathing on the other end, picturing her soft, feminine face, one of her fingers wrapped around the phone cord. She was probably standing in the kitchen, her safe haven, where she had cooked our meals and tended our ills for the past twenty-four years. “I don’t want you to worry about it, I just wanted you to know. Look, I need to go, Macy and Daddy are going to take me out for dinner tonight. I love you.”
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