Cold Chills (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 3)
Page 11
As the stick passed through the spirit’s form, ice formed upon it and streaked down its length. Unable to let go in time, Amanda screamed as her hands were frozen firmly to the icy wood. She fell to the floor, desperately trying to free herself from the ice-covered stick. The Yuki-Onna paused briefly, studying Amanda, and then continued on toward the others.
“Stay behind me,” Deidre hissed at Valerie. “If I go down, run for the door.”
Skylar, sensing the adults’ distress, began to cry. “Mummy! Mummy!”
Upon hearing the child’s cries, the spirit stopped. She looked at the boy as if noticing him for the first time. She cocked her head and regarded the squirming, sobbing child.
“Mummy!” Skylar wailed.
The Yuki-Onna’s face transformed into a mask of pain and sorrow. She flinched back as if she’d been struck. Turning toward the window, she flung her arm outwards. Instantly, a gust of wind shattered the glass. With her mouth twisted in a silent wail, the spirit dissolved into a shower of snow and blew out the window.
Deidre watched as the last of the flakes drifted through the dark opening.
“What in the hell just happened?” she wondered aloud.
Chapter Seventeen
With the immediate threat ended, the Calvary came rushing into the office. McCoy rushed to the fallen Amanda, while John ran to check on Deidre and her charges.
“Come on,” McCoy said, helping Amanda to her feet. “Let’s get you to the restroom. We need warm water.”
“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Probably. But I’ve got to have my stick back, after all.”
“I’m fixing to stick the stick where the sun doesn’t shine,” Amanda replied. She let McCoy lead her out of the office and toward the restroom.
“Are you sure everyone’s all right?” John asked as he surveyed Deidre, Valerie, and Skylar.
“We’re fine,” Deidre replied. “Just shaken up, that’s all. Though Skylar may need a fresh diaper.”
“He isn’t the only one,” Valerie said, her voice shaky. “What the hell was that thing?”
“Would you believe a ghost?” John asked.
“Yes.”
“Then that’s what it was. Deidre, find Frank. He should be coming in the building by now. I want both of you to give Valerie a ride home. We work in pairs from here on out.” He turned to Valerie. “When you get home, lock the doors and don’t go outside unless it’s daytime.”
“I may never come out again,” Valerie said truthfully. With Skylar in tow, she followed Deidre out of the office.
John looked around his office and surveyed the damage. The door and window didn’t really concern him. He considered it nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the encounter with the Yuki-Onna.
From the restroom came the shrill sound of Amanda’s voice as she threatened McCoy with every type of bodily injury known to man. John suppressed a smile. Amanda would be in pain for a while, but at least she was alive. They all were.
But they were no closer to stopping the Yuki-Onna. Something had spooked her earlier, but until they knew exactly what it had been, they were still sitting at the starting gate. And though they had a name, they were no closer to finding the spirit’s identity.
John plopped into his chair and rubbed at his temples. It had been a long day, and he didn’t foresee it ending anytime soon. The weather definitely wasn’t helping matters any. If he never saw another flake of snow, it would be too soon.
The restroom door opened and Amanda and McCoy came back into the office. Amanda’s palms were an angry shade of red.
“She has a mild case of frostbite,” McCoy said. “I don’t see any skin damage, though.”
“Let her freeze your hands to a walking stick and we’ll see how bloody mild you think it is then,” Amanda retorted.
“It could have been worse,” John said solemnly. “Every one of you could have been turned into human ice pops.” He set his gaze on McCoy. “Why did she spare them?”
McCoy shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here. Did you see anything, Amanda?”
“I was kind of occupied at the time.”
“There had to be some reason,” John said.
“It’s not unheard of,” McCoy replied. “Some legends have the Yuki-Onna sparing the lives of handsome young men.”
“In case you didn’t notice, we were suffering a shortage of men—young and handsome or otherwise,” Amanda said.
“Yeah, and the Radcliffe kid was young and good-looking, but she still iced him,” John added.
“True,” McCoy admitted. “We’ll question Deidre when she gets back. Maybe she can shed some light on the subject. In the meantime, let’s see if we can dig up anything on that name. Her remains have to be somewhere nearby.”
“You guys go ahead and start looking,” John said. “I’m going to call my other deputies in. It’s getting late, and now that we know that the Yuki-Onna doesn’t mind busting in doors, all we can do is hope we don’t lose anyone else tonight.”
“We’ll get a handle on this,” McCoy said.
“I know. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.”
***
She flitted through the snowy forest, wandering aimlessly among the trees. Back at the police station, she had come very close to remembering something, something vitally important. The child had triggered it—or, to be more precise, the child’s cries. They had stirred a memory buried deep within her, and for a moment she had almost remembered the thing she had lost. She had experienced a despair as dark and deep as anything she had ever known, or at least anything she could remember.
The child’s frightened sobs had threatened to whisk her back to a time long ago, before she had become what she was now. In her mind, she had heard the desperate cries of another child, lost and alone and terrified. An image had flashed before her eyes, maddeningly brief and vague: a boy with dark hair, small and weak and helpless. And snow. So much snow.
And then the image had fled like a thief in the night.
Why? Why could she not remember? Anger, hot and unfocused, welled within her. Blindly, she unleashed a vicious gale of frozen wind. Snow flew from the branches of trees, resulting in a white-out in the woods around her. Tree limbs splintered and broke, and smaller saplings bent over double in the face of her fury.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the onslaught abated. Her energy spent, the Yuki-Onna settled down into the snow, exhausted and confused. She had no answers for the questions which plagued her. Even worse, she didn’t know where to begin to look for them.
Slowly, her anger began to melt away. If there were no answers to be found, then there was no sense in pursuing the matter. Better to simply rest and restore her depleted energy.
Soon, it would be time to hunt again.
***
“Okay,” John said. “Let’s go over it again, frame by frame. There has to be something we’re missing here.”
“I don’t know how to describe it any better,” Deidre said wearily. “She was advancing on us. Then she stopped, got this funny look on her face, and turned and blew out the window.”
“All right,” McCoy said. “Let’s look at what each of you was doing at the time. Amanda was on the floor, out of action. Deidre, you said you were shielding Valerie and Skylar.”
“That’s right. I had my weapon drawn, and I was pointing it at her.”
“She would have no fear of a gun,” McCoy said dismissively. “What was Valerie doing?”
Deidre shrugged. “Holding onto Skylar and whimpering, I guess. I had my back to her.”
“And the boy? Did he make any noise?”
“He was crying for his mother.”
“Maybe it was something someone was wearing,” John suggested. “A religious pendant or something. Or a tattoo. Does Valerie have any tattoos?”
“None that I’ve noticed,” Deidre answered.
“How about one that wouldn’t be visible?”
“If it were, I’d join,” Frank said, then immediately went quiet as both John and Deidre fixed him with pointed stares.
“What exactly did he say?” McCoy asked.
“Who?”
“Skylar. You said he was crying for Valerie. What exactly did he say?”
“I don’t know,” Deidre said. “I think he was crying Mommy, Mommy. Or something like that.”
“Deidre, do you wear any kind of religious items? A cross or something?” John asked.
Deidre shook her head. “No jewelry, no tattoos. Sorry.”
“It was the boy,” McCoy said suddenly.
“Skylar?” John asked, incredulous. “You’re saying a child scared that thing off?”
“He didn’t scare her away,” McCoy said, shaking his head. “He triggered something within her, some kind of latent memory.” He rose and began to pace around the room.
“I’m still not quite following you,” John said.
“The sound of a frightened child calling for his mother,” McCoy explained. “I’m willing to bet she’d heard that sound before, back when she was still alive. Frank, what was it you said about the Yuki-Onna having lost a child?”
“Some legends say that the Yuki-Onna is the spirit of a woman who died in a snowstorm while searching for a lost child,” Frank replied, his eyes slowly filling with understanding.
“If that’s the case, then we have two important pieces to the puzzle,” John said. “Her name, and the fact that she died in a snowstorm while looking for her child.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Amanda said. “How did you get the name?”
McCoy and John looked guiltily at one another. John gave a slight shake of his head, signaling his intention to sit this one out.
“Would you believe that a little birdie told me?” McCoy asked.
“No.”
“Okay, then. What about a dryad?”
“Finn! You called on the Fey?”
“It was his idea,” McCoy protested as he pointed to John, throwing the sheriff under the bus.
“Thanks, buddy,” John said sourly.
“Were you planning on telling me about this?” Amanda asked.
“Sure. As soon as you asked. And you just did, so now you know.”
“You’re the one who’s always telling me how sly and dangerous the Fey are,” Amanda reminded him.
“And they are. But we were hitting a brick wall. We had to get some info, and nothing paranormal happens in Shallow Springs that the Fey aren’t aware of.”
“Still,” Amanda said, obviously upset. “No secrets, remember?”
Chastised, McCoy fell silent. There was no use digging himself in any deeper than he already was.
“I may have something here,” Frank said, breaking the awkward silence. He hit a few keystrokes and looked at the computer monitor. “Takahama, Japan. A town located in the Fukui Prefecture, which is located in the Japanese Snow Country. In February of 1959, a busload of young children was stranded in a snowstorm. According to this account, the bus driver foolishly led the children into the storm in an attempt to reach safety. They became lost in the blizzard. A search party, comprised of local authorities and several parents, went looking for the missing kids. By the time it was over, nearly half the children and several members of the search party had perished.”
“Can you find a list of names of the deceased?” McCoy asked.
“There’s actually a list here. One of the names stands out: Harumi Kimura, twenty-six.”
“I’ll be damned,” McCoy said. “I think you’ve found her.”
Chapter Eighteen
The snow ended, just as all snows do, though the temperature remained well below freezing and the sky was dark and overcast. The people of Shallow Springs, having descended from the hearty folk who had settled the land centuries ago, set about the task of digging themselves out and resuming their everyday activities. Unless those activities involved actual travel, which was still virtually impossible.
John Talbot leaned against the station’s entrance door and gazed out into the frosty morning. He, like the others, was operating purely on caffeine and sheer stubbornness. Though his body cried for sleep, he knew he couldn’t give in to the temptation.
If they didn’t end this by sundown, someone else would die.
John turned and walked over to McCoy, who sat slumped behind a computer. The handler had removed his straw hat and his graying hair was frazzled, giving him the look of an eccentric and completely mad evil scientist. Or perhaps a college professor.
“I don’t suppose she’ll simply go away now that the snow has stopped?” John asked, yawning.
McCoy shook his head. “She’ll vanish when the snow melts, according to legend. And I don’t think it’s in danger of melting anytime soon.”
“Any luck tracking down the remains?”
“Nope. There’s no record of a Harumi Kimura being buried anywhere in the county. It doesn’t make sense, though. I’m certain she’s the person we’re looking for.”
“What about records from Japan?”
“Well, for one thing, they’re in Japanese, which none of us read or write fluently. That means we have to run everything through a translator on the computer, and that takes a while. Besides that, the information itself is sketchy. Remember, this was only fourteen years after the Second World War. The Japanese infrastructure was being rebuilt.”
John sighed. “Okay, so let’s say we aren’t able to locate the remains. Then what? Will knowing her name do us any good? I mean, is there any way to use it to our advantage?”
“Knowing the name of a demon or demi-god gives you power over the entity. Not so much with spirits which were once human, though every bit of information helps.”
“You’re not very encouraging.”
“I’m just telling it like it is. And while I’m thinking of it, have one of your boys run down to Tucker’s and have him load up a couple dozen shotgun shells with rock salt.”
“Would that kill the Yuki-Onna?” John asked hopefully.
“Hardly. The spirit would simply dissipate and reappear somewhere else. But it could save our bacon in a pinch.”
“What’s the deal with salt and ghosts, anyway?”
“Salt dispels negative energy. That’s why the Yuki-Onna couldn’t pass through the circle last night. She’s formed from negative energy. Most spirits are, since they’re tied to this plane because of something negative—a violent death, regret…stuff like that.”
“I’ve been thinking about something else,” John said hesitantly.
“And what might that be?”
John lowered his voice. “The fairy fire. I used it to thaw Katie Daniels’ body. If I could get close enough, do you think—″
“I think you’d get your ass frozen into a meat pop, you big lug,” McCoy hissed, leaning forward. “Don’t even think about it. Neither of us know the fire’s capabilities or limitations. Besides, she’d never let you get close enough to grab her, assuming that you even could grab her. She’s a spirit, remember?”
“It was just a thought,” John said sheepishly.
“Well, unthink it. It’s not a viable option.”
“Consider it unthunk.”
“What are you boys whispering about?” Amanda came walking over and perched herself on the corner of McCoy’s desk. “Planning another picnic with the Fey?”
“No more powwows with the fairies unless you’re invited,” McCoy said. “Scout’s honor.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“How are the hands?” John asked.
“Better. Deidre found some first aid ointment, and I popped a couple of pain relievers. I suspect they’ll be sore for a while, though.”
“No doubt. If I were you, I’d leave all the housework and cooking to the redneck here for at least a week. Maybe two.”
“Who’re you calling a redneck, you donut-eating mall cop?” McCoy said with mock indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m a hillbilly. There’s a distinct difference.”
“Now boys,” Amanda said. “Play nice or I’ll have to separate you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said. He turned to McCoy. “I’ll get Gabe Hillman to run down to Tucker’s gun shop. Can you think of anything else we might need?”
“Not off hand. Except maybe a biscuit from Mary Lou’s.”
“You really are a bottomless pit,” John said as he walked away.
McCoy looked at Amanda. “What? I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“I didn’t say a word,” Amanda said as she rose and walked back to her own computer.
McCoy rubbed his eyes and stared at the computer’s monitor. He had the nagging feeling that he was overlooking a key piece to the puzzle. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but he was sure he’d overlooked something. Something which may have seemed trivial at the time, but which was actually the answer they were seeking.
For the life of him, though, he couldn’t think of what that something might be. He was certain that Harumi Kimura was the Yuki-Onna. But if he was right, how did her remains come to be in Shallow Springs, and why? And why had she never before appeared? It wasn’t like it had never snowed in the Springs before, though admittedly this was the most accumulation McCoy himself had ever seen.
So it was possible that it was the sheer size of the storm that had awakened the spirit. It was as likely of an explanation as anything else he could think of. But it did nothing to explain how she got there in the first place. There was no evidence that Harumi had any relatives living in the area; in fact, they had not been able to determine any connection at all between the dead woman and Shallow Springs.
Then why was she here? Even in the supernatural world, things seldom happened randomly. There had to be a reason.
In the middle of a yawn, it occurred to him that there was a question they weren’t asking. Harumi Kimura had perished in a snowstorm in 1959. So had her young son. But what about the boy’s father? As far as McCoy knew, it usually took both a man and a woman to make a child, so there had to be a father somewhere. But none of the articles or other information they’d researched so far had mentioned him.