by Indi Martin
“How big is Lykens?”
“It’s not exactly a glittering metropolis,” she chuckled. “Population of about 1400.”
Morgan considered this. “Small enough to notice outsiders. Someone might have seen the guys on the video.”
Charlie nodded. “We’ll probably have to stay in Grantville. I only found a little bed and breakfast in Lykens, and it’s already booked.”
“Seriously?” Morgan laughed. “Unit 12 can access anywhere, anytime, take over local cases like you did ours, and you can’t get us a place in town because someone is vacationing?”
She shrugged. “I could, I’m sure, but there are hotels about 15 miles away. I don’t see the need to inconvenience them, especially since the place we’re looking for is thirty minutes away from Lykens anyway.”
“That’s awfully considerate,” ribbed Morgan. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Charlie stuck her tongue out at him, playfully, and again Morgan was reminded of the incredible shift in her attitude towards him since his arrival.
“So what about the house? Any information on it?”
She clicked back to the maps. “Well, I don’t have architectural plans or anything. But the information I could find puts it roughly here.” She pointed to a tiny road in the middle of the gamelands.
“When did Esther pass away?”
“1980.”
Doing a quick calculation in his head, Morgan whistled. “She lived in reclusion for 28 years after her husband died? That’s unusual, isn’t it? How old was she?”
“Not terribly sure. Either 91 or 92. Some people from First Baptist would check on her, run out groceries and canned goods, you know, good samaritan stuff. They did that every month or so, and one month, they found her dead, lying in her bedroom. Her birthday was December 12, so she may have celebrated it before she passed away, but they didn’t specify.”
“Was her obituary all read-between-the-lines-y too?”
“No, it was pretty straightforward, here.” She pulled it up and they read it together. “See? No children, no living relatives as far as the obit goes.” She shrugged. “Just an old lady in an old house that died of old age.”
Morgan’s playfulness evaporated, and his countenance sobered. “That’s really kind of sad.”
“Yes, it is,” replied Charlie softly. “But I like to think she danced naked in that house every day to spite her dead, abusive husband for all twenty-eight years.”
“Now it’s creepy and sad, thanks.”
“That’s not creepy. That’s freedom.” She stretched and stifled a yawn. “I need some food. Care to join me for lunch?”
“Nah, I should go update Gina and pack my stuff. I assume you’re wanting to leave soon?”
Charlie looked hurt for a moment, and Morgan furrowed his brow in confusion. “Um, yes, I’d like to head out later this afternoon, or evening if you need more time. Get an early start on everything tomorrow. If that’s alright.”
“That’s… fine,” replied Morgan, picking up on her change in tone. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, not at all!” she chirped, and Morgan knew false cheer when he heard it. He ran back the conversation, looking for clues he’d missed.
“Alright, I’ll see you later then,” he said, slowly. “Text me the time you want us to meet and I’ll let Gina know.”
“Yep,” replied Charlie flatly, waving her hand limply at him as she left the office.
Man, thought Morgan. I’m a detective and I still can’t figure these women out. Good luck to regular men. He shook his head bemusedly and exited the office as well.
25
Zipping up her suitcase, she rolled it over to the wall beside the door, going through her mental checklist. As far as Gina could tell, she was ready, and in record time. This was good, as there was something important she needed to do before they left.
Closing - and locking - her front door, she began the winding path toward the offices, lost in thought as her feet followed the road automatically. She hadn’t meant to touch Morgan’s mind, she hadn’t even realized she was reaching out to it, and that bothered her deeply. What she had found there, she’d been entirely unprepared for; an aching lust that rocked her backwards, imbuing her body with feelings she wasn’t sure she wanted to have. Maybe he’s just hard up, she thought, smiling wryly to herself, but she knew it wasn’t the whole truth. There was warmth, caring, and need all bundled together in the hot waves of thought that she’d tapped into, the need a red, pulsing beat beneath the more delicate strands of emotion. For a moment, she’d felt an unnervingly deep synchronicity between them, their beats matching in a drum that threatened rational thought, a throbbing tide washing away the walls of her defenses as if they’d been made of sand. The connection had felt too natural, too easy, and she shook her head to clear it. Regardless of what unexpected and confusing delights she may have found, the fact that she’d forged the connection unasked, uninvited, and without conscious thought made her think of Victor’s stern warnings and rang alarm sirens in her mind. The brisk air felt too cold against her face, and she knew she was blushing a deep red.
She burst into the offices at a near run, beelining to Victor’s lab. She needed some answers, and some help.
“Ah, good morning, Ms. Gina!” Victor beamed at her from across the room, taking Gina off-guard as she suddenly remembered the previous night’s events, obscured by the more recent confusion.
“Back to the ‘Ms.’ again, are we?” She lowered herself into one of the office chairs and concentrating on breathing, the cold air still burning in her lungs.
“I think it may be best,” he replied apologetically.
“I know you talked to Snyder,” she started, and Victor winced.
“I apologize, Ms. Gina. I was worried for you, and last night proved to me that perhaps I could not help you in the way that you need.”
“I don’t care that you did,” she said, but cocked her head at him. “Wait, what do you mean? Charlie seems fine, and you seem fine. No harm, no foul.”
“It is unpredictable, and I try to avoid unpredictable things,” he answered slowly. “When a creature is hurt, their instincts can overcome logic, or morals. My instincts are not compatible with your best interests.”
“You were fine,” she argued. “You didn’t do anything.”
Victor dropped his eyes as he sat in the chair across the office from her. “No. This time was lucky. The next time may not be.”
“But they all know now,” she said, unwilling to lose his help. “It wouldn’t happen again.”
“Gina,” he sighed, still not meeting her eyes, although she noticed that he had dropped the honorific. “I know we have not spoken much of it, but I know you know what I am.”
“Sure,” she replied softly.
“I have tried very hard to come to terms with my curse,” he continued. Gina leaned closer to hear his low words. “I did not know what I was accepting, it wasn’t offered as a curse, but as a blessing. A reward. Though I should have seen that I was not the sort of man who deserved any other reward than the one I received. I spent many, many years as no more than an animal, hating myself and those that did this to me. It was a hard time.” He looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since she came in. “I did not live, I merely survived. I relished in the hunt, relished that I was set above mortal men, a feeder of prey. I did not need to kill, but I did so, more often than not. A trail of women that could circle the earth, if laid beside one another. I was careless, and carefree, a creature of pure instinct.” He shook his head, and she felt his silver eyes inside her head, feeding her flashing images of corpses in quick succession. She blinked, trying to stop it, but her walls were not strong enough, and her mouth dropped in silent horror as they continued unabated. All women, she noted, trying and failing to distance herself from the images. “I remember every face,” he continued in a whisper. “Every one. Even then, at my lowest low, something in me was kind enough t
o at least remember them.”
Gina gasped as he shut off the flow of memories, clutching at her stomach and doubling over. “That was… not necessary,” she panted.
“But it was,” he answered. “You only know me as I am now, but you must understand that the lower me, the creature, is still here as well. He is inescapable, no matter how many layers of earth I may bury him beneath. He is still here.” Gina felt his hand on her shoulder and winced away from his touch. He nodded and smiled softly, rolling his chair away from her. “That is the correct reaction. I am a monster.”
“No you’re not,” she whispered. “I know you, you’re not a monster. You could have done something awful last night, and you didn’t. You came back here.”
“How do you know?”
Gina looked up at him, horrified, and his face was warm and sad. “You didn’t…” she began, but couldn’t finish the sentence.
“No, I didn’t,” he answered, and his eyes were heavy with an ancient sadness. “But I could have, and that is why I avoid unpredictable situations. I’m sorry, Ms. Gina. It is dangerous for you, and I would never forgive myself.”
“You’re just trying to scare me away,” she bristled, drawing herself up straight. “Last night was a fluke, and even then, you did exactly what you were supposed to do. You may have been a monster, once upon a time, but you aren’t that thing any longer.”
Victor frowned in disapproval. “You are wrong. And your defenses are terrible. I sliced through them last night so easily a child could have done it.” He sighed. “But I suppose I appreciate your faith in me, though I hope you never have to come to grips with how misplaced it is.”
“This isn’t even why I came,” snapped Gina. “I need your help.”
“I have grown accustomed to hearing those words from you, Ms. Gina.” His tone was sarcastic, but his eyes were soft. “What is it?”
“We’re leaving soon, on a mission.”
“Oh?”
“I know my walls are awful.” She buried her head in her hands, frustrated. “I KNOW they are. I know I can do better. But I don’t have time. I need something to regulate it for me.”
“Regulate?”
“Yeah. Like something that if I hold it, it will prevent my telepathy. Suppress it. So I don’t make the connections automatically.” Her lip trembled slightly and she bit it sharply, frustrated with the feelings that bubbled up from within her.
He whistled softly. “What happened?”
Unwilling to voice her offense, she merely projected her visit from Morgan and watched his eyes grow wide. “I… see.” He stood and paced, and she felt her face grow hot again, embarrassed to share such a private moment in its entirety.
“I don’t want that, I don’t want to invade people like that. I shouldn’t know those things, and now I do, and it sucks.” She spat this last word out, frustration with herself boiling over. “How can I look at him the same way again?”
Victor paused in his pacing and pursed his lips. “You may not like this, Ms.Gina, but is it possible that you were projecting your own feelings onto him?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
He raised his eyebrow back. “You know what I mean.”
Her face flushed even deeper, and she longed to go outside in the cool air. This was unbearable to her. She didn’t like discussing her emotions with anyone, but this was as personal as they came. “No way. Those weren’t mine.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is sometimes difficult to tell.”
She blew a raspberry at him, at a loss for what else to do.
“But, I see what you mean. Whether you were projecting or not,” he continued unabated past her grumbles, “you did forge a connection, and I see you didn’t mean to do so. That is also dangerous, for you and for those around you. Some people keep secrets that are important to be kept. It is wrong for you to draw them out without permission.”
“I never have that problem with you,” she frowned. He looked at her, surprised.
“You really are something,” he commented, shaking his head in disbelief. “I constantly feel you probing around in my mind for memories to explore.”
“I do not!” she defended vehemently.
“I know that you do not mean to do it, but you do. Some sessions I spend more time blocking off paths than I do teaching you anything.” He looked past her. “It is frustrating.”
Gina blinked in surprise. He’s not joking, she thought to herself, anxiety bubbling up within her. He means it. I do. “I don’t mean to,” she said in a small voice. “I swear I don’t. I don’t even know I’m doing it.”
“And that makes you almost as dangerous as I am,” he replied sadly. “Perhaps more dangerous. At least I am aware of my monster.”
Her anxiety grew into despair. “Please, you have to help me. I’m about to be stuck with my coworkers in small quarters for… I don’t know. Could be a day, could be a month. I can’t keep the walls up. I’m just not strong enough.”
“You are plenty strong enough. You just do not want to restrict yourself, not yet.”
“Yes, I do!” she begged. “I really, really do!”
“Your actions speak louder than your words, no matter how loudly you yell,” admonished Victor. Grimacing, he walked to his desk. “I am not sure how to help you.”
Gina searched her mind for answers. “What about the talisman? The amulet? Can it help me?”
“Oh yes,” chuckled Victor. “It certainly can.”
Buoyed by his answer, she clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Then please, let me borrow it again. Just for this mission. I’ll give it right back. If it can help me suppress the connections…”
“It has proven too dangerous already,” he replied. “Or have you forgotten?” He projected her images of the shadow beasts back to her, and she winced.
“I won’t sleep with it,” she vowed. “Just when I’m awake.” She took a deep breath. “Snyder can help me with my sleep.”
Victor remained silent, searching her face with his silver eyes for longer than she could stand the silence. “When will you be leaving?” he finally asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure, but he seemed to think it would be soon. Tonight or tomorrow would be my guess.”
“Then we will work on defenses today, until you leave,” he announced. His tone carried a finality that she didn’t care for.
“But…” she started, and a glare from him cut off her sentence.
“We will work on your walls, today, Ms. Gina,” he repeated. “And I will give you the talisman for your journey.”
“Thank you!” she breathed, delighted.
“You may thank me when you return to me, safe, and drop it back into my hand,” he replied. “For I do not know if I am handing you a blessing, or a curse. Now, concentrate. We will work hard.”
26
“I think we should try to leave,” tried Chris again, too accustomed to speaking those words. Nathan had been virtually unresponsive for a very long time now, staring into the dwindling light of the last candle as it sputtered against its curling wick. His nose had stopped bleeding, but the front of him was covered in dried blood. Chris took him by the shoulders and shook him slightly, repeating himself.
Finally, Nathan looked up a him, his swollen eyes bleary with shed tears. “They’re all really dead,” he whispered.
Sighing in relief, Chris nodded. “Yes, they are,” he said. “And I don’t want us to join ‘em. Let’s try to get out.”
“I can’t do this, Chris,” he breathed, his entire body tense with fear, his voice shaking with exhaustion. “Why did any of this happen?”
“Look, I don’t know. Maybe we’ll never know. I don’t really care to know. I just want us to get out of here, alive, together. Okay?”
“I really thought this place was perfect for the shoot, I really did.” Nathan looked back up at him. “Do you really think this is all Luke’s fault? For what he did to Melissa?”
>
Chris blew out a breath in frustration. “I have no fucking clue, Nathan. None. Zip. All I know is that we need to get out.” To his surprise and elation, Nathan nodded his agreement.
“Melissa said we were gonna die,” he commented weakly as he struggled to his feet.
Chris flinched from the memory of what had happened to Luke, glancing over nervously at the still bundles of fur near the ladder to scan for movement. “No she didn’t,” he replied. “She said she was sorry for what was gonna happen to us. Maybe that meant us getting out of here and having to live with it for the rest of our lives.”
Nathan shuddered. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Get up,” commanded Chris. “Just get up. We’re going to get out, I promise.”
“You can’t know that.”
“You can’t know we won’t.”
Nathan considered this and nodded. “That’s true, I guess. What’s the plan?”
Chris breathed deeply through his nose and considered their options. “I think we should try this window. We’re both skinny enough to fit through,” he said, pointing at the small cellar window. “Look, we can stand on these crates and wriggle out.”
“Then what?”
“Then, whatever. I dunno. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Chris half-smiled at Nathan. “It’s better than staying here in the dark.” The last candle flickered, as if in argument, but still managed to shed its dim light. Chris thought they only had a few minutes left before even that snuffed itself out, and he held on to the tiny light in his mind as tightly as he could, their hope of survival seeming to be encapsulated within the small, unsteady flame. Convinced Nathan would accompany him, he began stacking crates under the window.
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Nathan, not sounding entirely convinced, but he shuffled over and began to help.
“Look, we can use this,” said Chris, hope growing in his chest as he spotted a crowbar lying against the wall, behind where two of the crates had been. He grabbed it and leapt gracefully up the crates, smashing through the window and dragging the bar across the frame to dislodge the broken pieces.
