ShadowsintheMist

by Maureen McMahon

  I pushed my way through the tangle of boughs, bruising the needles so the heavy scent of pine filled my nostrils. I felt for the gap in the rails and, finally finding it, squeezed gingerly through. It wasn’t as easy as I remembered and my shirtfront caught and ripped. At this point, however, I didn’t care. The thought of familiar surroundings and a tub full of warm, soothing bubbles left no room for trivial concerns.

  After struggling through more bushes on the other side, I came out in the clearing, only steps from my parents’ graves. It was too dark to see much of anything but I was able to find the two markers without much searching. I paused there—drawn—wanting comfort but finding only cold marble. I was relieved that the mystery was solved but I still struggled to accept that the man I once intended to marry murdered my father and his own father, seriously injured my friend and contributed to the death of my mother. I took a gasping gulp to stem rising tears. If I let myself cry, I was afraid I’d never stop.

  I turned to go but a small sound caught my attention and I hesitated, listening. There was only the incessant rustle of wind in long grass and the dull rush of distant surf. It might have been an owl or some small night creature scouring the underbrush. I scanned the forest beyond. The trees rose black against black and I remembered the dark figure I’d seen silhouetted against the edge of the tree line the day Rudy told me of his dream. I shivered. The sooner I got back to the house, the better!

  I took only one step before I heard footsteps running up behind me. I whirled just as a huge, shapeless hulk burst out of the bushes. I opened my mouth to scream but it launched itself at me and drove me backward. I fell and, as I hit the ground, my neck snapped back and lights exploded in my head. Blackness descended.

  I made my way down to the lighthouse. I stood at its base and looked up. The moon shone brightly and the clouds skidded recklessly across the sky. At the top, a woman leaned over the parapet. She was wearing a long white gown and her hair streamed out in the night wind. I felt a desperate urgency to reach her but I looked down and discovered my feet were sinking rapidly into the sand. I tried to pull them out but they sank even faster until I was mired up to my knees.

  I looked at the woman and she lifted an arm to hail me. At the same time, I saw a dark figure come up behind her, arms outstretched. I opened my mouth to scream but it was too late. The woman tumbled out and over the low wall, falling in slow motion toward the black, glinting rocks.

  But it wasn’t my mother tumbling to her death. This time, the woman was me.

  I must not have been unconscious for long. When I woke, it was still pitch dark and I could feel damp grass under my back. My head throbbed and I groaned involuntarily.

  “Get up!” The command was hissed but I knew who it was. My heart began to beat wildly.

  “David?”

  “Get up,” he insisted again and this time he pulled me roughly to my feet. I swayed and would have fallen but he caught me and held me against him, propping me up like a lifeless puppet.

  He was wet. I could feel the cold moisture of his clothing and water dripped from the end of his nose as he peered into my face. I tried to focus but his features were blurred and distorted.

  Without further hesitation, he dragged me over to the deeper darkness of the forest and dropped me with a thud onto the hard, prickly ground. He squatted down beside me and waited as my head slowly stopped spinning and the throbbing behind my eyes abated to a dull ache. When I was able to focus properly, I could just make out his face. It was pale, too pale. His hair was matted and his lips were blue. His eyes flicked about wildly and I knew right away it would be useless to try to reason with him. This wasn’t a man. This was a cornered animal.

  He must have seen my expression, for he grabbed me by the hair and thrust the cold barrel of a gun hard against my throat. “Not a word!” he said. “You scream and you die. Understand?”

  I nodded dumbly, unable to summon enough saliva to swallow.

  He released me but kept the gun pointed steadily at my head.

  “You were very lucky to have escaped my little fire,” he said. “You must be more resourceful than I’ve given you credit for. But I’m glad you did, Suzanna, because now you’re going to help me get out of here. If you do everything I say, you may even live to tell the tale. Do you understand?”

  I nodded again.

  “Good,” he said. “First of all, we’re going to get your car. I’m going to hide in the back while you drive me to the marina. Once I get to the plane, I’ll be as good as free. If anyone stops you or asks any questions, you’ll tell them you’re going to the hospital to have those nasty cuts better tended to. Any questions?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t speak. I was shivering uncontrollably and my throat had constricted.

  He smiled, a cruel grimace. “I like you like this, Suzanna—nice and obedient. If you’re a real good girl, I might even take you with me. Now, get up!”

  He jerked me roughly to my feet. I reeled dizzily but stumbled forward where he shoved me, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other, feeling the icy eye of the gun staring at the point blank target of my back.

  It wasn’t too difficult making our way to the garage without being seen. We followed the topiary maze, keeping well away from any sounds of voices or footsteps. Once or twice, he pushed me roughly to my knees when something sounded particularly close but it took relatively little time to gain the shelter of the hedgerow behind the house, then the shadows at the rear of the garage. If I’d been able to think clearly, I’d have realized no one would be looking for him here. Grant, Pauline and the rest of the FBI would be scouring the beach and dunes around Spindrift, assuming he would head there first. The security guards we hired were helping Colin and Alicia round up guests. As it was, my mind was a blank. I did as he directed and that was all.

  We entered the garage from the rear. It was dark but I could see all four vehicles lined up. I got into the driver’s seat of my own car and waited, shaking, as David climbed into the back. He curled up on the floor and pulled a tartan travel rug over himself. I didn’t bother to wonder what would happen if my keys weren’t in the ignition. I merely waited until he told me to start the engine and did so. I pushed the remote button to open the garage door and backed the car out.

  I wasn’t prepared for the glare of floodlights. They made my head begin to spin again and I fumbled with the gear shift, trying to find first, hearing the cogs grind painfully. Suddenly, there was a tap at the window.

  “Remember what I said,” David hissed.

  I rolled down the window and tried to smile at the guard’s face peering in at me.

  “You goin’ somewhere, Miss…er…Mrs. Fenton?”

  “Yes,” I croaked. I coughed. “Yes,” I said, more clearly. “I’m… uh…going to the hospital. Just want to get a tetanus shot. The paramedic suggested it.”

  He peered at me, his brows furrowed, then he nodded. “Probably a good idea. You don’t look too good. Would you like someone else to drive you?”

  “No!” The word came out too high-pitched. “Sorry, uh…John, is it?”

  “Roger, ma’am.”

  “Oh. Roger. Sorry, I’m a bit on edge, that’s all.” I laughed, a sick, grotesque parody. “I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.”

  I didn’t give him time to say any more but put the car into gear and drove off. The blood was thumping so loudly in my ears I barely heard the hammer of David’s gun click back into its resting place.

  The guard at the gate waved me through and, without further delay, we were on the road, flying toward Ludington. David threw the blanket off and sat up. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror and saw that his shirt was torn and his right arm was bloodied at the shoulder.

  “You’ve been shot,” I said dispassionately.

  “Yeah. That woman, Darla—bitch! I should have known.” He flexed the shoulder and I saw him grimace. “Nothing serious. Just keep driving.”

  I turned my eyes back to the road
. There were no other cars. I put the headlights on high beam and…he was there, right in front of the car, standing stock-still in the middle of the road. Without thinking, I slammed my foot on the brake and the car screeched out of control. With tires squealing, we careened sideways. The steering wheel jerked in the opposite direction, snapping my wrist and throwing my hands off. As if in slow motion, the trees loomed up. The car rose on one side and flipped onto its roof. The headlights went out and darkness engulfed us.

  I was conscious. My seatbelt saved me from serious harm but I couldn’t move. I hung suspended in the vehicle, aware of the whir of the tires and the unusual angle of the sky. Inexplicably, through the cracked windshield, I saw Kong. He was upside down and his yellow eyes bored into mine as though trying to tell me something.

  “Get out, Suzie!” It was Grant. He had the door open and was grappling with my seatbelt. Still, I couldn’t move. I was frozen. My limbs weren’t my own. I felt the belt come loose and Grant pulled me out. Then, I was in his arms and we were moving away from the car, out onto the road.

  I was aware of red and blue lights and fuzzy figures dancing at the corners of my eyes. I was being cocooned in soft blankets and closed my eyes to savor their warmth.

  The last thing I remember was Grant’s voice saying, “It’s all right, Suzanna. I’m here now. You’ll be all right.” And my own distant voice responding, “Call me Suzie. I like it when you call me Suzie.”

  Epilogue

  The knowledge that you cannot have is inexhaustible,

  and what is inexhaustible is benevolent.

  The knowledge that you cannot have is of the riddles of birth and death,

  of our future destiny and the purposes of God.

  Here there is no knowledge,

  but illusions that restrict freedom and limit hope.

  Accept the mystery behind knowledge:

  It is not darkness but shadow.

  Northrop Frye, 1988 Address, Metropolitan United Church, Toronto

  “I still love it up here,” I said.

  I was sitting on High Dune. Grant sat beside me, his arms wrapped around his knees, his blue eyes crinkled against the afternoon glare. It was cold despite the brightness of the sun. There would be snow soon. Even now, flat gray clouds lined the horizon ominously. I huddled in my warm parka, a soft woolen cap pulled over my ears.

  “I feel privileged,” Grant said.

  I looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

  He smiled. “I’ve never been up here. This is the first time you’ve invited me.”

  I leaned my head against his shoulder and he automatically put his arm around me and pulled me closer. “I’m glad you’re here now,” I said.

  We were quiet, enjoying the peace. I gazed down at the burned-out ruins that were once the lighthouse. Surprisingly, most of the main structure still stood but it was charred and blackened and parts of the upper walls were caved in. I shuddered, thinking back to that night.

  David was killed in the crash. Without a seatbelt, he didn’t stand a chance. His neck was broken when the car flipped.

  “How did you arrive so quickly?” I murmured.

  Grant must have been remembering too. “The accident happened just past Spindrift,” he said. “I saw your car go by and knew you wouldn’t be out joyriding, so I grabbed one of the officers and we got there just as you went off the road. By the way,” he asked, pulling his head back to get a better look at my face, “why did you lose control?”

  I smiled up at him sheepishly. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  I hesitated. “I saw Dad. He was standing there—right in front of the car.”

  Grant considered this for some moments. “When we got there,” he finally said, “the cat was sitting in the middle of the road—Kong. He ran off toward your car.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I saw him afterward! I saw him through the windshield. I remember thinking he looked silly upside down.” I turned to look up at him. “Grant,” I asked earnestly, “do you believe in the supernatural?”

  He thought for a moment. “If you’d asked me that six months ago,” he said, “I’d have said no. But given everything that’s happened…”

  I smiled and snuggled more closely into his embrace. “Will you mind being married to someone who, as Madam Valenia puts it, is ‘receptive to messages from the other side’?”

  Grant chuckled. “Certainly not. As long as that someone is receptive to this.”

  He kissed me then, with a tenderness that made me melt inside, his lips searching, his arms warm—comforting. I kissed him back with all the love and passion that I’d kept hidden for so long, my joy so intense it made me giddy.

  And from somewhere nearby, at the periphery of my senses, I heard the sound of a cat purring.

  About the Author

  Maureen McMahon was born and raised in Michigan, but now lives on a small farm in Victoria, Australia. Likened in style to Mary Stewart and Barbara Michaels, she’s published numerous short fiction pieces as well as novels and anthologies. A graduate of Western Michigan University, and honored in 2001 as one of eleven noteworthy alumni, she teaches at Writer’s Digest’s online school, Writer's Online Workshops.

  She finds inspiration and support from her husband, two children, four cats and black labrador. Voted one of the top 100 best websites for writers by Writer’s Digest, 2006, Moonspinners Writer’s Page is Maureen’s personal website.

  The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Also by Maureen McMahon

  Enchanted Holidays anthology

  One Touch Beyond anthology

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