by Liliana Hart
Rachel plunked into a sitting position then slid in after him. The water came up to her knees, cold enough to make her bones ache. Mud sucked at her Keds.
They slogged deep into the cattails, the drying leaves and moth-eaten heads waving several feet above. Once far enough in that they could no longer see the boardwalk, Nate finally stopped.
For a moment, both of them just breathed. Then he turned to her and extended the trident.
“Take this.”
She did. The scrap of silk came next and two of the three nails. He slid the third into his pocket.
Rachel frowned. “What are you—”
“Shh. Stay low. They shouldn’t be able to spot you here, and there’s no way a police department this small has dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“No dogs. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about dogs. Where are you going?”
“I’ll keep running, draw them past you. As soon as they pass, get back to land. You have only a few minutes before the stroke of midnight, and you have to consecrate the trident. Just read the passage from the book. Remember? Three times.”
“I remember. But can’t you do it? I’ve never—”
“You’ll be fine. The words don’t have to be exact, you just have to believe in them. Concentrate on Josh. Focus each word on saving Josh.”
She could do that. “What happens if they catch you?”
“They won’t.”
“But if they do?”
“I’m too fast. Too smart. I’ll meet you back at the school. Make sure you cover the trident with the silk so it holds its power. We won’t uncover it until we find Josh.”
“I remember.”
“We’re going to get Josh. I’ll be there. I promise.”
Sticks cracked in the direction of the road followed by the sound of voices.
“I have to go.”
“Nate?” It was stupid and risky and they had no time, but she knew if she didn’t and something went wrong, she’d play this over and over in her head for the rest of her life.
“I have to—”
She grabbed his jacket and yanked him toward her, stretching up to plant her lips on his. The kiss was fast, a frantic second in time, but he tasted warm and strong.
“Go,” she said, her lips brushing the prickle of his chin.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“Go.”
And he plunged into the cattails as the thud of feet on the boardwalk echoed like approaching thunder.
Chapter Eleven
Nate fought through the cattails, cold water sloshing around his feet and soaking into his shoes. In his imagination, he could still detect the scent of Rachel’s skin, her hair, even above the earthy odor of swamp. Still feel the urgent pressure of her lips on his. Still taste the sweetness of her kiss.
He’d thought about kissing her many times, the caress of their lips long and sensuous, the setting romantic, a soft bed close by. But cold and hurried and up to their knees in muddy water was fine by him.
And if they could evade Bradley and the police, if they could get Josh away from the faery, if he could keep Rachel safe, then maybe they’d get another chance.
He reached the boardwalk, grabbing the side, the tremor of advancing footfalls vibrating through his hands. He prayed the trail he’d cut into the swamp and out wasn’t noticeable in the darkness. But if he worked hard enough to draw their pursuers away, maybe it wouldn’t matter.
Jumping, he swung himself onto the planks then scrambled to his feet and made as much noise as possible running for all he was worth.
Chapter Twelve
Rachel listened to the stampede of feet go by, first Nate, then what she figured were two men, Bradley and an officer, no doubt.
That left only the police chief unaccounted for, unless more officers had arrived.
Rachel checked her watch. Mere minutes left now. She had to reach a place she could set the trident, something akin to the altar-like arrangement Nate had set up in the house.
She could picture the spot.
The police chief hadn’t been the only citizen of Lake Loyal all over the news in the past year. There was also the killer, of course, but the person Rachel had in mind was one of the victims.
She paused a few seconds until the stampede had cleared, then she waded to the boardwalk and climbed on board. Water pooled on the wood and mud squished from her shoes with each step. The night had been cold before. Now it was icy. Her muscles jerked in a shiver, and from the knees down, her legs were numb.
Half way down the boardwalk, just past the point she and Nate had descended to it, the wood planks widened into a sitting area, and in the center of that area was a bench.
Rachel laid the trident on the center of the bench, under the name plate of the deceased to whom it was dedicated, a woman named Kelly Ann Lund who had been found drowned in Lake Loyal. She arranged the nails on either side, checked her watch, and opened the faery book.
Moonlight glinted off the trident’s blade and fell on the pages of the book, forming a golden halo around the words. Rachel took a deep breath, and when the digital read out on her phone changed to midnight, she started to read.
Infinite and eternal light,
Consecrate this magical armament
So that it may banish the shadows of malevolence,
Illuminate and shield its wielder,
And protect… my son.
She repeated the chant three times, then following the instructions, she held the trident aloft, tines pointing to the sky. The metal glowed, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if it had taken on a light of its own, or was merely reflecting the bluish light of the moon.
All she could say was that whatever magic this thing was supposed to have, she hoped it worked.
She covered it with the silk bag. The nails she slipped back into her jacket pockets along with her cell phone. Guided only by the moonlight, she headed up the boardwalk steps to the school.
Instead of taking the circuitous route along the edge of the neighborhood, she cut across the road and headed straight for the building. The still-green blades of grass sparkled in the moonlight and crunched under her cold, soggy Keds. She circled to the wing she’d entered earlier, and just as she rounded the corner, she spotted a figure standing on the asphalt basketball court.
She was dressed in a dark coat, only the blond glow of her hair giving her away. Where the others had pursued, Police Chief Ryker had stayed, waiting for their return. Rachel wasn’t sure how much the chief knew about what was going on or if she believed any of it, but she’d guessed the school was at the center and had laid her trap like a cunning spider.
Rachel ducked behind the cinderblock wall, out of the police chief’s sight. When the chief didn’t move from her spot, Rachel backtracked to the last entrance she’d passed. She scanned the darkness, looking for some sign of Nate.
Had he been delayed? Or worse, caught?
Where was he?
For several minutes, she stood there, listening as hard as she could over the rasp of her own breath, the beat of her pulse in her ears, and ring of Nate’s words in her head.
We’re going to get Josh. I’ll be there. I promise.
Was he cornered? Captured? Killed?
Her legs felt weak, as if they couldn’t hold her weight. She’d already lost Steven. Now would she lose Nate? Would she lose Josh?
Rachel hugged the book tight, gripped the trident until her fingers were sore. She couldn’t fight some crazy faery who manipulated her mind all by herself, could she?
Did she even have a choice?
Rachel reached for the door handle, fumbling with the weight of the book. If she encountered the faery or the force that had pushed her into the toilet, she would never be able to fight back, not holding both book and trident.
She placed the book on the ground. Maybe it would act as a sign, let Nate know she was inside. That is, if Nate was still able to join her.
Trying
to wipe those negative thoughts from her mind and replace it with the image of Josh’s smiling brown eyes and tousled hair, she tried the door. Even though the police had checked all the doors earlier today, and they all had been locked as Gertie originally predicted, this one now opened easily under her hand, as if the entity was inviting her inside.
“Hold on, Josh. I’m coming, honey.” Steeling herself against the tremor that claimed her whole body, Rachel entered the school.
Chapter Thirteen
The hall was as it was supposed to be, hooks for coats, empty and still. Rachel moved quickly, scurrying from one classroom to the next, ducking her head inside, sweeping the space with her phone’s light, and calling out for Josh. She heard not a whisper in response, not until she reached Mrs. Edwards’ room, the class Josh had attended the year before.
A mischievous laugh tickled the gloom.
“Josh?” Rachel stepped into the middle of the room, raking aside the darkness with her beam.
When she’d been with the police earlier, the space had resembled a furniture store room. Yet now, the tables were arranged, chairs poised around them. Small cages sat on some tables, long plastic bins on others, and black counter tops rimmed the periphery, making the place look more like her freshman biology classroom than a colorful space for second graders. The place even smelled a little like formaldehyde.
What was going on?
Something moved near her feet. She swung the light downward, just as a toad hopped past.
First a mouse, now a toad?
Rachel had never been afraid of toads, not even after an obnoxious boy in biology class shoved one in her face in an attempt to scare her. He’d had more luck with the mouse he’d dropped down the back of her shirt.
Shaking away the scrambling sensation along her spine, she tucked the trident in the back waistband of her jeans, like some kind of gangster concealing a gun, and knelt down to take a closer look.
Josh loved toads. He’d collected them in the backyard several times in the past summer. And although she knew it was a stretch, she wanted to believe this one was a sign he was nearby.
One more hop, and she caught it, holding it gently behind the front legs. “So where did you come from?” She scanned the room. Her beam landed on a large aquarium filled with sand, branches, and… toads.
No way had that been there when she’d combed through the school with police. Either Josh had set it up, or it was only in her mind. It looked real enough, so how could she tell?
Rachel wasn’t supposed to uncover the trident, not until she found Josh, but she had to admit, she’d feel better if it was in her hand, ready to deploy. She started to reach for it when something tugged on her arm. She looked down at the toad staring up at her, his black eyes reflecting her light.
Another tug, closer to her wrist this time. She twisted her arm, shining her phone’s beam on the spot, and gasped.
Veins sprouted from the toad’s sides like limbs on a tree, snaked over the heel of her hand, and plunged into her skin, joining with her veins.
“Oh my God!” She released her grip on the creature and tried to shake him free. But the connection was secure.
This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a hallucination. She looked away, tried to clear her mind, then glanced back at her arm.
No change.
“Ahhhhhhh.” She shook hard, and some part of the amphibian ripped free. But when she raised her wrist to scrutinize the portion left, there wasn’t blood. Not a drop. Inside the toad was a dense yellow matter, like the yolk of a boiled egg.
She was going to be sick.
A sound came from behind her. Scratching. Skittering.
She swung her light around, focusing on a surge of white fur, pink eyes, and long, naked tails. The long bodies of rats, the tiny bodies of mice, a herd of vermin racing straight for her. She didn’t have a chance to move before claws were digging into her jeans, bodies climbing up her legs, inside her pant legs and out.
Rachel screamed and kicked out, trying to dislodge the scrambling bodies. Several flew, others dug in. She spun to run for the door.
A science bench blocked the way, one she swore was not there before. Unable to stop her momentum, she slammed into it, splaying her hands on the top, catching herself before her face hit the surface.
Something moved inches from her nose. It took a second for her to remember the phone light in her hand and adjust her focus, but when she did, she forgot about the mice and rats.
Tarantulas crept toward her across the black countertop, long-limbed and hairy.
Rachel couldn’t think, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything at all. She stumbled away, bounced into another bench, and raced for the door, rodents hanging on her legs, toad still attached to her wrist.
Even though she was sure she’d left the door open, it was now closed. The faery messing with her.
She grasped the knob and yanked, trying to turn it, fingers slipping. She had to get out. She couldn’t be stuck in here.
Please, please, please.
She pounded on the door. Rattled the knob. This wasn’t her son’s classroom, the one with Mrs. Edwards, the one he’d loved so much. It was a nightmare, straight out of her past, but worse than anything she’d lived through. And somehow she had to figure out a way to esca—
The knob turned. The door swung open.
Rachel staggered into the hall. The scurrying sound followed. She tripped, almost went down, recovered her footing, bracing herself on those odd steel lockers.
Steel lockers.
She grasped the hasp, opened a locker, and squeezed inside, pulling it shut. Hooks dug into her shoulders, the upper shelf inspiring a cramp in her neck. The trident jabbed into her back, and she pulled it out of her waistband to stop the pain.
The sound of scratching and squeaking reached a crescendo out in the hall. She fought to catch her breath, her whole body trembling, ready for the door to open and the flood of vermin to wash over her at any moment.
A minute passed. Then two.
The sounds faded, stopped. She hadn’t realized she’d been closing her eyes, not until she opened them, the glow from her phone illuminating the cramped space. She looked down at her legs, expecting to see mice clinging to her jeans, but they were gone. The toad was also gone, not a mark on her wrist, as if it had never been attached, as if it had never existed.
When Nate had told her they were dealing with a faery, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Even after finding the odd little trident and all the consecrating business, some part of her had refused to totally buy in. She’d gone along, because she trusted Nate. But if the cause of these hallucinations wasn’t paranormal, what was the alternative? That she was going crazy?
Whatever the cause, everything had felt so real. The hands forcing her head into the toilet, giving her a whirly in the school bathroom, the scrabbling rats and mice, the toad tapping into her circulatory system, the spiders…
She suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t let the wave of panic overtake her again. She had to think. The horror had ended when she closed herself in the locker. The locker had somehow protected her. The steel… It must be the steel…
Even if the lockers were real only in her mind?
Her phone light dimmed, the battery draining fast. If she was going to get out of here and find Josh, she needed to conserve power. She switched it to power saving mode, then turned off the light. She’d turn it back on once she was out in the hall.
Scooping in a few more breaths, Rachel pictured the hall outside, mapping the route to the library in her mind. If she moved as quickly as she could, if she focused on finding Josh, maybe she could reach him before her mind got the best of her.
Focus.
Focus.
She grasped the latch on the locker and lifted. It didn’t move.
Feelings washed over her, high school memories of being pushed into her locker and locked inside. Humiliation. Fear. She thumped the door hoping to unstick it, tried the latc
h again, but it was no use. She was stuck.
Another sound came from out in the hall.
Who was out there? Nate? More nightmares? Friend or faery?
Rachel leaned close to the locker’s ventilation slats and tried to see.
A sliver of light bobbed in the hall, highlighting dust on the once-polished floor. “Mrs. Meier?”
Rachel stifled a gasp.
“My name is Agent Bradley.”
Bradley. The one who was chasing them. The one who was after Nate.
I know you’re in one of these lockers, Mrs. Meier. I heard the door slam, the banging like you’re trapped. If you tell me which one, I can get you out.”
So Bradley could see the lockers now, too? Had the sound of her rattling the door been enough of a suggestion that his imagination had painted the rest of the picture?
“I can help you, Mrs. Meier. I’m with the IPPO. You’ve heard of it? The organization your husband worked for? I’m here looking for a man who calls himself Nathan Wells. I’d rather tell you the rest of the bad news to your face, if you don’t mind. Which locker are you in?”
Rachel didn’t answer. She’d never heard of this man until tonight, but it had been clear as a kick to the head that Nate didn’t trust him. Until Rachel knew more, she didn’t trust him either.
“All right. I understand your confusion. This whole thing has been a mess. I wanted to talk to you, tell you the whole truth, but apparently Wells got to you first. There’s a lot you don’t know about him. A lot I can explain. Can you hear me, Mrs. Meier? You’re not hurt, are you?”
Rachel didn’t answer. What was she going to say?
“Okay. I hate to tell you this under these circumstances, but there’s a pressing reason I’m here. My agency just uncovered some very disturbing information which I’ve turned over to the police, and I think you deserve to know the truth. It appears as though Nate Wells killed your husband, Steven. Pushed him off the bluffs surrounding Devil’s Lake. And…”
