Mercy's Magic (Mercedes Cruz #1)

by Day, P. J.

  Mercy heard a strange whisper from afar. “Do you hear that?” she asked Patterson.

  But Joe was watching the bizarre scene. The officers, the weapons. “What the hell is going on?”

  An FBI agent screamed and dropped his pistol. Followed by another. Chaos ensued as the weapons glowed more brightly and grew hotter and hotter to the touch.

  From behind the trains, Mercy and Joe watched as the FBI unit chief hollered for everyone to fall back. They did so without hesitation. And still Mercy could hear a whispering, a man’s voice, somewhere in the back of her mind.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. Block him out, woman, she told herself. It worked, a little.

  Then Joe stood and ran to help. She got up and followed him. The officers, marshals, and FBI agents and their plans had completely collapsed and had turned into a retreat. They ran and hid behind their vehicles, stunned as they stared blankly at their scorched palms.

  Mercy approached one of the men. He looked down at her in disbelief. “Look at my hands,” he moaned, although he had no idea who she was.

  She looked. His hands were covered with a black dust, burning into his skin. Mercy dared not touch him.

  Patterson called for help. “That’s affirmative,” he spoke into the receiver. “We need a hazmat team out here, and paramedics. About forty officers down. Possible radioactive poisoning. That’s right, and make it quick.”

  Weapons, still glowing, lay all over the lot surrounding the building. The whispering in Mercy’s mind was replaced with echoing laughter, and then like the silence that preceded the raid and that was now inundated with incoming sirens, it was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The dark early morning found Mercy and Joe in a donut shop, just hours after both were cleared of radiation exposure by hazmat. The other officers had been dispatched to burn centers for treatment and tested for radiation sickness.

  Mercy stirred her coffee, deep in thought, wondering where the whispering had come from. Surely whoever it was had enough raw energy to have created such havoc. She sensed power, dark power.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Joe commented, smiling.

  Mercy didn’t even hear him. All she heard was the laughter. She shivered.

  “Mercy.”

  She shook her head and looked up at him.

  “Is this the closest I’m going to come to a date with you?”

  “Joe, this is no time for…”

  “…I know, I know,” he said, cutting her off, realizing his misstep. “I’m just trying to get your attention. Tell me what you’re thinking. I can see those wheels turning inside that pretty head of yours.”

  Mercy smiled. She didn’t consider herself all that pretty. She wore little makeup, didn’t do a thing with her hair except put it in a bun or tie it in a ponytail, and she didn’t have time for mannies or peddies. Yet it was obvious to Mercy and everyone else that Joe was smitten.

  “I’m just wondering, as I presume you are, what the hell happened tonight?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like that. And I’ve seen a lot in my years with the service before I joined the department.”

  “I know you have.”

  “But something tells me you might understand a little better. Am I right?” He searched her eyes for the truth, but detected a slight hesitation—she was holding back something.

  “I don’t know exactly what caused that.” Mercy tried to be honest. “It was definitely bizarre. Obviously, there’s something more here than meets the eye, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do. And that’s why I’m asking you. You actually saw more than anyone else did through that window when you found the place. What do you think happened?”

  Mercy looked out the window of the donut shop. Few people were on the streets at this hour. A young couple, in running gear, passed by, arm in arm, oblivious to the radioactive event that took place just down the street by the railroad tracks. It was sweet, really. They were oblivious to everyone but each other. The woman was laughing at something her guy had just said. Mercy watched, envious of their simplicity.

  She turned to Joe. She couldn’t reveal her suspicions, that magic was at work here—black magic. Also, she couldn’t share with him that she herself was a witch who was learning the ins and outs of the craft. Not black magic, of course, but he’d think her a nut if she revealed who she was.

  “Like I said, I’m not sure, Joe. But while you guys regroup and are able to finally enter that building, I intend to do a little more investigating.”

  Joe shook his head. “Definitely not, Mercy. This will be all over the news by tomorrow, and for good reason. This has the signs of terrorism, perhaps a dirty bomb. It’s too dangerous for you.”

  “Since when do you tell me what to do?” Mercy’s voice cut a little deeper than she intended. She sighed. “Look, Joe, the department, the local bureau, and D.H.S. are overwhelmed at the moment. I saw the look in their eyes. I don’t have anyone to answer to. And I intend to find out exactly what’s going on. I got everyone into this mess. It’s my responsibility.”

  Joe placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If my superiors or someone above my jurisdiction asks for you, I have to tell them where you are and what your intentions are. You got me?” he said. “Don’t let the situation get too hairy before calling me. I’ll pick up, no matter what time. Promise?”

  Mercy rolled her eyes. “Deal,” she said.

  “Alright. I don’t want to read your name in the obits.”

  Mercy thought of Terra, at her father’s house, in angelic sleep. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “So, these guys.” Mercy said, gesturing toward the direction of the print shop, a few miles away where the area was still cordoned off and under investigation. “They fill a train car load of something, and send it down to Mexico?”

  The railroad engineer she was talking to was eating lunch, and hesitant to answer. It was hot outside, and he was sweating bullets. But she flashed him a charming, comforting smile.

  “It’s not my business to comment on freight contents,” he told her.

  “Well...I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

  “Jim,” he said simply. He obviously didn’t want to give out his last name.

  “Jim, I know you’re not supposed to talk about these things. But I’m a private investigator. I was working for a private party to find a missing person, who I think works at that plant. But have you heard about what happened there last night?”

  “Sure did. We weren’t sure whether it was safe for us to come to work today, but apparently the readings are saying its safe? But my co-worker he’s as much as a conspiracy nut as you’ll find, and he’s been blabbering about how there’s radiation for blocks on end and you guys are keeping that info private.”

  Mercy chuckled. “Listen, I was there last night, alright? They cleared my partner and I of any radiation sickness. I’m sure there…” Somewhere in the back of her mind came those whisperings again. They held a menacing tone, a warning. She deliberately shoved them away. Mercy shook her head and continued, “As I was saying, anything you say to me will be confidential. I promise you. You’ll be a source of information, that’s all. I don’t even want to know your last name.”

  His face started turning red—like a turnip. Mercy thought her imagination had a hand in distorting Jim’s flesh-tones. He kept nodding, though, took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with soda.

  “Now, do you know what they are shipping to Mexico?” she asked gently.

  He shook his head and seemed to have a little trouble chewing his bite.

  “When do they load their goods, and how?” Mercy redoubled her efforts as the whispers became louder. Jim’s face became increasingly flushed.

  He was about to answer when he started choking. At first he coughed. Jim tried opening his mouth wider, but a hardy cough overwhelmed him again. He dropped his sandwich
, clutched her by the shoulder and bent over, suddenly helpless.

  “Oh my God,” she said to no one in particular, as no one else was around.

  Jim’s eyes started to water and he panicked. He wasn’t getting any air. Without thinking, Mercy pounded his back, while looking around for someone, anyone. Jim grasped at her, and his face was now a color beyond that of a beet and more like black cherry.

  “Help!” Mercy hollered, both fists slamming into his back. “Anyone around? I need some help here!”

  She’d never done the Heimlich before, but she’d seen enough movies to know. She got in back of him, summoned up her strength as she wrapped her arms around Jim and squeezed hard.

  And again Jim started to fade a little. Mercy focused on his lungs, imagined them clear, and gave a final and forceful tug.

  A piece of meat and bread flew from his lips onto the pavement. She held him up as he heaved and then inhaled, taking in precious oxygen. She gave his back a few more poundings for good measure and held him up by his shoulders.

  A few moments later, after he’d taken a couple of drinks of soda, Mercy realized the whispers in her mind had gone away. Intuitively, though, she felt the abrupt end to the murmurs was possibly a warning of some kind. Mercy decided she would no longer put anyone in danger’s way of this man—this powerful man, who without warning, could speak, listen and injure from afar.

  “Thank you,” Jim said. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

  Probably nothing. You wouldn’t have choked at all, Mercy thought. “Neither do I,” she simply noted, bitterly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was early evening and Mercy was cooking Terra’s favorite dinner, spaghetti, when she heard the knock on the door. A special knock—Grant’s knock. Mercy turned off the sauce and hurried to answer the door.

  “Mommy!” Terra shouted and threw her arms around Mercy. Mercy returned the embrace with a joy that filled her heart. She motioned for Grant to come in.

  “We had sooo much fun, Mommy,” Terra gushed. “Daddy took me to the movies, we had popcorn, and we had pancakes for breakfast! And for dinner too!”

  Mercy smiled, but raised an eyebrow at Grant. “Wow, honey that sounds like a great time.” She stroked her daughter’s long and now messy hair. It was sticky. “Is that syrup in your hair?”

  “Yeah,” Terra answered. “Daddy didn’t make me take a bath, either.”

  Grant coughed politely, his smile pleading for leniency. “Why don’t you just go rinse it out, Terra?” He suggested. “I need to talk with your mother.”

  Terra’s body tensed. “You’re not going to argue, are you?”

  Grant laughed. “Of course not. And I won’t leave before saying good-bye. High five?”

  Terra gave her daddy a high-five and tore through the apartment for the bathroom.

  Mercy folded her arms. “You want to talk with me?”

  Grant pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Mercy. It was clearly one of Terra’s drawings. She took a glance at it, then put her hand over her mouth, clearly astonished.

  Terra had drawn a picture of a train. There were a few people around it, one resembling Javier and his unmistakable head of thick curly hair with the stained, V-neck t-shirt he always wore. She drew him with big, blue tears running down his cheeks.

  “Oh!” Mercy was shocked.

  And now it was Grant’s turn to fold his arms as he leaned on her couch. “Mercy, I asked a favor of you. More than that, I’m paying you to find Javier. I haven’t heard a word from you, but I trust, I know, if anyone can find him, you can. But do you have to talk to our daughter about your cases? I mean really, she looked upset as she drew this picture.”

  Mercy pulled her gaze away from the drawing to her ex-husband. “I didn’t tell her, Grant. Believe me, I didn’t.”

  “Then why would she draw a picture of him? In tears?”

  “I...I don’t know. You know she’s like...she picks up on things without me even knowing. Maybe she had...”

  “Had what?” Grant demanded. “A vision, like the visions you have? What the hell is going on?”

  “Grant…”

  “Don’t ‘Grant’ me, Mercy. I’ve always known you were different somehow. I tried to accept it. And in a way I can, now. But let me make myself clear. I don’t want you teaching my daughter—because she is my daughter as much as yours—your silly ways of thinking. I won’t have it. Do you understand me?”

  Mercy flushed with anger. “I did not say anything to our daughter about this case, Grant. And I am not encouraging her with her gifts. If anything, I’m up to here trying to get her to...to get a handle, for God’s sake. She’s only five years old. I’m doing the best I can.”

  The two locked eyes, both equally irritated.

  Then Terra’s small voice came from the other end of the room. “I thought you said you weren’t going to argue.”

  Mercy and Grant turned to their daughter. Terra’s demeanor had changed, she’d lost the enthusiasm and energy that had been bursting from her just moments before.

  “I’m sorry, Terra,” Mercy said gently. “Daddy and I both love you. We were talking, and yes, it was turning into an argument. But we didn’t mean to.”

  Terra looked to her father. “She’s telling the truth, honey,” he chimed in. “I’m sorry too. I made a mistake.”

  Terra came forward and forced a group hug, to Mercy’s and Grant’s amusement. “I’ve made mistakes,” the girl said. “Mommy says everyone does. I love you both, too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mercy reached for her ringing cell phone, forcing herself awake in the darkness of night. She cleared her throat and answered, “Cruz.”

  “Sorry to wake you,” the male voice said.

  “Joe?”

  “Yeah. Sorry to bother you so late.”

  “What time is it?”

  Patterson ignored the question. “I thought you’d want to know this. The plant is empty.”

  Mercy sat up. “The printing place? But I thought you guys had posts. What happened?”

  “Apparently they fell asleep. Remember we only have a few at the moment.”

  “What?? How many units did you have?” Mercy already knew what she had to do. She fumbled for her clothes and began changing, shoulder raised to keep the phone to her ear.

  “Four.”

  “And they all fell asleep?”

  “Apparently so. Believe me, they’re getting hell for it right now. But it’s strange, don’t you think? Maybe they were, gassed or something? Considering what we faced yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Yeah. Strange, indeed.” Mercy sat up in her bed, staring into darkness and confused as ever; radiation that turned out to be anything but, now sleeping gas that could be dispersed outdoors without losing its effect? Mercy remembered her A.P. Chemistry class. Something else more than the periodic table of elements was at work at the printing press. It had to be whoever kept whispering at her. She glanced down at the King Solomon Oil. Mercy set aside pride and considering she had nothing to lose by that point, she dabbed some on her temples, her heart and wrists.

  “I think it’s going to take more than this, though,” she mumbled.

  “What? I didn’t catch that.”

  “Nothing. Listen, Joe, I have to go.”

  “Wait,” Joe pleaded. “Mercy, I don’t want you to do something crazy. This is big.”

  “Yes, and you guys don’t seem to be able to do anything about it. I’m the one that tipped you, remember.”

  “Right, but...”

  “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  Mercy hung up and grabbed her purse.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Early morning, after the wakeup call from Joe, Mercedes Cruz pulled into an empty lot belonging to a dentistry two blocks away from the print shop. She quietly got out of her car and snuck through the newly established, and much larger perimeter, like a sk
illed cat burglar. She’d taken Terra over to Lily’s. Lily wanted to accompany her friend, but someone had to watch Terra at the last minute, and they certainly couldn’t wake up a five year old in the early morning and drag her out to a cordoned off, federally established crime scene.

  The police were too busy directing traffic away from the perimeter, which Mercy took advantage of as she made her way to the printing press using the darkened and shadowed walls of the surrounding buildings that faced away from the moonlight.

  Mercy approached the building’s back garage lift and was surprised to find it opened as well as finding the immediate area behind the printing press completely deserted. She grabbed her flashlight and took two steps into the dark interior of the building but ceased her next step. She needed more protection. Mercy thought of her Aunt Itzy and closed her eyes.

  First, she placed her legs together and planted her feet firmly on the cement ground. She let go of all tension, let the energy she’d learned to use long ago, as a child, flow down, out of her hands and feet. She took a few cleansing breaths, slowing her heart rate down.

  Next, Mercy summoned strength from the earth below the concrete, allowing it to rejuvenate her senses. She drew an imaginary circle around her, and inhaled deeply. Mercy carried a pouch with her this time, with contents from Lilly’s shop, and drew from it, placing some of her favorite scents into the circle; orange peels, eucalyptus leaves. At the last moment she tried something new. In her mind she’d imagined a spherical shape, rather than a plain two dimensional circle—a large ethereal bubble—and commanded it to move with her every step. “And so it is,” she said. Then Mercy crossed into the echoing factory floor, flashlight in hand.

  It was indeed completely empty of all machinery. The dirty floors were completely bare. They probably left the door open to get rid of the smell, Mercy surmised. She looked to the stairway up to the second floor and froze. The place was empty of material things, but Mercy’s spine tingled, she wasn’t alone.