by Dale Mayer
That was because of her father, still showing up everywhere in her life. Every time she’d seen him, she’d cringe and would try to hide, and he’d always catch her and pull her forward for punishment. He never called it punishment though. He always said it was time for her to learn something new. He called it teaching. But she’d be tortured in front of everyone because she was the Golden One. And because of her status, the others used to love to see her suffer.
Family didn’t have the same meaning to her as it did to others.
She rubbed her temple, feeling the scar on the side of her face ache as she remembered the old traumas. When would this end? When would she leave it all behind? Her breath was still rough in her throat, her chest still sore from the fear of those memories.
She shook her head and headed straight for the hotel. Inside, she noticed the crowd had dispersed, and a lot of noise was now coming from the dining room. She raced up to her room to change, realizing the other person sharing her hotel room hadn’t checked in, and maybe she’d get lucky again. The bus had been full, so there was no reason for somebody to not take that other bed in her hotel room. Only it hadn’t happened yet. Likely her stay-away energy. She headed out again with her hair brushed, feeling refreshed.
She stood at the open door of the dining room and waited to be noticed. Soon a waitress approached, and she was seated at a table for two. Maybe it was her energy, maybe it was something else, but, no matter where she went, she was placed off to the side alone—never with a group or even another individual traveling on the same bus. She’d long gotten used to it, but it made her wonder if she was putting out energy that said she didn’t want anything to do with anyone or if people were picking up on that on their own.
And she didn’t understand her impulse to always be alone. She didn’t want to be alone, but neither did she want to be left with inane conversation from people who asked questions she had no intention of answering. She sat, staring out the window, her back to the door, a menu in her hand. A shadow fell beside her, and a man pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
She looked up only to rear back in surprise. It was the cop. She gave him a quick frown. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
He looked at her, surprise lighting the deep gaze in his eyes. “Now why would you look at me and ask what’s the matter?”
“You’re a cop,” she said bluntly. “You sit down without asking and just stare at me.”
“I’m staring at you now,” he confirmed. “But I wasn’t when I sat down, and I did sit down abruptly because I figured you’d probably get up and run away.”
Again she could feel herself withdrawing, looking for a way to run. Because of that she jutted out her chin and glared at him.
“And now you’re looking to run again but then got mad,” he said. “Interesting.”
She let out her breath slowly. “How do you know I was running away?”
“Because I can see it in every line of your frame. You’re tense. You’re worried. You’re afraid. Possibly afraid something will come up in this conversation you might not want to answer.”
At his observation, her eyebrows rose slowly. “Did you read my aura or something?”
He inclined his head, but all he said was, “Or something.”
Frustrated, she stared back at him. “I don’t understand what you want. Have I done something wrong?”
“Not that I can see,” he said cheerfully, shifting closer to the log wall. “Yet.”
“So why are you here then?”
“Because I heard through the grapevine how you appeared nervous and unsteady earlier this evening.”
“Grapevine?”
“We’re a tight-knit community,” he affirmed. “Somebody spoke to you on a bench, and she was worried about you. So much so that she called me as soon as you took off.”
“She doesn’t need to be,” Phoenix replied, surprise raising her eyebrows as she understood this was a compassionate visit. “She made a comment about family that hit a nerve. I had gone down an alleyway that ended up taking me to some other streets, and I got a bit turned around. I ended up on an overpass, coming back into the main part of town.”
At that, his mouth dropped open. “You found Fellow Alley?”
“I have no idea what I found,” she said bluntly. “But, by the time I made it back to the center of town, I was a bit frazzled and more than happy to just sit there for a moment. Then this woman sat down beside me, so you must see I was already geared to be upset. If you see her again, please give her my apologies. I am fine.”
“I’ll pass the message on.” He leaned forward, his hands clenched in front of him. “Did you see anything down the alley?”
“Some stores that were open. An apothecary masquerading as a tea shop,” she said with a half a smile. “A couple shops with nothing I wanted to pick up for myself. Everything was dark and ghoulish. Plus a couple empty stores. It was the cries in the woods that got to me. I presume some bird of prey is around here that makes a cry like a woman’s voice.”
“Where was it?” he asked, his voice low and urgent, his eyes narrow and glinting. “Where did you hear it?”
Surprised and a little daunted by the tone in his voice, she replied, “At the bridge,” she said. “I mean, I was standing there, looking down, when I heard it in the trees again.”
“Did you go looking?”
She shook her head. “Not when I was walking across the overpass. I heard it again, and I thought maybe it was a bird. It was so very clear though.”
“Why would you think it was a bird?”
“Because it was exactly the same pitch and length,” she said. “Nothing differed between the two cries, so I figured it must mean something about it was normal. Like the call of a bird.”
His expression eased back some. He nodded. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “We always have to watch out when we have so many transient people through the place.”
“Does transient equal tourists?” she asked.
“In some ways, yes,” he replied. “There’s also the worry we are some sort of a suicide destination,” he said, and this time his tone wasn’t light at all. “And that’s the last thing we want to become.”
“Suicide season.” Her face fell at his nod. “The bus driver mentioned something about that,” she said slowly. “Honestly that sounds terrible.”
“Exactly. But that overpass you were standing on? We’ve had four people jump off it.”
She gasped. “Really?”
He nodded. “Absolutely no way to survive that fall. Two were locals, and two were tourists. The locals were several years ago, and, once the events were on the internet, it seemed like that became the next favorite spot.”
“I thought they were all committing suicide at the Burning Fires,” she said in surprise.
“We still lose several there a year,” he admitted. “We’ve extended the security on the place. There’s rope and all kinds of measures to keep people back from the edge, but it never seems to stop people from trying.”
“The barrier would stop those looking for attention or those easily persuaded off their path but not the serious ones.”
He smiled at that. “We don’t get too many just getting attention,” he said. “This is a permanent answer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s terrible.”
“Indeed,” he said. “So make sure you don’t become one of the victims, okay?”
She sat back with a slump and stared at him. “Is that what you think I am? Somebody who came here to commit suicide?”
He watched her for a long moment. That was exactly what he thought. The woman she’d been speaking with on the bench had likely found their conversation upsetting. Phoenix had been distressed before the woman had asked her a question, and obviously the combination had been enough for the older woman to worry about the young tourist’s mental health.
“I didn’t come here to commit suicide,” she said, her voice hardening
and low. “I get that woman might have been worried, but that’s not what this trip is about.”
“Good,” he said. “Then I’ve nothing to worry about, right?”
“Not in any way,” she said in a neutral tone.
“So, why are you here?”
She was starting to get angry with his interruption of her dinner and with his interrogation. Not to mention no one had come to take her order. “Do you give every tourist the third degree?”
“The ones who pique my interest and make me question what they’re all about, yes, I do,” he replied with a nod.
“I came to see the Burning Fires,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be on the bus and out of here in another day and a half.”
He smiled and stood. “Good to know,” he said. “Enjoy your stay.” He turned away from her and walked off.
She still had yet to see a waitress or a waiter, and she was cold. As she turned, she heard her name called out. It was the cop standing at the door, with two other people huddling at his side. He motioned with his hand for her to join him. Frowning, but not having much choice, she got up and walked toward him. “Now what?” she asked with a hiss. “I’m just having dinner. I’m starving.”
“We got word a girl is missing in the woods. Tell me more about what you heard and where.”
*
Rowan stared at her, seeing the fear and the horror of his words reflected in her face. But his phone had just rung, and his fellow cops were here to talk to him. Irene Hansen was missing. She had gone out for a walk, even after being told many times not to, and hadn’t returned home. She was still depressed, and her mental state was not something Rowan wanted to consider, given the conversation he’d just had with Phoenix. He watched the young woman in front of him. She appeared to be distressed, but was that over a young woman missing or at potentially missing her dinner?
She shook her head. “I told you what I heard.”
He opened the front door and said, “Come with me. I want you to show me exactly where you heard the noise.”
She frowned. “I told you. It was at the bridge overpass.”
“Get in the car.” He motioned to his cruiser out front.
Frowning and obviously hesitant, she walked out of the hotel and got in the cruiser.
He got in on the driver’s side, sent a message to dispatch about what he was doing, then headed down the street, out of town.
She didn’t say a word. They arrived at the overpass and pulled off to the side. “Show me where.”
“We need to get out and walk,” she said, sending him a hurried glance.
She hopped out a little too eagerly for his liking, as if she didn’t trust him. But then she didn’t appear to trust anyone or anything around her. She was skittish, not exactly shy but reserved. And she did have a massive thick wall all around her. He didn’t know what it was about, but a part of him wanted to rip it apart. You couldn’t live like that. It wasn’t living. It was being a prisoner, walled up inside, and he didn’t want that for her. He didn’t want that for anybody.
Again his ability to read energy allowed him to see some of what was going on, but it didn’t give him the whys.
She walked ahead of him, her steps clipped and fast.
He kept up easily enough. Compared to his six-foot frame, she was tiny. At a guess he’d have to say she was around five seven and slim, to the point of being scrawny. She moved with a litheness that spoke of a healthy body; it was her mental state that worried him. The scar on her face was another issue altogether. He knew no way in hell he could ask her about that and get a reasonable answer. Besides, he had no reason for asking, outside of curiosity.
As they crossed over the overpass, she stopped, looked around and pointed to the alleyway that came up close to it and said. “I came out from there, and I was somewhere around the middle of the road when I heard the first cry.”
“How many cries did you hear?”
“Just two,” she said. She pointed. “First was here.”
“Okay, and the second one?”
She walked out to where he stood in the middle of the overpass. “This is about where I heard the second cry. I looked down over the side, but I couldn’t see anybody.”
He nodded, his gaze on the woods all around. “She lives not too far from here and is known for walking these woods.”
“Sounds like she’s the one you need to be giving a warning too. For all you know, she’s the suicidal one.”
“It’s possible,” he said with a frown. “She lost her infant son four months ago and hasn’t recovered.”
Phoenix’s face scrunched up with sorrow. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said in a hushed tone. “That’s tough.”
“It is,” he said. “Very sad for her. And her husband.”
They continued to walk back to the cruiser. As they neared it, she stiffened. “There it is again.”
He looked at her in surprise and asked, “There’s what?”
She glanced at him and frowned. “The woman screaming,” she said urgently. She looked back at the woods and headed across the overpass. “It came from over here. Didn’t you hear it?”
He followed her footsteps and muttered, “No, I didn’t hear anything.”
At that, she froze, turned to look at him and said, “How could you not? It was a woman. A woman screaming for help.”
She ran over to the other side and dashed around the edge.
He ran behind her, calling out, “Stop. It’s dangerous. There’re no barriers.”
She froze, looked at him and then continued to walk ahead. “I heard her,” she said. “We have to go in this direction.” And she kept going, following something; somehow her own mind directed her to some place.
He searched the area around them, looking for the energy that would tell him what was going on. And there was energy all right. It was colorful and cloudy and swirling around them. But a stronger energy was around her. He followed her carefully. “Do you hear it again?”
“No.” Her tone was waspish.
“Look. I’m not being difficult,” he said, hurrying behind her. “But I didn’t hear the scream.”
He watched her shoulders hunch tight and knew in her mind she really had. And he was good with that. “Take me to wherever you heard it,” he said suddenly.
“Even though you don’t believe me?” she snapped.
“I’m trusting that you believe what you heard.”
And, with that, her feet took flight, and she ran ahead. But she didn’t know the area, and the cliff edge was right at her left.
“Hey, not so fast,” he cried out. “You’re likely to go over the edge.”
“No,” she said. “The woman is up here.” She ran faster.
It was all he could do to keep up. He didn’t know who this woman was, but she either raced toward something important or ran away from something important. He hoped to hell it wasn’t her running away from him …
Suddenly she came to a stop and held up her hand to stop him. Coming around her, he could see a woman stretched out, lying sideways on the top of the cliff. Irene.
Phoenix reached out a hand and whispered, “Grab my hand. I’m here to help you.”
The woman raised her hand; it was broken and bleeding. She whispered, “Nobody can help. Nobody can help.”
“Yes,” Phoenix whispered. “I can.”
Out of nowhere, a heavy gust of wind picked up the woman and threw her into the middle of the gorge. As she fell, she screamed all the way to the ground, leaving both of them in shocked silence.
The echo of her cries boomed through his head even as his brain screamed out, “What the hell just happened?”
*
“The look on her face,” the Supplier whispered to himself. He started to laugh but kept his laughter silent, just ripples in the shadows. He absolutely loved to scare the crap out of people. They thought they were so safe and secure in this mundane world of theirs. But they weren’t. He had control.
&nbs
p; He could feel that hand on the top of his head, digging in deeper. He shrugged and said out loud, “Allow me a moment to indulge. I know I’m not supposed to be playing with the humans but the temptation …”
There was never any answer, just an increased pressure in his head. He winced as he was forced to his knees. He took several deep breaths and gave a gentle nod. “Of course I will fix this.”
Chapter 4
Phoenix stood there, a silent scream still pouring from her mouth, as she stared where the poor woman had been flung across the cliff. Phoenix took several steps back, her hands reaching out for the tree for safety, for stability, in a world suddenly gone awry. She glanced at the cop, and his face reflected her own shock.
He took two steps forward, completely the opposite reaction she had had, and stared down at the cavern. He turned to look back at Phoenix, a question in his eyes.
She nodded. “I just saw what you saw,” she said, her voice harsh and raspy. “That woman was picked up and tossed into the air, to drop down, screaming all the way.” She took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on in your town, but this is sick.”
He walked to her, reaching out to grab her arm. She flinched as soon as his hand closed around her skin. “I don’t know what just happened,” he said. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“Neither do I,” she mumbled. “I just got here today. I heard a woman screaming. You insisted I show you where, and we just watched some unseen force pick her up and throw her to the bottom of that ravine.” She shook her head, loose tendrils of long auburn hair flying loose from the braid down her back. “Dear God, did you see her? Did you see her fly out there?” She tried hard to control her voice, but it rose into a shriek regardless. She grabbed his shirt and shook him. “She’s dead. She has to be dead.”
He turned to look over the cliff again, a strangled exclamation escaping his lips.
Her gaze shifted to where he looked. And cried out.
There was the woman, once again on top of the cliff. … Just as she’d—they’d—first seen her …
They froze. And then he broke contact and ran to the poor woman.