Entranced (Goddess of Fate Book 2)

by Tamara Hart Heiner

  The clerk was just telling me how Lieutenant Bailey wasn’t in when he rounded the corner, suspenders over his white shirt and coffee cup in hand. Weary lines etched his eyes, and his short dark hair stood up in places as if he’d been yanking on it. He arched an eyebrow.

  “Ms. Lockwood.” His gaze swept over me, and I hoped I didn’t look like I’d spent the night in a hospital. I glanced down to make sure I’d changed from the hospital gown. Yes; I was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt.

  “See. He’s here.” I flashed a smile at the clerk and hurried past.

  “I’m usually not here on Sunday,” he said. “You got lucky.”

  “For once.” I glanced around at the mostly empty room. “I need to talk to you about the string of suicides.”

  “You and everyone else in New Jersey.” He eyed me. “You know something about them?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “Come, sit.” He led me to his cubby and offered me a chair, then pulled out a notepad. “Is this theory something you can prove? Or just your special ‘insight’?” He said the word without derision, though one eyebrow did quirk upward.

  “I can’t prove it.” I sat down and clasped my hands over one knee. “Not yet. But I have a theory. Actually, it’s much more than that, but—I can’t really explain.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  I took a deep breath, ignoring the spots that danced in front of my eyes, and blurted, “There’s a poem being mailed to people. It brainwashes them into acting against their will. I think the suicides, the animal massacres, even the disappearing people—they all got the poem.”

  “Who’s sending it?”

  He’d gone into work-mode. I saw the narrow set of his lips, the way his eyes honed in on me as the pencil continued jotting down every word.

  Careful, Jayne. “I think I’ve traced them to a woman in Maryland named Samantha Miller.”

  “We found several copies of a poem,” he said slowly, his eyes searching mine. “But we traced them to a local girl. Probably goes to your high school.”

  I’d forgotten that part. “Okay,” I admitted. “Meredith wrote the poem. But this other girl, this Samantha Miller, she took it. She’s the one sending it out.”

  “And how is this brainwashing people?”

  I heard the long-suffering in his voice and knew he struggled to take me seriously. I licked my lips and said the only word that I thought might make him understand: “Magic.”

  The laughter died on his lips. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He put the pencil down and pressed his fingertips into his for head.

  “I received a poem, too,” I said.

  “Oh?” He looked up. “What did it make you do?”

  I hesitated. “It filled me with rage and depression.” If Meredith hadn’t come to my rescue, would I have eventually hurt something? Myself?

  “How did you snap out of it?”

  “There’s another poem. One that removes those feelings.” I leaned closer. “The officers who read the poems you found,” I said, rather anxiously, “what happened to them?”

  “They both called in sick. We haven’t seen them since Tuesday.”

  My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. “Where are the poems now?”

  “Locked up in evidence.”

  I reached out and gripped his arm. “You can’t let anyone else read them.” He had to understand how serious this was. “You need to check on your people. They might be missing or—or worse.”

  He stood up, moving out of reach and down the hall. His urgent voice barked out orders to the few cops still here, and then he returned. “The poem that fixed you, I need a copy of it.”

  “Um, sure.” The fact that he believed me without question made me want to provide whatever aid I could. I texted Meredith, begging her for a copy of her happy poem. “I’ll forward it to you as soon as I get it,” I promised.

  “Why do you think this Samantha Miller is doing this?”

  Now probably wasn’t the time to explain the full hierarchy of the gods. “I don’t know.”

  “Let me show you something.” He sat down and swiveled his computer screen so I could see it. He typed in a few commands, and an image pulled up. “Recognize this?”

  A C-shaped symbol filled the screen, and my heart leaped in my chest. I’d never seen it before, but I knew it. It spoke to me as clearly as if someone whispered in my ear.

  “War,” I hissed.

  “War?” He stared at me intently.

  I nodded, my pulse thumping in my ears. “Warriors used to carve this mark on their armor. Sometimes into their flesh. It was a sign of bravery. Even a challenge.”

  His brows knit together. “How do you know this?”

  How, indeed? “This is the symbol, isn’t it? The one found on all the bodies.”

  “Yes. You said it means war?” He started taking notes again.

  “Look it up.” I pushed to my feet, trembling with nervous energy. “It’s Latvian. I’ve got to go.” Prepare for battle. It was time. Whatever was happening, it was happening now.

  “Jayne?” he called after me.

  I paused and looked over my shoulder.

  “If I can help—if we can do anything—call.”

  “Thanks.” It was always good to know I had allies. But this time, the police couldn’t save me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I took a taxi straight to Meredith’s house from the police station. My mom must still be on her call; she hadn’t texted me yet.

  Meredith answered the door before I even knocked. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her lip looked raw, as if she’d been gnawing it. She took one look at me, and the tears sprang to her eyes again.

  “Jayne.”

  She ushered me inside, all while my anxiety rose. My own hands trembled by the time she closed the door to her room.

  “I need a copy of your happy poem,” I said immediately.

  One eyebrow raised. “My happy poem?”

  “You know, the one you used to snap me out of my depression after I read the poem Karta sent me.” I waved my hands at her. “Come on, come on!”

  “Okay, okay.” She opened up a computer file, and the poem filled the screen. “That it?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, holding my camera out and snapping a picture. Then I texted it to Lieutenant Bailey. “Thank you so much.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “The cops asked for it.”

  “Wha-what?” she sputtered, her face turning white. “The cops? Do they know about me?”

  “Kind of. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble!” I added quickly. “I made sure they know it’s Samantha behind this.”

  “Okay. Jayne.” Meredith pulled up a website. “Look at these names. We know these people.”

  I leaned over and scanned the names of several classmates and other people I didn’t know. “Are these the missing people?”

  “The newest ones. From yesterday.”

  I closed my eyes. Had Stephen received one? His moods had been so erratic lately, and I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen him. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.

  He didn’t answer. I tried twice before leaving a voicemail.

  Don’t panic, I told myself. It’s not unusual for him not to answer.

  “Who are you calling?” Meredith asked.

  “Stephen,” I murmured. There was always his best friend Toby. We hadn’t really talked since Stephen and I broke up months ago. I pulled up his number and sent him a text.

  Trying to reach Stephen. Is he with you?

  The response came back pretty quickly. Haven’t seen him in days. Must be sick.

  I shuddered against the premonition in my gut. “I need to go to Stephen’s house.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll drive you, since your taxi’s gone.” She gave me a brief smile.

  “But your car—” I began.

  “Is missing a bumper. It still drives
.”

  I tried calling Stephen again as Meredith backed the car down the driveway. For once, she didn’t have anything to say, and we drove in silence.

  Tall trees shaded the driveway of Stephen’s house. I scanned for his car but didn’t see it. I knocked on the front door and waited, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

  Meredith stood quietly nearby. I jabbed my finger against the doorbell a second time.

  “I don’t think anyone’s here,” she ventured after a moment.

  “He’s got to be here.” I exhaled a breath and rang the bell again. “He hasn’t been in school. He has to be sick. He has to be here.”

  “Maybe his aunt took him to the doctor,” she suggested.

  “Maybe.” I couldn’t leave here on the supposition that he was fine. I reached forward and tried the doorknob. Locked.

  If Stephen were at the doctor, he wouldn’t have driven himself. So wouldn’t his car be here? I went around the front of the house to the fenced backyard. Crossing my fingers that he hadn’t invested in rabid attack dogs since the last time I was here, I unlatched it and pushed it open.

  “What are you doing?” Meredith hissed.

  “No dogs,” I breathed in relief, pushing my way in.

  “Jayne, we’re crossing a line here. If you thought your parents were mad about yesterday, imagine if it’s the police showing up on their front porch later, telling them you’ve been arrested for breaking and entering.”

  I ignored her and tried the back door. Ah-ha. Poor unsuspecting people, leaving their doors open.

  Meredith followed behind me, still warning me of the evils of my ways as I tiptoed into the living room.

  “Hello?” I called. “Stephen?” I went up the staircase and down the hall. I opened Stephen’s bedroom door, wrinkling my nose at the smell of body odor and unwashed laundry. Apparently his aunt didn’t stay as on top of the laundry as his mom had. “Stephen?” I called out softly, even though I knew he wasn’t here. I stepped over a pile of books and loose papers and surveyed the unmade bed and cluttered desk.

  The cork board above the desk caught my eye. I remembered it from when we were dating, when Stephen would tack up notes and pictures and reminders. His work schedule was on there now, with a scribbled message from someone telling him if he was late one more time, he’d lose his job. I stepped closer and exhaled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.

  “He’s at work,” I said, finding his name next to today’s date. “That’s why he’s not answering his phone.”

  Meredith hadn’t moved from the open doorway. “That’s good, anyway.”

  I pulled out my phone and dialed the grocery store.

  “Marvin’s.” A polite, slightly distracted female voice answered.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to sound confident. “May I speak with Stephen, please?”

  “Stephen?” The interest level in her tone rose. “He hasn’t been here in three days. The manager’s really upset about it. You might want to tell him to start looking for a new job.”

  “Okay.” I tried to control the tremor in my words. “Thank you.” I slipped my phone into my pocket and turned to face Meredith. “He hasn’t gone into work in three days.” The room spun around me, and I gripped the closet doorknob to steady myself. “He’s missing.”

  *~*

  Meredith drove me home while I kept trying Stephen’s phone. I finally sent Toby another text, asking him to let me know as soon as he heard from Stephen.

  “What do you think?” Meredith asked me as she pulled the car into my driveway and waited.

  “I’m trying not to.” My voice wobbled, and I cleared my throat. “There’s always the possibility he’s with his aunt somewhere.”

  “And if he’s not?” she whispered.

  I clenched my phone tightly. I couldn’t bear the thought of him dead somewhere. “Maybe he never got the letter. He could just be pulling a stupid teenager move.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “He might have joined Karta’s army,” I added.

  “We need to stop her,” Meredith said.

  I bobbed my head in agreement. “But how? She’s got an army. Who do we have?”

  “Each other,” she said, her answer confident.

  Even with her awesome super powers, I couldn’t make myself feel her confidence. “Is it enough?”

  “Ask Laima.”

  I was sick of asking Laima. She never answered me, anyway. “You ask her. Here.” I texted Meredith her number.

  My phone rang in my hand, and I opened it without even checking. “Hello?” I asked, crossing my fingers and praying that it would be Stephen.

  “Jayne, are you home?”

  Aaron’s tenor voice carried over the line. My stomach knotted up, remembering our unpleasant conversation at the hospital. “Yes,” I said, almost wishing I wasn’t. My phone beeped, indicating an incoming call. I pulled away, still hoping for Stephen. Nope. Mom. I put the phone back to my ear. I’d see her when I walked through the front door in a second.

  “I’m coming over,” Aaron said.

  He didn’t say goodbye. I put the phone in my pocket and found Meredith staring at me.

  “You okay?”

  I exhaled. “I got this. Keep me posted.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Mom was practically spitting fire when I walked in. “Where have you been?” she hissed. “I’ve been calling you!”

  “You have?” I pulled out my phone and checked it. “I only missed one call from you. I told you, I went to the police station.”

  Her chest puffed out and her nostrils flared. “You didn’t have permission! You can’t just leave like that!”

  “I’m sorry. You never said I had to stay at home. You only said I couldn’t drive.”

  I could see that she wanted to argue with me, that she was searching for a way to fault me. But I was right and she knew it.

  “Well, it’s time for dinner,” she huffed finally. “Go help your sister set the table.”

  Beth glanced up at me as she laid out the forks, her curly brown hair streaked with new blond highlights. I opened my mouth to comment, but she spoke first. “What’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean?” I said, my defenses immediately going up. I grabbed the glasses and started laying them out above the forks.

  “I mean, first you sneak off over the weekend. Then you wreck your friend’s car. Then you sneak out again and come home crying. So, what’s going on with you?”

  I appraised my younger sister through lowered lashes as I set the last glass on the table. “I’m just—” I hesitated. “There’s just some crazy stuff going on right now. I’m trying to work it all out.”

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the living room, then faced me again. “Are you in trouble?” she whispered.

  The expression on her face wasn’t morbid curiosity but genuine concern. I felt a surge of gratitude for the course our relationship had taken the past few months. “Maybe,” I said. “I’m not exactly sure. People I know are in trouble. I’m trying to help.”

  “I’m here if you need me,” she said, her voice still low and quiet.

  “Thank you, Beth,” I murmured. I didn’t think there was actually anything she could do, but it was nice to know she cared.

  Mom came in. She plopped a skillet of noodles and hamburger on the table, then settled down beside us with a sigh. “Beth, please say grace,” she murmured, pressing her forehead into her hands. Tendrils of hair escaped her bun, running down her neck in little curlicues. At some point she must’ve been rubbing her eyes because the mascara was smeared to her eyebrows. I tried not to feel guilty for adding to her obvious stress.

  My mind wandered, distracted by thoughts of Aaron’s impending visit and Stephen’s absence. I jumped when the doorbell rang, knocking my chair against the wall behind me.

  “You expecting someone, Jayne?” Mom said, giving me a disapproving look.

  “Aaron,” I answered. “He sa
id he’d come by.”

  “Oh.” Her expression softened. “Tell him hello.”

  “Sure.” Like any boyfriend cared about a hello from the parents.

  My heart was in my throat by the time I reached the front door. When I saw him, I attempted a smile, but he didn't smile back.

  “Hey,” he said softly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his khaki pants.

  “Um.” My pulse stuttered. “Want to come in?”

  “Of course.” Now a trace of a smile pulled at his lips.

  I opened the door wider, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. He let himself in and headed for the stairwell that led to mine and Beth’s rooms. I followed. Somehow I didn’t think we were sneaking off for a steamy make-out session.

  “What’s up?” I asked, all nerves as I closed the bedroom door, leaving it just slightly ajar.

  Aaron picked up one of my sweet pea candles on the windowsill, then put it down and picked up another. They were all the same scent, except for the apple one he’d given me. He didn’t know I burned the sweet pea scent because it was the only thing that would clear my head after a vision.

  “How are you feeling today?” he asked, finally turning around to face me.

  I shrugged. “I’m only a little sore. I took some pain meds this morning, but I haven’t since then.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad.” Yet his voice didn’t sound glad. It didn’t sound like anything at all.

  My phone dinged with a text message, and I pulled it from my back pocket with some relief. Anything to help defuse the tension building in my shoulders.

  Meredith. Just texted Laima. I’ll let you know if I hear from her.

  “Something serious?”

  My head snapped up. “Um, yeah. Lots of stuff going on.”

  His lip twisted in a non-smile. “What kind of stuff?”

  I braced myself. “Just stuff.”

  “Stuff I wouldn’t approve of? Stuff involving Karta and these suicides?” Anger, cold and dangerous, flashed in his eyes.

  I wanted to lie. But I could only nod miserably.

  He exhaled and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “I need to tell you something.”