Sudden Death

by Donald Hanley

“Oh, one more thing,” Dad went on. “Remove Peter’s phone from the alert system and then send an order to all available officers. I want all eyes on the street looking for Peter’s car. It’s a red 2012 Mustang GT, license plate –” He raised his eyebrows at me and I gave him the plate number, wondering what he was doing.

  He relayed the information to Rachel and added, “No patrol cars, personal vehicles only. I don’t want the driver to know we’ve spotted him. Yes, it’s been stolen. Yes, his phone, too. No one is to approach the car, just report its location directly to me and move on. Yes, that’s all. No, wait.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed as he looked me over and I started to feel guilty, even though I didn’t know what I might have done. “Have the patrols keep an eye out from someone who looks exactly like Peter. Have them report any sightings directly to me and don’t attempt to contact the, ah, suspect. Well, it’s complicated,” he sighed. “No, we’re hoping to wrap this thing up today. Thanks, Rachel, I appreciate it. I’ll see you in a little while.” He hung up and shook his head, looking very somber.

  “Did you just put out an APB on me?” I asked doubtfully.

  Dad’s eyes crinkled in a brief smile. “We need to know where the incubus is if we’re going to stop him. He’s not going to stay at Mrs. Kendricks’ forever.”

  “There goes my career in law enforcement,” I muttered. Dad just handed me his phone and I looked at Melissa. “All right, who’s next?”

  “Rebecca Warren.” Melissa pointed at her screen and I called the number.

  “Hello?” The girl who answered sounded very young and very nervous. I put my hand over the microphone and leaned closer to Melissa.

  “How old is she?” I murmured.

  Melissa checked her spreadsheet. “Fifteen.”

  “Seriously? And she’s a witch?”

  “Susie’s fifteen,” she reminded me.

  “That’s different,” I said, although I couldn’t have explained why.

  “Hello?” the girl asked hesitantly. “Is anyone there?”

  “Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m here. Is this Rebecca?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Okay, good.” I cleared my throat. “This is Peter Collins. Do you know who I am?”

  The silence stretched out long enough to prompt me to check that the call was still up. “Are you Susie’s brother?” she guessed finally.

  “Yes, that’s me. Um, this might sound a bit strange but – are you under my control now?”

  “What?” She sounded puzzled.

  “Did I enthrall you and force you to obey my orders?”

  “What?” Now she sounded shocked.

  “Peter, don’t be an idiot,” Melissa told me. “Rebecca, this is Melissa. We met at the last gathering.”

  “Oh, hello. Um, what’s wrong with Peter?”

  “I ask myself that a lot. Never mind him. Did Mrs. Kendricks or any of the other witches call you and ask you to go over to her house today?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Kendricks called me a little while ago.”

  “Did you go?” I leaned in anxiously to hear her response.

  “Not yet. I have to wait for my mom to get home from work.”

  “You don’t have a car?” I asked in surprise.

  “What part of she’s fifteen did you miss?” Melissa scolded me, rolling her eyes. “Rebecca, listen to me, this is very important. Do not go to Mrs. Kendricks’. Do not answer her calls. Something bad is happening over there and you need to stay far away from her.”

  “What’s going on?” Rebecca asked worriedly. “Is she okay?”

  Melissa hesitated and then muted the phone. “How much should I tell her?” she asked.

  Dad and I exchanged an uneasy look. “Just give her the gist of it,” I decided reluctantly, “so that she understands how serious this is.”

  She nodded and unmuted. “There’s a demon at Mrs. Kendricks’ house.”

  “A demon!” Rebecca gasped. “You mean like what happened on the bridge?”

  “Nothing that bad. At least, we hope not. It’s forcing Mrs. Kendricks to help capture the girls in the coven. Susie and Allison are free but they got Tara. We’re not sure about the others.”

  “Oh, no! What should we do?”

  “You just stay put,” I jumped in. “Call us on this number if anyone else in the coven tries to contact you and whatever you do, don’t let me touch you.”

  “What?”

  “Peter, just shut up,” Melissa ordered in exasperation. “You’re making things worse. What Peter meant to say, Rebecca, is that the demon looks just like him.”

  “I don’t remember what he looks like,” Rebecca said doubtfully.

  “Then don’t worry about it. We’ll call you when this is over.”

  “But I want to help!” she protested.

  “No, it’s too –” Melissa started to say and then she grimaced. “Hang on.” She muted the call and looked at the rest of us resignedly. “We’re going to need all the help we can get,” she said seriously.

  “She’s just a kid!” I argued.

  “So’s Susie,” she countered.

  “That’s different!”

  She ignored my clever reasoning and turned to the real adult in the room. “Mr. Collins?”

  Dad massaged his forehead with his fingertips, looking pained. “If this was any other situation, I’d say absolutely not, but the department isn’t equipped to deal with something like this. See if she can meet us at the station.”

  Melissa nodded and unmuted again. “Rebecca, can you meet us down at the police station?”

  “The police? What for?”

  “It’s safer there. We’re getting everyone together to come up with a plan. Can your mom drop you off there?”

  “I guess,” Rebecca said uncertainly. “She’s going to wonder why we’re going there. What should I tell her?”

  “Does she know you’re a witch?”

  “No.”

  “Well, tell her it’s a field trip or something.”

  “In the middle of summer?”

  “You’ll think of something,” Melissa assured her. “We’ll see you there, okay?”

  “Okay.” Rebecca did sound at all sure about that but she hung up without any further comment.

  Dad’s phone pinged then and a lengthy HPD alert popped up on the screen. Dad scanned the coded phrases, nodded to himself, and hit the Ack button to dismiss the message.

  “Keep going, Peter,” he told me. “The incubus is going to figure out what we’re doing soon, if he hasn’t already.”

  “Who’s left?” I asked Melissa.

  “Just two more. Karin and Karyn McCaffrey.”

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  “They’re twins.”

  “And they’re both named Karen?”

  “No, one’s Karin with an I and the other one is Karyn with a Y.”

  I blinked some more. “That’s stupid. Who does that to their kids?”

  “Maybe we can discuss poor parenting choices some other time, Peter,” Dad suggested tersely. “We’re running out of time.”

  “Right. Give me Karin’s number,” I told Melissa.

  “Which one?”

  I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. This was going to get old really fast. “Karin with an I.” She complied and we listened to the ringing. I hung up on her voicemail system before the beep. “They’re probably together,” I sighed.

  “They’re not Siamese twins, Peter,” Melissa told me, rolling her eyes. “Try the other one.”

  Karyn’s number differed by one digit. To my surprise, she answered right away. “Who is this?” she demanded.

  “Oh, um.” I was a bit taken aback by her impatient tone. “This is Peter Collins.”

  “Who?”

  “Peter Collins. Susie’s brother.”

  “Oh, you.” Karyn made it sound like she just discovered me sticking to the bottom of her shoe. “What do you want?”

  “Am I in control of you right now?”

>   There was a startled silence, followed by a burst of derisive laughter. “Are you kidding me? That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m guessing the answer is no,” Melissa told me wryly.

  “I figured that out on my own, thanks. Look, Karin, I’m not trying to –”

  “Karyn.”

  “What?”

  “My name’s Karyn.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you said Karin, with an I.”

  “It’s exactly the same pronunciation!”

  “You think I don’t know how to pronounce my own name?”

  “That’s not – forget it.” I thrust the phone at Melissa. “You deal with her.”

  She took it with a resigned sigh.“Karyn, this is Melissa.”

  “Oh, hey, Melissa. What are you doing with that Peter guy? He sounds like a total loser.”

  “I can hear you,” I informed her darkly.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Melissa said, waving me back. “Did Mrs. Kendricks call you today?”

  “Yeah, a little while ago. Why?”

  “Did she want you to go over to her house?”

  “Yeah.” Now Karyn sounded suspicious. “How did you know that?”

  “Listen, it’s very important that you don’t go over there. There’s a demon there trying to capture all the witches in the coven.”

  “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious. Where’s Karin? Is she with you?” The silence on the other end wasn’t reassuring. “Did she go over there already?”

  “I had a doctor’s appointment so she went on ahead. But you’re wrong, there’s nothing going on over there. I just talked to her a few minutes ago and she’s perfectly fine.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was just wondering what was taking me so long. I was just about to head over.”

  “Don’t,” Melissa warned her sternly. “Karin’s already enthralled and you’ll end up just like her.”

  “How do you know that?” Karyn demanded angrily. “How do I know you’re not just making this up for some stupid reason?”

  “Because we were there. We barely got away with our lives.”

  “Oh my God,” Karyn breathed. “I have to go get her!”

  “No! Don’t go anywhere near her house. We’re getting the other witches together at the police department. Meet us there.”

  “The police?” she echoed scornfully. “What good are they going to be against a demon?”

  “It’s just a safe place to meet. Peter’s father is the Chief of Police, remember?” Melissa waited but Karyn didn’t respond. “Will you be there?” she prompted.

  “I’ll be there,” Karyn said curtly. “But if Karin gets hurt because you’re wasting time –” She hung up before she finished her threat.

  I let my breath out slowly. “Well, that’s three of them. Should we try Stacy? She needs to know what happened, just in case.” Melissa handed me the phone and I dialed the number. It rolled over to voicemail, but this time I left a message. “Stacy, this is Peter. Whatever you do, don’t go back to your house. Call me back on this number as soon as you get this message. It’s very important.” I tried to think of a way to explain why that wouldn’t sound too incoherent but I couldn’t, so I just hung up. “Well, hopefully she’ll get that message in time. So now what?”

  “Let’s try to get hold of the ones who didn’t answer before,” Melissa suggested. “Jasmine, Gale, and Marian. Maybe you can Simonize them too.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” We all turned to face Amy. She stood there wearing her oversized borrowed dress and an I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin.

  “We need all the help we can get,” I reminded her irritably. “Give me one good reason not to call them.”

  “Because that’s how we’re going to beat the incubus.” She waved Dr. Bellowes’ journal at me teasingly.

  “By letting him gather an army of the most powerful witches in Hellburn?” I asked incredulously.

  Amy’s grin widened. “Exactly.”

  14

  In the world of Boolean logic, anything that isn’t true must be false. In the world of human communications, anything that isn’t true must be a lie, unless it isn’t. The intent and motivation of the speaker determine the severity of the lie. If you say something that isn’t true but you honestly believe that it is, that’s a mistake. If you make something up to get a laugh from your audience, that’s satire. If you tell a falsehood to avoid hurting someone’s feelings or make them feel better, that’s a white lie. If you deliberately alter the facts to cause trouble for someone, that’s despicable.

  The most effective lies are the ones that are almost true. If 90% of what you say is known to be true, the remaining 10% often gets the benefit of the doubt. It’s far easier to claim you were late to work because you were stuck in traffic if you actually commute every day on a major highway. If everybody knows you live down the block from the office, that excuse just isn’t going to fly.

  The worst lies are the ones that make you feel good. It doesn’t matter why the liars said what they said. When the lie is invariably uncovered, your world comes crashing down and your faith in humanity is lost, sometimes for good. Well-meaning lies can end up destroying you.

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “How does letting him have all that magical firepower help us?”

  “Because of what happened in 1601. Listen up.” Amy straightened to her full five-foot-nothing height, raised her free hand like she was about to recite a dramatic soliloquy on stage, and cleared her throat ostentatiously.

  “May the infinite hosts of angels in Heaven,” she declared, “rise in unison to curse the name of Daraxandriel. Even now, a dozen years and more since her blighted shadow last fell across my threshold, her willful incompetence haunts me and brings all of my labors to ruin.”

  “Amy,” I sighed, “we really don’t have time for this.”

  “I’m not done yet. Ahem. The Earl’s supporters have fled like roaches into the wainscoting and Devereux himself has surrendered. Where before they all danced as marionettes upon the strings of my will, now they cower and hide and deny any knowledge of the plot. Worse, Xorbastrar strains against the confines of my soul-trap. I dare not let down my guard, lest it slip its bonds and seek bloody retribution against me.”

  “What plot is he talking about,” I asked doubtfully, “and what does this have to do with the incubus?”

  “How do you spell Devereux?” Melissa asked Amy. She had a Google search window pulled up on her screen and her fingers were poised on the keyboard.

  “D-E-V-E-R-E-U-X.” Melissa typed and hit enter, leaning forward to scan the results.

  “Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex,” she read, “led a plot to overthrow Queen Elizabeth I in 1601. The whole thing fell apart when none of his 200 supporters showed up at the appointed place and time.” She sat back in her chair. “He was executed for treason a couple of weeks later.”

  “Wait a minute.” I turned back to Amy. “You’re saying that Dr. Bellowes was behind all that?”

  “It’s all here,” she said smugly, flicking the page with her finger. “Listen to the rest of it. I cannot but think a flaw is hidden within the binding spells. Ne’er afore have I held so many souls in my grasp so effortlessly, yet I had no inkling they were slipping betwixt my fingers.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dad frowned. “How does any of this help us?”

  “It sounds like he lost control of all those people he was manipulating,” Melissa said thoughtfully, “and almost lost control of the demon in his ring. Maybe there’s a limit to how many he could handle at once.”

  “But that doesn’t do us any good!” I argued. “We can’t just sit here and wait until he enthralls two hundred people!”

  “Dr. Bellowes wouldn’t have needed to control all of the conspirators personally, Peter,” Dad mused. “He’d just need a few key indiv
iduals to drum up support for the cause. Once they came to their senses, the others would disperse on their own.”

  “I guess,” I allowed reluctantly, “but how many is too many? The incubus already has Mrs. Kendricks, Agent Morgan, and probably five other witches. How many more women can he capture before they push him over the edge?” Dad spread his hands in rueful ignorance.

  “Is there aught else within the journal that might provide us guidance?” Daraxandriel wondered.

  “I’m so glad you asked,” Amy smiled. “Worse still, I needs must abandon my experiments and flee London for a time. I bade Devereux to destroy all evidence of this conspiracy, yet surely Her Majesty’s inquisitors will seek to pry the names of his compatriots from his lips. My head shall not be numbered amongst the fifteen who will surely feel the edge of the executioner’s axe! Circumspection becomes my watchword now, ere I discover the key to extending the span of my life beyond its natural measure.

  “Cursèd be Daraxandriel, whose spiteful hand stretches out across the abyss of time to torture my existence! I lay my travails at her cloven feet and pray that God will someday grant me the means to wreak my vengeance upon her.”

  The soft glow of Daraxandriel’s eyes dimmed noticeably as she hunched her shoulders. “My feet are not cloven,” she muttered sullenly.

  “He said fifteen people were involved,” I said eagerly. “Is that how many he was controlling?”

  “There’s no way to tell,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Some of them could have joined the plot willingly.”

  “Besides,” Melissa added, “the incubus isn’t Dr. Bellowes. He doesn’t know how to use the ring properly. That’s why he wants the journal.”

  “Yet the seductive power of an incubus works in his favor,” Daraxandriel pointed out.

  “But all the women he’s captured so far are witches,” Melissa argued. “Won’t they be resisting him, at least subconsciously?”

  “In other words, we have absolutely no idea how many people he can control,” I sighed.

  “Let’s head over there and find out,” Amy suggested with a grin that exposed her stunted fangs.

  “That’s far too risky,” Dad told her firmly. “Let’s get over to the station and meet up with the other witches. Maybe they know something we can use.”