by Fiore, L. A.
Her head snapped up when we entered. “We need to get that body in a more secure location.”
“Why?” she asked.
“What body?” Nick added.
“Henry Werth. There’s something happening to his body.”
Nick paled. “You think he’s turning into whatever is causing the claw marks?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Jasmine paled. “Do you think whoever is behind this wanted to infect us?”
“I think that is exactly why they left his body for us to find. They thought we’d learn too late or not at all.”
“Why not do the same with the McKinnons?” Jasmine asked.
“I don’t know. I think the timeframe plays a factor. Almost like the McKinnons started the clock.”
“What clock?” Nick asked.
I met his bewildered stare. “The one counting down to another blood bath.”
“It is a zombie-like situation,” Jasmine whispered.
“We need to isolate it and lock it down, and I have a feeling we need something stronger than steel and locks.” I reached for my phone and called Cyril.
“What’s up, boss?”
“I need your family’s particular brand of help.”
Silence greeted that answer before he asked, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
As unbelievable as it was, I was becoming a believer. “I need someone who knows magic.”
“Shit. You being the one to ask for that...I’ll call my grandmamma.”
“Dark magic,” Esther Boudreaux said as she walked around the morgue.
Not just magic, but dark fucking magic. I needed a fucking drink.
Cyril was clutching his necklace.
She studied the body. “I’ve never seen this before, but you are right. It needs to be contained. I can work a spell to bind it, trap it here.”
“Shouldn’t we just kill it?” Nick asked.
“No. If it is turning into what is infecting people, I can work to isolate the contagion.”
“To what end?” Cyril asked.
“I can create a vaccine,” Jasmine offered.
Surprised, I glanced over at her. “You can do that?”
“My background is in infectious diseases.”
It was the case, all the bizarre shit happening, but I couldn’t help think how fortuitous it was for us that our newly hired ME had a background in this specialized a field, a knowledge that we needed. Some might argue there were other powers at work here. Fucking hell. I was starting to sound like Cyril. “All right. We bind it here, so you can work, but once you have what you need, we kill it.”
“Agreed.”
“I can see to that,” Esther offered.
“I can’t believe we’re talking about zombies.” Cyril’s comment surprised me.
“You’re a believer. Why does the idea of zombies suspend your disbelief?”
“Because it’s so science fiction,” Cyril replied.
Jasmine and I shared a glance before she said, “Not anymore.”
“We stopped this one, but how do we stop others…because you know there will be others?” Nick asked exactly what I was thinking.
“You need to find who is conjuring the dark magic,” Esther said.
“What like a sorcerer?” Was this really happening?
“Yes,” Esther replied. “You need to find the head of the snake, Sheriff.”
“So I take out the sorcerer and we take out whatever is infecting these people.”
“Yes.”
“How do I find a conjurer of dark magic?” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation, that this was real life.
“By having someone stronger in magic,” Esther offered.
“You?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I sense the one you seek isn’t far.”
10
Ivy
I sat in the rec room, doodling on a pad of paper, my focus outside. I had a knot in my stomach, the feeling that something was wrong never left me, nor did the sensation that I had been here before; I was in a kind of cycle that I couldn’t escape. I glanced around the room to the sight that never seemed to change. There was more, deep down I knew there was more than this, but I felt trapped, locked in my head, held prisoner by all the memories that stayed hidden.
I glanced outside. Two crows sat on an old stone bench. A few butterflies darted from flower to flower. A movement by the weeping willow pulled my attention to the fox. I sat up, even moved to the window to get a better look. I didn’t want to scare him off, but he was beautiful. I had never seen a fox. How had he gotten past the fence that surrounded the property?
His red fur shined in the sun. He moved through the courtyard with no fear, working his way toward me.
“They’re gathering.”
I glanced over at Emily. She joined me at the window.
“Who’s gathering?”
Her focus shifted outside. “The warriors.”
I followed her stare to the few animals in the courtyard. “Warriors? Where?”
“They’re answering the call.”
“What call?”
She turned to me, her blue eyes looking almost sane. “It’s coming.”
“What’s coming?”
“The one you’re waiting for.”
She danced away. I watched her go, my gaze shifting to the pad of paper I had left on the sofa, the one I’d been doodling on. I’d drawn a symbol, dug the pencil into the paper pretty hard as I did. It looked oddly familiar, like I’d seen it before. I couldn’t remember, but I ripped the sheet from the pad and stuffed it into my pocket. For some reason, I didn’t want anyone to see it.
Walking into the cafeteria, I took a whiff. Meatloaf night. My stomach growled in approval. Meatloaf night was my favorite because it was the only meal they served that resembled even marginally what it was supposed to be. Chicken night was not chicken in that vat of oily water.
I collected my food, stepped over two people wrestling, and made my way to the windows. The moon was out, full in the sky. I loved the full moon. I wished I were outside to hear the noises of the night. It was a full moon, so it was likely quiet because nature knew something else was on the hunt.
I scooped up some runny mashed potatoes, letting the salty taste of them slide down my throat. Clouds moved across the moon, the sight so serene.
The grunts from those fighting grew louder. I broke off a piece of meatloaf and savored the taste. A death cry echoed off the walls. I looked over to find three others had joined in. There was restlessness and edginess about them. Like they were waiting for something and were growing impatient. Instead of the two fighting each other, they were fighting the newcomers. I watched from my spot in the corner. It wasn’t an even match, made even less so because the newcomers weren’t fighting fair.
The fighting was getting messy. Blood poured from a cut over one guy’s eye from a solid hit from the big dude that waded into the fray. Well shit. I took another bite of meatloaf stood, and grabbed a tray from a table I passed. I kicked the big dude’s knees out, and when he turned, I nailed him in the face with the tray. The sound of his nose breaking drew a smile.
“You bitch.”
The next kick was to the balls. He dropped to his knees. I grabbed his broken nose, and he howled in pain. “It’s meatloaf night. Of all the nights, you have to get stupid on meatloaf night.”
I felt the prick and the almost instant effect of the drugs as they moved through my body. Well hell, I didn’t finish my dinner.
I woke in my room and wasn’t surprised to find I was restrained. That was protocol when one lived in the nut house.
Dr. Ellis stood over me, disappointment twisting his features. “You had to get involved,” Dr. Ellis chided.
“It wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Then you should have gone for help.”
“Bart was missing in action.”
Dr. Ellis ignored that. “I don’t understand you, Ivy. There a
re times when you bring the calm, and there are times when you stir it up.”
“Well, I am crazy so...”
“You’re not crazy.”
“Really, so I’ve been in a mental facility for most of my life, but I’m not nuts.”
“You’re conflicted.”
“That’s just a nice way of saying nuts.”
“I’m going to remove the restraints. Could you please refrain from breaking people’s noses?”
“If they refrain from being douchebags.”
“Ivy.” He sounded like my father, not that I had a father. Well, not one I knew.
“Sorry. Yes, I will work on restraint.”
“Thank you. The sheriff and his deputy are here. Are you up for the interview?”
The sheriff and his deputy, I had visitors? “I’m meeting the sheriff?”
Dr. Ellis seemed to visibly relax. Why?
“Yes, they witnessed your moment.”
Oops and still I smiled. Welcome to my world gentlemen. “Yes, I’m up to talking with them.” I was more than up to talking with them; I was ecstatic.
“They went for dinner. They’ll be back in an hour. We’ll have the meeting in my office. You and I will discuss this incident more in session,” Dr. Ellis threatened.
I couldn’t stop the eye roll. We would discuss this, in detail. Kill me now. If Dr. Ellis saw me rolling my eyes, I couldn’t tell.
He walked to the door but glanced back at me. “You missed meatloaf night.”
My stomach growled. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“You’re lucky you know someone,” he said cryptically before he walked from the room. I was still staring at the door when a nurse rolled in a cart with a meatloaf dinner. I called after Dr. Ellis. “I take back the eye roll.”
He shouted back, “No you don’t.”
“You’re right. Thanks for dinner.”
Halfway through my meal, I felt funny. My vision blurred. I lowered my fork as anger warred with worry. Had my doctor drugged my food? It played so clearly behind my eyelids, a vision that felt more real than imagined.
He was chained to a post, his hands and ankles in metal cuffs. Death had plagued the village, brutal and savage. People were afraid and that fear became a living and breathing thing. They wanted someone to be guilty, needed to believe they had put an end to the horror. He was different. He rarely spoke, didn’t react when they caught him. He didn’t scream for help when they dragged him through the streets. He stood stoically when they bound his hands and feet. They believed he had no soul. They believed he was evil.
When the sun rose, the firing squad would arrive. They had sold tickets to the event. People were making hats and dresses, preparing feasts to watch as a young boy was killed all in the name of justice. A jury hadn’t found him guilty; he hadn’t been given the chance to defend himself. His only crime was being different.
She waited and hoped, hoped that common sense would return, hoped that the darkness that plagued their village would lift, that whatever spell they were under would break. She hoped for sanity to return and for the young boy to be freed. She knew she hoped in vain. They were changing. The beautiful people who had drawn her to this place were changing. Every generation they grew more cynical, more intolerant. Hate lived in their hearts along with fear and envy.
Compassion for the boy filled her. He was different, but he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t what killed the people in the village. It had been one of their own who was responsible. They didn’t know that with the lifting of the sun there wouldn’t be any need for the firing squad.
She walked to him, touched his restraints as they melted from around his wrists and ankles. There wasn’t fear in his expression or anger.
“Come with me, little one. I know people. Like you, they are different.”
He hesitated but took the hand she offered.
“You are different too,” he whispered.
“I am.”
“I did not kill those people.”
“I know.”
“They were going to kill me.”
Pain burned in her chest when she replied, “Yes, they were.”
He looked up at the sky turning purple and red. “We best hurry. The sun burns.”
“It won’t always, but it will not rise until we are safe.”
“How is that possible?”
She glanced down at him and smiled. “Because like you said, I’m different too.”
She had no trouble finding those she sought; their signature was very strong. They knew they weren’t alone. It was the presence of the young boy that kept them from attacking. When they realized who was with him, intrigue replaced hunger.
One among them stepped from the crowd. His pale eyes moved to the boy. “You will be safe here.”
“It is growing stronger,” she said.
“Yes, it is. It infects them. Soon it will consume them.”
“We have to stop it.”
“I don’t know that we can.”
Her heart ached, a tear slipped from her bright eyes. “We can.”
He studied her before he asked, “How?”
Her gaze met his. “Because it was through me that it was summoned. And it will be me who vanquishes it.”
11
Josiah
Cyril and I were heading to see Miss Blackwood, but I was still reeling from events I couldn’t explain. Something was happening, something that shifted the foundation of what I believed. There were forces at work here that defied convention, forces I wasn’t even sure we could stop. For a man who never believed, I was finding seeing was believing and more startling, all that hocus pocus…I was willing to admit there was more to the world than I knew. Just acknowledging that was a huge step for me and one I knew I had to take if I ever hoped to solve this case.
Taking the supernatural out of it, studying the case like one would any other, there was definite escalation. To what end? That was the question I wasn’t ready to ask because deep down, I knew where this was all going. Believing it, that was another story.
I tried to focus on the parts of the investigation that I still had a handle on, but I wasn’t holding out hope that Ivy Blackwood remembered much about the night in question because she had been just a kid. She was a part of this, whatever this was, so what part did she play and had she seen things she couldn’t explain? Was that why she had been labeled crazy?
“Are you a believer now?” Cyril’s question broke the silence.
A noise escaped my throat, but not one that could be called a laugh. “A believer? I’m having a hard time believing, but I am willing to admit there is more of the world than I knew.”
“It’s only going to get worse.”
That turned my head. “What do you know?”
“Only that the die has been cast.” He glanced over. “It cannot be undone.”
“What’s in the morgue?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What’s coming?” I asked.
“Darkness.”
I didn’t press him for more because we were pulling up to the security booth of Misty Vale Sanatorium; the attendant was stuffing a donut in his mouth, the white powder cascading down his navy blue uniform, his stomach hanging gluttonously over his belt.
“Name,” he demanded, as little pieces of donut spit from his mouth.
“Josiah Abiviny and Cyril Gaudet.”
Fingers that looked like links of Andouille sausage flipped through the pages on his clipboard. “Yeah, okay. Go on through,” he offered unceremoniously as he hit the button for the gate at the same time he shoved the rest of the donut in his face. We drove through the black iron gates that wrapped around the entire place, the razor wire curling in loops at the top had been added later I was guessing. I stopped the car in the circular drive and stared at the old stone mansion with its gargoyles along the pediments, hundreds of glazed windows that were so dirty you couldn’t see through them, and the dilapidated balustrades that were an accident w
aiting to happen.
“The place should be condemned,” I muttered before shutting off the engine and climbing from the car.
“You can say that again,” Cyril said as he palmed his necklace.
“You really think that’s going to help with whatever we might find in there?” I asked of his necklace.
“Tiger’s eye is a powerful protective stone.”
“It’s a stone.”
“And my grandmamma put a protective spell on it.”
On second thought, maybe it would help with whatever we might find in there. I changed the subject, looking around at what looked more like a broken down home than a hospital. “It doesn’t seem like it’s operational.”
Inside was not what I expected. It looked like a hospital, unimaginative in all white. There was a visitor desk, the woman behind it smiled as we approached. The orderly standing next to her only glared.
“We’re here to see Dr. Ellis.”
“Oh, yes. One second. I’ll page him.”
I thought it was just an expression, but she really paged him. Why not call his cell phone? I didn’t linger on that thought because a patient came running down the hall wearing not a damn thing.
The woman chuckled. “That’s Danny. He thinks his clothes are trying to kill him.” Her focus shifted to the orderly. “Maybe you should do something about that.”
If looks could kill. It was an odd response because he was the orderly. Reluctantly, Bart, as his tag declared, moved from the desk to follow Danny.
A man came from down the hall in a white doctor’s coat, arrogance in his every move. I instantly didn’t like him. He was smug, almost self satisfied until his focus landed on me. His footsteps faltered, and I swear it looked like he’d just seen a ghost. The easy smile died when he reached us. He hesitated before he extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Ellis.”
“Josiah Abiviny and Cyril Gaudet.”
“This way.”
On the phone, he had seemed almost eager to talk with us and now he wanted us gone. Why?
Cyril never let go of his stone. There was a part of me that wished I had one. I’d never been in a mental hospital before, but it looked just like the ones you see in those horror movies. People walked around, but when they looked at you, there was nothing looking back.