The Light Who Shines

by Lilo Abernathy

  Maggie nods again.

  I say, “I’m reaching for my phone now, and I’m going to open it up.” I slowly reach for it, careful not to startle her, and flip it open.

  “Who would you like me to call? A sister? A mom? Or a husband?”

  She softly whispers, “My mom.”

  I nod and smile at her. “I think that’s a great idea. What’s her number, Maggie?”

  Maggie struggles for a moment to sort out her confused mind, then slowly gives me a number.

  I dial it up and a woman’s voice answers, “Hello?”

  “Hi, I’m with your daughter Maggie right now. My name is Inspector Blue, and I’m with the Supernatural Investigation Bureau. I first want you to know that your daughter is physically fine, but she just had quite a shock due to a run-in with a Night-Crawler.”

  I hear a low gasp on the other end of the line, and the woman says, “And little Jonas?”

  “The baby is fine too, but I think Maggie could use your help here today. Like I said, she’s had quite a shock and probably isn’t herself.”

  I glance up at Maggie and see tears in her eyes as she listens to me, but she doesn’t protest. She knows she is in no shape to take care of her baby. She gently kisses his head and rubs his back as he whimpers softly in her arms.

  The woman says, “Thank you, Inspector. I’ll be right there.”

  I turn to Maggie. “Maggie, do you want me to come in and get a cup of tea started for you?”

  Maggie’s eyes latch onto mine, and she says in a desperate whisper, “Yes. Please don’t leave me.”

  I smile gently. “I promise I won’t leave until your mom arrives.”

  I turn to Varg. “Please guard the house.” He immediately steps off the porch and starts to loop around it. It’s remarkable how he always seems to understand exactly what I say.

  I reach around Maggie’s shaking frame and twist the doorknob open, pulling her inside with me. The door opens up to a small living room with a comfortable red armchair by a fireplace.

  I suggest, “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll start that tea.”

  Maggie walks dazedly toward the chair and sits down, setting her still whimpering baby on her lap.

  A few moments later I have Maggie and baby Jonas tucked securely under some blankets on the chair and am locating teacups when someone rushes through the front door.

  Maggie jumps up with a start, but she sits back down when she sees her mother. She is a middle-aged woman with her hair in a bun and an apron, still dirty with flour, tied around her waist. The woman rushes forward and hugs Maggie and the baby. Maggie embraces her back numbly. The woman steps back and looks at her with great concern.

  After a moment, the woman directs her attention to me, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. “Hello, Inspector. My name’s Mary.”

  I smile at the names Mary and Maggie and grasp her hand in return. It’s a small, calloused hand, familiar with hard work.

  “I just made some tea. Why don’t you come with me into the kitchen and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Mary follows me in and I quietly explain what had transpired.

  Mary asks, “That was your car I saw on the side of the road?” I nod.

  She says with gleaming eyes, “Well, thank you for all you did today. I have no doubt you saved both of their lives. I’m a widow, and Maggie is my only child. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, you just let me know.”

  “Just stay here and help her out. If she doesn’t seem herself by tomorrow, you should probably call an herbalist. A small potion may help her immensely.”

  Mary nods in agreement, then says, “Well, you had better get going because your car is in a dangerous spot. When people leave the bridge they’re somewhat blinded by the change in light.”

  I couldn’t agree more! I hand Mary my card, then say goodbye to Maggie and Baby Jonas as I make my way out.

  Thankfully, my car is fine when I arrive. I can’t believe I just saw—and eliminated—my first Dark Vampire. Well, I guess that answers the question of whether or not I really can kill a Dark Vampire with just the light of my aura. I wonder how much more of the story of my parent’s death is fiction. And I wonder why a Daylight Vampire would lie to Father O’Brennen.

  It’s interesting how much the Night-Crawlers reek, and though I’ve heard talk of how mindless they can get, I really hadn’t grasped the severity of it until now. I couldn’t sense any soul in the creature’s presence, of course, but now I know they can’t easily surprise me because the one feeling that they exude in massive quantities is a bottomless pit of hunger. I store the memory of that feeling away for future reference.

  With my mind so full of scenes and feelings from the events that just passed, I make it through the rest of the Shroud Valley hardly even registering the bridge over the Great Oak River.

  Chapter 17

  The Bitter Truth

  Bluebell Kildare: May 28, 2022, Red Ages

  I close the door on Varg at Sandy O’Connell’s house, and this time I make absolutely sure to lock the doors. But I am absolutely unsure whether it will make any difference.

  Sandy lives in a pretty, yellow Victorian with a perfectly manicured lawn and trimmed hedges. I knock on the door, and an older woman, looking tired and drawn, appears in the doorway. She has mostly white hair done in a tasteful pixie cut, and she holds herself in a dignified manner.

  “Hello,” she says with a weary voice.

  I feel tendrils of sadness coming off her, but from beyond her, I feel a blast of gray-black grief that is so deep and abysmal that I feel as though I’m being sucked down an endless pit of darkness.

  I can tell the woman in front of me is too old to be Ian’s wife, and I imagine the greater wave of grief is coming from Jason’s mom inside, so I ask, “Is Mrs. O’Connell home?”

  The woman answers curtly, “I’m Sandy’s mother. Who are you?”

  When I show her my badge and introduce myself, her response is to curl her lip and say, “Sandy doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Ma’am, I know this is a hard time for her, but it is important that I speak with her. I won’t take much of her time.”

  Sandy’s mother draws herself up and starts to shout at me. “Why, you people have a lot of nerve acting like you give a shit when we all know you don’t!”

  I take the beating and respond by looking at her gravely. “Ma’am, I promise you I care very much. And the last thing I want is for whoever did this to strike again before we stop them.”

  Sandy’s mother snaps, “Well, you should have thought of that before!”

  Then a soft voice comes from inside the house. “Mom. Let her in. It’s okay.”

  Sandy’s mom drops her shoulders in defeat and steps aside to let me pass. I go in the direction of the voice and find a handsome woman with straight blond hair sitting at the kitchen table. She’s wearing blue jeans, a loose t-shirt, and a drab gray sweater wrapped tightly around her small frame. She, like Ian, has deep circles under her bloodshot eyes and looks of utter desolation.

  A feeling of such tremendous loss and pain rolls off her. I feel it through my entire core, and it is practically paralyzing. This woman loved her son with all her heart, of that I have no doubt. I try to push through the waves of grief to find myself again so I can focus. Sometimes it is hard to separate other people’s feelings from my own when they are so strong.

  Sandy’s mother says, “Sandy?” Sandy looks up at her slowly as if she’s under water. “This lady is an inspector and is here about Jason. Are you up to talking with her?”

  Sandy moves her eyes to me and says, “Yes. Please sit down.” She speaks slowly as though every word takes a grave effort to push from her mouth.

  My heart goes out to her. She is engulfed in despair and I hope she recovers. I also hope to get out of this house as soon as possible to avoid this terrible, bleak feeling. I feel guilty for thinking that, but the black waves of sadness are so strong and so profound th
at I feel myself being dragged into the abyss with her.

  Resolved to see this through, I introduce myself. “Mrs. O’Connell, I’m Inspector Kildare from the Supernatural Homicide Investigation Unit. I’m investigating your son’s case. I know this is a very hard time for you, but I have to ask you some questions. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  Sandy nods.

  I continue slowly, trying to take it at her pace while doing my best to ignore the huge feeling of grief that is welling up inside me from Sandy’s emotions. “On April 28, the day your son went missing, do you know if he was planning on doing anything after school?”

  Sandy says, struggling now to speak at a normal pace, “I don’t know. He never said. He wasn’t with his friend Tim. No one knows if he tried to go straight home or if he went somewhere else.”

  Then she looks at me at little more sharply and says, “He didn’t do it, you know. Ian was angry, and he hates us Gifted, but he would never hurt his son.” Then she mumbles more to herself than to me, “He would have come around eventually.”

  “I believe you, Mrs. O’Connell.”

  She looks at me and recognizes that I tell the truth. She nods in acceptance of that.

  I ask, “Do you have Tim’s contact information?”

  She looks at her mother. “Mom, would you get my address book? It’s on my desk.”

  Sandy’s mother leaves the room, quick to help. I ask, “Can you tell me about your son’s gift, Mrs. O’Connell?”

  She says with some effort, “Just Sandy, please. I’m not sure what his gift was. It sort of interfered with other magic. He didn’t yet have it under control or understand it himself, I don’t think. When other people would do magic, just his presence would mess it up. Maybe it was a gift of interference.” A puzzled look crosses her brow, and then she continues trying to explain.

  “Last year at his younger cousin’s birthday party, a clown was levitating for the kids when Jason walked in the room. Suddenly the clown shot up in the air and rammed his head into the ceiling. We had to call the ambulance. Another time I was lighting a candle while Ian was still at work. I have the gift of fire, you know. Jason walked in from school, and the flames shot up two feet high. I had to get the fire extinguisher to put them out. Luckily, the candle was on the stove and it was easy to contain. I told Ian that I had a grease fire…” She trails off, obviously stuck in the memory. A different sense of sadness and loss permeates the air now.

  Sandy’s mother comes back and gives me a slip of paper with Tim’s address written in a delicate scrawl. I thank her and then turn my attention back to Sandy.

  “Thank you, Sandy. I really appreciate the help. But can I ask why you didn’t want to talk to me at first?”

  Sandy looks at me bitterly and pins me with her angry, gray eyes. “You know, we told Officer Schmidt that he wasn’t a runaway. I called down to the precinct every single day telling him to take this seriously.” She slams her fist down on the table in a show of energy I didn’t think her capable of. “In the end, he wouldn’t even take my calls anymore. If you’d paid more attention to us then, maybe my son would be alive! Maybe you could have stopped some of the torture he went through.”

  Tears well up in her eyes and start streaming down her face, but she keeps her eyes directed straight toward mine as she drills her pain and grief into me. I feel the full impact of her anger and bitterness at us, at all law enforcement officials, and I truly can’t blame her one bit.

  I don’t shrink from her accusing gaze. Instead, I pull out my card and place it on the table. “Sandy,” I say, “I’m so sorry for your loss, and I understand your anger. I really do. But this I promise you: I will not stop until I find the person responsible.”

  Sandy looks away from me now and stares at the wall while cupping her chin in her hand. I know that I can’t give her what she really wants. She wants her son back, and she wants the terrible pain he went through to be undone. The bitter truth is she is right. If Jason’s disappearance had been treated like a kidnapping, he might still be alive today.

  Sandy’s mother shows me out.

  Chapter 18

  Making an Entrance

  Bluebell Kildare: May 28, 2022, Red Ages

  When I step out of Sandy O’Connell’s house, I am still reeling from the fact that Officer Schmidt treated the case like an adult walk-about. He disgusts me to the nth degree. I wonder who I should report this to, Gambino or Jack. Jason was a supernatural, so this case should have resided with the Bureau to begin with!

  I take a moment to relax and breathe. My lungs drink in the fresh air, and my shoulders loosen up as I leave the pain in that house behind me.

  It isn’t until I reach the car that I realize Varg is quietly following behind me. I give him a sharp look. Well, isn’t this interesting? I wonder how he does it.

  When we settle back in the car, I notice a missed call from Gambino, so I ring him back.

  His deep voice rumbles, “Gambino.”

  “Hola. This is Blue.”

  Gambino discloses his news. “The forensics report came back. The glass fragments were not helpful, but the paint chips and the grill pattern were. They match a 1968 Meteor Shockwave in Pewter Green. Only three are registered within a hundred mile radius.”

  “Excellent!” Luck is with us that it’s such an old car.

  Gambino says, “I’ll send profiles of the owners to you in a bit. I’m heading out now to question them myself. But first, I’ll stop by to speak with the bartender and see if he recognizes any of them.”

  “Let me know how it goes.”

  Gambino agrees, “Sure thing.”

  I say goodbye, then snap my phone closed and point my car in the direction of the office to update Jack.

  A few minutes later, I enter the office with Varg pushing ahead of me into the space that Rubalia commands. Xavier is pulling a document out of the printer with his back to us. He’s medium height with the face of a model and the body of an ox, all of it muscle. He keeps his head shaved, and his skin glows a rich sable all the way down to his wrists. His hands, however, are a pure, matte black, the manifestation of his gift.

  Rubalia is busily typing away on the computer. Her gold-tipped hair is full and fluffy, and her ruby red marcasite specs have slid to the tip of her nose again. Rubalia looks up to greet me, but her smile freezes on her face. She points her finger at Varg and says between thinned lips, “Good morning, Blue. I’m glad you made it in earlier today. Now what is that doing in my office?”

  Now, I’ve already contemplated how to handle Rubalia. I have a plan, and I cross my fingers that it works.

  “This is Varg,” I tell her. “I found him in the alley behind my apartment building. He actually saved my life from a dangerous assailant. I decided he would make an excellent guard dog since I’m often dealing with shady characters. Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Dark Vampire murders in my neighborhood lately.” I glance at Xavier, who is listening avidly, and on impulse I add , “He also seems to have some talent with escaping locks that requires additional investigation.”

  Rubalia rebuts, “Jack and Ernesto already eliminated the Dark Vampires.” She opens her mouth to say more, but Xavier comes to my rescue.

  “What do you mean he can escape locks?” Xavier asks. He is naturally interested in this since he is our office guru on illegal entry, and his talents are not purely academic.

  “He appears to be a master escape artist. He escapes locked car doors with no perceptible evidence of how he does it.”

  “How remarkable!” Xavier muses, stepping forward to get a closer look at Varg, who is now investigating the premises.

  I turn to Rubalia, trying to keep her distracted. “Have any documents come in for me from the precinct?”

  Rubalia is onto me and is having nothing of it. She snaps, “Nothing yet. And if that creature pees in this office, I don’t care if he is a descendent of God Almighty Himself, he will be out!”

  I let this slide. I’ve learned
its best not to confront her head-on because the humiliating truth is that I will lose.

  “Is Jack available?” I ask.

  Rubalia looks at his phone line. “Yes. He appears to be free now.”

  As I head to his office with Varg trailing beside me, I hear the fading sound of Rubalia muttering under her breath and Xavier chuckling good-naturedly.

  Before I even knock, Jack calls through the door, “Come in.” It always surprises me when he does that because I forget about his incredible hearing.

  I walk in with Varg pushing ahead of me as usual. Jack looks a lot neater today than he did yesterday, which I take as a positive omen. He’s wearing a pale, bluish gray suit with a matching vest that makes his hair look all the more golden. I try not to stare as I sit down in the chair opposite him.

  Varg stands next to the desk with his eyes trained on Jack, his purpose clear. Jack watches Varg watch him and chuckles. “It is good to see he takes his job seriously.”

  He slowly puts out his hand to Varg. Varg sniffs his hand then lies down by my feet, still alert.

  “His name is Varg.”

  Jack leans back in his chair and looks me over coolly, inquiring, “So, where are you with the case?”

  I dive in. “Forensics came back on the car and Gambino has three hits within a hundred mile radius. He’s sending me the owners’ profiles shortly. He’s also questioning them and the bartender today. I met with both parents this morning and used my sixth sense. Neither is involved as far as I can tell. Also, neither can confirm the exact nature of Jason’s gift. The mother is Gifted as well, and her best deduction is that he had some sort of interference power.”

  I relate the mother’s stories to Jack about Jason’s effect on magic.

  “Interesting,” Jack says. “I’d follow up on that if I were you.”

  “My thoughts exactly. The mother gave me Jason’s best friend’s information. I’m headed to see him soon.”

  Jack appears to approve of this, so I go on to report about my early morning phone call. “Gambino informed me that the evidence locker was broken into last night. It’s heavily warded, there was no sign of entry, and the exterior cameras caught nothing. The only box that was opened was for our case, and none of the evidence was removed. Gambino and I think that the perpetrator was looking for the amulet. He suggested on his own that I keep it where it is for now.”