There are two wooden slat park benches close to the bridge, facing an island bed of bright yellow daylilies and brilliant blue irises. I follow the strip of flat green lawn around the island away from the library side of the mainland. On the other side of the river, I see the backside of a row of shops with a narrow alley running behind them. I stop frequently to examine the lawn and the landscaping for any article that might have fallen during a struggle. Varg stays close to me, sniffing all around with avid interest.
Continuing around the other end of the island, the expansive strip of manicured grass narrows to just a path between the river and the dense forest crowning the center of the island. Walking this close to the forested area, I see dapples of sunlight spotting the forest floor where rare rays of sunshine make it through the canopy of leaves. As I move past it, the sunlight and various shades of gloom shift eerily within the forest. After rounding the bend, I’m on the final stretch of the length of the island that lines the library side.
The grass widens again here, and the view of the library is partially obscured by a single row of small, ornamental dogwood trees with the slight remains of blossoms on the ground that would have been in full bloom about a month ago. The row continues along the library side of the river all the way up to the bridge. I bet in full bloom they would have completely concealed any struggle that occurred on this side of the bridge.
“Varg,” I call as I start to head toward the bridge with a heavy feeling of defeat. Varg, who’s sniffing just on the outside edge of the forest, gives a low yip and goes a little further in. I head back down the path lined with dogwood, angling toward the forest to see what holds Varg’s attention. The hair on the back of Varg’s neck is raised, and he’s now standing at attention and sniffing the air.
As soon as I reach him, he starts to move further into the forest and I follow cautiously. The trees have high trunks and not much brush, but the trunks are densely spaced, and the dappling of light that filters through the canopy of leaves becomes sparser with each stride. The incessant sound of insects buzzing and clicking creates an eerie background for the forest. With each step, the light alters, mingling with the dark, creating an ever-changing kaleidoscope of grays that becomes increasingly dimmer as I step forward. The root system on the ground is thick and bulges out of the earth, creating little pockets of different levels of footing. After about fifteen feet I stop to look back, and I can barely see the park landscaping anymore through the thick of trees. I hope I don’t have to follow Varg in very much further because it is really spooky in here.
As we continue on, the thrumming of the insects builds to a crescendo, effectively cutting me off from the rest of the world. My heart starts to pound in my breast. I yank my leather vest close around my body and wrap my arms around my middle. My adrenaline is starting to spike, and irrational panic is setting in. I try to breathe slowly to calm myself down.
Then suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see something move in a blur. No sooner do I move my head in that direction than the movement stops. I stand stock-still, staring at the space from where the movement came, waiting tensely, peering keenly, and listening closely. Then, in a rush, out of an area of deep darkness, a large black bird flies off a tall branch and swoops down between the trees heading straight toward me. I watch as it looms closer and larger with every moment. I throw my hands over my face and cringe, squatting down to the forest floor.
I stay there, crouched and cowering, and after a few breaths I realize that nothing bad has happened to me. I slowly peek between my fingers and am heartened to see nothing in front of me. I carefully stand and lower my hands, peering into the gray veil of shadows that surrounds me. The blackbird is sitting on another tree branch on the other side of me, choking down an insect. Holy smokes! I feel so foolish.
I cast around for Varg and see that he’s just ahead. I can see that the hair all along his back ridge is still raised, and he is growling unhappily at something lying on the ground.
I start to move toward him, and after a few paces, I realize that the something is a blue backpack. I nearly drop to my knees in relief. This forest has me a nervous wreck! Oh, I hope against hope that this is Jason’s and that it holds a clue.
I grab a strap that’s sticking up and try to pick it up. It’s much heavier than I had expected, and as I move my boot back to brace myself, my foot catches on a root and my ankle starts to twist painfully. I throw my weight forward again to try to keep my balance. I reach out for a branch to hold on to, but it offers insubstantial support, and I drop with an “oomph!”
Shoot! My leg is twisted underneath me. I hold my weight with my arms and slowly stretch my leg out in front of me. It moves well but painfully. Once I have it stretched completely out, I gingerly rotate my ankle, and it feels okay. Relief washes over me as I realize I am not greatly injured. The forest ground may be dirty, but I decide it’s better to plant my butt here to look at the pack for a minute while I get my bearings.
Scooting over on my butt, I stretch my arm out until my fingers reach the pack straps, and I pull it to me. I pull off my own pack and take out a fresh pair of gloves and an evidence bag. After putting the gloves on, I unzip the pack and pull out a textbook: AP Chemistry. I open the front cover, and on the sign-out sheet is neatly printed “Jason O’Connell.” My fear leaves me and my heart sings.
I flip open my phone and dial Gambino. “Gambino!” I say when he answers. “I just found Jason’s backpack in the woods on Phantom Island! Actually, Varg found it.”
Gambino’s voice is filled with a smile. “That’s fantastic! I’ll be right there!” Then I hear a click and close my phone.
I start rummaging through the backpack while Varg continues to sniff around, growling occasionally at some scent he runs into. I flip through some tattered notebooks, but at first glance they’re only filled with school notes, so I put them aside. I pull out two more textbooks and check to see if anything is inserted. I feel at the bottom of the pack, and my hand runs into a pile of small objects that feel like loose change and pencils and pens. I would love to dump the backpack out to examine the contents more closely, but this is not the right place for that. I check the front pocket and pull out a copy of the flyer for the Sun Flare Celebration Fireworks and Magic Show. I carefully place it back and zip up the pack. This will have to wait until I have a clean space.
It seems time to brave standing, so I pivot until I’m on my knees and then lift to one foot. Pushing off my bent knee, I slowly attain standing position. I shift my weight between my ankles, and my right ankle hurts a bit, but fortunately it doesn’t appear to be sprained. I swing up one pack at a time to each of my shoulders and start walking carefully back the way I came. Varg is still interested in the area where we found the pack, but a whistle brings him looping toward me. With eyes peeled to the forest floor, I make it safely to the edge of the woods.
With great relief I step out of the woods and a few paces onto the manicured lawn. I can see the library parking lot from between the trunks of the dogwood trees, and Gambino is just exiting his car. I wave my arm wildly at him, and he waves back and shouts, “On my way!”
Varg hears his voice and takes off running. In a flash he’s over the bridge headed straight toward Gambino to greet him.
Once my feet are planted safely on the path leading to the bridge, I flip open my phone and dial Jack. His warm, deep voice reverberates through me like the sound of a harp being strummed. “Jack,” he answers.
“Jack, it’s Blue. I found Jason’s backpack.” As I’m speaking, I suddenly feel a terrifying wave of maliciousness coming from the forest I just exited. I look up and see Gambino and Varg approaching the bridge. I spin around, looking for the source of that terrible impression.
Jack says from my phone, “Excellent work. Where did you find it?”
I peer into the woods. My eyes seem to still be playing tricks on me because the air seems to shimmer. I turn my attention back to the phone call. “On Phantom Island,” I
say. “I’m here now.”
I look backwards again toward Gambino and see him disappearing from my line of sight on the other side of the bridge. The air behind me seems to thicken with the scent of evil, so I spin toward the forest again. A shape begins to solidify just at the tree line, and the roiling feeling of viciousness gets louder and louder to my senses. Suddenly Tobias Blackwater emerges in solid form and jumps from the trees, grabbing my arm.
“Tobias is here!” I shout into the phone as I shove my shoulder into Blackwater with all my might.
My backpack falls off with a thud. Blackwater still has my arm in a painful grip, so I drop the phone and swing the other backpack at him with my left hand. It hits him, but he refuses to let go.
Holy Plane of Fire! Was he waiting for the very moment Varg left me? I yank and pull away as hard as I can. Unexpectedly, my vision starts to dim. I faintly hear Jack’s voice roaring through the phone as it lies on the ground. “Blue!” At the same time I hear Gambino’s louder voice from the top of the bridge yelling “Stop!” and Varg’s vicious growl threatening pain and death.
The graying of my vision relentlessly increases. Then the world goes completely dark.
At first I feel like I’m blinded, and I thrash around for balance, but no solid form meets my hands or feet. I feel suspended, alone in space, but at the same time I can still feel Tobias Blackwater’s presence as a nasty, sticky sweet insanity nearby. The air around me fills with a whooshing noise. I feel confused and nauseous, as though my insides are being sucked out by a vacuum. The air is racing by me, but I’m standing still. I hold out my hands, and my fingers trace through insubstantial air. My heart races and sweat pours down my temples. Then, suddenly, I feel wonderful, hard ground beneath me, and I fall to my knees as the turmoil stills. It’s very dark here, but I can tell that I’m in the world I know again, and Tobias Blackwater still holds my arm.
Blackwater starts dragging me forward, taking long steps while I stumble behind him, attempting to stand. He drags me a few feet through the darkness, and we turn a corner just as the shock wears off me. I see a light ahead, and we appear to be in some sort of cave or tunnel. I am not going wherever it is he’s taking me!
I shout, “Let me go, you sleaze bucket!” I dig my heels into floor, which feels like impacted dirt.
Still pulling at me, Blackwater turns his head and speaks over his shoulder in a singsong voice, “Just a little further, my dear Bluebell.”
What in the Great Abyss? He’s freaking crazy! Trying to stop our advancement any way I can, I start jerking myself backwards. Blackwater’s grip still bites cruelly into my right arm, so I reach behind me with my left arm and try to grab my gun out of my hip holster. I fumble with my Glock in my left hand, and it slips to the ground. Blast it! I drop all my weight on the ground so Blackwater doesn’t pull me away from my gun. Blackwater still has my right arm, and I stretch out, reaching for the gun with my left. My fingers are just inches away. I’m straining, but I just can’t reach it.
He starts to move toward me as if to stop me, but his movement gives me some blessed slack instead, which is just what I need. Stretching my arm to its fullest, I finally grasp the handle of my gun. Just as I do, Blackwater jumps on me and pins my left arm under his right. He twists my wrist, and the pain shocks me into dropping the gun again.
Holy smokes! Now I’m really in trouble.
I’m sprawled on a dirt floor, and Blackwater is on me, holding my right arm and my left wrist. I see his twisted face sneering at me in amusement. Suddenly I flash back to a vision of Schmidt pushing me against the wall and ripping at my clothes. A fresh anger seethes through me, and I start to wiggle and fight Blackwater madly now. I pull up my knee and hit him in the groin, and I watch the amusement drain from his face as I keep kicking and kneeing him.
Blackwater releases my left arm to grab at his crotch, and I rake my fingers down his face. He lifts a hand to protect his face just as I try to poke his eyeballs out. He grabs my wrist again, and I wriggle and writhe to try to get away from him. He plants all his weight on one knee in the middle of my abdomen, crushing me beneath him. Then he holds both my wrists over my head and ignores my now ineffectual kicks and blows.
He picks up my gun. I look in his eyes and see nothing but malice and insanity. I’m sure he’s going to kill me on the spot. I twist my arms again, still trying desperately to free myself. I think about Jack and Maud with longing, realizing I may never see them again. But Blackwater surprises me by spinning the butt of the gun toward me and slamming it into my skull. I feel a shock of pain rip through my head, and my vision is washed with red. I feel myself go limp, then my vision tunnels and narrows to a pinpoint, and finally I see nothing more.
Chapter 55
Searching Desperately
Jack Tanner: June 2, 2022, Red Ages
I stand up behind my desk, and my chair goes crashing behind me. The desk phone is still in my hand, and her voice still echoes in my ears. “Tobias is here!”
I feel a black rage flow up through my body like oil fills a drum, and the pressure mounts and mounts until it explodes. I explode! I roar my rage, so dark, so dense, a pain like nothing I’ve ever known.
Ernesto enters my office in a flash with his sword in hand. When he sees it’s just me, he lowers his sword and stands just on the other side of my desk, but he is still wary, as he should be. I feel crazed.
“What is it?” he asks. He stands in a defensive stance, ready to jump me should the need arise.
I am still standing here with the desk phone in my hand, slowly crushing it.
Xavier opens the door and steps in, gun drawn. Seeing no one but Ernesto and I in the room, he puts his gun down but keeps behind Ernesto.
Then Rubalia’s ashen face appears. “What is going on?” she demands shrilly. Her face is a mask of fear.
My senses are at their highest, and the tangy scent of my colleagues’ blood fills my nostrils and hits me with a force. My fangs descend.
Somehow, with Rubalia’s demand, I am able to focus enough to growl, “Tobias Blackwater has taken Blue. I need to call Gambino.”
Then I look dumbly at my phone in my hand and see that it has been pulverized in my grip with plastic shards littering the carpet. My blood is still pounding in my temples, and it is difficult to think straight.
Xavier says, “Use your cell phone in your holster.”
I feel for my cell phone and dial Gambino. When he answers, I hear Varg in the background alternating between vicious grows and a haunting howl. Gambino’s voice sounds rough, and he doesn’t bother with niceties. He says, “I’m at Phantom Island. Blackwater portaled out with Blue just as I arrived.”
I wince as I hear what I already know voiced out loud, making it real.
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
Ernesto has relaxed his stance a little. Perhaps he has more faith in me than I do.
I close my eyes and reach deep inside myself for some clarity of thought and some self-control. My heart screams “Blue!” but my mind says, “Think of a plan. What should you do?”
I turn to Rubalia, who is still a ghastly shade of gray beneath her brown skin, and her eyes are unnaturally shiny. “Rubalia, first I want a list of all properties owned by Tobias Blackwater or any of his family. Chime me as soon as you have it. Call Mike Kramer, the head of the Western Appalachian Supernatural Investigation Bureau and let him know that one of our colleagues has been kidnapped by a murder suspect and is in great danger. Tell him that the suspect can portal, so we are going to have to operate covertly, without reinforcements. Tell them that we may need some support for our regular case load depending on how long this takes. We will keep them updated. I’m going to need you here as Command Central.”
Rubalia nods, and I can see she has memorized these instructions already. I add, “Please have a car packed with food and bags of blood in a cooler in the parking lot of the Cock and Bull Tap. If we haven’t found Blue by evening, we will need it.”
I turn to Ernesto and Xavier. “You’re with me. Meet me at the car.”
I look around the room, and no one has moved. They’re all staring at me like a still frame: Rubalia with her lips pinched and a quivering chin, Xavier with a look of shock, and Ernesto with wariness and concern.
I’ve managed to speak calmly for a full minute, but the inside of me is a swirling tempest of rage, battering at me, wearing at my control. I need Xavier and Rubalia to leave my office because the scent of their blood is too enticing while I’m in this state. My fangs are still fully descended, and my throat is thickening. On the brink of losing complete control, I raise my voice again, “Leave my office. Now!”
Rubalia startles and Xavier winces, and thankfully they both scatter like rabbits. Ernesto leaves as well, but I can smell him outside my door. He knows I’m tottering on the edge.
I quickly reach into the fridge under my desk and pull out four bags of blood. I sink my fangs through the plastic of each consecutively, mechanically, drinking but tasting nothing. It’s a precautionary action because my rage is too strong and my instincts are besieging my mind. The last thing I need is to let hunger take control.
When done, I toss the bags in the garbage can and go to my closet. I assess my arsenal and choose my sword and scabbard, two semi-automatic pistols, and a long knife. I take a moment to strap on my holsters and knife sheath and carry my sword and scabbard out.
Ernesto is indeed standing sentinel outside my door, sword in hand. I’m glad he is keeping close watch over me. If ever I needed a friend to keep me in check, this is the moment. He follows me through the reception area where I see Rubalia furiously typing on her computer with tears silently streaking her face and her mouth set in a grim, determined line. I wish I could give her comfort, but I have none to give. We pass her silently and walk out the office door. On the way down the hall and stairwell, I whisper quietly under my breath, for Ernesto’s ears alone, “Friend, my control is weak.”
The Light Who Shines Page 33