The Light Who Shines

by Lilo Abernathy

  Ernesto looks at me with his wise eyes full of sorrow and whispers back, “I know, mi amigo. You are like I was when my Rosalie died. I will watch you until you are yourself again.”

  I smack his shoulder in approval.

  When we arrive at the car, Ernesto takes the passenger seat and Xavier the back. I’m flying down the road to Phantom Island, the scenery a blur, before their doors are even shut. I’m singing a song of death in my mind, and the song has Blackwater’s name in every chorus.

  When we peel into the library parking lot, Gambino is standing outside his car with Jason’s backpack on his hood. He’s on the phone and flips it closed as I get out. His face is red and scowling as he says, “Varg took off. I have three men from the force joining the search. I’ve alerted the chief who’s alerting the mayor.” Then his eyes grab mine, and I see a degree of my pain reflected in his. He says, “We shouldn’t have let her go out alone.”

  I bark with rage, not at him, but at myself. “I know, damn it!” The guilt sits like a huge boulder in my chest, pressing down on me.

  Then my chimerator tightens, and I flip open the lid angrily. Rubalia says without preamble, “He has a family estate on the corner of Lawrence and Wilson Street. 53 Lawrence Boulevard. His other properties are all out of state.”

  “Thanks Rubalia. Please file the emergency entry paperwork. Hold on.” I look at Gambino, “Did you put a BOLO out on his car?”

  Gambino nods.

  “Did you notify airport security?”

  “It is automatically part of the BOLO.”

  I speak to Rubalia’s chimera. “Rubalia, can you also check to see if he owns a private plane?”

  “Of course.”

  I flip the chimerator closed and open it again, chanting a familiar name. A wild, melodious voice answers as an image comes into focus. “The Dragomir Magical Artifact Shop.”

  “Dragomira, it’s Jack. Blue has been taken. When someone has the gift of portaling, how far is the range?”

  Dragomira drags in a sharp breath, and then she says, “Usually no more than two to three miles.”

  Then her voice softens and she says gently, “Jack, I think this may be your test. I am truly sorry.”

  I flip the chimerator closed again, and my heart silently cries out. A test that I’ve surely already failed! I run my fingers through my hair, still staring at my chimerator while I get a grip. Two, maybe three seconds pass; that is all the reprieve I’ll allow myself. Then I look at Gambino. “Blackwater lives at 53 Lawrence Boulevard. Park a block away, and wait for our approach. If she is there, I do not want him moving her.”

  Gambino nods, and I run to my car and take off to Blackwater’s residence with Ernesto and Xavier.

  We arrive in an old neighborhood with, large elegant homes, sprawling yards, and tree-lined streets. I park a block away from the property line, and my team gets out.

  I say, “I’ll take the roof. You two guard each entrance, but stay hidden. I’ll start at the top and work my way down. I’ll whistle when you can enter.”

  We move silently forward. The house is an old brick Tudor with plenty of entry points for persons of our skills. Xavier takes position in front of the house behind a large black maple tree. Ernesto crouches below the window line and slips around back. I go to the side of the house and scale it quickly, gripping on to the bricks and timbers, listening for noises in the house. Nothing but the normal squeaks of a house moving and air flowing through vents greets my ears.

  I quietly break the wood frame of a small, square attic window and edge the glass out. When I slip through, I noiselessly place the glass on the floor and proceed through the attic. It’s thick with dust as evidence of its neglect. I quickly assess that it is used as a storage area and is empty of human life. A brown bat colony that keeps vigil on the roof beams starts to shudder and tremble when they smell my presence.

  I descend down a rotted wood stairway to the second floor. The landing door opens to a wide hallway lined with bedrooms, seven to be exact. I smell no life, or death for that matter, but I do smell the lingering scent of Blackwater and two other distinct human scents. The place reeks with the stale scent of fear. But no scent of Blue. How I ache for the scent of Blue!

  I descend the stairs to the main level in a flash. So far I’ve heard not a whisper or a breath in the house beyond the bats and a few mice inside the walls. My heart grows colder and colder as each second makes it clearer that Blue is most likely not here. I quickly tour the six main rooms downstairs to confirm there is no life. I open the front and back doors and whistle Xavier and Ernesto in. Gambino has joined Xavier in the front and comes in as well. I see an unmarked car across the street with back-up for Gambino.

  As they enter the house, I say, “She’s not here. The house is empty, but we need to search it for clues. We’re looking for files listing properties or associates, hidden safes, anything!”

  Xavier says, “Let’s start in the office.” I follow his lead because Xavier is my expert in this area.

  Xavier starts by unlocking the large, ornate desk that takes center stage in the room. He shifts through files in its drawers as Ernesto heads to the file cabinet. I go to the fireplace and grab a long piece of kindling and wrap one end in newspaper. I use my fangs to pierce my hand and drip blood about halfway down the stick in a circle surrounding it to create a rough fire stop. Then I start the newspaper end on fire with some matchsticks on the mantel. As soon as the wood catches, I knock the newspaper into the fireplace and close the flue. Then with my handmade torch I slowly examine the interior walls of the room.

  I wave the smoking torch next to the walls and bookcases and gently blow it into cracks to watch it languorously curl its way back into the room, proof there is no air seepage. When I get to a large mahogany panel between two massive bookcases covered with hunting trophies, I see the smoke slip in the crack between one bookcase and the panel and disappear. I check the other side of the panel and the same thing happens. My excitement rises. “We have a hidden door!”

  Xavier jumps up to examine the panel. Using his excellent intuition he grabs on to the deer antlers on the rightmost side of the panel and gently pulls it down. The entire head of the deer levers down as though on a hinge and then clicks in place. At the same time, the panel springs open and bumps Xavier’s foot. Thank the Holy Light I brought Xavier along! “Good work, Xavier!”

  Xavier nods, fully absorbed in his task. He lives to meet the challenge of every locked space as though claiming that no one can keep secrets from him. He pulls the panel door open all the way to reveal a massive steel door with an old-fashioned combination lock. Xavier pulls a tool out of his pack. I gather it’s some sort of listening device by the way he presses it to his ear then presses the other end to the vault just to the left of the lock. He slowly turns the lock to the left, then to the right, then to the left. His movements seem to be in excruciatingly slow motion. I watch as he spins a large wheel on the vault door to open the latch. I hear creaking and scraping of the metal works, and finally the door slowly swings toward us.

  It opens to a chamber lined in glass shelves filled with ancient magical artifacts of all kinds. My hopes come crashing down in an instant. My chest tightens with a stabbing pain. I slam my fist on the top of the safe doorway so hard the massive iron safe dents with the shape of my fist and the sound reverberates through the house like a sledgehammer, breaking windows as it goes.

  When the fine tinkling of shattered glass quiets down, my ears pick up the faint sound of voices and my hope flares again. “Someone is here, below us somewhere!”

  Xavier steps away from the safe with a huff of disgust and says to Ernesto, “Look for other hidden doors. If he has one, he will likely guard other secrets this way.”

  Xavier and Ernesto quickly assemble their own handmade torches and take off to other parts of the house. Gambino steps in the chamber with the broken glass crunching under his shoes. He looks around grimly. Two red spots rise to his cheeks as he says
angrily, “I’ll be damned! I bet half of the items stolen in the last five years are here.”

  I couldn’t care less about stolen items, so while Gambino calls in his back-up, I continue searching the interior walls of the room. Just as I’m finishing, Xavier yells from across the house, “Jack! We think we found something!”

  I follow the sound of his voice, and Gambino follows me. Xavier and Ernesto are in a large mudroom off the kitchen, looking at a tall, floor-to-ceiling bench with coat hooks on it. I blow the smoke around the back panel and sure enough, it disappears.

  Ernesto hands Xavier his torch, and using brute strength he wrenches the bench away from the wall. A stone doorway emerges with a staircase twisting down. I quickly descend, using Vampire speed and eyesight, blowing my torch out with the strength of the air blowing by me. Ernesto follows with his sword drawn. The stairway is narrow and made of crumbling stone, walled in on both sides. It twists several times, then ends in a long hall that slopes down further still.

  As we come to the end of the hall we turn right. It opens into a large stone room with a low ceiling. At the back of the room are two iron barred cells. One holds a man and a woman, a Latino couple, clasping each other desperately on a small cot, looking toward us blindly in the darkness. The woman softly sobs and shakes with fear. Their clothes are plain and worn but clean and neat. I see a slight body on a cot in the other cell. I quickly rush to it and see it holds an emaciated young Latina girl, thin to the point of starvation, unkempt in rags, lying on the bare pallet with only a threadbare blanket. She’s making soft whimpering noises.

  Ernesto says “Dios mio!” and starts talking rapidly in Spanish to the couple.

  Xavier steps up to their cage and removes a tool from his pocket to start breaking the lock. I notice a key ring hanging on the wall and grab it and toss them to his feet. Xavier picks up the key ring sheepishly. He unlocks the door, and the woman flies into Ernesto’s arms, speaking urgently in Spanish all the while, holding him like she will never let him go.

  As Ernesto comforts her, he says over her shoulder, “They do not speak English well. They were kept as domestic slaves. Blackwater held their daughter here as blackmail to keep them.”

  Gambino has joined us downstairs now and steps aside to radio for an ambulance.

  I am glad we found this family, and of course I want them to have the care they need, but my need to find Blue is desperate. So I press Ernesto, “Ask them if they saw Blue.”

  Ernesto turns to them and talks with them a moment. Both the man and the woman shake their head as they reply to Ernesto. My heart drops again.

  Ernesto says, “No. Blackwater locked them in here yesterday and hasn’t allowed them out since. Normally he lets them out in the morning and locks them up at night after the housework is done. They have not seen any young woman in the house in the last few days.”

  I look at Gambino and ask, “Do you have anyone who speaks Spanish? I need Ernesto with me, and they need to talk to someone.”

  By now Xavier has opened the door to the little girl. Ernesto gently extricates himself from the woman’s arms, and together they go to the girl and kneel down on either side of her cot. The man, meanwhile, keeps thanking me in both Spanish and English. Then he joins them at the cot and gently strokes his daughter’s hair. Ernesto is speaking softly to her. The girl tries to lift up her head but then lies back down in exhaustion. Ernesto holds her hand and says something tenderly to her again. She nods slightly. Ernesto gently lifts her up in his arms. She practically disappears behind her long dark hair. She is so slight, she reminds me of a tiny sparrow with broken wings.

  We all ascend the stairs and wait for the ambulance at the front door while the mother and father keep speaking in Spanish alternately to Ernesto and their daughter.

  “What are their names?” I ask.

  Ernesto looks at the couple and says, “This is Claudia and Jose Herrera.” Then he looks down compassionately at the little girl. “This is Evita. She is sixteen years old.”

  I’m shocked. She is so small and looks maybe twelve years old at most. “How long was she kept down there?”

  Ernesto’s face turns dark with fury, and the girl sees it and starts whimpering again. Ernesto schools his face and murmurs gently to her. When she seems to relax, he looks up with a world of pain in his eyes. “Over five years. She has not been out of that cell in over five years.”

  I curse under my breath. Three ambulances arrive, and Ernesto gently lays the girl down on one of the gurneys and whispers to her again. Her parents are able to get in the gurneys on their own. The girl is obviously distressed when Ernesto steps away, but one of Gambino’s men steps up and starts speaking to her in Spanish. She quiets down, but she watches Ernesto all the while, obviously afraid to let him out of her sight.

  I look to the street and see neighbors gathering in front of their homes watching what is happening and gossiping heatedly.

  “Ernesto,” I say, drawing his gaze away from Evita. “We need to go back to the Warehouse District by the Cock and Bull Tap.”

  Every second that passes ticks through my mind. I turn to Gambino. “Can you have someone look through the rest of the files here and call me if something comes up?”

  “Yes. I’ll stay here and supervise for tonight. We’ll also check the rest of the interior walls using your method.”

  I put out my hand, and Gambino grips it firmly. “Thank you, Gambino.”

  Gambino says, “Good luck. I’ll call you as soon as I know we have everything we can get from the house.”

  I glance back at the house as Gambino’s men start putting the crime scene tape up across the large stone doorway. I look across at the neighbors again. A lot has been found in this house, and I don’t think the neighbors will ever view it the same way.

  I call Xavier over, speaking quickly. “Xavier, next we’re going to search every warehouse in the district, and I could definitely use your special expertise.”

  Xavier puts his hands in his pockets, grins, and then frowns, apparently momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation in his joy of the challenge. He says, “Of course. Obviously you don’t have enough time to file a right of entry permission for every building there. Do you have enough cause to invoke the emergency entry right?”

  “Absolutely. Based on Jason’s condition we have every right to fear for her life. I’ll call Rubalia and ask her to submit the paperwork.”

  Ernesto shifts his stance, his agitation obvious, and I can see that Evita really affected him. “Señor,” Ernesto asks, “are you going to call in for another unit to help?”

  “Ernesto, I wish I could. But bear in mind that Blackwater can portal Blue out at a moment’s notice if he knows we are close. We must work quickly and move stealthily, and calling in a big team would make that impossible.”

  Ernesto nods. “I agree. I was concerned about that.”

  Xavier says, “We have the perfect skills to do this quickly and well. Let’s do it!”

  With that, we hurry to my car, and I peel out and floor it to the Warehouse District. While I’m driving I call Rubalia. “Rubalia, have you found any evidence of a private jet?”

  Rubalia says, “No, Sir. I called all the private hangers in a two hundred mile radius and told them to be on the lookout for Blackwater. I faxed a photo of him to each one and gave them your number to call if they see him.”

  “Thanks, Rubalia. Great thinking. We’re about to search the Warehouse District, building by building. Can you submit the emergency entry special license paperwork?

  Rubalia says, “Of course. I have a few prepped already. I’ll just enter the location.”

  “When you’re done with that, I’d like you to switch tracks and start looking for any business dealings he may have had with anyone who owns property in the Warehouse District. Also, generally keep looking for any local properties at all.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And Rubalia, call Mike Kramer and tell him I want a team as
signed to help you with research. You are to lead it. Don’t let him arrange it any other way!”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  “If he gives you any problems, send me a text and I’ll call him myself.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Then I click the phone closed, concentrating on the rapidly passing suburban streets, hoping she comes up with something, anything. Rubalia is a master researcher. If there is something to be found, she will find it.

  Chapter 56

  An Introduction to Pain

  Bluebell Kildare: June 2, 2022, Red Ages

  I wake up drowning in freezing water. Choking and gasping for air, I try to swim, but I can’t move my arms. I open my eyes and see the long, thin face of Tobias Blackwater grinning at me, with an empty bucket in his hands. I try to wipe the water from my face, but my arms are restrained above my head. They move a little but not far enough. I sputter and cough. The cough sends a blast of pain through my head. Aside from the biting edge of the cold water and the pain, my mind feels dull and slow.

  As I keep my head still, the blast of pain settles to a great throb on the side of my head where Blackwater had hit me. I observe that I am in the middle of a dark room with rock walls and a dirt floor. A firefly lantern hangs from a hook on the wall, casting a long shadow on the opposite side of Blackwater. I feel air all over my body. Without moving my head, I know he has stripped me naked. Blackwater’s leering face comes one step closer to me. I lift my leg to knee him, but my foot is restrained as well. I try my other foot with the same luck.

  Blackwater laughs softly. The feel of his nasty, perverse joy fills the room.

  Risking an escalation of pain, I slowly tip my head up and see my arms are shackled, the chains attached to one of several large timber ceiling beams. I look down and see my ankles are also shackled to chains cemented in a square block beneath me. I school my face not to show desperation, and I face Blackwater, who seems inordinately pleased with the situation.

  “Ah, Bluebell,” he sneers, “so good to finally meet you under more civilized circumstances.”