Double Threat

by F. Paul Wilson

  “No, I—fuck it, yes!”

  “Damnit, Rhys! Where are your loyalties?”

  “It’s not a matter of loyalty, it’s about warning an innocent girl that trouble is coming.”

  “She’s the trouble!”

  “She’s got no clue, Dad. You haven’t spoken to her. She’s got her own thing and it’s got nothing to do with us.”

  “Really? Well, if that’s so, then she’s being used. Naïve or not, she’s involved. Remember: The porthors revealed themselves to her. Have they ever revealed themselves to you?”

  Rhys saw no point in responding when his father knew damn well the answer was no.

  “Have they ever revealed themselves to anyone you know? No, of course not, or you would have heard about it. I can tell you they’ve never appeared to me unless I blew that horn. So why did they pop out of the sand and show themselves to her? Because they recognize something in her. And so do the celestial readings. She’s a threat and needs to go. It’s too late to head back, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t change anything, only complicate matters.”

  “Goddamn it!” Rhys reached for his phone but realized it wasn’t there. “Is this why we left our phones behind?”

  “I know you, Rhys,” his father said, glancing at him as he drove. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

  Rhys considered jumping his father and wresting control of the car away from him. But that was foolhardy and dangerous and, as the man said, wouldn’t change anything. He pounded the dashboard a half dozen times in frustration, then sat back and fumed.

  2

  The knocking woke her.

  She’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. This was getting to be a habit. She struggled off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen.

  “Who is—?” Then she saw the Hello note lying just inside the door.

  (“Looks like your friend is back.”)

  Note Man, yeah. Are you going to become Jason again?

  (“On a first-name basis now, are we?”)

  Well, he’s really hot.

  (“If you say so. Whatever, I don’t see the need.”)

  Daley spoke to the door. “Oh, it’s you again.”

  A new note.

  Am here I too late?

  What time was it?

  A glance at the microwave showed 12:47.

  “Not at all. I was watching television.”

  (“Sort of. More like reading.”)

  She just now noticed the phone in her hand. Pard had been studying again.

  “What’s up?”

  There is talk in town

  “Oh? About what?”

  You

  Healerina is healing?

  (“Already?”)

  “Now where did you hear that?”

  I listen

  Her neck tightened.

  “Have you been listening to me?”

  Promised I wouldn’t

  Keep promises

  That was a relief.

  “What have you heard?”

  An ulcer?

  Now how…?

  (“I recall seeing a couple of locals in the shop earlier when Estelle started gushing about you healing her.”)

  Daley vaguely remembered the women. Estelle had commanded most of her attention at that moment. Apparently not Pard’s.

  Well?

  You’re not sure?

  What do I say?

  (“He might come on like a confidant, but don’t tell him anything you wouldn’t tell the Department of Consumer Affairs.”)

  “I’d like to heal, but mostly I’m helping people heal themselves.”

  How does one heal oneself?

  (“I sense this might be getting personal.”)

  “It’s complicated. The first step is believing you can do it.”

  Like placebo?

  “Oh, I hope it’s more than that.”

  (“It is. Much more—moi.”)

  Hush.

  Seriously

  Can you heal?

  (“Careful…”)

  “I don’t make promises.”

  Can ugly be healed?

  (“Knew it!”)

  “Ugly is in the mind. They say beauty is only skin deep.”

  But ugly is to the bone

  “Sometimes pretty people are ugly to the bone.”

  My skin is ugly

  Can you heal it?

  (“Watch it … watch it!”)

  I feel sorry for him.

  His loneliness, his need for companionship penetrated the door and enveloped her.

  What do you think?

  (“Matters what’s wrong with him.”)

  “Like I said, no promises.”

  Would you try?

  “Of course. When?”

  Someday

  Maybe

  “Why hesitate?”

  You would see me

  “But—”

  Daley jumped at a horrendous crash of breaking glass from somewhere below.

  (“That sounded like the shop window!”)

  “I’m gonna—”

  She was rising to her feet when Note Man knocked urgently from the other side and shoved a new note through.

  STAY!

  Quickly followed by another.

  Stay where you are!

  “I’ve gotta go see!”

  NO-NO-NO!

  Stay safe where you are!

  “Safe?”

  Danger!

  More loud thumps and crashes followed.

  “You know who it is? Is it Karma?”

  The biker hadn’t looked too happy when she turned him down.

  No

  worse

  “Then who?” She opened her phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  Don’t

  won’t get here in time

  Another note.

  You will be safe

  if you stay here

  What do we do?

  (“We do what the man says. He obviously knows more than we do.”)

  3

  Good thing Dad was driving because Rhys was in no shape to get behind the wheel.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he got drunk. College, maybe? Not that he was sloppy now or anything, but all the tequila he’d slugged down had caught up to him.

  After filling the Land Rover’s tank, Dad had suggested they find a place where they could have “a late-night snack.” More like early-morning snack, but whatever. Anything to put off returning to Nespodee Springs and seeing what the porthors had done to poor Daley’s shop.

  What was Dad trying to do—establish an alibi? They’d be on camera at the gas station and be remembered by the restaurant.

  It being a Tuesday night—or rather, Wednesday morning—El Centro was closed up pretty tight, but they managed to find a Mexican bar-restaurant still open. The kitchen was closed but they had some guacamole available and threw together a plate of cheese nachos. While Dad ate, Rhys drank—margaritas at first, then he discarded all pretense and did shots of 1800 Silver.

  He was drinking to blot out concern for Daley, but also to cushion tonight’s revelation that the porthors were real, and all that entailed. His father put up with it until Rhys ordered shots for the house—which had dwindled to a half dozen Mexicans by then—at which time he was informed they were heading home.

  On the ride back he was kind of hoping he’d pass out and wake up in the morning. But the trip wasn’t long enough, especially with Dad driving like a maniac, like someone who couldn’t wait to see what had gone down in town while he was away.

  They passed the Welcome to Nespodee Springs sign, and as they hit the pavement, Rhys braced himself for the sight of the porthors’ handiwork. The Thirsty Cactus slipped past, and then the car slowed and he saw the smashed front window and the broken furniture and display cases and shelving tossed out on the boardwalk. He expected his father to keep rolling but instead he jerked to a stop.

  “What?” Dad cried. “What?”

  Rhys was about to
ask what his problem was when he saw the sign in the window of the shop next door to the destroyed place: Healerina.

  It took a while for the reality to penetrate his tequila-fogged brain, but when it did, he started to laugh. He couldn’t help it: He roared.

  “Stop that!” his father shouted. “Damn you, it’s not funny!”

  “Yes, it is!” Rhys managed as he toned his laughter down to an insane-sounding giggle. “They hit the wrong store! Now that’s funny!”

  The tires chirped as his father hit the gas and the Rover leaped forward.

  “How is this possible?” Dad said, fuming. “I painted the symbol on the right window. You saw me, didn’t you?”

  Rhys had controlled himself by now, though he still had to fight back giggles.

  “Yep. Right under the Healerina sign. Saw it with my own two eyes.”

  “Then how could they have ignored the symbol and attacked the store next door? It makes no sense.”

  “No sense at all. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you got your symbols mixed up and painted the wrong one on her window. I mean, you know, maybe you mistook the symbol that says ‘Trash this store’ for one that says, ‘Ignore this place and trash the one next door.’”

  He barely got the words out before dissolving into more laughter.

  “This is serious,” Dad said. “Something has gone terribly wrong here and you’re acting like an idiot!”

  Rhys reined in his laughter. “That’s because I feel like an idiot for getting involved in this nasty scheme.”

  Dad didn’t seem to hear. “This woman becomes more and more of a concern. First the porthors reveal themselves to her, then they spare her abode when they were supposed to attack it. What is it with this woman? What connection does she have to them?”

  Despite his blood alcohol level, Rhys sensed something awry in his father’s assessment. True, the porthors had ignored the symbol and spared Healerina, but what had made them trash the empty shop next door? Ignoring Healerina was one thing, but attacking the place next door was something else entirely. No reason for them to go there.

  Unless …

  “The only explanation I can come up with…”

  He shut his mouth before he could say what was on his mind.

  I’m drunk. Gotta shut the hell up.

  “Well,” his father said. “I’m waiting. And it better not be more idiocy.”

  “It’s gone,” Rhys said. “Straight out of my head.”

  “Drowned in the lake of tequila polluting your bloodstream, no doubt.”

  “No doubt.”

  Rhys was pretty sure he knew what had happened, but he couldn’t tell Dad.

  4

  Rhys knocked softly on Cadoc’s door.

  His brother’s scribbled words from last week had come back to him in the car while pondering the mystery of Healerina and the porthors.

  I roam … watch & see things … listen & hear things … I know things …

  But even more telling had been his comment when Rhys had admitted that he liked Daley.

  I like her too.

  So now he stood—maybe swayed was more like it—outside his brother’s door and knocked again.

  “Hey, bro. It’s me. I know you’re awake. Open the door. Got a question.”

  “Ungh-ungh,” from the other side. No.

  “C’mon, bro. I don’t want to shout it.”

  The door opened a crack with only darkness visible beyond. Cadoc’s peeling-bark hand appeared with a note.

  Drinking?

  “A little. Listen…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m asking for a friend: Is it beyond the realm of possibility that someone might have rinsed off a symbol drawn in Nofio water on the front of a certain shop in town and then redrawn that symbol on the window next door?”

  “Ungh-ungh.”

  A firm no …

  Disappointment flooded Rhys. He’d been so sure …

  Wait … slowly his impaired synapses concluded that a “no” meant not beyond the realm of possibility.

  Yes! Knew it!

  Rhys felt a burst of warmth for his brother. He had an urge to push the door open and hug him, but that wasn’t gonna happen.

  “I love you, man.”

  A note.

  But will you love me

  tomorrow?

  Wasn’t that a song?

  “You mean, when I’m sober? Definitely. I tend to love everybody when I’m drunk, but you I’ll love forever. Just don’t expect me to tell you again.”

  That’s a relief

  Rhys laughed and handed back the notes. “G’night, bro.”

  “Ungh.”

  The door shut and Rhys stumbled away, thinking, I’ve got the greatest goddamn brother on the whole fucking planet.

  5

  Daley didn’t sleep well during the night, but she’d made a point of not going downstairs until daylight. And so she was shocked to find Healerina untouched when she stepped into the shop through the back door.

  Pard, dressed in his signature boots, jeans, and plaid shirt—green and white today—was leading the way. He turned and gave her a baffled look.

  (“All that noise … I could have sworn…”)

  “Are we crazy? First, seeing those lizards. Now we’re hearing things?”

  Through the front window she spotted Jason Tadhak standing out on the boardwalk, hands on hips as he shook his head and stared at something. Stepping outside she immediately knew what had captured his attention.

  “Oh, my God!” escaped her when she saw the shattered glass and broken shelving.

  He whirled toward her. “Do you know anything about this?”

  She fumbled for a story. “I … I woke up at, like, one A.M. or so and heard some strange thumping noises, but I never dreamed…”

  All true, kind of. She certainly wasn’t going to mention Note Man—for both their sakes.

  “Who would do something like this?” he said. “I mean, what’s the point? The unit was empty. If they wanted to get their jollies destroying things, why didn’t they—?” He gave Daley an embarrassed look. “Sorry. I wasn’t wishing it on you, just wondering.”

  “I’m right there with you,” Daley said. “I’m glad they left my place alone, but I’m wondering why.”

  Just then a sheriff’s unit rolled up and pulled into the curb.

  “I put in a call as soon as I saw it,” Jason said.

  Daley didn’t recognize the deputy who stepped out and approached. She wished it were Sam Alvarez but today was Araceli’s appointment at Children’s Hospital. Daley was dying to know how that would go.

  Jason hurried over to speak to the deputy, then led him back to the shop and inside. Daley spotted Jake standing outside his café, staring across the street at the wreckage. She started in his direction.

  I don’t know what happened here, but I’m gonna leave the detecting to the sheriff’s department and have some breakfast. Sound good?

  (“Perfect.”)

  6

  Daley put in a call to Gram and learned that she had an appointment with Seamus’s cardiologist next week. Daley would have preferred sooner but as a new patient, that was the earliest available. Well, at least she was going. Gram also informed her that she’d thrown out her cigarettes.

  Yay!

  Rhys Pendry showed up shortly after and didn’t look so hot—bloodshot eyes and a pained expression, but also a strange, haunted look.

  “You all right?” Daley asked.

  “I was seriously overserved in El Centro last night. But I saw the damage next door on my way back into town this morning. What on earth happened?”

  “Nobody seems to know.”

  “You didn’t hear anything?”

  Daley had given a statement to the deputy, carefully elaborating on the vague story she’d given Jason Tadhak. She repeated it for Rhys.

  “You didn’t look out the window?”

  (“He seems awfully int
erested,”) Pard said from his window perch.

  Well, you heard that deputy: This simply doesn’t happen in Nespodee Springs.

  “I didn’t see anything,” she said. True, but only because she’d been cautioned to stay right where she was.

  Rhys looked oddly relieved. “Like I said, I saw the destruction—my father was driving us home—but by then the damage had been done.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “How often do you go out drinking with your dad?”

  He laughed, then winced and put a hand to his head. “That hurt. But the answer is never. Just sort of happened. You know how it is.”

  No, she didn’t know. She’d never had a chance to meet her father, let alone have a drink with him.

  “He had one beer,” Rhys went on, “and I … well, I decided to have the tequilas he would have had, had he been drinking. And when can I take you out to dinner?”

  Daley blinked. “Wow. I think I just got whiplash.”

  He smiled. “Just trying to slip it in there before you realized where I was going.”

  “Are we talking a liquid dinner or will solid food be involved?”

  “Definitely solid food, and drinks too, of course, although I’d like to make it tomorrow night, if that’s okay. I need a day of abstinence before I face another adult beverage.”

  What do you think, partner?

  (“This is totally up to you. I already told you—atop the tower, if you remember—that I like him.”)

  “Okay. Tomorrow night it is. When and where?”

  (“Not the Thirsty Cactus, I hope.”)

  “Not a lot to choose from in the valley, but I know a couple of nice places in El Centro.”

  “Sounds good.”

  (“Do I see a time-out in my near future?”)

  You do indeed.

  Rhys grinned. “Great. Why don’t we—?”

  “Is the Healerina here?” said a well-dressed woman from the doorway.

  “That’s you,” Rhys said. “I’ll leave you to your customers. We can iron out the details tomorrow.”

  He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze, then made his way out.

  “The whole shop is Healerina,” Daley said to the newcomer. “How can I help you?”

  She marched up to Daley and held out her hand. “I’m Joyce Plummer and I need healing.”

  Fiftyish and all business, she wore a fashionable blue suit and the large pearls in her necklace looked real. Her dark hair was cut in a longish bob, and she had a firm handshake.

  “Healed of what, may I ask?”

  “That’s what I want you to find out. I feel awful. Something’s wrong, I just know it. I want you to work a spell on me or whatever it is you do, and make it go away.”