“Uncle Paul?” Pru asked.
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Will you tell Dad that I love him, and that I miss him?”’
“Will do, sweetie.” And then he was gone, leaving Karen’s body to slump to the floor.
Pru started to rise, but her leg had gone numb and she sat back down in the pool of stinking saltwater. She surveyed the room. Only Amanda had regained her feet, but her legs were wobbly and she was having to steady herself against the wall. Nan seemed to be conscious, but was making no attempt to get up. Pru’s aunt and mother were both out of it, and McCoy was still on his hands and knees, looking as if he were going to puke. Some of his color had returned, however, and his breathing was becoming quieter and more regular.
That was a close one, Pru thought. It had been touch-and-go, true, but it was beginning to look as if they might actually make it through with their skins intact.
And then the singing started.
***
Tietza’s patience had finally given out. Either Mallobaudes had run into some unforeseen difficulty, or he had failed in his mission. Given the male’s limited intelligence, she supposed that either scenario might be true. She was more aggravated than concerned, however; she had little fear that Mallobaudes might have met his end, for no one here could possibly know their names. But the male was easily distracted, and the human man had knowledge of magic.
No matter. Tietza would draw them out one by one. Though Mallobaudes’ presence made luring the women into the ocean easier, it was far from necessary. And if the human male was still alive and sought to interfere, there were ways to deal with him, as well.
She watched the house intently as her song drifted over the waves toward the shore.
***
Pru watched in horror as Amanda turned and silently walked out of the room. She tried to stand, but again her leg failed her.
“Amanda!” she cried. “Stop!”
Beside her, McCoy struggled to his feet, swayed, and lumbered unsteadily out of the room in pursuit.
***
Tietza watched as the door of the house opened and a lone figure in a yellow windbreaker emerged from the darkness. How fortunate! It was the human male’s mate, the one that had arrived with him earlier. Even if Mallobaudes had failed to kill the man, surely he would be devastated by the loss of his loved one.
The woman paused to pull the hood of her windbreaker over her head. Tietza began to sing louder, sending the hypnotizing lilt floating inland on the ocean’s breeze. The woman resumed her advance, her gait slow but steady. From inside the house came several shouts, but the woman ignored them and passed through the sand dunes which bordered the beach.
The tide was receding, revealing a wide stretch of wet sand which glistened under the moon’s soft glow. The woman walked to the water’s edge and paused, seemingly uncertain. Usually, Mallobaudes was there to lead the victims into the sea. But Mallobaudes was still nowhere to be seen, so Tietza redoubled her efforts. After a brief hesitation, the woman in the windbreaker stepped into the water.
Waves lapped at the woman’s pants as she waded further into the dark ocean. From somewhere in the night sky, a late gull cried out. Still the figure in the windbreaker came, up to her knees now, then her hips. Tietza, further out, continued with her melancholy song, focusing her energy to draw the woman even further out.
A shriek came from the shore, and Tietza saw that the little brat girl had come out of the house and was now standing on the beach. The child was jumping up and down and waving her arms in an obvious attempt to capture the woman’s attention and break Tietza’s hypnotic hold. The woman in the windbreaker slowed her progress and actually came to a complete stop, though she did not turn to look at the girl.
No! Tietza was too close now. She would not let this little upstart interfere with her plans. She sang her song louder still and focused every ounce of energy available to her into reasserting her domination over the woman’s will. The woman in the windbreaker actually took several more steps, but then paused again as the girl on the beach screamed even louder.
Tietza found herself tiring. Enough of this! The woman had already waded out chest deep into the water, and the Nixe was not about to lose her prize. If she could not lure the woman out any further, she would drag the human to her death by force.
With the speed of a shark, Tietza swam toward the woman, who stood with her head bowed and her arms floating limply at her sides. Even if the trance were broken, the Nixe felt confident that she could easily subdue the woman. Tietza was stronger, and she was at home in the sea, while the human was clearly out of her element. This would be a quick kill, and then Tietza could focus her attention on the troublesome imp on the shore.
The Nixe reached her prey and rose to her full height in the surf, intending to snatch the woman up and carry her off into deeper water. Even at this fearful sight, the woman in the windbreaker stood with her head bowed, motionless. On the shore, the girl was going into screaming fits, desperately trying to draw the woman’s attention.
As Tietza reached in, the woman deftly took a step backward and removed her hood. Instead of the woman’s soft features, Tietza found herself looking at a grizzled face with a goatee and a crooked, cruel smile.
“Surprise, bitch,” McCoy said, and before the Nixe could react, he uttered one final word.
“Tietza.”
The Nixe, realizing the ruse too late, could only shriek in agony as her body dissolved into the sea. With her final breath, she cursed the wretched human and all his ilk. And then she was gone.
The sea had reclaimed her, as it did to all of its own.
***
McCoy sloshed out of the ocean, removing Amanda’s windbreaker, which had begun to cling to him like a funeral shroud. Breathing was still difficult, though his windpipe was starting to revert to its normal shape and size. He smiled at Pru as he stepped onto the beach. She matched his crooked grin with one of her own and removed the earbuds which were connected to her MP3 player. By cranking up the volume on the device, she had been unable to hear the Nixe’s singing, and had thus been shielded from its hypnotic effect.
“You did it,” she said as she took him by the arm. “Your plan actually worked.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” McCoy asked in mock indignation.
“On my part? Plenty. I just knew I was going to have to swim out there and save your mangy hide.”
“And how were you planning to do that? She didn’t have any balls to whack.”
“I would’ve come up with something.”
“I’m sure you would have,” McCoy chuckled. “C’mon. Let’s get out of this wind. I’m freezing, and you know us old people catch cold easily.”
“Well, you’re pretty tough for an old guy,” Pru conceded.
“Yeah, and you’re definitely one tough kid.”
They walked back to the house, arm in arm, leaving the sea alone to ponder its own eternal mysteries.
Epilogue
McCoy, Amanda, and Nan sat on the deck of Nan’s house, drinking coffee and listening to the sound of the waves crashing onto the sand. The sun was just rising out of the ocean, a fireball born of water. An elderly couple meandered along the beach, collecting shells and other treasures which had been deposited there the night before.
“It feels like home again,” Nan said with a contented smile. She turned to regard McCoy and Amanda. “Thank you for that.”
“All in a day’s work,” McCoy replied. He lowered the brim of his hat to shield his eyes from the rising sun. His voice had fully recovered, and though his throat was still sore, he didn’t think he’d suffered any permanent damage.
“If that’s a day’s work for you, then I think I’ll stay retired,” Nan said.
“Amen to that,” Amanda mumbled. “At least we can start our real vacation now.” She glanced at McCoy. “I think we’ve earned it.”
“I think you’re right,” McCoy agreed. “Though I’ve suddenly lost my appetit
e for seafood.”
“Are our other guests up yet?” Amanda asked Nan.
“I haven’t heard a peep. They must have been exhausted.”
Karen, Becky, and Pru had camped out in Nan’s third bedroom, partly because there was no power at Karen’s, but mostly because they didn’t want to be alone.
Since it would have looked suspicious to do otherwise, they had reported Paul’s disappearance, along with the damage to the power meter and Amanda’s car, to the authorities last night. As a result, it had been late when they’d returned to Nan’s. Everyone had gone to bed almost immediately, though Karen had lingered for a bit, probing McCoy about the events back at her house. In particular, she had wanted to know how her husband’s spirit had possessed her body. McCoy had explained to the best of his ability, though he had been intentionally vague concerning her questions about the afterlife.
The truth was, he just didn’t know.
In any event, Karen seemed to be at peace with her husband’s death, and that was really all that mattered.
“I’m up for a refill,” Nan said as she gazed into her nearly-empty mug.
“Me too. I’ll join you.” Amanda rose from her chair and looked at McCoy. “You ready for another?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
McCoy watched the women go into the house, then settled back and looked out over the ocean. Unlike the previous day, the sea was calm and unimposing. The menacing aura which had hung over the island like a gigantic storm cloud was gone, and McCoy could now see the appeal of coastal living. The view certainly was breathtaking.
At the same time, though, he was already longing for home. Amanda had her heart set on staying for a few days, and so he would stay, if only to appease her. But he could hear the mountains calling to him, and he was anxious to make the return trip as soon as possible. Those mountains had been the setting for one of the worst periods of his life, but still he cherished them. He supposed that he would always feel that way, until death finally took them away from him forever.
Or would it?
McCoy didn’t fancy becoming a ghost, destined to haunt the hills of his childhood for all eternity. But even he didn’t know what awaited him on the other side. Heaven? Hell? Something completely different? He hadn’t a clue.
But perhaps it was enough to know that he would go on, that he would not simply cease to exist with his final breath. That knowledge appeared to satisfy Karen, as well as Becky and Nan. McCoy guessed that it was enough for him, as well.
According to Deputy Courtland, the woman whose body had been discovered on the beach at the Stallings’ house yesterday had not been a local. She’d been a single lady from Columbia who’d been staying at a relative’s beach house for a few weeks. Apparently, she’d picked the wrong few weeks. The whole affair had left a bad taste in McCoy’s mouth, and he thought that it would be a long time before he was ready for another trip to the coast.
He took another sip of coffee and looked down the beach. The old couple now resembled dots on the sand, having travelled nearly all the way to the pier.
It was good that the others would be staying another day or so. It would give him time to talk to Pru, to point her in the right direction. In the span of less than a day, she had proven herself worthy in his eyes more than once. With a little encouragement and guidance, McCoy felt sure that she would soon be a force to be reckoned with. The supernatural community would be shaking in their shoes.
He returned his gaze back to the ocean and was not quite surprised to see the Gray Man standing at the water’s edge. The ghost was facing the sea, its back to McCoy, and it seemed to be studying the incoming waves intently. The sense of urgency which the spirit had previously emitted was gone, and it seemed to be at peace. It stood there for several moments, motionless, and then it turned to face him. McCoy thought he could make out the faintest hint of a smile, but of course it was impossible to tell from such a distance. Then the Gray Man raised a hand in farewell and was gone.
Where the appearance of the Gray Man had failed to startle McCoy, the ringing of his cell phone nearly sent him bolting from his seat. He fished the phone out of his pocket and looked at the number of the incoming call.
John Talbot. This couldn’t be good.
McCoy pushed the TALK button. “What’s happening, big guy?”
“I was hoping you’d be up.” John sounded sheepish.
“Getting ready for my second cup of Joe. How’re things back in God’s country?”
“Ah, you know. Evil fairies, demons. The usual.” John was trying hard to affect a casual tone, but McCoy knew that the sheriff wouldn’t be calling so early if everything was peachy-keen.
“Okay, John. What’s happened?”
There was a brief pause. “Well, I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. But you did say to call if there was anything out of the ordinary.”
“I do remember saying that. Now spill the beans.”
“Okay. Now, this is going to sound crazy, even for Shallow Springs.”
“John, I just killed two Nixes. Less than twelve hours ago. Nothing you can tell me is going to faze me right now.”
“What? Nixes? What are--?”
“Never mind. You were saying?”
“Well, you know Burt Cummings? He lives out on Cane Creek.”
“I know Burt,” McCoy said.
“Then you know he’s as straight as a preacher. Doesn’t touch a drop of drink, as far as I know.”
“Never knew him to, no.”
“Well, I get a call from him last night. A few minutes before ten. Him ramblin’ on like a sot about some kind of giant bat.”
“Bat? John, are you sure that’s what he said? A giant bat?”
“Of course I’m sure. He swore up and down it swooped down and carried one of his goats off.”
McCoy considered this. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll head back as soon as I can.”
“Hey, Finn. I don’t want you to cut your vacation short.”
“Not a problem. I’m done here, anyway. In the meantime, come up with something to make people keep their kids and pets inside. Especially after dusk.”
“What? What am I going to tell them?” John asked, exasperated.
“You’ll think of something.”
“But McCoy—″
“Later,” McCoy said, and ended the call. He rose and walked into the house.
“Amanda?” he called, preparing himself for the cussing of a lifetime.
The End
Excerpt From Cold Chills: A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller #3
The snow fell wet and heavy, a cause for celebration among the children and a bane for their parents, who were already imagining school closings and treacherous commutes to work. The holidays were looming—a mere three weeks until Christmas—and so the wintry weather was not entirely unwelcomed by the majority of the residents of Shallow Springs. The snow which covered the ground and clung to the limbs of winter-bare trees glistened in the fading light of the day, lending a magical quality to the landscape.
The only reason the snow mattered at all to Elmer Jenkins was that he was afraid the liquor store might close early, thus denying him the liquid temperament he sorely needed to put up with his nagging wife for any amount of time. Why he had married the woman in the first place was a source of never-ending wonderment to Elmer. He supposed it could be chalked up to simple lust; Lola had been pretty hot back in the day, or at least as hot as Elmer was ever likely to get a hold of. And she’d been the first girl to ever show more than a passing interest in him.
Though the weather was already causing problems on the roadways, it was even less conducive to a walk through the woods. But Lola had refused to let him take the car, and the forest offered a shortcut that would shave ten minutes off Elmer’s trip. And it wasn’t even really a forest, to be perfectly truthful—just a couple of wooded acres that separated Elmer’s home on Valley Avenue from the southern end of Main Street. By utilizing the shortcut, Elmer could be in the to
wn proper in ten minutes. If he walked along the road, it would take double that.
In the spring, summer, and fall, it was an enjoyable hike. The path which wound through the woods was flat and wide, and offered numerous places along its length where a man might pause and take a swig or two in private, without having to worry about who might be watching. On warm and sunny days like that, it might take Elmer nearly an hour to go to the store and back, and he was more often than not a little wobbly by the time he returned home.
On those occasions, Lola’s nagging would increase to nearly insufferable levels. By then, though, Elmer usually had enough whiskey or rum in him to deflect the brunt of his wife’s wrath. And if he didn’t, he would disappear into the basement until such a time that all of the nagging in the world failed to dampen his high spirits.
Now, however, with no alcohol in his system and the cold wind ripping at his overcoat, Elmer was not in a particularly good mood at all. He was not a young buck anymore; travelling through the woods in a snowstorm made him feel more foolish than adventurous. He should have taken the car, Lola be damned. It was high time he started putting his foot down where his overbearing wife was concerned. He was fifty years old, for Pete’s sake, and Lola was not his mother.
Elmer stopped to get his bearings. Though he wasn’t worried about becoming lost—a ten minute walk in any direction would bring him out somewhere—he was having difficulty staying on the path due to the rapidly accumulating snow. It was already several inches deep, and though Elmer would have sworn he could traverse the path while blindfolded, the snow had turned the once-familiar landscape into something alien and unrecognizable. The silence was complete; usually, he could hear the traffic on nearby roads. A shiver ran through him, and he couldn’t blame it entirely on the cold.
Shadows in the Sand (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 2) Page 13