Beacon's Spark (Potomac Shadows Book 1)

by Jim Johnson

  I stared at the crystal and then at the stair railing, curious in spite of the heebies crawling all over my neck and back. I decided to get crazy and cupped my left hand around the crystal, thinking happy thoughts as I did so. I didn’t feel any change from the crystal, but that was okay since I didn’t really expect one anyway.

  With the crystal in hand, I moved back to the stairwell bannister and hunkered down on the steps, taking a closer look at the metal railing.

  It was polished metal, though there were a lot of sections that had black gunk on them. I reached out and scraped at the gunk with a fingernail. Some of the crap scraped off just fine, almost like carbon scoring on a metal poker after making s’mores at a campfire. Something hot had left a heat trace on this metal.

  I nodded, remembering the webs of electricity that had arced out of the conduit. I ran my eyes along the bannister, following it along to its lower end, the one closest to the stairwell door. I wrapped my hand around it and pulled.

  Sure enough, it gave a little. I studied the bolts set into the wall holding the bannister in place. They had once been set securely into the wall, but some great force had pulled the bannister out enough that the plaster and cinder block around the bolts had cracked. Not enough to make them unsafe, but definitely evidence of some great force.

  I stood up straight and rubbed the back of my head. Not that I needed another reminder of the power of that energy.

  I glanced up the stairwell and then took the steps two at a time until I reached the midpoint landing before they turned on themselves. I glanced up and around the corner and got my assumption confirmed—there was a closed doorway at the top of the stairs.

  I walked back down the stairs to the main level, the pendant clasped in my hand a strange comfort against the whispered buzzing that popped up in my head and chest.

  I focused on the feeling. I may have felt something like it the first time I was here, but...no. That had been deeper, maybe harsher.

  The buzzing in my head continued to grow in volume and intensity when I poked my head in the stairwell leading down. I glanced around the main part of the stairwell, and a glimmer in the air caught my eye, along with a slight upswelling of the buzzing in my ears.

  At first I thought it was just a trick of sunlight on metal, but a quick glance reminded me that there were no exterior windows in this stairwell and the only metal was the stair railing, which was largely smudged up with that carbon scoring. Not reflective at all.

  I focused on the little spark of light, which was floating in the air, just above the second step leading up, sorta like a stationary firefly.

  Confused but curious, I stepped closer to it, keeping one hand tightly clasped around my pendant, which had somehow in the last few minutes become a good luck charm.

  I crept closer to the spark of light and moved my head to either side of it, trying to suss out if it was connected to anything. There was nothing above or below it, no obvious light source that shone down in just the right way to produce it, no reflective surface creating an odd off-shooting lens flare.

  It was just a floating pinpoint of light, and it was...wait.

  I frowned and leaned in closer to get a better look at it. No, it wasn’t just light—it had some substance to it, some thickness, more like a floating sphere of glowing amber than light itself.

  I cocked an eyebrow at it, glanced at the closed stairwell door, and then back at the strange ball of stuff.

  “Oh, Rachel, what the hell are you doing? Wandering around places you have no business being and poking your head into things you have no clue about.”

  The little ball seemed to shimmer in the fluorescent light, almost as if the amber was spinning in place.

  With one hand still firm on my crystal pendant, I tentatively reached out with my other index finger. I paused just a few inches away, psyching myself out, but then I bit my lip, braced myself, and then reached out and touched it.

  My finger pressed against the little glob of...whatever...and felt some slight resistance, as if I was pushing my finger against a ball of warm modeling clay. I pushed a little harder, and to my surprise, I sensed more than I heard a tearing sound, and then my finger punched through.

  Actually, my finger disappeared!

  I glanced at one angle, and saw my finger pressed into the glowing orb, bits of it clinging to the whole circumference of my finger. But from another angle my finger just was not there, like it had disappeared in thin air or been cut off at the second knuckle.

  My eyes were showing me something my body didn’t feel. The tip of my finger was getting colder, almost uncomfortably so, like it was stuck in a snowbank. And yet I couldn’t see it.

  I waggled my finger experimentally. I could see my hand and the longest part of my finger move, but where it had pushed into the amber ball, I couldn’t see the last two joints move, even though I felt them flexing back and forth.

  Moving my finger made the little glowing ball flex as well. It stretched along with the motion of my finger, like a thick rubber band.

  I decided to test the limits of the stretch, and started to pull my hand down closer toward the floor. I felt another tearing sensation, and this one was accompanied by that buzzing sound changing in tone, deepening and moving closer toward that strange bass hum I had heard the first trip here.

  The glowing orb actually changed shape in front of my eyes, as I moved my hand toward the floor. Silvery arcs of energy started to appear in the tear I was forming in midair.

  My eyes widened as the rip in the air got longer, the whole of it fettered by tiny arcs of silvery light. I remembered the earlier conduit being electric blue bordered by a brighter yellow light, and some part of me wondered why this one was a different color. I’d have to ask Miss Chin about that later.

  Suddenly, the bass hum deepened and my heart hammered in my chest as the lighting in the stairwell dimmed and the temperature dropped so much so fast that I could see the vapor from my breath bursting out of my mouth in time to my surprised gasps.

  The tear in space that I had somehow created morphed before my eyes, taking on the same blue energy glow I had seen before. The slightest glimmerings of a face started to form in the center of the growing maelstrom of energy, and the bass hit me so hard that all I could do was clench the crystal tight in my hand and physically force myself to pull my hand out of the tear.

  It met with some resistance and then there was a loud snapping sound, a burst of rage from whatever was inside the energy tube. The tear collapsed on itself and shut like a zipper closing from the inside.

  I staggered back until my back touched the stairwell door, and then I just stood there and shook, my breath coming out in long gusts of vapor and my left hand held so tightly to the crystal that its facets dug painfully into my palm and fingers.

  Chapter 20

  AFTER TAKING A FEW MOMENTS TO catch my breath, I forced my left hand to unclench from its death’s grip around the crystal pendant, and massaged my hand to relax the muscles. It had fallen asleep.

  I scanned the stairwell and the air around it but didn’t see any sign of that glowing orb or the tear in space I had created.

  I reached behind me, seeking the door handle, and after some fumbling, found it. I twisted it and pulled it open, and had to stumble around the door so that I could step out of it backwards and into the hallway behind me.

  I let the door shut on its own in front of me. I backed away from it until my back touched the wall behind me, that same wall me and Malcolm had hit the other day. My breathing was coming in sharp gasps, so I forced myself to take a few deep, ragged breaths, and tried hard to settle my racing thoughts.

  “Damn, Rachel! Are you all right?”

  I whipped my head around. Malcolm stood partway down the hall, moving toward me at a rush.

  I lifted a hand as if to fend him off. “No, no, I’m fine.” I stared at the stairwell door. I glanced down at the crystal hanging from my neck. The crystal still had an internal glow brighteni
ng the center of it, though the glow was far less intense than it had been just a few moments ago, and even as I stared at it the ember started to cool, much as a chunk of coal in a fire cools and fades once removed from the fire.

  I leaned over and rested my hands on my knees, and took a few deep breaths to help regain my sense of composure. “I’m okay, just, you know…startled.”

  Malcolm reached my side and stared down at me. “Damn. What’s up with the light-up crystal?”

  I instinctively pulled my hand up to cup the crystal protectively. “What did you say?”

  He shrugged and pointed toward the crystal. “Your little necklace, there. It’s glowing.” He inclined his head. “I don’t remember you wearing that last time.”

  I stood up on shaky legs and tried to shrug it off. “Yeah, I, uh…got this the other day.”

  “Cool.” He gestured toward the stairwell. “So what were you doing? You look spooked.”

  Before I had a chance to respond, someone else called out from the hallway behind us. “Hey, are you all right?”

  I stood up ramrod straight, practically jumping out of my sneakers. I might have peed a tiny bit. I definitely let out a strangled squawk that sounded nothing at all lady-like or polite.

  Malcolm and I turned to look down the long hallway. That tall, bald black man in the nice navy suit moved toward us from the center of the hallway, about a third of the way down from the entrance. He had a curious yet kind expression on his face, and sort of a crooked smile, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of us.

  I wasn’t entirely sure, either. I plastered my best happy-go-lucky grin on my face and offered a breathy laugh. “Ha! Oh, man, you scared the crap out of me! I didn’t see you there.”

  He took a few steps toward me, glancing between me and Malcolm and the stairwell door. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His smile broadened. “I’m Detective Anson Bello. Are you two all right?”

  I nodded and gulped a few breaths of air for good measure, making up things on the fly. “I’m Rachel, and this is Malcolm. I’m fine, you know? I was just... you know...”

  Malcolm added, “Yeah, you know. Ha ha.” He shot a sidelong glance at me.

  I gestured toward the door, then caught my breath, then pointed at the door again. When all else failed, play dumb. Blondes didn’t have a lock on being airheads.

  Bello stepped closer, now about halfway between us and the hallway entrance. He moved with a confident, steady pace. He reminded me of the former military types Abbie had to interact with sometimes on the Hill. I’d been dragooned into going to some government functions with her and had met some of them.

  This guy was definitely former military of some sort, or maybe had similar sort of training. It was the way he carried himself. But I still got that weird vibe off him, and I didn’t think that was from anything he learned in the service.

  He stopped a couple feet away from me and Malcolm, his smile transitioning to a frown. “What were you two doing?”

  There was no accusation or suspicion that I could hear in his tone, just curiosity.

  I gestured toward the door again. “I’m here visiting my grandpa, and after I was done, I, uh, we like to come here. To the stairwell. To, you know...”

  He inclined his head. “Nnnooo...” he drew it out. “Not sure I know.”

  Malcolm cleared his throat and shot a glance at me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought he was majorly embarrassed.

  I raised an eyebrow at him and then focused on Bello. “Run up and down the stairs, you know? Get some exercise.” I ran in place for a few steps, being sure to lift my legs and knees in an exaggerated motion. I winced as I did it. I guess the exertion of the last few minutes and the energy getting thrown around had taken a toll on me. I felt like I had run a couple four-minute miles back to back and crawled most of the last one.

  His smile turned into a frown. “You use the stairs here for exercise?”

  He studied me and Malcolm with his large, almost over-sized brown eyes. It was clear from the set of his mouth and eyes that he was calculating, working things out. I felt vaguely uncomfortable with him studying me, and got the distinct impression that he could somehow look through me.

  “Did you see anything unusual in the stairwell? I’m here to look into the recent deaths. Any help you can provide would be appreciated, any detail that looked unusual.”

  I traded a look with Malcolm. “No, nothing unusual. Just a boring old stairway.”

  He slid his gaze over Malcolm and then me. I felt a little self-conscious about it when he rested his eyes on my crystal. I didn’t know if it was still glowing and didn’t dare chance a glance down. “Hey, eyes up here, buddy.” No need to give him a lingering show on my chest.

  He flushed and then asked, “Rachel, how long has your grandpa been living here?”

  I shrugged. “Several months, closer to a year.”

  He nodded. “And did he know the deceased parties?”

  I frowned, but nodded. “Yes.” I made a little shift toward the left and glanced down the hallway. “You should ask him. I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you.”

  He nodded again. “I’ll be talking to all the residents and staff of the nursing home, as well as any family members I happen to run into.” He glanced at Malcolm. “How about you, champ?” He indicated Malcolm’s Ravens gear. “You got family here too?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Yeah, my grandmom. She’s fine too.”

  Bello produced a little electronic tablet out of one of the inner pockets of his fancy suit and tapped on the screen with his fingers. “Thanks, you two. I appreciate the help.”

  I pointed toward the hallway behind him. “Mind if we take off? I should go say goodbye to Grandpa and then get to work. I don’t want to miss the bus.”

  He stared at me for a moment or two, glanced at the stairwell doorway again, and then back to me. He shook his head. “One question, if I may?”

  I nudged myself a few steps down the hall, pulling Malcolm along with me, but nodded at him in curiosity. “Sure.”

  “Have you two seen anything or anyone strange around here lately; anything you might find hard to explain?”

  I forced myself to not glance at Malcolm. I blinked and then did my very best to control my expression and reaction into the very best poker face I’d ever made.

  Unfortunately, I’m not a poker player.

  “I, what? No. Nothing unusual here. Just me and Malcolm and the stairs and the, uh, you know…exercising.” I tried a little smile and backed down the hallway a little more, again pulling Malcolm with me. I gave Bello a little wave. “Look, I really gotta go. Good luck with your interviews.”

  Malcolm waved. “See you around, Mister Bello.”

  Bello raised a finger as if to stop me with another question, but I turned my back on him and made a steady pace toward the far hallway even though every fiber of my being wanted to break into a run and fly out of there. I heard Malcolm’s foot-falls right behind mine.

  Bello called out as we beat our retreat. “Nice talking with you two. I’ll leave my card with your family members here. If either of you think of anything, please contact me.”

  I tossed a wave over my shoulder, and then headed into the corridor. I ducked out of sight, glanced at Malcolm, who gave me a shrug. I waited a couple breaths, and then peeked my head around the corner.

  Bello had turned to the stairwell door and was looking through the inset window. He glanced at the wall opposite the door and then with a mutter under his breath, opened the stairwell door and walked into the stairwell.

  I raised my eyebrows at that but didn’t linger. I needed some answers. I thought about going to Miss Chin, but decided that familiar weirdness was way better than stranger weirdness. I’d go talk to Bonita.

  I glanced at Malcolm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He nodded readily, and fell into step with me as we moved through the hallway toward Grandpa’s room. I poked my head into his room
but he was taking a nap. I left a quick note for him on the whiteboard set up next to his door saying I had stopped by again to say hello.

  I led Malcolm toward the visitor’s desk. “Did you check in with your grandma?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Yeah, she’s fine. She barely knew the guy who died last night.”

  “My grandpa didn’t know him well either. Said his name was Larry and that he probably didn’t know what had hit him.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Tough way to go.” He reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me before we got close to the visitor’s desk and the receptionist sitting behind it. “Hey, Rachel. Do you have a couple minutes to talk?”

  I shrugged his hand off my arm. “Not right now. That Bello guy freaked me out and I want to get out of here and get to work.” Technically true, though I wasn’t going to work—just going to talk with Bonita.

  He sighed. “All right. I’d really like to talk to you, though. Do you have time tomorrow?”

  I frowned. “What’s this about, Malcolm?”

  He snorted. “Oh, I don’t know. Just, you know, glowing stuff in stairways, blue energies, bass lines in the air, freaking ghosts everywhere! Nothing at all.”

  I tried to shush him down. “Quiet! You don’t want the whole nursing home to hear.”

  “Shit, half the people in this place can’t hear without their hearing aids anyway.”

  I opened my mouth but then closed it and nodded. “True, but beside the point.” I glanced down the hall toward the curious receptionist, and pulled Malcolm to the side of the hallway, at what I hoped was a private distance from the visitor’s desk.

  “Look, I know some really strange stuff has happened to us. But, I think I’ve got a line on some answers and as soon as I get them, I promise to share them with you.” It suddenly dawned on me that Malcolm had been hit with much the same energy I had.

  I grasped his arm with my hand. “Hey, are you feeling all right with what happened on Wednesday?”