by J. R. Rain
Whatever those were.
The wind was at the edge of the building. It rocked my naked body. But I had no fear of falling. My hair whipped around my head like so many serpents. Medusa would have been proud. Or envious. I breathed slowly, deeply, each intake spiced with exhaust and tar and the sage from the nearby foothills.
The world lay at my feet. The normal world. Where people prayed to God and Jesus, where people worried about their kids’ health and Charlie Sheen’s career, where life went on steadily and predictably.
Life hadn’t gone so predictably for me. Life had hung a hard right turn at “predictable” and detoured through a forbidden forest where the Headless Horseman was real, where werewolves existed, where a mother of two could be changed forever into something nightmarish.
I took in more air and lifted my face toward the heavens. The day’s latent heat rose up from the roof’s surface, warming my eternally cold buns. I heard honking and tires squealing. The crash of a fender-bender.
Oops.
I heard a baby crying from the hotel below and the steady hum of a hundred or so air conditioners powering through the warm night. The building beneath me seemed alive, vibrating and swaying slightly. Or perhaps that was just my imagination.
I stood there for a heartbeat longer.
And then spread my arms wide and jumped.
Chapter Six
The drop down from this hotel was always a little dicey, although jumping from the roof gave me some extra wiggle room. But not much.
I arched up and out over the roof...and seemed to pause briefly at the apex of the arch. From here I had a glimpse of an ambulance flashing down Birch Street, heading away from me. But there was no sound. No sirens. No honking. Nothing. Time and sound always seemed to subside in these moments.
These wonderful, exhilarating moments.
Now I tilted forward, arms outstretched. A falling, inverted cross.
I picked up speed.
Hair whipping behind me like a failed parachute. Wind thundering over me. The hotel rushing past me.
Someone was standing at the hotel balcony, smoking a cigarette. He never saw me. Or maybe I didn’t register in his conscious brain. Maybe tonight he would dream about a curvy, black-haired woman plummeting past his balcony, arms outstretched, and naked as all get out.
I was rapidly running out of floors.
A single flame appeared in my thoughts. The flame burned bright, seemingly in the center of my forehead, no doubt in the region the New Age gurus call the Third Eye. In the center of the flame was a winged creature that would have given anyone nightmares.
Except that winged creature was me.
It was my monster familiar. It was my monster alter-ego. It was one hell of a wicked-cool looking creature.
And it was me.
It waited in the flame, its wings tucked in, elongated head cocked slightly to one side. It always waited for me, ready at my beck and call. My own personal flying demon.
Except I was that flying demon.
As the floors swept past me and the concrete sidewalk rapidly approached, I felt myself being pulled to that creature, drawn to it powerfully, supernaturally, miraculously.
The metamorphosis happened in an instant.
The flame disappeared in an explosion of light and when I opened my eyes again, a pair of massive leathery wings—which attached to my wrists and ran down below my knees—snapped taut, slowing my decent. The gravitational force on my wings was incredible, but this new body of mine was more than up to the task. My arms held strong.
I adjusted my arms and angled forward, sweeping nine or ten feet over the ground and just missing a handicap parking sign. It rattled angrily in my wake.
Now I flapped my wings. Yeah, I know. A crazy statement. But these are crazy times.
At least, for me.
I flapped my wings and quickly gained altitude. I found the effort of flying easy. My shoulders were powerful. The thickly membraned wings caught the wind and forced it down and behind me. The sound of my beating wings thundered everywhere at once. Anyone nearby would have heard me. They would have looked up...and seen something they wouldn’t soon forget.
My body was aerodynamic and pierced the wind effortlessly.
I continued rising above the glittering city of Brea. Yeah, it was cold up here, but I was perfectly adapted for that, too. Thick skinned. Insulated. Perfectly adapted or perfectly created?
I didn’t know which. And I didn’t care.
I rose higher and higher. The thrill of weightlessness was so exhilarating that it drove all thought from my mind. Wind whispered over me, seemed to part for me, opened for me new sights few people would ever see or experience.
And still I climbed.
The temperature dropped exponentially. I plunged into a roiling cumulus cloud and the world briefly disappeared. I was surrounded in ice crystals which was at once serene and mildly disorienting. I shook my great head where the crystals had collected. They broke free and fell away.
The cloud opened and soon I was flying parallel with it, rising and falling with its amorphous contours, like a fighter plane over a desert floor. The movements of my wings were minute, so minute I wasn’t consciously aware of making them. The moon shone over my shoulder, reflecting brightly off the cloud’s pale surface. My shadow kept pace, rising and falling. A monster’s moon shadow. Wings outstretched, flapping almost lazily, I was a massive creature.
The sky above me was clear, filled with millions upon millions of glittering stars. I focused on one such star and flew toward it. What would happen if I just kept on flying? No doubt the deep vacuum of space would wreak havoc on my flying. With no air, I would float aimlessly and endlessly.
I shuddered at the thought.
The cloud dispersed and a great sweeping hillside appeared beneath me, dotted with brightly lit homes. I thought of Fang. The man was a killer, of that there was no doubt. He was also a fugitive. Once, long ago, I had made an oath to uphold the law and bring such fugitives to justice.
But that was then....
...and this was now. Now, I had some dirty secrets of my own, didn’t I? Now I had taken one life and was responsible for a second.
Victims of circumstance, Fang had said. I agreed to an extent. Victims were not given a free pass to hurt others.
I flapped my wings languidly, riding along a powerful jet stream, which propelled me forward powerfully, effortlessly. Fang, aka Aaron Parker, aka Eli Roberts (his assumed name) was a beautiful man. There was a reason my sister seriously had the hots for him.
I nearly laughed at the thought that this flying creature could have a sister. And then I almost laughed at the thought that this flying creature could laugh.
Life is weird.
The clouds below opened and I saw a small plane flying beneath me, buzzing laboriously even as I flew effortlessly and silently. Its lights flashed, in accordance with aviation law. There were no laws for giant flying monsters. I was beyond law. I could give a damn about laws, anyway.
To an extent.
I still had a life to live and children to raise and food to put on the table. By necessity, I had to play by the rules of man.
Yes, Fang was a beautiful man. He was also my closest friend. But everything had changed, hadn’t it? He was no longer my anonymous friend who I could open up to about everything. He had a face. A history. A troubled history.
He was also, of course, a world-class stalker.
And a killer.
Shit.
Below, I spotted the Hollywood sign, the word so tiny that by all rights I shouldn’t have been able to read them. But I could. Giant vampire bats had eagle-like vision.
I dipped a wing and turned to starboard slowly, a great arching turn that took a full minute. The sky was my playground. The clouds my jungle gym.
I completed my turn and innately headed home, following an inner guidance system that was so inherent that I didn’t doubt it or question it.
It’s good
to be me sometimes.
I headed back to the Embassy Suites.
Chapter Seven
I was answering emails on my laptop and watching Judge Judy emasculate this deadbeat dad when my cell phone rang. I picked it up from the coffee table and looked at the faceplate: Caller Unknown.
I almost didn’t pick up. By nature, I don’t like Caller Unknown calls. What are people hiding?
The phone rang a second time. And as it did so, an electrical sensation crackled along the length of my spine. As if a ghost had run an ethereal finger down the center of my back.
I shivered. I knew to pay attention to such sensations. Such sensations were strong indications that something important was going on.
The phone rang a third time. Yes, I use old school rings, even for my cell phone. Phones are supposed to ring, dammit. Not sing Christina Aguilera’s failed national anthem attempt.
Now Judge Judy was really laying into this asshole again. Reminding him he was the child’s father. That he had responsibilities. She also let him know what she thought of him. Trust me, she didn’t think very highly. I loved every second of it.
The phone rang a fourth time. My phone will ring five times before it goes to voicemail. The buzzing along my spine continued to crackle. The fine hair on my forearms was also standing on end.
Something’s wrong, I thought.
My email was unfinished. Judge Judy continued her verbal berating. I looked at the time on my phone. I had to pick up my kids in a few minutes. Normally, I would have let the call go to my voicemail.
Normally.
“Answer the phone.”
The words came from behind me. Except behind me was a wall. I jumped off the couch, screaming and gasping. The voice was soft and whispery and it scared the shit out of me.
I answered the phone, still scanning the room, still scared shitless. Who had spoken to me?
“Hello,” I said, feeling my heart beating somewhere near my throat. I was alone in the house. I was sure of it. I would have heard someone enter. I would have sensed someone entering.
There was no response from the other end of the line. I headed for the hallway. Scanned it. No one was here. Now from the line I could hear faint breathing. And as I searched the bedrooms and bathroom, I said hello again. And when I got to my own bedroom, a voice finally answered.
And it was the tiniest voice I had ever heard.
“Hi.” A girl’s voice. Maybe five. Maybe less.
I paused, doing a quick mental rundown of all my nieces and nephews. Although I was not as close to some of my sisters and brothers as I wanted to be, I rarely received a call from any of their children. Still, I could not think of a niece this young.
“Well, hello,” I said. “And who is this?” I asked, my own voice rising a friendly octave or two. I glanced in my room. My house was completely empty.
So who had spoken to me?
I didn’t know. But I let it go and wrote it off to stress. After all, these past few weeks had not been without their trials. And last night....
Yes, last night.
Last night still had me reeling. Had it really happened? Had I really met Fang?
I had. Oh, yes, I had.
The little voice spoke again over the phone. “I’m Maddie.”
“Hi Maddie,” I said, switching my focus from the strange voice to the little girl. Just about all the hair on my body was standing on end.
Something’s wrong, I thought.
“Where’s your mommy, Maddie?” Near my bed, my alarm clock registered exactly 3:00 p.m. I had to leave now to pick up my kids. I had been missing my kids all day; or, rather, ever since I got up a few hours ago. I had an overwhelming need to see them, to hold them, to pull them in close and keep them safe. The feeling seemed particularly poignant and slightly irrational. But now I wondered if something else was going on. I wondered if my sixth sense had picked up on this call long before it had come.
“My mommy got kilt.”
Kilt?
My heart stopped. Killed. A strong and now not-so-irrational panic had completely replaced any subtle sixth sense I was feeling. A mommy instinct was kicking in, and it was kicking in hard.
“Where are you Maddie?”
“A bad man’s house.”
“Maddie, baby, where’s your dad?”
“I don’t have a daddy.”
“Who’s the bad man, Maddie?”
And now the little girl lowered her voice to a soft whisper and it broke my heart. “He’s very very bad,” she said. “And he hurted me.”
I was standing, pacing. Tears appeared in my eyes. Sweet Jesus. What the hell was going on?
“Maddie, please, honey...where are you?”
“I don’t know.” More whispering. “It’s dark. And cold.”
I covered my face. This was real. And my alarm system was ringing off the hook. This was real. This wasn’t a prank.
Get information. Get all the information you can.
“Maddie, honey, what’s the name of the bad man?”
“He kilt my mom. He shot her. He shot her dead.”
“Baby, where are you?”
“I scared.”
“Everything’s going to be okay, Maddie. Please, honey, do you have any idea where—”
And now the little girl must have pressed her mouth hard into the phone, because her next whispered words were barely discernible. “He’s coming!” I heard shuffling, and now I heard her whimpering. “He’s coming. I scared. I so scared.”
“Maddie—”
And then the line went dead.
Chapter Eight
I stared at my phone, completely rattled. I heard again and again the little girl’s tiny voice: “I scared. I so scared.”
The iPhone soon drifted to sleeper mode, then powered down. I inhaled deeply. There were tears on my cheeks. I relaxed my grip on the phone. Any harder and it would have broken. The call had gone straight to my heart. It would have gone straight to the heart of any mother. Hell, it would have gone straight to the heart of anyone with an ounce of humanity.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks.
Someone killed her mother. And now someone was keeping her in a dark and cold place. A bad man who was hurting her.
I inhaled. I was rattled, totally shaken. The call had caught me completely off guard. Hell, it would have caught anyone off guard. I found myself, perhaps for the first time in a long, long time, completely unsure of what to do next.
I heard the fear in her voice. I heard again and again her childish attempt to keep her voice quiet.
Who was she? Who was her mother?
And, perhaps the biggest question of all: How had little Maddie gotten my number?
I didn’t know. But I was going to find out.
Knowing I was incurring the wrath of my kids’ principal, a man who already didn’t look very kindly on me, I briefly put off picking them up and called my ex-partner, Chad Helling. One time, not so long ago, I was a federal agent. Now, because of circumstances very much out of my control, I had gone private.
Chad picked up on the fourth ring. I said, “I’m only a four-ring gal now, huh?”
“Be glad I answered on the fourth ring, Sam. I happen to be a very busy federal investigator.”
“Uh huh, and whatcha doing now?”
“Waiting in line at Starbucks.”
“And it took you four rings to pick up?”
“It took me four rings to hang up on my mom and take your call.”
“You hung up on your mom to take my call?”
“Yes. So this better be good.”
I told him about the phone conversation with little Maddie, reciting it nearly word for word since it would be forever seared into my memory.
Chad was silent, digesting this. Finally, he said, “Brave little girl. And savvy.”
“Brave and savvy aren’t going to be enough,” I said. “She’s with a monster.”
He took in some air, inhaling sharply. “I
can look into recent murders. See if anything involves an abducted child, too.”
“The mother was murdered recently. There’s a good chance she hasn’t been found. And may never be found.”
“An abduction, then.”
“Yes, look for a missing mother and child. There won’t be a murder reported. At least not yet.”
“And you know this how?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“Fine.” He paused. “Any chance the child was playing a prank on you?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Don’t hold back, Sam. Tell me what you really think.”
“Smart ass.”
He said, “My question is: How did Maddie find your number?”
I had been thinking that, too. I bit my lip, and looked at my watch. Shit. I was already seriously late. “Hard to know, but my guess is that the number was already programmed into the phone.”
“Her mother’s phone? Or the killers?”
“The million-dollar question,” I said.
“Maybe Maddie hit redial. Who was your last call?”
I could have smacked my forehead. I told Chad to hang on as I quickly scrolled through the iPhone.
“A creditor,” I said.
“Keep scrolling.”
I did. “Nothing unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Keep looking,” said Chad. “Perhaps a past client.”
“Nothing,” I said. “But I’ll go through it again when I’m not in a hurry.”
“When you’re not in a hurry? Hey, I was the one jonesing for coffee.”
“Just please find out what you can,” I said. “And tell your mother sorry.”
He said he would and before he clicked off I heard him ordering an iced venti vanilla latte...and my mouth watered.
God, I missed coffee.
Still shaken, I quickly scrambled around my house, grabbing my sunhat and my purse. I had already slathered my cheeks and hands with a heavy application of the market’s strongest sunblock, although that did little to stop the searing pain as I now dashed out of the house and crossed the small patch of grass that separated my house and the garage. Oh, how I envied those with connecting garages!