by Gary Starta
I finally opened my door to inspect. Bast jumped at the opportunity. Out the door in a flash, she bounded to and fro among the rows and rows of flowers. Eventually she flipped herself onto her back and wriggled wormlike among the lushness, definitely taking time to stop and smell the clusters.
I was more tentative. It took me about five minutes to dare myself to touch a single petal. When I did, I felt a bit dizzy because that’s when I thought to look beyond my property. When I did, I found the flowers had draped themselves around the neighborhood like pink ribbon, slinking up and over fences and slathering around fellow foliage in what appeared to be intoxicated displays of affection. They literally hugged tree trunks, not to mention lamp poles, mailbox posts and real estate signage. While a surreal spiral of pink, lavender and white blanketed my neighborhood I acted on instinct—scoop up Bast and secure her in the house.
That task sent me pacing about my yard, the chuffing noise of my breath mocking me, as Bast danced playful, just out of reach of my grabs. I deduced logic beat exertion any day of the week. A can of salmon-flavored cat food did the trick. With Bast secured in the house and focused on her meal, I grabbed my attaché case, badge and gun and headed for the door. I had no time to indulge in how this botanical bonanza transpired. Moments later, a call interrupted my daydream drive.
The cell rang for what seemed minutes before I answered. I found myself enveloped in a haze of wonder, gladly trading worry about my investigation for fanciful dreams of beauty. Only I wasn’t dreaming. And everybody in Manassas might not fancy flowers the way that I do; if so, would they file suit against me for defacing their property? I still considered myself responsible. I had planted the seeds. I hadn’t seen a single Star Cluster burst upon any neighbor’s soil than my own before this morning. I finally gave in to the call.
But it wasn’t Deputy Director Seals on the other end of the line. In fact, it was Chuck and he didn’t ask a single question as to whether I had come up with any leads on the president’s murder. Everyone was abuzz it seemed, and not about flowers in Virginia.
“Didn’t you turn on the news, Caitlin?” Chuck barked, sounding not a hair like the loving boyfriend from last evening.
“Okay, I will,” I said. I avoided the news because they would no doubt be pressuring law officials—that would be me—into finding the president’s murderer. I fumbled through radio presets. I didn’t have to get through many. Every station had interrupted programming.
...nothing of this magnitude has ever been handled by the NSA before, and now at a time of assuming the presidency of the United States one might think we have been purposely weakened for some kind of threat. But I have already been in touch with half a dozen world leaders who confirm the same disturbing experience as America and we all will stand together united at this time of crisis and begin to investigate the mass disappearance with vigilance. Citizens from all over the world who are hearing my voice right now please be assured we are not labeling this as an abduction, and will not act…
I lowered the volume and returned to my call. I couldn’t take the suspense any longer. I knew the speaker was Vice President Andrew Garson but I hadn’t a clue as to what disappeared. If anything, it certainly couldn’t be flowers…
Chuck filled me in. The demon population had disappeared without a trace overnight. It was probably why the neighbors weren’t out and about inspecting the attack of the Star Clusters. All were probably too busy phoning friends. Although neighborhoods still practiced segregation for the most part, humans and demons subdivided among housing developments, people were people when it came to jobs and socialization. I suspected many of my neighbors had made friends with demons, probably even went bowling with them or shuffled their kids off to all-specie soccer leagues games where horned and non-horned beings shared the joys of youth.
Maybe the next generation would finally be smart enough to succeed where we failed. It’s what every prejudice-filled adult in my world secretly pined for. They might appear to be bitter and angry on the outside if their child should mingle with those outside of their color network. But on the inside, they hoped their child wouldn’t become infected with the hatred their parents had cast upon them. They wondered about what it would be like to buck the crowd, to stop cordoning off their feelings based on physical appearance.
In this world, the lines were more pronounced. There wasn’t merely a color barrier, but tremendous differences regarding shape—some demons had finned-shaped heads, others had dog-like canines, a few even walked on all fours. I hadn’t had that problem with Justin Manners, the incubus, or Sandy, the succubus prostitute. They already appeared non-threatening because their skin and appendages mimicked my one. Worry sidled up alongside my theorizing. Where was Sandy? “Has she been taken too?” I must have asked it aloud to Chuck.
“Caitlin, Vice President Garson is now the acting president. He and the NSA haven’t confirmed any abduction although every demon on this planet is MIA. A meeting will convene in the Deputy Director’s office in half an hour. I’m sure we will all be briefed.”
“Briefed? I asked. “You’re talking Bureau speak to me, Chuck. I’m still Caitlin no matter what has happened and my gut says the demons didn’t voluntarily go off world voluntarily. We must start asking who did this and begin uncovering a motive. If we don’t act to show the populace we are actively looking for them, demon sympathizers may lash out, charging we have already labeled them as casualties.”
“Caitlin. Caitlin, take a breath. You have not been given any directives yet.”
“Does that mean I’m still hunting the president’s killer? If all the demons are gone, isn’t the investigation moot? Can you seriously tell me Deputy Director Seals suspects any humans for the assassination?”
He didn’t answer one of my questions. We disconnected. I hoped only temporarily.
The briefing usurped the flowers on the surreal-o-meter.
Deputy Director Seals spoke as if mass disappearances happened all the time. The Bureaucrats who played nice took notes with diligence. Nodding on cue as Seals accentuated his points with hand slaps. I sat with legs crossed at the ankles. My pen bounced upon a blank pad of paper. My lips curled into what I’m sure resembled a sneer. Seals avoided eye contact with me. My theory was correct. The deputy director spoke not a word about the president’s murder; the new happenstance already pushing the assassination to the back pages. After more than an hour of not speak disguised as directive, another quandary pushed my panic button. Why wasn’t Briana here?
I left the room unexcused and made my way to the ladies’ room. I hoped a few splashes of water to the face might awaken me from this strange dream but it didn’t. Okay. So the flowers had really arrived, the demons had really disappeared. I still had little clue as to who assassinated President Fleming. And now I braced myself as to the whereabouts of my partner, the person I equated with a sister. Was she part of this strange equation? I didn’t believe Wiccans could classify themselves as anything other than human. But what if Briana held a dark secret? I had, and still did. It wasn’t that much of a stretch.
I held my breath as the phone rang. She picked up on the third ring. Thank goddess! She didn’t acknowledge the leading news story, breaking into a rant about attempting to make the locator spell work. I sighed. I’d had an argument with Chuck today. He was responsible for making the spell work by obtaining carpeting affected with the residual contaminants of teleportation. I’d apologize and thank him later.
Right now, I implored Briana to stop whatever she might have started. Something told me that whatever she might be locating could very well be connected to the demon disappearance and be very dangerous. A small voice in my head countered the argument, rationalizing that if the demons were gone and if one had assassinated President Fleming there would be no being to locate. But Briana’s tone was excited like an investigator who was about to break a lead and she insisted the spell was about to come to the point of revelation. I assumed that to be the equivalent of
the foaming head on a mug of beer. Something that hadn’t been there a second ago would suddenly materialize. She might be facing a killer in mere seconds. I squeezed my hand around the cell tighter and tighter, feeling helpless. “Please Briana, hold on.” I kept mumbling it, realizing she was ignoring me, maybe even under the throe of her own spell. I knew she had to see what was there. I could no more stop myself if in her situation. What could I do to assist her?
Briana gave me the go-ahead to speak again. I demanded she explain what was happening in detail.
“Energy has been gathering at specific coordinates over water. I am certain I’ll find a doorway to where our perpetrator has exited—meaning it might give us a clue as to where all the demons have gone—or, if I’m lucky, it might even bring the President Fleming’s killer to bear.”
“What do you mean if you’re lucky, Briana? What means do you have to defend yourself?” I knew Briana carried a weapon only because of Bureau policy but bullets are often little use against demonic entities. My love for Briana demanded I take action. Her locator spell invited disaster. Picture it this way, it was almost as bad as inviting an estranged spouse to dinner to meet your new lover. What if whatever she uncovered was responsible for the demon disappearance? Something that powerful would be worse than any ten angry demons. I could think of only way to stand by my partner’s side, if only in spirit. Briana’s spell had taken her to Chesapeake Bay. I knew for sure no one else would be on the beach but her. Summer had passed more than a month ago. She needed me.
“No Caitlin, you know I don’t like those types of spells. They’re dangerous and draining. You might get injured.”
“We’ve no time to argue, Briana. You should have taken me with you. I’m equipped because of my telepathy to endure such magic. There. I hope all that guilt welling up in your brain will make you see my point.”
She acquiesced. “I will only do this because I’m still waiting for the energies to coagulate.”
I likened that to waiting for a pot of water to boil. A watched pot never boils…
“You can disconnect the call. It’ll disrupt the magic.”
I obeyed. Seconds later I found myself clinging to a countered sink to maintain balance. Fortunately, all the good little bureaucrats were still attending Seals’ bore fest.
I’d arrived at her destination. The wind whipped at Briana’s hair. Long strands of strawberry blonde locks curled up at my chin. I was seeing through Briana’s eyes.
My hands still gripped the countertop to tell me where my body was grounded, but every intangible piece of me floated. It must be what one feels during astral projection.
I waited alongside Briana, attempting to ignore instinct, lying that nothing would transpire. All the demons were gone and she would reach a dead…
The appearance occurred just above thrashing waves. It arrived in a wink, in a bubble, in fashion I had never seen anywhere but in history books.
It walked toward shore, ignoring the waves crashing against a protective bubble shell which was made visible by sun rays bouncing off of it and into our eyes. A piece of Briana’s clothing obscured my view. She was shielding her eyes. I wanted to scream for her to run, to get out of there. But I didn’t sense a telepathic connection. It dawned on me every circuit of my brain was enslaved to this magic. In order to see through Briana’s eyes, all my paranormal gifts had been taken offline. It was one of the reasons Briana didn’t want to share sight. But because she once admitted gifted beings share vision just like they do conversation, I was helpless to become anything other than the moth to the flame. I always wanted an excuse to try this gift. Well here it was and I surmised there wasn’t a return policy.
The being walked on, not that it had to. It was as if the being was walking for the sheer fun of it, like subjecting yourself to a treadmill. The bubble bounced in a forward momentum propelling it closer to Briana, closer to the shore. I could see more detail.
Something was wrapped about its head, like a bandana. It contained letters. No symbols, more like hieroglyphics. Its hair was shoulder-length, cut in a feminine style, flowing. And my goddess, its skin was green. Not quite what I would associate with a demon’s pallor, something more cosmetic, like it was applied onto the skin with purpose. The clothing draped beautifully off the body, goddess-like as well. And speaking of such, she had wings. The real deal, not the knockoffs the Victoria’s Secret models pose in. They were tucked inward, stemming from her shoulder blades.
As she grew larger, my vision began to tunnel. The scope of sight was decreasing. I surmised Briana was weakening. The whole image jerked at an odd angle and I felt my hands slip off the counter—my chin stung from contact. I was probably on the floor. And if I’d fallen, that meant Briana had as well, but on a sandy beach. I could still see, but everything was lower. Maybe Briana was on her knees and possibly losing consciousness. I knew the spell would be rough on one of us. I shouted out for her to hang on although I knew she couldn’t hear me.
The being bounced on shore, still contained in a shimmering bubble, still approaching Briana, still green-skinned, all-powerful and full of intention.
What are you?
I wouldn’t get an answer anytime soon. Briana had succumbed and was now most likely unconscious because the spell had broken. I’d lost her sight and gained a bloody chin in the process. But in my mind’s eye I pictured the being still walking, heading straight toward my partner and there was nothing I could do about it.
Chapter 5
Whirlwind
I didn’t even take time to remedy my bloodied chin, scampering out of the bathroom, down the hallway, full speed ahead to get help. I opened the door to Deputy Director Seal’s conference room with enough whoosh to knock papers off the glass table. Safe to say, I’d interrupted Seals’ power hour.
“Caitlin, um Agent Diggs,” Chuck said, fumbling for the appropriate word choices. Seals sneered at Chuck but for only a minute, not able to resist boring holes through me with beady eyes. Chuck pointed at his chin as if to question how I did it.
I didn’t care what they thought. I now pointed at my chin. “Not important,” I said, “We have to find Agent McFadden. She’s in trouble.”
I explained how I had seen through Briana’s eyes to Chuck between gasps of air as we rushed back down the hallway.
Chuck pushed me into a waiting elevator. After the doors shut, I told him I’d forced Briana to work the magic which connected our sight. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed my slick red chin.
He raised a thumb hitchhiker style and pointed it up, in the direction of Seals’ carpeted lair. “I’m responsible for all magic used in investigations, Caitlin. I thought we agreed no magic unless lives are at stake.” I knew what he was referring to. He looked forward to a reaming from Seals no more than myself, although, I have to admit, seeing the Deputy Director angry does give me a charge.
“I remember,” I said with a calm, steady voice. The memory sobered me, if I could be sobered any more than I already was. The discussion took place only a few weeks ago. Later, a dream vision confirmed Briana even suggested the idea but made it look like Chuck had written the protocol. So my best friend and lover were keeping secrets from me as well.
“I’m glad you remember something,” Chuck added with a squinted face.
“Lives were—are—in the balance. The demon disappearance distracted me. I left Briana all alone to perform the locater spell.” I paused to lift an eyebrow. “By the way, isn’t a locater spell, magic? You even suggested it, Chuck.”
“Ah, you know what I mean, Caitlin. You were sharing each other’s minds. There’s a big difference there, a real dangerous big difference.” I gauged his anger. How would he react to the voices in my head? Not well, I surmised.
I convinced Chuck to reschedule our argument at a later date. We made our way to a chopper. It was buglike, black as a spider and shiny as an ant. Someone at the Bureau was working to ping Briana’s cell as we flew. It would give us her location via GPS, not magic.
By the time we were in the air, news of the bubble-encased alien had made its way across all police bandwidths. And then everything went quiet for about half a minute. The new voice on the radio belonged to the Secretary of Defense who announced acting President Garson was en route to a bunker at Colorado Springs. They were going to take no chances with this one. A state of emergency had also been declared. Martial law mandated every civilian take refuge in their home. “They won’t risk another assassination,” I told Chuck. “I’m in agreement. We can’t lose another leader. Not until we know what’s going on.” Chuck just nodded, grim, his beautiful sea-green eyes masked by sunglasses. Sunlight bounced off waves below us and reflected upwards. I rummaged through my purse to find eyewear. As I dug deeper into my bag, I also prayed to the stars Briana had escaped harm. If they were shuffling off world leaders to bunkers the odds weren’t very good. Chuck surprised me. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. I didn’t believe the pilot could see the gesture, but it told me Chuck was committed to our relationship, risking an act of affection with a subordinate in public. It meant so much more to me than just a few seconds of tactile comfort.
The pilot announced we were closing in on Briana’s destination. I’d lost a partner—and lover—back in my world. I could steel myself for the shock of loss or slough off the Bureau shell of self-deception and allow myself to feel something. If she were gone, she had been nothing short of one hundred percent Briana McFadden in her final moments, selflessly giving herself to the job. I would cry like a baby. I knew I would. She never used magic for self-gain. She was like a mother, sister and friend all wrapped into one person.
A few minutes later we spotted a body on the ground, near a small dune of sand; so small a shell for so big a person.