Emily was lying to her for some reason. I didn’t say anything to Sandy about it, but every week when Sandy had her book club, I followed her. I watched Emily and everything that happened. One day during the book club, I noticed that
Emily kept fiddling with her blouse. She lifted it up slightly, and I saw what looked a lot like a wire. So, I thought she must have been working on something official. So I took some pictures, kept notes, thinking I might need them someday and… To be honest,” she laughed at herself, “I’m a little nosy. It’s a sin, I know, but I can’t help myself sometimes.” She got up and stood next to me at the window. She put her hand on my back. “Sam, I care about you. And I cared about Sandy and the children, too.”
“But Nat, why? Why did you follow her? Why did you follow me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you care, but…” I stumbled to find the right words, “what were you going to do about it?”
“Get help,” she stated plainly and unflinchingly. “Sam, I know you look at me and see a weak woman who is smarter than she is tough, but you underestimate me. When I saw Emily come in here to stay, I was immediately suspicious, but then I saw she used her real name, so I let it go. I thought that if she was here on an official investigation, she would have used a fake name or identified herself as F.B.I. right away. But then I saw the two of you together, and I just knew that it couldn’t be a coincidence. So I knew I needed to keep tabs on you. Think of me kind of like an amateur detective.” She smiled playfully, trying to get me to see the lighter side of this, I’m sure.
“So, what, like Harriet the Spy, only older and—“ I looked her over and smiled, “—much hotter?” She blushed and crossed her arms awkwardly over her chest. I knew there was still something she wasn’t telling me; I just didn’t know how to get it out of her. So, I tried the caring, sensitive man angle.
“Natalie, I’m not helpless. I came to you for help because you are the most honest and trustworthy person I have ever met.” I looked away from her.
“More than Sandy, as it turns out. I still don’t understand why you would put yourself in the middle of an F.B.I. investigation and not say anything to me about any of it. Especially when Emily showed up here.”
“Sam,” she began, looking me in the eyes so I could see she was being completely earnest and truthful with me, “it is what God led me to do. I did what I felt was right.”
After hearing that, I took her in my arms and then I knew I had made a mistake being physical with Emily. I never really cared for Emily—I just needed a sexual release. The sex was good and physically fulfilling, but it wasn’t what I really wanted or needed. It was Natalie I cared for, and she cared for me—I could feel it when she touched me, could see it in her gaze.
We sat on the couch; her head nestled on my shoulder. I knew I had to keep trying to find out what was going on, why the F.B.I. was really here and what really happened to my family. And I felt that Natalie could help. But I couldn’t do anything before dawn. I decided to take her at her word, and we both fell asleep.
Time is running out, Sam. You must hurry. You must find them. Come back; they are here and still alive.
I awoke and jumped off the couch so quickly that Natalie went flying onto the floor.
“Sam!” she screamed as she hit the carpet. I looked down and saw
Natalie splayed out on the floor pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was a good position from my perspective, but I wasn’t sure that she shared that opinion.
“Oh, God, Nat, I’m so sorry.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and helped her up.
“Wow,” she said, “no more sleeping together. God must be watching.”
She laughed easily. But I wasn’t sure God had anything to do with what just happened. The voice was loud and clear in my mind. Sandy was talking to me. But how? She’s dead; even she says she can’t be saved, so how is she talking to me?
“You okay, Sam? You look like you saw a ghost.” Natalie regarded me cautiously. “You don’t look very good; you are pale. Sit back down.” Natalie guided me back onto the couch.
“Nat, I’m hearing things; I’m seeing things. Either they are still alive and
Sandy is talking to me, or I am losing my mind. What little of it I have left, anyway.”
Natalie’s expression didn’t get any brighter.
“Sandy is talking to you?” she asked with concern in her voice. I couldn’t help but offer a wry laugh.
“That’s an understatement.” I rubbed my face in my hands. “I have seen her, right in front of me, as plain as day. Or night, as the case may be. I hear her in my head; she leaves me notes.” I got up and went to my desk and opened the drawer I’d put Portrait of a Lady in. “Here, look.” I handed her the book, open to the page that had the note stuck in it. “That’s Sandy’s handwriting in her favorite book. I woke up and it was sitting in front of me on my desk. It wasn’t there when I fell asleep, or, well, I mean passed out.”
Natalie looked at me with concern and was quiet. I stared at her, waiting for her response, something, anything. I felt like I was going crazy, but at the same time, I was sure I wasn’t imagining this.
“Nat, don’t just sit there quietly, say something. I know it sounds crazy, and I feel crazy. Hell, that’s why I stopped drinking Jack—I thought it was the alcohol. But I know I’m not going insane; this feels so real even though it’s surreal!”
“It’s not the alcohol,” she said quietly. I looked at her and crossed my arms.
“I don’t think it is either anymore, but I still don’t understand.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I have to go back.” I said simply.
“Back?”
“Yeah, to Farragut. I have to go back and see what’s going on there.
Everything is leading me back to Pine Beach, so I have to check it out. I can’t just forget about it.”
“Sam,” Natalie began carefully, “I believe you. It’s real, or, I mean, I think what you are seeing and going through is real,” she quickly corrected herself.
She spoke as if she was sure, which both made me feel better and worse at the same time. “But I really want you to think about what you are saying and doing.
Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is over our heads?”
“I might be in over my head; I don’t really know. I’ve been dealing with so many conflicting feelings and experiences over the past couple of weeks; I feel torn in different directions. It’s a very frustrating feeling. I feel powerless to make a real decision because I don’t know exactly what to believe.”
“Okay, I’m leaving now.” Natalie got up, gave me a quick hug, and started for the door.
“You are leaving? That’s it?” I replied incredulously.
“Yeah, I need to get a shower and get changed and run some errands before my shift at the front desk.” Oh, yeah, she works here. Slipped my mind.
But it still seemed like she was bidding a hasty retreat for some reason.
And with that, she walked out the door and was gone. I was still unsure of what was going on and didn’t feel any better about the situation.
I tried to drown myself in some paperwork for the inn, paying some bills and checking payroll, but it wasn’t working. I had so much running through my head. The scene at the church with Pastor Paul, Emily being an F.B.I. agent, some sort of budding romance with Natalie, and last but not least, my hallucinations. Real or not, that’s what I’m going to call them. Hallucinations.
The sun was up and the morning was getting late, so I thought I’d head over to the cottage and see what Emily was up to. I would have expected to see her by now. I walked into the cottage to find nothing but silence.
“Emily?” I walked through the living room to the bedroom. It didn’t even look like she had slept here. Did she just ditch me last night? I guess it’s not really a big deal in the end, but I was a little surprised.
I turned to leave and saw a hairbrush on the sink in the bathroom— Emily’s hairbrush. So she had just left quickly this m
orning without saying goodbye. Again, not a big deal, just a surprise. I went to the door, shut it and went to put my key in to lock it and saw the blood. On the door just below the handle. I hadn’t seen it before—I wasn’t looking at the handle when I came in— but there was clearly a pentagram was drawn in blood on the door. Something was wrong, very wrong.
I ran back to my office and called Becky. I explained that Emily stayed in the cottage last night but was gone now and there was blood on the door.
“Sam, it’s probably nothing.”
“Becky, it’s something. I can feel it. You have to trust me on this. At least come by and take a sample, try and match the blood. For goodness sake, it is in the shape of a pentagram! That proves it wasn’t just someone cutting their finger on the door handle. Someone did it purposely for me to find!”
“But even if it is hers, why would a lawyer be in our DNA database?”
“She’s not a lawyer.” I said plainly, “She’s F.B.I.”
That got Becky moving. She showed up with two black and whites ten minutes later. They gave the cottage a thorough once over, collecting hair samples and scraping a blood sample off the door.
“If that is her blood, we will know later today,” she began, “but I have to warn you. If it is Emily Noble’s blood, the F.B.I. is going to be here faster than you can say ‘I’ve got a boo-boo.’ And I’m going to tell you this one more time:
Stay out of this. Stay home, watch SportsCenter. Whatever is going on here is something you can’t handle on your own. That pentagram is serious business, got it?” The depth in her dark eyes told me she was serious about this.
I looked hard at Becky. “You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?”
She pushed her dark hair over her shoulder and returned my look. Then she carefully responded, “Yes, at a couple of crime scenes.” She began speaking slowly, then picked up pace to try and be reassuring, but it didn’t really work. “But usually, there’s a body inside. Not this time, which proves that the situation is different. We’ll take it from here. Stay home, got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” I thanked her for her help and walked back toward the lobby. The police could handle it from here. Right? This weekend kept getting weirder and weirder.
It was past noon already, and I hadn’t eaten anything. I thought I would pop in the lobby and see if Natalie wanted to get something to eat. But when I got to the front desk, Natalie was not there—Stephanie was. Stephanie was supposed to be there, but so was Natalie. Stephanie told me that Natalie said she had something important to take care of and would be back soon.
I shook my head in disappointment and bewilderment and then went over to the pub to grab something to eat. It was surprisingly quiet for midday. Only three tables sitting, and no one at the bar. I couldn’t see Curtis but could hear him rustling around in the back for something. As soon as I sat down, Curtis came over.
“Hey boss, we’re almost out of Grey Goose. You think you could order some up?”
“Sure, let me write it down before I forget.” I fumbled for my iPhone to write the note down but realized I left it in my office when I was with Natalie.
“Hey, can you get me a BLT? I’ll be right back—I left my phone in my office.” I left the pub and crossed the lobby, noticing Natalie was still not back. I got to my office and opened the door. When I walked in, there was Natalie with Pastor Paul sitting on my couch, as if they were waiting for me. I had the sinking feeling that just when I thought my weekend couldn’t get any worse, it was about to go south very quickly.
“Pastor? Nat? What’s going on? This feels eerily like an intervention or something.” Before they could respond, Curtis came in the door behind me, shutting it behind him. Natalie came to me and hugged me tightly. She had changed into a light blue button-down shirt and loose-fitting denim skirt with sandals. At least she had actually gone home like she said. Not everything was a lie.
“It is, in a way,” began Curtis, “but I think Pastor Paul should be the one to explain why we are here like this.” I turned away from Curtis to Pastor Paul.
“Pastor?”
He got up and crossed the room to stand right in front of me. Natalie retreated back behind my desk,
“Sam, do you know what the Pius Sacratus are?”
I stared at him blankly and was pretty sure my look said it all.
“I’ll take that as a no; how about Comitissa Nocturnus?”
My expression started to turn towards exasperation.
“Pastor, let’s just say I didn’t do very well in high school Latin. You wanna do some translating for me?”
Natalie spoke this time from behind my desk. “Sam, do you remember a few months ago when I started inviting you to my Bible study group?” I nodded at her. “Well, it isn’t exactly a Bible study group.” Curtis came around and sat on the couch in his usual rough blue jeans and untucked black button-down shirt.
Natalie’s pause was a little too long for my liking, so I spoke up.
“Well, what was it… what is it? And what does Curtis have to do with it all? I’ve never seen Curtis at church a day in my life.”
At that, Curtis gave a snort. “That might be true, my friend, but I am a very religious man. Back when you had your accident and were still in traction in the hospital, I sought out help to pray for you and your family. I found Pastor Paul, and he immediately saw something in me that took my breath away.”
“That’s right, Sam, and since Sandy and the children were taken, I have seen it in you, too. But we are getting a little ahead of ourselves. To begin, we are the Pius Sacratus—it translates from Latin as Holy Warrior. I was chosen, as were Natalie and Curtis. There are hundreds of Pius Sacratus around the world, doing battle to ensure that God’s Will is done on Earth. I know, I know—“ he waved his hands in the air as he whirled around, “—it sounds like a big, vague job.” He spun and pointed his finger at me. “But it isn’t! In fact, the Pius
Sacratus are charged with a very specific job, and the mark of the Sacratus is on you, too.” I turned away from him for a moment, noting that no one had really answered my question.
“Mark?” I replied while turning back to them.
“On your soul, Sam. I saw it on you that night in the cemetery. Even with all the liquor in you, it was bright as a lighthouse.”
“And, not to sound repetitive, what is it that this Pius Sacratus does, exactly?” I made sure to emphasize the ‘exactly’ part. “And what about that other Latin thing you asked about?”
“It really begins with the Caelitus Nocturnus. Translation, Lord of the Night, or Night Ruler. The Caelitus Nocturnus is a very widespread species of demons that only appear at night and take their new members as payment for mortal world debt without asking and without permission. They feed on mortals… God’s people, on their flesh and blood and many times, people don’t even know it. They wake up in the morning and feel sick or tired, notice what looks like a bug bite on them and wonder where they got it.”
“Sounds like you’re vampire hunters to me,” I said plainly, “and I don’t really believe in vampires.”
“Well,” began Pastor Paul, “in a way, we are. The Caelitus Nocturnus are vampires of sorts, but there are many different types of vampires in the world, from those who simply hunt and eat to those who control industry and mingle among humans like any other. The latter is what we have here. The Caelitus Nocturnus are capable of being out and about at any time. They are stronger than other types of vampires—the sun does not kill them; it simply drains their energy and dries them out. So they can only be out in the daylight for short periods of time. This makes them increasingly powerful and dangerous.”
“And how can you not believe in vampires? Even after the pentagram on your door?” Natalie chimed in. “That’s their sign; they marked you, but you weren’t there. You were with me—they probably took Emily instead, and we have to save her.”
“Save her?” I replied incredulously. “How in the world are we… are you g
oing to save her? We don’t know who took her or where they went.”
Curtis looked up from the coffee table. “Yes, boss man, we do. They came for you just like they came for Sandy.” My jaw dropped, and I almost fell over. I had to brace myself against the bookshelf.
“Sandy?”
“Yes,” began Pastor Paul, “when you came and told me what you were seeing and experiencing, it sounded like Caelitus activity to me, so I called my superior and told him what was going on. Natalie came to me this morning with your most recent sighting of Sandy and the truth of it is, Sandy is a Comtissa Nocturnus, or at least it sounds like it. She would be one of the senior female members in the clan, appearing like a dream but being very real, moving quickly, only visiting at night, leaving messages… it’s all there. And if she is trying to tell you that Tyler and Caitlyn are still alive, then they are. That means have to save them, too!”
“Sam,” Curtis added, “the Caelitus only take those who owe them or have been bound to them. Sandy must have owed them in some way, but when they came for her, Tyler and Caitlyn must have been in the way and got caught up in the middle of it. They won’t kill children—often they keep them until they reach adulthood and then make them part of the clan.”
“So, they are still alive?” I was truly hopeful for the first time in a very long time. “We have to go get them! But what about Emily? And why would they come for me?”
The pastor responded to that, “Emily will either be turned into a sex slave for the master of the clan or killed outright. But nothing will happen to her until midnight. My guess is that you were getting too close to them or that they fear
you in some way, so they came for you. Natalie said you spent the night with her last night”—Natalie visibly blushed and looked away—“so they found Emily instead and took her. It could very well be a ploy to lure you into a trap. They may be assuming you will come after her.”
Sands of Time Page 11