Night Terrors (Sarah Beauhall Book 4)

by J. A. Pitts

  Today she just wanted to look at the diary, maybe open it. It probably wouldn’t kill her. She’d touched it with no repercussions. Deidre had handled it with no problems—something about sympathetic magic, she thought. Women’s magic. Like the ring the necromancer had used to transform Trisha into a dragon. He couldn’t have used the ring himself.

  The diary cover was a dark leather that had somehow been molded to seal not only along the spine like a normal book, but also across the other three edges, hiding the pages within. It had taken her a few weeks to even hold the book for very long. She could feel the power in it, the way it wanted to leap from her hands if she gripped it too tightly. There were marks on it, a few cuts and a burn on the lower left corner, like a cigarette would leave. Careless marks, not mutilations.

  Other than that, there were no other markings. If Deidre hadn’t shown it to her originally, she would’ve had no way of knowing to whom it had once belonged. At least not visually. There was the one thing that happened when she held it gently and with care. Instead of a beast ready to spring, the book flooded her with that feeling that lingers moments after someone you love deeply releases you from an embrace. Twice, when she was just holding the book and letting her mind wander, she’d smelled lilacs and her mother’s perfume. That convinced her of the books true ownership.

  She let her mind drift as she stroked the book. Better to have an open mind, breathe a little. Her fears, and her worries were always at the surface.

  Charlie Hague and the Mordred folks had been weighing on her mind. They knew things she didn’t; had her parents wedding bands. Katie didn’t trust them, though Sarah seemed to think that Charlie was a harmless enough guy. Katie just wasn’t convinced.

  On the home front, Sarah was totally supporting and Jai Li provided joy she had only imagined. But she knew she couldn’t share these thoughts with them. And definitely not the diary. This was for her alone. And she had to keep it secret, keep it safe. Her thoughts drifted to Hobbits and birthday parties for a moment, and the irony of secrets blossomed brightly in her mind. She quashed the guilt and thought maybe it was time to go home. Jai Li would be missing her, and Sarah would be home eventually. Maybe she’d make some dinner.

  She cleared the remaining papers off her desk and opened the drawer where she kept her purse. She was debating on putting the diary into her purse when voices from the hall startled her. Most everyone should’ve gone home by now. She dropped the diary into the drawer, stood, and walked to the open door, glancing down the hallway. Mrs. Danby was shaking hands with a young man in a white lab coat and carrying a medical kit. Katie was speechless for a moment: Was that Charlie Hague?

  Once Mrs. Danby had walked back into her classroom and the young man had turned, Katie stepped into the hall. It was definitely Charlie Hague. Here, in her school. Alarms sounded in her head. She thought maybe she should go back into her classroom and shut the door, but he’d seen her and stopped, his face wary and his body tense.

  “Hello, Ms. Cornett” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He stayed where he was, his medical bag clutched to his chest. He glanced down the hall to the exit. “I was down at Mrs. Danby’s classroom’—he pointed back over his shoulder—“checking on her rabbits.”

  Katie leaned against her doorframe. “Are they in need of medical care?” she asked, watching him.

  He laughed nervously, “Nothing too serious, I promise. Ms. Nibbles is going to have a litter anytime now. Mrs. Danby just wanted us do to a checkup. Can’t have something horrible happen to the classroom’s favorite pet, can we?”

  She smiled. He was clean cut, dressed professionally. She could see a collared shirt and tie under the coat. He didn’t look dangerous.

  “I’m sorry about our last meeting,” she said, taken suddenly with a need to justify her actions.

  He held up one hand, forestalling her. “No harm, no foul,” he said, but his eyes didn’t speak of forgiveness. He was scared of her. “I really shouldn’t be here, talking to you,” he started walking, hugging the far wall, like he was afraid to get too close to her.

  She stiffened, taking a quick look toward the door to the playground. “I promise never to do that again,” she said, feeling like she meant it. There was another voice in her head, an angry voice that told her he didn’t deserve her compassion, but she ignored it.

  He seemed to relax a bit. “That makes me feel better,” he said. “I’m sorry I don’t have the rings with me.” He stepped three more steps toward the exit, but kept facing her. “They’re safe,” he said, holding up his hands. “But we need an official meeting, I think. I got some heat from our last …” he paused with the hint of a cringe, “… meeting. Madame Gottschalk was not pleased that I’d taken the initiative.” He fished in his jacket and pulling out a card. “Call me when you want to set up a meeting and I’ll make the arrangements.” He held his arm outstretched, his card protruding between two fingers. “I really do think it would be in both our best interests to get together and combine forces,” he shrugged. “At least share intelligence if we can’t come to an outright alliance.”

  Katie crossed her arms and he let his arm drop with a sigh. “How do you know about us?” she asked.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said, taking a step nearer to her, holding up his arm once more. “I want to answer all your questions, but we have to do it properly.”

  “How do you know about me and my brother?”

  He let his arm drop once again. “Fair question,” he said, leaning back against the wall opposite her. “I have associates who are familiar with your”—he hesitated—“current activities, let’s say.”

  Heat flashed through Katie. The thought of them spying on them, on Black Brair. Her thoughts flitted back to the bugs they’d found in Jimmy’s house.

  “Did you bug my brother’s house?” she asked.

  He sighed, his shoulders sagging and his confidence waning. “We did,” he said, taking another step away. “I really just need to make contact with you folks. My order was on friendly terms with your parents. Before they disappeared.”

  Katie’s head came up so fast, her teeth clacked together. “How do I know you didn’t make them disappear?” she asked. Anger rose in her and the dark voice in her head started to howl.

  “We’re watchers,” he said, holding up one hand, showing his wrist and the tattoo exposed under his coat sleeve. “Bestellen von Mordred,” he said. “We shared information with your parents. We were allied, I swear.”

  Katie marched over to him, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Where are my parents?”

  “Whoa, there,” Charlie said, shrugging her hand off his shoulder and backing away. “I don’t know much, honestly. I’m not even supposed to be talking to you, but I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Start talking,” Katie said, squaring up to him and clenching her hands into fists. “Either tell me something I want to hear or get the hell out.” Her temper was flaring to the danger zone.

  Charlie held one hand up as if to forestall an attack. “Mrs. Gottschalk knows more than I do. We should really meet with her. I honestly don’t know much.”

  “You,” Katie said, poking him in the shoulder with one finger. “What do you know?”

  Charlie paled, the fear coloring his features in shades of white and grey. That just made her even more angry. She wanted someone to throttle, not cow. “Iceland,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder to the open doorway. “They were meeting some people about a new archeological dig. Rumor had it they’d uncovered evidence of Jómsborg.”

  Katie shook her head, confused. “Pardon?”

  “Viking sect,” he said. “Rumored to have a homeland in the south Baltic sea region. Crazy warriors according to legends. No real evidence they existed, though. Nothing concrete.”

  Katie’s anger began to ebb. “They went to Iceland to look at an archeological dig?”

  “That was their starting point, or so our sources say.” Charlie looked innocent en
ough. Just a guy trying to have a conversation.

  “Is that the official reason for the trip, or the secret reason?”

  Charlie laughed a fearful guffaw. “Touché. That is the secret reason. Officially, they told both the Icelandic and United States governments that they were just sight-seeing.”

  Katie stepped back, leaned against the wall by her classroom door. “That makes sense based on what I know,” she said. “But why are you talking to us now? Why haven’t you contacted us sooner?”

  She’d hit a nerve there. He looked down, shuffling his feet. “Politics,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  He looked up at her. “Honestly, political bullshit. Our order is afraid of every shadow, double-checks and rechecks everything just to make sure we’re safe—in the shadows—in control.”

  Now it was Katie’s turn to chuckle. “You sound disgruntled.”

  “Hell, yes,” he said. Suddenly he looked more in control. “Gottschalk will totally kick my ass, but I have to tell you. They’re scared out of their minds that you folks are going to fuck things up and bring the wrath of the dragons down on all of us.”

  Katie made a thoughtful pout. “That was brutally honest.”

  Charlie shrugged again. “Look, if Sarah has”—he leaned in to whisper—“really killed a dragon.” He glanced over his shoulder and back. “They are gonna flip their shit.”

  “And do what?”

  He pulled back, shocked. “You mean it’s true?”

  Now it was Katie’s turn to shrug. “Why are you asking me? If you’re watchers, wouldn’t this be the exact kind of thing you should be watching for? If you don’t even know if that much is true, how good can you guys be. Sheesh.”

  Charlie flushed. “They’re a bunch of old women,” he said. “All they do is drink their tea, bitch about the old days, and warn us against moving too fast. I’m the youngest recruit and I don’t know much.” This was something that had been eating him a while, it seemed. “Half the time I think they only recruited me because they needed a gopher—or more likely free vet care for their damned cats.”

  Katie smiled at that. That’s how Jimmy made her feel. Like she wasn’t good enough to play with the grownups. “I guess they saw something there,” she said, feeling her anxiety drain away. “I’m sure you add something to the group.” Suddenly she felt very sorry for young Charlie Hague. He was about her age, maybe a year older, and, it seemed, out of his league.

  “Well, you’d think I had something to add,” he started, getting a full head of steam. “Like speaking seven languages, having degrees in history, veterinary medicine, and theater?”

  “Really?”

  “Hey, I thought I was going into the CIA. I had no idea all this dragon bullshit existed.”

  They stood there a minute, quietly. He was looking at his feet again and she watched him.

  “Okay, we’ll call you,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He fumbled with his bag, shuffling it to his other hand and held up the now crumpled business card. “We can arrange a meeting anytime you want,” he said, smiling. “Gottschalk will want things to be secure and obfuscated.”

  “Oh, we’re all over that,” she said, taking the card. “Let me make some calls and we’ll get back with you.”

  He looked relieved, grabbed his pack to his chest and stepped back toward the door. “Crazy running into you. I really was looking in on Mrs. Danby’s rabbits.”

  Katie waved at him as he hurried down the hallway and out the door at the end. She glanced down at the card. Crazy days.

  She shut her classroom door and went back to her desk, dropping the card in a coffee mug she kept pencils in and sat down, rubbing her temples. There was headache building and she needed to either get some painkillers in her, or find a nap somewhere.

  Instead she opened the drawer to her desk and pulled out her mother’s diary once again. She stroked the cover, thinking. That was a lot of coincidence right there. He seemed harmless, but seriously … She should go down the hall to Mrs. Danby’s room, see if she was still around. The thought made her forehead ache. Better to sit here a minute, close her eyes and think.

  For a few moments just having her eyes closed seemed to be helping. Then she felt a pulse from the diary. A tiny throb that barely registered against her finger tips. She cracked her eyes and looked around. She had a ground floor classroom, so anyone could be snooping out in the bushes. Better to take this someplace away from prying eyes.

  She looked to the back of her classroom and saw the small bathroom. All the kindergarten classes had one. The little ones didn’t always have time to make it down the hall.

  The door shut quietly behind her as she flicked on the light. There was no sound in here. She lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down, caressing the book. Her mother’s book. This held secrets of her mother that no one knew. Would it lead her to find her missing parents? God the pain of missing them was stronger these days.

  Taking a deep breath, she began to sing the little ditty Sarah had found among Nidhogg’s books. The discordant song that made her teeth ache and her nose bleed.

  She sang quietly while tracing the edge of the diary. Her ears popped and the bathroom door began to vibrate. She finished the song through one time and picked it up again from the beginning. Along the spine edge of the book, runes began to glow with dull purple light.

  By the time she’d finished the four stanza tune a second time, blood dripped from her nose. It caught her by surprise. The fat drop struck the diary cover and a bell sounded inside the small room—a noise so loud her ears rang for a moment. In her hands, the book shook once, as if giving a little sigh.

  Instead of staunching her flowing nose, she leaned closer and sang the song again, letting the drops strike the book like the thrumming call of funeral bells. Her head swam and her vision blurred.

  After the seventh drop, the book shuddered and a seam appeared along the edge opposite the spine. For an instant it flashed with a deep purple explosion and the sound of chains striking the floor echoed within the bathroom. The book rattled for another second and then lay still—the runes fading like the afterimage of a flash bulb. She opened the book, placed her hand on the first page and tried to focus. A spasm ran up her arm and the dark voice in her head rose in exultation.

  Her head pounded and the floor rose up to meet her. The book tumbled from her hands as she struck the linoleum. She could feel the blood running down her face before she lost all feeling. The light faded and the ringing in the room grew louder. Somewhere in the distance she heard calling voices and slamming doors.

  The last thought that flitted through her mind was the first words scrawled on the page in her mother’s handwriting.

  “You’re dying, Katie love. The draught will be your doom.”

  Nine

  I was in the back of the studio at Flight Test working on Cheerleaders of the Apocalypse with Jones and Carnes, my two volunteer lieutenants. Grandma Jones was a retired nurse who enjoyed being out with creative types rather than become one of those crazy cat ladies or hoarders. Cry-Baby Carnes was a twenty-year-old trust-fund baby who never had to lift a finger, so instead of being bored, he poured his ample free time into Flight Test. They were a good pair, she helped him see reality by taking him along on her forays into the homeless shelters and food banks that filled the rest of their days.

  I’d been pretty rough on them during the shooting of Elvis Versus the Goblins, but they’d managed to see past my ass-hattery and stay on the movie. They were good people, better than I deserved some days.

  We were working on costuming with the cheerleader brigade. Imagine a dozen well-endowed extras prancing around in low-cut sweaters and too short mini-skirts. Carnes was loving it, but Jones complained that these girls would catch their death of cold. I just couldn’t imagine wanting to fight mutants in this type of outfit. It was so beyond silly it was offensive, but that’s what the script called for, and Carl Tuttle, the director said it woul
d increase sales. If Jennifer McDowell, our fearless co-leader and director of photography hadn’t approved things, I’d have probably punched Carl for being such a pig.

  Jones and Carnes had been with us on every movie Flight Test had done—all the way back to Blood Brother One, which had sold about twenty copies, if you didn’t count the ones the actors picked up to preserve for when they got famous. I hadn’t even been around for that, but JJ had. Joseph (JJ) Montgomery was the meal-ticket—our star actor, and he knew it.

  JJ had been going through his lines, really kicking it for about the last hour. As much as it pained me to admit, the guy had major talent. And his personality was morphing. I don’t know if he was smoking something other than cigarettes, but since the end of Elvis Versus the Goblins he’d started acting differently—nearly human. There was this girl, Wendy Lawson. The guy was smitten in the worst way. He usually chased strippers and the like, but since meeting Wendy he’d flipped. Honestly, I think it was love. I had no idea how they met, but while my life was going seventeen kinds of crazy, he’d met this hot young college chick and they’d co-written the movie we were now working on. It was nuts.

  It rankled me exactly how good the script was. JJ may be a total whore, but he had a way with dialog that sang. When he delivered his lines in practice I was blown away. The young women we’d hired to play the cheerleaders for this film nearly all swooned when JJ was working.

  It made me want to vomit a little. Just a little. Carl, the overall brainchild of Flight Test movie studio had mentioned he thought that this would be JJ’s last movie. Jennifer was working the Wendy angle, digging for confirmation. It was more of a hunch, but we were small time. JJ was growing into an actor that would eventually catch Hollywood’s attention. Whether he left on his own or someone came and took him away, he would not be stinking up this Podunk little outfit for much longer.