Shifting Silence

by Laura Bickle

  Dr. Phillips receded, and the ER doc approached. I remembered her from earlier in the night, Dr. Groom.

  “Is it about Dalton?”

  “No.” Dr. Groom flicked a glance down the hall. “We have to inform law enforcement of any gunshot wounds. And that guy just came in with one.”

  Sandy’s head snapped around, and her eyes narrowed. “Did he say what happened?”

  “He said he was cleaning his gun when he shot himself.” Groom shook her head. “But that’s not possible. He was shot in the right hip. Didn’t hit anything vital, but he lost a lot of blood. I think that’s what scared his friend into bringing him in, since he almost bled out. The bullet on X-ray looks like a .45 or nine-millimeter, if I were guessing. I’ll turn that over to your evidence team.”

  Sandy’s eyes narrowed. “Are they from around here?”

  “Victim’s driver’s license says he’s from Massachusetts. I don’t have any info on the guy who came in with him.”

  “Get them up in a room when you can, and get hospital security to post a guard until I can get another deputy here. They’re not to leave here until I give the okay.”

  “Understood,” the doc said. She frowned. “There’s something shady about those guys, but I don’t know what.”

  Sandy talked into her radio, asking for another cruiser to come to the hospital. She then turned to me. “Is there any chance that Dalton’s service weapon might have gone wild, might have shot someone else?”

  “It happened pretty fast,” I said. “I thought Dalton shot the wolf.”

  “We followed a blood trail into the woods, but didn’t find a wolf.” Sandy laced her hands behind her head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like having a man down, and I don’t like that weird shit that was there.”

  “The bones...I didn’t get a good look at them.”

  “We’ll need you to look at them,” she confirmed. “If you don’t mind. My gut sense is that they’re not human—the ribs look too big, but I need an expert’s opinion. We’re short-handed as hell right now. Peggy on our evidence team is out on mat leave, and now Dalton...” She frowned. The Gibson County Sheriff’s Office was a small operation, even with all hands on deck.

  I nodded. “Sure.” I wanted to stay as close as I could to the investigation. “I’d like to see Dalton, first, if they’ll let me, and then I can go back over with you.”

  “I know it’s been a long, shitty day, but we appreciate your help. All of it. And what you did for Dalton...I know he appreciates it, too.” Her brow creased. “You got someone to look after the critters at your practice?”

  I nodded. “I called my aunt. She’s my vet tech. She’s got everything well in hand.”

  We walked back to the ICU. I knew I wasn’t going to be allowed to get close to Dalton, but I wanted to catch a glimpse of him. I wanted to confirm with my own eyes that he was still alive. Through a window in the hall that looked over the ICU, I could see he was tied to IV lines and sensors. From what I could see at this distance, his vitals looked good.

  “Be strong,” I whispered to him, my breath fogging the glass.

  A crash sounded further up the corridor. I turned just in time to see the man who had been on the gurney loping down the hall with his friend. I got a good look at the tall friend, and I froze. He was tall, with blond hair over a gaunt face set with blue eyes...I recognized him from my dreams as one of the men in robes chanting Latin.

  A sheriff’s deputy sprawled on the ground. The man who’d been shot in the hip had wrapped a sheet around his waist and was running for the elevator.

  Running. He was running with a gunshot wound to the leg.

  “Stop there!” Sandy yelled. She drew her service firearm.

  The men turned and stared at her. They exchanged glances and ran toward us, rushing Sandy.

  Sandy switched tactics, reaching for her Taser. The Taser dart launched out and struck the taller man in the chest. The man with the bedsheet kept running, bouncing off the wall like a pinball. The tall man ripped the darts out of his chest and flung them to the ground.

  I shoved a cart of linens in their path. The man with the bedsheet skirt crunched into it, but the obstacle at least slowed him down. I stood on the other side of the cart, my hands gripping the handle.

  His eyes locked with mine. His nostrils flared, as if he smelled something.

  “You,” he said. “You’re magic.”

  And he was, too. He smelled like that spilled, spoiled magic from the clearing, that aura that clung to the knife and the ring. I stared at the sleeve of tattoos on his arm, dragons and phoenixes wound around a cosmic lemniscate.

  He was Casimir.

  Behind them, Sandy fought with the tall man. But I was frozen, feeling called out and exposed.

  Footsteps descended on the hallway, as two security officers appeared. A full fight was underway, but to my shock, the tall man seemed impervious to the blows they rained down on him. He moved toward the toga-wearing man and me, menacing as a robot from a sci-fi movie.

  I flattened myself against the wall, but the man with the sheet reached toward me.

  “We’re getting out of here,” the tall man said.

  “Not without her,” Toga Man said.

  The tall man grabbed me around the waist, as if I were a doll. I slugged him in the face, but it was like striking a statue, for all the good it did.

  I knew that I was not going with them. Not if I could help it.

  I sucked in my breath and focused my awareness on my feet. I reached down, down into the earth through the soles of my shoes, trying to root myself in the ground two floors below. I imagined myself as a tree, immobile and deeply embedded in the earth.

  He tried to pick me up. But I was like a ton of bricks, immobile.

  Sandy waded in, wailing on the guy with her baton. “Get your hands off her, you—"

  The man released me, and he fled with his friend down the hallway, to the stairs. But not before casting a glance over his shoulder that was both covetous and menacing. It chilled me to the bone as much as the dark magic had at the clearing.

  I remained rooted in the hallway as security, deputies, and orderlies rushed past me. I was frozen, my pulse rabbiting in my throat.

  The Casimir had seen me. They had recognized me.

  And I knew they would be coming for me.

  “DON’T WORRY, LUNA. We’ve got a plate number and an APB out for them. They’re not getting far.”

  Sandy meant to sound reassuring, but I slumped in the passenger seat of her cruiser. I had no doubt that the Sheriff’s Office would do what they could, but I was pretty damn sure that what they’d gotten mixed up with was beyond their ability to control, as evidenced by that fight in the hospital. The men had gotten away, despite two sheriff’s deputies, hospital security, and three orderlies on their tail. Deputy Fitz had suffered a concussion, and Sandy was all beat to hell. Not that she’d admit hit. Her shiner had nearly closed her right eye, but she was determined to act like it didn’t hurt.

  I blew out my breath. “What if these guys are involved in a cult? What if there are more of them?”

  “I’ve called the Highway Patrol for backup. They’re gonna lend us some troopers.” She didn’t say much more. I had gotten too used to Dalton being transparent with me about law enforcement activities.

  Too bad I hadn’t gotten honest with him about things before it had been too late.

  I stared out at the dark landscape of trees and hills sliding by. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps things would have gone down better if I’d been honest with Dalton from the beginning. Now, now things were really fucked up, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

  I didn’t much like the idea of returning to the crime scene, but I was escorted by Sandy and a Highway Patrolman who met us in Aaron’s driveaway, both armed with rifles and flashlights. I wrapped my arms around myself, not liking the idea that we were walking into the monster’s maw.

  Aaron’s trailer was dark, but his tr
uck was there. I hoped that he and his child had gone to stay somewhere else tonight. Especially when my gaze was arrested by the yellow crime scene tape on his front door.

  I stopped in my tracks. “Sandy. Are Aaron and his son okay?”

  Sandy looked down at her shoes. “A deputy found the child hiding in a closet. They didn’t find the man who lived here. Or the horse in the barn.”

  I sucked in my breath. “Aaron disappeared? Dalton and I talked to him, right before we headed into the woods...”

  “Someone came here, and...” Sandy looked away.

  I stared at her. “Sandy.”

  “Deputies found blood. A lot of blood. Here and in the barn. No one could survive that.”

  I stared at the door. “Where’s the kid? Is he okay?”

  “Not a mark on him. A social worker took him to Aaron’s sister’s house. We’ll do everything we can. I promise.”

  I nodded mutely, feeling as if I’d brought something terrible down on poor Aaron, who wanted nothing more than to get his dog well to play with his kid...and the horse, who had no idea what the hell was happening. I brushed tears away.

  Be careful, the mare had said. There are things with teeth in the forest.

  “Hey, are you okay? Do you want us to take you home?” Sandy squinted at me through her good eye.

  “I’m okay,” I said, my voice small. “I want to help. Show me the bones.”

  Sandy and the patrolman shone their flashlights into the dark, and we waded into the underbrush. At night, this wood appeared a thousand times more threatening than it had during the day. Flashlights bleached the trees white, and shadows shifted among them. Much as I wanted to ask the bats flitting overhead if they’d seen anything, I was quite certain that would paint me as mad. I kept quiet and kept walking.

  Two deputies were stationed at the crime scene with an evidence technician. The clearing was cordoned off with yellow tape, which Sandy lifted for me to enter. The deputies entered a huddle, while I approached the crime scene tech.

  “Sandy said you needed help with bones. I’m Luna Summerwood. I’m a veterinarian.”

  “I’m CS Markel.” The evidence tech’s eyes were wide. He looked very young, wearing a polo shirt with the sheriff’s badge embroidered on it that was two sizes too big. “Yes, I most certainly need help with these bones.”

  First, he showed me the bones in the circle. Each was marked with a little paper number placed beside it. I was given permission to lift them and examine the bones with latex gloves before the tech placed them in bags. I was able to conclusively identify most of the bones in the circle as porcine. Markel had reached the same tentative conclusion, finding a hoof in the pine needles. I wondered which belonged to Louisa. She and her piglets had a terrible end.

  “But this is weird,” the tech said. “These bones are all stripped clean, which...if they were having some kind of pagan pig roast here, that would be one thing. But there are tool marks on the bones, and I don’t know what the hell is up with that.” He pointed to a badly scarred pelvis.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that looked like a chew toy,” I said.

  “Right?” He shook his head. “I’m gonna have to punt to the state crime lab to figure that out.”

  “Well, at least none of this looks human?” I said hopefully.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  He led me to a fire pit. He pushed aside some of the ash to show me blackened bones.

  I squatted in the ash. My clothes were already ruined with Dalton’s blood, and it didn’t matter what else I got on them.

  I picked up a small bone that looked like a metatarsal from something. “This could be from the paw of a large animal, or a finger from a human. I can’t really tell.”

  “Look at this.”

  He pulled a bone from the cold fire. I tipped my head as I looked at it.

  “I don’t know what the hell that is,” I said at last. It was the right length and circumference be an ulna from a human, an arm bone. It was thick and heavy, and I knew it belonged to a terrestrial creature. But fused into it was a long, spindly appendage that reminded me of the radius of a bird wing.

  The tech threw up his hands. “So it’s not just me?”

  “No. It’s not just you. It looks like something from an FX workshop. Are you sure it’s actually bone?”

  “Yep. Field test with a hot needle suggests bone.”

  “Well, hell.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I wanted to say: There’s some funky magic going on here, isn’t there? But I didn’t dare.

  “Wait until you see this,” Markel said. He picked up what looked like a large stone and handed it to me.

  It much lighter than a stone; it was a skull, probably a human skull. But it couldn’t be...could it? Human orbital sockets were always placed in the front of the head. Humans were predators, and predator eyes perched there. This skull, while seeming otherwise human, had eye sockets on the sides of the head...like cattle or a bird, some kind of prey species.

  I frowned at it.

  The tech leaned forward, eyes round. “I think...I think we found Mothman.”

  “Mothman.”

  “Yeah. That creature with wings in Point Pleasant West Virginia...”

  “I know what Mothman is.” I cocked my head and stared at the blackened skull. “But why is he dead in a fire in Gibson County?”

  “Vacation?” the tech chirped helpfully.

  I highly doubted it. No one ever came to Gibson County on vacation.

  CHAPTER 9

  “What have you gotten into?”

  Celeste stared at me with crossed arms, clearly disapproving of the mess I’d tracked into her freshly waxed hardwood floors. She’d used some kind of protective floor wash; I could smell the lemon. I was wearing Sandy’s windbreaker over my bloody T-shirt, and my boots were caked with muck. I was grubby, cranky, and looking forward to a bath.

  “The Casimir.” I filled her in as I stripped out of my clothes on the way to the bathroom. The eyes of the Summerwood women in their silver-framed portraits followed me as I shucked out of them, but I knew I had no secrets from them. I didn’t think there was any saving my own clothes; blood stains had set in too much. Still, I was reluctant to part with the shirt. Maybe it was Dalton’s blood on it. Maybe Celeste could murmur some magic words over that blood to fix him. Maybe...

  My aunt began to pace the hallway. “Well, that explains the cruiser parked on the road. I walked up there to ask them what they wanted, and they said that they were here to keep us safe.” She rolled her eyes. “As if they could.”

  “Celeste. They’ve seen me. They think I’m magic. What now?” I was rattled. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but I was shaken.

  She placed a hand on my cheek. “You’re going to be all right. I’ve spent all day setting up wards. I’m going to draw you a salt bath.”

  I nodded. “How are our patients?”

  “Bristol’s in good spirits. He was hungry. I did what you told me, fed him some broth. The barn animals are fed and put to bed. The guinea pigs are asleep, and so is your maned wolf.”

  I closed my eyes. I would have to tell Bristol about Aaron and his horse. Shit. Bristol deserved better than this. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to tell an animal his owner had died. There was always grief, confusion, and fear about what would happen to them next. They were acutely aware of how much they depended on their human companions.

  “Thank you for taking care of the animals.” I was relieved to have Celeste here to care for them, but I still felt I was neglecting my duties. “I couldn’t run this place without you, you know.”

  She smiled at me. “You don’t have to. Go talk to Bristol. I put him in the waiting area so he could look out the window.”

  While she collected bottles of potions to dump in my bath, I ducked into my room to grab a robe. The room was dark, with only the window illuminated in the moonlight. I went to pull the curtains, and looked down to see Theo and Orion snoring so
ftly on the windowsill. Orion was dreaming of chasing something.

  The three messages in bottles I’d left on the windowsill were gone. I was betting the cats had slept through the birds who picked them up. I hoped that help was coming, in one shape or another, because we sure as hell needed it.

  I kissed both cats behind the ears before heading down to the clinic. Bristol was sitting in the clinic's empty waiting area, looking out the window at the dark landscape. Celeste had put a dog bed and a blanket beside the window, so he’d have something interesting to look at while he healed. The waiting area was small enough for him to stretch his legs, but not large enough to allow him to overexert himself.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said, sinking to the floor beside him. My robe pooled around my knees.

  He looked down at me, his doggy eyebrows working up and down. You smell like blood.

  I took a deep breath. “Those bad people from the campground...they hurt Aaron.”

  He inhaled sharply. Is he gonna be okay? What about Max? And Spot?

  I reached out and put my hand on his head. “Max is with his aunt. He’s okay. But Aaron...Aaron is dead. So is the horse...Spot?”

  He froze, and I could see the whites of his eyes as they rolled. No. Not Aaron. He’s strong, you know, strong enough to operate that baby gate and open cans and, and...Spot is fast. Fastest horse I’ve ever seen...

  “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

  His ears flattened, and he whined. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there. I could have protected them. I could have...

  I gazed at him with certainty. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  His tail tucked between his legs and lay down on the floor next to me. This is because I ate that ring.

  “No, no.” I held his head between my hands. “This is not your fault, not in any way. You are a good dog. I know that Aaron would be happy to know that you are safe.”

  He rested his head on the floor. When can I see Max?

  “When you’re healed up and things settle down.”

  He gave a deep sigh and was silent for many minutes. I stroked his back and ached for him. Animals understood death, like humans did, but it didn’t hurt any less.