by Dan Alatorre
“What, a retro Buccaneers poncho from those ugly ‘Creamsicle’ uniforms in the 70s?”
“It’s for visibility. Orange shows up better in the daytime. And at night.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat, cheeks warming. “Well, you’ll have to show it to me sometime.”
“Sure thing. Besides, we can’t all drive big black Lincoln Navigators, now can we?” Tyree said. “Did they let you keep that thing when you retired from the CIA?”
“CIA?” Mallory scooped vegetables from a pot into a serving bowl. “Doesn’t that stand for Certified Internal Auditor?”
“Culinary Institute of America,” I said. “I was a secret chef spy.”
“If you were a chef, it was a well-guarded secret.” Mallory was finally starting to loosen up. “Okay, you two. Time to eat. Get Sophie washed up for dinner.”
“Come on, little critter.” I went to the couch and hoisted Sophie up. Tyree followed.
The pre-dinner conversation had worked well to get everyone more relaxed. When we returned, we took our places at the table.
Sophie peered at Tyree. “Do you like goldfish crackers?”
He smiled. “Oh, goldfish crackers are my favorite!”
Sophie smiled back. “Mommy, Mr. Tyree and I need goldfish crackers for dinner.”
“Whoa!” Tyree laughed. “Hold on. Don’t do that to me.”
“We’re having pork roast and green beans, sweetie.” Mallory said.
Sophie stuck out her tongue. “Yuck. I don’t like green beans.”
“Well.” Tyree picked up a fork. “Maybe you and I can have some goldfish crackers for dessert sometime. Okay?” He raised his eyebrows and glanced at Mallory. She smiled.
“Today?” Sophie sat up straight.
“Not today,” Mallory said as she sat.
“Another time.” Tyree nodded. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Sophie sighed, her little battle lost.
We ate, discussing miscellaneous things, and avoiding the topic on everyone’s mind. When we finished, it wasn’t late, but I convinced my daughter that it was bedtime. The rain outside had made it dark early, so she was easily swayed.
“Say bye-bye to Tyree, sweetie.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “Then I’ll take you upstairs to bed.”
As he squatted down to say goodbye, Sophie surprised him with a hug. “Bye, Tyree.”
“Bye Sophie.”
Her face was sad. She wanted to stay up with everybody else.
“It was nice to meet you,” Tyree said, standing. “I’ll see you soon.”
Sophie leaned toward him and whispered. “Don’t forget the goldfish crackers.”
“Okay, let’s go.” I took Sophie’s hand and walked her up the steps. Mallory put the pot under the coffee maker—to Tyree’s delight. Then, with Sophie in bed, we moved to the living room so we could talk.
“She’s a sweet kid.” Tyree took a cup of coffee from my wife and made his way to the couch.
“Thanks,” I said. We sat down.
He leaned forward to me, lowering his voice. “What are you thinking?”
I guess he wanted to get the lay of the land before Mallory rejoined us.
“I was thinking about evacuating,” I said quietly. “Leaving Tampa and heading to Atlanta until the hurricane passes.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s a big step.”
I nodded.
“What does your wife think about that?”
I sighed. “She thinks it’s a bad idea. And maybe she’s right.”
“Sometimes it’s different for women, dealing with these things.” Tyree tested his coffee. “When that whole winery thing happened, the wreck on your vacation—how did she take it?”
I chewed my lip for a second. “That was different.”
“How?”
“I saw the wreck happen. Sophie and I were headed to the parking lot, but we never made it. When everything happened, she thought she’d lost both of us. That . . . kind of changes things for a person.”
Tyree eyed me over his coffee cup. “Did it for you?”
“In a different way, sure.” I glanced at the kitchen to make sure Mallory wasn’t catching any of this. She had the faucet in the sink running full blast, rinsing some dishes. I felt bad. Normally I’d be helping do that after our guest left, but she launched in, so I guess she had other ideas. “I’m a lot more careful in parking lots. Look, what do you think about all this, the three tragedies, the timing of it all, the recurring dreams—”
“Dreams?” Tyree cocked his head.
“Yeah. What do you make of it all?”
Mallory shut off the water, and picked up her coffee, joining us in the living room.
“Well, let’s put it on the table.” Tyree put his elbows on his knees, wrapping his hands around his mug. “First, I don’t think you folks are mental cases.” He looked at Mallory. “When I look around this house, after talking with your husband a few times, and with you, this just isn’t the typical crazy scenario.”
He gazed at his dark pool of coffee. “I have some experience in this type of thing. And I expect people to be skeptical. But something is happening to you folks. Something . . .” He raised his eyes to us. “Supernatural.”
Mallory swallowed hard, a strained expression on her face. “How do you know?”
“I don’t mean to scare you.” Tyree replied. “It looks a lot like what has ended up being supernatural events—when I’ve had to deal with it in the past.”
Mallory reached over and took my hand. Hers were shaking. “Have you dealt with a lot of situations like this in the past?”
“Some.” He nodded. “Enough to know what they look like when I see them.”
“Whatever this is.” Her voice quivered. “When you’ve seen it in the past . . . what do they want?”
Tyree took a deep breath, watching her eyes. “They want to hurt you.”
The words hung in the air like a bell tolling at a funeral.
“Or they want something from you.”
I had to remind myself to breathe. “Why? I mean, why us?”
“Why not you?” Tyree sat back, propping an arm on the back of the couch. “Doug, you’re thinking about this the wrong way. You too, ma’am. Don’t try to figure out why they’re doing all this. You may never know the reason. They are doing it. That’s the important thing to know.”
Mallory folded her arms and stared at the window. “Oh, that just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Hold on, follow along with me a second.” Tyree held his hands out, gesturing with his mug. “Think of a bully on a playground. What’s the sense behind threatening another kid, or stealing a smaller kid’s lunch money? While you try to figure out the reason, you get punched in the nose and lose your lunch money. The best thing is to punch the bully in the nose, right? Or at least to stand up for yourselves.”
She continued to observe the swaying trees in the yard. He glanced at me. I nodded, mouthing the words Go on.
“Well.” He took a deep breath. “The things that tend to do this stuff, these entities—the dark angels, we call them—they have their own reasons for doing them.”
Mallory frowned, her voice falling to a whisper. “Why would they come after a little girl?”
“Maybe they destroy a child so they can become more powerful and move on to bigger things,” Tyree said. “Does it matter? What matters is that it is happening. To you, to your family, your daughter. It’s happening, and it’s going to keep happening.”
He let that sink in. “I know it’s a lot to digest . . .”
“No.” Mallory sighed. “It isn’t. Not really. I think I’ve been trying to avoid realizing what it was, hoping it would go away.”
Tyree nodded, sitting back in his seat. “I think if I were in your shoes, I’d feel the same way.”
I rubbed my stomach. Hearing it all out loud was harder than I thought. Again. “Do you think they’re after Sophie?”
“Could be. If they wanted
to hurt either of you, wouldn’t that be the best way?” Tyree tapped the side of his cup with his finger. “It could be that she poses some kind of threat to them, somehow.”
My stomach clenched. He didn’t know what the mambo told me, and I felt bad about not sharing it.
Mallory’s jaw dropped. “How can a little girl be a threat to, to . . . to anyone?”
Tyree shrugged. Silence hung in the air. I had heard another answer to that question, but it seemed best to let Tyree offer his own ideas. I could tell him the priestess’ thoughts later.
I rubbed the back of my neck, frowning. “Sounds like some kind of messed up gang initiation.”
“More like a schoolyard bully.” Tyree watched me, his face expressionless. “Without any kind of real restraint.”
That comparison hurt.
“I’m sorry. That’s just been my experience.”
I’d had enough of that topic for the moment. There were other things to discuss. “Listen, we also need to think about what we're to do about this hurricane.”
“Should we go to Orlando?” Mallory frowned and glared at me sideways.
Tyree narrowed his eyes, obviously confused. “What's in Orlando?”
“Old joke,” Mallory replied, getting up.
When she had gone back into the kitchen, I explained. “The last big hurricane was a few years ago and was headed right for Tampa, so we— well, I—got the bright idea to go to our friends’ house in Orlando. You know, be out of the storm. Well, we arrive and find out the hurricane turned. It was headed for Orlando now.”
“Hah! What did you do?”
“We got back in the car and headed to Tampa. We weren’t at their house five minutes, I’m not kidding. We said goodbye, hopped in the car, and started driving—and it’s raining buckets. I mean, you can’t see three feet in front of the headlights. And I realize we are the only car on the road. I-4, the busiest highway in Florida, and there is not another car in sight.” I shook my head. “That’s how you know you’ve made a terrible mistake, when you are the only vehicle on the whole highway. Meanwhile, the wind was knocking my car all over the place. It was ridiculous.”
“Good grief. Then what?”
“Oh, well, we survived.” I chuckled. “The next day we checked out the tracking maps. The stupid thing followed us right down I-4. Now it’s a little harder to get my wife to think about evacuating.”
“At least to Orlando,” Mallory said. We all laughed.
I shifted on my seat. “And that’s why I was thinking Atlanta.”
The laughter stopped. Mallory bristled.
“It’s always been our failsafe spot, right? Our disaster recovery plan? Head to Atlanta, get into a hotel, and if we are separated, send our messages to my family in Indiana until we can get reunited.”
“What if the hurricane comes to Atlanta?” Tyree asked, only half kidding.
“Then we get back in the car and visit my dad in Indiana.” I smiled. “Look, I'd rather be in a hotel in Atlanta dealing with this demonic possession crap than deal with it here and a hurricane too. I think it's the lesser of two evils.”
Mallory huffed. “We walk away from our home? And what about Sparkles? Stick him with the neighbors and hope he’s okay when we get back?”
“Well.” Tyree stood. “You two have a lot to talk about, and at least a little time to talk about it.” He turned to Mallory. “What are your thoughts right now?”
“I don’t know,” Mallory said.
Tyree nodded and looked at me.
“I think we take some kind of action.” I got up and shoved my hands in my pockets, studying the floor. “They’ve found us every time they wanted to. There’s no running from them. They will come when they’re ready, not when we are. I think, we have to attack them somehow; or at least put them on the defensive.” I raised my eyes to Tyree. “Are we better off here, like a small army trapped in a fort?”
“Or like ducklings in a clearing cornered by a wolf?” Mallory glared at me. “Out on the open road, vulnerable?”
“I’m not going to continue to let them come after our daughter and not fight back. I don’t care how nutty it sounds or how it looks to anybody else! They weren’t in that winery. They didn’t see his eyes. That hollow, empty stare. I think we need to confront the dark angel. I just don’t know how.”
Tyree nodded. “There are ways. But for now, get some rest. Let’s talk again in the morning.”
I walked him to the door. The rains had gotten worse. From our covered front porch, it looked like a bomb had gone off. Branches were all over the yard, and the wind was whipping the rain into my face. It stung.
“I’d offer you an umbrella to get to your car, but it would get ripped to shreds in two seconds.” I said.
“Don’t worry about it.” Tyree put on his jacket—the orange and black one he mentioned. Before I could be embarrassed at my prior inconsiderate comments about it, he handed me a business card. “Come by my office tomorrow at noon or so, okay? We still have some things to go over. The address is on the card.”
I stuck the card in my pocket. “Where are you staying tonight? Don’t you live in Melbourne?”
“I have a fold out couch in my office. I’ll be fine.”
I thought about asking him to stay with us for the night but knew it’d be better if I consulted my wife first—and I wasn’t sure of her take on him yet.
Sophie seemed to like Tyree, though, and he seemed to like Sophie. That would make a big difference to Mallory.
He pulled the hood over his head. “I’m going to do some research tonight. If I find anything, I’ll call you in the morning.” He glanced at the stairs. “Is your wife gonna be all right?”
“I think so. This has all been a lot to digest.”
“Let her take her time. Both of you, take your time.” He looked up at the swaying tree tops as they bandied violently back and forth. “Just don’t take too long.”
Then he braced himself and ran to his car.
After Tyree left, I went into my office. It was late, but there were notes to write down and plans to think up.
Mallory drifted into the kitchen and away from the office lights, one hand rubbing her forehead and the other clutching her stomach.
“Mommy?”
Sophie’s voice was barely audible, as if trying not to intrude, not even with her words. Mallory turned to look at our daughter. In her pajamas, Sophie peeked out from the hallway where she’d been hiding. She looked so sweet and innocent.
“Yes, sweetie?” Mallory said, forcing a smile onto her face. Her tired eyes betrayed her, but Sophie might not notice.
“I heard . . . you and Daddy—and the man—talking . . .”
“Mr. Tyree?”
Sophie nodded. “Did I . . .” Her voice broke slightly. She barely got the words out before she started to cry. “Did I do something wrong?”
I almost jumped out of my chair, but I held back to not make things worse.
Mallory pulled Sophie close. “God, no, sweetie. No, you didn't do anything wrong.”
“But Daddy said—” Sophie sobbed. “Mommy, why is all this happening? What’s wrong with me?”
Daddy said.
I swallowed hard, a large lump forming in my throat.
“Nothing sweetie!” Mallory kissed our daughter’s forehead. “Nothing is wrong with you!”
Tears streamed down Sophie’s face. I had never felt so empty and useless.
Her mother rocked her in her arms. “Nothing is wrong with you.” It was all she could manage. Mallory began to cry, too. She hugged Sophie tightly.
“Everything that’s happening, what Daddy and Mr. Tyree discussed, it’s all just a big . . . it’s all just a problem that we need to work on. All of us, together.” Mallory pulled Sophie away to look her in the eye. “It isn’t your fault. There’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t you think that.” She blinked back the tears. “Daddy’s gonna fix it. We’re going to go away from the storm and go to Atlanta, and eve
rything is going to be all right.”
The two of them stayed there, rocking back and forth in a hug, exhausted, my wife saying the words over and over.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Chapter 37
When the phone rang, I felt like I’d just closed my eyes to go to sleep. I cracked open an eyelid and peered at the clock.
8A. M.
It didn’t look like 8 A. M. in the bedroom. Very little light crept in around the window shades. Not 8 A. M.’s worth.
The howling winds reminded me again. Clouds from the storm were keeping things dark.
I reached over and picked up the phone. Tyree’s number on the caller ID snapped me awake. I sat up and pressed the button. “Hey, Tyree, hang on one sec.”
Rolling out of bed, I slinked to the door. Mallory lay slumbering in our bed, with Sparkles on one side of her and Sophie on the other.
I sighed. Sophie still had one arm thrown over her sleeping mother. They’d hugged all night.
The rushing winds would wake everyone soon enough, but their long night didn’t need to be shortened by my phone conversation. I crept out of the room and down the stairs in search of a better place to talk. My office tended to bounce conversations right up the stairs, so that was out. The living room was obviously a bad choice for private conversation after last night, and the garage was too . . . garagey. And it’d be noisy in this wind.
I went into the pantry. With boxes of pasta protecting my back and an old cheese slicer in front of me, I had a quiet bunker where I could speak freely to Tyree—without being overheard and causing another situation like we’d had last night.
I put the phone to my ear. “Sorry for the delay. I didn’t want to wake everybody up.”
“No problem, Doug. I’ll get right to it. I have a question for you.”
“I need to ask you something first.” I had been thinking about the voodoo priestess and what I should or shouldn’t tell Tyree about her. “I have a bill that’s coming due. I met with a voodoo priestess, and I need to pay her a favor or my luck will run bad. This would be a really bad time for that to happen.”
“No kidding. When the hell did you meet with a voodoo priestess, anyway?”