Onyx Webb 9

by Diandra Archer

  “I see you’ve brought your legion of fans with you,” Juniper said, motioning to the gray spirits walking aimlessly around the room.

  “Them?” Fanning said with a laugh. “I could have recruited a whole army of darkness if I’d wanted to. This is nothing more than a skeleton crew of misfits—either too stupid to find energy or too weak to fight the others to get their fair share before everyone was gone. So many people spend their existence living in the margins—in the gray areas. Dull, gray people living dull, gray lives.”

  Fanning worked his way back down the steps and stopped twenty feet from Juniper. “Ever notice how gray and lifeless the dead look after they’ve passed? That’s how they are on the inside too. Just as dead. Just as gray. But not you, Juniper—no, look at you. Bright, colorful, a ball of light. Why is that? How many people did you have to suck the energy from to get that beautiful color in your cheeks? Two? Three? Ten?”

  “Whatever color I have is from hugging the people I love and who love me in return. I would never take someone else’s life. Not ever.”

  “Yes, that’s what they all say at first,” Fanning said. “But just you wait. When faced with the prospect of moving on to the great unknown, you’ll become just like everyone else.”

  “No, I won’t because I’m not staying.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “You know why,” Juniper said. “I’m here because of you. You’re the one who drew me here.”

  “I feel honored,” Fanning said as he made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Nice digs, don’t you think? Me, I prefer a simple cabin in the woods. Where is everyone? Hiding in their little panic room?”

  “It must be hard,” Juniper said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Having to spend your existence in eternal darkness,” Juniper said.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Fanning said. “I’ve been on the nightshift so long it’s hard to imagine things any other way. You must know that all God’s creations were born of darkness.”

  “Oh, really?” Juniper asked.

  “Of course—plants born from seeds that lay in the darkness of the soil. Animals created in the darkness of their mother’s wombs until pushed out into the world. Humanity born from the ashes of the dark ages of man. The universe itself born from dark nothingness.”

  “‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the dark water. Then God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light, and it was good’—right?” Juniper said.

  “Close enough,” Fanning said. “I’m impressed. You know your Bible.”

  “That’s as far as I got,” Juniper said. “Is this going somewhere?”

  “Yes, Fanning said. “You see, when God saw the light, he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light day, and he called the darkness night.”

  “Okay, I get it. You’re the night. I’m the day. Is that your point? Because if it is, most people are there already. Move on. Can we please cut to the chase?”

  “The point is the darkness is more important than the light,” Fanning said. “The darkness was here first. God made light out of darkness in the same way he made woman out of man. You need me for your very existence. Without the darkness, the stars don’t shine.”

  “If darkness is so wonderful, why not simply revel in it? Why do you have this fixation on my light?”

  “Why else?” Fanning said. “Because you have it, and I don’t. But without my darkness, your light is meaningless.”

  “What are you saying? That we need each other? I hate to break it to you, but darkness doesn’t define me,” Juniper said. “I refuse to let my life, however short it may have been, be defined by the darkness of anyone. Especially you.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong,” Fanning said. “Don’t you see? Pain, pleasure. Up, down. Black, white. Light, dark. They all define each other. None of them exist without the other. Face the facts, Juniper: I make you possible.”

  Juniper stayed silent.

  “Now, if it were up to me, I would drown the world in my darkness, so that everyone could experience the beauty and wonder of it,” Fanning said. “But…”

  “But?”

  “But a new day is upon us—a day of total eclipse—and, sadly, one of us has to go.”

  “You keep referring to my light. I don’t have a light,” Juniper said.

  “Oh, but you do. You just don’t realize it yet.”

  2:35 A.M. EST

  MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

  PIPI FINALLY BEGAN second-guessing her decision to ignore Maggie’s voice mails. Maggie would never set Pipi up. Neither would Newt. She was being a stubborn idiot—which just so happened to be the area in which she received the lowest scores on her most recent Five Factor Biodata Inventory.

  Interestingly, the bureau had once again allowed Pipi to submit the results of her latest physical from a private doctor rather than be examined by a bureau doctor in a controlled environment. In short, they’d determined she was prone to extreme stubbornness and temperamental outbursts—but had failed to detect she was dead.

  Pipi grabbed her cell phone and dialed Maggie. A few seconds later, a man answered.

  “Hello?” a man said.

  Pipi’s heart fell.

  “Who’s this?” Pipi asked.

  The connection went dead.

  Uh, oh. Not good.

  Pipi redialed, but this time the call went directly to voice mail. Pipi didn’t bother to leave a message.

  She quickly scrolled through her contacts and was relieved to see she still had Koda Mulvaney’s cell phone number programmed into her phone from the last time they’d spoken. She pressed call. With any luck...

  “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

  Pipi hung up the phone and dialed the main line at the FBI emergency switchboard. She was going to send a team of agents to the Mulvaney estate. And she was going to need a plane for herself. And she was going to have to find out who in the hell had answered Maggie’s cell phone.

  2:37 A.M. EST

  INSIDE THE PANIC ROOM

  EVERYONE INSIDE THE panic room stood in a semi-circle, quietly watching the confrontation between Juniper and the dark form unfold on the closed-circuit TV screen.

  “Can you turn up the sound?” Quinn asked. “I can barely hear them.”

  Stormy had intentionally left the sound on the lowest setting possible, which meant that he could hear the sound with no problem—but the others couldn’t.

  “Are you sure, Quinn?” Stormy asked. “This may not be something you want—”

  “Turn it up,” Quinn said. Stormy glanced at Koda, and Koda nodded. Stormy turned the sound dial for the ballroom camera and the sound came on.

  2:39 A.M. EST

  IN THE BALLROOM

  THE MAN WHO murdered you was here tonight. Did you know that?” Fanning said.

  “I know,” Juniper replied. “It was the same man who stabbed Declan Mulvaney, the one calling himself the Southern Gentleman. So what?”

  “So what? That’s a strange reaction. You do hate him, don’t you?”

  “Hate him? Why would I hate him?” Juniper asked.

  “For taking your one and only life.”

  “Hating him would only make him more important than he thinks he is. He was a sad, pathetic man. My hating him would only bring more hate into the world.”

  “So, you forgive him then?”

  “Yes,” Juniper said. “Hate can’t drive out hate. Only love can drive out hate.”

  “Another pithy quote from your infinite book of useless wisdom?”

  “Martin Luther King.”

  “You have a great awareness of the world,” Fanning said.

  “I had good parents,” Juniper said.

  “Ah, so she does lie,” Fanning said. “Maybe you’re not as
perfect as you pretend.”

  Juniper did not reply.

  “Oh, did I just poke a nerve?” Fanning asked.

  “My childhood has nothing to do with anything.”

  “Oh, doesn’t it? Show me the person whose childhood didn’t shape who they became, and I’ll show you—no one.”

  “So, my parents sucked,” Juniper said. “I had my brother.”

  “Ah, yes. Your brother Quinn. I’ve studied him a bit,” Fanning said. “Which Quinn came tonight? Thin Quinn? Fat Quinn? Poor Quinn? Rich Quinn? Quinn the jackal, who testified against his best friend and put him on death row?”

  “Shut up,” Juniper said.

  “Where is Quinn now, Juniper?” Fanning asked. “Hiding? Never there when you need him most, that brother of yours.”

  “I said to shut up,” Juniper repeated.

  “Where are you, Quinn?” Fanning called out. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Juniper clenched her fists into tight balls and held them out in front of her and screamed, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  Suddenly, without warning, arcs of electricity began jumping back and forth through the air from one fist to the other.

  “Nice to see I finally got a rise out of you,” Fanning said. “Now you know—you really do have the light in you.”

  Juniper was shocked at what had just happened.

  “I hope you’re not feeling ashamed,” Fanning said. “It’s good to show your anger.”

  “I’m not angry,” Juniper said.

  The dark form shook its head. “If you say so. But those looked more like lightning bolts than rainbows. If I had lived your life, I’m sure I’d have some hostility inside me too.”

  “You seem to enjoy talking about my past so much. Why don’t we talk about you?” Juniper said. “What happened to you to turn you into such a monster?”

  “Nothing,” Fanning said. “I’m just a bad person.”

  “No, you’re not a bad person, Fanning,” a man said from the doorway at the side of the ballroom. “You’re evil.”

  “If it isn’t my favorite choir boy,” Fanning sneered as Tommy Bilazzo stepped from the shadows. “Where have you been, Tommy? Running around with your old school chum, Declan? He’s dying, you know.”

  “Don’t worry about Declan,” Tommy said. “Declan’s gone.”

  “Gone? As in, gone, gone?” Fanning said. “Sorry I missed it.”

  Tommy walked across the ballroom and stopped next to Juniper. “You doin’ okay, kid?”

  Juniper nodded.

  “Don’t worry about Juniper,” Fanning said. “She can handle herself.”

  “Still the same, huh? Picking on helpless kids. Maybe I’ll give you the chance to pick on someone your own size.”

  “I hope you’re not referring to yourself,” Fanning said. “You might be big, Tommy, but you’re still weak. You always were. I think Juniper would probably put up a better fight than—”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Juniper said.

  “Sorry, can’t do that,” Tommy said. “He started it. Now it’s time for me to finish it.”

  2:47 A.M. EST

  FBI SATELLITE OFFICE, CHARLESTON, S.C.

  THE CALL FROM the special agent in charge of the FBI field office in Columbia, South Carolina, was cryptic at best. “Can you repeat that, sir?” the groggy FBI agent asked from the warmth of his bed.

  “I said, get three men and hightail it to the Mulvaney mansion,” his superior barked. “Do you know where it is? I’ve got the address if—”

  “No, sir, that won’t be necessary,” the agent said, wiping the sleep from his eyes and glancing at the clock. It was a quarter past three. “What exactly is the purpose of the—”

  “The purpose is to protect the Mulvaneys. Beyond that, who gives a shit?”

  “Yes, sir,” the agent said. “Is there a situation in progress?”

  “Maybe,” the special agent in charge said. “The phones are out, so we can’t make contact. Just get there.”

  The agent walked to the window and pulled back the drapes. “We’ve got weather going on here, sir, so it could take a while to get there.”

  “Oh, okay,” the agent said. “I’ll just call the deputy director and tell her you can’t get there because it’s cold outside. Is that what you want me to—”

  “Wow, look at that,” the agent said. “It just cleared up.”

  2:56 A.M. EST

  INSIDE KODA’S LAMBORGHINI

  MIKA DRIFTED IN AND OUT of consciousness, as if in a bad dream—a dream where she’d been in a car accident and was hanging upside down in her seat belt…

  In Koda’s black Lamborghini.

  In the middle of the woods.

  Somewhere.

  How long had she been there? Minutes? An hour? Hours?

  She didn’t know.

  Mika wiped her eyes and read the clock.

  2:56.

  But she was hanging upside down. Which meant it was…

  9:52.

  Which made no sense. If it was 9:52 in the morning, it should be light out.

  Or did 2:56 mean 2:56 because both she and the clock on the dash were upside down?

  Screw it, Mika thought. What time it was didn’t matter. The important thing was to get out of the damn car and get help, or she was going to freeze to death.

  Mika followed the seat belt with her hand down to the buckle release and prepared to push the button, knowing she was about to fall on her head.

  3:04 A.M. (12:04 PST)

  CRIMSON COVE, OREGON

  ONYX STOOD ON her father’s gravestone at the edge of the clearing, gazing up at the sky, and watched the moon slowly making its way back into view after having been eaten by the shadow of the Earth.

  Onyx had always been drawn to eclipses. As such, she rarely missed one, coming down from the lighthouse and standing in the clearing like she was now.

  But this eclipse was even more special than most.

  This eclipse was occurring on the night of the winter solstice. The last time that happened was 1638—an eclipse during which her mother had returned to the living plane. The last eclipse to occur on a solstice before that was before the time of Christ. It was one of the many things Onyx had learned from her mother’s journal.

  Not that a ghost couldn’t return to the living plane at other times. They could. Onyx was living proof.

  Well, she was proof at least.

  But there was something about an eclipse that made passing back over easier.

  Which made it a dangerous time for the living.

  Onyx didn’t understand why sitting outside near the graves made her feel better. But it always did.

  Catfish Webb’s gravestone was one of three at the edge of the clearing. The second belonged to her childhood friend Katherine Keane, whose life had been saved by a detective from St. Louis who’d made the ultimate sacrifice on her behalf.

  The third grave was small, belonging to her cat Poe, who’d been killed by Claudia Spilatro for no other reason than to vent her rage at Onyx.

  The image of finding Poe on the wet grass, the cat’s eyes gazing up at her—lifeless—was seared into Onyx’s memory. Even now it made her seethe with anger.

  To take the life of a human in the final stages of life was unjustifiable, though Onyx had been doing that for over seventy years. But to hurt a child or an innocent, helpless animal? It was beyond her comprehension.

  Perhaps there was a special place in hell for anyone who could commit such an unforgiveable act. She hoped so. And if there was, Onyx was sure Claudia was there.

  The ironic thing was Onyx could forgive Claudia for having tried to kill her. Multiple times. But she would never forgive her for killing Poe.

  Now Onyx was preparing to defend herself yet again. From another woman. The waitress.

  Ellen.

  Onyx was certain she’d seen Ellen standing at the edge of the clearing a few nights earlier. And she knew why she was there.

&nbs
p; Noah.

  What Ellen didn’t know was that if she returned, Onyx would be sitting by the graves in the darkness beneath a moonless sky.

  Waiting.

  3:09 A.M. EST

  ROUTE 17, EAST OF THE MANSION

  MIKA HAD NO IDEA how long she’d been out after being released from the seat belt and falling upside down. The important thing was she was free.

  But she was still freezing.

  Mika knew she needed to get to the road, get someone’s attention, and get to a hospital.

  Because the driver’s side of the Lamborghini was crushed in, she was forced to crawl through the shattered windshield, shards of glass tearing at her bare knees as she went.

  Once out of the car, Mika pulled herself to her feet and did a quick inventory of herself. As best she could tell, she had no broken bones. Well, other than her face maybe. It felt like someone had taken a metal pipe and hit her directly across the bridge of her nose.

  Mika looked inside the car and picked up a piece of broken glass from one of the car’s shattered side mirrors and stood near the one working headlight. Jesus. Her face was completely swollen and covered in dried blood. She touched her nose with her free hand and winced from the pain. She was going to need plastic surgery—that was for sure.

  Again, that was a consideration for later. Right now, she needed to get her bearings, find the road, and get someone’s attention.

  Stan Lee knew better than to speed with the roads as icy as they were. He glanced at the speedometer to see he was going fifty miles per hour and took his foot off the gas, reducing the speed. The last thing he needed right now was to have an accident.

  And then he saw the woman standing in the middle of the road. She was waving her arms, which made her look like a giant monarch butterfly trying desperately to take flight.

  Stan Lee was too far from the woman to see her face, but he didn’t need to. He knew who it was from the dress.

  It was Mika Flagler.

  “Do it,” Kara said from the passenger seat.

  “Should I?”

  “After all the things that bitch has put you through?” Kara said. “Hell yes.”