Destruction: The December People, Book One

by Sharon Bayliss

  Please don’t, David thought.

  “I woke up and saw Jude in Samantha’s bed.”

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t… consensual?”

  Emmy shrugged.

  “Because according to what Patrick heard from Samantha, it wasn’t,” Amanda said. “But perhaps he just heard what he wanted to hear. Or maybe she lied to him. What do you think?”

  Emmy stared at the table again.

  “Emmy,” Amanda prodded. “This is important.”

  “I know that.” She picked at her cuticles. “No. She didn’t want him to.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she said ‘Emmy, make him stop.’“

  “Oh… but you didn’t?”

  Emmy’s eyes reddened. “She didn’t say anything else. She tried to push him away, but then got really quiet and still. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You didn’t know what to do?” Amanda asked, her volume rising. “The house is big, but not that big. You could scream. You could bang on the wall to wake up Patrick. You could run over to wake me up, or your father. How long would that journey take? Ten seconds? Five?”

  David put his hand on Amanda’s. “Don’t yell at her,” he said softly.

  Amanda lowered her tone back to the barely-there whisper. “And the next day? It’s been over thirty hours. You were all together yesterday like nothing happened. Eating meals at the same table. Watching TV in the same room.”

  “Samantha didn’t say anything either. She only did because Patrick guessed something was up and wouldn’t leave her alone about it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Amanda said.

  “I thought maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal,” Emmy said.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Amanda asked. “It is a really big deal. How did we screw you up so badly that you don’t see that?”

  “Amanda,” David said firmly. “You shouldn’t be yelling at her. She’s… just look at her.”

  Amanda stood suddenly. “I’m going to go find him.”

  “And do what?” David asked.

  “I don’t know. I just need to find him.”

  David didn’t try to stop her. He knew she had to act. Staying still at a time like this would kill her.

  “We’re not mad at you,” David said to Emmy.

  avid felt a fever coming on. He sweat in the creases of his knees, and an achy heat settled in his joints. He turned off the heater. The temperature outside had risen to more than sixty degrees, anyway. He guessed the discomfort and achiness came from the wrongness, a reminder he would never feel okay again. The heat continued to nag at him, and David wondered if it signaled the start of a nervous breakdown. He felt held together by Scotch tape and chewed gum.

  David opened the front door and walked out onto the porch, expecting a refreshing gust of cool, damp air. Instead, he found blinding sun and stifling heat. The sudden blast of bright sunshine turned the rain into steam. He must have imagined it, but the air felt like it had heated to at least ninety degrees. Unless global warming had taken an aggressive turn, something unnatural had happened.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  It took David a moment before he could place who had spoken. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen them right away. Three people stood in his driveway, their little silver car parked next to his still decimated mailbox. They had barely moved down the driveway and didn’t move any closer to introduce themselves. They had an odd brightness about them, and David could hardly bear to look at them. After a few seconds, he adjusted to the sensation and could focus on them, but it made his eyes hurt.

  Two men and a woman. The woman had her hand raised over her eyes as if blocking glare from the sun. Did she not want to look at him, either? David saw nothing obviously objectionable about them. However, they didn’t seem to feel the heat. They wore gloves, scarves, and heavy coats over their business casual attire. The woman had a pale green umbrella open, even though it had stopped raining.

  He must be caught in some kind of temperature anomaly, because it took willpower for him not to take off his shirt and mop his forehead with it.

  The woman clutched a large white binder, and he would have pegged them as salespeople or evangelicals, except he was one hundred percent sure they were wizards. They had the weight about them that wizards had, an extra bit of gravity he had never thought twice about. He supposed wizards could also sell security systems or pass out The Book of Mormon.

  “Stand down,” said one of the men. “We mean you no harm.”

  Stand down? The man made it sound as if David had weapons. Wait, did they have weapons? For some reason, he felt like they did, although he couldn’t see any.

  “We’re here to collect Samantha Carthage,” he said.

  “Who are you?” David asked.

  “Come to us, dear,” the woman said. “You’re going to be safe now.”

  David turned around and saw Samantha standing behind him. She had never greeted unknown visitors before. They must have summoned her somehow.

  The woman appeared as kind and unthreatening as anyone could. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, with honey-colored hair, a honey-laden voice, and milky skin. But his gut felt something wrong about her, something opposing.

  David held out his hand to signal Samantha to wait. “Hang on, Samantha. Do you know these people?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’re from the Council of Child Welfare and Protection,” said one of the men.

  That rang false to David.

  “I believe the organization you’re referring to is called the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services.” He had visited the website several days ago, trying to figure out what to do about Samantha. “It seems like you would know that if you worked there.”

  The three exchanged bewildered expressions.

  “We’re not from the Mundane government agency,” said the woman.

  “You mean you’re Wizard Child Protective Services?” he asked.

  “You could say that,” the woman said.

  “Where have you been?” he added softly.

  “I’m sorry?” the woman asked. She looked at him with the mix of fear and pity one might give to a psychotic blubbering on the street.

  “We don’t wish to harm you,” said the man who hadn’t spoken yet. “Stand aside and hand over the child, and we’ll leave you be.”

  His had the voice of a cartoon superhero. It struck David that the two men served as bodyguards for the woman.

  “You don’t have to talk to him like that,” Samantha said. “He never hurt me. He’s a good man.”

  They shared looks again. If she had said, he’s an elephant, feed him peanuts, they would have looked less confused.

  “This girl is in my charge,” David said. “I’m not letting strangers take her away. Show me some identification.”

  “Please, you do it,” the woman said to the first man. “I don’t think I can.”

  She pulled a laminated badge on a lanyard out from under her coat and handed it to the man. He approached David slowly and handed him the badge. He was a tall African-American with unusual green eyes that seemed to sparkle as if lit with fireworks from behind. The man swallowed hard but held his chin up and forced himself to look David in the eye.

  David didn’t want to stand next to this man any more than the man wanted to be near David. He glanced at the badge. Sure enough, the badge read Laura Hannigan, Case Manager, Council of Magical Child Welfare and Protection, Southwest Division. She sparkled even in her mug shot. The badge also had a symbol that reminded David of the sun on the New Mexico flag. He tried to project his salesman magic onto them to get an idea of their intentions. He could ask to shake the man’s hand, but David didn’t think he could stand to touch him. He had trouble reading them, both from the distance and through the veil of brightness. They confused his senses. They felt threatening and welcoming, simultaneously.

  “To begin, we simply wish to speak with he
r,” the woman said. “Would it be possible for you to wait on the porch while we do?” She smiled at him apologetically.

  “No. I think I can be here for whatever you have to say.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. It’s not personal,” the woman said. “I need to perform an incantation. I don’t think I can if you’re close. That’s all.”

  Samantha touched David’s elbow. “It’s okay. I can tell they aren’t going to hurt me.”

  David backed onto the porch. Patrick and Emmy also stood there watching.

  “Who are they?” Patrick asked.

  “Patrick, go get me my keys. I want to be able to follow if they lead her into the car without warning.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it. Go.”

  Emmy hovered close to David. He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “There’s something wrong with them,” Emmy said. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “I do, too. But I think they’re just… different from us.”

  Next to the three strangers, the normally glowing Samantha looked as gray as the sky. The woman spoke to Samantha, but David couldn’t hear her. She placed her hands on Samantha’s head and closed her eyes. It reminded David of a baptism. She did this for what seemed like several minutes. Then she took Samantha’s face in her hands and looked into her eyes. Then she placed her hands on Samantha’s shoulders, with her face very close to hers. David could see Samantha’s forehead knitted with nerves. He didn’t blame her. Like all wizard readings, it appeared weirdly intimate.

  Finally, the woman released her. She spoke to Samantha again, with her hand on her shoulder. Then the three people got back in the car without Samantha and drove away.

  Patrick appeared at David’s side with the keys. “What did they do to her?”

  Samantha didn’t turn around. She looked at something in her hands. Patrick and Emmy both started to move toward her.

  “Don’t swarm her,” David said. “Just stay here for a second.”

  David walked down the driveway toward her. The air already felt cooler, and it started to rain again. Samantha’s blonde hair lay in wet clumps, and her drenched, mint-green top clung to her back. David realized rain soaked his shirt, too. It must have never stopped raining. He had stood in a full rain shower the whole time he had talked to the strangers. The weather had not really changed at all.

  “Samantha?”

  She turned around to face him. She held her shirt out in front of her as a shield to protect an envelope from the rain.

  “Why did they leave?” he asked.

  “March 4th,” she said.

  “What?”

  “They said I was a March 4. They take only wizards who fall between the spring and fall equinox. I’m too dark for them, I guess.”

  It took David a moment to grasp the meaning of this sentence, but when he did, a swell of fury went from his stomach to his heart. Deep disappointment quickly replaced his fury. He had pegged them immediately. Summer wizards. Good wizards. Despite the fact they were his natural enemies, he had felt hopeful. He had wanted to believe three angels had come to save Samantha, to take her to a better place where she would be safe and happy. He had wanted to believe something that good could happen. He supposed that was what he got for being a grown man who believed in Santa Claus.

  Samantha handed him a business card. This one had a more familiar Texas DFPS logo.

  “They said to give that to you,” she said.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shrugged weakly.

  “Everything will be okay,” he said. “We’ll find your parents. We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  She shook her head. Her chest moved up and down. If she cried, the rain disguised her tears.

  “Let’s go inside,” David said.

  Samantha followed him back onto the covered porch. Patrick and Emmy hovered close to her but stayed at arm’s length. Jude’s assault had caused her to grow a force field they couldn’t penetrate.

  “David,” Samantha whispered.

  “Yes?”

  She pulled the envelope out from under her shirt.

  “They said their job is to find homes for orphaned children. Does that mean my parents are dead?”

  Emmy let out a tiny gasp.

  “They didn’t say?” David asked.

  “No. They just said it all matter-of-fact and didn’t explain.”

  “Assholes,” Patrick whispered.

  Samantha hadn’t taken her eyes off the damp envelope. It had her name written on it in purple ink.

  “This is my mom’s handwriting,” she said. “I’m afraid to look inside.”

  She handed it to David.

  “Do you want me to open it?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  David didn’t want to look inside, either. The envelope came apart easily, since the glue had come undone in the rain. The purple handwriting was messy and smudged, but readable.

  Dance then, wherever you may be.

  Mom

  “What does it say?” Samantha asked.

  “‘Dance then, wherever you may be’,” David said.

  “That’s it?” Patrick asked.

  “That’s the chorus to the Lord of the Dance,” Emmy said. “The hymn we sing at Easter.”

  David handed the paper to Samantha. “Does it mean anything to you?”

  “I think it’s a suicide note,” she said.

  “No,” David said. “I mean, that’s quite a leap just from that.”

  “She didn’t make a lot of sense in the end,” Samantha said.

  She buried her face in her hands. Patrick touched Samantha’s shoulder lightly, then he put his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest. Emmy moved in and joined the hug, resting her cheek on Samantha’s shoulder.

  “Not today. How could this happen today?” Amanda shouted it, as if she expected an answer, as if she thought she could call God’s secretary and complain about the scheduling mix-up. She threw her purse onto the kitchen counter. “I thought this would happen eventually. I hoped it wouldn’t, but I feared it would. I… but how could it have happened today? If they had only come to collect her two days ago.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered because they didn’t collect her at all,” David said.

  Amanda put her face in her hands.

  “I’m not convinced they’re dead,” David said. “‘Dance then, wherever you may be’? How is that a suicide note?”

  “Why else would they have come for her?”

  “Maybe because of what happened. Perhaps, they just know when something bad happens. Can summer wizards do that?”

  “I know less about summer wizards than I do about those neon fish that live at the bottom of the ocean. I’ve never even talked to a summer wizard. Although, I’ve seen them, of course. They’re hard to miss.”

  David ran his fingers over her hair to smooth down the frizz, but he only made it worse.

  “Has he called you?” She whispered it, as if their oldest son’s existence had already become a secret.

  “No.”

  “We screwed this up. If we call the police now, it will look like we tried to cover it up. There would be no evidence. It’s just the last thing I was thinking of.”

  “I know.”

  “What do we do?”

  Kill Whitman Colter, David thought to himself. He couldn’t say why that answer came to him. He felt furious and sad and likely turning funny in the head, but he just wanted to do something. If he had been a man and had killed Colter right away, none of this would have ever happened. He believed it, even though it made no sense at all.

  “I think I’m going to go look for him,” David said. “For Jude.”

  He didn’t want to lie anymore, but he had to make an exception. If he told her what he planned to do, she would chain him down and not let him do it, or chain him down so she could do it herself.

  David turned to go up the stairs.

  “
You mean right now?” Amanda asked.

  “Right now.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “You know you can’t. Someone has to stay with the kids. And um… lock the doors and keep the gun handy.”

  “I always do. But why are you reminding me?”

  “Paranoid, I guess. The bad things seem to come all at once.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “I know. I just… there is something about you right now. Like, something changed.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  avid stared at his office. Something was wrong with the image in front of him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then it hit him. He had left the envelope with Colter’s address right on top of his desk, but he didn’t see it now. Maybe he did move it. He certainly should have moved it. But so much had happened so fast. His pulse quickened.

  He scattered the papers on his desk and looked under his keyboard. He got on his hands and knees and scoured the floor. By the time he started looking through his drawers, he had become frantic. He looked in ridiculous places, such as in the folder with his 2008 tax return documents and under the sheets of his bed. He ripped through the closet and looked in pockets of jackets he hadn’t even worn this season. Close to ripping apart his desk with an axe, he noticed something that didn’t belong.

  A pink Post-it note peeked out from under some of the papers he had tossed around. He didn’t use pink Post-it notes. He recognized Emmy’s giant, loopy handwriting.

  I have left to kill Whitman Colter. Emmy

  The words blurred, and he blinked a few times to bring them back into focus. It made no sense.

  “Emmy!” he shouted.

  He ran to her room and threw open the door. “Emmy!” he yelled again, even though he knew he wouldn’t find her.

  He turned around and saw Xavier and Evangeline watching him.

  “She went to a friend’s house,” Evangeline said. “Remember? I heard her telling you.”

  David’s hands shook so much that he had to grip the phone tightly to keep from dropping it as he dialed Emmy’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

  Amanda came in the room. “What’s going on?”