The Hidden Paths to Power

by D. A. Smith

  “I’ll let her know you stopped by. Can I get your name?”

  “Debbie Holton.”

  “It’s nice to meet someone, who doesn’t hold Tiffany to such contempt, for how she was when she was younger.”

  When we were in the car and headed back to the park, Doriane asked, “Do you remember what I told you in the shop? About the ripples left by the positive influences I created in the place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now you’ve seen the ripples left behind by the negative influences. You experienced them yourself but were too close to the situation, to really see them. How many lives did Ryan impact with the one action of letting his robots loose on the school? Now, we have several lives impacted negatively by his one act in killing Tiffany.”

  I did see it and came to a greater understanding of the need to monitor him and keep him contained. Both influences were necessary in the world but I remembered the look in his eyes when he killed Tiffany. He was already addicted to his power use and would likely spin out of control regardless of any restraint placed on him by his mentor.

  We parked in nearly the same place as before then I did call Harold.

  “Lieutenant Cramer,” said the voice of the man I had come to love as family.

  “Are you getting tired of hearing me call so often?”

  “Never. Every time I hear you, it makes me feel better. I have a letter on my desk for you, from those that spawned you.”

  “How busy are you at the moment?”

  “I’m about to go into a short meeting with my boss. We have to keep devising platitudes to the public, about why it’s taking so long to bring Ryan in. People are scared. The news is nationwide and we take heat from the mayor and city council because sales taxes are down. Denver is taking a hit in tourism dollars because of people, not wanting to come here, while a psychopath like Ryan Gilpatrick is running loose.”

  “I don’t want to make your life harder but I think Ryan’s struck again. I was giving it some thought, after you told me, who he was targeting now. I was going over in my mind, all the people I remembered giving him the hardest time. I don’t know if you had this name on your list but one of those, who used to lay into him heavily with verbal abuse, was Tiffany Davis.”

  “That’s not a name we had. All those we focused on, were those who physically bullied him. What makes you think he may have struck at Tiffany?”

  “It took several days but I managed to track her down, without giving away who was looking for her. I just visited her apartment and her neighbor reports, she hasn’t been seen in many days. Kimberly and I decided to walk, in the park near her apartment, as we talked about our next move. There’s a small mound of dirt near the playground that could be a freshly dug grave.”

  “I can cancel my meeting for that. If Tiffany is missing and has a connection to Ryan, I have to check it out.”

  “Bring my letter with you.”

  “Got it and watch yourself.”

  I gave him the location then we walked around the park.

  We were scoping things out, to see how difficult it was going to be, to check the mound of dirt, without setting off a panic in the area. It was early evening now and several children and their parents were making use of the park and playground.

  Doriane said as we were taking seats at a picnic table, “I know you’re hoping, we can do this quietly but unfortunately, Ryan has become a public menace. Hopefully, Harold will have some ideas but, if people in the area see police investigating in the park, curiosity will follow. People will get scared about the activity so close to the playground. Their imaginations will bring them possible images of dead children or any number of scenarios. You gave Harold a small advantage in this case, by alerting him on his personal phone, rather than having the call come to him through dispatch. It might buy him some time, before the media catches wind of it. Harold’s face has been on TV too much, for him not to be recognized eventually. The public knows him, as the detective tied to this case.”

  “I know and if I’m caught on camera, I’ll deal with it. You taught me how to mess with my image, so it can’t be caught clearly. That could make things difficult, if a sharp-minded editor looks too closely at the footage. They’ll wonder why, you and I are fuzzy, but Harold is clear as day.”

  “That’s why I’m hoping, we can have a look quickly, then be out of here before the media shows up. After this little investigation, and now that I don’t have to go to the shop, we can concentrate on your defensive skills. You’ll eventually get into offensive spells but you need a solid defense first.”

  Harold showed up, parked near our car and pulled a shovel from his trunk before walking toward us.

  I gave him a hug, as he said, “Fortunately, since this is a park, and therefore public land, I don’t need a warrant to dig here. If a patrol officer comes then that just gives me another pair of hands to use.”

  We took him over to the mound and Harold calmly, asked those who were nearby, to clear the area. His badge ensured the park cleared out fast. The need to expose the shield, meant he just started the clock, on how long it would be before the media found out.

  Lieutenant Cramer started to carefully dig. He kept track of everything he did, with a small tape recorder, to give to the CSIs, if they were necessary.

  It took him about ten minutes to expose the mutilated hand of Tiffany. He didn’t have confirmation but I did. The hand looked like it did in my vision.

  Harold stopped digging immediately. He came to me, handed me my letter, heard my report about the three boys from earlier then said, “I’ll inform the patrol guys in this area to keep their eyes open for them. I can give you a couple minutes, to make yourselves scarce, before I call this in.”

  I gave him Tiffany’s address then we got in the car.

  It was fortunate we did, because the first news truck was pulling up to the park, just as we were leaving.

  I turned and saw Harold on his phone, and didn’t envy the long night coming to him. I promised silently, to start taking some of the load off his shoulders, as soon as I could.

  At the house, we went in and turned the TV on. Channel four was the first to arrive, so we watched, as Harold had to do his investigation, under the watchful eyes of the media.

  Officers were arriving to help with crowd control and CSIs were arriving, to work on getting the body uncovered properly.

  Kevin McDonald of channel four asked Harold, “How were you tipped off about this find?”

  “I got a quiet tip from a concerned citizen. I came out personally first, to ensure there was something to find, before calling the entire team. The tip came from someone who wished to remain anonymous, in case this is the work of Ryan Gilpatrick. They did not want to become a target if this is him.”

  “You said, if. Is there reason to believe this isn’t his work?”

  “The earlier bodies were found openly displayed. This one was buried but Ryan has been known to change his mode of operation. His first attacks were with robotic explosives. The latest, have all been killed with some unknown weapon, we believe he designed. This one appears to be his most gruesome yet, which shows he’s devolving. He’s becoming more sadistic. I have a few leads I’m working on that I’ll not put on air, as I do not wish him to be informed about the direction of my investigation.”

  “Has there been progress in the search for Deana Boller? Also, do you believe it’s possible, he may have already found her, killed her and her body just hasn’t been found yet?”

  “I will not speculate about the fate of Deana. Until a body is put in front of me, I’ll continue to believe she’s alive and will be found at some point. The missing persons detectives in Denver are still looking for her and I choose to believe she’s safe. Our community wishes her well and I hope, she’s in a place where she can watch this, so she knows everyone is thinking good thoughts that she’ll be found soon.”

  I felt a few tears fall hearing this. I owed it to people, to end their worry for me, bu
t I couldn’t do that, until I was in a better position to face Ryan.

  After a night of blissful passion, we got busy.

  I spent most of my days in either the library or the casting room. Every few days, Doriane would insist, I take a little time to relax in the backyard, or disguise myself and go for a walk. Like anything that took physical exertion, it took time to build up the stamina, to handle the work load. I was determined though.

  I became as focused on these studies, as I was when I was aiming to be an FBI agent. My wand was filling with prepared spells and I was getting stronger against the horror, as I would watch the reports about Tiffany and the other dead.

  Anytime the faces of the victims, were shown on the news, it drove me harder.

  When I would see Megan or Karen, I pushed that much more.

  Two months passed and I had two more visions of Ryan. He was starting to put some pressure on the words, going out of control. Fortunately, these latest victims were left in open display, so we didn’t have to bring Harold’s attention to them.

  I felt some pressure to start forcing him to back down some. If his mentor wasn’t going to put some restraint on him then we had to.

  It was now the middle of July, and Doriane stopped the lesson we were in the middle of immediately, “Marcus is sending me an urgent message. This would be a good time for you to meet my friend.”

  We locked up the house and drove south into Englewood.

  I was grinning ear-to-ear, as we pulled up to a house, with an obvious gay influence, as he was a man who lived alone. No women ever graced his bed.

  Marcus Olivere was the second of the two before me, to become Doriane’s students. She awakened his power in England in 1843. The only things about the modern world he took full advantage of, was the modern decorating choices and being gay was becoming more socially acceptable. The subject still had a ways to go but he didn’t have to hide it as much as in his homeland and time.

  If his choice in fashion wasn’t a dead giveaway, when he opened his door; with his purple silk shirt, well-cut black slacks, feminine house-slippers and cigarette held in a limp wrist; the fact that his eyes held warmth but no sexual attraction was.

  He said as soon as his door was shut, “Doriane, my dear; I felt the most horrid use of dark magic just last night. I went prowling but I think, we need your more sensitive talents, to ferret it out. It’s east of here in Aurora,” then his attention turned to me, “Oh…where are my manners? Marcus Olivere, is the title I was graced with at birth, but should we find it necessary to be in public together, please call me, Stanley Pritchard.”

  “Deana Boller and don’t scream, please. Yes, it’s really me in the flesh. I’m quite fine being a guardian now. My current public name, until I’m ready to announce to the world I’m alive and well, is Debbie Holton.”

  “I had a feeling Ryan Gilpatrick’s story turned mystical, with some of the ways people are kicking the bucket. From personal experience, I can tell you, you’re in the best hands possible for learning this lovely life we lead.”

  After we were provided glasses of wine, with frilly coasters to protect his coffee table then seated, Doriane said, “Share the details of what you were able to discover.”

  Marcus answered, “Here’s the story. I was entertaining a lovely gentleman; whom I’m hoping will forgive my abrupt departure; when I felt a sizeable use of dark magic. It nearly caused me to wet my pants in front of my guest. As I was getting closer, I felt a smaller use that lasted for two seconds then was gone. I arrived in the southernmost part of Aurora on the border with Centennial. I was in a heavily populated residential area, so couldn’t poke around too much. If there is a dark user’s casting room in that neighborhood, it was well shielded. I couldn’t pinpoint the source, though I could feel the traces left by the large spell. I snooped around as much, as I could get away with, as it was 2:00 in the morning.”

  I interjected, “I know that area of Aurora well. It’s heavily populated with homeowner’s associations. They’ll be up in arms, if anyone’s yard shows signs of dark influences.”

  Marcus responded, “That’s why, I think something unexpected happened last night, and the second, short burst, was someone being disciplined for carelessness.”

  Doriane sat in thought, “The homeowner’s association might be our road in. They would be aware, if someone starts making sudden plans to move. If a dark user got careless, they’ll be looking to escape and cover their tracks fast before guardians descend on the place. We should have all three of us there, in case they get jumpy enough to become aggressive. Marcus; have you been keeping up with your wand use?”

  I had to giggle as he responded, “In every way that question could be taken.”

  Marcus’ sense of fashion, wouldn’t allow him to ride in something as utilitarian, as Doriane’s Honda. We climbed into his Jaguar and the purring engine came to life.

  It took us nearly twenty minutes to arrive in the Rocky Pines community.

  Doriane dialed the number on the sign for the homeowner’s association, as Marcus pulled over, until Doriane had the information we needed.

  Doriane heard, “Linda Tomlinson, President of the Rocky Pines Neighborhood Association; how may I help you?”

  “Ms. Tomlinson; my name is Kimberly Daniels. I’m a private investigator, working with the police on the Ryan Gilpatrick case. I’ve recently come across some clues that told me, he may have a connection, to one of the residents living in your community. I need to know, if you have anyone living here that goes by that last name, or if you’ve received notice of someone moving out this morning.”

  “I can’t give that information to you. We take our residents’ privacy seriously.”

  “There are two ways this can happen, Ms. Tomlinson. You can give the information to me, and only have a single, quiet detective poking around, or I can call Lieutenant Harold Cramer, and have this community swarmed with officers. Which do you think will allow you to keep the position you hold?”

  “Can you guarantee it stays quiet?”

  “As long as he isn’t hiding here then yes. If he is, you’re going to want as many officers here as possible looking for him.”

  “I hope he isn’t. There’s a Gilpatrick residence in the center of the community. I’m always having trouble with them because their yard always has a foul odor and never seem to get it taken care of.”

  After receiving the physical address, Doriane replied, “We’ll do everything we can to keep this quiet but if Ryan is here, I’ll have no choice but to call in the police.”

  “I understand. If he is, it’s past time he gets caught.”

  I was scared, as this was the first time, I was actually hunting dark users.

  Doriane’s and Marcus’ presence helped boost my nerve as we drove to the house.

  As we pulled up in front, we discovered, we wouldn’t be doing any fighting today.

  There was a note pinned to the door that only those with magic could see.

  We got out and approached the front door.

  The note read:

  To the guardian or guardians who come;

  When you find the casting room and what it contains, understand that ONLY one of our number was responsible. You know who it is, so we will not put the name on paper. We maintain the balance and a promise is given, the one sought after will be under control, before being let out of his prison. Be assured, we guard our own, and war shall follow, should we be hunted without true cause. The balance is not in danger.

  Doriane forced us to back up, as she sensed the spell that destroyed the note, after it was read in the presence of guardian power, “I’m sure the door is unlocked. They want this cleaned up as soon as possible. Dark users do not make promises like that lightly. I imagine Ryan is undergoing some torturous, attitude adjustment. We’ll have to continue looking for them but not as threats to the balance yet. We just need to know the faces and names.”

  I asked, “If they left that quickly, won’t we find t
hings in there with that information?”

  “I doubt it. They probably obliterated anything with personal information, after Marcus left the area last night. Something may be found in the records on the house but nothing about where they are now.”

  We let ourselves in as the door had been left unlocked. The signs were present of a hurried departure. The pictures in the frames had been burned, the drawers of the desk in the study pulled out and ash cover everything, showing all records had been eliminated.

  We didn’t bother investigating the entire house; that could be left to Harold.

  It was only our responsibility to see what was in the casting room that caused Ryan to become a prisoner to his family.

  You’d think up to this point, nothing about Ryan would shock me anymore.

  What we found, after defeating the spells guarding the door, to the casting room below the house, would leave me with the scary idea, nothing was beyond him.

  Somehow, Ryan found nine girls, who looked like I did, at fourteen.

  They were all blonde with brown eyes. Each wore the same dress and blouse I did, the day I protected Ryan from Trevor McShane. Each had their stomachs cut open and sitting in the wounds was a daisy; the same kind flower he presented me with when he asked me to the dance. The girls were posed ritualistically.

  It was what resided in the center of the floor that solved the magical mystery for Doriane and had her thanking the spirits, Ryan’s family stopped him.

  On the floor, was a very detailed woodcarving of me. The idol was cracked down the middle, as of someone forcing the energy within, to be released into the air, without a focus. That was what Marcus felt last night. Whoever stopped Ryan, prevented the spell from taking proper form, and let the energy dissolve into the atmosphere.

  Doriane explained, “What Ryan was attempting to cast, was the dark-eyed lover spell. It’s a slave spell designed to obliterate the free will of the target. Free will is a dangerous thing to mess with and the amount of dark energy necessary to cast it, would’ve had every guardian in the world feeling the balance tilting dangerously out of whack. Ryan’s family just stopped him, from turning them into our version, of the world’s most wanted fugitives. His obsession with you Deana, has reached a point, where we must put an end to him. If it puts us at war with the rest of his family then so be it. He’s showing that even his family may not be able to control the growth of his obsession.”