“Got it.”
They spent the rest of the drive in silence interrupted only by the electronic voice from the onboard navigation system. More unnecessary words, it turned out, as their destination proved an easy find. The Piper’s Landing apartment complex stood just off the highway.
Orano quickly found the door belonging to Grace McMillan on a second-floor landing and knocked. When no one immediately answered, he tried again.
Phoenix checked his watch. “Did we get the time wrong?”
“No,” Orano said, once again knocking.
Behind them, the other door sharing the landing opened. “You looking for Gracey?” an older woman wearing a long pink bathrobe asked.
Phoenix grinned. “Yes, ma’am, we are. Do you know when she’s expected back?”
The old woman first looked Orano over from head to toe. He stood with his arms crossed in what the other members of the Omega Group dubbed his “annoyed stance.” The neighbor’s scrunched up forehead said she didn’t like what she saw. When she turned her attention to Phoenix, however, her demeanor changed. He gave her his best “I’m a nice guy, not an axe murderer” smile, and she fell for it.
“I’m Phoenix, Grace’s cousin from her father’s side. I haven’t seen her in a while and, since my friend and I were vacationing close by, I thought we’d surprise her,” he lied.
The woman looked uncertain for a moment before answering. “She’s gone away for a few days. Can you come back?”
Phoenix let out a dejected sigh. “No, we’re only here for the day. Do you know where she went?”
Apparently, Phoenix’s charm was beginning to wear thin. The woman raised one eyebrow and said flatly. “No, but if you give me your name and number I’ll tell her you came by.”
Phoenix checked his pockets, then asked, “Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?”
“Sure, hang on.” She stepped toward her kitchen, which sat just to the right of the door.
Phoenix turned to Orano. “That’s too bad. I was really hoping to reconnect with Grace. After my mother’s passing last month, I realized how important family is. Oh well, I guess it’s not meant to be.”
Orano stared at his partner, not sure whether to be impressed by his skills at deception, or disgusted by them. Or both.
The woman returned to the doorway wearing a frown. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, dear, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She stepped toward Phoenix and wrapped her arms around him.
When she pulled back, she handed him a folded slip of paper. “You can find your cousin here.” She eyed Orano and added, “You should show more compassion for your partner.”
As they headed down the stairs, Orano looked at Phoenix. “How did she know we were partners?”
Phoenix laughed. “I don’t think she meant that kind of partner.”
Understanding washed over him as he opened the car door. “Oh.”
Once Phoenix got seated, he opened the slip of paper the woman had given him and frowned, passing it to Orano.
There was one line of text. Virginia Beach Psychiatric Center.
********
All mental health institutes, despite their often-beautiful architecture and landscaping, gave Orano the creeps. Watching the patients wander aimlessly through the gardens as he and Phoenix approached the entrance felt almost like voyeurism. He hated witnessing the private struggles of those people played out before him.
When they reached the reception area, the older woman behind the counter smiled in greeting. Phoenix took the lead. “We’re here to see Grace McMillan.” His smile once again put its recipient at ease.
“You have perfect timing. She’s with the others in the game room right now,” the receptionist said.
“Why is she here?” Orano asked gruffly. If she was crazy, they wouldn’t need to waste their time questioning her.
The receptionist, Nurse Weber according to her nametag, straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his own stance. “We aren’t at liberty to divulge that information to just anyone. Perhaps you should tell me who you are and the purpose of your visit.”
Phoenix gave Orano a pointed stare and stepped between him and the nurse. “I’m sorry, Nurse Weber. My partner is a bit uncomfortable in these places. His older sister has been institutionalized for most of his life. He loves her so much ….” Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his voice trail off in an Academy Award-worthy performance. “I’m sorry. It’s just difficult for him. As for why we’re here, Grace is my cousin. We came to visit her today and were told that she’d been admitted. I didn’t even know she had a history of mental illness. What kind of cousin doesn’t know such an important thing?”
Nurse Weber placed her hand over Phoenix’s and gave him a sympathetic grin. “There was nothing for you to know, dear. She’s here on a TDO for recent symptoms.”
“A TDO?” Phoenix asked.
“Sorry. A Temporary Detention Order. She’s had a bit of a rough time and was brought here yesterday for evaluation. You can see her if you like. I’m sure a visit from family would be welcome.” The nurse pointed down a long hallway. “It’s the first room on the left. Please try not to upset her.”
She’d directed that last comment at Orano, but he didn’t respond. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that his silence would be more helpful than his words. He would just hang back while Phoenix spoke to Director Finley’s source.
They entered the game room, a large, brightly colored space with tables and chairs scattered about. Board games and art supplies covered most of the furniture, but they failed to give the space a playful feel. An orderly, wearing crisp white scrubs, leaned against the wall, intently studying whatever played on the screen of his smartphone. Phoenix asked him to point out their target.
Grace McMillan sat alone, gazing out the window, her long red hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail, revealing slightly hunched shoulders. Orano couldn’t see her face from his vantage point, but he could imagine the defeat that would be etched into her features.
Phoenix sat in the empty chair next to Grace. “Ms. McMillan? My name is Phoenix. Director Finley sent me and my partner to speak with you.”
“Oh, thank God,” Grace said. “I thought you wouldn’t come when you found out about this.” She waved her hand in the air indicating her surroundings. “I’m not crazy, I swear. They put a curse on me after I called Robert. I’ve been trying to reverse it, but ….”
Orano gave Phoenix a droll stare from behind the delusional woman. But before he could suggest they leave, Grace bolted from her chair.
“The president is infected with Monkey Jell-O!” she yelled, then slapped her own face, hard.
The orderly rushed to her side and placed his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe you two should leave now,” he said, as he turned to lead her from the room.
As she turned around, her eyes grew wide. “Orano?”
“Gracey Sherwood?” Orano couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Is that you?”
The orderly tightened his grip on her, but she wouldn’t budge. “It’s the curse. They’re trying to make me look crazy so you won’t listen to me. Please, you have to believe me,” she begged.
Orano just stood there. It’d been ten years since he’d last seen his childhood friend, and words escaped him. Phoenix stared, waiting for an explanation, but Orano remained silent.
“Get me out of here,” she said. “I’ll prove to you that everything I told Robert Finley is true. Come on. Give me the benefit of the doubt. You owe me that much.”
Orano finally found his voice. “I’ll do what I can.”
With that, Gracey allowed the orderly to move her to the exit. As she reached the door, she turned and spoke over her shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Sparkles.”
You, too, Orano thought as Gracey left the room. When he turned back to Phoenix, he saw the wry smile the man wore.
“Sparkles?” h
e asked.
Orano’s brow furrowed as he glared at his partner, grunting, “She could be telling the truth.”
“Look, big guy. I can see you know each other somehow, but half the people here probably blame their affliction on curses, or aliens, or microwaves frying their brains. She might be gorgeous, but she’s obviously crazy. Let’s just call it a day and head home.”
Orano agreed with his partner—on both counts—so he didn’t argue. What could he have said? She did appear to be mentally unstable, and they had no reason to take her outlandish claims seriously. But he couldn’t make himself abandon her. He’d done that once, many years ago, and wouldn’t do it again. Orano pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed the speed dial. “Myrine? I need your help.”
Chapter 5
Several hours later, the psychiatric center reluctantly released Grace into their custody. It took a few phone calls from Director Finley, and more than a few promises of returned favors, but when the Governor demanded she be released, her doctor had no choice but to acquiesce.
That didn’t stop him from making a few demands of his own, however. “She is now your responsibility,” he said. “She cannot be left alone for any reason and must appear at her commitment hearing on Monday. Do you understand?”
Orano signed the protective custody forms and handed them over. “We understand.”
Gracey pulled her bag over her shoulder and somberly left the facility. Quiet had never been a word used to describe the Gracey he knew, yet she’d remained curiously silent throughout her release procedures. When they were safely in the Jeep—Gracey in the passenger seat and Phoenix in the back—and driving toward her apartment, Orano found out why.
“Finally,” she spouted. “I was so worried they’d rescind the release order if I had another outburst, I was afraid to even open my mouth. This curse is killing me.”
Phoenix leaned forward between the two front seats. “Can you please tell us what’s going on?” He gently brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear, an intimate gesture Orano didn’t like.
“Sure. Of course. Sorry. Geez, where do I start?” Gracey brought her hand to her mouth and began chewing on her nails. It’d been a nervous habit of hers even during their childhood. Orano instinctively reached over and pulled her already mangled fingernails away from her mouth.
“My coven is about to cross a line that can’t be uncrossed. At first I thought what they were planning was good, but the farther along they get, the more I realize how wrong it really is.”
“Hang on,” Phoenix interrupted. “Your coven?”
“Yeah. Sherwood Coven. It was started by my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, Grace Sherwood, but they’ve lost their way. My great-great-great—”
“Just call her Grace,” Orano said.
Gracey raised her eyebrow. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?” When he didn’t answer, she turned her attention back to Phoenix and continued. “The coven has followed the teachings of Grace”—she gave Orano a pointed stare as she stressed the name—“for three hundred years. Her journal is like our bible. It’s kept under lock and key to preserve it. Only our coven leader has access, but we’ve all been made privy to what it says.”
“And what does it say?” Phoenix asked.
“According to Tori, our leader for the last seven years, it says that a day will come when mundanes—that’s what Grace called non-witches—will need our help. That our kind will finally be able to come out into the open and live freely.”
“Your kind? You’re a witch?” Orano asked.
“Well, duh. What part of ‘my coven’ did you not understand?” With a huff, Gracey turned back in her seat and stared out the windshield. “Look, before you turn this car around and dump me back at the funny farm, open your mind to the possibility that there is more on this earth than you’re aware of. I know how crazy it sounds, especially to someone like you, Orano, but ….”
When she stopped talking midsentence, Phoenix leaned forward. “Gracey? Are you okay?”
“The triangles are melting into the carpet!” she yelled, then slapped herself.
Phoenix shook his head and sent Orano a look that said “I told you she was crazy.”
“Dammit!” Gracey said. “Tori did this to me. It’s wearing off, but I can’t control it. Yesterday, every time I opened my mouth, something nonsensical flew out. She’s trying to make it so no one will believe me. It’s hard enough to get people like you to accept even the possibility of supernatural powers, but when I keep spouting random insane thoughts, well, it’s basically impossible.”
“How did you know to contact Director Finley about this?” Orano had been wondering about that since Myrine first gave him the assignment.
“I’ve known him my whole life. My dad served in military intelligence. He worked with Robert for years, and they became really close. In fact, he’s my godfather. When I found out what the coven was up to, he’s the only person I could think of that might have the connections to help.”
“Finley’s your godfather?” Phoenix asked.
“Yeah. After Dad died, he helped me and my mom get settled back home. I’m pretty sure he gave us money, too, but Mom never admitted to it. He’s just always been there for me.”
Orano was still digesting that piece of information when they pulled in front of Gracey’s apartment. He’d never thought of the Director as a family man. He’d never really thought that much about him at all. But he was glad someone had been there for Gracey after her father died. He remembered how hard his death hit her.
As they climbed the stairs to her second-floor apartment, the door across from hers opened, and the same woman that greeted them earlier that day stepped out.
“Gracey, back so soon?” she asked.
“Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. Yeah, it was just a misunderstanding. They released me this afternoon.”
“I know, sweetheart. You told me that already. Don’t you remember? We spoke a few minutes ago when I saw you leaving the first time.” The woman’s concern over Gracey’s apparent confusion was obvious.
Orano looked to Phoenix, who quickly interjected, “My cousin’s had a rough couple of days, ma’am.”
Mrs. Fletcher pulled Gracey in for a hug. “You let me know if you need anything, all right? I’m just heading off to bingo but can skip it if you need the company.”
“No, but thank you for offering. My cousin will stay with me.”
After another hug, and a less than gracious glance at Orano, the neighbor made her way down the stairs to the parking lot.
“Someone’s been in your apartment. But why would your neighbor think it was you?” Orano asked.
“A glamour spell. It must have been Tori or one of her followers.” Gracey placed her key in the lock, but Orano stopped her from opening it.
“We’ll go first,” he said.
With Phoenix on one side of the door and him on the other, Orano pushed it open. The apartment had been ransacked. In the kitchen, every drawer hung open, with half of their contents strewn across the counter. The living room fared no better with cushions lying haphazardly on the couch and every picture and piece of artwork hanging on the walls at crooked angles.
They cleared every untidy room before bringing Gracey inside.
“Oh, come on!” Her eyes darted from one corner of the space to next. “Did you really think I’d leave it here, Tori?” she screamed at the ceiling.
“What were they looking for?” Orano asked.
Gracey reached into her bag and pulled out a book, holding it up for them to see.
“Controlling Your Mental Health?” Phoenix questioned.
Her brow furrowed, then she shook her head. “Sorry, I forgot to remove the glamour.” She waved her hand over the book and held it out to them again. “I figured if the hospital thought I was reading a self-help book, they’d let me keep it.”
Phoenix took the book from her and flipped through the pages. “It’s just a self-help book,
” he said to Orano.
“No,” Gracey whined. “Why can’t I undo the glamour spell?” She tore the book from Phoenix’s grasp and waved her hand over it again. “They must have blocked my powers.”
Phoenix gently grasped her shoulders and held her gaze. “What do you believe that book really is?”
“It’s pictures of some of the pages of my ancestor’s journal. Three hundred years ago, she prophesized that a day would come for our kind to move out of the shadows and into the open. Some disaster that would require witches to help, and our high priestess would lead all the witches of the world to the forefront. There were to be signs—unearthly storms and stuff like that—letting us know that the time had arrived. Those signs came a couple of months ago, so we all believed it was happening.
“After I pieced together what Tori had done, I snuck into her shop to read the journal for myself. I knew my ancestor wouldn’t have condoned that kind of plan, so I thought I’d get proof to show the rest of the coven.” Gracey’s eyes shot wide open and she dumped the contents of her bag on the already messy floor.
“The original photos are on my phone.” She grabbed her cell phone from the multitude of other junk and started scrolling through the screens.
“Dammit! They must have deleted them. I had them all in here.” She stormed out of the living room and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“I think we’re done here,” Phoenix said.
“Someone searched this place,” Orano responded.
“Or she’s just a slob.” Arched eyebrows revealed Phoenix’s skepticism.
“But the neighbor—”
“Saw someone she thought was Gracey,” Phoenix interrupted. “She’s not exactly a spring chicken, buddy. It could have been an upstairs neighbor, or anyone else with a passing resemblance.”
Orano clenched his jaw in frustration. He knew his partner might be right. All of Gracey’s wild allegations of witches and impending attacks could be easily refuted. Especially if she suffered from a mental illness. There simply wasn’t any proof to support her, and plenty to undermine her claims.
Chaos (Book 4) (The Omega Group) Page 4