Nancy Lake and the Case of the First Date

by Jennifer Harlow

  “You need to sit down.”

  “No! I have to get us out of here. They could come and get us at any second.” Wow, the vomiting actually helped. My head’s a little clearer after the spots fade. I can do this. I stumble across the room, almost tripping over Chris, toward the door with Logan following behind. “I’m gonna port to the other side of the door, make sure the coast is clear, call my people, then I’ll come back for you. While I’m gone you need to get the others up and mobile. We’re gonna have to, like, sneak out. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, but this is—”

  “And please don’t think any less of me. I may be a freak of nature but I’m not a monster. I swear.” I close my eyes.

  “Nancy—”

  I wish I could describe what teleporting feels like, but I can’t because it doesn’t feel like anything. There’s like no electrical charge, no pull in my stomach. I just close my eyes, visualize a destination, then I open my eyes and I’m there. The only physical sensation occurs if I go too far. I get a headache. A hundred yards, that’s about as far as I can go with accuracy and without exploding my brain. Even with the concussion I have no problem winding up exactly where I wanted to go. Close my eyes in a wine cellar, open them in a hallway staring at the other side of the door. Easy as pie—which, PS, is a stupid saying because I tried to make a pie once and it was so not easy.

  “Logan?” I whisper.

  “Nancy?” he asks back. “Oh my God, you did it! That was so weird, I—”

  “I know. Look, I’m gonna unlock the door but don’t come out until I come back. Wake them up, but if anyone but me comes first, play dead, then hit them with a wine bottle and run. Don’t wait for us, don’t stop until you reach the highway. Get help.”

  “That’s what you should do,” he counters.

  “No, I can get around without being seen. Just get the other two up and wait for me. Be right back.” I undo the padlock before hustling up the wooden stairs. The hallway’s empty when I peek out. I do hear voices down the way I need to go. I’ll port—

  Frak. The door opens and I barely have time to close the basement door.

  “ … midnight as usual,” a man says. “The robes are upstairs. Leanne had them dry-cleaned.”

  “And we’re sure they’re all virgins?” the other man asks.

  Exsqueeze me? Virgins?

  “The kids know all but the black-haired girl. They’re positive. Besides, you saw them,” the first man chuckles.

  Dick! Their footsteps fade as I think they go upstairs. What the hell are these people? Vampires? Fairies? Black witches? They’re the only creatures off the top of my head with a thing for virgins. Either way, I can’t take them alone. I wait a few seconds before opening the door again. No one in either direction. I port to the end of the hall, check the surroundings, then spot a phone on a table. Jackpot. Another port and I’m there. I grab the phone, and clutching it tight to my chest, I port again to the front door. Then outside. Easy buying a pie.

  The phone probably has to be close to the receiver to work, so I have to stay near the door, squatting in the bushes. With a trembling finger, I dial the first number that comes to mind. “Special Agent William Price.”

  “Will?” I whisper. “Oh, thank God. I’m in trouble.”

  “Nancy? Where are you? What’s going on?”

  “I, uh, kind of snuck out with this boy Logan, and we, um, well, we kind got kidnapped or whatever. They’re talking about sacrificing virgins. They may be vampires or witches, I don’t—”

  “Wait, what? You’ve been kidnapped?”

  “Well, I snuck out but the others are still in there. The address is, um … crap, I don’t know. The family’s last name is Morrissey. You can trace this number, right? It’s their landline.”

  “Yeah. We’ll get on it now,” he says, I think scribbling something down. “Can you get away? Is there a car or—”

  “I’m not leaving the others, Will. Look, this place is, like, ten minutes from the hotel if you don’t get lost. I know we passed a sign that had an 80 on it. I’m gonna try to sneak them out.”

  “Nancy, no. Just wait for us to get there. Hang up, call 911, get in a car, and drive away.”

  It is an idea. I really don’t owe those people a thing. The other boy and girl were the idiots who drank roofies, and Logan’s the one who brought me here to be sacrificed with the other virgins. As if being one isn’t embarrassing enough, now I could die because of it? Why couldn’t I be a big ho like Miss Mousey Crappy Hair? But for all her crappiness she wouldn’t leave innocent people behind. I will be just as good, if not better than her. I can save them all. Even she doesn’t have that record.

  “I’ll call 911. Just get here please.” I hang up and do as promised, dialing 911 and giving the gist of the situation. The dispatcher begins asking questions, but I just tell her I have to go and leave the phone on in the bushes so they can trace it too. So help is coming and there are seven cars I can use to get us away. Awesome. I close my eyes, imagine that wine cellar, and when I open them, I’m there again. Tiffany yelps and stumbles back against the bottles. Her head and clothes are covered in wine. Got her awake I guess. Logan’s back is to me, tipping another bottle over the still unconscious Chris. As the purple liquid hits his face, Chris groans.

  “Did-did you just … ” Tiffany asks.

  “Yeah,” I say quickly. I move over to Logan. “I called my family, but we still need to get out of here. They want to sacrifice us or something.”

  “Sacrifice us? Why?”

  “Because they’re, like, crazy and evil. Who cares? We’ll find out at their trials.” I glance down at Chris. “He won’t wake up?”

  “No. I-I-I don’t know what else—”

  I give Chris a hard slap, and his eyes fly open with a gasp. My hand stings but it gets the job done. “What … what … ”

  “You were drugged. We need to get out of here. I called the police, but who knows—”

  “Wait,” Logan cuts in, “you called the local police?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Because Finn’s mother is the mayor and Bryce’s father is the chief of police!”

  Oh, frak.

  –––––

  “We need to get out of here right now!” I say. “Help him up.”

  I quickly move over to the wide-eyed Tiffany, who moves even farther against the wine rack as I approach. She’s scared of me. “Can you walk on your own?”

  “How-how did you do that?”

  Are we still on this? “Magic. Now answer my question. Can you walk?”

  “Yes. I-I think so.”

  “You need to be quiet and quick. Listen to me, move when I do, and I’ll get out of here.”

  “What-what are you?”

  “I’m the freak whose going to save your life. Now move.”

  Logan has Chris up and supports him around the waist and shoulders. I grab a wine bottle from the rack in case there’s trouble. “We’re going up the stairs then turning left down the hall, then another left. We’re going for your car.”

  “I don’t have the keys,” Logan says.

  “I have a spare under the wheel of mine,” Tiffany says. “It’s the Prius.”

  “Prius it is. Let’s get the frak out of here.”

  I’m first to the door with my virgin entourage behind. Quick and quiet. Wine bottle raised, I throw open the door. No one. Yet. I rush up but the others lag four steps behind. Gives me time to check my corners as Will always reminds me to do. Nothing to the left, nothing to the right. I step into the hallway again and signal the others up. So far so goo—

  “You.”

  Just as Logan takes the final step up, that man’s voice stops us all dead. We spin around to find two middle-aged men down the hall dressed in green robes with more Celtic and mystical symbols embroidered on th
em. Just looking at them I can tell they’re not vampires. After living with one and chasing the murderous kind, I can spot them, like, a mile away. These guys are too tan and wrinkly and resemble Finn and Caitlyn too much. And I’ve never seen a fairy before, but the few pictures the F.R.E.A.K.S. have on file show they’re even hotter than vampires, so no to that. Which means these jagweeds are just garden-variety psycho humans or black witches. Please let it be the former.

  I raise the wine bottle. “Logan, run,” I order. “Run!”

  The others move to the left as I go right, putting myself between them and the men. The moment the others dart away, the men lunge with only me to stop them. Two grown men, each with almost a hundred pounds on me and only a wine bottle to defend myself. So not good. I shut my eyes for a millisecond and when I open them again, the men’s backs are to me. They stop dead and gasp. Most do when I vanish before their eyes.

  I use the confusion. As hard as I can, I bring the wine bottle down on Finn’s father’s head like it was the hammer of Thor. He screams in pain and surprise. Caitlyn’s father spins around to see what just happened. Without hesitation, I whack his nose. There’s a sickening crack as blood explodes from both nostrils. Then, just to be sure, I whack Mr. Morrissey across the face too. The bottle finally shatters in my hand. Morrissey screams even louder as the jagged glass leaves rivulets of blood in its wake. They’ve had enough. I shut my eyes and port to the front door.

  Logan and Chris step out of the door when I open my eyes, and Tiffany is already halfway to her car. I rush over to Logan and lift Chris onto my shoulder too. Logan smiles in appreciation. Tiffany has the key in hand when we reach the car. She—

  BANG!

  I’d recognize that sound anywhere. Hear it more than a Justin Bieber song. We twirl around to find Finn in the doorframe pointing a gun at us. Frak. Tiffany lets out a little shriek behind us, and Logan’s eyes double in size. Caitlyn and Bryce step out too, Bryce also with a gun and all dressed in those robes.

  “Get away from that car,” Finn orders.

  “I’ve called my family. My father’s an FBI agent, he’s on his way. Don’t make this any worse than it already is. Just let us leave.”

  The teens all exchange glances. “What if she’s telling the truth?” Caitlyn asks.

  “Shoot her!” a man says from inside the house. The bleeding adults join their offspring. “She’s a witch or something,” Mr. Morrissey says, putting pressure on his bleeding wounds. “Shoot her, son. We don’t need her. We only need three for the ceremony.”

  “No!” Logan shouts. He steps in front of me to shield me. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “Shut up, Elephant,” Bryce snaps.

  “Get out of the way, boy,” Mr. Morrissey orders.

  “Dad, just let me shoot him,” Finn says.

  “No, we need him alive at least until the end of the ceremony,” Caitlyn’s father says.

  “Who are you people?” Logan asks. “What do you want with us?”

  “You’re going to contribute to this town, son. Your lives will pave the way for the prosperity of this town for at least the next year. There’s a reason Rohan is considered the best town in Oklahoma for jobs and agriculture. Cernunnos requires a sacrifice, a tribute. Your deaths are a necessary evil, but they are necessary.”

  “The town?” Tiffany says. “You’re the one with the mansion. You don’t care about the town, you only care about yourselves. This is all about money!”

  “Our families have always put that money back into the community,” Caitlyn’s father instructs.

  Bad guys and their justifications. They all have them, and they’re bullshit. It always comes down to ego, revenge, or money. Selfishness, really. Assholes. I so need to get out of here. He’s right, they don’t need me alive. They only need three sacrifices, one for each family—Bryce’s, Caitlyn’s, and Finn’s. I just need to buy time until Will comes.

  Okay, so my first plan totally failed, I need another. They’ll be fine until the team arrives. I close my eyes, visualize, and when I open them I’m staring at the wine cellar door. There’s a commotion I think by the front door, no doubt because of my departure. There are shouts, screams, cries, then footsteps tromping this way. I quickly move to a nearby closet. There isn’t anything I can do. I peek out, watching as the others are pushed back downstairs with little fight. Bryce and Finn stand guard in case of escape again. Guess the others are out looking for me. I shut the door.

  “Well, can’t we speed things up?” a woman’s voice asks. “What if she was telling the truth? About the FBI? I mean, what the hell is she? What if Cernunnos sent her because he’s displeased with us? What if she’s a god too?”

  Yeah, Nancy Lake the Goddess. I so wish. A goddess wouldn’t be cowering in a closet.

  “She’s just a freak. But we do need to get this over with,” Mr. Morrissey says. “It’s close enough to the time. Cernunnos will forgive us. Boys, prepare them. Fast.”

  “Yes, Dad,” Finn says.

  Frak. Oh Will, please, please, please get here.

  The two guards walk downstairs, judging from the footsteps. Nine people, and I have no weapon. God I hate this. I so hate being helpless. I have to stand by and listen to the muffled shouts downstairs. They’re putting up a fight. Good. Of course it’s all for nothing. A minute or so later there are more footsteps, up this time.

  “Keep moving or we’ll rape you all before we kill you,” Bryce says.

  “It won’t be painful. We’ll knock you out right before, unless you struggle,” Finn adds.

  What idiots. Pretty sure that would nullify the virgin part of the virgin sacrifice.

  From the basement I can hear them move the prisoners to the back of the house, probably where the altar or Wicker Man or whatever is set up. Out of time, Will. Up to me now. No rescue but mine. I’m all alone in this. I’m needed.

  “Let’s do this.”

  I port to the front lawn, retrieve Tiffany’s key from the ground, and slip into her Prius. I start the car, put it into gear, and pedal to the fraking metal around the side of the house.

  Holy. Shitballs. There’s something you don’t see every day, even in the F.R.E.A.K.S.

  The bonfire must be a story tall and flaming a story higher. Three tables are set up nearby, I guess as makeshift altars because at least two half-naked people are already tied to them. Flash count: nine bad guys in groups of three clustered around an altar spaced a few feet apart. Looks like two parents and one evil teen per table. Two of the dads barely have time to reach into their robes, I presume for their guns, before I plow toward them. Car smashes gun.

  They jump out of my way, including a shirtless Logan. I punch the brake, skid to a stop, then press the gas while spinning the wheel to continue my rampage. Grand Theft Auto so wasn’t a waste of time. Caitlyn and her parents have started back toward the house, but the six remaining morons who want to face down a car get to do just that. Bryce points his gun at me, but I clip his hip before he can get a shot off. Hope I broke something.

  I spin around again and zoom for another target. Logan is untying Tiffany as Bryce’s father tends to his prostrate son. Need a target. Need—

  There’s a loud boom, and before I realize like what made it, the car begins skidding. I lose all control a millisecond after another other shot. I can’t brake well. I scream as I crash into a tree doing twenty. The seatbelt crushes my chest but saves my bacon. I barely notice that pain because my forehead thumps against the steering wheel then back onto the headrest. The world blurs, and the nausea immediately returns. The pain. It’s overwhelming. I barely notice the door opening, my seatbelt unbuckling, my arm being yanked out of the car.

  My whole body, including my head, thwack against the ground and the darkness almost overtakes me. Kind of wish it had, because when the fog clears I realize Finn looms over me, gun trained right on my nose. Be it the concussions
or shock, I’m literally paralyzed with fear staring down the barrel of that gun.

  No. No. This is so unfair. I don’t want to die. I’ve never even been kissed. How can I die without being kissed? I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

  “Cernunnos, take this sacrifice in thy name to bring prosperity and favor to me and—”

  A gunshot. I wait for the pain but receive none. My eyes fly open. Finn looks up as another rings out. This time a burst of blood spurts from Finn’s shoulder. He howls in pain, dropping the gun beside me. I have enough brains left to grab it as he clutches his damaged shoulder.

  “Nancy!”

  Logan runs to me, training the pistol on Finn. “Move and I blow your brains out.” He bends down beside me, offering me his free hand. “Are you okay?”

  I take it. “Yeah,” I say as I rise, moving my gun toward Finn too. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, shit!” Caitlyn screams.

  I glance back to see a familiar SUV with a flashing light on the dash zoom our way as I had a minute before. Then another. About time.

  The evildoers who are still upright sprint toward the house as Tiffany helps Chris off the altar. My date and I watch as my family piles out of their SUVs, chasing after the wayward killers. Wolfe tackles Bryce’s father while Chandler keeps his gun on the son.

  I do love them sometimes.

  I turn back to Finn and smirk. “You picked the wrong damn virgins to sacrifice, buddy.”

  –––––

  “Are you sure you’re okay? Are you sure?”

  “I’m fine, Bea. Just a headache.”

  “Oh, you scared us so much. So much,” she says, hugging me for the trillionth time. I keep meaning to push her away but I kind of like how it feels. I’ll start hating her again tomorrow.

  “Yes, do not ever, ever leave without telling us where you are going,” Oliver chides.