Dark to Mortal Eyes

by Eric Wilson

  “Sarge.” Chief Braddock was crouched at the pilot’s side door. “You’re alive.”

  “What’re you doin’ here?”

  “Shhh. Been trying to wake you up. Didn’t know if I’d be able to, thought you might be a goner. Long story, but I heard about the hijacked helicopter over the radio. Should’ve known you’d have your backside planted in it.” Braddock eased through the mangled cockpit. Together they faced the table at the edge of the cliff. Turney noted the Addisons, Josee, Trudi, and four recruits. Good thing the chief had his firearm.

  And Braddock looked ready to use it. Finger on the trigger. Pacing forward.

  “Out of the way, Sarge.”

  Wait, what’s he doing? He’s got a target in mind!

  With an explosion of words, the chief stepped out toward the group. “Gertrude Ubelhaar!” His finger flirted with the trigger of his gun. “You murderer, destroyer!”

  “Who are you?” she said unperturbed.

  “After my mother was gone, my dad was all I had left. And you killed him! I’m the son of Major Johnson Braddock Sr., the colleague you murdered.”

  “An accident. I’m quite certain that’s what the reports indicate.”

  Braddock leveled the barrel at her, ignoring Turney’s arrival at his side. “You were there with him at the depot. You released the chemicals in that lab. You knew he was suspicious of your movements about Umatilla, and you removed the threat.”

  Trudi’s head was alive with frayed and wild hair. Turney marveled at the sheer mass of it. With a twitch, she whipped a rope of hair at her uniformed aggressor.

  Braddock’s eyes widened. He yelled, then drilled a round through Trudi’s calf. It exited in a bloom of blood.

  Trudi looked down. “Shhhouldn’t have done that.”

  A revelation hit Turney: His superior, his chief, had every intention in the world of maiming and killing this woman before them. The evidence was in his stance, the position of his gun, the look in his eyes. Turney moved from the wreckage toward the others. “Don’t do this, Chief.”

  First degree murder, with witnesses to spare? He’ll lose his career and more.

  “Stay out of it, Turney. What do you know about standing up to this thing?”

  Turney begged him to reconsider, but the chief had lost all restraint. “She killed my father, and she’s aiming to kill others! I’m doing us all a favor.” He scanned the audience. “Don’t you know, Marsh? I was the one Chance commissioned to protect your family. I’ve been here all along, watching out for you. Staying close.”

  “A little too close,” Marsh shot back. “Why you? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Your father, Marsh, saved my dad’s life in the trenches during the war, and he felt I owed him a favor. As a young detective, I agreed to help. I admit that in my desire to warn Kara about your contaminated offspring, I got myself in trouble—and I’m sorry. Okay, is that clear? I’m sorry. My intentions were to guard you from this insanity.”

  Turney saw Trudi advancing on her good leg. “Trudi, don’t make him fire again!”

  She was tugging at her hair, her voice purring with ridicule. “Mr. Braddock, if you’re going to throw but one punch, I suggest you not even step into the ring.”

  One punch …

  “Come on, shhhoot me again! Let your hatred have its way. Come onnn!”

  Without a word, Braddock swung his firearm up and—

  Kerrackkk!

  Turney’s staggering uppercut was a masterpiece of leverage and motion that he could feel spring from his legs, gain momentum in his hips, and collect power from his arms. His meaty fist cracked into Chief Braddock’s jaw from below, lifting him on his feet and driving him back a yard through the air. The gun misfired into the night.

  Satisfied, Thunder Turney rubbed at his sore knuckles.

  Sorry, Chief. Just thinking of your career.

  44

  Hair-Raising

  At the picnic table, painted in weak candlelight, the Addison family sat stunned by the eruption of violence around them. Braddock was out. Stahlherz was weak but enraged. Trudi was gathering strength, flanked by her cohorts in bug-eyed masks.

  Turney shook the fog from his head. He met Josee’s eyes. Nodded.

  Gotta help her, but I need backup. Can’t do this all alone.

  He was sure that the county’s patchwork of airport radars had monitored the helicopter’s hijacked flight. A good chance that even now officers were on their way. Not that he could sit around and wait, no sir.

  Disoriented, the sergeant moved toward the group.

  So here I am, ready to serve and protect. What next, Lord?

  The response was not what he expected. In a sudden spin, Karl Stahlherz circled behind him and, once again, laid the broken blade along his neck.

  Josee felt blood drip down her jaw and spill onto the china. She leaned ahead, set her chin on the rim of a wineglass. Felt the fangs’ needle tips touch her ear-lobes. She sat still. Beside her, Kara’s face was wet with tears; beneath the table, her mother’s legs moved against hers.

  And there, on the grass, stood Sarge. A mess, just like her. But still standing.

  “Josee, you’ve survived,” said Trudi, “longer than expected. With your genetic disorder, your debilitating symptoms. Tell me, dear one, how have you managed all these years? Tell us, what’s kept you so healthy, so vibrant?”

  The ruptured skin of Josee’s eyebrow was throbbing. She felt far from healthy and vibrant. Her cross necklace slid against her chest. Show me a way outta here. Please. What am I, a stinkin’ pincushion?

  “Tell us, Josee!” Trudi bellowed. “What’s your secret?”

  “Gel capsules.”

  “Capsules?”

  “One each day.”

  “No, there’s no remedy so mundane as that. Come now, tell us the truth. This poison that has invaded your genes, altered your blood, has no cure. A long slow death—that’s what you can look forward to, my dear. Don’t be fooled into—”

  “You’re a freakin’ liar!” Josee cringed against the reaction she was sure would come. “I’ve heard enough of this. You tried to turn me against my parents. Every step of the way you’ve deceived us.”

  “Leave us alone, please,” Kara added. “Josee’s place is with me. With us.”

  Across the grass, Turney found Josee’s eyes and gave a nod. Her throat tightened. She wished she could respond to these gestures, but the clasped fingers at her ears were shoving her face down. It was her turn to share in the soup and bread dinner. The swill was cold now, but the liquid burned as it touched her torn eyebrow.

  She was coming up for air when she saw Sergeant Turney take a step in their direction. Lightning quick, Stahlherz wrapped behind him and pushed gleaming steel to the officer’s neck.

  Groaning, Sergeant Turney shuffled across the grass, hostage to this madman.

  “Keep those fat legs moving,” Stahlherz said.

  “What good am I to you?”

  “I’d like you to meet my mother.” At the table, Trudi watched with amusement.

  “Gertrude … Trudi? She’s related to you?”

  “She rescued and nurtured me. I also find out that she’s manipulated me.”

  “Then let’s bring her to justice. You can have a life of your own.”

  “Too late for that.” The man poked at him. “I want her to see you, to witness this pesky knight who’s bumbled about, unwittingly protracting our goals past and present. I want her to see how easily her shrewd schemes do crumble.”

  Certifiably loony tunes! I’m not doin’ a thing this guy says.

  “Keep moving, Sarge.”

  The plan hit him like a load of bricks. In apparent compliance, Turney took three rapid steps that startled and dragged Karl Stahlherz along. He whispered, “When I am weak”—step four, step five—”then I am strong!” Thunder Turney let his muscles collapse and dropped to the grass like a prizefighter down for the count.

  The weight of the police sergeant w
as overwhelming. Like a stone, Turney dropped through Steele Knight’s arms and, despite the upward dagger slice along his heavy jowls, fell in a heap on the lawn.

  “Then I am strong!” His words echoed over the cape.

  Before Stahlherz could react, the mountainous cop rolled backward upon his own wounded arm and pinned Stahlherz’s feet, snapping him at the kneecaps. Stahlherz cried out, felt his legs turn to jelly, then did a marionette’s untethered fall over the obstacle beneath him. As he thrust his arms out for support, he saw his broken blade, saw the sinews of his own hand where the edge had dug deep, saw the dagger’s tip turned upward as it landed with his fist on the path and waited for his unblinking eye.

  Shloo-kerr-pawshhh!

  The rook could now see through only one eye. His other was draining over his cheek. He tried to rise again upon feathered black wings, found little reaction. Far off, as if in a dream, he heard his mother’s voice.

  “Stahli …”

  Her deceptive nature rang through that one simple word. Even his name was a deception. So she had provided him proof of identity, but who was Karl Stahlherz really? Would he ever know his lineage with certainty? No, too late now. By his own line of reasoning, he had lost. It’s over! I won’t keep living in defeat!

  With the talons that had clawed through his ears, that had wrapped through his skull and scraped at his sanity, Steele Knight managed to crawl to the fence. He leaned an arm on the wood and crawled over. Removing the dagger from his ruined eye, he stumbled down the incline and wondered if this was the path taken by Trudi’s canister so long ago. His bitterness had nowhere to turn. All over now. He drew one deep track across his own throat and let his body carry him down.

  Through the brush. Over the cliff’s gnarled brow.

  Tumbling. Falling … in an easy descent.

  Facilis descensus Averno! It was the last phrase ever to pass through his mind.

  With hands on the fence, Trudi peered out at the cliff as though to convince herself of her henchman’s outcome. She shook her head. “You see, Marsh, Stahli always liked a rousing game of chess, the opportunity to strategize. He could’ve gone about all this far more simply, but he insisted we play it his way. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. That male ego of his. He could not bear to lose.”

  “You let him walk into my trap at the monument.” Marsh was appalled by her obdurate tone. “You set him up to taste defeat. You poisoned his thinking, Trudi!”

  “He deserved punishment for his failure to take heed.”

  “And now,” Kara said with disgust, “he’s punished himself. Are you happy?”

  “Don’t you have any reaction whatsoever?” Marsh pitched in.

  “Not at this time, no. I raised him with vengeance as a goal, feeding him stories of abandonment and cruelty. This action he’s committed is consistent with his thought processes. He could not live to face defeat from an Addison. Stahlherz was the son your parents allegedly lost at delivery. You were their second, Marsh.”

  “You know nothing about my father. What proof do you have?”

  Trudi laughed. “Sins of the fathers passed to the third and fourth generations. A biblical concept, am I correct? Familial transgressions.”

  “Under the old law, that’s true,” said Kara.

  “Old law, ha. I’ve read the words myself. Sins must be paid for!”

  Marsh was attentive. This was the curse he’d been striving under the past few days, even years. Sins of the fathers. Was there a way to break the cycle?

  Chance’s indiscretions … Braddock’s intrusion … My own mistakes …

  “Yes,” Kara conceded. “But the curse has lost its power. Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross broke the power of separation and death, reuniting us with his Father.” Kara was gaining confidence; her voice was less shaky. “Once God adopts us into his family, we’re no longer enslaved to the rules of the old household. We’re given a clean slate.”

  “Sounds too good to be true, particularly from the lips of an adulterer.”

  Kara wavered. Wrestling with her own shame.

  Trudi was relentless. “And as we can all see, you’ve been imbibing again of late.”

  “I’m not perfect. Yes, I know that.”

  Marsh came to his wife’s defense. “Trudi, your accusations are immaterial. As Kara said, the curse has no power. She’s been forgiven. She’s part of God’s family.”

  “All very charming. Light applause.” Trudi chortled, then her tone changed as she spewed words that would seal her decision. “How dare you sit and offer smug forgiveness? You are filth! You slap the face of the afflicted! I don’t think that you’ve seen the real power of the curse. A serpent’s poison can be deadly, yes, but a family’s sin. It’s an accelerant that increases the potency. Now that you’ve been forced to swallow your father’s betrayal, don’t try to convince me that you’re immune to its effects. You think you can combat this venom? No, I don’t believe you’re ready for it.”

  “You’re the one who’s not ready.” Sergeant Turney had clambered to his feet.

  My sparring partner!

  Josee’s pain turned into determination. The old woman’s finger fangs still clung to her head, but Turney was advancing. With Trudi intent on this newest opposition, Josee drew her feet up beneath her. If she could just get the right leverage …

  Trudi droned, “Come and join us, Sergeant. All I wanted was a simple meal by the sea. Let’s all sup together, shall we?” She swerved from Josee to the head of the table where she placed a hand on the metal canister. “We shall once and for all drink and be satiated. All a matter of surrender.” She spread both arms in a gesture of abandon, summoning coiled vapors from the canister before her.

  Although Trudi Ubelhaar was now positioned two yards from Josee’s seat, the fangs still hovered over Josee’s ears. With all that had happened in the past few days, Josee was more incensed than surprised by the apparition emerging at the head of the table. She watched Trudi’s honey hair change color in the night. The cords of hair congealed into writhing shapes of green—snapping around her neck, slithering about her eyes and ears. On the woman’s scalp, the mass of serpents moved with tongues alive and scales flexing in the moonlight.

  Most of the snakes were small, but others were fat and outstretched.

  Two extended back around Josee’s neck to her ears. Others zeroed in on Marsh and Kara. One large viper drifted in Sarge’s direction.

  “Driiink!” Trudi reached for her quartet of gas-masked cohorts.

  Josee knew they couldn’t see the snakes, but the venom in the air was palpable.

  The ICV recruits flinched and drew together. They were unprepared for Trudi’s reaction as she lashed out in consternation, hooking vipers into arms, spreading appendages in involuntary surrender. The recruits fell, frozen, to the ground.

  She hissed blasphemies. “You, too, shall taste this cup. Drink in my memory.”

  The cone of the ancient canister twirled open with ease, and Trudi tipped it like an urn, dispensing poison over each wineglass. Miasmic orbs hovered there, chained to the confines of the glass rims.

  “Josee …”

  The whisper followed a nudge beneath the table, and Josee’s eyes shifted down. She saw that Kara had worked taped wrists beneath her thighs and feet. Her fingers were tugging at her hip pocket, working a swatch of pink into view.

  “This is yours—”

  “Halt dein Mund!” Trudi’s gaze whipped along the table. “Keep quiet!”

  Still whispering: “Your birth cap, Josee, from the hospital. I’ve saved it.”

  “That’s enough!” Trudi roared. “I did not ask you to speak.”

  Josee palmed the tiny hat, felt its warm knit texture on her skin. She tucked it into her pants, lifted her face to meet Kara’s soft expression—soft, yes, but hardening with a protective mother’s resolve. At Kara’s neck, a set of fangs yawned. The creature’s breath turned to steam in the cold air.

  “Mom!”

&nb
sp; Josee was about to dive at the thing when her mother made a move.

  In a sweeping motion, Kara ducked forward and cleared the table of fine stemware. Wineglasses, deep red liquid, and wisps of poison littered the air in a kaleidoscope of color. The glasses struck Trudi’s abdomen, splattering wine in crimson stains. Taking her cue, Josee shifted her weight to her feet and sprang to the tabletop. She toppled bowls and soup and smashed the candleholders. Pain clawed through her ears as fangs ripped back, and her vision reeled. The breeze stung her eyes. Stars spun.

  “Marsh,” Kara cried. A snake had encircled her ankle and now coiled upward.

  Josee dodged a pair of serpents that struck at her head. She kicked once at the vintage wine bottle in the center of the table, aiming it toward Trudi. A viper struck her arm. She kicked again. Her feet connected this time and catapulted the Addison Ridge bottle. The object cut through her attached viper’s translucent form, bounced from the table’s ledge, then broke its neck in a shower of glass that sprayed toward Trudi’s Medusalike head. The shards wedged between the fangs of myriad snakes.

  The snakes followed their larger kin toward Marsh and Kara.

  Josee slipped in the pools of spilled wine and fell backward onto the table. She found herself prostrate over silverware and plates. Her head was pounding, a rock wall crumbling piece by piece, giving way to the lingering poison.

  “Jesus!” Another beast was hovering over her, rear fangs extended amid a shower of spittle and hot venom. Her cry was a statement of faith. “Help us!”

  The ocean was spewing frosty breath over the crags and cliffs, and the moon was a pale eye watching the proceedings. Turney knew that he should be weakening from the poison Trudi had released. To his surprise, he felt invigorated.

  But hadn’t he failed in his fasting exercise? Yes, and in so doing, he’d been reminded of his true source of strength. Although his scars were moist beneath his shirt, he realized they might indicate his growing immunity to the poison. Twin shots. Inoculations. Building resistance to ward off the disease. He’d held his ground, even removed a length of Trudi’s hair as it snaked along his chest. Around her scalp, her tresses had formed a dance of green fire. He didn’t understand it exactly, but her power had seemed to emanate from the metal canister.