Beneath the Mall of Madness (A Jaspar Windisle Mystery Book 1)

by A. D. Folmer

  “What was that for?” She demanded. I didn’t have to answer because the vine caught her arm. She screamed. I grabbed the vine as it pulled at her. The chupacabra’s bodies were only the size of a beach ball, but I could immediately tell that I wasn’t strong enough to prevent it from carrying Cecilia away. I did my best, putting all my weight on her arm as I tried to unwind the vine.

  “Help!” I yelled. I could see another vine coming down. Whoever was behind me grabbed me by the waist, but I wasn’t the one being dragged to my death. It turned out to be Zebulon. He tried to cut the vine with a knife, but it was too tough. I was about to suggest that he cut Cecilia’s arm off instead when an unexpected savior appeared.

  Gregory jumped off my head and on to the vine. He wrapped his tentacles around it and began to eat. It only took him a few seconds to sever the thing. Gregory didn’t stop there. He continued eating his way up the vine. Both vines tried to retreat behind the portal. Gregory tried to hang on. There was a horrible grinding noise, and one of the vines came free, dropping back to the ground along with Gregory. The vine rapidly disappeared into Gregory’s beak. He had swollen to the size of a basketball, but still tried to climb my pants leg. He seemed surprised when, instead of scooting up as usual, he tipped sideways and lost his grip. I laughed and picked him up by the head. He didn’t weigh much more, but he was as taught as a balloon. I steadied Cecilia with my free hand and urged her down the tunnel to safety.

  ***

  Cecilia was still pretty upset about almost being eviscerated. She thanked both Gregory and me for rescuing her.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you for shoving me,” she said. “I wasn’t even thinking about the risk.”

  “It’s all right,” I told her. “I should have said watch out or something. Did anyone know that Gregory would eat those things? I thought he was a strict vegetarian.”

  “He’ll also eat rocks if you don’t keep an eye on him,” Earl said. “Maybe those things really are sentient radishes.”

  “Can we use that?” Steve wondered. “He’s too tiny to eat them all, but if they’re scared of him. . .”

  “Do you think they were?” I asked. “They reacted, but they might not remember. We don’t know how smart they are.”

  “I think you’d better ask Fiona about it before trying anything,” Earl said. “She’s pretty protective of Gregory.”

  “Maybe she’ll know what to do about the portal,” Mordecai said.

  “We aren’t going to learn anything else in here,” Cecilia said, “and it’s too dangerous to go back in there, so we might as well go home.”

  It was a long walk, and it was late at night when we reached the entrance. We ended up spending the night in the tunnel since, as Mordecai pointed out, we’d just end up collapsing in the marsh if we made it back after midnight.

  The next morning Gregory had shrunk considerably. We opened the seal, and Sparks immediately headed to the side. We were all still groggy, but I called to Earl.

  “Remember the dead people we didn’t have time to deal with yesterday?” I asked. “It’s probably time.”

  We went over to Sparks and sure enough, there were corpses. I didn’t need Sparks to tell me that they were the missing researchers. Some of them had been stabbed in the heart, at least one of them had been decapitated, and most of them had been shot.

  “This is the real deal,” Cecilia said after looking at the symbols painted on one victim’s chest. “Someone knew what they were doing when they killed these people.”

  “What were they doing?” Steve asked.

  “They were looking for that door,” I said. “They brought the tourists here to search, and when they didn’t find anything they killed them. The ones who were stabbed were sacrifices in order to . . . I’m not sure. Get luck? Or power? They think it will help with finding the door somehow.” I sat down against the hill and stared into the forest. “Even at gunpoint they couldn’t get anyone to go over there.”

  “The effect gets worse the closer you get,” Mordecai said. “It’s awful at close range.”

  “I know that now,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. The killers are those fake cops, that businessman Earl killed, and Dr. Abe Finch. Plus some other guys in fancy suits.”

  “Shocking,” Zebulon said. He didn’t sound very shocked.

  “Yes, who would have thought Dr. Finch would turn out to be a villain?” Earl said. “And conveniently, he’s one of the last ones left. I shot a couple of guys in suits at the hotel last night.”

  “Then we’ll have to catch him,” Mordecai said.

  “Someone needs to keep an eye on that researcher woman,” I said. “Assuming Fiona doesn’t kill her first.”

  “Someone also needs to keep a close eye on you,” Steve said. “These guys seem to think you’re a great sorcerer the way they’ve been following you around, and you do have a talent for finding certain things.”

  “If they want corpses they’ve shown no hesitation in creating their own,” I said.

  “I volunteer to watch Jaspar!” Zebulon said. “We could have this wrapped up tonight!”

  “Not that soon,” Steve said. “I still need to come up with a way to keep the chupacabras in their cave while I pour cement on top of them.”

  ***

  Fiona, who was happy to see Gregory again, had some ideas. She was waiting in the marsh where the church had made great progress in building their wall. Mordecai showed her the pictures he had taken. We discussed our ideas for a while. Fiona liked the idea of sealing the crack. The only trouble was doing it without getting attacked.

  “We can use bait,” she said. “Some of us can stand below the portal and make a fuss while you pour concrete, or whatever your plan is.”

  “Why will you be involved?” Cecilia asked. “You’re never going to get down there with your leg.”

  “I will. It’ll just take me a while. And I’m going because I have the most experience with portals, and there are a few things I’d like to try.”

  “Such as?”

  “Some of those runes look like they can be modified,” Fiona said. “Do you see how they’re halfway between the markings on my portal and the signs in the tunnels? With a line or two added or erased the spells can be changed. If I can reverse the gate then eventually the chupacabras will be gone. Then the only danger it would pose would be to really determined idiots sending themselves through a deadly portal.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me,” Cecilia said.

  Steve had to go make arrangements with the surviving construction crew. While he did that I went back to the Fry house and sorted through more stuff. True to his word, Zebulon followed me. While we did that, Earl and the sheriff oversaw hauling the bodies out of Bishop’s Corner.

  ***

  “We’re definitely getting a visit from the feds now,” Zebulon said as I sorted through the laundry.

  “I hope to be gone before that happens,” I told him.

  “I don’t blame you,” he said. “You live in California don’t you? It must be a lot faster paced than here.”

  “I don’t mind a slow pace,” I said. “It’s all the murders I don’t like. It’s nerve-racking.”

  “Really? You seem calm, all things considered.”

  “I’m not unused to violence, but there’s a limit.”

  “So this is about avoiding The Man?” Zebulon guessed.

  “Something like that,” I said. “I try not to attract attention. It’s why I joined the army during World War II even though I was old enough to miss the draft.”

  “I hate to tell you this,” Zebulon said, “but you look young enough to avoid the draft. How old are you, anyway?”

  “About three hundred. That’s how far back I can remember.”

  “Wow. Did you fight in the Revolutionary War?”

  “No, I was barely aware that it was going on,” I told him. “I was in Spanish territory at the time.”

  “So you’re not a native?”

  “It
depends. My earliest memories are of North Carolina. Then I left and came back. It ended up working in my favor. It gave me a reason to get papers before they demanded so much documentation. I would never have thought about it otherwise.”

  “That’s weird,” Zebulon said.

  “What is?”

  “Papers are something you need in evil empires,” he said. “Not the United States.”

  “Just try to get anything done without them,” I suggested. “Or think back to all the times you’ve needed to show your driver’s license to get something done. I can’t let my passport lapse because I don’t have a birth certificate, and even if I knew where I was born, no one had birth certificates in the eighteenth century.”

  “I’d never thought about that,” Zebulon said.

  “In some parts of the country they send you straight to jail just for not having valid ID,” I told him. “Not that I think it’s likely here, but I also want to stay out of any system that might spot the missing pieces in my paper trail.”

  “I can see where you’re coming from,” Zebulon said. “On the other hand, if your paper trail ends in Florida where are they going to deport you to? I don’t think Spain’s going to take them back at this point.”

  “Countries can surprise you,” I said. “After finally ending centuries of fighting over territory France tried to surrender to England when they weren’t even at war. Anything can happen when money and politics are involved.”

  “I never heard about that,” Zebulon said.

  “It wasn’t one of either country’s finer moments.”

  “Are you going to spend the night here?”

  “No. I’m going to stay at the hotel. Why?”

  “Just checking. It’s probably safer at the hotel anyway.”

  “Do you have any idea why?”

  “There are more people there, and they installed security cameras a few years ago . . .”

  “No, I meant the mandatory bedtime,” I said. “Everyone seems to know about it, but I haven’t heard why it happens.”

  “I’m not sure myself,” Zebulon said. “It makes closing the bar interesting, I can tell you.”

  “It extends that far?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And it doesn’t have any side effects?”

  “Well, weird dreams sometimes, but other than that no. Jeremiah’s family has lived there for almost a hundred years, and none of them stood out as unusual. If anything, Jeremy’s more normal than the rest of us. He even left town for a few years.”

  “Hmm.” I thought there was more to Jeremiah than met the eye. Then again, the Whateleys had a habit of accusing each other of normalcy.

  “Hey, would you like to follow me to work tonight?” He asked. “I could take the evening off to watch you sort towels, but the bar is less isolated.”

  “I’m not going to sort laundry all night,” I protested. “I’m just trying to handle a bit at a time, and linens seem like they might be useful. Most of this stuff is headed to either a thrift store or the dump.”

  “I’ll give you a discount,” Zebulon coaxed. “I’ll pay for your dinner, too.” I looked at the mound of sheets I hadn’t sorted yet and multiplied it by the other rooms in the house.

  “You’re on,” I said.

  As we left, I looked around the yard, checking for cultists, plant monsters, or anything else that might threaten Steve’s investment. I could see a glimmer of light through the trees in the direction of Fiona’s house, and a brighter glow from the other side. The other neighbor’s house was closer than I’d thought. I wondered what secret obsession had driven them to live between a haunted town and looming cliffs. On the way to the bar, I entertained myself with possible scenarios stranger than guarding a portal or digging a network of tunnels. In reality, they were probably a retired computer programmer who liked their privacy or something else boring. I didn’t bother asking Zebulon. The truth would only be disappointing.

  Chapter 16: Goldfish uprising

  I was popular at the bar. Everyone wanted to hear about the tunnel first hand. It got overwhelming after a while. I was regretting making an appearance, and the feeling intensified when Dr. Finch showed up. Here was someone I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to again.

  “I heard you found something,” he said.

  “Yes,” I replied. “A bunch of dead people.”

  “That must have been rough,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I’m done drinking for the evening,” I told him. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  “Then why are you at a bar?”

  “For the company,” I said. “What about you? I thought you didn’t like this part of town.”

  “When I heard you recommend it I thought it might merit a second look,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t see the charm.”

  “It’s a bar,” I said, “they’re not usually charming.”

  “What I mean is the clientele doesn’t seem like your sort of people.”

  “And the people at the club did?” I wondered who would be my sort of people. The hotel bar was divided between young professionals at the bar itself and older couples eating at tables. It was the sort of crowd I’d like to think I fit into, and if I ever gave up on trying to be normal this town or one like it was probably where I would end up. Dr. Finch was fiddling with an ashtray now. Zebulon was closer to the entrance, fixing drinks.

  “I suppose not,” he said. “You struck me as someone who preferred quiet,” ‘My kind of people’ was no people at all? Dr. Finch sure knew how to give a compliment. And he sucked at reading people.

  “You don’t get peace and quiet when you’re the center of the news,” was all I said.

  “That’s right,” he said, putting the ashtray down. “It must have been shocking.”

  “It was.”

  “Didn’t you say you were some kind of psychic? The emanations must have been terrible.”

  “They were.” Thinking back, I don’t think I did tell him I was psychic. Dr. Finch must have been checking up on me. If I’d needed a reason to be wary of him, I had one now.

  “I don’t see how you can bear to stay so near to such a terrible place.”

  “It isn’t like I’m moving in,” I said. “I’m confident in the hotel’s security system. What about you? It must be just as shocking to have been on a tour so many people were killed on.”

  “Oh yes. A certain amount of risk is implied in monster hunting.”

  “To me, it looked like the only monsters those people encountered were human.”

  “That happens too. What other impressions did you get?” Now he was being nosier than the locals. Maybe he was one of those people who let their interest in their hobbies override good manners. Or maybe all ritual murderers enjoyed talking about their crimes.

  “That they died badly,” I said. “Really, I don’t like to talk about my gift, especially in public.” And never with a guy I knew was a mass murderer.

  “Of course, of course. Tell me, what were you doing down there?”

  “Monster hunting,” I said. “Steve wanted to see the sights while he was here, and he’s my employer, so. . .”

  “And the locals?” Dr. Finch’s voice seemed harsher. It was almost like he didn’t believe me.

  “Even apart from his Jesticorps expense account, Steve’s richer than God,” I said mildly. “If he wants to pay me to go sightseeing I don’t question his motives. Or who else he hires.” That was true enough. I’d cut Steve a lot more slack on this trip than I usually did. He seemed to be under a considerable amount of stress that I didn’t feel like adding to.

  “I see.”

  “How about you?” I asked. “With all the murdering going on around here, are you going to cut your vacation short?”

  “No, no. I’m sure my hotel is perfectly safe.”

  “So the prospect of Jason stalking the woods doesn’t bother you more than Bigfoot?” He laughed.

  “I can assure you, I’m prepar
ed to deal with a human assailant.” I knew that. Some of his victims had tried to defend themselves. Was there more to it? Was he admitting he wasn’t human on some level? I wasn’t cut out for investigating this sort of thing. I wanted another drink now, and I really wanted Dr. Finch to get lost. To that end, I shifted the topic.

  “Are you going to apologize to Dr. Cassidy?” I asked him. I was curious, now that she’d been vindicated. He looked annoyed.

  “My response was reasonable at the time,” he told me. “She was hysterical.”

  “For a good reason,” I noted.

  “I was not hysterical,” Cassandra said coldly. I jumped. I’d had no idea she was in the bar. “And I wouldn’t accept an apology if it was offered.” Dr. Finch sneered at her. It was the same look he’d had on his face when he was shooting tourists.

  “You’re still overwrought,” he said to her. “It’s no wonder, with your students being killed. Who knows what this incident will do to your funding. Or your job.”

  Cassandra stared down at him. Up until that moment, I’d dismissed her as a somewhat silly woman who didn’t understand what she was dealing with. As she glared at Dr. Finch, I got the feeling that she knew exactly what she was dealing with now, and there was going to be hell to pay. Dr. Finch stared into eyes that reflected death more surely than any shade I’d ever raised and seemed to pale a little.

  “What I meant was it’s been a terrible time for you, and-”

  “I know exactly what you meant,” Cassandra said. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your vacation, Doctor. If you will pardon us, I have some business with Mr. Windisle.”

  “Yes, excuse me,” he said. Once he’d left the bar, she took his seat.

  “He killed them,” she said. She didn’t look at me. She stared into the mirror over the bar instead.