by Rachel Lee
And maybe not.
* * *
For a terrifying instant, Markie thought she was about to be savaged. She braced, preparing for the worst. Then Bonzo hit her. She was aware of Dec's shout.
But the dog didn't attack her. Instead, it scooted up between her legs, pressing desperately against her, seeking sanctuary. The impact pushed Markie onto her bottom, but she managed to stay upright.
In an eyeblink, she had her arms around the dog. He licked her face, but these licks weren't loving. They were pleading. He wanted her to take him out, and he wanted out now. Every whimper he made nearly broke her heart.
"Alice?" she said, talking around the frantic licks she was getting. "I'm going to need sedative injections for these dogs. Valium."
"I'll get 'em."
"What the hell is going on?" Declan asked. He stood in the kennel door, as if still poised to come to her rescue. "What did this to them?"
"I don't know," Markie said, stroking Bonzo soothingly. "I've seen dogs get like this over thunderstorms or fireworks. Noise phobia is common in canines. But…"
"But there's no thunder and no fireworks."
She looked over her shoulder at him while Bonzo continued to lick her cheek and ear. "Exactly."
Kato returned with Alice, his ears pricked, his tail down, as he observed his fellow canines. He joined Markie in the kennel with Bonzo and licked Bonzo until the retriever turned his attention to Kato. The wolf's attention seemed calming.
Twenty minutes later, all the dogs were sedated.
* * *
While Alice stayed in the back with Lefty, the dog that had been hit by a car, Dec and Markie settled in her front office. The files from the day were still out, in a neat stack, waiting to be returned to their proper place so Dec pulled out the map of the island he'd brought along, and together they started plotting the addresses.
"It's just so weird," Declan said.
"What is?" As if she didn't know.
"I could see some infectious agent, or some irritant, being swept across the island on the breeze. I could even see the dogs detecting it and being so annoyed by it that they bark themselves silly. But…"
"The fear afterward doesn't make any sense."
"Precisely."
She looked up from the sixth file. "Unless…the agent, whatever it is, instills fear, at least in dogs. Their owners don't seem too upset."
"Maybe they should be. The Shippeys' dog was a mess, just like the dogs you saw today. He was chewing on his leg in frantic bursts last night."
She mulled that over, trying to ignore the disquiet she had been feeling all day in favor of logical thought. "Maybe the military is using us as a test site for some new weapon?"
Even as she spoke the outrageous suggestion she wished she could call it back. It sounded almost insane. Yet, given what was going on, could they afford to overlook any possibility?
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Now that would be terrifying."
Markie sat back in her chair, forgetting the files for a moment, rubbing her tired neck. "It's been a long day."
"Yes." His gaze said he would rub her neck for her if she wanted. She wanted, but didn't give him an invitation.
She shook her head a little, clearing away unwanted cobwebs of desire that for a moment had seemed to wrap around her. To distract herself, she changed subjects. "Did you know that the Inuit bred huskies not to obey perfectly?"
"Uh…no, I didn't. Why'd they do that?"
"Because a dog's senses are so much sharper. If the musher tells the dogs to go right, but the dogs sense a crack in the ice or a crevasse buried under the snow, they'll go left anyway. That's one of the reasons most people discover that they can't handle huskies. That and the fact that they're talkative. Howling and whining all the time, and we're too stupid to understand them, even if they understand a fair measure of English."
"I'm beginning to feel substandard here."
Markie smiled and spread her hands. "That's why we team up with dogs. But it's true. Consider what it means that they can understand so much human language. Or so many body cues. They have language centers in their brains. It stands to reason that they have languages of their own. Huskies and wolves sure seem to."
"I hadn't thought of it that way. And this is going where?"
"I'm thinking maybe we'd better start listening to the dogs. They seem to know something we don't."
In an instant, the sense of doom returned, a dark miasma in the brain.
He nodded slowly, not quite agreeing. "How would we listen?"
"I think we'd better start paying very close attention to their behavior and where it's happening." She paused for a moment, thinking. "You know, dogs can hear much higher sounds than we can. It's possible they're hearing something very high-pitched, a sound at a frequency that's driving them to distraction."
His expression said he didn't like that at all.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Well, the dogs were barking the night Carter died, right? And last night around the time Marilyn died."
"Right."
"So if they're hearing some kind of sound that's inaudible to us, and it's in any way linked to the Shippeys' deaths, then…maybe we are looking at a weapon of some kind."
Her heart gave a thud at hearing her own crazy suggestion echoed with all seriousness by Dec. "Exactly what happened to them?"
"I'm not supposed to say."
She arched a brow at him and pursed her lips. "Did it look like a disease?"
He sighed heavily, almost impatiently and shook his head. "What the hell. To tell you the truth, Markie, I've never seen the like. Everything inside them was dissolved, including bone."
"Oh, my God…" She tried to imagine it and couldn't. It exceeded belief. "But…then it couldn't really be linked with the barking, could it? I mean…why aren't the dogs dying the same way?"
"Unless it's a weapon."
"I'm not buying that. I refuse to buy that. How could any kind of weapon be invented that would only kill people and not have the same effect on a dog standing right there? They're not that different biologically."
"I don't know. What I do know is that I can't imagine why anyone with that kind of technology would want to kill Carter and Marilyn Shippey." He shook his head, a scowl settling over his features. His next statement was laced with bitterness. "But maybe they were just collateral damage."
They sat for a few minutes in silence, files forgotten, each of them lost in rumination about who or what might be doing all this, or whether the events were even linked.
Markie knew for certain that she didn't like the paths her thoughts were following. It was horrifying enough to think a terrible unknown disease had killed Carter, worse to think it might have been a weapon.
"Okay," she said finally. "Skip the sound idea." Despite the comfortable temperature of the room, she wrapped her arms around herself and began rubbing her hands over her upper arms as if she were cold. And she was cold. Somewhere deep inside. Someplace that didn't respond to the ambient temperature.
Glancing up, she looked out the front windows of the clinic and realized that night had settled its obscuring blanket over the world. The outside security lights were even dimmed, as if a rare fog had crept around them. Her scalp started prickling, as if there were unseen eyes on her.
"Dec?"
"Yes?"
"I feel…" She couldn't bring herself to say it.
"Feel what?" He shifted on his chair and leaned toward her.
"My sister's fey," she said after a pause.
"Fey?"
"She…senses things. I hate it. I hate it when she tells me something is going to happen and it does."
"I can imagine." His voice had taken on a low, calming tone.
She looked at him, the corners of her mouth drawn down tightly. "I…sometimes get those feelings, too. I always ignore them."
He nodded slowly. "What are you feeling?"
"It's…" She shook her head.
She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the coldness inside her, like an icy toothache. "It's evil," she whispered. "I just sense…evil." Bone-chilling evil. As if Satan were standing just inches away.
All of a sudden, Kato, at their feet, lifted his head and howled.
8
The hair on Markie's neck stood on end as Kato howled. Declan rose from his chair, looking around. Evidently he felt it, too. For a horrifying moment, an icy breeze seemed to blow over her. Goose bumps raised the hair on her arms.
They were not alone. The feeling slammed into her, as real and certain as any feeling she'd ever had. She felt eyes on her, felt a presence. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the feeling was gone.
"Jesus," Dec said.
But Kato didn't give them a chance to say more. He rose to his feet—head tipped back, hackles raised, ears flat against his skull, nostrils flaring—and let out another long, mournful howl.
As the last plaintive note faded in the night, a scream came from the kennels.
"Alice!" Markie jumped to her feet, but Declan beat her to the green door leading to the back. He burst through it. She was right behind him, catching the door before it swung halfway back.
Alice stood in the middle of the row, kennels to either side of her, her back to them. She stood frozen, as if carved from ice.
"Alice," Dec called.
The woman didn't turn.
Markie reached her and touched her arm, turning her to face them. She stared blindly, her face ashen.
"Alice?" Markie asked. The woman's skin felt cold and clammy. "Alice, what's wrong?"
Slowly Alice's eyes began to focus.
"What's wrong?" Markie asked again.
Alice shook herself, as if trying to free herself from a nightmare. "I'm…I'm losing my mind," she said, her voice cracking.
Markie glanced at Dec. His furrowed brow spoke volumes about his concern. She turned back to the Alice. "Why do you say that?"
"Because…because…I'm seeing…ghosts."
* * *
Markie found a sweater that she kept at the office and wrapped it around Alice's shoulders. She and Dec encouraged the woman to sit in the front office in the bright lights, and Markie put on a fresh pot of coffee.
"I'm scared," Alice insisted. "I've never felt so cold in my life, not even when I visited my son in North Dakota. He was in the Air Force then…." She trailed off as another shudder ripped through her. "I feel frozen to my very bones."
"The coffee will help," Markie said reassuringly. "And I'm going to call Buddy to stand in for you tonight."
Alice looked at her, her face still ashen. "Don't tell him about me, about what I…I'll stay."
Markie shook her head. "I'll just tell him you're not feeling well. It will be okay."
Dec nodded, giving Alice's shoulder a squeeze. "You've had a shock. You're still too pale. Markie's right. And if you won't take her word for it, I'm also a doctor, and I'll insist."
Alice's head sank for a few seconds. "Okay," she finally said quietly. "I think I can breathe again."
"What did you see?" Markie asked gently.
Alice looked at Markie, her gaze almost pleading. "It didn't feel like I was imagining it. God, I thought I could reach out and touch her."
"Who?" Dec asked.
Fear mixed with shame played over Alice's face. "Annie Black."
Markie stiffened. "I'm calling Buddy right now."
Buddy was young, but he was responsible. His goal was to save enough money so that he could go to veterinary school, and when Markie reached him, he was only too eager.
"Alice doesn't feel well," Markie explained. "I want her to go home. Do you mind coming?"
"Heck, no, Doc. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks, Buddy."
"No problem, mon."
The Jamaican lilt was suddenly strong in his voice, though he hadn't lived in his home country since early childhood. His parents had moved here fifteen years ago to open a shop that sold colorful Jamaican clothing and Blue Mountain coffee. The store was popular with everyone.
"He's a good kid," Alice said when Markie hung up the phone. "He'll go places."
"I think so, too." The coffee was ready, and Markie poured three cups. Alice cupped her hands around her mug as if to absorb every little bit of heat.
"Where's Kato?" Markie asked, suddenly realizing that her dog was nowhere to be seen.
At the sound of his name, there was a skitter of claws from the area of the exam rooms, and Kato emerged. His tail was down, and his ears were back. His hackles had settled, but he didn't look like a very happy animal.
"Looks like he saw her, too," Alice said. Her voice was steady again but still conveyed strain. "God. She looked as solid as you two do. Dressed all in black, with some kind of white cap on her head. Long dress. And her eyes…" A shiver passed through Alice. "I hope I never see eyes like that again."
Declan spoke. "Are you sure it was Annie Black?"
"Yes," Alice said, lifting her eyes to his. "We have that portrait of her in the library. I always wondered how it was that didn't get burned during the uprising."
"So you've seen it?"
"Of course I have." Alice looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Hasn't everyone?"
"The mind can play some nasty tricks."
Alice didn't cringe from the suggestion. "Sure it can. Didn't I see my own Henry three days after he died, clear as if he were standing there? Didn't I hear his voice, telling me he was happy and he wanted me to be happy, too?"
Dec nodded. "A lot of people have that experience."
"I know." Alice spoke emphatically. "I didn't imagine it. But this time…well…it's not the first time. I saw her at home yesterday."
"What?" Markie asked. She pulled up a chair and joined the other two in the huddle, sipping her coffee to drive the chill away. Kato curled at her feet, for once in his life seeming to need comfort. Outside, in the distance, dogs were barking. Markie reached down and rubbed his ears gently. Studiously, she avoided thinking about the sense of evil she had felt just before Kato howled and Alice screamed.
Dec spoke. "Would you be offended if I suggested a complete physical?"
"Not at all. In fact, I'd appreciate one." Alice held out her hand, looking at it. "Just as real as that. I swear. Right in front of me, she was. Looking at me with this smile. You know how her portrait seems to have no expression at all? She's almost blank. When I saw her…it wasn't a nice smile."
"I'd have been scared, too," Markie said comfortingly. Whether or not she believed Annie Black's ghost had appeared didn't matter. If she'd seen it, she would have been as disturbed as Alice.
Alice sipped coffee quietly for a while. "Thanks, I'm starting to warm up."
"You're welcome."
Alice looked from Markie to Declan. "Trust me, this is one ghost you don't want to see. She looked every bit as evil as the stories about her. Like she could skin you alive and enjoy every minute of it."
Markie made a sound of disgust. "Every time I read those stories, my skin crawls."
"I haven't read much about her," Declan said.
"Call it a hobby," Markie said. "When I was a kid, in upstate New York, I loved the local legends. So wherever I've lived, I've looked up the folklore of the area. But Annie Black is…not just a legend."
Declan nodded, and Markie continued.
"Annie Black was born into a poor home in England. Her mother died giving birth to her, and apparently her father and older brothers were, well, pimping her out to local miners by the time she was twelve. She got pregnant very young but lost the baby, either a miscarriage or more likely a botched abortion, and nearly died. While she was recovering, she met up with an older prostitute, and together with the woman and her pimp, she murdered her father. The details were…horrific. She was thirteen years old."
"Wow," Declan said. "Bad seed or bad start?"
"Who's to say?" Markie replied. "But if
she thought she'd won her freedom by killing her dad, she was wrong. The woman's pimp just added her to his stable. She was supposedly sold as a sex slave in 1786, to a man named Jamison Black, and he paid a crooked priest to make it a legal marriage."
"Out of the frying pan," Alice whispered.
Markie nodded. "Black brought her here, to Santz Martina. He was a privateer, with letters of marque from the British Crown. The king gave him two hundred troops and five vessels, with orders to take this island from the Spanish and use it as a raiding base against the newly independent United States. He took Santz Martina, then decided there was more money and less risk in molasses and rum. So he expanded the island's cane plantations and became the first governor of Santz Martina. Annie was miserable, but he didn't care. She had affairs with slaves. He caught her and threw her in jail. Turns out the jailer was one of her former lovers. Together, they murdered him. Of course, she'd set it up so the jailer took the blame."
"Ruthless and clever," Declan said. "A dangerous combination."
"And rich," Markie added. "As Black's wife, Annie inherited the sugar plantation. That accounted for the bulk of the island's revenue, so of course she was on the next governor's A-list. Legend says she was also sleeping with him, but nobody knows. All we do know is that she killed her next husband, though his death was written off to yellow fever. And she kept the plantation, of which she was a brutal mistress. She had slaves hanged, or beheaded, for her dinnertime entertainment. She caught one of her maids stealing food. She marched into the maid's quarters, pulled her baby out of the crib, took the baby into the kitchen and plunged it into a pot of boiling soup."
Declan winced. "I had no idea."
Markie nodded. "And she ate the soup.
"And so it went, until 1807, when she married Frederick Glass. Glass was something of an abolitionist. Allowed slaves to earn their freedom after thirteen years' service. Wanted to end slavery altogether. He had no stomach for Annie's cruelty, nor for her affairs. He threatened to divorce her and have her arrested. Under the laws of the time, the plantation would have gone to him. She murdered him in 1809. And that's what triggered the Rebellion. Her household slaves bound her with wire, and burned out her eyes, ears and tongue so she couldn't see, hear or speak any curses against them. Then they covered her body with pitch, burned her to ash and spread the ashes all over the island, so she could never again have physical form."