by H. G. Nadel
The sun was at its zenith on a cloudless day, brightening the whole coast. As she climbed the hill toward home, she could see the ocean, its dazzling aqua surface reflecting thousands of crystals of light, which churned into broad, low white combers. She and Austin had yet to go to the beach together, the most romantic spot in town. She wondered if they would ever have that chance.
Pulling into the driveway of her childhood home gave her more comfort than she had anticipated. As she walked in the front door, she turned to look at the bookshelves. The top shelves were cluttered with framed photos of her and her parents at various stages of their lives. She picked up the one of the three of them on the beach in Kauai. It was her favorite. They were smiling in all the photos, but in this one they looked the most genuinely happy. In fact, they looked ready to burst into laughter over some private joke.
“That one’s my favorite too.”
Julia was so startled that she fumbled the photo frame and almost dropped it. Then she clutched it against her chest. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, sweetheart. I thought you were going to the lab.”
“I forgot something.”
“Are you all right, Julia? You look tired.”
“Do I? So, the tables have turned.”
“I guess neither of us has slept much this past year. It’s a wonder we haven’t started hallucinating from psychosis.”
“What makes you so sure we haven’t?” They both laughed. In the middle of the laughter, their eyes locked, and in that moment Julia saw her own grief reflected in her father’s eyes. The two of them had always been so close that they hadn’t realized the invisible thread that her mother had wound through their lives together. When that thread was cut, it had sent them tumbling apart, stumbling to make their way back to each other without Michele’s guiding hand. But it wasn’t too late. Julia rushed toward him and threw her arms all the way around him, as if she might fall unless he held her up. She still clutched the family picture in one hand.
He patted her shoulder with a clumsy hand, then wrapped both his arms around her and laid a cheek on her head. She started to cry. “Hey,” he soothed. “Hey, what’s this?”
She stepped back and wiped her eyes. “Did you ever have a feeling that something bad was going to happen, Dad? And no one else could do anything about it except you? Like you had to act as if you were … someone else, someone stronger than you really are?”
A crease of worry separated his eyes as he searched hers. He took a deep breath and pointed at the photo still in her hands. “Do you remember what happened the day we took this?”
Julia stared at the photo, trying to call up some other image besides the one in front of her, but drew a blank. “No. Why?”
“You were five years old,” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Your mom wanted to go for a hike up this beautiful mountain trail. I resisted, saying I’d rather just go to the beach. But I couldn’t fool her. She knew I had a fear of heights, and she made fun of me, saying, ‘So Mr. High Anxiety, having a little acrophobia, are we?’ Only the word sounded more like ‘aquifer-b,’ you know? So I started teasing her about that.”
Julia laughed. They’d always tried not to make fun of her mom’s French accent, but sometimes it had been hard to resist—especially since she made fun of it herself.
Morton continued. “Anyway, I tried to explain to her that while I always had a slight fear of heights, this time I felt something stronger—a feeling that something bad would happen if we walked on that trail. She pointed out that it wasn’t all that steep, it was well marked, and she only wanted to go a short way. ‘Our neighbors in the condo next door say the view is magnifique! She poured on the charm and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I felt silly arguing about it, so we all went. It was a rainforest, thick with green leaves and vines and colorful flowers. You said, ‘It looks the way I imagine heaven!’ You asked me the Latin names of the plants, and you were frustrated that I didn’t know them all. Then you spotted a waterfall, and you ran ahead of us. I yelled at you to wait, but you were a curious little thing, and it was impossible to hold you back.”
“Rushing ahead without thinking. Sounds like me.”
He smiled, not disagreeing with her, but said, “Julia, you were five. Anyway, you turned and gave me this defiant grin and stepped onto the rocks at the top of the waterfall.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as the memory tumbled back into her consciousness. “The rocks were slick. I slipped and grabbed a rock and held on. Water went up my nose. I hated that feeling. I remember it being very high.”
“It was only about twenty-five feet to the bottom, but it was rocky enough to be deadly. Your mom, who never feared anything in her life, froze and clutched my arm. For a moment, my fear of heights held me frozen in place too. Then you started crying, and something snapped inside me. I rushed into that water, grabbed you by the back of your blouse, and hauled you out.” He chuckled, sounding nervous and shaky, as if he were reliving the experience. “Your mom ran up to us, and we all sat in the middle of the trail, hugging, until we were covered in mud. Then I stood and forced myself to look over the edge of that waterfall, facing the vertigo. Looking down at the sharp rocks below, I felt sick at the thought of what might have happened to you. We went back to the condo, showered, and went to the beach. After that, we were so grateful for your life, the rest of the day seemed perfect. We kept laughing at nothing, absolutely nothing.”
Julia smiled and touched her fingers to the glass in the frame, her hand connecting the three faces in the photo. “You saved my life, Daddy.”
“I would do anything for you.”
“Dad, I need to tell you something. I’m in some trouble.”
He chose his next words carefully. “Is it serious? Are you in real danger?”
Her nod was barely perceptible. “But not from Dr. Bertel, like Detective Alvarez told you. Or at least not in the way you might think.”
“It’s something bigger,” he said.
“You could say that.”
“Tell me.”
“Maybe we should eat something first.”
They raided the fridge, then sat down to eat at the red-and-white checked tablecloth—the one Michele hated but Morton wouldn’t give up. Julia started at the beginning. She told him everything about her research that she believed his scientific mind could accept, from Bertel’s experiments with cadaver brains to their theories about the pineal gland and returning a dead brain to life. She didn’t speak in terms of the soul but, rather, in terms of electrochemical impulses and energy.
Julia didn’t tell him that she believed Bertel was now possessed by an evil soul. She knew he’d never believe it, and she knew telling him would severely hamper the rudimentary plan forming in her mind. She had rarely lied to her father, but the import of what she was determined to do outweighed her reticence to fabricate a story. So she thought of something plausible, using almost the same story that Bertel had told her. “We were on the verge of a breakthrough before Bertel’s accident. You remember how Bertel used to work with the FBI?”
“Yes, but they washed their hands of him because he was too controversial.”
“Well, it turns out he never really stopped working with them. He just went undercover. After the accident, some very powerful competitors took advantage of the situation and stole our notes. Luckily, I kept a copy of everything on an external hard drive. It’s locked up in the safe at work. But the thing is—”
Morton cut in. “Julia, do you think these people caused Bertel’s accident?”
Julia shook off the question. “Maybe. Whatever happened, now that they have our notes—they know everything we know. So it is critical that I finish our research before they do. I have an edge, because I hadn’t finished writing down all of our progress before my notes were stolen.”
He nodded. Despite the danger, Morton’s love for research overshadowed his concern for a moment. “Right, right. But how can you do that if the lab is a crime scene?�
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“Exactly. That’s what I need to talk to you about, Dad. The experiments that I still need to do primarily require me to mix up certain drug compounds. So, really, a pharmaceutical lab like yours would do the trick. Normally I wouldn’t ask you, but … well, Dad, you understand this isn’t just about money. Some of these competitors pose a threat to …” To me? To myfamily? To the human race? “… to national security.”
He tilted his head at her. “You’re not going to use these drugs on people, right?”
“No, Daddy, of course not. I just need to mix the compounds and deliver them to the FBI for animal testing.” She held her breath. She had never been a good liar, and there were as many holes in her story as a piece of Swiss cheese.
“Okay,” he said, thoughtfully.
Julia let out her breath slowly. Apparently there are benefits to spending a lifetime as an honest, studious, overachieving nerd, she thought. On the one day you need your dad to buy your big fat lie, he does. But her thoughts were cut short with Morton’s next words.
“But let me help you.”
Julia panicked. “Oh, well, Dad, you know, I’d have to catch you up on so much, and there’s a lot of back-and-forth I’ll need to do between our previous data and the new data, lots of tweaking …”
“And your old man would just get underfoot.”
She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I know your lab is your baby.”
He held up both hands. “No. It’s just a lab. And I trust you. Just be careful, and make sure Detective Alvarez goes with you. I don’t want anything happening to you. My lab may not be my baby, but you are.”
“Great, Dad. Thanks.” She stood up and shifted from one foot to the other. “So, I guess I just need a key.”
“What, now?”
She shrugged. “This is kind of like the moment at that waterfall, Dad: no time to waste.”
“Right. Got it.”
While Morton went to get his spare key, she hurried to her room and moved the Super Taser from her small purse to her big shoulder bag. Taking a long, last look at her room, in which her childhood toys still sat in the corner, Julia suddenly felt desperately alone. She longed for her mother to tuck her into bed and kiss her forehead, like she used to do every night. She shook off the feeling and left, closing the door behind her.
She met him back in the kitchen, where he handed her the lab key. “I’m so proud of you. After that science fair, I worried you’d give up on research. I’m glad to see the fire still in you.”
The science fair! Something in her brain clicked.
“Julia? What is it?”
“Huh? Oh, I just remembered something I needed.” She ran into her bedroom, yanked open her nightstand drawer, and grabbed her old asthma inhaler. She hadn’t had an asthma attack in years, but her mother had insisted she always keep one by the bed, just in case. “Thanks, Mom,” she said softly. A sudden crash startled her. It came from the closet. She tiptoed to the closet door and stared at it for a moment, wondering if someone might be hiding inside. Then she slid it open with one violent shove. A box in the corner had fallen, the one with the materials from her science fair entry. The snake diorama had tumbled out, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. She stared at two more inhalers, which rolled to a stop right at her feet. Best not to question it. Extra inhalers might come in handy.
Her father popped his head in the door. “Julia? Is everything okay?”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “It will be, Dad. Gotta go!” She kissed him on the cheek, something she hadn’t done since before her mother died. Then she was gone.
TWENTY-FOUR
Julia exited her father’s lab and stared up at the sky. So, it really was darkest before the dawn. The thought made her realize how tired she was. She pulled out her cell phone and looked at the time. Two A.M. She’d spent the past twelve hours hunched over flasks and beakers, centrifuges and titrators, burners and shakers. She stretched her arms overhead, trying to relieve the pressure in her back. The strap of her bag rubbed against her shoulder. It was heavier than it had been when she’d arrived yesterday. She had four hours before she was supposed to meet Bertel. If she hurried home, she might be able to squeeze in three hours of sleep. She walked toward her car. That’s when she noticed: It wasn’t the only car in the lot.
She walked toward the dull silver Impala. The door opened and Jack stepped out. As he had promised earlier that day, it appeared he’d been waiting there the whole time.
“Hey Jack, I’m sorry that it took so long. But I think I did it.”
He didn’t answer but remained silent until she was just a few feet away. When he spoke, his voice sounded lower than usual, almost guttural. “I grew so bored waiting out here, I thought about breaking in and killing you. But those aren’t my orders.” With that, he aimed what looked like a gun at Julia’s chest and fired. She felt a painful jolt vibrate through her body, turning her muscles to Jell-O as she doubled over and fell forward. He grabbed her roughly, pressed a knee into her back, and handcuffed her. Then he removed the electrodes from her chest, opened the back door of his car, and pushed her onto the floor. He removed the Super Taser from her shoulder bag and threw her bag in after her.
At first she was too stunned to be scared. She was still trying to find her voice to ask what the hell was going on, when Jack leaned across her sore chest, pressed his face close to hers, and said, “Too bad Old Canon gave special orders not to touch you. You and I could have some fun. I hope you’re not saving yourself for Pierre. I’m afraid he won’t be a man much longer.” His right eye twitched as he spoke. With that, she recognized him, and her outrage overcame her fear. The Predator—the monster who had tortured the man she loved and destroyed her life a thousand years ago. The man with the half-moon scar.
Her eyes narrowed and she found the strength to speak. “Tibaut.”Jack seemed startled at being recognized. But before she could say anything else, his fist flew into her eye, shattering her thoughts in a flash of pain and white light. He taped her mouth shut. “Better not say anything else. We’re going to a party, and we don’t want two black eyes. Might make Old Canon wonder why he invited you. He says you’re smart, but I’m guessing it’s not your brains he’s after.” He winked, and when he did, Julia caught a gleam of red in his eyes. Her heart raced. How many souls had Bertel recruited already? Was she too late? He slammed the door.
As the car began to move, Julia’s head throbbed in rhythm with the engine’s vibration. As they drove, she was soon surprised to hear what sounded like several cars surrounding them. The sedan slowed to a crawl. One car honked, then another. She heard a faraway voice shouting curses through an open car window. It sounded like rush hour. She rolled onto her back and tried to look out the windows, but it was hard to see anything except the profiles of nearby cars also moving at a crawl. San Clemente streets were never that busy after two A.M., even on a weekend summer night. Maybe there was an accident ahead.
She started kicking her shackled feet against the door in hopes someone in one of the cars around her might hear her through an open window. Instead, Jack hit the brakes, leaned over the back seat, and aimed his Taser at her again. “Stop it if you don’t want another dose of hellfire from this weapon, salopeF
She stopped kicking, but when he turned back to face traffic, he continued to swear under his breath, “Putain c’est pas vrai ca, quelle merde! I thought these metal carriages would make modern life convenient—with the strength of so many horses inside such a small space. But now I think it would be faster to climb on a single horse and ride between them. Or maybe one of those.” With that, a motorcycle puttered past. She thought about what the priest had told her, of his vision of her riding on horseback, wielding lightning, saving the world.
Their slow progress only made the tension between terror and hope more unbearable. She knew each turn of the wheels beneath them was carrying her closer to death—or to some unimaginable fate worse than her demise. The longer it took, the mo
re time it also gave her to imagine Austin coming to her rescue. But what could he do? Humans with guns would be no match for Satan’s army. No, if he came, most likely they’d only make her watch them torture him too. She couldn’t bear that again.
She thought her fear couldn’t be greater when Jack uttered a thin, whistling shriek. It took her a moment to realize he was laughing, and she shivered at the evil sound. “Ah, that explains it,” he said.
She stopped breathing, wondering what he was talking about. She heard several people shouting. She strained her head upward to look out the windshield but only saw a red traffic light. She tried to rise, but her handcuffs prevented it, and she fell back in frustration.
Jack turned and looked at her again. “You can’t see much from there, can you? Let’s see if I can explain what’s happening.” He turned to stare out the windshield and gave her a blow-by-blow of the scene unfolding in the intersection. “Some don’t always take too well to the technique you gave us for soul replacement. Some are too resistant to change. Like this old man in the street warring with himself. Arms flailing, eyes bulging, mouth babbling, feet doing a funny little dance. Now it looks like he’s pouring a container of liquid over his head.”
A woman screamed, and Julia saw a brilliant glow pulsing through the windshield of the car. She heard a loud thump and felt the car shake. Then she saw him: a man engulfed in flames smashed into the hood of their car and then careened off, running past her window, howling in agony. Julia screamed, though the sound was muffled by the tape covering her mouth. Someone carrying a blanket chased after the blazing man. She heard a muffled thud as he either fell or was tackled. But she knew it was too late. She began to cry.
“That’s the third suicide I’ve seen today,” Jack said, “though I hear there have been more. Of course everyone has his own approach. The first one wasn’t nearly this entertaining. He just shot himself. The other one slit his own throat—now that was more impressive. But a living torch, that is something. Which reminds me, they’re going to have a bonfire at this party. I like a good bonfire, don’t you?”