A Deep and Dark December

  Graham stepped forward with his jacket. “Here.”

  “Thank you.” Erin took the jacket and bundled her father into it. “Better?”

  Donald smoothed his hair back from his face.

  “Where’s Auntie? What do the doctors say?”

  Donald blinked at Erin for a moment, then pointed to a door. Erin glanced back and forth between the door and her dad.

  “I’ll stay with him,” Graham offered. “How about some coffee, Donald? I bet there’s a machine in the waiting room.” To Erin he said, “We’ll wait for you in there.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to go see her aunt.

  Graham clapped Donald on the back. “How about that coffee?”

  Donald followed alongside Graham. They found a machine in the waiting area that dribbled out weak-looking dredge. It tasted worse than it looked, but Graham drank it anyway. He sat in companionable silence with Donald, each of them absorbed in their thoughts.

  Erin had mentioned her father’s and aunt’s troubles with their abilities, but the condition Donald was in had an eerie familiarity that made Graham think of his mother. He cast a look at Donald who sat staring into his untouched coffee, pulling at a tuft of hair over his ear. Graham reached over and lowered the man’s hand. Donald looked at him with eyes the same color as Erin’s and in their depths he saw an emptiness that cast chills over his skin. Would this happen to Erin?

  Graham got up and looked down the hall. He’d promised Erin he’d stay with Donald, but all he wanted to do was go out and do something, anything that would bring all of this to an end. And he wanted Erin so bad he could hardly breathe when she was near.

  He liked her too. She challenged him in ways he’d never been tested. She was different around him, more direct. She stood toe to toe with him and gave as good as she got. She was so freakin’ beautiful, sometimes he had to blink twice just to make sure she was real. And someone or something was messing with her and her family.

  Graham jammed his hands in his pockets and looked back at Donald. Maybe he’d know what was happening. He went to the man and sank back down in the chair next to him.

  “Donald?”

  Donald turned his head toward him with eyebrows raised.

  “Do you know what’s happening? To you? To Cerie?”

  “Happening?” Donald looked at Graham, his gaze fixed and unfocused. But wait. Graham could see it. A spark. A fire burning deep and fierce.

  No. Not vacant.

  Trapped.

  Trapped within his own mind.

  Erin sat at her aunt’s bedside, holding the hand that had wiped her tears, braided her hair, and waved to her from their front porch everyday as she came home from school. She didn’t know what she and her father would have done without Aunt Cerie. She’d come into their lives and everything that lay between Erin and her father had been put to rest.

  Her parents’ growing arguments had dotted Erin’s days and nights with paralyzing dread, relieved only by bouts of guilt. She’d lie in her bed night after night, listening, knowing what was going to happen and unable to stop it. She’d seen it. Late one night, two months shy of her eighth birthday, Erin had awoken to the muffled sound of her parents’ shouting. When the startling, terrifying silence came, she curled into a ball, squeezing her eyes shut. She knew her father was standing in the open doorway, watching her mother’s taillights fade into the distance. He’d cried. Erin hadn’t.

  Aunt Cerie had arrived a few days later and had never left. And now here she was in a hospital bed, her eyes jittering back and forth beneath her eyelids, her breath catching and hitching in her chest. She owed her aunt so much. Cerie let out a fretful sound, the kind a frightened child makes, and her hand jerked from Erin’s. The alarm on the machine next to the bed suddenly went off, jolting Erin to her feet.

  Erin did the only thing she could think of, she gripped Cerie’s hand and reached out with her mind, not knowing if her aunt could hear her or not. I’m here, Auntie. It’s okay. I’m right here. Everything’s going to be all right.

  After a moment, Cerie settled in the bed, but her eyes still darted back and forth beneath her eyelids.

  A frazzled-looking nurse bustled in and pressed a few buttons, putting an end to the noise of the machine. She flipped through papers on a clipboard. “Looks like we’ll have to increase her dosage,” she said.

  “Dosage of what? What’s wrong with my aunt?” Erin asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

  “I’ll send the doctor in to talk with you. He’s just finishing up with another patient.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you okay?” The nurse asked, pointing to her own nose. “You’re bleeding.”

  Startled, Erin touched a finger to her nostril and it came away red. It was getting worse.

  “Here.” She handed Erin a box of tissues. “You better sit down. Apply pressure. Don’t tilt your head back.”

  Erin did as instructed. “Thank you,” she mumbled around a wad of tissues.

  “I’ll send the doctor in to speak with you shortly.”

  Erin continued her silent ramblings, which seemed to soothe Cerie considerably. She wasn’t as agitated as she’d been when Erin first arrived. Erin focused her thoughts, keeping them positive. After a few moments, her nose stopped bleeding so she went into the bathroom to clean up. When she came out, a doctor was at her aunt’s bedside, listening to her chest.

  He looked up as Erin came into the room. “Hello. I’m Doctor Frost.” He took the stethoscope out of his ears and slung it around his neck, then gently raised Cerie’s eyelids, shining a light back and forth.

  “I’m her niece, Erin.”

  “Can you tell me about what’s been happening with your aunt?”

  What could Erin say? That her aunt was a mind reader? That someone was messing with her ability? All of their abilities. That her aunt didn’t have the same defenses as she and her father and that’s why she was so affected? “She’s been having severe head pain off and on.”

  “When she came in, she was nonresponsive.” He flipped up the blanket covering Cerie’s feet, took out a wheelie thing and rolled it over her the contours of her foot. “She’s not responding to pain. Has she had an accident? Maybe a fall?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “Is she on any medication, prescription or otherwise?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Does she have a history of migraines or high blood pressure? Seizures? Mental disorders?”

  “No. None of those. She’s always been healthy.”

  The doctor felt her aunt’s scalp, her neck. “No signs of trauma. I want to run some tests. Mostly neurological.”

  Erin didn’t ask what the doctor was looking for. There was nothing in this hospital that could help her aunt. “Is she…suffering?”

  He straightened and looked at Erin. “We’ve got her under sedation. She was quite agitated when she first arrived.”

  “But is she in any pain?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure. She’s not responding to the medication as she should, so I’ve prescribed a higher dose sedative. I’m concerned about her heart. Is there a history in your family of heart disease or high blood pressure?”

  “No. What’s wrong with her heart?”

  “Her blood pressure is elevated. We’ve given her some medication to help bring it down, but again, it isn’t having the effect it should. Can you think of anything that could have caused this? Any changes in her life or lifestyle?”

  “Sorry. No.”

  He nodded and consulted the chart he held in his hand. He scribbled down some notes, then flipped it shut and headed for the door. “We’ll keep a close eye on your aunt.”

  “Thank you.” Erin watched the doctor leave, then turned to her aunt. “You’ve got to calm down, Auntie. You heard the doctor.” She slipped Cerie’s hand into her own. “I don’t know what’s happening to you… to us, but I’m going to find out.”

  Her aunt shifte
d in the bed.

  “Graham’s here. He knows, Auntie. He knows all about my ability. I’m helping him find out what’s happening.”

  Cerie’s body stiffened and her heart rate went wild on the monitor.

  “Auntie, please calm down. It’s all right. Everything’s going to be okay.” Erin flicked a nervous glance from her aunt to the monitor and back again. She didn’t know what she’d do without her aunt. Worry crawled inside her and weaved its web, wrapping her chest in tight bands. Erin couldn’t lose her. She wouldn’t lose her. She’d do whatever it took to stop whoever was doing this to them. Whatever it took.

  ~*~

  Graham stared into Donald’s eyes, chilled by what he saw. Donald was there, but inaccessible, as though he was looking at Graham from the bottom of a deep, dark pit.

  “Tell me what’s happening to you,” Graham said.

  Donald’s gaze held firm as though he was trying to convey something he couldn’t with words. “Happening,” he repeated.

  “He won’t tell you anything,” a voice said from behind him. Graham spun around to see Mabel, standing in the doorway. She made her way toward them, her eyes on Donald. There was a softness in the look she gave him and an extra sway in her step. “He hasn’t been able to do much more than repeat words or phrases for days now.” She settled into the chair next to Donald and patted his shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” Graham asked.

  Mabel smoothed the hair that Donald had plucked at back down over his ear. “Erin and I have been taking turns looking after Donald and Cerie.” She turned her cunning gaze on Graham, brows raised. “I could ask you the same question, Sheriff.”

  “What do you make of Donald’s and Cerie’s…conditions?” he asked, avoiding Mabel’s question, at the same time, feeling disrespectful talking about Donald as if he weren’t sitting inches away.

  “I think…” She stopped Donald from reaching up to pull at his hair again and twined his fingers in hers. “They’re in trouble.”

  Graham had to tread carefully here, unsure how much Mabel knew about the December family’s abilities especially Erin’s. “How so?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She leaned across Donald and whispered, “Evil’s taken up residence in San Rey.”

  “What do you mean, evil?”

  “Witches,” she breathed.

  “Witches.” He pressed his lips flat to keep from laughing out loud. Was she serious?

  “It’s the only explanation. They’ve put a spell on San Rey. All the crimes…the murder…you can’t tell me that’s not the work of sinister beings.”

  Graham sat back in his chair. She was dead serious. Witches. “Is that why half the town has horse shoes tacked to their front doors?”

  “Witch repellant.”

  “Well, it’s not working. And just how did the town come to believe witches are causing all the problems?”

  Mabel’s gaze slunk to the corner of the room. “Everyone knows Samhain is their high holiday.”

  “Mabel,” he began to admonish, then decided against it. Let the town’s people believe what they wanted. It wasn’t like he had a better explanation for what was happening. “You haven’t seen the witches, have you?”

  She scooted to the edge of her chair, her full focus back on Graham. “As a matter of fact—”

  “Mabel.” Erin approached them. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

  Jumping to her feet, Mabel dropped Donald’s hand as though it was a live grenade. “Of course, dear.” She approached Erin, a blush blooming from her chin to her hair. “Have you seen Cerie?” She wiped her hands on her hips. “Of course you have. How’s she doing?”

  Graham stood, too, with the growing realization that Mabel, the most gossipy woman on the planet, had a secret she didn’t want revealed. Interesting.

  Erin crossed her arms, rubbing herself as though she were cold. “She’s sedated. They’re going to run some tests on her.”

  “Does the doctor know how to help her?” Mabel asked.

  “He thinks it might be some kind of neurological problem.” She hitched her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Erin looked so lost, so alone. Graham wanted to go to her and put his arms around her, but not with Mabel the Mouth standing right next to them. What was building between him and Erin was too fragile, too new. He felt an overwhelming need to protect it, to protect her. She’d only just broken up with Keith a few short hours ago. The gossips would spin that against Erin and she didn’t deserve any more of their hate.

  “Witches,” Mabel whispered behind her hand to Graham.

  “It’s late. Why don’t I take you and your father home?” he asked Erin.

  “I don’t know.” Erin’s gaze roamed the room. “Someone should stay with my aunt.”

  “You should go home, dear,” Mabel said. “Get some rest. Cerie wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick over her. I’ll take Donald in to see Cerie and then home and to bed.”

  “Good idea,” Graham said, looking to Erin for agreement.

  Erin mulled the suggestion over, then nodded. “All right.”

  Erin said her goodbyes and they were on their way. She was silent on the elevator ride down to the parking garage and as they made their way to Graham’s car. He helped her in and then slid into the driver’s seat.

  Erin spoke as they hit the freeway. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  He jerked the wheel, nearly crashing into the car next to them.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” she finished in a rush.

  Her face was turned away from him so he couldn’t be sure of what exactly she was asking. He adjusted his hands on the wheel and swallowed hard. “If you want me to.”

  “I—” She shook her head. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  After a moment of quiet in which a thousand questions bounced off the inside of his head, he asked, “Could someone be…doing this to you and your family?” As far fetched as it seemed it was the only possible explanation as to what was happening.

  “I think that’s a strong possibility. The attacks—and that’s the only way I can describe them—feel deliberate, targeted. Controlled.”

  He could only nod. He was so far outside the realm of his experience here. He’d been trained to think in black and white, absolutes, tangibles. What was happening to Erin and her family was anything but that. He let the thought that a person could be responsible for the attacks—as Erin had called them—flow through him. His mind wanted to reject it, but the more he considered it the more possible it seemed.

  She picked at the seam of her jeans. It made a tick, tick sound like the countdown of a clock. They drove farther, leaving the stars and the moon behind them, the night sky blackening as they drew closer to the coast. The storm brewing over the open water would be upon them well before morning came. Cold warning licked up his spine. He repositioned his hands on the wheel, resisting the urge to fold Erin’s hand into his. Things were about to get a lot worse before they got better. This town was seriously fucking with him. He’d never had premonitions before—didn’t believe in them—but he couldn’t seem to stop the rumbling sensation of a boulder full of bad shit barreling their way.

  “He’s targeting our specific abilities,” she said, her voice hollow. She startled a glance out of him and he found her watching him, as though judging how much more he could take. “Turning up the volume,” she continued. “So Aunt Cerie hears every thought of every person around her as though they were screaming. A constant, never ending barrage of noise. I don’t know how much more she can take.

  “And my dad… he’s losing the ability to communicate. Not just putting thoughts into people’s heads, but verbalizing. He’s slipping away. From life, from reality...”

  “From you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many people know about your power? I mean really know.”

  “We call them abilities,” she corrected. “They’re a skill, not a tool.”


  “Ability, then. Who knows about them?”

  “My dad, my aunt, you…my mom.”

  He remembered the gossip around town about Colleen December. And when she’d walked out on her husband and child. Her name, whispered like a curse, had been on everyone’s lips. Even now, years later, her name sparked hushed conversations and shaking heads. Instead of putting the blame where it laid—on Erin’s mother—the talk turned toward Erin and speculation that there must be something wrong with her or else her mother never would’ve left and not looked back.

  “When was the last time you spoke to your mother?”

  “Doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t be involved.”

  Graham pondered her strange choice of words—wouldn’t be involved. “Maybe she told someone.”

  “She doesn’t tell people about me.”

  That surprised him. He wanted to know more but she was already changing the subject.

  “I’ve worked really hard my whole life to keep my ability a secret.”

  “Even from friends and boyfriends?”

  “Until recently it’s been an easy secret to keep. I had control over the visions or at least control over when and what I saw. Now they come at me out of nowhere and it’s getting harder for me to climb out of them.”

  “So you can call up a vision about a particular person or event. Specifically?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “All I have to do is concentrate on a person, decide if I want to see the past or the future, and then bam, I see it.”

  Did she have visions about him? Did she know about what had happened in L.A.? He wanted to ask, but didn’t really want to know the answer. Something else nagged at him. “Do the people you have visions about know? I mean, can they feel it?”

  “Not as far as I know.” But he could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

  The obvious question lay between them so he asked it, “Can you call up Deidre’s murderer again, maybe see his face this time so we know who we’re dealing with?”

  “No.”

  “No, as in you tried and couldn’t or no, you won’t?”

  “I tried, but there’s a…block. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know who he is so I can’t access the vision that way. When I tried going back to the day of Deidre’s murder there’s nothing to grab onto. It’s blacked out.”