Haunt My Heart

by Medley, Lisa

  Sarah was afraid to discuss too much with Tanner in the car, even though she didn’t have anything to hide. Or at least she didn’t think she did—except Tanner’s odd state of existence, which at the moment seemed ridiculous to even consider. Other than his offered explanation and that one instance of seeing him shimmer the first night they’d met, there’d been no indication he was anything other than one hundred percent solid human. His warm hand in hers was proof of that. For all she knew, that shimmer could have been a trick of the firelight, her trauma and exhaustion from the night before taking its toll.

  Thinking of that led her straight down the squirrel path in her mind to their night together. Or few hours, if she wanted to get technical. She’d had the best sex of her life with a virtual stranger and was now a prisoner with her supposed ghost lover in the back of a Men-in-Black car being taken to a secret government location.

  Yeah. That seemed about right.

  What she wouldn’t give to have Ellie here right now. She’d have this mess sorted in no time. Sarah fingered the chain around her throat. The ring bounced against her chest under her T-shirt.

  Tanner leaned in against her neck and whispered. “Don’t lose that ring. No matter what. If you keep the ring, I’ll be near.”

  Sarah pursed her lips and pulled in a breath through her nose, watching the agents for any sign they’d heard. Neither made any indication.

  When the car approached a Fort Knoxesque security gate, the gravity of their predicament ratcheted up. This was happening. She feared that whatever this was would soon get a whole lot more intense. She wondered if she’d ever see Bitly or her little apartment again.

  *

  Sarah sat in a windowless room somewhere inside the basement of the NSA offices. Agents Sykes and Falkner had led them through a labyrinth of hallways and past dozens of cube farms and walled offices, which buzzed with the beehive efficiency of busy people. The hum of hundreds, maybe thousands, of servers somewhere near permeated the air, lending to the hive atmosphere. At the last moment, the agents escorted Sarah to one room and Tanner to another. She’d never been so scared in her life. Ever.

  Certain she was under electronic observation, she resisted the urge to finger the necklace. She’d already grown accustomed to sliding the ring along the chain for solace. The slight warmth it still generated against her skin spread across her chest, giving her some comfort. There had been no frisking or pat down, which was a little surprising, really. Once Tanner and Sarah passed through the gate with the two agents, the swiping of the agents’ badges got them all past each additional security door, no problem.

  Still, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling her every move was being watched. No need drawing attention to herself or the ring. Maybe her luck would hold as long as she held the talisman. She prayed Tanner was so fortunate. The question was—which of them was the NSA most interested in, and why?

  She pressed her hands to her lap to steady their constant trembling and sat with her head bowed for maybe fifteen—or a thousand—minutes. She didn’t know, not daring to retrieve her phone from her pocket to see. The sooner this was all over and she was back home, the better.

  A quick rap on the door snapped her head to attention and her focus lasered onto Agent Sykes as he stepped through, two Starbucks cups balanced in one of his meaty hands and a notebook in the other. Her notebook.

  “Sorry for the delay. Things don’t really come alive around here until after eight a.m. Lots of paperwork to turn in.” Agent Sykes sat one of the coffee cups in front of her. “There should be some pastries coming around soon. You’re probably hungry.”

  Sarah shook her head no, but her stomach betrayed her by growling at the mere mention of food. The coffee would help fill her nervous stomach, but it probably wouldn’t do much for her worried mind or trembling body.

  She wrapped both hands around the cup and brought it to her lips. “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing.” Agent Sykes attempted a casual smile that didn’t quite work and eased back in the chair.

  “Is this an interrogation room, Agent Sykes?” Sarah asked.

  Agent Sykes laid her notebook on the table and spread his hand across its face. “Something like that. You can just call me Sykes, or Jim if you’d feel more comfortable.”

  “Being home would make me feel more comfortable. You have my computer. Why am I here? And where’s Tanner?”

  Sykes tapped the notebook. “Tell me about this.”

  “I’m sorry. What does my notebook have to do with Candace or Tanner or any of this?”

  “None of this is about Candace. In fact, we haven’t been able to determine why the FBI might want your computer. Fill us in. Save us some legwork and you’ll be home by dinnertime.”

  Sarah took a long drink of her hot coffee and tried to untangle her thoughts as it made its way to her stomach. Nothing made any sort of sense. She wasn’t accustomed to telling lies. It just wasn’t in her nature, which was why calling in sick hadn’t even occurred to her. It had been Ellie’s suggestion. The only way out of this situation was through it. She jumped in with both feet and prayed for the best possible outcome.

  “Candace Day is my boss at Rappahannock Reveals Web Arts. I called in sick today and my coworker told me that the FBI was at the office. Candace had been taken into custody and was being charged with cyber theft, among other things. My coworker told me the FBI wanted my computer, and I needed to turn it in. I was going to bring it by this morning. But you two showed up in the middle of the night for it instead. Except now you’re telling me that’s not why you came at all and now I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Sykes nodded toward the notebook. “What is your interest in the Brothers of Peril?”

  Sarah nearly spat out her next drink of coffee. “That’s what this is all about? An urban legend?”

  “You have quite a few pages of transcriptions in this notebook as well as on your laptop. There haven’t been too many folks even interested in the BOP, let alone spend the money for the flash drive and take the initiative to attempt any real decoding. Yet you have. And quite well, I might add.” He smiled again, this time a bit more convincingly than the last.

  Tiny synapses fired in Sarah’s exhausted brain at last. “BOP? Your badge said ‘BOPD’? You’re an agent of the Brothers of Peril Division? That’s a thing?”

  The twitch at the corner of Sykes’ eye betrayed his irritation. “Yeah. It’s a thing. A very important thing, as a matter of fact.”

  Snap. Snap. Snap. More pieces fell into place. “You spied on me with the flash drive. You turned on my webcam and literally spied on me while I worked on the code. You…”

  The full gravity of the spying in question became clear. The webcam must have turned on the second she’d plugged in the flash drive and opened the files, activating the worm. The webcam was most likely on for hours. They would have seen and heard…everything.

  Sykes cleared his throat and averted his eyes. Sarah felt a blush overtake her. She rose abruptly from the chair, which screeched across the floor like nails on a chalk board. “You had no right!”

  “We have every right, Ms. Knight. It’s what we do here. Gather intel and break codes. A rather simple mission, actually. Except this particular code is so well or oddly encrypted we haven’t gotten any further than you have. Neither has anyone else. It seems your companion might have some insight into that, however. How well do you know Mr. Dawson?”

  Sarah’s blood pressure had to be sky high. Between the stress of being stuck in this room in some X-Files basement where no one—and she meant no one—would ever even guess to look for her, two spies and God only knew how many more had heard and possibly watched her have sex. She’d just inadvertently made a sex tape.

  Good God.

  What in the world could Tanner be telling them next door? If he was just next door. They’d taken her into a room first so she hadn’t actually seen where he’d ended up. Sarah only assumed he’d been taken nearby for convenience, if
nothing else.

  “Again, Ms. Knight. Why the interest in the BOP?”

  “I like puzzles. I write code for a living. Which you probably already know. I took a few cryptology classes in college. When I saw the book and found out about the flash, I thought, what the heck?”

  “And how long have you known Mr. Dawson? How did you meet? Exactly.”

  “We’ve been corresponding for a while. He approached me first. Last night was only our second in-person meeting.” Sarah paced along the side of the long rectangular table.

  “I see,” Sykes said, clasping his hands in his lap and steepling his index fingers in silent judgment. “We found some of your conversation with Mr. Dawson puzzling. Perhaps it lacked context. And his clothing? Can you explain his odd period dress?”

  Here she was. At the corner of Truth and Crazy Talk. Even if these guys were some sort of X-Files agents, there was no way she was going to start spreading her crazy around. She had no idea what Tanner was saying to Agent Falkner or whoever was playing good-cop/bad-cop on his end of things. Generally she liked to follow the rules. It was coded in her very DNA, but this was so clearly an example of a situation where the truth would most assuredly not set her free but more likely dig her a deep, deep hole.

  Ellie would believe everything she had to say on the matter. These two were not Ellie.

  Sarah swallowed hard.

  Lie.

  Now was the time to throw Tanner under the bus and get out of here. She didn’t even really know him. Except she had known him. Intimately. Only a few hours earlier, and every nerve and cell of her body told her there was much, much more to him than met the eye or touch so far. He needed her. He’d told her as much.

  Her heart squeezed, two sizes too small in her chest, and she went for broke.

  “He’s an actor. He volunteers and participates in Civil War reenactments at Chatham and around the area. We…I…like the uniform.” Sarah’s blush confirmed what her words could not, even though her embarrassment was in the lie, not the admission of a fictional fetish.

  Sykes coughed and gave her a skeptical glance before rediscovering the design on the front of her notebook. His wheels were clearly turning.

  “What do you know of the Brothers of Peril, Ms. Knight?”

  “Only what I’ve read. They were supposedly a secret sect of the Masons who manipulated supernatural elements to affect the outcomes of wars and military actions during the Civil War. Crazy, right?”

  “Indeed. Except it’s my job to prove otherwise. Do you know what a government could do with power like that? What a government would give to have an advantage like that in war… or peace for that matter? And it’s a power we had. But that tool was lost when the key to the grimoire was lost as well. We want that key, Ms. Knight.”

  “Well I don’t have it. The first part was pretty easy to figure out. Surely you’ve gotten that far.”

  “Of course. Your Mr. Dawson seemed to indicate he might know a bit more than that. Unfortunately, our—communication—went black before we discovered if that was indeed the case. Did Mr. Dawson give you any further indication or suggest in any way he could decode the second translation during your time or correspondence with him?”

  At least this one, she could answer truthfully. He’d said he was the key all right, but they hadn’t gotten around to discussing it much before things between them had ignited. At this point, she didn’t know any more about the decoding situation than the agents did. Unless Tanner was singing a different tune down the hall. Something told her he was not.

  “Honestly, I have no idea about any further decoding or keys. You have everything I worked on as well as my computer and frankly, my curiosity on the matter is quashed. As far as I can see, I haven’t broken any laws and unless you have criminal charges to press against me, I want to go home. If you’re not going to let me go home, I want a lawyer. Now.”

  Sarah crossed her arms to keep her hands from trembling in front of Agent Sykes. That one speech had used up her remaining courage. The only card she knew to play at this point was the lawyer card. She meant it. There was no way she’d done anything wrong. They couldn’t hold her here—at least not legally. She wasn’t a terrorist and this wasn’t the supernatural version of Guantanamo Bay.

  She hoped.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tanner was fading fast. In the few short hours he’d spent away from Sarah and her sustaining energy, his form had deteriorated. Agent Falkner hadn’t seemed to take notice yet. The agent’s preoccupation with Sarah’s notebook had frustrated his negotiations with Tanner.

  “This is all bullshit without the key. We want the key, Dawson.” Agent Falkner punctuated his demand with a resounding pound of his fist on the table.

  Amateur.

  Agent Falkner had given no indication he was indeed an inducted member of the Brothers of Peril, let alone a Mason. All could have been alleviated if he were indeed a member of the Brotherhood with the stamp of his Peril ring. The agent had not even asked about the ring and didn’t don one, himself. The Masons had secret handshakes and such, but the Brothers of Peril was a level beyond that.

  When covered in ink and rolled along a parchment, the dragons engraved along the sides of his own ring merged to form two words—the Brotherhood’s own secret code as it were.

  Pericula noctis: peril of night.

  To be answered with, numerus signorum: untold wonders.

  Any true member, and certainly any member of the upper echelon worthy of further discussion, would know such a thing. Agent Falkner had failed to mention the ring or any substantiation of membership.

  What Agent Falkner knew of the book was really no more than what was available to the general public. What he did seem to know was that the book was valuable. And it was. In righteous and worthy hands, it was the most valuable text in existence. A supernatural Holy Grail. Thus far, Tanner held no confidence that these two men or this organization were either righteous or worthy.

  “We’ve done some checking on you, Mr. Dawson. Since you have no identification with you and you refuse to answer our questions, we’ve had to be…creative. Ms. Knight has been more than helpful so far. Much more so than you have been.”

  Agent Falkner reached for a silver case at his feet and placed it on the table between them. Two locks clicked simultaneously as he pressed them with his thumbs. The lid popped open slightly.

  “A quick search of Ms. Knight’s apartment by one our associates found this correspondence. Is this yours, Mr. Dawson? You do go by Tanner, yes?” Agent Falkner fanned Tanner’s letters to Sarah on top of the growing pile of ‘evidence’ on the table. “Ms. Knight says you’ve been stalking her. Have to say, these letters do come off a bit stalky. And the thing is we can’t seem to find you in the system anywhere. No social. No birth record. No passport. Nothing. It’s like you’re a ghost. Yet here you are. Paperless and filled with mystery. Weird, huh?”

  Tanner didn’t answer. In his heart, he knew Agent Falkner was trying to spread misgiving and doubt to prejudice him against Sarah. She was stronger than this. He’d seen the evidence of her strength time and again over the past two weeks and was certain she could understand the gravity of the situation, if not entirely what was at stake. They’d made a connection. In a physical way, yes, but something more had sparked between them. She only needed to hold on long enough to realize it. Long enough for the curse to be broken.

  Tanner sat stoic and at attention, unyielding in action or word. He’d spent an eternity locked in a black Hell. This room? This interrogation was nothing compared to that. This agent held no power over him. Not compared to what Sylvia had manifested. Agent Falkner, from every indication thus far, appeared a human with no supernatural qualities, and if he was as ignorant to the ways of the Brothers of Peril as he seemed, the agent was about to get the shock of his life.

  Agent Falkner paced the room, clearly recalculating his approach. The man’s demeanor was not consistent with a military discipline, seeming mor
e athletic than militant, but with a clear ax to grind nonetheless. His physical form was his most imposing weapon, and one he’d clearly relied upon heavily in the past. When that failed, he tried to prove himself again and project respect and authority. Instead he exhibited his desperation. Tanner almost felt sorry for him.

  A shiver slithered down Tanner’s spine seconds before he felt his form slipping back to the ether from which he’d been cursed. Losing his corporeal form little by little, he studied his hands, rubbing at his ink-covered fingertips. A man had collected a pressing of his prints by rolling Tanner’s finger pads along thick paper. For what reason, he had no idea. Tanner spread his fingers wide as he rested his hand on the table, the papers below quickly becoming visible through his flesh. He felt a slow smile stretch across his face.

  The interview was over.

  The look on Agent Falkner’s visage when he turned to address Tanner with his latest barrage of accusations and threats slipped into shock, and then fear as Tanner faded out of corporeality. While he hadn’t witnessed much of the actual decline with his back turned to him, what he had seen was just enough for Agent Falkner to have time for some serious soul searching before trying to explain what had happened.

  Tanner chuckled. This development was the only bright spot of the past few hours. He passed through the closed door to go in search of Sarah. He’d thought to drain Falkner’s energy to improve his condition, but keeping an eye on Sarah and working toward an escape from this facility would be much easier if no one could see him. He knew she was still nearby because his tether had yet to snap him back to its source. She wouldn’t be able to see him now that he’d faded, but at least he could make sure she was safe.

  And continue to protect her.

  *

  “What the hell, Falkner?” Agent Sykes jumped to his feet, gun drawn within seconds of Agent Falkner crashing through the door of Sarah’s interrogation room.

  Falkner’s formerly cool façade was gone. He stalked across the room and pressed his face inches from Sarah’s. “Where is he?”