by Nathan Roden
The Great Red Beast clenched his fists. He stretched himself to his full height and roared with an intensity that shook the room. Light bulbs shattered. Picture frames crashed to the floor. The Beast’s demon minion cowered in silence in the corners of the room.
“REYGAR!!!” Tara screamed again.
“REYGAR! Prince of DEATH!”
The Beast roared again. His eyes burned with flame, and spittle flew from his mouth.
“Silence! How dare you speak my—?
“BIND THE LITTLE WITCH, WELLMORE!!”
Tara’s eyes returned to normal. They locked onto the Beast’s face in a glare of pure hatred. Electricity continued to crackle around her. Sebastian latched his hand onto Tara’s arm. Tara turned and looked into Sebastian’s eyes. He squeezed with all of his might, even as terror gripped him.
With a deep growl, Tara slung her arm. Sebastian Wellmore flew across the room. His back crashed into the hearth, just to the side of the fireplace. He fell to his knees. He put his hand on the back of his head and stared at the hand in horror when he saw it covered in blood.
“Seize the little girl, Sebastian!” the Beast taunted.
Sebastian scowled and climbed to his feet.
He did not get far.
Tara threw up her hand. Sebastian was thrown back against the wall.
He strained to move.
“Let. Me—!”
Tara twisted her hand. Sebastian screamed. His jaw was twisted toward the ceiling. His hands were pinned to his sides.
Tara bent the wrist of her extended hand. She raised her other hand. One of Sebastian’s hands rose at the same time.
With her right hand, Tara gripped the little finger of her left hand.
“No!” Sebastian shouted. “NO!”
Tara jerked backward on her little finger. At the same time, the little finger of Sebastian’s hand jerked all the way to the back of his forearm with an audible crack! Sebastian screamed.
“Worthless humans!” the Beast cried out. He started toward Tara. Tara dropped her hands, and Sebastian Wellmore slid to the floor.
Tara tilted her head to one side. She threw a hand toward the fireplace. The logs burst into flame.
“Ha, ha!” the Beast said. “You, too, possess the love of fire! Perfect! You will fit in so well with us, Tara! How overjoyed you must be to have found your true family! To have discovered your destiny! When we have achieved—”
Tara interrupted him.
“Evil is much more effective when it is SILENT!”
Tara moved her hand. The fire leaped from the fireplace onto the Beast, engulfing him in flames. As he screamed, Tara crashed through the window. She landed and rolled into the wet grass. She ran through the raging storm, and into the night.
The flames around Reygar died out. He crossed the floor to where Sebastian Wellmore lay—crying. He held onto his destroyed finger and howled in agony.
“Get up!” Reygar screamed. “She’s getting away!”
Sebastian climbed clumsily to his feet.
“Let the crazy witch go! We don’t need her! The McFadden girl has everything we need—without the fear of—”
“NO!” Reygar screamed. He drew himself to his full height and lifted his chin. “Do not speak to me of fear! Fear is my weapon! This girl—she has everything! Such power! Such delicious anger! If Alistair Wellmore had possessed such power, we would have ruled the earth to this very day! I must have her! Bring her to me!”
“You are insane!” Sebastian screamed as his worthless finger fell from his grasp. Pain shot through his entire body. He was so angry that he refused to acknowledge the pain.
“Insanity is reserved for the weakness of flesh!” Reygar screamed back at Sebastian.
“Get her yourself then, Reygar!” Sebastian roared.
Reygar swung his immense fist at Sebastian’s head. Sebastian ducked.
Sebastian and Reygar looked on, dumbfounded when Reygar’s fist broke apart the mantle and most of the stone fireplace.
“What magic possesses this child?” Reygar whispered to no one.
He began to laugh.
“Her mere presence has freed me from the dungeon! And my strength—my rage— is made manifest in the physical world!”
“Forget the McFadden girl, Wellmore! Bring this Tara to me!”
“Get out of my study,” Sebastian said. He walked to his bathroom. He took a roll of tape from his medicine chest and gingerly taped his ruined little finger to his ring finger.
“Find her, Wellmore!” Reygar continued to rage.
“I said, get out of my study!” Sebastian screamed.
“And take your entourage of filth with you! I’ll not do another thing with you breathing down my neck!”
Reygar stormed across the room as he screamed obscenities, but he faded out before Sebastian’s eyes.
Sebastian fell into his desk chair. He took several deep breaths. He turned on his computer and went to a genealogy website. He drummed his fingers on the desk. He considered doing a search to find a list of Holly McFadden’s relatives. But even if that information was available, it would be something he would have to pay for. That would leave a dangerous trail in cyberspace, in spite of all the precautions he had taken to provide himself anonymity.
He took a cell phone from his desk drawer and placed a call.
“Good day, Mr. Merchant. I need some rather simple information. The person whose name I gave to you—I would like to know of any possible relationship to a particular teen-aged girl. Age between fifteen and eighteen. First name Tara. T-a-r-a. Thank you.”
The phone rang twenty minutes later.
“Yes, Mr. Merchant,” Sebastian answered.
“Please listen to me carefully, my friend,” Mr. Merchant said. “We have had a successful business relationship in the past. I have asked no questions of you, and I do not intend to do so now. But, this latest request has gone beyond the limits of reason, Sir. The search brought me dangerously close to a high-security government firewall. Such a secure area likely belongs to the military. I was forced to burn a software pathway that has served me well for quite some time. I am afraid that I must dissolve our working relationship at this point.”
Sebastian swore under his breath.
“Did you get the name?”
“I got the name. And there will be no charge for it. But do not contact me again. The girl’s surname is Jamison.”
Fourteen
Wylie Westerhouse
Outside of St. Louis, Missouri
Toby started barking when I turned onto our street.
“We’re almost home, Buddy,” I said.
I barked along with him.
“I know! I can smell my own pee from here, too!”
I only lie to Toby on special occasions—like when we come home after a long time away.
I laughed at Toby while he ran around the back yard and reacquainted himself with his favorite places. We went inside and I checked every room. It occurred to me that I was doing the same thing that Toby had done—except for the peeing part, of course. Quentin Lynchburg is my landlord now and he wouldn’t appreciate that at all.
I had let Nate take the lead on the drive home from St. Louis. It was relaxing to just keep my eyes on the bumper of his car. Well, it was relaxing until I heard the siren behind me. I pulled over to the shoulder. Nate did a U-turn and circled back on the other side of the divided highway.
We weren’t speeding. We had no need to.
Two Missouri State troopers smiled through my window. One of them was my old pal, Trooper Headley. He had given me a warning ticket on this same stretch of highway not all that long ago. Trooper Headley was holding something at his side. It kind of looked like a riding crop. He must have noticed the puzzled look on my face.
“It’s a ‘selfie-stick’, Mr. Westerhouse. How has everything been goin’?”
“Just great, Officer Headley.”
Nate parked across the highway and jogged over.
&nb
sp; “What’s the problem?” Nate asked.
“No problem, Son,” Officer Headley said. “Are you a friend of Wylie’s?”
“Nate’s my best friend, Officer Headley,” I said. “He’s also the drummer in our band.”
Officer Headley held out his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Nate. Cory Headley. This is my partner, Tater Wells.”
“Jonathan,” the other Trooper said. “Jonathan Wells.”
“He eats French fries with every meal,” Officer Headley said. “Even with cold cereal. He ain’t right.”
“Maybe I should tell ‘em your nickname, Fuzzy—”
“That’ll be enough out of you, Rookie!” Headley said. “Unless you feel like walking back to the station.”
Officer Wells blushed.
“Rachel came in the living room screaming just two nights ago,” Headley said. He looked at Nate.
“Rachel is my daughter. I got a couple of autographs from Wylie a while back.”
Nate nodded.
“Me and Becky followed Rachel to her room, and there you were—right there on her TV,” Officer Headley said.
“I was on TV?” I asked. I couldn’t think of any reason that I would be on TV. The last I heard, the meltdown at my initial press conference had been buried, and all the film footage was bought up by Skyler’s legal team.
“Of course, you were on TV,” Headley said. “You’ve got a new music video out.”
He looked at Nate, who was shrugging his shoulders.
“There’s a new music video—you and Skyler KwyK in the studio, singing together,” Headley said.
“That is one beautiful song, my friend. And one reeeeeealy beautiful young lady. I gave Rachel your autograph. She framed it and put it on her wall. I thought the girl was gonna turn herself inside out when she saw you on TV!”
I looked at Nate and shrugged.
“I didn’t hear anything about a video,” I said.
“Me either.”
“I thought I saw your little car a few miles back there, so I ran your plates,” Headley said. He held up the selfie-stick.
“Do you think we could get a couple of pictures? Rachel will think she died and went to heaven. She might also think she has the coolest Dad in town—which ain’t exactly easy when Dad’s a cop.”
“How old is Rachel?” I asked.
“Fifteen.”
“Are you in a big hurry, Nate?” I asked.
“Nope.”
He looked at his watch.
“We have sixty-eight hours left. You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?”
I smiled and nodded.
“We both are.”
We followed Trooper Headley for about five miles and turned into the high school parking lot.
“I called ahead to the office,” Headley said. “She has study hall for the next….twenty minutes.”
He pointed.
“That building right there.”
I started walking in that direction.
“Hey, what about your dog?” Headley asked.
“Well, I can’t take him inside the school.”
Officer Headley hooked his thumbs in his pockets and thrust out his chest.
“Says who?”
“I’ve got him, Wyles,” Nate said.
I stepped through the door. A young man—probably a teacher’s aide—sat behind the desk at the front of the classroom. He leaned back in his chair and had his feet on top of the desk. He was reading a paperback and chewing on a straw.
“Where might I find Miss Rachel Headley?” I asked.
There were about twenty kids in the room. Half of them were sleeping with their heads on their desks. Four girls sat together.
“Oh, my God!” they squealed, all at the same time.
Three of the girls pointed at the other one. I held my hand out to Rachel. She took my hand and stood up. I twirled her around once and dipped her in dramatic fashion. And then we all posed while Trooper Headley and his partner took a couple hundred pictures. I made sure to make a fuss over Nate and the fact that he was a big star. I kissed Rachel on the cheek and tried to exit. But Nate and I wound up having to kiss the rest of the girls on their cheeks, so it took just a little longer.
It was another good day.
Nate and I stopped for gas and a soda. My phone rang. It was Skyler.
“I think it might have messed up,” she said.
Oh, no, I thought. Things have been going so well lately.
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you telling me that you haven’t heard?” Skyler asked. “Do you not listen to the radio at all?”
“Not very much. Toby and I like to listen to audio-books. They’re very soothing, especially on long drives. Why? Has everyone decided that our song sucks? In the last two days?”
“Hardly. You really don’t know, then?”
“What is it, Skyler? We’re not even home yet.”
“Chris dropped ‘Like a Bullet’”, she said.
“He dropped—what does that mean, exactly? Did he drop it from the album? Why would he—?”
I felt sick all of a sudden.
“No, he didn’t drop it from the album, Silly,” Skyler said. “He released it to radio.”
“What?” He can do that?”
“Of course, he can do that,” Skyler said. “It’s in your contract—just like it’s in my contract.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Well, congratulations,” Skyler said.
“Thanks. Is it getting any airplay?”
“Oh, just a little,” Skyler said.
“That’s awesome. I’ll call you later, Sky. Nate and I need to get rolling.”
“You broke into the top ten in the country last night, Wylie—ahead of our duet. And ahead of my single.”
Holy crap.
“Are you yanking my—?”
“Chris has been getting calls from people who want to expand the U.S. Tour,” Skyler said. “He’s getting calls from Europe, too—from promoters interested in booking shows over there.”
“I don’t know what to say, Skyler. I owe everything to you.”
“No, you don’t. The only thing I did was to know a star when I saw one. Your success is your success, Wylie. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”
“I…”
“Yes?” Skyler said.
“You’re the best, Skyler. When I get back—I’m springing for ice cream for everybody. All you can eat.”
She laughed.
“I’ll hold you to that. Chris said to tell you that he talked to our accountant. He wants to know if you want to sign up with him. Apparently, a certain young singer is going to earn out his advance on royalties in record time, and will soon be in need of expert financial advice.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Sign me up. As soon as possible.”
“So, are you about ready to take on the world, Pop Star?” Skyler asked.
“It feels good to go home for a couple of days. But we’ll be charged up and ready on Monday. Top ten, huh?”
“Top ten—with a bullet,” Skyler said.
“Like a Bullet—with a bullet.”
“Have a good time,” Skyler says. “And drive carefully.”
“Will do, Mom.”
“Can you hear what I’m doing with my hand? Because I can turn it up.”
“See you on Monday,” I said.
Nate came back from the restroom.
“Okay. All emptied out and ready for another hundred and fifty miles. You ready to roll?”
“Just about,” I said. “Have a seat for a sec.”
Nate coaxed Toby into the back seat and sat down in the front seat while I scanned radio stations.
“Hey, when did you get satellite radio? I’m jelly.”
“Quentin must have told his mechanic to do that,” I said. “I hardly know how to use it.”
It didn’t take long to find the song. Hey, it’s in the top-ten, remember?
Nate
looked at me with his eyes wide and his jaw open.
“What?….when did..?”
“Chris released it to radio two days ago,” I said. I held up my fist.
“You are part of a top-ten single, my friend.”
Nate bumped my fist.
“No way,” he said.
“What do you mean, no w—?”
“It’s the drums, of course,” Nate said. “Just listen to those drums, would you?”
“Those are some good drums—”
“Good? Good drums?” Nate said. “Those are most excellent drums! I love those drums! I love that drummer! I want to have that drummer’s babies!”
Toby started barking. He had no idea what Nate was squealing about. I turned around and looked at Toby.
“I know, right?” I said to Toby. “He’s squeeing like a little girl.”
I turned off the radio and pushed Nate’s shoulder.
“You probably need to go pee again. We’re not going to stop every twenty minutes because you have to pee.”
“I’ll be right back,” Nate said.
Fifteen
Adrian Crane
London, England
Adrian Crane leaned back in his office chair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He felt the pain medication reach his brain, at last.
He had made arrangements that day with one of the most exclusive surgeons in Europe. After that, he traveled to the office of a high-ranking official in the local school system. He told that man of the costs involved, and the man immediately balked. Crane argued and made an array of threats.
“I’ll not only sue the school district, I’ll name you personally!”
“But, I’ll never be able to sell this course of action to the Trustees,” the man said. “These fees you have quoted me are beyond outrageous!”
“Would this be your reaction if it was your body that was facing permanent damage?” Crane asked.