Angels of Mercy

by Laura J Underwood

  “I read,” Katie said. Maybe more than is good for one imagination, she mused, and pushed the door open, allowing her light to spread through the gap. "And anyway, it's my job. What's the use of working in a library if you don't read?"

  Lonnie shrugged and Katie continued to let her light move around.

  Nothing. The way was clear. Katie pushed the door wider and let the flashlight beam trace down the little hall to the stairs. Lonnie’s beam followed as she trailed after Katie who stepped through the door and took a deep breath. Where are all those little critters I heard? she wondered.

  Katie slipped a hand into her pocket to put the key away, and grasped one of the bundles of nails. She took a deep breath, drew it out and thrust it towards Lonnie. “Here,” Katie said. “Just in case Tom’s right.”

  Lonnie raised an eyebrow in uncertainty, but she accepted the bundle, looking it over before shoving it into her own pocket. “Thanks,” she muttered.

  Katie crept forward, flashing her light about the passage as she descended the stairs at a cautious pace. Nothing but covered furniture greeted her. The shadows didn’t run from the light like they had before. Maybe I did imagine it, she thought. Maybe Dan was right and there was a logical explanation for all this. Like sleep walking and drifters and bad peach cobbler. I’m being ridiculous.

  “This place smells funny,” Lonnie said.

  “I don’t hear you laughing,” Katie said.

  “Literalist,” Lonnie said.

  “What does it smell like to you?” Katie asked. She had noticed a faint odor herself.

  “A graveyard,” Lonnie said.

  “Not the one here in Mercyville,” Katie said. “That place smells like magnolias and honeysuckle and fresh turned dirt.”

  “No,” Lonnie said. “This is more like the graveyards our ancestors used. The ones my grandpa showed me when I was little.”

  “It didn’t smell this way before,” Katie said. “The first time I came down here, everything smelled fresh, like someone had been keeping it clean all along. There isn’t any dust.”

  “Must be the good fairies,” Lonnie said brightly, wriggling her eyebrows. “Like that story about the shoemaker and the elves.”

  “Get real,” Katie said, but inside, she wasn’t so sure she should be scoffing. All the legends said good fairies were easily offended.

  “You’re the one handing out horseshoe nails and red thread,” Lonnie pointed out.

  “I know,” Katie said. “I just don’t think they’re up here now.”

  She cast her beam towards the desk where the lantern sat. Crossing to it, she lit the lantern and let its light flow out. Lonnie lit her lantern as well, leaving it at a distance that would expand the area of illumination. Katie sighed and turned toward the trunk.

  Her barrier had been removed. She wasn’t really surprised. If I put it back, they’ll just take it down again, she thought darkly. On the other hand, they might not find it as easy to pass a barrier bound with the red thread...

  “Hey, Katie, look at this,” Lonnie called.

  Katie turned. Lonnie had uncovered a small harp.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Lonnie said. “It looks like the one in the painting. I bet it’s worth a fortune. I didn’t know MacKenzie played the harp.”

  “You’re right,” Katie said. “That would be perfect in the display.”

  She approached the harp herself, stroking the satin finished surface with a smile, then brushed a hand over the strings. The sound that broke the silence shimmered and sent pleasant tingles across Katie’s skin.

  The wood suddenly began to glow and faint music rang from the strings. Katie jerked her hand back, and the glow followed her. Fireflies of glitter raced up her arm and across her neck, surrounding her though she tried to brush them away. She heard the tinkling of tiny bells and the warm thrum of bronze strings, and felt her wounded hand tingle while invisible fingers played over her skin.

  “My god,” Lonnie said, backing away. “Katie?”

  The glow grew bright until Katie almost couldn’t see. Vague images swirled around her, ghostly figures of men and women with pale skin and amethyst eyes. They fluttered around her, pointing and speaking, though she could not hear what they actually said. Just a faint whisper of indeterminable words ghosted through her head. At once, they drew together in a tight knot of light and raced towards the silver locket about her neck. The metal turned white as it absorbed the glitter of light. And just as swiftly, the glow was gone, leaving only the light of the lanterns. Katie blinked. The song of the bells and the harp faded to a faint hum on her ears.

  “How did you do that?” Lonnie asked.

  “As if I knew,” Katie said. She lifted her locket, giving it a suspicious glare. It felt warm in her hands, like something living had held it a while, and the motion caused her to hear those silver bells. She glanced at the harp and touched the neck once more. The wood remained normal, but she could still feel a faint static. At least, it didn’t start playing itself again. She let the locket fall. “Did you see all those... people?”

  “All I saw was a lot of light,” Lonnie said.

  “But you heard the bells?”

  “I heard the strings ringing when you touched them, but no bells,” Lonnie said. “Are you all right?”

  “But you saw the light,” Katie insisted.

  Lonnie nodded as Katie glanced at her injured hand. It was still itched slightly under the bandages. She pushed them aside, and her brows rose.

  “What?” Lonnie said.

  Katie held up her injured hand, except it was no longer an open wound. In place of the ragged cut was a thin white scar. What happened to me? That cut couldn’t have healed so fast on its own.

  “Magic,” Katie said. “It was magic.”

  “Oh,” Lonnie said.

  “What do you mean, oh?” Katie said. “Whatever was in that light healed me. That’s got to be magic!”

  “Katie, this is the twenty-first century.”

  “Yeah, and Native Americans are still preserving the old ways in spite of technology,” Katie insisted. “Your own brother still asks forgiveness of an animal’s spirit when he goes hunting.”

  “Bill was always a little loopy,” Lonnie said.

  “Lonnie, you saw the light!”

  “Yeah, but it’s dark down here, and eyes can play tricks on you when you’re afraid of the dark like I am.”

  “Look, I can prove there is more to this than meets the eye,” Katie said, and she headed for the trunk.

  “What’s in there?” Lonnie said.

  “Stairs and a cave and a tree,” Katie said. “Or at least, the roots of one with big arches in it that can’t be seen through, and a creek running around it and a drawbridge...”

  Lonnie made a face. Katie lifted the lid of the trunk and pushed it back. She seized up one of the lanterns and came back only to pause. The trunk contained piles of moldy clothing.

  “What’s going on here?” Katie growled. She reached in, jerking out sheaves of Victorian clothing and tossing them aside. “Where are the stairs?”

  She emptied the trunk to no avail. A solid bottom of oak greeted her. Snarling, she pushed and shoved against it, but it did not move. In desperation, she shoved the trunk away from the wall. A stone floor sat under it. No sign of a hole.

  “This can’t be happening!” she said. “There was an opening here! Stairs! A tunnel leading down into a cave!

  Lonnie stood back, looking uncertain. “Katie,” she said.

  “Lonnie, I swear to you, there were stairs here!”

  “It’s okay, Katie,” Lonnie said. “I know you’re not crazy.”

  “No, there were stairs, and it led down to a cave where I let down a drawbridge and found a tree with two arches in it, and when I touched the tree with my cut hand, the dark gate must have opened and released the Unseelie, and now they’re running loose.”

  “Katie, maybe you fell asleep down here that day,” Lonnie insisted.

 
“But you saw the light! You heard the harp!”

  Lonnie shrugged. “Look, I don’t really like places like this. I get a little wacky in basements because I’ve never liked the dark. I could have imagined it. So could you. They say hysteria can be contagious.”

  “But the library was a mess this morning. We didn’t imagine that.”

  “No, but you did tell me that Dan thought the vandals might be drifters.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Katie said. “I know what I saw, and neither you nor Dan is going to convince me this is all some bad dream!”

  Lonnie shrugged. “I’m going back upstairs, Katie. This place really is giving me the creeps.”

  “All right, go on,” Katie said, casting an angry glare at the trunk. “I’ll figure this out for myself.”

  Lonnie turned. “I’ll leave the lantern,” she said and headed for the stairs. “Don’t stay down here too long. It’s not good for your mind.”

  Katie nodded and glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty now. The library closed at seven tonight, but Katie wasn’t sure she wanted to be down here that late herself, especially now that it looked like she was really alone. She waited until Lonnie was out of the sub cellar before she focused on the trunk.

  “All right,” she said. “Two can play this game.”

  She drew the skein of embroidery thread and the rest of the loose horseshoe nails from her pocket. Pushing the trunk back to its original place, she wrapped the red thread back and forth across the lid, and stuck horseshoe nails into the keyhole for good measure. She scattered the rest on top of the trunk and on the floor around it.

  “Cross that,” she muttered. She still had a few of the bundles left in her pocket for her own protection.

  Katie worked her way around the sub cellar after that. The harp was a good idea for the display. And some of the clothes would be nice. She found other smaller trunks, more Victorian by nature. They housed a wealth of mundane items. A top hat, carved walking sticks, a tartan sash. Durgan wanted a display, and he would get one. She piled items aside to carry up. She’d have to get Henry and Bud to haul that glass-front cabinet out of storage, as it would make a perfect case with the addition of some of those tack on strip lights. Surely someone in town had a clothes dummy.

  She was pretty well satisfied that her job would be completed by tomorrow by the time she stopped digging around. It was nearly six now. Time to get out of this hole and go on home.

  Katie was disappointed that it had been so quiet. She had hoped for another confrontation with the Unseelie, if only to prove that this wasn’t a bad dream. Obviously, the “Host” were not in the mood to oblige her.

  She took one last look at the trunk, tied in red string. It looked pretty ordinary now. Sneering at it, Katie headed for the stairs. Time to go home. She made her way to the lockers and collected her purse.

  Lonnie was at the front desk, waiting, and with her was Dan. Their private exchange broke up at Katie’s arrival. Dan took a deep breath, looking like a man unwilling to stick his hand in the lion’s mouth to retrieve his priceless ring.

  “Katie,” he said.

  “Quiet,” Katie said. “This is a library, remember?” She started for the main door. Dan quickly followed, actually racing to get to the door first so he could hold it for her. She cast him a dubious look and stepped outside. The sun was angling towards the horizon. Just a few hours and it would be dark.

  Dan was suddenly at her side.

  “Katie,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry, but...”

  “But what?” she said, realizing she was still dangerously close to losing her temper with him.

  “Why don’t you take a few days off, and I’ll get Uncle to let me have some leave, and we’ll go somewhere. The beach or something. Get away from this insane place.”

  “Like Durgan’s really going to let me off with this display coming up,” she said. “And what would I do at the beach? Look for mermaids and selkies?”

  “Katie, this is getting ridiculous,” he said. “I mean, you’re pushing yourself for no reason.”

  “I’m just trying to prove that I’m not crazy when I say something is terribly wrong around here.”

  “I know,” he said. “I just...I don’t know how to handle it when you’re like this.”

  “Like what? Hostile? Crazy?”

  “You’re not crazy,” he insisted. “I just think you’re letting your imagination get the better of you. Living alone and in a place like this, I can’t say as I blame you, but…”

  “Dan, don’t waste your breath,” she said. “In the first place, I don’t live alone. I have Sally to keep me company. And I know what I saw. I know what just happened down in the basement. I may well be the only person in this whole town whose mind is open enough to accept what’s happening and try to do something about it. Granted, I know some of this is getting farfetched. I’m not pleased to have to be the only person other than Crazy Tom who thinks we’re being pestered by the Sluagh. If you don’t want to believe, that’s fine. Just be careful. Here.”

  She reached into her pocket, pulled out one of the packets of horseshoes and red thread, and handed it to him.

  “Keep this with you at all times, and maybe the Host will leave you alone tonight,” she said. “Now, I gotta go home and get ready just in case the blue guy comes around with another marriage proposal.”

  “Marriage proposal?” Dan frowned. “The prowler proposed to you?”

  “In my dreams,” she said, flicking her head and heading for the back of the library where her truck was parked. “But you don’t believe in my dreams any more than you believe what I saw for real, so what does it matter?”

  “Wait, Katie, I don’t like what this sounds like,” he insisted.

  “What does it sound like?” she asked, slowly walking backwards. The sun hit the statues behind him, giving the lead angel’s sword a fiery glow.

  “Like we’re quits.” Dan face darkened with a frown.

  “Your choice, Dan,” she said. “All relationships have to be a compromise or they end in a fight.”

  She turned and hurried on at a swifter pace, not wanting him to see the look on her face. Her stomach had knotted at the very suggestion. Dan had always been the only thing worth staying in this town for, but if he was willing to end the relationship they had shared, then what reason did she have for staying in Mercyville?

  He didn’t come after her as she made her way into the parking lot. She crawled into the truck, starting the engine, fighting the knot in her throat. Damn it all, why now when she needed him to support her, did he have to go making suggestions that they might call it quits?

  She threw gravel as she lurched out of the parking lot and headed out into the town square. Dan was no longer there.

  SEVEN

  The drive from town normally took Katie twenty minutes on a good day. She purposely slowed down tonight, hoping to give herself enough time to fight off the tension of wanting to cry. Between Dan’s words and everything else that had happened up to now, she felt she had every right to vent tears, but she hated the idea of having to explain red eyes and a swollen nose to poor Sally who would insist on hearing every detail and offering a shoulder of sympathy. So Katie concentrated on turning the sorrow to anger by thinking about everything that had riled her up until now.

  God, she couldn’t believe they all refused to accept what was happening. Dan thought she was overreacting and Lonnie was too scared of the dark to admit she had seen anything. Not that Katie’s credibility had been helped by that trunk having a real bottom. How did they do that? The why was certainly obvious. To keep others from reaching the cave and maybe figuring a way to pull up the drawbridge again. Faeries couldn’t cross running water.

  Of course, a lot of good it would do to destroy their bridge if some of them were already out and about. Katie had a feeling not all of them returned to the trunk to escape the daylight. They could be hiding in any of the shadowy hollows, in stumps and trees and barns. And ca
ves. There were plenty of those about. All they needed were a couple of blackthorn or hawthorn trees, or a nice hill with a cave inside, and they would be set.

  “And I am starting to think like a lunatic,” she muttered. She wondered if Tom’s madness was contagious? After all, he was partially to blame here. He was the one who gave them the key. Why?

  “Because it must be so,” she murmured angrily.

  What had he meant by that? When he called her the keeper of the key, he must have known then that Durgan was going to assign her to setting up the display. But how could he have known that? How could Tom have known Durgan would select Katie to do the dirty work? Durgan could have picked anyone—Lonnie or Charlotte was just as likely a candidate as several other staff members since like Katie, they were merely paraprofessionals. They both worked more hours than Katie. Charlotte had been here longer. And there were other workers, pages and desk assistants. There were only two professionals on the staff at the TLM Memorial Library, not including Durgan. And it wasn’t like business was so hyper in this small town that Durgan couldn’t spare a professional.

  But would a professional have found the things Katie did? Would a professional have gone into those stygian depths alone? Not likely.

  Katie shook her head. “Why me?” she said. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

  It just didn’t make any sense.

  The fence posts of the drive way loomed. Katie sighed and turned the truck through them. Her gaze drifted towards the pond, and for a moment, she swore she saw a dark shape dive under the surface filmed over by algae.

  “Must be a snapping turtle in that pond,” she muttered. She ignored it, drove on up the hill and pulled into the space before her house. Quickly, she checked her face in the rearview mirror. She looked careworn, but not teary-eyed. Good. She started to draw back when the mirror revealed an ominous shape rising from the bed of the pickup, a ragged humpback creature.

  Katie shrieked, reaching for the tire iron under her seat and locking the truck doors.

  The shaggy apparition turned out to be a stadium blanket with a green tartan pattern. It slid back revealing a quizzical look in verdant eyes that peered through the back window of the truck. Tom blinked, then smiled.