Night Moves Page 4

  I had the feeling Phoebe’s story wasn’t over. “What else?”

  She looked down at the floor. “Jon said he was going after her if he saw her again. He wanted to talk to her and find out what she wanted. Thinks he’s one of those ghost hunters on TV.” Phoebe closed her eyes, fighting back tears. “So today, I find out that he’s in the hospital. Something clawed him up—and took his eyes.”

  Chiara gasped, and I straightened. Phoebe’s tale had taken a dark turn I didn’t expect. “Where?” I asked, wondering why my cop friends hadn’t clued me in.

  “Hadley,” she replied. “We’re all spread out. I’m in Cochranton, he’s in Hadley, Scott’s in Meadville, Kayla’s in Conneaut Lake—she’s how we found Crystal Dreams. And Carl lives in Harmonsburg.”

  Spread out and from blink-and-you’ll-miss-them tiny little towns. They were lucky to find each other, although a predator had just used that bond against them, and it made my blood boil. And if Jon’s incident happened in Hadley, then that explained why I hadn’t heard. I’m not cozy with the cops in that area. Shit.

  “You said that Jon ‘knows about these things.’ Is he your game master?” I thought maybe she meant that Jon ran the role-playing game or watched a lot of monster hunting shows on TV.

  “Jon sees ghosts,” Phoebe confessed, then gave me a glare that defied me to challenge her. Suddenly, the missing piece fell into place.

  “Okay. And do the rest of you have…gifts?”

  She let out a long breath. “Yeah. I get flashes of things before they happen. Carl has dreams that come true. Scott can move things without touching them, sometimes. And Kayla picks up on what people are thinking without them saying anything.” Phoebe looked away. “People think we’re the weird kids because we play RPGs. We are so much weirder than that.”

  My heart went out to Phoebe. Growing up in a small town could be great—if you fit in. But if you didn’t, it was hell.

  “Do any of you have any training on how to use your gifts?” I asked.

  Phoebe snorted. “You mean, besides the RPG manuals and what we’ve picked up from Buffy and Supernatural? No. Because no one would believe us. And if they did, our families would never speak to us again.”

  She was probably right on both counts. But that meant five young adults with untrained paranormal abilities fending for themselves and learning on the fly. Not only were they likely to hurt themselves or somebody else by accident, but that kind of ability is a beacon to certain types of monsters. As Jon had already discovered.

  “How about the rest of you? What are you doing to stay safe?” I’d figure out what to do about Jon later.

  She gave me an “are-you-kidding?” look. “Besides not chasing that…thing…into the woods?” Phoebe drew her legs up and hugged her knees. She looked closer to twelve than twenty-something. “We have a meeting tonight at Carl’s. Until then, I told everyone to wear any silver jewelry they could find and put a salt line down at the windows and doors.”

  “You did good,” Chiara said, and Phoebe looked up uncertainly, glancing from one of us to the other. “I mean it. Not everything you see on TV is true, but the best shows are based on good lore. And in this case, silver and salt are some of the most powerful ways you can protect yourselves.”

  “Do you all live alone?” I asked. “I know you’re spread out, and you’ve probably got jobs near where you live, but is there any way you could buddy-up until I have a chance to catch this ‘woman in white’?” I suspected that the monster was more than that, but I needed to do a little research to bear that out.

  “Maybe. Yeah. I mean, it’s a little more gas money, but it wouldn’t be forever.”

  “You’ll be safer together,” I said. “And that means doing your best not to be alone.” I paused because my next question was going to sound strange. “Is there any way you could get me into the hospital to talk to Jon?”

  I saw suspicion on Phoebe’s face. “Why? Why do you care about any of this? Who are you?”

  “I hunt monsters.”

  The skepticism in her expression didn’t surprise me. I would have been worried if she hadn’t looked at me like I was crazy.

  “For real? You’re messing with me. Nobody does that.”

  “I do. For real. Started after a wendigo killed most of my family. And I’m not the only hunter out there. So if you and your friends can tell me everything you know about this ‘woman in white,’ I’ll do my damnedest to stop her. I can’t undo what happened to Jon, but I can do everything in my power to keep her from hurting the rest of you—or anyone else.”

  I could tell Phoebe was having an internal argument, and then finally, she nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I can get you in to see Jon, and I’ll call the gang over here tonight so you can talk to everyone at once. And I’ll make sure we all buddy up.” Giving Phoebe a role to play and something concrete to do seemed to make a world of difference. She sniffed back more tears and sat up. “We’ll tell you everything.”

  “Thank you.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Let me know when you want to head over to the hospital.”

  She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up. I’m a wreck.” Phoebe headed to the bathroom, leaving Chiara and me alone.

  “Shit. That’s bad,” I said.

  Chiara nodded. “She came to me because she didn’t know who else to tell. She figured I’d believe her because of all the New Age books we stock and some of the things I’ve said. And if her group is a little psychic, maybe she sensed the coven was safe here, even if she didn’t actually know they were witches.”

  “It blows my theory,” I replied, getting up and starting to pace. “I thought someone might be screwing around with the coven—hurt feelings, jealousy, that sort of thing. But Phoebe’s gang aren’t part of the coven—they aren’t even witches—and someone’s targeting them.”

  “You don’t know for sure that it’s connected.”

  “I don’t know for sure that it isn’t.” I needed to call Father Leo, but before that, I needed intel. “As soon as you can get away from the store, can you please dig up anything you can about what happened to Jon, and any reports of a woman in white?”

  She nodded. “Happy to help. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. While you’re at it…look up lamias.”

  Chiara crooked an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure thing. Just to be sure, why don’t you ask your buddy, too?”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” I pulled out my phone and called my back-up lore expert. “Hey, Simon. I need to know everything you can tell me…”

  4

  I followed Phoebe to the hospital. We parked near each other and headed inside. I let Phoebe take the lead and hung back when we reached the room and several people were inside.

  “Hello, Phoebe.” A tired-looking dark-haired woman looked up from her seat next to the bed. “Come on in.” She glanced at me with a puzzled expression.

  “This is Mr. Sheeran. He was one of our math teachers in high school,” Phoebe improvised, and I wondered when all aliases had become pop music references. Jon’s mother didn’t seem to notice. “He wanted to stop in and wish Jon well.”

  Jon’s mother nodded. “That’s very nice of you,” she said, smiling at me. She glanced at Phoebe. “Since you’re here, do you mind if I dash down to the cafeteria and bring up a sandwich? Jon’s on medication, so I don’t imagine he’d notice I’m gone, but I don’t like to leave him alone.”

  “Of course,” Phoebe said. “We’ll be here.”

  Once we were alone, Phoebe turned to Jon. She took his hand, and I could see tears welling up. I couldn’t blame her. Jon was a tall, slender boy with dark hair and a pale complexion. Ugly bruises extended beyond the edges of large surgical dressings covering his wounds, and a gauze bandage wrapped around his head where his eyes should have been.

  “Jon, if you can hear me, this man hunts monsters. He’s going to help. Can you tell me anything about the woman in white?”

&n
bsp; “Two.” The whisper was almost too quiet to hear. “Two.”

  “Two ghosts?” Phoebe pressed, leaning closer. Jon gave a barely-detectable head shake.

  “Two creatures?” I tried. That got a slight nod.

  “Snake.”

  I felt a chill go down my spine. Asking Chiara and Simon to look into lamias had been a hunch, because of the eyes. Now, I was afraid I was right. And I wasn’t completely sure how to kill one.

  “Thank you, Jon,” I whispered. “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep your friends safe.”

  I stepped back, and Phoebe took over, chatting up Jon with well-wishes from their friend group and the latest celebrity gossip. I felt sick over what the monster had done to Jon. Killing the lamia and stopping the woman in white wouldn’t give him back what they’d taken from him. I promised myself I’d channel that anger into determination to get the job done.

  When Jon’s mother returned, Phoebe and I said our good-byes and left. I sent her off to Kayla’s apartment with a promise to see her and the rest of their gang at six. I said I’d bring pizza and pop, an extra enticement for them to show up. Then I headed to see Father Leo.

  “Glad you came by, Mark.” He greeted me at the rectory door. The small house wasn’t plush, but it was big enough for a single guy, especially since I figured it came furnished as part of the payoff for having to be celibate. Father Leo was a couple of years older than me, so just shy of forty, with a youthful face framed by wavy brown hair. In contrast, I looked every bit as Polish as I was, with blond hair, green eyes, and a stocky build that came from generations of farmers.

  “I wish it was a social call, Padre,” I replied as I followed him into the kitchen. The parish housekeeper must have left a meatloaf for him in the oven, and I saw a tray of freshly-baked cookies. I don’t know how he managed to stay thin, given how many homemade desserts seemed to go with the job.

  “There’s time for that at the next poker game. What’s up?” We settled at the table with coffee and cookies, and I felt guilty for the small comforts.

  “Stop that,” Father Leo said as if he read my mind. Then again, I’m predictable. PTSD and survivor guilt out the wazoo, with a depression chaser. “You can’t stop every bad thing from happening. We’re here to do what we can, where we can. It’s all the Lord asks of us.”

  I stopped believing in divine intervention when that wendigo slaughtered the people I loved, but that’s an old argument between me and the Padre, best held over a bottle of Jack.

  “We’ve got a woman in white and a lamia, and there’s a kid in the hospital without his eyes because of it.”

  Father Leo winced at that. He has a big heart, even though he can be a total badass in a fight. “Tell me.”

  I’d gotten through most of the story when my phone rang, and just as I was about to pick up Chiara’s call, Simon’s number also came up. “Let me put this on three-way speakerphone, and that way I don’t have to relay everything,” I said, then fumbled my phone and had to call everyone back. I’m much more at home on a rack under a V-8 engine.

  Finally, I had everyone together. “What do you have for me?” I asked, as Father Leo poured us both fresh cups of coffee and slid the tray of cookies over to me.

  “Plenty of legends about a woman in white,” Chiara led off. “Usually seen by young men in a remote location. She appears to be in distress, and when they go to help, she disappears. Sometimes, she’s a ghostly hitchhiker who gets into the car on a deserted side road, gives an address where she wants to be dropped off, but vanishes before the car stops—and usually, the address turns out to be a cemetery or an abandoned house.”

  “Either way, the woman in white is bad luck.” Simon Kincaide picked up the tale. He’s got a Ph.D. and used to be a professor, but now he runs a ghost tour shop down in Myrtle Beach and does hunter research on the side. “Usually a death omen, or at least a harbinger of disaster.”

  “Jon said ‘two,’” I mused aloud. “I thought he meant two lamias, but maybe he meant the woman in white and the lamia—two creatures.”

  “The ghostly woman might have shown up as a warning,” Father Leo said. “After all, a disaster did happen for that poor young man.”

  “Well, that’s one of the big questions, isn’t it?” I replied. “Is the woman in white hostile, and is she working with the lamia, or are they unrelated?”

  “I think Father Leo’s onto something,” Chiara put in. “Jon interpreted her appearance to mean he should chase her into the woods. But maybe she was trying to warn him to stay away.”

  Fucking ghosts. Always playing charades. “You’d think ghosts could come with subtitles,” I muttered. “What about the lamia?”

  “That’s the weird part,” Simon said. “There’ve been woman in white sightings all over Pennsylvania for years. But lamias? They’re more common in Europe. I only found a couple of hunter reports over the last ten years, and they were in Greece and Italy. Although there was one spotted in New York City around the turn of the last century. So having one show up in your neck of the woods is very strange.”

  “Could it be summoned?” I asked, exchanging a glance with Father Leo. I was sure he also thought about Smith and Jones and their conspiracy theory.

  “Theoretically, anything can be summoned,” Chiara replied. “It would take a lot of power, and you’d probably need ritual items.”

  “Could a witch do it?” I asked, thinking of how prickly Linda had been.

  “Maybe,” Simon allowed. Static over the speakerphone almost drowned out his next few words. “Or a creature with magical ability. Not all things that can do magic are witches.”

  “How likely is it that the lamia showed up randomly, or that someone summoned it by accident?” I had too many loose ends and no way to tie them together.

  “Slim to none,” Chiara said.

  “Agreed.” Simon sounded worried. “You can’t rule out relics. Someone of middling power might be able to bring a lamia across if they had a powerful relic or were in a location that magnifies power.”

  “See, this is what I hate about fuckin’ magic,” I grumbled. “Too many variables. How do we stop the woman in white, and kill the lamia?”

  “Unless you did a salt and burn on her grave, stopping the woman in white isn’t likely,” Simon replied, as a siren in the background carried over the connection. “And she hasn’t actually done any harm. She might have been trying to warn the group. You said they had minor abilities.”

  “Yeah, that’s the other thing that makes me nervous,” I admitted. “What if they were targeted by the lamia because of their talents? Some creatures feed on psychic energy.”

  “Some accounts of the lamia say it’s a vampire,” Chiara said. “But no one knew Phoebe’s gang has powers. They don’t even know how to use them. Why go after them with a big-ass monster when there’s a local coven to feed on?”

  “And why would the coven send a monster after them?” Father Leo jumped in. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Which brings us back to Tom and Jerry’s theory about ‘outside actors.’” I hated to admit the dynamic duo might have a point, but it looked more and more that way.

  “Who?” Simon asked.

  “Never mind,” Leo replied with a glare. I shrugged and reached for a cookie.

  “Back to destroying the lamia,” I asked over a mouthful of snickerdoodle. “What do we need?”

  “It depends on the legend,” Chiara answered. “Can’t go wrong with a blessed silver knife. They’re also supposed to be easily distracted by mirrors, and they like shiny objects.”

  “You can also throw a mix of rosemary and salt at them and then set them on fire,” Simon volunteered, as the connection cleared, making him sound like he was in the room with us, not in Myrtle Beach. “That’ll take care of most things, including a roast chicken.”

  “Funny. Anything else?” I had too many questions and not enough answers, and in my business, that could get people killed. But I trusted S
imon and Chiara; if they couldn’t find it, the lore wasn’t out there.

  “I had a vision, right before you called the first time,” Simon said. He’s a psychic medium, and his abilities are real. “I saw an abandoned swimming pool and a large white snake. No idea what it means, but take it for what it’s worth and…be careful. Let me know what happens.” He dropped off the call, leaving just the three of us.

  “I’ll pick up pizza and pop and head over to the store so we can meet up with the rest of Phoebe’s gang. I just need to run an errand first.”

  “See you then,” Chiara agreed and clicked off.

  “You want to go after the lamia tonight.” Father Leo was good at decoding my bullshit.

  “Getting a blessed silver knife isn’t a problem,” I replied. “I know a guy.”

  Leo rolled his eyes. “Mark—”

  Leo knew me better than most people, so he had to know I cracked wise when I was nervous. I’d never be able to get the image of Jon’s bandaged face out of my mind, and no matter how our hunt went, we couldn’t replace what had been taken from him. That made me want to kick a little lamia ass and find out whether or not the lamia acted on its own.

  “I’ll pick up some rosemary, and I have plenty of salt. I’ve got a couple of ideas on some other things that might come in handy,” I said. “I’ll call you after I meet with Phoebe’s gang, and if we’ve got a clue about where the lamia might be, I vote for finishing that son of a bitch tonight.”

  “All right,” Leo said. “My budget committee ends at seven. Let me know where and when. I’ll bring blessed silver and some holy water.” I nodded my agreement, as I finished my coffee and grabbed another snickerdoodle for the road.

  I had a couple of hours before I had to meet up with Phoebe’s group, and a list of items I needed for the hunt. I picked up three extra-large containers of rosemary at Walmart and went through the self-checkout to avoid questions. I bought pool salt by the forty-pound bag and had plenty of gasoline back at my cabin, along with cases of empty whiskey and wine bottles to make Molotov cocktails.