And now, hours later, it was over.
Cup of coffee in hand, Livia stood outside the interrogation room. Her wrist was bandaged and she had stitches sewn into the deep gash on her forehead. She and Egan had taken a nasty tumble into the street, and they both had the bruises to show it.
“This is one long hell of a day,” Egan muttered, leaning against the wall beside Liv. “Or, is it night, yet? I can’t keep things straight in my mind.”
Shrugging, Livia yawned. “I think it’s heading toward night again.”
“At least we caught a few winks at the emergency room. I napped while you were being stitched up.” Egan leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
“Yes, and I laid my head down and snoozed while you were being checked out. Get this—I even fell asleep while they were stitching my head wound.”
Egan laughed. “At least it’s something.”
Livia took a sip of the lukewarm liquid and cringed. “Can a girl get a hot cup of coffee around here? It’s not like we didn’t just go up against a witch and a lunatic.”
“Thatta girl. Stand up for what’s right,” Egan said, clapping.
Livia laughed. It was weak, and less than jovial, but it was all she had in her. She wanted her bed more than ever. Her bed, and the safety and warmth of Danvers’ arms.
With a sigh, she watched as he came around the corner, heading straight to her and Egan.
No lingering gazes. No tenderness. He overlooked Livia and spoke directly to Egan.
She winced, remembering how coldly she’d treated him, standing before the burning morgue.
“Turns out the victims you saved are all drug users,” he said. “They all got blood tests over at the hospital.”
“So, what?” Egan countered, folding her arms across her chest.
“So, the department wants to shove this incident aside as a drug deal gone wrong.”
Egan frowned. “Can the department get anymore stupid? We told you what happened. Doesn’t our word mean anything?”
Danvers winced. “Well,” he said, shoving a manila folder into her arms. “This young gal…” He gestured toward the interrogation room. “We caught her across town trying to steal a T.V. She’s a junkie. She didn’t give us much but she let it slip she’d been abducted by Renner. Get on in there. Question the only witness who’s not in ICU and give me something to go on.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Egan said, rolling her eyes.
Livia found herself looking down at Danvers' shoes, too afraid to face the fact that she probably blew it. It didn’t matter, anyway. But, it still stung her heart how he avoided even taking a glimpse at her.
And, it’s my fault.
When he turned to walk away, she risked a glance. Their eyes met and it felt as if all the air in the room was sucked away. A split second crushed her doubts, nearly bringing tears to her eyes.
He loved her. It was written all over his face. He wanted to protect her and care for her, and for the first time she realized just how desperately she craved those things.
She stood there, holding her breath, as he gave her a slight nod and walked away. She watched him, anxious to pull out her phone and send him an apology via text. She hadn’t meant to shut him out when she saw him last.
No. She knew better. She needed to apologize in person, and the urge to do so right then was overwhelming.
“Coming?” Egan said, breaking Livia from her thoughts.
Amends would have to wait.
“Yeah,” she said, and turned to Egan who had her hands on her hips.
“Can you believe that nonsense? Drug deal gone wrong, my ass!”
Livia shook her head. “I know. It’s dumb. But, let’s see what we can find out.”
Together, they entered the interrogation room where one young woman sat alone behind the long metal desk.
She looked awful. The young woman had messy purple hair streaked with traces of her natural blonde color. Her blue eyes were sunken and bloodshot, with dark circles around them. Her arms were covered with needle marks. She looked as though she had several shots of espresso and had been awake for days.
“So,” Egan began, looking over the information in the folder. “Emma. Tell us what happened?”
Emma shrugged and rubbed her face. “I don’t know. They took us weeks ago. They kept us drugged, and did things I’d never seen or heard of. Freaky shit. I wish I could just forget it all.”
“No, don’t forget. Try to remember more. We want to help you,” Livia said, softly. “Help us so that they never hurt anyone ever again.”
Emma looked at her, digging at her exposed arms. They were riddled with rashes and open wounds from incessant scratching.
“I told you I don’t know. When can I go home?”
“I think we’re done. Danvers?” Egan called to the lieutenant.
A few seconds later the door opened. A uniformed officer strode in. He helped Emma to her feet and escorted her from the room.
Egan and Livia shared a look. Egan gave her a nod, as if saying…you know what to do. Seek out the victim’s minds. Reach out to the ICU ward.
With that, Livia searched the minds of each victim, searching for things they didn’t even know their subconscious minds harbored.
And, each one turned up the same results.
Their minds were blank slates, erased of all recollection of anything that could help their investigation.
Livia turned to Egan and shook her head.
“Nothing?”
“Their minds are wiped.” Livia flattened her palms on the interrogation table. She blew out her breath. “What next?”
“I guess we go see Rion. Maybe he has something to add to the puzzle.”
They got up, headed outside, and made their way to Rion’s office.
Once they’d arrived at the OCME building, and trekked upstairs, Egan pushed her way inside, and sat on his swivel chair.
“Hi, ladies.” Rion flashed a smile at Livia and an even brighter smile at Egan.
“Hey, Rion,” Livia said.
“Go on, Liv. Let’s make it quick and get out of here. I am about to pass out from exhaustion,” Egan said, spinning around in the chair, her long legs outstretched before her.
“Everything okay?” Rion asked.
Livia yawned again.
“Not really,” she grumbled. “Hey, what can you tell us about this?”
Livia had drawn a picture of the tree and the triangle she’d seen on the door that led to the pentagram.
Rion took it from her hands and clicked his tongue. “Wow. I know what this is.”
“Spit it out,” Egan said, still spinning.
He handed the picture back to Livia. “It’s ancient, from the Cypress Coven.”
Egan stopped abruptly. “The what?”
“They’ve been around for centuries. They date back to ancient Greece.”
“Why haven’t we heard of them?” Livia asked.
“Because, we thought they were all dead,” Rion answered.
“Well, apparently they’re still around,” Livia said. “What can we do about them?”
Rion twisted his mouth. “That, I cannot tell you. You see, these witches were particularly rough because they had these fail safes. No one would harm them because if you killed one it would trigger a curse.”
“Great,” Livia said with a sigh. “What kind of curse?”
“Different kinds. They were all rooted in Greek mythology, though. The Cypress coven was all about branding.”
“Greek mythology,” Egan whispered. “You know, I remember a story my mother used to tell before she shipped me off to the asylum.”
“What was it?” Livia asked, intrigued.
Egan never spoke about her mother, and she never pressed her for information.
“Cassandra,” Egan said. “Cassandra was cursed by the god Apollo. He gave her horrible visions and cursed her so that no one would believe her or share in her pain.”
Livia swallowed. “What happened to her?”
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“She watched Rome burn and then she killed herself,” Rion answered.
Egan stood from the chair. “So, how do we stop it?”
“You can’t stop it,” Rion says. “That’s why the curse so awful, you see? It only stops when the person is dead.”
Egan frowned. “So, what does this have to do with Alicia Saunders?”
“I’m glad you asked. Here.” Rion turned his monitor toward them. “With the help of a friend, I’ve been digging around.”
Livia leaned forward, peering at a website called The Maraud Outcasts. “What’s that?”
“Well,” Rion said, an impish look on his face. “This website is a front for game players, who are obsessed with the video game known as The Maraud.”
“We’ve played it, remember, Liv? Back at Psi-3891.” Egan nodded at Livia.
“Barely, but, yes, I sort of remember kicking your ass.” She grinned.
“I let you win,” Egan said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Livia waggled her eyebrows. “Okay, go on,” she urged Rion.
“Behind the front, a list of all the members of Cypress Coven appears.” Rion directed his gaze at Livia.
“Really?” Livia could barely sit still.
“Cross my heart.” Rion laced his fingers and stretched his arms forward, palms out. Then, he placed his fingers on his chin and twisted his head back and forth. Pops issued forth from his neck. He wiggled his fingers. “Someone’s got a password.”
“And who might that someone be?” Egan rose to her feet, stepping closer to the desk. She peered at the screen.
“A member of the master race of Fae, that’s who.”
He smiled so broadly, Livia thought his face might crack.
Egan scoffed. “Don’t expect to be called ‘My Lord’ anytime soon.”
He smiled and turned to his screen. His fingers flew across the keyboard. He paused and recited an incantation.
The screen shimmered, revealing the image of a keyhole.
A fairy icon appeared next to it, along with a dumb giggle.
Rion reddened and directed his gaze to Egan. “I know, I know, it’s stupid, but I had to choose from what was available.”
She smirked, lifting her eyebrows. “I think it’s cute. Does it have a name?”
His face grew even redder. “Rion Hearted,” he mumbled.
“Aw. His name is Rion Hearted, Livia.” Egan’s eyes danced with mirth.
Livia laughed.
“Keep going.” Livia twirled her hand in encouragement.
“That’s phase one. Now, we find the key.” He frowned, leaning toward the screen. Using the up and down arrows, he guided the Rion Hearted icon through doors, down corridors and under fences that flashed across the screen unexpectedly. When a key appeared, his character jumped, propelled by key commands. “Got it!”
“You have to do this each time to find what you want to show us?” Livia asked, growing impatient.
Rion shrugged without looking away from the monitor. “ ‘fraid so.”
The keyhole appeared again.
Rion Hearted fitted the key into the hole and twisted it.
A door appeared, along with the words, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, go away.” Rion tapped a keystroke and the words faded.
An eerie laugh rang out.
“Oooh, I’m so scared,” Egan said. She stepped around the desk and stood right behind Rion.
Livia stood and took her place in front of the desk.
Lights flashed. Bells clanged. And then, letters floated on the screen.
“Here’s where it gets tedious. But I’ve already developed a few shortcuts. All the members of the Cypress Coven are listed here. Each one. The game originator made it so that once you get here, you must arrange the letters into names. If you get one name wrong, you have to go back and start over.”
“And you played this until you got all the names correct?” Egan’s mouth fell open.
“Sadly, yes. And, I developed a shortcut, like I said.” His fingers flew across the keyboard. Abruptly, he stood, whirled in a circle, mumbled another incantation, and sat down. “Don’t ask,” he said, his face so red it looked like it would burst into flame.
She waited, her breath in her throat.
Names blurred into view. At the top of the screen appeared the name Alicia Saunders, followed by her title. Coven leader. A tiny star next to her title blinked on and off.
The next name listed was Renner Müntz, Overlord.
At the bottom of the screen, Livia read, Jason Chambers. Recruit.
Rion turned to regard Livia. Any signs of levity or humor were gone from his face.
A chill washed over her, drawing goosebumps along her skin. “What?” she whispered.
“I want you to see something. It’s…it’s going to be disturbing.”
Her eyes met Egan’s.
Egan nodded. We must see. Be strong. Remember our connection.
Livia swallowed. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Rion clicked the star next to Alicia’s name. The image of names disappeared and a huge image of Alicia Saunders appeared.
Her lips were parted as if mid-sentence. A cartoon talk bubble covered her cheek.
Livia felt faint as read the words in the icon.
Kill the telepath.
A small blurry image blurred into view inside the bubble.
Livia gasped as she stared at a photo of herself, standing at the edge of their apartment building, ready to leap to her death.
Egan
Egan stormed from Rion’s office calling her goodbyes over her shoulder. “I’ll check in with you later, Rion.” She thought a minute and whirled to face him. “Rion Hearted,” she said, letting a small smile appear.
He returned the smile, filling her chest with warmth.
She turned and stalked down the hall. Her coat flapped and fluttered around her, like a warning flag.
“Egan, wait!” Livia called. Her heels clattered across the tile floor like a jackhammer. “Where are you going?”
“Back to Frank’s,” she called over her shoulder.
“Seriously? He wasn’t exactly happy to see us last time.”
She pivoted to face Livia. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t exactly care. We need answers. We both know he knows more than he let on the other day. Nothing can happen to you, Liv.” Her voice cracked.
Eager to get rolling, she backed up, away from Livia. “You head over to the hospital to see to the victims. Get to…” She paused, her next words getting stuck in her mouth. “Get to Danvers and be safe.”
Not waiting for an answer, she spun around and headed for the stairwell. At the first floor, she stalked across the lobby. At the exit, she shoved open the front doors.
As she strode onto the sidewalk, she stared at the street, which was bright with city lights and the headlights of endless cars and trucks. “The city that never sleeps,” she muttered. “Just like me and Livia.”
She jogged across the street toward her car, knowing she looked like shit.
Once she located her beloved Corvette, she unlocked it and slid inside, sinking into the seat with a sigh.
“You better help me out, Frank,” she muttered, powering on the ‘Vette and backing out of the parking space.
Out on the street, she let her foot press on the gas.
Traffic clogged the roads.
She sped ahead, then slammed on the brakes every few feet, until she made it to the FDR drive. Thankfully, commute traffic was light on the highway so she could pick up speed.
Only when she parked near the Calvary Cemetery, across from Frank’s house, did she consider her impulsive actions. Livia’s right. He’ll be pissed.
She studied the run-down house. Only one window shone with light.
Is he even home?
Sighing, she turned off the car and got out.
As she strode up the sidewalk that split the dried lawn in two, that dog of F
rank’s began to bark. Same as before, it sounded like the mutt would tear the door down with its nails.
A yellow light-bulb above the door gave off a sickly colored light. Gnats and moths fluttered around it.
Egan rang the doorbell and waited.
The door opened a crack, held in place by a chain lock. An eye and partial face appeared at hip level. Blonde curls covered her head in a tangle. Her child-sized fingers curled around the door.
The dog stuck its muzzle through the crack and began sniffing.
“Hello?” came a child’s voice.
Egan crouched. “Is your daddy there?”
The dog barked. It pushed his head into the crack like it could force its way out.
“Waldo, stop it,” the girl said.
“Honey, is your daddy there?” Egan said again.
“Uh huh,” the girl said.
“Can you get him for me?”
The girl’s face disappeared.
“Daddy!” she yelled. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who is it?” Frank sounded like it came from the other side of the house. A television droned from wherever his voice came from.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, ask the person their name.”
Egan listened intently.
Footsteps trekked along the floor. A loud tinkling rang out, as if a glass had shattered.
“God fucking damn it!” Frank’s bellow came through the door loud and clear.
The girl’s face appeared in the crack again. “What’s your name?”
“Special delivery.” Egan smiled.
The girl turned away from the door. “She says her name is Special Delivery.”
Waldo kept up his bark assault.
“At this hour? Jesus Fucking Christ. And don’t tell your mother I swore.” His footfalls grew closer.
The girl giggled. “You owe me a dollar. Wait, you owe me two dollars!”
“Put it on my tab,” Frank said.
A hand reached out to grab Waldo’s collar. The dog barked, choked, and spit saliva.
Then, Frank’s face appeared in the crack in the door.
The one eye she could see widened. Then, it narrowed. “Fuck me twice. What the hell are you doing here?”
The little girl squealed excitedly. “Daddy owes me three dollars!”
His lips smashed flat. “Honey, take the dog and go in your room and play. Will you do that for daddy? I need to have a chat with Special Delivery.”