Out Of The Dark (7 page)

"Now, these people were serious. We're not
talking college hazing or pranks--but serious business people.
Everyone wore robes, and everyone wore masks."

"Masks?"

I looked up.
Masks? Like in Halloween?
Nixon? Carter?
I got a really weird bank-robber image of a
bunch of masked men in like, bad horror B-movies.

"No," he shook his head. "More like 'Phantom
Of The Opera' masks, only just the upper half. Over the eyes and
nose. All black. All the same. The only way we could tell each
other apart was because we had symbols stitched on our robes."

Sounded wacko to me. No--that drawer only had
utensils.
What? No food?

"Try the far right cabinet, beside the
mini-fridge," Dags spoke up.

Okay--so he was hearing my thoughts too?

"Only when you think loud."

Asshat
.

"Okay--that had a bad visual," Dags said.

I went to where he mentioned and hit the
jackpot! All sorts of paper cans of peanuts. Cashews, almonds,
pretzels--oh manna from Heaven. Now I just needed a Coke.

"Aren't you diabetic?"

"Would you ignore Zoë and tell me about this
group?" Rhonda's tone was a bit more intense than usual. Though she
could be pretty intense. I grabbed up an un-opened can of cashews,
shut the door, popped the top and then opened the mini-fridge.
Coke!

"I went through the whole process of
initiation. Paid my tuition, which was a good chunk of my savings.
I did odd jobs for them, looking into reported hauntings,
researching artifacts, looking up government spook operations--and
I'm not talking about spies."

Spook operations. Huh.

"I think it took over a year to finally win
the approval of the big kahuna--we knew him only as Fafner."

Rhonda barked out a laugh. "Fafner? Like the
dragon?"

I popped a Coke.
Fafner? Who be
dat?

Dags started to say something in my direction
but Rhonda cut him off with a wave. "Ignore her. I can. Just keep
going."

I stuck my tongue out at Rhonda and then
dropped some ice in a glass. Fizz, fizz…ahhhh. Nirvana!

"I had a private meeting with him, in robes
and masks, and he told me what my responsibilities would be. And
then he told me that I had been chosen as a Guardian."

"A Guardian?"

"Guardian is the best I can translate his
meaning--especially after I stupidly signed a few papers."

In blood? Sorry…the thought just popped
out.

"Yes."

Okay. Wasn't expecting that answer.

"Did snack-lady over there ask you if it was
in blood?"

"Yes, and yes, it was. Look--I never gave
this whole thing much thought--"

Rhonda made a rude noise as she crossed her
arms over her chest. "Obviously. Do you realize the power that
blood has in it? Why do you think vampires drink it?"

Wait…hold the phone. Vampires are real?

Dags shook his head. "Let's not go there just
yet
."

"Ignore her. Get on with it. Was getting the
tattoos part of being this Guardian thing?"

He nodded. "I didn't know it though. I was
brought into the circle, the quarters were drawn, the same boring
hooley-dooley, and then I was told to drink this wine--" he
shrugged. "And that was it. I woke up the next morning at my house,
in my bed, with my hands in bandages." He held them up. "This is
what I found. Only they weren't this nice but all scabby and
bloody."

Ew.

"And then when the scabs healed there was
nothing there--just this insane itch when there are ghosts or
spirits or something nearby."

Oh? So--your palms itch when you sense
ghosts?
Somehow I found that oddly amusing.

"Zoë," Dags gave me a warning look.

"So, they tattooed you," Rhonda had that look
on her face--the one that always made my bunny slippers nervous.
"And did they happen to tell you what you were supposed to do with
them afterward?"

"Oh yeah. I used them once--
once
--and
learned I could put a whammy on and that scared the crap out of me.
When I woke up, I quit."

She shook her head. "Dags--no one quits The
Cruorem."

Dags and I looked at Rhonda sideways.
"What--what did you call them?" he said.

"I called them what I think they are," Rhonda
put her hands to her face and sighed. "Or what group I suspect them
to be. Dags, there aren't many out there who could do to you what
they did. I think they saw you as a psychic--and probably a pretty
good one--and they capitalized on it. I need to call Nona and
confirm it. I've only read about them now and then--and I knew they
existed here in the South. I just thought they'd faded away. This
is bad."

I waved at her to catch her attention and
attempted to sign "Bad?" to her. I hadn't formally taken any
classes but I was paying attention to a book she'd bought me while
I'd been holed up with Daniel.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it's bad
Zoë."

Ah! She
can
be taught!

Dags stood up--and he didn't wobble. "I only
heard them use those words once--during that one assignment I
mentioned. We were in the Grand Circle and they were all chanting
in Latin. There were three others like me, dressed in white robes
and suddenly the whole edge of the circle lit up like those snake
moving light things you can buy at Spencer's Gifts?"

"Were you in the circle or outside of
it?"

"Outside of it. We were standing around it.
And after it lit up, my hands started to burn and sort of went up
in front of me on their own. Light came out of them--"

"What color?"

I glared at Rhonda. Enough already.
Scrooge.

"Uh--whatever color you saw earlier. I've
never paid attention."

Rhonda nodded. "Yellow. You were assigned
Air."

Dags pursed his lips. "Oh-kay. The circle got
all foggy and then this--well--this shadowy like man figure thing,"
he shrugged. "It showed up in the center and screamed and then it
beat the circle's edge.

"Fafner told it he wanted the binding--he
ordered it to bring him the binding."

Rhonda moved in closer. Me? I was standing by
the bar, gulping Coke and popping nuts like pop-corn. This was
better than a horror movie.

"Did it agree?"

"Hell no it didn't. And it tried to get out."
He sighed. "That's when the four of us stepped up and well," he
glanced at me. "That's when that light came out. And then I woke
up--and I wasn't in the circle anymore but somewhere outside in the
woods."

"Alone?" Mom asked.

He shook his head. "No, the others were there
as well. And as we woke up, we got the hell out of there."

Uh-huh. Well, I thought my life was weird.
Not much, huh? Never been kidnapped by a cult and tattooed.
Though--I had been touched by a symbiont and turned into a -- well
-- a Wraith.

Go. Me.

As they talked I started looking around. I
was restless, and if I still had a voice I'd call the hospital and
ask how Daniel was doing. But see--people don't usually react well
to prank calls. And if I called that's what it'd be. Only minus the
heavy breathing.

Pooh.

But I started to head to the Christmas tree
by the piano when I caught sight of one of those Shadow Folk
things. It was there, just standing beside the shadows cast by the
bar. It was watching us. And I think it was listening.

And then it noticed me noticing it and ducked
away.

But it didn't leave. And it looked…different
somehow.

I stood where I was, not wanting to alarm the
two of them. If need be I could sit down real fast and jump out of
my body if I had to chase it. But it really didn't run nor did it
make any threatening moves toward Dags or Rhonda--not like before
where it wanted to trip them. Instead it was moving in and out of
vision--even my vision.

I watched it for a few minutes, after setting
the can of nuts and the Coke on the bar. It moved behind the bar,
appearing and disappearing a lot like shadow. And then it stood at
the farthest end of the bar, where the fridge was, near the cabinet
where the nuts were.

You want me to come there?
I didn't
know if it could hear me like Tim and Steve could, or like T.C. or
the Phantasm had.

When it nodded I wanted to yelp. Not that
those two over there would notice. They were too busy talking about
cults. So I moved slowly back to the snack cabinet. The tiny shadow
person looked like it was pointing--up? At the ceiling?

The wall?

When it nodded I nodded back. So, if it's
pointing at the wall…do you mean something behind the wall? Or the
wall itself?

Oh. It disappeared. Too complicated, huh?

Well, behind a brick was really more brick,
right. So maybe it was indicating an actual brick? Heh--call me
Watson. We all know
he
solved the cases, not the pompous guy
with the pipe.

Kneeling down to where the little guy had
been, I noticed one of the bricks was just a tad different. Oh, one
of these things is not like the other.

How convenient.

So--I started working on it. And it didn't
take much to work the brick free. Well, I did use my sneaker--

"What the hell are you doing?"

That would be Rhonda. And let's forget the
fact she nearly made me wet myself. I ignored her--after recovering
from her sudden demand to know what it was I was doing--and kept
working on the brick. Dags leaned down beside me and helped me get
the brick out completely.

He smelled like…Daniel.

We knelt there looking at a deep, dark hole.
The fact that the area wasn't well lit to begin with wasn't
helping.

Dags looked at me and then the hole. "You
found it."

I shook my head.
It's your bar. And if you
put your hand in there and fake that someone grabs it--I'll rip
your soul right out of your body.

He looked at me with wide, puppy-dog eyes.
And I felt bad since I didn't know if I could really do that. But
he didn't know. And he certainly suspected I could.

Dags did stick his hand in and pulled out a
tube--or rather a bunch of brown papers rolled up and tied with
string. And it looked old.

Really old.

Rhonda reached down between us and grabbed
the rolled papers. Dags stood first and then helped me up. My
Magical Mischief maker was already unrolling the papers and looking
at them.

We waited. Where was my drink?

"We need to go." She re-rolled the papers and
immediately grabbed my arm on her way by. She half pulled me out of
the bar. Her panic was palpable--as well as contagious. My heart
started pounding too.

"Wait--where are you--"

"Not now, Dags. We have to go now. You can
stay here or come with us. But not another word until we get
back."

I pulled free and motioned him to come. Dags
shrugged and followed. Both of them went down the stairs. I
lingered up top and looked around. I couldn't actually see the
little shadow people. But I could tell they were there.

And somehow I got the impression we'd just
done what they intended us to do.

*****

CHAPTER FIVE

Usually I don't fear for my life when Rhonda
drives--she's pretty good at it. Mom--not so much. But on this
occasion, you'd have thought the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse
were after us.

Or at least the Atlanta Police
Department.

This woman took the changeable lanes on
Roswell Road to their limits, dodging Saturday morning traffic with
uncanny ability in mom's Volvo. And I somehow got the impression
the old car was loving it. I had my right hand on the oh shit
handle--that handle up above the passenger side door? Yep--that's
what that thing is called.

And by the time we finally cleared it to
Interstate 400, I had both hands white-knuckling it. As she merged
in with traffic I chanced a glance behind me at Dags.

My heart skipped when I didn't see anyone in
the back seat.

"Okay Dags," Rhonda said as she slowed the
Volvo down from Mach 5 to Mach 4.5. "You can get out of the
floorboard."

A dark head popped up then. He was as white
as bone as he scrambled to get his seatbelt refastened. I sort of
wondered if he purposefully ducked into the floorboard--or if
Rhonda's driving whip-lashed him down there.

The world may never know.

"I want off," he muttered to himself. I
nodded. Me too.

But once we were a good several miles down
the road Rhonda fumbled in her jacket for her phone. I wanted to
protest the whole cell-phone while you're driving deal--but I was
also a bit afraid if she took her eyes off the road to scream at me
we would crash.

I watched her press a button and then hold
the thing up to her ear. After a few minutes she closed the phone
and tossed it at me. I was not about to let go of my 'oh-shit
handle' and the Nokia bounced off my thigh and into the
floorboard.

She glared at me and I shook my head.

"Nona needs a cell phone."

I couldn't agree with her more.

"Why doesn't your mom have a cell phone?"
Dags asked.

Mom thinks cell phones turn your brain to
goo--same as living too close to a ley-line or a power line. Won't
have one and we can't talk her into one.

He nodded. "Oh. Okay." Then he frowned. "Is
that true? Because you know I did study up on the effects of towers
placed along pastures in Texas--"

Rhonda held up her hand. "What do you
do--search the net for that kind of stuff?"

Dags nodded. "Yes."

We all sat quietly for a few minutes before
Dags spoke up. "So--you gonna tell us why we dashed out of there so
quick and why I'll be suffering from chronic back pain for the rest
of my life?"

I was waiting to hear this too. I could have
let go and found my board--I could see it in the floorboard next to
the phone. But I think my knuckles had vapor-locked around the
handle. Owch.