Psycho Within Us (The Psycho Series Book 2) (57 page)

It turned out the man had a bra
ided bearded, and it was brown, much unlike Pan Lei’s open and flowing white beard.  Shannon decided to give him a long cloak, a purple one, and with tassels at the bottom.  And a crown!  Yes, he was a king, wasn’t he?  Yes, a strong king, powerful and loved and capable of doing anything to save his people. 
A good king
.

“
There are no good kings
,” came the whisper.  “
There are no good people
.”

Shannon stopped coloring, and looked around the library.  “You shut up,” she said.  Officer Regus, near the door, turned to
look at her.

“
There are no good kings
,” it repeated.  “
No good people
.”

“I said shut up!  You don’t get to tell me—”

“
There are no good kings
.”

“You leave me alone!  You hear me?  Leave me and Kaley alone!  We don’t wanna know you!”

“Shannon?” said Officer Regus.  She stepped over to her.  “What is it, sweetie?”

“They won’t stop talking!”

“Who, sweetheart?”

“
None of them can save you
,” it said.  “
You know this
. 
Police and guards and men and women and kings and laughing men
.”  It added, “
And sister
.”  There was satisfaction in that last.  “
Yessssss, yes, yes, yesssssss
. 
You know she cannot save you
.”  Then, another voice chimed in.  “
Stop talking to the girl, leave her to the laughing man
.”

“Go away!  Go away and leave us alone!”

“Shannon, sweetie, what’s the matter?”  Now, Mrs. Taylor stepped out of her office to join Officer Regus.

“
She can’t stop us
. 
None of them can stop us
.”  Another voice said, “
Stop taunting her, she might bring her sister
. 
Leave her to the—
”

“I know someone you can’t kill!”
she shouted.  Shannon stood up from her chair and looked around the room.  “I’ll send
him
after you, if you don’t shut up and leave us alone!”  Silence.  And interest.  Shannon sensed it…anticipation?  “You’d better leave us alone, or I’ll send him!  Ya hear?  Leave us alone!”

Silence.

Then, “
He can’t stop us
.”

“He can, too!  And he’s not afraid of
you!  He’s the meanest man ever and he can’t feel fear!  He’s strong and mean and nobody can kill him!  He doesn’t care who you are, he’ll kill you!”

Now came a thousand thousand voices.

“
We cannot be killed!
”

“
You cannot eradicate—
”

“
—won’t kill us!
”

“
—cannot be killed by—
”

“
Insolent child!
”

“
—killherkillherkillherkillherkiller—
”

“
I’ll rend her flesh from her bones—
”

“
—killherkillherkillherkillhernownownowkillher—
”

“
We cannot be killed!
”

“
We will rise from this abyss and eat you whole!
”

“
—the laughing man cannot—
”

“
DO NOT SPEAK TO HER!
”

That last
voice silenced them all.

“Can to!” she screamed.  “He can to kill you!  He’s mean and he’s not afraid!  He’s stronger than you and he’s going to kill you if you don’t leave us alone!”

“Shannon?”  Officer Regus had put a hand on her shoulder, knelt to look her in the face, but Shannon wasn’t paying any attention to that.  Things had begun moving all around her.  She could feel them.  Titanic forces pulling at her.  Something split in her head.  A pain like needles threaded through the back of her eyeballs and pulling.  Tears came plentifully.

And she was grinning.

“He’s stronger than you, and you can’t kill him,” she whispered.

“Shannon?”

“You can’t kill the laughing man!” she screamed.

The pain stopped, and the voices ceased.  All were banished, and
her world was silky calm.  Shannon was breathing deeply, like she did at the end of gym class.  Beside her, both Officer Regus’s and Mrs. Taylor’s lips were moving, but she didn’t hear them.  Shannon heard other things.  She heard the screams of the Freckle-faced girl that had mocked her earlier.  She heard the fear in Laquanda Everest’s cries.

“Shannon?  Shannon!”  She looked at Officer Regus.  “Sweetie, you need to sit down.  Mrs. Taylor’s going to get you some water, okay?”

“…
justwantthemtostop
…”

“What?”

Shannon swallowed.  “I said, ‘I just want them to stop.’ ”

“Shannon, no one’s going to hurt you.  You’re safe here.  Understand?  You’re safe?”

She sat back down at her table, picked up a red marker.  “Not if he can help it,” she said.  Not too far away, Big Sister was crying.  Shannon could feel it.  And she didn’t care.  The laughing man was right.  Big Sister was weak.

At first, Kaley couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  What she was
feeling
.  If it hadn’t been for the fact that their Connection had never once broadcast a mixed signal or wrong message, she might have questioned it.

The murky water along the walls breathed in and out, in and out, in and out.

Was this…was this animosity coming from her sister?  And was it really directed at her, at Big Sister?  “Shannon,” she whispered.  No response.  Kaley looked up.  Officer Bauer was standing outside the officer, arms folded and speaking seriously with Mr. Lowe, Mrs. Sanchez, and a pair of police officers. 
Detective Hulsey listened, at least
. 
And he got others to listen
.  Somewhere out there in her web, she could sense him.  She’d only been near him a handful of times, but the charm was like olfactory nerves, only more powerful, and the emotional imprint of a person more potent than any smell.  Just as one could be taken back to an anniversary by the aroma of a specific bouquet of flowers, so too could she remember the particular flavor of Detective Hulsey.  He was out there, not too far off, and he was concerned for them.  That was a welcome feeling.

The water along the walls spun in little eddies, then calmed, and breathed in and out, in and out, in and out.

Kaley also sensed in Detective Hulsey an overwhelming sense of dread.  Something had just come to his attention, something that made him afraid.  And it was a fear that was familiar to him.  Hulsey tried to discount it, but the fear told him the truth.

This
, Kaley found troublesome, but it was her sister’s own emotional disruption that she found most disturbing.  “Shannon?” she whispered.  “What’s wrong, girl?  What is it?  Are they near you?  If they are, just let me know and I’ll come help you.”  Kaley concentrated, tried sending that along to her sister.  All she got back was a confusing mélange of bitter humor and sarcasm.  “Shannon, what’s wrong? 
Talk
to me.”

No answer
, only the same bitter-tasting humor.  The walls continued breathing in and out, in and out, in and out.

Where was Aunt Tabitha?  Mr. Manning said she would be here in an hour.  Kaley glanced up at the clock on Mrs. Sanchez’
s desk: 2:39
PM
.  Twenty-one more minutes, and the school day would be over.

In her hands, she held Mr. Manning’s copy of
The Art of War
.  Before sending her off to the library, he’d told her to keep it for a week or two, skim through it, see if she liked it.  She knew he was just being kind, trying to be like the principals and teachers one saw in movies, where they were all inspirational, handing over books that kids had asked about, hoping it would enlighten them.  So far, Kaley hadn’t even cracked the binding, she just held it in her hands, staring down at it.

“Shannon, talk to me.”

Something moved in the water on the ceiling.  Kaley glanced up, saw a large dark cloud moving through it.

“Talk to me, girl!” she commanded.  “You have to talk to me, or else I can’t help.”

Then, a stone was hurdled across the Connection.  “You didn’t help me before!”

“What?
  What does that mean?  Shannon?”

The water on the walls trembled.  The great eye now emerged in the water just beneath the floor
, directly underneath her.  It receded soon enough.  However, the water along the walls frothed and spun, forming little whirlpools even as it breathed silently.  In and out, in and out, in and out.

“Shannon, you know I’d do anything to protect you, don’t you?  Shan?
  Shan?”

No response.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

“Pelletier got away.”

Rideau sighed.  “How?”

On the other end, Rideau could hear Mitchell clacking away at some keys in an office buzzing like a beehive.  “They don’t know.  We—hey, Pierre!  Hold on a sec, Rideau. 
Pierre!
  Get me Metveyev on the line. 
Metveyev!
  I want to know what FSB and Chelyabinsk Police know as soon as they know it!”  He sighed.  “I’m back.  Uh, what was I…
oh
, yeah.  Pelletier.  He gave the cops the slip at the hospital.”

“Does anybody know how?”

“Some various reports.”  Mitchell sounded exasperated by the whole thing.  Rideau shared his frustration.  To have come so close and to have nil again, it would nag them for weeks, perhaps months or even years to come.  “We have some talk of a guy shooting his way out of a window, but then there’s also a matter of an unknown man fitting his description walking out of the hospital with a baby.”

“A baby?”

“Yeah, an infant.  Newborn.  Taken from the maternity ward.  Nobody seems to be able to find the male nurse that brought the little one out, so…”

Rideau shook her head.  “
Well, he can’t get far, not if the anonymous tips are right and he’s wounded.”

“There’s one other thing.  A car full of kids was found abandoned in an alley.  The car fits the description of the one used in a chase and a shooting that left two officers dead.  One of the girls was shot, and two of the kids have
talked enough to describe a man sounding like Pelletier.”

“He shot a child?” Rideau asked, incredulous.

“Not really sure.  Sounds like maybe.  The kids…well, the stories we’re hearing are varied.  They’re talking about, uh, monsters and things.  Strange stuff.  Wolves.  They say one of them got eaten by some creature out on the docks, which sounds an awful lot like the Ruffa Docks.  Rideau, we’re getting closer to something here.”

“Are the children going to be all right?”

“Looks like it.  An initial report I’m getting is that they’ve been abused.  Sexually and otherwise.”

She sighed.  “
God help them.”  She rubbed at her temples.  “It’s been an eventful night, hasn’t it?”

“You could say that.”  A pause. 
“Where are you right now?”

Rideau set her cup of coffee down
on a table stacked high with sports and furniture magazines.  It was the third cup of coffee the hotel staff had offered her.  She looked through the doorway of the small anteroom, across the main lounge, at the front desk.  “I’m where the locals set me up with a room.  The Grand Hotel Vidgof.”

“It’s six-forty-five over here.  That means it’s
, what, close to midnight where you are, right?  Best get some sleep.  You need to catch some rest.  I’ll call you if anything else comes up.”

“You’d better.”  She hung up, and lifted her coffee cup.  Rideau had no intention of going to sleep anytime soon. 
He has to return here tonight
. 
He has to
. 
Or what if
…
?

Rideau suddenly had a very dreadful
thought.  If Dominika had been followed, if someone had eavesdropped on their conversation…
They might be waiting on me to step out of here, and tag me
.  It seemed a terrible thought, that fellow police officials would or could set her up like that, but Dominika’s story practically demanded that level of paranoia, and once the idea was implanted it was like a weed, impossible to eradicate.

She tried to shake it off, and managed only to add it to her growing list of fears and doubts.  That much second-guessing could ruin her.  She thought,
I have to leave sometime
.  But she was resolute. 
Just not tonight
.  She waved one of the hotel staff over and asked for another cup of coffee, very strong, with lots of sugar.