Welsh Road (The Depravity Chronicles) (5 page)

She slid her
phone’s keyboard into position. She typed a single word into the search field
and clicked ‘Go.’

There were over
900,000 results for the keyword ‘Telekinesis.’

* * * * * *

3

Trevor and Simon
enjoyed their short road trip from Crimson Falls to Taylor’s Landing. There
wasn’t much conversation during the drive. Their attention was devoted to their
current audio book, fittingly entitled
Gateways to the Other Side
. Every
now and then one of them would make an observation that Trevor would scribble
into their black leather journal.

The University
of Minnesota was truly remarkable in the heart of autumn. Colored leaves
falling to their cycle of death and rebirth, nature and fitness trails
meandering for several acres surrounding the campus. Trevor figured he would
have no problem living here for the next four years, studying under Anish.
Simon, on the other hand, was more ambivalent. He had always dreamed of
attending an Ivy League university; Harvard was his first choice. Though they
didn’t talk much about it, Trevor understood that Simon was making some
significant sacrifices to pursue their dream.

After parking
Simon’s Honda Accord in the Visitor Lot, the boys made their way toward Anish’s
office. The marble staircase leading to the Social Sciences building was
magnificent, representing the beauty and promise of higher education. They were
surprised by the number of students and faculty meandering through the halls,
but found Anish’s office vacant.

“Do you wanna
just hang out on the stairs outside until he shows?” Simon asked.

“Good call,”
Trevor responded. As they made their way toward the exit, a small group of
girls passed by, gossiping and giggling. One particular brunette locked eyes
with Trevor and smiled. “I love college,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“You love
girls,” Simon poked.

“And your point
would be?” Trevor countered.

“I’m just
saying.”

While sitting on
the stairs they talked about their plan of action once Anish arrived. After an
hour of waiting, Simon pointed across the quad toward the staff parking lot.

“I see him,”
Trevor said.

“Yeah, a man
like Anish is hard to miss.”

Trevor grinned.
Both of them stood and jogged down the stairs to greet their informal advisor.
At this point the relationship was becoming fuller and deeper; Anish had become
more of a mentor and father-like figure to these boys who were blossoming into
well-rounded young men.

“Hello,
gentlemen,” Anish called from about thirty feet away. “I apologize for my
tardiness, but I think you will enjoy the tale I bring with me.”

“Always!” Simon
chirped.

“Let’s get to my
office and I will bring you up to speed.”

Trevor’s
excitement was palpable. Every time he visited with Anish in his university
office he felt like a kid at the candy store. Since Anish was an
internationally celebrated anthropologist, thus bringing considerable prestige
– and funding – to the department and the university system as a whole, his
office was plush. And it was freaking huge. As was the custom, Anish gave
Trevor and Simon about twenty minutes to browse. They affectionately named this
time “It’s A Wander-ful World,” and once Anish even played Louis Armstrong on
an old-school phonograph. 

“Check this shit
out,” Simon called from at least fifteen feet away from Trevor.

“Language,”
Anish said softly as he thumbed his way through a large book at his desk.

“Sorry,” Simon
said, still smiling and mesmerized by what he was holding in his hands.

“Whoa!” Trevor
exclaimed as he analyzed Simon’s discovery. “Where did you find this?”

“Yes, Simon,”
Anish said, suddenly standing among them. “Where did you find this?”

Simon’s face was
red with embarrassment. “I found it behind this book,” he said as he pulled a
copy of
Wicca for Beginners
. The door to a small compartment promptly
opened, about the size of five large books. “Good hiding spot, Anish.”

“Apparently not
good enough,” he snickered playfully.

“But why would
you hide this?” Simon asked. “I mean, it’s cool and all, but…”

“But it’s a fake
egg bauble,” Trevor added.

“A few things
are important to note here,” Anish began. “First, Trevor, I think you need to
take a second look at the definition of ‘bauble.’ Second, this isn’t a fake
egg.”

Simon and Trevor
both
did
a double take, tracing the egg with
their fingers. Simon figured it was at least ten pounds, two feet high, and a
foot in diameter. Its colors were brilliant, its base a deep red with splashes
of bright yellow and streaks of blue and green.

“
BOO
!”
Anish bellowed, scaring the ever living crap out of them. He roared with
laughter, a somewhat rare and intimate thing for Anish to share. It wasn’t long
before Trevor and Simon were also in stitches.

“Seriously,
Anish?” Simon nagged. “If this was a real egg…well, like…I mean…”

“Jesus!” Trevor
groaned. “What my idiot brother can’t seem to say is, well, is that a dragon
egg?”

Anish took the
egg and walked back to his desk. The boys didn’t take their eyes off the egg.
After opening his massive fire safe and gently laying the “egg” on the top
shelf, Anish sighed heavily.  “I know you’ve seen a lot and learned even more
in this past year, but dragons are a bit off our radar. This isn’t Harry
Potter, Simon.”

Simon tried to
laugh, but he sounded more like a deflating balloon. “I know that.”

“Do you?” Trevor
asked, poking fun.

“Now that’s the
pot calling the kettle black,” Anish said. “We’ve wasted enough time, my
friends. Shall we?”

“Yes we shall,”
both students said in unison.

“I know the plan
was to discuss some of the characteristics of natural tears between the
physical and spirit worlds,” Anish said.

Simon raised his
hand. Anish nodded at him with a smile.

“Tears? I
thought natural portals were because of psychic energy from major events, or
some sort of geological and/or astronomical congruence.”

“Tears can be a
naturally occurring phenomenon,” Anish answered. “Thunder, for example,
represents a tear.”

“Right,” Trevor
said.

“But there’s
been a change in our lesson plan for the weekend,” Anish abruptly said.

To most young
students this would have thrown them for a loop, or perhaps made them anxious.
Not these budding scholars.

“So what’s the
plan?” Simon asked.

“We’re going to
have a guest speaker,” Anish announced.

“Wicked!” Trevor
said.

“Who is it?”
Simon pushed. “Have we read their books? Seen their documentaries?”

“No, and no. Her
name is Jena Marsh and I think she has something very valuable to share with
us.”

* * * * * *

4

Sam met Anna at
the station and jumped into her SUV cruiser. Sam hadn’t yet met any law
enforcement from neighboring towns, but he had heard plenty about this
particular group of colleagues.

“So Bubba has
requested your services?” he asked, amused by the self-proclaimed “lawman” of Taylor’s
Landing.

Anna rolled her
eyes. “He’s a real piece of work. Take Jake and multiply him by at least ten.
Then you’ll have the general idea about
Bubba
.” Anna emphasized the last
word, adding a bit of twang to her accent.

“You shouldn’t
speak ill of the dead, Sheriff,” Sam joked, making them both laugh.

“I was actually
complementing Jake,” Anna pointed out.

“This should be
fun, then” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Anna
said. “Fun.”

They filled the half
hour drive with mindless small talk. In the back of their minds, Anna and Sam
were preparing themselves for what Bubba might tell – or show – them. As they
pulled into the parking lot, Bubba was waiting for them in a large, heavy duty
pickup truck that he had converted into his official lawman type vehicle. He climbed
out of his truck, all 350 pounds of him. His thin, reddish orange hair rested
flatly on his head. Bubba brushed his hair back from his forehead, revealing a
cluster of freckles.

Bubba motioned
for them to join him, and pretty soon the three of them were on the road again.
It wasn’t long before the tension was thick.

“So, you
comfortable back there, little lady?” Bubba said as he looked at her in the
rearview mirror. He had made sure that Anna sat in the back, where women
belonged. Anna knew he was jabbing at her.

Sam shook his
head. “You know, Sheriff Blackwood deserves your respect.”

Bubba was not
pleased with what he viewed as insubordination. “Officer King, I won’t tolerate
your…” but Anna cut him off.

“I won’t
tolerate you speaking to
my
deputy in such a rude manner,
Bubba
,”
Anna hissed. “Now if you need my help, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, put
your foot on the gas, and then, if I feel like it, I’ll offer you our
expertise
.”

“Fucking
feminists,” Bubba mumbled. But he did as he was told. Sam looked out the
passenger window so Bubba wouldn’t see him grinning.

Anna wanted
badly to not say another word until they arrived on the scene, but as they
drove deeper into the woods, she became suspicious.

“Are we still
within the town limits, Sheriff?” Anna asked.

“Yep,” was all
Bubba said.

“I thought this
was protected land that belonged to the city,” Sam said, throwing his hat into
the ring of strained conversations.

“It is,” Bubba
said flatly.

“So why aren’t
they dealing with it?” Anna asked.

“Who says they
aren’t?” Bubba retorted.

“Touché,” Anna
said with a dry laugh. That would explain why Bubba had called her. Someone had
forced him to do it. She also now understood why the city might include Bubba’s
crew since Taylor’s Landing is so geographically close in proximity. But why
would the city police need her help? She was two towns over, and as far as she
knew, the city folk viewed them as woodland hicks. It was only fair. The town
folk of Crimson Falls viewed them as uptight assholes. In short, Anna had no
idea what to expect when they arrived on the scene.

Being under a
heavy canopy of trees made it easier for Anna and Sam to see the flashing
lights of emergency vehicles a quarter mile ahead of them.

“What road are
we on?” Sam asked after failing to locate a street sign.

“Ha!” Bubba
shouted, making Sam and Anna jump. “We’re on Welsh Road.” Then Bubba did the
strangest thing. He wiggled his fingers and sang – quite poorly – the theme
music to the horror franchise Halloween/Michael Myers.

“Welsh Road,”
Anna repeated. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

As the cruiser
came to a stop, Bubba turned around in his seat so he could look directly at
her. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I don’t
think I am,” Anna said.

“And you, Sam,”
Bubba said as he shifted again in his seat. “Welsh Road. Name mean anything to
you?”

“Uh, not that I
know of,” Sam said, shrugging. “Should it?”

“Never you
mind,” Bubba said with a chuckle. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He clumsily
climbed out of the cruiser, mumbling under his breath. Anna thought she heard
him say something about ghosts.

“Oh, shit,” Anna
said.

“What’s wrong,
boss?” Sam asked.

“Did you hear
that?
Please
tell me that we’re not getting involved in another
supernatural, uh,
thing
.”

“I would not put
any stock into anything that fat bigot has to say,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “Probably
just some urban legend.”

“Do you know
what I like most about urban legends?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“They’re legends,”
she laughed. “As in, not real.”

“Here, here,” Sam
said with a smile.

As they followed
Bubba down the embankment, it didn’t take long for them to figure out why they
had been called. After all, the rumors about Anna’s predecessor, Sheriff Ron
Kelly, had spread across several towns. It had become a legend in the past
year. And again, like most legends, there was perhaps only a single ounce of
truth amidst several tons of horseshit.

At the foot of
the embankment was a grove of colossal trees. Hanging from two of those trees
were two bodies.

“Sheriff
Blackwood, I presume?” a tall, handsome man asked.

“And you are?”
Anna asked as she shook his hand.

“Police
Commissioner Andrew Jackson, from the city,” he said. “I appreciate you coming
down here.” He smiled, his white teeth sparkling. His grey hair and blue eyes
complimented each other, making him look distinguished and powerful.