Soren and Ken raced through the streets with the siren on top of the car blaring into the night.
Soren had only been in a police car the couple times he’d been arrested, so riding in the passenger side while the vehicle rocketed down the road was a new experience for him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to savor it. He flipped on a car light so he could better see a book about mythological creatures. That and a small bag of a few items, what he thought of as Plan B, were all he’d brought with him.
The book would help him know what they were dealing with before they confronted it. If they went in totally unprepared, the creature would have the upper hand.
Soren heard Ken barking information into the police radio, but he tried to focus on the book.
Ken and he had already surveyed outside around the apartment, but they had quickly surmised it was pointless to try to follow the trail. Soren found two sets of footprints in the garden bed by his bedroom window, but the trail ran cold as soon as they hit a sidewalk ten yards later. Alex and Sara seemed to have vanished completely after that.
The only positive sign was that Sara and Alex appeared to have been walking alone, at least initially. There were no other footprints with them. What worried Soren was the idea that they might have been picked up later. They could be anywhere by now.
Ken and he had jumped in the car after that. The detective had radioed Loudoun County police to help organize a search while they headed away from Soren’s apartment. The smart move would have been to start the search from there. Instead, they were following the single thin lead they had, the name and address of the Oregon woman pulled over for speeding near Glebe Elementary School. It was miles away from where Sara and Alex had disappeared, but both Ken and he had seized on it.
Soren knew that was a sign of their desperation, not confidence in the lead. Ken had offered to send an Arlington cop to the house instead, but Soren worried that whoever was sent would miss something. It was clear they weren’t dealing with an ordinary human kidnapper. If Soren’s hunch was right, the thing behind all this wasn’t human and could be even more dangerous than the shade.
Which meant that sending a regular old Arlington cop wasn’t going to help them. He could miss a vital clue or worse, face a monster he couldn’t possibly understand. Soren needed to go himself, and Ken refused to let him go alone. Of course if Soren was wrong and the lead went nowhere, it would mean they’d wasted valuable time.
Soren just wished he knew what monster had taken Sara and Alex. He called Terry as soon as they got in the car, but couldn’t reach the older man. That shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was two o’clock in the morning, well after office hours, and Soren didn’t have Terry’s home number. He would have to figure this out on his own.
He looked through the book Terry had given him, scanning entries quickly before moving on. He had been so focused on the shade, he hadn’t thought about other factors he should have been researching. He’d assumed that whoever took Alastair had broken into his room from the outside, even though there was no sign of forced entry. The other possibility — that Alastair had willingly opened the window and climbed out — hadn’t occurred to him.
But that was the only way Sara and Alex could have left. He’d locked the window before they went to bed, even flipping two small notches on the side of the pane that prevented the window from being opened more than a couple of inches. They were designed to stop small children from climbing out the window, but they would also thwart anyone from smashing the window and reaching in to open it from the outside.
They were too high up for Alex to reach, but Sara had apparently purposefully pressed the notches until they were flush with the pane and then unlocked the window. There was little doubt that the two of them climbed out together.
He did not believe she would have done so willingly, nor that an intruder at the window could have made a convincing case for Sara to unlock it.
That left one option: someone, or something, had hypnotized her and Alex into leaving. For some reason, he didn’t believe the shade was behind it.
As he frantically looked through his book, time was slipping away. He clenched one fist so hard he felt his fingernails breaking the skin. He had focused all his attention on the shade and not enough on what else might prey on a little boy.
He’d been sloppy and stupid, too caught up in squabbling with Ken and getting to the bottom of Peter Strode’s life and death. For a moment, he felt his stomach seize up as he felt the full magnitude of what was at risk.
He’d failed John Townes. And now he was about to fail Sara and Alex Townes as well. Everything he’d fought for over the past seven years would mean nothing. It was like staring into a black hole that threatened to swallow him.
He willed himself to think differently. He would not fail Sara. People hired him because he was the guy who could get the job done, no matter what he faced. This case might be personal, but it was no different.
He still had time to rectify his mistake. He just couldn’t afford to make any more.
He flipped through the names of monsters in the book, including shrills, gaunts, shirken and pretenders. But he knew those weren’t what he was looking for. He stopped at an entry for a trowe, a small, hairy beast that looked vaguely ape-like. There was a mention of possible hypnotic powers. But Soren dismissed it almost immediately. Whoever was behind this was able to pretend it was human and there was no mention that trowes could do so.
He found a promising entry entitled “Dreamwalkers,” creatures that could enter a person’s dreams. Once there, they could wreak havoc in a person’s consciousness, inducing cardiac arrest or other real physical problems. Soren studied the section on dreamwalkers for a while but eventually ruled them out too. They could hurt people, but they didn’t appear able to compel them to do anything. He needed something that could have forced Alastair and Sara to open their windows.
Still, the idea of a creature able to enter dreams was promising. He flipped to the next page and spotted the name “Dreamweaver.”
The description provided only basic information: these creatures were capable of projecting a dream onto a human being, effectively giving them control over the person’s actions in the waking world. If the dreamweaver wanted someone to get into a car and drive, for example, they simply conjured a dream in which it happened. They could even force someone to sleep against his or her will.
According to the book, dreamweavers had only a few limitations on their ability. They could not appear human while employing their powers and if a victim woke himself up from a dreamweaver-induced nightmare, the creature could not force him back to sleep. They could compel a target to sleep while miles away, but only if they had physical contact with their intended victim first. Otherwise, for a new target, they had to be close. Finally, their ability to make more than one target dream simultaneously was limited.
Below the description were two photos. One showed a normal human male, while the one next to it showed some kind of creature. The eyes were abnormally far apart and the nose was practically nonexistent. There were two long gashes along each side of his face. Soren realized the two photos were of the same person. The creature’s face was a distorted echo of the man’s. The message was clear — this thing could look human when it wanted to.
Soren knew there might be other possibilities for what had taken Sara and Alex, but this creature was an excellent candidate. It would explain why Sara and Alex willingly left his apartment. The dreamweaver led them to a place of his own choosing.
The car screamed into a small neighborhood just off Route 66 and pulled up to a red brick house. Ken was out of the car as soon as he parked. He sprinted to the front door and began pounding on it loudly.
Soren followed him, placing the book down on the seat. Maybe they would be lucky and Sara and Alex would be here.
It took a few moments before Soren saw movement behind a curtain by the door. Ken flashed his badge at it. He’d turned o
ff the siren when they entered the neighborhood, but the car was still washing the house with pulses of red and blue light. It was obvious who he worked for, but he shouted it anyway.
“This is the Arlington County police department,” Ken said.
The door opened on a slight, obviously scared woman, who stared at Ken.
“Are you Muriel Frye?” Ken asked.
The woman nodded.
“Is Richard okay?” she asked. “Has something happened to him?”
Ken and Soren shared a look.
“Richard?” Ken asked. “Is he your husband?”
But Muriel didn’t answer right away.
“You were at the soccer game,” she told Ken. “I saw you. That man attacked you.”
The pieces of the puzzle finally settled into place. Sara had mentioned a friend named Richard who she’d seen at the game. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Apparently Ken came to same conclusion.
“Is Richard here?” Ken asked.
“What’s going on?” Muriel demanded.
“Where is your husband?” Ken asked. “We need to speak to him right away.”
“He’s on a business trip,” she said. “It just came up this afternoon. He’s not supposed to be back for another two days.”
Soren felt his heart sink. He could see Ken grinding his teeth, sharing his frustration.
“Do you have any way to reach him?” he asked.
Muriel nodded and disappeared inside the house for a moment. She returned with a cell phone pressed against her ear. After a moment, she shook her head.
“His phone’s not on,” she said. “It’s late.”
“We need to know where he’s staying,” Ken said. “Quickly.”
“Is he in trouble?”
But Ken didn’t answer her.
“Do you know where he’s staying?”
She nodded and rattled off the name of a hotel in Baltimore. Ken checked his phone and called it immediately, handing his phone to Muriel.
“Get him on the line now,” he said.
Soren thought she might argue. Certainly he didn’t think Ken had any legal power to compel the woman. But she didn’t resist. Soren wasn’t entirely surprised. He knew from his own experience how much people tended to defer to cops.
Soren nervously tapped his foot on the porch. He could feel time slipping away. Frye was their man; he was sure of it.
Finally, Muriel looked at Ken apologetically.
“They say he checked in, but he’s not picking up,” she said.
“Send someone to check the room; tell them it’s an emergency,” Ken responded.
“He’s not there, Ken,” Soren said.
“We need to be sure,” Ken responded. “Once we do, I can get a warrant for his arrest.”
“Arrest?” Muriel said. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Ken and Soren ignored her.
“Fine, but we can’t wait around for that,” Soren said. “If he’s not here, it’s a good bet he has her and Alex already.”
“Has who?” Muriel said, her voice beginning to sound shrill.
“What’s he going to do to them?” Ken asked.
“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good,” Soren said.
He slammed his fist into the porch railing, punching it because he didn’t know what else to do. He rounded on Muriel.
“You know, don’t you?” he said.
“Know what?” she asked.
But he could see the fear in her eyes. She knew. Of course she did.
“Your husband’s not human,” Soren spat. “And you’re protecting him. Where is he, Muriel? Where is he?”
He took a step forward and the threat must have been obvious on his face. Muriel didn’t so much retreat as wilt. She cringed, a look of terror in her eyes. She’d been hit before, Soren realized abruptly. Ken put a hand on Soren to stop him.
Soren saw how she looked, but he still wanted to shake her until she told him what he needed to know.
“Where is he?” Soren asked, putting real menace into his tone.
“I don’t know!” Muriel said.
She collapsed in a heap, falling to the ground. Even then, Soren might have grabbed her, but he looked behind Muriel to see a small boy on the stairs. The boy was Alex’s age, but he had his thumb in his mouth, making him look several years younger.
Soren turned away in disgust. He walked down the steps, hearing Ken talk to Muriel in soothing tones. Soren looked down at his hands to see them shaking. He was surprised at the surge of violence within him. He doubted hitting Muriel would help, but some part of him wanted to do it anyway. And that scared him badly. He wasn’t that kind of person, was he?
He shook his head in an effort to clear it. He needed to focus on the task at hand. The way he saw it, there were two options. They could either wait there and hope that Frye returned or he could invoke Plan B. Waiting was dangerous for several reasons, the most important of which was that Frye might hurt or kill Alex and Sara. Hell that could have already happened. And if Frye returned without them, what then? Beyond beating Frye to a pulp, he wasn’t sure what they could do to get the information they needed.
That left Plan B. Soren returned to the car, and pulled open the small bag he’d left on the floor. He’d gathered the items in a rush, using the information that Terry had given him. He just hoped they would work.
He walked back to the house, still feeling like he wanted to murder someone. Muriel saw him headed up the steps and began crying again. Ken turned and put a hand on his chest.
“Get out, Soren,” he said. “You’re not helping.”
Soren looked at him flatly and held up the bag.
“It’s time for Plan B,” he said.
Ken looked confused and Soren brushed past him to enter the house. He stepped over Muriel without looking at her and ignored the kid still watching him from the steps.
Ken followed after him.
“What’s Plan B?” he asked.
“We’re going to summon the shade,” Soren said.
Ken’s eyes widened.
“You said that would be dangerous,” Ken said.
“It is,” Soren said. “But I don’t see another option. Clearly the shade can’t interfere with Frye directly or he would have done that by now. But maybe he knows how to find him.”
“Or maybe he’ll kill us both,” Ken said.
“I’m ready to find out,” Soren said. “The question is, how much are you willing to risk to find Sara and Alex?”
Ken didn’t hesitate; he just nodded.
“Do it,” he said.
“Good, because I need your help,” Soren said. “I researched this just in case. It’s not hard, just risky.”
He stepped over into the Frye’s dining room, aware that both Muriel and her son were watching them both. He would have preferred they weren’t there, but he worried if he started talking to Muriel he might become distracted again.
He had what the ritual required: the shade’s name, a photo of something he cared deeply about, and the summoning crystal Terry had once given him.
“You might need it one day,” Terry had told him. Soren was beginning to wonder if the old man was psychic.
Soren pushed a stack of magazines off the coffee table and emptied the contents of his bag. There was a large purple crystal and a photo of Bobby Strode from Peter Strode’s police file. Soren looked back up at Ken.
“Just one more thing,” he said.
“Hurry, dammit,” Ken said.
Soren stepped into the dining room and followed into the kitchen. He searched through several drawers until he found a large knife. Ken looked alarmed when Soren returned to the living room with it in his hand.
“Does this involve human sacrifice?” he asked.
Soren didn’t respond directly.
“Hold out your hand,” he said.
“What the hell are you going to do?” Ken asked.
/> “Slice it open,” Soren replied. “The ritual requires the ‘blood of an honest man.’ I’m hoping that’s you.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“I’m known for a lot of things, but honesty isn’t one of them,” Soren replied.
He looked into the police officer’s eyes, an unspoken question on his lips. How much was he willing to sacrifice? Ken seemed to know what he was asking. He pushed up his sleeves and held out his arm.
He opened his palm directly above the crystal. Soren didn’t wait, but quickly used the knife to make a thin gash on the hand. Ken winced, but never took his eyes off Soren. He waited a moment until blood began dripping onto the crystal.
“Peter Strode,” Soren said, “I call upon your shade! I call upon your soul! I demand your presence.”
“You sure ‘demand’ is the word you want?” Ken asked.
“Peter Strode, you miserable fucking failure. How many boys have to die on your watch? I demand you come!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Ken asked.
Soren didn’t answer. Anger is a powerful emotion, and the only one he knew for sure the shade still experienced. It was his best way of getting the creature’s attention.
Soren looked down at the crystal which was now covered in Ken’s blood.
“Peter Strode! This is your final chance to be useful,” Soren yelled. “I summon you to come to us or I curse you to eternal damnation. Peter Strode, I summon you in your grand-nephew’s name. I summon you!”
There was no warning, no mysterious wind or curtains blowing to announce his arrival. One minute Ken and Soren stood in the living room, with Muriel and her son still in the hall. The next a white-haired man with silver eyes was standing next to Soren, staring at him with pure hate on his face.
“Good,” Soren said. “We need your he...”
He never finished his sentence. Instead, the shade of Peter Strode reached out and grasped Soren by the throat. He began choking the life out of him.
Chapter Fifteen