Last Grave (9781101593172) (16 page)

“Anthony, I'm so sorry,” she heard herself sobbing over and over.

She couldn't talk to him. Not until she could do it without fear and guilt. If she had killed his mother, she'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

Tears came, and she let them fall freely even though they partly blinded her. She didn't care. Part of her struggled with the belief that if she got killed on the windy road she had to drive, she deserved it for everything she had done.

With my luck, I'd be fine and whoever was in the other car would be hurt,
she finally thought. With that thought foremost in her mind, she wiped her eyes and forced herself to slow down. She had no control of the past, but she could control the here and now.

When she finally made it back into the city, she breathed a sigh of relief. Minutes later, she exited the freeway. She was ten minutes to home.

Her phone rang. Given the time of night, she was sure it had to be Anthony. She couldn't answer, but she checked anyway. It wasn't Anthony. It was Robin.

“Hello?”

“Samantha? There was an intruder in my house.” Robin's voice was fearful.

“Hang up and call nine-one-one,” she said.

“I can't. I'm scared. He was . . . like us.”

“He's gone now? You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Is your aunt there?”

“No. She left to pick up some of her prescriptions at the pharmacy hours ago, and she hasn't come back. She's not answering her phone.”

“Do you know how to make a protection spell?”

“I—I don't know.”

Samantha pulled a U and headed for the freeway. “Listen, I'm on my way right now, but it's going to take a while to get there.”

“Please hurry,” Robin whimpered.

“I'll be there as fast as I can. If he comes back, I want you to make a circle on the ground around yourself and stay inside it no matter what happens. You have to make the circle with your blood, and it has to be complete, no gaps. If you do that, nothing outside the circle can touch you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I'll do that, but please come.”

“I will. I promise. Keep your phone on you and call me if anything else happens.”

Samantha hung up and pounded her steering wheel in frustration. If only Robin had called while she was still down there. There was nothing that could be done about that, though.

She briefly thought about pulling her police light out from underneath her seat. But driving with it on for that far would attract attention, and if any other officers wanted to assist her then she was stuck explaining why she hadn't just sent local cops to Robin's house.

She needed to get there a lot faster than the speed limit would allow. In her heart she knew there was only one solution. Keeping her left hand on the wheel, she reached down with her right and unclipped her detective's shield from her belt. She held it up. She could feel the power building up in her body, electrifying, exhilarating. A bit of sympathetic magic was what was needed here, and the badge would have to do as a symbol of police officers. Normally, this kind of magic was done with candles or dolls, but in a pinch, you could make a lot of things work.

“I name thee every police officer between me and Robin's house,” she said, feeling energy flowing from her fingers into the badge.

“You will not see this car and you will not see me.”

She placed the badge in the glove compartment, where it would be in the dark and out of her line of sight.

She wrapped both hands around the wheel as she took the ramp onto the freeway. She was intensely grateful that it was late and there was little traffic to worry about. Bay Area traffic during the busy hours of the day could easily double and sometimes even triple a person's drive time.

As soon as she had merged onto the freeway, she slid over to the left-hand lane and then floored it.

The car leaped forward with a surge of power. Adrenaline began to pump through her as the speedometer climbed above one hundred. Cars in front of her scattered without her even having to flash her high beams at them. The rush she was getting from the speed was incredible, but fear was riding alongside as well. It was taking all of her concentration to make sure that she didn't hit any bad patches of road that could cause her problems.

She turned on her high beams, needing to see farther down the road because of the speed at which she was traveling. In the headlights a minute later, she saw the bumper of a police cruiser. She came screaming up behind him and then had to change lanes to pass him.

As she flashed by, neither officer in the car even glanced her way. A few seconds later and she was in front of them. She checked her rearview mirror, where the car was rapidly becoming a dot.

Her magic had worked. Satisfaction flooded her at the realization.

Don't be too proud of yourself,
she cautioned.

There was a loud bang as the car jerked hard. She gritted her teeth as she struggled to regain control. A moment later the car straightened out. She'd hit a pothole. Samantha realized she was lucky to have kept control of the car. She was also lucky she hadn't taken out the tires or the rims, from the feel of things.

Steady; focus.

At last the cities fell behind and she hit the road curving through the mountains. She took one curve, and the car began to fishtail wildly. As soon as she had straightened out again, she cut her speed. She would be no help to Robin if she was splattered along the highway.

At last she came to the turnoff, and she wound upward until she arrived at the house. She parked, opened the door, and as she stepped out of the car, a wave of wrongness hit her. The hair all over her body stood on end.

She raced up to the front door. It was locked. “Robin!” she called, pounding on the door.

There was no answer.

Samantha grabbed the doorknob again and willed it to open. The door flew open, and she leaped inside as it slammed shut again behind her.

“Robin!”

She didn't see her in the kitchen and she made her way toward the back of the house.

“Robin! Where are you?”

As she came into sight of Winona's office, Samantha froze.

Robin was standing just inside the room, her back to Samantha, facing the window. Her back was straight and stiff, her arms were bent, her hands out of Samantha's line of sight. The girl was barefoot.

“Robin?” Samantha called as she moved closer.

Robin didn't move, staying perfectly still as though she were a statue.

And a horrible thought occurred to Samantha. Maybe the girl had been killed and petrified just like her mother.

She walked closer, scanning the area for signs of anyone else. There was no one, just the girl standing with her back to her.

“Robin?” Samantha asked as she reached her. She placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, and Robin jerked, then turned around. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. Her face looked slack.

“Robin, what's the matter?”

Fire exploded in Samantha's body. She looked down and saw a knife protruding from her stomach. Blood was starting to gush, coating Samantha's shirt, the knife, and Robin's hand where it gripped the hilt.

15

Samantha fell backward, slamming to the floor with enough force to jar every bone in her body. Robin staggered but kept her feet, still holding the knife. Samantha pressed a shaking hand to the bloody wound in her abdomen.

I'm dying, killed by a child I'm supposed to be helping,
she realized. Around her everything became clearer. Colors looked sharper, brighter. Her vision telescoped, and she could see the tiny imperfections in the wood grain of the floor. She could hear the blood pumping out of her body, smell its metallic tang in the air.

She was going to die if she couldn't start knitting her body together immediately. But she could see Robin getting ready to attack again.

Need to form the circle. So much blood.

There was more than enough blood to form the circle, but her muscles were seizing up. She touched her stomach with her hand and then began to smear the blood on the wood.

Robin bent over her, and she kicked out at the girl, catching her in the knee. Robin staggered backward before falling.

Samantha struggled to move, to sit up, so she could stretch and complete the circle, but her body wouldn't respond. She tried to reach out with her mind, will the blood to run in a circle around her, but her thoughts were scattering, fading into oblivion.

I need help. God, save me!
she prayed.

And in the next breath, she knew what to do. She brought her hands close together, and a moment later Freaky appeared. The kitten gazed at her with wide eyes.

“Circle of blood,” she whispered.

The kitten rolled from her chest onto her stomach, coating its black fur with her blood. Then it jumped off and onto the floor and began to drag itself around her, wiping her blood onto the ground.

She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. She didn't know if Freaky would be able to finish the circle before Robin stabbed her again. If she didn't focus and start to heal herself, though, it would be a moot question.

Everything seemed to go black for a moment. Then, slowly, she could feel warmth spreading throughout her body, burning like fire as it reached her stomach. She could feel the wood floor beneath her. The wood had once been a living thing, and some of the energy was still trapped in the lumber. She pulled it into herself. She could feel blood vessels begin to mend.

A sandpaper tongue licked her cheek. Freaky.

A moment later, she felt the air shimmer around her. Robin had tried to attack the circle, but the circle held. Freaky had protected her.

Muscle began to knit itself back together, pain knifing through her as it did so. She screamed in agony as toxins raced through her system. She rolled onto her side so that she could vomit.

Outside the circle, Robin kept attacking again and again like a mindless automaton. The circle did its job, holding true. Freaky scampered up onto her head and sat perched there. She could hear him hissing, and tiny claws pricked her scalp.

She finally was able to open her eyes again. Where everything had been so sharp and clear before, now it was hazy, her vision obscured by her own pain and exhaustion as she worked to heal herself. Robin was throwing herself at the energy barrier. Each time she did so, Freaky hissed.

Samantha struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Robin, you've got to stop,” she whispered.

It was pointless. The girl had been mesmerized. It was no mean feat for one witch to do that to another with power. It usually required elaborate preparations and was always best done when hair or blood of the victim was used in the spell. Samantha wouldn't be able to break that mesmerism until she could exit the circle.

Samantha's wounds were continuing to heal, but not nearly fast enough. And then memories of what had been done to her and the others a few months before in a Salem graveyard came flooding back to her.

The circle kept others out, but it did not have to keep her in. She moved her hand slowly, hoping that Robin wouldn't notice. She put her index finger just over the side of the circle and pressed it to the ground.

The wooden floors had given all the energy they could, but the girl who was standing on them had not. Robin was barefoot, making it that much easier. Samantha pulled energy as hard as she could, sucking it out of Robin, through the floor, and into herself.

It worked, and Samantha pulled the energy as hard as she could, her damaged body starving for it.

Robin yelped and tried to jump back, but Samantha was in control now. She pulled with everything she had, and the increased energy sent her healing abilities into overdrive. Moments later, she was sitting up even as Robin tumbled to the ground.

I have to release her or I will kill her.

Samantha forced herself to let go and yanked her hand safely back inside the circle. Robin was on the floor next to her, just outside the circle, head twisted her direction, rage burning in her eyes.

“It's going to be okay,” Samantha heard herself saying, even though she knew the girl was in no position to be able to hear it.

“I'm going to kill you,” Robin whispered.

“Not today.”

Freaky was still standing guard, hissing at Robin. He had hopped down off of Samantha's head, and he was bouncing around the circle, his back arched high.

Samantha sat up slowly. She wasn't finished healing, but neither was she on the verge of death anymore. Robin's eyes were glazing over. The spell was losing its potency, its hold on her diminishing. Still, it would be a few hours before it was gone completely.

Samantha coiled all her muscles. Robin still held the athame, and she was going to have to move swiftly to free the girl before she could attack again. Robin closed her eyes, her breathing labored.

Samantha lunged and slammed her hands onto either side of Robin's head. She sent waves of electricity flooding through. “Burn out the thoughts that are not hers,” Samantha commanded.

Robin screamed and began to thrash. Samantha threw her body over the girl, pinning her to the ground.

Seconds later, it was over. Robin ceased to struggle and after a moment asked, “What's going on?”

Samantha pulled away warily, watching the hand that held the knife. Robin didn't make a move to lift it, though. That was an excellent sign.

“Did I try to kill you?” Robin wailed suddenly, her voice cracking with stress.

“It wasn't you. You were . . . possessed,” Samantha said. It wasn't an accurate description of what had been done to her, but it explained the important part simply enough. “You weren't in control of yourself. Someone else was.”

“I'm so sorry,” Robin sobbed. “I don't know what happened.”

“It's not your fault. Everything is okay now.”

Samantha stood up gingerly and stared down at her bloody shirt in distress. “Except for my shirt. It's not okay. I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow another T-shirt.”

“Okay.”

Samantha moved into the kitchen and peeled off her shirt. She grimaced at it. No salvaging this one either. After a minute, Robin joined her, bringing with her a plastic bag and a purple T-shirt. Samantha dumped the dead shirt in the bag and closed it up tight.

“I can put it out in the trash,” Robin said.

“No, that's okay. I'll get rid of it,” Samantha said. The last thing she needed was for whoever had done this to Robin to get ahold of her blood.

She used some paper towels to wash up, dumping them in the bag as well. Her pants she was just going to have to deal with when she got home. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be too much blood on them.

“Exciting end to an awful day,” she said grimly.

“I'm so sorry,” Robin said, repeating herself.

“It's not your fault. Do you hear me?”

Robin nodded glumly.

Samantha put on the T-shirt and pulled her hair back. Blood was drying in it, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“What's wrong?”

“You know, I made it years on the force without being shot or stabbed. It seems like those days are gone forever, and I miss them.”

Robin turned red and bit her lip.

“What?”

“I used to wish I had a more exciting life. I used to dream about it.”

Samantha sighed. “Be careful what you wish for. It's a lesson everyone needs to learn, but especially people like us.”

“Maybe I'll become a cop. Help people like you do.”

“There are a lot safer and saner ways that you can help people,” Samantha said. “But you can help me right now.”

“Anything. What can I do?”

“Did your mom ever tell you stories about the mountains? Or maybe your grandfather told you a story?”

“My grandfather told me a lot of stories. I don't remember most of them. Mom, I don't know. I can't think.”

“Take your time and try. It's important or I wouldn't be asking,” Samantha said.

“What kind of story?” Robin asked.

“A story about something hidden in or under the mountains around here.”

“Nothing like that that I can think of. But Mom was kind of funny that way. She collected stories of our culture and that of other tribes, local histories, all that kind of stuff. She liked facts, though, not what she considered fantasy. She never told me any of the really colorful stories. I only heard those from Grandfather.”

“And yet she knew that the supernatural existed and wanted you to be a shaman. That is odd.”

“Sometimes I think she just wanted my life to be more normal, you know? I think it was hard for her sometimes, growing up as Grandfather's daughter and not having powers of her own.”

“Your mom was a complex woman.”

“I think I'm only beginning to figure out the half of it,” Robin said.

A phone rang and Robin answered it. After a minute she hung up. “That's my aunt. She's been stuck waiting for a tow truck for hours. She finally got one. She said she should be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Then we'd better get this place cleaned up,” Samantha said.

She turned toward the other room and then stopped with a gasp. Her blood on the floor still formed a circle, but that wasn't all. There, on the floor, spelled out in her blood, was a familiar phrase.

The last grave.

Samantha stared at the words in blood. How had they gotten there? She and Robin were alone in the house. At least, she thought they were.

“Who did this?” she whispered.

Robin looked down at the message. “I think you did. When I was possessed by whatever that was, I could still see and remember. And I remember watching you write it while I tried to kill you.”

“It can't be,” Samantha whispered. She couldn't have written it. She would have known. And why would she have written it?

A chill seemed to pass through her as she stared at the words. “I couldn't have done this,” she whispered.

And yet doubt assailed her. There had been that one moment, she thought it was only a moment, when she had blacked out before her body had started healing and Freaky had licked her. Had she been out long enough that she could have done this?

She knelt down slowly, mouth dry, heart hammering painfully in her chest. She stretched out her hand and then pulled back. She heard a whimper escape her. She didn't want to know. Because if she had done this, what else might she have done?

“I have to know,” she whispered, trying to convince herself.

She reached out and touched one of the bloody letters. And she saw herself, lying in the circle dead. No! Not dead, but dying. And Freaky was crawling over her and Robin was attacking the circle.

Samantha watched herself as she moved her finger and began to write.

“No!” she screamed, yanking her hand back and throwing herself halfway across the room.

“I'm sorry,” Robin said. “Should I not have told you?”

Samantha looked up at the girl and had an insane urge to laugh. Fear rippled through her. Had one of her younger selves done this? Had the witch found a way to control her as well? Either possibility was terrifying. “No, it's good you told me. It's important,” Samantha said.

She grabbed some paper towels and mopped up the blood, adding the used towels to her bag. She turned and saw tiny red paw prints weaving through the house toward the front door.

Freaky. She hadn't dispelled his energy and he was still covered in her blood. She groaned and began mopping up after the kitten. When she finally found him, he was staring at her from a perch on the coffee table. He trilled at her for a moment, and then she scattered the energy. She wiped up the remaining blood and returned to the kitchen.

She grabbed the bag and deposited it in the trunk of her car, then went back inside. “I'll stay until your aunt arrives,” Samantha said.

“Okay.”

Another thought occurred to her. “Did your mother ever talk to you about her dreams, particularly ones dealing with earthquakes?”

“No,” Robin said. “I didn't know she had them too.”

“You dream about earthquakes?” Samantha asked.

“A few times in the past, but a lot lately. I keep having this recurring dream that I'm standing near the entrance to a cave. There's someone else with me, but I can't see her face. I don't know who she is. In my dream I know her, but you know how that goes.”

“Yeah. What happens?”

“We're standing in front of this cave and there's an earthquake. I can hear rock, like, breaking apart or something, like an avalanche. The cave entrance gets a little wider, like there's a crack in the rocks around it. Red light comes out of it. Then the girl with me disappears and I wake up.”

“Disappears how? Does she fall into the cave or leave?”

“No, just like vanishes—there, then gone.”

“Did you tell your mom about these dreams?”

“Yeah. She always wanted me to tell her my weird dreams. She said it helped cleanse you by getting it out of your head and into the world.”