Mercy's Magic (6 page)

Finally they were ready to convene at the so-called print shop and carry out their plan of action with the help of local and federal law enforcement.

Mercy and Joe watched from the train tracks as every official, brave enough to agree, or skilled enough to be chosen for such a dangerous operation, assume their coordinated positions. From a distance, a crew of well-armed police, US Marshals and FBI crew surrounded the site. All waiting with baited breath for their signal.

“What are they waiting for?” Mercy asked. She felt overwhelming tension, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she was witnessing her first raid ever or because there was something off about the operation.

“It’s the Feds. They’re the ones with the thermal night vision goggles and the snipers —the ones that call the initial order,” Joe answered. He was excited to be involved with the case, and also, next to the woman who so far hadn’t said yes—or no, for that matter—to a date. “It’s just a matter of time. It won’t be long now.”

Mercy nodded and focused on the plant. She recognized the same aura of intrusion from the time she was up on the ladder, as if someone was trying to probe her from afar. She kept quiet about it, and did her best to keep her thoughts contained. Waiting was the worst. Worse than the probable gunfight she was certain was a few minutes away from happening.

* * *

Ariel waited and watched, hidden on the roof of his plant, as law enforcement surrounded the building. He saw Mercedes Cruz, the same nosy woman with the wild hair who leaned in from the ladder outside the window, crouching next to another man, waiting for the action to take hold. He grinned, held out his arms and wiggled his fingers with a wave-like rhythm.

The small law army, some dressed in night gear, others still in suits, approached cautiously. Ariel took in the encroachment, knowing that show time was near. His fingertips flickered a dull, reddish glow; a form of bio-luminescence that shone through skin and in stark contrast to the darkness permeating the lightless rooftop
.

Mercy held her breath as the various officers made their way closer to the building. She felt herself sweating, her heart racing. Stronger forces were at work here.

“You okay?” Joe asked.

“Yes, and no, actually…no. I have a bad feeling about this, Patterson.”

“Just wait,” he told her. “These guys know what they’re doing. Trust me,” he grinned. “They’ve done this before.”

But she didn’t believe him. She knew he wouldn’t understand what sort of powerful forces she could feel gathering. And her intuition felt off. But Mercy owed it to Joe. She waited.

As the men assumed strategic placement for forced entry,   Ariel Caliban lifted his arms in the air, and the subtle glow inside his fingertips gave way to a pulsating splash of energy that coiled itself around the sleeves of his jacket. He slapped both his hands on the rooftop with tremendous force, causing a ripple of radiant energy, starting from the tips of his boots down the building’s back wall and finally webbing the ground below.

With guns in hand, the small army became paralyzed as they noticed a faint web of light pass underneath the soles of their shoes. Alarm transformed to fear as their guns grew warm, and static crackled their earpieces, cutting off all communication.

But the weapons. Mercy watched as their weapons took on a bizarre oxidization, not unlike radioactivity. Pistols, rifles, even the officer’s handcuffs shone with a silver brilliance, then within seconds, they became dull, yellow and flaky. She watched them, gawking at their weapons with terrified disbelief.

Mercy heard a strange whisper from afar. “Do you hear that?” she asked Patterson.

But Joe was watching the bizarre scene. The officers, the weapons. “What the hell is going on?”

An FBI agent screamed and dropped his pistol. Followed by another. Chaos ensued as the weapons glowed more brightly and grew hotter and hotter to the touch.

From behind the trains, Mercy and Joe watched as the FBI unit chief hollered for everyone to fall back. They did so without hesitation. And still Mercy could hear a whispering, a man’s voice, somewhere in the back of her mind.

She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating.
Block him out, woman,
she told herself. It worked, a little.

Then Joe stood and ran to help. She got up and followed him. The officers, marshals, and FBI agents and their plans had completely collapsed and had turned into a retreat. They ran and hid behind their vehicles, stunned as they stared blankly at their scorched palms.

Mercy approached one of the men. He looked down at her in disbelief. “Look at my hands,” he moaned, although he had no idea who she was.

She looked. His hands were covered with a black dust, burning into his skin. Mercy dared not touch him.

Patterson called for help. “That’s affirmative,” he spoke into the receiver. “We need a hazmat team out here, and paramedics. About forty officers down. Possible radioactive poisoning. That’s right, and make it quick.”

Weapons, still glowing, lay all over the lot surrounding the building. The whispering in Mercy’s mind was replaced with echoing laughter, and then like the silence that preceded the raid and that was now inundated with incoming sirens, it was gone.

Chapter Fifteen

The dark early morning found Mercy and Joe in a donut shop, just hours after both were cleared of radiation exposure by hazmat. The other officers had been dispatched to burn centers for treatment and tested for radiation sickness.

Mercy stirred her coffee, deep in thought, wondering where the whispering had come from. Surely whoever it was had enough raw energy to have created such havoc. She sensed power,
dark
power.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Joe commented, smiling.

Mercy didn’t even hear him. All she heard was the laughter. She shivered.

“Mercy.”

She shook her head and looked up at him.

“Is this the closest I’m going to come to a date with you?”

“Joe, this is no time for…”

“…I know, I know,” he said, cutting her off, realizing his misstep. “I’m just trying to get your attention. Tell me what you’re thinking. I can see those wheels turning inside that pretty head of yours.”

Mercy smiled. She didn’t consider herself all that pretty. She wore little makeup, didn’t do a thing with her hair except put it in a bun or tie it in a ponytail, and she didn’t have time for
mannies
or
peddies
. Yet it was obvious to Mercy and everyone else that Joe was smitten.

“I’m just wondering, as I presume you are, what the hell happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like that. And I’ve seen a lot in my years with the service before I joined the department.”

“I know you have.”

“But something tells me you might understand a little better. Am I right?” He searched her eyes for the truth, but detected a slight hesitation—she was holding back something.

“I don’t know exactly what caused that.” Mercy tried to be honest. “It was definitely bizarre. Obviously, there’s something more here than meets the eye, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. And that’s why I’m asking you. You actually saw more than anyone else did through that window when you found the place. What do you think happened?”

Mercy looked out the window of the donut shop. Few people were on the streets at this hour. A young couple, in running gear, passed by, arm in arm, oblivious to the radioactive event that took place just down the street by the railroad tracks. It was sweet, really. They were oblivious to everyone but each other. The woman was laughing at something her guy had just said. Mercy watched, envious of their simplicity.

She turned to Joe. She couldn’t reveal her suspicions, that magic was at work here—
black magic
. Also, she couldn’t share with him that she herself was a witch who was learning the ins and outs of the craft. Not black magic, of course, but he’d think her a nut if she revealed who she was.  

“Like I said, I’m not sure, Joe. But while you guys regroup and are able to finally enter that building, I intend to do a little more investigating.”

Joe shook his head. “Definitely not, Mercy. This will be all over the news by tomorrow, and for good reason. This has the signs of terrorism, perhaps a dirty bomb. It’s too dangerous for you.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do?” Mercy’s voice cut a little deeper than she intended. She sighed. “Look, Joe, the department, the local bureau, and D.H.S. are overwhelmed at the moment. I saw the look in their eyes. I don’t have anyone to answer to. And I intend to find out exactly what’s going on. I got everyone into this mess. It’s my responsibility.”

Joe placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If my superiors or someone above my jurisdiction asks for you, I have to tell them where you are and what your intentions are. You got me?” he said. “Don’t let the situation get too hairy before calling me. I’ll pick up, no matter what time. Promise?”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Deal,” she said.

“Alright. I don’t want to read your name in the obits.”

Mercy thought of Terra, at her father’s house, in angelic sleep. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Chapter Sixteen

“So, these guys.” Mercy said, gesturing toward the direction of the print shop, a few miles away where the area was still cordoned off and under investigation. “They fill a train car load of something, and send it down to Mexico?”

The railroad engineer she was talking to was eating lunch, and hesitant to answer. It was hot outside, and he was sweating bullets. But she flashed him a charming, comforting smile.

“It’s not my business to comment on freight contents,” he told her.

“Well...I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jim,” he said simply. He obviously didn’t want to give out his last name.

“Jim, I know you’re not supposed to talk about these things. But I’m a private investigator. I was working for a private party to find a missing person, who I think works at that plant. But have you heard about what happened there last night?”

“Sure did. We weren’t sure whether it was safe for us to come to work today, but apparently the readings are saying its safe? But my co-worker he’s as much as a conspiracy nut as you’ll find, and he’s been blabbering about how there’s radiation for blocks on end and you guys are keeping that info private.”

Mercy chuckled. “Listen, I was there last night, alright? They cleared my partner and I of any radiation sickness. I’m sure there…” Somewhere in the back of her mind came those whisperings again. They held a menacing tone, a warning. She deliberately shoved them away. Mercy shook her head and continued, “As I was saying, anything you say to me will be confidential. I promise you. You’ll be a source of information, that’s all. I don’t even want to know your last name.”

His face started turning red—like a turnip. Mercy thought her imagination had a hand in distorting Jim’s flesh-tones. He kept nodding, though, took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with soda.

“Now, do you know what they are shipping to Mexico?” she asked gently.

He shook his head and seemed to have a little trouble chewing his bite.

“When do they load their goods, and how?” Mercy redoubled her efforts as the whispers became louder. Jim’s face became increasingly flushed.

He was about to answer when he started choking. At first he coughed. Jim tried opening his mouth wider, but a hardy cough overwhelmed him again. He dropped his sandwich, clutched her by the shoulder and bent over, suddenly helpless.

“Oh my God,” she said to no one in particular, as no one else was around.

Jim’s eyes started to water and he panicked. He wasn’t getting any air. Without thinking, Mercy pounded his back, while looking around for someone, anyone. Jim grasped at her, and his face was now a color beyond that of a beet and more like black cherry.

“Help!” Mercy hollered, both fists slamming into his back. “Anyone around? I need some help here!”

She’d never done the Heimlich before, but she’d seen enough movies to know. She got in back of him, summoned up her strength as she wrapped her arms around Jim and squeezed hard.

And again Jim started to fade a little. Mercy focused on his lungs, imagined them clear, and gave a final and forceful tug.

A piece of meat and bread flew from his lips onto the pavement. She held him up as he heaved and then inhaled, taking in precious oxygen. She gave his back a few more poundings for good measure and held him up by his shoulders.

A few moments later, after he’d taken a couple of drinks of soda, Mercy realized the whispers in her mind had gone away. Intuitively, though, she felt the abrupt end to the murmurs was possibly a warning of some kind. Mercy decided she would no longer put anyone in danger’s way of this man—this powerful man, who without warning, could speak, listen and injure from afar.

“Thank you,” Jim said. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

Probably nothing. You wouldn’t have choked at all,
Mercy thought. “Neither do I,” she simply noted, bitterly.

Chapter Seventeen

It was early evening and Mercy was cooking Terra’s favorite dinner, spaghetti, when she heard the knock on the door. A special knock—Grant’s knock. Mercy turned off the sauce and hurried to answer the door.

“Mommy!” Terra shouted and threw her arms around Mercy. Mercy returned the embrace with a joy that filled her heart. She motioned for Grant to come in.

“We had
sooo
much fun, Mommy,” Terra gushed. “Daddy took me to the movies, we had popcorn, and we had pancakes for breakfast! And for dinner too!”

Mercy smiled, but raised an eyebrow at Grant. “Wow, honey that sounds like a great time.” She stroked her daughter’s long and now messy hair. It was sticky. “Is that syrup in your hair?”

“Yeah,” Terra answered. “Daddy didn’t make me take a bath, either.”

Grant coughed politely, his smile pleading for leniency. “Why don’t you just go rinse it out, Terra?” He suggested. “I need to talk with your mother.”