Society Rules (49 page)

Chapter 32

“But Jesus said, ‘suffer the little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for such is the Kingdom, of heaven’”

Matthew 19:14

Over the near deafening sounds of wildlife; birds chirruping, squirrels chattering, and whatever the hell else was living in the woods making all that racket, Cassandra was enjoying the faint rasping sound that her sharp metal nail file was making as she scratched letters into the back of the ancient headstone in front of her.

Jake and Cassidy sat on a lichen-covered log only a few yards away, watching in awe. They seemed quite impressed by Lockhart’s fearless blasphemy.

This was an outstanding display of Cassandra’s ability to amuse herself at the expense of others, even if that person didn’t happen to be alive to know about it. The late Mrs. Nora Walker surely wouldn’t mind her little joke, would she?

On the back of Mrs. Walker’s simple stone marker, dated 1890-1918, Cassandra had scrawled the faintly visible letters that spelled out S-h-a-w-n B-a-k-e-r.

She thought this was hysterical, especially in light of the fact that right now, she rather wanted to wring his handsome neck for putting her through this miserable morning.

Not that she didn’t still believe it would all be worth it in the end. Oh, yes. She was sure it would be.

It
had
better
be
, she thought, with an extra hard jab at the crumbling stone, causing a large chunk to fly off.

Damn
it
—now she would have to re-do the “r”.

She doubted that Shawn would be as amused by this as she. It was well known that he was a little squeamish about things such as cemeteries, and probably headstones as well.

So much for his tough guy rep.

Cassandra had no such fear. A cemetery was just a place. It just happened to have some dead people lying around underground. So what? And a headstone. Well, it was just that; stone.

Whether large and fancy, as some of the more elaborate granite ones were, with the huge sculptures, statues and crypts, or the older ones made of softer stone, like poor Mrs. Walker’s here, whose marker she was now defacing.

It was just rock. Nothing more. She was not sentimental about such things.

Cassandra was simply killing time now, having moved her quarry across the road and deep into the cemetery after the third nosey do-gooder had stopped to ask if she needed help. She had sent all three packing with her ungracious thanks, and made a silent vow to make the next Good Samaritan very sorry that he’d stopped.

She was a little disappointed though, because from that moment on, not another car had happened by at all. It was a pretty weird, actually. The road was just visible from where they sat, and the lack of traffic was conspicuous in its absence.

Cassandra had herded the children ahead of her through the maze of old and new monuments to the dearly departed—the children respectfully following the old brick path, nearly obscured by weeds and muddy debris—unlike agent Lockhart, who walked a ruthlessly unswerving path, regardless of who this required her to trample.

They’d reached the far end of the small and sporadically maintained graveyard, whose heavy cover of trees gave the place a dark and slightly sinister air. Even in the light of day, with the hot sun shearing neat holes through the foliage, it was a little dubious . . . or would be to most people.

The children had watched as Lockhart’s moods had swung like a pendulum; shifting wildly from fury and irritation, to a cackling giddiness and back again.

It was fascinating to observe.

She would seem the picture of triumphant serenity for short intervals of time, only to have her anger flare, bubbling to the surface and exploding like a pyroclastic cloud of toxic fumes.

She was actually maintaining quite well for Cassandra, considering that practically everything that could possibly go wrong, had done exactly that, ever since she had absconded with these kids.

It started with the deer collision, and from there, every freaky thing under the (oddly hot) sun seemed to be attempting to thwart the good agent, making the morning quite difficult for her.

Shortly after abandoning the car, while Cassandra had been pacing the road and irritably texting Baker, the heel of her left shoe had inexplicably separated from the sole. This left her to wobble unsteadily along in her uneven footwear until finally, in a rage, she had removed her right shoe, and with much clawing and swearing, managed to rip the heel off of that one as well.

Then, there was the bizarre feeling that unfriendly eyes were spying upon her. It seemed to be coming not from the kids, but the very trees themselves. They appeared to be trying to stare her down.

In addition, it seemed as if she were being pelted with small objects, such as acorns and little pebbles.

The trees were noticeably over-populated with squirrels, birds, and other creatures and she could swear they were purposefully hurling these objects in her direction. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it was unsettling and annoying as hell, to boot.

For the moment, she was on her manic high, and blowing off these events, convinced that these were nothing more than the imaginings of a bored and restless Federal Agent. Now that she suspected that these were no ordinary kids, she was working very hard to keep a tight lid on her excitement.

She was imagining the looks on the faces of all of her fellow agents, when they heard about her and Shawn bringing in the mother-load. Not one, or even two Society Members, but
four
of
a
kind!
Two matched sets at that, she was willing to bet.

A winning hand, for sure, she gloated.

No one would ever beat that . . . not as long as the Homeland Security office continued to exist, would she ever be bested. It would be legend, and the stories told to everyone. She frowned for a moment, as she lamented the fact that this wouldn’t be one for the history books.

No, the average American citizen would never know her name, because none of this could ever be made public. It was all top-secret activity.

That was the bitch of this kind of work. No widespread glory.

Oh well.

She straightened herself, having completed her engraving project; At least everyone in the department will know. And Baker and I will have something to toast, over an intimate dinner, maybe at my place! She drifted off into her fantasy, while still keeping her eyes on the kids.
Mustn’t
let
them
get
away,
hmmm?

Cassandra allowed her mind to play out her cozy little scene, letting it veer sharply into dangerously x-rated territory.

The sound of embarrassed snickering pulled her from her reverie. The children were watching her with their heads close together, whispering and squirming uncomfortably.

“They
can
read
minds,
Cassandra!”
Baker’s warning words that he had spoken at the Wayside came back to her. She had scoffed at this at the time, having never encountered anything outside of nature before, but now, she was all but certain that they were spying on her passionate interlude.

“Just what is so funny?” Cassandra crossed her arms and glared at the two cherubic faces, now red with embarrassment.

“Nothing,” coughed Cassidy, looking pointedly away. She prodded her brother with her elbow, and he looked away as well.

Cassandra moved closer to the children and perched on the edge of a large above ground crypt. She spoke softly, but menacingly. “I think I’d better tell you, that you two are worth almost as much dead, as you are worth alive, to the people I work for.” The children went pale with fear.

“So that means, you’d better not piss me off,” she continued. “And intruding on my private thoughts will definitely piss me off! Don’t do it again.” She spoke coldly, staring only at the girl.

There was something about her that brought out something close to . . . well, not
fear
exactly, but some other strong, unnerving emotion in Cassandra; something that she did not care for at all.

The boy was simply a wimp, she thought nastily, allowing his sister to be the obviously more dominant of the two. He looked almost constantly on the verge of tears, except when he was too busy looking terrified, then he would be comforted by the girl.

Cassidy disappointed her by simply tilting her head in acknowledgement to this direct threat. Cassandra attempted to stare the little girl down as Cassidy looked back at her steadily, although her eyes were touched with fear.

Satisfied by this for the moment, Cassandra broke eye contact, and whipped around to look behind her.

She could have sworn something had darted past her. She almost saw it, but not quite.

Something in her peripheral vision.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes as she scanned the thick tangle of brown grass and small trees, then around to the tree-crammed forest surrounding the little cemetery. She heard the rustling sound of leaves and dried grass being trampled by some unseen thing, just at the edge of the clearing.

Probably
a
raccoon,
or
something,
she thought. God knows the place was crawling with them. She returned her gaze to the children, and repeated her warnings, before standing up to stretch her arms above her head.

Damn
it,
where
is
Shawn?
She felt as if she had been here for hours, and it was
hot
! She had never felt such heat this time of year in Vermont. It was bordering on the ridiculous, she whined to herself, quite forgetting her earlier rant about enjoying global warming.

This sucked.

She snapped her head around. There it was again, only this time, whatever it was had been closer. The shadow of something just about knee high was slinking around just out of her field of vision.

Cassandra spun around, rapidly becoming exasperated with her failed attempts to catch whatever this thing was that seemed to be taunting her with its presence. As she searched the clearing, she noticed the girl looking toward the area where the woods became impossibly thick and dark. Her light brow creased with a small frown, and she shook her head ever so slightly.

Cassandra tried to follow the child’s gaze, seeing only the clumped overgrowth of vegetation.

“What is it?” she demanded. “What do you see?”

“An animal,” Cassidy whispered, now looking fully at the woman. An unnatural chill shivered through Lockhart’s body at the child’s unflinching stare.

What
was
up
with
this
, Cassandra wondered. These kids might be the so-called Society Members, but they were still small children, and thus far, had shown her only properly respectful fear. She wasn’t afraid of them, that was for sure . . . but still.

She remembered Shawn also telling her that they were not sure exactly what abilities these creatures possessed.

She absently patted the Beretta 92 F that was housed in the holster behind her skirt’s waistband, as if reassuring herself that it was still there. She felt her anger beginning to resurface.

Damn it! How
dare
Shawn leave her to baby sit here in the middle of a freakin’ graveyard? He had better have a really good excuse for taking just short of forever to get to her location.

She hissed with anger as another object, slightly larger than the earlier items, struck the back of her head with enough force to actually cause real pain. It felt like a golf ball sized rock.

Cassandra felt the back of her head and let out a howl of rage when her fingers revealed that a small amount of blood had been drawn. She directed her fury at the children, now huddled together on the log, looking quite terrified.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed at Cassidy, who simply shook her head at the woman’s anger.

Jake was gripping the log tightly with both hands, looking at her with a combination of fright and, strangely enough,
sympathy
.

“Why do you have that look on your face, boy?” she barked out at him. Jake opened his mouth, but found that the words were stuck in his throat.

“Answer
me!”
Cassandra now sounded slightly hysterical. She was accustomed to feeling fully in control of a situation, and it did not set well with her right now, this feeling of vague uncertainty.