Shadows in the Sand (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 2) Page 9

  “Was it a local?” Nan asked, wincing.

  Courtland shrugged. “Nobody I recognized, but then again, I don’t live here.” She glanced over her shoulder at the other officers. “You realize, Mrs. Roberts, that I can’t go into too much detail about this.”

  “Oh, I understand. I was mainly concerned that it wasn’t anything suspicious. I get rattled easily now that I live alone.”

  “Oh. Oh, no, this looks to be purely accidental, honestly. And, again, I’m sorry about your husband. He seemed like such a sweet man.”

  “Thank you. He was.”

  “Well, I better get back to the boys.” Courtland looked at McCoy and Amanda. “Hope you two enjoy your stay. Be sure to try Murrells Inlet for some seafood before you leave. And Nan, if you ever get ‘rattled’, we’re just a phone call away.”

  “I appreciate that,” Nan said. “Thank you, Deputy.”

  Courtland nodded and returned to the other deputies. Foster gave them a final look of disapproval as they got into the car.

  “So, we’re back to square one,” Amanda said as she turned the car around. “What’s next? An extensive internet search?”

  “I’ve got the kid working on that,” McCoy said. He looked out the window and sighed. “I think we’re going to have to step up our game a notch.”

  “What’s the next notch?” asked Nan.

  McCoy turned and grinned at her.

  “Ever been to a séance, Nan?”

  ***

  Pru had thought it would be pretty much impossible to get access to her aunt’s computer considering the train wreck that had just occurred, but to her surprise both her aunt and mother had agreed almost immediately, explaining that they had ‘grown-up stuff’ to talk about. It was obvious that they wanted her safely out of the way while they had this discussion, which Pru figured was going to be about which of their recent guests was the nuttiest.

  But that wasn’t really fair, of course. Pru could tell that both her mother and aunt believed what Nan had told them, and they were both scared. Uncle Paul didn’t believe a word of it, but he was just mad because McCoy had made him look like an ass, which he was. Not a mean ass or anything, but an ass just the same.

  Pru wasn’t sure how long the ‘grown-up stuff’ would last, so she decided she’d better hurry. She was as comfortable with a computer as most other twelve year-olds, which was probably more comfortable than most adults, so she didn’t think it would take too long to look up what McCoy had asked her to. Besides, this was information that she needed. What if that thing came back before McCoy figured out what to do about it? It would be up to Pru to defend herself and her family.

  Of course, that would be a whole lot easier if she knew how to use some of the magic McCoy had spoken of. Of all the things McCoy had mentioned, that little tidbit had interested her the most. She’d already managed to spread the red brick dust without anyone being the wiser, so she guessed that technically she already had worked some magic. But surely there was more to it than that.

  She was tempted to start her browsing session by searching for magic spells, but she quickly realized that it would be a waste of time. Not only could she not tell fake magic from real magic, but until she knew what she needed to use magic against, it would do her little good.

  Pru typed in water spirits and hit ENTER. The very first link was to a popular online encyclopedia, so she tried that one. Once the page loaded, she scrolled down and found that the entries were listed according to the country of origin. Her first instinct was to look under America or United States, but there was no listing for either of those. Apparently the United States had no indigenous water spirits.

  Okay.

  She thought back to the conversation earlier. Nan had mentioned the singing, saying that she’d thought the words had been German. Pru looked at the list and saw that Germanic was indeed an option. She clicked on that one.

  There were two types of spirits listed here: an Ondine and a Nix. The Ondine was described as a female water elemental. Since the thing on the beach had definitely not looked like a female, Pru skipped that one. The Nix were classified as shape shifting water spirits which often appeared in human form. That looked promising, so she clicked on it.

  The article stated that the male version of the spirit was called a Nix while the females were known as Nixe. They were closely related to the Scandinavian Näck and inhabited all bodies of water, from small streams and rivers to lakes and oceans. They could take any form they pleased, but generally preferred to appear as beautiful men and women.

  Pru felt sure she was on the right track, but the remaining information was vague and didn’t clearly state whether these beings were good or evil. After backing out of that page, she saw that there was a separate article on the Näck. Since the two were supposedly related, she clicked to read that article.

  There was a great deal more information on the Näck than there had been on the Nix. The Näck also dwelt in or around bodies of water, though unlike the Nix they seemed to have no female counterparts. The Näck were skilled musicians, especially on the violin, and would use their enchanting songs to—to lure women and children to drown in the waters!

  This was it! It had to be! If the language Nan had heard really had been German, then these things must be Nixes. Instead of using violins, the female sang while the male, appearing as a beautiful human, lured the victims into the water.

  Great. Okay. Now that she had a good idea as to what they were, the next information she needed to find was how to get rid of them. She went back and scanned the article about the Näck and came up empty. Frustrated, she read the article again slowly, looking for any other variation of the name, anything that might lead to more information on the creatures. She came across one alteration of the name: Nøkken.

  Since there was nothing more on this site that offered anything useful, Pru backed out and typed in the word Nøkken. She looked over the list of suggested sites which sprang up on the computer’s monitor, finally settling on one which dealt with mythological creatures.

  Nøkken, it turned out, was actually a name given to an individual water spirit. The characteristics attributed to Nøkken were generally the same as the Näck and Nix, so Pru felt pretty confident that it was the same type of being. Nøkken was said to have lured women and children to their deaths in lakes and rivers. As with the others, Nøkken was adept at shapeshifting, but this article went further, describing the spirit’s true appearance. Nøkken was said to be hideous, covered with seaweed and having glowing green eyes. It allegedly had a large mouth filled with sharp teeth and skin like that of a dead man who had been submerged underwater for a long time.

  Pru grew cold as she read the description. She shuddered as she sat in front of the computer. Was that what the thing at Nan’s had really looked like? It had been scary enough being chased by a creepy musclehead, but it was absolutely terrifying to think that it had actually been some kind of ocean-living swamp monster with razor-sharp teeth.

  She quickly read the rest of the article, her heart racing, until she at last found what she was looking for. Relieved, she read the short paragraph over and over, making sure that she wasn’t missing anything.

  There was a way out of this, after all. It was a simple thing, yet nearly impossible at the same time. At least for her. She needed to get a hold of McCoy, and quickly.

  She was reaching for the phone when the power went out.

  ***

  “Are you sure this will work?” Amanda asked for the fifth or sixth time since McCoy had started.

  For the fifth or sixth time, McCoy simply grunted. Though he loved Amanda dearly, he thought—not for the first time—about kicking her out of the room. Necromancy was a tricky thing, and delicate. Screw up one minor detail and it was likely to blow up in your face. Literally.

  He had just finished positioning one of Nan’s mirrors on the dining room table, propping it up in the back and making small adjustments until the mirror was standing at just the
right angle. With that accomplished, he rummaged through his knapsack and brought out a single black taper. Since the candle’s reflection could not show in the mirror, McCoy placed it off to the side on a separate small table he’d requisitioned from the hallway.

  “Disregarding whether or not it’s possible, is it a good idea?” Nan asked.

  “Right now, it’s the only idea I’ve got. And I have to hurry. It’s nearly twilight, and that’s the optimum time of day for this sort of thing.”

  McCoy lit the candle and hurriedly shooed Amanda and Nan into their seats. He checked the angle of the mirror again, made another slight adjustment, then sat down in his own chair, seemingly satisfied.

  “Okay,” he said. “You both have paper and pens. I want you to write down anything you hear, whether it’s single words or complete sentences. If you see something, make a note of it. I’m going to be preoccupied and my memory ain’t what it used to be, so I’m counting on you two.”

  Both women nodded solemnly. Neither looked as if they were overly anxious to begin. McCoy hoped that they wouldn’t both freeze up at the same time; this was why he’d given both of them writing materials. Hopefully, if one of them spaced out, the other would have the presence of mind to keep on writing.

  Actual physical danger to anyone involved was minimal, but the capacity for psychological harm was far greater. This was usually not due to any malevolent intent by the spirit itself; rather, it occurred because of the human mind’s inability to reconcile images or events which are way off base with its usual line of reasoning. McCoy wasn’t too concerned about Amanda—she’d already helped him battle a Dobhar-chú, a demon, and the evil Fey Sluagh, so he couldn’t see a ghost rattling her.

  Nan, on the other hand, had been a classic textbook unbeliever until recently. Even though she’d already encountered the spirit he was attempting to summon, he couldn’t be sure how she would react upon seeing the apparition appear at his bidding.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to start. Remember, be quiet and let me do all the talking.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his mind clear until nothing remained but the image of the spirit he wished to summon. Opening his eyes, he gazed deeply into the mirror and spoke.

  “Gar ici.” This was a Cajun phrase which, translated, meant look here. He was asking the spirit to look into the mirror with him, thus allowing him to see the ghost’s image when it materialized.

  Within seconds, the Gray Man appeared directly behind McCoy. He stood straight and still, his eyes fixed upon the mirror, his face slack and expressionless. Both women gave a sudden start at the spirit’s sudden appearance, but to their shared credit, both remained totally silent. McCoy gave not the slightest indication that he was aware of the ghost’s presence. He continued to stare into the mirror. The silence in the room was absolute. After nearly a minute of this, McCoy spoke again.

  “There are others,” he said softly, seemingly to no one in particular. “They are not like you. I need to know of them.”

  “My knowledge is limited, sir,” the Gray Man responded, his voice deep and ragged. “What would you know?”

  “What are they?” McCoy asked.

  “I do not know what they are, sir. They never were. They are not like me.”

  “They never were?”

  “They are not like me,” the Gray Man repeated.

  McCoy considered this. Unlike demons, ghosts did not try to deceive and did not speak in riddles. But they were seldom clear and direct. You had to think about their answers.

  “They were never human?”

  “Correct, sir. They are not like me.”

  “They are demons?”

  “I do not know what they are, sir.”

  Inwardly, McCoy winced. It was like talking to a young child. A spirit wouldn’t lie, but it often couldn’t volunteer information, especially when it had been formally summoned. You had to ask the right question to get the desired answer. That could take all night, and the ghost’s energy wouldn’t last that long.

  “Why are they here?”

  “I believe they are here to kill, sir. Only to kill.”

  “Where do they come from?”

  “I do not know, sir.” The Gray Man seemed to be growing impatient.

  “How can they be stopped?”

  “I don’t know!” To McCoy’s left, a picture fell from the wall and crashed to the floor. Nan gave an audible gasp.

  “What are they?” McCoy asked again, exasperated.

  “I do not know what they are.”

  “Damnit! I need a name!”

  The Gray Man seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. His form, which had appeared rigid and tense, relaxed considerably.

  “I know a name, sir. I know two names.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Since night had not yet fallen, the house did not plunge into total darkness when the power shut off. Weak light crept in through the windows, though it was on the wane and would not last much longer. Pru could hear the adults talking in another part of the house, the women’s voices tinged with fear and anxiety while her uncle’s tone was full of confidence and bravado. The big doofus would probably march straight outside in an effort to determine whether it was an actual outage or localized only to their house. Pru hoped that McCoy was right about the males being relatively safe.

  Because she needed to make sure that neither her mother nor aunt ventured from the safety of the house, and also because she didn’t want to be alone, Pru went off in search of the others. She hoped that her aunt and uncle kept an adequate supply of flashlights and candles. Considering that they lived in an area prone to hurricanes and tropical storms, it would make sense to keep such items in stock, wouldn’t it? Pru figured they had another ten minutes or so before darkness really settled in.

  She found them in the kitchen, already involved in a heated debate over the wisdom of Paul going outside to check out the situation. The two women were adamantly against the idea, while Paul was trying to convince them in a condescending way one might use to persuade two small children to eat their vegetables.

  “Really, girls?” Paul was saying. “You’ve let that crazy Roberts woman and her loopy friends spook you. I mean, listen to yourselves. Do you actually think there’s some ocean-living boogeyman running around out there?”

  “I don’t know what might be out there, Paul,” Karen said firmly. “And that’s the point. Maybe there’s nothing supernatural out there. Maybe it’s just some homicidal maniac with a tire iron. Either way, you’d be just as sorry to run into them.”

  “So I’ll take my chipping wedge with me, if it’ll make you feel better. Christ, Karen. I just want to look up and down the coast and see if we’re the only ones without lights. If we are, I’ll check the breaker box. If not, someone needs to call the power company and report it.”

  “Why not just check the box first? Then you’ll know,” Karen retorted.

  “Because I want to go outside first, that’s why.” Pru saw that her uncle, obviously sensing that he was not going to get his way amicably, was becoming obstinate. She also understood that it had less to do with him actually appraising the electrical situation than with him showing the women how foolishly they were behaving. Besides, his macho ego would not let him back down from going outside now that he’d brought it up.

  “Fine!” Karen said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “If you’re so set on going out there, go now before it gets any darker. But just look to see if we’re the only ones out, then get back in here.”

  “Okay, okay! Don’t get your panties in a wad.” He turned and noticed Pru, and actually had the good manners to blush before slipping out the door and into the gloom.

  “Maybe we are overreacting,” Becky said as she looked out into the darkening day. Her voice was hopeful, but Pru knew her mother well enough to know that she really didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Yeah,” Karen said. She walked over to the nearest phone, took it off the base, and pushed a b
utton. “Damn. I forgot the cordless phones won’t work when the power’s out.”

  “You can use my cell,” Becky offered.

  “That’s ok. Mine’s over here on the counter.” Karen went over and picked it up. “I have the power company’s number stored in my contacts. Lord knows we use it often enough.” She thumbed through the contacts, found the number, and hit the call button. She held the phone to her ear briefly, then pulled it away and looked blankly at the screen. She ended the call and repeated the process, obviously obtaining the same results.

  “What is it?” Becky asked.

  “Something’s wrong. My call won’t go through.”

  “Let me try,” Becky offered. “I have a different carrier. Maybe yours is down right now.”

  Karen read off the number while Becky typed it in. A few seconds later, Becky was staring at her own phone, an expression of growing concern on her face.

  “Try calling my cell from yours,” Karen said. Becky cleared her phone, entered Karen’s number, and hit SEND. The silence that greeted them told them all they needed to know.

  “Crap,” Pru said, looking at the door through which her uncle had exited only minutes earlier. “This is so not good.”

  ***

  Paul Stallings stood on the beach as the cool, salty wind whipped at his clothing. It hadn’t taken long to ascertain that there was no wide-spread power outage; light streamed from the windows of the houses nearest to him on either side of his own. That meant the problem was likely on his side, and that a call to the power company would be fruitless.

  On the upside, it should prove to be an easy fix. Most of the wiring in the house was practically brand new; he’d had it checked out and updated when they’d bought the place several years ago. Something must have happened to kick the main breaker. Paul was no electrician, so he didn’t waste much time wondering what that something might have been. As long as he could get the juice back on tonight, that would be enough. He would call the electrician in the morning and have him come out and check things over.