Chapter Seventeen – Sam

 

Faith was taking everything in stride better than I would have imagined, especially after the dream she’d described to me and her hungover roommate as they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and I swept up the pile of splinters and chunks of wood that were the remains of the door.

Now, she was busy getting ready for our trip out to Eb Shook’s ranch, and I was pacing the porch with my cell pressed to my ear.

“Describe the force you felt on the door,” Tabitha said over the phone, her words cool and even and practiced. This was a clinical examination for her, I knew, but even I felt the detachment she was displaying was a little much.

“It was just like a hand, a really strong hand, pressing the door closed from the other side.”

“No hum, no warmth, no coolness?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“No weird smells?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head despite her not being able to see it. “No weird smell. Nothing.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like magic.”

I gave a short bark of laughter. “Not magic? What the hell is it, then? What else can hold a door closed like that?”

“Well, I mean, it’s clearly something supernatural. But, my money’s on it not being magic. Not like any I’ve ever heard of before. There’s always some tell to it, you know that. Some kind of heat, or something else. A presence, even.”

“A presence?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Like, some kind of feeling, or a bit of intelligence. Like when you walk into a dark room, and you just know someone is there despite them not moving or even taking a breath.”

“There was something there,” I said. “I mean, I felt it. Could the cult have brought something up?”

“Ghost, maybe?” she asked. “A spirit from the other side? I mean, it’s possible if they’re able to do what you described last night.”

“Any chance you might be able to narrow down what it is, maybe come up with some sort of protection against it?”

“Basics should work, to begin with. Salt, protection against the evil. You have your medallion, right?”

I reached up, brushed my hand over the small metal amulet beneath my shirt, and nodded to myself. It was a small, intricately worked medallion that a Spanish man, Josue, had given me years before after a job in Morocco that we’d worked together. The hand of Fatima, an old Muslim symbol that was supposed to keep djinns and demons away from your soul.

“Yeah, I still have it.”

“Have her wear it. That should help. When she’s asleep, do a salt circle around her bed.”

“Nothing more specific?”

“Not yet. Going to take a little more research.”

“Okay,” I said. “What else?”

“Decided what you’re going to tell her?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek as I looked out over the pastureland surrounding Faith’s little farmhouse. In the daylight, it was a pretty piece of property. Pine trees off to the south, separating the house from the thrum and strum of freeway traffic, of the semis zooming by on a regular basis. To the east and north, flat pastureland that seemed to break at the end, with more trees going on as far as the eye could see.

I had a sudden impulse to just strip down to nothing, to shift into the form of my wolf, to run and run and run. To really get the feel of the land beneath my paws as I huffed in the scent of pine needles and tar.

And, if I ran far enough and fast enough, maybe I’d gain some sort of clarity about what to do with Faith. How I could tell her, and still keep this bond that seemed to be growing between us alive. I knew, too, that the sooner I told her, the better it would be. The safer it would be for everyone.

“Samuel? Hey, Fitzgerald. Talk to me.”

“I’m trying to figure it out,” I said.

“Well, you better figure it out a little bit faster,” Tabitha said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp and her words clipped. “You got her into this mess, and whoever’s doing this has her in their focus.”

“Look,” I snapped right back, “I know. You don’t need to tell me twice, okay?”

“Well, clearly, I do. Do I need to remind you that you’re the one who brought a civilian into this investigation of yours, despite my warning not to?”

“No, you don’t. No need to rub my nose in it like I’m a bad dog any more than you already have. I know I screwed up. Goddamn, you sound like Kris.”

“Maybe I sound like her because she’d say the same thing if I told her about this.”

I paused, breathed out a little sigh. “You mean you haven’t?”

“No. She’s got enough on her plate as it is, so I’ve kept her out of the loop on some things.”

Another sigh as I leaned against the porch post, looked around the land with a frown plastered on my face.

“Not all of it,” she quickly followed up. “Just some of it, like your new friend Faith.”

“All right,” I said. “What do you think I should do?”

“Me?” Tabitha asked, sounding a little taken aback. Maybe it was because I’d never asked her for any advice other than what the best way to kill something was. “Why do you want to know what I’d do?”

“Well,” I said, shifting around and leaning back against the post, “maybe I need a little outside perspective. Thought of that?”

Silence on the other end of the line. Seconds ticked by on the clock, and still Tabitha didn’t say anything.

“Tabitha?” I asked. “You there?”

“I’m thinking, okay?”

I chuckled a little. “See? It’s harder when you’re the one making the decisions, isn’t it?”

She sniffed into the phone, a little sound of contempt. “I’d tell her, if it were me.”

“You sure?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know if you were her? She probably thinks she’s going crazy, Sam. That this is all in her head. Long run, I think it’s better if she knows. Let her decide for herself.”

“What about me?”

“About your wolf, you mean?” Tabitha asked, uncertainty in her voice.

“Might as well go for broke…”

“Do the full monty?” she asked. “Show her everything?”

“Why not?”

I could practically hear the shrug in her voice. “You think she can handle it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Something tells me she can. She’s already convinced herself all sorts of other things are real. Might as well draw back the curtain and drop the masks for it all, right?”

“Just be…gentle with her.”

I laughed a little. “Come on, Tabitha, you know me. My name might as well be Samuel Gentle Fitzgerald.”

She coughed on the other end of the line. “Yeah. Right.”

I turned back to the house and saw Faith’s roommate Veronica moving inside, collecting some of her things in the living room. Her makeup was fixed, and she’d changed into nice jeans and a black shirt. As I watched her through the window, she picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her keys from the glass bowl on the table near the door.

“All right,” I said. “Looks like her roommate is leaving for work right now. I’ll tell Faith before we leave for the Shook ranch.”

“How’re you going to do it?” she asked.

“I’ll let her make the choice. If she really wants to know what’s hiding in plain sight, I’ll help her see it.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I’ll get her out of town. At least until I can get this all sewn up on my own.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll need it.”