Connecticut, Present Day
Meg closed her eyes and tipped her head back. The rain rushed down over her face and hair, soaking her clothes and school bag. She wondered absentmindedly if her books would be ruined but didn’t care enough to move. The first rush of exhilaration faded and left a hard knot of nothing in her chest. No heart. No soul. No feeling or emotion. Nothing. She relinquished herself to an eternity of standing there, completely at the mercy of the torrential downpour. She laid one hand against the spot where her inner jacket pocket was, thinking of the note there. She didn’t have to read it to remember what it said.
The past never dies.
--Tammy Knight
Some yahoo left it under her front door, probably as a bad joke, several months ago, and yet it was still getting to her. She shouldn’t let it affect her so much, she chided. So what if someone found out that her mother had been put in a coma by some crazed boyfriend who then tried to kill Meg? That had been years ago. She was past that. She sighed. She should have talked to Nicole about it, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. Besides, at the time Nicole was busy trying not to get killed by the psychotic, polluting, law breaking, vice-president of Steagel and Co., as well as her crazy, shape-shifting uncle. She didn’t need to be bothered by some silly note. And Meg couldn’t talk to her now, since Nicole was off enjoying her honeymoon with her hunk of a husband, David. It was for the best. Nicole deserved it, and those two were actually happy together. Meg was happy for Nicole. Still, she could use a friend to talk to right about now.
Unbidden, her thoughts turned to David’s friend, Mark Stevenson. She met him the night Nicole almost died in that building fire, and again at Nicole’s wedding. He was a police office, and not bad on the eyes, either. With his dark brown hair and the hint of a muscular physique, he could easily turn a few heads. The night they met, his hazel eyes looked at her with unabashed concern, like he really cared what happened to her. She instantly pushed him from her thoughts. He was a stranger. She didn’t need to run off and tell some stranger all of her problems. That wasn’t her personality type. Nicole was the only person she confided in. There was no reason to change that now, just because she was feeling a little lonely and vulnerable
Meg pushed her hands through her soaked tresses, hearing the water slosh off of her red-brown hair. “Let it rain,” she thought. It suited her mood better, anyway. The wind picked up, blowing the rain in horizontal sheets of needle like moisture. Still, she didn’t move. Thunder elicited shrieks from nearby students, huddling under the covered walkways. She didn’t even flinch. She didn’t care about the potential for lightning, while she stood ankle deep in dirty rain water. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the bell toll the hour and sighed. Ah well, it was time for class. Opening her eyes, she headed to the psych building.
* * *
Mara pulled her sweater tighter and closed the balcony doors. The rain was starting to slack off from the mid-day monsoon of a few minutes earlier. Strange, she thought to herself. Heavy rain wasn’t uncommon, but something felt unnatural about today’s weather. She thought instantly of the dark being she sensed influencing Artemis, Nicole’s uncle. He was powerful enough to evade her every psychic probe, powerful enough to be behind a complex set of events that stretched back at least two decades. She didn’t have any proof, but she felt certain this being was the reason Artemis killed Nicole’s parents when the girl was but three years old. Artemis was never close with Richard. He was always jealous of his brother, but Mara never imagined things would turn so violent between them. But that was neither here nor there. Artemis was a pawn. As powerful as he was in his own right, as was everyone in his family, Artemis was being manipulated by someone even stronger than he was. That mysterious someone killed couriers for the Council in order to aid in Artemis’ escape. She only shared this bit of news with Mark. Nicole suffered enough problems as of late, and Mara hadn’t wanted to throw such a shadow over Nicole and David’s wedding, but she would need to tell them all, soon. They needed to be prepared for the possibility of another attack.
She took a seat in the middle of the room and prepared to meditate. Across the room, candles lit in response to her will. The now light drizzle left trails of water splintering into a hundred different directions on her patio doors and windows. She watched the movement dispassionately and let it calm her thoughts and breathing. Taking a deep breath, Mara stretched out her senses, grasping for something, anything. She followed the thread of intense weather back to its source and sighed in relief. It wasn’t malevolent. The source did not even know what she was doing. The currents of the weather simply intensified and receded in response to the girl’s own unstable emotional state. Sensing something familiar in this girl, Mara stretched herself further, searching for an identity. Many years ago, Mara would have been surprised by what she found, Nicole’s young friend, Meghan, but a long existence meant few things could surprise her anymore. It made things fairly boring most of the time. She was about to pull away when she felt something else familiar in the girl. Mara tried to dismiss it and withdraw, not wishing to intrude any farther, but something wouldn’t let her back off. It was her own fault for indulging in this curiosity of hers, Mara chastised. She hated to make contact with others, even without their knowledge. There was just something so personal about it. Centuries ago, she did so without any control, automatically sensing if there was another of her kind anywhere within a thousand miles. It progressed to the point where she could sense almost every one of her kind alive across the entire planet, without even trying. That was a disconcerting time for her. Thoughts and emotions inundated her all at once on an almost daily basis. Many of the relatively inexperienced ones felt her gentle touch and reached back instinctually. The older ones developed mental barriers that automatically repelled any unwelcome contact. They didn’t notice her inadvertent connecting. But the young ones, they almost destroyed her. So, she withdrew, again. She decided it was the only thing she could do. Any other path led to madness. Now, she only probed or interfered when she needed to. She had no desire to return to the way things were. Her mind couldn’t take the strain.
Fighting against herself and good sense, Mara delved into the girl’s mind anyway and found what drew her. Her eyes flew open in surprise. “She’s his daughter,” she announced softly to her empty room.
* * *
“What ya doin?” A melodic voice called through the haze of Mark’s concentration. Across the room, the sounds of people talking and phones ringing came back to his attention full force.
Mark looked up from his papers to see Susan sit down nonchalantly in the chair by his desk. Susan Anderson, the rising young star down at the law offices in town, helped Nicole tremendously during that entire Steagel fiasco. When the Smithsdale Environmental Society, or SES for short, developed their pollution case against Steagel and Co., it was Susan who handled all the legal aspects of their investigation. Though, to be fair, she was probably motivated almost as much by it being a noble cause as by her romantic relationship with John Markham, the current head of the organization. Regardless, she was a great help to all the college kids who were a part of the group, including Nicole. Nicole’s adoptive parents founded the group, and Nicole’s investigation of Steagel almost led to her death on several occasions.
But that wasn’t the only Susan he knew. Being friends with several cops, she tended to show up at all the bars and clubs the off duty officers frequented. He saw her there on many occasions, and she always tried to draw him away from his solitary corners to come join the rest of the group. She was only moderately successful in this endeavor. He eventually stopped going out entirely. But at least she meant well. She was a friendly, easygoing individual who wanted to see her friends enjoy themselves. For some reason, she included him in that group. Over the years, he began to feel the same way about her
Mark pushed back into his chair and gave her a look. “Is that any way for a lawyer to talk?” he asked teasingly.
She grinned. “Nope, but do I look like I care?” Her long, brown hair was pulled back in a tasteful clip, simple and efficient, and she wore a crisp, freshly ironed suit. She looked the part of a high-powered attorney, ready and willing to take on all the woes of the world. At least, her hair and clothes did. Her demeanor was completely casual. The juxtaposition of formal yet casual should have looked strange, but somehow she managed to pull it off with style. She wasn’t pretending to be anything she wasn’t. This was Susan, take it or leave it, and he respected her for it. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Mark shuffled through some paperwork and feigned a distracted tone. “Working. Paperwork. You know how it is.”
“Good,” she said cheerfully.
He raised an eyebrow. “Good?”
“Yeah, you should work hard now, and get everything done, so you will be free to go out and have fun tonight.”
Mark groaned, but before he could start to argue, Susan launched her counterattack. “It’s a celebration, so you can’t back out. I just got promoted, and I want everyone to join me for a drink or two to toast to my continued professional escalation.”
Mark gave a wry grin. “Maybe.”
Susan leaned in with one hand cupped to her ear. “What was that? Was that a ‘maybe’ from our illustrious town recluse?” She giggled and took her hand down. “At least it’s not a fat out rejection. Speaking of …” she rolled her eyes, her tone sobering slightly, “I just got this new case to go with my promotion. It’s the Smithsdale Strangler case?” She waited for Mark’s nod of recognition. “Well, the thing is, some of the stuff in the file just doesn’t seem to add up. There are inconsistencies everywhere. I called the officer on file, and I keep getting stonewalled. He and his partner won’t return my calls, and when I do get through to them, they give me half answers and some macho, ‘Hey, don’t challenge us, little girl’ blow off.” She blew out a disgusted sigh, chewing at her inner cheek while staring at a spot on the floor tile
Mark looked off contemplatively. It wasn’t like the guys to act like that. They usually tried to be as helpful as possible. It was one of the benefits of a pseudo-small town. It wasn’t small in the way of everyone knowing everyone else, but they sure acted like they did. Something didn’t feel right. Susan’s distracted foot tapping and other uncharacteristic fidgeting suggested she felt the same way. “Do you want me to look into it?”
Susan blinked back at him and shook her head. “No, that’s alright. It’s sink or swim time. I need to do this one on my own.” She wondered if she should have said anything about her problems, but she needed to vent her frustrations a little, and Mark was always a good listener, even if she couldn’t get him to ever relax and have any fun. She hoped he would come out tonight. He needed to get out and stop working so hard all the time. He always seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Are you sure?” He didn’t like the sound of things, but it was her call. He didn’t want to step on her toes and ruin her credibility by getting involved. Besides, he learned a long time ago that people needed to solve their own problems most of the time. He couldn’t always stick his nose into everyone else’s business.
Susan pushed herself up from the chair to go. “Yes, for the time being, at least. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” She shot him a charming smile that reached all the way to her eyes and leaned in slightly. “Don’t forget about tonight.”
Mark smiled as she walked away. She was persistent. He had to give her that.
* * *
“Here, you take this stack, and I’ll get the other one.” John handed the pile of papers to Meghan and grabbed another dusty pile out of the back of his car. Together, they walked to a small, as of yet relatively empty, corner rental space off of Green Street, the new home of the Smithsdale Environmental Society. Pushing her way through the front door, Meg walked over to an empty table and set down the stack of papers, a random collection of member lists, receipts, investigation paperwork and research studies of various environmental topics. Lucky for everyone, John often took his work home with him. A few months earlier, an explosion destroyed their old meeting hall. Because of his diligence, the majority of their supplies and paperwork were still intact. Otherwise, they would be starting over from scratch right now instead of just relocating to a new building.
John set down his stack next to Meg’s and walked past her into the back room. “I’m just going to let Katie know we’re here,” he called out behind him.
Sighing, Meg dusted off her hands and perched herself on the side of the desk. Katie was putting in a lot of hours to get the SES back up and running. Meg wouldn’t have suspected such devotion from her when they first met. The perfect vision of a sorority cheerleader, down to the blonde hair and floral ensemble she usually sported, Katie did not exactly portray the image of a head to the grindstone, work-a-holic type. But over the past couple of months, Katie surprised everyone with her dedication, tenacity and intelligence. Taking charge of all the office setup, she offered to input all the paperwork into computer files for easier storage and retrieval. She was also instrumental in finding the new rental facility and negotiating a fair rental price from the landlord. No one knew how she convinced him to offer free electricity in addition to the low rent, but good looks could go a long way, especially when the landlord was a middle-aged, overweight, balding man who never received attention from pretty young women. A properly timed smile and laugh could work wonders. At least, that was Meg’s theory.
Meg felt a shudder run down her back and glanced out the front window. Looking for the source of her unease, she didn’t see anything strange. There was a car driving by, but she didn’t think that would set her senses on edge. On the grass across the street, a couple walked their dog, but they weren’t looking in her direction, and she didn’t sense anything off about them. It was probably her mind running away with her, she reasoned. She was on edge so much recently, she was imagining things. That was all it was. She needed to calm down before she drove herself crazy. She took a deep breath and resolved to not let everything get to her so much. Just as she made her decision, a sudden noise sounded behind her, causing her to jump. Feeling instantly foolish for her overreaction, she looked to the door John disappeared through earlier and saw him emerge, jingling a set of keys. “Katie left some stuff in her car that needs to be brought in. Want to help?”
She blew out a relieved breath. He hadn’t noticed her reaction to his sudden appearance. At least no one else was witness to her irrational response. She could pretend it hadn’t happened. “Sure.” Meg jumped off the desk and followed John outside, staring blindly at the car window’s reflective surface while she waited for him to find the correct key to open the door. Stray movement caught her eye, causing her gaze to focus reflexively. Blinking, she looked closer at an image of someone walking in the distance. About a block away was a woman with long dark hair, her back to Meg, walking toward the park. Looking over her shoulder, Meg’s breath caught in her throat. Seemingly in response to Meg’s gaze, the woman turned her head back and appeared to look directly at Meg for a long moment before looking away again. Meg felt suddenly lightheaded, reaching out blindly for support and finding John’s back.
“Huh? Meg, are you okay?” John put a steadying hand on Meg’s shoulders and looked at her closely. His gaze ran over her, looking for the reason for her fall, but seeing no apparent cause.
“Yeah,” she said absentmindedly, looking back to where the woman had been. She was nowhere to be seen. Meg wondered again if she was really starting to lose it. Now, she was seeing things that weren’t there.
John looked her over in concern. She didn’t look okay. Her normally tan skin was several shades lighter than usual, and she was looking kind of spooked, with her eyes darting back and forth between him and an empty stretch of sidewalk in the distance. “Are you sure? You look kind of pale.”
“I’m fine, really.” If only that was true. She knew she did not imagine anything. She wasn’t that far gone, yet. That woman looked just like her mother. But that was impossible. Her mother was in a coma, had been for quite some time. Unless . . . no, it couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. There was no way she could be awake after this much time passed. Was it just a coincidence, someone who happened to resemble her mother? What else could it be? Her hand unconsciously moved to her pocket and she froze. The note. Could this all be someone’s idea of some sick joke? “Actually, if it’s okay with you, I think I should go home. I didn’t sleep very well last night, and I think it’s starting to catch up with me.” She gave a weak smile and hoped John wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Sure. I’ve got the rest of this covered. You just go get some rest. Let me know if you need anything.” He looked at her speculatively. He couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth about not sleeping well, but he could see something was obviously bothering her. The rest would probably do her good either way.
“Okay,” Meg waved over her shoulder and began to walk back toward her apartment. Pulling her jacket closed, she partially jogged the rest of the way, glancing over her shoulder periodically. As her building came into view, she quickened her pace, noticing as she did the first drops of rain beginning again. It was almost as though the rain was following her, chasing her. Refusing to be controlled by her fear, she made herself stop at the mailboxes. Gathering up the stack of junk mail and bills, she forced herself to walk slowly into her apartment. Finally inside, she leaned against the door and began to go through her mail, to distract herself and because it needed to be done. She tossed aside a couple of credit card applications, pizza coupons and furniture store ads and tore into a letter from the university. Her eyes stopped on two words, “fee raise.” She didn’t bother to read the rest. There wasn’t any point. That was it. She would have to drop out. Her credit cards were already maxed out just paying off the tuition. There was no savings to draw from. Financial aid was dry. There wasn’t any more money. Maybe in a year or two, if she could save up again . . . she shook her head. Who was she kidding? This was it. How many second chances could one person expect to get, anyway? This was her second chance, and she used it up.
Meg moved on to the next envelope and ripped it open absentmindedly. Unfolding the page inside, she glanced over it and felt herself stop cold, her eyes freezing on the name, “Edmond Marlay.” The page slipped from her hands, her mail falling in every direction. Kneeling down to pick up the letter, she jumped as a clasp of thunder boomed nearby, shaking all the walls of the building. It was immediately followed by the lights going out. Letter in hand but unable to read any of the words on the page, she cursed at the dim room. Barely remembering to lock the door behind her, she rushed from the apartment and ran back out into the rain drenched streets. Struggling just to hold the page straight in the pounding rain and wind, she read every word of the letter with deliberate care, reading one line over and over until she could make the words stick in her head. “As of fifteen hundred Thursday afternoon, Edmond Marlay has been released from the Black Park Correctional Facility.” It went on to mention something about good behavior and rehabilitation, but Meg didn’t pay much attention to that.
How could they release him? How could they ever release him? After everything he did. The logical part of her mind reminded her that he couldn’t stay in prison forever. After all, he never actually killed anyone, though he might as well have. But subjecting a person to a lifetime in a coma did not a killer make. Meg ignored that part of her mind. He ruined their lives and now he was free. That was it. He could just go about his own business and do what ever the hell he pleased while they had to live with the consequences of his actions. Where was the justice in that?
Movement caught her eye, forcing her to look up from the letter. Not seeing anything, she carefully folded the rain drenched letter and placed it in her pocket. She would have to deal with that later. Right now, she had to go to campus and take care of her other problem. Looking over at her car, she felt a panicked laugh threaten to come up and forced it back down. No sense looking over there. The tank was empty, and there was no money to fill it. Meghan looked up at the grey white sky and let the water wash over her. “No sense putting off the inevitable.” Taking one last deep breath, she started the long walk to campus.