Chapter 3

The moon glinted on the ocean waves and lit Catlyn’s path down the high bluffs to the beach. As she settled her bag more securely over her shoulder, a dull whomp sounded as the drum inside bumped against her leg. The air smelled fresh and clean, with the sharp notes of the desert plants on the bluff. She paused in her walk down the steep incline to rest her burning thighs and watched a rabbit hop from the underbrush. A night bird trilled. Taking a deep breath revived her soul.

She stepped off the path and onto soft sand. Before going further, she took off her shoes and tucked them into her bag. The ocean breeze snatched at her long skirt, whipping it around her legs. Catlyn grabbed it and strode to the water’s edge. Only the waves greeted her on the empty beach. The cold water kissed her toes, and she bent, placing a loving hand on a wavelet.

“Greetings, Yemaya,” she whispered. An unexpected wave crashed over her feet and reached for her skirt’s hem. Laughing, she danced away, barely avoiding getting wet. The ocean’s serenity drew a song from her, and she sang as she walked along the edge of the waves. Her spirit more at ease, she stopped walking. Putting her bag on the sand—well above the waterline—she took out the rose. After plucking the petals from the stem, she picked up her frame drum and went back to the water.

“Yemaya, guide me on my path,” she prayed. “Show me what I need to know. Help me understand what is happening to me.”

Reverently, she offered the rose petals to the goddess, scattering them on the waves. As she watched the ocean, she played her drum. Soon a dark shape cut through the water near the break in the waves. Dolphins always came when she drummed to the ocean.

A low moan coming from the ocean underscored her drumbeat. Her fingers stumbled at the sound, breaking her rhythm. When a long, sinewy neck rose from beyond the breakwaters, she gasped, the drum slipping from her hands. She caught it mere inches from plunging into the wet sand. When she looked back at the water, the creature had disappeared. Now I’m seeing water monsters! What’s next? Dragons?

Catlyn resumed drumming, attempting to restore the sense of peace the beautiful night had brought her. A short time later, the sensation of someone watching pricked her senses, interrupting her reverie. Her pendant laying between her breasts burned. It did that sometimes when she was in danger. She believed her departed mother watched over her and sent her messages through the amulet. She stopped playing, lowered her drum to her side, and looked up and down the beach, confirming she was alone. The feeling continued.

A man stood on the bluff above her, the breeze billowing his long-sleeved shirt. Darkness hid his features, but not the intense scrutiny he gave her. Her body shuddered, completely creeped out by the man.

Afraid and uncomfortable, she hurried to stuff her drum into her bag. When she looked back up, the man had vanished. Remembering Jade’s self-defense lessons, she dug her keys out of her bag. Jade had insisted on teaching her some martial arts moves, even though Catlyn didn’t want to learn it. She gripped her keys in her hand with the pointy edges out.

Sweat trickled down her back and her legs trembled as she crossed the sand to the path leading up the bluff and to the parking lot. She trudged up the steep hill, wishing she had a walking staff with her. It would help her up the slope, and she could use it for protection if she needed it.

Catlyn’s eyes darted from side to side, searching for any sign of the strange man. She tensed when she heard a rustle in the bushes and nearly jumped out of her skin when a rabbit hopped out.

By the time she reached her car, she was shaking, her shoulder blades hurt from scrunching them, and she was panting hard. Her little Honda Civic waited for her alone in the parking lot. Her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn’t seen any car lights nor heard an engine.

Catlyn tossed her bag into the trunk, whispering a quick apology when her drum thumped. As she closed the lid, a shadow passed over the moon. A shiver of fear snaked down her spine. Above her, a dark shape floated past. I must be imagining things. There’s no way that was a dragon! Nervous laughter burst from her. The strange man was merely one more on the long list of weird stuff her mind was conjuring up for her. She warily watched the road behind her, glad when nothing more happened on her drive home.

The next afternoon, Catlyn rushed from her apartment, flinging her damp hair over her shoulder. She clicked her tongue, frustrated about spending too much time working on the necklace and earring set she was making for a customer. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late meeting her best friends, Bri Nelson and Lisa Moon, for lunch at their favorite Mexican restaurant.

Catlyn jumped into her car, pulling her long skirt in after her before slamming the door shut. Turning her head over her shoulder to back out of her parking space, she froze. A naked pumpkin-orange man, clutching an old-fashioned bellows under his arm, ran behind her car, then vanished.

A few miles later, she drove past the park. Her jaw dropped open when a woman with long, honey-blond hair running with her Doberman shifted into a golden unicorn. Sparks flew from her hooves as they struck the concrete. She glanced in her rearview mirror, and the unicorn was again a normal woman.

Cursing the red light at the next intersection, Catlyn’s fingers tapped the steering wheel as she anxiously noted the time. At least a unicorn is better than those strange, ugly beasts I’ve been seeing.

No sooner than she had the thought, a large creature bolted onto the trunk of the car in front of her. It rotated its owl-like head toward her and hissed, revealing a beak filled with needle-sharp fangs. It gathered its long greyhound legs beneath it and, with a last slap of its crocodile tail, bounded away. The driver flung open his door and stomped to the rear of his car, glaring at her. Catlyn raised her hands, mouthing, “It wasn’t me!” The driver looked between his car, now with a sizable dent in the top of its trunk, and Catlyn’s unmarred bumper. The light changed and Catlyn turned into the next lane and gunned past the perplexed—and angry—man.

What is going on with me? The many sightings of all sorts of mythical creatures had to mean something. She rubbed the center of her forehead, trying to relieve the throbbing there. If anyone could tell her what was happening to her, it would be Jade. For once, Catlyn wanted her godmother’s over-protectiveness. She was the most powerful and knowledgeable witch Catlyn knew. For the first time in weeks, she looked forward to seeing and talking to her godmother at the full moon ceremony that evening.

Sean leaned back in his chair, staring at his computer screen, unsure how to write up his report on the strange incident in front of the amusement park. No matter how he worded his questions to Brad Maxwell, the person others claimed to have pushed the victim into the oncoming truck, Brad never changed his story.

Sean called the Montana county sheriff, the only police in the area, to gather more information on the suspect.

“There isn’t a gentler man,” Sheriff Neilly said, “than Brad, no matter that he still looks like a football linebacker. The Maxwell family are upstanding citizens. Such a tragedy.” The sheriff clicked his tongue. “I can’t believe Brad would kill someone over a simple thing like a jolt from a cattle prod. He experiences worse injuries tending the local rodeo stock. It’s a shame he’s been accused of such a horrendous crime. He’s running for county commissioner. This accusation will ruin his chances, and he was the front leader. Brad’s a close friend. Can you keep me informed about his case?”

“Sure thing,” Sean agreed. “Thank you, Sheriff, for the information.”

Sean hung up the phone. Nothing about this case made any sense to him, and his gut instincts told him something more was occurring. He scrolled through the file until he found the responding officer’s report of the interview with the young woman. Catlyn Hennessey claimed to have seen a strange creature knock the victim into the truck. The officer commented he thought she was whacked out on drugs and seeing things, and her report wasn’t believable. Sean wasn’t ready to dismiss it so out of hand, but he didn’t have any basis or proof.

“Hey McLarkin, Lourdes!” Captain Alex Green shouted as he stomped to his office door, scowling at Sean and his partner. “There’s been a riot at The Block, shots fired, multiple people down, including some kids. The press is calling it a terrorist attack. God, I hope it isn’t another one of those peculiar cases. Get your asses out there!”

“Yes, sir!” Sean answered, scooting away from his desk. Lourdes scrambled from his chair, and the two men hurried to Sean’s car.

“What on earth is going on?” Jerry scrolled through the initial reports coming through on his tablet. “There are multiple accounts of strange green creatures fleeing the scene, cackling … cackling! Who cackles except witches in movies?”

Sean’s stomach clenched as it dropped to his toes. He vaguely remembered a story his Granny Eileen told him about a green demon that delighted in causing mayhem, riots, and chaos. Its whip caused hallucinations. But that was only a fairytale to scare children, wasn’t it? Demons couldn’t be real.

Pure disarray ruled the scene at the shopping mall when they arrived. People lay or sat on the sidewalk, blood pouring from various wounds. Paramedics moved through the crowd, separating the seriously injured from the slightly wounded. There had been an art fair in the center plaza. Oil paintings lay scattered haphazardly, frames broken, canvases ripped, and blood adding a bizarre effect on serene landscapes and idyllic street scenes.

Sean paused at the sight of five corpses covered with white sheets. His heart sank as he observed two were children. There had never been a riot at a peaceful art gathering or shopping mall before. He crouched down by one of the small bodies and lifted the sheet. The boy’s face was frozen in a scream of terror. Sean resisted the urge to smooth the boy’s features into something more serene. The coroner needed to examine the body as it appeared when the boy died. The second child was a three-year-old little girl, still gripping her stuffed blue bunny tight to her chest. Horror filled her dead, empty eyes. He couldn’t see any obvious wounds on the children. Sean dropped the cloth, turning his face away, and rubbed surreptitiously at his eyes.

“What could terrify a child so much?” he mused out loud.

Jerry shook his head. “I don’t know. Two of the adults also look like something scared them to death, but the other one, a man, died from a beating.” He pointed to the handcuffed people lined up against a store wall. “Those are the culprits.”

Sean scowled at the men and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a few women in handcuffs. None of them wore the colors or other obvious gang affiliations. They appeared to be average, everyday citizens. He’d never suspect them capable of flying into such a rage as to pummel a man to death. Their faces all held shocked expressions, similar to what he usually saw on victims.

One woman leaned her head on a man’s chest, sobbing. The man attempted to put his arms around her, groaning in frustration when he couldn’t because of his handcuffs. Sean studied the group as he approached and shook his head at the image of a dark gray cloud surrounding them. Each person had a long red, swollen mark on them.

“Hey, Lourdes, what do you make of those marks?”

Jerry narrowed his eyes. “From here, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were welts caused by a whip.”

“Brian!” Sean called out. A young man with brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses looked up. Sean motioned to him. He finished placing an evidence marker, then strode over to Sean and Jerry.

“Take pictures of those wounds and have the medical team examine them. It’s strange that all the suspects have them.”

“Sure thing, boss!” the crime scene analyst said.

“I’ll start interviewing on that end.” Jerry pointed to the farther group of handcuffed people. “You can talk to the others.”

Sean touched his fingers to his forehead in a casual salute. Sometimes the older man forgot they were equals. He strolled to where the obvious couple sat.

“I can’t believe we did what they’re saying we did, Harold,” Sean heard the woman say. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Neither do I, Lana, neither do I.” Harold looked up at Sean’s approach. “Are you in charge? We need to call our parents to arrange for them to go care for our children. A babysitter is watching them, but she’s just a kid.”

“Please, Officer,” Lana pleaded. “They’re only two and four.” She snorted and tried to wipe the snot running from her nose on her shoulder.

“Detective McLarkin.” Sean took pity on her, found a tissue, and helped her blow her nose and clean off her face. “Tell me what happened here.”

“We were enjoying an afternoon date,” Harold said, “admiring the artwork before going to a movie. I saw several strange green creatures scamper through the crowd. I felt a searing pain on my arm. A few moments later, a red welt appeared on it. My eyesight blurred, and the world spun. I remember being terrified of something, something horrible. Then I woke up with screaming in my ears, my fists bloody, and a dead man staring up at me.” Tears streamed down Harold’s face. “I’m not a violent man, Detective. I’ve never hit anyone before. I … I don’t know what would have caused me to beat up someone.”

His wife and the other suspects told similar stories. Lourdes finish talking with his group. When they compared notes, every person involved had felt a searing pain, then blinding terror before blacking out. The two detectives exchanged a worried look.

“I’ll call Captain Greene and give him our initial report.” Lourdes stalked away from the noise, his cell phone at his ear.

Sean glanced at the couple, Harold and Lana. He sighed heavily. Another family destroyed by whatever was causing this insanity. He waved at an officer and instructed him to allow Lana to call her parents to care for her children. He gazed around the scene, and the back of his neck tingled. It seemed like someone had drugged the suspects. Following that train of thought, Sean beckoned Brian to him.

“Take blood samples from everyone,” Sean said, “including the victims. Have the lab test if there are any toxins in their system that could account for hallucinations and them passing out.”

“What about the people who were part of the mob that damaged all the artwork? Do you want their blood tested too?”

Sean nodded. “Something stinks about this whole thing and makes my hackles rise. Something … or someone … caused this.”

“I’ll get on it. Your instincts are usually right on.”

Sean spent the rest of the afternoon and evening interviewing the people who had witnessed the riot or had been part of it. No one could pinpoint what or who had instigated the trouble. Except, everyone who had committed some form of violence had seen green creatures out of their nightmares or some alien sci-fi flick. When they brought in a sketch artist, none of the people could describe the creature well enough for the artist to draw it.

As he drove home that night, Sean picked up his cell phone and debated calling his grandmother. The creatures sounded like those from her stories. He glanced at the clock and put the phone down. She’d wring his neck if he called at this late—or early morning.