Chapter 2

Detective Sean McLarkin pushed the large file away from him and leaned back in his chair. It didn’t matter how many times he perused it, clues of when the damned serial killer would strike next still eluded him. Even after chasing the murderer for nearly three years, Sean wasn’t any closer now to stopping the homicides than when he’d caught the first case. He didn’t need to pull up the case files to see the gruesome images of that first crime scene. He closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to that awful day.

Strange symbols decorated the floor, and he could glimpse a few from behind the blood-soaked walls. Surprisingly, the floor was only speckled with a few drops of blood. A creak drew his attention from the bloody walls to the middle of the room. Hanging in the exact center of the pentagram drawn on the floor, a large oblong metal box swayed on a chain. It appeared like a coffin. After lowering it, two techs with crowbars pried it open.

It popped apart with a sickening squelch, revealing a mangled body with spikes protruding from it. Sean covered his mouth with the back of his hand, choking on the sudden bile. His partner lost his battle and ran from the room so he wouldn’t contaminate the crime scene. Sean stepped closer to the case to inspect the spikes attached to every side. He touched a gloved finger to one of them, jerking his hand from the razor sharp point.

Sean shook his head, dispelling the memory. When he’d been young, his granny had taken him to an exhibit of medieval torture devices. She’d paid special attention to those used during the witch trials. He’d recognized the case as a replica of one of the worst: an iron maiden. The brutal contraption would make anyone, innocent or not, confess to doing anything the interrogators demanded of them.

Later, the autopsy revealed the victim was a woman and had been alive when the metal spikes impaled her. She had been the first of three victims over the course of the next three days, each killed in the same wicked way. The device had earned the killer his name: The Iron Maiden Killer.

The first victim had been a simple hairdresser. There had been no reason to torture her; she didn’t have any secrets. Neither did any of the other victims.

At first, the murders were only in Orange County, but then, after a few months, they popped up all over southern California. They occurred in Los Angeles, Orange, and Riverside counties, with Orange County hit with the brunt of the murders. The killings stopped for six months as unexpectedly as they’d begun. Sean had hoped whatever motivated the killer had been satisfied. But then they discovered another victim.

The strange break between the murders raised his suspicions, and he broadened his investigation outside of Southern California, or So Cal as the locals called it. He found murders with the same deranged signature in Las Vegas, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Phoenix, and Denver had transpired during the six-month hiatus.

After that first killing spree, the next murders happened once a month, like clockwork, but never on the same day of the month or week. Except eighteen months ago, there’d been another spate of murders over three days. Thirty months and thirty-six victims later, Sean still couldn’t figure out the exact timing. As ritualistic as the rest of the killings were, the timing must mean something to the perpetrators. He’d considered everything he could think of, such as tide tables, obscure holidays, and even anniversaries of historical events, to no avail.

Besides the iron maiden, the killer employed other torture devices once used in the inquisitions and witch hunting days. It made Sean wonder if he had a modern-day witch hunt on his hands. But his investigation showed none of the victims had any connection with Wicca or any of the other pagan religions he’d heard about. Although, he’d found most had a collection of crystals, or used herbs, or preferred alternative healing to traditional Western medicine, but that didn’t make them witches.

The victims came from all walks of life, races, genders, and ages—thankfully none of them were children—and they didn’t seem to have anything connecting them. They weren’t acquaintances, nor did they frequent the same places. Most serial killers had a preference, but if this one had one, Sean hadn’t discovered it. It seemed like the murderer chose the victims at random. The lack of preference pointed to more than one person committing the crime, and Sean had suspicions of who was the leader. But he lacked any proof. Yet.

“Hey, McLarkin, wake up!” Jerry rapped on Sean’s desk. “We’ve caught a case. Another weird one.”

Sean straightened the case folder, then ran a hand through his short, sandy-blond hair. “What is it this time?”

“Some tourist pushed a guy into the street in front of a truck.” Lourdes stroked his short brown beard, peppered with gray. “You won’t believe what he claims.”

“Don’t tell me, another ‘the devil made me do it,’ claim.”

“You got it. I don’t know where these whack jobs are coming from. It seems like they’re oozing out of the woodwork lately.”

Sean stood up, buckled on his gun, and grabbed his light jacket. “Let’s go.”

As they ambled to Sean’s black Camaro, Lourdes continued. “The mayor wants this solved pronto. He says it’s bad for business when the tourists kill each other in front of the happiest place on earth.”

By the time Sean and Jerry arrived at the scene, the patrolmen had sent the gawkers on their way. Sean noticed the police wave away a petite, buxom woman in a floppy hat. When she tried to talk to the handcuffed man, the officer stopped her. Puzzled at the behavior, he watched her stalk to her beat up old Honda and drive away.

“What was that about?” Sean asked the officer.

“Just another nutcase. She claims this guy didn’t do it, but a strange monster-like creature caused the accident.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Trust the So Cal crazies to come out. Did you get her name?”

“Of course.”

The officer introduced the suspect as Brad Maxwell, a veterinarian on vacation with his family from Montana.

“Tell me what happened,” Sean said.

“My family and I were standing at the traffic light waiting to cross the street when it felt like a cattle prod zapped me from behind. I’m ashamed that I instinctively reacted and punched him.” Brad lowered his head. “But I didn’t think I’d hit him that hard. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the man tottering on the curb about to fall off. That truck,” —the man gulped and closed his eyes— “it came out of nowhere. I tried grabbing the man, but it felt like his suit was as slick as an oiled hog, and my hand slipped off. I couldn’t save him.”

The veterinarian whispered the last words. Sean considered his next question.

“I know you’re going to think I’m crazy,” Brad implored, his eyes haunted. “But I didn’t do it. A monster tripped that guy and pushed him into traffic.”

“Yeah, you’re that monster,” Lourdes sneered.

“No. A real monster, like what you see in the movies, only uglier and nastier. I caught a glimpse of him, laughing up a storm as the truck hit that poor man.”

Sean scrutinized the parking lot where the Honda had parked. Something strange was going on if two people saw the same thing. But how in the world would he put this in his report? He could imagine the headlines now: Cop claims demon monster killed local businessman. He’d be laughed off the force—and he’d never solve the Iron Maiden Killer case. But he had to wonder. This wasn’t the first incident in the past few weeks with violent outbursts by people abruptly killing their families or strangers. None of whom had any criminal behavior or records before the event. Afterward they claimed seeing outlandish creatures, or smelling sulfur, or hearing chilling laughter. Was Orange County possessed by evil creatures?

As he drove back to the station, his thoughts flew to his Granny Eileen and the tales she’d told him when he was little. They featured demons killing humans. A shiver went through him. What if they weren’t simply stories? But that was crazy, wasn’t it?

Catlyn sank onto the floor of her healing room in front of her small altar in the corner. The massage table dominated the center of the room. Her crystal bowls filled the top of a cabinet. The biggest one, about 30” in diameter, sat next to her altar. Inside the cabinet, dishes of various stones and crystals waited. Candles around the room created a soft ambiance. The clean, fresh scent of white sage smoke lingered in the air.

She had half an hour before her last client of the evening arrived, and after her busy afternoon, she used the time to rest and regroup her energy. As her mind quieted, the morning’s accident replayed, eating away at what little serenity she’d gained while she’d worked with her clients. What was that foul creature? She believed in magical beings and knew if those beings of light and love existed, there had to be those who were evil. Why was she seeing such things?

A short time later, she heard Amelia’s high heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she hurried through the store toward Catlyn’s healing room. Catlyn stood and waited by the door. Amelia’s short skirt showed off her long legs and her silky blouse clung to her generous bosom. The beauty ran a hand through her blond locks that fell to her waist. She hung her designer purse on a hook before slumping into the chair beside the door.

“Sorry I’m late, Catlyn,” Amelia said, sliding off her shoes. “Traffic on the 405 was horrendous, even at this time of night. It took me forty-five minutes to drive from Huntington Beach to the 55 interchange. And as I was getting ready to leave, my boss ripped me a new one about the brochures I’ve been working on for days. He didn’t like the graphics, and they were the ones he wanted me to use! I swear, if I could find another job, I would. I’m so stressed and really need this session.”

Catlyn smiled at Amelia’s non-stop rambling and patted the massage table. “Is there anything else you want to focus on?”

Amelia maneuvered onto the table, tugging at her skirt before laying down. She grinned. “I might have a new boyfriend! He’s a gorgeous blond with blue eyes and a body to dream about—and oh, how I’ve dreamed about it—and rich. I met him at the Red Orchid the other night. Damn, he’s a good kisser.”

An unsettling chill skittered down Catlyn’s spine as Amelia spoke about the new guy. Catlyn’s pendant from her mother warmed against her skin. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms, troubled by the clanging warning bells of her intuition. “Don’t tell me you slept with him.”

“No, I didn’t,” Amelia huffed, sounding affronted. “I don’t sleep with every man I meet.”

Catlyn refrained from rolling her eyes. Amelia had a free spirit and a bubbly, out-going nature. Her blond hair, blue eyes, and curvaceous body attracted men like bees to a flower. Amelia drank it in and didn’t say no often.

“At least not yet. He has to take me out on a proper date before he gets any of my honey.” Amelia’s wink held mischievous delight. “I’m so excited. I ran into him again this morning while grabbing coffee before work. He wants to see me tonight.”

“Be careful, Amelia. I have a bad feeling about him.” Catlyn’s earlier conversation with Michelle played in her mind. Was she being a hypocrite? Should she try keeping her client and friend from getting hurt by a jerk while she was angry at Jade for doing the same thing to her? She set the thought aside as she lit a sage bundle and smudged Amelia’s aura. Before she put it out, Catlyn paused and ran the smoke through her own.

Catlyn spread a soft, multi-colored blanket over Amelia’s prone body. She moved to stand at Amelia’s head and closed her eyes, focusing on attuning with her client’s energy. Letting her intuition guide her, she selected various crystals from the trays sitting inside the cabinet. She laid the ruby-zoisite wand on the table beside Amelia’s left arm. Catlyn next placed a brown marble wand along with a piece of raw kyanite at Amelia’s feet. She gently laid a rose quartz heart on Amelia’s chest and a chunk of citrine went on her solar plexus. Catlyn continued to place the stones she felt called to use on or around Amelia. Catlyn turned back to the table and picked up the suede-wrapped striker. She ran it around the lip of her largest crystal bowl, drawing out its deep tones. As she worked, she chanted softly, singing words from an unknown language that flowed from the Goddess.

An hour later, the ringing tones of the crystal bowls reverberated in the small room. Amelia’s breath flowed in a deep, even pace. Now relaxed, the lines of tension and stress eased from her face.

Catlyn narrowed her eyes and examined Amelia’s aura. Normally, she simply felt the energy and took it on faith what she was sensing. But all day, she’d been seeing colors and patterns in her client’s auras. Frowning at the dense, charcoal-gray energy swirling sluggishly above Amelia’s pancreas, Catlyn did more energy work on the area until it moved more freely. Sensing she’d done all she could for the day, she gently removed the stones, then combed and patted Amelia’s aura back in place. She settled quietly on a stool in the corner, closing her eyes while she waited for Amelia to stir.

After a few minutes, Amelia blinked her eyes and stretched. “It was wonderful, Catlyn.” She stretched again and yawned. “I always feel so much better when you’re done.”

Pleased with the compliment, Catlyn smiled, then pursed her lips as she debated telling Amelia what she’d seen. Finally, concern for her friend and client won out. “I sensed something off with your pancreas, Amelia. You might want to make changes to your lifestyle and eating habits.”

Amelia sat up and swung her legs over the side of the table. “I eat when I’m stressed out at work, which is all the time. My boss is always on my case. I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“It sounds like you need to find a different job.”

“I’ve been looking. The job market sucks right now. At least the one I have pays well.” Amelia hopped off the table. “Hey, I’m going to the Red Orchid tonight. Do you want to come with me?” Amelia smiled. “Come on, it will be fun. Have a few drinks, dance with hunky men, maybe even see the guy I told you about. My treat—well, my boss’s treat. He owns the club, so we get discounts on the drinks.”

Catlyn shook her head. “Thanks, but not tonight. It’s been a long, tiring day. I’m not up to going out. Another time?”

“Sure, sure.”

She hugged Amelia, then escorted her through the darkened store, unlocking the door to let her out. Catlyn returned to her healing room and cleared the crystals she’d used with sage smoke. Still feeling unsettled, she sank onto the floor before her small altar, staring at the candle flame and rubbing her arms. She jumped when the window rattled from the Santa Ana winds blowing off the San Bernardino desert. Shivers raced down her spine. What can I do to calm my spirit? As she took a deep, cleansing breath, she caught the unmistakable scent of salt and seaweed. The ocean called to her.

Smiling at the omen, Catlyn packed her smaller frame drum into a bag, blew out the candles, and locked up the shop. She’d have enough light with the nearly full moon for a night visit to the beach. Before climbing into her car, she picked a rose from the bushes growing by the shop. It only took her a few minutes to drive the short distance from Costa Mesa to the Pacific Coast Highway and her favorite beach.