Deeper Than Red (Red Returning Trilogy) (28 page)

“Mornin’, Chet,” Ian began. “How’s the fishing today? Got many boats coming in?”

Henry aggressively cleared his throat, the glare still intact. “I was just answering Chet’s questions about all our visitors this morning. I told him how we’d met them at the camp last night and invited them to hang out with us here at the boat until the séance started tonight.”

Ian understood. That was the story Henry had concocted and Ian had better stick to it, though it was terribly rehearsed.

“We don’t get a lot of traffic here,” Chet answered sadly. “You know that, Ian. Mostly the locals and a few travelers in for fuel. The new marina down the coast took my business.”

Ian swept a hand before him. “But you’re making it on the locals, right?”

“Yep. It’s enough.”

“Any business from the mediums?”

“Are you kidding? Those pasty-white hermits?”

No time like now.
“How about Vandoren? Does he keep a boat here?”

Henry nodded silent approval.

“No. I never see him out here.”

Ian went slack. He was running low on questions.

“Except when his buddies over there come to visit,” Chet added.

Ian and Henry suddenly inflated. “Buddies?” Henry asked.

“An older couple. Live down the coast and come up about once a year for classes. They’ll take Mr. Vandoren out in the boat for a short cruise sometimes. It’s the only time I ever see him down here.”

“Which boat is theirs?” Ian asked.

Chet pointed to an old cruiser tied up at a slip closer to shore. “Came in this morning,” Chet said. “I saw them walk off toward the university.”

“I guess they’re staying for the séance tonight,” Ian probed.

“Yep. Then pulling out for a night cruise home, they said.”

Ian and Henry glanced at each other. “Well, Chet, nice talking with you,” Henry said. “We’d better get these sodas back to our guests.”

Just before dark that evening, Jim Stetz and a fellow agent boarded the cruiser and affixed a tiny GPS device inside a cabinet where life vests were stored. Instead of returning to
Exodus II
, though, they walked to the camp, crossed the commons where an expectant crowd was gathering, and hid themselves behind the stables at the north edge of the woods. Ian followed them.

G
o back, Mr. O’Brien,” Agent Stetz said. “This is no place for you.”

“Because I’m not wearing a gun and a badge like you are, Mr. Stetz? Neither one of them will do you one bit of good against the kind of trouble that visits these woods.”

In the near dark, Ian could see the man roll his eyes. “Go back, sir,” Stetz repeated with more grit this time.

“Let me tell you something, son. You may think you know the occupational hazards of your job, but I don’t think you’re prepared for this one.” Ian looked behind them. “And you see that young lady coming this way?” The agent looked where Ian pointed. “I can’t stop her from going into those woods either. She’s come to watch over her mom. You’ve come to keep an eye on Vandoren. But guess who’s got his eye on you both?”

“Let me guess,” Agent Stetz chuckled. “Jesus.” In the moonlight, Ian could see the spread of the man’s patronizing smile.

“Well, I sure hope he does, but that’s not who I meant.”

Stetz’s smug expression faded.

Before Ian could explain, Tally whistled to them, motioning them toward a path on the other end of the abandoned stables. Ian saw someone coming up behind her and recognized the silhouette of the old man with the hunched shoulders. Spencer and Ian had come to a reckoning earlier in the day.

“Spencer, there are a few things I need to know before tonight,” Ian had told him. “Let’s start with what’s going to happen in those woods. What are we walking into?”

As if beginning a lesson, Spencer answered, “About three times a year, Vandoren gathers a select few for what he calls a private audience with the spirits. He always schedules one of his private séances to coincide with the big one the camp stages out on the commons.” He gestured to the grassy field in the center of the camp, where folding chairs were now grouped in lots of small circles. “Vandoren doesn’t take to the annual mass séance, even though he started them when he was still part of the camp. He calls it the circus of fools, and delights in leading his more, uh, gifted clients in spiritual battle against the camp ‘frauds,’ which he insists they are.”

“Are they?”

“Some. But most are genuine in their attempts. Only a few are successful, though, in connecting with the other side.”

“And you’ve seen this done?”

“Oh yes.” He peered intently at Ian. “Your God is my God, Ian. We both know his warnings about certain forces loose in this world, about the dangers of initiating contact with them. That’s what my wife did and it cost us our happiness and her life.”

“So you stayed behind to run interference for God? Is that it? Does that include Tally and her mom?”

“That’s my biggest job right now.”

“What can we do to keep mother and daughter away from Vandoren?”

“It’s not Vandoren we need to worry about. It’s the ones he and Lesandra Bernardo have already led Mona Greyson to. And now they want her daughter.”

Just like they wanted my sister
, Ian thought. He would tell Spencer that story another time.

“Sometimes it’s just one spirit,” Spencer continued. “One contact with the other side, then the haunting begins, the penetration into the soul. It’s very real. And unpredictable. We can only pray a shield of protection over Tally and do battle for Mona’s rescue.”

Now, Ian was glad to see Spencer at Tally’s side as they waited for Ian and the two agents to catch up. Henry had agreed to stay behind at the marina with agents Jakes and Thomlin. Two of the reinforcements sent from the Miami bureau were already at sea awaiting Vandoren’s departure. They’d hastily arranged the use of a local trawler to run sweep behind him that night. Satellite tracking to the GPS would make it easier to trail from a discreet distance.

When Ian and the agents drew near, Tally raised a cautioning hand. “It’s not far. No talking, and stay close.”

Agent Stetz released a huge sigh. “Listen, Miss Greyson, I don’t know whose idea it was for any of you to be here, but I want you to go back and let us do our job.”

“And just what job is that?” Spencer asked flatly.

But Stetz ignored him. “Stay here!” he rasped with authority.

The three gave the agents a reasonable head start, then followed. The trail snaked through a piney wood then dropped into a glade from which a tendril of smoke now rose. At first sight of the campfire, Tally, Ian, and Spencer came to a halt. Ian noticed the heads bobbing a few paces in front of them also stop. Agent Stetz moved sideways into the trees that ringed the glade and looked back at those who’d ignored his orders. His face was striped by moonlight shadows through the trees, but it was obvious he was an angry man. Albeit a quiet one. His fellow agent had moved to a flank position on the other side of the glade.

There was no sound but the crackling of the small fire and the occasional scuffing of Vandoren’s feet as he paced the circle around the fire. Seated there were three women and four men. It was hard for Ian to tell their ages from this distance, but he squinted down for as clear a view of Mona Greyson as possible. She sat next to another woman, whom Spencer had already advised would be Lesandra Bernardo.

The five observers settled into the night shadows, all eyes on the glade. Ian couldn’t distinguish all of Vandoren’s words as he paced, but detected the repetition, the cadence of one relentlessly imploring someone to “come.” It was the only accented word of volume, and there was no doubt in Ian’s mind of the nature of that summons. Only then did he fear they’d all ventured too close.

Suddenly a man in the circle raised both arms and called to someone. The name was Sheila. Vandoren rushed forward and placed both hands on the man’s shoulders as he continued to call into the dark above him. Then came a woman’s voice in answer. Vandoren pulled the man from his seat and stood before him. The voice spoke again, in a foreign tongue that Ian couldn’t identify. For several minutes, the man’s and woman’s voices vibrated in the darkness, their messages to each other lost on those who listened from their hiding place. Ian was now seriously questioning his judgment in being there, in condoning the presence of the others. Could he have stopped Tally from coming, though? Would he have let her venture here alone? Of course not.

Though Ian had prayed fervently for God’s watch over them that night, he repeated the prayer again.
Oh God, be here now! Protect this child! Protect us all!

It was then that Vandoren turned so the firelight caught him full in the face, and Ian saw why he’d been led to urgent prayer. The woman’s voice came from Vandoren.

Was it real? Ian believed it was. Just then, a hand gripped his arm. Tally had reached for him, but her gaze was hot on the figure just rising from a chair in the circle. Mona Greyson stood facing the fire, her head tilted upward, arms limp at her sides. Vandoren’s attention turned to her as he helped the man back into the chair, his and the woman’s voice now silent.

As Vandoren moved slowly toward her mother, Tally’s grip on Ian grew tighter. He finally released her hand and wrapped his arm snugly about her shoulders. He bent and whispered in her ear. “We need to get you out of here.”

But she shook her head and pulled away from him, never taking her eyes off her mom, whose arms now lifted with the smoke, her hands fluttering gracefully above her head. Just as Vandoren reached her, she cried, “Raja, come!”

Spencer spun toward Tally. Ian heard him ask her, “Your grandfather?”

Tally just shook her head, her face a mask of confusion, her eyes wide with fear.

“Spirit Raja, come! Come now!”

Tally put a hand to her mouth and leaned forward. Ian was certain they should leave. He reached for her, but she stepped farther away. Spencer nodded toward Ian in something like unspoken agreement and moved next to her, placing his own arm about her. She didn’t resist this time. Ian was surprised at how calm Spencer was, as if he’d known all along what to expect.

But Agent Stetz obviously had not. Ian turned to see the man sweating profusely, his mouth open, eyes unblinking on the transformations before him.

Then Mona cried out. “Raja! Make my father burn!” Her body swooned to one side but Vandoren caught her and held her close to him. Then he spoke.

“I am Raja.” The voice from Vandoren’s mouth came softly, soothingly. “Do not fear your father. I will not let him hurt you anymore.”

“Don’t let him come near me again,” Mona cried, her voice pitched and pleading like a child’s. She began to rock herself. “No! No! Bad daddy!” she cried as her rocking grew feverish. Vandoren kept his grip on her shoulders, finally slowing her to a standstill. Just as she seemed to relax, though, he jerked her hard, and a different voice bellowed from his mouth. “You belong to us all! Say it!” Vandoren slapped her across the face.

Mona began to sob.

“Say it!” the voice demanded and Vandoren shook her violently.

The childish voice obeyed, “Yes, I will always—”

“Let her go!” Tally suddenly screamed and surged forward on a dead run toward her mother. “Get away from her, you monster!”

Ian and Spencer rushed to catch her, but she closed the distance to the fire in seconds and lunged like a feral cat at the ponderous man still holding her mother as if she were a rag doll. He released Mona to fend off her daughter, who all but leapt on his back. He grabbed Tally by the wrist and flung her dangerously close to the fire, but she righted herself instantly and stepped clear of the flames. No one else in the circle moved, Ian observed in the second before he and Spencer raced between the chairs reaching for Tally. But before they got to her, a blur of a figure hurled itself at Vandoren and tackled him to the ground.

Agent Stetz, quickly assisted by his partner, made quick work of subduing Vandoren and ordering all the other séance participants to leave. All fled but Mona, who offered no comfort to her daughter. Instead, she pushed her way past Ian and Spencer and stepped over the feet of the prostrate Vandoren still pinned to the ground by the agents. As she passed in front of Ian, though, he saw something he didn’t like in her eyes. They were searing and locked on Tally.

No more the rag doll, the sobbing child, Mona Greyson had crossed over to something else entirely. She was just inches from her daughter’s face when the voice returned. Vandoren’s voice. Raja’s voice. Now howling profanities from the contorted mouth of Mona Greyson.

Spencer didn’t waste a second. In one lightning move, the frail old man lunged between mother and daughter, grabbed Tally by the arm, and yanked her out of the woman’s reach. “In the name of Jesus, get behind us, Satan!” he cried, and pulled Tally away. Ian was a split second behind him, kicking chairs aside as the two men made their escape with the distraught young woman, who had offered no more resistance.

Moments later, though, she suddenly stopped and turned around. “It’s a demon!” she cried, looking back toward the fire.

“Yes,” Spencer replied. “That wasn’t your mother. You have to forgive her. She needs help.”

Now Ian looked back through the trees, worried about those he’d left behind. “Spencer, take her away from here and stay with her. I’m going back.”

“No, Ian!”

“Just go.” He was panting hard now. “And send someone to help us.”

When Ian reached the still-burning fire, he found Vandoren seated in a chair, his hands and feet cuffed. Agent Stetz paced a short distance away, a phone to his ear. Ian guessed he was alerting those in an offshore boat waiting to follow Vandoren that night. The unexpected violence and the need to protect Mona Greyson and her daughter had obviously preempted that plan. It was Mona Greyson that Ian most wanted to help now. But she wasn’t there.

Ignoring the agent standing guard over Vandoren, Ian stood squarely in front of the restrained man and demanded, “Where’s Mona?” He got only a sneer in response.

“Maybe there’s some demon running around inside you who speaks English and can interpret the meaning of what I just said. It’s real simple. Where is Mona Greyson?”