The Other Crowd (15 page)

Eric was surprised that Annja was not filming more footage for the show. Doug Morrell expected faerie stuff, and Eric was determined to get it, whether or not Annja participated.

“I should have asked to work with Kristie,” he muttered as he adjusted the night-vision lens. “At least she would have been more fun. We’d probably be soaking in a hot tub right now with a bunch of leprechauns drinking a pint.”

He had to admit Annja was thorough. And she was concerned for the safety of the people involved with the dig, as opposed to merely seeking a sensational story. He had learned a few things from her already, not in the least, how to maintain professionalism.

And then there was the stealth night filming and being chased by men with guns. Go figure. That was pretty exciting, he thought.

It was probably best his first assignment had been with the smart one as opposed to the sexy one. Not that Annja wasn’t sexy. When he caught her unawares, just staring off at the horizon, her profile did things to him. Those full lips and that long gorgeous hair. Her body was great, too. She didn’t like it when he filmed her in those private moments.

He knew he already had enough footage of screw-ups to fill a whole one-hour gag-reel special. Doug might be interested in something like that for a special segment. That would rock.

“She’s going to fall for Daniel,” he said, and hefted his camera to scan the land. “Dude’s too old for her.”

What was it about women liking older men? Eric couldn’t figure it. Of course, Annja wasn’t that much older than him, but she came off as older. Wise. Very smart. He respected her a lot.

That was why he’d let her sleep in and went off filming on his own earlier that day. What she was up to now, he didn’t know. He hadn’t been able to find her at the dig site or back at the B and B. He decided to take the initiative to start investigating, figuring Annja would be impressed.

He was eager to explore the copse of trees along the north side of the dig where Beth had emerged from the forest during the night. It was about three hundred yards from the actual work site. The river backed up to it, and he could smell the water.

“The other crowd,” Eric said. “If you’re out there, I will find you.”

Night had fallen so quickly. Eric had started his walk to the forest when the sun was on the horizon, but now the half moon held court low in the sky. He entered the woods, picking his way slowly through the overgrown scrub and litter of dried twigs and old leaves. He recognized oaks, but had never paid attention in science class so everything else was just a tree.

His boots crunched branches and Eric realized he should exercise more stealth, as Annja would say. If they heard him coming, they’d flee for sure.

How did one attract the other crowd?

“With rainbows and Broadway show tunes,” he muttered.

This truly was a lame assignment. His father had suggested it as a means to kick-starting his career before he even graduated high school. A few credits on a major TV show would look sweet on his résumé.

Something crackled. It had sounded close. Eric swung the camera to the right. It sounded like a branch breaking. The forest flora showed in various shades of green and black though the night lens.

A blur of gray swept from the left side of the camera frame.

Eric swung to the left but did not sight the anomaly.

“Something
is
out there,” he whispered.

With his heart racing, he ventured forward, stepping lightly. He liked a good fright, and knew that if he thought scary thoughts and expected the worst that his brain would follow and heighten his freak factor.

He’d seen the movies.
Blair Witch Project, Children of the Corn,
all the Halloween movies and the complete
Nightmare on Elm Street
series. Nothing good ever came to those who ventured into the woods alone. It was classic horror movie fare.

But he wasn’t alone; he had the camera. It was like being alone, but not. Dude, was he starting to creep himself out?

“No way. Come out, ghosties. I’m not afraid of you,” he whispered.

Something nudged his ankle. He stumbled. Eric swung the camera and scanned the ground. Leaves and branches. His Vans were darker on the toes where moisture had soaked into the leather.

If Annja was right,
people
were kidnapping workers from the dig site. But could a person sneak up on him unaware in the middle of the forest? It was impossible to walk quietly through all the branches and foliage. A person would have to be a ghost—or a faerie flying silently through the air—to get the jump on anyone.

A
snap
echoed.

Eric swung around, scanning his periphery. He had wandered quite far. He couldn’t see the dim light from the enemy camp on the peat bog anymore. He could barely see ten feet in front of him. The tree canopy blocked out all moonlight and the night-vision lens distorted depth.

Close by an owl hooted. That made Eric smile.

Something was watching him, just not a human something. He wondered if owls attacked humans. He imagined their talons would hurt. He did not want to star in any part of
The Birds
alone in the woods where no one could hear him scream.

Lifting the camera to his eye, he moved slowly in a circle, taking in the narrow tree column. The wide black spaces between the trees menaced with their utter blackness. It made him feel imprisoned and yet the breeze listing at the nape of his neck only heightened his increasing anxiety.

A breeze? There was no breeze.

But wasn’t this exactly like the other night? Annja had also felt a weird breeze the night they’d invaded the enemy camp, only she hadn’t said anything to him. But he’d known. She had been creeped out then.

A face suddenly appeared immediately before the camera. It opened its mouth wide to reveal a gaping black maw.

Eric swore and jerked his camera hand down a few inches. Wits fled, but he clutched the camera to focus again. He’d looked away, and now he couldn’t find it again.

It had been a face. And not an owl’s face. It had been human. Or something resembling human with two eyes and that big open mouth. Cripes, what had a mouth like that?

“Wasn’t there,” he muttered. “Couldn’t have been. I didn’t hear anything. Is…is anyone there?” he called out.

He turned the camera lens toward his face and spoke. “I’m hot on their trail. There’s…something out there. I know I’ve found them. But who or
what
are they?”

Way to go, Kritz. Keep the drama level high, even when you’re scared shitless.

He jerked his gaze left to right. When not looking through the camera lens his vision was poor, only picking up shadows and black foggy tree trunks.

Something fluttered near his ear. Eric swung the camera to the right, then realized the lens was still facing him—so he began to narrate.

“It’s very close…whatever it is. I feel…like the temperature has dropped a few degrees. That’s what happens when ghosts are around. Right? Hell, I don’t want to see a ghost. There are no ghosts. Chill, Kritz. It was a stupid bird. The owl.”

A branch cracked. He skipped ahead and nearly tripped, and his equilibrium faltered. Groping with his free hand, his fingers swept the chill air. His knees buckled and he fell.

The camera crunched onto a pile of leaves. Body prone, Eric dug his fingers into the cool, moist leaf cover.

Something grabbed him around the ankle. He yelled and groped for the camera but couldn’t reach it. His body was dragged along the ground.

Annja dressed in the tiny bathroom, then peeked out the doorway down the hall before skipping over to her room. The bed and breakfast didn’t offer en suite bathrooms. Four rooms shared one bathroom at the end of the hall, and two of those rooms belonged to the owner’s children.

Knocking on Eric’s door, she waited to hear signs of life from inside his room. Funny how she had initially been worried about keeping him out of the pubs when the only one who had been tipping back the spirits lately had been her. She had a headache from Daniel’s wine this morning, which presented a sharp pain in her right temple. It didn’t matter how much that bottle had cost, she’d kill for an aspirin.

Trying the knob, she opened the door a crack. The bed was made. Some of Eric’s clothes were folded neatly by the pillow.

“Impressive.” The sun had barely peeked above the horizon. “He must be downstairs loading up on black pudding.”

Eric wasn’t downstairs. He’d probably gone off filming again, she thought. Annja filled up on fresh cinnamon rolls and then went and left a note for him in his room. Rain poured throughout the day, and she spent the better part of the time at a body shop in Cork, getting a new back window put in the Mini Cooper. Thankfully, she’d been able to slip out before Mr. Riley had noticed.

When she returned to the bed and breakfast, supper was brewing in the kitchen. Annja skipped upstairs to find her note still laying on Eric’s bed right where she’d left it.

Her sense of something not being right teetered toward the orange security alert zone. She lingered in the dining room until Mrs. Riley popped in with fresh biscuits.

“Did I miss Eric?” she asked the proprietress.

“Haven’t seen him all day, dear. Didn’t see him last night, either. He must have tucked in early. Though you did come in rather late.”

And toting a very expensive half bottle of wine. She thought about the bottle she’d stuck in the refrigerator. “Did you find the wine I left?”

“Harvey tilted it back around after midnight. I hope you weren’t saving it for yourself? It’s not often the mister has wine. He’s a pint man, he is.”

And yet just yesterday Mr. Riley had been toting a bottle of wine he’d bartered from Daniel. Some people only saw what they wanted to see, Annja figured.

Did that include faeries?

“Said it had a bit of a corky taste,” Mrs. Riley continued. “Must have been a cheap bottle, eh?”

“About five thousand dollars cheap actually,” Annja said. She left the woman with her mouth hanging open, the plate of biscuits tilting dangerously over the table.

The inn sat at the edge of the village. Annja just caught the tail end of a bicycle troop rolling through. They did tours across the countryside, and next time Annja was here, not on business, she fully intended to join the fun.

Daniel pulled up and jumped from the Jeep in all haste. He reached into the back of the vehicle.

“What’s up?” she said.

“Mum found something this afternoon on her walk.” He held up a video camera—a very familiar camera.

Annja swallowed roughly. She grasped the handheld camera. “This is Eric’s. Where’d your mother find it? Where’s Eric? Have you seen him?”

“You’d better take a look at what’s been recorded,” Daniel said. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

Confused that she held something Eric would never have left lying around to be found by a cross-country-hiking old woman, Annja let Daniel tug her inside.

Mrs. Riley stood in the kitchen examining the empty wine bottle. She flashed them a frantic gape when they entered.

“I see you shared the wine.” Daniel nodded to the woman. “It’s a lovely year, isn’t it, Blythe?”

“Oh, Daniel, why do you do things like this?” She set the bottle on the counter and marched out of the room. “He’s mad,” they both heard her mutter. Stomping feet descended into the cellar, accompanied by feminine noises of reprimand.

“She’s not a fan?” Annja asked, but her mirth didn’t last. She sat down and powered up the camera. “Where did your mother find this?”

“In the forest edging the dig site Slater is overseeing. She was hunting for morels. Delicious this time of year, especially in a nice white wine sauce.”

The digital screen flashed and the green-and-black night image appeared. It looked like trees and foliage. Eric must have been filming in the forest. But why? And alone at night? She hadn’t heard him slip out last night.

On the other hand, he may have been gone by the time she’d come wandering in. He may have very well waited for her to accompany him, then gave up and went out filming on his own.

Annja turned the volume up. She heard what sounded like footsteps crushing the undergrowth. Breathing. Eric described the trees, guessing they were maple and birch. The camera angle tilted. Eric’s breathing increased.

“There’s something out there,” warbled out the tiny sound holes. “I know I’ve found them,” Eric narrated dramatically as he stalked forward.

Annja’s heart sank. If he had been out hunting for faeries…

The image became fuzzy, then went sharp. Eric’s face appeared, the green light highlighting his forehead and making his eyes eerie black. He suspected someone or something was close by. The terror in his eyes seemed real.

Then Annja got it. He was making a spoof tape to use for the show. Clever. Very
Blair Witch Project.
Doug was going to absolutely eat this stuff up. She gave Eric points for creativity, though it was more silly than frightening.

Ready to set the camera down, Annja saw that Eric had dropped the camera. His fingers scrabbled before the lens. Leaves blocked the view, and then—

She leaned forward, not sure she was seeing what it appeared to be. “He’s being dragged away?”

“Appears so,” Daniel said. “The other crowd doesn’t like it when people poke about in their business. And they do have a penchant for the red-haired ones.”

Ready to throttle the next person who mentioned the other crowd or the fair folk, Annja made fists and inhaled. Two deep breaths settled her ire.

She hadn’t pinned “believer” on Daniel. In fact, she knew he took the local myths with a huge grain of salt. So why the evasive argument now?

And why her stubborn need to disprove faeries? Perhaps she should be jumping on the bandwagon? Since when did she only see what she wanted to see?

She rewound the video to the point where the camera had been dropped.

It was difficult to make out clear shapes or determine what was foliage, tree trunks or Eric’s flailing legs and arms. But she did notice what looked like a slender leg near where Eric’s feet must have been lifted to drag him. A man? A mere few frames gave her good view of the attacker’s feet.

“Does the other crowd often wear lace-up leather work boots?” she asked Daniel. “Eric’s been taken by a human, a real person.
If
he’s been taken.”

She knew this could be an elaborate hoax. Eric could have recruited someone from the camp, or even one of his new musician friends, to help him pull it off. But seriously? He’d been respectful and eager to do as she’d asked him since they’d arrived. She hadn’t pegged him for a practical joker.

“You haven’t seen him in Ballybeag?” she asked.

Daniel shook his head. He was too calm. But then, he had no connection to Eric. This was just another disappearance to him, and he had never shown much concern for the others.

Mrs. Riley appeared at the top of the stairs with a load of laundry, neatly folded. She scowled at Daniel and turned down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

“Why did she call you mad? Do you do things like that often?”

“Things like what?”

“With the wine. Was it really that expensive?”

“It was. And no. I only offer the good stuff to the pretty girls.”

Not hiding the fact that she rolled her eyes, Annja tapped the camera. “Did your mother see anything else in the area where she found this?”

“Nope. You going to investigate?”

“Of course I am. After I’ve checked all the pubs to make sure Eric isn’t holing up and having a laugh at my expense.”

“Maybe I should go along with you?”

“Thanks, but we’ll cover more ground separately. You could help by taking two of the pubs.”

“Sure, I’ll look into the north and south pubs.

“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later. Thanks for this.”

She collected the camera and headed outside. The day was truly dreary. A fine mist grayed the sky. Annja tugged up her hood and marched toward the first pub. They hadn’t seen Eric.

At O’Shanley’s she was offered a pint before she could even ask a question. Annja set the video camera on the counter and took a sip. Outside, Daniel’s Jeep rolled by. The horn honked twice, and the barmaid waved to him as he passed.

“I see Daniel’s taken a liking to you,” the woman said as she wiped the bar to the left of Annja. She’d not seen hide nor hair of Eric, when Annja had asked, though she did know him. He’d become everyone’s favorite young redhead.

“Daniel’s my guide,” Annja said. She tapped the bar, her thoughts racing about what to do, where to go next in her search for Eric.

“Not a lot of guiding to do about here, is there?” the woman asked. “Here’s the village. There’s the dig. There you go. Nice as it can be.”

She wasn’t sure what the woman was implying, but she did catch the tone. A particular tone women used when they were sizing up the competition.

“He showed me his wine cellar last evening,” Annja said, matching the challenge.

“Ah.” The woman smirked and braced an elbow on the bar, leaning in. “And did he play Kiss Me Kate with you, as well?”

Annja stared at the woman’s growing smirk. She felt a flush rising on her face.

Annja swallowed and clasped the camera to her chest. “So you have seen Eric?”

“Not a hair on that bright red crown of his. But you might ask Bridget.” She nodded toward a shadowed corner of the pub where Annja made out a bright red-and-pink skirt slipping out from a booth. “The two are mighty close lately.”

“Thank you.” She slipped off the bar stool and walked across the room. Kiss Me Kate? Really? And she had fallen for it.

Bridget smiled and leaned across the table to offer a hand, which Annja shook. She drew her blue eye shadow out at the corners of her eyes in a swirl that gave her a Celtic flair. “You’re the television host Eric has been telling me about. He didn’t tell me you were so pretty.”

“Thanks. I had no idea Eric had found himself a girlfriend so quickly.”

“Oh, we’re just friends. He listens to my music, or rather, tolerates it. I don’t think he understands a word of what the band sings, but he’s gracious about it. Where is the sweetie, by the by?”

“You haven’t seen him?” Annja blew out a breath. “He’s disappeared.”

“Oh, no! Like the others? Taken by the fair folk? Eric told me that’s why you two were here, poking about.”

“I’ve got proof that it was a real person who took him from the forest where he was filming last night. He didn’t try to contact you?”

“No. I don’t have one of those fancy cell phones. He’s been kidnapped by a real person? Oh, lordy.” She fanned herself with a hand.

“Did Eric say anything to you about filming a segment for the show and surprising me? Maybe say…making it look like he’d been taken by faeries?”

“Och, no, he didn’t. You think that’s what he’s up to? Well, the boy is like to such foolery. I wouldn’t expect he’d a’fooled you, though. He looks up to you, Miss Creed. Can’t stop talking about you, so much I feared the two of you were…well, you know. But now I see you’re much older than he.”

“Right. I’ve got a few years on him, at least. Well, thank you. If you do hear from him—”

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him,” Bridget said.

T
HE DISPATCHER
for the local gardai station took the information from her about another missing person in the Ballybeag area. She sounded disinterested, and was downright rude when she told Annja it could be a few days before she could get an officer back out to the dig site.

“Faeries aren’t real, you know,” she said. “And don’t think I’ll find another officer willing to waste his time right now.”

“It’s not faeries. A person, or people, have been kidnapping men and women from the dig site. Can I talk to your supervisor?”

Annja shoved her fingers through her hair and kicked the iron phone box post. She wondered if calling Bart could get anyone moving, or if he even had contacts with any of the local police organizations in the country. Probably not.

The line suddenly dropped the call. Annja slammed the phone on the hook.

“Fine. I’ll do it my way, then.”