It was a Boggy Night . . .

[Eilonwy Solstice]

I feel terrible leaving Hannah alone like that . . . I was stupid and unthinking and I’ll owe her forever for this . . . I deserve to be locked up. But I guess I should at least relate why I was away . . .

I resisted the urge to stand up and start pacing. With my luck, I’d misstep and fall into the inlet. Instead I contented myself with crossing my legs and arms, my fingers brushing the folded cane at my wrist. Ron was still out on Solstice patrol and Hannah assured me she would be fine home alone . . . I trusted her and would be back before ten. I should have felt no compunctions going down to the docks, but the feeling in the air was oppressive with danger and warning. Dr. Boggs had sent the files by boat, saying something about losing the people tracking him. And because the driver of the truck didn’t dare to go out of Quebec carrying the package. Something about strange faces leering at him from the car windows.

So here I sat at the docks at 9:32 at night, sitting on a hard wooden box with only a gathering of bunched up, tangled fishnets to cushion my sore posterior. By the cool, damp chill that caressed my shoulders and moistened my hair and cheeks, I was guessing the tyrannical feeling pulsing against my thoughts coincided with a dense rolling in. The sounds of the city were muffled, the knelling of the rocking boat loud and clear. The night air was warm to my body but not my senses, and the recent storms had left the air soggy. The lapping water likewise made me wary; I felt that if I knew enough about the tide, I would be sure the sound was wrong, as though water going down the drain was counterclockwise. But as it was, I knew little of the ocean and couldn’t see just how the waves were licking against the pier. I’d have to blame my fears on paranoia, I guess.

Tentative boot steps approached. I raised my head.

“Miss . . . uhh . . . Solstice?” The man cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the way I pointed my ear at him. It was a moment before he spoke again, his words clipped, quick, and fearful. “Here’s your package. Does that look right?” He dropped a parcel in my waiting arms. I smiled and passed my hand over it. “Sign on the ‘x,’ please,” he insisted, thrusting something in my direction; a clipboard, a pen; both; neither. I don’t know.

In spite of the man’s fear-induced rudeness, I would not be rushed, feeling the peppered slab of paperboard belted around the parcel and reading the Braille etched thereon; though it was warm, he was shivering in the foggy air and hoping I’d just sign the form and get out of here. I kept myself from curling my nose at his scent, a juxtaposition of body odor and the coppery sweat that betrayed fear’s presence. By the way his heavy, frantic breathing alternatively blew the hair behind my left ear, gusted in my face, blew the hair behind my right ear, and nothing at all, I had a suspicion he was hysterically throwing his gaze left and right, over his shoulder.

“It’s the parcel I’ve been waiting for,” I answered, holding my hand out for the pen, which he thrust into my grasp. “Guide my hand to that ‘x’ you indicated, please,” I urged him, smirking at how some people could be around people who were . . . different. Legibility would have to come from his end, as his shaking hand sent the pen through the motions without my help; he dashed off before I could utter my thanks. I set the parcel under my arm while unfolding my cane with the other and started back toward the meeting point.

I could sense they were here. Just not where. But closing in, to be sure. Tightening the noose. Thinking they had me. I paused under the warmth of a humming dock lamp, taking a deep breath to cool my fluttering heart and find comfort in the glow of the light I couldn’t see.

And then I Opened myself to the Supernatural and searched them out.

There; seven of them, I thought with growing alarm. Why so many? Weren’t they afraid of people seeing—? But then, they wouldn’t be seen, the thought reminded me. Most people thought this was all for kids and gamers. I brought my mind back to the present and lifted my mental defenses, hammering into position and snapping off a mental probe before it could even consider my thoughts, let alone reach them. I hurried away as they swirled around like monstrous dust motes, agitated by my deft parry. I’d have to be quick. Not let them get near, not let them guess at my destination. I was about a hundred yards away when I sensed them converge on the man who had given me the parcel, bright spots of orange light trailing lines of fire, leaving their threads circling about the man like a snare of flaming strands. But they wouldn’t hurt him; they didn’t want to be noticed, were gnashing their teeth that I had done just that so easily. The man didn’t even know they were there as they swirled about; their tails of flame would likely be mistaken for the chill wind as they soared forward after their quarry. With their thoughts no longer centered on him, he no longer felt the fear that permeated the area. They were after me .

Us, I amended quietly. He was as much a part of this as I was. And he had agreed to help.

Not just me. Us. And the package underneath my arm.

I reached the crest of the hill and the sidewalk, sliding my cane across to find the proper path. I was grateful for the even steps, the sound of the city nearing. The interlopers fanned out, two going off to my right, two going off to my left, one above, one below. They were starting to get closer, cutting across my potential routes. While their movements were slow, unlike me they were unencumbered by an unseen ground or obstacles. I didn’t know the ground well enough to move without my cane, and that’s what frightened me. Ron was the one to get the mail, but even he rarely went to the docks, and even then he didn’t do it often. My legs picked up the pace and my remaining senses scanned the area surrounding me. The city by the docks was well-known for its criminal activity, and I could feel the truthfulness of that knowledge as I walked all the faster, eyes scraping me with dangerous thoughts behind them. The sound of voices could suddenly be heard, faintly but distinctly, soft, muted and dangerous. Not the police. Where were they, when I needed them so desperately?

Where was he for that matter, I thought as relaxed footsteps echoed off the cracked cement some yards behind me? Surely he wasn’t among the knot of bodies gathering at my back? Had the police picked him up, explaining their absence when could have used them? The feelings of the mortal bodies behind frightened me, slid off my mind in angry spurts to pool at my feet and body. Their intentions were obvious, and my blindness was no deterrent at all, but rather an incentive. The intangible forms flew overhead, concerned in some way by the small throng following me, eager for their appearance. The parcel would disappear, never to be seen again.

My heart leaped up my throat, fighting to jump out of my mouth, twittering in horror. The figures behind me had made their decision, spurred on by psychic prods I could sense but do nothing about. As if that wasn’t bad enough, something immense dodged out of an alley I couldn’t detect, enveloping my mind with a rush of threatening danger, even as its shadow likely enveloped my body. Cruel chuckles followed behind me as my wrists were seized and held in an iron grip.

[Doctor Boggs]

It was surprisingly easy to move up behind the pack of hoodlums and ahead of them, they were so focused on their prey, like a pack of wolves. No scratch that, calling them wolves grants them too much dignity, they were a pack of mongrels totally focused on inflicting some misery on someone just so they'd feel powerful for a little while. Damn punks, maybe if they'd had a little self respect they wouldn't have been so easily manipulated into attacking a blind woman.

"Sorry, ma'am," I apologized as she gasped. "I didn't mean to startle you. Stay here, please." She nodded and moved behind my shoulder. I swiftly did a circle behind the mongrels, swiftly enough they likely didn't even notice the blind woman's pause. They approached her while they had their backs to me when I dropped the small deception.

I got the reaction I was hoping for when I tapped the leader on the shoulder and asked politely, “excuse me, could you turn round a moment?” He and his gang all turned to me with stunned expressions and before it could turn to anger I swung my walking stick two handed across his jaw, dropping him like a sack of potato's.

Raising the stick I shook it at the other's, “beat it!” Dredging up every ounce of strength I had left I reached out with my will and forced a more impressive and intimidating presence on the thugs than nature normally allowed and that did it, on top of seeing their leader brained with a stick and the strange atmosphere on the docks that night they broke and ran. Sighing in relief I turned to the one person who'd seemed totally unimpressed with my little show, her hands clasped before her and her chin tucked to her chest. “Sorry I'm late, shall we go?”

[Eilonwy Solstice]

He was wrong when he said I was unimpressed. I was impressed. Ordering an entire posse of who knows how many gang members away . . . it was something that Celeste could manage on her own, but me? Not a chance.

It was my first time exchanging the sign with another member of Lazlo, but I insisted we do it in spite of the foreboding presence circling above us . . . waiting; watching. Doctor Boggs agreed to go through with the charade, even after saving my life. Indulging a selfish little girl, perhaps, but it made me better, though a little foolish. I could sign quickly, as could he.

Sierra, came my sign with quick, practiced ease.

M . . . I . . . K . . . E. His counter came after. I had to feel each letter his hand made. Dangerously slow perhaps, perilously foolish had he proved an enemy even, but my Third Eye was peeled so wide open I’d have sensed any threatening twitch before he even thought of the electric impulse that could possibly send his fingers around my neck.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asked after the handshake was over. I nodded, and he suddenly shivered, not with cold, but with the icy breath of the supernatural playing taps on our spines. The only reasons I didn’t mimic his motion were his warm hands inside mine, and my tenure as Celeste had given me a different set of determinants for judging the chill in the air. Even considering my sensitivity to the supernatural . . . I could handle it. Most of the time. “What is that feeling . . .?” he hissed through his teeth, looking around.

“It’s them,” I answered, pointing up with my cane at the beings swirling around above our heads like threatening clouds. “We’re being watched.”

“Right. Let’s get out of here. Do you know of a safe place where we can read this without worrying about Peeping Toms? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find anything on the specific RCMP folks you asked me about; too heavily guarded. But there is some stuff I found I’d like ya ta see—uhh, to know about.”

I nodded and smiled gently, releasing his hands and beckoning him onward. As we got deeper into the city, I could sense the frustration of the intangible bodies swirling overhead; police sirens punched through the quiet rumble of the nightlife like pins through a blanket. Ahh. So there they were. And I had a hunch they would be looking for us with some very pointed questions, too. Doctor Boggs quickly shuffled me away, the repressive heaviness of the air had not lifted with the retreat of the gang members, but instead thickened. The seven watchers seemed to consider an alternate plan. One recoiled and banked off at such an angle I was almost positive it was retreating. The five others soared even higher, out of my perception. The final one crept in for a closer look. To my Mind’s Eye, this became the leader, a humanoid shape swathed in an aura of harsh orange and white. Its features were masculine but shaved into something so remorseless I scorned to call it human. It remained about a hundred feet from us, observing us quietly. So long as there were other people around, there was not much we could do but try to lose it by threading our way through the landscape.

The terrain was rough, made more so because I was unused to going off the cemented path of sidewalks and public places. Nor was I a freerunner like Hannah and her friends. The distinct impression hammering against my ribs was almost as loud as my heart when it started flapping as Dr. Boggs helped me climb a fence. It was difficult to concentrate on everything at once: what little of the surroundings I could perceive, the looping wail of the sirens, clutching the parcel while giving in to Dr. Boggs’ careful assistance, the weighty sneer of the watcher’s glare, my efforts in keeping my body from betraying me to fear, and my thoughts veering ahead, coaxing a plan with something that Ron had told me once, long ago. My palms went cold and sweaty; I would have dropped my cane if it weren’t for the strap secured at the end to my wrist. We went over another fence, ducked down a chill bypass, and deeper into a territory I would rather have not gone. There was proffered shelter in the abandoned buildings, but I would have liked to have the assurance that someone would find us. Preferably alive when they did, not covered in trash.

A misstep on my part sent us tumbling down a smooth, hardened slope. Cold, pockmarked concrete. The sudden flare of the watcher’s frustration and ire, coupled with frantic alarm convinced me we had escaped his searing gaze for the moment, though there would be only seconds before he found us. I held my breath, gripping my heart with steadying breaths. We were huddled at the bottom of some sort of corner, splayed flat and wedged between a hard wall and a flat surface below. Dr. Boggs was on top of me, stunned and dazed. I had to find where we were. Searching with my hands, I found the parcel . . . and the folded gaze was almost upon us . . .

“I can’t see,” Dr. Boggs informed me, his panic carefully controlled; not a complaint, merely an assertion of fact.

Of course.

A sudden insight lit into my mind with the intensity of my sixth sense flaring off. Not waiting to explain, I cradled the parcel between us and hugged Dr. Boggs to me, hurling him sideways.

“Roll with me,” I instructed breathlessly, using the momentum of my thrust to propel me out from under him, on top of him, and then tumbling beneath once more. He threw our bodies, and we rolled. I grunted when we dropped off a small ledge, him landing on top. Going off instinct and remembered memories of Ron sharing his contact information with me, I changed our direction, rolling once more to the left. I hooked the switch with my elbow, and there was a sudden lurch as the smooth, hard ground gave way beneath us. Our bodies disappeared down a chute.

“Ron has many friends,” I explained to Dr. Boggs, sitting on a wooden box and following him with my ear as he searched for a light source. “Fewer now that the executive order enforcing ‘safety zones’ has been carried out . . . but he still has some.”

“All right, why don’t I read you some of what I found in that package you’re holding?” There was a deep-throated grumble as the doctor found what he was seeking. I felt heat overhead as the generator started the lights humming. Dr. Boggs sat on a box next to me, while I fiddled with the parcel on my lap. It was big, the equivalent of an 800 page book, and likely in fine print at that. He agreed when I suggested I first try reading it through my psychic senses, something I had had experience doing with Doc Coltraine’s journal. He settled into place as I spread my palm, fingers outstretched, atop the thick folder. Images flashed into my mind . . .

Visions of a man being forced into a laboratory . . . him later opening a cat’s ribcage and hooking gerbil’s exercise wheel to its esophagus . . . cutting off a dog’s leg’s and leaving it there to whimper in pain while he watched . . . removing a horse’s head and attaching both, separately to a wall, leaving it there to scream in agony and amazement at how it could still live . . . the sickening atrocities escalated . . . sneaking into morgues and taking the bodies . . . hacking them apart and nailing them to cement blocks . . . secretly killing test subjects in order to perform his own experiments on them . . . to taking a live woman and nailing her to the wall while he opened her insides and sutured her intestines to a washer . . . cutting off a man’s hands and feet at the wrists and ankles . . . cutting off a man’s hands and feet at the wrists and ankles . . . cutting off a man’s hands and feet at the wrists and ankles . . . cutting off a man’s hands and feet at the wrists and ankles . . .

I forced the horrid scenes out of my mind and leaned over my lap to retch and heave. My companion grabbed my shoulders and patted my back, muttering comfort and assurances. I wasn’t sure if he knew what I had Seen, but the chance to ask him passed without question, our attention suddenly riveted to the large pounding that hammered beneath our feet. I forced my stomach’s outcries to quiet, but I nearly lost it again when my senses protested at the presence of the supernatural.

[Doctor Boggs]

If it hadn't been for the fear driven scream in my ear I think I might have frozen right there and then. Running through the city with that overwhelming sense of something unseen stalking us had been bad enough, but with that horrible crash downstairs I felt my innards turn to ice and all I wanted to do was curl up in the corner and hope nothing found me. Thank god that only lasted a second though as, like I said, Ms Solstice's scream helped me shake it off.

Unfortunately it didn't snap either one of us out of what would have been a horrible nightmare which meant we'd just have to cope. Looking around quickly I tried to take stock of the situation and find an option. Running would only get us so far. We had gone up two flights of stairs I already, and that something was still following us. I didn't have a gun on me and the thought of taking on whatever was downstairs with my walking stick wasn't appealing so standing our ground was even less appealing. There were plenty of boxes in this new room, and a cot in the corner, but that thing downstairs projected a feeling of menace that was already seeping into the building itself, no barrier I build was going to slow it down for long.

Taking her gently by the shoulders I tried to sound confident as I spoke to her, “we have to move ma'am, what are our options?” I couldn't resist glancing nervously over my shoulder towards the darkened hallway we had just left, snarling sounds approaching. I swear the shadows out there were getting darker.

Standing she looped her arm through mine, “There’s a trapdoor at the far end of the hall, with a trap door underneath to the next floor up. . . at least, there should be. And from there . . . I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, ‘should be’ and ‘I don’t know?’” Lucky for me she was blind and didn't see the face I made but she must have heard me gulp. “I’ve never been here before,” she shrugged with apologetic mien, flinching as the crashes reached a climax. That Thing was getting nearer. Fast. “Ron only told me about this place.”

“Other end of the hallway you say?” I felt the fear tighten its grip on my throat. “Right... well off we go then.”

She gave my arm a small comforting squeeze and off we went. As we entered the hallway I turned my head to look at the stairwell. I know it was just a typical staircase but the deep shadows and creepy atmosphere of this place made it look like a cave. That cave was the lair of something evil, you could just feel it in there waiting for you and it wouldn't wait much longer. Honestly I never planned what happened next but those filled me with dread and I just wished so hard to stop whatever was down there. Next thing I knew a bookcase near the stairs dragged itself across the landing and jammed into the stairwell, at the same time I felt a rush like I'd just run a marathon and staggered into a small desk. “Ah crap.”

Ms Solstice head flew around at the sound of the bookcase crashing into the stairwell then fell against me as I staggered, then started tugging at my arm, the other holding her stick and package. “Hurry doctor, it’s coming.”

Straightening up instantly I focused on our destination at the end of the hall and hurried, somehow I didn't even stop when I heard something crash against my unintentionally improvised barricade. Unfortunately, there was no way to get to the trapdoor high above our heads. Taking Ms Solstice by the shoulders I pushed her as carefully as I could against the wall, “stay right there!” Then started dragging the small table at the very end of the hall under the square hole in ceiling, my bad knee screaming at me the entire time but I wasn't listening to it just then.

With the table in position I turned back to Ms Solstice who was standing there quietly with her hands tucked up under chin trying to look as small as possible. I wanted to say something comforting but the sound of the bookcase cracking stifled the thought, “alright Ms Solstice, you first.” I took her elbow to guide her as she started moving.

It took a minute to help her up on the table. It wobbled as I clambered clumsily up onto the little table with her, the table barely holding our weight. But it was the best we had. Then I helped her keep her balance as I awkwardly lifted her by the legs as she balanced herself on my shoulders, finally placing her feet on my shoulders and boosting herself up into the attic. She found the trapdoor and pushed it open. [i“Perfect,” she whispered, feeling something inside, out of my view. She lifted herself up with her hands and disappeared into the blackness above me, taking our sticks with her. Then she reappeared, rolled over, and leaned down to help me right away, our sticks extending downward, linked by something. Maybe the holes where once a makeshift ladder had been or something.

Just as I wobbled up midway the weighted sicks there was a final loud CRACK from the other end of the hall as the book case finally gave in and shattered. Splinters flew everywhere as a huge Thing made of muscle, fangs and evil barreled through the wreckage and started rushing towards me. I heard a loud scream, “LET GO!” from above me and just reflexively obeyed, throwing myself into the opening for all I was worth.

Sadly that didn't amount to much and my shoulders barely cleared the opening, but I reached out and struggled my way up as Ms Solstice grabbed on and pulled, the whole world drowned out by the combined sound of our yelling and screaming and something not of this world roaring as it closed for the kill. As my hips cleared the opening [Ms Solstice unhooked our sticks and tossed them farther in, while I tucked in my legs and rolled, taking Ms Solstice with me. I could see a set of claws glinting in the opening and somehow managed to reach out kick the trapdoor, which slammed shut to the sound of outraged [i]roaring.

We both just lay there in a tangled mess for a moment trying to catch our breath. There was a dull throbbing coming from my foot where I'd kicked the trapdoor closed so I looked down and noticed my shoe was missing. I just sort of stared at it dumbly for a minute, then broke out in soft hysterical giggles, adrenalin does weird things to people. That Thing jumped at the trapdoor, obviously it wanted in pretty badly. It was too big to fit through the small hatch though and it only got its paws inside, so before I could think about it I got to my feet and threw myself down on top of the trapdoor, pinching its fingers.

It roared in anger, but its retaliating attack was interrupted as there was a tremendous CRACK below me, and the trapdoor shut abruptly. Then growling again, then back to snuffling. I had a bad feeling that the anger would make it that much nastier. I sat up to look for something to block the trapdoor with. There were some cardboard boxes but somehow I doubted those would be much help. Off in the far corner there was a large trunk but even from that distance I could tell there was no chance I was moving that thing. If I'd had the strength left I could've used the same trick I'd done with the bookcase to move it but I was tapped out, what with playing cat and mouse for weeks and that encounter with the thugs.

Down below it sounded like the Thing was shuffling around, claws clicking on the wooden floor. It had started moving around, sniffing. I couldn't figure out what it was up to and that was disconcerting, so I got up and made my way over to Ms Solstice who'd found herself a spot near the wall. Her head tilted as I approached so one ear was facing me, “Tell me what the room is like,” she begged breathlessly. “We have to find a way out of here.” She was pale and sweating, breathing hard and clutching the package to her body.

Crouching down I picked up my walking stick and gratefully leaned my weight on it, describing the room to her: a small bedroom with a bed and a window. “Well I do have one idea, but I don't think you're gonna like it much.”

A tired grin slipped onto her features despite our situation, “It can’t be any worse than remaining here, can it?”

Looking over to the small window I sighed, “we go out the window and climb down. Then run like the dickens.”

Instead of answering she levered herself to her feet and held out one hand, “Lead me.”

It was strangely quiet as we crossed the attic, why wasn't that Thing trying to break in? Mentally shrugging it off we reached the window. It unlatched easily enough so I opened it up and looked outside, there was shallow incline down to the edge of the building then a gap between it and the next building over. I considered trying to jump across for all of three seconds before dismissing the idea, neither one of us would make it.

Ms Solstice crouched down beside me and leaned out a little, “Now what?”

Before I could answer her there was a rending sound and the Things arm tore up through the floor no more than three feet from where we were. It wasn't massive but the sheer power of the Thing was terrifying to behold, it had just torn through the floor and probably planned to do the same to us. And it would have if I'd tried thinking of a way out instead of just reacting, so out the window we went. It swiped at Ms Solstice. On instinct, I wrapped my arms under hers and yanked us backward, through the window.

I've had the misfortune of going out a window before, I knew what we were in for. Not that it made a difference, if anything I think I screamed louder than my new friend due to the unpleasant memory. So we rolled down to the edge and right out into open air, two stories up. Free fall didn't last long and we landed hard, me first this time. Still we were both conscious and alive, so that was something. But I hurt absolutely everywhere, and couldn't move a muscle. Ms Solstice just lay there and groaned so I couldn't imagine she was in much better shape.

And I really, truly wanted to move, the smell alone was murder. We'd landed in a dumpster, what luck.

A quiet mewling sound from beside me snapped me out of it though and I turned to see Ms Solstice carefully prodding at her side and making pained sounds, boy did I feel like a heel at the time.

Sitting up carefully, I hurt all over by then, I leaned in for a look. I couldn't see anything wrong at first glance but it was pretty dark down here, the only light was coming from the cloud covered full moon. Naturally I asked the question people always ask in that situation, “are you alright?”

Frowning she held her hand out to me and I could see they were covered something dark and wet, “It’s just a scratch.” She even managed to smile a little as she said it,that was reassuring.

But a “scratch” happened to be three long gashes down her side. I wanted to insist on looking it over anyway, but the Thing’s roar kept getting in the way.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

“Come on, Ms, we got to get you out of here,” he helped me sit up. I nodded in agreement, my hands searching for my cane and the parcel. Dr. Boggs heaved himself out with a grunt. I don’t think I was badly hurt, but my entire right side was warm and stinging with wet blood, my pant leg already beginning to dampen as my heart raced even faster, sending my heart’s fluid down my leg.

Well. At least nobody could accuse me of wetting myself.

“Doctor!” I suddenly panicked, the weight of the supernatural beast’s presence pushing down at the back of my mind like a sandbag to the neck. I threw my legs over the edge, parcel and folding cane in hand, holding back my squeak of pain when Doctor Boggs grabbed me around the waist and heaved me out of the dumpster. I was weak with fear and pain, and it didn’t help that my best hobble was a turtle’s crawl; but we needed each other’s strength at that moment, me hopping on my left leg and Doctor Boggs holding me under the arm and to his side, bad right leg taking my good leg’s strength.

“Hurry, Ms Solstice,” he breathed in an agony of fear, the beast above us was twitching in my mind. With a growl, it twisted out of the small window and dropped, landing atop of the dumpster with far more grace than we had. I could feel the weight of red eyes saved our lives; rather than slam us to the ground, the creature lost its balance and tumbled with jarring force where we had been only moments earlier. We forced our aching bodies to stumble faster, but it was like the shadows themselves were weighted nets set to cumber us to the ground. My cane was meant for a blind girl’s use, not a blind girl’s crutch. Doctor Boggs was making a heroic effort to carry me, but it was evident he was losing strength fast, huffing and gasping next to me. There was a screech of metal as the gigantic behemoth tore free of the dumpster, snarling with such savagery, I knew we were dead if it but caught us.

My sixth sense decided to pelt me just as the beast lunged. Doctor Boggs used all of his strength to hurl me out of the way. I landed hard against the concrete, skidding to a halt when I slammed into rough brick. The adrenaline coursing through my body forbad me from passing out. In my mind’s eye, I saw the beast lunging for the doctor, claw-tipped paws extending to snuff his life out in an uncanny bearhug, huge incisors opened wide to tear his head off. It would surely eviscerate him . . .

NO!”

I don’t remember screaming. There was a muffled rumbling in my ears as I thrust out mentally with everything I had at the creature sailing towards the man. There was a disgruntled cough, much too deep to be anything but the creature, and a bone-peeling thud. I flinched as Dr. Boggs was thrown off his feet and landed inches away from me. With the last puddle of my heightened psyche fading fast, I sensed the explanation of that . . . my mental power had smitten the creature hard, stunning it enough so it did nothing more than slam its head against Dr. Boggs’ chest, the last of its momentum sending it skidding to the ground a dozen feet from us. I leaned forward and tried to rouse the groaning man, tugging him painfully into my lap and slapping his cheeks.

But the creature had recovered fast, growling once more and getting back to its feet, claws scraping against the concrete. I held my breath and leaned back, trying to pull myself and my dazed companion beside me in a struggling retreat. But the creature had us, and it knew it as well as I did. A keening weight pressed against the sides of my head, pressing inward . . . a hoarse dog’s cry wailed in the close distance . . . I felt myself passing out . . . its growl of satisfaction sounded more like a car’s engine being killed . . . a cough like a door being slammed the next . . . I felt something tap my shoulder and burn like a drop of acid . . . blackness . . . the dog’s cry drew louder, nearer . . .

A lancing scent filled my nostrils and tore through the shroud of my unconsciousness. I coughed and sputtered, sitting up.

“Sir. The female is waking up, too,” a voice announced with the candid frankness of a golf announcer declaring the hole.

“So I see,” another voice replied, the tone as neutral as the first. “Well, don’t just stand there, Briggs. Help the lady up.”

Both voices were male.

“Yes, sir.” Strong hands took me by the arms and lifted me up off the ground. As surreptitiously as possible, I felt the hands and wrists of the ones helping me. The hands were coarse and scarred, used to hard work; the sleeves and lapels of the sportjackets they wore were worn and coated with grime and wear.

They had seen a lot of action.

I flinched and pulled away when a second pair took me by the hips to set my feet under me. Struggling free of the hands fighting to help me, my hands passed along my body to decipher any other injuries.

“What have you done with my glasses?” I asked, diluting the snip in my voice. My eye covering had been on my face when I lost consciousness. I listed off other items I was missing. “Where is my cane? And . . .” I bit my lip. I didn’t dare mention the parcel. There was an acrid odor in the air that burnt my nose to breathe it in, accompanied by a low, painful moan.

“Doctor . . .?” I called out hesitantly; the low moaning was not that of Dr. Boggs.

“I’m . . . ugh . . . here,” he answered, to my right. And apparently by the tone of his voice, he was just recovering, too. “I’m fine,” he exhaled bravely, the scrapes and prideful tone of his voice suggesting he was getting to his feet under his own power.

“Why don’t you two come here and warm yourselves?” the one that seemed to be the leader suggested. Someone pushed me toward the scent of burning paper, a source of heat . . . fire. I held out my hands cautiously, measuring where the flames were. My companion sucked in a breath. But there was silence for several moments.

“Sir, Allen is sedated and properly restrained for transport.”

“Very good,” the leader’s tone was full of warning. “Bring the subject,” he emphasized the word strongly, “and get ready to head out.”

My breath caught in my throat. I recognized these men. “You’re the ones that were following us down by the docks,” I accused, turning my ear in their retreating direction. “The seven of you. Who’s the eighth? This . . . Allen? Who are you?”

The whole world seemed to hold its breath. I could sense their eyes on me, weighing the threat my knowledge poised to their mission . . . whatever that was.

“Forget what you saw and heard this night,” the leader said instead , a quiet, snapping click sounding at the end of his sentence. I forced myself not to hunch my shoulders when his stepped behind me and took my wrist, whispering into my ear. “Forget the visions you saw. They won’t help you.” His breath left my neck, he was probably facing Dr. Boggs. And he spoke to my companion in normal tones. “Sir. Ma’am.” He took a step back and turned on his heel, forcing me to face away from the fire and prying my fingers away from my palm. “Oh,” he said suddenly, the theatricality so thick I wanted to slap him. “You don’t want to forget these, now do you?” He put an object in my hand, closed my fingers around it, and let me go.

“We’ll tell your government of your . . . invaluable aid tonight,” he called out, some distance away now. “I hope your . . . solstice was well spent.”

I lowered my chin in chagrin, pinching my lips together and exhaling angrily out my nose. Remembering the object in my hand, I opened my fingers and felt it with my other hand.

My glasses.

I hate those guys,” Dr. Boggs spat.

We never did find my cane. I wonder if those men . . .?

[Ethan Skinner]

Why would they want your cane, Miss Solstice?

[Eilonwy Solstice]

I don’t even know if they took it or not, Mr. Skinner . . . but Ron searched for it later, and he couldn’t find anything . . . not to mention the back of the building was cordoned off for repairs.