“Tao-ki?” Kurt asked, withdrawing his hand.
“Yes,” Barbara replied, wrinkling her brow.
“Bu dao huang he xin bu si.”
“Bu dao huang he xin bu si.”
“Tiansheng wo cai bi youyong,” Barbara said, smiling thinly.
“I think I’m in love?” Kurt said, his eyes wide.
“Note the ‘Mrs.,’ Agent Spornberger,” Barbara said, tartly. “And I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, who, forgiveness or not, looks poorly upon extramarital affairs. So put your dick back in your pants and your tongue back in your head or I’ll rip both off and feed them to you.”
“I’m sort of new to the bureau,” Kurt said, puzzled. “Was that sexual harassment?”
“No, that was her promising to kick your ass, Agent Spornberger,” Garson said, trying not to grin. “But the question I have to ask, Mrs. Everette, is, can you work with him? Because this is, alas, Kurt. We’ve been trying to potty train him for the last couple of years and so far it’s had no effect.”
“The problem is not ‘can I work with him,’ but; can he survive,’” Barbara said, sighing. She sat down and laid Lazarus’s bag on her lap, letting the cat out to sniff around the room. “In these investigations, legally or not, the truth is that the Bureau agent is the innocent bystander. The civilian, in other words. We have to work with the Bureau and local law enforcement agencies, but we’d rather not. Because while the casualty rate of our agents is high, the casualty rate of the agents we’re assigned is higher. Agent Spornberger, you clearly have some martial- arts skills, and you’re old enough you may have some street skills. But this is a different kind of street and you are no more powerful than a baby on it. Can you face the fact that there may come a time when I tell you to run away as fast as you can, and if you don’t, you’re going to die? And probably have your soul ripped out and taken straight to hell?”
“Well, ma’am,” Kurt said, grinning uneasily. “You clearly have some martial-arts skills, but…”
“That’s the problem,” Barb said, looking at Garson. “The ‘but…’ That, right there, is almost sure to get him killed no matter what I do. Because there is no ‘but.’ Special Agent, are you a Believer in any religion? What religion are you?”
“Catholic, ma’am,” Kurt said. “I mean, I’m sort of Catholic. I haven’t been to confession in…”
“Then you are totally unprotected,” Barb said. “It’s like going on a drug raid without a vest. Or a gun. Or backup. Even if whatever we’re dealing with can be deflected by a cross, for example, you have to believe in the cross and be in touch with your God. And your God has got to believe in you. Otherwise, you’re totally and completely scr…unprotected, Agent Spornberger. With what we may be up against, it may be necessary for me to kill you, Agent Spornberger. If you cannot, when the time is right, follow my instructions to the letter. And I don’t think that you can.”
“Mrs. Everette, if you wish, I’ll replace him,” Garson said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“Do you have any other agents with experience in the paranormal?” Barb asked, looking Spornberger up and down.
“None,” Garson said. “Including me. I’ve been briefed on SC, I’m aware of some of the reports, the stories. But I can’t say that I’m totally convinced.”
“And the same would be the case with any green agent,” Barb said, sighing. “They just can’t believe. Okay, tough guy, you’re the one that’s seen a ghost. I’ll leave it up to you.”
“It wasn’t a ghost,” Kurt said. “It was a shadow. I’m not sure what it was, but I…I got this feeling it wasn’t a ghost.”
“Demon, then,” Barb said. “Tell me about it later. I need to get briefed in. Who’s doing it?”
“Spornberger,” Garson said. “He’s got all the reports. Note that we only have the attack on your agent to indicate that there is anything to the SC designation. That and the fact that the case is just so damned weird.”
“Well, I know the area’s not a total dry hole,” Barb said. “I can feel the…currents? Whatever. But it’s possible the attack on Janea wasn’t related to the investigation. We have enemies of our own. However, we’ll just try to follow up on her leads and see where it takes us.”
“What’s the paranormal read on this?” Kurt asked as he sat down in the secure conference room.
“I’m not a paranormal expert,” Barb said. “But I’ve got some people to do the research. And the short answer is there isn’t one. Have you ever heard of Kali?”
“I’ve been studying oriental martial arts since I was in high school,” Kurt said dryly. “And by extension the Orient. Yes, I’ve heard of Kali. Hindu death goddess, right?”
“More complicated than that,” Barb said, biting her lip. “Also a goddess of fertility and childbirth. And murder. Life and death, alpha and omega. The point being that there are references to worshippers being used as avatars of Kali, taken by her and turned into killing machines. But even the…deep references, if you will, the studies that assume the existence of the goddess, indicate most of those killers were using drugs to simulate the effect. And Kali, being what Christians recognize as a demon, is tightly bound by the Fall. Even though God gave the world to Satan, the greater demons and demonesses, ancient gods in most cases, are tightly bound. Freeing them, even drawing upon their essence, requires powerful rites which have not been used in this case. So it’s not a possession by Kali or another greater demon. And according to the initial report Janea turned in, none of them show current signs of possession. They have been…sensitized to the supernatural. But they may have been sensitives to begin with.”
“In short, you have no clue what is going on,” Kurt said.
“No,” Barb admitted. “But that’s why I’m here. But we’ve got one piece of evidence we didn’t have before. Someone attacked Janea mystically. That makes it personal.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Oh, thank God we’re here!” Kurt gasped as Barbara came to a screeching halt at the guarded entrance. The drive had been short but traffic had been heavy. Normally, it would have been quicker to walk with the jammed cars on US 27.
But any belief that Kurt retained that he’d been landed with Suzy Soccer Mom was disabused by the drive. Much of it had been in the oncoming lanes, or turn lanes, or in one case, slightly on the sidewalk. The opposite sidewalk.
It wasn’t that Barbara drove badly. It was that she drove like a cop. One in a hurry and with enormous ability behind the wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Barb asked, hitting the window switch and smiling at the frowning corrections guard manning the gate. “We got here in one piece.”
“You are insane, Madame,” Kurt replied. “Kurt Spornberger, FBI,” he continued, holding out his ID. “This is Barbara Everette, a contractor with us.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, hitting the control to open the gate. “Try to keep it down on the campus, ma’am.”
“Will do,” Barb said.
“Next time, I drive,” Kurt said as Barb hunted for an open visitor’s parking space.
“Like I’d let anybody else drive me,” Barb said.
Moccasin Bend Mental Health Facility was a sprawling set of brick buildings originally founded in 1961, located across the river from the downtown area. It served twenty-eight counties in the area as a regional inpatient care facility.
Barb…didn’t like Moccasin Bend. She wasn’t “open” to Sight at the moment, but she didn’t have to be to feel the malevolence of the area. The entire place was just…weird. The buildings were straight out of a horror movie and the layout was decidedly odd. She looked at the map again and realized that the buildings were laid out in a sign she’d only seen once in her “catch-up” research. Specifically, in a grimoire that was kept under lock and key at the Foundation.
