Elusive Beings--A Shade of Mind--Book 3 Page 3

  “I don’t know. I want to know the answer to that, too,” Jo said.

  “Why, Jo?”

  “Because I want to know if I was responsible for making her do the unthinkable. I can’t make her talk. Why don’t you try, Ciaran? Ask her what happened in Australia ten years ago.”

  “You think she might have killed someone?”

  “As I said, I don’t know what happened. I was there with her. And when I woke up, those people were dead.”

  “Why do you think you’d be responsible if Madeline killed them?”

  He stood up to go to the computer. Jo didn’t stop him this time. “Don’t bother looking up the records, Ciaran. There’s nothing to find. I wiped it. That was the only time I hacked into any system.”

  He turned around and looked at Jo. There was the gleam of tears in her eyes, but she didn’t let any fall.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you, Jo. And I’m sorry I had to ask about it.”

  Ciaran reached out to embrace her, but she stepped back. She looked him square in the eye. “The man was trying to rape me. He knocked me unconscious. When I came to, it was already over. Everyone was dead, and Madeline was there. So ask her if she killed them because of me. I need to know.”

  She couldn’t hold back any longer, and tears rolled down her face. “Everything was burned to the ground. All Madeline told me was that there had been an accident, and she only had enough time to drag me out. But I know she was lying.”

  “I’ll ask . . .”

  Suddenly the migraine hit him in a tremendous wave. Ciaran grabbed his head and slumped to the floor. A distant voice pierced his mind, stabbing his brain like shards of glass. He’d heard this voice before, but this time it wasn’t the usual robotic monotone voice. It was one with an Irish accent.

  “We’re finally connected, Ciaran,” it said. “It’s about time you come back to us to fulfill your duty.”

  “Who are you?” Ciaran asked. The person didn’t seem to hear his question. The static noise continued, and the voice kept ranting.

  “Thirty-three years I’ve been waiting, Ciaran. It’s time.”

  The voice was so distorted that Ciaran couldn’t make sense of what he was trying to say.

  Jo held Ciaran’s shoulders. “Ciaran, look at me. Ciaran . . . Take this water . . . Who are you talking to?”

  “Speak clearer,” said Ciaran. “I can’t hear you, goddamnit. What is Sciphil? What does Madeline have to do with any of this?”

  “Madeline . . . Madeline . . . she’s the key . . .” The voice faded away.

  “No, no! Don’t go! What’s Sciphil?” His vision was blurry. He tried to hang on to the sound of the voice as much as possible, but it seemed to have gone completely away.

  “You’re bleeding, Ciaran.” Jo wiped the blood that trickled from his nose. “Not another Sciphil. I have had enough of this . . .”

  Ciaran blinked. “What did you just say, Jo?”

  Chapter 6

  Ciaran punched the call button on the intercom in his office. A short moment later, Tadgh and Madeline appeared at the door. Ciaran looked at Madeline. His views about her had changed. Much more than the woman he loved, in front of him stood a world of secrets that he had to explore.

  Madeline cocked an eyebrow at Jo, who was sitting comfortably with a laptop on a reading chair. “I tried to drug him, but he figured it out,” Jo said in response to Madeline’s look.

  Ciaran smiled and gestured to the table and chair in the far corner where they could sit. Tadgh frowned.

  “Are you okay to be up and about? I’ll call Doctor Thomas, Ciaran.”

  “You can pull a better threat than that, Tadgh. Coffee anyone?”

  “I’ll have one, please,” Madeline said.

  Ciaran went to the coffee machine. “I told Jo about what happened at the cemetery. We need to decipher a few puzzles before we can plan any strategies to deal with the problem at hand. What’s a Sciphil, and what does being a successor mean?” Ciaran sat down on the sofa with a tray of coffee for everyone.

  He served Madeline her coffee, resting his gaze on her face for a brief moment before continuing. “Jo heard of the term Sciphil way before us.”

  “A couple of months ago, my friend, Zach, asked me if I knew what a Sciphil was. He never told me where he came across the word. He asked me because he thought it had to do with hologame technology. He’s a player, not a designer, and he didn’t know the technical aspects of the game. I didn’t have an answer for Zach and really didn’t think much about it.”

  “Maybe I should talk to him,” Ciaran said.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. If he knew, he wouldn’t have asked Jo,” Madeline said.

  Ciaran noticed Madeline shift in her chair. She looked uncomfortable with the idea. “I just want to know how he came across the concept. But first things first, we should be safe from Sciphils if we stay inside Mon Ciel. My father designed its shield to protect us,” Ciaran said.

  “Is that the same shield you used to put Mon Ciel on lockdown before?” Madeline asked.

  Ciaran shook his head. “No. That was an emergency lockdown. Mon Ciel’s energy lock is permanent. To put it simply, it locks anything carrying extraterrestrial energy out of this place.”

  Tadgh grabbed his coffee and dropped two sugar cubes in it. When he reached for a third, Ciaran smacked his hand away. Tadgh grumbled some profanity and withdrew. “All Father told me was that if we had any problems, we should just stay inside Mon Ciel.” Tadgh sipped his coffee. “Like sheep.”

  "I’ve seen Ayana before. I remember her,” Ciaran said.

  “The woman at the cemetery?” Madeline asked.

  Ciaran nodded. “Father and Mother took me outside Mon Ciel's fence to see Ayana and a man. I was only two or thereabouts because Mother had just had Tadgh. The man said something to me that I didn't quite understand. But then he gave me a golden toy and asked if I liked it. I must have said yes and taken the toy because I thought it would look nice dangling on his cot.” Ciaran shot a glance at Tadgh.

  “Is that what the woman meant by you have agreed to be a bloody successor? If that’s the case, it hardly qualifies as a consent,” Tadgh exclaimed and snatched a cube of sugar, popping it in his mouth before Ciaran could stop him.

  Ciaran shook his head at Tadgh. “Anyway, Father argued with the man, and Mother took me and ran inside. The man and Ayana tried to chase her, but they stopped just before the fence.”

  “They couldn’t get through the shield!” Tadgh said.

  Ciaran nodded. “We never talked about the incident again, and I soon forgot about it. I can ask Mother for more information.”

  Tadgh shook his head. “I just got a voice message saying she’s fine. She has something to do and will get back to us when she’s done. I tried to return the call, but it didn’t work.”

  Ciaran reached his hand out. “Give me your phone. I’ll trace the number.”

  Tadgh shrugged and gave the cell phone to Ciaran. “It’s weird. She’s never done this before.”

  Ciaran looked at the message, entered some codes, and stared at the small screen of the phone. “She didn’t use the standard telecommunication technology. These are frequency signals,” Ciaran muttered and pulled out his cell phone.

  He retrieved the message Sciphil Two had sent to his cell phone last week then entered a string of code into his phone and looked up at everyone. “Sciphil Two used the same type of frequency.”

  “We talked to Sciphil Two’s people in the basement at Mrs. Hanson’s place. We might have to go back there to get the equipment,” Jo said.

  Ciaran nodded. “Yes. We have equipment here, but to get the right communication frequency, we’ll have to go back.” He stood up.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Tadgh asked. “What if Juliette comes back? Can you handle another round of tornado wrestling?”

  “Can you handle one? Guns won’t work on whatever it is out there that’s using Juliette’s fo
rm,” Ciaran said.

  Tadgh laughed. “You still don’t believe that that thing is Juliette?”

  Ciaran sat down and leaned back in his chair. “Juliette is clinically dead. And it’s not a statement made out of sentiment, Tadgh. What we saw was a collective of energy, a simulated form based on Juliette’s psychological and biological profile when she was alive.”

  “In layman’s terms, we call it a spirit. A ghost,” Madeline deadpanned and sipped her coffee.

  “I know a ghost is not a viable scientific explanation, Ciaran. But a simulated profile in a hologame requires someone to design and control it. Apart from you being one of the very few people on this planet who can do that, to make it happen, the person has to have an intimate knowledge of Juliette’s profile. Unless . . .” Jo blinked her big green eyes, expecting Ciaran to understand and complete her sentence.

  Ciaran nodded. “Unless Juliette’s brain is still alive, and she is creating the profile herself. Given her body is not where it is supposed to be, I’d say it’s a plausible explanation, Jo.”

  Tadgh sneered. “I’d buy Madeline’s ghost’s theory before that!” He shook his head. “Regardless, I’ll go to Mrs. Hanson’s place to get the machine for you. Whatever Juliette is, she wants you, not me. And you stay here, too, Madeline. Richard wants you, and until we figure all this out, leaving Mon Ciel isn’t a good idea.”

  Ciaran arched an eyebrow and chuckled to himself as he watched his brother take charge.

  Jo stood up. “Let’s go,” she said. “You don’t know how to pack up a computer system properly—apart from pulling the plugs and stuffing the pieces into boxes. If the equipment is damaged, there’s no way we can communicate with the person or being that we need to talk to.”

  Ciaran chuckled. Tadgh shrugged and turned on his heel. Madeline grabbed Jo’s shoulder. “Be careful, Jo.”

  “Don’t worry, Madeline. I’m more capable than you think.” Jo smiled and followed Tadgh out.

  When Tadgh and Jo had left, Madeline started to follow, but Ciaran grabbed her elbow, pulling her into his arms.

  "They know their way out." He smiled.

  "Do they?" Madeline played with Ciaran's hair. "How’s the pain?"

  "Fine." He kissed the dimple on her left cheek. Then he moved to her lips. She didn’t let the kiss go deeper.

  "Let me." Madeline unbuttoned the top of his shirt and examined the bandage that Doctor Thomas had secured to Ciaran's chest. Satisfied that the wound was not bleeding, she redid the buttons. Then she checked the big gash on his arm and the swollen tattoo of the golden crucifix.

  “From this angle, the crucifix looks like a key,” Madeline said.

  “From my angle, it looks like a cocktail spoon.” Ciaran grabbed her chin, lifting it up. "Why are you avoiding looking at me?"

  "I'm not." She turned toward the window.

  Ciaran turned her face back to him. There were tears in her eyes. He kissed her big brown eyes. “Ayana mentioned the consequence of not having a virtuous soul when accepting the successor role with your grandfather. I’m not questioning you. But I’m asking you to tell me honestly whether or not I should let you go through with the promise.”

  She eased away from his hold. “It’s my promise . . .”

  “No, it’s our promise. You’re an important part of my life now. You know all about me, so you don’t get to reveal only some information to me and withhold the rest. Why were you uncomfortable when Jo mentioned Zach? What happened in Australia ten years ago, Madeline?”

  Tears gleamed in her eyes now. “I need time to think about this.”

  He wiped the tears and kissed her. “An hour. I can’t bear any longer than that. I need to know.”

  A loud bang echoed through the house. It didn’t shake the building, but they could feel the vibrations in the air. Ciaran darted to the window. From the sky, beams of light struck Mon Ciel but disintegrated and vanished into thin air.

  “Whoever that is couldn’t penetrate the shield,” Ciaran muttered.

  Amid the disintegrated beams of light, a gigantic image of Juliette appeared, glowing in a white and blue halo. She smiled at Ciaran. A flash of amusement crossed her face. She hit Mon Ciel again with the light beams then turned on her heel and moved away because her beams were unable to damage the premises.

  “Tadgh!” Ciaran said and rushed toward the coffee table to grab his cell phone. He called Tadgh and heard only the endless sound of static from the other end of the line.

  Chapter 7

  “All right, just to be clear, I’ll talk to the cops. If things get complicated, we walk. Okay?” said Tadgh. He parked a block away from Mrs. Hanson’s house. They had driven past earlier and could see police vehicles, flashing lights, and a crowd of people flooding that end of the street. He wagered walking right through the police’s front line wouldn’t be a good idea.

  Jo rolled her eyes and stomped forward. Tadgh looked at her fragile figure on heels. “How do you walk on those sticks?”

  Jo whirled around. “They’re called high heels—a girl’s most precious and lethal weapon. Don’t you make me use them on you. They might cause some permanent damage to your reproductive ability.”

  Tadgh shook his head and escorted her as they approached the house.

  Mrs. Hanson's house had been sealed off again. Police were everywhere, carrying out boxes of evidence. Among the boxes, Tadgh and Jo recognized the equipment from the basement they needed.

  Tadgh wrapped his arm around Jo's shoulders and approached the officer standing at the barricades.

  "Hi, officer. What’s going on here?" Tadgh shot a concerned look at the unfriendly officer.

  "This is a crime scene. Civilians shouldn't be here."

  "This is Jo's grandmother's house. She’s visiting from the US. Surely you can tell us what's going on. She’s quite worried."

  The officer glanced at Jo. "Who's your grandmother?"

  "Mrs. Hanson."

  "Can I see your ID please, ma'am?"

  "Sure."

  Jo reached for her purse. "Damn it. All my documentation is in the travel packet. I left it at the hotel. Look, officer, I just landed. I want to see my grandmother. Can you please tell me what's going on here?"

  "We can go back to the hotel and get the papers for you,” said Tadgh. “But can you at least tell her what happened? Is Mrs. Hanson okay?"

  Jo squeezed out a fake tear.

  Seeing Jo’s tear, the officer shifted his stance and cleared his throat. "Ma'am, I can't tell you much because I don't know who you are. But I'm sorry to say that it’s not good news regarding Mrs. Hanson."

  Jo manufactured some more tears and looked as if she was about to make a fuss. "What do you mean? I want to go inside. I want to see her."

  "Ma'am, if you wait here, I'll go and get the captain for you . . .”

  The police carried a couple of body bags from the house.

  "Oh my God.” Jo pointed. “Is that her, in a body bag? Why are there two? She lived here by herself."

  Jo pushed at the barricades. Tadgh helped. "What the hell is going on here?" Tadgh said.

  "Stay back, stay back. Don't cause me any trouble, ma'am. Mrs. Hanson died a few weeks ago. That isn’t her body."

  "What? Died? So whose bodies are those? My other relatives?" Jo kept pushing.

  "Ma'am, stay still. Ma'am. We’re busy here. There are forty bodies in there. If you claim they’re your relatives, I'll go and get the captain." The officer was beginning to get angry.

  Jo nodded. "Please. I'll stay here."

  As soon as the officer disappeared inside the house, Tadgh and Jo ran, vanishing into the dark.

  "Someone must have shifted all the soldiers’ bodies from Fountains Abbey to here," Tadgh said while they were running. Jo stumbled on a tree branch. Tadgh snatched her up and carried her in his arms.

  “Let go of me. I can run on my own.”

  “The evidence points to the contrary,” Tadgh muttered and kept going. He got to the ca
r and deposited Jo in the passenger seat. She slapped his shoulder when he got into the driver’s seat.

  Tadgh reached over and pinned Jo’s arms down. His face hovered right next to hers. “I said, let me handle the talking. What exactly didn’t you understand about that? What if the cops got you? What would I do then?” he growled.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong to be afraid of the cops.”

  “You might not have. But our family is not exactly cop friendly. So when you’re with us, keep that in mind.”

  “I’m not with you . . . nobody tells me what to do . . .”

  Then he kissed her. It seemed to be the only way to stop her from talking. Or maybe he just wanted to do it. Whatever the reason, he did it.

  Tadgh eased off. “I expected a slap in the face,” he said.

  Jo rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s illegal to resort to such violence for a pathetic kiss.”

  “Pathetic? I risked my skin doing that, and all I’ve got is—”

  Jo hopped up and kissed him.

  A wave of passionate energy washed over him. Tadgh considered himself to be experienced, but the energy coming from Jo was irresistible. Every bone and muscle in his body seemed to liquefy.

  Jo finished the kiss and sat back in her seat.

  “How’s that? If you’re going to risk your skin doing something like that, you should do it properly,” she said and buckled her seatbelt.

  “I’ll try better next time,” Tadgh muttered and started the car.

  * * *

  As Tadgh drove out, lightning slashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled around them. A wind came up suddenly, crashing through the trees on the street and shaking loose the shingles on a few of the small cottage roofs along the road. The funnel of spinning air was headed straight toward Mrs. Hanson's house.

  "This is not a normal storm. It's Juliette," Tadgh said. "In other words, we're fucked." He accelerated, forgetting all about his speed phobia.