Fae, Fire & Faith

Chapter 1

I want you to close your eyes, and relax.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I did as I was asked. I leaned back in the plush chair, almost large enough to envelope the tiny frame that was me completely. I doubted anyone walking into this office would even notice I was here. What next?

You need to relax, Miss Matthews. The feminine voice held a note of annoyance, or at least I thought it did. I bet the esteemed Doctor Rachel Higgins would never deign to be annoyed with a patient - if this hypnotherapy could really be classified as an actual science.   

Then again, I was the one paying her to try this so-called science on me. Ever since I had stumbled across that photo of my brother, Sean, at the Esplanade homicides two months ago, I had been turning over every corner I could to find out more information. The only thing I had to go on really was the photo of my brother, his class ring, and these weird symbols that had been at every crime scene. In two months, I had failed to get any other information on the symbols. There had been a book at the library, Smithfield’s Tome, but it had been written in a language I didn't understand. I’d made copies of the pages that had been relevant, but when I went to look for the book again, it was nowhere to be found. To make matters worse, every linguistics expert I approached had said that they were not familiar with the script on the page. I was grasping at straws now.

So, I rolled my shoulders and leaned into the squishy cushion behind me. I tried to think of standing on a beach, burying my toes in the warm sand, as the sun beat down on my shoulders. It helped that Dr. Higgins had one of those wave machines going, and the lull of water filled my ears.

I'm going to start counting backwards from ten. When I get to one, you will be in a state of deep rest.

I doubted that relaxation would come if I had to listen to her shrill voice. A smirk spread across my face, but I did my best to focus on the beach scene I had conjured as she counted backwards. As she reached the bottom of her count, my head lolled forward slightly and I almost felt a heaviness weighing down on my shoulders.

Where are you now, Miss Matthews?

I opened my eyes, looking around. I was at the beach, but something was wrong, off.  The sand was an inky black beneath a brilliant pink sky, a shimmering pearlescent moon rising over the water as the sun set. The water lapped on the shore, glowing green. A heat exuded from the air all around me, and a very uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. A beach. A very odd beach.

What's odd about it?

It feels wrong. I don't know why. I wasn’t sure why, but I found I couldn’t articulate the whole poor color scheme that my brain had conjured in this image.

Let's not focus on the beach. I want you to walk forward, toward a closed large oak door.

I looked around the weird scenery, looking for this door she wanted me to go towards. I felt like I was trapped in a cover for some art nouveau book. I spied a door at the far end of the beach, closer to a copse of trees than the water. I walked towards it, my feet sinking into the sand. As I drew closer, the sand became a tar-like substance, impeding my ability to get closer, and a wave of panic crawled across my skin. It's too far. I can't get there.

You can get there, Miss Matthews. Focus on the door.

A tiny whimper escaped my lips, but I forced myself to move on, as Dr. Higgins suggested. It was more than hard though; it was exhausting. The sand had swallowed my legs to almost the knee by the time I made it to the halfway point. I could see a pale light shimmering from the crevice under the door. I had to get there; I had to see what lay behind it.

I couldn't sprint with the way the sand gave way underneath my weight, so I settled for a stride that let me almost wade. I pushed myself forward, feeling like I was fighting against increasing pressure to hold me back. The heat grew more intense, and I could feel the sweat rolling down my spine. It's so hot.

It'll be cool once you open the door.

The door was just out of my reach now, and I felt my body sink into the sand, like it was a sprawling black ocean. I had to swim now, as it threatened to pull me into the dark depths. The light seeping from under the door was almost blinding. I lunged towards the door, hoping to catch the edge of the hard ground the door sat on. My fingers grabbed the earth, digging and biting, and I began to pull myself from the sludge.

Just as I dragged myself onto the ground, something wrapped itself around my ankle. A biting sensation ripped through my leg as I struggled to break myself free. I rolled onto my back, and terror seized me. The creature from the garage, with its broken limbs, grotesque smile, and eyeless gaze gripped my leg with its taloned hand. I screamed as I tried to scramble away from it, but the more I tried to get away the more it was able to pull me closer.

The sand was almost scorching hot by the time I was dragged back into its depths. Every inch of my legs burned as the claws dug and twisted into my ankle. I could still see the door, as I was pulled away, and it swung open with a violent throw. A dark imposing figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light. I told you to stay out of this business!

The world shook as my vision began to fade, obscured by thick grainy sand. Miss Matthews! Miss Matthews! Wake up!

My eyes flew open, and I found myself staring into the surprised face of Dr. Higgins. I scrambled back from her, and she let go of my shoulders. The room was still lit with a warm, soft glow, and there was the subtle hint of cinnamon from a candle that burned on the doctor's desk.

Dr. Higgins remained knelt in front of me, her brown hair still neatly done up in a bun. Miss Matthews, are you okay?

My chest heaved, as I tried to catch my breath. I managed a nod as I sat up, placing my face in my hands. My foot kicked something soft, and I peered through my fingers to see one of the pillows that had been in my chair discarded on the ground. What the fuck had just happened?

I heard Dr. Higgins moving around, but I focused on just reminding myself that it was all in my head. That thing was not here. That thing would not be coming for me again. If it had been real, it had been something Quincy had concocted. My right arm ached still, from time to time, where the scars of my encounter with Quincy remained. Then there were the nightmares. They didn't come most nights, but I had feeling I would need to find a way to not dream tonight. I hoped I had enough alcohol for that feat.

Miss Matthews? The shrill voice of the doctor grabbed my attention. It was surprisingly soft now, touched with concern. Are you alright?

I fought the urge to rub my face and sat back up. Yeah, sorry. I don't know what happened there.

Do you want to talk about it? She had a tablet of paper in her lap, a pen in one hand.

Did I want to talk about it? The crazy that had invaded my nightmares ever since I walked down the path Quincy had led me? No thanks, Dr. Higgins. No, it's fine.

Are you sure? Perhaps talking about the root of the issue will let us get past this.

Plus, it will line your pockets with more of my money. I shook my head. No, it's nothing really.

She frowned, her thin lips disappearing into a pale line on her face. It'll make any other attempt more hazardous if we don't find out what happened.

I arched a brow. I'm thinking maybe that there won't be any other attempt.

Miss Matthews, the more resistant...

I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Look, I'm not doubting that you can get results for some people. I'm just thinking that maybe this isn't for me.

Dr. Higgins' eyes flashed with annoyance, but she kept her voice neutral. Very well, if you think that's best.

I didn't hang around much past clearing up my bill with her. Even this short session cost me more than I'd like, and since I couldn't really explain to the family accountant why I needed to go see a professional therapist/hypnotist, it was coming out of my own funds. Don't get me wrong, I had my own money, but I didn't try to live frivolously. After all, my father had been quite disappointed after my stint in rehab, and I knew that if I slipped up too much, the family money would disappear.

Of course, there was also the stipulation that I attempt a semblance of a real job: one the parental units would approve. Something I had been neglecting for the past couple of months, ever since I had found that photo to be honest. They would certainly not have approved of me getting my private investigator license, but I did that anyway. I just had to find a way to start using that to my advantage. Write something for a paper that would be a feel good piece, or uncover some corporate corruption.

I wrinkled my nose as I walked to my car. That, of course, would depend on me getting a job. As of right now, no one was really knocking down the door for an unproven PI. I needed to set the Sean matter aside for now and focus on something new. Besides, maybe my brain needed to step away from that for a few days. I palmed my keys as I got closer to my car, checking over my shoulder, just in case. Paranoia had set in from that garage incident, and even though I parked in a well-lit open parking lot, I had to be certain.

Granted, there was nothing there, and the drive back to my place was uneventful. The paranoia was serving more to make me think I was losing my grip on reality more than anything else. Except, when I pulled into my normal parking space at my apartment, I spied someone standing at my front door. Someone I had not seen in a couple of months.

Well, fuck.

Chapter 2

The waifish blonde stood next to my front door, waving in my direction with one hand while adjusting her glasses with the other. I managed a half-hearted return wave as I got out of my car. I'd ask how she found out where I lived, but the last time I encountered Catherine Isblom, clear answers were hard to come by. After all, a ghost had supposedly told her to find me in order to help solve his murder. It's part of why I was less than thrilled to see her.

I forced a smile on my face as I approached my door. Uh, hi, Cat. It's been awhile.

Her eyes beamed with happiness as she smiled, tucking loose blonde hair behind her ears. Oh, I know. I've been meaning to call, but I figured you were pretty busy.

Something like that. I didn't really want to discuss with her what I had been doing. She was still a stranger for the most part, and I wasn't exactly sharing with close friends or family that I'd been trying to investigate my brother's disappearance. I turned my attention to opening my door. The key stuck in the lock more often than not, so it wasn't always a simple thing to do. So, how have you been?

Good! I've been doing a lot of studying lately. Things have been rather quiet really.

The key finally turned in the lock, and I was able to push the door open. Cat seemed to take that as an invitation to walk in, breezing straight by me. I bit the sharp words that formed on my tongue and forced myself to make small talk. Quiet?

Oh, the spirits. They've been quiet. It's weird. They're not normally quiet here. I thought it might mean something good, but Jules told me to stop being silly. She walked around my living room, running a hand along a wall, before settling down on my leather couch. You should probably have that door fixed.

The super is supposed to be working on it. I’d reported the door two months ago, but I’d forgotten to remind him in the chaos that had been my life since then. Instead of going to sit by her, I walked into my kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. So, what do I owe this visit to?

Well, there's this girl, and I think something bad happened to her.

I thought you said the spirits were quiet? I didn't really believe she talked to them, but I found it easier to play along. It didn't matter that the last one of her crazy notions had, in fact, led me to a murder scene. That had been Quincy's doings, not hers.

She took her glasses off, rubbing under her eyes. Oh, they are. It's actually the daughter of some friends. They came to me and Jules for help.

So why do you think something bad has happened? I leaned against the counter in my kitchen that looked over the living room, sipping my water.

Because she's been missing for three weeks and the police haven't found her.

People go missing all the time.

Yeah, we know, but these friends, they came to us after they felt the police had given up. They wanted to know if we could reach her spirit.

And you couldn't?

Cat nodded. If she were dead, murdered, her spirit would be easy to call. It's the fact that we can't, that means something else happened. And it's probably bad.

She couldn't have just run away?

Cat shook her head. No, if you knew, Sparrow, you'd know she wouldn't have just run away.

Sparrow? What were her parents a bunch of hippies? Here I thought I had one of the worst names ever. Because, really, I always hated that my parents named me Yumi. Not just because of all the poor jokes on the playground about You and Me. Technically, the name had Japanese origins, and I was born in China. It was just something exotic to name their adopted child. I found myself sighing. Ok, let's start at the beginning then. Do you want something to drink?

Tea?

Fresh out.

Oh, uhm, just water then.

I nodded and filled a second glass before going to sit beside Cat on my couch, handing her the glass. Alright, so tell me about this Sparrow.

Sparrow is this sweet girl. Super sweet. And she's an only child, and Matty and Jen are the best parents. They'd do anything for their little girl.

Little girl? That was odd. I didn't remember seeing any news reports about a missing child. I had been under the assumption based on this conversation that it was someone older. I tried to keep from furrowing my brow as I pried more information out of Cat. How old is she?

She's going to be 17 soon.

Okay, so the girl is older, like my original assumption. A missing teenage girl with what sounds like doting parents that treated her like a child? I really didn't want to discount runaway at the moment. Do you know anything that Sparrow has been up to lately?

Cat looked down to the still full cup of water in her hands, biting her lower lip. There was definitely something more that she didn't want to share. Cat was going to clam up on me, and if she did that, I didn’t have any chance of actually helping. I placed a hand on hers. I can't help if I don't know what has been going on.

Oh, Yumi, she's gotten into the worst crowd. Cat's eyes were brimming with tears at this point, so it had to be terrible.

A gang? Drugs? Those were the things that most parents feared around here. Hell, I knew how parents reacted to finding out their little angel had been spending every last dime to find a way to numb the pain.

Cat shook her head, brushing away the tears that spilled free. No, no, it's not that.

Okay, that was adding more to the puzzle Cat brought me. If it wasn’t gangs or drugs, what could possibly be so terrible that she was involved in? Was she pregnant in a home where the parents would freak if they found out? Then what is it?

Cheerleading. She joined a cheerleading squad, Yumi.

Cheerleading? That was the dirty little secret Cat didn’t want people to know about his Sparrow girl?

I might not have been in high school in about eight years, but I highly doubted that cheerleaders were somehow the root of all evil. Stuck-up, prissy mean girls? Sure, they had plenty of those kinds of girls, but they weren’t secretly cavorting with the devil. That was just a silly idea.

I did my best to keep a straight face, which was taking a lot more effort than I’d care to admit. Cat, is that the worst thing she’s been doing?

Cat nodded, rubbing the flecks of tears from her eyes. Isn’t it just awful, Yumi?

Awful was not the word I would choose, but I feigned sympathy. Well, I’m sure it was a bit of a shock. What exactly have these girls been doing?

Cat shrugged. I don’t know. The usual? Wearing skimpy clothing and too much makeup. Spending all their time on the phone.

I resisted the urge to rub my forehead. Sparrow’s problem was that she had morphed into the prototypical teenage girl. Cat, a lot of girls go through that phase. I’m not sure that will help me any.

But it was so sudden, Yumi. Three months ago, Sparrow wouldn’t have talked to half of those girls. She kept to herself, did her schoolwork, and came home. Sometimes you could even hear her playing in her room still, talking with her dolls. Then, out of the blue, she was trying out for the cheerleading squad, and it was like she changed into someone new.

Cat, I tried to keep my voice gentle. I will look into it, but I need you to brace yourself for something else. Cheerleading may have nothing to do with it. People can change – even when you think you know them better than they know themselves.

But you’ll try to find her? Cat’s blue eyes lit up, bright as the day I first met her.

What the hell? Maybe this could get my investigation legs under my belt? I patted Cat’s hand. I’ll do my best.

Chapter 3

It didn’t take long for me to get the requisite information from Cat to start the investigation. The missing girl’s full name was Sparrow Galinda Laurie. She was a sixteen year old attending Lusher Charter School. Her parents, Matty and Jen, were actually Matilda and Jennifer, an alternative lifestyle family. Cat was unsure of the status of the actual father. She did at least give me the phone and address of the women, so I could always check in with them.

Everything I was learning made me suspect Sparrow might be a legitimate runaway. No one ever wanted to believe that their precious child may want to disappear, but it did happen. She may have just had enough of the new age life and wanted to go somewhere that she could be herself. Perhaps there were problems at home that Cat wasn’t aware of.

Maybe the unknown father figure wanted his daughter, and he took her – willing or unwilling. I’d have to check with family, friends, and do some digging into their backgrounds. Something was bound to turn up that would make sense.

First, I wanted to see if I could get any information from the police regarding the missing person case. Thankfully, Joshua Boulliard was still in Homicide, and I wouldn’t have to talk with him. There was an older detective, instead, by the name of Harriet McManus, whom I knew could be plied with coffee and beignets. (Oddly enough, Josh was to thank for that insight.) It also helped that she was less concerned with following the exact letter of procedure, and more interested in achieving results. Since she saw so many missing persons cases, she never blanched at getting extra help when the case was going cold.

It took me the better part of an hour to get my bribe of food and drink and make it to the NOPD office. I waved to a few junior sergeants as I entered; they recognized me from the stint I had done with the department a few months back. I made my way to the desk sergeant with a smile. I signed the book on the desk with my name and time I was stopping in. I’m here to speak with Detective McManus.

The young sergeant with black high and tight hair and dark eyes to match held up a finger for me to wait. He lifted the phone, muttering into the receiver, and I politely ignored what he said. I found it better to not listen in on phone calls while in the precinct. The police really did not like eavesdroppers. McManus will see you, Miss Matthews.

His voice surprised me, just a little. Unlike much of the police department, this man had not trace of the typical New Orleans accent. Color me intrigued. Thanks so much, Sergeant…?

He gave me a lazy smile, the kind men gave when they think they’ve caught their prey. Cooper.

I winked at him as I started to saunter away. Have a good day, Sgt. Cooper.

There was never any real harm in flirting with the attractive boys here. I might need to get information from them, or I might get a date out of it. (I hadn’t had a good one of those in some time after all.) It was a win-win situation. I navigated through a sea of desks towards an office with an open door. McManus was etched on the bronze plate.

I knocked on the door, holding up the coffee and bag of baked goods. McManus was sitting behind her desk. She was a black woman, likely in her late forties, with short cropped black hair and warm brown eyes. I knew better than to let those kind eyes fool me though. Detective McManus wouldn’t have lasted in the NOPD as long as she had if she was a pushover. Like I said before, I just knew the best way to approach her.

A smile creased the corner of her eyes as she looked up from her papers to greet me. Yumi, it’s good to see you.

She half stood behind her desk as I entered, but I waved her to sit back down before handing over my offerings. I then took a seat opposite her. How have you been Harriet?

She took a sip of the coffee, a smile finally crossing her entire face. The cheer never quite made it to her rich voice. Too busy.

That bad?

I wouldn’t say bad, so much as too many want  to come to my town just to disappear these days.

Is that odd?

She gave me a flat look, like I had asked the dumbest question in the world to her. You know better than that, Yumi.

I shrugged. The question hadn’t been my brightest, but it also wasn’t uncommon for people to come to New Orleans before running off to a new town. There was something about our local urban legends that people thought were a good cover. Okay, is it more odd than usual?

She shook her head. No, which is what bothers me. There are too many people disappearing with no good reason to suggest why. Or, I should say with no clue to make it a clear case of wanting to go, or forced to go.

That last bit bothered me. The police had indicated years ago that Sean wanted to not be found. It didn’t make things easier on the family. It created more questions. I knew that much. How many more than normal?

Just a half dozen or so. Nothing that will alarm the higher ups on my clearance rates. Her voice grew bitter at the end. She had let slip before that she hated that it was deemed okay to not find everyone who went missing. That as long