Dark Eye

She checked over her shoulder, down the alleyway. Was he still there? She didn’t see him, but somewhere in the darkness, she thought she heard the footfalls of someone, someone ru

She raced out into the street. Surely someone would come, even this time of night, anyone, it didn’t matter, just so she could get out of here before that guy caught up to her. Please!

In the distance, she saw the gleam of a pair of headlights. She shouted and waved, but it did not slow. What had Susan taught her? If you’re not sure someone will cooperate, don’t give them an alternative. She ran out in the center of the road, waving her arms wildly, forcing the oncoming vehicle to stop.

When it did, she ran to the passenger side. “I need a lift. Please! Someone’s chasing me. I think it’s that guy, the Poe freak.”

The young girl poised behind the wheel was about Rachel’s age. She seemed confused initially, but after a moment she said, “Get in.”

Rachel did. The second she closed the door, the truck peeled out. Rachel whipped around, peering out the back window, searching for a trace of the man who had been chasing her. Nice try, you sick pervert, she thought to herself. But you can’t have me.

“Where do you want to go?” the driver asked.

“Back to my-no, just take me to a gas station or something. Anything public that has a phone.”

“I think there’s one on the corner of Maple.”

“Great.” Rachel tried to relax. “I really appreciate this. You’ve saved my life, and I’m not exaggerating.”

“Glad I could help.”

“You and me both.” Rachel crumbled against the back of the cab. She was still breathing hard; her pulse was racing. But she was safe. “By the way, my name is Rachel.”

“I’m Tiffany.” All at once, the truck ground to a halt.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing?”

The girl did not respond. Her face was like a mask, expressionless. Her eyes were wide and hazy.

The passenger side door opened. Rachel screamed.

“We meet again.” It was him, the security guard. The killer. He was leaning into the cab. He held a hypodermic needle in his left hand.

“Help!’ Rachel tried to crawl out the other way, but the woman driving would not budge.

“You’ve done a good job, Tiffany,” the man said as he crawled after his prey. “You will be rewarded.”

“Leave me alone!” Rachel tried desperately to escape, but there was nowhere for her to go. She kicked and clawed at him, without avail. Behind her, the girl called Tiffany grabbed her arms and held her in place.

“So much spirit. Just like your aunt. And my Gi

Rachel tried to resist, but she was helpless, powerless, and even as she thought about somehow trying to get away, the needle jabbed her in the throat.

“Your devotion to your aunt is admirable. I was quite certain that phone call would bring you out.”

The instant the needle left her neck, Rachel felt her strength fading, the lights dimming.

“S-Susan…” she said as her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Susan can’t help you now, my sweet. You will not see her again.” He put the syringe back in his pocket, zipped it up, and gently slid his arms under her still, limp body. “But the happy thing is, after you’ve been with me for a while, you won’t want to.”

Two squad cars were already parked out front by the time Granger and I made the scene. Two uniforms were at the front door. I whipped the car around, tires squealing, parked in the middle of the street, and raced across the lawn.

They didn’t answer the doorbell, just as they hadn’t been answering the phone. I looked up and saw a window open. The window in what I knew was Rachel’s room.

I kicked the damn door open.

We raced inside, guns raised. Circling in formation, we flooded the downstairs, the living room, the kitchen. No signs of life, good or bad.

We found the Shepherds huddled upstairs in their bed. They’d thought it best not to open the door this time of night. They’d tried calling the police but couldn’t get a dial tone.

“Damn,” Granger said under his breath. “He must’ve cut the phone line.”

I bolted into Rachel’s room.

The breeze coming through the open window put a chill in the air. The lace drapes fluttered up and down. The room was silent.

She was gone. He had her.

33

Rachel woke screaming.

She was naked and strapped to a wooden chair in the middle of what looked like a basement. She couldn’t get free; she couldn’t move. She was barely able to squirm.

Only a few seconds later, he entered the room carrying a large oaken bucket.

“Where am I now?” she shouted. He’d repeated this pattern over and over again, ever since he abducted her, taking her to some new location, bringing her around for a few minutes, then drugging her again. She’d lost all sense of time and place.

“A little change of scenery while I finish my preparations. There’s so much to do. Did you like what I showed you earlier? Did it not seem a wondrous staging ground to ring in the Ascension? You’ll be returning later, after we’ve had a little fun.”

“Where are my clothes, you pervert?” Her voice was hoarse and strained. “Why did you take them?”

He smiled pleasantly. “I didn’t wish to get them wet.” And then he dumped the bucket on her.

It was filled with water, ice cold. It hit her like an arctic tidal wave. She thought she was going into shock; for a moment, it felt as if her heart actually stopped beating. She shivered uncontrollably, convulsing. She had never felt so bitterly frozen in her entire life.

“C-C-C-Could I please have a blanket? Or s-s-s-something. I-I-I-”

“I’m sorry. That isn’t an option.”

“B-B-B-But I’m s-s-s-so c-c-cold.”

“Yes. But fear not-later you’ll be hot. So terribly hot. Then cold again, then hot. Cold, hot, cold, hot. All the livelong day.”

She peered up at him, her eyes cloudy, her flesh a mottled pink covered with chill bumps, her arms clutched as tightly as possible to her exposed chest. “Why?”

“I should think that was obvious. To eliminate that trademark Pulaski stubbor

She drank in air in deep, convulsive gasps. “Why… are… you… like this?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “A curious question. Why are any of us the way we are? There’s no satisfactory explanation, is there? Would you like me to tell you a sad story? Blame it all on my tragic childhood? Mommy didn’t love me. Daddy hit me with a hairbrush. Simplistic balderdash. We are what we are.” He adjusted the lay of his vest. “I am the Raven. Everything else was mere prologue.”

People were talking to me, shouting in my ear, demanding answers to their endless questions. I couldn’t process it all, couldn’t deal with it. Why had he targeted Rachel? How had I known he was coming here? Why hadn’t I done something about it sooner? Each time I started to give a coherent answer something else interrupted, a new demand, a false hope, a neural spasm in my brain. This could not be happening. This could not be happening.

Rachel!

“Everybody out of the house!” Patrick shouted. And when had he shown up? At least someone had the sense to preserve what was now a crime scene. God knows I hadn’t.

“Call the techs. Get Crenshaw. Get O’Ba

Patrick barked out orders with impressive efficiency and organization. It should be me, I heard the voice inside my head say. It should be me.

Rachel!

All at once, every single living memory, every photograph, every reminder of what that man had done to me flashed through my head.