Part 12 (1/2)

When I finally get tired, the dog and I will camp out in the living room. The best place to be in terms of central location. And I'll say this....if anyone tries to break in, I'll give em' just a second or two to identify themselves. After that, my .44 will handle any further introductions.

I awoke around 4 a.m. when Gypsy growled. I must've dozed off around one-thirty...maybe a little later.

Was someone at the door?

Not sure.... But I thought I heard a creak in the floorboards. It could just be the house settling, along with my acute sensitivity kicking in. Or heightened paranoia? Either way, I was awake, listening intently.

There it was again...more creaks. This time they resounded from the kitchen.

My heart raced, more like thumped...loudly within my chest. The security system was still armed, and I could see the green light's steady pulse near the front door. If someone was in my cabin with me, they didn't come through any doors or windows. A loud chime would've resounded...one that Gypsy always barks at.

She was still growling, though softer...looking up at me.

'It's your job to save me, Daddy!'

Shushhh!

I motioned for her to stay put as I got up quietly from the sofa, removing my gun from beneath a throw pillow. On tiptoes I moved over to the kitchen. Three copper pots swayed above the island, like someone brushed against them on their way down the hallway to the office and den.

What in the h.e.l.l?? It must be a tall sucker....

s.h.i.+t like that really p.i.s.ses me off. I ran down the hall, turning on every light as I went along. Every possible hideout now lay exposed. But other than a creepy sensation of being watched by someone or something unseen, there still was no one here aside from me and my pooch...at least not in the flesh.

I grabbed a carving knife from the kitchen to go along with my loaded magnum. One more tour of the house followed, holding the knife and gun guardedly while Gypsy crept behind me from a safe distance. Her head was tilted slightly, and her eyes volleyed from the gun to the knife and then back again.

Surely, she thought her owner had lost his frigging mind.

Why not cease this foolishness and call the cops? I guess it just seemed like a big waste of time to me. Like I'd somehow turn into a Michael Myers filet before the authorities arrived at my home. h.e.l.l, I hadn't even checked the landline phone to see if still worked or if the line's been cut. My cell phone works on Wi-Fi, and I had a strong enough signal on it. So, I guess I could've called somebody if it became absolutely necessary.

I stepped over to the large picture window in our living room, peering through the curtain's corner to see outside. A soft breeze blew across the front yard, pus.h.i.+ng Fiona's irises and her favorite hyacinth bush gently, side to side. I didn't detect anyone mulling around outside. Under a full moon's glow, the graveled driveway looked especially deserted. It made me long painfully for my wife and kids.

The only place left to check was the backyard. It'd be the hardest area to discern a prowler's presence, since thick wilderness backs up against our property. Beyond the several acres we own is sort of no man's land. Nothing but a sea of darkness lies outside the reach of our security lights. And when hordes of cicadas sing at night, it's the perfect cover for someone creeping up toward the house from the woods.

On my way to the backdoor I walked back into the kitchen. No way in h.e.l.l was I ready for the enormous black mist hovering near the island. It sort of looked like a baby giraffe wearing a black cloak...well maybe not so much. The thing had a rhythmic pulse, which gives it a sort of giant malformed amoeba appearance. At least I now understand how the copper pans got rattled. h.e.l.l, they shook again after this thing brushed against them on its way toward me.

The sensation of a thousand icy pin-p.r.i.c.ks traveled up and down my spine, and I could tell this misshapen mist studied me... intently, like it was sizing me up on the best way to attack me while I waved my knife and gun before it. Really, like a lot of good that'd do. Probably a better idea would be to turn around and high-tail it to the den. I'll bet that's where I'd find Gypsy, who had disappeared. Smart dog, yes...brave protector of the family, not so much.

”Get the h.e.l.l out of my house!” I shouted while backing away, frightened enough to where my legs felt wobbly. ”You ain't welcome here, so get out NOW-W-W!!!”

Given the way it drifted toward me, I knew I couldn't outrun it. I had a tough time ignoring the thought I might get absorbed by the dark sucker, eaten alive to where only my cherished snakeskin boots were left to tell the tale of what happened, maybe with a sock left in 'em and my .44 and Fiona's Ginsu carving knife scattered on the floor.

The air grew even chillier around me, crackling with energy. I turned and ran, slipping on the hardwood floor on my way to the den. I felt certain the thing would catch me, but then something else unexpected happened. As the mist overtook me, my hand holding the knife penetrated its murky darkness, causing the d.a.m.ned thing to immediately withdraw from me. It flew away at incredible speed while it shriveled and shrunk. Like a helium-filled balloon set free at one of my kid's birthday parties it moved back through the kitchen. It continued to fade away until it 'popped' against the back window. I swear, man, it sounded like a cheap firecracker right before it disappeared.

Cautiously, I pursued it. But when I reached the window only the scent of sulfur remained, most pungent near the curtains. I pulled them open, no longer cautious. In the backyard I saw what remained of the mist only for a brief instant, just beyond the parked Camaro where the security lights' glow ends. Dissipating like a fleeting shadow, its remnants fluttered past the car and on into the thick wooded wilderness.

I waited for the thing to come back. d.a.m.ned straight, I did. Once the noxious odor completely disappeared, I realized the event had ended. What it meant, I couldn't begin to guess. Maybe it's nothing-just a random visitation. But with everything going on around me-around us-it made sense that this visitation did mean something.

Was it some kind of warning, perhaps a message en ma.s.se from our seven murdered friends? That's a positive take on it, anyway.

I just prayed it wasn't some morphed version of Charlain Thompson, seeking revenge for the premature end to her misguided, self-serving life. If the Akas.h.i.+c Records that Edgar Cayce talks about really exist, then Dragon Lady's ghost knows all about the recent compliments me and my NVP buddies paid her the other night.

That'd really suck if it was her and she has decided to return for some fun at Jimmy's expense. I can easily picture her bringing along another Egyptian high-thread count noose-specially tied for me this time.

That thought alone made me desperately wish to call Fiona, to hear her voice, although I'd surely wake her. Besides, Mr. Ed said 'No contact' until I rejoined her at Stella's place the next afternoon. He's right about the risks involved in calling anyone, since it's too d.a.m.ned easy these days to trace phone calls. And I'd already risked my family's safety when I called Fiona earlier. There's no way in h.e.l.l I'd do that again and put them at further risk.

That left me no choice but to wait it out. Wait it out and keep my head on straight. It wouldn't be easy, but dawn would be coming soon...and a few hours later I'd be reunited with my wife and boys. Whistling quietly to that thought, I got busy cleaning up the mess.

Chapter Nineteen.

”Watch me, Daddy.... Watch me jump in the water!”

The look on Ryan's face was priceless. I made sure I caught it with my digital camera before he jumped into the pool. There's one for the summer alb.u.m.

Sunday afternoon.

Five days after I rejoined my family at Stella Hughes's sprawling ranch home in Goodlettsville. My wife's aunt will literally spoil her guests with the ultimate 'southern' pampering. She's an incredible cook and hostess, and her home sits in a park setting. It's like a mini resort with a pool, spa, and a great play area for kids.

”Gotcha, kiddo!”

I can already tell that my boys will be reluctant to go back home. Well, honestly, the same might be true for Fiona and me.

Stella's an attractive brunette woman in her mid-fifties-the oldest sister among three, where Fiona's mom, Joanne is the youngest-she fits the image of a true ”Southern Belle” in the modern age. It's an amazing thing to watch her effortlessly straddle the line between sophisticated and 'down home'. Some of Goodlettsville and Nashville's most noteworthy families are regular party guests in this house, and yet Stella can easily let her hair down for the likes of me and my rocker buddies. Other than my wife, I've never met anyone else like her.

Widowed a few years ago, she started a catering business with a long-time friend, and their company now services some of Nashville's busiest country artists. Fiona has pitched in to help now and then, which is sort of how she became a psychic reader to many of the city's music celebrities. Call it a friend of a friend of another friend kind of thing. Only in this case it's family, starting with Stella, who shares the same Scottish foresight she and Fiona inherited from Stella's mom, Flora Fraser, Fiona's grandmother.

”When are you gonna swim again, Daddy?” Ryan asked me.

”In a minute.... I just need to talk to Mommy once she gets off the phone.”

”Okay...I'm gonna swim over to Auntie and Alex.”

”All right son...I'll watch you.”

Cute as a bug, he no longer needs a life preserver. He's mastered the beginner strokes, and is getting better every day at the intermediate skill set. I lingered long enough for Ryan to join Stella in the pool's shallowest end, where Alex paddled around. Alex hates his preserver, but until he gets a little older, I'm reluctant to take it off, even for a few minutes. Something tells me his auntie and mom have been a bit less restrictive, but I'm sure they take extra care in watching over him. Tougher for me, since I'm usually working on a few things and not near as attentive as they are.

Not a lot has happened since my battle with that weird mist in my kitchen, in the wee hours last Tuesday morning. It's sort of like we not only entered protective custody at Stella's, but also stepped out of the real world where s.h.i.+t happens every day. No, Stella's place isn't a complete oasis...at least not one where everything in life is now pure bliss. Being out of circulation has definite consequences...like missing band rehearsal. I missed one on Thursday, even though Ricky sent me a text later that night saying everything went fine.

By the way, apparently text messages are okay, as long as we don't respond. A one-way avenue for important info is a real pain in the a.s.s. If Fiona or I need to reply to anything, we have to send those responses through Ed, who then uses his official cell phone. As you can imagine, we've only sent a few replies through him, all abbreviated. And no phone calls are allowed, period, unless we're speaking to Detective Silver's office.

But, back to what else was missed this week. Two paranormal investigations had to be postponed indefinitely. That really sucks, and is sort of the reason why Fiona is still on the phone right now, speaking with Ed, who called and left her a message earlier today. Something about 'potential good news.'

That'd be really nice-especially since we couldn't attend Mitch's funeral on Thursday. We also missed Susan and Paul's service on Friday, after Ed couldn't arrange protection for us inside the Spring Hill Episcopalian Chapel where it was held. Fiona wept for hours on account of this, since she wanted to be there for a final goodbye to Susan. Me, I hate funerals, as I mentioned before. If nothing else, recent events have given me a deeper appreciation of those around me, the people I care about. After all, tomorrow's not guaranteed to anyone. Only the present moment.

”When's Mommy gonna join us in the pool?”

Alex sounded so somber...deadly serious as he asked me this question. Standing on Stella's lap beneath the water's surface in the shallow end, for a moment he looked a couple of years older.