The Prophet of Starfall: Episode 97

Nathan stood in the hospital parking lot enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face as a cool breeze blew past. The wail of sirens in the distance filled the air and announced to all newcomers that Burnt Hill was under siege. Jericho and Connor, upstairs apologizing to hospital staff for the damaged wall, had found the Chief Executive Officer to be more than gracious.

“We are well insured,” he had said. “You don’t run a hospital in Crescent Bay without insurance.”

Nathan breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He struggled against a sudden uncontrollable fear of what was coming. Even if the timeline ran correctly, he had no idea what changes had been made because of his interference.

As he closed his eyes, he felt Elizabeth approaching.

“Nathan, are you okay?” she asked.

“Not really. No,” he answered.

She walked around in front of him and took his hands.

“Look at me,” she said.

Nathan didn’t want to look in her eyes. He couldn’t shake the image of her death scene, the death he had prevented when he first arrived in Starfall. If he wasn’t careful, he would confess what he had done.

“Stop hiding things from me,” she said.

She squeezed his hands and insisted,

“Open your eyes!”

Nathan slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. Her eyes were filled with love, fear and concern all at once.

“You take so much on yourself,” she said. “Please let me help you.”

Nathan felt his eyes filling with tears.

“Nathan, what is it?” she asked with worry in her voice.

Nathan searched for the right words.

“There’s just so much that has happened,” he said. “Most of it is good.”

“But?” she asked.

“There’s something out there. Something that threatens to destroy everything,” Nathan warned.

“A creature or a person?” she asked.

“Neither. It’s the weight of decisions made,” he said. “The consequences of those decisions.”

“What decisions?” Elizabeth asked.

Nathan didn’t answer.

“You’re still hiding things from me,” she complained. “I can’t help if I don’t know what I’m fighting.”

“Where I’m from, there’s an author named Robert Louis Stevenson. He once said, ‘Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences.’ Whether or not my intentions were noble, I’m afraid the consequences of my actions will catch up to me and rip away everything I have,” Nathan confessed.

“What do you mean everything you have?” Elizabeth asked. “Do you mean literally or figuratively?”

“I mean everything I hold dear,” Nathan said looking into her eyes.

Elizabeth grew quiet and stared at him for a moment.

“Is something going to happen to me?” she asked.

“Something already did,” Nathan said.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked. “Was it before or after we met?”

Nathan was about to answer when Jericho walked up.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted.

“Connor Floyd has agreed to help us with Pinstripe and Shadow Leader,” he said.

“I spoke with Cassandra, and she agrees we should try and end this war peacefully. While Connor and I go talk with Pinstripe, why don’t you two speak to Shadow Leader?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

“That’s fine,” Nathan said.

Elizabeth was surprised by Nathan’s sudden agreement.

“Awesome,” Jericho said. “Before we go, Connor wants to head home and change clothes. Cassandra will try and keep the peace while we work on a peace treaty.”

Jericho smiled and after a pause added,

“All right. See ya.”

Jericho hurried off leaving Nathan and Elizabeth alone.

“Shouldn’t we keep an eye on him?” Elizabeth asked.

“If everything goes according to plan, we won’t need to. If the timeline is messed up, we won’t be able to do anything to stop him just yet.”

“Stop him?” Elizabeth asked.

She looked in the direction Jericho had left.

“By stop him you mean the Shaman, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Nathan said with hesitancy.

Elizabeth studied Nathan for a moment.

“Ever since we started working together, I developed this little twitch in the back of my mind. I can almost tell when things are about to get really bad,” she said.

“Right now, I’m getting a major twitch. I’m almost afraid to ask this.”

Again she looked in the direction Jericho had left.

“We’re going to have to fight him, aren’t we?”

“If everything goes according to plan,” Nathan said, “yes.”

“And if it doesn’t go according to plan?” she asked.

Nathan sighed heavily then answered,

“Yes.”

Elizabeth considered Nathan’s words then asked,

“What’s the difference?”

“Either way, we’ll have to fight him,” Nathan said.

“But?” Elizabeth pressed.

“But in one version, hundreds of thousands of people may die,” Nathan said, “and I don’t know why.”

Elizabeth stared at him speechless.

After a moment of nothing but the sound of the wind and distant sirens, Elizabeth said,

“I’m beginning to regret asking you to share.”

* * *

Pinstripe sat at his office desk staring out the large window as people in the street below moved about their business, trying to scratch out a living.

“The Shadows,” he fumed. “Always trying to take what is rightfully mine!”

His personal assistant stood by the desk nervously waiting.

“Sir,” he said.

“What?” Pinstripe barked.

“The two men are here,” he said.

“Good!” Pinstripe said. “Show them in.”

The doors to his office opened, and the two men who had joined him at the hospital walked in. With multiple broken bones, both men struggled to stand. Pinstripe knew they should be in the hospital, but right now he was only concerned with answers to his questions.

Slowly he walked over and stood in front of the men.

“That was unpleasant,” Pinstripe said.

“We’re sorry, sir,” one man said.

Pinstripe held up a hand to quiet them.

“I’m no more interested in your excuses than I am your names.”

Pinstripe removed his sunglasses and wiped them clean. Then he slipped them back on and walked over to the window.

“You were hired for one reason,” he said, “and you failed. Jericho picked me up and tossed me through the wall like a child throwing away a broken toy.”

“You were to keep that from happening. As a result, I have been damaged. Granted the damage is not permanent, but my suit was ruined and for that, someone has to pay,” Pinstripe said.

He turned back to the two men and added,

“Don’t worry. I won’t dock your pay or hurt you. You’ve been through enough.”

As he placed his hands on each man, he added,

“In fact I plan on taking away your pain.”

The men opened their mouths to scream but found they could make no sound. Instantly, their bodies turned gray, shriveled, and fell to the floor in a pile of dust.

Pinstripe brushed off his hands and said,

“Get someone to clean this up.”

The Prophet of Starfall: Episode 96

John Paul Lincoln slipped then caught himself as he hurried down the stairs three at a time. He exploded out of the hospital door and ran into the parking lot. Suffering from a mild panic attack, when the sun and fresh air hit his face he began to calm down.

Back in Connor Floyd’s hospital room, when he wished for someone to throw out Pinstripe and his men, Lincoln had felt a rush of power like an electric jolt run through his body a moment before Jericho tossed them out the hole in the wall.

Lincoln rested his hands on his knees, bent over, and breathed deeply as he tried to calm his nerves.

“Did it happen because they wanted to or because I ordered them to?” he wondered.

“Freeze!” someone shouted nearby.

Lincoln hurried in the direction of the voice. A trembling hospital security guard was pointing a gun at a man lying prone on the ground.

The man had a cut on his lip, and the guard was swiping at his bloody nose.

“Are you two okay?” Lincoln asked.

“No!” the man on the ground growled. “I came here to see my daughter, and this maniac clocked me.”

“Don’t lie!” the security guard snapped. “You work for Pinstripe! I’ve seen you before!”

“Please,” Lincoln said. “Everyone calm down.”

Lincoln bent down and reached for the man’s leg.

“What are you doing?” the man asked, trying to move away.

“It’s okay,” Lincoln said.

Lincoln gently rested his hand on the man’s leg, and in a moment the man’s cut lip was healed.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“You’re that healer,” the security guard said. “I seen you on the news. You’re that Shaman.”

Lincoln smiled as he stood and placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder then watched as the guard’s broken nose healed.

“Thank you,” the security guard said. “Now call the police while I keep an eye on this one.”

Lincoln decided to try something.

“Stop!” he ordered.

Instantly he felt the same jolt of electricity as both men froze.

He looked down at the man on the ground and said,

“Stand up and give me your name.”

The man stood, not bothering to brush himself off, and said,

“Norris.”

“Why are you here, Norris?” Lincoln asked.

“I’m supposed to follow Jericho and the Prophet. Make sure they don’t go to Shadow Leader.”

Then Lincoln turned to the security guard and asked,

“What is your name?”

“Boone,” the guard answered.

Lincoln decided to test the limits of his control.

“Boone, give your gun to Norris.”

Boone handed over his gun.

Lincoln stared at the two men for a moment then looked around to see if anyone was watching.

“Norris?” Lincoln said.

“Yes, sir,” Norris answered.

Lincoln considered his next words carefully then said,

“Shoot yourself in the shoulder.”

With no hesitation, Norris pressed the gun to his left shoulder and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out as the bullet tore through Norris’ shoulder.

Norris stood perfectly still as blood poured from the wound.

“Norris, give the gun back to Boone and lie down.”

Norris did exactly as he was told.

Once Norris was on the ground and Boone had the gun, Lincoln said,

“Boone, this man tried to grab your gun, so you shot him in self-defense. Now. . . .”

Lincoln trailed off, uncertain how far he wanted to go with this. Once he decided, he pointed to Norris and ordered,

“Boone, kill him.”

Without a thought, Boone shot Norris once through the head.

Lincoln could not believe it had actually worked. Now he needed to wake up Boone. When he thought about just how to do it, he remembered a hypnotist’s act at his seventh birthday party. After making the guests do silly things, he would snap them out of their trance.

“Wake up!” Lincoln commanded.

Boone snapped out of the trance with a look of confusion. When he saw the gun in his hand and Norris lying dead, he panicked.

“What happened?” he asked. “What did I do?”

“I saw everything,” Lincoln said. “This man works for Pinstripe. When you tried to arrest him, he reached for your gun. You shot him in self-defense.”

Still confused, Boone said,

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“Boone,” Lincoln said.

Boone looked into Lincoln’s eyes.

“That is exactly what happened,” Lincoln said. “You clearly remember it happening that way.”

Boone stared blankly for a moment then recognition washed over his eyes.

“That is what happened,” he said. “This guy almost broke my nose in the process.”

Lincoln watched in fascination. Boone’s mind was creating false memories and connecting them to old ones.

Lincoln couldn’t help but smile as he thought,

“A man is dead. Sure. But he was a criminal, and more importantly, now I have a way to end this war once and for all.”

* * *

Victor Vine sat peacefully on a couch in the rec room watching a kids’ show as he struggled to deal with the trouble he had experienced earlier that day. He longed to be discharged from Bluebell Mental Hospital, but if his nightmares persisted, he knew the doctor would not sign a release.

The piercing sound of a horn jerked him out of his thoughts. Victor looked up at the television screen and saw a clown with startling red hair and big shoes wearing a Captain Bonkers chain mascot as he tossed confetti at the audience of screaming kids. Victor laid his head back and let his mind drift. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

He had not been asleep long when the sound of gunfire woke him. He jumped up off the couch and hurried over to the window. Outside he saw that a crowd was rioting as they swarmed over the police and hospital staff like ants attacking an intruder.

“What’s going on?” Victor asked, turning away from the window.

When he looked around, the room was empty.

“Where is everyone?” he yelled.

“They’re gone,” a voice said. The voice sounded familiar, like his own.

“Where did they go?” Victor asked.

“They’re all gone. Destroyed,” the voice said.

“Who are you?” Victor asked.

“I’m the voice in your head. The voice you stopped listening to long ago.”

“Why is everyone gone?” Victor asked.

“Because of him,” the voice said. “He changed everything. Altered the past and now the future is growing worse by the second.”

“Why am I the one seeing this?” Victor asked. “Why not someone else?”

“Because you are connected to him,” the voice said. “Correct his mistake and save the future.”

“Connected to who?” Victor yelled.

When the voice didn’t answer, Victor yelled again,

“Who?”

Suddenly the wall collapsed and the crowd outside rushed in, rage filling their empty eyes.

Victor snapped awake. He was still in the rec room, asleep on the couch. When he looked up, he saw that the clown show was just ending.

He got to his feet and walked over to the window. Everything was quiet, peaceful.

He sighed with relief but couldn’t forget what he had seen. Or heard.

“Correct his mistake and save the future,” he repeated.

Unsettled: Episode 78

Donahue pulled to a stop outside Green Harvest, a small shop near Greenway Park.

“What is this place?” Randi asked.

“A health food store,” Donahue said. “They don’t sell junk food or anything processed. All healthy, all natural.”

“You’re sure the juice box came from here?” Randi asked.

“This is the best place to buy healthy organic snacks, herbal teas, gluten free and low sodium food. They don’t sell meat. Only vegan food with no animal testing and all natural,” Donahue explained.

“Sounds like a fun place,” Randi said.

“My wife loves it,” Donahue said, getting out of the car.

Randi winced for a moment then slipped out of the car and followed Donahue toward the shop.

“Plus I’m pretty sure this is the place where our killer bought that juice we found,” he added.

The detectives waited for traffic to clear then crossed the street.

When Donahue pulled open the shop door, Randi was hit in the face with the strong smell of patchouli.

No one was minding the cash register.

“Wait here,” Donahue said and started searching the shelves.

After a few moments just as Randi was about to hit the bell, Donahue said,

“My wife has been looking for this. She is going to be so happy.”

“Is anyone here?” Randi called out.

“He’s probably in the back,” Donahue suggested. “Ring the bell on the counter.”

Randi tapped the bell once and waited. When no one appeared, she rang it again.

Suddenly the door to the back opened and a tall thin man with a long braid and bushy beard walked out. The hem of his faded t-shirt didn’t quite reach the waistband of his shorts, and his bare feet slapped on the tile floor as he made his way up to the counter.

When he reached the counter, he looked at Randi for a moment then said,

“You are not like the other children Mother Earth sends to me. You must have just begun your journey to healthy eating. Let me be your guide to a younger happier you.”

He reached out and took Randi’s hand.

“I am Rain. What is your name?” he asked.

“Detective Miranda Lawrence,” Donahue said, stepping out from behind the shelves.

Rain’s shoulders dropped. He looked out the window then back at Donahue.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his demeanor changing along with his voice. Hunching over, he spoke with an aggressive tone.

“Meet Kevin Two Toes Foster. Former accountant for the Drakos crime family.”

“Two Toes?” Randi asked.

“Birth defect,” Foster said.

“What are you doing here, detective?” he asked Donahue. “I ain’t done nothing wrong. I’m clean. Swear on my mother.”

“Kevin, your mother shot at officers who came to arrest you,” Donahue said.

Foster shrugged and answered,

“What can I say? She’s got spirit.”

“I need your help, Kevin,” Donahue said.

“I’m way ahead of you,” Foster said. “The special soap your wife has been waiting for finally showed up. It’s in the back.”

“Already got it,” Donahue said. “I’m here for something else. You let a killer in here.”

“Whoa!” Foster said. “I ain’t got nothing to do with no killer. I’m clean.”

Donahue stared at Foster for a moment then said,

“I believe you. But I’m almost certain he came here.”

Randi held up the juice box.

Foster took a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket and examined the box.

After a moment he said,

“Yeah, I sell this stuff. It’s a rip off. Ninety percent apple juice.”

Foster handed back the box and added,

“That was my last one, too. I got more on the way.”

“I need to see your security footage,” Donahue said.

Foster raised his hands.

“I don’t have security cameras in here. My customers prefer their privacy.”

Donahue looked over at Randi and said,

“You know I hear Carl Costigan took over as head of the family when Mr. Drakos retired. I wonder what he’d think if he found out that Two Toes Foster was still alive.”

“Big Carl Costigan?” Randi asked. “I hear he fed some guy’s family to a wood chipper. Made the guy watch.”

“Seriously?” Foster said.

“I need to see that footage,” Donahue repeated.

“Look. The footage ain’t going to help you. Someone broke in and wrecked the system a week ago. But good news is, I remember your guy. He bought some Kava tea and my last juice box. Paid ahead for more. Said he wanted them shipped to his place,” Foster explained.

After digging around under the counter, Foster came back with a piece of paper.

“In fact, he called this morning and changed the address,” Foster said.

When Donahue and Randi saw the address, Donahue said,

“This is the address for a warehouse.”

Foster raised his hands,

“Look, I got people who literally buy imported dirt. I don’t ask no questions.”

Donahue considered the address again and said,

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Foster said. “Hey, next time don’t be so loud. Last thing I need is somebody from my old life finding me. I hear things about Big Carl, and he scares me.”

* * *

Across the street in the darkness of a narrow alley, Truman Wicker watched the two police detectives following the clues his father had told him to leave.

There had been no sign of the vigilante, and these two detectives were close on the trail.

Just then his cell phone rang. He removed it from his pocket and answered without checking the id.

“Yes, Father?”

“How is the hunt coming along?” Thaddeus Wicker asked.

“No sign of the vigilante, but two detectives are close on the trail,” Truman said.

“We weren’t hired to kill two detectives,” Thaddeus Wicker pointed out. “If they get too close, deal with them. We’ll blame it on the same person. Let me know if it comes to that. I’ll have to rework my killer’s profile.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Truman said.

The call ended and Truman Wicker put away the phone.

As he watched the detectives for a moment longer, he heard a voice behind him say,

“Don’t worry.”

Truman felt a cold shiver run down his back. The voice was his own. As accurate as if it were a recording.

He slowly turned around. Standing behind him was a figure dressed in dark clothes with a black hood covering his face.

“I’ll take care of it,” the figure said in Truman’s voice.

His hands trembling, Truman reached for his gun, but before he could get it, the figure lunged at him.

When he tried to scream, the only sound was a whimper just before everything went dark.

The Prophet of Starfall: Episode 95

Nathan watched as Connor Floyd sat up then worked his legs over to the edge of the bed. Caroline tried to hide her fear as her husband struggled to stand. While the nurse encouraged Connor, Elizabeth readied herself to grab him should he fall.

Seeing the concern on Caroline’s face, Connor reassured her,

“I’m okay. Really.”

“Honey, please let them help. If for no other reason than to make me feel better,” Caroline pleaded.

“I really am feeling better,” Connor said. “Honestly. I think I feel better than I did before.”

“It’s the change in your DNA,” Nathan said. “You’re going to feel more energetic and stronger than you’re used to.”

“Make sure you learn how to control your new abilities,” he added, staring at the door.

Elizabeth could see that something was bothering Nathan. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the door opened.

Jericho walked through followed by a stranger. Something about the man reminded Elizabeth of a cult leader. When she looked at Nathan, she saw that he was pale.

“Everyone okay?” Jericho asked.

“I’m fine,” Connor said, “but no one believes me.”

“Are you injured?” the stranger asked.

“Not anymore,” Connor said.

“Jericho,” Elizabeth asked nervously,” who is this?”

The man smiled and extended his hand.

“John Paul Lincoln.”

Elizabeth didn’t take his hand but said,

“Pleasure.”

“I’ve heard of you,” Caroline said. “They call you the Shaman.”

Lincoln looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I don’t know why they call me that. It’s just ever since this gang war started, I’ve been using my powers to heal people and keep the body count low.”

“Powers?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’m a healer,” Lincoln explained.

“He healed the cut I had on my head,” Jericho said.

Growing increasingly uncomfortable around the stranger, Elizabeth looked over at Nathan. Without saying a word, he shook his head no.

“How many people have you helped?” Caroline asked.

Lincoln considered for a moment then said,

“A hundred.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

“Maybe a hundred and fifty thousand.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She knew his answer was bad but didn’t know why.

“That’s so noble of you,” Caroline said.

“Very honorable,” Connor added.

“I just hate to see this place ravaged by a battle between egos. Two people can’t settle their differences, so they fight each other like animals and the innocent get caught in the middle,” Lincoln said.

“We can help,” Jericho offered.

“I spoke with Shadow Leader,” Nathan said. “He just wants Pinstripe taken down and arrested. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“He should step back and try for a less hostile approach,” Caroline suggested. “His people have been harassing me just as much as Pinstripe’s men.”

“Violence is not the answer,” Lincoln said. “We must find a way of peace.”

“I could not agree more,” Pinstripe said, entering the room with two men flanking him.

Everyone stared at Pinstripe. His skin was pale white, and he was dressed in his trademarked pinstripe suit with sunglasses that covered his ice blue eyes.

“All I ever wanted was to become a successful businessman. Now I’m the head of my own casino. I own several nightclubs, and some street rat is trying to take over my property.”

Pinstripe took off his sunglasses and looked about the room with his strange eyes.

“A lot of familiar faces in here,” he said.

But when he saw Connor, he added,

“And a few new faces.”

“What do you want?” Jericho asked.

“I come in peace,” Pinstripe said, raising his hands.

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means,” Elizabeth insulted.

“I just want to talk,” Pinstripe explained.

“Then talk,” Jericho replied.

“I agree with you,” Pinstripe said. “This war is hurting more than it is helping. I just want it to be over.”

What do you propose?” Jericho asked.

“A simple team up,” Pinstripe said.

“You help me stop the Shadows, and in return I’ll help rebuild whatever has been destroyed,” Pinstripe said.

“Instead of stopping them through violence, why not try and peacefully work out your differences?” Lincoln proposed.

Pinstripe slowly walked over to Lincoln and studied him for a moment.

“I’ve seen you around,” Pinstripe said. “Always helping but never getting involved.”

“I don’t like violence,” Lincoln said as he flinched and backed away.

“That’s because you’re no good at it,” Pinstripe said. “Since the day I returned from the dead, I have been stronger and more powerful than ever.”

As he turned and shrugged, he added,

“At least I think I am. I don’t really remember much about myself before the day I died.”

Looking over at Nathan, he said,

“But I’ll bet you know. I’ve heard of you. The strange visitor who showed up one day and changed everything. Criminals are running scared, second guessing everything they do. It’s tough to get away with anything when there’s a guy who knows everything.”

Returning to his men, he asked,

“What’s it like being a god?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Nathan answered.

Pinstripe smiled and said,

“It’s an amazing feeling.”

“You’re not a god,” Nathan corrected, “and yes, I know who you were before you died.”

Pinstripe shrugged and returned,

“Doesn’t matter now. I’m better than I ever could have been.”

He slipped his sunglasses back on and asked,

“So will you help me stop Shadow leader?”

Jericho clenched his fist and asserted,

“I’ll stop this gang war, but I’m not taking sides.”

Pinstripe sighed and said,

“If you’re not with me then you’re against me.”

Frustrated, Lincoln demanded,

“I wish someone would just throw you and your men out.”

Instantly, Jericho’s eyes flashed yellow and he reached out to grab Pinstripe by the neck. Lifting him in the air, he tossed him through the hole in the wall. Before Pinstripe’s men could react, Jericho seized each of them and threw them out, right behind their boss.

A moment after the men disappeared through the hole, Jericho looked around confused.

“What happened?”

Startled by Jericho’s behavior, Lincoln excused himself and fled from the room.

“Why did you do that, Jericho?” Caroline asked.

“Do what?” Jericho asked. “What did I do?”

“You threw Pinstripe and his two guards through the hole in the wall,” Caroline explained.

Elizabeth stepped up close to Nathan and whispered,

“This is because of him, isn’t it?”

Nathan nodded.

“And let me guess. Things are going to get uglier before they get better.”

Again Nathan nodded.

“Terrific!” Elizabeth whispered.

Unsettled: Episode 77

As the sun slowly awoke to the new day, its glorious colors of red and orange spread through the morning sky like wildfire. Sunlight broke through the clouds and bathed Coldwater in light, driving away the darkness. On a rooftop nearby, Nick Woodman smoked a cigarette and watched the Ambassador Hotel. His orders were clear. Find and eliminate the members of the Freedom and Family League. Locating them had not been difficult. Woodman had spent most of the night studying the layout of their hotel floor. The open windows and floor plan would make his job quite easy. He had set up his equipment on top the building opposite the hotel’s north wall.

While he watched the sun come up, he decided to challenge himself. He would wait until all the league members woke. He ground out his cigarette, dropped the butt into a plastic bag and picked up his rifle.

Getting on his knees, he propped the rifle on its stand just as one FFL member rose from the bed and walked over to the window.

Lights inside the hotel room began to come on as more guests awoke. Woodman counted twelve FFL members moving around in the room. Just as he took aim on the first of his twelve targets, the lights in the building suddenly went out and the room was swallowed up in darkness.

He looked up and down the street and saw that the only lights out were those of the Ambassador Hotel. Woodman reached inside his bag and removed a night vision scope. In a second, he had attached it to the rifle and was once again watching the FFL members in the room.

After he counted all twelve members, he spotted something in the room he couldn’t identify. Standing perfectly still in the corner was a figure. Judging by the build, it was a man. He wore a jacket with a hood that covered his face.

“Who is that?” Woodman thought.

No one else in the room seemed to notice the mysterious figure. Some of the FFL members shined their cell phone lights around the room, but every time the beam came close to the man in the corner, he moved just out of the way.

Although Woodman had heard rumors of a vigilante called the Black Dog, he figured they were just urban legends. Pushing the question out of his mind, he took aim on a member who was looking out the window.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the man in the corner grabbed the FFL member and pulled him back away from the window.

“Is he protecting them?” Woodman wondered.

Putting down the rifle, he switched to the laptop connected to his remote rifle and positioned it for a clear shot. But just as he pulled the trigger, the shadowy figure grabbed the man and moved him out of the way, sending the shot into the wall.

Hysteria broke out and Woodman tried to get a clear shot as every member of the FFL panicked. While some hit the floor, others began running in circles trying to escape, but to no avail. During his surveillance, Woodman had sealed the doors and windows shut so they couldn’t get out of the room.

He put down the laptop and sent a message to Heath.

“About to complete the FFL job when some hooded figure started taking them down.“

Woodman waited a moment before a text came back.

“That is the Black Dog. Get out of there at once! Return to original assignment.”

Woodman dismantled his rifle and put away his equipment. Leaving the rooftop as clean as when he arrived, he quickly made his way down the stairs and exited the building.

* * *

The light from the morning sun slowly dried up the glistening dew formed from the night before.

Standing in the middle of Greenway Park, Donahue looked at the thin stone walkways running through the park, weaving artistic patterns through the grass. The centerpiece of Greenway Park was the large live oak with branches large enough to walk on. Each tree spread its branches far across the park, sometimes touching the ground before rising again.

Tied to the trunk of the oak was another dead body.

Crime Scene was already busy at work while Donahue looked over his notes and considered a possible connection between this victim and the previous one.

Both were college students. Both were blonde and attractive.

Coldwater was a place where the rich and famous built their summer homes. Most every citizen of Coldwater was considered beautiful, well beyond the standards of mortal men.

While his partner Detective Randi Lawrence talked to onlookers, Donahue examined the note left by the victim’s killer.

“The unrealistic beauty standards are killing our children and our futures. Kids starve themselves, pour garbage into their bodies, and spend thousands on products that can’t do much for them. All so they can look like some celebrity who has spent hours in a chair being primped and dolled up by professionals. I will not stop my crusade, my mission, to free our minds from the ball and chain ideals set forth by Hollywood and by the modeling industry of glamour magazines. Our children are depending on us to save them so they can have a future. I won’t stop till the world changes.”

“Same old drivel,” Donahue said.

He didn’t believe for a moment that this was some beauty obsessed serial killer. There was a connection. He just wasn’t seeing it yet.

Detective Randi finished her questioning and hurried over to Donahue.

“Her name is Joanna Fullmore,” Randi said. “Full time student studying Molecular Biology. She was grabbed leaving class, strangled, and strung up here on the tree.”

“Anything else?” Donahue asked.

“We got the killer on security camera,” Randi said. “Not enough to id him, but we got the murder on video.”

Holding up an evidence bag containing a juice bottle, she added,

“The killer dropped this into a trash can at the edge of the park. Guess he figured no one was watching.”

“The cameras are new,” she continued. “The killer probably didn’t know they had been installed.”

Donahue studied the bottle then said,

“I know this bottle. It’s a unique blend of 100% fruit juice sold only at a few stores. There’s one nearby. My wife loves the stuff.”

“What do you think about the security video?” Randi asked.

Donahue looked at her and asked,

“What do you think?”

Randi thought for a moment then said,

“I don’t know. Something feels off.”

“Exactly,” Donahue responded.

“It feels almost like we’re being told a story by someone who wants us to think this is a serial murder when it’s really something else.”

“What do you want to do?” Randi asked.

“Until we have more to go on, I guess we follow the breadcrumbs.”

Donahue held up the bottle and said,

“Let’s head over to the place nearby that sells this.”

The Prophet of Starfall: Episode 94

As he looked around, Jericho’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What in the world was that?” he asked.

“One of Pinstripe’s men. Connor Floyd’s handiwork,” Nathan said.

“Wait a minute. Isn’t he in a coma,” Jericho asked.

“Apparently not anymore,” Elizabeth answered.

“We need to get up to Floyd’s room,” Nathan said.

“First, let me deal with Pinstripes’ men. I’ll meet you up there,” Jericho said.

Two steps and Jericho leapt off the ground, flying in a high arch before landing on the other side of the hospital.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Nathan and flew straight up to the hole in the third floor hospital wall.

Wearing a hospital gown, Connor Floyd sat up in bed. His hair and beard had been neatly cut and maintained by his wife Caroline.

She looked both scared and elated that Connor was awake, but Connor was confused about what was happening.

“Who are you two?” he asked Elizabeth and Nathan. “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay, honey,” Caroline tried to assure him. “They’re here to help. This is the Prophet and. . .”

Caroline looked at Elizabeth and apologized,

“I’m so sorry. I forgot your name.”

Elizabeth smiled and said,

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve been through a lot.”

She turned to Connor and extended her hand.

“Elizabeth Hayes.”

“And I’m Nathan Nichols,” Nathan said.

“You’re the Prophet?” Connor asked.

“I can see the possible future,” Nathan said, “so yes.”

“Can you explain to me what’s happening?” Connor asked.

“Everyone is born with a special gene. Some are dormant while others are active,” Nathan explained. “This gene allows people to do extraordinary things.”

“The meta gene,” Connor said.

“That’s one name for it,” Nathan said.

“I wasn’t born with abilities,” Connor said, “so what just happened?”

“Your coma, combined with the power outage, put your system in shock and forced your body to fend for itself, triggering the meta gene,” Nathan explained.

“So I have super abilities now?” Connor asked. “Just like that?”

“You’ll need to learn to control them, but yes,” Nathan said.

“Any idea what powers I have?” Connor asked.

“Your body can adsorb kinetic energy. Anything that hits you, whether it’s a fist, a bullet or a truck, will lose its kinetic energy the moment it touches you,” Nathan explained.

“When that guy hit me, my chest felt tight, like someone was sitting on it. Then I felt something else, kind of like a sneeze. The next thing I know, the guy’s gone and there’s a six-foot hole in the wall,” Connor said.

“Your body will absorb only so much before the energy will release. Over time, you’ll learn to focus it, to channel each strike into a blow that can be used on your opponent.”

“This is a lot to process,” Connor said.

“How do you think I feel,” Elizabeth laughed.

Pointing to her wings she added,

“These started growing when I was eight.”

“I heard of a guy who can’t look at anybody because his eyes will kill them,” Caroline said.

“Great,” Connor said. “I’m a part of monsters and killers now.”

“Not all of them are evil,” Nathan said.

“You could always use your abilities for good,” Elizabeth suggested.

In frustration, Connor said,

“I just want my life the way it was.”

“I’m afraid there’s no going back,” Nathan said.

When Connor started to protest, Caroline stopped him.

“Honey, I’m just happy you’re awake. Let’s focus on that.”

Connor looked at Caroline and his face softened.

“You’re right.”

Then he smiled at Nathan.

“I’m sorry. I should just be happy I’m alive.”

“Everything is going to be better now,” Caroline said.

Nathan kept his expression neutral. He knew better. Connor’s life was never going to be the same.

* * *

Jericho landed on the opposite side of the hospital from Connor’s room. When his feet hit the concrete, the pavement cracked. Looking down at the damage, he apologized even though no one was around to hear him.

When he turned, he spotted the emergency room.

“If any entrance needs to be cleared, it’s that one.”

With a steady stride, he headed for the emergency room doors. Just as he expected, two armed men were standing guard.

As Jericho approached, one of the men said,

“Sorry, sir. No one is allowed in or out of the hospital until Shadow Leader’s siege of Burnt Hill has been ended.”

Jericho decided he’d try diplomacy first.

“But I need to get inside,” he said.

“Sorry. This is for your safety and the safety of the patrons, doctors, and medical staff inside,” the man said.

“Please?” Jericho asked.

One of the guards grew frustrated and marched up to Jericho. Placing a forceful hand on his chest, he said,

“Pinstripe’s orders. Now for your own safety, leave!”

Jericho looked at the man’s hand then looked up and met his eyes.

“Well I did ask nicely,” Jericho said.

When Jericho grabbed the guard’s hand and squeezed, the man screamed in pain as he heard his bones breaking. Then Jericho grabbed his shirt and threw him into the parking lot.

The second guard looked at Jericho in disbelief.

Jericho met his eyes and asked,

“Now can I enter?”

His mouth agape, the man dropped his gun and ran off.

Jericho turned and said,

“He didn’t even say goodbye.”

When he looked over at the man he had thrown, Jericho saw that he was lying very still.

“Oh no,” Jericho said, hurrying over.

He checked the man’s pulse and was relieved when he found that he was alive.

“I’m so sorry,” Jericho said.

Jericho knew better than to move someone who was injured. He had made that mistake before and was chewed out by an EMT.

“Wait right here,” Jericho said.

When he turned toward the emergency room entrance, he suddenly stopped. Standing before him was a tall man with a narrow frame and long arms. He had medium length brown hair, the same shade as his cardigan sweater, and a well-trimmed beard.

His kind eyes reminded Jericho of a youth pastor he had once known.

“Is everything okay?” the man asked.

“No. This man has been hurt. He’s alive, but he’s not moving,” Jericho explained.

“What happened?” the man asked in a soft soothing voice as he stepped past Jericho and knelt down to check on the man.

“He. . .” Jericho trailed off, embarrassed at his mistake. “I’m afraid I hurt him.”

“It was an accident,” Jericho said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, my brother,” the man said.

He closed his eyes and held his hands over the body.

“Everything will be. . . , ” the man began.

The man’s hands began to glow, so brightly that Jericho had to look away.

When the glow faded, the man added,

“All right.”

Then he stood and waited.

Suddenly the injured man opened his eyes and turned his head.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You sustained an injury, my brother,” the man told him. “You are better now.”

“You’re a healer,” Jericho said.

“That is correct,” he said. “Everyone has been calling me the Shaman, but you may call me John. My name is John Paul Lincoln.”

Lincoln extended his hand and Jericho took it and thanked him.

“It was the least I could do.”

Lincoln noticed the cut on Jericho’s forehead.

“You are injured as well,” Lincoln said

“It’s just a small cut,” Jericho said.

Lincoln’s hands glowed for a moment, and Jericho felt a warm sensation run through his body. It reminded him of the warm feeling he had as a child when he would drink hot chocolate on a cold day.

“It may have been nothing,” Lincoln said, “but it is gone now.”

“Thank you,” Jericho said, checking his forehead.

“Those of us who can help should do so,” Lincoln said with a smile.

Unsettled: Episode 76

Holding a large suitcase in each hand, Nick Woodman stood alone in the empty room on the seventh floor of Excalibur Hotel and Spa. He put down both suitcases and walked over to the window.

Moving the window shade a little to one side, he looked over the park to the spot where Willoby would be giving his speech.

Near one of the larger oak trees, a small boy was playing Frisbee with his dog. With each throw of the toy, the boy laughed with delight when the dog jumped into the air and caught the flying disc. Suddenly a gust of wind caught the Frisbee, pulling it into a tight arch and causing the dog to change its path quickly to catch it.

Woodman took out his note pad and read over his notes. Removing a pen from his pocket, he scribbled a small note then put away the pad and pen. As he let the shade fall closed, he stepped over to the suitcases he had brought with him.

Woodman picked up one suitcase, positioned it sideways on the table, and opened it. Inside were a collapsible tripod and rifle mount. He removed one piece at a time and began assembling the equipment. Halfway through, his cell phone rang. Woodman checked the caller ID and tapped the button for speaker. Knowing Woodman wouldn’t speak, the caller began talking.

Woodman listened as the voice of the caller came through the phone speaker.

“We have a problem,” Charles Heath said. “I just received word that Freedom and Family League, some save the environment group, started trouble at the park where Willoby is speaking. Word is he’s already considering moving the event to a safer location or canceling it all together. I shouldn’t have to explain why this will be a problem. If Willoby backs out and you fail to complete the contract on him, the client will have no reason to pay. I need you to take a detour and deal with the band of domestic yahoos threatening Willoby. All of them! No one left behind to pick up the cause.”

The phone went silent as Woodman stared at it, waiting for further instructions.

“Are you there?” Heath asked. “Are you even listening? I know you don’t talk, but grunt or something so I know you’re listening.”

Woodman stared at the phone for a moment longer.

“Anything?” Heath pressed.

Woodman freed his hand and snapped his fingers twice.

“I’ll take it,” Heath said. “Get it done.”

The call ended and Woodman began breaking apart the equipment.

Once he returned the tripod and mount to the suitcase, he took out his note pad, flipped to a new entry and began making notes.

* * *

As the news played in the background, Thaddeus Wicker sat in a plush barrel chair and studied newspaper clippings, copies of police sketches, articles printed from conspiracy websites, and grainy photos. He had collected everything he could find about the Blackdog Vigilante and affixed it to the hotel wall.

“He’s a hunter,” Thaddeus said, “and if I were a hunter like him, where would I feel the safest?”

“Daddy?” Teresa called out.

“Not now, pumpkin,” Thaddeus replied.

He stared at the wall a bit longer then said,

“I wouldn’t feel safe at a police station or any other emergency response office. But homeless shelters would allow me to slip in and out without being noticed.”

“Daddy?” Teresa called out again.

“Not now, my sweet,” Thaddeus replied.

His attention returning to the wall, Thaddeus said,

“A newspaper or other published media would provide information but might ask too many questions.”

“Daddy!” Teresa finally snapped.

“What is it, my dear?” Thaddeus asked, rising from the chair.

“I’m bored!” Teresa said. “When are things going to pick up?”

Thaddeus removed his glasses, folded them, carefully slipped them into his pocket, and filled his glass with water.

“Patience, my dear,” he said. “You must be patient.”

“But I’m tired of waiting,” Teresa whined.

“My dear,” Thaddeus said, “when you hunt a deer, you must either wait for one to cross your path or you must find it and kill it. The same may be said for killing a mouse or a raccoon. You cannot rush these hunts. You must set your trap with the proper bait and wait for the innocent to stumble into the trap. If you are fortunate, they will become aware of the trap just before the spring triggers and the trap slams shut.”

Teresa smiled at the thought.

“However, when you are an alpha predator, you must operate differently. You cannot hope to catch him unaware, and you cannot bait the trap with just anything. You have to find something that appeals to him. Something that tickles his predatory senses. He has to believe he is the hunter, not the hunted.”

Thaddeus Wicker walked back to his chair and put on his glasses.

“And that requires timing and finesse.”

He continued starting at his wall of collected information on the Blackdog.

When the hotel room phone rang, Teresa reached over and lifted the receiver.

“Hello?” she answered.

After listening for a few moments, Teresa held out the phone and said,

“Daddy, it’s for you.”

“I’m busy right now, sweetie,” Thaddeus said.

“It’s that Barnett guy,” Teresa said.

Thaddeus let out a sigh of exasperation and stood up. He put his glasses away and walked over to take the phone from Teresa.

“I do not wish to be bothered when I am on a hunt,” Thaddeus scolded.

“Things have changed,” Lawrence Barnett explained. “I need the vigilante dealt with now.”

“This is a serious predator we are talking about, and my process must be taken seriously in order to be successful,” Thaddeus said.

“I don’t have time for you to dance around the subject,” Barnett said. “Deal with the vigilante soon! I’m running out of time, and I don’t want any delays.”

“You cannot rush perfection,” Thaddeus said. “If this is going to be done right, I need time to set up properly.”

“I don’t have time for your garbage. If you can’t handle this, I’ll pay someone else to do it,” Barnett said.

Thaddeus squeezed his eyes shut and yelled silently in frustration. After a moment, he exhaled and said,

“Fine. I will move up my timetable.”

“You do that,” Barnett said.

When the call ended, Thaddeus looked at the phone and said,

“Spare me from troglodytes and philistines.”

Returning to his chair, Thaddeus said,

“Dear, get with your brother and inform him that our schedule is being accelerated. We need to go ahead and set the second part of the trap.”

Teresa smiled and said,

“All right, daddy.”

The Prophet of Starfall: Episode 93

Outside Burnt Hill General Hospital, Caroline Floyd pulled into a parking space on the second floor of the parking garage. Her husband Connor was in a coma, and the recent power outage had caused Caroline to race frantically to the hospital to see if Connor was okay. She shut off her car’s engine, climbed out and hurried off without checking to see if the car was locked.

Shoving her keys into her pocket, she ran for the building’s entrance but was stopped by two rough looking men.

“Sorry, lady, but no one’s allowed in or out of the hospital,” one of the men said.

“But my husband’s a patient here. He’s in a coma. I’ve got to check on him!” Caroline pleaded.

“Sorry, lady. We’ve got our orders,” the man said.

The other man took a deep breath and said what sounded like a rehearsed speech.

“We are preserving the safety of the hospital, its staff, and its patients.”

He added,

“Mr. Pinstripe has us guarding every door and exit so that none of Shadow Leader’s men can get in the building and hurt somebody.”

“Please! I’m not with anyone. I just want to check on my husband,” Caroline sobbed.

“Sorry, lady. This is for your safety as well as the safety of the hospital,” the first man said.

Too panicked to think clearly, Caroline reached into her purse and grabbed a bottle of mace.

She sprayed one of the two guards in the face and pushed past him, running through the sliding glass doors.

Once inside she turned left and ran down the long hallway to the elevators.

“Hey you!” one of Pinstripe’s men shouted as he ran after her.

Caroline stopped at the elevator and beat on the button to open the doors.

“I’m going to wring your neck when I get my hands on you,” the man yelled.

Caroline hit the elevator button several times more but the elevator didn’t respond. Quickly she turned and ran to the stairwell door. With the man close on her heels, Caroline took the stairs two and three at a time, staying ahead of the angry guard.

Her only concern was Connor. She had to make it to the third floor unit and Connor’s room.

When she reached the third floor, she ran down a short hallway and turned left, just as the guard exploded out of the stairwell.

“Get back here!” he ordered.

Frantic with fear, Caroline drove herself forward, determined to reach her husband’s side.

Although Connor’s room was a good distance from the elevators and stairwell, Caroline didn’t mind. But with the man close behind, the hallways felt like they were stretching out before her. Caroline looked back and saw the guard shove hospital staff out of his way.

She turned down the last of three hallways and headed straight for Connor’s room at the end. Her legs were tiring, and she struggled to catch her breath, but Caroline pushed herself. She couldn’t stop until she saw that Connor was okay.

The guard was closing in on her, and just as Caroline reached out to open the door, the guard tackled her, sending both of them spilling into Connor’s room.

“You’re going to pay for this! First, you’re going to apologize for that pepper spray, and then you’re going to see the boss!”

“I’m sorry. Please! I just want to see if my husband is okay,” Caroline tried to explain.

The guard lifted her off the floor and slammed her against the wall.

“That’s just the kind of lie a shadow would tell to get in here,” the guard sneered.

“Hey!” a voice said.

Caroline turned and saw that Connor was awake and climbing out of bed.

“Who are you?” the guard demanded.

“I’m her husband, and you’d better get away from her NOW!”

Connor was a bit unsteady on his feet but quickly recovered enough to walk over to the guard just as he dropped Caroline to the floor.

“Watch it!” Connor snapped.

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?” the guard laughed.

The guard struck Connor in the face, sending ripples through Connor’s skin.

“That felt like slapping wet sand,” the guard said as he gaped stupidly at Connor.

Then he pulled back his fist and punched Connor in the stomach.

Connor stumbled backwards a step but didn’t fall.

“What are you made of?” the guard asked.

Connor’s skin rippled all over until the waves came together in his arms.

“I’m going to knock you through the wall,” the slow-witted guard said as he stomped towards Connor.

Suddenly a shock wave erupted from Connor’s hands and hit the guard with a deafening boom. The stunned man flew backwards through the window and fell to the pavement below.

Wide-eyed, Connor looked at Caroline in surprise.

“Honey?” he said.

“I’m here, babe,” Caroline said.

“What happened to me?” Connor asked just before collapsing to the floor.

* * *

Nathan pulled into the parking lot of Burnt Hill General with frayed nerves and a sense of dread pressing down on his shoulders. Elizabeth had been trying to reassure him, but he couldn’t seem to shake the fear that something bad was coming. What was worse was that he didn’t know when or where things were going to go bad. He just knew they would.

He cut off the engine and sat still for a moment. When he closed his eyes, he could see the Shaman standing high over an entire city of dedicated followers. In his youth when he first read Starfall, the graphic novel he was now living, he never liked part two of the trilogy. Everything felt so overwhelming. So chaotic and out of control.

“Are you okay, Nathan?” Elizabeth asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Nathan opened his eyes and said,

“This part of the novel always scared me, and now I have to live it. I know there’s something seriously wrong, and I can’t fix it because I don’t know what it is.”

“Relax and try not to worry,” Elizabeth said smiling. “You haven’t failed yet. Besides, I’m here.”

She kissed him then added,

“I’ll protect you.”

Elizabeth stepped back, moving her hand to his shoulder, and said,

“Just as you protected me.”

Suddenly, Nathan flashed back to that day. He was at the top of the Crescent Bay Queen. The wind tore through the club, stealing away loose napkins and flowers and sending them twirling to the wind’s song. Elizabeth jerked and twisted, fighting against the chains that bound her.

Nathan watched her struggle, considering whether to intervene and save her. Her fate was the first thing he changed upon his arrival, and since then the timeline had been constantly shifting, threatening to collapse into chaos and ruin.

In what seemed like slow motion, he watched her being tossed over the railing. He found himself wondering if he should let her fall and avoid the struggle of fixing the timeline.

He hesitated for only a moment then ran to save her.

Snapping out of the daydream, Nathan smiled and said,

“Right.”

Just then Jericho pulled up next to them.

“He okay?” Jericho asked Elizabeth.

“He’s fine,” she assured him. “Before I landed, I took a few passes over the hospital. There are guards at every door and exit except for one.”

“Hospital security?” Jericho asked.

“Pinstripe’s men,” Nathan corrected. “They’re not letting anyone in or out of the hospital.”

“Why?” Jericho asked.

“They claim they’re protecting the patients and staff,” Nathan said.

“Sounds more like extortion,” Elizabeth suggested.

“I doubt they’ll give up easily,” Jericho said.

Suddenly a loud blast blew out a wall and sent a large man flying through the air. He arched high overhead then slowly dropped to the earth before crashing into a blue minivan and setting off its alarm.

Unsettled: Episode 75

The early morning sunbeams warmed the bedroom window, calling the sleeper to a new day. The light worked its way through a small opening in the drapes that a weary traveler had carelessly closed. When a noisy woodpecker flew to the window and began drumming on the glass, a lump buried under a thick blanket grunted and stirred.

The woodpecker chirped and cackled then drummed again before flying away to seek a more appreciative audience.

Beneath the bundle of blankets and piles of clean, unfolded clothes, a woman shifted and fell back into sleep, filling the room with a deep rumbling snore. A few minutes later, the woodpecker returned and set about drumming on the window, determined to awaken the woman inside.

From beneath the blanket, the woman grumbled and growled,

“Let me sleep!”

Refusing to yield, the woodpecker chirped, cackled, and rapidly drummed on the window’s glass.

Snorting her frustration, the woman threw off the blankets, turned her body, and sat up, kicking her feet off the side.

Only a few hours ago, Debdie Martin had finally fallen asleep. A late class followed by a creepy encounter had left her unable to rest.

She ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her sleepy eyes.

When she tried to stand up, she lost her balance and fell back onto the bed. After a second try, she rose and walked over to the window.

Throwing open the drapes, she peered out through one eye and tried to focus. The woodpecker, startled by the sudden movement, fluttered its wings and flew to a nearby branch.

Debbie reached down, removed the lid from a metal trash can beneath the window, and filled an empty cup with birdseed.

The woodpecker flew from the branch to the railing of the porch and patiently waited while Debbie unlocked the window and opened it.

“Elvis,” she said, “I told Hannah that feeding you was a bad idea. Now you expect it.”

Elvis was a downy woodpecker, the smallest and most common of woodpeckers. Scarlet head, white belly, black and white wings, he looked nothing like Elvis. But the first time Hannah Sullivan saw him, she decided he resembled Elvis.

Debbie dumped the birdseed into a little wooden box and stepped back while Elvis ate his fill. Soon he was off without a thank you or a second glance.

“Sure,” Debbie said. “Just leave me.”

“Hannah ditched me for some guy last night, and now you’ve gone too,” Debbie said with feigned hurt feelings.

The last time Debbie and Hannah talked, Hannah had left Debbie waiting on the phone while she answered a knock at her door. Hannah was Debbie’s best friend, but she was always leaving Debbie while she chased after some cute guy. She had left her at parties and movies, so why not leave her hanging on the phone?

Debbie should have stopped putting up with this kind of treatment a long time ago, but because of Hannah, Debbie saw the Coldwater vigilante. She had abandoned Debbie at a movie, running off with some guy she met at the concession stand. When the movie ended, Debbie had to find her own way home.

Low on funds, Debbie decided to walk. Besides, her apartment wasn’t far away. About halfway home, she had realized someone was following her. When she began to walk faster, the man increased his speed as well. Terrified, Debbie started running. When she flew by an alley, she noticed a shadowy figure nearby. Assuming it was the man’s partner, she tried to run faster. But when she heard a scuffle then silence, she risked a look back before she turned the corner. Both men had vanished. Debbie didn’t know what to think, but she kept running and didn’t stop until she reached home. She called the police, but they couldn’t do anything. When Hannah came home the next morning, Debbie told her what had happened.

Glad Debbie was safe, Hannah swore she would act better, and until last night, she had been.

“Old habits, I guess,” Debbie thought.

Debbie staggered back to bed and fell in, working herself under the blankets and covering her head, determined to get the sleep she had lost last night. After a moment, she found the perfect spot and closed her eyes.

She was just drifting off when someone knocked at the door.

Determined to fall asleep, Debbie decided to ignore it.

But when the knock came again, she called out in frustration,

“Hannah, if you locked yourself out because you left your keys at some guy’s house again, I don’t care. Crawl in through the window.”

“Deborah Martin?” a man’s voice called out.

Debbie popped her head out from beneath the blanket and glared at the door.

“Having your boy toy ask me to let you in won’t work. You ditched me. I’m mad and going back to sleep!”

“Deborah Martin, I’m Detective Adrian Donahue with Coldwater Homicide. I need to speak with you, please,” the man said.

Afraid of what she was about to hear, Debbie rolled out of bed and with the blankets still wrapped around her feet, she struggled to walk to the front door.

When she opened the door, she saw two plainclothes detectives holding out their badges.

Sensing something was wrong with her friend, Debbie asked,

“What happened to Hannah?”

“I’m sorry,” Donahue said. “She died last night.”

* * *

Once Debbie was able to compose herself, Detective Randi Lawrence asked,

“When was the last time you spoke with Ms. Sullivan?”

“I was walking to my car last night after class. One of the students made me uncomfortable, so I called Hannah,” Debbie said.

“Do you remember the last thing you said to her?” Lawrence asked.

Debbie thought for a moment then answered,

“I was telling her about a guy I ran into at class. It was after midnight. The class started with a documentary, and the teacher kept us late to discuss it.”

Donahue walked around the room taking in everything as he jotted notes in a pad. He noticed that Debbie’s side of the room looked disheveled. The bed was a pile of blankets and clothes. She had books stacked up by a small desk with post it notes and papers waiting to be blown about the room by a sudden gust of wind though the open window.

The other side of the room was much neater. Aside from an unmade bed, it looked clean except for the space by the door. On one side was a pile of dirty clothes, and a nightstand that had been knocked over, sending books spilling onto the floor.

“How often did your friend frequent a place called the Aquarium?” Lawrence asked.

“Almost never,” Debbie said. “She doesn’t like fish, and the stamps they put on your arm take forever to wash off. She only went there when it was for a guy.”

“Was she seeing anyone special?” Donahue asked. “The owner recognized her but said he never saw her with the same guy.”

“Hannah had a habit of playing the field. She was known to be a sucker for a cute smile and a fancy car,” Debbie said.

“Was there anyone who paid her special attention?” Donahue asked. “Anyone who might stand out in your mind?”

Debbie thought for a moment then said,

“I don’t think so. She had a lot of fans and ex-lovers, but as far as I know, none of them ever stalked her. Why?” Debbie asked.

Lawrence looked at Donahue then asked him,

“What is it?”

Donahue’s gaze had settled on the overturned nightstand and books. He said,

“I believe she was murdered here.”

The Prophet of Starfall: Episode 92

Nathan looked around him at the world of fog. Far away, a faint cry broke the silence. He wondered if he were dreaming. Was this real or something he had imagined?

“Are you?” Julian repeated.

“A lot of people know I’m not from this world. So what?” Nathan asked.

“No need to get defensive. No one has given up your secret. I can tell you’re from another place because I too am a traveler,” Julian explained.

“Traveler?” Nathan asked.

“Someone who can pass between worlds,” Julian said. “How often do you go back to your world?”

“I can’t go back,” Nathan said. “I’m stuck here.”

“What happened?” Julian asked.

“I was brought here suddenly. One minute I was helping a woman escape from her car and the next I woke up here. I think I was struck by a bolt of lightning,” Nathan said.

Julian’s eyes lit up as he asked,

“Did you speak to anyone unusual before the lightning bolt?”

Nathan thought for a moment and answered,

“Yes. There was this homeless looking old man. Long beard. He handed me a book.”

Julian got excited.

“Then it’s true!” he said.

“What’s true?” Nathan asked.

“You’re an Eldervalt,” Julian said.

“What’s that?” Nathan asked.

“An Eldervalt is a champion chosen by one of the gods to serve, to obey the will of the god,” Julian said.

“I help people. I don’t take orders from a god,” Nathan defended.

“That’s probably why you were chosen,” Julian replied. “There are four elder gods, each with a world of their own. They are forbidden to directly interfere with other worlds, so some choose people, usually from one of the other worlds, and use them.”

Julian thought for a moment then continued.

“The one who chose you was male, so that rules out Mala and Authrax. Ehderdrago doesn’t interfere, so you must have been chosen by Nidama.”

“What are you talking about?” Nathan asked, unable to make sense of what Julian was saying.

“When you get a chance, look up a book called The Elder Void. It was written a long time ago by Elva Hayes Watson. It tells about the elder gods and the void where they live in their true forms,” Julian said.

“True form?” Nathan asked.

“The elder gods cannot enter our world because they are too grand and powerful for our minds to comprehend. So instead, they enter the worlds in another form, a form that fits in with the rules of that world. That old man with the book was the form Nidama chose to enter your world.”

Suddenly, Julian grew pale and began to tremble as something in the distance caught his attention.

“What is it?” Nathan asked, looking in the direction Julian was staring.

Standing on the other side of the stadium was the figure of a man. He wore a long coat and a fedora with the brim up, revealing glowing red eyes. He seemed to be completely shadow.

“Who is that?” Nathan asked.

“Someone we must avoid at all costs,” Julian said.

“He doesn’t look like the others here,” Nathan said.

“That’s because he isn’t. He is something else,” Julian said.

The man’s form flickered for a moment then disappeared.

“He’s gone,” Nathan said.

“No, he’s still here,” Julian said. “We have to keep moving.”

When Julian looked around, he froze. Nathan followed Julian’s gaze to the upper seats of the stadium. The man of shadows was closer.

“We have to go!” Julian said.

One step at a time, the man came toward them. Julian grabbed Nathan’s arms as darkness enveloped them.

When they emerged from the darkness, Nathan saw that they were on the rooftop of an old gas station by the side of the highway, well outside the city.

“That should buy us a little time,” Julian said. “The longer I’m here, the easier it is for him to track me.”

“Who is he?” Nathan asked.

“I’d say the boogey man, but I don’t know,” Julian said.

“Well then,” Nathan said, “we should go!”

“He’ll follow our scent through the city,” Julian said, “so we have time.”

“No we don’t!” Nathan said, pointing past Julian.

Standing in the street in front of the gas station was the shadowed man. One-step and suddenly he was on the rooftop just feet from Nathan.

Nathan felt an icy shiver run over him as his mind was filled with flashing images of people screaming, dying and crying out for help.

Suddenly Nathan felt someone grab his arm, and everything went black.

* * *

Nathan awoke to Elizabeth shaking him.

“Nathan! Nathan! Are you all right?”

Nathan sat up and looked around. He was in the parking lot just outside the entrance to the power plant.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Something reached out from inside the maintenance door. Some sort of dark thing. It grabbed you, and you were gone for what felt like forever. Then suddenly, you just flew out of a shadow, like something had thrown you,” Elizabeth said.

While Nathan tried to clear his head, Jericho landed on the ground near them. His clothes were dirty and he had a small cut on his forehead.

“Are you two okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” Elizabeth said, with a heavy sigh.

“Whatever you two did worked,” Jericho said. “The power’s back on.”

Still dazed, Nathan tried to make sense of what had happened.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Cassandra, sorry Detective Shields wants us to check the local hospitals. See if they need any help,” Jericho said.

“The nearest hospital is Burnt Hill General,” Elizabeth said.

The moment Elizabeth said the hospital’s name, a vision flashed through Nathan’s mind. He saw a man standing on top of a building with his arms raised and his hair blowing in the wind. Below him, the street was filled with people standing shoulder to shoulder, as each one of them looked up at him in awe and reverence. The man remained still and smiled as the people below worshiped him.

“Nathan? What do you see?” Elizabeth asked, leaning over him.

“It’s. . . ,” Nathan trailed off.

“Is it something that happened while you were away?” she asked.

“Somewhat but not entirely,” he answered.

Elizabeth looked up and thought for a moment then asked,

“It’s the hospital, isn’t it?”

Nathan nodded.

“Something is waiting there for us?” she asked.

Again Nathan nodded.

“I don’t care how nice he is,” Nathan said. “I don’t care how much it hurts. You must not let him touch you!”

Elizabeth swallowed and said,

“Okay.”