John Ringo - Queen of wands

“And the same would be the case with any green agent,” Barb said, sighing. “They just can’t believe. Okay, tough guy, you’re the one that’s seen a ghost. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“It wasn’t a ghost,” Kurt said. “It was a shadow. I’m not sure what it was, but I…I got this feeling it wasn’t a ghost.”

“Demon, then,” Barb said. “Tell me about it later. I need to get briefed in. Who’s doing it?”

“Spornberger,” Garson said. “He’s got all the reports. Note that we only have the attack on your agent to indicate that there is anything to the SC designation. That and the fact that the case is just so damned weird.”

“Well, I know the area’s not a total dry hole,” Barb said. “I can feel the…currents? Whatever. But it’s possible the attack on Janea wasn’t related to the investigation. We have enemies of our own. However, we’ll just try to follow up on her leads and see where it takes us.”

“What’s the paranormal read on this?” Kurt asked as he sat down in the secure conference room.

“I’m not a paranormal expert,” Barb said. “But I’ve got some people to do the research. And the short answer is there isn’t one. Have you ever heard of Kali?”

“I’ve been studying oriental martial arts since I was in high school,” Kurt said dryly. “And by extension the Orient. Yes, I’ve heard of Kali. Hindu death goddess, right?”

“More complicated than that,” Barb said, biting her lip. “Also a goddess of fertility and childbirth. And murder. Life and death, alpha and omega. The point being that there are references to worshippers being used as avatars of Kali, taken by her and turned into killing machines. But even the…deep references, if you will, the studies that assume the existence of the goddess, indicate most of those killers were using drugs to simulate the effect. And Kali, being what Christians recognize as a demon, is tightly bound by the Fall. Even though God gave the world to Satan, the greater demons and demonesses, ancient gods in most cases, are tightly bound. Freeing them, even drawing upon their essence, requires powerful rites which have not been used in this case. So it’s not a possession by Kali or another greater demon. And according to the initial report Janea turned in, none of them show current signs of possession. They have been…sensitized to the supernatural. But they may have been sensitives to begin with.”

“In short, you have no clue what is going on,” Kurt said.

“No,” Barb admitted. “But that’s why I’m here. But we’ve got one piece of evidence we didn’t have before. Someone attacked Janea mystically. That makes it personal.”

“Oh, thank God we’re here!” Kurt gasped as Barbara came to a screeching halt at the guarded entrance. The drive had been short but traffic had been heavy. Normally, it would have been quicker to walk with the jammed cars on US 27.

But any belief that Kurt retained that he’d been landed with Suzy Soccer Mom was disabused by the drive. Much of it had been in the oncoming lanes, or turn lanes, or in one case, slightly on the sidewalk. The opposite sidewalk.

It wasn’t that Barbara drove badly. It was that she drove like a cop. One in a hurry and with enormous ability behind the wheel.

“What’s wrong?” Barb asked, hitting the window switch and smiling at the frowning corrections guard manning the gate. “We got here in one piece.”

“You are insane, Madame,” Kurt replied. “Kurt Spornberger, FBI,” he continued, holding out his ID. “This is Barbara Everette, a contractor with us.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, hitting the control to open the gate. “Try to keep it down on the campus, ma’am.”

“Will do,” Barb said.

“Next time, I drive,” Kurt said as Barb hunted for an open visitor’s parking space.

“Like I’d let anybody else drive me,” Barb said.

Moccasin Bend Mental Health Facility was a sprawling set of brick buildings originally founded in 1961, located across the river from the downtown area. It served twenty-eight counties in the area as a regional inpatient care facility.

Barb…didn’t like Moccasin Bend. She wasn’t “open” to Sight at the moment, but she didn’t have to be to feel the malevolence of the area. The entire place was just…weird. The buildings were straight out of a horror movie and the layout was decidedly odd. She looked at the map again and realized that the buildings were laid out in a sign she’d only seen once in her “catch-up” research. Specifically, in a grimoire that was kept under lock and key at the Foundation.

“This place is unhealthy as…hell,” Barb said, looking around the parking lot. “Nearly literally. I mean really, really bad.”

“You’re serious?” Kurt said, grinning nervously.

“ Bad bad,” Barb said. “Bad on toast. Like, my first instinct is to burn it down and kill everyone near it.”

“Don’t,” Kurt said. “I know you’re covered for stuff, but that would be pretty hard to cover up.”

“Seriously bad,” Barb said, taking a deep breath. “Makes me want to scream…”

“The patient exhibits many classic signs of psychosis with, however, some idiosyncratic additions,” Dr. Downing said.

Oddly enough, it was the same doctor who had been treating Janea. Now that Barb knew he was associated with this mental facility, she intended to get him unassociated as fast as possible.

The patient was restrained. Tightly. Barb was familiar with restraints, having spent some time under them herself after her first encounter with a demon and before Augustus pulled some strings to get her out of psychiatric care. But the ones they’d used on her were light compared to what they had on the young man in the bed.

“How idiosyncratic?” Barb asked, disturbed by the sight of the otherwise healthy young man’s condition.

“Most patients in this type of condition tend to bite,” Dr. Downing said, pulling out a probe. “Most of those, however, do not tend to swallow whatever they bite off. These patients do. And, observe,” he continued, pressing the probe into the base of Darren’s foot.

“I didn’t see anything,” Kurt said. “Except him continuing to…”

“Writhe,” Barb finished.

“You should have,” the psychiatrist said. “That should have elicited a pain response, even in a patient suffering from psychosis. A yell, a howl, some type of response. And,” he continued, pulling out a small rubber mallet. “Observe.”

He tapped the subject just below his knee and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure his leg didn’t twitch,” Barb said, frowning. “He should have had an involuntary movement, a reflex response. Right?”

“Correct,” the doctor said, smiling as if at a marginally bright student. “No reflex responses, no pain responses, but their autonomic nervous systems continue to function, they breathe, their hearts beat and they have control over their voluntary muscles. But, if I were to remove the restraints and let him walk, you would observe that his motions are powerful but uncoordinated in the extreme.”

“I…need to check something,” Barb said, then frowned. “I take it that anything that goes on in here is confidential?”

“Yes,” Dr. Downing said, frowning in turn. “What sort of examination?”

“One that’s going to make you shake your head and wonder if the Bureau is going nuts,” Kurt said. “And one that you’re not going to comment on under any circumstances. Under the Uniform Federal Code Section Eighteen. In a real and legally binding sense.”

“Oh,” Dr. Downing said. “O…kay?”

“It won’t take a moment,” Barb said. She hated to Open in this place, but it was going to be necessary. Because there was something screaming at her about the patient. He looked healthy enough at first glance, but something was…screaming.