Chosen (29 page)

Mariah spent hours on the computer, searching for every traveling circus still in existence. Once she had what she felt was a comprehensive list, she confirmed their itinerary—where they had been, where they were going. Each time she traced the route of the large ones that crisscrossed the country using railroad lines, she waited for a sign, a feeling that this was the one in which the clown hid. But nothing happened. And there were no more nightmares, asleep or awake, since the last encounter with her nemesis.

Thank heavens for the Internet. She was able to view newspapers in all the major cities visited by every circus. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but her sixth sense told her to read the obituaries. But nothing clicked. Her fear was that the clown might have traveled some distance from the large metropolises, and that whatever he had done wouldn’t be noteworthy enough to make it to the large papers.

It was time to ramp up her psychic training. Not even the prospect of losing Thomas could stand in her way.

The sun was just a memory, its light long extinguished by the darkness of pre-dawn. Even so, the figure standing in the yard, dressed in a white tee shirt and white Dockers, was clearly visible to the two men that stood at the sliding glass doors, watching from the living room.

One unconsciously assumed a military stance: legs hip-width apart, hands joined behind his back, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. The only aspect that gave away his outward indifference was the speculative look in his slightly narrowed eyes.

The other man was not as practiced in hiding his emotions. His arms were wrapped around his chest, hands buried under his armpits, and his breathing was shallow. He stared at the figure in the yard, fear and longing in his eyes, the corners of his mouth drawn down in anger.

They had stood thus for fifteen minutes, watching Mariah’s back since she had informed them that she wanted to be alone. Her hands were jammed into her pants pockets. She was as immobile as a lawn sculpture.

“What are you not telling me?” Gabriel Winters said, his voice pitched low, meant only to reach the ears of the one beside him.

“For the
last
time, I’m not hiding anything from you. All she said was she needed to be alone. Period.”

Winters said, “We aren’t paying you to leave her alone. In case you’ve forgotten, we are compensating you rather well to watch everything she does, remember everything she says, especially when I’m not around. And to provide me every minute detail, even if you don’t think it’s relevant. She must have said something else.”

Thomas’ voice was edged with anger that hinted at his despair. “I know exactly what you’re paying me. And why.

“Oh, forgive me, I’m wrong. I did leave something out. We tried out a new sex position last night. She’s become very athletic.”

“If you attained heights of ecstasy heretofore unknown to your current libido, she might have employed some type of psychic power previously unused, and I would be greatly interested,” Winters said. “If not, then you can keep your gymnastic proclivities to yourself.”

He knew how much Thomas hated his “fifty dollar words” which, he assumed, made him feel inferior. Without taking his eyes off Mariah, he felt Thomas’ face twist in hatred.

“Fuck you,” Thomas said.

“How eloquent.” Before Thomas could retort, Winters said, “You should never have allowed yourself to get so emotionally involved, any more than you already had. No one coerced you into accepting the government’s money for providing information. If it will salve your beleaguered conscience, consider your act one of patriotism.”

There was nothing Thomas could say. In the beginning, he thought of it only as a way to earn extra cash; that he wasn’t giving away anything Mariah wanted to keep secret. At least she hadn’t told him not to tell anyone. And besides, he rationalized, when Winters had approached him, it was after the incident with the
Finding
of Anthony Santatoro and he had been conflicted over his feelings about their future.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify what he was doing, he felt miserable. Too late, he realized his feelings for Mariah Carpenter had not changed. He was still in love with her. More so once she told him about her discussion with Michael Jenkins.

He knew what would happen if he backed out now. The prick would find a way to get him out of the house, even to go so far as to tell Mariah that her lover was spying on her. So he continued feeding information to the bastard, although he managed to hold back several things, just out of spite. But Winters was uncanny. It was like he could tell when Thomas was deliberately withholding information.

He watched Mariah in anguish, wanting desperately to tell her everything, knowing how badly she would be hurt. She would never forgive him, and he would lose her. So he stayed, hoping his betrayal would remain a secret until he could figure out a way to end it.

Time passed without Mariah’s being aware. She wasn’t sure if she had been standing in the yard for ten minutes or ten hours. Common noises of everyday life were now sequestered in her honeycomb. The silence gave her the ability to listen to her heart beat, her lungs inhaling and expelling air, and her mind to quest beyond the limits of her body.

She was unaware when the soft lavender light surrounding her body darkened to purple. The breeze, which began when the haze intensified, encouraged rocks and twigs to play ring-around-the-rosy. Tree branches bent, some of the less hardy one snapping off as the wind velocity increased. Wildflowers and weeds were uprooted, joining the other objects as they pirouetted around Mariah’s still figure.

Her mind stretched, expanded, seeking the circus in which the clown hid. But nothing came. She felt certain that he was psychically blocking her, that he was unlike any person she had dealt with so far. Her dread of him deepened.

Anger, simmering on low, began to swell. Fanned by frustration, it grew. Fear, like kindling, fed it.

Why don’t you help me when I need you the most
? She shouted silently.
You gave me the ability to increase what psychic abilities I had so I could
find kidnapped children. But it’s not enough. Where are you when I need you
?

From memory, she called forth the image of her bedroom the night she attempted to commit suicide. The moonlight shining through the vertical blinds, the tissue box lying innocently next to the glass of water, the M&M’s she wished she now had, and the bottle of sleeping pills she swallowed, gagging as she shoveled them down her throat to have done with her mental anguish.

She relived the
Visitation
: the man she had seen, the liquid spreading quickly through her bloodstream, his arms around her ... and her fury boiled over, erupting like lava.

Is that it? You give me enough to do something miraculous, but now that I need more, need to break down the barrier this demented clown has erected, you decide not to help me
?

Her anger dissolved, replaced by hopelessness. She had no more to give. The clown would win.

Hostilities temporarily forgotten, Gabriel and Thomas watched in amazement as the lavender glow surrounding Mariah deepened and became more viable. No longer just wisps of ephemeral color, the purple hue seemed to have weight and texture. Wind whipping Mariah’s hair until it nearly stood straight up, threatened to rip the clothes off her body. Everything not anchored down in the yard took flight.

They were glad to be inside, protected by the walls of the house. Besides loose dirt, rocks, twigs, leaves, and flowers, the patio furniture became airborne. The aluminum legs and arms of the chaise lounge twisted like a doughnut cruller. The table top buckled, collapsing nearly in half, the four legs beneath splaying out like cardinal points.

The air in front of Mariah began to darken further as iridescent blue light illuminated the sky in a flash that caused both men to cover their eyes.

The flash of blue momentarily blinded Mariah. Almost immediately she heard the
swshswsh
—a remembered sound. She watched in amazement as air molecules collided and separated, creating a hole in space. It was filled by the same man who had come to her the night of the
Visitation
.

He was as she remembered. Nearly black hair framing an oval face; swarthy skin; full, expressive lips surrounded by a beard of deep auburn. He was no longer wearing his workingman’s attire. Instead, a midnight blue jumpsuit form-fitted over his muscular frame, and black leather boots gripped his calves rising nearly to his knees. A band of blue metal encircled his waist, several lights on it glowing brightly.

Her eyes were drawn to a silver insignia imprinted on the jumpsuit, placed in the center of his chest. It sparked a memory, but was forgotten as her eyes locked onto his.

He had not been a dream or a vision. Those compassionate brown eyes, shot with gold light, were full of love, affection, and a touch of sadness.

His arms enveloped her in an embrace both protective and tender. Serenity suffused her body, as miraculous as the first time he had done this.

While her mind balked, her spirit soared in exhilaration. With her head pressed against his chest, she concentrated on the steady and hypnotic rhythm of his heart ... and serenity filled her soul.

Take me with you
. Her silent request was automatic, without thought.

His warm hands moved from her back to clasp her shoulders as he gently moved apart from her, leaving a chilling sensation of abandonment.

Would that I could, my child, but your time here is not yet done
.

The pain of disappointment pierced her heart as sharply as if he had used a scalpel. His eyes clouded with sympathy and remorse. She felt tears stinging her eyes.
I’m so tired. Sometimes when I go to sleep, I pray that I don’t wake up. My life is a nightmare of constant and bizarre changes; physically, emotionally, mentally. My freedom, my anonymity, is gone. I’m now forced into isolation. And I fear for those I love.

I’m afraid of what I’m becoming. Surely I have done what was expected. Since I can’t go back to who or what I was, take me with you. Please. I beg you
.

His sigh spoke volumes.
You have much more to accomplish here, little one. In the not too distant future, you will understand why you must abide for now, and why I cannot take you until the moment is right.

Anguish welled up inside her, and she cried,
What more do you want from me? Let someone else do it! Better yet, do it yourself
!

He seemed to be weighing his words, judging her ability to understand against providing her more than she should know.

There is nothing more important on this Earth, in this star system, nay in this galaxy, then the fulfillment of your destiny. No entity is in this position, this direct line of descent
.

She stared into his eyes, confusion warring with fear. Enlightenment came in a heady rush.
It has something to do with the aliens, doesn’t it
?

His eyes widened in shock before he regained control.
There are things better left unsaid for the moment. You are here, doing what your
Shanaria,
your destiny, demands
.

He hesitated, and then ...
There comes to you a test of your might. A decision you will make based on who you are and what you have become
—
and what you are becoming. If your choice be not the correct one, the hope to fulfill an ancient Prophecy dies. Ask me not: I cannot divulge further
.

Before she could respond, his right hand left her shoulder and moved to the metal utility belt around his waist. A dark silver cylinder appeared in his hand. He brought it up and pressed the tip to her neck.

Warmth spread out from the bioinoculator as the foreign liquid sped swiftly through her bloodstream. Clipping it back onto his belt, he once more took her into his arms, his eyes now closed. Ancient words of prayer filled her mind as he chanted them.

Adrenaline pulsed throughout her system, accompanied by flashing images in her brain. She felt her soul unite with his, his spirit
Joining
with hers to give it immeasurable comfort, sustenance, and dynamic energy.

Once again he moved away from her. Mariah sighed, weary with resignation.
So, I can’t change your mind. Then I’ll have to accept what you say, although not graciously. Tell me: when I’ve done what it is I’m supposed to, will you come for me then?

His smile was even brighter than the light that surrounded him.
Most assuredly. Know that we will never forsake you. We love and support you no matter what you must do or what you will become
.

The flash of blue came as he released her. Stepping into the space created by the hyperspatial transport point, he disappeared.

Gregory Sinclair heard the music from the orchestra swell as the equestrian act began to gallop across the ring in preparation to exit. Breathing evenly, he waited for his intro from the ringmaster.

Without warning, he felt an unpleasant sensation in his ear, and then a push, as though something had poked his brain. He shook his head, trying to dislodge this invasive feeling, but to no avail. Pressure built within his head until, in a flash of purple light, he saw the Carpenter woman ablaze in the center ring. Unable to move, Gregory felt a blast of heat sear his face. She smiled with satisfaction.

The vision disappeared as he stumbled out from the wings, the spotlight freezing him in its harsh light. Waddling forward automatically, he waved to the applause that erupted from the crowd. The show must go on.

Mariah was exultant. The restraints that had hampered her search for the clown were gone. She had found him.

All his memories were laid bare before her. She saw the undeveloped stretch of land that the city of Santa Fe, New Mexico had rented to the Merriweather Extravaganza circus. She was assailed with sharp smells: the rancid oil that colored the popcorn yellow; the stench from thousands of sweating bodies; the French fries and greasy hamburgers. She gasped from the grinding, ear-splitting belch of the calliope, and the terrorized screams from those on the roller coaster.

And there was her frightening, white-faced jester, The Professor, cavorting with his lackeys. She shuddered and the scene blanked, replaced by his image minus his stage make-up, standing over Emily and Steven Snauff, shaking white powder from a vial onto their sleeping faces. His first two victims were the only ones who bore a vague resemblance to Russell and Endina Cooley.

She experienced his shock and subsequent paralysis when the police told him about his murdered children. She saw his world further collapse when his wife, Annabelle, was institutionalized in a semi-catatonic state, unable to live in the real world in which her children no longer existed.

Nevertheless, her heart hardened when he refused to seek professional help to deal with his grief. She watched him sink deeper and deeper into madness until he was fired from his job as an organic chemist because he had become unstable, irrational, and a potential danger to his fellow employees.

Mariah knew that his confrontation with the police (for refusing to believe that the Cooleys had died that night along with the children) was his final break with reality. The denial gave birth to the psychosis, polluted his sanity, and caused him to seek revenge against innocent people.

She heard the train clatter down the tracks, and felt it sway and bump as the circus arrived in Las Vegas. Amid the twinkling lights of the enormous casinos, Gregory Sinclair committed his third and fourth murders using the ricin he had concocted in his basement. He ended the life of Marie and Ernest Drummond, an elderly couple from Battle Creek, Michigan who were enjoying a retirement vacation in Sin City.

Faye and Winston Campbell never attended the circus when it reached Salt Lake City. They just happened to be in the same restaurant as Sinclair.

Denver, Colorado mourned the deaths of Beverly and Harold Knoff, married for just three weeks.

Mariah’s heart, already bruised, became more battered. Daichi and Beniha Inoue had moved to St. Louis, Missouri from Japan five weeks prior to their deaths. The obituaries listed the cause of death as influenza.

Angelica and Jorge Salis were his victims in Memphis, Tennessee, leaving their five children orphaned. In New Orleans, Sinclair stole a motor boat and headed through swampland until he found the dilapidated cottage of Seal and Analise Dumais.

Mariah’s soul felt flayed. In Atlanta, Georgia, the bodies of Richard and Harriet Prince, who lived in a log cabin on the fringe of Lake Winfield Scott, were not discovered for three weeks after Sinclair murdered them. But Claire and Buddy Coltrain, of Brighton, North Carolina were found only two hours after the circus left Charlotte. Brought to the hospital, they died several days later, the doctors unable to understand the swift and deadly virus they thought responsible for the fluid in their lungs.

In Washington, D.C., Sinclair poisoned Na’Zyia and Malik Soyinka, visiting the United States from Nigeria. Emboldened by his previous successes, he followed them back to their hotel after his performance, nearly colliding with a maid outside their door who was there for turndown service. He informed her that he was heading for the bar for a nightcap, and not to disturb his sleeping wife. When the bodies of the Soyinka’s were found three days later, the maid could not identify the man she saw leaving the room.

In Philadelphia, Sinclair reverted back to his comfort zone: a house in the suburbs in the darkness of early morning. Joanna and Michael Fortnay lasted for two painful days before they succumbed.

It was in Markham, Ohio that Mariah touched his in sanity as Gregory Sinclair took the lives of Charlotte and Jamie Ortega. It was there he identified the one who had invaded his dreams and had become his worst nightmare. To his delight, he further realized she was nothing more than a vision that could not touch him.