Lies of the Prophet Read online

  That strange untethered feeling came back to her. In the moments coming out of the anesthesia she’d felt like her mind was swirling with all her tasks and responsibilities floating freely around. Like her calendar had been tipped upside-down into a funnel cloud. For Carol, an incredibly organized and disciplined person, the feeling had been horrifying, but had also tasted of freedom. In the next moment, the duties would either fly away or settle back into position and resume their hold on her life. Carol wished they would fly away, but knew they wouldn’t

  Now that feeling returned, and this time she tried to imagine all her responsibilities floating away, maybe out through her ear and into the trash can. She smiled as she dozed.

  A TALL, ROUNDED SHAPE stood at the foot of her bed and spoke, “Excuse me? Mrs. Milden?”

  “Knowles,” said Carol before her eyes were even open. She blinked several times to clear the tears from her eyes. She had been dreaming, but only the wisps of the dream remained. Something about Don; something about black eyes with white pupils; something about death—or worse.

  “I’m sorry?” asked the nun.

  “My name is Knowles-Milden, sister,” Carol explained. As her vision cleared and adjusted to the dim room, Carol noticed her other visitors. Behind the nun stood a doctor—though not her doctor. Next to him stood a uniformed police officer. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s your husband, Don,” said the doctor. “I’m afraid he’s had an episode.”

  Her mind sped up, and her racing thoughts tried to zero in on where this conversation was headed. She came up with nothing but a question—“Where’s my baby?”

  “She’s fine,” said the nun. “She’s in the nursery.”

  “Your husband was down in the reading room when he apparently…” the doctor continued.

  “I want to see my baby,” Carol interjected.

  “… collapsed. We assume anaphylaxis. That’s when the body has an extreme hypersensitive reaction to an antigen,” the doctor continued.

  Carol heard the words, but didn’t process them. She was caught up in the realization that she was breathing freely again.

  “We discovered him very quickly and rushed him into to treatment, but there was nothing we could do.”

  “Pardon?” asked Carol.

  “We did everything we could to resuscitate him, but we couldn’t get his heart started again. The reaction just took…” continued the doctor.

  The officer cut him off. He stepped forward and touched Carol’s arm—“I’m so sorry ma’am. We’ll get your baby back to you right away." He pointed to the nurse, startling her out of her stasis. She turned and exited.

  The doctor began to speak again, reading from his chart, but the officer gently pushed the chart down, silencing the doctor so Carol could absorb the information.

  “We just recently got married,” said Carol. Her face moved from blank to dismay, but distant dismay, like there was something bad happening on the horizon that she was powerless to stop.

  A nurse pushed through the door with the rolling bassinet, gathered up the baby, and placed her into Carol’s arms. Carol glanced down at the tiny Baby Girl and then resumed staring off into the distance.

  “She’s hungry,” said the nurse. “Would you like to feed her?”

  Carol looked down at the infant. Baby Girl stretched, arching her back and thrusting out her arms. A tiny smile formed at the corners of her mouth. Carol smiled back, instinctively, and then her mouth flattened as the baby’s eyes opened. They were black except for a small spot in the center of each eye, which was cold white. The baby blinked and the eyes returned to normal, unfocused baby eyes, bright blue. The image of the black eyes was burned into Carol’s memory, as if she had looked directly at the sun.

  “Ma’am?” asked the nurse.

  “Would you?” Carol asked the nurse. She passed the baby to the nurse and pressed her palms to her eyes.

  The doctor and officer were still standing at the other side of her bed. The nurse put Baby Girl back in the bassinet and rolled her back out of the room.

  “Can we call someone for you?” asked the doctor. “Your emergency contact is your mother. Should we call her?”

  “No, my mother’s dead,” said Carol. She sighed. “I haven’t changed the form. Call my sister. She’s supposed to come over this afternoon anyway." She picked up her phone from the tray and gave them the contact information.

  “Stay here,” the cop told the doctor. He stepped out into the hallway to make the call. When he came back he excused the doctor and turned back to Carol—“I’ll stay with you until your sister arrives. She said she’d be here in about an hour.”

  “Figures,” said Carol. She nodded to herself just before the tears started to fall. She leaned back and let them come—she didn’t bother to wipe them away, and she never sobbed. Carol cried silently for the hour, trying to guess at the truth in her muddled memories. None of it seemed real except the fact of Don’s death. That was incontrovertible because of the policeman sitting in the chair next to her bed. He sat, hands folded in his lap, ready to be of assistance should she need it.

  When Melanie slammed through the door the policeman stood and backed out of the room. Carol didn’t get a chance to thank him—her sister was on her instantly.

  “Honey, you look terrible, where’s your baby?” asked Melanie.

  “Nursery,” said Carol. “They’ve been watching her down there.”

  “You need to be together right now,” said Melanie. She reached across and grabbed the nurse’s buzzer. When they answered the call, Melanie asked to have the baby returned.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” said Carol.

  “Oh, honey, of course I don’t mind doing that. Once you get your baby in your arms you’ll be able to assess your priorities,” said Melanie. “Now what have they done with Don? What arrangements do we need to make?”

  “I don’t know,” said Carol. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “That’s the first priority then,” said Melanie. “I’ll see to that right away. Are we doing cremation?”

  Carol’s breath burst from her mouth and she exhaled until she saw spots. She’d always known that Melanie hated Don, but wouldn’t have guessed how anxious she’d be to see him in the ground. “I haven’t really thought about it,” said Carol.

  “What about his family. Who needs to get notified there?” asked Melanie.

  “Could you like, take a break for a moment?” Carol requested. She tucked her long hair behind her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d always used her hair to make her feel different than her twin, but now that Melanie had grown hers out as well, the difference was diminished.

  “I’m just trying to help,” said Melanie.

  “I doubt that,” said Carol.

  “I’m going to help you whether you appreciate it or not,” said Melanie. While she finished her promise, a knock signaled the return of Baby Girl. Melanie opened the door and the nurse rolled in the basinet. Melanie let the nurse bring it to a stop next to Carol’s bed and then reached in to pick up the sleeping bundle. “Oh, honey, she’s beautiful!” Melanie exclaimed. “She’s absolutely perfect, thank you,” she dismissed the nurse with a directed stare, “and wonderful. Just look at that pretty little face." Melanie tilted Baby Girl towards Carol, as if she’d never seen the baby before.

  Carol watched her sister’s face closely, to see if she would detect anything unusual with the baby.

  “What a little sweetheart,” said Melanie. She reached to touch Baby’s Girl’s face.

  Chapter 3

  Emergency

  Two Years Later (Present Day)…

  LYNNE’S PHONE CONFUSED HER. It wasn’t supposed to go off at five in the morning, and it wasn’t supposed to sound like that. She stared at the display, trying to uncross her eyes for three rings before she could read the display. It was work.

  “Fifteen minutes,” said a man’s voice. “Your partner will pick you up.”

 
; “Yes,” said Lynne.

  She jumped up and rubbed her eyes on the way to the bathroom. Sleep had been difficult for Lynne. It wasn’t because she’d been particularly bothered by the previous day’s events, it had been her new cat. Bumpers, her last cat, had departed more than two years before, and he had been a shy thing, never straying far from his safe spot under the bed. This new cat, so far unnamed, wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Lynne falling asleep. It had spent the night purring, mewing, and stepping on Lynne’s face. She had tried locking the cat in another room, but it made so much noise that her housemates woke her up to complain. The had cat finally settled for being clutched close to her chest.

  Back in her room, Lynne rushed to get dressed and then squeezed through her door, shutting the cat in her bedroom. She made it to the living room just as Jenko pulled into the driveway. His headlights splashed through the windows. The morning light was still pretty dim. Lynne padded down the damp steps. Far off, she could hear the cat start to protest, but Lynne ignored it and jumped into car.

  “Is that the cat?” asked Jenko. He had his head halfway out the driver’s-side window, listening to the howling coming from the house.

  “Whatever,” said Lynne.

  “He’s got a crush on you. Want to bring him along?”

  “Just go. What are we doing anyway? Why the big pre-dawn emergency?”

  “I don’t call the shots. I’m a foot soldier, just like you,” said Jenko. He spun around to back the car out to the street and then took off at a good clip down the road.

  “Well I hope you know where we’re headed, or we’re going nowhere fast,” said Lynne. “Which means you have a little more information than I do.”

  “You got me there. They faxed me this.”

  He handed Lynne a flimsy, rolled sheet of paper. She turned on her map light and studied the blurry text.

  “A fax? People still use these?” she asked. She scanned the paper, but wasn’t satisfied—“Missing babies? Since when do we handle missing babies? I didn’t sign up for that. I’m strictly supposed to look at the Passage and say if it’s a fake.”

  “You signed up for whatever they ask you to do,” said Jenko. “Read the fine print sometime. Tomorrow they could ask you shovel shit and you’d have to do that until they said stop. You can quit any time, of course, but the second you do you have to pay back every penny they’ve given you. Including that signing bonus I’m sure you negotiated.”

  “I knew it was too good to be true,” said Lynne.

  Jenko nodded.

  Lynne regarded the fax again. “Any idea why we’re looking for a missing baby? Does this woman think we’re the police or something?”

  “She probably thinks her baby is possessed,” said Jenko. “You go saying that to enough people and the Vermin Group comes around.”

  Lynne laughed at his name for the Veyermin Group. She wasn’t sure it was entirely appropriate, but then again, she had never heard of the Veyermin Group at all until the previous week.

  “You believe in possession?” asked Lynne.

  “No,” said Jenko. “It’s probably nothing. Some people say that their baby was switched out after birth. Just means a crazy parent though. Some terrible trauma during birth and then the parent tries to find a way to take it out on the kid. Or they killed the kid and the buried in the cellar. Then you just claim something supernatural happened because people are more likely to believe that kind of crap these days.”

  “Sounds familiar somehow,” said Lynne. “An absurd story about a child switched for something inhuman.”

  “Yeah, there are myths about strange creatures who replace kids with their offspring and then run away with the human baby. Those are called Changelings,” said Jenko.

  “I guess with everything else that’s happened recently, I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss anything outlandish,” said Lynne.

  “There are way more crazy people in the world than truly inexplicable phenomenon. I’ll keep on dismissing everyone as a crackpot and I’ll still be right ninety-nine percent of the time,” said Jenko.

  Lynne nodded and carefully considered Jenko’s philosophy. She’d been called gullible plenty of times before and thought it might be wise to try to pick up some healthy skepticism from Jenko.

  “So this lady kills her kid, buries it the basement and then tells everyone that the baby was a Changeling?” asked Lynne.

  “Probably,” said Jenko.

  “And Veyermin finds out and sends us over to check it out, just in case?” asked Lynne.

  “Yup,” said Jenko.

  “Then I still don’t get what it has to do with Passage? I thought Veyermin was interested in financially exploiting resurrection or immortality or whatever,” said Lynne.

  “Yeah, but you’ve got to figure that if there really is a Changeling, and we’re just finding out about it now, maybe it’s connected. Maybe it’s coincidence, but we might as well check it out.”

  “I don’t see why they’d send me though,” said Lynne. “I’ve only ever been able to see undead-ish type stuff. Why would I be able to contribute to any conversation about a Changeling?”

  “Same theory, I guess,” said Jenko. He looked over at Lynne and raised his eyebrows. “You can’t explain why you can do what you do and neither can they, but they’re not going to risk not sending you out. They’ve probably got some woman with Changeling abilities going out to see the Passage as well.”

  “Huh,” said Lynne. She couldn’t figure out which of them was being close-minded.

  “I think this is it,” said Jenko. He pulled up in front of a neat and tidy cape—bright white with dark blue shutters.

  “Handsome,” said Lynne.

  “Thanks,” said Jenko.

  Lynne led the way up the walk. The house intrigued her. It seemed to loom over them as they approached, like it was overbalanced towards the street. When Jenko came up to her side, Lynne knocked on the solid door. She saw movement through the column of windows to the right of the door. A slim, pretty woman with shoulder-length brown hair opened the door. She greeted them into the foyer before introducing herself.

  “Thank you both for coming,” she said. “My name is Carol Milden.”

  “Hi Ms. Milden,” said Lynne. “I’m Lynne, and this is my partner Bud.”

  Jenko put out his hand and lied. “The Commission sent us to talk with you.”

  Lynne shot him a look that Carol didn’t catch. Lynne had heard Jenko imply that they were from the Immortality Commission, but had never heard him say it. The interviewers at the Veyermin group had specifically told her to not lie about that. The three moved into a spotless living room to continue the conversation.

  Lynne sat on the edge of a pretty burgundy chair. The room had an Asian influence and Lynne was almost afraid to touch anything—it all looked so fragile.

  “It’s the baby,” said Carol. “Donna. She’s been missing for almost twenty-four hours.”

  “Have you notified the police?” asked Lynne.

  “Not yet,” said Carol. “I wanted to explore other possibilities first. Then, when your supervisor called me this morning, I thought I should at least talk to you." A thin smile passed briefly across her lips.

  “How old is she?” asked Lynne.

  “A little over two,” said Carol. “God it feels like so much longer." Carol rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand and propped her head up. “I think she might be somewhere around here,” said Carol. She dropped her voice to a whisper—“Honestly, I figured she would kill me in my sleep last night. I just don’t know why she stays here.”

  “I’m sorry?” asked Lynne. “Your two-year-old almost…?”

  “Yes,” said Carol. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just figured you would be used to this kind of thing. Donna hasn’t really needed much from me in the past two years. I mean, sure, I feed her and provide a home, but she’s pretty self-sufficient. They’re supposed to be wise beyond their years if you read the books, but it’s so much more than th
at. They’re like tiny little people trapped inside an infant’s body. It’s crazy. And scary.”

  “They?” asked Lynne.

  “Perhaps you could start at the beginning,” suggested Jenko.

  Carol took a deep breath and told them the story, starting with her hasty wedding to Don just weeks before her due date.

  “For the first few weeks after I got home with Donna, it all seemed normal enough,” said Lynne. “I was able to convince myself that everything from the hospital had been just my imagination combined with the stress of Don’s death. You could almost convince yourself of anything those first few months. You never get any sleep, you’ve got problems remembering, and chronology is like some mythical creature. I couldn’t even remember if I took a shower from day to day, let alone when Don died versus my strange visions of Donna’s eyes.”

  “Sure,” Lynne agreed.

  “So I continued on, gradually forgetting those black eyes from the hospital. Donna seemed happy and perfectly normal. Nothing really went wrong until I had to go back to work. I got six weeks of leave, followed by a few weeks of half-time so I could make my adjustment slowly back into the office. I thought it was going pretty well.

  “Then my dad died. I didn’t put that together until quite recently. I know it’s hard to believe because he saw Donna’s eyes, but I really believed the two things were completely unrelated. He was over one Sunday and we had dinner in the kitchen with little Donna between us on the counter, propped up in her car seat. My dad loved his little granddaughter.