Talgorian Prophecy Read online

  She stood in a clearing. The mouth of a cave was on the rockiest side and an old miner’s cabin on the other.

  Why am I here? she thought as she waited. Her heartbeat raced. She held her breath in anticipation.

  A man exited the old wooden shack. He stepped over a dead tree as he crossed the yard, stopping several feet in front of her. She sensed danger and death around him. His dark hair hung in limp dirty strands past his shoulders. He wore a flannel shirt with black jeans and boots. His face was bony, his eyes bulging.

  He laughed. The maniacal sound echoed through the silence. His lips curled back in a snarl.

  Megan recognized his laugh. He’s the serial killer who abducted my son! The Mountain Mangler.

  Which meant, if the dream was right, she’d find Robbie in the cave.

  She stepped sideways in sync with the man in front of her, matching his stride, watching his every move. She imagined a brick wall blocking him from getting into the cave where Robbie hid.

  Small rocks, from the boulders surrounding the mouth of the cave, crunched beneath her feet until she stepped onto a small grassy area. She positioned herself so the cave and Robbie were behind her and the shack was behind him. She planned to keep it that way.

  Bright sunlight streamed into the small clearing through the forest canopy. The Mangler intentionally slanted the knife in his hand against the sunlight and reflected it into her eyes, blinding her in an instant.

  She looked down, blinking against the yellow spots left in her vision and saw a large branch lying on the ground near the forest’s edge. She returned her gaze to the thin man.

  A sword hilt stuck out of a scabbard secured to his back and there was a knife casing strapped around his leg. The antique weapons looked out of place with the red flannel shirt and black jeans. Had they been there a moment ago?

  He lunged forward.

  She ducked and rolled, sprang to her feet and ran for the stick. Grabbing it, she whirled to face him but faltered. She wasn’t prepared for the pure evil in his eyes.

  She couldn’t wimp out now. She had to fight him. Robbie’s life depended on using every skill she’d learned from her teacher, Zangar, in martial arts class.

  His lips curled and a low growl rumbled from his chest. Her stomach lurched. A shudder of fear rocked her body. She’d seen that look before in her nightmares.

  Robbie emerged from the mouth of the cave.

  “Get back inside!” She lunged forward putting her body between the killer and her son. “Robbie! Go now!”

  “Mommy!” Robbie cried, before darting back into the cave’s depths. She turned back to the Mangler.

  He shifted his weight and tapped the knife blade against his open palm. The leer on his angular face made him look gaunt. His lips curled in a smile, revealing yellow, rotting teeth.

  She couldn’t think about her actions. She rushed him swinging the stick. He twisted away and took the blow on the scapula. The impact sent a bone-jarring tremor up her arm. The sword rattled in the scabbard. Despite the pain from the last blow, she pivoted for momentum, swinging the stick full force at his head. It cracked when she connected.

  He fell back a step.

  Her confidence surged as he moved further from the cave and her son. She would not let him kill Robbie like he had the others.

  He grabbed at the stick, missed and lost his balance. He retreated under her assault. She landed blows to limbs and head, driving him away further and further away.

  Laughter rumbled deep within his chest. He rotated. She swung the stick but he blocked it with his forearm and slashed the knife down, gashing her hand.

  She cried out as hot searing pain shot up her arm.

  He pinned her with a stare. Yanking the stick from her grasp he slung it away. “Did you really think I’d let you win this little game?”

  She stumbled backward searching frantically for another weapon. Blood flowed down her hand, dripping off numb fingers.

  He grabbed her shoulders. Cold steel ripped into her skin right below the rib cage. He pushed the sharp blade down, slicing through the flesh to her hip. The burning hot

  pain seared through her abdomen. Her shrieks of pain echoed through the forest. She couldn’t breathe, her body shook and she gasped for air. She screamed again as he slowly pulled it from her body, laughing at her agony.

  Megan clutched at the wound, a gush of warm blood filled her hands. Gurgling sounds rumbled in her throat and sweat broke out across her forehead. Wrapping around her, Death prepared to take her soul.

  She looked at the killer.

  She stared into dark brown eyes filled with concern, not evil intent. Detective Archer held her by the shoulders, not the Mangler. She was bent forward clutching her abdomen. She glanced down but blood didn’t stain her stomach or hands. The vision had ended.

  She straightened, dropped her hands and peered past Archer. Everyone in the police station had stopped working to stare at her. Lieutenant Randal watched her from his office doorway. Tall, muscular, black hair in a crew cut, Randal’s wide stance and intimidating stature made him look more like a military commander than a policeman.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Cassidy?” Archer asked, releasing her.

  “Yes… I’m fine.” She rubbed her eyes, pressing against the lids, trying to clear the scene from her mind without being obvious that this was a routine process.

  “Come. Sit down,” Archer said.

  “No, really, I’m fine,” Megan said.

  “I insist.” Archer guided her inside his office, shutting the door behind them.

  Megan collapsed into a chair. The intense fight during the vision had exhausted her. Which was weird. Normally, she saw the scene play out. Visions took some energy but not a lot. They never affected her like this one had. Tired as she was, she could have been an active participant in the fight.

  She looked up. Archer’s stare bore into her.

  “What happened out there?” he asked.

  “You don’t want to know.” You won’t believe me any more than Randal did.

  “Yes, I do.” Archer slid a chair over to sit beside her. “Why were you pressing on your eyes?”

  He’d noticed? “To release a violent vision. I press my lids to clear my psychic third eye. If I clear it and project a calm happy scene I can let go of any negativity left from the vision.”

  “Very interesting. What was the premonition?”

  “Does it make any difference? No one in this department will listen to anything I have to say, even when it’s my son who’s missing.”

  “I’ll listen.”

  She studied him for a moment. He seemed sincere. “I saw where the killer is holding my son. It’s in the mountains. There’s a clearing with an old miner’s shack and a cave. I fought with the Mountain Mangler. I’d die before I let him hurt my child.”

  Detective Archer studied her. “Are your visions always this intense?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s as if you weren’t here. You moved, screamed even but I couldn’t get you to respond to me.”

  “I’m connecting deeply because he has my child, so yes, the visions are more intense.” She stood and walked to the door.

  “Will you tell me the details?”

  “Why?” Megan scrutinized Archer.

  “I know Randal is giving you a hard time about the psychic stuff. I, on the other hand, have had some experiences of my own. I’m more open to things of a psychic or paranormal nature than anyone else in this department.”

  He might have some pull with Randal. Megan returned to the empty chair. She gave Archer all the details of every metaphysical incident she’d had about the case up to this point. He’d stopped her at the beginning to get a pad and pen for notes. When she got to the latest vision, she held back.

  “I fought with the Mangler but he won the round.” She wouldn’t tell him she’d seen her own death.

  “You’re not going to give me the specifics of this latest vision are you?”


  Megan shook her head. “Speaking words give them the power to manifest. I know I’m being superstitious but it’s my belief. Let me use my abilities with the search teams.”

  “That’s out of my control. Randal gave specific orders that you aren’t allowed to work with them.”

  “Why not? What has he got against psychics anyway?”

  “He’s never said so I don’t know,” Archer laid the notepad on the desk.

  “If we’re done here, may I leave?”

  “Where are you going?”

  To find my son if I can get out of here. She pointed to the chair Randal had indicated earlier. “Right over there.”

  Archer nodded. “If you change your mind I’d like to hear about the vision.”

  “If I change my mind. Thanks for listening, Detective Archer. It’s more than anyone else in this station would do.” She strode across the room and plopped down in the chair. Archer watched her from the open doorway, Randal from another desk in the middle of the room. After a few moments both men went back inside their offices.

  Hours later, there wasn’t any more news. Randal and Archer had managed to keep her in their sights but now they joined several officers in a conference room. Megan glanced at the wall clock. Five a.m.

  An officer shut the door to the meeting. Megan grasped the opportunity and headed for the exit. When Randal realized she’d left town, instead of going home as he’d instructed, he’d be furious. He’d probably want to kill her too. If the Mangler didn’t do it first.

  Chapter Two

  “Mommy!” Robbie screamed.

  “Oh no!” Megan slammed on the car brakes and swerved onto the grassy shoulder. She threw the car into park. At least she’d gotten off the road this time before the vision hit her full force.

  She gripped the steering wheel and laid her head against her hands. Behind closed lids, the blackness turned gray. Its fuzziness resembled a television station off the air. Suddenly, full color images filled the screen.

  Looking down, Megan gasped at her blood-soaked hands and a wide gaping wound in her abdomen. Weakness wobbled her legs. Nausea rose in her throat, the taste of bile gagged her. She fell to her knees.

  The killer stood over her. Horrible images of mangled bodies flashed through her mind. His burning anger at the previous victims overwhelmed her. He despised them, thought they were weak, useless, just because they were not the one he sought. Fury consumed his deranged thoughts. He spun away to stalk toward Robbie who stood at the cave’s entrance.

  Megan screamed, “Run, Robbie! Hide!”

  Robbie fled into the darkness. The Mangler stopped. Turning around he settled an enraged gaze on Megan. “Now, you die.”

  Plunging the hunting knife into its sheath he yanked the sword from the scabbard on his back. The slick grating of metal on metal sent a shiver down her spine.

  I must keep him from the cave.

  The panicked thought drove her forward. Her eyes rolled upward with the pain and she almost passed out. Weak from the loss of blood, she clawed the ground, frantic to reach her son, to save him. Excruciating pain pierced her with every movement. She crawled forward, pushing her body to the limit.

  A hard kick in the side knocked the breath out of her. Gasping for air she lost her balance and landed face first on the ground. He dug the toe of his boot under her rib cage and in one powerful movement flipped her onto her back. He pressed a booted foot against her chest.

  Holding her down, he raised lanky arms high above his head, both hands clutching the sword’s hilt. Muttering foreign words, he moved his foot from her chest to straddle her. She scooted backward on her elbows, pushing with her feet to escape. In two swift strokes he drew the sword down.

  Her screams ripped from her. Intense pain racked her body under the slicing blade. He cut an X across her torso from shoulders to hips. Jerking her onto weak knees, he pushed her head forward and raised the sword high in the air to decapitate her.

  If he kills me, I can’t protect Robbie.

  I won’t let him hurt my only child.

  Love and protectiveness for Robbie washed over her, pushing away the pain, filling her until she thought her heart would explode. Anger at the serial killer for abducting Robbie deepened, fought for a place in her heart.

  Her eyesight expanded. Colors became more vibrant. Something shifted inside. Suddenly, she was floating above her assailant and could see everything around her.

  This must be what death feels like.

  Dark wings beat the air, giant talons dug into her assailant’s shoulders, lion’s claws ripped his chest. The flurry of motion spun her out of control. Her anger surged into a furious rage. Moments later the man disappeared beneath the animals’ combined attack.

  The scene changed to a fuzzy screen.

  Megan jerked away from the steering wheel. Wave after wave of nausea churned her stomach.

  Air. I need fresh air. When did it get so hot in here?

  Her stomach heaved.

  She popped the latches on the convertible top. Holding down the release button the motor whirred, the top lifted and bent back. The fresh chilly air cooled her skin.

  Death waited within that madman.

  She sensed an evil presence and twisted in the seat, peering over her shoulder, seeking the unknown. Only an empty road lay behind her. She looked into the trees. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, watched her.

  Megan faced forward. Her imagination was working overtime, that’s all it was. She rubbed her eyelids. The coldness of her fingertips took her mind from the murderous scene. She pressed down until she saw blackness. Moments later the lights in fuzzy shapes appeared. Darkness wiped her mind clean of the horrible scene.

  She projected a new scene on the psychic screen within her third eye, one where she held Robbie in her arms, comforting him. She envisioned a glowing blanket of white light wrapping around his tiny body, protecting him, wherever he was. When it surrounded both of them she imagined it turning into a strong shield that could deflect any vibrations from entities wishing them harm. When the process was complete, she removed her fingers.

  She’d never get used to violent premonitions but clearing the screen in her mind’s eye grounded her. She didn’t know if Robbie would feel her or not. She hadn’t been able to connect telepathically with him since the abduction. It gave her hope to know that she’d tried to connect with him while erasing the negative images.

  She opened her eyes. A large white wooden sign announced the entrance to town. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d pulled over. Squinting against the early morning sun, she read the faded words.

  Flatrock Creek.

  Where Man Meets The Mountains.

  Population 239

  Home of the Talgorian Shifters

  State Basketball Champions

  They’d changed the name of the high-school mascot? The new name sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t think about that now, saving Robbie was the only reason she’d ever return here. Flatrock Creek had been her birthplace, her home and her heartbreak. Now it must be her salvation.

  She looked into the valley at the sleepy little town. Old buildings lined Main Street. The forest butted up to their back doors. Its proximity was a little too close for comfort with a killer running free. She knew from experience how easy it was to slip in and out of the woods unnoticed.

  A couple of city blocks outside town sat the ranger station. Wildcat Mountain’s rounded peak rose into the sky. It was small compared to the other dominating peaks filling the skyline.

  Megan needed the best search and rescue ranger in the state, someone with instincts bordering on psychic, even though he’d never admit it.

  Brody Phelps.

  I’m taking one hell of a chance.

  He probably still blamed her. Otherwise why would he have refused Detective Archer’s request? Even though the accident wasn’t her fault, after all these years she still couldn’t shake the remorseful feelings. She drea
ded facing Brody. Since she’d left she’d tried to get up the courage to call, or write a letter. She’d been a coward and now it was time to face the consequences.

  She wouldn’t let Brody walk away from her again. Not this time, not when Robbie’s life was at stake. And her own.

  Shaky hands held the wheel. The sun warmed the leather but the chill of the premonition lingered. Slipping the car into gear, she eased it on the paved road and drove down the hill toward Flatrock Creek.

  The breeze blew her ponytail, the pure scent of pine rode the crisp air, yet she grew even tenser. The clock on the dashboard said seven a.m. as she entered Main Street.

  Everything looked the same. Frye’s Pharmacy where she’d bought bubble gum, the malt shop that made the best chocolate shakes she’d ever tasted and the old farmers’ hangout, Harvey’s Hardware.

  The dual lane road split on either side of the Town Hall, which sat on an island of land between the north and sound bound lanes. Recent construction had created a one-

  way circle around the old white building. The black sections of new pavement were in sharp contrast to the faded gray street. Flowers bloomed in decorative designs on either side of the wrought iron railings leading up the stairs to the front door. Megan glanced up at the bell tower on the Town Hall’s roof, only to find a clock in its place.

  Her heart sank. As a teenager she’d loved the bell tower. She remembered the first time she’d snuck up there. Brody had to convince her to be adventurous, playfully tugging when she resisted. They’d shared their first kiss beside the tarnished, old bell.

  Life had been fun and carefree. She hadn’t had any worries. In the seven years since she’d left Flatrock Creek, she’d struggled to make a good life for Robbie. It had been hard work but she’d succeeded, alone. Her thoughts drifted back to the police station.

  Randal would be furious when he found out she’d heeded her visions and snuck away to the Allegheny Mountains to find Robbie instead of waiting in Clarkston as bait. Archer might take her side though. She hoped he could make Randal understand why she’d left. That is, if Archer even got it.