Page 36 of The Executioners Three
Laina gave no indication that she’d heard Freddie or Divya. Nor that she’d seen them. She strode steadily onward, oblivious to branches or briars or thickets of mud.
And the closer she got, the more Freddie could see. The more Freddie could hear.
In both hands, clasped before her like a prayer, Laina held a flickering candle, and in time to each measured step across the forest, she called: “Je suis ici. Je suis ici. Commandez-moi.”
“Um,” Divya said, eyes flashing to Freddie. “What the hell is going on?” Then she scooted forward, arms outstretched. “Laina? Hey, Laina .”
Freddie scrambled after Divya, also shouting. “Laina—hey, Laina !” But the class president offered no reaction. She simply walked. She simply chanted.
“Je suis ici. Je suis ici. Commandez-moi.”
Wherever Laina Steward was, it was not in this clearing. And now Freddie’s gut was really on fire.
Divya reached Laina first and skidded to a panicked stop, trying to stop Laina’s forward march. But her efforts were useless. Laina simply sidestepped and circled around.
“Je suis ici. Je suis ici. Commandez-moi.” The candle dripped wax onto her fingers.
Freddie didn’t bother trying to stop her. She just fell into step beside Laina, gaze raking up and down. The other girl was not dressed for this weather—her fishnet-clad legs rippled with chill bumps, and other than a flimsy cardigan, she had no jacket of any kind.
Divya rushed to Laina’s other side. Over and over, she said the girl’s name—“Laina; hey, Laina!”—but still, Laina continued obliviously on.
So Divya rounded toward Freddie. “What do we do?”
Freddie had no idea. Laina was clearly in some kind of trance, which was way outside the realm of her understanding.
Shoplifters she could handle. Even bodies dangling from trees.
But unresponsive girls with candles in hand were X-Files territory, and Freddie was not actually Dana Scully or Fox Mulder.
Laina reached the clearing with the tombstones, while Freddie and Divya trailed behind. To Freddie’s shock—though not necessarily her surprise—Laina crossed the clearing and reached the third tombstone.
“Je suis ici. Je suis ici. Commandez-moi.” She knelt. “Je suis ici. Je suis ici. Commandez-moi.” She held out the candle. Wax fell to the leaves. Then she placed the candle on the tombstone…
And it was like a switch going off. One moment, gray daylight bore down. The next, darkness reigned supreme. Clouds that Freddie would have sworn weren’t there two seconds ago suddenly swooped across the sky.
Worst of all, though, was the smell. A scent Freddie was beginning to recognize as a harbinger of messed-up stuff on the horizon. A smell her gut screeched was wrong, wrong, wrong. Carrion. Rot. Death .
“Laina?” Divya asked, cutting in close to the other girl. “Hey, are you—” She brushed Laina’s shoulder.
And Laina screamed. Her hands shot to her ears, she crumpled into a ball, and it was like the night with the crows all over again. But worse, because now there was a candle burning and dark clouds and nothing scientific or logical that could explain it all away.
Freddie didn’t even think. She just lunged, grabbing for Laina. “Help me,” she ordered Divya. “We need to get her out of here.”
Freddie’s fingers connected with Laina’s ribs, and as fast as Laina’s screams had begun, they broke off. She unfurled in an instant, no time for Freddie to react.
Then she attacked. A blur of trained speed. Freddie’s whole world flipped upside down. Her back slammed to the frozen earth, punching the breath from her lungs. Her vision wavered.
Laina straddled her. Her thighs squeezed against Freddie’s ribs. Choked off Freddie’s lungs. Freddie had just enough time to see Laina’s fists swing in before she screwed her eyes shut, and…
And nothing. The impact never came.
“What… the… hell,” Laina panted, “is going on?”
“You’re awake,” Divya cried, and Freddie finally opened her eyes.
Laina’s fists had fallen. She gaped down at Freddie. “Oh my god,” she mumbled as Divya helped her climb off Freddie. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? Oh my god, I’m so sorry I did this. I don’t know what happened.”
Freddie didn’t know either—just that staying here seemed like a really bad idea. She hauled herself to her feet. “We need to go. Now. ”
“I agree,” Divya said, already peeling off her coat and wrapping it over Laina’s shoulders. “She’s freezing, and…” She didn’t finish that statement—she didn’t have to. The pinched-lip stare she flung Freddie was more than enough.
“Go to the bikes,” Freddie ordered, twisting away. “I’ll be right behind.”
“Wait, what?” Divya barked at Freddie’s back. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right behind,” she insisted, and without another word of explanation, Freddie tugged Xena from her jacket.
She seemed no worse for the wear, miraculously, so Freddie crossed to the third tombstone.
She cranked Xena, aimed her, and after three snaps, Freddie knelt and started scooping up soil by the handful.
Somehow, despite the raging wind, the candle still burned. White wax had splattered across the stone, leaving marks that were identical to the marks on Damien’s headstone.
Scrape, scrape, dig, dig. Time slid past. The wind bit harder, and a growing stink pulsed against Freddie, worse than it had ever been in the archives.
Cloying up her nose and filling her sinuses.
Dirt was also gathering under her fingernails in soft, sandy grains that she could hardly feel because her fingers were so cold.
Scrape, scrape, dig, dig.
Freddie knew she was going full Agent Mulder here. Pushing things too far in the search for answers, exactly like her dad had supposedly done. But what choice did Freddie have? If she wanted the truth, she couldn’t run now.
It made her think of something Mulder had said in season four: You put such faith in your science, Scully, but from the things I’ve seen, science provides no place to start.
Right now, Freddie was inclined to agree. Sorry, Scully, but science wasn’t offering anywhere obvious for Freddie to start. Laina had come here, chanting in French, placed a candle on her ancestor’s tombstone. Then the sky had darkened, and Laina had fallen to the earth screaming.
Snow began to trickle down. Unseasonably early. Absolutely freezing. Freddie’s fingers were completely numb by the time she got as deep as she needed to be—deep enough to make out a first name.
Alexandre, the stone began.
And a few frantic digs after that, the rest of the words appeared. Faded and clogged with dirt, but unmistakable all the same:
A LEXANDRE, LE STEWARD
19 O CTObrE, 1687
L E POUVOIR RéSIDE DANS LE SERVICE
“Aha,” Freddie whispered. Laina had come with a candle to the exact tomb of someone with a title that matched her last name. That sure couldn’t be a coincidence.
Unconcerned with her filthy fingers or Xena’s sensitive casing, Freddie snapped two more pictures of the tombstone’s face. Then she shoved to her feet and broke into a run. Away from the grave, away from the candle still burning.
Sure, she wanted to clear her name and find the missing water bottle, but the mad ravings of Original Fabre were feeling just a little too possible right now.
Freddie knew they weren’t—because of course they weren’t.
But her gut wasn’t quite connecting with her brain at the moment.
It didn’t help that the rotten stink was so strong it cloyed against Freddie’s skin and slid down her throat with each breath.
She would let herself feel foolish about these irrational fears later—once she was out of these trees and somewhere warm. Also, preferably, somewhere with walls and locks and other people.
Twice, Freddie looked back, half expecting to see a Hangsman or a Headsman with ropes and axes like in her dream… But there was nothing. Only falling snow and a smell like dead things lost.
Freddie was drenched in sweat by the time she caught up to Laina and Divya.
Her thigh muscles screamed, and the first drips of embarrassment were starting to trickle into her brain.
This was just a forest; this was just a county park; and there were clearly no serial killers or dangerous animals in sight.
But that little burst of Scully logic didn’t stop Freddie from turning to Laina and asking: “Are you okay to ride a bike?”
“Yeah,” the girl said, clearly still foggy—but also determined to push past it and save face.
“Good. You take the orange bike, and Div, hop on my handlebars. ’Cause we’re getting the hell out of Dodge.”
Freddie sat on the carpet beside Laina. Divya’s flowery comforter was wrapped tightly to Laina’s shoulders, an afghan draped over her cross-legged knees.
Despite the layers, Laina shivered. Her teeth chattered.
The girls had gone to Freddie’s house first so she could grab her stolen copy of The Curse of Allard Fortin (and some more Tylenol for her wrist).
Then they’d powered onward to Divya’s place—empty of parents, and therefore nosy questions, until tonight.
After tucking blankets around Laina, Divya had hurried off to make a hot tea.
Which had left Freddie alone with President Steward.
The tension in the room was thick. Like need-a-carving-knife thick. Although that was more Laina’s doing than Freddie’s, since Freddie was too amped up for awkwardness. Her mind was on High Alert with theories and questions and suspicions burning inside her sleuthing stomach.
She kept opening The Curse of Allard Fortin . Staring at the poem. Then shutting the book again. All while downstairs, silverware clinked and water boiled.
“I… have a sleepwalking disorder,” Laina said eventually. These were her first words since Divya had left the room. She gazed helplessly at Freddie. “They’re linked to my migraines, we think. And sometimes… Well, sometimes this happens. I end up in the middle of the woods.”
“How often is sometimes?” Freddie asked.