Page 26 of Signs and Wonders

“He sounds like a narcissistic empath.” Travis clicked through the website again. “Basically, a Psi-vamp. Other people are just like batteries to them, full of energy they can drain and use. It’s not uncommon in celebrities, politicians, and clergy. Most of them are untrained and don’t consciously realize that they’re doing it. Those who have serious magic and understand what they’re capable of doing are the dangerous ones—and I think Swain fits the bill. By the way, you’re right. This coffee is better.”

Evan’s phone chimed, and he glanced down. “Got an email from Parker.” He opened the message and took a moment to read it.

“He’s found that Swain or his predecessors have had backing from all the bigwigs in town at one point or another. And not just this town—all the way up to the governor. I don’t think we’re going to get official help on this. We’re on our own.”

“When we meet up with Drake, show him that list,” Brent said. “He can probably validate and fill in the blanks.”

They headed out to meet with Drake. Seth and Evan took everything they would need to return to the old camp and followed the Crown Vic to the hotel where Brent and Travis were staying.

The mom-and-pop motor court had a mid-century vibe, although it had clearly been well-maintained through the years. The Mountain Mama Motor Manor had a grinning cartoon bear in a flowered apron on the neon sign. Each door was painted a different vibrant color that matched metal chairs on the walkway out front, and white pierced concrete “breeze stop” partitions added to the 1950s feel.

“Very Route 66,” Seth said as they joined Brent and Travis at the door to their room.

“Cheap rates, good Wi-Fi, and free breakfast,” Brent replied. “Monster hunting doesn’t pay, so we’re on a budget.”

Just like Seth funded their quest with his security consulting, and Evan’s graphic design and photography helped pay the bills, Brent’s day job as a private investigator and Travis’s non-profit helped keep them in the fight.

The room’s décor was a tribute to the outdoor beauty of West Virginia, with vivid scenes of hiking, kayaking, and rock climbing as well as mountain vistas. Two double beds faced a dresser with a large mirror, the bathroom on the left, kitchenette on the right, and a worn Formica-topped table with chairs off to one side.

“I bet you sleep well,” Evan quipped, looking at the sporting scenes. “Just thinking about climbing a cliff makes me tired.”

Blue painter’s tape tacked maps, notes, photos, and printouts to the walls. “Aren’t you supposed to have a web of red string crisscrossing all that, like in the movies?” Seth joked.

Brent rolled his eyes and flipped him the bird. “Ran out. You’ll just have to use your imagination.”

Travis retrieved sodas for everyone and ordered pizza. They had just sat down at the table when Brent’s phone rang.

“Yeah, we’re in 126,” he told the caller. A few minutes later, a knock came at the door. Brent went to answer it but kept his gun at the small of his back.

“Come on in,” he welcomed the newcomer. “Everyone, this is Drake Carlson,” Brent announced after he shut and locked the door.

Drake was Brent’s height, with short-cut, wavy brown hair and dark eyes. Broad shoulders suggested a sports background, while his general bearing screamed “law enforcement.”

“Drake—you’ve talked to Travis on the phone,” Brent continued, making introductions. Travis nodded. “Seth and Evan are our friends on Fletcher Swain’s tail.”

Drake shook hands all around. “Pleased to meet you,” he said to Seth and Evan. “Any enemy of Fletcher Swain is a friend of mine.”

They sat, four of them around the table, and Brent perched on the corner of the nearest bed. “You’ve dealt with Swain longer than any of us.” Brent looked to Drake. “Do you mind bringing us up to speed?”

“Not at all.” Drake leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I’ve been in the Beckley office of the Federal Bureau of Supernatural Investigations for close to two years. I’m a psychic, and I get visions. The FBSI team is small—just me. It’s not exactly a friendly environment,” he added with a grimace. “A lot of the regular agents don’t believe in the supernatural and think I’m making it all up. Half the time, I think my boss agrees with them.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Brent said. “You deserve better.”

Drake gave a rueful smile. “Thanks. Be sure to fill out a comment card.” He cracked open the soda can Travis handed him and took a drink.

“My predecessors had a variety of different skills—one was a witch, another was a medium, and someone else was a psychometric. Those are all very different abilities. Just because you can do one thing doesn’t mean you can do any of the rest. That’s a lesson I keep having to repeat to my boss. I can do what I do well—but I can’t do everything.”

“You can thank television for the one-size-fits-all occult powers trope,” Travis said. “I can sympathize.”

“Apparently over the years, the other folks in my role helped to get rid of vengeful ghosts from mine disasters, dispelled curses on mine bosses from pissed-off granny witches, and stopped drug smugglers who used magic to hide what they were doing,” Drake went on.

“But after I’d been here for a while, I realized that there were the kinds of cases we looked into—and the ones we didn’t. No one had an appetite for looking for missing people, even when there were reasons to think magic or creatures were involved,” Drake reported. “That was especially true if the people who went missing had any links to the Summit lodge and Renou-Vous or to Hub, Inc. in Moundsville.”

“You say that like those locations had more than their share of disappearances,” Seth ventured.

“They did. And going back a ways, so did the land around Camp Morning Glory. So I asked my boss if I could see about closing those cold cases in between situations that needed my help. He shut me down so fast I got whiplash, said those folks were just people who didn’t want to be found.”

A grin stole across Drake’s features. “I rarely take ‘no’ for an answer. Especially when I can smell bullshit. It seemed real clear thatsomeonedidn’t want those cases looked at, and that just makes my Spidey sense tingle,” Drake added.

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