Legends of Windemere

Blairsden Mansion

Following the sounds of children laughing, Gemma walks down to the arcade where she finds only two teenagers making out on the air hockey table. Ignoring the oblivious couple, she walks among the games and searches for any sign that the kids have been in the room. The detective stops near the prize counter when she finds a collection of wet footprints. All of them are lined up with an alternating pattern of one pair facing the back and the next pointing at the left hand wall. Kneeling closer, Gemma sees that the two sets are connected, as if the children were looking forward and turned on their heels. Bigger prints are found every five feet, the shape oval and larger than any shoe the detective has ever seen. Judging by the positioning, she assumes that these are of the kidnappers, so she counts to find out how many criminals she is dealing with.

Taking a picture of the marks with her phone, Gemma follows them through the arcade and comes to a door of frosted glass. Glancing back, she sees that the teenagers have moved their session to the pinball machines. Uncomfortable with the lack of backup and nobody knowing where she is, the detective calls Max while opening the door. She stops when she comes to a large indoor pool, the stench of chlorine making her eyes water. There are discarded towels and empty beer cans along the benches, one of which has been tipped over. Locker room doors are on either side, each entrance adorned with used bathing suits that are held up by tacks. Most of the light comes from the glass ceiling, which shows the moon looming over the building. Three flickering lamps are in the floor of the pool, but they do nothing more than make a trio of illuminated circles in the dark water. Cold puddles on the blue tiled floor make it impossible to continue tracking the children and their kidnappers, so Gemma is forced to carefully search the area.

“Good to hear from you, Cook,” Max says with a wide yawn. The bump of his car hitting a pothole jolts him to full awareness, but he still takes a long sip of coffee. “This really isn’t a good time. Got a call from the chief that Kate Addison is in the hospital for a breakdown. Said I had to visit her now or never. Doesn’t sound right to me, but I can’t take the risk after being diverted so much. What’s going on over there?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” Gemma whispers, drawing her gun at the sight of a moving shadow. She relaxes when nothing appears, but her weapon remains out and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. “Kids are being taken from a party. I’m not sure how or if Dawn is definitely behind it, but she certainly knows something. Tracked them to the indoor pool, but I can’t figure out where they could have gone. Probably have to check the locker rooms since the only door here is back to the arcade.”

“Well, I won’t be any help since I’m not there,” her partner points out, his voice nearly drowned out by a truck. The gentle click of his turn signal can be heard over the phone and continues for several seconds before he talks again. “The roads aren’t very pretty out here, so I need to concentrate. All I can tell you is to search everywhere. If your gut says the kids are down there then go hunting. We both know the statistics around kidnappings and time. You have an advantage since you’re there and the criminals are staying onsite. Now, I have to focus on what I’m doing or I’ll be kissing a truck grill.”

“Thanks and sorry to bother you, old man.”

“Not a problem, slightly younger woman.”

Turning around, Gemma screams and raises her weapon at the sight of a brown-haired girl in a swimsuit. The child is wearing deflated floaties, one of them yellow and the other pink with cartoon rabbits. A flood of tears pours down her face until the gun is lowered, her bawling turning into choking sobs. Shivering from cold and fear, the girl rushes forward to hug the detective and bury her face in the woman’s shirt. With a quivering arm, she points at the pool and tries to mouth words that come out as faint mutters. Unable to calm down, the child begins crying again and stomps her feet in frustration.

“I’m here to help,” Gemma whispers, crouching to come face to face with the girl. She sees a hand-shaped bruise on her arm, the size telling her that at least one kidnapper is a man. “My name is Gemma Cook and I’m a police officer. You’re safe now. Can you please tell me what happened and where the others are?”

“The bad clowns came from under the water,” the girl answers, regaining her voice and tugging Gemma toward the men’s locker room. She gives one of the towels a wide berth, her eyes widening as blood seeps through the cloth. “They swam through a tunnel from here to the big pool. When we jumped off the diving board they dragged us back here where more took us downstairs. I got away when they were beating up a little boy who wouldn’t stop crying. They were using bats. You have to hurry or the others will be killed.”

“Why would they kill their hostages?”

“They said they wanted to make Dawn look bad.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nobody cares about missing adults, but a missing kid upsets everyone.”

“You’re suddenly very calm and smart.”

“My parents make me read the paper.”

Gemma frees her hand from the child’s surprisingly strong grip as they entire the clean locker room. Every towel is neatly folded and the nearby showers are sparkling as if they have never been used. A single locker is closed while the rest are open to reveal an aquarium portrait in the back of each one. The benches are arranged in two neat rows and are bolted to the dry, shimmering floor. Far in the corner, Gemma can see the side of a vending machine that casts a rectangle of light onto the opposite wall. She steps further into the room and hears the distant screams of children, the noise possibly coming through the pipes that run along the ceiling. A dull groan plunges the locker room into near silence, the only sound a gentle hissing coming from a shower that has been left on.

“Where do I go?” Gemma asks as she turns to the girl. She jumps back at the sight of a scarecrow, which is wearing the same clothes as the girl. “I shouldn’t be surprised about any of this. Still not sure how you’re doing this, Dawn, but I’m not going to be scared off by your tricks, magic, or whatever it is. I’m finding those kids.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Cook, but you have a message,” a male voice says over the intercom. The sound of cawing ravens erupts from the speaker above the door, the birds stopping at the sound of a clicking tongue. “If you are looking for the children then there is a right path and a wrong path. This message has been brought to you by a fan. Good luck and remember that only one of her eyes can see the truth.”

“Well, that was a little more helpful than the disappearing girl,” the detective mutters as she checks her gun. Examining the room for clues, she walks to the middle of the room and turns in a circle. “Looking for a secret entrance that anybody could find, which doesn’t really make it a secret. Right and wrong way? Well the closed locker is on my right and the riddle could be playing off the other definition of the word. Seems like something Dawn would do to mess with me.”

Stepping over the bench, Gemma opens the locker and finds that the back has been kicked in. A shadowy stairwell can be seen going to down to the beginning of a brightly lit hallway, which is adorned by a basement sign. Not wanting to be trapped, the detective gets a towel and wets it in the running shower. She threads the damp cloth between the locker door and the unit’s main body until she can hold both sides. The red-haired woman pulls with all of her strength until the polished hinges break and clatter to the ground. Leaving the door on the floor, Gemma carefully enters the stairwell and makes her way down the barely visible stairs.

“I meant my right, Ms. Cook,” the man mentions over the intercom. “Oh well. I guess the show will come to an end sooner rather than later.”

Abandoned Hotel

“Excuse me, but have you seen my son?” a woman dressed like a tavern wench asks when Gemma steps out of the hotel. With quivering hands, she holds up her phone to show a picture of a young boy in a parrot costume. “He jumped off the small diving board and then I lost track of him. Nobody saw him in the water, so I know he’s alive. Please keep a look out for him. His name is Cody.”

The detective nods and leans away from the frantic woman as she says, “I’ll watch for him and mention it to the staff. You should do the same. Maybe stand somewhere high where he can see you.”

Nodding and clutching her phone, the guest wanders off to join her husband who is talking to a lifeguard. Gemma watches the couple walk around the pool and climb up a fake volcano that is pumping steam into the air. Spotting Dawn, the detective pushes through the crowd of pirates, mermaids, skeletons, wenches, and old fashioned naval officers. She notices that many people simply put on fake eye patches and beards while doing their best pirate imitation. Stopping at a table full of beer mugs and buccaneer-themed food, Gemma watches a woman dive into the pool and come out near the stairs. A little girl tries to do an imitation off the smaller board, several people waiting to help her if she is in trouble. The crowd pushes forward and blocks her view of the pool, so she grabs a plate of food and ducks under the rope to greet her host.

Licking her lips and stretching across a cushioned deck chair, Dawn is dressed like an over-the-top Pirate Queen. A fake hook is on her right hand and she deftly uses it to get at her food, which is being held by an unmoving staff member. Her hat is gigantic with three ostrich feathers coming out of the band and a pheasant tail curled out of the back. The extravagant jacket is made from crimson velvet and gold embroidery, a silver compass dangling on a chain that is sewn into one of her pockets. Polished black boots and matching pants finish the ensemble that leaves the detective in awe. With a friendly wave of her hook, Dawn directs her guest to a skull-adorned throne and taps a live parrot on the head.

“You look like the daughter of Captain Hook and Liberace after she became obsessed with Jack Sparrow,” Gemma states when she sees the makeup and fake tattoos on the hotelier. She rubs at her own eye patch, which is nothing more than fresh bandages. “There’s a woman searching for her son. Is your security going to do anything about that?”

“They’re looking and I told her to check the lost and found later,” Dawn replies while scratching her golden eye patch with the hook. She claims a rapier that is covered in meat and pineapples, the makeshift skewer too ungainly for her to easily eat from. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Don’t want to lose my other eye. Next time, we’ll use dirks and maybe some flintlocks filled with tiny candy coins. Now, what are we going to talk about? It’s always business and threats with you. I want us to bond tonight.”

“I doubt we have enough in common for that to happen,” the detective says as she is handed her own sword. Using a cloth napkin, she pulls the first piece of beef off the blade and takes a bite. “The truth is that I already know some stuff about you. Born on Long Island and lost your father to a collapsed house. Never stood out as a child and failed to finish college. Then there was your time at Raven’s Hold and you came out as a successful entrepreneur. Honestly, the only interesting part of your life is the present.”

Swinging her legs off the table and into Gemma’s lap, the other woman repeatedly clicks her heels. “I was a boring child with problems. Now I’m an exciting adult with eccentricities. It’s not worth talking about, so maybe you’re right that we only have the game. Such a shame because I have so few friends. Some of them are even real.”

“Excuse me,” a man dressed as a pirate says as he approaches the ropes. He bows his head and wrings the hat in his hands, the small feather frayed beyond recognition. “I can’t find my daughter. Have you-”

“No! Now stop interrupting.”

“Could one of-”

“No! Now if you don’t find her by midnight then grab a woman and make a new one.”

“But-”

“Stop interrupting and go walk the plank.”

With tears in his eyes, the man drops his hat and wanders to the highest diving board. He puts out his hands for a lifeguard to bind them with rope, the restraint loose enough for him to easily break. The other guests let him climb the ladder and gather around the edge of the pool to watch him dive. It is more of a clumsy fall with flailing legs that results in a back first landing and a loud groan of sympathy from the crowd. The man’s arms spread upon impact and remain splayed even when two lifeguards fish him out of the water. Carried to the volcano, he is placed on one of the lower niches and handed a cocktail for his trouble. His eyes remain closed and he whimpers, but nobody can figure out if it is out of pain or missing his daughter.

As the party continues, Gemma scans the guests and picks out several people who appear to be searching for something. They are holding out phones or wallet pictures, their faces etched with stress and sorrow. Whenever one of them talks to a hotel employee, they are escorted to the volcano, which is glowing to give the illusion of spewing lava. Turning back to Dawn, she notices the brief flicker of a smirk on the other woman’s face. Placing her food on the table, Gemma opens her mouth to speak when the parrot begins cawing like a raven. The animal only stops when one of the female staff members holds out a pomegranate that has already been sliced open.

“You’re going to ask me what I did,” Dawn moans as she draws a flintlock pistol. Aiming the weapon at her mouth, she fires a jet of orange juice that makes her gag. “That was a terrible idea. Just like asking me that question. First of all, you can see what’s going on. No reason to ask for me to spell things out for you. That’s all I have. So I guess I didn’t have to say first of all. I probably forgot the other points.”

“Never thought you would target children,” Gemma growls, fighting the temptation to put a bullet in Dawn’s head. Tearing her bandages off, she reveals her injured eye, which makes several people look away. “This is going too far. Either bring them back now or tell me where I can find them.”

“As usual, you think me a monster when I’m merely a playful imp,” the hotelier states while cleaning her face. The click of the detective’s gun and feel of metal against her forehead makes her giggle, a burst of madness in her eye. “Unbalanced cop kills beloved businesswoman? Crazy officer murders innocent pillar of the community? I’m sure the headlines would be hilarious if you pull that trigger. None of them will mention saving the lost children. You might even be blamed for them being found too late.”

“Where did you put them?”

“Nowhere.”

“I’m done playing your game.”

The lights dim and a thick darkness consumes the edge of the pool as Dawn hisses, “The game ends when my husband and I say it is. The children were taken by someone else. How about you do your job and look for them? Not like anybody could get very far with so many kids to carry. I release you from your celebration to be a hero. Dig deep into this mystery and make the bad guys pay. Preferably in large denominations because banks don’t take blood and body parts.”

Her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat, Gemma lets her thumb run along the hammer of her gun. With a mumbled curse, she puts the weapon away and storms out of the roped off area. The crowd seems to shift and move to create a winding path that leads the detective to the door. Staring through the door, she can see that only the two people manning the front desk are inside. Blinking her injured eye to see if things improve, Gemma takes a cleansing breath and steps into the surprisingly frigid lobby. She jumps at the sound of the door locking behind her, the party on the other side hard to see in the tinted glass.

“I’m not letting you win this round, Dawn.”

The Empress

“Where am I?” Gemma asks, her eyes opening to a bright light and mottled ceiling. As she regains her senses, she can hear people talking and rushing around on the other side of a black curtain. “Smells like a hospital. Is anybody here?”

“Good to see you’re awake and alive, kitty,” Dawn replies, leaning into the other woman’s line of vision. Wearing a nurse outfit, the hotelier holds up a mirror to reveal that one of Gemma’s eyes is bandaged. “Now we’re mirror images of each other. Good thing the people below you were awake. I guess you drank too much and stumbled. The curtain wrapped around your leg was the only thing to stop you from falling. You’re welcome for putting in the very long ones that people argued are a fire hazard. By the way, thank you for checking in on my husband two days ago. We really appreciate it.”

“He wasn’t in the penthouse,” the detective replies while sitting up. Her fingers numb, she touches a tender bump on her head and a few nearly healed wounds on her face. “Something exploded and I was hit by the shrapnel. Then I got thrown through the open doors. I should call my partner and boss to check in.”

With cold hands, Dawn eases Gemma back onto the bed and delivers a playful kiss on the bandages. A throbbing ache runs down the right side of the detective’s body and causes her leg to jerk. Ignoring the pain, she wrestles away from her enemy and gets as far away as she can without freeing herself from the patient monitor. Her entire body feels like it is on fire from the sudden movement, so she grips a chair to avoid collapsing to the floor. Tasting blood in her mouth, Gemma runs her tongue around her teeth to find that one of her incisors is missing and the wound has reopened.

“I already called your precinct and they agreed to put your case on hold until you were well enough to participate. Max had to be put on an easy burglary case, but he hasn’t continued without you,” Dawn explains as she goes about making the bed. Pulling a perfume bottle out of her bottle, she sprays it around the sheets instead of getting new ones from a nearby cart. “So I think I know what happened. We had a power surge that night and it must have made your computer go boom. The sudden pain made you stumble through the open balcony doors and you fell after getting tangled in the curtains. You hit your head on the railing of your neighbors and they pulled you in to safety.”

“Then you brought me to the hospital,” Gemma says to finish the story. She pulls the window curtain back and is surprised to see the same view from Heaven’s Nest. “We’re still in your hotel? This equipment and all of the sounds I hear make me think of a hospital. What is going on?”

“I had a floor that wasn’t being used, so I made it an on-site medical facility.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re our first real patient, so please fill out the survey when you leave.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I’m a visionary genius in a world full of mundane fools.”

The bluntness of Dawn’s statement and a flash of anger in her face makes Gemma’s mouth go dry. Removing the wires and needles from her body, the detective checks the drawers for her clothes. She finds a set that she assumes the grinning woman brought down and struggles to change without removing her gown. A wave of dizziness forces her to slow down and lean against the bed, her eyes never straying from the curtain. Gemma tries to decipher what a muffled voice is saying over an intercom, but the noise is drowned out by a stampede of feet and single, squeaky wheelchair. Wiggling her fingers, she frowns at the sight of blood dripping from where a needle once was and onto the floor. Seeing some gauze, she grabs a piece and presses it to the small wound, which begins to burn.

The detective is ready to make another attempt to leave when Dawn flips a postcard at her chest. Ignoring the piece of paper, Gemma stands and heads for the curtain, but her hand is struck by another postcard. Two more hit her in the head before she catches the next and tosses it back at the hotelier. Dawn easily snatches it out of the air and lunges forward to show off the picture of a tropical island. There is a bonfire in the center of several palms and a shadowy ship looming in from the side. Flipping the postcard to the back, she shows a photo of a treasure chest filled with cocktails and gold coins. Smirking like a child, Dawn repeatedly switches the pictures until Gemma grabs her wrist.

“Come parghty with us at the lagoon,” the detective reads, her eyes rolling at the horrible pun. Twisting the other woman’s arm, she sees that her name is written on a shell next to the chest. “Please tell me that you’re not throwing a party for me. Do you understand how being enemies works? I don’t like you and I’d shoot you dead if I could. We aren’t friends, you maniac. Once I get evidence on you, I’m dragging you to jail. Why can’t you understand that and act normal?”

“Ugh, how many times do I have to tell people this? There’s never any fun in normal!” the brown-haired woman replies in exasperation. She slides the postcard into Gemma’s shirt and pulls the curtain back to reveal a busy hospital wing. “This is a welcome back to the game celebration. I’ve been so worried that my husband killed you and I’d lose you, kitty. Everyone is invited and I assure you that you won’t be disappointed. Might be a mystery or two that requires a skilled detective.”

“What are you planning, Dawn?”

“Don’t forget to come in costume. Though you can get away with that eye patch as long as you color it black.”

Wincing at the sensation of a papercut, Gemma removes the invitation from her cleavage and tucks it into her back pocket. She watches Dawn playfully sashay into the busy hallway and dance around the obstacles to reach the central desk. The detective moves to the door, but refuses to leave as she continues to stare at her enemy. Several nurses and doctors nod to her, none of them stopping long enough to speak. Gemma’s hand falls to her hip and she is surprised to find her firearm is there. Checking her other side, she finds her badge, which has been polished to a glistening shine. Unhooking the gun holster and holding it up, she can see the faint mark of lipstick on the black leather.

Royal Victoria Hospital

A bowl of fresh popcorn and her laptop working off a secure, private Wi-Fi device, Gemma gets ready for a night of watching Dawn. She is feeling safer in her room, especially after a long bath and short nap. The detective keeps a notebook and three sharpened pencils at hand as well as a thermos of ice water. She considers calling Max and having him listen to some of the audio, but decides it is nicer to let him sleep. The last thing Gemma wants is to spend most of the night explaining the ravens and other strange things that she is sure to see and hear. Nervously rubbing the badge clipped to the pocket of her pajamas, she can already feel her stomach tighten from the tension.

Opening all of the screens, she can see that all of her bugs are active and still in place. The detective notices that all of the ravens are in their cages and feasting on thawing rats. One of them is pecking at a popsicle that Dawn is holding for the animal, the hotelier wearing a white t-shirt and simple pants. The woman abruptly leans forward to let the bird tap on her metal eye patch and the sound comes through the nearest bug like a gong. Adjusting the volume, Gemma hears a scramble of other voices that range from maddening screams to the whining of a young child. The collection of strange noises finally settles when she closes several of the screens and focuses on the ones in the master bedroom. No sooner has she done so than Dawn enters and pulls a jar out of a dresser drawer.

“Time for your medicine, honey!” the woman coos, dancing around the empty bed. She nimbly leaps onto the mattress and bends down to spoon the jar’s contains into thin air. “I’m sorry that it’s taking so long to get you more. Yes, I know I put my game ahead of your health and future. Please don’t be angry. I thought the kitty would help bring in fresher game, but she’s too unruly and stubborn. Not as easy to play with as the puppy was. I promise to get you a lot more in a day or two. Just hold on for a little bit longer.”

Gemma watches Dawn plant a kiss on the tip of one of the unicorn pillows before tossing the jar onto a nightstand. The camera flickers when a groan drifts from the audio, but she cannot tell if the sound is from the other woman or a hiding figure. Making another adjustment, the image switches to the walk-in closet and then to the kitchen. One of the ravens is out of its cage and hopping across the stove until it disappears into a shadow. Another camera takes over the screen, showing the living room where the television is playing cartoons. Gemma zooms in on the couch and squints because she swears there is an indent on the cushions. Before she can make sense of things, the camera changes back to the master bedroom.

“You don’t mean that,” Dawn coos as she curls up on half of the bed. She is running her hand around the sheets and stretches her neck to nuzzle the open space next to her. “Raven’s Hold was so boring and you never left the basement. I also had to share you with Grace or any of your flings. Once you’re better, we can go wherever you want. With the strength you’ve given me, I can make everything right again. Just sleep with me by your side and everything will feel better in the morning.”

“What the hell is going on?” Gemma mutters as her laptop goes black. Running her finger around the mouse pad and hitting buttons does nothing more than cause the machine to beep in protest. “I just bought you three months ago. You’re supposed to be powerful enough to handle all of this.”

The television turns on to show a shrieking ghost chasing two girls down a hallway, the movie causing Gemma to leap out of her chair. Searching for the remote, she is vaguely aware of a faint crackling noise. Looking back at the table, the detective sees that the thermos of water has frozen. Turning the television off and returning to her chair, she reaches out to tap the container, but stops when the laptop comes to life. All of the cameras are being attacked by the ravens while Dawn shouts for them to go to sleep. Gemma catches glimpses of her enemy as she runs from room to room and flails wildly at her pets. It takes a minute for her to realize that the woman is following a path that is not possible. At one point, Dawn is in the main bathroom and in the next she is racing across the master bedroom.

A burst of static is all the warning Gemma gets before a yawning face swallows all of the screens and emits a bone-chilling screech. She is falling back when the frozen thermos explodes with enough force to destroy the laptop and table. Tiny shards of ice hit Gemma in the face as she crashes to the carpeted floor. With blood trickling down her cheeks, the detective attempts to get up and reach her phone. The chair is yanked toward the balcony door that opens to let in a sweltering breeze. She is kicked into the air by an invisible foot and cranes her neck to watch the chair skid to a stop. Gemma feels one of the curtains wrap around her leg before her head bangs off the metal railing and everything goes black.