Into the Spell
Norm Applegate
Copyright © 2006 Norm Applegate
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
The selections in this book are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.
ISBN-10: 1440434727
ISBN-13: 9781440434723
Applegate, Norman
Into the Spell/ Norman Applegate - 3rd Edition
Also by Norm Applegate:
Novels
* (2011) First to Die
• (2009) Blood Bar, a vampire tale
• (2007) Into the Spell
• (2006) Into the Basement
Anthologies:
• (2008) From the Shadows (short story, Jumper)
Screenplays:
• (2010) Grotto
• (2009) Into the Basement
(co-writer Nicholas Grabowsky)
Acknowledgements
Sarasota, Florida
To Cheryl, without her, this journey would never have happened and a special dedication to Brian, Megan, Patrick and Collette who have taught me that children make you poor in dollars but rich in so many ways. Sarasota, Florida.
To my best friend, wife and editor Cheryl, for working as diligently as she did to help me live this dream.
I would like to express my gratitude to a true artist George Dwyer, friends Tom Nottingham, Pam Griffin and Kevin Howatt.
Also, Debra Stowell at Circle Books, St. Armands Circle Sarasota, Florida
Chapter 1
Car accidents happen. That’s why they’re called accidents. It was eight-fifteen in the evening. Jennifer Bernstein lunged forward. Her white Camry was hit. She was seated in the driver’s seat. Hands clutching the steering wheel. She looked into the rear-view mirror. A car was backing up, pulling away from where it hit her. It stopped. There was a man inside. He was alone. She stared at him. He stared back. She twisted to her right and popped open the glove compartment.
The parking garage of the Tampa Airport Marriott was dark. She couldn’t see clearly, her eyes were watery. Her fingers searched for the first pen she could grab. Opening a brown leather folder and ripping a piece of paper from a pad, the twenty-three year was thinking about her mother and how angry she would be.
Jennifer sat still for a moment, her heart fluttering. Her mind recalling what just happened. She reached for the door handle. Her fingers were slippery, sweaty. She opened the door and slide out.
A composed voice in her mind softly spoke. “Take a deep slow breath; and …relax.”
The voice wasn’t hers. She didn’t recognize it. She was puzzled, confused. She stood silent, waiting, not sure why.
She saw a man. He was too far to have said the words. The stranger stood still; quiet, looking at her. He was tall and thin with tanned skin and dark eyes. Mesmerizing. The eyes were powerful.
He was moving, walking toward her. It took a few seconds. He reached out with his fingers and touched her forearm. Tingling fired up her arm.
“Are you alright?” the voice was confident.
Jennifer, surprised by his presence felt different. Something inside, something inside her head. Controlling.
“I don't know,” she answered.
He looked into her eyes.
“I would like you to listen to my voice.”
She nodded.
He lifted her arm slightly.
Her eyes followed.
Removing his touch, her arm remained in place.
“Good, my words are comforting to you. You feel calm and …relaxed. The muscles in your neck and shoulders are…relaxing. Now take a deep slow breath and …relax.”
She did what she was told, took a deep breath.
Jennifer relaxed. Her body went limp. Hung as if supported by threads like a puppet. All anxieties from the car accident were gone, vanished.
He raised both his hands toward her face.
“It's remarkable how you resemble your mother.”
Jennifer's pulse raced. How did he know about my family, she thought.
“Tonight you are going to assist me with an endeavor, one that will give me great pleasure, one that will resolve deep discomfort in my heart.”
He paused and looking beyond her eyes, saw her soul.
Jennifer stood still. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.
He studied her mind looking for something and knew he was close.
“Tell me what you are feeling?” he asked.
Jennifer Bernstein searched for answers. “I can't.” She forced out.
“I urge you to tell me what you feel,” he repeated.
She shook. Her body trembled. Something wasn’t right. Searching for a way out of this her thoughts darted between frustration and fear.
“I don't know,” she said.
The man’s jaw tightened.
“Then you provide no purpose.”
The man looked toward his vehicle and without saying a word. Jennifer understood his intentions. She started walking. He walked beside her, watching, studying; looking at her face.
They reached the trunk of his car. He opened it. Jennifer looked in. She lifted up a cold metal object with her right hand. In her mind she recognized the shape. Knew what it was. But couldn’t imagine why she was doing this. She held a pistol in her hand. She raised it up. Put the gun to her right temple.
Her eyes focused on his. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Don't make me do this,” she whispered.
He smiled.
“You want to please me don't you?” He asked.
Jennifer nodded. She had no control.
In Jennifer's mind she was screaming “no, no,” but the only word to come out was yes. Her finger fumbled and found the trigger. Her finger was twitching, bouncing up and down on the metal. Her eyes shot open in terror. She realized what was happening.
The stranger’s voice was stern but urging, “Be calm, relaxed and confident.” Squinting his eyes, he tilted his head anticipating the brief moment of joy he was about to be given.
“Let me heighten your moment.”
When he spoke those words, Jennifer's mind went into slow motion. The muscles in her right fingers tensed. Sweat surfaced on her forehead. A force was pulling her finger against the cold metal of the trigger. She could feel it begin to move. She tried to resist but something prevented her. Something stronger. Something powerful. Something evil.
“When you are gone I'll see you on the other side.”
After he said that he felt pain, a tightening in his neck. Throbbing in his temples. He forced his fingers into his palm making a tight fist as the pain increased.
Jennifer's stomach heaved, felt heavy, hot. She couldn’t swallow. Felt herself gagging, choking. Her frozen arm held its position. The gun pressed against her temple. There was a bang. Loud. Echoed. Sudden.
The stranger allowed her to see the bullet enter the chamber of the gun. Allowed her to see it explode into a brilliant amber color. The spiraling slug elongated as it moved through the barrel. Shot out like a rocket. A blue grey trail of warm smoke followed. A pink cloud erupted. Something flew out the other side of her head. Her body collapsed. Shut down. She dropped the gun. It hit the ground. She hit the ground. Made a smacking noise. An ugly sound as her head hit the pavement. Her face was wet, red. Blood spilt out. She lay still. Dying.
Titus picked up the gun. Watched her for a moment.
Absorbing the fleeting moments of her life he watched her story unfold in his mind, he was lost in trace. The pounding in his head was like thunder. The blood drained from his face as an eerie feeling of loneliness took over. The coldness of her death resurfaced his haunting memories, murder. He walked away from the carnage. He stopped before entering his car. Looking back he uttered the words, ”devils work.”
With his pain gone, his mind clear. He got in and closed the car door.
The lonely sound of the wind blowing thorough the concrete pillars removed the residual stench of gunpowder from the building. He drove away, descending into the spell.
Chapter 2
Kim Bennett lifted her roll-a-board above her head. The packed Delta flight 1473 was headed to Los Angeles then onto San Francisco. She slid into seat 3B; the leather softness was better than the hotel bed she had slept in for the last two evenings. She closed her eyes letting herself relax for a moment and recalled last night.
“Mrs. Bennett…Mrs. Bennett.” She opened her eyes slowly and looked up. “Yes.”
“Mrs. Bennett?” A female voice said. “Sorry to disturb you.”
Confused, Kim looked out the small circular window; they were still on the ground.
The flight attendant leaned toward her ear. “Mrs. Bennett there is a gentleman to see you.”
“Thirty-five” Kim quickly calculated. An unstoppable habit, if she was bored or nervous, she counted the letters of each word someone spoke.
Agitated, Kim said, “I'm sorry I don't want to hold the plane up for another interview. Tell him to call me tomorrow at my office.”
“He's a detective.”
Kim paused for a moment, nodded to the flight attendant and grabbed her luggage.
Stepping off the plane she heard. “Mrs. Bennett, we need to talk.” His voice was stern with a British accent. “I'm detective Hague, Alistair Livingston Hague with the FBI.”
The detective was slim with a stingy mustache and thin probing eyes. Dressed in a tweed sports coat and brown pants he looked important.
“Do you have all your things? Please follow me.”
Kim nodded.
“Yes, but why am I being asked to leave the plane?”
“Did the Mayor's daughter drop you off at the airport?”
Kim sensed this was more serious than what it appeared. Jennifer Bernstein was a member of the Psychology doctorate program that had invited her to the University of South Florida.
As Kim followed behind the Detective she thought about the previous night.
“Please give a big hand for Kim Bennett.” She heard her name from the stage and moved like a rocket straight for the microphone. There was a deafening loud roar of applause.
Kim was surprised to see how many people came out to hear her lecture at USF. The tour of college campuses had attracted a large following. She was tired and glad this was the last stop. Afterward there were drinks and the usual mingling with the guests.
Kim recalled Jennifer Bernstein walking toward her. “You look good for all you've been through.”
Kim raised an eyebrow and thought to herself. “She must need glasses.” Her emerald green eyes were bloodshot. Although she was able to keep her tan up, she hadn't put a brush through her hair all day and her auburn highlights were nothing short of an emergency.
Jennifer leaned closer and whispered, “How many women did they murder?”
Kim glanced around the room; she had a small audience. “At least four, they were two of California's most sinister killers.”
“Did you ever imagine you would go from a woman…?”
Kim interrupted her, “of the night.”
“Sorry, I didn't mean to imply…”
“No worries, my sex stories are pretty entertaining,” Kim said.
A gentleman listening commented. “I would love to hear more.”
“After you my dear,” Kim shot back.
A camera emerged from the small gathering and as they huddled together Jennifer looked up, “you're a big woman.”
Kim nodded and thought; even without the heels I'm still five-nine.
The detective's cell phone rang loud. It brought Kim back to the moment. As he looked toward her he answered. “Yes, she's with me, we’ll be right there.”
Kim's attention was at maximum alert.
“Where, what's going on?”
“You’re needed, something has happened.”
Kim felt goose bumps appear on her arms. She and the Mayor's daughter Jennifer Bernstein had become close friends.
“Tell me everything is ok.”
The detective looked over at Kim, he wasn't smiling.
When the elevator door opened on the fifth floor parking level, Kim stopped. She looked out onto a scene of police and flashing lights, she knew what it meant.
“Are you ready for this?” The detective asked.
Kim stared at the white sheet partially covering a body. Terror raced through her mind as she began recalling the California murders. All those suppressed feelings of fear were now rushing back flooding her mind with questions.
Kim followed the detective. They walked to something lying on the ground.
A blood stained white sheet was lifted, just enough to expose the disfigured face of Jennifer Bernstein. Part of her head was missing. Blood had run down her face and had dried a brown color. There was a smell, copper, blood, death!
“Why would someone do this to her?”
“What makes you think it was someone else?” A. L. Hague said quietly.
Puzzled by the comment Kim stared at Detective Hague for a beat and then looked off into the night sky. The air felt icy. She was tired, hungry and not prepared to face another tragedy. A few more minutes and she would have been on her way home.
Kim looked squarely at A. L. Hague and studied his slight frame. The lines on his face gave him a rugged distinguished look. The salt and pepper hair added to the attraction.
“Are you saying she did this to herself?”
The detective stared at her for a beat. Then shrugged.
“You tell me.”
Chapter 3
On Davis Island downtown Tampa, Titus Constantin Gorsky entered his elegant apartment on East Davis, The Palmarin Hotel. The three story Mediterranean hideaway once had the pleasure of housing Humphrey Bogart.
The island has had a history of unusual characters. Dave Davis the son of a steamboat captain speculated in real estate just before the Florida boom in 1924. Unfortunate circumstances led the banks to seizing his investments and on October 10 1926 he sailed for Paris. With him were a detective friend, Ray Schindler and his mistress. He disappeared at sea; some say the ghost of Dave Davis still haunts the island to this day.
Titus calmly walked into the walled courtyard past the gardens and through the back entrance. He knew the hall would be empty. He could feel it. He entered his eclectic two-bedroom apartment and crossed the living room straight for the study.
The small room was a library with dark oak shelves stuffed with dusty rare hardbound books of induction techniques, psychic phenomenon and occult philosophy. His desk; an old hardwood Victorian relic, was once owned by the infamous H. P. Blavatsky. A leather chair, lamps and an area rug over hardwood floors created a very conservative look.
Helen Petrovna Blavatsky was the founder of the Theosophical Society. Born in the Ukraine in 1831 she traveled the world. In 1873 she moved to New York and demonstrated her abilities of levitation, clairvoyance, telepathy and hypnotism. She was a controversial person who was able to produce unusual psychic phenomena and was renowned for her powers of extrasensory perception.
Titus's eye caught a gold-framed picture. Mounted on the corner of the desk, its presence was a constant reminder of bloodshed. Staring into the picture he could feel his neck tense. A dull headache slowly began to surface.
Titus now felt nearer than ever to bringing his search to an end. Open on the desk was a worn book, an original copy of The Voice of the Silence. He turned it over.
“Give me the authority!” he chanted quietly rubbing his fingers against the bound material. Closing his eyes he repeated the chant. The words barely audible formed a rhythm in his mind. Over and over he said the words waiting for an answer.
“You must alter your ways.” A female voice with a Russian accent responded in his head.
“You are no help. I'm more powerful than you,” he cursed.
“Your path will lead to your demise,” the voice declared.
Titus taunted her, “Is that the voice of your white magic?”
“The path you pursue is dark,” she cautioned.
“Madam, this is not a choice. I have a gift I must pursue.”
“I caution you…there is danger ahead.”
“Why do you torment me like this? Leave or offer me the way.”
There was no voice, only silence. Titus paused then clenched his jaw tight and threw the book against the wall.
“Useless!”
Titus moved to the window, both arms reached up towards the drapes. His silhouette resembled a cross. He paused, and then slowly smothered the light. He pulled the drapes shut. In the darkness he sat naked. Titus took control of his heartbeat and slowly descended into another place. Drops of salty water formed on his body as his breathing became shallow.
According to the ancients and the enlightened ones there is a few people every century that possess the powers of thought. A command of their senses so great they’re insane and yet they wander among us in an unimaginable state of clear sight. Titus Constantin was afflicted with that curse.
He sat in the dark, his mind searching inward looking for something, searching for a clue that would lead him to the source of his pain.
Titus withdrew to the episode at the airport. Jennifer Bernstein was somehow linked to this cause. Letting his mind relax and focus, he was convinced. Jennifer had made contact. The discomfort in his head began to subside as he entered a deeper state of clarity and visualized the events. His extremities drew colder. The sweat on his body evaporated.
As Titus descended further, his mind traveled back in time to his days in the Soviet Union. At an early age he never played with other children, they knew something was out of place with him. Animals avoided him and would go out of their way to not be in his presence.
Gothic churches with their stained glass windows and ornate architecture appealed to his inner self. There was something about the religious settings. But at the age of twelve as he began to question the world and his understanding of the true nature of things were not well received. Solitude and the pleasure of the written word became his escape. His interest moved toward the occult…it was a natural fit.
Titus and his mother never bonded. It was his brother that had her eye. A loner from birth the voices in his head were his only comfort. His father would beat him, Titus never cried. He was left in an orphanage when they moved away to New York. A mother a father and a brother he never knew. His parents died peacefully, but darkness surrounded the death of his brother. His head began to throb; there was someone he needed to see.
Chapter 4
Kim stood alone and watched police, paramedics and forensics go to work. Everyone had their place in this syncopated movement of deliberate actions. All this effort wouldn’t help Jennifer.
Kim could feel eyes on her. Detective A.L. Hague was watching. Moving forward he was agile as he maneuvered past the activity.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“Kim, you can call me Kim.”
“Alright Kim, the Mayor was hoping we would catch you before the flight took off.”
“Catch…”
“Does that make you nervous?” He responded
“No people pointing guns at me make me nervous, poor choice of words pisses me off.”
“And what do you do when you’re …pissed off?” he asked.
Kim took a deep breath and calmed down. She realized she was falling into a trap over nothing. She wasn’t guilty of murder.
“Do you know what happened to the last cop that did this to me?”
Rolling his eyes he asked, “What.”
“I seduced him.” She then smiled.
Detective Hague smiled, “Really.”
Kim made a face that convinced him she wasn’t exaggerating. Detective Hague had forgotten that the Kim Bennett he was talking to now was also the Kim Bennett that was known for her sado masochistic indulgences.
Opening the door of his Jaguar XJS he waited for Kim to enter. In the passenger seat, Kim watched in the side mirror as the airport disappeared behind them. She was already feeling lonely for her lover Billy Kennedy back in San Francisco but now the loss of Jennifer was adding to her mental agony.
During the California murders Billy had tried to save Kim in a desperate attempt to stop Wong Lee. Injured, it was the perseverance of Kim to fight back that saved both their lives. Wheelchair bound from that incident and the loss of blood from the stabbings Billy was hospitalized for months.
Kim’s reputation of being an easy woman foreshadowed her mental toughness and endurance for pain. It was those traits that earned her the respect from the San Francisco PD. What she had been through was considered to be a horror by anyone’s account.
Kim saw her reflection in the window. A sad drawn face looked back. Her sparkling eyes were dull.
They drove through Tampa, the exclusive neighborhood of Bayshore reminded her of home. For a brief moment, she allowed herself the memories of curling up in bed with Billy. She needed sleep and it didn’t look like she was going to get any soon.
Her recollection of Tampa was the causeway and bridges over the waterways, the Howard Franklin often called the Howard Frankenstein due to the rush hour nightmare and the Sunshine Skyway that connects St. Petersburg to Bradenton Manatee.
In 1980 during the early morning hours at 7:33AM a tragedy took place. Harbor Pilot John E. Lerro faced a terrible decision. In sixty mile an hour winds, zero visibility and after his radar failed the 608-foot freighter the Summit Venture, careened into the southern support structure of the Skyway Bridge collapsing 1261 feet of road. Asphalt, steel and concrete plummeted into the cool waters of Tampa Bay. Thirty-five people met their untimely fate as they unknowingly drove off into empty space cascading down 150 feet to a surface as hard as granite…still water. Most of the victims were on a Greyhound bus bound for Miami. Miraculously, a lone survivor in a pick-up truck teetered on the abyss of death. The grim reaper was cheated out of another soul.
Kim thought about the other unusual events of Florida, Bobby Long a serial killer in Tampa slaughtered nine people. The infamous Ted Bundy executed in Stark Florida while sitting on “Old Sparky” and Aileen Wuornos the female serial killer who found her prey in men looking for pleasure.
The detective’s voice broke her concentration. “You know where we are going don’t you?”
“To visit a grieving mother” Kim forced out. “I met her at the University you know.”
The Detective looked over interested in every word she was saying. Kim paused and looked at the Detective as she recalled the meeting where she first met the Mayor.
“She was dressed in a grey pant suit and looks like her daughter.” Changing the subject abruptly Kim asked. “Who would kill Jennifer?”
“You worked on a murder in San Francisco didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Kim said raising her eyebrows.
“Then you know the process; investigate the family and last people to see the deceased alive.”
“Am I a suspect…?”
“Let’s say you’re a person of interest.”
“I don’t like you.” Her tone was biting.
The detective ignored her words and drove on. Minutes from the Mayor’s home, A.L Hague posed a question.
“What would happen if you were the main suspect?”
“I would say you’re a stupid man and I don’t believe you are.” Their eyes studied each other. Kim continued to stare, in her mind she said the first one to look away loses and she wasn’t about to lose.
The Detective said nothing, he had a different philosophy; the fish would never have gotten caught had it not opened its mouth. Both were strong willed and stubborn.
Pulling into a tree-lined driveway, Kim took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. The long entrance led to a large, three story home. All the lights were on. So was Kim’s poker face.
The detective found a parking spot in front of the house. Kim could see movement through the leaded glass of the front double doors. Her heart raced with what was ahead of her. As he turned the key to the left, the engine came to a quiet halt. “What will you say to her?”
Chapter 5
Before Kim could answer A. L. Hague's first question, he hit her with another. “What was your relationship with Jennifer?”
“If you’re asking did we have a thing, the answer is no.” Kim said daringly. The thought crossed her mind, but not everyone acts on what they think about.
Hague looked surprised by her assumption that he was talking romance.
“She drove you to the airport?”
“Yes, she sponsored my lecture here last night.”
From his sports coat he produced a small alligator skin note pad. Sitting beside each other in the car, Hague began to write something.
“Who arranged to drive you to the airport, you or her?”
It was obvious where he was going with the questions. “When Jennifer contacted me about lecturing here, it was outlined in the itinerary. Hotel, meals and a ride to and from the airport would be provided.”
“Did she indicate she would be the driver?”
“No, in fact the thought never crossed my mind.”
The questions were making Kim wonder about her own actions leading up to the murder. She’d arrived in Tampa two nights ago; it was twelve fifteen in the morning. A limo driver had a sign. She got into the car and was dropped off at the hotel. The next morning Jennifer called, they were intending to meet for lunch but she had to cancel. When Kim arrived at USF and finally met Jennifer, she seemed cheerful. After the lecture they grabbed dinner at a small Italian restaurant on Davis Island. A few glasses of red wine with the pasta and they were enjoying talking to each other so much they lost track of time and had to race to the airport. Kim could remember clearly nobody bothered or interrupted them throughout their meal.
Hague looked over. “What did you talk about?”
“Murder…the psychological mind of a killer.”
Jennifer's interest in the California murders was purely from an academic perspective. As a graduate student majoring in Psychology, she had an interest in serial murders. Wanting to specialize in developing a model for the early detection of juveniles who display the traits of killers, the chance to meet Kim Bennett and hear her insight was thrilling. To add to this, Jennifer's mother was about to donate a considerable amount of money to the university for research on potential serial killer identification. One of the methods was to use hypnosis to understand what is going on in the subconscious. It seemed like such a bizarre irony that someone interested in detecting murderers would be murdered herself. “Perhaps someone followed you?” Hague volunteered.