Othernaturals Book Five: Swarm

By Christina Harlin

“When someone with Judge’s power threatens an Old Testament plague, we need to take it seriously.”

The invitation to the Perkins Institute for Paranormal Research was a last-minute surprise for the Othernaturals, something to fill the summer days before the team resumed its ordinary investigations. Rosemary, Andrew, Greg, and Judge accept the Institute's offer to meet its current subject: Xander Teller, a young man who believes he came back from the dead. He is the unpredictable guest of the Perkins Institute, often slipping away to commit minor acts of ecological vandalism to appease the forces that gave him a second life and those protecting him now. Science can offer no explanation for his reappearance in the world of the living. Rosemary believes she and her team might do better.

The lure of the progressive Perkins Institute is strong. Greg Hatchett is fascinated by the haughty, seductive Dr. Walter Walton, a paranormal scientist who resents the interference of glorified ghost-hunters into his empirical studies. Animal empath Judge Duncan is enamored by the Perkins Institute’s ecological goals, its research on bee colonies, the two mysterious women who tend the hives, and their strange black bees. Unnerved by ominous stories of a parallel dimension that relies on our Earth to sustain it and means soon to declare its dominion, Andrew and Rosemary find themselves tempted closer toward a passion they both crave and fear.

Xander has a strange warning for the Othernaturals. He was returned to life specifically to lure Rosemary within the grasp of an aged, jealous entity. For some time, Rosemary has known that something beyond physical Earth was watching her. With her team beside her and the remarkable power she inherited from her grandfather, she is confident there is nothing to fear from a mere ghost, even an ancient one. What Rosemary fails to understand is that the greatest threat against her is not a force beyond her world, but the loyalty and protection she offers those she calls her friends.

"Swarm" is Christina Harlin's fifth book of paranormal investigations by the gifted cast of the webshow Othernaturals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christina Harlin
• Release date: Mar 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370708048

Christina Harlin

Christina Harlin is the author of the "Othernaturals" series, featuring the adventures of a ghost-hunting team, each with his or her own otherworldly talents, passions and secrets. Her stand-alone works of supernatural fiction are "Deck of Cards" and "Never Alone". With co-author Jake C. Harlin, she has published the outrageous parody of romantic thrillers, "Dark Web." Together, Christina and Jake conduct the podcast "Underground Book Club", where they present talk and advice about self-published writing and writers. Having worked for over twenty years as a legal secretary and paralegal in law firms in Kansas City, Christina's experiences there have played no small role inspiring her comic mystery series of Boss books chronicling the ongoing misadventures of Carol Frank. Christina enjoys computer games, puzzles, great television, movies, and novels. Christina lives in the Kansas City area with her family.

Book preview

Othernaturals Book Five:

Swarm

Christina Harlin

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Christina Harlin

Visit the author at http://www.christinaharlin.com

Cover Design: Yvonne Less @ www.art4artists.com.au

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

The Colorado Rockies

Summer 2002

Rosemary Sharpe’s father, John Jay Sharpe, was heir to the fortune of the music publishing company Sharpe’s Fine Music, established 1822. As such, he attended prep school with other wealthy young men, including Giuseppe Di Santis, the descendant of a once-royal Italian family. John Jay and Prince Giuseppe became close friends, and though they lived in different countries after graduation, they remained close throughout their lives.

Thirty years later, Giuseppe Di Santis’s only daughter was to marry an English Lord. Italian nobility ceased being recognized in the 1940s, but Prince Giuseppe still had the bloodlines, the pride, and the wealth for an unofficial royal wedding. Between the uniting families, there was enough money to throw a wedding so lavish, including a month-long festival of activities surrounding the occasion, that it would be featured in bridal magazines and tabloids throughout the world. The Sharpes were invited.

Rosemary’s parents lived as sensibly as was possible for a couple who themselves brought three separate fortunes together (the estates of Lyle Watts and Crystal Ebbetts, and the Sharpe’s Fine Music money). Being somewhat frugally-minded, Daddy and Mom commented with surprise on the extravagance of the affair. Old royal blood, joked Daddy and Mom. Their weddings sometimes last longer than the marriages do.

Though Eleanor and Tory were going, Rosemary learned her parents did not plan to take her with them. Rosemary would be left at home because she was only thirteen, which stung her fiercely. Tory would turn twenty during the trip, but Eleanor was only seventeen and was still a minor!

Her parents insisted that most of the activities would bore her; they were things for adults to do. Rosemary didn’t believe that for a moment. They said they would not have time to look after her or keep her entertained. Rosemary was insulted that they felt she needed looking after. Her parents promised that to make up for this missed trip, next Christmas break they would take her wherever she wanted. Shopping in Paris. Wouldn’t she like to see the Eiffel Tower? A safari in Africa. Wouldn't she like to see some real elephants?

Rosemary saw only the parties and gondolas and river cruises and dances that she would miss. She saw the dresses Eleanor was accumulating for the trip – one of them was almost backless! Eleanor was beautiful of course, so everything looked perfect on her and she modeled all her gowns repetitively, twirling in front of her mirror, using words like haute couture, fussing about whether she should cut her hair this was or that. They’re so fashionable in Italy. I don’t want to look like a country girl.

Rosemary was so envious it actually hurt. She’d imagined herself meeting a young prince. Oh she would never dare to say that aloud. Tory would never stop teasing her about it. In her imagination it sounded fine, and she wasn’t all that silly. The mysterious stranger didn’t have to be a real prince, just like Daddy’s friend was no longer a real prince.

Rosemary almost pushed her family into letting her come. With little effort, she could make people do what she wanted. Not practical, though. It would mean dealing with all four of her family members at once, keeping them convinced that taking a thirteen-year-old to a sophisticated month-long party was a good idea when they were pretty firmly set against it. Even if she thought she could manage it, she was too angry to do so. She didn’t even want to go to the stupid wedding anymore. Instead she longed to stay in the USA and die of something horrible so her family would be sorry they missed the last days of her life.

Poppop was renting a friend’s mansion in the Rocky Mountain, and invited Rosemary to spend the whole summer with him. They would travel to three different cities for his limited engagement acoustic-guitar tour. She could have front-row seats at his shows, then he would take her sight-seeing. While they were in Colorado they could see Pike’s Peak and the Garden of the Gods. He would teach her how to play the guitar, if she wanted.

That sounded much better than hanging around with her family, all of whom Rosemary now hated very very much. She hoped they would go to Italy and have a miserable time and discover, to their dismay, that bringing her along would have been the one thing that made the trip bearable. She half-hoped they'd all die in a plane crash – but only for a minute. Then she decided that no, she didn't want them to die in a plane crash, she simply wanted them to think they were going to die, except it would just be a bad scare.

Rosemary’s mother, Diana Watts Sharpe, was raised around the freedom rock crowd, and had rebelled in the way that children will: by becoming the opposite of her parents. This meant that Diana was now subdued, conservative, and a bit obsessed with rules. Diana told her father, I'm not allowing Rosemary to stay in the same house with that crazy woman, meaning Lutilla Heston, who had been a close friend of Grandma Crystal and a ceaselessly bad influence.

It’s all right, Lyle assured them. Lutilla is on a retreat in Nepal. Lyle would have the mansion and its recording studio to himself all summer to score a movie. The only other person joining him for any length of time was his old friend David Merchant, who was collaborating on the score.

Diana liked David Merchant little more than she liked Lutilla Heston. He’s clean and sober now, she said uncertainly, but he used to be a disaster. I always thought he was pretending to be Lyle’s friend so he could get closer to Crystal. I suppose Lyle can handle him, though.

Rosemary’s Poppop Lyle did trust David Merchant. But even if Lyle had not trusted David with his favorite granddaughter, Lyle would have believed that he could control the other man's actions via telepathy.

Telepathic Lyle Watts, classic rock star turned doting grandfather, forgot that his favorite granddaughter had the same power. That summer, she was angry enough to use it.

*****

Rosemary went to Poppop’s right after school was released, a good three weeks before her family left for Italy. She would stay with her Poppop until a week before school resumed again, meaning that she would have nearly three months away from her parents and siblings which meant she got a longer vacation than they did and it was just fine with her. She made it a point to be indifferent to their excited planning for their Italian vacation, but consented to let herself be kissed and hugged goodbye before her own flight to Denver. Mom had said, I know you’re angry at us, but I promise you’ll have a better time with your grandpa. There will be a lot of trips for you to take soon enough.

Daddy had given her a whisker-burn smooch on the cheek. He had whispered, Maybe this Christmas, we’ll go to England and stay in haunted castles.

Daddy knew that Rosemary loved ghost stories.

*****

The Heston mansion was an incredible place full of crazy things. Rosemary chose from many bedrooms. She picked an outrageously feminine room, ruffled and bedecked with huge white ribbons and golden blossoms, a sweeping tall canopy bed and gold-scrolled furniture (including something actually called a fainting couch!). She wasn't afraid to be alone on the third floor of the gold rush mansion. Rosemary wasn't afraid of anything. She'd never bumped into something she couldn't control.

David Merchant arrived two weeks later and settled in fast, apparently relieved to be out of the public eye for a while. Except for the three long weekends that Poppop took Rosemary out of town for his tour, and occasional daytrips to see the sights in Colorado, Rosemary, Poppop and David lived together like members of a family. They had minimal staff, just a duo of ladies who came to clean the place twice a week, and a cook who took care of the kitchen. None of these people lived in the mansion, so the seclusion really felt quite cozy. David and Poppop worked excitedly on the soundtrack. Sometimes they invited Rosemary into the studio to listen to their ideas, and Poppop showed her how to operate the soundboard so she was even able to help them.

Rosemary liked listening to her grandfather and David talk at dinner, at first because she thought Poppop would never run out of cool stories. She especially loved to hear him talk about Grandma Crystal, who had been the kind of crazy beautiful trouble that made men idiots; she’d lived and died dramatically, coldly and without much care for anyone else except herself, and, sporadically, Lyle Watts and her own daughter Diana. Despite Crystal’s many faults (and Rosemary’s mother was happy to list those anytime) Poppop still talked about her like she was magical. Theirs had been a marriage famous both for its passion and its discord. Rosemary wanted to someday have a dramatic romance just like that, full of delicious strife and tragedy.

David Merchant was even more famous than Poppop and he was still actively producing solo albums that were on the charts. All of Rosemary’s friends knew who David Merchant was. They freaked out when she mentioned him in her emails. They could see his videos online. Her most daring friend called him sexy. He was well over forty years old, but handsome, slim and fit. He was adamant about exercising since he had given up drugs and alcohol. He was dark blonde going ashy, blue-eyed, a cool adult, composed and redolent with ego, as so many rock stars were. Ego or not, David was very nice to Rosemary. He treated her like an adult, not like a kid, which was a sore spot for her right then.

David had traveled all over the world learning different guitar styles, so he had stories almost as interesting as Poppop’s. About the notorious wedding trip, David said, Italy is okay, but once you’re there for a week, you’ve seen everything. Besides, this time of year, the heat and crowds are unbearable. Rosemary wasn’t sure she believed that true, but she did appreciate David taking her side in things.

Her girlish mind rebelled at his age, especially sometimes when she’d see him close enough to discern those wrinkles coming in around his eyes, or that his hands looked worn. She developed a crush anyway. The things that drew her to David were actually thanks to his age: he was never awkward, he never made mistakes, and knew all the answers. Most importantly, he didn’t treat girls like weird, terrifying, bulgy, bleeding things, as was the case with boys in junior high.

When Poppop was busy working by himself, David taught Rosemary how to drive. On its mountainside grounds, the mansion was fifty miles from a town. There were many winding roads with easy slopes, plus the house itself had a good half-mile of flat driveway. David had abundant patience and a new Mustang. They moved the seat all the way forward so Rosemary could reach the pedals, but David didn’t tease Rosemary for being short. He even said, You’re not short, you’re petite, and petite women are very sexy. He let her stutter and stall his Mustang up and down the driveway until she learned to shift gears smoothly.

Often in the car he rode with his hand covering hers on the gear shift. Sometimes he gave her a kiss on the cheek when she did well. Rosemary was at first startled by these gestures and then grew to expect and like them. She began to offer her cheek for the kisses. To feel a man’s lips and sharp whiskers, which somehow were so different from her Daddy’s, was fascinating. David’s kisses came to linger and sometimes drift over her skin, sending shivers through her.

As he instructed her, David said, I’m afraid your Poppop won’t like me teaching you how to drive. He won’t think you’re old enough and might make us stop.

He can’t see us from the studio, and I won’t tell.

He might wonder what we do while he’s busy, though. If he asked me, I’d have to tell him. He is my best friend.

Oh no, Rosemary whined. David made her feel so grown-up; she was loathe to regress into childhood again.

David had an idea. Just distract him with that little telepathy trick he taught you.

David was one of the few people who knew, or at least, who knew and believed, Poppop’s claims to telepathy. Even Rosemary’s own parents didn’t really believe it. They thought Lyle had a way with crowds but that nothing supernatural was involved. Rosemary’s mother might enjoy scary books but she did not believe such things were real. David Merchant, however, had seen evidence enough of Lyle’s talent at shows, and when he and Lyle used to party together. And David Merchant, who was far more intuitive than he ever let on, knew Rosemary was similarly gifted.

"Just suggest to your Poppop that he doesn’t really care what we’re doing. That way, he won’t ask, and we don’t have to tell."

Rosemary knew what kind of suggestion David meant. This was easy. Making someone continue to ignore something he was unaware of anyway - that was nothing. The only question: could she do it without Poppop noticing? She was clever enough to understand diversion, so masked her desires inside another idea that she gently eased into Poppop’s thoughts: Rosemary wants my soundtrack to be great, so I’d better focus extra hard on it. And don’t pay attention to anything else while you’re working, she added, like the fine print at the bottom of a contract.

So Poppop did not notice that David and Rosemary spent afternoons together, playing in the Mustang. She told David what she’d done to divert Poppop’s attention from them. David was impressed and said, I love smart women. Then he added, Oh, make sure the servants don’t notice, either.

After a mere five days of practicing on the driveway, David took Rosemary out on the road. Rosemary shrieked as the car, under her own control, hurtled up and down those mountainside roads. Well, okay, not hurtled exactly. David never allowed her to go over 35 miles an hour so they were only puttering around, but to Rosemary it seemed they would hit the sound barrier, that the road was only a couple feet wide, and that the drop-off beckoning on the opposite side of the road was a thousand feet of sheer rock wall rather than the tame little foothill it actually was.

David made her drive two miles and at last told her to pull over onto a side road and relax. She sat in the driver’s seat with her heart hammering. She let her foot off the brake and learned that she had not down-shifted the gears, so the vehicle jumped and stalled, causing her to shriek again, and then she burst into panicky laughter.

David laughed alongside her. Are you all right?

She was shaking all over. That was so scary but it was so much fun!

When she turned her face to his he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.

Rosemary, stunned, still shaking and breathless, hardly felt the touch. But knowledge suddenly thundered in her body. David drew back and apologized while looking her straight in the eyes from a mere two inches away. Listen, Rosebud. Just because your family treats you like a child, you shouldn’t pressure yourself into doing adult things. Your mom and dad don’t want you to grow up, so maybe you should enjoy being a little girl for a while. Don’t let me kiss you again.

Rosemary understood him at once. Thanks to the surge of adrenaline and surprise, her mind was working fast. She was both flattered, as he was telling her exactly the things she wanted to hear, and wise to him, knowing that he was using these backwards compliments to tempt her. Rosemary was perfectly aware that it was a crime for him to touch her like this. Instructors at her progressive private school talked to their students about such things. She had learned about sexual predators who lurked both online and in real life.

David did not seem like a predator to her. He was Poppop’s friend. Plus, she had something that other girls were not so lucky to possess: power to control those around her if need be. If David did something she disliked, she could simply force him to stop. What did she have to fear?

Her family thought she wasn’t old enough to spend a month partying in Italy. Well then, maybe she’d just have a love affair with a world famous rock star. Maybe she’d even get pregnant. She relished the thought of her parents returning to find her worldly and experienced and knocked up. They’d wish they’d taken her to Italy then, wouldn’t they?

Her plans went through her mind in a span of seconds, as she and David held each other’s eyes. Rosemary wished she knew something seductive to say because David was so sophisticated and had probably been with a thousand different women. She refrained from giving him a pulling telepathic invitation. She wanted to experience this first-hand, the real thing.

How do I set that emergency brake thingy? she asked David.

He showed her, giving the handle a yank.

She unfastened her seatbelt and climbed over the handle, the console, their cans of soda in the cup holders, until she was situated in his lap. It was close quarters and their bodies pushed against each other in their loose summer clothes. Rosemary was keenly aware of things she had not expected, his close breath, the discomfort of being pinioned on his hard bones, and the almost helpless awkwardness. But she was a slight little thing, and David put his arms around her in a way that felt deeply comforting, palms pressed flat on her back. Thirteen-year-old Rosemary’s hair was still its natural color, reddish brown in the sunlight and almost brunette indoors, and it fell smoothly down to the middle of her back. David wound his hand into it.

Rosemary said, You’ll kind of have to show me how to do stuff. I’ve done lots of kissing but never anything else. That was a lie. She’d only kissed one boy at a party when she and he had been locked in a closet together as a game, and it had made her nauseous. Kissing David was much better, flavored sweet with vengeance. "I want you to teach me how to do everything."

He was surprised by her candor. She was too involved in her own thoughts to read his expression. That would remain true for the next few weeks.

*****

Rosemary’s affair with David Merchant lasted almost six weeks, the experience both exciting and miserable. They were vigilant about discretion, meeting in her room after Poppop had gone to sleep, stealing time when Poppop went into town and Rosemary could make the excuse not to go along, or going out for driving lessons and parking at the side of the road. They never used birth control or protection of any kind. David just told her, Don’t worry about it, and so she didn’t, because she didn’t really care, fantasizing about pregnancy as vengeance. Eventually David told her about something called a vasectomy. This surgery kept him from getting girls pregnant. For situations like this, he had added, smirking to himself, explaining no further.

Rosemary was confused about sex. The act itself was tedious and never made her feel all the things that the movies implied she should feel. The best part of any of their entanglements was the beginning, when they were sneaking, finding a place to hide. What came afterward was like paying the price for her adventure. There was a baffling number of things David wanted to do with her. He didn’t hurt her, and never did anything without her consent. Rosemary simply didn’t understand the appeal. So much grinding and straining and grunting! For what? David apparently couldn’t get enough of it. He made noises and faces so ridiculous she had to smother her own giggles. He called her Rosebud. This was a joke from a movie, apparently, and something dirty, too. He enjoyed it when he knew things that she did not.

She felt sophisticated. Who else in her grade knew that there were so many ways to push two bodies together? And with a famous rock star, no less – her friends would die of the shock. Her own curiosity and anger drove her more than anything else, even to pretend she enjoyed these bewildering gymnastics. Whenever David left her room, she’d lie on her bed, laughing, or sighing with confusion, relieved that he was finally gone.

But not fifteen minutes later, as if she’d lost her memory, she’d wish he was back. Being apart from him was weird agony. She wasn’t even sure she liked him, but part of her craved him. She was dying to go home again and be done with this summer, and simultaneously never wanted it to end.

This couldn’t be what people meant by falling in love. This couldn’t be what her parents felt for each other. She actually had the presence of mind to think, Maybe I don’t understand because I’m not old enough. But by the time she thought it, things were far past fixing.

*****

The affair ended so abruptly that, had its finish been a solid thing, Rosemary would have tripped over it. One night in the first week of August, David finished with her faster than usual, his manner brusque. He rose from the bed and dressed himself, barely looking back at her.

He said, I’m going home to Cincinnati tomorrow.

Rosemary’s conflicting reactions to this were: I’m so glad he’s leaving! and Oh my god I’ll die without him.

David spoke to her like she was in trouble for something. This is an adult thing we’ve been doing, so I want you to act like an adult now. Are you going to go blubbering to your Mommy like a little kid? Don’t give me that look; you knew this wasn’t a permanent thing. Just some summertime fun, like at camp, right?

All she could think to say was, I’ve never been to camp.

Well, you’re ready for it now, David said, chuckling. He was laughing at her. Come on, let me have your word. We’ve had a good time together, now we’re done. We’ll just be friends like we were before. I don’t want you to get in trouble.

"You mean that you don’t want to get in trouble," she remarked, because he was making her feel small.

David snorted. Rosebud, I never get in trouble, and I’ve had younger girls than you. Hell, people expect me to act like this way. You’ve got a hundred times more to lose. Your parents will never trust you again. Your friends will call you a whore, and they’ll stop talking to you. News shows will say that you’re a slut, raised by drug-addicts. I don’t want that for you.

Rosemary wasn’t terribly worried about that. Had he forgotten? She was angry with her parents. If others thought they were drug addicts, that was fine with her. It wouldn’t be the worst rumor that had ever gone around about her family thanks to the legacy of Crystal Ebbetts Watts. But David Merchant hadn’t entered into this relationship without knowing what card to play. He added, Then they’ll blame your grandpa for letting this shit go on in his house. He’ll lose all his fans and no one will hire him anymore. Your parents won’t speak to him ever again.

She was shocked by this turn of events. They wouldn’t do that!

We’ve been screwing for six weeks, right under his nose. Two, three times a day in his own house. No one will ever believe he didn’t know. People will definitely think he was molesting you. His career will be ruined, and he’ll go to prison and you’ll never see him again.

Rosemary was appalled. Shut up! Don’t say things like that!

David’s tone turned scornful. Lyle is one of my oldest and best friends. You’ve been lying to him all summer and I don’t want him finding out about it. It would hurt him too much.

That couldn’t be so; she hadn’t been lying! Keeping quiet wasn’t the same as lying!

David saw the way her thoughts turned. What’s Poppop going to say, when he learns how you’ve been manipulating him with telepathy? This amazing gift he gave you and taught you, and now you’ve used it against him.

Now she felt sick and scared. You told me to!

No I didn’t, he insisted. But she remembered him saying it! When she tried to argue, he interrupted her, saying, Nobody will ever believe you have telepathy and were tricking him, except Lyle himself, and he’ll know you’re the one who screwed him over.

I can make everybody believe me, she argued, already knowing it wasn’t true.

Your telepathy extends to every journalist in the world? No. I’ve known Lyle long enough that I understand the limits of his talent. God knows it’s benefited me enough times. We’ll have to see about putting you to work someday on something more serious. Maybe when you’re grown up I’ll take you on tour with me.

She was barely listening. The depth of her deception and the danger to her grandfather had only just solidified in her thoughts. She had put Poppop in terrible danger – and for what? So she could get even with her parents for something she didn’t even care about any more.

Poppop had warned her. She remembered him saying more than once and in many different ways this basic tenet: Be careful about using this power on people that you really love. My advice is not to do it, ever. I tried it once and I’ve always regretted it. It feels the same as hitting them or throwing them into a dark basement. And if they find out, they’ll have trouble trusting you.

Younger Rosemary hadn’t fully understood what trust meant. When