Agent Plumm stopped alongside Quinn, pausing as if to register the impossibility of the situation. But she did the one thing Quinn should have done as soon as she entered.
Plumm opened fire.
She directed her short barrages at the shadowy creature, who turned with a hissing sound. The face that studied them wasn't much of a face at all, just a semblance lightly pressed against smooth pale membrane. But that didn't appear to inhibit the thing at all, because more of the tentacles immediately shot their direction. Both women leaped opposite directions as the feelers swept by. The eye-watering sting of ammonia accompanied the appendages, searing Quinn’s lungs.
The man in the grip of the creature managed to shout their direction. "Get to my locker. It's number 1031. Grab the UV lantern!"
Plumm nodded to Quinn. "Go. I'll cover you!" She stood and fired in short bursts while Quinn ran to the locker room.
The scent of rust and mold greeted her as she rushed by the antiquated lockers, scanning until she found the right one. She had to shoot the lock off before yanking the door open. A large duffel bad was inside. She pulled it out and unzipped it.
It was full of weapons. Shotguns, pistols, daggers…it was a collector's dream, as nearly all had the look of antique age. She ignored them as she found the ultraviolet lantern. Seizing it, she turned and ran back into the swimming pool hall. At the far end of the room, Steve shouted in alarm as the smaller figure slashed at him with the dagger.
Quinn paused, aimed her pistol, and fired a single shot. The figure recoiled backward, but it was Steve who screamed for some reason. Quinn couldn't register why, couldn't concentrate on anything but the phantom creature that shifted like sentient ink as its tentacles now wrapped around both Plumm and the stranger. The creature lifted Plumm and pulled her closer, studying her with sightless eyes as if puzzled by her presence.
The stranger managed to claw the tentacles away from his face. "Shine the light on it!"
Quinn clicked the lantern on and swung the beam at the creature's central mass.
It screamed.
The sound was like a thousand crystal plates shattering at the same time. Quinn winced, but kept the light aimed at the creature. The light burned through the phantom's mass like sunlight through light fog. The shadowy form writhed, the creature continued to shriek in crystalline agony.
Plumm and the stranger slammed against the floor. The stranger immediately rolled to his feet and stood. His arms stretched out, his head tilted upward. He rolled back on his heels, looking like some ancient wizard summoning a powerful spell.
A sound carried on the air. Distant at first, but approaching quickly. The sound was raucous; loud throaty caws and gurgles along with the rush of thousands of beating wings.
The windows exploded in showers of glass and splintered wood. Dark shapes poured in, a whirling cyclone of winged bodies. The flocks of ravens moved with uncanny unison, one and all attacking the creature of shadow. Its shrieks were drowned by the guttural cries of the birds as they swirled around in a whirlpool of gleaming feathers, stabbing beaks, and obsidian eyes. They filled the hall in numbers so thick that Quinn had to drop to the floor and cover her head to avoid being slashed or pecked to death.
As swiftly as the ravens arrived, they disappeared. As if operating with a singular mind, they swirled around and exited through the broken windows in a rush of wind and harsh cawing. In mere seconds, the hall was empty. The creature was gone as if it never existed, and the stranger who summoned the ravens had disappeared along with them. Only Quinn, Agent Plumm, and Steve remained, along with a woman that Steve clutched to his chest while he sobbed like a child. Quinn gasped as the recognition dawned.
The figure in the hooded jacket was Steve's missing wife.
"Be honest with me. Have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Quinn gnawed on her fingernails. Never mind that she had quit the disgusting habit so many times before, but she was shook. She could admit it. She had just encountered the inexplicable, crossed the barrier into the type of mysterious phenomena best left to conspiracy theorists and supernatural monster hunters. Not crime detectives. Not in the real world. Her head pounded as if her skull was trying to escape the maddening questions that had no rational answers.
Agent Plumm gave her a mysterious smile. "I've seen quite a few things in my time on the job, Detective."
Sheila Dupree was loaded into a waiting ambulance. Quinn had only wounded her with a shoulder shot. The woman also appeared to suffer from a case of amnesia. She had no recollection of what had happened to her since she mysteriously vanished. Quinn would have liked to know why Sheila was present at all, but those questions could wait. The woman was severely traumatized, and only Steve's presence stopped her from breaking down into complete hysteria.
A small smile touched Quinn's lips. Steve was right beside his wife, speaking softly as he consoled her. At least that much was right in the world, even if everything else had gone completely off the rails.
"Jesus. How in the world am I going to explain this to my boss? I can't even explain it to myself. I mean, what happened in there?"
"Don't worry about your boss. I'll take care of it. Give him some bureaucratic bullshit he's used to. You get some rest, Detective. You look like you're about to fall over."
"What about you, Dylan? How do you move past this? What are you going to do?"
Agent Plumm gave a nonchalant shrug. "Keep investigating. Something will shake eventually. It always does."
"That's it?"
"That's it. Go home, Quinn. Trust me, this will all eventually fade away like a bad dream."
Quinn watched Agent Plumm walk back to her vehicle, seemingly already having placed the experience behind her. She wished she could imitate the agent, allow indifference to absorb the manic combination of terror and curiosity that infected her.
But she doubted she could ever move on. Not until she found out the truth.
Steve glanced at his wife. Sheila was asleep in the bed, her face reposed, her hair wildly askew. It had been good to bring her home after a few days in the hospital recovering from mental trauma, overexertion, and dehydration. She still had no idea what happened to her. How she was used. The things she was forced to do.
Steve hoped she never remembered.
A sound at the window made him lift his head. A raven perched on the outside sill, peering intently at Steve. Its inky eyes glimmered; hinting at intelligence he knew went far beyond instinct.
Steve gave it a nod. "Tell Guy I said thank you. Tell him I'll always be grateful."
The bird cawed once and flew upward in a burst of feathers. Steve stared that direction for a long time before finally drawing his attention to his wife again. Her eyes fluttered open, gazing at him with so much trust that his heart nearly melted.
He smiled and squeezed her hand.
"Nothing will ever hurt you again."
The raven glided over the city, wings outspread to allow it to float on the light breeze. It flew past glimmering giants of glass and stone, above veins of asphalt packed with metallic growling creatures before circling an oasis of green. A perfectly average man sat alone on a bench in the park, tossing seed to a gathering flock of pigeons.
The raven cawed loudly and landed in their midst, scattering the startled birds. Hopping in the commandeered spot, it quorked and gleaned its glossy feathers as though proud of itself.
Guy shook his head with a smile. "Bully."
The raven hopped on the bench and uttered a series of croaks and throaty kraas, bobbing its head and fluttering its wings.