by T. G. Ayer
“I entered the army, excelled at everything. Made the old man and all the stone statues in the graveyard proud. But I ended up being a spectacular failure.”
He fell silent and I leaned closer. “What happened?”
“I’m not a stone-cold killer. That’s what happened.” He gave me a sad glance then looked away, shame coloring his silver eyes. “I failed to kill the enemy.”
Now that I didn’t expect.
“The enemy of my father. In a battle that had no business being fought. My father had instigated the skirmish, for land of all things. He was my commanding officer, led us into battle. I’d captured the Lord of the region, and instead of relieving him of his head and his spinal column, I let him live.”
I shuddered. “Brutal.”
Drake snorted. “I’ve seen worse.”
I gave him a sober nod. “Better you than me.” He just shook his head. “So your commanding officer ripped you a new one when you took your prisoner in still breathing?”
Drake laughed. “No. He did the spinal column removal. And then he dismissed me from the army.”
“What?”
“Honorable discharge with pay and pension so I shouldn’t complain.”
I was in awe. “They have a pension in Gargoyle Land?”
“Shut up, Mel.”
“Sorry.” I smothered a smile. “Do go on.”
“Dismissal was only the half of it for my father. His disappointment went deeper than I could ever have imagined. My inability to murder a POW was more disappointing. He stripped me of my magic.”
“You had magic?” I rolled my eyes.
“I can do more than use my glamor and turn into stone at will.”
“Wow.” I smiled.
“Anyway. Long story short, without magic or a decent job, I was a disgrace to my father. He disowned me. I left.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. I nudged him again. “Look on the bright side. You found us.”
He chuckled. “There is that.”
“So you haven’t been home since?”
“Nope.” He sighed. “But things have changed.”
“What happened?”
“He’s dying. My mom and sister want me to come home.”
Crap.
“So, when do you leave?” I tried to keep the disappointment off my face.
“I’m not. There isn’t any reason to go.”
I sniffed. “Your family needs you.”
“Where were they when I needed them?” His voice was gruff as he turned his head to stare at my face. “They stood by and did nothing. Mother watched as he took my magic. She signed alongside him to disown me.”
“Drake, just because they did nothing doesn’t mean they don’t care about you.”
He shrugged.
“Everyone has reasons for the things they do and the things they don’t do. Your mom is a wife first. Do you know what type of relationship they have? I have no doubt that it’s very patriarchal but is he abusive? Physically, emotionally?” I paused as it struck me what I was trying to say. That Drake’s father could be abusing his mother; not something a kid would easily acknowledge. “There could be dozens of reasons people see, but don’t do. Especially if your father is a strong person. Strong men don’t even need to be tyrannical. Even respected men hold power over others.”
Drake nodded, but he still didn’t look at me.
“What I’m trying to say is not everyone is strong, even if they’d like to think they are. It’s too risky. And it’s a damned sight easier to pretend to be strong and powerful when all you are is a follower. Or a manipulator, or a bully. Weak people don’t overthrow dictators. They pretend to be part of the resistance but back away when the fight comes to their doorstep.”
“Or they run away.”
I sighed. “You didn’t run. You made the smart, mature decision. That’s not running away. And besides. What choice did you have?” I stared at him, waiting until he finally did look at me. “Do disowned family members still live at home?”
Drake let out a harsh breath.
“Okay, whatever. That’s the past. Now you have to deal with the issue at hand. He’s on his deathbed. You don’t need to be there for him unless you want to. On the other hand, there are people around him that may need you more than you realize.”
That made him raise his eyebrows and give a slight shake of his head.
“If you recognize this and still make the decision not to go, then that’s fine. But you need to be aware that there is more to this situation than just you and your own feelings.”
Way to tell him to get his head out of his ass when he needs consoling, Mel.
But it seemed to work.
He pushed to his feet and paced a little, his glamor now falling away completely, revealing his dark complexion, black shadows swirling on his skin in dark furrows as if carved into him.
I got to my feet but I remained on the stairs, not wanting to get in his space while he was thinking. I’d done that once before and being turned into stone is not how I’d like to spend my evenings.
Slapping non-existent dust from my ass, I said, “You need to do what’s best for you, Drake. I’m here for you if you need me.”
He sent me a grateful look.
I grinned. “But first, we have a case.”
Drake’s eyebrows rose, dark eyes flashing again. I ignored him and headed up the stairs. “There’s a Hunter who needs to be busted out of captivity before the bastards torture her to death.” A glance over my shoulder confirmed his eyes had stopped their dangerous flashing. “Interested?”
He followed me up the stairs.
Chapter 24
Exhaustion pulled at me as I entered the kitchen, relieved only at the sight of Steph placing bags of takeout on the table.
“I heard you beating up that poor bag and thought you might need to refuel.”
I grinned and helped her open the cardboard boxes filled with aromatic Indian food. I grabbed the lamb biryani and received glares from both of them.
“Geez, relax guys. I’ll keep some for you.”
As we swapped and dished up chicken tikka and beef vindaloo, I caught them up on Santiani’s condition.
“Woah, Mad Cow,” muttered Steph as she stared at the slice of beef on her fork.
Drake snorted. “Pretty sure the disease no longer exists, what with the way you humans farm cattle and livestock.”
“What?” I said, after swallowing. “Something wrong with Highrise Livestock Farming?”
Drake snorted. “Of course there is. Back in my world, livestock ate grass and breathed fresh air.”
Steph coughed. “You had cows in your world?”
Drake gave her a cold glare. “We have ladri. Not cows, but close enough.”
“Horns, tails, udders and hooves?”
Drake nodded then shook his head, turning to me. “When does she move out?”
“The tenth of never.” I smiled sweetly.
“Figures.”
I looked up at Steph. “So, what can you tell me about Prions disease other than Mad Cow.”
Steph chewed, held up a finger, flicked her laptop open and began tapping with her left hand. She didn’t even pause to stop eating. Multitasking at its finest.
“So it can be passed on through contaminated meat, like livestock. But there were some studies done on Prions disease in a tribe of cannibals.”
“Cannibals?” I asked softly. It was beginning to fall into place.
“Yeah. Your perfect billionaire is a cannibal.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Then how else did he contract the disease?”
I shrugged. “I’ll have to ask him.”
“Sure, he’ll just confide his weird gastronomic tastes to you. You sure he’s not a Dr Lecter?”
“Who’s Dr Lecter?”
Steph rolled her eyes. “Only the most famous serial killer of all time.”
“The most
famous fictitious serial killer of all time.”
Steph waved her fingers at me. Details. “Anyway, he’s been chewing on human bones and he’s been doing it for a while.”
“Maybe not for a while.”
“What do you mean?”
“We all know with magical intervention anything can be sped up on the timeline of events.”
“That’s just freaking great.” Steph stabbed a piece of spicy chicken.
I sighed. “We have to check out the staff, the chefs and the butler, even the company supplying their meat products.”
“I’m on it.”
While Steph tapped away at her keyboard, I shifted to the other side of the table as Drake went to the narrow space between the refrigerator and the cupboard. Pulling out a large whiteboard, he settled it on the counter using the overhanging cupboards to rest it at a comfortable angle.
I grabbed markers from a nearby drawer. “Let’s put the timeline in perspective.”
Drake marked ‘Mrs S’ as dead, Gia’s disappearance, the cops’ involvement, then contact with me.
“Anything else significant?” I asked.
Drake added the birth of the twins. The manipulation of the cop. Gina’s contact with me. Soon a pattern emerged.
“Gina seems to be pretty antagonistic when it comes to involvement of outside investigation,” he said.
“More like territorial,” said Steph.
Drake and I looked at each other. Something was there. We just needed to figure out what it was.
Steph peered over her laptop. “Everyone looks legit, but unless we start testing meat products we won’t know.”
“The butler mentioned coeliac disease and something about the chef making lunches for the girls every day,” I said, picking up my phone and dialing the house without hesitation.
Drake mumbled something about having to check on his bike.
I questioned Marshall about the chef, the food he cooked, and when I put the phone down I was a little taken aback.
“What’s wrong?”
“Marshall said that both girls liked cooking, but that Gina ruled the kitchen ever since her mother died. Apparently she cooks too.”
“Oh,” Steph said and sipped her mango lassi. “Female serial killers are uncommon but they do exist.” Her tone was so serious that all I did was shake my head.
“It’s a possibility, but very unlikely. Prions takes a long time to kill a person.”
“You’re the one who said all you had to do was add magic into the mix and who knew what would happen.”
I sat back. “Right.” It made sense and yet it didn’t. I sighed. “Okay. Run a search. All similar cases over the last few years.”
Steph nodded and typed. She had access, illegal or otherwise, to servers across the world. So when, seconds later, she looked up and shook her head I was most disappointed.
“Widen the parameters. Cases across the continent.” As Steph began to type, I added, “And going as far back as fifty years. That should give us something to go on.”
Seconds later Steph looked up, triumphant. “There is a thirteen-month pattern. We have cases here across the country, but I expanded the search again to include Interpol databases, and it’s shocking.”
I stood at the whiteboard, and waited and Steph read out dates and details over the last five years. “The killer has been busy.”
Steph got to her feet and came to stand beside me as we both studied the whiteboard.
Strange murders every thirteen months that followed a similar pattern. Mother is killed under suspicious or questionable circumstances. Child either dies or runs away soon after. Father dies of heart attack, suicide or disease. A few cases confirmed Prions disease in various stages.
“They didn’t test them all?”
“Probably didn’t think they needed to. Some of these men died under different circumstances so they may not have suspected enough to test for Prions.”
Steph folded her arms. “If they had, it would have made our investigation a damn sight easier.”
“So the cases follow a pattern, but who is the most likely suspect?”
“The butler did it.”
“Very funny.”
Steph shrugged. “We can’t rule him out.”
“No, we can’t.” I listed names of suspects, including the butler and Gina. Which made me pause. “What about surviving children?”
Steph shook her head. “In eighty percent of the cases, the whole family is wiped out. In some of the cases they never found the body of the last surviving child, but in others they were already investigating when the kid died.”
“Sounds like what we are left with. Santiani on his deathbed and Gina the last one standing.”
“But she doesn’t look sick. You think she also has Prions?”
“It’s possible, but how the hell would you have her tested without pissing her off. She’s not going to submit easily.”
“That’s right. But she’s staying on the list of suspects. Her behavior is ensuring she doesn’t get ruled out.”
Although I wished we’d gotten something a little more tangible out of our session, I felt a little more comfortable with looking further into the remaining twin. She’d already put the fear of Hades into one cop.
Who knew what else she was up to?
Chapter 25
I remained in the kitchen after Steph retreated to the comm center in the attic. Cleaning helped me relax and before long I had the place sparkling. I tossed the soiled cloths into the wash basket in the laundry and headed to the living room.
The blank black screen of the TV stared at me, as if daring me to switch it on, but my life had too little time for movies. As it was, fatigue pulled on my arms and head, reminding me that I needed a few hours of rest before Drake and I headed off to help Kai out.
Only one more thing to do. Check on Gina Santiani.
I relaxed on the sofa and closed my eyes, sliding into the stream of astral energy almost immediately. It was deceptively easy, but it did take a toll on my body.
Astral traveling was the smartest way I knew to keep an eye on the girl without tipping her off.
I followed her feedback without the need for the hair sample. Once I identified a person’s feedback thread, I could see a path leading directly to them. The astral threads were alive as much as the owner of them lived. In the same way, feedback threads faded away over time after a person’s death. Astral traveling was certainly not the same thing as time traveling. What I saw was what existed now. And in the case of the deceased such energies remained with the body for a while, depending on the circumstances of the death and the strength and ability of the person.
I wasn’t surprised to track Gina to a mall, but what did strike me as odd, was the fact that she stood beside a heavy-leafed plant.
Watching someone on the balcony opposite her.
Between them was a view to the second floor, the escalators as well as a sparkling fountain. The mall was busy with moviegoers and late-night mallrats. But Gina wasn’t there for movies or food. She was watching someone.
While I watched her.
Oh the irony.
He’d chosen a seat at a small Italian place and sat, busy working at his laptop while picking at a bowl of creamy pasta.
I waited for a few minutes as Gina watched him, transfixed by the girl’s intensity. She barely blinked as she stared at him, as if she was doing surveillance and was taking her job really seriously.
Just when I was about to give up and leave, the man shifted, his blonde hair catching the yellow glare from overhead and lighting up his head like a halo. Three people approached, wife and two kids from the looks of it.
He got to his feet, ruffled the hair on the boy’s head and kissed the woman. The daughter’s smile was more of a smirk as she watched her parents kissing.
After some laughter and joking around they left, heading for the escalators. Gina watched until they were almost out of sight.
Weird.
Their disappearance spurred the girl into motion and she dashed out from behind the tree and would have slammed into me, had I been there in physical form. I winced as she moved through, glad that she hadn’t noticed.
As I turned to follow, Gina’s steps slowed and she looked over her shoulder. As with the other night, she stared sightlessly at the spot I stood in. I was certain she had some form of psychic sense because she honed in on my spot so quickly. Thankfully, she didn’t see me. Again.
After a few moments she turned and trotted off in the direction of the carpark. I followed her out as she trailed the man and his family. Outside, the family hopped into a top of the line Mercedes Benz. The vehicle and the flash of gold from the man’s watch were confirmation of his pay bracket.
What was Gina up to? Was she involved with this man? Was she threatening him the way she threatened Landry?
Her behavior didn’t make sense, unless she was suffering from some kind of mental breakdown with her family all dying and disappearing on her.
It must be tough to go through such a terrible tragedy.
Then again, Gina isn’t all that innocent if she can be so manipulative as to fake-seduce a cop.
Was she a rich spoiled princess too used to having her own way?
Or was it something more sinister?
I pulled away from Gina, my own energy draining slowly. I had to work smart if I wanted to be around to figure out what Gina was up to.
I blinked, shaking off the tug of fatigue, and as I sat upright and rubbed my forehead a voice whispered in my ear.
Stiffening with shock, I stared around me, aware that I probably looked a little insane scanning the shadows and the corners of the living room. The voice hummed in my ears again and relief surged through me as I recognized the speaker.
“Samuel?” I asked the room, still looking around me.
I knew what he was trying to do. Using the astral plane’s energy to send messages was something Samuel himself had taught me years ago. But I also knew how taxing it was on a person, especially on someone who was as weak and fragile as Samuel.