by Ken Lange
The dark part of my soul stirred as I finished that thought. The Grim begged to be released. It wanted out; it wanted to find the people responsible for these crimes and make them pay.
Soon.
The sensation lessened, but my uncle was staring at me in a peculiar way.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Brushing off his concern, I sat up straight and nodded. “Of course, I’m fine. Why?”
He looked at my hands and then my face before slowly letting out a long breath. “I thought I saw something, but it’s nothing…I’m just sleep deprived.”
The knock at the door startled me, and I was on my feet in an instant. I waved my uncle back into his seat before striding over to open the door. Isidore was standing on the landing with two small parcels under his arm.
He grinned and handed them to me. “These belong to you. George called me earlier since it appears you failed to give him your number.” His gaze tracked past me, and his jaw dropped. “What the hell is all that?”
Andrew waved him inside. “Come on in, and I’ll do my best to explain.”
It took a half hour to bring him up to speed, and during that time his predatory nature began to manifest. His body thickened, and his eyes turned darker as his iris expanded to cover most of the white. The anger that bubbled to the surface during the first few minutes was quickly replaced by an eerie calmness, and his voice turned gravelly.
Isidore glanced between us. “Have you been able to narrow it down to a specific person or group?”
Andrew shook his head. “Not yet, but there’s still a lot to go through.”
Isidore picked up Neil Nunez’s file. “Do we have any idea how many of these weapons they’ve created?”
I frowned. “Not a clue. There might be one, or a hundred…we just don’t know.”
Isidore grunted his disapproval. “That’s some fairly shit news.” He turned to Andrew. “I think it’s best that I stay in the room downstairs until this blows over.”
Andrew tensed then blew out a breath. “No point arguing with you.”
Isidore smirked. “True.” His gaze fell on me. “You seem to be holding up okay, all things considered.”
I chuckled. “It’s nothing new to me…I’m a bit shocked you two are handling it so well, though.”
Isidore exchanged a knowing look with Andrew and shrugged. “I’m old, and he’s a pain in the ass, so this sort of thing has popped up a time or two.” He pulled out his phone. “Should I call Heather?”
Andrew gave him a dismissive wave. “No, she’s got plans tonight.”
Isidore turned on the spot. “I need to pick up a couple of things from home.”
We walked him out the front door and locked the gate behind him. Once we were upstairs, I asked, “How’s Isidore staying here going to help?”
Andrew found the question far too amusing for my tastes. “We’re two days away from the full moon, which means it’ll take more than a sharp pointy stick to put the man down. That, and the more people we have here, the better I like our odds.”
That was exceptionally logical, and did help to ease my mind.
I took the downtime to move my parcels to my room. Inside the simple wrappings were a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved cobalt-blue button-up shirt. I tossed them onto the bed and went back to trying to figure out who wanted to kill us.
Isidore returned, ready to rip off someone’s head at the slightest provocation. Andrew was obsessed with digging through the boxes, attempting to uncover the next clue. I, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to have a sit-down with Walter.
Something about the man struck me wrong, and for me, that was reason enough, but Andrew overruled the idea. He started quoting Archive law and how only a vigil, or their appointed representative, had the authority to question other members. When I brought up talking to Bryan, I got the same answer, which meant I was stuck shuffling papers…for real.
The phone rang at about a quarter to six. Andrew answered it then handed it to me. “Heather says she needs your help.”
I squinted at my uncle and took the phone. “Hello?”
Heather sounded a little panicked. “I hate to ask this, but my date bailed on me five minutes ago, and you’re the only other single man I know.”
Weddings weren’t my thing, but I figured I’d try to let her down easy. “You could always meet someone there.”
She growled. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. One of my old friends will be there, and if I don’t show up with a date, she’s going to try to fix me up with an old ‘family friend.’ I’m sure the guy is nice, but he was probably born in the same decade as your uncle.” She sniffed. “Please, will you just do this for me? I’ll owe you one.”
Hanging my head, I knew I’d been beaten. The first sniffle had done it. “Fine. Where and when?”
Her voice perked up, and I could practically feel her smile. “I’m not far away. How fast can you dress?”
Damn. “I’ll be down in fifteen.”
“Can you make it ten?” she asked hopefully.
“Sure.”
Hanging up the phone, I looked up at my uncle. “It appears I’m attending a wedding this evening.”
Andrew didn’t look pleased. “Are you sure you want to go out with everything that’s happening?”
I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, I was going out one way or another tonight. At least this way, I’ll be with Heather and not looking for Walter.”
Andrew huffed. “That’s comforting.”
I was changed and downstairs in eight minutes. Heather pulled up in a Kia Sedona two minutes later and waved me in.
Chapter 10
As if the bride and groom had planned it, the sunset occurred at the close of the ceremony, bathing them in the last light of the day… Talk about pretentious. That was about an hour ago, and since then, the giant ball of flaming death had disappeared over the horizon, allowing the temperature to drop several degrees. That and the small yet welcome breeze out of the north kept me somewhat comfortable under my dark suit jacket. The humidity was at a reasonable level for New Orleans, which of course meant I was clammy, but not so much that it was noticeable.
I’d worn the cobalt blue shirt and black slacks, and finished the look by pulling on the suit jacket I’d worn to the funeral. Heather wore an emerald green, form-fitting silk dress that ended just above her knees. The matching five-inch heels put her at eye level with me. I’d always thought there was an unspoken rule that you weren’t supposed to look better than the bride, but if that were the case, she wouldn’t have been invited to many weddings.
As expected from the city’s exceptionally wealthy, the evening’s events were lavish beyond comprehension. The wedding itself was an overdone yet beautiful ceremony decked out in rare flowers, white silk, and all the other trimmings money could buy. The latest seven-inch tablet set atop the finest floral china place settings obscuring the white linen tablecloths. From what I gathered, the tablets were the party favors. Obviously, someone had more money than sense.
Shortly after dusk, dinner was served on the antique china, with actual sterling silver utensils. The most unfortunate part of the evening was that Heather’s original date was vegan, forcing me to choke down stinky tofu specially imported from Japan with many, many vegetables. How I prayed for a burger or steak.
After we’d finished, Heather stood and dragged me to my feet. “Come with me.”
I wiped the corners of my mouth and dropped the napkin. “Where are we going?”
She turned, holding my hand, and pulled me along behind her. “I need to introduce you to my mother.”
That drove ice through my gut. “I’m not sure I’m the kind of man you want to bring home to Mom.”
She paused a moment, looking back at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’re not going home…yet.” She let out a giggle as she guided me through the crowd. “Besides, she’s just over there.”
&n
bsp; I caught sight of our intended destination several seconds before we arrived. The woman was nearly identical to Heather save for the blond hair. She wore a yellow version of Heather’s green dress, and a massive rock on her ring finger.
Heather waved at her mother, and she turned to take us in—me, in particular. Her gaze cascaded over me as she appraised my worth. She seemed happy enough to see me trailing behind her daughter.
Heather pulled me up next to her, practically glowing with excitement. “Mom, this is Gavin.” She looked back at me and waved at her mother. “Gavin, this is my mother, Kimberly Broussard.”
I gave her a slight bow and gently took her hand in mine. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Broussard.”
Kim’s voice was raspier than her daughter’s, yet no less pleasant. “The pleasure is all mine.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Didn’t I see you with Andrew at the funeral Friday?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sucked on her cheek for a moment. “If you see Andrew, would you tell him how sorry we are for his loss?” She made a face suddenly. “We didn’t want to bother him after that nasty business with Walter.”
“When I see him again, I’ll let him know.”
She grinned, leaned forward, and gave Heather a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to make the rounds and pay our respects, since your father had to work tonight.”
Heather’s beautiful face contorted for a fraction of a second at the mention of her father. When she spoke, her voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. “You’d think being the head of surgery would have its perks.”
Kim’s expression soured before she regained her composure. “It does. He doesn’t have to attend funerals or even weddings if they inconvenience him in the slightest.”
I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, because in my experience, butting into a conversation like this one never ended well.
Kimberly gently squeezed my forearm as she swept by.
Heather’s eyes widened, and her face brightened. “She likes you.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Heather rolled her eyes and guided us back to our seats next to the wrought iron fence near St. Charles. “That’s a great thing. I don’t have to allow myself to be set up with some old geezer.” She grabbed a crystal flute of champagne when the waiter passed. “Nor will I be subjected to the ass my father fixed me up with this evening.” She took a long draught of her champagne, and anger flickered across her delicate features. “My father desperately wants me to get involved with this creepy little shit who works for him.” She shook her head in disgust. “For me, this is a win-win.”
I wisely kept my mouth shut and sipped my Coke and ice in a rock glass. Just because I’d left the safety of the house didn’t mean I was going to be reckless. Drinking when people wanted you dead was a surefire way to allow it to happen.
Our seats gave us an equally good view of St. Charles Avenue and the overdone gazebo where the band was playing. Some of the guests occasionally picked at their food while drinking and generally being rowdy…well, as rowdy as rich folks got, I supposed. Our table was empty now, allowing us to have a proper conversation without having to either whisper to keep from being overheard or yell at one another.
Her face was serene while she swirled the champagne around in her glass, watching the crowd swell and thin in an odd rhythm. Finally, she turned her eyes back to me. “So, what did you think?”
Her question forced me to stop scanning the crowd. “Of the wedding?”
Heather’s lips twitched, and she giggled. “Yes, the wedding.”
I’d seen this type of thing a lot over the years, and hated every minute of it. The vast waste of money that could be better spent elsewhere always pissed me off. “Honest answer?”
She fixed me with a stern look. “We literally met yesterday. I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t start our friendship by lying to me.” She screwed up her face as she downed the drink and grabbed another from a passing tray. “Actually, if you could promise not to lie to me at all, that would be spectacular.”
I sipped my Coke and gestured at the gazebo. “I hated every last second of it.” Disgusted, I held up the tablet. “The money they poured into this ‘party’ could’ve paid for a very nice house and a car… Not that they probably need either, but it could’ve gone somewhere productive.” Setting the tablet aside, I said, “Maybe I’m projecting here, but it’s like people love to throw these types of decadent shindigs to brag about how special they believe they are.” I shook my head. “Simple is always my preference. This…this is just too much. For me, anyway.”
She sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down as she tried not to laugh. Finally, the fit passed, and she gasped, “Oh, thank the lords above.”
Setting my glass on the table, I was suddenly curious. “I thought these were your friends, and you were sort of required to like it out of, I don’t know, camaraderie or something.”
She waved a hand around airily. “These are more my father’s friends than mine.” She made a face as she caught sight of the bride drifting around the front tables, fawning over the more special guests. “My mother and I show up for appearance’s sake, but honestly, I hate these things, and so does she.”
I was wading into dangerous territory, but this was the second time her father had come up in such a negative manner. “And these being your father’s friends, is there any reason he didn’t wish to be here tonight?”
Anger and bitterness clouded her features before she downed another gulp of champagne. “My father does his best to avoid anything he considers beneath him.” She glowered and leaned forward. “These are simply the children of one of his more influential friends. A suitable gift was purchased in each of our names and sent to the bride—a task he surely delegated to the help—and then Mother and I were sent as his emissaries, bearing the news that he was just too swamped with work, otherwise he surely would’ve made it.”
Holding up my glass, I toasted her and gave her a big smile. “The one great thing about this evening is you got me out of the house, and possibly saved my liver in the process.”
That snapped her back to reality. She leaned over, picked up my glass, sniffed, and tentatively took a drink. “What the hell?”
I chuckled. “Whatever do you mean?”
She pointed across the lawn to the bar. “You may not know this, but it’s a cardinal sin to refuse an open bar here in New Orleans.”
Taking my drink from her, I groaned. “That may be, but Andrew’s been pouring scotch down me by the liter since I arrived.” I waved a hand at the Coke on the table. “My liver needed a break.”
She let loose with another fit of the giggles, no doubt fueled by the onslaught of champagne she’d had since we arrived. “The old man has a habit of knocking back more than a few when he’s celebrating.” She beamed at me again as she looked back at the open bar. “It’s a real shame you didn’t take advantage, but I can sympathize.” She fondled her tablet for a moment longer before tossing it back onto the table in disgust. “You’re right about this being a way to show off.” She looked over at the band and frowned. “The cost of the band could’ve paid off my car.”
Leaning forward, I put my weight on the table. “After meeting your mother and hearing about your father, I assumed you would be well off.”
She shifted a little in her seat. “My mother’s father was wealthy and set up several trust funds for me, which I don’t touch unless I have to.” She scrunched her face as if she’d smelled something foul. “My father definitely has too much money, but that’s his, and he takes every opportunity to remind everyone of that fact.” She shivered. “I’m well enough off, I suppose. I inherited my grandfather’s house, and I’ve got money from when I used to model, but I have bills like everyone else.”
Wanting to change the subject, I shifted gears. “How did you go from modeling to working for my uncle?”
And just like that, her mood lightened. “Andrew used t
o date my mother, and my father’s never forgiven him for it. So, when I was looking for a mentor, my mother, of course, suggested Andrew. I was floored when my father not only approved but encouraged it.”
Odd to have such a massive shift of opinion, but perhaps the old man wasn’t a complete piece of shit and truly wanted the best for her. “I see.”
Heather grumbled. “You don’t, but after you meet my father, you will.” She paused and glanced around to make sure we were alone. “Are you really his nephew?”
The question caught me off guard, and I stammered my reply. “As far as I know. Why do you ask?”
Her eyes went big. “Are you like him? I mean, are you one of the Stone Born?”
I stiffened. “To be honest, I have no idea what I am. As for being like him, I doubt it. He seems to be fairly unique.” I frowned and suddenly wished I was drinking scotch. “I have no idea what I can do other than being impervious to his mental manipulation…and yours, for that matter.” Inhaling, I caught the scent of jasmine far off in the distance. “I was only introduced to this world two days ago.”
She leaned forward, glancing around again as she whispered, “Really?”
Trying not to make a big deal of my ignorance, I put my drink on the table. “Really. I’ve been away a very long time, and well, Andrew only told me about my family after the funeral on Friday.” I leaned forward in my chair as I looked around to make sure we were alone. “If you’d told me anything like this before then, I would’ve thought you were mental.”
Her languid smile brightened the evening, and she gently tossed her hair back with a flick of her hand. “Some days, I feel a little off anyway.” She bit her lip as her gaze traveled down my arm to my left hand. “Care to tell me how that happened?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not.”
She pouted, but her eyes were full of amusement. “Perhaps you’d feel up to telling me what you do for a living.”
I suppressed a laugh. “At the moment, I’m gainfully unemployed.” I held up a hand to stop her follow-up question. “I may not have family money, but I have three decades of paychecks I haven’t touched. I’m looking for a new career, but not today, since I’ve also got thirty years of vacations I need to catch up on.”