by Ken Lange
Andrew grinned. “He’s definitely one of the good ones.”
Isidore frowned. “Are you sure about going out tonight?”
A bemused chuckle escaped my lips. “Pretty sure. Why?”
He shook his head. “You may know the law, but you obviously aren’t well versed when it comes to necromancers.”
I shrugged. “No argument here. What am I missing?”
Andrew grimaced. “They become more powerful after sunset, and if you’re telling me that Walter summoned a dozen specters in the middle of the day…imagine what he can do this evening.”
Well, wasn’t that just peachy?
“Thanks for the heads-up, but there isn’t a way around it…I’ve still got things to do.”
Without another word, I headed for my room. Standing in front of the washer, I dropped my blood-soaked clothes into the hamper, to be washed when I got back. I was fairly certain Heather wasn’t going to be up to doing my laundry for a long while. Speaking of which, I really needed to call her and check in…but that could wait till after a shower. Calling a girl while naked and covered in my own blood struck me as a little creepy.
It took a half hour to scrub myself clean. After toweling off, I found a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt and got dressed.
I picked up my phone and dialed my other number. It rang twice before Heather answered. Her voice was warm and cheerful. “About time you called.”
Lying back on the bed, I smiled. “Last I checked, your fingers weren’t broken.”
“True.” She hesitated, and sheets rustled in the background. “Everything all right over there?”
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I sat up. “Yeah, why?”
Worry crept into her voice. “I heard Andrew was involved in an accident at Martha’s.”
News traveled fast, even if it was wrong. “And who told you that?”
She lowered her voice. “I overheard Brad talking to my dad outside the door.” She suddenly sounded somewhere between pleased with herself and angry. “That little shit won’t come in since you ran him out of here the other day.”
“Andrew’s fine… It took a little doing, but I convinced him to beef up security, which means he brought in someone named Alexander.”
Her intake of breath was audible, and her tone was hopeful. “As in a very large, dark-haired, biker-looking guy?”
“Yeah, that’s him. I take it you know him.”
She giggled. “You could say that. He used to watch over me when I was a little girl.” She suddenly sounded angry again. “I was so glad when Andrew was able to help him and his family.”
Oh, damn. Alexander was the werebear Andrew had freed twenty years ago. No wonder he trusted them. “When are you getting out of there?”
“I’m hoping tomorrow.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think Andrew would let me come over and visit…maybe even spend a few days while I recover? Mom and Dad are in the middle of splitting up, so things are pretty ugly at home.”
I nodded reflexively. “I don’t think that will be a problem. You can have my room, and I’ll take the couch, if it comes to that.”
She snickered. “So what’s changed between Sunday night and today?”
“Huh?”
Her voice was full of amusement. “You weren’t quite so anxious to get me into your bed the other night, but now it’s all come sleep over for a few days.”
My cheeks heated, and I stammered, “That’s not at all—”
She laughed even harder. “Oh, you’re too easy.” She paused as she composed herself. “Ask Andrew for me, okay?”
“I will.”
“Good. If I don’t hear anything, I’ll assume it’s okay and have Mom drop me off when I get out of here.”
“Sounds good.”
She whispered into the phone, “Thanks. I gotta go. Someone’s coming.”
The line went dead, and I pocketed the phone. I spent the next twenty minutes tidying the place, just in case she showed up. After tucking the last of the dirty clothes into the basket, I headed for the living room. I wasn’t sure how to ask my uncle for permission to have a girl over, but it was for her own good. Her parents weren’t in any condition to take care of her right now.
Andrew looked at me curiously. “Something on your mind?”
I shrugged. “Sort of. I just got off the phone with Heather. She asked if she could come by for a few days. It seems Mrs. Broussard wasn’t kidding about divorcing Robert.” The words rushed out. “She wanted to visit with Alexander as well. I told her it would be all right.” Pausing for a moment, I asked, “It’s all right, isn’t it?”
Andrew grinned. “Absolutely. She can’t very well make a full recovery with people trying to slit each other’s throats at any given moment.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Andrew beamed. “I’ll get one of the guest rooms ready.”
A part of me was disappointed she wouldn’t be staying in my room. “Need me to do anything before heading out?”
Andrew shook his head. “I think we got it covered. Call us if you need anything.”
“Sure thing.”
Five minutes later, I was pulling through the gate as Alexander and two of his men waved. I retrieved Baptist’s card from my pocket, dialed the number, and got his voicemail. I asked if he could track down the owner of the phone left at Walter’s.
With that handled, it was time I turned my attention to Brad. I was starting to suspect the man was up to no good. Then again, maybe he was just an asshole.
Chapter 20
Friday June 5th
Leaning forward, I placed my head in my hands, forcing myself awake. It’d been a long day, to say the least. It was 12:15 a.m., my body was shaky, and I was running on fumes. Yet, there was a deep recess of untapped power that lay just out of reach, controlled by the Grim.
Whatever I’d absorbed earlier was part of me, and the souls of the slain were now mine in a way neither Kur nor I could quite understand. Their power would be at my disposal for the rest of my life…if I ever figured out how to access it.
A few hours ago, Gabriel had gone to his room—a converted office on the other side of the building—to get some rest. While I wanted to put my head down too…I couldn’t. There was something about the office that kept nagging at me. It had started when I found the place unlocked, and nothing in the room secure.
Then there was the fact that none of the files contained any information about Andrew, Ms. Dodd, or any other prominent member of the local Archive. I had to be missing something. Martha was detail-oriented, highly organized, and thorough…it would be unlike the woman I’d come to know through her notes not to have them close at hand.
The phone in my pocket rang, and I nearly jumped out of the chair. Regaining some of my dignity, I got up and eased the door closed before answering it. “This is Gavin.”
Andrew’s voice was tired. “Just checking in. Everything all right?”
He sounded about as good as I felt. Leaning back in the chair, I tried to focus. “Yeah, I’m fine. How about you?”
Andrew sniffed. “We’re good. Will you be in tonight?”
Shaking my head, I said, “I’ll be a while yet.”
“In that case, stay safe and get some rest. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to need it.”
I placed my elbow on the counter. “Thanks.”
Andrew let out a long breath. “Good night.”
“Night.”
After tucking the phone in my pocket, I rubbed my face, got back on my feet, and searched the office again. It took me a good twenty minutes to work my way around to the file cabinet next to the door.
I tugged on the top drawer, which seemed to be stuck. When I gave it another good yank, the cabinet pivoted on its corner, swinging out to block the door before snapping in place. A black metal plate was recessed in the floor, and on a hunch, I placed my hand atop it. There was a click and a whir as it slowly rose.
It was a fireproof—
and, by the look of things, bombproof—file cabinet that appeared to be connected to some sort of counter-weighted pulley system. I walked around the room and found similar cabinets under the others. The design was truly inspired; you had to be a vigil, close yourself in, and turn the cabinet for the room to reveal its secrets.
In the top drawer at the very front was Walter’s file. Taking a couple of minutes to sift through the documents and the next two drawers, I figured out the system. Active cases were in the top, while older and unsolved ones were relegated to lower sections.
I grabbed the notebook she’d tucked in front of Walter’s file and sat at the desk. She was very good at keeping notes, and I needed to start following her example…just not tonight.
As tempting as it was to examine the other cabinets, I needed to take a small section and dig in, so I spread Walter’s file across the long desk before starting on Martha’s notes. The first page in the file was like a police issue form, with a current photo clipped to the top right corner of the page.
After that, the basics followed: his address and boring details such as his race and eye color, but what caught my attention was a list of business holdings and interests, which, to my great surprise, included a seat on the board of directors for Touro Hospital.
Martha had scrawled several notes that referenced the documents within the folder. The first, and hardly surprising, fact was that Walter was an only child from a broken home. From what I’d seen of the asshole, he probably would’ve eaten his siblings. He’d been abandoned at the doorstep of a local orphanage that had closed decades ago.
According to Martha, he suffered from what she called a wasting disease, which she described as the ability to absorb the essence of any living entity and pull it into himself, to be used to fuel other, darker magic. In her words, he was a cancer on the world that needed to be removed. Elizabeth Dodd had intervened on Walter’s behalf over the years, essentially blocking Martha’s ability to incarcerate the man. An allowance she’d apparently regretted recently.
Turning the page, I found a marriage certificate clipped in place. According to this, Walter had married a young woman named Mary Percy on May 21 of 1973. I went back and reread the section that said he didn’t have any living relatives. So, what had happened to Mary? Deeper in the notebook, there was a photo with a yellow Post-it note stuck over the face.
Why had she covered it? Removing the yellow sticker, I suddenly understood. Mary Percy was the spitting image of Martha. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Even in the old black and white photo, I could see the difference. It was the eyes…they were all wrong. Martha’s eyes were full of life, intelligent, and genuinely happy. Mary’s were dull, flat, and nearly lifeless. She had the eyes of someone who’d been broken in mind and body. I’d seen the same look on prisoners, drug addicts, and slaves.
I replaced the Post-it and moved to the next page, which seemed to be mostly speculative. According to Martha, Mary and Walter had never lived with one another. There were extended visits, perhaps, but no actual cohabitation. Martha had found two birth records—one from 1974 for a Walter B. Percy, Jr., and one from 1985 for a J. Brody Percy. That, however, was where the paper trail ended. It was as if the kids didn’t exist, other than on paper.
A sick feeling struck me, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why. It was clear he’d done something to Mary, but would a father really kill his infant children? Maybe that was when he’d gotten a taste for murder, and the need to collect stones, like some sort of keepsake or trophy.
Of course, that theory depended on the children being Stone Born… What were the odds of that happening? My grandfather had two with a human, and my father had me with a… I wasn’t sure what my mother was. I needed to ask Andrew, along with several other things, given this new information.
It was nearly 4:00 a.m. If I left now, I might be in time for breakfast before catching a few hours’ sleep. After tucking everything inside the folder, I set about the office, putting it back the way I’d found it. With the last cabinet restored, I walked out the door. Traffic was light this time of morning, and I pulled into the drive a half hour later. Alexander was, of course, there to greet me.
For his part, he looked well-rested and happy to see me. “Hard night?” For the briefest of moments, I thought he took a long breath through his nose.
“You could say that.”
He thumbed back at the house. “The lights came on a little while ago, so they’re up.”
“Thanks…” I stifled a yawn. “Have a great rest of your morning.”
“You too.”
Not seeing anyone in the living room, I headed for the kitchen in the hopes of finding breakfast. I wasn’t disappointed. Isidore was sitting at the table while Andrew stood watch over the stove. Both gave me a warm welcome, and Isidore pushed out a chair with a foot.
Andrew called over his shoulder. “Hungry?”
“Absolutely.”
I sat at the table, sliding the file just to the left of me.
Isidore eyed it curiously. “Anything good in there?”
Frowning, I shook my head. “I doubt it.”
Andrew dropped a heaping pile of eggs and sausages in front of Isidore, and a more manageable plate for me. He returned quickly enough with his own and took his seat. He gave me a quizzical look as he cut into his sausage. “I’m glad to see you made it back unharmed.” His gaze flitted over to the file. “Find anything helpful?”
Chewing on a mouthful of food, I put a hand on the file and moved it closer to me in case either of them got too curious. “Before we get into what I found, I need to ask some questions.”
Irritation crossed Andrew’s face. The novelty of being denied had clearly worn off. “Shoot.”
Seeing his expression, I went for the easy questions first before lobbing a big pile of shit into the mix. “If one parent is a Stone Born and the other is human, what are the odds of that child being a Stone Born?”
He leaned back in his seat, thinking before he adopted a professorial tone. “While there’s no such thing as a guarantee, the odds are fairly good that the resulting offspring will be Stone Born.” He grimaced. “It’s been known to happen that children are born human or some other species, but it’s exceptionally rare.” His gaze trailed over to the file again. “Why do you ask?”
Putting a hand on the folder, I grumbled, “Combination of educational purposes and practical ones.” I didn’t really want to share, but keeping this information from Andrew felt wrong…so I decided to fuck up everyone’s day and pulled out Mary’s photo, careful to leave the Post-it in place. “Did you know that Walter was married?”
Andrew’s face soured. “I can’t say that I did.”
I laid the photo on the table and scooted it toward my uncle. “Her name was Mary Percy, and they were married in ’73.”
Andrew seemed angrier about the information than the news seemed to warrant, but there was clearly some history there I wasn’t aware of. He put a finger on the corner of the photo, pulled it closer, and removed the Post-it. A storm rolled across his features.
His voice was full of anger and hatred as he stared at the picture. “The bastard just couldn’t get past it.” He slapped the yellow sticky over the face and shoved it back in my direction. “When she wouldn’t have him, for so many obvious reasons, he went out and found this poor thing.” Still glaring at the yellow paper, he growled. “What does this have to do with your investigation?”
Shoving the photo into the folder, I let out a ragged breath. “I’m not sure, but it’s more information than I had yesterday. To be honest, I was hoping you knew something about it that would narrow my search.”
Andrew pushed his plate away. “Is this why you asked about Stone Born children?”
It was more of an accusation than a question. “Only partially. I really did want to know how it worked. On the other hand, the reports show that there were two children.” Anger and hatred danced across my uncle’s face. “Martha wasn’t a
ble to track either of them down. There were birth certificates, but from what I can tell, no actual child has ever been seen.”
Andrew sneered. “It appears no one’s child is safe in his presence. Not even his own.” He got to his feet and marched out of the kitchen without another word.
What the hell was that about? I turned to Isidore, hoping he had the answer. “Care to fill me in?”
Isidore’s face sagged. “Martha was pregnant in ’68.” He leaned back in his chair as he held out his hands in despair. “I don’t know what happened exactly. No one does except Andrew, Martha, and Walter. There was an argument or something, and Martha went into labor, but when they got to the hospital, the baby was stillborn. Andrew didn’t speak to Walter again until the funeral. As you can imagine, there’s a lot of hate there.”
I had to wonder if the miscarriage was what had broken Martha and Andrew up all those years ago. A lot of couples couldn’t handle the death of a child. Then for Walter to have married her clone and had kids of his own was like a slap in Andrew’s face. All I’d succeeded in doing this morning was rubbing salt in a very old wound.
“I didn’t know.”
Isidore shrugged. “Not a lot of people do.”
Chapter 21
It was 11:00 when I jerked awake, freeing myself from the hellish dream world I’d been living in for the last several hours. My mouth was dry, my head hurt, and my body ached. Who knew that comfortable bedding could be used as a torture device?
The first order of business was a shower to undo some of the knots. After that, hopefully I’d find someone in the kitchen with lunch.
Fifteen minutes later, I was clean, dressed, and feeling somewhat better. Stepping into the hall, I could hear voices, some of which were female, coming from the living room. Food would need to wait until I’d checked the guest list. The voices got clearer the further down the hall I went, and by the time I opened the door, I knew I’d find Heather and her mother.
Kimberly was helping Heather into a chair in front of the desk as Andrew came out of the back with a smile for both women. Kimberly readily returned it before inclining her head in his direction. “Thank you for taking her in.” She paused, biting her lip. “I’m sure it will only be a few days. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone at her place in case anything came up, and God forbid I bring her to mine. It’s a damn war zone.”