by Ken Lange
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Andrew filled me in on what had brought Ms. Dodd to our doorstep besides the Broussards and Marcus Gray being killed. She was upset that a filthy human was somehow involved in what she considered a messy situation and implied that Andrew had overstepped his authority in the matter by including me. Further confirmation that I’d need to move out and find a place of my own sooner rather than later. I couldn’t have people running to my uncle’s place every time they got their panties in a wad.
Chapter 27
Sunday June 7th
The encounter with Ms. Dodd and the ensuing conversations had left me spent. Extricating myself from my uncle and the others, I slogged off to my room for a long, hot shower and a few minutes of peace, followed by a good night’s sleep.
I hadn’t expected the level of violence contact with a nephilim had brought out in the others. The scent had made Ms. Dodd absolutely murderous. No wonder Martha had kept Gabriel hidden and away from the Archive. I doubted seriously he would’ve survived if his presence had been common knowledge. I’d have to bring him into the open soon, though, to make sure the others knew he was under my protection.
His heritage would need to remain a secret from everyone, though, save myself and Gabriel, until we could find a way to break the news to my uncle.
The hot water did remarkable things for my attitude, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. Falling asleep in the bath never ended well, though, so I toweled off and pulled on a pair of jeans before falling face-first into the soft, cushy mattress, letting sleep take me almost instantly. The dream, or perhaps it was a vision, was upon me in seconds.
It wasn’t the world I knew. It was younger and far more primal than anything in recorded history. Gods and devils walked the earth, warring with one another on a scale I couldn’t comprehend.
The god Ankou rose out of the darkness to create the armies of the undead, ripping souls from beyond the veil to serve him here and now. In that moment, he created the blackest of arts—necromancy. His hatred and anger at the light drove him to break the laws of creation itself.
Lugus, god of light, saw this atrocity, and in his arrogance, created life where none should ever have existed, bringing forth warriors of pure life against the soldiers of death. The battle was terrible to behold. Shadow and light wove in and out of encounter after encounter, neither side gaining the upper hand.
Both gods stooped lower and lower as they created abominations that threatened to destroy the very fabric of the universe. The other powers of the land created pockets of reality as they tried to flee the terrible war. In time, the world seethed and ripped at itself, unable to tolerate this conflict between life and death any longer.
As the earth cried out in pain and terror, it created a being of such power that nothing could withstand it—and the reaper was born. It stood in the midst of a great battlefield wrapped in a death shroud, each of his hands covered in violet flames.
The reaper looked out toward Ankou high up on the ridge above. His voice shook the earth as he spoke. “This will end now. Withdraw your forces, and leave this world, or I’ll be forced to involve myself.”
Ankou laughed. “Why would you fight for them?”
The reaper sighed as he looked back at Lugus. “I make you the same offer. Withdraw, and leave this world.” He paused as he glanced at each god in turn. “Or I will remove you both.”
Ankou and Lugus were so enraged that they ordered their forces against the solitary figure. With a wave of the reaper’s hands, he ripped the souls out of both armies.
In his rage, the reaper bound archangels and archdemons to the land as protectors to ensure the balance. His power tore at both gods, stripping them of all authority and sealing them behind the veil, never to enter this world again.
The reaper turned its face to me, and I screamed.
Sweat poured off me, and I shook, replaying the dream over and over again in my head. Finally, a soft knock at the door roused me. Looking over at the clock, it was 1:15 p.m.
“Come in.”
Heather pushed the door open and gingerly hobbled into the room before closing it behind her. “You all right?”
I padded over to the dresser, found a t-shirt, and quickly pulled it on before flopping onto the bed. “Fine. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I heard you scream.”
Getting myself together, I sat on the edge of the bed. “Bad dreams. Nothing to worry about.”
She waved a hand at the nearest chair. “Mind if I sit?”
I painted an easy smile on my face. “Help yourself.”
Heather carefully lowered herself into the chair with only a slight grimace. “Thanks.” She made herself comfortable…which was a relative thing after being stabbed in the gut.
“What’s up?”
She bit her lip. “I heard about Marcus, and then there was the shit with Ms. Dodd, not to mention the fact a nephilim is somehow involved… Is it true? About the nephilim, I mean.”
I stretched. “Yes, it’s true.”
Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped into the cutest little “oh.” Curiosity laced her voice. “Wow, I’ve never seen an actual nephilim. Are the stories true? Are they massive? Powerful? What’s he—or is it she—like?” Her fast-paced questions stopped as her face turned sour. “I’ve heard they’re dangerous.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “The same could be said about sorcerers, weres, witches, and other members of the Archive.”
She let out a long breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it like that before.” She shook her head. “I never meant… I was curious then I spouted the shit I’ve been told all my life without ever meeting them.” She looked ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry.”
I did my best to be reassuring. “Don’t worry about it.” Thinking back to my own childhood, I couldn’t hide the pain on my face. “People don’t realize how much it hurts to be discriminated against for things that aren’t your fault. Things you were never personally responsible for.”
That hadn’t helped, and she looked more hurt than before. “I’m really sorry. I never meant it that way. I swear.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I shook my head, trying to clear it so I wouldn’t be such an asshole. “That came out wrong.”
Heather’s smile was bittersweet. “No, it came out right. I learned a long time ago that the truth is rarely gentle, or kind, for that matter.”
I frowned. “You’re right.”
Shifting in her seat, she changed the subject quickly. “Where did you find Marcus, and why did he attack you?”
The memory of the man snapped the cobwebs out of my head instantly. There was the truth, and then there was what she wanted to hear. “Have you ever been to Brad’s place?”
At the mention of his home, she shivered. “That creepy place on the river?” She looked sick for a moment before shaking her head. “He’s invited me, of course, but the place gave me the willies. Why do you ask?” Then it dawned on her. “Marcus was there?”
“Yeah.”
Heather’s face clouded with confusion. “Why would he be there? Do you think he was looking for Brad?”
Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’m not sure, but it looked like he was living there.”
She was fighting hard not to see the obvious, and I couldn’t understand why. “That’s not possible. Everyone knows Marcus works for Walter.”
“That’s what I’m hearing.”
Heather’s composure cracked, and tears threatened to fall. “God, I really want you to be wrong.”
“Why does it matter so much?”
Her head fell forward, and her shoulders slumped. “Because if he’s with Walter, where does that leave my dad?” She sniffed, fighting back the tears. “I know he’s a world-class asshole, but he’s still my father. And I just have a hard time believing that, even with all his faults, he’d be the kind of man who would have any dealings with Walter Percy.”
“One th
ing at a time. Let’s find out if there’s even a connection. After that, we can see where it takes us.”
Heather’s face hardened. “If he’s tied up with a necromancer, there aren’t a lot of options.” She got to her feet. “If that’s the case, make it quick. Don’t drag it out. Just end it.”
“I can do that.”
She leaned over and wrapped her arms around me in a weak hug. “Thank you.”
With that, she was out of my room, across the hall, and closing the door before I could get my thoughts together. Just as well…what the hell was I going to say? “Thanks for giving me permission to kill your old man?” Or “Gee, thanks for letting me do my job?” Yeah, my options just got worse from there.
I placed my head in my hands, trying to work up the nerve to get back on my feet and do what needed to be done. My phone chimed, letting me know I had a new email. When I pushed the icon, a mail from Lieutenant Baptist popped into view.
Gavin,
I wanted to give you a heads-up. While information on Walter Bradley Matherne is scarce, to say the least, I had a little more luck with Mary Percy. I won’t bore you with the details, but Mary Percy’s full name is Gretchen Mary Matherne Percy. She changed her name when she married Walter.
Turns out one Mary Matherne was admitted to a secure nursing home in 1995, where she died in 2005 in Katrina.
The news concerning Walter Bradley Percy isn’t great. He was given up for adoption shortly after birth but was never taken in. He spent a great deal of his childhood and teenage years in the foster system. That is, until he turned fourteen, when he was hospitalized at Touro. Once there, he was treated for his injuries and brought on as a volunteer by Robert Broussard.
The next four years are sketchy, but it appears Robert and the boy stayed close. His name is buried deep in the purchase of that place by the river that I sent you to. BTW, how did that turn out?
For now, I have to run…still tracking down information that might be useful. Be in touch soon.
Lt. William Baptist UCD
Looking up at the door, I sighed. That effectively ended the question of Brad being Walter’s son. What it didn’t answer was if there was still a connection between Walter, Brad, and Robert. That in and of itself was the only good news I could see. It meant I didn’t have to take Robert’s head and put it on a pike for everyone to see. Yet. My gut was telling me the man was dirty, and the evidence was piling up that he was more involved in this than anyone had guessed. Well, maybe Heather had guessed, and that was why she was so adamant about Brad.
I grabbed my boots and other items to finish getting dressed. There was a lot to do, the first of which was to discover how Ms. Dodd had gotten the news about Marcus Gray. I was fairly certain no one at the house was feeding her the information. My best guess was that the CCTV station wasn’t as closed off as I’d thought.
I walked into the kitchen, and found a covered plate of food with a note from Kimberly in a beautiful flowing green script.
Gavin,
Made my famous beef stroganoff in honor of you helping Heather and me this morning. We’re eternally grateful for what you did.
P.S. I can’t guarantee there’s anything left for you. Isidore and Alexander look very hungry.
Pulling the cover off, I was pleased to find a generous helping of the dish in question. The weres had apparently seen fit to save me a healthy portion. After eating what I could, I put the rest in a plastic container before placing it in the fridge. I strode into the living room, which was blissfully empty; after my conversation with Heather, I wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood.
Five minutes later, I was on 4th Street heading for Elmwood. I needed to check on Gabriel. After that, I’d sift through the files before stopping at Brad’s to see what else I could find.
Chapter 28
Monday June 8th
The sun was hanging low in the sky as I sat in the car, relishing my last few seconds alone. If this was how the outside world was, I wasn’t sure how people coped with the information overload. Mentally, I was tired from meeting new people and constantly having to evaluate their every action to ensure they weren’t a threat.
Adding to my stress, I hadn’t been able to shake the dream from earlier. Even Kur was at a loss to explain what we’d been shown. It was so real, but there was no possible way to know what was true and what wasn’t. Kur was ancient, but this wasn’t his world, and as such, he had no memory of the confrontation.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but when the word alien came to mind, his response was, “Yes, but not in the way you mean.” Which only raised more questions…but they would have to wait.
When I stepped inside the old DHL building, Gabriel quickly rounded the corner with his gun drawn. Once he realized it was me, he holstered the weapon.
Lowering my hands, I said, “This is becoming a habit. Any chance you’ll be breaking it soon?”
Gabriel grunted. “Probably not…especially after last night.”
The man made a fair point.
“Well, if you could avoid shooting me, I’d be very grateful.”
He chuckled. “Can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.” Sighing, I said, “But it’s probably best you carry a weapon on you at all times for the foreseeable future.”
Gabriel frowned. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It’s not. After our encounter with the specters, you had a few cuts on you…and I guess I got some blood on me.” I glanced up at him and grimaced. “Ms. Dodd was at my uncle’s when I returned home.”
His expression faltered. “They know about me then.”
I nodded. “Sort of… They know I’ve employed a nephilim, but they don’t know anything else, and I’d like to keep it that way for a bit—especially when it comes to your mother’s identity.”
Gabriel gestured toward the back. “This sounds like a conversation I need to sit for…and maybe have a drink, if you brought another bottle.”
I reached into my bag and handed over two liters of premium vodka. “I did.”
A few seconds later, he opened the armory door and sat at the table. “Do you think they’ll leave me be?”
Wobbling my hand back and forth, I said, “After my pointed conversation with Ms. Dodd, it isn’t as if they have much of a choice. That doesn’t mean they won’t start asking questions soon, but they won’t harm you…I hope.” With a shrug, I sighed. “Any chance you could help fill in some blanks for me so I can deflect their inquiries?”
His voice dropped to a near whisper. “If you’re wanting to know who my father is…I don’t know.”
“That would’ve helped a lot, because I don’t want to go telling Andrew that you’re Martha’s son right off the bat.”
He winced. “Yeah, that’s going to suck. You know about Mom’s miscarriage then?”
“Not much, but enough to know that her having a kid with someone else might push him over the edge right now.”
Gabriel frowned. “True, but he’s going to find out eventually…especially if I get within a hundred and fifty-two feet of the man.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s an awfully specific number.”
He shrugged. “According to Mom, that’s the radius I’d need to be in for him to read my thoughts.” Letting out a dark laugh, he said, “I should look at this as a positive. It’ll be the first time someone won’t lose their shit over me being a nephilim.”
“That’s one way of seeing it.”
Gabriel grinned. “I suppose it’s in my nature to find the bright spot in even the bleakest situation.”
I laughed. “Good man.” Thumbing out the door, I said, “With that settled, I’ve got to dig up a new clue, because at the moment, I’ve got nada.”
He got to his feet and grabbed a glass out of the cabinet. “Are you going to be here for dinner?”
“No idea.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll order an extra pizza, j
ust in case.”
Pizza sounded good to me, but I had work, so I left Gabriel alone to do whatever it was he did. One day soon I’d have to figure out what that was. From what I could tell, his life was a sheltered one. I sat at the desk and started sifting through the files I’d pulled last night, but my mind drifted.
Then something in the paperwork caught my eye. Martha had scribbled an address in the margin of one of the pages: 723 Congress Street, New Orleans. I punched the address into my phone, and zoomed in to see it was in a section of the city called the Bywater. From the looks of things, it wasn’t the best of neighborhoods, and the address appeared to be a boarded-up heap that needed to be leveled.
I grabbed my gear, which at this point included both swords shoved into a backpack, along with a few other essentials. Time to go see what was so important about this rundown piece of shit.
At the armory, I stuck my head in. “Looks like I won’t be here for dinner after all.”
Gabriel gave me a wave. “Good hunting.” He paused, looking a little anxious. “Would you like me to tag along? I don’t exactly get out a lot.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “Tell ya what. After I wrap things up on Friday, we’ll go grab a drink and have a good meal somewhere in the city.”
He smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I felt bad for leaving the guy, but if everyone responded to nephilim the way Ms. Dodd or even Isidore had, I’d spend more time explaining his presence than getting anything accomplished. With that thought depressingly fixed in my mind, I headed out. Frankly, I could’ve used the backup, but that couldn’t happen until after the ceremony.
Traffic wasn’t terrible, and dusk was rapidly approaching by the time I pulled up outside the gray shotgun double thirty minutes later. The windows were boarded up with rotting plywood, but the transom over the 723 entrance appeared to have a curtain, and the green wooden door still looked functional. A part of me was horrified that people would live in this sort of squalor here in the States. Of course, I’d seen much worse overseas, but those were Third World countries, or literally in the middle of a war zone.