Vigil

by V. J. Chambers

  “Oh please. Whenever I get laid, I’m going to be twice that loud.”

  I cringed.

  “Joke,” she said. “Now that we’ve talked about it, I’ll probably think about it during, and it’ll ruin the mood.”

  “I hope not.” I headed for the door. “I’ll see you this evening.”

  “Hey, Cecily?”

  I stopped, my hand on the knob. “Yeah?” I turned around.

  “I know that the Veronica Waite benefit isn’t exactly your thing, but I do have an extra ticket, and there’ll be free food and champagne. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Me?” I was surprised she’d ask me. “There’s gotta be someone else you want to ask.”

  “Actually, no, I don’t know anyone except people at Bold! and they’re already going to be there. You’re so outgoing and brave and stuff. You can just talk to anyone, even masked vigilantes, so I guess you probably don’t get that, but—”

  “No, I understand,” I said. “And I’m not that outgoing.”

  “Well, you’re pretty much my only friend in this town. And I think it would be fun.”

  When she put it like that, how could I say no? “Of course I’ll come.”

  She beamed.

  Man, did I feel bad for thinking all the semi-mean things I’d thought about Airenne.

  * * *

  I was in a dress I’d borrowed for Airenne, since she’d claimed that I didn’t have anything appropriate for the Veronica Waite benefit. And it was true, I didn’t really own much in the way of dress-up clothes. My idea of dressed up was generally to throw a blazer over my jeans and call it business casual.

  I had to admit that it had been fun getting ready together.

  And I thought I looked pretty hot in the dress that Airenne had lent me. It was a sleeveless gold number, with embroidered trim around the edges. There was a slit on one side, which I thought was super sexy.

  The benefit was being held in Callum Rutherford’s mansion. I’d never been inside a house that was big and elaborate enough to have its own ballroom. But that was where we were. The house was historic. It had supposedly been built in the 1800s after the Rutherford family had built its fortune. It was beautiful and enormous. Diamond chandeliers dripped from the ceiling. Landscapes and still lifes hung on the walls. The floor was polished white marble.

  Callum Rutherford himself was in attendance, with a busty blonde on each arm. He wore an royal blue suit, which made his blue eyes pop on his flawless face. He grinned and conversed easily with the other guests. He had a lazy charm, I had to admit.

  Airenne and I were watching him across the room, but it was different to see him in person as opposed to TV. He had charisma.

  “I have to talk to him,” said Airenne. “I have to get a quote for the piece I’m doing.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I’m nervous.” She fiddled with her clutch purse. “I bet you never get nervous.”

  “I get nervous all the time. You think when I went out the other night dressed like a hooker, I didn’t feel nervous?”

  “You didn’t act nervous,” she said.

  “And therein lies the answer. Don’t act nervous.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll just go over and introduce myself.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You’re a reporter. You’re doing a job. You have to talk to him.”

  She nodded. “Right.” She smoothed her hair. She took a step. She looked at me. “Come with me?”

  I laughed. “Okay.”

  Together, we made our way across the room towards Callum. On the way, a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes saw us, and we stopped to each take a glass.

  Callum was seated at on an antique couch. One of his blondes perched next to him. He had a casual hand resting on her knee. The other blonde stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder.

  It was creepy, I thought. Kind of like he had Stepford bodyguards or something.

  The girls were clearly ornamentation for him, part of his image. I imagined that he changed them out weekly when he got bored.

  We approached him. He grew closer and closer with every step.

  He leaned forward and whispered something in one of the blonde’s ears.

  She giggled and swatted at him playfully.

  He got a supremely satisfied smile on his face, like he was the king of the world, and he could have whatever he wanted.

  I hated him.

  He was so self-involved and arrogant. Sure, he was attractive, but being attractive didn’t mean that he had the right to act like an asshole.

  He looked away from the blonde at Airenne and me.

  When he saw me, the smile faded from his face.

  I must have let my disapproval show somehow. Damn it. I hoped that I wouldn’t mess up Airenne’s chances to get a good interview.

  He got up from the couch.

  We were only a few feet away.

  Airenne moved smoothly to intercept him. She offered him her hand. “Hi, there Mr. Rutherford. I’m with Bold! magazine, and I was hoping to have just a few minutes of your time?”

  He shook hands with her. “Certainly. How could I resist a smile like that?”

  Airenne’s smile brightened. She tittered, looking pleased and embarrassed.

  He looked from her at me again.

  It was just a quick glance, and then he turned back to Airenne, but there was something about it I didn’t like. His look seemed to go under my clothes as if he knew what I’d look like out of my dress. I felt exposed and violated.

  “Maybe we could go somewhere quieter?” He offered her his arm.

  She took it. “Sure.”

  They strode away.

  * * *

  Airenne and Callum were gone for a while, so I stayed in place, sipping my champagne. I hoped her interview was everything she hoped for, considering she had quite a crush on him.

  For what it was worth, he seemed to have been polite to her. But something about that guy rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like him. I was glad that I hadn’t had to stick around and listen to him answer Airenne’s questions. It might have been too hard for me to not roll my eyes.

  After a while, I began looking around at the other guests. They were all prim and proper in their finery, standing with their shoulders back and their chins tilted. They looked like mannequins in a department store. Mannequins that could move, anyway. I began to feel a little bit out of place.

  Then one of Callum’s blondes caught my eye. On second glance, I realized something.

  I recognized her.

  I couldn’t believe it. I walked over to her. “Jewel? Is that you?”

  She did a double take. “Cecily.” She looked me up and down. “Haven’t you moved up in the world.”

  “I could say the same thing to you,” I said. “Callum Rutherford? You’ve been busy.”

  She leaned close, lowering her voice. “It’s a gig, actually. He’s paying me to be here. He pays pretty well, and it’s a nice change of pace from the club.”

  I drew back. Callum Rutherford bought his girlfriends? Callum Rutherford’s girlfriends were strippers? “The other girl too?”

  She nodded, giving me a secretive smile.

  “Would you go on the record with that?” I said.

  “On the record?”

  “I’m a newspaper intern. This is a great story.”

  “Of course you’re working for a newspaper. That’s what you always wanted. Good for you.”

  I felt a little shy. I looked at my shoes. “Thanks.”

  “Hey,” she said, her voice softening. “I heard about Darlene. I’m real sorry. I know you two were close.”

  Oh. I hadn’t expected her to say that. It surprised me. Hit me hard. I felt my throat constrict and tears threaten. For some reason, talking to someone else that had known Darlene made it all seem too real.

  “She didn’t deserve that,” said Jewel.

  “No,” I managed, my voice strangled. I wiped at my eye
.

  “Aw, shit,” she said. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  I squared my shoulders and pulled myself together. “No, it’s fine.” I took a deep breath. “So, about the story. Could I quote you if I went to press about Callum and his girls?”

  “No way,” she said. “I’m not messing this up. I don’t want the world to know. It’s a great gig.”

  I sighed, weighing my desire to see Callum Rutherford humiliated against the knowledge that he was probably giving all these girls the time of their lives and paying them for it. They could use a break from getting their garters stuffed with dollar bills. I was sure they appreciated it. “So, you’re not really his girlfriends? You’re just paid escorts?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Escorts? You asking me if he pays to sleep with girls?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Does he?”

  “This is off the record, right?”

  I sighed. Then I nodded. Even if Jewel wouldn’t talk, I might be able to convince someone else to do it. People did a lot of crazy things just to see their names in the newspaper. “Sure, off the record.”

  “Not me,” she said. “I don’t do that. But maybe with some of the other girls.”

  “Weird,” I said. “He’s richer than god. He has women throwing themselves at him. Why is he paying for girlfriends and sex?”

  She shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

  * * *

  Airenne came back, her eyes bright, a big smile on her face. “He’s amazing,” she said. “He’s so charming. I think I’m in love.”

  I bit my tongue. I wanted to tell her that he would only be interested in her if she was the kind of girl who took money to take off her clothes, but I decided it would only make her upset. Besides, until I had someone who could corroborate what Jewel had told me, it would only be idle speculation.

  “I want you to meet him,” she said. “Come with me.”

  I let her drag me across the ballroom. I had to admit that I was becoming more intrigued by this guy. Why did he need to buy his girlfriends? And did that make him more of an asshole or less of one?

  But Callum saw us coming and turned away. He started to weave through the crowd, like he was running away from us.

  That made two times tonight that he’d walked away from me.

  Coincidence?

  Callum clinked a fork against his champagne flute, and all of the guests quieted. They moved back from him, leaving a wide space around him.

  He stood in the center of the floor, smiling widely. “Hi there, everyone. I hope you’re having a lovely time. I wanted to say a few words about my mother, the woman who we’re here to honor tonight.”

  Everyone applauded.

  He waited for them to quiet. “I was very young when my mother was tragically taken from me, so I don’t remember very much about her. Luckily for me, she left a vast legacy behind, and through her work, I’ve come to know her in much the same way as all of you have. Veronica Waite was a talented actress, singer, and dancer. She was a beautiful and successful woman. What you may or may not know is that she didn’t start out so successful. She grew up an unknown hopeful in middle America.

  “I believe,” he continued, “that she would wholly approve of what we are doing here tonight, raising money to for grants to the Aurora School of Performing Arts, where my mother was lucky enough to win a scholarship. Through our sponsorship, more unknown hopefuls in middle America will have the same chance that my mother did.”

  A waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes moved in front of me, obscuring my view of Callum.

  I could still see his mouth moving, but I couldn’t see the rest of his face.

  A cold hand gripped my spine.

  Callum kept talking, but I didn’t hear anything he said.

  I recognized that mouth. Those lips.

  Holy hell.

  Vigil was Callum Rutherford.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Eventually, Callum finished his speech.

  There was more applause.

  Airenne weaved through the surrounding people, gripping a recorder.

  I followed her. I felt taut, like a string that had been pulled too tight. My heart banged away in my chest.

  “Callum!” She raised her hand.

  He smiled. “Yes, Airenne?”

  “I wonder if you’d care to comment on your mother’s own work raising money for scholarships to the Aurora School for the Performing Arts?”

  “Certainly,” said Callum. “She was devoted to it.”

  I pushed past Airenne.

  “I think what we’re doing here tonight is exactly what she would have wanted us to do in her memory,” Callum continued.

  I emerged in the clear space, right next to Callum.

  He saw me, and his jaw tightened.

  I glared at him. “Mr. Rutherford. Cecily Kane, Aurora Sun-Times.”

  “I know who you are,” he said, his voice ice. “You’re the woman who’s writing those articles about that insane man, Vigil. Painting him out to be a hero when he really needs to stand aside and let the law do its own work.”

  “Well, a man like yourself could hardly be expected to do anything about organized crime in this city, could he?” I said. “It’s not as if you have the resources, the means to influence those sorts of matters for good. I suppose that’s why there’s an insane man out there cleaning up crime while you’re inside your mansion giving money to aspiring hopefuls in middle America.”

  He smiled tightly. “I don’t suppose that you’re implying that giving money to the arts or to artists themselves is not a worthwhile cause, are you, Ms. Kane? You wouldn’t dare say something so hurtful to me and my mother’s memory at a benefit for her, would you?”

  Airenne grabbed my hand. “Cecily,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving,” I said. I shook Airenne off and headed out of the ballroom.

  This couldn’t be happening. Vigil could not be Callum Rutherford. I hated Callum Rutherford and everything he stood for. He was an arrogant jerk, a spoiled playboy who got whatever he wanted. How had I tumbled into his arms?

  I’d made love to him.

  He’d been inside me.

  I felt ill.

  I picked up the pace, my borrowed heels clattering against the marble floor.

  I was dangerously close to losing it. I didn’t know if I was going to throw up or burst into tears or both, but I wanted to do it as far away from this mansion as possible.

  I needed to call a cab. I’d shared one with Airenne on the way over here, but I wanted to be alone now. I scrabbled in my purse for my phone.

  I pulled it out and began to dial.

  And someone caught me by the arm. “Excuse me, Ms. Kane.”

  I dropped my phone. I knelt to pick it up.

  But a portly man with a balding head had beaten me to it. He was dressed in a suit with tails. He tucked my phone into his pocket. “I beg your pardon, but Mr. Rutherford would like to speak with you. He’s asked that I escort you to the parlor to wait on him.”

  I yanked myself away from him. “I don’t have anything to say to Mr. Rutherford. Sorry.”

  He took my arm again, more firmly. “I’m afraid I really must insist.”

  I looked up and down the hallway. There was no one there besides myself and this man.

  I struggled, trying to pull out of his grasp. “Let go of me. And give me back my phone.”

  He held me fast. “With pleasure, miss. As soon as I’ve accompanied you to the parlor.”

  I gave one last useless tug against his grip. And then I gave up. Maybe I wanted to hear what Callum Rutherford—Vigil—had to say.

  * * *

  The portly man stood guard at the door to the parlor as if I might get up and try to make a run for it at any moment.

  “Who are you, anyway?” I asked him.

  “I’m Nolan Orville, miss. I’m the butler. I’ve worked for the Rutherford family since before Master Callum was born.” He smi
led at me. “You could say that I’m the closest thing to family he has.”

  Interesting. “And you do whatever he asks you to do, even manhandle women into his parlor?”

  “I assist him in whatever way I can,” he said. “I know him better than anyone else. I know all his secrets. He trusts me to do any task he requires, yes.”

  “All his secrets?” I said. “Even the spandex ones?”

  Nolan’s mouth curved into a smile. “I warned him it was unwise to interact with you as much as he did. He didn’t listen. And now, here we are.”

  So, it was like that, was it? Nolan Orville didn’t approve of me as an appropriate choice for his surrogate son. Wonderful. I folded my hands into my lap and stared forward. There was no point in communicating with him any further.

  Callum appeared in the room several minutes later. “Thanks, Nolan.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “That’ll be all.”

  Nolan looked as if he was about to say something.

  “That’ll be all,” Callum said firmly.

  Nolan left the room and Callum shut the door after him.

  I stood up. It was strange to look at him. Now that I knew who he was, I could see Vigil in him. He moved just as gracefully, and, of course, he had the same broad shoulders and powerful body. But it was like looking at a distorted photograph or something. He was Vigil, but he wasn’t Vigil.

  He didn’t carry himself with the same kind of lethal presence that Vigil did. I would have said that he didn’t seem as confident, but that seemed ludicrous. Callum Rutherford was cocky and self-assured. Of course he was confident.

  I realized it was simply a different kind of confidence. Callum was snobbish, entitled. Vigil oozed strength and certainty.

  He crossed the room to the fireplace. It was antique and decorative. He set the glass of champagne he carried on the mantle. He didn’t look at me. “You recognized me. I thought you might. I was… too close to you. But I guess I thought it was unlikely you’d ever get close enough to me to figure it out.”

  “Is that what you told Nolan when he told you to stay away from me?”

  “Don’t be angry with Nolan. He looks out for me, that’s all.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “He practically forced me into this room.”

  “Well, I couldn’t exactly let you leave.” He turned around to look at me.