I coughed in surprise. “Your grandmother?”
“After a fashion, yes. Esther joined me for a drink at the beach. She’s really quite pleasant, and very stealthy . . . but in essence, she feels”—she searched for a word, and snapped her fingers—“disconnected, now that she’s returning to, as she put it, a ‘state of domestication’. It’s a rather attractive offer, I must say, and since she spawned Elizabeth, yes, I guess you could call her Grandma. You’ve met her haven’t you?” She asked.
“Yes, briefly. She seemed so young, it took some adjustment to think of her as—wait, how old do you think she is?” I asked.
“I think she’s been here since before the last ice age.” she said reverently. “To survive that long reveals the kind of will I can only fantasize about.”
“Holy—ice age? That’s, I mean,” I stammered. That meant more than ten thousand years. I was speechless. Who could imagine the things Esther had seen? Regaining my voice, I asked, “Do you trust her?”
She shook her head. “As much as I can any immortal. She’s just so odd. I think that her memory is returning in chunks, and she processes what she can, as she can. I think she’s also a bit lonely. That is something I can understand, but in truth, if I chose to deny her presence around me, she might just kill me. She’s not only one of my progenitors, she’s at least five times my age. You learn a few tricks over that many years.” She winked at me and I laughed, pulling her close. A few didn’t begin to describe her repertoire of tricks. “I think she can seriously help. At any rate, it’s worth exploring, don’t you think?” She kissed my chin and I nodded. It was logical, sensible, and prudent. In essence, the exact opposite of how this woman made me feel with the slightest touch of her hands. She absently caressed my cheek. “You can take me to lunch today. I’ll need a few things to set this in motion and we can’t do it here.” A pout formed on her lips. “I don’t like sharing my space with others, except perhaps you or Patroclus, if I could ever peel that beautiful man away from his demigod.” She sighed dramatically.
I poked her lightly in the ribs. “I’m right here. You don’t need to lust after him while we’re still in bed. Decorum demands you wait until after I depart your sheets, young lady,” I instructed her.
She turned her head and chuckled, a sensual noise that made me the tiniest bit crazy every time I heard it. This was getting out of hand. I had a home, and I was losing sight of going there.
“You can always go home, Ring,” she said, reading my thoughts, “but I will not always be able to have all of this.” She gestured at me and the stillness of the room.
I understood. “I’ll always want to come here.” It was the truth, but it was far from simple.
“I know. And you’ll wonder later on if you love me, and I will think about you because we’re in that freefall where it feels so incredible that your tunnel vision sees only me, and you feel only this.” She reached out and put her hand flat on my stomach. “But I’m no child, love. I know what we are. I’ve always known. Your problem isn’t with me, and it isn’t with your partners. It’s with the universe. We met, and we are here, together. Your efforts are going to help me save myself. I choose where and when to give thanks, Ring. I also”—she leaned up to kiss me—“select how I will love. I choose to love you in my own way, and hope that finding a lover who can free me from killing will be enough to put my own nature behind me forever. Your home is safe. It might not feel that way, but it is, because believe me when I tell you, I savor you now because someday soon, you’ll be dead. You’ll meet an Undying who will rip you apart, and I’ll mourn you, Ring, but I will have to go on. There is nothing else I can do, but you’ll be here each and every time I decide not to kill. Do you understand?”
My throat was dry and tight. I made it a habit never to think I wasn’t fast enough to survive, but I knew that every streak ended sometime. I nodded.
I bent to kiss her and my hands pulled her to me. Delphine wore nothing under her shirt, and lifted it upward with agonizing slowness, finally letting her hands come to rest on my hips. I entered her and my eyes closed at the radiant heat that suffused me with each plunge. There could never be enough time for this, I resolved, and looked at her face as she studied me in between languid kisses. She was right. It was enough.
46
New Orleans
“This is the last one I know about. Other than Delphine’s place, but there’s no way I’m even stepping inside that door,” Risa said with a scowl. Wally had driven the two of them through the streets of stately homes only to find that the locations Elizabeth used to house her victims were already sold. Someone was liquidating things in a hurry, and Risa was growing more despondent with each SOLD sign they encountered.
Until the last one on the list, which they found quiet, closed up tight, and with no evidence of activity. Wally looked around the side of the house and shrugged. “There is a little house in the back, too.” They both moved as one to the brick pathway and opened an iron gate that screeched in protest. The secondary quarters were small but tidy, more like a glorified workshop, and a single white door led inside. The windows were covered with something—paper, perhaps, and the door was locked. While Risa fumbled for a credit card to slip the lock, Wally’s foot lashed out in a snap kick once, then twice, and the frame gave with a sharp crack as the door swung silently open.
“I did not want to wait. Your purse is too big,” Wally reasoned, and stepped into the desultory heat of the confined space.
“Don’t touch anything yet,” Risa cautioned. “Remember, Elizabeth was here. There could be anything in left behind.” It was sage advice, given their track record with the now deceased paragon of evil.
“What is this place?” Wally asked, and her voice sounded muffled in the hot, dusty air. A heavy wooden table covered with tool marks squatted in the middle of the room, with utilitarian cabinets all hanging open at eye level, mounted on the plain plywood walls. There was metal dust, and what looked like chips of black glass—even something like wood shavings, but very glossy and moist looking. A single battered desk sat against a second door that had been covered over years earlier. There were two drawers, and on top of the desk, a writing surface and scraps of white drafting paper.
Risa used a pen to pry the top drawer open, peering inside with exaggerated care. It was empty, save take out menus, some discarded candle stubs, and a broken metal file. When Wally nodded at her to open the second one, she realized that they had not spoken in several minutes. The air was thick with tension, and both women breathed quietly while moving slowly and methodically. Risa’s pen slid the second drawer out several inches, and her eyes went wide at the sight. A fine pad of heavy white paper had been hastily folded in an uneven bend, and she could see a single word in small, deliberate scrawl. Delphine.
47
Menorca
Safe for families and children. Indeed. The Bishop flicked the tourist placard down dismissively and considered his location. Finding suitable vessels as he made his way west was becoming a bit more challenging, but if necessary, he could take more drastic measures. He had slept in foul ditches for months on end before, underneath his station to be sure, but sadly required on occasion. I do spend a great deal of time near the water, he thought, and permitted himself the barest of smiles. For a creature of the desert, this was as alien a landscape as he could imagine, yet his travels drew him inevitably to the oceans as he traversed the lands, always reaching, always feeding, never satisfied to simply exist. No, this sensation was different. He felt no call to the blood whatsoever, even when fine boned women sauntered past him, open admiration on their sunburned faces. It was only natural that they should be drawn to him; he imagined that his welling power would be tangible even to these dullards, and that knowledge alleviated some of his lingering agitation, since he was visited by the mysterious woman in his dreams. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the hunger, it was just so intensely specific, like nothing he had experienced before in his years of killing
. Why do I look at their eyes? Their abdomens? Why do I judge the swell of their liver and the vibrancy of their skin? What am I looking for? He shook his head to clear the confusion, certain that his unusual cravings were nothing more than the remnants of his steps towards godhood. Leaning back in his chair, he counseled himself to patience. All would be revealed in good time, and then, his wants would be fulfilled at his slightest whim. He was going to be a god. Whatever that meant, he knew that he had been chased down by humans for the last time. When I next feed, it will be purely for pleasure. He closed his eyes, and he dreamed no more.
48
Florida
It was nearly midnight when Wally and Risa pulled into the driveway. I was cleaning up drool form Gyro’s enthusiastic drink of water, wiping the tile diligently in a manner that only dog owners truly understand. I finally heard the muffled thumps of Wally’s Highlander doors closing, and then a hint, a ghost, really, of angry words. Coming from them? That was odd, but before I could meet them, they opened the door and stepped inside. Both of their faces were flushed from exhaustion and something else. They looked . . . uncertain? Angry?
“Hey, glad you’re back. Tell me all about it, I made iced tea and there’s a tray of lasagna for you, too. I can heat it—” I stopped. They were both completely still. Gyro ceased his greetings and whined, flicking his ears back in consternation and settling to his haunches. Something was wrong. I stood before both of them, looking for anything obvious, but seeing nothing. I took the final step and put my arm around Risa. Wally hung back, and Risa pulled away, subtly, but definitively.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice low and urgent. I knew those faces. They were the bad news express, and I was dreading the answer.
“We found the Tolson kids . . . family. I guess. Whatever.” Risa started, and looked pleadingly at Wally, who put her hand on my face and motioned for me to sit down. I shook my head, but I went to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, meeting her in the middle, in my mind.
“And?” I prompted.
“It’s fine. We can talk about it later. They gave us their contacts, their emails, everything. They’re just amateurs who lost their parents, but . . . we went to New Orleans, too.”
“What? Why?” I was confused. We had no need of anything there. I certainly never wanted to see Delphine’s home again. I wasn’t sure I would survive such a reunion.
“We wanted to find out if there was a connection. Between the places Elizabeth owned and what is happening now,” Wally stated flatly. She was withholding something. She chewed her lip and looked away.
“Just tell me you’re both alright. Are you?” I asked, reexamining both of them. When they nodded, I said, “What then? What’s got you spooked? They’re all dead. We killed their queen, or whatever you want to call her. Dead.” I chopped my hand down for emphasis.
Risa shook her head warily. “Before you see this, you have to stay here. We will examine this together, Ring. We will solve this together.” Her tone was steely.
I spied the paper as she pulled it from her bag, and gestured at her impatiently. With some reluctance, she let me take it and I began to scan the sheets, covered with small, block style writing, highly organized and almost mechanical.
“What the . . . what the fuck is this?” I spouted, trying to make sense of the entries. It was surveillance, or notes of some kind. No, my mind interrupted, it’s a log.
“We found it in the last house; it was the one where the guy named Davis was working. He, well, we think he was the one who Elizabeth used to kill some of the others, somehow, but he’s smart. Really smart, and he pried information away from the director of that shell company that she used to buy everything for her scheme.”
“Dieter? The banker? That asshole?” I seethed.
Wally stood very close to me and said, “He is still alive, but he is human. We know that from these notes. It is a, what did you call it?” she asked Risa.
“It’s a dossier, built from things he learned, questions he asked. He worked with at least one other Archangel, some sadist named Enoch. He’s dead, too, by the way, but at the very end of his stay under Elizabeth, I think that Davis was starting to change.”
“To an Undying?” I demanded.
“Mm-hmh. He lost his family, or was taken from them, we’re not sure which, but his last entry explains that he wants the blood of every single immortal he can find, especially those associated with Elizabeth.” Risa explained.
“Why? Is he—does he want to remain human?” I asked.
Risa shook her head with careful sadness. “Elizabeth found his lover, a boy who left him. She turned him into a ghoul, and Davis was forced to kill him. The, the other Archangels had been”—she grimaced and looked stricken—“they had been feeding the ghoul. Infants. Davis found them. The ones that hadn’t been eaten yet.”
Jesus Christ in heaven. I felt like a hammer had struck me. Infants? Right then I wished Elizabeth back to life just so I could kill that frigid bitch again and again.
Risa swallowed dryly. “There’s more. Davis thinks he’s an avenging angel or something. Delusional thoughts of grandiose revenge and all that shit. He’s going to find and kill all of the remaining bloodline that Elizabeth has left, but he only knows of one person who fits that bill.”
“Who? Us?” I asked, still in shock.
Wally put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed hard. “Delphine.”
I jerked as if shot. “Where”—and I annunciated the word with painful clarity—“is this asshole?”
They looked at each other, and then Wally frowned, holding out her phone. A text message was onscreen, from Kevin.
“Kevin? This guy’s near Kevin? Does he want to kill priests, too?” I panicked at the thought of our innocent friend being embroiled in such depravity.
Wally said, “No. He followed Delphine. She led him to the church. And that is where he is hiding out under a different name. He thinks he is a paladin, a knight who will clean the sin from the earth. Like she said, he is very . . . grand.”
I pierced Risa with my gaze. “What name is he using?”
“His real name is Davis Paladino. I guess he thought it was fate that he should kill Undying. He calls himself ‘Red’ now, though.”
“What a dickhead. The Red Paladin.” I snorted at his stupidity. I’d show him what revenge looked like. “Where is he?” When Risa hesitated, I snatched Wally’s phone from her and looked at the text message again. There was an address. Both of my partners squared before me, but when they saw my face, a deflation swept through them. I grabbed my knife, keys, and wallet and stalked to the door. “Don’t follow me. He’s human, mostly, right?” When they both said yes, I opened the door, but turned back as the haze of rage descended over my vision. “I’m sorry. I can’t let him take another breath, not now.” I closed the door. I hoped Davis Paladino enjoyed his last day on earth, because his time here was up.
* * *
Car lights bounced and fluttered as an enormous vehicle, some sort of vintage jeep thing, careened into an open space on the street and came to a stop, rocking forward on its springs. When she saw who was at the wheel, she slipped silently back into the hedge, an excellent vantage point that let her see both windows on the efficiency apartment. A jalousie door was the only entrance, and she was completely hidden less than ten feet away. Footsteps pounded up the walkway as the tall one, Ring, snapped a wicked looking knife into his hand and flipped it into a hidden position, resting against his forearm. Isn’t this interesting? she thought, as waves of hatred radiated from the man who stalked up to the door like a malevolent whisper. From inside the walls, a small lamp cast a shadow where the lone occupant was reading at a small desk. A radio tuned to a scratchy A.M. station played somber hymns. A voice speaking in French broke into the broadcast, made a small announcement, and the next funereal song began with a hail of static. The tall man paused, listening, and then covered the remaining steps in one blur of motion. That too was interesting, for if she
didn’t know better, she would guess he had been an Undying for some time. His hand gripped the knob, and with a savage jerk, he pulled the door open and plunged inside, all without uttering a sound. She skipped quickly to the window and stood on her toes to look in, but it was nearly too late.
“Hey, asshole.” The man’s voice grated, dripping with rage. His quarry did not even attempt to stand. The knife, held at a slight angle, was inches from the sitting man’s eye. The tip of the blade remained frozen in place.
“Who are you? A friend of the whore, no doubt.” He laughed in a remarkable act of bravado, given his situation.
“Whore?” The question was an icy whisper. Even the goddess flinched at the menace in that single word. This was a very dangerous man, she decided, and filed his face away for future reference.
“Of course,” Davis spat. “She’s a whore and a murderess, cavorting with that filthy disciple of Christ in hopes of redeeming her rotten heart. I’ve got news for her, that ship sailed a long time ago.” He laughed maniacally, sensing that whatever he said could not save him.
Ring leaned closer and took an experimental sniff of the man. “You smell like her, you know. An immortal. Did you really think that you could mingle with evil and remain unscathed?”
Davis looked stricken. “I am human. I am not one of them. One of you,” he hissed, regaining his presence. “Oh, I can see who you are. Don’t think that you don’t reek of her. I can smell her on your breath, you worthless fucking quisling.” Triumph dawned on his twisted features as the barb hit home.
Box Set: The Fearless 1-3 Page 67