by E. A. Copen
I shook my head. “That is not what I do.”
Reed rubbed his forehead and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slow. “I know how that story ends. I know what it’s like to be raised like that, to be thought of as a resource, to be exploited as long as it suits the so-called greater good.”
I felt a sudden twinge of pity. Reed was speaking from experience. I didn’t know much about his past, where he’d come from, or what he’d done before opening his church in Paint Rock, but I’d long suspected he was involved in something shady. Up until that moment, I thought it was just Marcus Kelley and his organization. Maybe I’d been wrong.
He lifted his head and wiped a hand over his long face. “I believed him when he promised me she would be taken somewhere safe. Somewhere far from here and placed with people that would care for her. I’ve been helping them move people for years. Why should this little girl have been any different? She should have been safe like the others.”
“Others?” I asked. “What others?”
Reed blinked. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t say, then.” He turned back around and busied himself fixing my tea.
“Reed, if you know something, you’d better tell me”
His hands slowed, and he dropped them to the countertop again. “The Kings,” he murmured, barely audible, “move people. People BSI would otherwise incarcerate or eliminate. Marcus facilitates that operation, as do I.” He finished making the tea.
I stood in stunned silence. The Kings were criminals. Marcus, too. I knew that. In a million years, I never would have guessed that they were doing that. It made a lot of sense once I thought about it. Reed had already voiced his objection to BSI’s system, and I knew how Sal felt about it. It’s why he worked so hard to help Hunter. But there was more to it than that. They weren’t just keeping quiet about supernaturals they knew. The Kings, Marcus, and everyone who worked for him was actively engaged in subverting the whole system. How many criminals had they moved beyond prosecution? How many dangerous kids with limited control over their powers had they robbed of a teacher?
I hadn’t had a teacher. Instead, I endured endless therapy, exorcisms, fear, and rejection from the people who should have loved me. I learned at a young age to hide the part of me that was a practitioner, to smile and lie and say everything was fine. I had to. If I didn’t, they might lock me up again and throw away the key. I imagined Mia in pain, lost, and without a pack or other werewolves to raise her and help her through the Change. Was that the life they’d intended for her? Was it really preferable to whatever BSI might have done?
I shook the thought from my head when Reed held the steaming cup out to me. All the might-have-beens and could-haves in the world didn’t matter. The reality of the situation was that Mia hadn’t been turned into BSI, and she hadn’t been sent away. Marcus had kept her for his own gain. My job, after figuring out how to heal her body, was to find some way to reunite her with her father and heal any damage done to her mind the first year of her life.
“Thanks,” I muttered and took the tea.
Reed sank into a chair at the table. “But I didn’t know she hadn’t been sent away, Judah. I thought she was safe. I took every precaution, did everything Marcus asked of me, and still he hid her there.”
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat. “How’d you find out?”
His cat jumped up onto the table, and Reed reached for him, but he was much more interested in swatting at the paper tag hanging from my teacup. He sighed. “He came to me first when Mia became sick. As you can imagine, I was furious, but I couldn’t leave the girl to her fate. I did what I could, which wasn’t much. I tried anointing her, a gentle exorcism, warding the room where she was being kept. Nothing helped. In the end, Marcus and I had an argument that resulted in us parting ways. I’ve been, uh...” He glanced around. “...getting my affairs in order. Just in case he considers me too much of a liability.”
Reed didn’t say he thought Marcus might have him killed. He didn’t have to.
I sipped the tea. Not half bad but hot enough that it burned the roof of my mouth. “You didn’t really help your situation just now, telling me about his connection to the Kings.”
“Why do you think I told you that?”
“Oh, hell, Reed.” I put the cup down. “You don’t think I can protect you?”
“I believe our chances of survival outside of Marcus’ influence are better as a team.” He pushed his cup away. The move startled his cat, and he jumped down off the table to scramble down the hall. “You said you had questions about Emiko. I should tell you that she died before my tenure here at Paint Rock began. I believe she was killed at the tail end of the Revelation, before this land was even designated for the reservation.”
“Killed?”
Reed frowned at my question. “Well, maybe that’s not the right word. There are many stories surrounding how she died. Half of them say she was murdered. The other half say she took her own life. Only Marcus, Alto Continelli, and God will ever know for certain.”
That was interesting. Alto Continelli, being the leader of the Stryx clan of vampires in western Europe, had a history with Marcus. I’d heard Marcus’ daughter, Kim, bring it up before. If Marcus’ reaction was anything to judge by when I brought up his wife, it was still a sore spot for him. Whatever had happened, it had impacted the Kelley family significantly enough to almost set off a blood feud ten years after the fact.
“What do the Stryx have to do with Emiko Kelley’s death?”
“The Stryx are a very old fashioned group,” Reed started. “They like to think of themselves as gatekeepers to the world of vampires, the purest of the pure. Because so many American vampires can trace their origin back to western Europe, they believe they have some claim here.”
I nodded. “Their foothold here was one of the reasons BSI forbids the forming of new clans. It could cause a war with the Stryx. A lot of bodies would have to drop to make it happen.”
“Right.” Reed gestured to me. “And, as I’m sure you’re aware, the Stryx don’t like the idea of certain lines of vampires mixing. They’re afraid mixing one kind of vampire with another would result in some sort of genetic abomination. The Upyri welcome it and that’s one reason they don’t get along.”
I found that funny considering the one thing the Stryx were known for was their inbred ugliness. But I kept that chuckle to myself. “And that has what to do with Marcus?”
“Well, Emiko was an auric vampire.”
Holy hell. She and Marcus had two children together, two children the Stryx would have seen as abominations. The animosity between the Continellis and the Kelleys suddenly made a lot more sense.
“As the story goes,” Reed continued, “Alto and his two sons, Nero and Crux, paid Marcus a visit. It was during that visit that Mrs. Kelley was found decapitated.”
“Decapitated?” I repeated. “You don’t see someone suicide that way very often.”
“It can be done, though it’s quite difficult and usually involves a further fall than what some say she could have managed, but then I am told Emiko did have a flare for the dramatic. Either way, Marcus blames Alto for her death, but I’m not sure of the details.” He grabbed his cup again and sipped at it. “Why did you want to know? Is this connected to Mia?”
“I saw Emiko’s ghost trying to feed off Mia in the hospital.”
“Lord, have mercy,” he uttered. “Are you sure it was her?”
“I wasn’t until I saw the giant portrait of her hanging in Marcus’ study.”
Reed crossed himself. “And you think Emiko’s ghost is what’s making Mia so sick?”
I nodded again. “Something about her wasn’t right. There was a thing inside her ghost, Reed, some kind of parasite. My gut says ghost sickness, but I can’t make the connection between Mia and Emiko. They weren’t related. The only thing they had in common was the house.”
He thought f
or a minute. “Ghost sickness. Yeah. That makes sense. It fits, but you’re right. It’s usually the family that’s affected.” Reed’s eyes brightened with a sudden realization. “You should tell Chanter.”
Reed was right. If anyone would know how to deal with ghost sickness, it would be Chanter, but Chanter was one of the Tomahawk Kings, too. I’d trusted him, and he’d been trafficking people right under my nose. Was it really trafficking if the people wanted to go? How was that any more wrong than me keeping Hunter out of BSI’s reach?
That last question was the one I had been avoiding asking myself since the day before. I was no saint. If BSI found out about Hunter, I would be in a lot of trouble. Him, too. It was a huge risk not to register him, but one I was willing to take if it meant keeping my son. I didn’t think I was better than anyone, did I?
“Thanks.” I pushed the half-finished tea away to stand. “I think I will talk to him.”
Reed stood with me and tightened his robe. “About Marcus. Are you going to shut his operation down? Judah, we may have our disagreements, but I still believe in his cause. What BSI does to these people, it’s evil. I only wish you would see that.”
“I do see it, Reed.” I reached out to grip his shoulder. “But I can’t walk away. Imagine if I did. They’d just send someone else, someone that might not be on your side.”
Reed nodded and forced a smile. “I’ll walk you out.”
Chapter Fifteen
I drove to the office and sat in front of my desk for a long time, deciding whether I should call Chanter. Mia’s life might depend on what he had to say. Still, I didn’t want to talk to him or any of the Kings for that matter, but I didn’t have a choice. It was either call him or talk to Sal. After last night, Chanter was the most appealing option.
I grabbed the dinosaur of a phone off my desk and dialed Chanter’s number. He picked up on the fourth ring. “What is it, girl? Please be quick. I’m running late.”
That was Chanter for you. Whenever he wanted to talk to me, he took his time but if I called him, he always acted short-tempered about it, as if answering me interrupted his entire way of life. It was better not to get on his bad side, I decided, so I launched right into it. “What do you know about ghost sickness?”
The other end was silent for a few beats. “I know that it is dangerous. Why do you ask?”
“Have you ever heard of someone being affected by ghost sickness and the ghost in question not being a relative?”
“It has happened,” he agreed. “But there is usually a sorcerer involved. The idea that the ghost of a dead person can simply attack the living is an oversimplification in any case.”
So, I thought, there has to be someone else involved, someone who’s controlling the ghost. If not controlling it, someone had at least done something to make her show up and start attacking people now. Explained why no one in the house had been bothered up until now.
“If I thought someone was being affected by ghost sickness—”
“You would notify me or Saloso immediately,” Chanter snapped, his tone even more irritated. “It isn’t something you can deal with, Judah. And even if you could, doing so would be foolish. The consequences of meddling in magick you don’t understand will likely be fatal.”
“I know what I’m doing, Chanter.” I don’t know why I felt like I needed to defend myself. Chanter was only looking out for me, and he wasn’t insinuating that I couldn’t do my job, just that I would need help. Maybe it was more his tone I was objecting to more than his words.
“Judah, what is this about?”
“I’ll tell you when I know,” I said, thankful he couldn’t smell my lie over the phone. I hung up without giving him a chance to say anything more on the subject.
At least he’d given me some new information. Emiko wasn’t acting on her own. Someone had brought her ghost here and directed it at Mia, but why?
I spent the rest of the day buried in Marcus Kelley’s files. I pulled sheets for everyone even remotely connected to him, starting with his staff. Like him, they were all clean. Cynthia wasn’t even in the system, which didn’t mean anything. I didn’t have her last name to match to her, and if she were human, BSI wouldn’t have been keeping tabs on her.
The Kings were a different story. I knew about Sal and Chanter’s records, both of which contained mostly dated information. Bran had immigrated to the states and become a U.S. citizen only a few years ago, so his record was short. The only thing I saw there was a traffic stop from three years ago where he was issued a citation for speeding. The names Flash and Istaqua didn’t return me any results so I assumed they were nicknames.
When I put the club’s name into the search, however, a lot of new information came up. The club was on several federal watch lists and had been investigated twice by my predecessors at the Paint Rock posting. It seemed the agent directly before me had enough of a run-in with the club that he convinced BSI to relocate him. Intimidation seemed to be the club’s natural go-to when it came to the law. Istaqua aside, I hadn’t run into any trouble of that sort with them. My relationship with Sal likely shielded me from the worst of it. The takeaway was that BSI knew about the Kings, and while there weren’t any active investigations relating to the club, one could land on my desk at any time. I had to decide what I would do if that happened. If it came down to loyalty to BSI or loyalty to the Kings, I didn’t want to have to choose either of those options. Neither group owned me.
At the end of the day, I collected my things and trudged back out to my car, deep in thought. I was going to have to confront Sal with the information Reed had given me and see what he had to say about it. I felt a little guilty about how I’d come by the information. After all, I was keeping a secret from him. He had a daughter I hadn’t told him about. Once I broke that news to him, he was going to be pissed, and rightfully so, but I couldn’t tell him, not until I was sure Marcus and Zoe wouldn’t hurt Hunter.
Valentino’s tow truck was sitting in my driveway along with Daphne’s Prius. I pulled in behind the Prius and decided it was time to check on progress in the house. As soon as I shut off the car, the front door opened, and Shauna came out in a pair of overhauls with paint stains on them. She hauled a big black trash bag behind her and tossed it into the dumpster. Shauna and I weren’t friendly. We weren’t unfriendly either. We just sort of avoided each other. Her girlfriend, Daphne, though, had taken a liking to me. She bounded out of the house with a mop in hand to greet me. “Hey, Judah,” Daphne said, pushing her chubby cheeks up into a dimpled smile. “You, uh, don’t want to go in there just yet. We’re not done.”
I closed the car door. “How long do you think it will be?”
“Tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Maybe the day after. By the end of the weekend for sure.”
I tucked my hands into my back pockets. “Hunter come home yet?”
“Umm...” Daphne bit her lip.
“Valentino told us to get rid of him,” Shauna said with a frown. “Daphne sent him over to Sal’s place.”
I nodded, waved, and trudged across the dead ground between my house and Sal’s. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him, not like I usually did. After my research that afternoon, I was even more uneasy.
When I reached the driveway, I heard a loud curse from inside and picked up speed as I went up the stairs. I pushed open the door, poked my head in and immediately sighed with relief. Sal and Hunter sat on the couch, controllers in hand, staring blankly at the television. From the look and sounds of it, someone had rescued Hunter’s Xbox and Call of Duty from the wreckage in the house and they’d hooked it up. That explained the cussing I’d heard. Hunter said it was physically impossible to play video games and not cuss at them.
“Hey, mom,” he said without looking away from the screen.
Sal looked over sheepishly. It wasn’t a good look for him. “They rescued some of your clothes. I put them in the wash.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Sal. I could have taken them down to the l
aundromat.”
“So how long until they finish fixing the house?” Hunter asked and then paused the game to look up.
Sal patted him on the back. “I told Hunter about the water main break in the kitchen.”
Ah. So that was the story. Hunter probably knew it was a lie, since werewolves could smell lies a mile away, but at least he didn’t know the truth.
I sniffed the air. My nose might not have been as good as theirs but I could pick up the faint whiff of vanilla hanging in the air. And chocolate. “What is that smell?” I asked stepping inside.
“Cupcakes,” Sal announced. “Spent most of the afternoon baking dozens of the damn things. I don’t know. I guess I needed something to keep my hands busy while my brain worked.” He patted Hunter on the back again. “Hey, kid. Why don’t you go shoot some hoops for a while? Too much time in video games will rot your brain.”
Hunter acted a little disappointed and grumbled, but eventually got up, grabbed the basketball, and went out the back of the house. Sal stood. “You any good at icing cupcakes? They ought to be cool by now.”
“I don’t know,” I answered with a shrug. “I’ve never tried.”
“First time for everything.”
He went into the kitchen and started lifting hand towels off baking rack, after baking rack, after baking rack full of cupcakes. There must have been twelve dozen cupcakes. My mom used to bake like that around the holidays, only her vice was cookies. She’d make enough for everyone at church to have two dozen.
“So about last night...” He trailed off as he started taking them off the baking racks, lining them up in rows of four and then gestured for me to take over while he got out the icing.
“I talked to Chanter. I asked him about the Kings since you wouldn’t tell me anything.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. Ideally, I would have eased into the conversation rather than just blurting that out, but tact usually eludes me. This time was no exception.