Bound by Darkness
Page 3
She peered deep into his blue eyes before responding. He seemed genuine.
“I’d be happy to.”
They got into position, beamed into the camera lens, and remained pleasantly patient as she snapped a couple of photos. Family photos. Cheery mementos of happy times. Her hand trembled as she passed the camera back to him.
“Thanks,” the man said. His daughter tugged on his arm, stage-whispering a plea to go throw a coin in the huge L-shaped reflecting pool. He handed her a pocketful of change, watched her wander off for a moment, then favored Lena with another smile, this one laced with warm interest. “I really appreciate your help. It’s always hard to get shots of the two of us.”
Lena racked her brain for the right words to discourage her new admirer. Before she could speak, however, a frumpy woman with gray hair and a wooden walking cane bumped his arm. Her admirer gasped. A perfectly natural response to a sudden jarring, one that would have gone unnoticed by someone less attuned to the sound of a thrall demon passing from one host into the next.
The ancient gold amulet around her throat began to pulse, and her gaze zeroed in on his eyes again. Yes, there it was: the inky stain of evil. The demon Malumos had made his entrance.
Nausea cramped her belly.
The man’s lips curled in a replica of a smile, the warm admiration now replaced by demonic purpose. “You’re looking quite well, Ms. Sharpe. No one spying your beautiful face would ever guess that a martial demon broke almost every bone in your body two days ago.”
She said nothing.
“We’re still baffled as to why you bothered to attack him. It was a pointless gesture.”
“He was going after Amanda.”
“Of course he was. The wretched brat dared to pocket one of the coins that spilled from the Protector’s coat lining when I tore it open.” He studied her thoughtfully. “She died in spite of your efforts. All you gained her was a few extra minutes.”
“I’m aware of that.” She pivoted away. A tight swallow did nothing to ease the dryness in her throat. The reminder of her failure stabbed deeper than she thought possible. “Why did you insist on meeting?”
“You didn’t uphold your end of the bargain, my dear.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “You got what you wanted. You have the coins.”
“What we wanted? Hardly. The Covenant is very clear on the definition of acceptable presence on the middle plane, and the high level of destruction caused my lord Beelzebub no end of grief.”
“You’re the one who brought the martial demon to the party, not I.”
“What can I say? My brothers were otherwise engaged. Besides,had you kept to the plan—had you simply led the priest to his doom in the stairwell, as arranged—calling the martial up from hell wouldn’t have been necessary. Instead, you plotted with O’Shaunessy behind my back and tried to hoodwink me with fake coins. What choice did I have but to guarantee my success?”
“You had other options. Amanda was no match for a martial.”
“Are you suggesting I should have chased her myself? Please. She was a devout Anglican. I couldn’t enter her body any more than I could enter your soulless husk. My priority was defeating O’Shaunessy and collecting the bulk of the coins.”
“She was just trying to do the right thing.”
“Nonsense. She didn’t even understand the true value of the Judas coins. She simply assumed that since you tried so hard to weasel out of stealing them for us, they must be worth preserving.” He pointed to the glyphetched wall before him. “While we’re on the subject of family, did you choose this location because it reminded you of home? You must have robbed several temples similar to this one in your previous life.”
Although touching Malumos sent a shudder of revulsion through her body, she grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the crowd around the temple, closer to the edge of the reflecting pool. Fewer memories there. The demon might scoff at Amanda’s ill-fated theft, but her courage and conviction were undeniable. Somehow, she’d resisted the evil lure of the coin and stayed true to her cause. “You still haven’t explained why we’re meeting.”
“Surely it’s obvious? We want you to recover the coin Amanda stole.”
“You don’t have it?” She frowned. “But it was gone when I reached the church.”
“We believe her Soul Gatherer took it.”
“Why didn’t the martial demon pick it up?”
“He was slain.”
“Oh.” By the Gatherer? Lena stretched the fingers of her right hand as wide as they would go, releasing the tension built up there. If so, he had succeeded where she had not. Dear God. That meant if she’d been just a little stronger, she might have saved Amanda. Her chest ached. But at least her death hadn’t been pointless. The coin she’d struggled so hard to save was free of Satan’s clutches. “You should consider that coin lost. Robbing a Gatherer would be next to impossible.”
“Surely all you’d need to do is befriend the fellow?”
Get close to a Gatherer bent on redemption? What an uncomfortable thought.
“In hindsight,” Malumos added, “it’s a shame he didn’t stumble over your bleeding body in the stairwell that day. Attempting to save a beautiful woman like yourself would surely have delayed him long enough for my martial to win the day. Unfortunately, you dragged yourself out of sight before he arrived.” He shrugged. “But the past is irrelevant. What matters is the present. Beelzebub demands you bring us the rest of the coins. All of them.”
She thumbed the blue sapphires embedded in the gold amulet. The ten small but perfect stones warmed to her touch. “Wouldn’t it be faster for you to collect Duverger’s thirteen?”
“Normally, yes,” said Malumos. “But we’ve run into a little snag. The usual madness has begun to claim the wretch. He’s become a paranoid recluse, fearing betrayal at the same level as he deals it. He’s hired a bunch of religious zealots as bodyguards.”
“And since you can’t possess the devout, you can’t get to him. How unfortunate.”
“Careful, Ms. Sharpe,” he said, pinning Lena with his gaze. “You still have a great deal to lose.”
The threat settled like a hot coal in her belly. “If you dare to—”
“To what? Hurt Heather? Please. Posturing is beneath you. We know you’ll do anything to save her.”
She pressed her lips tight. It was true. Hadn’t she already proven she was willing to sell her soul to protect the girls? Empty protests were all that remained of her honor.
Malumos smiled again. “Once we have the remaining fourteen coins in our possession, we’ll set her free.”
“No deal.” Lena treated her demon-possessed companion to a confident stare. It was as fake as the coins she and O’Shaunessy had tried to pawn off on the demon two days ago, but she played it to the hilt. Malumos would never leave Heather alone so long as he knew he could use her to control Lena. This simply had to work. “You can’t possibly expect me to trust you to release her. That would be insane. I can’t trust you any more than you can trust me. A direct exchange is the only workable option.”
“Unacceptable. We agreed to a direct exchange for Amanda, and look how that turned out.”
His words hit her like a physical blow. Every attempt to best Malumos thus far had failed. But she couldn’t lose hope. Not now. Heather was still alive and she still needed help. Hide your fear. Be aggressive. Lena leaned closer. “Amanda believed in God. Heather does not. You already know the power you hold over her. I’ll need three weeks to collect Duverger’s coins and then track down the last coin. We can meet in L.A. on June seventeenth.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “Finding the missing coin won’t take long, not with the amulet. You have until the tenth.”
“Two weeks? That’s not enough! I normally spend half that just preparing for a heist.”
“It’s all you get. Our brother Mestitio is not known for his patience. Too much time on his hands and he gets unruly. W
e won’t be able to guarantee Heather’s safety. Understand?”
Lena absorbed that information without blinking. “Perfectly.”
“Good.” He slowly scanned the throng of people in the room. “Cooperate and this will all end well.” His gaze halted on the sylphlike figure of his adolescent daughter, who’d wandered over to study the two colossi of Amenhotep III. He smiled. “Off you go, then. The clock is ticking. It’s time for us to play the loving daddy.”
Disgust rose in her chest like a bubble of scalding steam.
Sick, sick bastard.
“Sounds like fun,” she managed somehow. Her fingers itched to draw her Bible out of her purse, to recite the holy words written on the pages until he writhed with inescapable agony inside his claimed body. Punishing him visibly, in public, would have been so wonderfully satisfying. But such an obvious attack would only make the situation worse. Taking a deep breath, she turned and headed for the entrance. Even what she was about to do was risky. But she needed her pound of flesh. She could not let Amanda’s death go unpunished.
As she passed a group of chattering third graders, she purposely caught the eye of their chaperone and nodded.
The woman, an operative provided by Lena’s friend Kiyoko Ashida, nodded back with a faintly satisfied smile, acknowledging the go-ahead. Then she called out to her students, gathering them together in an authoritative voice.
Lena never actually saw what happened next, only heard the children move as a group toward the reflecting pool, laughing, giggling, talking. And the big splash when Malumos was accidentally jostled into the water. She definitely heard that. Some coughing and sputtering, a host of girlish apologies, and several offers to help the man up. Other than those innocuous noises, there was nothing to indicate that the thrall demon inside the dark-haired man had departed.
But the filthy wretch had gotten his ass kicked back to hell. Guaranteed. Falling into a huge pool of water blessed by a priest would do that—a blessing a colleague had been only too happy to make. It was a brief and temporary comeuppance, but Malumos would be forced to recuperate in the underworld for a while before attempting to return. That would have to be vengeance enough.
For now.
For Amanda.
Brian handed his credit card to the harried French-woman behind the car rental counter. Catching her eyes, he smiled. Several delayed arrivals had resulted in the line of customers behind him snaking twenty feet into the airport concourse, and the previous client had been anything but polite.
The rental agent offered a tremulous smile in return.
Carlos slumped against the bright green Formica counter, staring at the toes of his black combat boots. It was impossible to read the young man’s lean face behind his curtain of long dark hair, but the droop of his shoulders said plenty.
“Okay, spill,” Brian said. “What happened? She dump you?”
Carlos glanced up. “No.”
“Then what?”
The young Gatherer shoved his hands into the pockets of his floor-length black trench coat. “It’s complicated.”
“Of course it is. Life with women is always complicated.”
“Nah, it’s more than that. She says I’m different now.”
Brian arched a brow. “You mean, since Drusus ... ?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Of course I’m different. Hello? I was tortured by a goddamned demon. How could I not be different? She says I need to—”
“She?” Jamie Murdoch returned from the washroom, his curly beard glistening and the tip of his long nose red from a fresh scrub. The Scottish Soul Gatherer muscled his way to the front of the line, oblivious to the irritated stares he engendered. “You’re not taking dating advice from Webster, are you, lad? Judging from the number of women I’ve seen on his arm, that’d be foolish.”
Carlos grinned.
“You know ...” Brian scrawled his signature on the rental contract the agent slid in front of him and flashed her a genuine smile of thanks. “Coming from a guy whose idea of a long-term relationship is a second date, that’s actually funny. Let’s go.”
“You had your opportunity to be team leader and you declined, Webster.” Murdoch snatched the contract out of his hands, glanced at the information, then led them out to a parked BMW X5. A thick fog shrouded the entire Cote d’Azur coastline in salty dampness, reminiscent of San Francisco. “Give me the bloody keys.”
Brian dangled them in front of the Scot’s face. “Annoying, isn’t it? The way power follows money?”
Just as the other man’s hand fisted and his arm drew back to deck him, Brian handed over the keys and slid into the SUV’s backseat.
“Has everyone boned up on the estate layout?” he asked, leaning against the leather headrest and closing his eyes. The Gatherer database held more information than a person could possibly peruse in a mortal lifetime, including floor plans and security maps. Wasn’t always a hundred percent up-to-date, but Brian had yet to meet a building he couldn’t collect a soul from, no matter how twitchy the owner.
“Yeah,” Carlos replied, playing with the stereo controls. “Getting into the house’ll be a snap. But what about the vault? Cracking safes isn’t our usual gig.”
“It’s a lock, just like any other.”
As Murdoch left the Nice airport and merged with the steady traffic on the A8, the rhythmic beat of the latest Black Eyed Peas chart-topper filled the car cabin.
Perhaps because of the vibrant music, Murdoch said very little, and Brian took the opportunity to walk through their mission in his head. The fog was thinning, but it was almost midnight and Duverger’s house backed onto a heavily wooded park, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Alarms, lights, and locks were all easy enough to deal with. The only variable he couldn’t predict was human intervention.
The car slowed and Brian sat up. Huge whitewashed villas, walled lots, and meticulous landscaping lent the darkened neighborhood a wealthy, indulgent air.
“Park there,” he said, pointing to a dirt lot under some hydro wires. “We can hoof it the rest of the way.”
The big Scot flung him an irritated glance via the rearview mirror but didn’t argue.
Keeping to the trees that lined the promenade, the three men silently approached Duverger’s estate. Even among the other jewels of the neighborhood, this mansion stood out. The lot was twice the size of most, and the house had an old-world elegance that was difficult to match. An ivy-covered cream exterior, sweeping Mediterranean archways, two swimming pools, a tennis court, and an eight-car garage.
Tough life, but someone had to live it.
“Webster, you kill the perimeter security,” Murdoch said. “Rodriguez, take care of the dog.”
The young man nodded.
“Let’s get in and out with a minimum of blather.”
They waited for a lone car—a sleek silver Maybach 62—to pass on the road, then jogged across. Brian cast a deaden primal to knock out the motion sensors, gave the thumbs-up to the others, and leapt the stone wall with an easy bound. Being a Gatherer had its advantages.
Wending through a forest of olive, pine, and oleander trees, the three men reached the slate patio. That was when things got a little weird. Just inside the shadowed woods, they stumbled across the guard dog, a big, brawny Bordeaux mastiff lying on its side. Snoring.
“Wasn’t me,” whispered Carlos. “It was already asleep.”
Not just asleep. Brian watched the steady rise and fall of the animal’s chest. Out for the count.
“Keep your eyes open,” he advised.
High-wattage floodlights dotted the grounds, creating an atmospheric display of the rectangular pool and ubiquitous potted palms. Using a focused version of the deaden spell, Brian shut down the two bulbs that lit up the path to the poolside patio doors and waved the other Gatherers onward. Several lights blazed in the upstairs rooms, but with any luck, the vault was on a lower floor.
“The alarms are off.”
There were a dozen good explanations for why that might be the case, but Brian’s hackles went up. First the dog, now the alarms. If it weren’t the most unlikely coincidence in the world, he’d swear Duverger was in the process of being robbed.
“I say we stick to the plan,” he said. “Find the vault, grab the coins, and get out quick.”
“Assuming the coins are truly here,” Murdoch said.
Brian met the man’s bold gaze. The Scot had been riding his ass for months, ever since he stepped off the plane from Glasgow. The itch to deal him a physical smack-down was fierce. But better left for another day. “My inside man at Sotheby’s says they are, and my research backs him up. That was good enough for MacGregor; it should be good enough for you.”
“Coming after the coins was your idea, not his.”
“I happen to think Satan looking for two dark relics in the space of six months sounds like a ticking bomb. So sue me.”
Carlos stepped between the two bristling men. “What do I do if I run into trouble with the vault?”
“Come get me,” Brian said, ratcheting his anger down a notch.
The young Gatherer nodded and disappeared into the dark dining room.
Murdoch pointed to the other door. “This way.”
They navigated around a kitchen island hung with beaten-copper pots and crept down a wide hall that opened into the main foyer. Scenic tapestries, heavy wood furniture, and glazed pottery filled every corner of the huge house. Murdoch paused before crossing the hall to the staircase, holding up a warning hand.
The tap of shoes on tile, muted at first, grew louder. Likely someone headed to the kitchen for a late-night snack. Someone not relaxed enough to be wearing slippers or socks, which probably meant a guard.
Moments later, a suit-clad man appeared on the second-floor landing and jogged down the stairs toward them. His unbuttoned jacket provided a glimpse of the pistol holster under his arm. A nine-millimeter Beretta. Brian was about to signal Murdoch to hold off when the man on the stairs collapsed. Every muscle suddenly loose, he thumped down the remaining stairs to the tile floor like a bag of bowling balls.