Unmarked Graves

by Christine Pope

  “Sure,” she said. “So…what? Lunch? I’m not really hungry yet.”

  “What about a movie? There’s a theater right here in the mall.”

  Going to the movies was not something she would have necessarily thought of — that sort of activity seemed awfully prosaic, considering their reason for being here in Indiana — but on the other hand, it did sound pretty safe. They could go see whatever seemed convenient to fill the time they had, and then grab a very early dinner after that. At some point, of course, they’d have to head back to Greencastle, but she realized that the vague notion she’d had of sampling whatever night life the small college town had to offer probably wasn’t a very good idea.

  Besides, she guessed they’d be perfectly able to find something to occupy themselves in their hotel room.

  “Sounds like a plan. But let’s put this stuff in the car first.”

  Will agreed that was a good idea, and they went downstairs and out to their rental, and stowed everything in the cargo area before pulling the little privacy screen closed so no one could see what they had stashed back there. Rosemary would have been worried about wrinkles, except she’d spied an iron and ironing board in their hotel room closet, and so she knew they could repair any damage if necessary.

  That task handled, they went back to the mall. The theater there seemed to specialize in foreign and indie films, but there was a comedy playing that looked good, and Will seemed agreeable. They bought a pair of tickets and some water and popcorn to tide them over, and took their seats.

  There weren’t many people in the auditorium, which didn’t surprise Rosemary too much, since it was a little after two o’clock on a weekday afternoon. Actually, she was glad of the sparse attendance, because it allowed her to take a quick scan of the other movie-goers and determine that they all looked pretty harmless.

  Maybe she actually would be able to relax and enjoy herself.

  When the credits began to roll, Will reached over and laid his hand on top of hers where it sat on the armrest. Just that light touch was enough to send a happy little shiver through her.

  Somehow, she had the feeling that nothing terribly bad could happen as long as he was at her side.

  Will was relieved to see that Rosemary appeared to have lost herself in the movie — she laughed along with the other audience members, and watched the somewhat ludicrous events unfold with wide eyes. Clearly, she was doing her best to give herself a chance to relax and forget the real reason why they’d come so far from home.

  For himself, he wasn’t quite that transported. Oh, he supposed if he’d watched the film under normal circumstances, he would have been diverted enough by it, but his mind couldn’t quite stop attacking the problem of their attendance at the charity cocktail party the next evening. He tried to reassure himself that if the Greencastle demon contingent had been able to detect his or Rosemary’s presence, they would have already descended, but he didn’t know that for sure. Demons liked to toy with their victims, after all, and maybe they were both being sucked into a false sense of security.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a better way to get access to the hard drive. He trusted Rosemary’s vision, and so he found no reason to think that the footage wasn’t there in Daniel Lockwood’s home. Getting access to it probably would be difficult, and Will knew that inwardly he was counting on her inner vision to come to their aid once again. If it failed them, he wasn’t quite sure what they would do.

  Luckily, he was pretty good at improvising.

  The movie ended, and Rosemary seemed to have noticed that he hadn’t been paying it much attention, because she didn’t attempt to discuss it, only led him over to a mall directory so they could figure out where to eat. After a bit of discussion, they decided on a restaurant called Seasons 52, just because it wasn’t a place either one of them had heard of before, and also it offered plenty of options to get an interesting glass of wine with their food. Maybe having a drink wasn’t the best idea, but Will knew he was tense enough that he could definitely use one.

  Because the restaurant wasn’t located in the mall itself, they went back outside and moved the car to their chosen destination. At only a little past four-thirty, the place wasn’t too crowded, although there were enough people enjoying happy hour specials that it certainly didn’t feel empty, either.

  The hostess guided them over to a table in a corner, a spot Will approved of because he could keep an eye on the people coming and going in the dining room. Under different circumstances, he would have enjoyed their surroundings, because the interior was warm and dim, with good use of natural materials and a friendly, intimate feel.

  Right then, however, he couldn’t quite prevent himself from giving a quick, narrow-eyed glance at everyone in the room, making sure that none of them looked suspicious in any way. Rosemary obviously noticed, because she said in an undertone, “Will, this place feels totally safe.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked, allowing himself to experience a twinge of relief — although he still didn’t relax all the way.

  “I’m sure,” she replied. “Or at least, as sure as I can be. But choose a wine, because I think I see our waiter heading over here.”

  Quickly, Will bent his head and perused the wine offerings. Splitting a bottle seemed to be too much of a risk, especially since they had to drive back to Greencastle after this. The tempranillo by the glass sounded interesting, so that was what he ordered after the waiter had approached. Rosemary asked for pinot noir, and the man said he’d be back in a minute with their drinks.

  “Are we snacking or eating for real?” Will asked as he picked his menu up again.

  “Eating for real, I suppose,” Rosemary said. “I know it’s early, but I don’t see the point in going someplace to eat after this.”

  No, she was probably right. He decided on the pork tenderloin, figuring it would have some heft to it but wouldn’t be as heavy as a steak. When the waiter returned with their wine, Rosemary requested the roasted chicken, which didn’t surprise Will too much; he’d already noticed how she did her best to avoid red meat.

  Once they were alone again, she raised her glass. “To making it this far.”

  There was something he could drink to. Will lifted his glass of tempranillo and clinked it against hers, then took a swallow. Yes, that was definitely a decent glass of wine.

  However, as he lowered his glass and glanced over at Rosemary, he realized that she hadn’t drunk any of her own wine. Instead, the glass remained frozen halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide with…fear? No, that wasn’t it. More like…shock.

  Immediately, worry pulsed through him, and he looked in the direction where she was staring. A man was approaching their table, quite purposefully. He didn’t look like any of the men from the files Fred had sent him, and so Will didn’t think the strange man was a cambion — and since he appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties, he definitely couldn’t be one of their children, either.

  The stranger paused next to their table. For a few seconds, his gaze lingered on Rosemary, who continued to stare at him in shock.

  At last, though, she apparently managed to find her voice.

  “Dad?”

  Chapter 16

  All Rosemary could do was sit there, frozen in shock, body numb. It was like one of those dreams where it was impossible to move, where it felt as if the very air had congealed around her.

  How could he be here? How was this even possible? The man standing in front of her was recognizably her father, even though she hadn’t seen him in more than seventeen years. Older, yes, his hair now completely gray and with new lines etched around his eyes and mouth, but even with all those changes, she would have known him anywhere.

  Except…he’d died ten years ago.

  “I know this is something of a shock,” her father said. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  “Um….” Her mouth didn’t seem able to form more than that single syllable.

  Will came to her rescue, t
hank God. “I’m Will Gordon,” he said. “And you’re…?”

  “John McGuire,” her father replied. “Nice to meet you, Will.” Once again, he looked over at Rosemary. “Is it all right if I join you?”

  Mutely, she nodded, then watched as he pulled out one of the empty chairs at their table and sat. He looked happy and healthy enough, skin slightly tanned, hair still thick despite all the gray. In fact, in his button-down shirt and khaki pants and deck shoes, he looked as though he’d just wandered into the restaurant after getting in a good round of golf earlier that day. Irrelevantly, Rosemary thought he probably would have fit right in with the Greencastle demons, those bankers and lawyers and businessmen.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, thoughts racing around and tripping over themselves. This shouldn’t be possible, but that was definitely her father sitting across from her at the table she’d been sharing with Will. He even sounded the same, with a warm-toned voice that had always seemed infinitely soothing.

  Well, except for the times when she’d overheard him arguing with her mother.

  The words spilled out, even though she realized as soon as she spoke that she probably should have phrased them a little more diplomatically. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  Her father paused and glanced around them, but because the restaurant wasn’t too busy yet, no one else had been seated close enough to be within earshot. “I know,” he said. “It was…necessary.”

  Will lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, his wine apparently forgotten for the moment. “Are you in the witness protection program or something like that?”

  “No,” her father said, then paused. “Well, not exactly.” His gaze flicked back to Rosemary. “You see, I had to stay away to make sure you would be safe.”

  Her fingers rested on the base of her wine glass. The cool surface beneath her fingertips gave her something solid to focus on, something to tell her this was really happening, that she wasn’t suddenly having the mother of all nightmares. “I don’t understand. Safe from what?”

  Another one of those pauses as he took a quick glance over his shoulder. Their waiter happened to be passing by, and he apparently took that random look as an invitation to come over and inquire if the new addition to their group also wanted a glass of wine. Her father appeared to think that over for a moment, then asked if he could have a martini instead — Grey Goose, light on the vermouth, and a bowl of lobster bisque. That important business handled — and with the waiter heading off toward the kitchen — John said, “From anyone who might have taken too much of an interest in my children — the children I was never supposed to have.”

  A spark of fury rose in her at those words. “What, you’re saying you didn’t want us?”

  “No,” he replied calmly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m saying that I should never have fallen in love with your mother or started a family with her. That was not what I was sent here to do.”

  “Sent where?” Rosemary snapped. Once again, she wondered if she was having some sort of a nightmare, one of the infuriating kinds where everyone spoke to her as if they were making perfect sense but all she heard was gibberish. “To do what?”

  “To observe,” her father said. “To keep watch.”

  “On whom?” she demanded, but next to her, Will’s eyes lit up in comprehension, and he leaned forward in his seat.

  “On the Underhill Trust demons.”

  Her father looked pleased that Will had figured it out so quickly. “Yes, exactly. You see, by myself, I didn’t have the power to send them back where they came from, but they left on their own eventually. However, their offspring needed to be watched as well, and so…here I am.”

  Rosemary picked up her wine and took far too large a swallow. Maybe she should have been more concerned about keeping a clear head, but right then, she knew she needed some alcohol to steady her nerves. “That doesn’t make any sense, though. Michael Covenant told me they were brought to this world in the 1940s or something like that. You’re not that old.”

  “Well — ” He had to stop there, because the waiter had returned with his martini. After murmuring a brief thank-you and pausing for a moment while their server walked away, her father said, “I’m older than I look.” He sipped at the martini, gave a small nod of approval, and then added, “You see, I’m actually an angel.”

  An incredulous laugh escaped Rosemary’s lips. She’d been expecting excuses for his disappearing act — and for faking his own death — but did he really think she was going to buy a story as ludicrous as that? “Oh, really?” she responded, her tone dripping sarcasm. “You’re an angel. Seriously, that’s the best you can do?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  She sent an imploring glance over at Will. Right then, she really needed him to speak some words of wisdom, because she could tell she was getting dangerously close to exploding. And while lashing out at her father might have felt good, she knew she couldn’t do anything that would attract too much attention.

  However, Will had that thoughtful expression back on his face, one which told her he might actually be seriously considering what her father had just said.

  Had the entire world gone crazy?

  She took a large, entirely disrespectful swallow of her pinot noir and asked, “Did Mom know?”

  “Of course not,” her father replied. Then he clasped his hands on the tabletop — hands bare of rings, which seemed to tell her he had never remarried — and went on, “I know this must sound fantastic to you. I honestly hoped you would never find out about me. But circumstances have changed all that.”

  “What circumstances?” Rosemary inquired, although she had an uneasy feeling she already knew the answer.

  Apparently, Will did as well, because he said, “Project Demon Hunters.”

  Her father nodded. “Exactly. I suppose I should have realized you couldn’t escape fate forever.”

  “‘Fate’?” she echoed, but he couldn’t respond immediately, because the waiter appeared with their food at exactly that inopportune moment. After everyone had been given their respective meals and the man had mercifully gone away, she went on, “What are you talking about?”

  “Eat,” her father said. “You’re going to need all your strength.”

  Never in her life had she been less enthusiastic about consuming a meal, but she made herself cut off several pieces of roasted chicken and force down a bite. “Are you trying to tell me this was all meant to be?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” He took several swallows of bisque, during which time Will silently cut himself a few pieces of pork tenderloin and ate them in silence. Once again, she wished he would step in, but he’d obviously decided — correctly, as much as she hated to admit it — that this was a matter she and her father needed to hash out on their own. “Tell me, Rosemary — have you noticed any recent changes in your powers?”

  How in the world could he have known about that? As much as she would have liked to say she hadn’t experienced anything different at all, she knew that would be a complete lie. Maybe some people would have said it was all right to lie to her father, since he’d lied to her mother and to his children, had made them all believe he was dead, and yet she knew if she did such a thing, she would be no better than he was.

  “A few,” she muttered, then made herself take another bite of chicken.

  Although he must have noticed the sulkiness of her reply — uttered in much the same tone she’d used when she was a child and had gotten in trouble for some minor transgression or another — he didn’t seem annoyed with her, but rather nodded in a pleased way. “It’s because of your exposure to demon-kind — specifically, Caleb Lockwood. Your angelic nature began to exert itself because of being in the presence of a creature antithetical to someone with your blood.”

  Angelic nature? Once again, she had to quell the urge to let out a derisive laugh. She was no angel. Far from it.

  However, Will didn’t seem nearly so skeptica
l. “That glow within you when you cast the wards on my house,” he murmured, and her father nodded.

  “Yes, that sounds about right. That part of you woke up because it knew you were in need of extra protection.”

  Well, he was right about waking up — she definitely wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Over the years, she’d allowed herself a few wistful daydreams about her father coming back into her life, and — even after her family received news of his death and she tried to tell herself that she could handle the loss because he’d been absent from her life for years — to still hope deep down that maybe it had all been some kind of horrible mistake and he’d been alive all along.

  Oh, her father was obviously alive. However, now that she’d been confronted by that particular reality, Rosemary honestly didn’t know how happy she actually was about his miraculous return to the world of the living.

  “So, if that’s really true” — and she paused there for a moment, as though to let him know she still didn’t quite believe any of it — “then how come Caleb couldn’t detect what I was?”

  To her surprise, it was Will who responded. Voice quiet, he said, “And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.”

  Rosemary only stared at him blankly, but her father smiled, looking absurdly pleased.

  “A very good quote,” he said before adding, “John, chapter one, verse five. Your mother raised you girls to be complete heathens, didn’t she?”

  “Pagans,” Rosemary corrected him, her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t exactly see you trying to take us to Bible study, Dad.”

  He shrugged and sipped from his martini. “Well, your mother had very distinct ideas about that sort of thing, and since I’d represented myself to her as being fairly agnostic, I suppose she would have found it odd if I’d suggested that you go to church. Anyway, as Will just pointed out, we beings of light can see those of the darkness, but the reverse doesn’t hold true. Caleb would have thought you were only a normal young woman and nothing more.”