Duke padded in as I stood there. "Good morning, Earth Angel." He looked wide awake and ready for anything.
"Thanks for putting me in bed." I kept my voice low for Laurel's sake. "I guess I must've dozed off."
"We got a lot of work done before that." Duke nodded and smiled. "I got even more done after you hit the hay." Sleeping, like eating, was one of those human being things he didn't need to do in his current form. Made a run at it now and then just to feel human again, but he didn't really need it at all.
"We need to hit the road." The clock on the microwave said 8:45 a.m. "Who gets to do the honors?" I nodded toward Laurel in the living room.
"Let her sleep a little longer," said Duke. "Why don't you start getting ready, and I'll wake her at nine?"
"I'm ready now." I sipped the cold coffee and clunked the mug down on the counter. "All I need to do is throw my shoes on and grab the car keys."
Duke smirked and shook his head. "I can appreciate your enthusiasm, Earth Angel, but trust me...you're not ready." He wrinkled his nose and flapped his hand in front of his face. "Please, for the rest of us...go get yourself a shower."
He was probably right, I was probably ripe, but I didn't want to put off hunting the killer. Partly because I needed vengeance, partly because I needed answers about myself, and partly because I wanted to get the hell out of town before Briar got back into the mix. I was still ashamed of myself for screwing things up for him the night before; I was also pissed at him for being angry with me. For treating me like crap just when I was starting to care about him as more than a friend...maybe. I guess I might have thought I should keep him and Laurel apart, too, since they seemed to be getting along so well.
"I can clean up later," I said. "We're burning daylight."
"No." Duke pointed toward the bathroom. "Get your shower or nobody's going anywhere."
I glared at him. Thought about plowing right through him and going to Rough Run myself. The hell with him.
But, as always, Duke had a hold on me. Had the power to snap me out of a "sinking fast" mood, force me to see things from new angles, or make me take a shower when I didn't want to. He was like a father to me in that way...in all ways, really. Though I'd never known who my true father was, Duke came closer than anyone to filling the bill.
"All right, all right." I blew out my breath in one big, disgusted sigh. "I'll get a shower."
Duke bowed his head and spread his arms wide. "On behalf of everyone you meet today, I offer a million glittering thank-yous in advance."
"Yeah, yeah." At least there were no doubts in my mind about how I felt about him. Even as I scowled and stormed past him, giving him a little bump with my shoulder, I knew I loved him. Like my very own father. Sometimes I wondered if he was my own father somehow.
"There'll be homemade blueberry pancakes and sausage when you're done," said Duke. "Plus a yogurt and fresh fruit parfait for desert."
I took two steps back and poked my head in the kitchen."Since when do I have all that food in my apartment?"
Duke opened the refrigerator. "I told you I was busy last night after you fell asleep." He pulled out a clear plastic container of blueberries and shook it. "I wish we'd had 24-hour grocery stores back in my day."
I almost told him not to bother cooking, we could eat on the road, I didn't want any homemade pancakes and sausage. But that wouldn't have been true. His cooking was to die for, and I was starving. Couldn't remember eating a damn thing the day before.
Besides, waiting one more hour to get rolling wasn't going to kill me. Wouldn't make any difference one way or the other when it came to finding the killer.
Duke always seemed to know what was best for me. Why couldn't all my relationships be so simple?
*****
Chapter 30
My stomach was growling even before I'd finished my shower. The bathroom filled up fast with cooking smells, the aroma of frying pancakes and sausage mingling with the steam from the shower.
I was so hungry, I threw on a robe and made a beeline for the kitchen without drying my hair. I was actually looking forward to something for a change. All my worries and sadness set aside by the simple need for food.
But my mood fell instantly when I walked into the kitchen. All my internal alarms went off at once, shooting me into a state of high alert. Ready for battle, ready for anything. I had to be.
Laurel was up.
I came face to face with her in the doorway. The two of us almost walked into each other, then stopped with a jolt. Instinctively, I caught her by the shoulders. Our eyes locked.
I thought I saw a flicker of challenge in her gaze. For a split second, I wondered if we were going to fight. If she was going to go ballistic and pick up where she'd left off the night before. If my apartment was going to end up demolished like The Tipple.
But then she smiled. "Good morning, Gaia." Just like nothing had happened.
I dropped my hands from her shoulders. "'Morning." Not willing to completely relax yet. Not sure what to say to her, either. Sorry I had to totally kick your ass last night?
Laurel kept smiling. "You're just in time for breakfast." Then, she stepped back and stretched out an arm, gesturing for me to enter the kitchen. "Would you prefer maple or boysenberry syrup? Butter or whipped cream?"
I walked past her, still tense. Still half expecting her to go berserk again. "All of the above," I said.
"You were right, Duke!" She grinned and marched around the corner into the living room, the tatters of her filthy, bloody gown fluttering around her. "You said she'd ask for everything."
I realized I was going to have to give her some of my clothes, and the thought of it annoyed me. I had a flash of her in my favorite red sweater and blue jeans giving Briar a big, fat kiss.
"Ask and ye shall receive, Earth Angel." Duke planted a dollop of whipped butter on a stack of pancakes on a plate, then poured maple syrup on top of them. Followed up with boysenberry syrup and finished with a scoop of whipped cream. Just the way I liked my pancakes...which, of course, he'd known when he'd gone to the grocery store last night to pick everything out.
I took a deep breath of the cooking smells and smiled to myself. Felt a little guilty, like I shouldn't be enjoying anything in these terrible times, but couldn't help it. Brought back memories of years gone by—not crazy unidentifiable flashes, but crystal clear memories of many pleasant mornings when Duke had fixed me breakfast. Simpler times.
"Here you go, sweetheart." Duke handed me the plate. "Eat up. There's more where that came from."
"Thanks, Duke." I was on the grouchy side, but I still managed a smile. He deserved that, at least.
Duke winked, then waved at the doorway. "Now shoo. I need elbow room, capiche?" He scooped up a pitcher of batter and turned back to the skillet on the stove.
I carried my plate to the living room. There was a dining room table around the corner from the kitchen, and Laurel was already seated in front of a plate of food. I noticed she hadn't taken a bite.
Smiling, she got up from her chair and gestured at the place setting across the table from her. "Pull up a chair and dig in, Gaia." She still sounded gratingly perky. If I hadn't known better, I might've thought she hadn't been through hell the day before.
"Right." I put my plate in the middle of the place setting on the table and pulled out my chair. Sat down, put the napkin in my lap, and cut a hunk out of the stack of pancakes.
When the first bite hit my mouth, my taste buds lit up like the lights on a pinball machine after a big score. The mix of flavors was perfect, every layer rich and balanced and resonant—almost too powerful to bear. Connecting me (in a good way) to visions of the past. (Without the seizure-like side effects or the malevolent Presence looming over me.)
Involuntarily, I closed my eyes as I chewed. Let the good feelings spread through me like the scent of flowers through the air in springtime. Didn't think about my troubles even a little for precious moments.
Then, one of them spok
e. "Great stuff, huh?" It was Laurel. "Duke sure can cook."
I opened my eyes and looked at her. Wondered if she, like Duke, didn't have to eat at all. If it was just an act to make her seem more human. Or feel more human.
"He's amazing, all right," I said. "I'm lucky to know him."
"Nothing like getting the day off to a good start." Laurel smiled and pushed a bite of pancake and sausage into her mouth.
"You got it." Was this how it was going to be? On the one hand, I was glad she wasn't pounding the crap out of me. On the other hand, an apology would've been nice. Were we just going to pretend the fight never happened? Dance around the issue for as long as we were together?
Laurel rolled her eyes as she chewed. Washed down the mouthful of food with steaming hot coffee. "So." She hacked another hunk out of the stack of pancakes on her plate. "West Virginia, here we come, huh?"
I swallowed coffee and nodded. "That's the plan. Rough Run, Grant County."
"Do we know what exact spot in Rough Run we're looking for?" Laurel forked the latest hunk of pancake into her mouth.
"We think we've narrowed it down," I said. "There's a game preserve and hunting camp in the mountains, right at the point where several sub-ranges come together. It changed hands not long ago. The new owners have been keeping things pretty hush hush. But..."
"But what?" said Laurel.
"But they claim they're researching some kind of energy source." I jabbed my fork in the air for emphasis. "A geologic energy source."
"Not geothermal?" said Laurel.
"Geologic."
"Sounds like geomantic energy to me," said Laurel. "The stuff that powers ley lines. And Landkind."
Just then, Duke walked in from the kitchen with a plate of fresh pancakes. "Our thoughts exactly, dear. The map of the killer's escape route points to Rough Run, and there's a mysterious compound researching geologic energy in the very same place. It can't be a coincidence."
"So we know we're headed in the right direction." Laurel nodded. "That's good news."
"But we still don't know exactly what we'll find," I said. "We're still going in blind."
"We'll have to do some reconnaissance when we get there." Duke dropped two more pancakes on top of my half-finished stack without asking if I wanted them. "We need to play it smart and not roar in with geo-powers blazing."
"Good thing we have him on our side." Laurel pointed at the TV set in the corner across the room. "Law enforcement can come in handy in situations like this."
The news was playing with the sound down, and guess who was on the screen? The one and only Sheriff Briar, being interviewed at the scene of the freak earthquake at The Tipple.
"Briar's not coming with us." I felt a rush of irritation. If not for Laurel, Briar wouldn't have been pissed at me in the first place. "He has to clean up our mess from last night."
Laurel frowned as she stared at the TV. Cocked her head to one side but didn't comment.
Duke broke her trance by slapping two more pancakes on her plate. "He'll catch up to us." He banged the metal spatula on the edge of her plate. "Now finish your breakfast."
Laurel cut into the new pancakes. "Does Briar know where we're going?"
"That's why God made cell phones." I left out the part about my cell phone being smashed. "I'll call him en route."
Duke sat down at the table and turned to me. "I wonder if we should wait a day." Then, he turned to Laurel. "Do you need some time, dear? After all that's happened?"
Laurel shook her head as she chewed her latest mouthful of pancake. Then swallowed. "I'm fine, Duke. Thank you for asking."
Duke narrowed his eyes, focused his compassionate gaze on her with great intensity. "I was thinking about a memorial service. For Owen. Until we can give him a proper burial. Is that something you'd like?"
"How thoughtful." Laurel smiled serenely and touched his arm. "But not necessary. I've already had a memorial for Owen."
Duke frowned. "You have?"
"Last night at the bar." Laurel looked at me with a perfectly deadpan expression. "It was more of a wake, actually."
I put down my fork. "That was your idea of a memorial for your friend?"
"Landkind is a violent race," said Laurel. "What did you expect, with all the tectonics and volcanism?" She shrugged. "Though I guess it did get a little out of control even by our standards."
"A little?" I stared at her, dumbfounded, as she continued eating like what she'd said was perfectly normal. I wondered how much more there was to her than met the eye...and for the first time, I wondered if she was behind it all. If she was behind the Presence and the murders and Divinities and Groundswell, all of it. If she was only pretending to work with us so she could manipulate us.
Or maybe she was just dangerously crazy. As I stared at her features, so serene after being so berserk the night before, I thought anything was possible.
*****
Chapter 31
Two hours later, we were hurtling toward West Virginia in the Highlander. A late start, but at least we were on the road before noon (just barely).
It wouldn't be a long trip, maybe two and a half hours, so we had a shot at getting the lay of the land around Rough Run in broad daylight. We could start the reconnaissance we'd talked about, set ourselves up to take action the next day.
As we charged down the road, I finally felt better. Felt like I was moving away from past mistakes and toward answers. Felt like I could handle whatever came my way.
At one point, I realized I was actually in "smooth sailing" mode. In spite of all the badness that had gone down lately, I had finally caught the upswing of my bipolar moodiness.
I had the driver's side window half down, the fingers of my left hand drumming on the roof of the SUV. The air was warm, the sun was shining. The scenery was beautiful—rolling green mountains and ridges cradling valleys of patchwork fields. Duke was playing great tunes on the stereo, a jazz symphony called The Afro-Eurasian Eclipse. I had hope, not only of finding closure for Aggie's death, but of finding the secrets behind my own life.
Somehow, in my heart, I knew I was going to find what I needed in Rough Run. I had a feeling everything was going to work out fine.
Then again, even as I felt like that, I remembered: the way I felt in "smooth sailing" mode did not always have any bearing whatsoever on reality.
*****
We rolled into town around two-thirty and stopped at a diner called Late Jim's. Bought a newspaper, grabbed pamphlets from the rack out front, and got up to speed on the area. Filled in the gaps from our Internet research the night before.
"Here's a story about that compound," said Duke. "They're calling it 'Parapets.'"
"Parapets." I nodded and ate a French fry from my plate. A French fry dipped in beef gravy. Hadn't eaten much during the recent crises, but "smooth sailing" had brought my appetite back with a vengeance.
Duke sat in front of what looked like half a graham cracker pie but was in fact a single slice. "According to this, Parapets has local hunters up in arms. They've posted and fenced off some excellent hunting grounds."
"Not just excellent." A middle-aged guy in the next booth had been listening in. "The best. Buck, bear, boar, turkey, pheasant, you name it."
"And it's all off limits now?" Duke said it without turning to look at the guy who'd spoken. "No special permits?"
"Not a one." The guy snorted and stroked his brown walrus mustache. "They're not making any friends up there, that's for sure."
"Except the folks who have jobs at Parapets." A guy at a table across from us had been following the conversation, too. He looked older, fifty-or-sixty-something, with white hair and a wry smile. "They don't seem to be doing much bellyaching."
"The people who work there," I said. "What exactly do they do?"
"Sign confidentiality agreements longer than both your arms put together, for one thing." The guy at the table laughed. "Nobody's talking."
"Really?" said Duke. "Not even after a couple o
f beers?"
The guy at the table shook his head. "Parapets pays good money. Good enough to keep mouths shut. That's the only thing I do know for sure." With that, he wiped his mouth on a napkin, got up, and left.
"Asshole." The guy at the booth next to ours said it under his breath. Then scooted out of his booth and shot into ours, forcing me to move over. "Ray's an asshole."
On another day, I might have been pissed, but today was "smooth sailing." "So what's the real story, pal?"
"Call me Gut." He did have a gut under his olive drab khaki jacket, but nothing out of the ordinary. I wondered what the story behind the name must be. "I know a few things about Parapets."
"Like what?" said Laurel between sips of her banana milkshake.
"It's a messed up place, that's what." Gut whistled softly. "There's some bad shit goin' on up there, my friends."
"What kind of bad shit?" What Gut was saying appealed to me. Fell right in line with what I expected to find at Parapets.
"Experiments." Gut stroked his walrus mustache and nodded. "X-Files kind'a shit."
"Experiments on human subjects, you mean?" said Duke.
"Abductions and experiments," said Gut. "People have gone in there and never come out again."
"I see," said Duke. "And what do the police have to say?"
Gut thumped the table with the flat of his hand. "Nothing. All they see is what Parapets wants them to see. One big, happy utopia."
"But you know better," said Duke. "Why is that? Have you seen evidence of these experiments?"
Gut laughed and combed his fingers through his stringy brown hair. "You might say that."
"So what kind of evidence was it?" I said.
"Right here!" Gut spread his arms, nearly smacking me in the face. "And right here." He pointed at the wedding band on his grimy left hand.
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