Hopefully much later.
“Osservi quell senso,” Marcella nodded toward the west end of the building.
I sighed quietly as I went to look around that side of the building as she’d instructed. I really didn’t like it when she spoke Italian. Probably because I knew she only did it when she was highly stressed or angry.
I tested the air, paying close attention for anything that smelled out of place. After several minutes of not picking anything up, I turned to make another pass then headed back toward the center of the roof. I didn’t smell or sense anything. No hint of anyone besides Marcella and myself here on the roof and no scent of blood or fear from the area in general.
I also noted it took me forty seven steps to reach where Marcella waited.
“Nothing,” I told her.
“Me either,” she said, then led the way to the door leading back inside. I was relieved to hear her go back to English. Not finding any sense of danger here had obviously settled her mind enough for that at least.
She pulled open the door and I took it from her, holding it open while she went inside, then I followed her into the darkened area. Neither of us needed the security lights on inside, our eyes adjusted to the dark immediately as we made our way down to my floor, then out through the door there.
We moved cautiously down the hall, testing the air, listening for any signs of danger or trouble, but neither of us found any reason to be alarmed. When we neared my studio door, we heard the faint sound of Rosie laughing lightly from inside. I let out a sigh of relief and glanced at Marcella. She was obviously relieved, but also a faint look of confusion was in her eyes. Maybe it was from hearing Rosie actually laughing. I realized I hadn’t heard her do that for some time now.
“I don’t suppose you’ll retract your claws now,” I said hopefully.
She glanced at me and that was all the answer I needed.
Hell would freeze over first.
I walked to my studio door, pausing again to listen before opening it. I heard Rosie and Rasmussen’s voices, talking, with no note of stress or fear in either one. I pushed open the door, making sure I got into the room before Marcella.
Rosie and Rasmussen were over near my work area and Rosie was showing him one of the paintings I had hanging on the wall there next to the small window. I absently noted it was a small landscape, of a sunset over a lake and one I’d painted the previous year. They both turned at the sound of us coming in and Rosie looked a little surprised.
“That didn’t take long,” she said, coming over. “I thought you’d be at least a couple of hours.”
“Has anyone been here?” Marcella asked, coming into the room and around me as I hung up my coat and hat.
“No, why would anyone be by--” Rosie stopped, obviously seeing Marcella’s claws. “Michael?” she turned to me. “What’s going on?”
“We think things have taken a serious turn for the worst,” I told her. I walked into the kitchenette and filled the kettle with fresh water, then set it on the stove and lit the burner. I definitely needed a cup of tea after all that. “Someone beat us to the two bodies.”
“What do you mean someone beat you?” Rasmussen asked, also coming over, his tone concerned. “They probably just moved them down to one of the exam rooms for autopsies.”
Marcella shook her head. “Someone old,” she said to Rosie. “Antico. Old world.” She turned to Rasmussen next. “The bodies were gone. He took them. He made them all forget they had seen any like us.”
I noted she was back to using the shortened sentences. A quick glance to Rosie told me she realized the same thing.
“Wait--” Rasmussen looked from Marcella to me. “You can do that? Just make people forget things?”
I nodded my head. “With varying degrees of success,” I told him. “The fact that this one could control everyone in the coroner’s office and they were still under the effect of his will when we were there, means he’s very powerful.”
“Very old,” Marcella added.
“Maybe you just missed him?” Rosie suggested. She sat down at the table and I could hear the note in her voice. Worried. But trying to come up with some rational explanation. Something logical that would make everything seem all right.
I shook my head at her. “His scent was almost gone, it had been a while.” I took down a mug and the jar with the tea bags. “Anyone else?” I asked holding up the jar.
“No.” Marcella’s voice was firm, but I already knew she’d turn me down.
“I’ll take some,” Rosie said.
“I’m fine without,” Rasmussen said. He took the seat across from Rosie.
I got a second mug down for Rosie.
“What now?” Rosie asked.
I glanced at Marcella and she met my look with one of her own. I already had a good idea of what she wanted to do.
“I would suggest our normal routines,” I said to Rosie. “You and Nicholas open the shop as usual.” I looked at Rasmussen. “You go back to whatever you would normally be doing until you go back on duty.”
“What about you two?” Rasmussen asked.
“We’re going hunting,” Marcella stated. Her tone was short, matter of fact. Stubborn, remember.
“I think we need to start looking for Aleksander,” I expanded on Marcella’s words. “Not just poking around and picking off his flunkies like I’d thought I could.”
“Do you have a full name on this Aleksander?” Rasmussen asked. “I’ve got friends and they owe me favors.”
“He changes his last name,” I told him. “Chances are he wouldn’t be in the system anywhere, he moves around too much.”
“Not those kinds of friends,” Rasmussen stated. “The kind who might know where to find someone who changes his name and doesn’t want to be found.”
I looked over at Marcella, tilting my head to look at her fully with my clear eye. Marcella was studying Rasmussen.
“A cop who makes friends with criminals?” she asked him.
“A cop who realizes occasionally the information some little punk has is worth a lot more than the paperwork for arresting him on something stupid,” Rasmussen corrected.
Marcella seemed to consider this for a minute then nodded her head.
“Do you have any pictures?” Rasmussen asked, looking between us all.
“Photos, no,” I said. “But if you want to give me about an hour, I can give you a very good likeness sketch of him and a young lady who is likely to have been seen with him.”
Rasmussen nodded. “Not like I have anything else to do.”
“Why don’t you start on those,” Rosie told me, standing up and coming into the kitchenette. “I’ll make the tea. Still one sugar?”
I nodded. I went over to my work area and shuffled around papers, a blank canvas and a binder of color reference charts. Finding one of my sketchbooks, I picked out a couple of pencils from a nearby drawer and came back to sit at the table. I flipped to a blank page and began working, blocking out the reference points for height and angle, then beginning the basic sketching on Aleksander’s face.
Marcella came around and watched, her eyes studying each stroke of my pencil or smudge with the side of my finger. She occasionally nodded when she’d see me add a line or shift the pencil from one hand to the other to change an angle just slightly enough to capture the tiny nuances of his features that would set him apart from others. I was vaguely aware of Rosie setting my tea down by me and paused to take a sip.
Aleksander’s face was fairly easy to get right. His square jaw and somewhat angular features made it simple for me to come up with an accurate representation. It took me just short of a half hour to finish, giving a picture that I was passably happy with, but anyone else would find impressive. There were still lines I wanted to fix; shading that wasn’t quite accurate to how I wanted it, but I knew I didn’t have time to put that much detail in it. I removed that page from the book and handed it to Rasmussen, then started on the picture of Gianna.
/> I wasn’t as familiar with her features, having only seen her the two times, but I had a good idea of what to include. The slight downturn to the edges of her eyes, the way one ear was slightly lower than the other, the slender line of her nose. Her cheeks weren’t as thin as Aleksander’s, but she had fairly high cheekbones. Finally, I paused as I debated whether to include her with what I knew was thinning hair by now, or the wig she’d been wearing both times I’d seen her. In the end, I opted to go with the wig, figuring she was probably vain enough she wouldn’t be seen without it.
Almost as an afterthought I added the small scars on the sides of her neck from my claws. They’d eventually fade almost completely away, but for now, they’d be obvious unless she covered them.
Marcella snorted softly from behind me. “You forgot the scar by Aleksander’s right ear,” she pointed out.
“Oh yeah.” I glanced over at Rasmussen as I finished some shading on Gianna’s picture. “Could I have that back for a moment?” I took it when he handed it to me, trading him for the one of Gianna. I added the ragged scar by his ear, shading it up into his hairline and back towards his neck. When I was finished, I handed it back to Rasmussen, who was staring at me after seeing the sketches. “What?”
“You can draw like this with scars like those?”
Marcella laughed that deep cackle of hers and walked back around the table to sit down. “You should see him paint.”
“The scars don’t inhibit me,” I told Rasmussen. “The only real problem I have is the vision in my right eye is a bit cloudy, but I can still see just fine.”
He nodded and studied the pictures. “How did they get the scars?” he asked.
“No way anybody you’re talking to would know,” Marcella told him.
I nodded in agreement. “I gave Gianna the ones on her neck. Marcella gave Aleksander the one by his ear. He’s pompous and self-important enough, he’s not going to admit to anyone how he really got it.”
“He might make something up,” Rosie pointed out as she stood up and went to rinse out her mug.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Marcella nodded. “He’d sooner die than admit an old woman about ripped his ear off breaking up a fight.”
I sipped my tea again, realizing it was cold. And another hour lost in my artwork. It wasn’t the first cup of tea I’d forgotten about and I doubted it would be the last.
“I’m going to go make a couple of copies of these and start asking around,” Rasmussen said, standing up. “Where can I meet back up with someone if I find anything?”
“How about the shop?” Rosie suggested.
Marcella seemed to consider it, then nodded. “It’s a book and gift store on Caldway Avenue,” she told Rasmussen. “It has my name on it.”
Rasmussen paused to think about it, obviously recalling the street in his mind, then slowly nodded his head. “I think I know the place, just south from the bus terminal about half a mile?”
Marcella nodded.
“All right, I’ll let you know if I find anything.” He rolled the sketches together and left the studio, closing the door tightly behind him.
“You were laughing,” I told Rosie once he’d left. It wasn’t something I was going to point out while someone who really didn’t know us was there.
“He’s got a good sense of humor,” she shrugged. “And he’s scared out of his mind about all this, so it’s how he’s trying to cope with it.” She looked at her grandmother, then at me. “I think letting him help will be good for him. He said he’s looking at an easy two or three weeks down while they finish their internal investigation into his partner’s death.” She paused for a minute, then picked up my mug and took it into the kitchen, poured it down the drain, then rinsed it and set it on the counter next to hers. “I think he’s a good guy and this has pretty much shaken everything he thought was real.”
“I know the feeling,” I told her. I ran through everything in my mind. I could tell Marcella was anxious to get going, but wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. Actually, there was something I wanted—no, I needed—to do first. I stood up from my chair. “Okay, Rosie, shop,” I instructed her. “Keep an eye out for anyone out of the ordinary and if you think they’re going to cause trouble and they’re one of us, don’t bother with questions or subduing them, just put an end to it quick. One of us will take care of the body later for you.”
Marcella nodded her agreement. “If Aleksander shows up, just get out,” she told her. “He won’t try to attack you in public, but don’t try to take him on alone.”
“All right you two, I can take care of myself.” Rosie rolled her eyes and came around to kiss my cheek then her grandmother’s. “Kill any underlings, run from Aleksander, got it. Now you two be careful. I assume you’re going hunting?”
I glanced at Marcella. “She is, I’m sure,” I told her. “I need to go make sure Dawn’s safe. I have a feeling Aleksander’s not going to play nice this time.”
“He never does when things fall apart,” Marcella pointed out.
I nodded. “We need to try to figure out who was at the coroner’s.”
“I’ll start there,” Marcella told me. “Maybe I can catch his scent and find where he went.”
“I’ll find you once I know Dawn’s going to be safe.” I stood and went to get my coat and hat while Rosie turned off the lights and opened the door. I waited for them to walk out, then followed them and locked the door behind me.
Rosie, Marcella and I separated after leaving my studio. Rosie went down to the street level with me while Marcella went back up to the roof. Rosie gave me one last kiss on the cheek for luck, before walking down to hail a cab to take her back to the shop. I caught a glimpse of Marcella overhead, watching to make sure Rosie got on her way all right.
Like I was going to let anything happen to her while I was standing there.
After I was sure Rosie was safely on her way, I pulled my hat down low, adjusted the collar of my coat up over my neck and chin, then turned to head to the hospital.
I made my way up to the fourth floor without even pausing by any of the doors or elevator. I relied on my hat and coat to keep me from being seen by too many people and didn’t bother trying to lurk. I felt a sense of urgency I hadn’t felt for some time and didn’t want to risk taking too long in any one place. Once again the stairs proved faster as I could jump easily from landing to landing without being seen.
Exiting the stairway through the heavy double doors, I slowed my pace, sticking to the sides of the hallways as I made my way down to the nursery. I paused every few yards to test the air and listen for anything that might demand my attention, but didn’t pick up anything. I heard the regular machines and coming and going of people I heard last time.
Allowing myself a quiet sigh of relief, I moved slowly up to the nursery, this time moving around to the side where Dawn’s bassinet was. She lay in the bed, the monitors still attached to her chest. I concentrated on shutting out the other sounds, listening for her heartbeat. It seemed to falter a bit still, struggling to find a steady pace, then finally took on a regular rhythm. I glanced up when I saw Gayle walking over to the bassinet, checking the monitor. After checking Dawn, she looked up at the window and waved at me, motioning for me to come into the nursery.
I shook my head slowly. Part of me wanted to go in, but at the same time I realized the danger. If someone else picked up Dawn’s scent on me, they could follow it back here. I had to admit another small part of me was afraid Gayle would make me hold the baby again. I was pretty sure I’d almost rather be locked in mortal combat with Aleksander.
I chided myself, telling myself that was no way to think if I was honestly going to pursue custody of her. There would be a lot of having to hold her if I did.
But it had to be safe.
Or at least as safe as I could make it.
Approaching footsteps drew my attention and I turned to see Gayle walking towards me from the nursery door.
“If y
ou’re going to raise that baby, you need to spend some time with her,” she scolded me, her tone matter of fact and telling me she wasn’t going to put up with any feeble attempts to argue. I once again heard the faint rattle in her chest whenever she took a breath.
Still not even a blink or flinch at my appearance or presence.
“That’s still up to the courts,” I reminded her. “I just--” I paused, trying to find the right words to say. I wish I knew what it was about this woman that made me act like such a fool. I reminded myself to breathe. “I just wanted to make sure she was all right. I know she’s got a fair fight ahead of her yet.” I realized I was trying not to let my voice slip back into its usual growl. All the talking with Rasmussen last night and everyone else this morning had taken the worst of the gruffness from it, but it still sounded rough to me.
Gayle watched me for a long moment before responding. Her eyes searched my face for a moment, as if she was trying to decide if I was telling her the whole truth or not. I had a feeling after dealing with patients and people as long as she had, her internal lie detector sense was well developed.
“Come with me,” she instructed, turning and motioning for me to follow her. Seeing she wasn’t heading toward the nursery, I fell into step beside her, my long legs keeping pace easily.
We ended up at a small office, one with her name on it and I noticed her title was supervisor of the Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit. Impressive.
Inside the office, she motioned to the other chair on the far side of the desk, then closed the door behind us.
“What’s going on, Mr. Dorian?” she asked me, leaning against the desk and folding her arms. The office was tidy, with a few files in a basket on one corner of the desk and a couple of potted plants on the bookshelf behind the desk. Everything was in order and kept where she could easily find what she needed. It reminded me vaguely of the way I insisted on keeping my painting supplies.
“I came to visit Dawn,” I told her, not bothering to sit down. There was something confrontational in her, but not in an offensive way. She’d obviously decided she wanted answers to whatever questions she felt there were. I scratched absently at the scar on my left hand.
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