by A J Brahms
The Church of Paths owned a huge converted warehouse that didn't look like a warehouse at all as we approached. We were somewhere north of I-285, and the moment we turned into the front gate, I learned what feeling uncomfortable was truly like. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something there that set every mental alarm I had in my Vampiric blood on fire. Occam hadn't manifested, but I could feel her nearby. I told her to keep an eye on things from above…and make an appearance if things got sticky.
The place had been given a makeover since it was last photographed. I'd looked it up online during the night to get a better feel of it, but it just wasn't the same. It had a high ceiling and metal siding, but the siding was painted white and the trim black. A gold cross hung above a stained-glass door. I couldn't make out the pattern in the glass, but the colors were interesting. They were all the Elemental colors. Green, blue, yellow, red, and purple. These were the basics of magic.
There was also a smell that assaulted my senses the moment I stepped through the doors. It wasn't pungent, nor was it unpleasant. It was just…uncomfortable.
My training as a Chevalier told me this place was warded against Night Walkers, as well as other unconventional conventionals. Myself included. But it felt more like…whatever they had going, whether it be incense or charm, I confused it. And it was confusing me.
We were met by a young man in black pants and white shirt who introduced himself as Mark. He said Chancellor Conway was waiting for us, along with his retinue.
Retinue?
We walked down a drywall hallway holding up a drop ceiling with fluorescent lights. The buzz from the lights gave me a slight headache, but nothing serious. I walked behind the two detectives, an observer with a camera, which I did not take out of my bag.
Not yet. I didn't hear whispers, but I did feel…something.
The door at the end of the hall wasn't ostentatious or gaudy, something I'd grown accustomed to with the religious types. It was a plain wooden door that needed a coat of paint, and the office behind it was just as ordinary as the hall. Four walls with only one door. The place was furnished with an Office Depot desk ensemble, several beige metal filing cabinets, bargain carpet in dark brown, and on every wall hung a smaller version of the gold cross adorning the outside door.
The man that stood from the desk looked to be in his seventies. He was thin, but in a healthy way. He had a spring in his step, which immediately grated my nerves. His hair, though snow white, was full and thick and long. He had it combed back into a silver clasp. He, too, wore dark pants and a white shirt, but he also had a purple cord hanging around his neck. Dangling from the ends of that cord were more crosses, same as the crosses on the walls and the one outside. These people had a very singular logo.
When I heard the door close behind us, my discomfort increased.
A lot.
"Welcome," said Conway as he shook Meehan's hand. "I'm Chancellor Conway."
"Detective Luke Meehan. And this is my partner, Detective Julie Wallace."
Conway shook her hand as well, but his gaze rolled off of her and landed on me. He stepped between the two of them and stood directly in front of me. I was looking into the scariest human I'd ever run across in my extended life. "And you are Ren Grainger. Such a pleasure to finally meet the man who solved the Schmidtt Haunting murder."
I felt my heart drop into my lap. How in the hell did this guy know about that? No one knew about that case because it wasn't a human case, but one belonging to a group of Witches who couldn't identify the evil that'd been haunting a school out near Six Flags. I'd taken a picture of the culprit, a rather nasty Poltergeist created by the death of a Witch. They'd been able to exorcise him pretty fast after they discovered who and what it was.
I slipped my hand into his outstretched hand. "I'd be very curious to find out how you know about that, Mr. Conway."
"And I would be very, very interested to know what magic you used to identify the evil spirit. It takes Black Magic to find Black Magic, and if there is one thing the Church of Paths does not tolerate..." he said as he squeezed my hand tight and brought up a large cross with the other and slammed it into my forehead. "It's the devil's work."
Five
Julie's laughter broke whatever mood Conway hoped to set with his theatrics. With the cross still pressed into my forehead, I pulled my hand from his, grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the cross, and forced his entire arm to the side. "Do that again, mister, and you and I will end up in small claims court. Though I doubt any judge in the state of Georgia is gonna punish me for beating the hell out of you."
"Ren!" Luke said in a stern voice.
I released the little bastard's wrist and stepped back, but I didn't back down. Instead I called to Occam. The raven appeared at the ceiling and landed on my shoulder. Conway's eyes grew wide. Crap, did he see Occam? Was it possible that Conway had magical sight?
"Gentlemen," Luke said. "Let's not."
But Conway was pointing at me.
"What is he? Is he a Witch? A demon? A sorcerer?"
I noticed he wasn't looking directly at me, but at Occam. Yep. Magical Sight. Well…shit.
"Try pain in the ass," Julie quipped and moved in to stand between Conway and me. "Chancellor—you know about Black Magic?"
Still looking at me for a few seconds, Conway answered, "Yes, Detective." Then he pulled his gaze from me and looked at Julie. "Don't you believe in Black Magic?"
I was pretty sure Luke did, but he always kept a pretty non-magic, mumbo-jumbo, ghosts-don't-exist persona in his job. Julie…eh…
Conway didn't give either of them time to react. "I see you do because you bring with you a Black Magic user."
"Really, Chancellor?" Meehan's voice was both soft and disbelieving at the same time. "I'm not sure what you've heard about our colleague, but Black Magic isn't something he's known for. He's a photographer."
"I'm aware of what Mr. Grainger's credentials are." Conway gave me another glance and I shot him a fake smile. There were times in my life I wished Ghouls had fangs but…alas, no. I was forever between human and Vampire. "I wanted to know how he solved such a crime—and I have any answer. But—" He clasped his hands together and gave me and Occam a wide berth. "I was told you had questions about a ring?"
Julie pulled the ring from her jacket pocket, still sealed in an evidence bag. Conway took it and looked at it carefully, and I looked at his expression with just as much scrutiny. If he had a reaction, it didn't play out on his face, nor in the beat of his heart, which remained steady. "This is one of our Neophyte rings. They're given to newly initiated followers of the faith." He narrowed his eyes. "This style is for the females."
"There is an inscription on the back side," Julie said. "But we haven't been able to read it."
"That's because it's in Hebrew. This ring says Racheal."
"Is there a Racheal in your flock, Chancellor?" Julie asked.
Conway nodded as he handed the bag back to her. "Yes. We have a Racheal. It was the name given to her once she was indoctrinated. But we haven't seen her since her initiation."
"When was that?"
"Last week."
Luke reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a few pictures. "Is this her?"
I saw they were crime scene shots, probably taken by the Bureau. Conway took them, and this time his reaction was palpable. His heart rate increased and he physically gasped as he looked at them.
"I take it, that's Racheal," Luke said.
"Yes." Conway turned very white. "Her real name's Tonya Mulberry. She was…sixteen."
Not twenty. Ouch.
"Chancellor," Luke said as he gently took the photos from him. "Any information you can give us on her would be helpful."
Conway's gaze became unfocused, as if he were trying to remember things. "Ah, she came in with another of our new comers, another female. But then she met one of our Neophytes and they became very close, very fast." Then he went to one of the many filing cabinets, produc
ing a key from his pocket. He opened the cabinet and pulled a file, then pulled another one. He gave them to Luke. "His name's Ryan Guess. His Neophyte name is Thomas. Was…Thomas."
Luke opened Ryan's folder and I moved to look over his shoulder. Scanning ahead, I said, "Why was his name changed to Judas?" It dawned on me at that moment the given names were all biblical.
Conway looked at me, and this time I was pretty sure I saw hatred in that gaze. It washed over me like an ice bath. Occam shifted her position and flapped her wings…just for show of course. "Because one of our devoted flock saw him speaking with someone in an…opposing family, Mr. Grainger. We don't associate with those people, and when he was questioned, he denied it."
Julie crossed her arms over her chest. "Opposing family? Opposing what?"
"There are…older families in this city who oppose our teachings. Some are engaged in city politics, engaging local law enforcement to harass us, to keep the idea of joining us something that would bring problems alive. Our numbers are down and we've had many a Judas appear in our ranks."
"Judas as in those who spoke to this alleged family?" Luke said.
Conway fixed Luke with a surprised look. "You would be so ignorant as to not know of the Talmadge Family? The Yerger, or even…" And his gaze moved from Luke to me. "The Hernes, originally from London."
Julie and Luke glanced back at me and I shrugged. "My family's Irish, Mr. Conway," I said. I kept my voice controlled, but inside I was battling panic. Herne…how did he know that name? And why had he looked at me when he said it? My Master's name had been Herne, since her birth. Her family had originated in some small town in Budapest, but she'd later moved to England and traveled through the countryside to settle in London, where she started her own Herne Family and moved that family to Oregon.
Childers and Ghouls alike take the name of their Sire/Master, so for a time, my name had been William Herne.
But no one…no one knew this. That family was long dead.
Dead, burned, consecrated, and buried.
Luke steered the conversation back. "Sorry, Chancellor, but we're not familiar with these families. So, what does that mean if one of your members is renamed Judas?"
"They're banned." Conway's gaze returned to Luke, and I took in several deep breaths. As they talked, I moved my senses out and into the building with a bit of help from Occam, who launched up and vanished.
Conway caught that.
"When was the last time you saw him?" Julie pulled out her phone and started thumbing in notes.
"He was banished just after Racheal…Tonya…was initiated." Conway looked at me again. "Where were those pictures taken?"
As Occam moved through the warehouse and found it relatively empty, I focused my attention on Conway. "Cimitir Hall."
His heartbeat jumped, thus increasing his heart rate, and then he put his hand on his desk. "Detective, may I see those pictures again?"
Luke handed them back and this time Conway looked at them more closely. He pointed to her neck. "What are those?"
Luke sighed. "Not what you think they are. Our medical examiner is making sure of that."
"You mean he's hiding the fact this woman's blood was drained by the undead."
Chancellor Conway had just gone up on Meehan's suspect meter. "I never said her blood was drained, Mr. Conway." Oh…I noticed the drop of the title. Not a good sign. "In fact, that little piece of information hasn't been disclosed at all. Care to tell me how you know that?"
Conway opened his mouth, then closed it. He handed the pictures back to Luke. "You show me a picture of a pale woman with two holes in her neck, and you want to play the fool? I believe we're done here."
Luke, smiling to himself, tucked them back into his suit jacket pocket. "Sure, Mr. Conway. But please make yourself available to us and don't leave town." He turned to leave.
"I have one request," Conway said and we turned back to him. Occam wanted to fly off and I gave her permission. My mouth was parched and I reached into my bag for a bottled water. Using power ticked away minutes of time between my own infusions of Night Walker blood. I was maybe down to a day or so, and I needed to pick up my order. Soon it would get hard for me to swallow, or move, much less help myself. I shouldn't have let it get this far.
But I just hated drinking that shit. Seriously. Tasted like…ass.
"What is that?" Julie asked.
"I want to speak to Mr. Grainger. Alone."
Julie and Luke looked at me and I shrugged. "Not interested," I said and turned to go.
"Please," Conway said. "I'll let you take pictures, Mr. Grainger. I have nothing to hide."
Luke and I looked at each other. Did Conway know about my pictures and what they revealed? Taking shots here could say whether or not Tonya was killed here. We could always come back with a court order and I could take them, but that would give them time to clean up or even exorcise spirits away.
"We can wait in the car," Luke said.
"Or…I can have him taken back to the station, Detective." Conway held out his arms. "You have my promise and I am a man of God."
You know…I got no beef with God. But having this man tell me he was a man of God did nothing to reassure me he wasn't up to something. I think he suspected I wasn't human before I walked in, then I stupidly showed him he was right.
Luke arched his brow, but my surprise came when Julie put her hand on my arm and looked up at me with brown eyes. "I don't trust him," she said in a soft voice.
"I don't either," Meehan said and slipped something into my jacket pocket. The weight of it told me it was a gun.
Were they that distrustful of this suspect?
Apparently.
But I was going to take one for the team to get those pictures. Yay.
They left and I was alone with Conway. Me, with my shoulder bag and a gun in my pocket. Him, with his hidden cameras and several body guards positioned outside the door. Yeah, I could hear them. And I could sense the electronic hum of the cameras. Cameras that had not been on while Julie and Meehan had been in the room.
I set my bag on the floor and pulled out the Pentax. I turned it on and smiled at the high-pitched whine. "So, should I start here in your office?"
"I know about your pictures, Mr. Grainger."
"I'm sure you do." Keep it even, Ren. Calm.
"I mean I know what your older cameras show."
Hm… "Care to elaborate?"
"You're well known in certain circles in the city for your portraits. The way you can capture a mood within a still shot." He clasped his arms behind him as he moved around his desk to his chair. "Local magazines hire you for their articles. And you're usually seen with an older, distinguished man."
I couldn't wait to tell Aberdeen he'd been spotted by religious crazies. I supposed he could carry on a pretty good conversation with them, seeing as how he was a priest at one time. Long before present day Christianity earned its darker side.
I didn't say anything as I adjusted the lens and looked at him through it.
So he continued, "But for some shots, you use the older cameras. Like that one. It's a Pentax, am I right? Circa 1967?"
"1964," I said and snapped two shots. I pointed to different areas and snapped a few more. "May I continue through the building?"
"Certainly."
I put my bag on my shoulder and left the office, surrounded by three large men and Conway, who continued talking my ear off as I shot photos. I'd already determined there was no one else here and the rest of the place was unfinished. Which is exactly where I wanted to go. Now to see if he'd let me.
The only problem with this was that I couldn't ask my questions out loud. So I did silently, hoping she could hear me. I need to see you if you want me to do something for you.
"Why do you use the older cameras?"
"I'm comfortable with them." Were you killed here?
"But the film they use has to be developed. Do you send it out?"
"No." Are you here?
&
nbsp; "You develop it yourself?"
"I can." Is there anyone here?
"And what do you find when you develop them?"
I paused and looked at him. "Truth." And then I turned to shoot another picture. Do you want me to see you?
He didn't say anything for a while as we went through the offices. I took one per office, and then when we got to the unfinished part, a door that led into the warehouse itself, his goons stood in my way. I turned to him. "You said you would let me photograph your place."
"Beyond this door is a construction site. We don't want to be liable if something happens to you in there."
"Oh, I'll be fine."
"Really? Is that because you do not fear death?"
I looked at him through the camera lens and took a shot. I had five more on this roll. I lowered the camera. "Mr. Conway, I have this feeling you want to ask me something. So just go ahead and ask me."
He gestured for me to go back down the hall and we went into one of the empty offices. Just he and I. I went in first and turned to face him where he stood by the door. There were crosses all over the walls. Gold, silver, ceramic, and even mirrored. I had a pretty good idea where this was going, especially when he caught my reflection in the mirrors. He looked a little surprised.
"I even photograph," I said and pointed to the walls. "Nice collection."
"They don't offend you?"
"No." I shrugged. "Why should they?"
"Mr. Grainger…when a rumor came to me about your photos, about the Schmidtt Haunting, I was surprised to find there was nothing on the case with the police. Not even a basic report."
"There was no need. Not a police matter."
"It was something more dangerous than they could handle, wasn't it Mr. Grainger? What did you do with it? Did you exorcise it? Do you have it trapped? Or were you in on the whole thing? Acting as an agent to once again hide what's really going on from the public? You have help, don't you? The police…the city government knows what you are, knows what you do, and they protect you. I am here to rid the world of monsters like you—and those in charge—hire you."