by Ali Vali
Hill laughed as she noticed how soft the nun’s hand was. “I’ll bet it’s lovely.” Looking more closely at the nun’s face, she wondered why such a beautiful woman had chosen a life of service. “Do you know the name of the young woman standing with Mr. St. Louis?”
“Angelina du’Pon was his fiancée. Tragic story, really, but I’m late for a meeting already, so perhaps next time.”
“Thank you for your time, Sister. You’ve been very helpful.”
Hill waved one more time, then hurried to her car. From the large window in the rectory, Morgaine unzipped the black garment and peeled off the wimple, finished with the favor Kendal had asked of her. The thought of masquerading as a nun any longer made her laugh, considering how she’d spent her evening. Asra could make her yell for the gods, but she doubted that was what the church had in mind.
“I consider this my good deed for the day, Asra, and you guessed right. Your stalker couldn’t help but come in,” she said, putting the outfit on a chair. She fluffed up her hair and decided to have it cut before she returned to the house. It would be only a matter of time before they had visitors via the lake, but she would leave it to Asra to find them. “Let’s hope they decide to make their covert operation during daylight hours, because Henri will be sending his own welcoming party soon enough.”
“Can I help you, miss?” asked a nun who entered the room.
“No, thank you, Sister. I was just doing a favor for a friend.”
“Well then, God bless you. It’s the Christian way to do for others, and it’s a habit young people don’t develop enough these days.”
“That message never does get old, no matter how many times I hear it.”
*
“Yesterday you were deathly afraid of this woman, and now you want to sneak into her house. Am I understanding you correctly?” Piper asked.
As Hill weaved through traffic on the way back to the office, she focused on the painting in the rectory and the resemblance to Kendal and Piper. Now she was certain that even if Piper didn’t pay her another dollar to work the case, she wanted to find out more about Kendal Richoux. She couldn’t ignore the doppelganger coincidences in the painting. Genetics, no matter how perfect, didn’t produce two people who looked so much alike after so much time. Having Piper in the scene was too bizarre to even contemplate.
“You don’t have to go with me, Piper. I’m going no matter what. After last night she thinks I’m off her tail, so what’s to lose?”
“Oh, no. Give me twenty minutes, then pick me up at my place. I have to change into something more comfortable for sneaking around.”
A mental picture of sneaking anywhere with the impatient Piper made Hill want to kick herself for not calling after she returned from the plantation. It would’ve been much easier alone. “I could just take pictures and write a report by tonight. Besides, you don’t know what’s crawling in those woods.”
“Twenty minutes, Hill. Don’t be late.”
The silence in her ear stopped her from making any other excuses. Hopefully the most dangerous weapon in Kendal’s house was a sword. It was illegal to shoot someone on their own property, but she’d make up some reason if it came to that.
“Next time just go first and talk later, moron, because if you’re not careful, your old friend Piper’s going to get you killed.” She tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel as she talked to herself. No matter, though—she was going even if she had to carry Piper on her back to get there and gag her once they arrived.
When she reached Piper’s condo she saw they were wearing similar outfits. Jeans, boots, and long sleeves would help if bugs infested the place they landed. Piper also had a pair of binoculars hanging around her neck and a bag with snacks. Had Piper misunderstood? She looked ready to attend a sporting event instead of trespass in someone’s yard.
“Nothing in there crunches, right?”
“I didn’t have lunch, so take it easy. We aren’t sneaking into the house. Who’ll hear us eating potato chips while we’re hiding under a bush?”
The same woman who snuck up on me on a really big horse and threatened to slice me into little pieces, that’s who, she thought, as she studied the tops of her boots when her chin dropped to her chest. “Let’s go before it gets much later. We still have to find a way across the lake.”
“No problem. Granddad keeps an old rowboat out there. I asked before I left the office. As long as he doesn’t actually land on Oakgrove property, he has permission to fish the lake. Don’t you find it odd that Kendal’s so friendly with these religious types?” Piper asked as they walked to the car. “It would have made more sense for her to attend a cult meeting.”
Hill opened the door for Piper, then headed around to the driver’s side. “We don’t know a lot about Kendal. If we’re lucky, though, we’ll be able to see and photograph more people there with her. Then we’ll have some new outlets to find out more about her and what she’s up to.”
Hill stopped hitting her thumbs on the steering wheel when Piper stared at them. Piper would know she was stalling. “Maybe so. Let’s hope so, anyway. Your little penguin friend didn’t tell you anything else, right? Something that would help us out?”
“No.” She shook her head for emphasis. They were sitting at a red light and she couldn’t look Piper in the eye when she answered. She wasn’t ready to tell Piper she’d seen Kendal in a really old painting done before her great-grandmother was even born. Piper would have her committed in a heartbeat, especially if she told Piper she had seen her likeness in the painting as well.
“There’s nothing more you want to tell me?” Piper asked again, and from her peripheral vision Hill could see her staring at her now.
The light turned green and she floored it, crossing over two lanes of traffic to make it onto the interstate ramp. “That was it. She told me about the lake, that she visited the place a couple of times, and she explained a painting hanging in the hallway.” Please don’t ask me about the painting and I won’t have to lie, she thought.
“What, are you becoming an art connoisseur?”
“They just seem eager for the public to take an interest in their history. It’s not a big deal.”
*
Piper kept quiet the rest of the trip, content to watch the scenery and think about the summers she’d spent at her grandfather’s place as a child. She was on the tire swing he’d strung up for her from one of the large oaks in the back when he told her of her father’s death. At first the words “car accident” didn’t sound so permanent, but her father was gone just like that. She figured he’d wanted to be happy by joining her mother, whom she knew only from pictures.
The memories of her father, though, were vivid, but she usually kept them buried since they brought her only pain. Her father had always worn his melancholy like a cloak. Despite his sadness he often read to her, walked the property with her skipping beside him, but nothing she did ever brought him true joy. From the time she could remember she’d tried to make him happy, but she couldn’t reach the part of his heart that withered when her mother died.
That sense of failure had made her wary of trying so hard to please anyone again. She’d allowed only Granddad Mac and Grandmother Molly fully into her heart, especially Mac. When she’d moved in with them permanently, he’d laughed and danced with her and her grandmother every night when he got home from work, and never acted pressed for time when she asked to do something with him.
He and Grandmother Molly had done everything from attending her sporting events to volunteering for school functions so her life would be as full and normal as possible. From Mac she’d learned what exactly their family was built on, and a big part of that was Marmande Shipyard, as well as the extended family they employed and were responsible for.
Once she was old enough, she wouldn’t stay away from the office. From her first day, she’d carried the company further than they should’ve gotten before someone like Kendal came along. However, the bleeding of red ink had
been too severe for too long for Piper to make a lasting difference, though she wasn’t giving up. To lose now would be to disappoint the two people she admired most in the world and put nearly four thousand people out of work. Mac and Grandmother Molly were everything to her, so she wouldn’t let them die without Marmande Shipyard still being in business.
“Turn here to go back to the dock. Granddad said the boat should be tied up and ready, if someone didn’t borrow it.” She pointed out a dirt road where the Oakgrove fence line ended. The excitement she felt as a child when she made a break for the property line to explore Oakgrove’s secrets returned. Back then, whenever she tried, Mac was always too quick and stopped her before she got into trouble.
“Go slow so we don’t kick up too much dust.”
“You want to row?” Hill asked when they reached the end of the pier.
“And deprive you of the pleasure? I wouldn’t dream of it, Hill. Come on, chop chop. When we get to the other side I’ll give you a potato chip.”
They shoved off a little before noon, Hill plowing the water with powerful strokes. “Man, that nun said this was a small lake,” Hill complained after thirty minutes.
“Call a nun a liar and lightning may strike you,” Piper said. They were both whispering as the shore got closer. When they landed they couldn’t tell how far back from the house they were since it wasn’t visible from the road.
They tied off the boat in a stand of willow trees to keep it out of sight and waited to make sure they were alone. At least most of the foliage was still on the trees, giving them good coverage.
After a short walk to the east, they reached a clearing. They were in for a long walk around it if they wanted to keep from being spotted. They still couldn’t see the house, and Piper hoped they could find their way out if sunset came before they were done.
With a quick pull, Hill yanked her farther into the trees, but she didn’t complain about the rough treatment because she heard an approaching horse. They pressed themselves up to tree trunks big enough to hide them, chests heaving.
“I am one with the tree, I am one with the tree.” Piper mentally repeated the mantra as the clip-clop of hooves stopped close to where they’d stood.
*
Kendal reined her horse in at the beginning of the clearing, opting for no saddle again since she wanted Ruda to roam on his own while she worked out. Her skills never truly lost their edge, but because her brother had amassed quite a following, a little practice wouldn’t hurt.
She didn’t intend to let them capture her and lock her way from the sun. She always welcomed sleep, but to lose this fight would most probably result in a shift in power. Mankind could not afford any carelessness on her part. If Abez and Ora unleashed the kind of darkness they reveled in, she doubted that anyone would ever be able to fully rein it in.
The grass felt cool when she dropped to the ground. She slapped Ruda on the rump after taking the bit out of his mouth and watched him head for a small patch of clover the lawn crew had missed. She strolled to the center of the clearing, enjoying the midday sun on her shoulders and the soft grass under her bare feet. This was sacred ground, the one place on Oakgrove’s lands where only the grass had grown; no crops had ever disturbed the soil here.
Those who had been under her care had put their dead to rest here using the ceremonies of their homeland, not in crude pine boxes like on other plantations. They had carried litters here and placed them on funeral pyres in solemn ceremonies. They had prayed in their native tongues as the flames welcomed the spirits of the dead.
From this spot, warriors who had died farmers and slaves were welcomed home to whatever afterlife they believed in, their ashes having long since become one with the soil. In Kendal’s heart those ashes had blessed the area, and as long as she lived, she would make sure they would never be forgotten. She remembered every name they’d been given at birth and what place they held within their tribe. Even if she was somehow defeated and destroyed, the set of leather journals in the library contained a complete history of everyone who’d lived on the property back then.
When she reached the center, she dropped to her knees and lifted her hands to the sky. In the language those noble fighters had taught her, she gave thanks to their gods that these people had lived and that she had known them. After asking for strength to guide her hands and her heart in the upcoming fight, she asked forgiveness for disturbing their peace by drawing weapons here. Charlie had told her it did them honor for her to come here and practice, but she believed in covering her bets.
Finished, she opened her eyes and smiled at Charlie, who was kneeling next to her in the same position. The sweat on his bare chest probably meant he had run from the house. He waited as Kendal pulled a strip of cloth from the long pair of gi pants she was wearing. She’d picked a tight black sleeveless T-shirt instead of the traditional wraparound top. With her eyes covered, she stopped to center herself and let her other senses take over. The whispering among the trees meant her admirers had taken Morgaine’s bait, but she figured Hill would’ve come alone.
“What’s she doing?”
Kendal recognized Piper’s voice.
“What’s it look like? She’s tying on a blindfold.”
“What’s with the big karate pants?”
“Piper, the secret of surveillance is to sit and observe. When you watch someone, you usually can answer the questions that might come up.”
When she turned to face the river, they would get a good look at her weapons, which should scare the hell out of them enough to make them scurry back to their lives. In hindsight, she should’ve taken a vacation from being Kendal Richoux and just come back as whoever to take care of this problem. Had she done that, Piper and her friends would’ve never crossed Henri’s radar like they might now. One look at Piper, though, made her almost glad they’d met. Once this was over perhaps she’d find out why fate had thrown Piper into her life, and why she looked so much like such a piece of her history.
The sword strapped to her back and a special belt holding two small axes prompted the next round of whispers, but she tried to tune it out. You wouldn’t find the hatchet-looking weapons at the hardware store. These blades were longer and thinner, almost like quarter moons with handles.
Ready, she bowed toward Charlie and drew her sword. They would start with a drill she’d taught Charlie when they began their lessons together long before Henri had come back into her life. The two blades moved slowly in unison as if following some choreographed dance.
As they continued their movements, she heard Charlie stop, like he had many times, to watch. Her sword usually was invisible as she warmed up, moving the blade in a circle from hand to hand through the basic moves used in combat. The heat of the sun made her start sweating, and she widened her stance as she sheathed her sword so she could remove the axes at her back.
The leather on them felt new but soft, and she made a mental note to thank Charlie. One of the legion commanders who had fought against Genghis Khan had given them to her. The tanned warrior with the black hair and light eyes had been like a horde all by himself, the man had told the crowd as he held his gift up for everyone to see. It was a time of upheaval, but not a time of women warriors, so she had lived as a man in that lifetime to help rid the world of a more human evil. None of those she fought with had thought to ask why she had asked that pieces of wood be added to the metal when they were forged. That was the one common element in all her weapons except for the sword that had been her father’s.
Wooden stakes through the heart and death by sunlight were the two things the movies had gotten right about vampires. While the thirst for blood was a given, she was always amused at some of the movies and television shows on the topic. The essence of wood was all that was necessary, so that’s why her swords were able to destroy the little bastards she came across. Garlic and holy water, though, were Hollywood hype.
“What the hell?” Piper said, loud enough to make Kendal concentrate again.
The sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the clearing as she added a few new moves. She took out one guy who got too close with a kick to the jaw. Another two met a similar fate when she leapt up, then kicked both feet out. When the fight ended, less than twenty minutes had passed, and all five were unarmed and on their knees panting.
For a moment longer she stood with her head cocked, listening for any other threat. She tore the blindfold off when all she could hear was the men’s heavy breathing. “Take as long as you want, then run through it again with Charlie, guys. And, Charlie, try not to add too many more bruises or they might not want to play with us again.”
“Hill, we need to get the hell out of here before this nut figures out we’re here.”
Without the blindfold Kendal closed her eyes and tried to pinpoint where Piper’s voice was coming from.
“Just stay calm. It’ll be better if we wait until they’re done,” Hill said.
Piper nodded as she tried to even out her breathing. When they looked back to the field to watch Charlie go through the same dance, only without the blindfold, they just as quickly stared at each other in shock. They’d lost sight of Kendal.
“Where’d she go?” Piper asked.
Hill shrugged as she scanned the area through Piper’s binoculars. Doing a good imitation of an oscillating fan, Hill’s head turned from side to side as she looked where they’d last seen her.
As quietly as possible, Kendal climbed down behind them from the branch she’d picked to watch them from as real fear set in, as if they’d just realized they’d crawled into the cobra’s lair, then suddenly remembered they were no mongooses. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You missed me so much you couldn’t stay away?” she asked before pressing her lips to the side of Piper’s head. She laughed when Piper gasped, then backed up so fast she knocked Hill over. The camera on the ground held her attention.