by Deanna Chase
“Wait.” I held up a hand before Eddie got on one of his rolls. “Back up. What’s the deal?”
“I already told you the deal, girl,” he said, speaking around the pen. “I was betrayed. I didn’t retire. I left. Didn’t have a choice. Fought some demons in Sri Lanka and a nest of vampires in Nepal. Spent some time in a monastery in South America, and hid out a few years in Borneo.”
“Hid out? Since the fifties?”
“They were looking for me. Always looking.”
“Who? Why?”
“Demons, of course,” he said. “They were looking for the Lazarus Bones, and that means they were looking for me.”
“So you’ve been hiding out all that time? Why come back to San Diablo? You knew the bones were here. Didn’t you think the demons would figure it out?”
At that, Eddie actually laughed so hard he started choking, turning first beet red, and then an unattractive shade of blue. I leaped to my feet and pounded him on the back, until he held up a hand, signaling that he was okay. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. I got him a glass of water, and he tried again. “I didn’t come here, girl. They brought me here.”
“What?”
“About three months ago.”
“That’s when Brother Michael committed suicide,” I said.
“Yup.”
“Well, where were you before that?”
“Six months before that, I was in Algiers, working as a bartender, and taking care of a few of the more preternatural, evil-type clients. Trained some Hunters, too. Under the table, of course. That’s the way it’s got to be done, you ask me. Forza’s moving too slow, and the danger is too strong. Got to get in there and fight. Got to get in there and—”
“Eddie!”
His entire body seemed to slump. “They found me there. The demons. Dragged me back to some dump in Inglewood. Pumped me full of drugs. Asked questions. Tried to get answers. I wouldn’t tell ‘em. I wouldn’t tell ‘em a thing.”
I wanted to cry, but my eyes were surprisingly clear. Fresh anger lashed through my body. I wanted to make it up to this old man who’d given up the better part of his life to protect a secret. I wanted, more than ever, to destroy Goramesh.
“Demons brought you here?” I asked.
“They let up on the drugs when they did, too. Maybe they thought I truly couldn’t remember with my head so scrambled. I don’t know. And I never knew what prompted them to move me to San Diablo.” He looked at me. “Not until you told me your story, anyway.”
“As soon as they learned from Brother Michael that the bones were here, they brought you, too?”
“Fat lot of good it did them,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. “I haven’t said a word. Never told a soul, actually. And there’s not a drug on the planet can make old Eddie talk if he doesn’t want to.”
My breath hitched. “You talked to me,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper. “Why? Why did you trust me?”
“Am I wrong to trust you?
“No.” I shook my head fervently. “No way.” He aimed his toothless grin my way. “In that case, my reasons don’t much make a difference, do they?”
Chapter 18
In a mere twenty-four hours I went from testing fine white powder with holy water for end-of-the-world potential to serving funnel cakes on the softball field beside St. Mary’s Cathedral.
Such is the variety that keeps my life so spicy.
I still didn’t know where the Lazarus Bones were any more than I knew (definitively) who was supposed to schlep them out of the cathedral and into Goramesh’s hot little demon hands. To say I was frustrated would be an understatement, and if my smile was a little less chipper than it should be for a parish fair, well, you can just chalk it up to the demons.
“Mo-om!” Allie came up, Timmy perched on her hip. “Do I really have to cart him around? I’m not going to meet anyone cool if I’ve got my brother attached to me.”
“It’s a church fair, sweetheart, not The Dating Game.”
She made a face. “I told you,” she said. “I don’t always think about boys.”
“Just on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays?”
“Right,” she said, her grin impish. “And on alternating Tuesdays.”
“Well, it’s Friday,” I said. “Who’s today’s lucky object of your lust?”
“Nobody,” she said with a heavy sigh. “All the good ones are weird.”
I knew she was thinking about Stan, and my gut twisted. I’d seen a small item in that morning’s paper. Todd Greer—who’d so miraculously survived an attack by a vicious dog just a few days ago—had raced out of the mall and run in front of a bus. He’d been killed instantly. Even though I knew he wasn’t human, I’d still felt a twinge of sadness. Residual, I suppose, for the boy he used to be.
I smiled at my daughter, the girl I wanted so badly to keep safe. I suppose I should have assured her that there were plenty of nonweird men out there, but I kept my mouth shut. She’d learn soon enough.
“Why don’t you see if Laura will watch Tim?” I suggested after serving a funnel cake to a man in a UCLA T-shirt.”
“I looked for her. I can’t find her anywhere.” She aimed the puppy-dog pout my way. “Gramps said he’d watch Tim.”
“Leave the baby with Gramps, and you’ll find yourself cell phone-less.” I could play dirty when I had to.
An anguished moan, followed by “whatever.”
“Why don’t you wait for Stuart? He promised to be here by six-thirty.”
“It’s only six, mom. That’s another half hour.”
“Oh, the torment,” I said.
“When do you get off?”
“Now, actually, but I have some things I have to do.” Like sneak down into the archives and hope that inspiration hit.
“Mo-ther. You’re ruining my social life.”
“I know. I’m evil.” I stepped back to let Tracy Baker take over as the funnel-cake queen, then I slid out of the booth and came around to face my daughter. “Your best bet is Laura. I’m sure she’s around here with Mindy, isn’t she?”
From Allie’s sigh, you’d think I’d just told her she had three weeks to live. “I don’t know. I’ll go look for them. Again.”
She trudged off, Timmy happily batting at her dangly earrings.
***
Allie may not have found Laura, but I had no problems locating her. Although Laura isn’t Catholic, the parish fair is big in the community, and she and I go every year. Usually we scope out the various booths and buy handmade knick-knacks and stupid gifts. This year we were on a quest.
“I can help, you know,” she said as we headed for the cathedral.
“No, thanks. If Goramesh is paying attention, he probably already knows you’re helping me. But just in case he doesn’t, I’d like to keep the illusion going.”
“Then what can I do?”
A little finger of guilt wiggled its way up my neck. “Can you relieve Allie? Her brother is cramping her style.”
“For Allie, anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem. Just one more dessert on the evergrowing tally.” We were right outside the doors now, and she paused, shaking her head slightly as she hugged herself, looking at the building before us. “Sad and inspiring all at the same time, don’t you think?”
I wasn’t thinking about anything except the zillions of boxes still waiting for my review. After having come so close only to be sadly disappointed, I can’t say I was too psyched for the experience.
“Kate?”
“Sorry. What?”
“I was just thinking about the cathedral. The bones of saints mixed into the mortar. And those five martyrs in the basement I mean, on the one hand it’s inspiring, but it’s also kind of creepy and weird.”
I tugged open the door. “I’m not interested in creepy, weird, inspirational, or devotional. All I want are answers, and instead of spending the next two hours having fun buying beaded scarves and ta
cky earrings with you, I’m going to be huddled down here with vermin-infested boxes. So forgive me if I’m not soaking in the historical wonder of it all.”
Her lips twitched, but she nodded gravely. “Right,” she said. “Go work.”
She headed back toward the playing field, and I paused just past the foyer to dab my finger in the holy water and genuflect. I’ve never been particularly good at genuflecting (I’m sorry, but the motion is just not natural) and this time I fell on my butt, knocked completely asunder by the thought that had slammed into my head.
Laura said there’d been five martyrs, but there were six bags of remains. An extra one was in the display case, hiding in plain sight.
A thrill whipped through my body like electricity.
I knew where the Lazarus Bones were.
I ran back outside, pulling my phone out of my purse, then turning in a circle as I waited for the signal bar to show up. As soon as it did, I punched in Larson’s number. “I know where the Bones are,” I said, skipping polite preambles.
“Are you certain?” His voice was tense.
“Positive. I think. Where are you?”
“About a mile from the cathedral. Go in, retrieve the bones, and meet me in the parking lot.”
“I can wait.” I said. “I’d rather we bring them out together.”
“No time,” he said, his voice urgent. “Goramesh has ears everywhere. You shouldn’t even have called me. But since you’ve spoken of this aloud, you must get the bones now.”
My cheeks burned from the dressing down, and I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. Was he right? Had I just put myself—and the bones—in danger?
“I’ll be there when you come out, and together we’ll take them to the airport. Now go.”
I went. I raced down the aisle and took the four steps up to the sanctuary in one leap. I yanked open the door to the sacristy and pounded down the stairs.
And then I stopped short, letting out a little squeak of surprise as I saw the man sitting there.
Stuart.
Oh, dear God, was he waiting for me?
He was seated at one of the long wooden tables, an oversize book with yellowed pages and tiny handwriting open in front of him. He looked up at me, and I could see the surprise on his face. For my part, I felt only fear, betrayal, and an odd sense of hope. Was he still my Stuart? Or was he here to hurt me?
He glanced down at his watch, then frowned before meeting my eyes again. “Am I late? I didn’t think you were expecting me until six-thirty.”
“What?” The comment was so unexpected, I couldn’t quite process it.
“Isn’t that why you’re here? Looking for me?”
“I—Not exactly.”
For a moment confusion colored his face, but then it cleared. “You snuck down here to do a little more work on your project.”
“Something like that,” I said, still rooted to the spot. “Why are you here?”
He closed the book with a thump and a cloud of dust. “Doesn’t matter. Just a project I’m working on.”
I let my head fall back, exasperated despite the surreal circumstances. “What’s going on, Stuart? Just tell me. Tell me the truth, okay?” I took the chair opposite him and reached across the table to take his hand. “Please. However bad it is, I can take it.”
“Bad? Kate, what’s wrong with you lately?”
I leaned back, my eyes wide, and pulled my hands safely back to my side of the table. “Me?”
“You’re distracted, you bring old men home without asking me, you enroll Tim in a day care without asking me.”
“I thought you were okay with that.”
“With your judgment, sure. But you didn’t even discuss it with me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, hon. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is definitely up. Is it the old man?” He drew in a breath. “Is it Eric?” he asked, pain filling his voice.
“It’s not Eric,” I said. I ran my teeth over my lower lip. “It’s you.”
“Me?”
“I saw you here the other day. But when I asked, you lied to me, Stuart. What’s going on? You never lie to me.”
His mouth turned up for just a second, flashing an ironic smile. “Looks like we both lose on that count, doesn’t it.”
But I wasn’t going to get drawn into a game of who lied to whom. I just wanted to know. “Why, Stuart? Why are you so sure you’ll win the election?”
He actually laughed at that. “Oh, good God, Kate. Do you think I’m taking bribes or something?”
“I—” I closed my mouth, not at all sure what to say.
“I was just excited. And, yes, I do think I have an excellent shot. Jeremy Thomas is taking a job in Washington, and Frank Caldwell is shifting his support to me. I didn’t want to tell you until Caldwell made the announcement, just in case something changed. But it’s solid.”
I couldn’t hide my smile. “That’s fabulous!” Jeremy Thomas was a prosecuting attorney who also happened to be Stuart’s biggest rival for the county attorney seat. Frank Caldwell is the San Diablo county district attorney. His endorsement was worth its weight in gold.
“Pretty sweet, huh?”
“Very,” I said. A weight seemed to lift off my heart, but then I looked around at where we were, and felt the familiar squeeze again. “But what are you doing down here?”
“A land buy,” he said. “And Clark swore he’d have my neck if I told anyone, including you. If this leaks, we’re going to be in a bad position.”
I just stared at him. “Land. You’re down here to buy land?”
He opened the book and I realized then what it was. Church property records. “I’ve been trying to track down the title on some church property the county’s going to make an offer on. There are political ramifications, so we’re keeping it quiet.”
“And that’s all? That’s all you’ve been up to?”
“Yeah. What did you think? I was having an affair under the cathedral altar?”
I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.”
He stood up, holding his yellow legal pad like a shield. I expected him to ask me what I’d been up to, but he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe I was wishing so hard for him to stay silent, that he heard my plea. Instead, he simply said that he needed to go. “I know I said I’d meet you and the kids at six-thirty, but I think I found the missing link just now, and I’d really like to—”
“Go,” I said. “Head back to the office and say hi to Clark for me.”
He came around the table and kissed me on the cheek. I was so full of guilt I was afraid it was seeping out my pores. Hopefully, he couldn’t taste it.
He started toward the door, but I reached out and caught his hand. “We okay?”
His smile lit me all the way to my toes. “The best,” he said. Damn, but I hoped he was right.
I watched him go, then took three deep breaths, forcing myself not to cry. I didn’t have time for that. I needed to get the bones.
I moved to the glass display case, the fear that I was wrong slowing my step. But the moment I looked into the glass, I knew I was right. Five martyrs, but there were six bags of remains.
I opened each, one by one. Dark ash, bits of hair, chips of bone. Each bag. And then I opened the last. “Reginald Talley,” the label read, but I was certain I wouldn’t find Reginald inside. I pulled apart the drawstring and peered in. Pure white. Bone, crushed to the finest of powder.
Lazarus.
Brother Michael had ground up the bones. The gold box filled with dust hadn’t simply been a decoy, it had been a clue. Part of a whole series of clues meant for Eddie. The first clue was the name: Michael Florence. The priest’s name, and then the Italian town to make sure Eddie understood that the box was left there by his friend. And Michael had deliberately put dust in the gold box. The dust was the second clue, telling Eddie that the bones had been crushed and ensuring that Eddie knew to look for the powdered remains.
M
y head told me I didn’t need to test the dust, but having been burned once, I wasn’t listening to my head. I pulled out the vial of holy water and set it on the table. Then I reached into my back pocket and pulled out one of the napkins from the funnel cake stand. I spread it out and shook out a tiny bit of powder. Then I opened the vial and turned it on its side until a single drop emerged, clinging tenaciously to the rim of the vial.
I held my breath as the drop fell, and then, when a flame of pure blue fire erupted, I dropped the vial and fell to my knees.
This was it. The real deal.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I stayed on my knees until the flame fizzled out. I’d witnessed something amazing just then, the power of God, and I trembled, sure I could still feel His presence in the room with me. He’d guided me here, and now He would guide me out in safety.
After all, it had been easy so far. No human minions threatening my safety. No demon pet rushing to take me down.
Nothing that I’d feared had come to pass, and although I was happy not to have to fight my way out of the cathedral, the situation was a little disconcerting. My instincts weren’t bad. Not at all. And I’d been so certain Goramesh would have sent a human.
If not Stuart, then who?
And that’s when I knew—the truth so horrible it made me retch.
It had been me all along. I was the mortal pet.
Me.
Chapter 19
I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself, something dark and cold filling my stomach.
Goramesh had almost succeeded. Because of me! I held the Lazarus Bones in my hand, and I’d been about to take them upstairs and hand them over to—
Oh, shit.
I’d been right that very first day, and I should have trusted my instincts. Larson really was a demon! He’d lied when he said Goramesh wasn’t corporeal.
Goramesh had a body, all right. Larson was Goramesh.
I sank to the dusty wooden floor, hugging my knees in front of me. Terror and relief enveloped me, and I couldn’t do anything more than rock back and forth. I’d almost missed the truth. I’d almost destroyed everything.
Slowly the terror faded, replaced by a cold, hard anger. He wanted the Lazarus Bones? Then he could damn well come down here himself and get them.