There was nothing out of the ordinary. And why would there be? If the police had taken her away, clearly nothing had happened to her prior to them knocking on her door. Even Jet’s bowl was still half-full of food. But years of living side by side with a pack of shifters had its benefits. He’d developed some pretty sensitive instincts over those years, including a hunch-driven psyche that never relented when there was something to be found.
The refrigerator door whined as Fin opened it. “I doubt you’ll find her in there,” Jackson said.
“Maybe not, but I could use a cold beer, seeing how I doubt there’s any bourbon in this place. That girl’s a scotch drinker. Never developed a taste for peat.” He grabbed two bottles, offering one to Jackson who shook his head. “Suit yourself,” Fin said, placing the second beer back on the shelf before shutting the door and leaning back against the kitchen counter. He bent down to retrieve the bottle cap he’d dropped and spotted something on the floor, hidden under the lip of the cabinet. “Well, fuck me.” Jackson froze and turned to look at Fin, who was standing in the kitchen waving Katie’s cell phone in the air. “Looks like your instincts were right, Mr. Hunter.”
Jackson wasted no time striding over to Fin and snatching the phone from his hand, pressing the home button repeatedly but getting nothing but a blank screen. “Fucking phone is dead.”
“Forget your manners, boy?” Fin glared at him before looking around the kitchen for a charger. “Now where would I keep a charger if I were a woman?”
Jackson headed for Katie’s bedroom and found the charger next to her bed. He came back into the kitchen and plugged it into the wall. Eventually the home screen appeared. “Goddamn phone is locked!”
“What’s that cat’s name?” Fin asked.
Jackson enter “JET” into the keypad. It was too short, but “JET1” was the magic password. “She’s gonna have to change that,” he muttered.
The log showed dozens of calls the day before, both in and out, most of them incoming from Jackson or outgoing to Fin. He checked the text messages next, just another one of those hunches that paid off. The latest one was from Sugar’s phone—with a video attached. His nostrils flared with anger as he hit the play button and watched Sugar struggle with her hands tied above her head and her mouth taped shut.
“Let me see that,” Fin said, grabbing the phone back from Jackson. At first he seemed as uncomfortable about what he was watching as Jackson was. But as he replayed it several times, his expression went from disturbed to curious. He kept watching the video over and over again, hitting the pause button repeatedly to study the image. Eventually a sly grin crept up one side of his face. “Well, son of a bitch.”
“What are you seeing in that video?” Jackson demanded, ready to play tag with the phone again, but thinking it wiser not to disturb the carefully adjusted image that took Fin so many attempts to pause just right.
Fin set the phone on the counter and pointed to a spot in the video, something directly behind Sugar’s strung-up form. “You see that?”
Jackson looked closer, squinting at what Fin had his finger on, shaking his head in confusion. “A window?”
“It’s a window, all right. But I’m more interested in what’s just outside of that window.” Jackson looked again, this time noting a series of faded words written in white letters on a red background. It was a large sign. The kind you used to see on stores and building decades ago. The kind collectors paid good money for. In the distance behind the building was a huge faded sign that said COCA COLA.
Jackson leaned back and scoffed. “Jesus, Fin. You do realize we’re in Coca Cola country.” Collector’s items or not, Coca Cola was part of Georgia’s heritage, the world headquarters located about two-hundred and fifty miles west in Atlanta. There must have been hundreds of those old signs around the state.
“That is true, Mr. Hunter. But I know what’s dead and buried right under that particular one,” he said, pointing to the sign in the paused video. “One thing you can always count on in the good old USA—progress.”
“Your point?”
He motioned to the video again. “My point is that the building we’re looking at is an old mill. It’s been abandoned for decades. Built right on top of an old plantation. We just covered up the past with brick and mortar. It also happens to be to the very spot where the grimoire was found.” Fin shook his head slowly, recognizing the serendipitous discovery. “Legvu has taken them back to where it all began, to the very spot where he sprung from his first host and was subsequently imprisoned in the grimoire. He’s taken Miss Bishop back to where he was born. Well, reborn.”
Jackson took another look at the video. “You sure about this?”
“Well, Mr. Hunter, there’s only one way to find out.”
26
KATIE BISHOP: WEDNESDAY, THE OLD MILL
I continued the slow process of manually piercing his skin with the ink covered needles, taking extra caution as my margin for error quickly evaporated each time I worked toward the edges of the design. Either that stroke of genius I needed so badly was about to surface, or Sugar and I were dead women.
“How did you do it?” I asked. “Escape the grimoire?”
“Small talk, Katie? I wouldn’t think you were inclined to such a waste of words.”
His tone was dismissive, but I knew men—mortal or not—couldn’t resist impressing women with their accomplishments. I was curious to know how he’d done it, because if I won and found a way to stuff him back in that book, I needed to know how to prevent him from escaping from it again. “Actually, I’m curious.” I waited for him to bite. When he didn’t, I sweetened the pot. “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me how you did it and I’ll shut up and cooperate with anything you ask me to do.”
His head turned toward me. “Anything?”
After getting a whiff of the innuendo in his voice, I changed my mind. Men were men, and apparently even a god wasn’t above lechery. “Forget it.”
He continued anyway. “You know, humans are a predictable species. Lust, greed, power—so many ways to sway one’s moral compass. It was quite simple, getting that fool to serve as my bridge.”
I seized the opportunity. “Fool?”
“That narcissistic embarrassment to your kind.” He rolled his head forward and rested his chin on the back of his folded hands. “The one who makes his living chopping off other people’s hair.”
My mind worked, trying to put together the pieces. “José?”
“Yes, that’s the fool who thinks he’s worthy of elevation to the next world.” His tone took on a more amused note. “If you ask me, he isn’t worthy of the one he’s in right now.”
The revelation floored me. Who would have thought that pompous, vain man would even have the capacity to dream up a plan to let the spirits out of the book? He seemed too self-absorbed in his own little world to even venture out. But then again, he was a board member of the Crossroads Society. I guess I always assumed his membership was simply by default, seeing how they were all direct descendants.
“But why?” I asked, needing to know what had turned José into a traitor.
“Simple greed,” he continued, appearing to enjoy boasting about the way he manipulated the man. “I offered something he wanted—immortality.”
José didn’t strike me as a particularly smart individual. He was far too obsessed with himself to expand his mind and think outside of his own little bubble. Which begged an even bigger question. “How did he do it? How did he get you out?”
“There’s a reason the grimoire is buried a hundred feet underground. The magic in that book is very powerful, but in order to maintain that power it must remain as focused as a laser. The smallest distraction is like an inclusion in a diamond, a tiny flaw in the dome encasing the book.” He glanced sideways at me and read the confusion on my face. “All it took was a second of distraction. That fool made the mistake of getting too curious. And true to his stupidity, he took the elevator down to the tomb where
the grimoire is enshrined. Thought he could just take a peek and no one would ever know.”
Only a fool with a death wish would go down there unprepared. Fin’s words made perfect sense now. Even José had made a snide remark the night of the dinner party when I questioned whether anyone was going down there periodically to check on the book. We monitor the book with cameras. It’s much safer that way, Lillian had explained. I wondered how José got past those cameras. I suspected he was the one monitoring them on that particular day.
“As soon as that elevator door opened, it was too late. The armor was momentarily cracked,” Legvu continued. “My left half slipped right out of the grimoire.” He turned back to the wall and took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, he got back on that elevator just in time to refocus the magic and keep my other half from escaping. I’m surprised the magic didn’t kill him. But as you can see, I found a way to make that little idiot go back down there to set my other half free.”
“So he was offered immortality in exchange for going back down there to let the other spirit out of the grimoire,” I said, knowing the answer.
He laughed. “Unfortunately for him, I won’t be keeping that bargain. If I do I’m stuck with him for eternity, and that is a torture I refuse to bear.”
No integrity. What a surprise. I realized the only reason he was being so candid was because he never intended to let us go. Whatever bargain he offered would be worthless.
“Do you know why I brought you here, Katie?”
I glanced around the cavernous space: the debris-scattered floor, the tall windows with the broken panes of glass, the rusted light fixtures hanging at random around the room above where tables or machinery used to stand. It was as good a place as any to commit his crimes, barring the lack of electricity.
“I was born here,” he informed me. “Well, reborn is a more accurate term. The year was 1764 and I’d barely managed to climb aboard a slave ship leaving the west coast of Africa. I had planned to hitch a ride inside the strongest man on the boat, but then I saw an opportunity lying on the floor in the back corner. A woman who looked to be about a breath away from losing her unborn child. So you see, I was doing her a favor by replacing the dying child’s spirit with my own. A win-win for both of us.”
The building was old, but not that old. Lillian had told me the story of the pregnant slave, so I assumed he meant he was born on the land beneath the building. “What was this place?” I asked, noting the wide look in Sugar’s eyes.
“The plantation where I was born. The slave quarters were located directly under this building. It’s also the very spot where my freedom was taken from me, so I thought it might be a fitting place to get it back. Come full circle, as they say.”
Sugar struggled against the ropes, a garbled muffle coming from her taped mouth as her eyes burned. At first I thought it was fear, but as I studied her face I realized it was a look of contempt. Her ancestors were from the same plantation, lived in the same room where the grimoire was found. It was entirely possible she was related to the woman who’d given birth to Legvu’s first host, the innocent child of a slave. This place was a part of her, too.
“Finish the damn tattoo,” he demanded, his reminiscing coming to an abrupt end as he followed my eyes back to Sugar’s venomous glare.
I dipped the needles back into the ink and continued to press the fine tips into his skin. In thirty minutes to an hour it would be done, and we’d meet the real demon living behind the guise of the man with the red hair. My mind was so distracted with looking for a way out that my hand nearly jabbed the outside edge of the tattoo. “I need another break,” I said, dropping the bamboo stick and stripping off my sweaty gloves.
My heart skipped when he grabbed my wrist, his strength catching me off guard as he held me in place effortlessly. “No more stalling, Katie.” His eyes softened, and I recognized a look that made me more uncomfortable than the cold gaze he’d worn since the moment he walked into that interrogation room of the Chatham County PD. Even his voice changed. “We could share this,” he said. “I would share all of it with you, Katie. We would be unstoppable.” He turned and looked at Sugar’s suspended body. “I might even allow you to save your friend.”
It hit me all at once that I could see Sugar die today, all because of a circle of bones hanging around my neck that seemed to have more power than any of us.
Sugar made another strangled sound as I resumed the task.
“Shut that fucking mouth!” he spat, whipping his head around and nearly colliding with the needles at the end of the stick.
“I’ll do it!” I yelled. “I’ll finish the goddamn tattoo and do anything you want. Just let her go.”
Legvu abruptly turned back to me with a look of both surprise and satisfaction on his face. “Really? Anything?”
“Anything,” I repeated. It was better than watching him kill Sugar before he killed me. I’d allow him to enslave me because I knew I’d eventually find a way out. I’d have to do some unpleasant things along the way, but I’d find a way to suck him back inside the grimoire someday, and when I did I’d find a way to destroy that book, unlike my predecessors.
I went back to work on the tattoo, only this time I was eager to complete it. No more games. It was time to meet the real Legvu. With painstaking care, I finished the last line and filled in the final drop of red ink to complete the masterpiece. Then I stood up and took a step back to wait for the grand finale.
His amusement showed. “Well, I don’t bite, Katie. Not yet.” He stood up and stretched his half naked body like a leopard waking from a lazy nap. His muscles rippled as he contorted and grew taller, reaching a height that stopped a few feet from the ceiling. But I knew I was about to see the real transformation when his skin began to change color. The fair complexion of his Irish host went nearly black, like a cup of espresso with a drop of coconut oil shining and glazing over the surface, and his blue eyes turned into black star sapphires. Except for his fangs and the shining light coming from the center of his eyes, he was a tower of darkness. Even his scent was of rot and death. By the time the change was complete, he was half man and half beast, towering over the room with a set of fingers terminating in sharp claws that could kill Sugar or me with a single swipe.
He turned his head at an exaggerated angle, popping the vertebra loudly as the bones loosened and aligned with his unusually long neck. Then he turned and sized up his prisoner squirming against the ropes.
“You agreed to let her go.” I found myself inching into the space between them, glancing back and forth between his leer and Sugar’s terrified face.
His head shook slowly as the words hissed along his black tongue. “Not yet. I want to see the dragon first. But to make sure you behave I’ll hold on to my collateral a little longer.”
Is he crazy? I thought. He’s going to let me change?
It seemed like suicide, but then I got a little nervous. Maybe I was no match for him now that he’d manifested into his true form, and he knew it. Individually the spirits were weak against the beast, but a true god could hold his own against just about anything, including a full-fledged dragon.
Legvu reached out toward my exposed skin. With a swift movement, he flicked the bone necklace over my head and drew a single claw across my neck, slicing my tender skin and releasing a river of blood from my jugular. My breath caught as I felt the rush of magic and the shock of pain from the sizable cut gaping at my throat. I reached for the wound and felt the warm blood seep down my neck as it covered my chest. But as my fingers felt along the opened skin, another pain struck me. It was my own talons digging deep into the gaping wound.
His irises elongated and flashed with excitement. “Magnificent,” he said, leering back at my burning eyes. “You know, Katie, we’d make quite a team. The devil and the dragon. I might keep you.”
Suddenly we were eye to eye, his height no longer having the advantage as mine quickly caught up. Sugar wasn’t squirming anymore. Instead her eyes were transfixed
on the two creatures standing a few feet away. I supposed the fear of being caught in the crossfire between us was a legitimate concern, and it was the first time I’d changed in front of her.
A sound echoed off the walls, thundering from one end of the room in a circle until it returned around the other side. I recognized it as my own steady growl. My voice. Inch by inch I felt the familiar stretch and pull of my skin as my fair flesh took on layers of shiny scales that moved in a perfectly articulated suit of armor. The fading daylight illuminating through the tall windows was eclipsed by a giant wing passing over the room, and I lifted several feet into the air and lunged at Legvu.
“Delightful!” he roared, lifting his arm and blocking me with some invisible force that sent me flying backward until my wings crashed into the far wall, nearly breaking them.
I climbed back to my clawed feet and decided to try a simpler strategy. Maybe he was stronger, but I had a secret weapon. The floor shook from my weight as I marched back across the large expanse of the room, determined to end the battle quickly. Fire projected from my jaws, travelling the ten-foot distance between us. It bathed Legvu’s head and torso in a blanket of blue flames, licking at his flesh, cracking and popping as it scorched his skin.
There we go, I thought. Game over.
When the flames died down Legvu’s form remained standing, still and charred like an incinerated marshmallow skewered over an open pit. But before I could claim victory, his blackened eyelids flipped back open and his bone-colored fangs gleamed back at me. “That was fun, Katie.” He flashed a wide grin and cheered, “Do it again!” After a moment of silence and my humbling at the thought that Sugar and I were completely fucked, his grin flattened. “You can’t kill the incorporeal with fire any more than I can kill a dragon with it. Now, I think we’ve had our fun, Katie. Don’t you?”
Crossroads of Bones (A Katie Bishop Novel Book 1) Page 23