Deception of the Magician (Waldgrave Book 2)

by A. L. Tyler

  “He was…I was going to sleep, and he decided to go to the dining car to get water.”

  He was flipping through the pages again. Another man, this one not a doctor, but dressed in civilian type clothes and wearing an official looking badge, walked over. The doctor turned to him and started into another florid exchange that Lena didn’t understand. The new man was casting her nervous glances. He finally spoke; he had a strong accent.

  “Miss, I’m very sorry, we can’t find him. Would you be willing to identify the body?”

  Lena stared at him. What? They couldn’t find him, so they were assuming him dead?

  “I…I’m sorry, what are you asking me to do?”

  The man took on a very official tone. “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

  Lena sat, stunned. The man asked her again, and she did the best she could to describe Aaron’s appearance. She tried as hard as she could to remember what he had been wearing, but couldn’t. All she could remember was that he had on his grey coat.

  The man left, came back, and took Lena with him. They went to a small tent with lists posted all along the outside. People were standing around, looking at the lists with sullen faces. Inside the tent, the bodies had been arranged in rows with an aisle leading through the middle. The first body wasn’t him.

  The second body was.

  They had washed his face. The man refused to remove the sheet from more than his face; he explained that the body had been crushed, and was not something a person should see. Aaron’s face looked calm, but it wasn’t like he was sleeping. She knew he was dead.

  Lena stood over him in the small tent that had been erected to protect the privacy of the dead. She felt lighter than air—she wasn’t even touching the ground. She was hovering like a ghost. It had to be a dream. She had to wake up, sooner or later.

  There was a loud knock on the door and Lena sat bolt upright. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she had apparently been dreaming. She had arrived in the morning, and it was already dark outside again. There came a second knock, and then the door opened. Dorotea stuck her head in.

  “Abilene?” She asked warmly. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes.” The word caught in Lena’s throat. “Yes…I’m awake.”

  “We’re serving dinner in the kitchen now, if you’re hungry.”

  Lena was suddenly very dizzy. She hadn’t eaten in more than a day, but she still wasn’t hungry. She looked around the room again; she needed to use the phone, anyways. And it was probably best if she ate something while it was free and available.

  “Okay.”

  Visions of her nightmare were coming back to her, very slowly, and she had the sickening realization that it wasn’t how she remembered it. The doctor was different. The official was different. The tent, the lists posted on the outside, and the people looking at the lists she didn’t remember at all. She wasn’t sure if any of it had happened like in the dream, or if she had been too distressed at the time to notice.

  Lena followed Dorotea out into the hall and to the kitchen, where a couple dozen people were serving themselves off of a buffet-style setup. There were card tables and chairs set up in the open areas around the room, where people were sitting. Dorotea helped Lena get her food, then they settled at a quiet table in the corner. Lena stared at the dinner roll, lentil soup, and chicken breast in front of her. She still wasn’t hungry, but she pecked at her roll for a while. Suddenly, Dorotea’s arm shot up; she was waving at someone across the room.

  Through the crowd, Lena tried to see who it was. The throng of people parted and she saw a scraggly man walking towards them. Her stomach fell to the floor and a wave of nausea came over her; he looked much older and thinner than the last time Lena had seen him, but the eyes were the same. She had never forgotten those eyes. It was Warren Astley; the man who had tried to strangle her to death.

  Lena pushed her chair back with a loud screech and jumped up. Dorotea looked at her, shocked and bewildered, but Lena’s gaze was still fixed on Warren. He had frozen in place, a worried and confused expression on his face. He looked away, but didn’t move.

  “Do you know each other?” Dorotea asked cautiously.

  They stayed fixed like that for several long seconds; Warren avoiding Lena’s gaze, Lena trying to figure out if she should run or fight, and Dorotea very confused looking at both of them. Warren Astley wasn’t the dark shadowy figure Lena remembered from the night by the barn. He had changed so much; he wasn’t the noose-wielding terror she had thought about in those moments before giving her exposition for the Council. He was just a thin man, perhaps homeless, who hadn’t shaved in several days, wearing clothes that didn’t fit him, and looking very sad.

  Warren finally allowed his eyes to wander back to Lena’s. They were pained. He looked to Dorotea.

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “We’ve met.”

  Dorotea’s eyes went wide, and she nodded; a tight smile spread across her lips. “I knew you belonged together. God has brought you here for a reason.” She gestured for Warren to sit at the table, which he did, but Lena still wasn’t quite sure what to do. She stood there, next to the table, until Dorotea stood and practically forced her into a chair. “You need to help each other. I’ll leave you alone now.”

  As Dorotea walked away, Lena’s pulse quickened. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Warren Astley happened to be hanging around the town where someone had just tried to kill her. Her first impulse was that he was involved; but he didn’t look involved. He looked like a miserable bum. Moreover, he had seemed genuinely surprised to see her sitting there.

  “I’m sorry. All I can ask is your forgiveness, though I know I don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry.” His voice was quiet and calm, and so very different from the strained tone he had used with her more than a year before.

  Lena remained silent. She wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Why are you here?” He looked over at her, his sad eyes shining.

  “I could ask you the same question.” She moved lentil soup around her bowl with her spoon.

  He sighed. “Someone told me you would be passing through here, and I wanted to talk to you. It’s a rare occasion to find you outside of the Waldgrave property these days, or so I’m told. But that’s not what I meant—why are you here, alone, in the church? Do you need help?”

  Lena looked up at him. His beard and hair had the appearance of recent washing, but he didn’t look like he had trimmed either in at least a month. “I don’t need your help.”

  He nodded, but still looked at her skeptically. “I understand.”

  They sat quietly for several more minutes. Neither of them touched the food on the plates before them. The kitchen continued to bustle with activity. Of all the people she had to run into, it was Warren Astley. And he had admitted that he was trying to find her. Lena looked around the kitchen again; this area was public. He wasn’t going to attack her here, but she could still feel the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

  “The reason I wanted to talk to you is that I need a favor.” He said tentatively.

  Lena looked over at him, shocked. He expected her to do something for him? After everything he had done to her?

  “Darius Corbett. He’s dead. He killed himself at the last Council meeting?”

  Lena wasn’t quite sure where he was going. She nodded. Yes, Master Corbett was dead, but he hadn’t killed himself. That fact was not public knowledge, however; Marie had witnessed the staging of the body.

  “His son still lives at Waldgrave with you?” Warren continued.

  Lena nodded. Assuming that Griffin was still alive…

  “I need to speak with him on a private matter, and I need you to arrange it.” Warren said with finality. He clasped his hands in front of him, leaning forward and waiting for an answer.

  “What?” It was a ridiculous request. Was he trying to get revenge on Griffin for thwarting his attempt on Lena’s life?

  “We have business.”

  If Griffin
wanted to speak with Warren, he could arrange it himself. Lena wasn’t a secretary, and there were very few feats in the world that she doubted Griffin couldn’t accomplish with enough money and the right connections. He was about to inherit the entire Daray line, and when that happened, there were few people in the world who would be able to stop him when he decided to do anything.

  “What business?” Lena furrowed her brow.

  Warren glanced around the kitchen, but no one was listening. He leaned forward further, within whispering distance of Lena. “I can’t discuss it here. Maybe later, when people go off to bed.”

  Lena must have looked suspicious, because he backed off immediately. He looked around, as if searching for some sort of collateral he could offer up to her. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but you have to help me. I’m not trying to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. It killed me when…You’re Aaron’s daughter! There was a time when he was my best friend, and I never wanted to hurt you. I won’t ever again; it’s all I can think about since it happened. Please, please…think about it. Maybe I’ll see you early for breakfast tomorrow?”

  Lena thought about it. It could be a trick, but she didn’t think it was. He was too desperate to be trying to trick her, and despite his past actions, she had no idea why he would want to kill her. She said she would think about it, and after a while Dorotea came back to get her. She led her to a room off a side hallway where there was an office with a phone in it. Lena sat down and picked up the receiver before realizing she didn’t know what number to call. She had always programmed them into her cell phone, and now she had no way to reach either the landline at Waldgrave or Howard’s personal cell. She looked up at Dorotea.

  “Do you need a phone book?” She offered.

  Neither number was likely to be listed in a phone book. Lena searched her mind frantically, and felt the emotion bubbling up in her again. She looked pleadingly at Dorotea for a solution, but knew nothing was coming. She had no way to tell anyone that she was there. Dorotea rushed around the desk and pulled her into a hug again. What am I supposed to do?

  “It’s okay. We’ll find a way. Don’t worry…”

  Dorotea held her for a while, as Lena cursed herself silently for being so stupid and tried to figure out what to do, but then a new voice echoed in her mind.

  Don’t worry. You need the number for the Waldgrave property? Warren rattled it off from memory. Lena sat back down and dialed the number, and Dorotea bowed out of the room to give her some privacy.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Hello?”

  Lena’s heart skipped several beats. She felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Mrs. Ralston?”

  *****

  CHAPTER 11

  There was a silence over the line, followed by Mrs. Ralston’s frantic voice. “Is that you, Lena? Are you okay?”

  “Hello?” Howard had taken the phone.

  “Yes, I’m okay.” She knew it had to sound funny. She was sobbing when she said it.

  Howard sounded exhausted. “Lena, where are you? What happened?”

  She explained everything she could, leaving out the part that Warren Astley was staying at the church with her because she thought it would have given him a heart attack. She got the church’s address off of a piece of stationary on the desk.

  Howard took a moment where he seemed to be thinking and breathing deeply. “We’ve all been so worried here…Thank God you’re okay. Thank God. Who else is there with you?”

  Lena almost cringed. “No one. I’m here alone, Howard.” She took a steadying breath before continuing. “I’m not even sure who else made it out.”

  Howard went silent for a minute.

  A new voice joined the call. The voice was smooth and seemingly unperturbed by the events of the last twenty-four hours. Lena knew he must have been climbing the walls waiting to find out if she was okay, but he didn’t sound worried at all. “Eden? You’re alive and safe, I trust?”

  Lena rolled her eyes. At the mere sound of his voice, a small headache twanged behind her right eye.

  Howard burst out. “Get off the line! We’re trying to figure out what to—“

  “Griffin checked in with me just after it happened. He’s much smarter than you, and had the mind to get to a phone immediately! He’s been very concerned. And what with all the bodies—“

  “What bodies?” Lena’s heart stopped. Howard hadn’t said anything about anyone getting hurt.

  “Will you shut up, for God’s sake!” It sounded as though Howard had put the phone down on his desk, and Lena heard the familiar noise of his office door opening.

  “The bodies. We paid off a drug cartel to clean up the mess and take credit as soon as Griffin informed us. The count is currently at five, most of whom you probably wouldn’t care about, but you should know that my Avalon is amongst the deceased. I believe they might have thought she was you, because it’s quite evident they were shooting to kill.”

  Silence on the line. Lena felt a familiar dream-like vertigo sweep over her.

  She heard a scuffle ensue over the phone. Howard was cursing vehemently at Master Daray, and apparently trying to wrestle the phone from him. Howard came back on the line.

  He was frantic. “I want you to stay at that church and do not go anywhere! I’m sending Griffin to get you. Do not leave with anyone else, and for God’s sake, do not leave by yourself! Clear?”

  “Dead?” Her voice was a high squeak. It didn’t sound like her voice at all. “She’s dead?”

  “Lena, I need to know that—“

  “My mom’s dead? Who else is dead?” She could hear the panic rising in her voice.

  Howard was quiet for a moment. When he started speaking again, his voice was very subdued. “I’m sending Griffin to get you, and he’s going to stay with you until I can manage to have someone else meet up with you. This is complicated, Lena, very complicated—I don’t know who I can trust right now. Don’t leave the church until Griffin gets there, okay?”

  Lena nodded vigorously. Then she realized she was still talking on the phone. “Yes. I’m not going anywhere.”

  In the back of her mind, Daray’s words were still ringing in her brain. Ava was dead, and it was because they had mistaken her for Lena. Ava was dead. Lena felt fresh hot tears rolling down her cheeks; she had just started to know her, really, and now she was gone. She was reliving the experience of becoming an orphan.

  “Okay.” Howard was calming down; he was getting back to business and setting things in order. “Now, they found all of your stuff still in the car. Do you have any money at all on you? Or any identification?”

  “No.” Lena said plainly. As Howard had just said, it was all still in the car.

  “Okay…” She heard Howard talking to Master Daray in the background. “Okay. Griffin has a credit card, and I’m going to wire him some cash tonight. He’s going to check you two into a hotel room, and you’re going to lock yourselves in. Do not open the door until we get someone to meet you there. I will tell you who is coming, and you will not open the door unless I’ve explicitly told you it’s okay. Even if you know the person. Clear?”

  “Okay.” Lena suddenly realized what was going on. Even through her haze, she could tell that Howard was being way too paranoid. “You don’t know who it was, do you? You don’t know who did it?”

  Howard went silent. “We know who it was.” He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His voice became very stiff. “But that’s not important now. Just promise me you won’t open that door for anyone.” Howard sighed deeply; he sounded like he was in pain. “Not even if it’s a friend, Lena. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She whispered. He didn’t know; it could have been anyone. The Old Faith didn’t like her and the New Faith didn’t trust her. Someone who had pretended to be her ally—her friend, as Howard said—was now trying to kill her.

  They paused. It was time to hang up.

  “You’re…going to be okay there? Alone?” Howard stuttered.

>   “I’ve made a friend. I’ll be okay.”

  “Okay. You know you can call me anytime you need, day or night, and I’ll be here. I’m here for you.”

  “I know.”

  Silence. Dorotea was peeking through the door again.

  “Griffin’s going to get there as fast as he can, okay? Call me before you leave tomorrow morning, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Silence.

  “You’re going to make it out of this okay, and I’ll see you back here by the end of the week. I’m going to hang up now. I love you.” It was the first time he had ever said those words to her—I love you. They stung; he was saying it because Ava was dead, and he didn’t know for sure if Lena was ever coming home. Lena wasn’t sure either.

  “I love you too, Howard.”

  And they hung up. Lena could feel an ache forming in her chest as large, slow, hot tears still dripped down her cheeks. Without a word, Dorotea took Lena back to her room and changed the bandages on her knee. It still looked gross, but Dorotea was pleased and surprised that there didn’t seem to be any infection. She tried to wipe away the tears, but they kept on coming. Lena had never realized the space Ava had filled in her life, no matter how superficially, but she could definitely feel the void she had left; Lena told Dorotea that a young man, her brother, was coming to pick her up—she wasn’t sure if Griffin was going to arrive during the night or the next morning, but she thought it best to warn them just the same.

  As she laid in bed trying to sort out her emotions so she could try to fall asleep, she reflected on the fact that if Warren Astley was trying to kill her, or if he was in league with the people who had, he probably wouldn’t have been so kind as to put her in contact with Howard. She decided she would be eating an early breakfast the next day. Even though she felt exhausted, she didn’t sleep that night; it might have been the fact she had spent most of the day sleeping, but she knew that wasn’t the real reason.

  The next morning, the kitchen was dark and reticent; like everyone else, it was still asleep. When Lena walked in, Warren was where she had left him the night before. He had flipped on one of the florescent lights nearest the table that they were going to sit at, but it did very little to illuminate the white-washed walls and economical tables and chairs. He looked as though he hadn’t slept, either.