by Graham Brown
“Thank you,” she said.
“I should thank you,” he replied. “You’ve helped me onto a path I never thought existed.”
“So what do you do now?” she asked. “How do you find an angel?”
“No idea,” he said, “but I have to before Drake does.”
He explained about the fight and how Drake had threatened to destroy the angel, how he’d been waiting a thousand years for the chance.
“So who told him about this forgiveness?”
“Not sure,” Christian said. “Certainly, I never heard a word of it during our time together. But the caretaker mentioned something else. Something I have heard of.”
“What would that be?”
Christian took the long way around to explain it. “Remember the one I told you about,” he said, “the one I told you I loved?”
She nodded.
“Her name was Elsa,” Christian said. “She had the gift of second sight. She could foretell events that were coming. Not small things, but big events. Moments of danger and ecstasy. The birth of a child to a couple who had yet to conceive, a fire in the village, the pain of life and death.”
Christian realized his voice had trailed off as his mind went back to that distant time.
“Her and I were together. She had a way of reaching through the void and making me feel alive again. Human. I always knew it bothered Drake, but he never did more than warn me that it would cause me pain one day. That day came when the Inquisition arrived in Lisbon and someone gave them her name as a heretic and an even a witch. They caught her and set to burn her at the stake. I rescued her but moments too late. They burned her—burned her badly. She should have died.”
Christian looked away, thinking of that dark night.
“It was Drake who gave her up to them,” Ida guessed.
He nodded. “I didn’t know at first. He claimed he would help save her, but he was late. I think he hoped she would die before we arrived.”
“Why?”
“I’ve wondered all these years what Drake was so afraid of,” he said. “Now I think I know. Several nights before the Inquisition came, I watched Elsa in the grips of a fever. She spoke in her sleep. Words that made no sense. I haven’t thought of those words since. But the caretaker used them in the cathedral.”
“What words?”
“The Midnight Sun.”
Christian leaned against the wall, thinking. In all their time together, Christian had never seen Drake expend so much energy on so feeble an opponent as Faust. He’d done so through the power and noise of the cathedral, and even through Christian’s vigorous attempt to block him.
He looked over at Elsa. “Twice in my life, I’ve heard someone talk of ‘shadows beneath the Midnight Sun.’ And twice, Drake has tried to destroy them.”
“What does it mean?” Ida asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But Elsa might.”
Ida cocked her head slightly. “She’s still alive? The way you spoke, I’d have thought she’d died long ago.”
Christian fought against a wave of guilt. “She would have been better off that way,” he said. “But I turned her into something else.”
“She’s like you.”
“Not exactly,” he said. “She’s a prisoner of my mistakes, my choices. Something I can never undo.”
Ida sat silently. The words seemed to resonate with her. “We’ve all made mistakes,” she said gently. “What matters most is what we do afterward.”
“She hid herself away,” Christian explained. “I promised to leave her alone, to never seek her out again.”
Ida reached out and put her hand on his. “My, you’re cold, sonny.” She didn’t let go. “But you must have a good heart. All who feel guilt do.”
As he considered this, she continued.
“You see this picture?” she said. “This is the only picture I have of my mother. It was taken shortly after my father died and shortly before she took up with a man who drank too much and liked to hurt others when he was feeling bad. I always thought it was me. I wasn’t his child. He made that clear. I felt like I was the cause my mother’s pain. A few years later, I left. I promised Momma I would never come back. I thought it would be better for her. Wasn’t long before she died.”
“You wish you had.”
“Every day of my life,” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought I was the problem, but he beat her down worse after I left. No one there to see it. I know the kind of pain you feel. I know that, no matter what I say, nothing’s gonna lift it from you any more than you can lift mine from me.”
He understood what she was saying, but confusion swirled inside him. He felt like he’d rather die than break his word to Elsa and cause her more suffering. After all he’d done, the one honorable thing he could point to was keeping his vow. But now…
If a chance at redemption had come into the world, he couldn’t allow Drake to destroy it or corrupt it. So many thousands had suffered from the curse without hope, including her. So many more would suffer if Drake succeeded.
“Strange as this sounds,” Ida said, “we’re not so different. We’re both trapped in bodies we never asked for. Both handicapped and blessed in our own ways. Both hope someone out there can forgive us because we damn sure can’t forgive ourselves.”
“If you could go see your mother—”
“I’d do it in a heartbeat,” she said. “I’d be sick to my stomach all the way there, but I’d go. There’s so much I never got to say.”
As she finished, Christian realized how much he’d begun to care for Ida. In some small way, it was similar to his feelings for Elsa, the kind of emotion the Nosferatu were not supposed to be capable of. And that brought a new torment to his mind. Ida wasn’t safe here. She might not be safe anywhere.
“I’ve put you in harm’s way,” he said.
She wrinkled her brow as if the idea was ludicrous. “Sonny, I’ve dealt with worse than this,” she said. “You should’ve been around in the sixties, when we were marching.”
“I was around in the sixties,” he reminded her.
“Right,” she said. “Well, then you know what I mean. I’m doubting your friends from the Church will come back. This isn’t the Dark Ages.”
“It’s not them I’m worried about.”
“Drake,” she said.
“He read my mind. He attacked the caretaker through a link I formed. I tried to block him, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure if Drake saw your name or your face through my thoughts. But if he did, you won’t be safe. I need to hide you.”
She shook her head. “No thanks, sonny.”
“He’s not something you can deal with,” Christian said. “You can’t take this lightly.”
She looked around her office and then over at the picture of her mother and her. “I’ve spent my whole life running, just like you. I’m not doing it anymore. If he shows up, then he shows up.”
He wasn’t going to win this argument and he knew it. He hoped Drake had been so preoccupied with his own quest that he hadn’t become aware of Ida.
“I can’t stay here and protect you.”
She smiled at him once again. It was the warm, sad smile of someone who understood the reality of things, even if she wanted them to be different. “You go and do what you have to, sonny. You know where to find me if you need some help.”
CHAPTER 22
KATE PFEIFFER and Billy Ray Massimo were back in Boston, cruising up I-95, heading for the skyscrapers downtown.
For the first time, Kate felt they were on to something more than just chasing the wind. Dumb luck had helped them out when Officer Jenkins recognized the victim, but it was the change in pattern, the increasing sloppiness of the crimes, that made it possible.
The latest victims were young women with friends and family and good jobs—facts that allowed them to recreate the victims’ last steps. The last place they’d spent any money was a bar in Midtown called Chiraz.
Based on the time
of death, Kate was certain the women had met the killer there or shortly afterward, perhaps in the parking lot or the alley behind the bar.
Video from a surveillance camera had shown them talking to a dozen people in the bar, but two in particular had stood out—a woman and a man who seemed to hover around them most of the night.
The man was unknown, but the woman had been identified. Her name was Vivian Dasher. She was an executive with Timeless Export and Imports, an old-money Boston company. Kate and Billy Ray had been informed that she worked most nights, dealing with foreign businesses on the Pacific Rim. They’d decided a surprise visit at her office was in order.
As they parked, Billy Ray glanced at her. “You think this is gonna lead to anything?”
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
They made their way into the building. A quick flash of their badges got them past the night guard and gave them access to the elevator, but when they emerged on the twenty-second floor, the receptionist wouldn’t let them pass.
“Listen, honey,” Kate said, “you may have your orders, but your bosses are going to drop you like a bad habit when we come back with a search warrant and turn this place upside down for a month. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”
The woman did not back off one little bit. “First of all, Mrs. Pfeiffer, they pay me twice what you make, so don’t ‘honey’ me, I’m not some blonde bimbo who barely knows how to turn on my laptop. Second, this is a big firm. A lot of what we do is confidential, with a lot of lawyers involved, so your little badge and your threats don’t scare me. I have very strict orders not to let anyone pass unless they have permission to be here, so if you want to—”
Kate never heard the rest of the speech. She’d seen a conference room door open across the way and saw Vivian Dasher walk out with another man beside her. Although Kate had only seen Ms. Dasher in the grainy video from the bar, she recognized her instantly.
“Ms. Dasher,” she called, pushing past the receptionist’s desk. “I’m Special Agent Kate Pfeiffer with the FBI. I need to speak with you.”
Vivian stopped in her tracks, a cool, composed executive dumbfounded for a moment.
Kate had her badge out, her best you’re in trouble voice going. A look of shock and surprise flashed over Ms. Dasher’s face. But there was more to it than that. Instead of anger, she saw fear.
“I need to know what you were doing at a club called Chiraz last Thursday night,” Kate pressed, “and who you were with.”
Vivian Dasher didn’t reply, but the man standing beside her did. The way he carried himself, he looked like he might be Vivian’s boss or her father. He narrowed his gaze at Kate.
“Who are you again, and what is this all about?”
“Considering how loud I shout, I’m pretty sure you heard what I said,” Kate replied.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes narrowing on her. “I’m sure everyone on the floor heard. Which is what you wanted, correct?”
Kate was aggravated now. Whoever this guy was, he was a much cooler customer than Vivian. By running interference for her, he was giving her a chance to get over the shock that Kate was trying to induce.
“They’re going to hear a lot more, unless we get a chance to talk to Ms. Dasher in private.”
Kate knew she was on thin ice. Big shots like these could raise hell.
“How cunning of you,” the man said, “disturbing my business to gain an audience.”
“And you are?”
“Drake Castillion. I own this company.”
“We’re only following a lead,” she replied. “If Ms. Dasher would like to talk to us outside, we’ll disappear.”
Vivian glanced at her boss. Kate noticed a slight tremble in her right hand. She was rattled.
“It’s rather late,” the man said. “No point in going outside in the dark. If Ms. Dasher wants to talk, we can talk in the conference room. At least then my people can get back to work instead of watching the sideshow.”
Kate didn’t like how this was playing out. “We don’t need you there, Mr. Castillion.”
“No,” Vivian said. “I want someone there.”
There was nothing Kate could do. If she backed off and came back later, they’d be lawyered up, and whatever part Ms. Dasher might have played in the murders would never be known.
“All right,” she said. “Lead on.”
Drake and Vivian turned in unison and walked back into the conference room from which they’d come.
Billy Ray moved up beside Kate. “You’re out of your mind,” he whispered.
“We’re not going to get another shot at this,” she said. “Come on.”
They followed Drake and Vivian into the conference room and closed the door behind them. A polished cherrywood table dominated the center of the room. Ten chairs were arranged around it, with a larger chair at the head. Kate guessed that was Drake’s chair, but for now, he and Vivian sat mid-table. Kate and Billy Ray sat opposite them, as if they were negotiating some deal.
Kate pulled out a digital recorder, placed it on the table, and switched it on. Another act she hoped would unnerve Ms. Dasher.
She stared at it and its little red power light.
Drake reached out and turned it off. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said.
“It’s for your protection,” Kate said.
Drake smiled. “I have a little more faith in my government than that.”
Unfortunately, the calmer this Drake character seemed, the calmer Vivian was getting, and Kate needed the woman on edge if she was going to get anything out of her. She pulled out the victim’s photos and shoved them across the table.
“These two women were last seen alive at the bar Chiraz, with you, Ms. Dasher. You and another man whom we haven’t identified yet. At closing time, you all seemed real chummy. Forty-eight hours later, they’re found dead. The coroner placed the time of death within eight hours of their leaving the bar. As near as we can tell, you were the last person to see them alive.”
Vivian stared at the photos. She placed her shaking hand on one of them. “I…I remember them,” she said. “We were drinking together. They knew who I was and—”
“You saying they came up to you?” Billy Ray asked.
“They wanted to work here,” she said. “I gave them my card and told them to send me their résumés. It was just…I can’t believe they’re dead. How did it happen?”
“Throats slashed,” Kate said bluntly. She kept the part about their blood being drained to herself.
Vivian looked away. It was a pretty good performance. But something was odd. Most suspects tended to look toward their lawyers as a way to get reassurance, and even though her boss was not her attorney, he sure was acting like one. Only, Vivian had yet to look at him, turning away every time.
Kate turned her attention toward Drake. He met her eyes and stared back. To her surprise, Kate found her attention wandering, her mind going blank.
“So why would these women want to work here?” The question came from Billy Ray.
Drake turned away, and Kate blinked several times to clear her head. Weird. She definitely needed to get more sleep.
“We’re a very successful company,” Drake said.
“And you work very strange hours.”
Billy Ray looked at his watch. “It’s nine o’clock in the evening, and you’ve got a whole floor filled with people. You and Ms. Dasher are still in the building.”
“This company clears five hundred million dollars a year,” Drake boasted. “Eighty percent of that comes in from overseas, in places that are sound asleep during what you government workers call business hours. As it happens, I just returned from Europe myself.”
“Business or pleasure?” Billy Ray asked.
“Recruiting, actually.”
Billy Ray backed off. But his salvo had given Kate some breathing room, and she felt her wits returning.
“Ms. Dasher,” she began, “what if I told you the man you we
re seen with at the bar was a suspect in half a dozen other homicides. Could you tell me who he is and where we can find him?”
It was a lie, just to stir things up, but Vivian held quiet.
“If you don’t speak,” Kate added, “I’ll have to consider you a suspect, a possible conspirator.”
“I don’t know him,” she said.
“That’s not what the video tells us,” Billy Ray said.
“You bought him drinks all night,” Kate added. “On your company card.”
Under normal circumstances, Kate would have turned her glare toward the boss man right about now, just to see if he was aggravated or nervous, but for some reason, she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes on Vivian.
Silence filled the room.
“Nothing to say?” Kate asked.
Vivian shook her head, and Kate chose to play her last card.
“I need you to come with us,” she said, standing and pulling out a pair of cuffs.
Vivian’s eyes grew wide. “What? This is ridiculous.”
Billy Ray stood as well. His look said, I hope you know what you’re doing.
“You were a person of interest when we came down here, and your unwillingness to talk makes you a suspect in my eyes. Now, please stand, turn around, and place your hands behind your back.”
Kate was really on thin ice now, but she needed to push this until something broke, either the case or her career.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Vivian shouted. The bitterness in her voice suggested a person used to always getting her way. She seemed like she might snap.
“Ms. Dasher, please turn around, or we will arrest you by force.”
“You can’t do this,” Vivian replied. “You can’t—”
A hand landed on Vivian’s shoulder. Drake’s hand. She calmed down instantly.
“You can’t believe that I have anything to do with this?” she said. She was looking toward him for the first time, but her eyes were cast down, like a scolded hound.
“Of course not,” he said. “But they are the FBI. Go with them. Don’t talk to them. Don’t try to explain. Not a word, understand? This is a power play, nothing more. We have lawyers who handle these kinds of situations and others who specialize in ruining careers. I’ll have them all on the phone within the hour.”