by Lee Roland
He studied me for a few seconds, then said, “You look like shit.”
“Thank you for your honesty. You look sexy as hell.” He smiled.
I sat beside him. Damp clothes clung to me and my skin itched, probably from pollution or creepy crawlies in the river mud. His nose wrinkled. Yeah, I probably smelled awful, too.
From the set of his mouth to the suspicious look in his eye, I could tell Flynn was on the edge. Before he could ask, I told him the entire story. He deserved the truth. I spoke of everything that happened after I’d left that afternoon, including my encounter with Snag. He accepted it all without question, then called someone named Betty Jean to get information on Malison Dividend.
Flynn stared into the darkness of Abby’s garden, maybe searching for some answer to this new world. “Who are you? Who is Abby?”
I frowned, then rubbed my thumb between my eyes to smooth it away. “I told you. Are you ready to believe now? I’m the Earth Mother’s Huntress. Abby’s her High Priestess, her witch if you want to call it that. I know that’s not what you’re looking for, but it’s the best I can do.”
“It’s going to take more than words. What is Michael to you?”
“Great Mother, Flynn.” Now where did that come from?
“Answer my question.”
I sat there, staring at the ground. Flynn, still on the edge, was reassessing everything—my world, our relationship. Again, honesty was best.
“I’m not in love with Michael, if that’s what you’re asking. I trust Michael with nothing at this point. You . . . I trust you. I trust you with my life. I trust you with my heart.” Using the porch railing, I dragged myself to my feet. Like last night, I’d again reached my physical limit.
I laid a hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m doing the best I can. I’ll understand if that’s not good enough.” No way in hell I would, but I had given him a way out if he wanted it.
His hand grasped mine. “I’m dealing with it, Cass. What do you want me to do?”
“Help me inside so I can get a shower. Crawl into my bed, and hold me while I sleep.”
He grinned. “That’s all?”
“No. But I can’t promise I’ll stay awake through anything else.”
Flynn helped me downstairs, not even commenting on the secret pantry entrance we had to use. He undressed me, showered with me, dried me off, and put me between the sheets. I fell asleep watching him clean river gunk from my gun.
I woke sometime later with him snuggled against my back. A bit of wonder filled me. The man was a bit of a saint for dealing with odors and gunk two nights running.
I rolled to face him and kissed his mouth until he responded. Then I kissed him “down there,” to quote Righteous Robert. He groaned and locked his hands in my hair. Good, solid Flynn was solid everywhere my mouth touched. I savored the taste of him, teased him, tortured him, and when I felt he’d had enough, I started back up his body.
“You’d better not fall asleep on me.” His voice sounded like a growl. His hand slid between my legs, and he rubbed hard because he knew I liked that, especially if I was good and wet. Glorious sensations spread from that point through my body.
I kissed his face, his eyes, and laid my mouth on his. Everywhere our skin touched tingled as if each nerve was supercharged with electricity.
Flynn shuddered, then released me and drew me on top of him. I stretched my body, raised my arms, and rode him for a while, letting him slide inside me while his fingers roamed across me and caressed my breasts.
Our auras matched, Abby had said. This man had walked into my life and captured me, body and soul. What I feared from Michael—captivity—I would freely give to Flynn.
When I couldn’t take anymore, I climbed off him, dragged him on top of me, and wrapped my legs around him. So greedy, I wanted to hold him inside of me as long as I could.
Then, like a coiled spring suddenly released, the orgasm hit me and seared me to the bone. I gasped as spasms racked my body. I forgot everything for those few moments.
I shut my thoughts down at that point. I would deal with tomorrow, with the dark moon, with Flynn, Michael, Dacardi, the children as best I could.
Flynn lay beside me now, breathing deeply. I felt him fall asleep and I drifted off not long after.
chapter 26
August 9—7:00 a.m.—Dark Moon
I’d slept through the night. At least I hadn’t dreamed. I reached for Flynn and found an empty place beside me. When I made it upstairs, he was at Abby’s kitchen table, drinking coffee. Much too early. Barely daylight. I am not, nor will I ever be, that irritating creature called a morning person.
Horus, probably still on probation, crouched on the floor, with Nirah across his back. Nefertiti curled up in the kitchen window. I could hear Abby in the front, cleaning her public rooms. She had customers every day. She tried to help them, show them their troubles were mostly of their own making, but I doubt she had much luck.
I went for the coffeepot. “How’d things go with your reports yesterday?”
Flynn shrugged. “Too many questions. Captain’s pissed. Everybody’s pissed. They’re not stupid and they know I’m holding something back. Feds not letting anybody in on the Exeter Street investigation. At least I was at the station when the warehouse blew last night.”
I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table across from him. “You find out anything on the guns?”
“No. The bomb squad says there was something in that warehouse last night. A lot bigger than guns and ammo.”
Abby hurried into the room. “Cass, the television news says Avondale Manor is on fire.”
Flynn and I raced out of the house. He called his own precinct, but couldn’t get any information.
My POS made good time, but three blocks from the fire, we hit a roadblock of cars. Probably ambulance chasers and other thrill junkies with time on their hands and no life. The police would run them off eventually, but until then . . .
“Shit!” Flynn muttered. “We’ll have to walk.” He laid his hand on the door handle.
“No, I can do better.” I made a quick U-turn before cars stacked up behind me. I headed back and turned right across to the next block. “How close do you want? Simmer, bake, or barbecue?”
“What?” He glanced at me, then back at the street. Apprehension spread over his face.
Oh, was I driving too fast? I laughed. Adrenaline raced along my nerves like electricity. I cut through an alley and made a three-block wrong-way dash down a one-way street. That had us past the roadblock and the fire department barricades. Duivel streets aren’t as predictable as the Barrows, but I think the same person designed them. Another alley and we arrived.
Flynn sat pale and rigid, fists clenched in his lap. I think it was because we’d met an eighteen-wheeler on the one-way street. Good thing there was a sidewalk.
“You . . .” Flynn swallowed and breathed deeply and exhaled.
“You’re a cop!” I punched him in the arm. “Don’t you do high-speed chases?”
“Not if I can help it.” His breathing slowed. “And I have lights and a siren. People are supposed to pull over and let me by.”
“Well. They pulled over for me. Sort of.”
“Only because you—Never mind.” He opened the car door and climbed out.
A monumental column of roiling black smoke towered over us when we reached the four-lane boulevard running in front of the manor. The stink of horrific burning rose to mix with another day of three-digit temperatures. Yellowish haze already swirled around the downtown towers.
Michael had arrived first. He’d parked his Jag in the diminishing shade on the west side of a building across the street from the fire. He stood leaning against the car and staring past the flowering shrubs in the landscape median, his face unreadable as the Greek statue he resembled.
“I’ll try to get in,” Flynn told him. “See what I can find out.”
“Thank you.” Michael’s voice carried no mo
re emotion than the expression on his face.
Flynn hurried away toward the open manor gate. The police stood guard and the fire trucks were inside. Flynn flashed his ID, spoke to the cops, and they let him pass.
I stood beside Michael. “Maybe she’s okay.” I thought of all the locked steel gates Flynn and I had to pass before we reached Elise. “They have to have an escape plan.”
Though Michael had encouraged me to visit Elise and obviously wanted me to learn something from her, he’d given me no clue as to how he felt about her. Kids have a tendency to love their parents, no matter how evil the parents are.
Michael moved, not much more than shifting his weight. “I was nine, the first time I ever saw her.” He smiled at the memory. “I thought she was the most beautiful creature on earth. Apparently they had locked her up because she’d tried to kill me. They discharged her from the hospital into a halfway house and allowed me to visit. I begged to go every time possible. Victor went, too, at first. She ignored him and doted on me. I felt so sorry for him. It wasn’t long, though, before she stopped taking her medication and the babies went missing. Little boys. They found the bodies under her bed.” His voice broke. “She said they were her sons and she named all of them Michael. I sent you to her, hoping you would see the humanity in me, since you seem to prize it so much. I was wrong.”
I didn’t know what to say or do. As for Michael’s humanity, knowing Flynn and how much I wanted him now, it wouldn’t have mattered. Michael could be completely human, but he would still try to own me. Something Flynn wouldn’t do.
We did the only thing we could do: we stood and watched. I jumped when an explosion came. Not a large one, but I’d been close to such blasts recently.
Flynn hurried back across the street toward us, stopping for a moment in the median to allow more fire trucks to pass. His grim expression said a lot, but when he spoke to Michael, he did so with his neutral cop-bearing-bad-news voice.
“Your mother’s missing. The entire smoke detector system failed. Sprinklers came on, but it was too late. Staff, patients. It’s bad. It’s going to be a couple of days before they identify everyone. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Michael didn’t sound thankful—or sad, or anything for that matter. He’d regained control of himself. He bent and kissed my cheek, then opened the Jag’s door, climbed in, and started the engine. “I’ll call you later.”
Flynn and I watched him drive away.
“There is another thing,” he said. “They found Avondale’s director.”
“Cohen?” An image of the sere, acid woman dressed in an armor gray suit popped up in my mind.
Flynn nodded. “Lying in her office with a broken neck. No fire there. Signs of a struggle, though. She fought—hard. This is getting too complicated. Too many mysteries.”
“What about Selene? You’ve given up on her?”
“No, but isn’t there any other way?” He grasped my upper arms and shook me, not hard, but with passion. “If Michael does find something, I can—”
“I don’t need Michael, Flynn. I don’t know where they are, but I have a good idea where they’ll be tonight. And we’re going to be there, too.”
His arms circled me and held me tight, as if he could somehow squeeze some personal comfort from my body.
I wished I could say something to comfort him. Fate and duty ruled this day, and the inevitable dark moon the night.
Over Flynn’s shoulder, I was surprised to see Reverend Victor staggering across the street toward us. Flynn released me at the sound of footsteps.
Victor stumbled and fell to his knees on the pavement. Flynn and I ran to him. We grasped his arms, lifted him, and led him out of the street. He didn’t make any noise, but his thin body shook and his breath came in short gasps. Tears mixed with soot smeared his face. Finally, he calmed and breathed easier.
“Thank you.” In a sudden move, he hugged me, then quickly released me.
“What happened, Vic?”
Vic glanced at Flynn and I introduced them.
“I went to visit.” Vic stared at Avondale as Michael had minutes earlier. “The fire started. I tried to help. The doors wouldn’t open.” He shook his head. “Two of the orderlies, big guys, managed to get one door open. But the patients, they were so afraid.” He sobbed. “What few we could find panicked and ran from us, some straight into the fire, and those locked in their rooms never had a chance.” He didn’t mention Elise by name. His mother. Michael’s mother.
“They didn’t have an escape plan,” Flynn said, his voice hard and cold.
“That much money should buy the best.” Vic rubbed his face with his hands.
Yes, but it didn’t always buy safety. Had a monumental failure of a critical system doomed patients and staff at Avondale? Flynn gave me a level stare. Or was the fire meant to cover murder? He was right. The mystery deepened. But how was it connected to Richard and Selene?
“I’m sorry, Reverend,” Flynn said. “The fire marshal will investigate. Did you leave your name and number? There will be questions.”
“Yes.” Vic sounded more in control now.
There were always questions, and many of them were mine.
We drove Vic back to the Lamb. He’d parked his car inside the wall at Avondale and wouldn’t be able to retrieve it for a while. I didn’t ask him about Michael, but I did tell Flynn about their relationship on the way back to Abby’s. He listened without comment.
When we reached Abby’s, Flynn went to walk in the woods. I let him go, knowing he needed to think about things. Nefertiti had followed him and he’d carefully held the screen door open for her. Maybe he’d find some peace.
Abby called me into her parlor and closed the door. “Do you need to talk, Cass?”
I nodded.
I sat on her couch and let the comfort of the room surround me. It smelled of citrus at times, then lavender or sandalwood. She sat beside me and I leaned against her solid shoulder, trying to draw from her strength.
I told Abby exactly what my near-death and return to life did to me. “Abby, I’m sorry, but I think I hate her. It’s not that I wanted to die to begin with, but once I was on my way, she should have let me go. It feels so wrong. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Abby reached out and wiped tears from my eyes. I hadn’t cried in years.
“Cass, you have every right to hate her. I’ve hated her, too. The Huntress before you died in my arms, so injured I couldn’t possibly save her.” Abby’s hands clenched into fists. With visible effort, she relaxed.
What had happened to those who came before me? How many had Abby buried? How many had gone into the Barrows and never returned? I didn’t ask. I figured it would hurt her. She had told me that each Huntress had a different task. She wouldn’t talk about that, either.
Then I told Abby about Hammer and the vision. “She was so beautiful, my daughter. Could I have done that?” I touched my fingers to my eyes and felt tears again.
“The Earth Mother never required any worship. She is not God. The ancients perverted her name. First they sacrificed animals to her, then their enemies, and, finally, their own children.” Abby reached out and grasped my face with both hands. She peered into my eyes. “Cassandra, Earth Mother’s Huntress, you would not harm your own child—for any reason. Why would you believe the lies of the demon Darkness?”
She was right. The memory, true or false, had made me dangerously weak.
“Now,” Abby said in her practical earth witch voice. “Do you have a plan? How can I help you?”
“No plan. Just a location.” I drew the aerial photo out of my pocket and gave it to her.
Abby’s eyes widened as she grasped its meaning, just as I had. “Sacrifice. They’re going to sacrifice children on the dark moon. This dark moon. The conjunction. Oh, Mother, what’s going to happen? You can’t go—”
“I have to. Don’t ask me why or how, but all my life has come down to this day—to this night. If you want me to live, tell m
e what I don’t know about sacrifice.”
Abby nodded. “In the lore, the oldest myths, there are three kinds of so-called sacrifices. The powerful enemy, the innocent, and the self, supposedly in that order. The myths are horribly wrong. The only true sacrifice is the self. There is great power in giving up yourself for the good of others. I think you’ve done that in your service to the children.” Abby drew herself up. “You don’t have to lecture me on fate. You will have guns. With bronze, they will serve you well for the monsters. But I’ll make a few things you may take with you.”
“Weapons? Abby, using earth magic to create weapons is—”
“Black magic.” She stood and smoothed her skirt. “Something new for me. Why don’t you go find your man? Make love to him. Then both of you should rest.”
She walked out. Well, that was the best advice I’d had all day.
I headed out to the garden, walking by the cultivated vegetable rows and into the miniature forest, where a tiny spring bubbled from the ground. The water trickled over a stone bed and ran deeper into the woods. Abby’s little patch of forest was at least fifteen degrees cooler than the world outside, but it was still hot enough Flynn had stripped off his shirt. He sat on a patch of grass where trees shaded the ground with dappled sunlight.
I sat beside him. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Too much think. Not enough action.” I jumped Flynn and shoved him down on his back. He laughed and relaxed as I straddled him. Most of him relaxed. One particular part instantly rebelled against relaxation. I kissed his mouth long and hard, and started working my way down to subdue those taut muscles. Then I had a better idea. I jumped up.
“Hey, don’t you—?” Flynn protested.
“Oh, yes. Come on.” I stepped into the woods, leaving him to follow. I had a special place in mind. When I first came to Duivel, I had to explore Abby’s woods. While I am now an urbanite, the farm girl remained. That girl found joy in this particular haven, this special spot I had to share with him.
Deep among the trees is a small hollow with rocky sides. A waterfall, barely above my head, pours out here in a thin stream. Cooler air moved across my skin as I stripped. I stepped down and under the water. A chill at first, then nice. Flynn stripped and joined me.