by L.J. Hayward
Chapter 37
Flailing madly, I managed to struggle free of all the grasping, clutching strands of Red auras. I fled straight up as fast as I could, shedding the vestiges of the taste of old red wine as I went.
Fucking hell. If I’d been able to feel my heart, I’m sure it would be close to heart attack level palpitations. As it was, I felt as if I’d been put through a wheat thrasher. Only when I was absolutely free of the touch of Red auras did I allow myself to contemplate what had happened. Unlike Erin’s aura that had come to me in a single, warm embrace, this had been cold, clawed hands coming from all directions. They hadn’t slid around me with inviting intimacy. This had been a predator pouncing. No, several, dozens, even hundreds of predators pouncing.
Of course. Idiot. Aurum had spelled it out for me and still I was blundering around like a fool with his eyes closed. The Reds were all psychically linked. They shared the same aura. Reach for one, and get them all.
But at least it seemed they weren’t alerted to my esoteric arse. Good thing, right? Yeah, but here’s a question for inquisitive minds. How had they reached back in the middle of the day? Weren’t they all sleeping with the psychic fishes like Mercy? Maybe it had been an unconscious reaction. I’d called to their aura, and it had answered, just as mine had lifted free of my body during sleep. So, we had a working hypothesis. Time to test it.
I dropped down toward the ocean of minds bonded closely to the earth. A gentle hum of thoughts wafted around me, the sum of all the sentience in the city and surrounds. Could I just send out a little enquiry on the wavelength of the Reds, but not actively call to them? One way to find out.
This time, I just thought about the flavour. I didn’t push it out beyond myself. It was kind of like turning on your wireless internet connection and hoping your silly neighbour didn’t have his service protected; you just picked up on what was already there without having to spend your own money.
A faint, flittering touch of Red drifted up to me. Neat. I drifted over the little map it made, sensing where the touches came from. Wow. I’d known the Reds were the most populous of the clans in Brisbane, but I’d not really had an idea of how many there were. They were freaking everywhere. Yet, there was a strong concentration of them in one place. The army Kermit said Big Red had been gathering? Betcha it was, ten to one.
I hadn’t shifted from my position directly above Erin, so I dropped right back down but skirted her still sleeping mind and found a nurse. Ah ha. We were in the Logan Public Hospital. I had a starting point for reference. Shooting back up, I felt along the threads leading toward the high density Reds. Pretty much directly north. Skimming along, I got to a point slightly to the side of my target. Wary of accidentally drawing out the Reds again, I moved down carefully and brushed a fingertip over the surrounds.
Kermit hadn’t lied. Big Red and his recruits were holed up by the river mouth, just not south of it where there was a majority of industrial estates with handy warehouses. They were just to the north of it, right beside the airport.
Booyah! Big Red, you are going down.
I relaxed and let my aura snap right back to my body. Whoa. Mistake. I slammed home with the force of falling from several stories up. Woke me up, very thoroughly. I lurched up, spluttering and coughing and nearly fell off the old couch I was lying on. The sudden motion jarred my knee, alerting me to the ebbing tide of morphine. Which was a bitch in more than one way, because my head was about to explode with a sudden and intense headache.
No idea how long it took me to get some semblance of humanity back, but when I pried my eyelids apart, late afternoon sunlight speared into them. Ack! I rolled off the couch, floundered around for my cane and managed to hobble inside where the light was dimmer and wouldn’t burn the eyeballs out of my head.
Once again exhibiting the lengths of evolution man has undergone by drinking from the kitchen tap, I hauled together a shred of dignity and hobbled into the office. Plonking myself down at the desk, I reached for the phone. Roberts might like to hear of my success, and hopefully be excited enough to offer up his car for another hunt.
There were several missed calls on the phone, no messages left. The number was the same for all of them and not one I knew. Telemarketers with unusual persistence? It wasn’t someone after Night Call. Those calls only came to the mobile.
I wheeled myself into my bedroom and then limped into the bathroom. The mobile was on the sink, where I’d left it after disembowelling myself on Erin’s call. It too registered numerous unanswered calls, from the same number. Again, no messages.
To ring back or not to ring back. That is the question.
I rang back.
“Hello?”
A familiar female voice. A moment’s introspection gave me the identity.
“Gale, it’s Matt Hawkins.”
“Oh.” Not the joyous sound of someone hearing back from the person they’d been trying to reach all day. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Yeah, I figured. Sorry, I was out all day. Forgot to take my mobile.” Wasn’t a real lie, was it. “What’s up?”
“Rob’s in jail.”
I plonked down on the toilet. “What? Why?”
She sighed. “He was at work last night, at the Fringe Bar. I don’t know why he was there. He told me he would be covering the south side for a while, but he went to the Valley anyway.” Her tone tightened. “He said he was following up on something for you. Something from the night before.”
“Shit,” I hissed. He’d been snooping about Big Red. Stupid bastard. “I didn’t ask him to, Gale.”
“I know you didn’t. He said you didn’t. But he did it anyway.”
And clearly that was still my fault. She really had a dislike going for me.
“What happened?” I asked wearily. Hey, I was seeing jail as a plus. It was better than hospital, or a morgue.
Gale ground her teeth so hard I heard it down the line. “He didn’t tell me the specifics, but apparently two guys took exception to the questions he was asking. There was a fight. One of the other men got away.”
I swallowed the lump of dread in my throat. “And the other one?”
“Witnesses say Rob killed him.”
Oh God. “What does Roberts say?”
“He won’t say anything to me about it.” Gale’s voice cracked around rage or fear. I couldn’t tell. “He just asked me to call you and tell you to call him.”
“Gale, it’ll be okay. He didn’t kill anyone.” Human, at least. Or so I desperately hoped.
She snapped. “How do you know? What the fuck is your deal, Hawkins? Rob talks about you like you’re some kind of secret agent or something. And then he goes off and gets himself in trouble because of you. I don’t care what or who you are, you’re fucking with his life and I won’t let you do that.”
Through the headache, my anger spiked. What was my deal? What was her fucking deal, more like. How long had she known Roberts? A couple of weeks? A month? And that gave her rights over his life that I, who had been his friend for much longer, didn’t get? At least I wasn’t telling him to give Gale up because I didn’t like her.
Clenching my teeth against voicing those demands out loud, I considered just hanging up. Then I’d be tasked with finding which lock up Roberts was in. So, I counted to ten, then twenty. All the while, Gale ground her teeth down the line at me.
“Do you have a number I can get him on?” I asked steadily.
There was silence while she got herself under some control. When she spoke, she spat a phone number in rapid fire and then hung up. I carefully put my mobile down, then picked up a can of shaving cream and smashed it into the mirror. As far as therapeutic ventings went, it was an aesthetically pleasing one. There’s nothing like a broken mirror to display the many fractures in a man’s inner darkness. Way symbolic. But in terms of relief…? Not enough.
When I was done, the shower stall glass was scattered across the floor. There were four fist sized dints in the wall and the d
oor wasn’t going to close properly ever again. Trembling, I made it to my bed and sat down, head cradled in my grossly shaking hands, blood from my torn knuckles trickling down my arms. I tried controlled breathing, but I was still too wound up, jittering in the afterglow of a good hit of anger.
Eventually, the adrenaline eased off and I could think again. Before anything else swamped me, I grabbed the phone and dialled what I hoped was the number Gale had given me. There was still an awful lot of blood rushing through my ears, so I missed the opening lines of the policeman that answered. When he paused for breath, I told him who I wanted to speak to, and a few diverts later, Roberts came to the phone.
“Matt, took your sweet time.”
He sounded okay. I let out a long held breath. “Sorry. I was catching up on some sleep.”
“You sound shaky, man.”
“That should be expected. I mean, I just heard my best mate’s in jail for murder.” I wasn’t about to tell him Gale had ripped me a new one, as well. That was for them to sort out. Right there, Gale, was my fucking deal.
“Alleged,” Roberts grunted with stoic good cheer. “And when they can’t find a body, even alleged is not going to stick for long. I’m not worried.”
Except that he was.
“Vampire?” I asked needlessly.
“Yeah. Still got that wretched stench in my sinuses.”
“What happened?”
“I was stupid,” he said baldly. “Hadn’t heard from you all day, and I’ve been neglecting the civic duties for a while, so I thought I should go earn my keep. Still don’t know why I did it, but I ended up at the Fringe, thinking I could see if someone there had a lead on Big Red.”
“Not stupid,” I reassured him. “Fucking grade A retarded. I should come down there and beat you senseless myself.”
“Don’t know about that, but I sure would appreciate a lesson on the ways of retrieving the soap in the shower without bending over.”
A very reluctant, very hard snort escaped. “You don’t deserve it.”
“Probably not. So, I go about, just dropping a few questions here and there, and sure enough I get a nibble on the line. Two Reds. At least, I assume they were Reds. Two guys, all duded up in their long coats and mother-effing boots. Before I know it, we’re in the back, on the way to the toilets. Not a lot of people around, so I didn’t mind pulling the knife early on. Didn’t want to be brain-raped by any of them.”
Roberts had no defence against a psychic compulsion. He’d only been wrapped up once, by Mercy, but he had no wish to repeat it. I had no wish for him to repeat it either.
“One tried for my throat, but I dodged and self-defenced the bloke to goo. Right in the heart. The other one took off faster than the wind. Sadly, two girls had come out of the toilets just as I was pulling the knife from the guy. They screamed and ran back into the toilets, so they didn’t see the messy end. Several people slipped over in it though. The cops didn’t know what to make of it. They took the clothes as evidence.”
“Shit. And it was the girls from the toilet that shouted murder?”
“Yeah. Though they were both pretty hysterical. Without a body and no blood at the scene, and my innocenter than innocent testimony, I should get off with maybe a charge of carrying a concealed weapon.”
“Is that what your lawyer says?”
He laughed. “What lawyer? I learn all my legal jargon off Law and Order.”
“Get a lawyer. I’ll fund him. I don’t want you paying my debts.”
There was a lot of noncommittal muttering and mumblings, but he didn’t exactly object.
I was somewhat relieved. Roberts was in pretty good spirits, considering. And I was pretty sure he would get out without too much damage to his good name. The last of the fright eased out of my aching muscles.
“So, all that for nothing,” I said.
“Not nothing. They mentioned a few things before it got real ugly.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Such as?”
“Tonight’s the night, Matt. Big Red is going to gear up and take you out. I don’t think he cares about keeping you alive for Mercy’s sake anymore. He wants her like a guy with a foot fetish wants the women’s basketball team.”
“Good.” A nasty edge entered my voice. “Cause he’s gonna get me in both barrels. I found him.”
“How?”
I looked at the time on the phone. 4:30. Sunset would be rocking around in the next hour. Barely enough time to get ready.
“I’ll tell you about it over a beer at the Scarborough tomorrow arvie,” I said with potentially dreadful irony. Roberts would have to be let loose first, and I would have to survive the coming night. “Get that lawyer, get out and go to Gale. Stay there until I call.”
I hung up to let him know I was very serious.
Before I could do much more than start a mental inventory of what I would need, the phone rang again. Another number I didn’t know. I answered.
“Hawkins?”
“Erin.” Surely she wasn’t ready to have our final meeting. “What’s up?”
“Don’t listen to her. Just get—”
There was a savage snarl and the phone bonked around. Then a cool, monotonal voice said, “Matthew Hawkins.”
Cold fingers trickled down my spine. “Who is this?”
“You may call me Heather Veilchen.”