Apostate

by Frankie Robertson

  Ana blew across the surface of her tea to cool it. “Now, dish. When did things get serious between you two?”

  Tasha postponed answering by sipping her chai. She and Ana had never compared boyfriend stories. They were seven years apart, a bit too much of an age difference for that, and Ana hadn’t dated much after their parents had died. She’d been too focused on taking care of her bratty little sister. Now they were both older, but Tasha wasn’t sure she was ready to share what she had with Kellan—whatever it was—with anyone else. And yet, who else would she talk this over with? At least Ana was married to her own otherworldly man.

  “I’m not family,” Cassie said, apparently sensing her reluctance. “If you’d rather talk with just Ana…”

  “No!” Tasha exclaimed, realizing her hesitation had given the wrong impression. “It’s not that. It’s just that this is so much bigger than anything I’ve felt before. I’m not sure I have the words to talk about it. You’re married to a Celestial, just like Ana. I can use all the advice I can get.”

  “I’ll tell you what I can, and I’m sure Ana will, too.”

  “So do Jared and Gideon play the ‘I have more experience than you,’ card?”

  Cassie snickered and rolled her eyes. “He used to. Not so much anymore. It helps that I’m psychic. I can surprise him sometimes. The rest of the time I cut him some slack because he has lived several lifetimes longer than I have.”

  Tasha lifted her brows in question to Ana.

  “Gideon is less focused on how much he knows—unless it has to do with my safety. As a Guardian, he’s very attuned to how what he says affects the people around him. But when we’re making love and his barriers drop, I sense the weight of time that’s part of him.”

  “Yes, I felt that, too,” Tasha said.

  “You have to remember,” Cassie said, “while the U’dahmi have been on the Terrestrial Plane for several thousand years, they were Celestials first. They came into being when the stars were born.”

  Kellan shook hands with Detective Morgan. “Thank you for helping me out, Detective.”

  “Thank Jared and Dr. Hernandez. I just greased the wheels a little.” He lifted a hand introducing the petite, bespectacled young woman in scrubs. “She’s bending the rules for us.”

  The Assistant Medical Examiner met Kellan’s gaze unwaveringly as they shook hands. “I’m sorry for your loss. I understand you and the deceased were business partners?”

  “Yes. We’ve worked together for some time. We were friends, too.”

  Hernandez hesitated. “As Detective Morgan indicated, we don’t normally allow friends and family to view the remains here.”

  “No?”

  “When necessary, they’re usually shown pictures or personal effects for ID purposes. Viewing a loved one in these circumstances can be upsetting, and that in turn upsets the staff. It’s also a drain on our limited time and we have a huge backlog of work to do. But since Detective Morgan asked, we’re making an exception in your case.”

  “I appreciate it,” Kellan said. “I know your office serves several counties.”’

  “Yes. Things have slowed down a bit from the summer, but we still have a backlog of remains to process—although as a probable homicide your partner goes to the top of the queue. Most of the bodies Pima County handles are UBCs—undocumented border crossers. The remains are often damaged by exposure or even skeletonized.” Hernandez spoke in a dry, clinical tone. “In those cases, visual ID isn’t possible. Their papers are often forgeries, and most of their fingerprints aren’t in the system. We do whatever we can to make positive identifications—and we’re usually successful—but it’s often a challenge.”

  She lifted her hand toward the hallway to his right as she led them in that direction. “However, in this case, the victim’s prints were in the system because he was a private investigator. The Cochise County Sheriff’s Department identified his remains quickly. The decedent is Jasper Allen Sorensen, a resident of Maricopa County. That’s your partner’s name and home?”

  “Yes.” Kellan liked her brisk, factual delivery.

  “We haven’t begun the examination yet, although we have completed the x-rays. You should prepare yourself. His maxilla is damaged and his mandible dislocated, with corresponding soft tissue destruction. The phalanges on his right hand were dislocated. Both knees were damaged.”

  “Was he tortured?” Morgan asked after a moment of silence.

  Kellan was glad for Morgan’s question. He didn’t trust his voice right then.

  “I can’t say without completing a thorough examination, but that would be a solid assumption.” She stopped them in a vestibule and pointed to three stacks of protective gear. “We have to put this on before I let you get close to the body. Shoe covers, gown, hair cover, gloves. Since this is a homicide investigation, we don’t want to risk introducing stray DNA.”

  When they were all suited up, she led the way into a room of stainless-steel counters, sinks, and cabinets. In the center of the room was a metal gurney with Jasper’s nude body. A groove ran around the perimeter inside a raised edge to drain fluid off one end. His face was misshapen in a way that was consistent with Dr. Hernandez’s description of his facial injuries. His fingers and legs had been straightened but the skin showed impact damage from the blows that had damaged those joints.

  Kellan’s stomach tightened with anger. Whoever had done this would pay. The Council might have him in their sites, but they didn’t do this. Enforcers killed clean and quick. This had to be the work of the Golden Path.

  “How long did it take him to die?” Kellan asked. He still held out hope that somehow Jasper found a way to transition. He’d have been in excruciating pain, but he was disciplined. He could have done it—if there was a body to transition into. Perhaps another victim?

  “Death was instantaneous,” the doctor said.

  Morgan’s brow furrowed. “These injuries wouldn’t have killed him. P.O.W.s during the Vietnam War survived worse. He could have lived for months even if he hadn’t received medical care, although it would have been hard for him to eat with a broken jaw.”

  “No, no. Those didn’t kill him. I can’t give you an official C.O.D. until we do the autopsy, but based on the x-rays, he died of a broken neck at the C2 vertebra. The other injuries were peri-mortem. Whoever did this hurt him and then killed him immediately after. You see?” Hernandez pointed to the fingers and knees. “No swelling. No bruising. He didn’t suffer long. I hope that’s some comfort to you.”

  No. It wasn’t.

  Jasper hadn’t had time to transition. He was dead.

  It didn’t seem possible. He’d thought he would have felt something if—when—Jasper died.

  They had worked together for over two hundred years. A short time as such partnerships went, but he’d liked Jasper and had hoped to continue their partnership for a long time. He suddenly wished that he hadn’t discouraged Tasha from coming with him. It was absurd, of course. Suited up as they were, the two of them couldn’t touch or communicate mind-to-mind. And it was selfish. He wouldn’t want her to carry the image of Jasper’s tortured body in her mind. She had enough of her own trauma to remember.

  “Are you all right?” Morgan asked.

  “If you’re going to be sick, use this.” Hernandez handed him the equivalent of an air-sick bag.

  Kellan’s fingers crushed the bag in his fist. “I’ve seen enough. Thank you, Doctor.” He turned on his bootie covered heel and left.

  Morgan didn’t speak as they divested themselves of their protective gear other than to thank Dr. Hernandez again. Kellan was grateful for his silence. They stepped outside and Kellan inhaled a deep breath of the cool December air and blew it out again. The clouds that had been building all day were now dark and threatening rain. That suited Kellan’s mood perfectly.

  Jasper was dead.

  Erased from the Terrestrial Plane. Erased from every plane. That was the consequence of the magic they used. If they couldn�
�t transition to a new body before they died, their Essence had nowhere to go. The Veil closed the Celestial Realm to them and the Celestials there wouldn’t be pulling them home.

  Someone had ended Jasper’s immortal existence. They probably hadn’t known that the being they’d killed had witnessed the birth of life on this planet and the rise and fall of the dinosaurs. And that was before he’d become U’dahmi. His murderers’ ignorance didn’t matter to Kellan. It wouldn’t matter if Jasper had only been the same age as his thirty-seven-year-old body. His murderers would pay. Whether they were acting on orders from the Golden Path or were inept robbers looking for drug money, they’d pay.

  Detective Morgan stood beside him, staring out across the parking lot. Kellan appreciated the gift of his silence.

  “Thank you for your help.” Kellan voice sounded stiff and he cleared his throat. “I’d like to repay the favor.”

  Morgan turned to look at him more fully. “How?”

  “I know the password to Jasper’s cell phone. I’m sure your computer experts could unlock it, but having the password would be quicker.”

  “That would be helpful,” Morgan said, pulling out his cell to take a note. “What is it?”

  “I’d like to see who his last few calls were to.”

  Morgan tightened his jaw. “That’s not how repaying a favor works, Matthews. That’s asking for another favor.”

  “He was my partner. I need to know who he was talking to instead of me.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but I can’t give you a chance to tamper with the evidence. You can’t touch the phone.”

  Kellan suppressed a smile. Morgan was bending. “Just let me look over your shoulder while you scroll through. That’s all.”

  “You’ll share any intelligence you have regarding those contacts.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Kellan nodded. He’d share—anything that didn’t involve U’dahmi secrets.

  “And no interfering with our investigation.”

  “Whatever you say.” Unless he found Jasper’s murderers first.

  Morgan cast a skeptical glance at him, but said, “Fine. Follow me.”

  Kellan hoped he wouldn’t have to repay Jared’s help by burning a bridge with the detective, but he’d do whatever he had to, to mete out justice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dave strode forward to intercept Alex. He caught the boy with a hand on his shoulder. His tone was gentle, but serious. “You didn’t wait for me to come get you, squirt.”

  “But I waited until Chad was gone. I wanted to come help, but I waited.”

  “You showed good judgment there, but you didn’t follow orders, did you?”

  Alex twisted his mouth. “No. But why should I wait when Chad is gone?”

  “Because I told you to.”

  Alex didn’t look like he liked that reason any more then he had at that age.

  “Come with me. I’ll pull the truck up to your mom’s place and I’ll explain.” They walked back to the truck and got in. “In the Army, sometimes you don’t understand the reason for an order, or don’t agree with it, but you still have to do it. Most of the time, you don’t know how your actions may affect the larger battle plan, so you just carry out your orders. Sometimes, when you have more experience, you may step outside the exact orders you received and do more or less than you were ordered to do because you’re the one with eyes on the situation. You make a judgment call, based on your experience. But right now you don’t have much experience. You’re still a pretty green recruit. So you need to follow orders. Okay?”

  Alex heaved a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Dave drove a short way up the street and parked in front of Julie’s trailer. Alex started to clamber out, but Dave put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hold on buddy, I got a question I think you can help me with.”

  “Yeah?” Alex’s expression was open and willing.

  “Where’d you put Chad’s bag?”

  His nephew’s eyes widened with shock, but then he looked away out the windshield. “I didn’t steal his money.” Alex picked at a piece of cuticle and tore it off.

  God, was I ever this innocent?

  “I didn't say there was money in the bag.”

  Panic chased across Alex’s face. “Don’t tell Mom. Please? She needs the money. And Chad is a douchebag.”

  Dave choked back a laugh. “We agree on that, at least. But needing something doesn’t give you the right to take what isn’t yours, even if the guy who has it is someone you don’t like. We have to give it back. And we have to tell your mom.”

  Alex turned big, pleading puppy eyes on him. “But Uncle Dave—”

  “Nope. Sorry. She’d skin me alive if I kept this from her. If you do the crime, you gotta do the time.” Hearing what he’d just said, Dave winced. He hadn’t done time, thanks to his mother. But Alex didn’t need to know that. “But I won’t tell her you said ‘douchebag.’ So where’d you hide it?”

  “Under the floor, in the ground under the trailer. Chad dropped it through the access panel in the floor of Mom’s closet. I just moved it a few feet and put it into a hole I dug on the other side of one of the supports. Chad’s too big to get through the hole, so all he could do is put his head down and look around. He couldn’t see it from there. It’s not really stealing if you just move something a little, is it?”

  Dave bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. The kid was too smart for his own good. “Chad probably wouldn’t agree with you on that.”

  “Chad’s a douch—,”

  “Let’s not get in the habit of using that word.” Dave could hardly believe that he, of all people, had joined the profanity police.

  “And that money doesn’t really belong to him, anyway. It belongs to some guy named, Azor-something. Chad’s afraid of him.”

  You should be too, kid.

  “Hiding something that doesn’t belong to you is the same as stealing, and you hid it from someone who really wants it back. So here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going inside, and you’re going to tell your mom what’s going on. Then your mom and I are going to install this brand new door in the hole that Chad made and lock it while I take the bag to Chad’s place. I won’t make you apologize to him even though I should, because you’re right, he is a douchebag—but don’t tell your mom I said that.” And with any luck, that will be the end of this little CF.

  Kellan took an indirect route back to Jared and Cassie’s house. By the time he got there, he was confident he hadn’t been followed. Ana, Tasha, and Maria were in the kitchen cooking something that made his mouth water with smells of meat and middle-eastern spices. Eight places had been set at the big round table, one of them in front of a highchair.

  Tasha’s dark gray gaze found his as he came in the door from the garage, worry for him in her eyes. It wasn’t something he’d experienced for a long time, that concern. He’d been married, of course, many times. Over the millennia, many women had either already been married to the man whose body he’d assumed, or they’d married him after he’d donned the abandoned flesh. Either way, for most of human history, the woman had little choice about whom she was bound to. He’d been kind to all of his wives, and even loved a few, but none of them had known him as himself.

  But Tasha did. She had a choice and she knew who he really was. And she seemed to be choosing him. The lines on her brow said she’d been fretting over him.

  He returned Cassie’s and Ana’s greetings, but he gave Tasha a small smile to say he was all right. He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to dwell on his sorrow. She took a step toward him but he held up a hand to ward her off. If he took her into his arms now and shared his grief he’d be done for the day, and he had work to do. She stopped, hurt clouding her eyes, but then she nodded. She’d have the details out of him later when they were in bed.

  His mind pulled up short even as he continued on down the hall in search of Jared. Tasha might not want to advertise their connection or share his bed
in Jared’s house. He’d leave the decision up to her, but as he considered the prospect of a cold and empty bed, he knew he didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.

  Jared’s office was empty. It was a large comfortable room with a dark leather sofa along one wall and a huge dark wood desk just to the right of the door. One window opened onto the front courtyard, another looked onto the street. Both had no-cut security screens. Traffic was minimal in the foothills and only residents and delivery trucks came into the cul-de-sac. Between that, and the state-of-the-art security systems that Jared had all but given to his neighbors, Kellan felt confident that Tasha was as secure here as she could be anywhere. Ana would want her sister to live with her while he went in search of Jasper’s killers, but her home was older and in a busier part of town. He’d have to see what security Jared had installed there, before he’d agree to that.

  He wasn’t going to risk having what Jasper endured happen to Tasha.

  He found the Celestials in Grace’s room at the end of the hall. Both men sat cross-legged in front of a child-sized table with a miniature tea set arrayed before them while Grace, wearing a turban of colorful silk, poured the pretended beverage. She looked up when he stopped in the doorway. “I set a place for you.”

  He saw that there was, indeed, a fourth cup and saucer, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to bring sorrow and loss into this happy room.

  Jared looked up at him, lifting a brow. “The princess has spoken, Sir Kellan. Do take a seat.”

  Grace came around the table to lead him to his spot, but when she grasped his fingers she said very seriously, “I’m sorry your heart hurts.”

  Kellan’s chest ached. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  Reluctant sympathy chased irritation across Jared’s face. No doubt his brief glower was because Kellan had brought a shadow of unhappiness into daughter’s sanctuary. Heaven help any future beau that broke her heart.

  “A tea party will be just the thing to make all of us feel better,” Gideon said, giving the Lightbringer a stern look. “And the cookies are real.”