The Turned

by A A Mize

  “I can find my way back,” she replied.

  Rowan turned to look at her. She already had her phone out, navigation at the ready. But was it really a good idea for her to walk back alone? He glanced over her shoulder at the Turned who was still watching them from the shadows of an alley. This wasn’t his territory anymore. He was out of the Quarter and had no right to tell another Turned to back off.

  Tamar was the leader of this section of the city, and although they had a peaceful relationship, she would be extremely offended if Rowan asserted his position in her territory. Doing so would cause him a lot of trouble that he wasn’t willing to deal with.

  “I’ll take you to the boundary of the Quarter then you’re on your own,” he said, starting to walk again. He heard her hesitate, felt her watching him then she followed, catching up to him quickly. She didn’t want to be out there alone, that was easy to tell, but what he didn’t understand was how she ended up there. Didn’t she know the dangers posed by simply looking like she didn’t belong? It was as if painting a target on her back, and yet, even as she walked beside him, staring at buildings as they passed with a sort of admiration. She was taking it all in, experiencing the city for the first time and Rowan was curious about her opinion of it.

  Not curious enough to ask, however, as he continued to lead her toward the Quarter without a word. Once they reached Esplanade Avenue, he turned to her and checked his phone again. This was as far as he would go, but she was still more than five blocks away from the house. Surely, she could make it on her own that distance.

  “Here,” he said, pulling a ring from his finger and handing it to her.

  She tilted her head but took the ring, observing the fleur-du-lis and cross on its surface. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Wear it.”

  “What?”

  “Put it on. It’s a symbol of protection,” he said. It wouldn’t make sense to her but any Turned that saw it would know that she was affiliated with him in some way or another. That alone could bring up its own issues, but he had no time to play babysitter.

  Of course, there would still be humans to contend with, but her chances against the Turned were better and that’s all he really cared about. If Sophie happened to get herself killed by her own kind because she felt like wandering around alone at night that wasn’t his problem.

  “Thank you,” Sophie said quietly, slipping the ring onto her finger.

  “Just go back and stay there.”

  Sophie nodded and walked away, using her phone to guide her back to the house. After half a block she glanced over her shoulder, looking for him but she wouldn’t see him. He sat back in the shadows of a massive oak tree and watched. He could swear there was a hint of disappointment on her face before she turned and hurried toward the house, but he didn’t linger on the thought. He waited until she was out of sight, then went about his business, taking in the sight of the trees in a way he hadn’t in decades.

  18

  The night was calm and quiet when Rowan pulled up to the old plantation house outside of town. He hadn’t driven his car in months, a reminder of how long it had been since he’d visited Samiell and Sarah. The last time he had come, it had been in the fall. Back then the moss-laden trees were full of cicadas and tree frogs, singing loudly into the night air. Tonight, however, all that could be heard was bare limbs scraping against one another and the gentle lap of water on the riverbank.

  Soon the sun would rise and he would need to be home to sleep, but first he had some business to attend to. He had stalled Homicide about as much as he could with Matthias but he wasn’t ready to talk to them yet. He wanted a head start on the investigation, especially since his reputation was on the line. There were things he couldn’t legally do before they interviewed Matthias, but he was old enough to understand the loopholes and use them to get answers to his questions before speaking to law enforcement. If it helped to clear Matthias before the Elders got wind of it, that was ideal. Getting Sophie out of his house and back with her own kind was a bonus.

  Rowan’s boots crunched loudly on the gravel drive leading up to the massive plantation house, towering almost as high as the mighty oaks that dotted the grounds. There was a time when Rowan had coveted the home with its pillars, shaded verandas, and front gallery where he could watch the movement on the Mississippi River without mingling with humans.

  It was close enough to the city that he could have enjoyed everything it had to offer, but far enough out that there was a sense of seclusion. A feature added by the current owner was a tall wrought iron fence that surrounded the property to keep tourists at bay. They could still be seen lurking around during peak season, but none of them had been daring enough to cross the fence.

  As splendid as the house was, it had a mystery to it that made even the locals stay away. Only the Turned and some human authorities knew who lived here, and tales of it being haunted had circulated for decades. Rowan liked that. He had loved the house since he had first seen it as just bare bones. Back then he had traveled out almost every day to see the progress, as if they were building it for him. A family of humans moved in after construction ended and Rowan walked away from the house for many years, all the while wondering what it was like inside.

  During the Great Depression, the human family who had built the home lost it and left. After that, the house fell into disrepair. Rowan had been gone during those years, traveling overseas for some time before returning to the heartbreak of the house’s decline, doubled with the fact that he was not in a place to afford the home. He had no other choice but to walk away from the house for a second time.

  In 1936, when the humans first issued Social Security numbers, the Turned Elders bought the plantation and began renovations for a Council Notary to take up residence there. During the restoration, the Elders decided it was time for them to come to an agreement with the humans, as the presence of the Turned could not be ignored much longer when identities were becoming far more solidified. Before then, people could go anywhere and reinvent themselves with new names if they wanted. The new laws and implementation of Social Security numbers forced his kind to invent ways to hide themselves.

  Now the Council Notary known as Samiell owned the plantation and Rowan visited him often, sometimes just to see the house he had fallen in love with two hundred years earlier. Lithe fingers traced the face of a lion on the ornate door knocker before rapping it hard on the strike plate.

  A lovely woman in her mid-thirties opened the door, gliding to the side to allow Rowan to enter. She greeted him with a little nod, her curly brown hair bouncing around her heart shaped face. Expressive chocolate eyes twinkled as he took her hand and kissed it lightly, her tanned skin warm and inviting.

  “Sarah. You’re well I trust?” he asked, knowing the answer. Sarah was always well. As she was a Companion to Samiell, Sarah was able to retain her youthful appearance without becoming Turned. The Notary was a bit of a homebody, rarely wandering outside of his own home unless needed, so Sarah was his only source of nourishment. Her family, and families like hers, had served the Elders and the Council for centuries. It was common knowledge among the Turned that the most elite of their kind were able to retain a single human for food, but the secret of the human feeding from their Master without being Turned was highly guarded by the Elders.

  This made Sarah a rarity. There weren’t many Companions left, but those who remained were revered and protected. The relationship she had forged over time with Samiell was a special one, resulting in the pair behaving more like family than Master and Companion. Samiell loved her dearly and she cared for him as any good daughter might care for her aged father. The pair were inseparable,

  “I’m well, thank you for asking,” she said, gracefully accepting his gesture. “Samiell is waiting for you in the study.”

  Sarah led Rowan up a beautiful, curved staircase to the second floor. Rowan was not surprised that Samiell was expecting him, even if the Notary had not been informed of his visit. S
amiell was a powerful Turned and likely had more talents than he would admit.

  In the study Sarah closed the door behind him, leaving the two men alone. Rowan had always been envious of Samiell’s study, but a large part of that was simply his love for the plantation and his jealously toward the Notary for living in it. However, a part of him was happy to see the home so well cared for and not going to rot as it had been before.

  “Ah, Rowan. Take your coat off, make yourself at home,” Samiell said, his soft, clear voice ringing out from behind a pile of journals on the desk at the far end of the room. “Just finishing up the journals of the Lessers in your area. Interesting bunch you’ve got there, if I do say so myself.” He chuckled as he stood to greet his friend.

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  Rowan removed his coat and placed it on the rack while Samiell hobbled over to a seating area by the fire made of two wingback chairs and a small round end table between them. Whereas most Turned were given their new lives at a relatively young age as a human, Samiell had been nearly ninety when he was accepted into the night. As a Turned he was stronger than an average man, but nowhere near as physically capable as a younger creature like Rowan. He was hunched over, knuckles knobby from the arthritis he’d had as a human, but no doubt was free of now, with long silver hair and a beard. The old man’s appearance had always reminded Rowan of a cliché wizard.

  “What can I do for you this fine evening?”

  “There seems to have been an incident in the Quarter possibly involving my Pupil,” Rowan began, taking a seat beside Samiell, who had settled into his chair with his hands resting across his stomach.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Homicide called me the other day and requested that I join them at the Iron Lotus. Miller said that a woman was found dead in City Park and they’re certain it was a Turned who killed her. I get the feeling that Artashir didn’t tell me everything he knows but I haven’t had the chance to go back and speak with him. Anyway, somehow they found out that Matthias and some of his human friends were hanging around there and they went to the Crow’s Nest looking for him.”

  “Hmm. I see. Do you think he did it?”

  “I’m not sure. He says he doesn’t remember, but he is obviously shaken by the prospect. I think he must have been high or drunk on Tainted blood and simply can’t remember,” Rowan growled in anger for his Pupil’s irresponsibly actions.

  “It’s possible.”

  “A couple of Walker’s officers were there. At the Iron Lotus, I mean.”

  “Looking for trouble, isn’t he?” Samiell grinned.

  “They lied right to Miller’s face. Said they were following up on a complaint,” Rowan scoffed.

  “And you didn’t call them out on it?”

  “No. Miller told me that he knows what they’re up to. That they’ve been investigating the murder on their own time. That’s how he figured out who the woman was in the first place. Her lover reported her missing and Walker made the connection, but he didn’t tell Homicide about it. The coroner thought it was odd and alerted Miller.”

  “And he didn’t confront Walker about that?”

  “He’d rather use Walker and hang him for it when he’s no longer of use. He knows how much pull Walker has in the Quarter and is getting a good laugh out of Walker’s cops doing all the work.”

  “Sounds like you have your hands full.”

  “I haven’t told you the best part yet. Matthias brought home a human girl.”

  Samiell chuckled, taking no measure to hide his delight in his friend’s misfortune. “Oh, is that so? Why exactly did he do that? Trying to live out his own personal rendition of Romeo and Juliet?”

  “It’s not funny, Samiell,” Rowan responded darkly, cutting his eyes at the Notary. “She is the cousin of the woman the police think Matthias killed. He has it in his head that if he keeps her close he’ll be able to get information from her and figure out what really happened.”

  “Ah. In that case, I see your dilemma. Can I be of any assistance?”

  Rowan sank into his chair, watching the flames absently as he chewed the pad of his thumb. “I want to find out for myself if Matthias is guilty. If he did kill that woman, I want to turn him in to the Elders before the humans can get to him.”

  “The Elders? Rowan, you know they’ll kill him. Are you prepared to send your Pupil off to die?” Samiell was no longer laughing. He leaned forward on the arm of his chair, watching Rowan’s face for any emotional slip.

  “What choice do I have, Samiell? At least the punishment from the Elders is a quick death. In a human prison, he’ll eventually get so hungry he’ll lash out at a guard or an inmate and be locked in solitary until he starves. Frankly, I’d rather be put down quickly by our own kind than suffer months of hunger.”

  “When you put it that way I suppose it’s preferable.”

  “There are times I am not fond of Matthias. I’ve made that quite clear in the two years he has been with me. That does’t mean I wish that kind of death on him.”

  “You know you don’t hate the boy,” Samiell pointed out bluntly. “You had the choice back then to kill him when you found him abandoned in your territory. You could have put him down like so many other Bastards you found, but for some reason you spared Matthias. You might not admit it out loud, but I know you care for the boy in some way. Your heart isn’t that black my friend.” He smiled kindly, patting Rowan’s arm. “I’ll help you find the real killer. As wild as Matthias is, I have a hard time believing that he is capable of killing anyone.”

  Rowan hoped the old man was right. He was right about so many other things; a fact Rowan wasn’t fond of admitting. Sometimes it was as if Samiell could see into the very hearts of all those that crossed him. It was no gift of the Turned, however, and Rowan was fairly certain it was the Notary’s human gifts that made him observant enough to notice such things.

  For one, Samiell had an eidetic memory. It was what made him such an efficient Notary. He collected the journals from every Turned in the area and read them all with great interest. Even many years later he could recall specific events written in those journals. It helped that some of his Turned talents amplified this unique ability.

  Rowan followed Samiell back to his desk where the older man shuffled through papers and journals of every color, shape, and size to find a rather large, battered log book. Inside were the complete records of every Turned that had been through the New Orleans area since Samiell became Notary in 1936.

  “Let’s see who was in your area around the time of the murder. Which was when exactly?” Samiell thumbed through the book as he awaited Rowan’s response.

  “New Year’s Day.”

  “All right. We had quite a few Turned in the area around then. High influx of tourists always brings around more of our kind. All of these Turned have been here before and never had an incident,” Samiell noted, scanning the pages with a gnarled finger. “Except this one. I remember every Turned that comes through this city, but I had never met her before She came by to get approved for entry to the city, but she isn’t recorded as having left yet. Her name is Ivanka. Her Mentor is Joramir. I know him personally. I could call him and ask about her. Figure out why Ivanka is in New Orleans and what she is like. If she is innocent, we will simply have to review the others and hope for the best. I suggest you set about informing your trusted friends to keep an eye out for her.”

  Samiell picked up the phone on his desk and pushed a button. “Sarah, dear, could you get a copy of an ID for me? Ivanka, Pupil of Joramir. Great-grand Pupil of Amnon. Thank you.”

  A few minutes later Sarah was at the door with a printed copy of the ID for Rowan.

  “And everything you need for your new human alias is in the envelope,” she said.

  Rowan thanked Sarah and read over the information on the sheet, tucking the envelope under his arm. Ivanka was a pretty woman. Very girl next door. Her skin had a sun kissed glow and she had brown doe eyes and a sweet li
ttle mouth that gave the impression of shy innocent.

  “Thank you, Samiell. Let me know if you find out anything from Joramir. I do appreciate this.” He then pulled on his black duster and was about to take his leave when Samiell’s voice stopped him.

  “Oh, Rowan. I thought perhaps I should tell you that Yvette has made a request to visit the city,” Samiell said. “She hasn’t done anything illegal, so I can’t deny her access. I’m sorry there isn’t anything I can do, my friend. Just be wary.”

  A chill ran down Rowan’s spine, his hands balled tight into fists. When he realized his emotive response was far too obvious, he forced his hands to relax. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his mouth dry as cotton.

  There was no time left in the evening for anything but a quick hunt and even that sounded unappetizing. His stomach was rumbling from hunger, but his mind was frozen in a single, paralyzing thought:

  Yvette is coming.

  19

  Night was descending on the city, though it seemed hard to tell judging by the people that still bustled about, paying little heed to the setting sun as their attentions were drawn to neon signs instead. One of the first parades of carnival season was starting and people clogged the streets along the parade route. The rhythm of the city continued uninterrupted. On the far end of the Quarter, Lukas and Sophie sat down in the house at the kitchen island over cups of coffee.

  Sophie stared into her untouched cup, her mind wandering as she absently stirred too much creamer into the dark liquid, turning it the shade of chocolate milk. Soon she would be on her way to her first night at her new job, but her mind couldn’t stay focused on that. Her thoughts kept wandering back to the events of the day, primarily her beloved cousin’s memorial.

  Sophie had taken her sister’s advice and sold the car which allowed her some extra money to go back to Mississippi. She left New Orleans early in the morning to get home in time, but once she got there, she spent the service in a whirlwind of grief and anger, avoiding the smiling face of her departed cousin that adorned the walls funeral parlor. It seemed wrong to look at her picture when Sophie had no answers. At least none that she believed. Anna had insisted that Sophie was being too hard on herself, reminding her little sister that she was no detective and could not hope to solve the case on her own. Not that her family thought there was a case anyway.