Unholy Ground

by Christine Pope

  “So…the Underhill trustees were all demons?” A little shiver ran its way down her spine. She hated to think there were more like the Whitcomb-demon out there, pretending to be human but being something entirely other.

  Entirely evil.

  “It looks that way,” Michael replied. “Which makes sense — ‘Henry’ would want associates he could trust, and who better than other demons like himself?”

  “What happened to them?”

  Michael frowned. “As far as I can tell, they lived normal lives, died, and passed on their trusteeships to their sons.”

  Voice flat, Audrey said, “I thought demons couldn’t die.”

  “No.” He offered a tight little smile before adding, “But they can relinquish their human forms and go back where they came from.”

  “And these sons you found?” she prompted. “More demons?”

  Michael’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t reply right away and instead sat there, looking uncomfortable. Wait…if those “men” had been upstanding members of society as he’d claimed, had they done the same thing as the Whitcomb-demon and had human wives? But apparently that demon, posing as Henry Clay Waters, didn’t have any children with Eleanor. Audrey had assumed that demons couldn’t breed with humans, but….

  She said, her tone calm but emphatic, “The demon didn’t try to claim Whitcomb’s children as his, even though he’d been possessing Whitcomb’s body when they were conceived. So how could these demon trustees have demon children?”

  He released a breath, looking tired and uncomfortable. “Well, there’s possession, and then there’s what the demon is doing now, which is basically borrowing the appearance of a human body. Underneath…inside…however you want to phrase it…it’s still a demon.”

  Audrey stared at Michael, wondering if her inner horror had revealed itself in her face. Apparently it had, because at last he said, “I think we’re probably dealing with half-demons here. Those offspring are called ‘cambions.’ It’s supposedly very difficult for a demon and a human to breed, but if each of these so-called trustees was able to have a child….” He shook his head, expression somewhere halfway between fear and a strange sort of wonder. “It makes me wonder how many of them might be out there.”

  That was a scenario she really didn’t want to contemplate. Was the world full of these half-breeds? Were they as evil as their demon parents? Surely Michael wasn’t planning to take on all of them as well; the Whitcomb-demon was going to be hard enough to vanquish on his own.

  “It’s all right, Audrey,” he said, and put a reassuring hand on her knee. “I’m okay with tackling one problem at a time. Those half-demon sons — if that’s even what they were — seem to have been law-abiding citizens. They married and had children, too, although I don’t see any record of those offspring being attached to the trust. Just their fathers. Seven in all.”

  Seven half-breed cambions seemed like a lot, especially when you threw the Whitcomb-demon himself into the mix. But maybe they didn’t even know what they were…maybe they’d viewed being a trustee as only part of their inheritance and not something they had to be actively involved in. It was entirely possible that none of them had even met the demon who’d set up the trust in the first place.

  That could all be wishful thinking. But until they had more information, maybe it was all right to think things weren’t as bad as she and Michael feared they might be.

  Audrey rubbed her temple. “My head is starting to hurt.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” He looked away from her, toward the window, but even though she followed his gaze, she didn’t see anything unusual, just a couple of sparrows hopping around in the grass, probably looking for seeds or insects.

  And thank God for that. She wasn’t sure she could handle another visit from Whitcomb’s ghost, although she realized that he’d made himself scarce the past day or so. Had the demon warned him away as well? It was so hard to know which rules demons and ghosts had to follow…if any. True, the demon had somehow known Whitcomb’s ghost was communicating with her on the astral plane and had quickly done his best to stop it, but she had no idea whether he had direct power over the ghost, or whether he had only been effective that one time because he’d interfered with her, a mere mortal.

  “They’re all still alive? The cambions, I mean,” she said, and Michael nodded.

  “Yes. They’d be in their late fifties or early sixties now. A couple of them have grandchildren.”

  That was a hell of a thing…no pun intended. Did those children have any idea that their great-grandfathers were demons in human guise? Probably not. While families could hide some terrible secrets, that one was a real doozy. She had a feeling that the original trustees had done their best to conceal everything and anything about their true origins.

  The image of Susan — Eleanor — laughing up into the demon’s face passed through Audrey’s mind once more. That pretty young woman could have had no idea what she’d invited into her life, into her bed.

  “What happened to the wives of the original trustees?” she asked abruptly. And although she didn’t ask the question, Did they end up like Susan?, Michael appeared to understand what was occupying her thoughts.

  “They seem to have lived ordinary lives — lives of privilege, true — and grew old and died. None of them are living now. If they knew anything of what their husbands were, they took that knowledge with them to the grave.”

  But not before leaving behind half-human children, sons who had continued the line. “And the trustees?”

  “Like I said, their sons took over for them.” Michael rubbed the stubble on his chin; he only shaved about every three or four days, and so that stubble was edging close to being the beginnings of a beard at this point. “The demons themselves would have given up their human bodies and gone back to hell.”

  He talked about it as though it were a real place. But then, if demons were real, they had to come from somewhere. Hell was just as good a name for it as anything else. “Was that their goal?” Audrey asked. “To establish some kind of foothold here through half-breed offspring?”

  “That might have been part of it.” Michael looked even more tired as he spoke, as if he was beginning to realize the problem they faced was far bigger than he’d previously imagined. “To what end, I’m not entirely sure. The first few generations would have powers beyond those of normal humans, but as time wore on and the demon blood got more and more diluted, it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

  “Unless those with demon blood were encouraged to marry each other.” Audrey could see that happening, all under what looked like the innocent guise of getting the children of old friends to know each other, to date and eventually marry. That sort of thing used to happen much more than it did now, but it would definitely be one way to ensure that the demon inheritance in those families didn’t get too diluted.

  “That’s a possibility, except that it looks as though the first generation of human-demon offspring were all male.” For a moment or two, Michael was quiet. Pondering what kind of threat these people might pose? Maybe. “To be honest, unless the Whitcomb-demon has co-opted them as his own private army, I can’t worry about them right now. And unless we can track him down, we’re just going to keep going in circles.”

  Audrey didn’t really want to think about that, but she knew he was right. They could speculate and postulate, formulate scenarios and make battle plans, but until Michael’s friend Fred was able to give them some concrete leads on where the demon might currently be holed up, their plans wouldn’t amount to much.

  “Then we might as well go in circles on a full stomach,” she said, slipping her bookmark back into The Stand, which had lain open on her lap this whole time, before she set the book down on the table next to her. “Let’s have some lunch.”

  “I thought you weren’t hungry.”

  “I am now. I guess realizing that there are part-demon beings among us worked up an appetite.”
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br />   He smiled then, but Audrey could still see the weariness in his face, the strain of the past few days taking its toll. So far, he hadn’t said much about Colin, and she wasn’t sure whether he ever would. His death had been terrible, but it wasn’t quite the same as losing a family member, or a truly close friend. They’d been business partners, and a little more than acquaintances, which put their relationship in an oddly gray area.

  She wouldn’t push, because doing so wouldn’t serve any real purpose. If Michael wanted to talk, she would be here for him, just as she would if he decided to put that particular tragedy behind him so he could focus on…not revenge, exactly, but justice. Yes, they needed to get justice for Colin, and for Susan, and for all the other victims of this demon. Even for Whitcomb himself, although he certainly wasn’t blameless. If it hadn’t been for him, none of them would have been sent down this dark road.

  Still wearing that tired smile, Michael said, “Lunch it is,” and rose from where he’d been sitting on the ottoman.

  As she got up as well, Audrey wondered if they would ever get to the end of the path they were traveling…and what would be waiting for them there when they did.

  Chapter 13

  The food actually helped a little, so Michael was glad he hadn’t protested when Audrey made the suggestion that they break for lunch. And he was doubly glad that she made sure their conversation consisted of normal, mundane things — planning a trip to the grocery store and Trader Joe’s for the next day, since they were getting low on a few essentials, asking a bit more about the conference at the Hotel Del Coronado in July. He wanted to focus on topics like that, because they reminded him that he and Audrey had a future they were planning for, that his whole existence hadn’t been completely consumed by the hunt for their demon.

  Whoever…and wherever…he was.

  After lunch, though, just as Michael was settling back down to do more research, his phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the screen, since he figured it might be Detective Mendoza calling back, and he was in the middle of writing something down and didn’t want to lose the thread, even if that meant typing one-handed until he was done with the call.

  The voice on the phone was female, however, and obviously British. “Is this Michael Covenant?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Who’s calling?”

  “I’m — this is Emma Weston. Colin Turner’s sister.”

  At once, Michael lifted his free hand from the keyboard and closed the laptop. “I’m so very sorry for your loss,” he said, although he knew the words were hollow, the same thing parroted time and time again by people who didn’t know what else to say in such a situation.

  “It’s all right.” However, her voice slipped a little on that final syllable, telling Michael it probably wasn’t all right. “I hadn’t seen Colin in more than ten years. He kept urging me to come visit him in Los Angeles, but with the children in school….” The sentence dangled, as if Emma actually wasn’t quite sure what had prevented her from visiting her brother in L.A. “But that’s not why I called. Colin gave me your phone number just last week and told me to call you if anything should happen to him.”

  “He did?” Michael asked, surprise sharpening his tone. Did Colin somehow have a premonition that things might go south in a sudden and spectacular fashion? It was hard to say, because he’d certainly never evinced any sign of psychic ability before then.

  “Yes. I thought it was strange, and I asked him if everything was okay, and what on earth he was going on about. But he wouldn’t tell me, only said that it was probably nothing but he thought he might as well hedge his bets, just in case.” A ragged little sigh, as if she was doing her best to hold back tears. “It seems he was right. A detective from the Los Angeles police department just called me to express his condolences, and also to tell me that Colin’s — that Colin’s body was going to be released from the morgue soon, and they needed instructions.”

  “I can help,” Michael said quickly. “Whatever you need.”

  She made a hiccupy cough, so much like a suppressed sob that Michael could feel his own throat close up in sympathy. He hoped she had someone there with her in her grief — she’d given a different last name from Colin’s, and so he assumed she must be married, but possibly she was divorced and on her own. “Thank you, Mr. Covenant.”

  “Michael, please.”

  “Michael,” she repeated, not sounding very sure of herself. “It shouldn’t be terribly difficult — Colin wanted to be cremated. He always said there were too many people on this planet already, and there was no point in him taking up another few square feet just to sit in a box for eternity.”

  That did sound like something Colin would say, and Michael found himself smiling slightly. “I can handle that for you. I assume you would like his remains sent to you in England?”

  “If you could.” A pause, and then Emma added, “I know that probably sounds dreadful. Thomas and I — Thomas is my husband — discussed whether Colin should be buried there in L.A., since he loved it so much, but we thought it best for him to come home so we could have him here with us.”

  “I don’t think it sounds dreadful at all,” Michael said quickly. “If he didn’t leave specific instructions beyond cremation, then I think he would probably have wanted to go home to his family. I’ll look into the requirements for shipping him to you, but you’ll probably need to get back in touch with Detective Mendoza and let him know that you’ve authorized me to oversee the transfer of his body to a local funeral home.”

  This all sounded very clinical, and Michael wondered if he should have tried to think of a way to state things a little less baldly. In a way, he thought it might be for the best, however. It was easier to do what needed to be done when they remained focused on the logistics of the situation, rather than allowing themselves to linger on the very tragic reality of losing a friend, or a family member.

  “I’ll do that,” Emma said. “And thank you so much, Michael — I don’t know what I would have done if Colin hadn’t told me about you.”

  She probably would have had to fly to Los Angeles to manage everything herself. Emma hadn’t mentioned how old her children were, but having to drop everything to fly halfway around the world was a major disruption no matter how you looked at it, even with a husband to look after your children while you were gone.

  “No need to worry about that,” Michael told her. “I’ll take care of everything. You do what you need to do to take care of your family.”

  “We’re in shock, I suppose,” Emma replied. “The girls had never even met their uncle, but to lose him like this….”

  Yes, unexpected death hit the hardest. Colin had only been forty-one years old. And it wasn’t as though he’d become suddenly ill or lost his life in a traffic accident, something tragic but not completely out of the ordinary. But to be murdered, and in such a way….

  Right then, Michael could only hope that Detective Mendoza hadn’t shared the more gruesome aspects of the case with her. There was no need for Emma to know anything of that.

  “It’s hit all of us very hard,” he said. “But Audrey and I will make sure that Colin is taken care of.”

  “Audrey?”

  “She also worked on the show Colin had in production when he died.” As he spoke, Michael had to hope that Colin hadn’t told his sister about Project Demon Hunters’ cancellation. Probably not; it didn’t sound as if they maintained very close contact.

  “Oh, of course,” Emma said. “Another of those supernatural whatsits, right? Ghosts and such?”

  “Yes, something like that. Anyway, Audrey and I will handle things on this end. But make sure you call the detective and let him know you’ve made arrangements, and then I can get in contact with him to expedite things.”

  “I will,” she promised. “Thank you, Michael. I’ll take care of that now.”

  Emma ended the call, and he put the phone back down on the table. A minute or so later, Audrey came into the library, looki
ng rosy and windblown. She’d gone back out to sit in the sun while he worked, but apparently she’d heard his phone ring, or maybe she’d decided she needed to come inside for a while. She cocked her head at him. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Colin’s sister Emma,” he replied.

  Immediately, her expression sobered. “Oh, no. How’s she doing?”

  “About as well as can be expected. I told her we’d handle getting Colin cremated and sending the remains to her in England.”

  Audrey winced but then looked resigned. “I hadn’t even thought about that. But I suppose we’re all he had here.”

  Which in its own way was rather sad. Colin had lived in Los Angeles for more than a decade, but as far as Michael had been able to determine, he didn’t have any close friends. His acquaintances had all been other people in the industry, and certainly none of them probably would have been willing to step in and handle the matters that needed to be taken care of.

  “It looks that way,” Michael said. “At least it’s a few days past the first of the month. I have to assume his rent for March is paid, which will give us some time to get things sorted out at his house.”

  “Did he have a will?”

  “Not that I know of. I’ll ask Detective Mendoza when I talk to him, in case they found something among his belongings when they searched the house for evidence. But Emma made it sound as though his wish to be cremated had been a purely verbal thing, not anything he had in writing.” Michael ran a hand through his hair, pushing away the annoying lock that always wanted to fall over his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s just…as much as I know we need to do this for Colin, for his sister’s peace of mind, I also feel as though we don’t have the time to deal with it.”

  “But we do.” Audrey came over to him and rested her hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. The knot of tension at the base of his neck began to give way a little, and he let out a sigh as she continued. “Until we get some actionable information from Fred, there isn’t a lot else we can do. In the meantime, we can take care of Colin and give his poor sister at least a little peace.”