Publish and Perish Page 17

  “It will try to evolve,” I whispered.

  “Yes. And at base we’re human so it might not be all that hard for it to make the jump from the Powers to normal humans. And the one thing we do know is that this thing kills.”

  “A world without humans,” I murmured.

  “Hmm, sounds like an Álfar wet dream,” Hettie mused.

  “No way,” John replied. “They’re like cats, and cats need something to torment.”

  “Sounds like you need therapy. Self-loathing, much?” Hettie shot back.

  “What he needs is to get the ice out of his eye,” I said.

  “Ice? What are you talking about?”

  “What he needs is for everybody to shut up about him,” John grunted.

  16

  Thirty (silent) minutes later Hettie made the turn to the riding facility. The afterschool jump class was busy circling the arena, and popping over the brightly colored fences. As usual it was all little girls. I found myself longing for the days when I was twelve with nothing more pressing on my mind than which horse I would get to ride and whether I could stay late to help feed rather than having to hurry home to the Bainbridge house and do my homework. I tried to remember those days, but the featureless face of the Hunter kept rising up.

  “Why is that?” I asked abruptly as we rolled past the arena, heading for the barn.

  “Why is what?”

  “Sorry, guess you’re not telepathic after all. Why do the vampires … real vampires … well, not creepy vampires … hate the Hunters so much?”

  “Because the Hunters are mutated vampires. They are the men who broke the rules.”

  “Rules like loving a woman?” I asked slowly.

  Hettie nodded. “Or who have Made a woman or even considered Making a woman, for that matter.”

  I thought of the creature’s blank face and sucking mouth. Then I saw David, pictured him twisted into one of those things. Cold washed through me and I began to shake uncontrollably. I sat shivering, thinking how close David had come.

  “I thought they were just killed.”

  “It would be kinder.”

  We pulled up in front of the barn and entered. Dust and bits of wood shavings danced gold and silver in the gleam of the westering sun. Inquiring nickers greeted us. As we paced down the length of the breezeway the horses hung their heads over the stall doors. I bestowed pats as I walked past and an admonition.

  “It’s not dinnertime yet, guys.”

  Vento’s gleaming white head was thrust out of the stall. He watched us intently as we walked to his large stall at the end of the barn. Before I would have taken this as just an example of his affable nature and his fondness for me. Now it took on a whole different meaning that still struck me as sort of creepy. We reached the stall and I stared into his large dark eyes with the unusual blue ring around the iris. Hettie and I exchanged a glance.

  “I really wish Syd hadn’t made that crack about Mr. Ed,” I muttered. “I feel like an idiot.” I took a deep breath and asked hesitantly, “Jolly? You in there?”

  The mobile pricked ears swiveled between Hettie and me, then the head went up and down as if he was nodding yes.

  Hettie glanced over at me. “Told you.”

  “That’s a common action in horses. They do that naturally,” I countered.

  Vento whiffed and spun away from the door, paced his stall, and then pawed at the wood shavings near the automatic waterer. He then returned to the stall door and gave a trumpeting whinny that had all the other horses in the barn calling. He once again paced away and pawed at the particular spot.

  I pulled back the handle, pulled open the stall door, and slipped inside. Vento placed his head against my back and shoved me toward the corner where the waterer stood. It was hard enough that it almost knocked me off my feet.

  “Hey, watch it!” I said, not certain who I was addressing.

  I studied the wooden walls of the stall. There were places where the wood was scarred from a bored stallion’s teeth being dragged across the panels. Were any of them more regular and deliberate? It was too dim to tell. “There’s a flashlight in the office. Would you get it, please?”

  “Use this.” She pulled out her cell phone and cued up the flashlight app. I shined the light on the stall walls. The marks were all around, most of them random, but on the wall next to the automatic waterer the lines crossed each other.

  “Check this out,” I called. Hettie and John joined me in the stall and we bent down to peer at the marks. It was rough and crude, but it was a shape Hettie and I recognized. We both straightened and stared at each other while Vento watched us, his ears flicking between us.

  “I take it that means something to the two of you,” John drawled.

  “Yeah, it’s the Masonic symbol, the square and the compass,” I replied. I looked into the horse’s eyes. “Okay, I guess you really are in there.” There was a fervent nod of agreement. “You know this is really weird, right?” The head went up and down again.

  Hettie stepped around so she could look in the horse’s eyes. “Linnet doesn’t believe that her father is involved in this. Can you set her straight?” Vento/Jolly nodded again.

  “Was my father among the people who attacked you?” Vento shook his head.

  “I could have told you that,” Hettie said.

  “But you didn’t,” I countered. “Maybe because it undermined your narrative?”

  “No, that’s not why. I just didn’t think of it.”

  John stepped in. “Was he with the people who broke into Linnet’s apartment?” A vigorous nod.

  “Did you actually see him?”

  The long equine head swung over to Hettie as if seeking guidance. “Jolly wouldn’t have. It was Fusashi who was watching your father.”

  “Well, that’s convenient since this Fusashi guy isn’t here and can’t tell me this himself,” I said snidely.

  “You’re right,” Hettie said. “I should have called him in, but we didn’t want to take our eyes off your father and the other Black Masons. There’s too much at stake.”

  “Which is just another glib excuse.”

  “I can get him here.”

  John stepped in. “It won’t help. She won’t believe his unsupported word.”

  I folded my arms. “Yep, that’s true. I need proof.”

  “And I might be able to get it,” John said. “There are traffic cameras all over town, security cameras on nearby businesses, that kind of thing. I just need to find a cop willing to help.”

  “I’ve got one,” I said. “Lucius Washington at the 19th.”

  “Great, I’ll talk to him.”

  It had been weird leaving Vento’s stall. Hettie was unperturbed. She hugged his neck and said farewell to Jolly as if his soul and consciousness wasn’t living inside the skin of a horse. I nodded, gave an awkward wave. John just left. In this particular instance I envied his lack of emotion.

  This time I took the backseat of the car. I wanted to be alone with my tumultuous thoughts. Hettie tried to elicit polite chitchat from John and found him to be an unresponsive participant, so the drive back to Manhattan was made in total silence. As we neared Manhattan John thrust his hand at me.

  “Phone,” he ordered.

  “What?”

  “I need to call this cop.”

  “Let me prime him first.” John looked sour, but nodded and handed me his phone. I called the detective. “Hi, Lucius, it’s me.”

  “Hey, Lynnie, how are you?”

  “Fine. I’m fine—”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  I rolled my eyes, hating the fact that everyone around me seemed to be a damn psychic. “I’m okay. I probably sound funny because I need another favor.”

  “What do you need?”

  “My friend can probably explain it better.” I handed the phone to John.

  “Hey, Detective, this is John O’Shea. I work for IMG as their investigator. I was with the Philly PD.” John paused, listening
then said, “Yeah, I know Lieutenant Heine. Hell of a gal.” Another pause. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Look, I need to take a look at any surveillance cameras up around Linnet’s apartment. Can you get me access? Tomorrow morning? That’ll be great. See you then.” He snapped shut the phone and handed it back to me. “Tomorrow,” he said unnecessarily.

  Another night without knowing, I thought, but I didn’t voice that. I just nodded.

  “So, what now?” Hettie asked. “May I please take you someplace safe?”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Soon.” I leaned forward and tapped John on the shoulder. “We need to go to the bank first.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can check the messages on my real phone.”

  Hettie shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  I cut her off. “My decision.”

  * * *

  Hettie and I waited in one of the small privacy rooms at the bank. We had made it with only fifteen minutes to spare, and the staff wasn’t happy about us wanting to get into the safety deposit box, but complied. John entered carrying the box and set it on the counter. I pulled out my phone. It came to life and the icon appeared indicating I had twenty-three messages. I scrolled the list. Most were from my father. The last one was from my mother. I set the phone on speaker and cued it to play. Her odd speaking pattern where she emphasized the wrong word and her overly loud delivery filled the room.

  “Oh dearest. It’s so terrible. Charlie’s been hurt. He’s in the hospital. You need to come home. Right away.” A knot of fear formed in the center of my chest, but doubt and suspicion were just as strong. I tapped on the final message from my father.

  “I know you won’t believe me, but maybe you’ll listen to your mother. She’ll be calling you. Your brother was frantic. He started driving to New York and he was in an accident. He’s in the hospital. That’s the truth. You need to come to Newport.” Then his voice sounded a bit distant. “You need to call her, Cathy, right now.” The message ended.

  “Do you want me to check the papers about a wreck? Call the local hospitals?” John asked.

  I shook my head. “This was two days ago. Another few minutes isn’t going to make a difference.”

  I ran through the rest of the messages in reverse order. After the message about Charlie there were a lot of angry ones from my dad. What was I thinking? I was worrying my mother sick. My brother was frantic. How could I behave this way? Then the first six messages. They were contrite. He begged my pardon. He loved me. He had overreacted. He didn’t want me to ruin my life. He was just thinking of me.

  John and Hettie were staring intently at me. “You’re not thinking of going—”

  I interrupted the vampire. “Jesus, how stupid does he think I am?”

  “He doesn’t actually know you very well,” John pointed out.

  I didn’t answer. I wanted to pace, to run, to flee from the situation, but the space was tiny and we were jammed together. I breathed hard and tried to analyze my chaotic emotions. I should have been devastated, but in some ways not much had changed. I had been living with this sense of abandonment since I was eight years old. For years a kernel of doubt and fear and hurt had lived inside me. I had been certain I had been sent away to live with our vampire liege, Meredith Bainbridge, because my family hadn’t wanted me once my brother was born.

  The truth was much, much worse. This horror could not have been inflicted on me without my father’s knowledge, and worse, his consent. And my mother? Had she known too? All the pain, rage, and sorrow of my childhood came rushing back. My father had gambled with my life first as an infant and then all through my childhood. He hadn’t protected me, his allegiance to this group had been stronger than his love for his child. I wasn’t his daughter. I was a tool. I had been twisted and changed to deal death to his enemies.

  Hettie’s cold hand landed lightly on my shoulder. “What can I do? How can I help?”

  “You can’t. I have to deal with this. With him.”

  “And do what?”

  “I don’t know yet. I have to accept that he’s my enemy. He turned me into a weapon. Well, he would do well to remember that a weapon can always be turned against its maker.” I dashed a hand across my eyes, wiping away the betraying tears, and looked at John. “We don’t have to bother with the surveillance.”

  “Yeah, we do,” John said. “What you’re saying now—it’s nothing but brag and bravado. This is your dad. You have to be absolutely convinced. If you’re not you’ll hesitate at a time when hesitating could ruin everything. They’re going to try to grab you again. We … you have to keep that from happening since we have no idea how this thing manifests. It might kill you when it goes active. You really want to take that chance?”

  * * *

  We were back in the car. Hettie looked back at me. “Now may I take you someplace safe?”

  “Not yet. I want to talk to Ken,” I said. “I have questions.”

  “Well, I’m going to keep the two of you together so I guess that’s okay.”

  “They need to stay with me,” John said abruptly. “I can take us all into Fey if anybody comes after them.”

  Hettie glanced over at him. “Why don’t you just take them there now?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Not without dinner first!” I protested.

  “I could eat,” Hettie said.

  “You’re really going to go into a restaurant and order off the sipping menu?” I asked. “You’re not supposed to exist.”

  “No, we’re going to a Starbucks and John will order for me. Grande Premium blend. No one will know it’s not coffee.”

  “They will if you get blood mustache on your upper lip,” John said.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  John tugged thoughtfully at his upper lip. “We’ll go someplace where the service sucks because they don’t pay any attention to the customers. I know just the place,” he concluded.

  Hettie laughed. “Well, that’s a hell of a recommendation.”

  It wasn’t easy prying Ken away from his specimen, and he was very pungent when he climbed into the backseat with me. He was also babbling,

  “The tongue is fascinating. It seems to serve as an olfactory organ, which suggests the parasite has a distinctive odor.”

  “Speaking of odor,” I said, which was hard since I was trying to breathe through my mouth.

  John said to Hettie, “Swing by my apartment so he can shower and we can burn his clothes.”

  “Hey, what am I supposed to wear?” Ken objected.

  “We’re about the same size.”

  “Why can’t I just go to my apartment?” We all gave him an incredulous look. “Oh, yeah, right. Forgot. Oh, and I think the tongue and those faint scales also throw off sonic signals so they don’t run into objects despite being blind.” I shivered and looked away. Ken noticed. “Oh, sorry, too soon? I guess it must be upsetting since it nearly killed you.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I answered.

  It took another hour, but eventually we were settled at a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant. John had taken me to dinner there. It had been the first meal we had ever shared. It was the same bored teenager waiting on us, and he had an earbud in one ear connected to the iPod in his hip pocket. It was also pushing nine o’clock so the place was empty aside from us. John started to order, then stopped and looked at Ken.

  “I realized you might be better at this than me,” he said to the Chinese scientist.

  “Not really. I’m third generation.”

  “Okay then.”

  Food began arriving and we ate. Hettie draped herself in a chair and sipped her Starbucks blood. I took a look around, but the waiter was back in the kitchen. I said in a low tone, “My boss always hated the blood from Starbucks,” I said. “He said they were collecting from homeless people.”

  “This whole connoisseur thing is just silly,” Hettie said.

  “So there isn’t a difference
in flavor?” Ken asked.

  “Sure there is, but having us act like wine snobs makes us even more obnoxious than we already are. Acting all superior isn’t going to endear us to people.”

  “Hettie, there’s nothing you can do that would endear you to normal people,” I said. “You’re predators. You scare us.”

  “Are we more frightening than werewolves?”

  I thought about it for a moment while I dragged a handful of chow mien noodles through sweet and sour dipping sauce and slowly chewed on them. “Yeah, I think you are. You’re not only predators you’re dead predators.”

  “The Dead Predators. That’d be an awesome name for a rock band,” Ken said.

  I found myself chuckling and I blessed him for the momentary release from worry, fear, and grief.

  “We’ll start it. Does it matter that I can’t sing?” I asked.

  “We’ll put you on drums or something.” Ken grinned at me.

  “Assuming either of you survive,” John said.

  Ken gulped. I glared and Hettie’s brows climbed toward her hairline. “Wow, you’re a real asshole,” she said.

  I went to John’s defense. “He can’t help it. His mother did something to him. It killed his emotions.”

  “Magic?” Hettie asked, genuinely interested.

  “Yeah.” He indicated his blind eye. “She stuck a sliver of ice in my eye.”

  “Ah, so that’s what you were talking about in the car. Well, as you’ve seen with Jolly, we have people who are magic wielders. We might be able to help.”

  “Sounds good.” John pointed at me. “But keep the focus on her for now. She’s the one in real trouble.”

  Everybody stared at me. It made me nervous and I dropped my handful of noodles into the sauce. I tried to fish them out with my chopsticks which just made things worse. John pulled over the bowl and picked them out.

  “You did say you had questions,” Hettie said.

  I looked to Ken. “So we’ve established that I carry this parasite that can kill vampires and werewolves, but I worked at a vampire law firm and no vampire died there. And Hettie’s been hanging around me and she’s not dead or dying. So what triggers this thing?”