Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (21 page)

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see he wasn’t kidding. In the words of Ron Burgundy, “that escalated quickly.” Getting to my feet, I followed the man. “Show me the way.”

He guided us through a couple of hallways until we reached a black metal security door. He waved me ahead and pointed at it. “Place your right hand on the door. If it unlocks you live; if it doesn’t....”

My chest tightened and I fought back panic. There wasn’t a palm scanner in sight, and even if there had been I was confident I wouldn’t be granted access. But the gun leveled at the back of my head was a great motivator to do what was asked of me. There was a series of clicks, pops, and gears whirring as the door lock popped and it swung open. Then it struck me…magic. The scars on my hand must contain a unique signature to grant me such access.

I heard Gabriel click the safety on the weapon before holstering it. “Welcome to Casa De Morte.”

Stepping through the door, I found myself faced with dozens of individual rooms built out of boxes, crates, and artwork. At the far end of the warehouse were a few cars. All but one military style oversized Hummer with tinted windows were antiques. Another section was littered with weapons of various types displayed in cases, on tables, and hung on the wall. Just past that were racks of what looked to be different types of body armor, coats, and other miscellaneous articles of clothing.

I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice. “What’s all this?”

He swept his hand out in a grand fashion. “These are the belongings of the previous
vigiles
.” He pulled a face as he thought about it. “They keep things that belonged to their predecessors for either sentimental reasons or practical ones. Sometimes one
vigiles
will adopt things from prior ones. It belongs to you now…look around and see if anything strikes your fancy.” He pointed at the far end. “I’ll place my mother’s things at the end down there.”

I followed his hand and saw that there were already several things there. “You started already?”

Gabriel’s face clouded with emotion as happiness and sadness danced with everything in between. “She lived here part of the week to spend time with me.” He walked me down to the spot Martha called home. He shined, waving me over some invisible line. “It’s been like this since I was a child. She would come and stay. I’ve been to her house.” He looked down into my eyes, making sure I understood. “That was never her home.” He waved back to the open room and beamed. “This was home. I think she had more of HER things here than the place she had in the city.”

Regarding the makeshift room, I couldn’t help but admire the ability to turn such a place into a real home. “Either way, I’ll be paying her place a visit at some point in the near future. Is there anything you want me to bring back?”

He never hesitated. “There’s nothing there I’d ever want.” He nodded at the big recliner for him and a smaller wing chair seated next to it and smiled. “All of her photos, notes, and other essentials were kept here.”

Trepidation crept onto his face when he realized that this place was now in my care. Putting a hand on the big man’s arm, I looked up at him. “Whatever you do, don’t change it too much. This is just as much your home as it was hers, and that’s not changing.”

The dread subsided if only a little. “Are you going to turn me in?”

Pondering how best to handle the situation, I did my best to offer him a job, while still letting him know that he couldn’t stay hidden. “I will eventually have to tell people about you, but as
vigiles
I can employ you. Just say the word.”

Gabriel mulled it over for all of five seconds before agreeing. “Sure. Not like I have a lot of choices.”

He was right, he didn’t, but the denarius was very insistent that I needed him to be clear. “You’re going to need to be explicit in your answer. Which means yes or no.”

He stood up straight and said, “Yes, I’ll do the job.”

The denarius instructed me how to proceed, I moved to stand in front of the big man. Grabbing his left arm, I turned it so the bottom of his wrist was up. Placing my right hand over it, I felt power surge through me and into him, leaving me dizzy and weak for a moment. When I lifted my hand the Aquila appeared.

Gabriel gawked at his wrist. “What’s this?”

The denarius whispered inside my mind and I repeated. “That mark means that you are a centurion and a ranked servant of the
vigiles
, and me in particular. It grants you certain rights within the Archive.” I held up my hand to stop his questions. “Not that I know what they are at the moment, but it has to be better than those of a rogue nephilim.”

The puzzlement on his face was clear. “You can do that?”

Allowing my eyes to linger on the Aquila, I shrugged. “Apparently.”

He staggered off to the big recliner and fell back into it, ogling his wrist. “Thank you.”

I hated to burst his bubble, but I needed him to understand some hard facts. “Don’t thank me yet.”

“Why not?” he asked.

My heart fell when I saw the anxiety on the man’s face. “Because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. If I die, so does the sigil on your arm.” Pulling my phone out, I saw it was nearly eleven and my stomach was growling. “Any chance of finding lunch around here before I start looking around?”

Gabriel perked up at the mention of food and got to his feet. “No, but if you don’t mind waiting, I can order pizza. You could look around till it arrives.”

Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out a hundred. “Order whatever you want for yourself, but I’m a big fan of meat lovers.”

Gabriel took the money, heading for the door. “I’ll take care of it.” He stopped just before reaching the door and turned back. “It’s good to see that there’s another
vigiles
so quickly.”

The way he said it made me wonder. “Why is that?”

His eyes darted around the room, afraid of being overheard. “No one wants to let Andrew handle the investigation into my mother’s death.” He visibly quaked in fear at the thought. “No one.”

The distinct awe and fear people felt when speaking of my uncle disturbed me. “He can’t be that scary.”

The look of disdain he shot me was clear. “It’s obvious just how little you know your uncle.”

With that he stuffed the cash in his pocket and strode out of the warehouse. While I may not have been as familiar with my uncle as some people, I couldn’t have possibly misjudged him that badly. Could I? It didn’t matter at this point, because it was now my job to handle things and that would remain so. From what I could tell from the books I’d read last night, the only person who could countermand any order, judgement, or opinion that I may have would be Amelia. Normally one
vigiles
didn’t get involved in another’s territory unless the
vigiles
in question was somehow outside the law.

Skipping the individual rooms that were created by the makeshift walls of boxes, crates, and artwork hung on latticed rebar, I headed for the weapons. When I was talking to Gabriel, I’d kept seeing light glint off one of the swords, as if it were calling to me via Morse code. At the back of the room atop a dusty table lay a gladius, a type of sword used by the ancient Roman infantry.

I took the handkerchief out of my pocket, running it down the length of the black blade and wiping away the dust. The hilt was made of ebony wood with an onyx pummel. From tip to pummel it was two and a half feet long. The stone was surprisingly dust free, which meant that it was what had refracted the light. Grasping the hilt, I pulled it off the table and it vibrated in my hand as if it were alive. The denarius rejoiced as I flipped the sword over in my hand, getting a feel for the weight of it. Grabbing the scabbard, I sheathed the weapon before tucking it under my arm.

It wasn’t the only item calling to me. I followed the pull of something else as I scoured the tables before ducking under one to pull out a wooden crate. There lay a wakizashi, two feet of gently curving Japanese steel coated in silver, with a plain wooden handle. When I picked it up with my free hand, it reacted to me much the same way as the gladius but with a higher frequency. Sheathing the weapon, I tucked it under the same arm before heading out. Just before I left I picked up a metal folding knife that I clipped onto the pocket of my jeans.

Stopping at the next little shop, I found a set of chestnut brown leg and chest armor. It wasn’t something you’d find at your standard Renaissance Fair, but was something I could pass off as motorcycle gear if it came down to it. I looked around for a bag, and of course found no such thing. So I went back and grabbed the now empty wooden crate I’d gotten the wakizashi from, placing both swords and armor into it for ease of transport.

Lugging the crate back to the front, I found the armory door open with Gabriel sitting at the far end devouring a sausage pizza. He waved a hand at the closed box and grinned. “All yours…I can’t stand pepperoni.”

With a quick nod, I opened the box and pulled out a slice before plopping into the nearest chair. “Did Martha have an actual office here or just the place out back?”

Gabriel waved a greasy hand to something out the door. “Take the first left, and two doors down you’ll find where she did almost all of her work.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

Two slices later I was in Martha’s office sifting through notes, not just about this case but others she was working as the
vigiles
of such a large area. Finally, I stumbled upon a couple of files she’d stuffed into the center drawer of her desk. The first was labeled Timothy Miller. When I opened it I found a photo of the fat man who’d confronted me Monday morning on orders from his employer. The file told me he was hired muscle out of Vancouver. His long and varied rap sheet spanned breaking and entering to attempted murder, which he had served time for. After he was released he left Canada, and had become an employee of Walter Percy nearly ten years ago.

Fuck me! Walter was involved in this shit, and now I had proof!

The next file was labeled Chan Wong. The photo revealed him to be the man that attacked Heather and I Sunday night. Mr. Wong was a shapeshifter out of China, who’d escaped the authorities there two years ago and now worked for Walter Percy. I was surprised to see that Mr. Wong was only sixteen years old, and then I remembered that shapeshifters aged at twice the rate of normal humans.

Things were starting to fall into place; I didn’t have enough to confront Walter, but that wasn’t very far in the future. First I needed to get my hands on Timothy, and hopefully have him give me information about Walter. Not that it would gain him a reprieve.

First things first, I needed to speak with Andrew and Isidore and visit Martha’s home to see if there was anything else I needed to be aware of. Finding a clean file, I slipped a few of her notes and the photos inside for safekeeping. Grabbing the file and the crate, I waved my goodbye’s to Gabriel and headed back into the city, hitting rush hour traffic.

Chapter 14

The glare of the early evening sun beat down on the city as I turned off St. Charles onto 3rd. Two blocks later I made a right onto Coliseum just to double back on 4th. New Orleans was full of one-way streets, making it virtually impossible to make it anywhere without making U-turns and or going around entire blocks to make it home.

Midway down 4th Street, standing in front of the gate leading into Andrew’s driveway, stood the very man I wanted to see, Timothy Miller. Slowing, I idled into a parking spot across the street and threw the car into park. Taking my time as I turned off the engine, I watched Timmy, who looked anxious as he sweated bullets fidgeting there in the heat. Finally, I stepped out of the car, pocketing the keys, letting gravity close the heavy metal door behind me.

Spreading my arms wide in welcome, I couldn’t help but smirk at the fat man’s discomfort. “Good to see you again, Timmy.”

Timothy snapped his head back in shock at the mention of his name. He moved his greasy hand around his backside to produce a Glock 9mm, which he leveled in my direction. “How do you know my name, monkey?”

Leisurely crossing the road, I held my arms bent at the elbow, raising my hands about shoulder high. “You’re from Vancouver, right?” Bending a finger in his direction, I watched him shake. “I’m pretty new here so at first I thought you were Cajun, but now I know better.”

His hands quaked, and every time he spoke he waved the gun around like an idiot unaccustomed to handling such a weapon. The fool was more likely to shoot himself than me.

His voice quivered as he spewed spittle in my direction. “Where’s my cane?”

And now we’d found the heart of the matter, the cane. He didn’t care that I knew his name and where he was from; his overriding motivation was the cane.

Cocking my head to the side, I scowled down at him, just out of arm's length. My lips pursed, I scrunched up my face in one of those “Well” type of looks. “Funny story. After I went upstairs the other morning, I snapped it in two.” With an unconcerned wave of my hand, I moved slightly closer. “The good news is you’re here, and I needed to speak with you.”

Screaming at me in utter despair, he gripped the weapon tightly and pulled the trigger, missing me by a couple of feet, the bullet marring the neighbors’ red brick privacy fence.  “Liar!” He put both hands on the gun, trying to steady the weapon. “Tell me where it is!”

Sweat ran into his eyes, forcing them closed. That’s when I struck. Wrapping my hand around the gun, I jerked it hard to the left and pulled. At the same moment I pulled the knife off my pocket, thumbing it open. I slid the steel blade between two ribs, scraping against the sternum before striking the heart.

With a vicious twist I heaved the little fat man off the ground as I ripped the pistol out of his hands. I brought him close and whispered in his ear. “A little advice for your next life. Don’t threaten to kill someone, just do it!”

With a hearty shove I pulled the knife free, letting him sink lifelessly to the ground. The gates flew open as Andrew stormed out of the drive. Power washed off him in waves, pulsating across the ground with enough force to move Timothy’s body several feet. Isidore strode out from behind Andrew, his face twisted, preparing to transform into the beast he kept just below the skin.

Leaning over, I wiped my blade clean on Timothy’s shirt before checking for a pulse. Not that I expected to find one, it was a gesture to calm the others.

Pushing myself up to my feet with a grunt, I clipped the knife in place. “He’s dead, guys.”

With a great deal of effort, Andrew forced calm onto his features. “Is this your friend from the other morning?”

“Yeah, he came looking for the cane.”

Isidore shoved a shoe under Timothy’s head and lifted. He shook his head. “I don’t recognize him.”

Andrew focused on the face before Isidore removed his foot. “Me either.” He brimmed with questions. “Any idea how he is connected to all this?”

With a brusque nod, I gestured at the corpse. “His name is Timothy Miller, a hired thug out of Canada.”

Andrew’s face turned sour. His eyes fixed on mine, trying to force the information out of me. “Do you know who hired him?”

There was that itch in the back of my head again, telling me just how badly he wanted to know. Fighting off the compulsion, I glared at him. “I do, but we got a few things to tend to prior to delving into specifics.”

Andrew stalked over to me and shoved a finger hard into my chest. “You’ll tell me who it is and you’ll tell me now.”

Knocking away his hand, I took a step back and gave him an uncompromising look. “How about we deal with the dead body first, and then we can talk?”

Andrew scowled. He wasn’t used to being denied information, but reluctantly agreed. “I’ll call Lieutenant Baptist.” He stepped back, glowering at the lifeless form. “He’ll be able to clean this up without too much trouble.”

Ten minutes later the first cruiser pulled up and blocked off 4th Street. It took another ten minutes for the UCD to arrive. Andrew was speaking to the lieutenant when I felt someone’s hand grab an arm to spin me around. Whoever this was didn’t have the strength to do so, but I followed its pull. That’s when I saw Captain Hotard glaring up at me.

He was crimson and the top of his head glistened through the thinning hair and bald spots. His voice was low and threatening as he sneered at me. His fat finger pointed at Timothy being zipped into a body bag. “You’re responsible for this?”

To say I wasn’t happy with the man’s attitude would be an understatement, but the denarius was far more offended by the man’s tone and arrogance. It took a bit of effort after my encounter with Andrew to keep myself in check, but I kept my voice even as I stared down at the porky captain. “If you’ll notice, he did try to shoot me.”

The captain folded his chubby arms, his face turning sour. “That’s your story, but I’m not sure that’s the truth.” While I was sure I hadn’t personally done anything to the man, hatred radiated from him. “I’ve taken the liberty of having Sonia dig into your past, Mr. Randall. It won’t be long before I’ll know what type of degenerate you really are!”

The fact that he was digging into my past gave me pause, not for myself but him. The people I worked for wouldn’t take that type of intrusion lightly. The audacity of it made me gleeful to see how it would end. “I’d be very careful if I were you. You never know what you might find.”

The look of triumph on his face was palatable. “I knew it! You do have something to hide.”

Glowering at the shit stain, I sniggered. “Not in the least.” Dropping my voice so only he could hear my words, I continued, “However, the people I used to work for probably do, and I doubt seriously they’ll take kindly to you sticking your nose in their business.”

His bloated face filled with rage. “You must think highly of yourself! Who in the fuck do you think you are?!”

With a smirk, I lifted my right hand. “I think I’m the newest
vigiles
.” That caused him to stagger back, and he visibly paled. “I’d appreciate it if you took it down a notch.”

His shock was complete and he looked ill as he undulated, clapping a hand over his mouth. He stammered and pointed at my hand, mumbling more to himself than me. “How? I thought it wasn’t happening until next week.”

Without so much as a goodbye he waddled away into the crowd of officers, making a beeline for Andrew. More and more things about the captain weren’t adding up…the conversation the other night, and now he had knowledge of next week’s events. All of this was very curious.

The tall lanky lieutenant I’d seen at the funeral appeared in front of me, sticking his overly long thin hand out. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. “Good evening.” He paused, glanced down at the body bag, and sniffed. “Well, as good as an evening as one can have after having to end someone so abruptly.” He looked me over again to make sure he had the right man, blinking several times in the process. “Mr. Randall, isn’t it?”

The man’s disheveled dark hair matched the unkempt beard. His suit, however, was perfectly pressed. His blue-green eyes were clear and his demeanor was competent and pleasant.

Taking his outstretched hand, I nodded. “Please call me Gavin.”

He smiled, showing me his bright white teeth. “Da! I’m Lieutenant William Baptist.”

With an accent that thick? I twisted my head in surprise. “Baptist?”

He shrugged. “My mother married a Cajun man when I was young, and changed our name when I was still in diapers.”

“I see,” I replied. “How can I help you today, Lieutenant Baptist?”

He waved an unconcerned hand at the captain’s back. “Don’t worry about the captain. He’ll get used to the idea soon enough.” Something strayed through his mind that made him chuckle before looking back at me. “And if he doesn’t, fuck him!”

Apparently Lieutenant Baptist didn’t care for the little shit any more than I did. His comment made me hoot. “Thanks.”

He turned and pointed, and I followed his finger. “We’ve reviewed your neighbor’s surveillance system…clear case of self-defense.”

I couldn’t help but make one of those I KNOW faces. “That’s what I tried to tell the captain.”

Lieutenant Baptist didn’t look particularly bothered, but tried to explain away the captain’s problem with me. “Yes, but look at it from an outside perspective…this would be the second death attributable to you in less than a week.”

Cocking my head, I acknowledged the accusation. I surmised that the captain’s hatred of me had nothing to do with the two dead bodies and had more to do with his dislike of Andrew. Even so, I couldn’t help but state the obvious. “In my defense, both men were trying very hard to kill me.” Keeping my features stoic, I gestured at the body bag. “Personally, I think I should get credit for saving the taxpayers some money.”

He tittered at my comment. “While I may think so, the captain does not. He is trying to get promoted out of the UCD, and these incidents are shining a spotlight on our division.”

“Not a good thing?” I asked.

The lanky officer did a belly laugh, reached up, and patted me on the shoulder. “Not when you’re trying to get out of the UCD.” He proudly looked at the other officers. “He doesn’t take pride in what we do. He thinks that the Archive is a travesty, if not a crime against humanity itself.”

From the sounds of things bigotry was rampant on both sides of the fence. “Most of the Archive doesn’t think much of the humans either. I guess fair is fair. People seem to be shitty no matter their affiliation.”

He struggled to find an argument but found none. “I suppose that’s true.” His face went blank and he looked up into my eyes. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

The way he said it made me cautious. “You can ask, but I reserve the right not to answer.”

He pulled out his smartphone and showed it to me, pressing the play icon in the center of the screen. It was queued up to the point when Timothy fired the gun, and Baptist let it play for several seconds before he poked the screen, making it stop.

Pocketing the phone, he cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t even twitch when he fired.” He looked at the marred brick wall across the street. “It was obviously loaded with live rounds.”

Raising an eyebrow, I waited. “Is there a question.”

The man’s blue-green eyes sparkled. “Care to tell me why you are so accustomed to gunshots?”

Over the last three decades I’d forgotten just how curious people were and I found their constant intrusions annoying. “I really don’t, but if you want a hint I’d hang around the station. Once Sonia pulls my records I’m sure some unpleasant people will stop by to give her a piece of their mind.”

Baptist’s face darkened under his scraggly beard. “Who gave her...?” He looked over at the captain and shook his head. “I’ll handle it.”

Nodding my appreciation, I said, “I’d be very grateful.”

He produced a card and handed it to me. “If you need anything let me know.”

Taking the card, I shoved it into my back pocket. “I heard the captain cleaned out Martha’s office. If there is anything he missed, I’d like to get my hands on it.”

Baptist nodded as he thumbed back at Andrew. “Andrew informed me of your new position.” He thought about my request. “I’ll look to see if he overlooked anything in his haste. Will you be needing a desk in the near future?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

Baptist cut his eyes at the captain. “Don’t let him run you out of the precinct if you want to work there.”

The very idea that the captain could run me out of a wet paper bag amused me. “Nah, I’m good.”

It was true. I wasn’t sure why Martha had invested herself so heavily into the UCD, but I had a feeling that there were larger problems at hand. Problems she may have missed by being so ingrained into the local police force. And it was clear that the UCD had leaks, two of which were Sonia and the captain. God knew how many others there were.

He seemed disappointed at the answer but accepted it. “In that case I’ve got a full evening of paperwork. Keep in touch, and don’t forget to call if I can assist you.”

“Sure thing.”