Against a Brightening Sky (24 page)

I couldn't say what my fierce gray cat saw or heard, but she was decidedly unhappy. Given our previous encounter with the necromancer, I took Mai's edginess seriously.

“You're thinking about this the wrong way, Dora. A great deal has changed, and Alina has far more people looking after her welfare.” I sat at the table again, choosing a seat near enough to the window I could pet the cat. Mai relaxed a bit under my hand, but never lost her keen watchfulness. “Whether it's for the first time or the hundredth, Sam and Alina have found each other. He's already proved he'd do anything necessary to protect her. We both know Gabe and Randy will as well. You're acting as her guardian in place of the older couple that was killed, and I'm doing what I can to decipher the watcher's riddles. Matters are decidedly different than they were the morning of the parade.”

“I wouldn't have phrased it that way, but maybe you're right. The situation and the people involved have changed considerably.” She stared out the window, her eyes seeming to follow the male blue jay carrying sticks and bits of string into a cloud of peach blossoms. Within a few seconds, his mate darted away to take her turn. But Dora wasn't watching the pair of jays build a nest in the peach tree any more than Mai was. “I should have taken those changes into account without need of your prodding, but I never factored Alina's new protectors into the balance. I'm not usually so self-absorbed that anything that important would slip past. Someone, or something, didn't want me to see.”

“Alina's guardian.” That this creature might be powerful enough to influence Dora without her knowing was more than a little frightening. “But why?”

“For the same inscrutable reasons this creature is forcing memories on you.” Dora sat back hard, arms folded. Her scowl erased my last doubt about her state of mind. “If not for my loyalty toward you and Alina, I'd be tempted to walk away and let this watcher of yours sort things itself. This creature best keep that in mind.”

Prudence kept me from mentioning the watcher filling my head, or how amusement danced through its eyes. “At least the balance appears to have shifted somewhat in Alina's favor. You and I, Gabe and Sam and Randy—taken all together we're much better able to deal with her enemies than Mina and Fyodor. Maybe that was the guardian's plan all along.”

“That's very likely, Dee. People who have the ability to eliminate an enemy are always useful allies. Frankly, I'm not keen on the idea of a powerful spirit viewing any of us as potential assassins.” Dora sat up straighter and folded her hands on the tabletop. “I'd rather avoid violence of any kind. The sticky part comes when the other side leaves you no choice.”

A small image of the princess ghost brightened into view at the top of the window. I tried to imagine Alina dressed in the same fashion as the ghost, a strand of pearls around her throat. The resemblance between them was stronger now, aided by knowing they were sisters. Or maybe I was finally able to see and more willing to believe what had been there all along.

Alina had loved her family. I didn't know which was sadder, that they were all dead, or that she didn't remember what she'd lost. But I remembered. Each dream, each moment of reliving Alina's captivity and how she's longed for her family was stark and real. That had to mean something.

The watcher's eyes swallowed me again, plunging me into depths bottomless as the night sky. I held tight to the edge of the kitchen table and fought not to panic under the dragon's regard. That I was utterly convinced the creature holding me in thrall was a dragon, the kin of Gods and myths far outside of San Francisco, was reason enough to panic in and of itself. Dragons had faded from the world centuries before I was born. Even the stories told about them had begun to disappear.

But this dragon existed, here and now. She was already ancient when the New World had been settled, her essence rooted deep in the Russian land and pulsing through every river and stream. Stories were still told about her in far-flung villages and of castles build atop the cave where she slept. Her true name was long forgotten, but the dragon was still Russia's heart.

Tsars of old had carried images of her into battle on war flags and banners, striving to be half as fierce as the creature sworn to protect their throne. Their families.

Neither whimsy nor cruelty played a part in why I dreamed of Alina's past. I needed to remember the faces around Alina in that faraway mountain house, to memorize who was a friend and who had meant her family harm. Men could change their name, or alter their appearance, but I'd see through the illusion to the truth.

Knowing the reason didn't make me feel more equal to the task.

I came back to myself to find Mai standing on the table and rubbing her head against my cheek. Thinking the cat looked relieved when I opened my eyes was pure fancy. Still, I pulled her close and snuggled her under my chin. How loudly she purred was real enough.

There was no question of relief when it came to Isadora. She peered at me anxiously from the other side of the table and reached for my hand. “Are you all right?”

Clearing my throat several times made speaking possible. “I'm fine. The only ill effects are an unreasonable urge to cry and a slight headache. Nothing I won't survive.”

“Thank heaven for that.” Dora slumped back in the chair. She wiped a hand over her face. “You gave me quite a turn that time, Dee. I wasn't at all sure I could call you back. That creature has a lot to answer for.”

“She didn't plan to keep me.” Clouds had begun blowing in off the Bay and filling the sky. The kitchen grew colder, but I wasn't at all sure a lack of sunshine was entirely to blame. “But she needed to tell me what I'm supposed to do.”

Dora grew very still, her calm expression at odds with the rapt attention and speculation in her eyes. “The guardian?”

“The … the watcher. She's older than we thought, Dora, one of the last of her kind. I only wish I'd been able to see what she looked like.” I couldn't tell her the watcher was a dragon. Not out of compulsion or fear of what would happen if I said the word, or that I was afraid she wouldn't believe me, but because I'd been entrusted with a secret. Breaking that trust was wrong. I shut my eyes, remembering what I'd been shown, and opened them again to find Dora watching me with alarm. “I was never supposed to pass on Alina's memories.”

Dora sat huddled in her chair while I explained, so still and quiet that if she'd been anyone else, I might have thought she wasn't paying attention. Some of the alarm left her expression, replaced by a frown. She was far from happy with what I had to say.

“It's times like these I regret promising Randy I'd leave the flask at home.” Dora stood and began pacing my kitchen, fists clenched tight. “Dear God in heaven, old-world guardians, necromancers, Bolsheviks … there's no telling what else followed Alina here from Russia. I don't like this, Dee. It's too byzantine for me to be comfortable with the risk you'd be taking. Let me do this. I've had more experience.”

I continued petting Mai, oddly calm for the moment. “You've no more experience with this than I do, Isadora Bobet. I've learned an enormous amount about the spirit realm over the last four years, and you've given me skills I'd never have learned from anyone else. Eventually lack of experience has to stop being an excuse for keeping me wrapped in cotton wool. You can't be my shield forever.”

She leaned against the icebox, arms crossed and glaring at nothing in particular. Dora's anger was much like a summer cloudburst, intense and blustery and soon over. This time was no exception.

“Damn it, Delia. You have the most infuriating habit of being right.” Dora stepped away from the icebox and busied herself filling the teakettle. “Are there any cookies?”

“In the bread box.”

The wind had picked up, putting an end to the jays' nest building and scattering peach blossoms across the yard in pale pink clouds. I set Mai back on the sill to keep watch and waited for my tea.

Infuriating habit by Dora's standards or not, I was right. I had to face this on my own.

That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.

Gabe

One of the new crop of rookies had been assigned by the desk sergeant to drive Gabe to the scene. Harrison Walken drove well enough, but the young officer was new to the city and got lost twice. The delay cost only a few minutes at most, but Gabe spent the last block or two perched on the edge of the seat, peering past Walken's head and trying to catch a glimpse of the church.

Very few cars lined the street, a surprise given how much time had passed since the body was found. Most murder scenes resembled controlled chaos. New people arrived on the scene while others left, a constant ebb and flow that didn't end until his squad had gathered every scrap of information possible. Gabe had expected to see the bustle of officers gathering evidence, reporters shouting questions at anyone who looked as if he might be in charge, and neighbors gawking in hopes of seeing something gruesome or interesting.

The calm around Holy Trinity made him vaguely uneasy. Something wasn't right.

Lynch had been leaning forward too, watching intently for his first glimpse of the scene. Now he sat back, his expression openly curious. “Did all your men go home early, Gabe? Looks too quiet.”

“It is too quiet.” That Jordan Lynch had asked confirmed Gabe's growing opinion that the Chicago detective was a good cop. He pointed. “I expected to find beat cops, at least six or seven patrol cars, and the coroner's men waiting on us. My men know their jobs. If they're not here, someone higher up ordered them away.”

“No neighbors or reporters either. They'd be even harder to run off.” Jordan kneaded his wounded leg, a gesture Gabe took as a newly acquired habit. “I'm going to guess that doesn't happen often.”

“Never.” Gabe's smile was grim. “I'll be honest, Jordan, I don't know what's going on. I doubt I'm going to like finding out.”

Jordan grinned, the first unguarded expression Gabe had seen from him. He knew then they were going to be friends.

Officer Walken guided the patrol car into a parking spot centered right in front of the church. Officer Polk and a harried-looking young priest rushed down the walk to meet the car, arriving before Gabe could gather his hat. Polk pulled the door open, but leaned in to keep Gabe or Jordan Lynch from getting out.

Gabe gestured toward Jordan. “This is Lieutenant Lynch from the Chicago PD. He's going to be helping out until Lieutenant Fitzgerald recovers. Where is everyone?”

Polk stared at Lynch for a few seconds, but nodded and touched his cap before turning to Gabe. “The body's in a changing room at the back of the church, Captain. Dr. West and most of the squad are waiting for you. Supervisor Devin ordered Dr. West to take the body to the morgue, but the coroner refused to disturb the scene before you got here.”

He traded surprised looks with Lynch. Removing the body before the officer in charge signed off was against regulations. Polk knew that as well as Gabe, but the tall, dark-haired patrolman was choosing his words carefully. He resolved to adopt the same sense of caution until he knew what they were dealing with. “Thank you, Patrolman. Where can I find Dr. West?”

“That drive over to the left leads to the rectory behind the church. The coroner's van and the other squad cars are parked in the yard. Father Sakovich and Supervisor Devin ordered everyone to park out of sight.” Polk looked pointedly over his shoulder. “Father Sakovich would like you to do the same, sir. He doesn't want to upset people arriving for a church supper.”

Gabe wasn't angry with Polk. The man was only delivering a message. He looked past Patrolman Polk and straight at the young priest nervously fidgeting on the walkway. “Does Father Sakovich really think holding a social event right now is a good idea?”

Polk leaned farther into the car and lowered his voice. “I don't know what he thinks, Captain. He's pretty rattled after seeing the body. The supervisor and the older priest inside are giving all the orders.”

He put on his public face, hiding his anger. “I'll speak with both of them. Walken, leave the car right here. You're not to move it unless I give the order.”

“Yes, Captain.” Walken pulled a copy of
The Argosy
weekly out of an inside pocket. It was an old issue, one he'd seen Jack reading months before. The bright cover was relatively uncreased and showed a drawing of a cowboy on horseback, reaching for his six-shooter. “Do I have permission to read, sir? Henderson said you usually didn't mind, but to ask permission first.”

“Go ahead and read, but keep your eyes open.” Gabe motioned Polk to step back. “Do your job and we'll be square.”

He and Jordan got out of the car and started up the front walk, leaving Polk to deal with the young priest. The wind sped thin clouds across the sky, forerunners of thick evening fog that threatened to creep in from the Bay. Working murder scenes in swirling, pearl gray mist was always eerie. Gabe couldn't help but think that the ghosts of victims moved with the fog, a thought he'd never have entertained before marrying Delia.

Gabe had driven by the church more times than he could remember, and the bell tower always drew his eye. Five of the seven huge bells had been donated in 1888 by the Russian Emperor Alexander III. The story was that the emperor donated the bells as a show of gratitude to God for his family surviving an assassination attempt. By divine providence or sheer luck, the bells had been removed from their tower just before the 1906 quake and escaped being destroyed in the fire. When the church was rebuilt in 1909, the bells were installed in the new tower.

On calm, foggy days, you could hear the bells being rung in all parts of the city. Other churches in the city had bells and bell towers, but none of them sounded quite the same. That distinctive sound more than anything made him remember the church on Green Street.