Against a Brightening Sky (36 page)

That I was the only one to see him run from the yard out to the street was equally frustrating. Even if I gave chase, I'd no hope of catching him and no way to keep hold of him if I did.

And I didn't dare leave Connor alone. Going after the necromancer meant leaving him behind, at the mercy of phantoms and haunts, and in very real danger of losing his sanity. Wrapping my protections around the little boy was second nature now, taking no more than a thought. Connor huddled against me, shivering and hiccuping, face buried in my shoulder as he cried. I fought not to cry myself. He was so small.

Dora dropped to her knees next to Annie, rapidly whispering incantations and sketching glyphs on Annie's skin. Each glyph glowed briefly before vanishing. Isadora placed her hands over Annie's heart, on her forehead and throat, and back over her heart. The dragon watched through my eyes but didn't interfere.

That the dragon remained quiet filled me with both hope and despair. Hope that Dora's attempt to break the necromancer's hold was going to work, despair that the watcher's silence meant there was no saving Annie. I hugged Connor tight and rocked him side to side, feverishly praying I hadn't sacrificed one person precious to me to save another.

Jordan hovered around all of us, his expression mirroring my own helplessness and anger, and the battle he fought with his cop instincts to give chase. He kept his Colt to hand, watching the corners of the yard and the shadows. I didn't blame him for being wary. If this man returned, Jordan might not see him until it was too late.

Annie groaned, flailing her arms and attempting to bat away Dora's hands. The chants Isadora muttered changed and all the fight went out of Annie, leaving her limp and resting easy. I did cry then.

“Jordan, would you hold Connor for a minute?” He looked doubtful, but I wiped my eyes on a sleeve and held Connor out to him. “I need to help Dora. It will be all right, I promise. That man is gone.”

“I'll take your word on him being gone, Delia. The way he disappears—I couldn't say one way or another.” Jordan holstered his gun and held his arms out. “It's been a lot of years since my boy was this small, but I remember he only wanted his mama when he got scared. Connor looks like he's had a rough time of it already, and I don't want to frighten him more.”

“It's only for a minute or two.” I kissed Connor's cheek and handed him over. “And I wouldn't ask if I had a choice.”

Jordan wasn't wrong about all Connor had been through, but the little boy relaxed from the start and rested his head on the big man's shoulder. He patted Connor's back. “You're safe now, son. Rest easy and we'll go find your mama real soon.”

Between the two of us, Dora and I got Annie on her feet. She looked dazed, confused about where she was and what had happened. We slowly made our way across the yard with her, Jordan following a step behind and holding tight to Connor.

Sadie waited on the other side of the screen door, wringing her hands but obeying my orders to stay indoors. Sam and Jack stood just behind her. I could well imagine that Dora had issued her own orders not to cross the boundaries around the house.

Annie was even more confused by the fuss everyone made about getting her inside and seated in a kitchen chair. Sam and Jordan stood back, staying out of the way as Sadie bustled to get Annie's shawl and make her a cup of tea. Jack stood with them holding Connor close, as if he'd never let his son go again. Grim expressions mixed with relief on everyone's faces.

Stella stood with her back against the swinging door into the dining room, clutching Annabelle, looking small and alone, ashen with fright. I picked her up, angry beyond words at how hard she trembled and that this man—this killer—had terrified her so deeply for a second time.

I looked up to see Dora watching us. The same anger sat in her eyes and the same silent promise.

There wouldn't be a third time.

Gabe

Gabe paced Jack's sitting room, waiting for Dee and Isadora to come downstairs. They'd sealed all the windows and doors downstairs, layering protections on top of the ones already in place, and moved on to the second floor. The house would be a spiritual fortress when they finished, on a par with Dora's house and his own.

A fortress would keep this man out. The drawback was that shutting him out meant Sadie and the children were trapped inside. Even the backyard was off-limits, at least until they caught this man. Gabe clenched his fists and swallowed the anger threatening to choke him. Punching a hole in the wall wouldn't accomplish anything.

Sam and Jordan had gone to stay with Alina and make sure an officer saw Libby home. As skeptical as Libby Mills still was about spirits, telling her why she needed protection wouldn't be an easy job. Gabe didn't envy Sam the task.

He had most of the squad out on the street, working in groups of two or three, and under strict orders to stay together. Dora had agreed that was a wise precaution, one that would keep the necromancer from replacing an officer and walking away in plain sight. The man they were after was capable of some strange and incredible things, things that Gabe had a hard time believing. That made catching him even more difficult.

Dora didn't hold out much hope of his men being able to find this man. The only one who knew what the necromancer's real face looked like was Delia, and the thought of sending her out to hunt for a killer made his skin crawl. He ran his fingers through his hair, counting how many men he could pull from the next shift. The entire squad was spread thin with rotating guard shifts at Libby's settlement house, keeping an eye on Dora's place, and handling the day-to-day cases that came their way.

“Sit down, Gabe.” Jack lounged on the settee, his bandaged foot propped up on a cushion. He gestured toward an overstuffed chair, whiskey from his glass sloshing onto his hand. “Wearing a hole in my carpet won't hurry things along.”

He dropped into the chair, slouching and stretching his long legs out. “You might as well admit it, Jack. You'd be pacing with me if not for your leg.”

“I never denied that, Captain Ryan. And if you weren't on duty, you'd be drinking with me.” Jack lifted his glass in a toast before taking another sip. “I trust Dora and Delia completely, but I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep at night until we find this man. I know Sadie won't.”

Once they'd gotten Annie to bed and Dora had reassured them Connor was unharmed, Sadie broke down completely. How distraught and shattered she was frightened Jack and Delia as much as or more than Annie's near miss. Sadie was stronger than any of them, and they all depended on her being calm and unwavering. Seeing her undone was sobering.

He shifted in his chair, still restless and unable to keep still. The sound of crackling paper reminded him of the telegram in his pocket. Gabe took the folded yellow paper out and passed it to Jack. “I heard from Colin. He's positive the locket was part of the Russian crown jewels. Colin's just as sure that it belonged to the dowager empress. He doesn't remember the occasion, but the locket was a gift from her son.”

Jack read the telegram quickly. “Damn, Dora was right.”

Dora's voice right behind him made Gabe jump.

“Of course I was right. I usually am.” She sat in the overstuffed chair at the other end of the settee and rubbed her eyes. “Remind me what we're talking about. I seem to have forgotten.”

“A telegram from Colin. He identified the locket in Eve Rigaux's hand as belonging to the Russian royal family.” Gabe glanced over his shoulder, looking for his wife. “Is Dee coming down?”

“Not just yet. She's helping Sadie lie to Annie. The three of us decided telling her the whole truth wasn't a good idea. Thanks to Pastor Grant's influence, Annie's convinced I'm in league with demons.” Dora was tired or she'd never have allowed an edge to creep into her voice. That she did was a measure of how much Annie's poor opinion bothered her. “Telling her that Connor was attacked by a foreign necromancer would add fuel to that fire and upset her more. She doesn't remember a thing before I brought her around. Concocting a story about fainting was much kinder.”

Jack drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass aside. His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes were clear and focused. “I keep asking myself why this killer went after Connor and Annie. If you've got an answer to that, Dora, I'd like to hear it.”

“I don't think he came looking specifically for Annie and Connor, but once here, he took advantage of the opportunity. I've no doubt he was hoping to find Alina.” Dora frowned, her long nails tapping silently on the padded arm of the chair. “The type of protections on the house may have had a great deal to do with drawing him here. What Dee and I put in place to protect Connor are precisely the kind of barriers that keep him from finding Alina. That made him curious about what you were hiding. It's a double-edged sword. For the life of me, I can't see another way.”

“They were easy targets, Jack.” Gabe cleared his throat. So many people they knew and cared about were easy targets. “We need to remember that this man isn't entirely sane. Delia's convinced he'll use anyone to find Alina.”

Jack looked between Dora and Gabe, his voice flat, unemotional. “Even a two-year-old.”

“Even a two-year-old.” Dora leaned forward, fingers gripping the arm of the chair tight. “He didn't flinch from killing innocents at the parade or from harvesting power from their deaths. Dee's right in believing a necromancer will use anyone who comes to hand. She's just as right to believe him more than a little mad.”

“All right.” Jack toyed with the rim of his glass, running a finger around the edge and staring at melting ice. He looked up, all his carefully hidden anger sitting stark in his eyes. “Fair warning, Gabe. I won't flinch either. I'll shoot him if this man comes near my family again.”

He didn't argue. Gabe stood, pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “I have to get back to the station. Will my going upstairs to tell Delia good-bye complicate things for her?”

Dora's dismissive wave was another measure of how tired she must be. She rarely passed up the opportunity to tease him. “Go kiss your wife, Captain Ryan. I'll get Dee home safely.”

Gabe went to her chair, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Dora. Be careful.”

She smiled. “I'm probably in the least danger from this killer, and I'm always cautious. You and Randy are the ones I worry about. Promise me you won't forget that this man can look like anyone.”

“I promise. Don't fret about me.” He glanced at Jack, noting the harsh new lines in his partner's face and the hollow, haunted look in his eyes. Gabe wasn't about to forget, and neither would Jack.

Not a chance. They had too much at stake.

 

CHAPTER 18

Gabe

A phone call from Randy Dodd granted Gabe's wish to see inside the sanctuary at Holy Trinity Cathedral.

His driver double-parked in the middle of the street, sparing Gabe a long walk through the crowd of neighbors straining to see what was happening. He stood next to the car, buttoning his coat and looking around before going inside. The scene was much different from his first visit, more like an active murder investigation and less like a sleepy church supper.

Six patrol cars crowded the curb in front of the church. The coroner's van and two more police cars filled the drive leading to the rectory in back. A line of officers on horseback held the press and a throng of curiosity seekers at bay across the street. Reporters who recognized Gabe shouted his name, their raucous voices accompanied by the pop and snap of photographers' flash being set off. He turned his back to them and started up the walk.

The bell tower cast long, jagged shadows in the late afternoon light, rippling over the lawn and creeping onto the sidewalk. Deeper shadows darkened the covered entry into the church. Mindful of Dora's warning, Gabe slowed his steps as he approached and made sure that the man waiting for him near the door was Randy Dodd.

But even after Gabe reached the front doors, he found himself watching Randy for an extra few seconds, his heart beating just a little faster. Not being able to trust what he saw was unsettling.

Gabe shoved the feeling down deep. He couldn't work that way, and if he was going to catch this man, he needed to think. “Your phone call spoiled a perfectly good afternoon of paperwork, Officer Dodd.”

Randy looked up from his notebook, his smile grim. “I'm about to finish ruining your day, Gabe. Father Pashkovsky is dead. Based on how it looks right now, Aleksei Nureyev may have killed him.”

Gabe tipped his hat back to get a better look at Randy's face. “But you don't think he did it.”

He went back to studying his notebook, avoiding Gabe's eyes. “No, I don't. I think someone did a damn good job of setting him up to look guilty. Aleksei was the one who called us.” Randy stuffed his notebook in a pocket and pulled open one of the double doors. “He's waiting inside. He was sitting in the same spot when the beat cops arrived.”

The doors into the sanctuary were propped open. Bursts of bright light flared and faded again as they stepped inside. Baker's flash. An oversized chandelier filled the center of the ceiling, wired with dozens of electric bulbs. Opaque, amber-colored mica shades covered each bulb, softening the light.

Stained glass windows ranged around the room, all set into the top of the walls to shine colored light down on the pews. This late in the afternoon, the sun had sunk too low to light more than a few windows. Gabe didn't know the names of the Russian saints pictured, or the stories told, but he couldn't deny they were beautiful.

Aleksei sat in the front row of pews, staring at the large wooden crucifix hanging behind the altar. He muttered in Russian, but the singsong rhythm of his voice and the way he crossed himself every few seconds painted a picture of a man in prayer.