Against a Brightening Sky (39 page)

We were far down the road when I remembered to ask. “I—I can't remember. Who are you?”

“Call me Alek.” Tears filled his eyes. “I was a friend of your father, Alina. He'd have wanted me to take care of you.”

“Alina.” I touched my face, uncertain what I was searching for or why the gesture made my hand shake. “Is that my name?”

“Yes.” He jammed the truck into a lower gear, the engine laboring to climb the steep grade. Alek glanced at me, his face tight and closed off. “Alina is your name. Remember it.”

*   *   *

I woke screaming, fighting to leap up and run. Gabe reached for me, but I shoved him away and half slipped, half fell off the bed. The sound of gunshots and the smell of pines faded slowly, becoming more distant. I curled on my side and dug my fingers into the rough wool carpet, weeping inconsolably for people I'd known only in dreams.

Gabe lay on the floor with me, pulling me close. “It's all right, Dee, it's all right. You're home and safe with me, not trapped in that house. Nothing's going to hurt you.”

The watcher's eyes filled my head, softening images of Josef's face and the hardness in Aleksei's eyes, muting the sounds of screaming and terrified young women crying out. I wanted to be angry, to rage that a powerful guardian who couldn't save her charges was less than useless. But the dragon's sorrow dampened my rage. She didn't have the mercy of forgetting either.

I pulled away from Gabe, crawling to the dressing table on hands and knees. One sharp tug, and the sheet covering the mirror cascaded around me. I sat on my heels and hugged the mound of cool white cloth to my chest, knowing what I'd see.

Three princess ghosts gazed out at me. Roses still bloomed in their cheeks, their eyes bright and lively as they'd been while alive. I knew their names now, which one was the trickster, which spent hours by her brother's sickbed, which one had dreamed of children of her own.

Hope sat in their eyes, and trust that I'd understand and always remember who they'd been.

I knew their secret now. That secret tore pieces from my heart.

 

CHAPTER 19

Gabe

Gabe jumped each time someone knocked on his office door, rattling the glass in the frame. Far too often over the last week bad news had followed that knock, more bodies found and more people missing. Twice Mullaney had been at his door with reports of Russian waiters vanishing on the journey between work and home.

He'd come to associate knocks on his door with death. This morning he'd left the damn thing open.

About the only bright spot he could point to was that none of the bodies found belonged to Aleksei Nureyev. He clung to the hope that Alek had gotten away.

Jack arrived a little after nine, his cane slung up over his shoulder. He was still limping, but each day brought more improvement and he'd driven himself to work for the last several days. That he brought the cane with him at all was to keep Sadie happy.

Gabe didn't blame Sadie for fussing over Jack. The last few weeks had been rough on her. They'd been hard on all of them.

“Good morning, Captain Ryan.” Jack hung his cap on the coatrack and dragged the extra chair closer to the desk. “Lovely day out. Sadie says I'm to drag you outside at lunch and force you to get some fresh air. She may have said something about your office being an airless cave as well, but I didn't catch it all. Stella was telling me something at the same time.”

“My goddaughter might be the only person alive who can outtalk her mother.” Gabe tossed the coroner's report he'd been reading onto the stack of files he'd read a half dozen times. He was starting to see a pattern in the way some of Josef's victims died. “Sadie's never shown this much interest in my health before now. Being cooped up inside the house all day must be boring for her.”

“She's holding up pretty well for now. Knowing the children are safe has a lot to do with that. Ask me again if she's forced to stay in another week.” Jack picked up a file and began leafing through. “Find anything new I should know about?”

“Maybe. I need to ask Dora what this means.” He thumbed through the files, picking out the ones he wanted. Gabe passed six folders to Jack. “I've been hoping to find a pattern of some kind in Josef's murders. The bodies we've found are scattered all over town and the way people died is just as random. That makes it damn near impossible to know for sure if he's the one who killed these people. But take a look at the cause of death in these reports.”

Jack read through the files quickly. “I'll be damned. The way they were killed matches the way Devin and Mrs. Rigaux died.”

“It's a perfect match. We know for certain that Josef killed the two of them.” Six people with a spike, an ice pick, or a knife shoved into the base of their skull. Supervisor Devin and Eve Rigaux made eight, all killed the same way. Gabe had wanted a pattern. Now he'd found one that made him ill. “What I want to know is why. What made them different?”

“Good question. I'd like to know that myself.” Gabe and Jack looked up, startled, to see Sam Butler leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Sam's posture was relaxed, but a muscle jumped along his jaw. “I've been trying to figure out how this bastard stays one step ahead of us and Dora. Last night I started to wonder if we're thinking about this the wrong way.”

Jack tugged his notebook out of a pocket and opened the book to a fresh page. He glanced at Sam, pencil poised. “What do you mean?”

“Instead of asking what's different about those people or thinking so hard about how they died, maybe we should ask what Josef stands to gain killing that way. There has to be something.” Sam pulled off his straw boater, tapping the hat against his hand and frowning. “What do we know happened after he killed Devin?”

The answer crept up on Gabe slowly. “Mother of God. He changed the way he looks.”

Jack frowned. “There has to be a limit on how often he can do that.”

“From what Dora's told me, the only limit is how many people he kills.” Sam wandered over to the map of San Francisco on Gabe's wall. Round pins marked all the places bodies had been found. Butler counted them all, a daily ritual. The longer this went on, the more afraid he was that one of those pins would come to represent Alina. “Dr. West can likely tell us how much time passed between the murders of these poor souls. That might give us some idea of how long a change lasts.”

“That still won't tell us what Josef looks like.” Jack tugged at the ends of his mustache. “After what happened with Pastor Grant—”

He didn't need to finish the sentence. They'd all assumed that Josef always took the faces of his victims. Discovering that wasn't true had been another blow.

“One step at a time, Lieutenant. It's more than we knew before.” Gabe tapped a pencil on his desk, thinking hard. “Have you spoken with Jordan this morning, Sam?”

“He was still having breakfast with Katie Allen when I went by to pick him up.” Sam turned away from the map and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “Katie was telling him all about growing up in Harrogate. Jordan was having a good time, so I let him be. I'm supposed to catch up with him at Dora's house around noon. I have to go into the paper for a couple of hours first.”

That made him smile. “As much time as you spend at Dora's, I'm surprised you still have a job.”

Sam shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Being a reporter is the best job in the world, Gabe. No punching a time clock and I get to make my own hours. As long as I turn in stories, my boss is happy.”

Gabe rocked back in his creaky desk chair, considering. “What would your boss think about running a series of small stories linking the Bolsheviks to people disappearing in San Francisco? The more wild and sensational, the better.”

“My boss will print anything that sells papers. What made you think of this?”

“I want people looking over their shoulders and suspicious of anyone they don't know. They'll be twice as suspicious of seeing people walking around who are supposed to be dead or missing.” He traded looks with Jack. “Maybe we can take away his ability to hide in plain sight. I'll settle for making Josef's life more complicated if nothing else.”

Sam glanced at the clock. “I might make the early afternoon edition if I hurry. That will give me plenty of time to write one for the evening run too.”

He grabbed another folder off the stack he hadn't read. “Keep your name off these pieces, Sam. We want Josef paying attention to the stories, not to you.”

Butler waved him away as he went out the office door. “No need to teach granny how to suck eggs, Captain. I know what I'm doing.”

Gabe gave Jack a sidelong glance. “I forget how young he is at times.”

“We were young and cocky once, Gabe. We survived.” He went back to leafing through reports and photographs, jotting down names from the files Gabe had given him. “Sam does know what he's doing. Don't worry, he'll be all right.”

Delia

Shutters were pulled tight across the windows in Dora's kitchen, preventing anyone outside from looking in. Sunlight still managed to sneak between the slats. Glass doors on the cupboards reflected sunbeams onto the ceiling, painting rainbow streaks that rippled as clouds moved across the sky. I'd forgotten how bright and cheery her kitchen could be. We rarely sat in this part of the house.

Three princesses looked down from the cupboard fronts with grave expressions. They were my constant companions, defying even Dora's strong boundaries in order to watch everything I did and listen to all I said. I paid as little attention to them as I could. Looking at them reminded me of how they'd died, awoke the memory of screams that never seemed to end, and of how Isadora had sobbed in my arms after I told her how Sunny's family died.

Those memories would never leave me, but the less I thought of them, the better.

Dora's latest cook was gone, sent away for her own safety. As things stood, we were forced to make our own tea and sandwiches. That was far from a hardship, but Dora had insisted she needed my help, a transparent ploy to speak to me alone that roused Libby's curiosity. We'd left her losing another game of gin to Alina and retired to the kitchen.

I shuffled the deck of tarot cards I'd brought from the sitting room and cut them into three stacks, flipping the top card on each faceup and starting again. The cards took very little of my attention, watching the teakettle even less. Both were idle distractions, something to do while I waited for Dora to tell me what was wrong.

She was decidedly unhappy. Dora paced from one end of the long, narrow room to the other, fists clenched at her sides and heels clicking on black and white linoleum. She scowled fiercely, talking to herself in Russian. That she didn't so much as glance in my direction was a measure of how upset she was.

My getting up to fix tea and sandwiches, and arrange plates, cups, and napkins on a tray didn't slow her. Once I'd finished, I leaned against the kitchen worktable with my arms folded and watched her. “Finding a solution would be easier if I knew what was wrong, Dora. Talk to me.”

She glanced my way, her scowl lightening. “The last finding charm I sent out just failed. If I were a novice or extremely foolish, I might be tempted to believe that murdering scum had moved out of range. I know that's not the case. Josef destroyed this charm, just as he destroyed the rest. Only this time, he flung the shards back at me.”

“What? How could he?” I shivered and stepped away from the table, hoping I'd heard wrong. “Oh, God, Dora. Please tell me he can't use your charm to find his way here. Please.”

Her smile was tight and brittle and resigned. “I promised years ago I'd never lie to you, Dee. I won't start now. If I were sure you wouldn't walk straight into his arms, I'd send you and Libby out of here this instant and face him alone. Since I can't guarantee he's not lying in wait, you're both staying here. We're all safer inside for the moment, even if we are trapped. He can't cross my boundaries without permission.”

The watcher's eyes opened in my head, but she held herself apart, distant, and allowed me to think. That she was there and paying attention was an odd sort of comfort. At the same time, she made me nervous.

“All right. At least we have a small advantage.” I sat in my chair again and folded my hands on the table. That my hands remained steady was a bit of a surprise, and no doubt a sign of how much faith I placed in Dora. “Explain to me how a—a necromancer could turn your own spell back on you. Everything I've read says they don't have that kind of strength or knowledge. All their skill lies in manipulating the dead.”

Dora winced. “Josef killed someone. It's that simple, Delia. He used the ghost created when this poor soul died to trace the threads binding the charm back to its maker. Back to me. The impact when the spirit slammed into my wards was enough to give me a headache.”

“And more than enough to tell him where you are.” Now that I knew what we faced, shock wore away rapidly. “There has to be a way to locate him without the charm.”

She sat in the chair opposite mine, a hint of amusement showing in her eyes. Dora gestured in the general direction of the sitting room. “Locating Josef won't be a problem. He'll come looking for me. I have what he wants.”

Alina.

“Should we call Gabe and Randy?” I frowned, undecided. “And do we warn them to stay away or issue a call for help?”

That amused her even more. “I'd already called Randy before I brought you in here. He's passing the message on to Gabe. A call for help is definitely in order. If matters come to a head…”

Dora's voice trailed off, her eyes unfocused and far away. She stood suddenly and stalked over to the pantry at the end of the kitchen, disappearing inside. When she reappeared, Isadora carried a rather large wooden box. She set the box in the middle of the table. “You do have a pocket in that skirt, don't you?”