Shadowman (24 page)

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Authors: Erin Kellison

BOOK: Shadowman
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“You want to kill someone at Segue.”
“Yes.”
“They kill wraiths, and are
friends
with angels.” The woman wraith relaxed her mouth, and pointy teeth grew in abundant proliferation.
“Well . . .” Rose looked to Heaven for a little help.
But the woman raced ahead. “So you're not part of The Order?”
The Order?
“We had a parting of the ways.” She wasn't part of anything.
“Is it Talia Thorne you want to kill?”
Again, Rose was stumped. She didn't know any Talia Thorne. She was after a Layla Mathews.
“Yes.” Rose flashed her nicest smile. “Among others.” What was one more?
“I'm Daria,” the wraith said, then turned to one of the men. “I want a table and a couple of chairs.” She glanced at the floating wraith. “And put Thing in the camper with the others so she doesn't bother us.”
Thing was a woman? Oh, dear. And there were others?
A table was quickly brought out, chairs respectfully opened. Daria grabbed hers and sat, but Rose waited a moment to see if one of the male wraiths was going to be a gentleman. None came forward, and her estimation of them dropped some.
Rose seated herself and placed her arm on the table so that Daria might get a closer look at her bad hand, just so she would know who was in charge. The bones had lengthened, which made the limb take up the better half of the table, and a bit of goo clung to her pink painted nails. She nodded good-naturedly at the wraiths on her left so that Daria could see how her strength went up her shoulder and into her neck. Rose wanted to make sure there'd be no mistakes from the start.
Daria's gaze traveled the length of Rose's arm and stopped on her drumming fingers. “You are an angel?”
Rose didn't like the question in her tone, so she answered definitively. “Yes. Now, where shall we begin?”
“There's no point. Talia's father is there.”
“And why is that a consideration?”
“You must have balls of steel. He's Death.”
Rose flinched, scoring the table with her bad hand's nails. “I'll have none of that kind of talk.”
“This is a waste of my time.” Daria stood. She must have wanted to stretch her legs, because she couldn't be leaving. Rose wasn't finished yet.
“What do you mean by Death?”
“Talia screams, and the Grim Reaper comes. Simple as that.”
kat-a-kat-a-kat: Then make her scream.
And bring on Death? No, thank you. This was a dead end after all.
kat-a-kat-a-kat: The daughter doesn't concern you. Layla does.
Hmmm. Point taken.
kat-a-kat-a-kat: And the rest will be busy with the wraiths.
Interesting.
Rose flashed her dimples at Daria but lifted a hand toward the camper. “Are there more of that kind?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because there's strength in numbers. And I have a little talent of my own to add to the pot, if we can come to an agreement.”
This might just work.
Chapter 13
A rose lay on the pillow next to Layla when she woke the next morning, its bloom fat, bursting with fragrance, and bloody red. She didn't remember going to bed, nor falling asleep, but somehow here she was, waking up alone, blinking at the abundance of color, confused and disoriented.
A normal life had never been an option for her. She'd known that from the time she was a kid. Tried to dismiss it in adulthood. Tried to fake a relationship. She'd felt herself on the edge of something, a high, rocky precipice, weathering the wind and the beat of the sky. She'd been waiting for something, stretching the hours for something. Someone.
Well, now she'd found him.
Was she ready for this? For Khan? Layla gave a weary
ha!
That wasn't even his name.
Could she love him? Did the word even apply? No. Stupid word.
Layla sat up, plucked a petal from the flower, rubbed the satin between her thumb and fingers.
You and I.
That's what he'd said, and it was much closer to what she felt after last night. Witnessing the barren wintery landscape, she got it now. They were never meant to be together, yet were ruined for anyone else. They were a tragedy in the making, careening toward doom.
And she'd take as much as she could get.
The phone rang at her bedside. Layla pressed her palms to her eyes to steady herself. Took a deep breath. Answered.
Talia had a quick message. Adam was about to brief the Segue residents on the woman who attacked yesterday, the devil. The meeting was in the ballroom in fifteen minutes.
Layla made it down in five. It was her devil, after all.
The meeting occupied the same ballroom she'd been escorted to by Kev what seemed like a year ago. A couple soldiers hung in the back, but for the most part, mostly scientists and staff were present. Marcie smiled at her, and Layla returned the smile with a glance at the dishrag clutched in Marcie's hand. Patel and his nurses had taken a seat. A couple other men spoke softly. A woman in a white coat was there, as was Dr. James, with coffee stains on his shirt, but with that direct gaze Layla didn't think missed much. More entered as the minutes ticked by, and Layla guessed there were about thirty people gathered.
No Talia. But then, Layla guessed she already knew what Adam was going to say.
When Adam strode in, the group quieted. He dropped a load of files on the long conference table. “We've got a bad one here, people. Listen up.”
He projected on the ballroom wall side-by-side images of a woman. One was a screen capture of the assault on the soldiers at the front gate. The woman's brown hair was flying midmovement. She seemed to be holding a fat stick with short, pointy branches. Or, no, maybe that was her arm. Or her hand. Weird.
In the other photo she was laughing as she posed with an ice-cream cone in front of the Statue of Liberty, a green foam liberty crown on her head. The woman was petite and pretty. Happy blue eyes, a lopsided quirk to a sweet smile, brown hair curling gently around a heart-shaped face. Girl next door. Never in a million years would Layla have feared her.
“Everyone meet Rose Anne Petty, born June nineteenth, nineteen sixty-five, died November twelfth, nineteen ninety-nine. She was murdered in her sleep by her husband, Mickey Alan Petty, who is now serving a life sentence in Georgia State Prison. He claimed during his trial that Rose was a psychopath, had planned and executed the grisly murders of a dozen people over the course of three years, to which he was an unwilling party. The only proof that surfaced to support his claims was an old police report that detailed the torture of neighborhood animals when she was a teen. Rose had exhibited no remorse for her actions but had complied with the community service terms of her conviction.”
Adam made eye contact with someone in the back. “Dr. James?”
Layla looked around.
Dr. James had lifted his pen. “Then do we have a new breed on our hands?”
“A devil.”
“Ah.” The old man's eyes lit with interest. He actually seemed to dig this little development.
“And do our friends in The Order have anything to say about it?”
Adam shrugged. “Just that she's mean and mortal. Enough firepower, and she'll die a second death.”
“What is she doing at our front gate?”
Adam grinned. “Admiring our architecture and history.”
Layla flushed, remembering that she had given Adam that very same answer when he'd asked why she was lurking in his woods. And she knew it was the closest he would get to identifying her as Rose's target to the people assembled.
“Until Rose Petty is apprehended or killed, Segue will remain in lockdown. You all know that drill by now. In the meantime, we're working to deliver her husband here. He might be able to anticipate her movements or talk her into a vulnerable position.”
“He's about to get the shock of his life,” Patel said.
The group gave a reluctant chuckle.
“Or if he's very smart, a shot at an appeal to his sentence,” Dr. James said. “If she's walking on this fair Earth, he could claim she never died.”
“Damn wife just won't stay dead,” another added.
“And I thought my ex-wife was psycho,” someone else joked.
They laughed as a group now, if a little restrained, and Layla marveled at their response. The meeting broke up, and she waited until she was alone with Adam again.
He spoke before she had a chance to ask her question. “Some of them have been at this for going on ten years. Without a little humor they'd be cracked by now.”
“Oh, they're cracked all right.”
He cocked his head. “We all are.”
She was about to leave when he stopped her with a hand to her elbow. “Hey, I don't suppose you had a chance to ask Khan about your photo, did you?”
Layla blushed. “Um . . . no. He, uh . . .”
“It's fine.” Adam shook his head as he lifted a hand. “No details or complicated explanations necessary. I get the idea. Tonight, though, will you? Shadow is a mixed bag, good and bad. Talia's comfortable using it, and Khan's basically made out of it, but I'd still like to be absolutely certain that we don't have an additional problem on our hands.”
“'Kay. Sure. Next time I see him.”
“Look, Talia's tied up with the kids for a bit, but if nothing happens in the next two hours”—he scratched the back of his head—“I promised her that I'd show you the wraith holding facility. You can take pictures if you'd like, though if you're going to publish something, I'd like to know beforehand.”
He couldn't be serious. “Don't you have stuff to do? Wraiths? Devils?”
“There's always stuff to do, and lately always something new and dangerous to watch out for, but I have been informed in no uncertain terms that you are my first priority. Life goes on.”
Had to be Talia bossing the boss.
Adam squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”
Layla nodded. “I'm going to set myself up in the library with Talia's homework.”
“Good girl. Then I'll look for you there.”
Layla claimed a whole table, thinking to create a time line of wraith growth and activity according to Segue's records, which were considerably superior to anything available to the general public. The institute was founded to house and study Jacob, Adam's brother, who had apparently murdered their parents shortly after turning wraith. Like Layla, Adam had focused on scientific studies of Jacob's condition, but soon diverged to include the paranormal. Looked like Talia was brought in to use near-death experiences to augment the research.
Yet according to Segue records, Jacob was in no way the first of the wraiths. Adam had detailed accounts that identified murders with indicative facial lacerations and jaw fractures as far back as seventeen years. Seventeen. There were two more from eighteen years ago, but that couldn't be right. And then a list of others, spotty yes, that included possible deaths as far back as twenty years. Twenty-three, if the last record was viable.
And here she'd tried to pin Adam on ground zero.
The WHO was way, way off. This had been a growing problem for a long time.
And who was The Death Collector? Sounded like “debt collector” to her. Was he the first wraith? Or something worse? Layla wished she could ask Talia.
She grabbed lunch—Marcie had made killer pizza—then went back to work. Dr. James stopped by with a handful of her articles, which he'd found on the Internet and printed out. He'd taken the time to read them and highlight all the things she'd gotten wrong. Which meant there was more color than white space. Generous of him.
Talia came in and collapsed into a chair. She looked frazzled, almost in tears over her kids. Seemed Michael, the firstborn, was playing with Shadow. It took all Talia's concentration, all her magic, to keep him firmly in mortality. Adam had kicked her out while they napped so she could breathe. A half hour passed before she got a call. Michael was up and at it again, so she was off.
It was late afternoon when Adam showed. He had good news. An agreement had been made for Mickey Petty's release. Transport was arranged for tomorrow, when things would get very interesting. Adam acted like it was just another day in the life at Segue. Even after Layla's day of quiet work, she was still shell-shocked, but she had the even stranger sensation of fitting in.
The wraith holding facility was a mound of earth like a fairy ring, topped with the same yellowing winter grass. A soldier in some whacked-out supergear stood post outside an innocuous-looking door cut into the side of the hill. Entering took two simultaneous key cards and some weird scan that Adam had to stand still for.
“We used to hold a wraith in captivity under the main building,” he said, “but that didn't work out too well.”
Layla could imagine.
“We lost three people the day my brother escaped, so now the wraiths are kept out here. This building can be completely sealed off in the event of an attack. We'll have to do some kind of service to dedicate it as a barrow, or it won't hold wights.”
“How do you plan to get them down here in the first place?” Seemed impossible to her.
“Launching a new division to work on that problem.” He looked over at her. “Wish I'd gotten a look at that one you spotted yesterday.”
They took a small elevator down into the earth, which opened into a control room. Inside the fairy mound, technology held the monsters at bay. Three soldiers sat in front of several monitors with sleek computer interfaces. A fourth soldier waited by the elevator.
“Good morning, Rick.”
Rick nodded back. “Sir.”
Layla lifted her camera. “May I?”
“For your reference only,” Adam said. “I don't want to compromise the security or personnel here.”
Right. Layla lowered her camera.
Adam signaled Rick. “Open 'er up.”
A wide, tall door opposite the control desk gasped open, and a strong puff of fetid air almost knocked Layla over.
“Yeah, they stink all right,” Adam said.
The wraiths within must have sensed the change because suddenly a chorus of earsplitting pterodactyl screeches shredded Layla's ears. She braced herself on the wall, her heart racing. She'd heard that screech many times during her coverage of the wraith war, but only once so close. She'd never run so fast in her life.
“There are sixteen cells in the facility,” Adam said, “with three wraiths currently in residence, all male. These were nested in Baltimore and apprehended by the police. You might remember, there was a stir about it on the news?”
Layla nodded. Two cops down. She took a deep breath, but her heart still wouldn't slow. She didn't want to go in there. Had she really searched deserted city alleys, abandoned buildings, and dockside warehouses to encounter one? She'd been out of her mind.
Three paces inside, Adam stopped at the first thick, clear window. Considering what the cell held, Layla didn't think the window was made of glass.
Inside was a wraith. Layla had originally come to Segue to look at one, to charge Adam and his wife with bringing this scourge on the world. Now that she had a good look at the real thing, up close so there could be no mistake, she could tell for certain that there was no earthly way any disease or drug had created him.
His face had seemed normal, youthful, just for an instant, but then he crouched defensively. His jaw unlocked and his mouth gaped open while barbarous teeth extended. Normal human eyes went hollow and mad, and his skin turned sallow with a queer, sudden emaciation. There was no way in hell that thing was human.
She'd learned as much from Talia and from her research today, but now the truth was feet from her.

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