The Edge Of The Cemetery (6 page)

“Anyway,” he splayed his hands on the table, “Vokkel was methodical about his research notes. His entries were concise and chronological, not like his journals, which are a mess.” Billy shot him an impatient look. He was constantly complaining about Vokkel's journals and the indecipherable way he wrote in them.

“He also documented Edgar's encounters with other ghost killers, noting what levels they were and if they were amicable to doing his dirty work. Then there's you….” He looked at me. “Those last few weeks of his life, he wrote a lot about you.” His eyebrows rose curiously. “He noted that he'd figured out who your mother was. He'd been having you followed not just by Caleb, but others, so he noted your power level and mentioned something else.” He stopped again to sip his beer and consult a notebook he'd taken from his pocket. “Okay, I'm going to read these to you in the order they were entered…I'm not sure they relate to each other, though. He wrote, '
My disease is progressing quickly, the demon is too strong for any but the most powerful to eradicate, I had hoped C1 could cure and turn me, he is not ready though.
' The next entry says, '
Discovery of G1 may be the solution
'; then '
They are growing impatient and wish to proceed immediately, G1 can perform the confluence and cure/turn me, although he will need persuading as he is much like B1
'; and '
The time for fulfilling the prophecy grows near, C1 cannot help me until that time, G1 must be convinced.
' And the last one, which I'm guessing he wrote a day or two before his death, says '
I have convinced them that I can persuade G1 to perform the convergence for a few of the more powerful ghosts and cure me of my demon. It will allow the time needed to prepare C1 per the prophecy.
' ”

“What the hell, Phil?!” Billy spurted loudly, causing a few patrons at the bar to turn in our direction. She shot them a glare that clearly stated “mind your own business”, then lowered her voice and asked, “Why are we just hearing about this now?”

Phil cocked his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Because,
Billy….
” He dragged her name out, netting a frustrated puff of breath from her. “You two already knew all that stuff, and there was no reason to think the C1 references had anything to do with you guys. And I'm still not sure they do.” Phil drained his beer and waved at Ed, the bartender, who nodded and looked to the rest of us to see if we wanted refills, which we did. “So there's some more stuff on C1 that's interesting. Vokkel wrote '
I have arranged for C1's care and tutelage, his proximity will allow periodic assessments
'; and '
C1 is the offspring-chamber vault prophecy?
' Don't know what that means, but I'll be checking into it tonight. Either way, we need to consider that C1 could be Calvin Brelong, especially since he's able to work with a demon like that, he's definitely strong.”

Aris nodded. “That is certainly plausible. If we assume Vokkel was aware of this boy, he would want to keep him from us. Furthermore, he would want to easily observe him.”

“What about the local Marin County Police…do they know about the car?” Billy asked.

Phil said, “Another guest saw a small sedan scream out of the parking lot, but he didn't get a plate or make, just the color. So for now, we're the only ones that know who Calvin is, and we need to keep it that way.”

“Anything else?” I was worn-out and wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

Phil looked at Aris with concern, and Aris nodded for him to proceed. “There's one other thing, and again it might not relate, could just be coincidence….” Aris didn't believe in coincidences, so the fact that he wanted Phil to mention it led me to believe it was anything but. “A couple of our nomadic GKs, the ones that came in to help over the last week, are AWOL. So is Pete's guy, Mark, the one that helped in Marin last night.”

“What do you mean, AWOL?” I asked.

“Well, the two that came in last week, they're mid-level and tend to show-up, conquer, and split, so we're not all that sure we should be concerned about them just yet. But Pete's been trying to call them to get specific details from the attacks they helped on, and they're not answering their phones, which is unusual. Mark's relatively new to ghost killing, but he's mid-level too and has been pretty dedicated and responsible so far. Pete's other guy is positive he saw him follow you two outside, but they haven't seen him since. Initially Pete thought he'd followed Calvin's car, but Mark's car was still parked up at the resort and he isn't answering his phone either.” Phil shrugged. “But maybe the whole scene in Marin freaked him out and he just took off out of fear. Either way, Pete asked Carol to try and locate them just to be sure they're okay.”

“So what now?” Billy asked. The irritation that never really left her voice was back in spades, but I knew it was more a product of frustration, exhaustion, and the fact that we really didn't have anything that would help us find the kid yet.

Aris lifted his glass, but instead of drinking, he gave Billy a compassionate look and said, “Julie arrived in the city last night, and is staying at Vokkel's house. Our sources tell us that she is here to settle her father's estate.”

“Well, she can have it,” Billy said emotionlessly. I knew she'd be fine as long as she didn't lay eyes on the woman, and that shouldn't be a problem since the two of them more or less avoided each other like the plague.

Aris tipped his glass to her and took a shallow drink, then said, “I suggest you both go home and get some rest. Once we locate this boy, we will need the best of our forces, and that is you.” He placed the half-empty glass on the table and slid out of the booth.

We watched Aris leave, and once he was out the door Billy said, “Well, he's right about us needing rest. I feel like I haven't slept in days.” Last night's exploits on top of recovering from a pretty good concussion appeared to be catching up with her…she did look tired. She glanced at me and said, “And you
look
like you haven't slept in days.”

Phil chuckled. “Yeah well…,” he rubbed his hands together eagerly, “I need to get to the sanctum. I've got some things I want to follow up on.” He winked as Billy rolled her eyes at the word “sanctum”.

The sanctum was Phil's term—and only Phil's term—for a room he'd commandeered in a rather large Edwardian house the Watchers had owned since the 1920s. It's located on Lincoln Way and 41
^st
Avenue, directly parallel to the south side of Golden Gate Park. The original purpose of the property was to provide a temporary home for our transient community of ghost killers, and a place to train newly minted ghost killers who didn't otherwise have someone to instruct and teach them. It's still used for both purposes today, although more the latter than the former. The house has one full-time occupant, another GK named Eric Tidbey. He does most of the training and maintains the property. But he only uses three or four rooms on a regular basis, making it a perfect location for Phil's library.

I should mention that the Watchers, as a group, are very wealthy. It's rumored that they used less than ethical means to obtain their initial fortune (meaning they used ghosts and demons), but over the past several centuries, that money has been legitimatized. The secondary source of funds comes from the estates of ghost killers that were heirless. Those estates generally included any journals or diaries they kept. So on top of a vast fortune (that is used to maintain these safe houses and pay the salaries of the transient ghost killers who otherwise don't have incomes), the Watchers have a vast treasure trove of written information that no one has bothered to centralize or organize.

When Phil was first shown the house, he noticed boxes and boxes of documentation, journals, letters, etc. written by visiting ghost killers and left there or sent there after they died, dating back to the purchase of the house. That gave him an idea…why not turn the large and mostly vacant living room into a library and research center, and contact other Watcher groups to have them send what they have to San Francisco, and allow Phil to become the “librarian” of sorts.

He'd spent the last few months doing just that; the collection was monstrous now, and had come from all over the world. Phil spent most days hovering over an antique library table piled high with these tomes, journals, and missives, familiarizing and cataloguing them so they could be properly shelved on the floor to ceiling bookcases he had installed all around the perimeter of the room. I'd heard it was quite impressive, if not a bit chaotic. It was also where Vokkel's papers were housed. Once it was all organized, it would be the largest and most complete collection of information the Watchers have ever had, and it will be a fantastic resource, not just for them, but for ghost killers as well.

“This C1 thing?” I asked. Knowing Phil, he would probably spend all night poring through papers trying to find a connection, if there was one. But he looked tired too. “Phil, when was the last time
you
slept?”

He smiled. “It's been awhile, but don't worry about me. I've survived on less.” He drained his beer and tipped the brim of his hat. “See you two later.” He left before I could chastise him.

I hailed a cab to get us home—I was too tired to walk six blocks, uphill.

The cab driver deposited us in front of our apartment building, and Billy and I wearily took the elevator up to the sixth floor. I was suddenly exhausted, but decided to decline Justine's dinner invitation in person.

When we entered the apartment, Billy let out a quiet but vicious expletive and stopped abruptly, causing me to run into her. Mumbling ungentlemanly words of my own, I moved around to face her. She looked angry and I asked, “What's wrong?” Then I heard the voices coming from the living room…one was Justine, the other I didn't recognize.

Billy walked stiffly into the living room with me at her heels. Justine looked up as we entered, a pained smile distorting her otherwise beautiful face. A woman was sitting in the arm chair across from Justine, and although I'd never met her, I knew who she was immediately.

She was gorgeous in a glamorous and worldly way. Her ebony hair hung just below her shoulders and her green eyes shone mischievously. She was dressed expensively in a navy blue silk dress and high-heeled shoes that accentuated her perfect, long legs. I knew that she had to be in her early fifties, but like Justine, this woman was aging very well and could have passed for the same age as Billy. The resemblance between mother and daughter was uncanny, but where Billy was very pretty in a natural way, Julie's beauty was sophisticated and elegant.

“Ah, there you are,” Julie exclaimed. Suddenly frowning, she said, “You look positively horrible. What in the world have you been up too?” She didn't wait for a response; instead, she turned to me and said in a flirtatious tone, eyelashes fluttering, “And who might you be?”

I was a hundred different kinds of exhausted, but the good manners my dad spent years pounding into my head took over, and I cordially replied, “Hi, I'm George. You must be Julie.” I began to offer my hand in greeting, then remembered the bandages and pulled back. “Sorry, we…,” I glanced at Billy, “have been up to all sorts of things.” I walked over to Justine and sat next to her, quietly asking, “Are you all right?” She smiled at me and nodded her head.

Julie was on the receiving end of a particularly nasty green-eyed glower from Billy. It would have crumbled most people, but Julie just smiled arrogantly and said, “I heard about your little fight with Daddy…it wasn't very nice, what you did.” Her tone was indifferent when she said, “Although I suppose I should probably thank you; after all, he left everything to me.”

In an eerily calm tone, Billy said, “Maybe I should remedy that and become the last in his line of heirs.”

If the threat had any effect on Julie, she didn't show it. Instead, she smiled and condescendingly said, “It appears that someone has broken into his house and taken some items.” Julie's eyes narrowed accusingly. “I'd like them back.”

Billy's face began to reveal the hurt and pain Julie had caused her over the years, and I could feel Justine stiffen beside me. Tossing my manners aside, I decided to put an end to it.

“Julie, I can't imagine what anyone would want to steal from that old bastard, but I can assure you that Billy is the very last person who'd enter the house of the man
you
sold her to.”

Julie swung her head slowly in my direction, arching it just slightly in surprise.

I continued. “Perhaps it was Edgar who took whatever is missing, or maybe one of Vokkel's little minions…maybe it was the person who misinformed you about your father's death. I heard it was a mugging gone bad.”

“George…is that what you said your name is? I don't believe this conversation is any of your business.” Her eyes brightened a bit. “Unless of course you're the young man that helped her kill her grandfather.” She clapped her hands together in delight. “Of course, I should have guessed. After all, I doubt Billy has any other friends.”

“Since you don't know anything about Billy, you wouldn't know about her friends either,” I said snidely. Yep, those manners were toast. “But do tell, what was taken?”

Julie stared at me for a moment, one that lasted long enough to make me a little uncomfortable. Finally she broke away and turned to Billy. “Father kept a great many notes and journals of his work, and I've found no such things in his house. You have until tomorrow to return them. If you do not, I'll contact the authorities.”

I let out a condescending sigh, one that matched Julie's earlier tone with her daughter, and said, “Julie….” I waved my hand between Justine, Billy, and myself. “We're all sort of tired…it's been a long few days. Why don't you leave your number, and in the unlikely event anyone here wants to talk to you, we'll call.” I started to stand, but sat back again, my weariness exasperated by this woman's presence.

“Aren't you the knight in shining armor?” Julie said mockingly.

At that moment Margie appeared, somehow looking twice her normal size and mean as hell. “I'll walk you to the door, miss….” I'd have sworn Margie was going to bite her, and Julie must have thought so too. She stood up, smoothed her dress, and turned to Justine. “It was nice seeing you again, Aunt Justine. I'm glad to see you're well.” There was sincere affection in her voice and her eyes, which seemed at odds with what I knew of her.

Margie took Julie's elbow, which Julie immediately retracted as if she'd been stung. Margie smirked and directed Julie to the front door. She was very protective of Justine, and undoubtedly would continue her escort all the way to the street to insure Julie was out of the building.

Billy said tiredly, “What did she have to say before we got here?”

Justine sighed lightly. “She was quite charming, actually. She spent most of the time inquiring about my health and activities, and appeared genuinely interested. In addition, she asked about you, dear. She wanted to know if you were happy. It was a bit surprising…her past visits, infrequent as they have been, have always focused on herself and her life.”

Billy replied with a simple “humph.” Clearly she wasn't impressed with her mother's attempt at reconnecting with her family.

“Ladies, I'm beat. Justine, thanks for the dinner invitation, but I need to decline and become one with my bed for at least twelve hours.” I pecked her cheek and got up from the couch with some effort. Billy walked me to the door.

“You going to be okay?” I asked. She nodded, opened the door, and shoved me through it.