The Eldritch Conspiracy (24 page)

The tattoo on his forearm was beginning to glow, the colors shining like light through stained glass, like sparkling jewels. He was talking, and that was starting to activate the death curse that was part of the binding oath he’d taken to keep their secrets. I could feel the magic coming off of him in waves of heat. “The first real blow is tomorrow. But it won’t end until you’re dead. Every last one of you.”

Now
he was foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head. He made thick, wet choking sounds, his body spasming so strongly that he tripped over the chair. It was like a grand mal seizure, but magical, not physical, in cause. A strong smell of sulfur filled the room.

“Medic!”
Thorsen’s bass bellow was loud enough to hurt my ears. He rushed to the still form on the floor and began giving CPR. No artificial respiration. The smell of sulfur and bitter almonds hung too heavy on the body. But he kept working to keep the prisoner’s heart pumping until the EMTs arrived and pronounced him dead.

23

I
sat
in Thorsen’s large, airy office, shivering in reaction, huddled over a cup of steaming coffee. Thorsen had personally taken charge of my debriefing. Undoubtedly the psychic was being debriefed and writing a report somewhere else.

Emotions swept over me in waves. Guilt: I was the one who caused this. I personally had caused an entire terrorist organization to be formed. People were dying, and it was all my fault. No, not
all
mine. Eirene owned a share of the blame. Of course, she was already dead, and even half the blame was more than enough for me.

Anger and frustration: that man had been a terrorist and an asshole, but he shouldn’t have had to die like that. The guys we were up against acted as if people were as disposable as used tissues. That was just so wrong. That they were heating it up and serving it as religion only made it worse.

“When he was dying, the psychic got the impression of a cross, and the tattoo on his arm was of a cross as well. It’s obviously a symbol with some importance to them. Do you have any idea, other than the obvious, of what it signifies?”

“Nope.”

There was a tap on the door. A petite brunette with a crisp uniform and a no-nonsense attitude peeked in. “Sir. We ran his prints through the system. They came up for a minor infraction in Detroit, USA, under the name Jason Barnes. I’m running the name Barnes through our database. We’re getting a ton of results, but none of them seems relevant.”

“Stay on it.”

“Yes, sir.” She ducked back out.

“The clairvoyants kept saying that you were the key to what is going on, but they couldn’t tell me why. The queen insisted that you were loyal and had saved her and Adriana at the bridal shop. I wanted to judge for myself.”

“And?”

He answered my question with a question. “What happened in the desert? How did you know Jason Barnes’s brother? What do you know about the Guardians of the Faith?”

I was being interrogated. Oh, we weren’t in a cinder-block room with a one-way mirror, but this was an interrogation nonetheless.

Fair enough.

I straightened in my chair. “Are you taping this?”

He arched a single blond eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you what little I know. Lives are at stake. But I don’t want to risk some of what I’m saying to leave this room.”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shook his head. “I have to pursue my investigations, to protect Queen Lopaka and the others.”

I hadn’t expected any less, but he was missing my point. “I know that. But I have enough problems with the press, and with law enforcement officials thinking I’m a monster. Use the information any way you need to, but be discreet. I don’t want to see it on the news.”

He nodded his approval. “You have my word.” He gave the words weight and I felt magic building behind them. He made a quick gesture with his right hand and I heard a sound like the ringing of a bell, saw a flash of color as red runes flickered to life in the ceiling and walls.

“Now, talk.”

I wasn’t sure what was relevant, so I told him everything that had anything to do with the sirens. I started with the curse Stefania had laid on my sister and me—when I showed him the mark in my palm, he said “Hmm” in a quiet voice. I went through the incident in the desert, my encounters with Okalani, and everything else, including what Hiwahiwa had told me regarding the clairvoyant’s vision.

He asked many questions.

Most, I answered. Some, I couldn’t—because I flat out didn’t know. He didn’t seem upset or disappointed, just accepted my lack of knowledge and moved on.

Finally he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled to tap against his lips. His expression was serious and thoughtful.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I think,” he said, leaning forward and setting his hands, palm down, on the desk, “that this is a fucking mess.”

Well, that was honest.

“And while I don’t think you should be held responsible for it, your actions were one of the root causes of recent events. Still, I can’t see what else you could’ve done under the circumstances, and you can’t be held responsible for your enemies’ terrorist actions.” He sighed. “Your aunt wants me to keep you safe, but you’re caught right in the middle of this mess. I don’t see that there’s anything that can be done about that, either. The death curse has something to do with that, no doubt. If Queen Stefania wasn’t already dead…” He let the sentence dangle. He didn’t need to finish it. I knew exactly what he meant. I felt pretty much the same way.

We had a moment of silent accord. Then I said, “So, now what?”

“Now you go back to the hospital to stay with your grandmother and I get to work. But please, if you can,
try
to stay out of trouble, at least for the next few hours. My agents are stretched thin enough as it is.” He gave me a real smile. His eyes sparkled and a pair of deep dimples creased his cheeks. He rose. With a gesture of his hand, the runes disappeared, the magic dissipating like mist before the sun.

“I’ll do my best,” I promised as I rose to my feet. When I extended my hand to Thorsen, he shook it.

It was late by the time we got back to the hospital; my conversation with Thorsen had taken quite some time, and then I had my driver stop at an all-night pharmacy. I picked up some toiletries and clothes for Gran plus baby food and nutrition shakes for me. I downed two of the shakes in the car, so I was reasonably well fed by the time we got to the hospital. The guards at Gran’s door checked my identification and squirted me with holy water. Once they were sure I was really me, I was able to enter the room.

She was still out cold. Lying on the hospital bed, she looked so
tiny
. Her slight body barely raised a lump beneath the thin green hospital blanket. She was snoring a little, a sound familiar from the many times I’d slept at her house. Hearing it made me smile. As I stood next to the bed, looking down at her, I promised myself that I’d keep her safe somehow; that we’d work out our differences, whatever it took.

But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Still, that was a problem for later. For now, I just needed to be here with her. So I stacked my packages in the corner and settled into the recliner next to the bed.

The chair wasn’t too uncomfortable and I was freaking exhausted. This had been an incredibly long day. I needed rest. There were guards on the door. So I closed my eyes and soon dozed off.

Previous experience had taught me that I wouldn’t get a lot of sleep in a hospital. Every few minutes, one staff member or another would come check on my grandmother. Still, I did get some rest, but it was just dawn when I woke for the first time in years to the sound of her voice.

“Celie? What are you doing here?” She didn’t sound happy to see me.

I used the lever to shift the chair to its upright position and tried to shake the cobwebs from my head. Gran was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet dangling.

She scooted off of the bed, steadying herself with one hand on the mattress as her feet reached the floor.

I rose, intending to help her, but she waved me aside.

“No. I can get myself to the bathroom without your assistance, thank you.” The words were as bitter as acid, and I stepped back, stung.

She was steady enough to make it the few steps to the bathroom and use the facilities. That seemed like such a good idea that I followed her example as soon as she was done.

When I came out, she was back in bed, tucking in to the breakfast I’d heard arrive while I was in the bathroom. She had the wheeled tray pulled close and the bed adjusted to allow her to sit up straight.

“Before you say anything,” Gran said, setting down her spoon and looking me straight in the eyes, “I remember now why I’m here. I was just sleepy and disoriented. So you don’t need to worry about that.”

I opened my mouth to respond but she kept talking.

“And I don’t want any lectures from you about where I’ve been living. It’s my choice and my money. I’ve been making my own decisions since before you were born.…” She was starting to work up a good head of steam. If this kept up, we’d have a fight, which I didn’t want, but she apparently did. Most likely she thought the best defense was a good offense. But she didn’t need to defend herself from me. Why didn’t she realize that?

“Gran, stop. Just
stop.
All right? I get it. You wanted to be close to Mom so you could visit every day and you wanted to make sure she had everything she needed at the prison. Money just doesn’t ever go as far as you think it’s going to.”

She subsided a little, but her expression remained wary. She stared at me, chin down, eyes narrow with suspicion. That look, more than anything, told me just how hard times had been for her lately.

“I wish you’d talked to me. I could’ve helped, could’ve visited.”

“Why would you bother? You don’t visit your own mother.” Wow, the amount of bitterness she fit into that sentence was enough to choke on.

I took a deep breath, fighting to maintain my self-control. “I love Mom. I will always love Mom.” God help me, that was the absolute truth. “But I won’t let myself in for more abuse. I’m not that much of a masochist.”

“Celia Kalino Graves! Your mother
never—
”

I cut her off. “Bullshit. You don’t believe me, hire a clairvoyant. Have them take a look back for you. Hell, I’ll even pay for it. But I’m warning you—you won’t like what you see.”

Gran’s jaw set in a hard line and we glared at each other. This probably wasn’t a good time to have this particular argument. She was in the hospital for a reason. But this confrontation had been brewing for months, years even.

God help me, I was tired of trying so damned hard to do everything right, to make everything work, only to watch my mother destroy my efforts … and then have to listen to my gran make excuses for her.

To my own surprise, I wasn’t shouting when I responded. “You want to know why I act the way I do? Go find out. Then we’ll talk. But until you know the facts, don’t you dare judge me. Don’t you
dare
tell me that Ivy and I lived some idyllic childhood with a mother who cared about us. Because we
didn’t
.”

“Get out.” She didn’t yell, but there was a cold fury in her voice.

“Gladly,” I snapped back.

I picked up most of the packages I’d stacked by my chair, leaving only the ones with the clothing and toiletries I’d bought for her. Then I left, without saying good-bye, without so much as a backward glance. But not without regret.

None of the guards said a word as I left the room—not the two by the door, and not Baker or Griffiths, who were seated beside a small table on the far side of the hall. They had to have heard. I’d kept my voice down, but Gran hadn’t, and the walls were paper thin. But all four were tactful enough to at least pretend they didn’t know what had happened on the other side of that closed door.

Baker offered me a box of tissues, which is when I realized that I was crying. Damn it! I took a few tissues and tried to pull myself together. It took a few ragged breaths, and blowing my nose several times, but eventually I calmed down.

“Not that I’m objecting, but why are you two still on duty? Don’t they ever let you sleep?”

Baker gave a delicate snort, which pulled a small smile from me. “Please, this close to the ceremony, with as many tourists and strangers as we have on the islands, it’s all hands on deck.”

“Besides”—Griffiths gave me a grin that didn’t seem the least bit weary despite the long hours—“you’re where the action is.”

Wasn’t that the damned truth?

24

W
e were
on our way back to the compound. I wanted a shower, coffee, and breakfast. I knew that I had a lot to do. But I couldn’t think what. I couldn’t seem to think at all. I was on emotional overload. So I rode in the back of the limo in silence through streets that weren’t yet crowded because it was barely dawn. Oh, there were a few die-hards, their dome tents pitched along the parade route, fans waiting for the best seats to the show of a lifetime. But mostly the thin, watery light of a new day revealed empty streets and darkened shops.

It suited my mood.

Adriana might be perfectly happy with how I’d handled things thus far. I wasn’t. Gran could have been killed. Queen Lopaka nearly had been. Natasha had certainly had a close call. We all kept scurrying around, putting out fires, but we were just reacting and getting nowhere in terms of finding out who was behind it all. I had no doubt there were all kinds of agencies working on this, but so far their results had been less than stellar.

But I was expected to slap on a smile and keep marching blindly forward to the wedding.

I hated it.

Right now I hated my whole freaking life.

I knew I was feeling sorry for myself. But I couldn’t seem to help it.

I needed comfort, a friendly voice, somebody to lie through their teeth if necessary and tell me that it
wasn’t
all my fault, and that eventually everything would be fine.