The Eternal Ones (34 page)

The gray men had been waiting for her the moment she left Gramercy Park. What were they after? Had Padma sent them? For the next fifteen minutes, Haven loitered in the drugstore, browsing through floppy hats and cheap sunglasses as the salespeople watched her warily. Before she left, she stripped out of her T-shirt, wearing only the tank top she’d had on underneath. She tucked her hair beneath a denim hat and donned a pair of faux-tortoiseshell sunglasses. Trying not to appear too cautious, she stepped out into the street and held out her hand to hail a cab. Relief washed over her when a taxi stopped to let out a fare half a block from where she stood. As she waited for the businessman inside to hunt for his wallet, a black car pulled up to the curb beside her. The passenger door opened, and a bulky man in a black suit picked Haven up and crammed her into the backseat like a piece of cheap luggage.

The door slammed shut, and Haven scrambled to open it, only to find that the handles wouldn’t budge. She beat on the glass partition that separated her from the front seat and screamed for help. The driver ignored her, and the people passing by on the sidewalk outside didn’t pause. The tinted windows were thick, and no one outside could hear Haven’s cries. As the car took off down the avenue, Haven rummaged through her purse for anything she could use as a weapon. She thought of breaking her mirror into razor-sharp shards or blinding her kidnappers with hair-relaxing spray. At last she opted for a ballpoint pen, which she grasped in her fist like a dagger.

Soon they were traveling west toward the Hudson River. Warehouses lined the streets and few pedestrians strolled the sidewalks. On Twenty-first Street, just past Tenth Avenue, the car came to a stop beneath an ancient railway overpass. When the driver got out, Haven clenched her weapon and started to pray. One of the backseat doors opened, and she pressed herself against the opposite side of the car, waiting for the man to reach in and grab her. Instead, someone else slid in beside her.

Iain stared at Haven, her hair spilling out from under the tacky denim hat, her skirt bunched up around her thighs, and a ballpoint pen in her fist.

“Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t go back?” he demanded.

“How
dare
you have me followed?” Haven snarled. “Were those gray men working for
you
? Did you make some sort of deal with Padma Singh? Let me out of the car, you psycho! Let me out this second!” She hurled herself toward the door, but Iain caught her by the wrist and pulled her back.

“Not yet.” He kept his composure, but Haven could see Iain was furious. “I want you to explain why you went back to the Society after I told you to give the detective work a rest.”

“My apologies, Mr. Morrow,” Haven spit, wishing she had the guts to punch him in his pretty nose. “I guess I’m not very good at taking orders from liars. What are you going to do now? Make me disappear? Kill me like you killed Jeremy Johns?”

Iain snorted and shook his head. “My God, Haven, you have
no idea
what you’re talking about. Do you know how long those gray men have been watching you? Have you seen them before?”

Haven stopped trying to break free and stared at him. “What are you talking about? Weren’t they working for you? Didn’t Padma loan you her drones?”

“You really think I have gray men working for me? That shows how much
you
know.”

“Well, I know about Jeremy Johns,” Haven hissed. “How could you kill someone with a
rock
?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I have my sources,” Haven said, borrowing Adam’s words.

“Did you speak with someone this morning?” Iain asked, watching her closely through narrowed eyes.

“Why don’t you just ask your thugs? You must have had
someone
tailing me if you knew where to find me.”

“Answer my question, Haven.”

“You first,” Haven insisted. “How did you find me?”

“I asked James to look after you. He followed you to the park, and he saw you leave with a gray man behind you. The gray men aren’t after
you
, Haven. They want to see if you’ll lead them to Ethan. ”

Haven still couldn’t get past the first part of Iain’s statement. “I can’t believe you told James to watch me! What’s the point, anyway? Why bother to keep me safe if you’re just going to kill me yourself?” she sneered. “The same way you killed Constance.”

The anger left Iain’s face, and his head seemed to droop with exhaustion. “What’s wrong with you, Haven?” he asked. “What could have changed since I left the apartment this morning? Everything was so wonderful last night, and now you’re convinced that I killed the person I love most in the world?”

“If I’m wrong, why don’t you prove it? Tell me what’s really going on,” Haven pushed him. “Why are so many people following me?

“I can’t tell you that.”

“You
can’t tell me
?” The full force of Haven’s anger finally broke loose. “What the hell kind of answer is that? I’ve been an idiot to trust you. You’ve done nothing but lie to me and hurt me. I came all the way to New York, thinking I was supposed to be with you, and you turn out to be a lying, cheating, kidnapping murderer!”

Iain lifted a hand to stroke Haven’s face. “I’m sorry—”

“Stay away from me!” Haven shouted, slapping his hand away. “I’m going to make you pay for what you did to Constance. And I’m not going to let you kill any more people.”

“This is pointless,” Iain muttered hopelessly. He pressed the intercom button in the backseat. “Stop the car,” he ordered.

The Mercedes rolled to a halt, and the driver jumped out to open Iain’s door.

“Take Miss Moore wherever she wants to go.” Iain climbed out of the car without looking back at Haven. “If she wants me alive, she won’t go back to the Ouroboros Society.”

“Iain!” The door slammed in her face, and Haven felt her mind drifting into the darkness.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked over the intercom. “Miss?”

 

“I am such an idiot.” Haven was hiding out in the cleaning-fluids aisle of a grocery store on University Place. As far as she could tell, the only potential eavesdropper was a stock boy rocking out to death metal on his iPod while several cases of antibacterial toilet cleaner waited to be shelved. Haven felt a bit safer in his company. There was no way a kid with so many tattoos and eyebrow piercings could possibly be a gray man.

“So I guess you’ve heard?” Beau asked on the other end of the phone.

“About the eyewitness?” Haven sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“I just saw it on the news. I was about to call to break it to you. So what do you think? You think the lady’s lying? Do you think she saw Iain kill Jeremy?”

“Why are you asking
me
?” Haven said. “I’ve been wrong about everything since I got to New York. Which is why I may be forced to spend the rest of the day hiding in aisle number three of the Greenwich Village Food Emporium.”

“You’re where? What the hell happened?”

“I went out to get some coffee, and somehow I ended up walking all the way to Gramercy Park. Then I ran into a guy I know from the Ouroboros Society. He told me about Jeremy. He also claims he knew Ethan and Constance back in 1925 and that everything Padma told me about Ethan was true. He did kill Strickland. And he started the fire that killed me, too.”

“Hold on. Who’s this guy you’re talking about?”

“His name is Adam Rosier. He’s some sort of big shot at the Society.”

“I remember the name,” Beau said. “You asked me to look for information about him, and I couldn’t find a thing. But why are you hanging out with
anyone
from the Society? Didn’t you tell me that the OS is totally corrupt? Don’t they go around killing people?”

“Yeah, but Adam says Padma is to blame for all the corruption, and that he’s trying to clean it up.”

“Still.” Beau didn’t sound impressed. “Don’t you think it’s a little naive to trust some random guy from the OS when you can’t even trust the person you’ve been in love with for two thousand years?”

“Why would
Adam
lie? Anyway, I might have given Iain the benefit of the doubt if he hadn’t decided to kidnap me.”

“
What
?” Beau exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Totally serious,” Haven said. “Turns out he’s been having me followed. After I left Gramercy Park, a guy grabbed me off the sidewalk, threw me into a car, and took me to see Iain.”

“Damn. How’d you get free?”

“They let me go. I had them drop me off at Union Square.”

“They let you go? That’s not really much of a kidnapping then, is it? What did Iain say when you saw him?”

“He was mad that I went near the OS again. He said if I wanted him alive, I wouldn’t go back. He claims gray men have been following me to see if I’d lead them to him.”

“Now you’ve got
my
head spinning,” Beau said. “I thought it was one of
his
guys who grabbed you off the street.”

“Exactly! How many people have been following me? And why does Iain want me to stay away from the OS if he’s there all the time himself? I saw on his phone that he’s having breakfast with Padma Singh tomorrow morning.”

“The woman who used to be Rebecca Underwood? The one who’s supposedly responsible for all the corruption at the OS?” Beau paused. “Look, I don’t want to be the one to make things worse, but—”

“But what?”

“I just got back from talking to your mom like you asked me, but there wasn’t much I could do. Your grandmother called Dr. Tidmore. I guess he’s up north somewhere visiting friends. He’s agreed to come to New York and escort you back to Tennessee. They want you to phone him ASAP.”

“You’re kidding!” Haven shouted, causing an old lady at the end of the supermarket aisle to jump and drop a pack of mothballs.

“’Fraid not. Imogene thinks you’ve gone totally wanton. Apparently, your soul is in peril, and drastic measures must be taken. Your mom just thinks you’re too young to be vacationing in Europe with some boy she’s never met. She said it’s either Tidmore or the police.”

“Then they’ve both gone completely insane. Let them call the police, ’cause there is no way in hell—”

“All things considered, Haven,” Beau interrupted, “it might not be such a bad idea. You know I don’t like Tidmore any more than you do, but it sounds like you’ve gotten yourself in an awfully big mess.”

“You too? Crazy must be contagious. I am
not
going to call Dr. Tidmore.”

“Fine. Then I’m going to come up there myself and get you.”

“No, you aren’t. I don’t need anyone to save me, Beau. Besides, if you’re here it’ll just complicate things.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I am
not
going to get myself killed. I’ve got a plan,” Haven insisted.

“Your plan better not involve playing kissy-kissy with your kidnapper.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not going to play kissy-kissy with anybody ever again. Iain’s staying at his dad’s apartment uptown. So I’m going to sleep at
my
house tonight.”

“
What
house?” Beau asked.

“I gotta go,” Haven told him. “I’ve got grocery shopping to do.”

“Miss! Miss!” As soon as she pulled her key out of her pocket, the paparazzi waiting outside the mews began to shout. They were a motley bunch—potbellied pros with cameras that cost more than their houses stood alongside greasy, muscular punks dressed like New Jersey frat boys. A few in the crowd could have doubled as ax murderers or serial killers. After a night spent staking out the mews, most of the men were unkempt, some downright filthy. And each of them wore a layer of stubble and dark bags beneath his eyes. They looked as though they’d seen everything there was to see—all in the past twenty-four hours.

Haven set her bucket full of cleaning supplies down on the cobblestones and pulled out her keys. “What do you want?” she asked them in an accent that belonged to no particular country.

“Who are
you
?” one of the men called out. None of the photographers had recognized Haven with her unruly hair pulled back in a bun.

“Who do you
think
I am?” Haven pulled a mop out of the bucket and shook it at him. “I am the maid.” A murmur of disappointment passed through the mob.

“Where’s Iain Morrow?” another asked.

“How should I know? You think he asks maid’s permission whenever he wants to leave town?”

“A thousand dollars if you tell me where to find him.”

“Two thousand!” someone else shouted.

A few of the bolder men broke out of the crowd and ventured past the gate toward Haven. They walked slowly, almost sideways, as if approaching a wild beast. One of them took his wallet from his pocket and waved it in front of him, hoping Haven understood the international sign for bribery.

Haven slipped inside before they could reach her. She stood for a moment with her back to the door, feeling the wood vibrate as the paparazzi pounded on the other side. The rank odor of rotting vegetation was turning her stomach. She counted a dozen glass vases filled with dead, drooping blooms floating in murky liquid. In just a few short days, the fragrant flowers that Iain had given her on their first morning back in New York had turned foul and disgusting.