The Sinner (15 page)

Twenty

T
emple was seated in the bar when I arrived at the restaurant. She waved me over and smiled a greeting as I slid onto the stool across from her. We ordered drinks and then sat sipping wine while we caught up on our current projects.

“You've certainly been busy,” she remarked after I'd told her all about my current restoration.

“It's been a challenging project,” I said.

“I'm not talking about work. I haven't spoken to you in a while and now I find out you've embroiled yourself in yet another murder investigation.”

I frowned at her assessment. “I wouldn't say embroiled. I stumbled across a body and called the police.”

“You seem to have a knack for finding crime scenes,” she murmured. “What do you make of that whole circle situation? The mortsafes and the dead woman. Not to mention the missing skull. They must all be related in some way.”

“Didn't you ask Detective Kendrick?”

“He wasn't at all forthcoming. A very taciturn man, your Detective Kendrick.”

“
My
Detective Kendrick?”

She shrugged. “He's very attractive but a little too intense for my taste. You definitely seem to have a type, though.” She lifted her drink, eyeing me over the rim. “What's going on between you two, anyway?”

“Nothing's going on. Why do you imply that there is?”

“He had a noticeable reaction when I mentioned your name and he went out of his way to avoid running into you in the cemetery. In much the same way, I might add, that you're avoiding eye contact with me at this very moment.”

“I'm not.” I gave her a deliberate stare. “And there's nothing going on with Detective Kendrick and me.”

She gave me one of her knowing smiles. “If you say so. But if there were, you'd have no reason to feel guilty about it.”

“Why would I feel guilty?”

“Because you've always been loyal to a fault. But you don't owe John Devlin anything. Whatever you had with him is over. He's in the past. Although I can certainly understand why you'd feel a little gun-shy after what happened.” She paused thoughtfully. “What did happen, exactly? I've never been clear on that.”

Nor was I. All I'd been told was that his grandfather had gotten mixed up with some very bad people and Devlin thought it dangerous for us to be together. Of course, I knew there was more to his reasoning than that. Somehow his departure was linked to his past and to his legacy as a Devlin. I had to wonder if it might be connected to my legacy, as well. He and I had shared an experience during our time at Kroll Cemetery, a supernatural encounter that should have brought us closer together, but instead had deepened the chasm between us. I hadn't understood our estrangement then and I still didn't understand it now.

“It was a matter of timing,” I said uneasily. “His grandfather became ill and Devlin had commitments and responsibilities.”

“What utter nonsense,” Temple said bluntly. “I hope you didn't buy that flimsy excuse. And I must say, if his grandfather really was so ill, he appears to have made a full recovery. He looked perfectly fine when I saw him last week.”

I scowled across the table at her. “When did you see him? And how do you even know Jonathan Devlin?”

“Oh, I don't know him. But I happened to be at a restaurant in Charleston the other night when he and Devlin came in together. The resemblance and age difference were sufficient for me to assume he was the grandfather.”

I toyed with my wineglass. “Did you talk to Devlin?”

“Just to say hello. He was with a strange party of mostly elderly gentlemen. Very staid and conservative. Old-money types. With the exception of the amazon in red, they looked as if they were headed to a wake.”

I told myself to let the matter drop, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from asking, “The amazon in red?”

Temple rolled her eyes dreamily. “Elegantly windblown and legs for days.”

“And you say she was with Devlin's party?”

“Yes. In fact...” Temple trailed off as her gaze turned anxious. “I got the impression she was with Devlin. The two of them appeared close.”

My heart jolted painfully. “How close?”

“No PDAs but lots of whispering and meaningful gazes.” She reached across the table and put her hand over mine. “I'm not telling you this to hurt you. I hope you realize that. I just thought you should know in case you're letting something pass you by out of misplaced loyalty to Devlin.”

“Thank you,” I managed, even though I couldn't catch my breath for a second. I felt as if I'd fallen from a very high place and landed on my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs. I was devastated by Temple's revelation, but not really surprised. A part of me had been waiting for this moment ever since Devlin had ended things in Kroll Cemetery. I knew there was the possibility, even the probability, that he would move on, especially now that he had returned to the Devlin fold.

“He introduced us, but I don't remember her name,” Temple went on. “Claire something-or-other, I think.”

Of course her name would be Claire or Charlotte or Caroline. I had a very clear picture of her. Blonde, beautiful, sophisticated. Smart, too, I imagined, and from just the right kind of family. A golden woman. The kind I'd always imagined with Devlin, this Claire something-or-other.

Claire.

How I hated that beautiful name.

I gulped air and then some wine.

“Are you okay?” Temple asked worriedly.

“I'm fine.” I forced a normal tone to my voice. No easy feat considering the lump in my throat and the ringing in my ears.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said flatly. “I don't want to talk about Devlin or Kendrick or any other man, for that matter. I want to ask you about the Order of the Coffin and the Claw.” I'd planned to bring up the subject more casually, but I needed an immediate diversion. Something to erase the images floating around inside my head of a beautiful blonde on Devlin's arm and in his bed. Claire. Claire something-or-other.

I shuddered and gripped the stem of my wineglass.

“Why do you want to talk about the Claws?” Temple asked in annoyance. “I've never understood your fascination for that group, especially now that you're no longer with John Devlin. This doesn't have anything to do with the reason you two broke up, does it?”

“No, not really. At least, I don't think so. But it may have something to do with the body I found in the caged grave.”

Temple's eyes widened. “My God, really? How?”

“I don't know yet. I'm still trying to figure it all out.”

“But you're not embroiled in the investigation. Oh, no, not at all.”

“Okay, maybe I am a little,” I relented. “It's only natural to be curious. And to be honest, I've always had a feeling that you know more about the Order of the Coffin and the Claw than you've ever admitted.”

She sighed and took a sip of her wine. “You and your conspiracy theories. I told you before, even if I'd had the right pedigree for those people, I was never a joiner.”

“I know that's what you said, but you did go to school with them. You attended their parties. You must have heard things.”

“Like what?”

I glanced around the restaurant, feeling the same kind of paranoia that Dr. Shaw had displayed in his office. “This is going to sound strange, but bear with me, okay?”

“Sound strange? Coming from you?”

“Have you ever heard of another secret group that recruits from the Order?”

She gave me a doubtful look. “What do you mean, ‘recruits'?”

“The elite chosen from the elite. I can't say much more than that. I just wondered if you'd ever heard of such a thing.”

I expected her to brush me off or laugh again in my face, but instead she fell silent as she stared into her wineglass.

I leaned in. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

She glanced up. “Call me crazy, but I actually think I know what you're talking about for once.”

“You do? What have you heard?” I pressed.

Now she was the one who leaned across the table, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “There was this guy I dated briefly at Emerson. Aaron, I think his name was. Cute boy. Very sweet. He wasn't like the other Claws I knew. Not at all arrogant or full of himself. He was quiet and unassuming. A deep thinker. He seemed to abhor everything that the Order of the Coffin and the Claw stood for. All the parties and ceremonies. The secrecy. He told me once he'd only agreed to the initiation because he was legacy and it was expected of him. Anyway, we went out a few times and then he just stopped coming around. We were hardly serious so I wasn't bothered by his behavior, but I did find it odd. It wasn't like him just to disappear without a word.”

“You never saw him again?”

“Not for months. Then I ran into him one day in Charleston. It was the strangest thing, Amelia. He'd changed so much I almost didn't recognize him. Not just his physical appearance, but also the way he carried himself, the way he spoke...everything about him was different. I found his transformation very unsettling.”

“Did he give you any explanation for his disappearance?”

“He said he'd had to go away suddenly after his father died. He'd learned some things about his family, about what was expected of him, and it wasn't safe for him to be in a relationship.”

I stared at her in shock, recalling a similar conversation I'd had with Devlin. “Did he tell you why it wasn't safe?”

“All he said was that the Order of the Coffin and the Claw was just the beginning. A test, so to speak. The initiations and the rituals and the dabbling in the occult...child's play was how he put it.”

A chill crept up my backbone. “What did he mean by that?”

“He said that if he told me what he'd seen and done since the last time we were together, I wouldn't believe him. And if I did believe him, I'd never sleep again.”

I drew a sharp breath. “Listen to me, Temple. This is important. Did he mention a group called the
Congé
?”

“The
Congé
?” She shook her head. “I don't think so, but the conversation took place a long time ago. I hadn't thought about him in years. But I seem to recall his family was in banking. Or maybe insurance. I'm not sure. I do know they were wealthy. South of Broad kind of rich. Like most of the Claws, he could trace his roots back to the founding of Charleston.” She shrugged and folded her arms on the table. “That's it. That's all I remember. Now tell me what this is all about.”

“I don't really know myself. As I said, I'm still trying to figure it all out.”

“Figure what out? One moment you tell me you're not involved in the investigation and the next thing I know, you're grilling me about the Order of the Coffin and the Claw and some other mysterious group because you think they're somehow related to a woman's murder.” She searched my face. “Tell me the truth. What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Nothing. This doesn't have anything to do with me.” A lie, of course. If what Darius Goodwine had told me was true, the
Congé
and their mission had everything to do with me. “I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me. But you can't tell anyone what we just talked about. The Order of the Coffin and the Claw, the
Congé
, any of it.”

She looked taken aback. “Now you're starting to scare me.”

I was frightened, too, though I hadn't realized how deeply until that very moment.

I'd been drawn to that circle of caged graves by the watcher in the woods for a purpose I still didn't understand. I'd been told by Darius Goodwine that only I could end this, only I could unmask Atticus Pope. Only I could save Rhapsody from the man with two souls.

But who would save me from the centuries-old forces that seemed to be bearing down on me with each passing day?

Twenty-One

T
wilight hadn't yet fallen when we left the restaurant. Scarlet clouds scuttled across the sky and the horizon still glowed from the sunset. A warm breeze blew in from the sea, ruffling my ponytail as I said goodbye to Temple. I headed back to the car, glancing over my shoulder now and then because it was too easy to imagine the sound of stealthy footfalls coming up behind me or eyes peering at me through plate-glass windows.

As I strode along the quiet street, my thoughts turned to Devlin and I drew a deep breath. I wouldn't let myself break down, certainly not in public. I'd had a year to adjust to life without him and if I needed a moment to wallow in self-pity, then I would do so at home with Angus. He wouldn't pass judgment on my tears. Right now I needed to keep my wits about me because danger seemed to lurk on every corner.

I no longer questioned the existence of the
Congé
, nor did I doubt that I would become the target of their fanaticism if they learned of my gift. I'd heard too much from Dr. Shaw and Darius Goodwine and now from Temple to downplay the menace. They were real and they were dangerous.

As deadly in their own way as Atticus Pope, Darius had told me, but I found that hard to believe. Since childhood, I'd witnessed many disturbing things and I'd encountered evil in all manner of outlets. But a witch doctor that used the blood and organs of the young and innocent to strengthen his magic was a level of obscenity I could barely comprehend.

Was he out there at this very moment prowling the streets and back roads looking for his next victim?

For all I knew, his spirit could be hiding in the woman walking behind me or in the man crossing the street ahead of me. He could even be concealed deep within the cleric standing in a church doorway or the young mother shepherding her toddler from the park.

I shivered as I stared into the faces of strangers, searching for something that would give him away.

As I approached Martin Stark's shop, I slowed my steps, inadvertently glancing beyond the gilded key into the window. If Pope had lured the woman in the caged grave to Ascension out of revenge for his murdered disciples or for his own perverted appetites, what had she been doing at this shop just days before her death? How had she known Martin Stark?

The interior lights were off and a closed sign hung in the door. I moved to the alley and peered down the side of the building. The courtyard beyond lay in deep shadows. Curiosity stirred, but I warned myself not to tempt fate. There was nothing to be discovered behind the closed gate. No clues to be gleaned from all those old locks. I wanted to believe that Martin Stark's role had been fulfilled by revealing the scratched-out number on Rose's key, but I couldn't forget his inexplicable hostility toward me. Nor could I discount the photograph of Pope's disciples that Essie had shown to me on her front porch. One of the men had born a remarkable resemblance to Stark.

Pope had been captured in that shot, too, along with two children playing at the edge of the orchard. I'd recognized the girl as Annalee Nash and I'd now come to believe that the boy was Officer Malloy. He'd said that his uncle had been a friend of the Willoughbys and he'd seemed very uneasy at the house. I couldn't help wondering what he might have witnessed during his time there and if he'd blocked those memories out of fear.

They were all tied to Pope in some way or another. Annalee, Stark and Malloy. Was it possible that Pope had returned to Ascension to resurrect the Brotherhood using the relatives and offspring of his murdered disciples? Would that explain the flash of fear in Stark's eyes when Annalee had caught his arm in the courtyard? And Officer Malloy's look of surprise when I'd mentioned Annalee's name that first day in the clearing?

It seemed to always come back to Annalee and her buried memories. To the ten-year-old girl who had been found covered in her father's blood.

Something moved in the shadows at the back of the alley. An animal, I told myself. A tomcat on the prowl or a stray dog scavenging for food. I was perfectly safe. People were out and about on the streets. No need to worry.

Then why had the hair lifted at the back of my neck? Why had gooseflesh popped along my bare arms? Why didn't I hurry away and seek the solace of my locked vehicle?

I made no conscious decision to investigate, but the next thing I knew, I stood inside the courtyard gate. The place was very still and quiet. Tomb-like. I could hear the silken rustle of palmettos, could even discern the scratch of tiny claws against the stone pavers. The fountain gurgled like an open heart, but no human sound came to me.

He was there, though. I could feel his presence down my backbone and along my every nerve ending. I sensed the icy tentacles of his magic reaching toward me, curling around me, drawing me into his web.

The wind picked up and the pinwheels started to clatter. The scent of ozone drifted through the oleanders, along with a deeper, darker smell that might have been sulfur.

I turned in a dreamlike fog, searching the shadows. Hooded and masked, he hovered in the deepest part of the shade. As he lifted his head, my blood ran cold because what I had taken for a mask was, in fact, his transformed countenance.

His bared teeth flashed as he moved toward me. I wanted to run away, but a dangerous paralysis gripped me. Even when he was almost upon me, I remained frozen, unable to break free as he lifted his machete.

I felt something strange at my throat and put up a hand to grasp Rose's key. When I lowered my fingers, they were covered in blood. It seemed to be everywhere. Soaking through my clothing. Running down my arms and dripping onto the pavers. Rivers of sticky crimson that gushed from a wound I didn't even feel.

I sank to my knees gasping for breath.

“Are you okay?”

I floated out of that terrifying scene, still lost in confusion. I found myself staring up at Lucien Kendrick.

He looked very concerned. “What happened? Did you fall?”

“No—I...”

He hunkered down, putting himself at my level. For a moment, I thought I might lose myself again in his stare. The fading light glowed in his eyes, and for the first time, I noticed the motes at the bottom of his pupils. In my dreamy state, I marveled that we had that in common, but I didn't think those markings were the only thing that we shared. He had the kind of insight that went beyond experience and the five senses. I had a feeling he also lived within the looming specter of the dead world.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked. “You seem a little dazed.”

“I'm fine, I think.”

“You think?” He took my elbow and helped me to my feet. My behavior was so peculiar he must have thought that I was drunk or high or having a nervous breakdown. At that moment, I wouldn't have put money on my mental well-being.

“You don't look well,” he said worriedly. “Should I take you to the ER?”

“I felt a little light-headed, but it's passed now.”

He gave me a doubtful look. “How often does that happen?”

“Not often. Why?”

“You had an episode in the cemetery the other day.”

“That was just the heat. There's no need for concern,” I assured him with far more conviction that I actually felt. “I've probably just been working too hard.”

He wasn't convinced. “If you won't see a doctor, at least let me drive you home.”

“Thanks, but my car is parked just down the street.”

He searched my face, peering deeply into my eyes. “I'm not sure you're in any condition to drive.”

“I'm not intoxicated. I only had one glass of wine.”

“Your sobriety isn't in question.” He guided me from the street into the privacy of the alley. I shot an anxious glance toward the courtyard. Behind the closed gate, I could hear the faint click of the pinwheels.

I wanted to believe I'd been the victim of nothing more sinister than a ghastly daydream or a strange hallucination, but I knew better. Someone had been inside my head, manipulating my thoughts and perceptions and altering my reality. Someone who knew about my gifts and abilities.

Someone who would come for me when I least expected it.

I gazed up at Kendrick and shivered.

“Feeling better?” His eyes had darkened in the shadows of the alley and I caught a whiff of the ubiquitous mint that seemed to cling to his breath and skin.

“Yes. I should get going.” His hand was still on my elbow, I realized. I withdrew slightly and he leaned a shoulder against the building. He wasn't exactly blocking my escape, but neither was he making it easy for me.

“You don't want to tell me what really happened?”

“I already told you, I felt a little dizzy.”

“So dizzy that you had to drop to your knees to keep from falling?”

His questions burrowed under my skin, picking at my patience. Why was he standing there grilling me when all I wanted to do was go home to Angus? “I've done nothing wrong,” I said, which did not at all sound defensive.

“No one is accusing you of anything. But I don't just investigate crimes, you know. I try to look out for the welfare of everyone is this town.”

“Yes, of course, and I'm sorry if I sounded defensive. But the last time we spoke, you did accuse me of withholding information.”

His gaze flicked over me. “I still think you're holding something back, but I can be concerned about your safety at the same time.”

Guilt niggled. I should have told him days ago about the glimpse I'd had of the victim, but I hadn't trusted him or my recall. I was even less certain now of either. What if Pope really was inside my head, manipulating my thoughts and planting false memories to mislead and misdirect?

And did it really matter if Kendrick knew about those flashing rubies? According to Darius, I was the only who could stop Pope, anyway.

I glanced up at Kendrick, pondering how much I should tell him. How much I should trust him. “What is it you think I'm keeping from you?”

He shrugged. “For starters, you seem to know an awful lot about Atticus Pope and his disciples, as you called them. I'd like to know where you're getting your information.”

“I'd never even heard of him until you mentioned his name to me. And then I went online and researched him and the Willoughbys as you suggested I do.”

“Yes, but that's where I have a problem. I've also researched Pope. I know how little information there is about him on the internet. And I've never come across a single reference to his ‘disciples.'”

“Maybe you just don't know where or how to look. I didn't mean that like it sounded,” I rushed to add. “Research is an important tool of my work and I've become proficient at digging up obscure details. It didn't take me long to find out more than I ever wanted to know about Atticus Pope. By all accounts, he was an evil man.”

Kendrick frowned. “Evil or not, dead or not, he's been gone from these parts for at least twenty years. I meant what I said the other day. I don't want rumors spread about him and the victim. Murder in a small town is enough of a rarity and people are already on edge.”

“Are you still trying to convince yourself those past events have no correlation to the present? I think, deep down, you know it's all connected. Otherwise, why tell me about Pope in the first place? Why bring him up now?”

“Maybe I wanted to see your reaction.”

“And?”

“You're as cool as a cucumber,” he said without the slightest hint of admiration.

I leaned back against the building, all too aware of his nearness. I told myself this intensifying curiosity I had for Detective Kendrick was a reaction to what I'd learned about Devlin. I was human. I needed to know that someone like Lucien Kendrick could find me attractive. I also knew that whatever might be building between us needed to be stifled. I was still wounded and raw and I didn't trust Kendrick any more than he seemed to trust me.

I drew a breath and tore my focus from his lips. “You still think I'm hiding something.”

“I'm more certain of it than ever.”

I shuddered. “Surely you don't think I had anything to do with that woman's death.”

“No, I don't. But you're a part of this somehow. I just haven't put it all together yet.”

“Is it really so hard to believe that I'm only a bystander? I stumbled across a body and reported it. Why can't that be the end of my involvement?”

He studied me for a moment as if considering his answer. His hesitation did nothing to instill confidence. “What's your relationship with the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies?”

I was taken aback by the question. Just how deeply had he delved into my life? And why? Surely his suspicions didn't warrant that kind of invasion. “How do you even know about the institute?”

“You were there the other day, weren't you?”

“Are you having me followed?” I managed to ask coolly.

“Having you followed? No. I saw you there myself. You were pulling out of the drive just as I arrived. The receptionist told me you had a meeting with the director. She said the two of you are old friends.”

“How very helpful of her.” I folded my arms. “I don't see how my visit to the institute is any of your concern. And what were you doing there if not following me?”

“I was hoping to speak with Rupert Shaw.”

My own suspicions erupted. “How do you know Dr. Shaw?”

“I'm not personally acquainted with him, but before I came to Ascension, I worked on a couple of cases that used him as a consultant.”

“What kind of cases?”

“The kind with no easy answers,” he said.

I unfolded my arms and relaxed my posture a bit. “Was he able to help you?”

“I didn't get a chance to talk to him, unfortunately. I was told he no longer consults with law enforcement.”

I was unaware that he ever had. “May I ask why you wanted to see him?”