VoodooMoon (26 page)

****

We lay there for a long time, quietly curled around each other, the night air cool against our heated skin, staring up at the stars while we caught our breath.“She abandoned me,” the words came out of their own volition. It wasn’t until they were out that I knew I needed to say them.

Ian’s arms tightened around me. “Who?”

“My mother.” I leaned my head back on his shoulder. I didn’t look at him, just stared up at the endless sky as I poured out my heart, breaking down the final barrier between us. Breaking it down so that he could understand the truth that I’d come to realize while I sat up here alone tonight and making love with him had reinforced. “Oh, she didn’t drop me off on Pinky’s doorstep and leave, not exactly. It might have been better if she had. She died when I was eight, but I really lost her when my father died.”

We sat there in silence for a long moment and when Ian didn’t comment, I kept going, knowing he was listening intently. “My mother was obsessed with my father. She couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t accept his death and she refused to stop looking for his killer. Right after his funeral she left the home we’d shared with him and brought me here, to Pinky’s. Then she joined the Blades. She started going to necromancers, both for leads on my father’s killers, and to contact him.

“She became obsessed. Blades make decent money, but she spent every spare buck she got on necromancers. She was hardly home, and when she was she spent her days lying in bed crying. If it weren’t for Pinky, I would have starved, or worse. At the end she’d been going to the same necromancer for almost a year on a nearly daily basis. The information the necromancer gave her had been getting progressively more accurate. Mom was sure she was getting closer and closer to the killer, and she owed it all to the necromancer who had been channeling my father.

“The last bit of information the necromancer gave her led her straight to leader of the smuggling ring that had killed my father. He was waiting for her.” I paused.

“It was a trap?” Ian asked, his voice quiet.

“Yes. The so-called necromancer my mother had been relying on for months was a fraud. She’d actually been the girlfriend of one of the smugglers. They’d gotten wind of my mother and decided to take care of her. The woman had faked everything, pulled my mother in with her lies, and then sent her into a trap. In the end though, my mother got her way. She died, but she killed them first,” my mouth quirked in a sad, half smile.

Ian cupped his hand under my chin and turned my face towards him so that he could brush his lips against my forehead. “That’s why you hate necromancers.”

“Yes. No. Well, yes it was.” I tripped over my own words, not quite sure how to say what I was thinking and feeling. “I spent most of my life believing that if it hadn’t been for the fake necromancer who cheated her, my mother would alive and here with me. But I was wrong. Oh, it’s possible she would be alive, but she wouldn’t be here with me. She hadn’t been with me since the day my father died, not even when we had been in the same room together.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ian’s voice was tender and full of emotion.

The tears that had been too stubborn to fall began streaming down my cheeks. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m sorry. I’ve been holding a grudge against you and an entire group of people for something no one had control over but my mother.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry you needed your mother and she wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I can’t take away that pain.” He kissed me again, this time our lips melting together in a passion so sweet and tender it made my tears flow harder. I gasped and pulled away.

“Fiona, I love you and I promise…”

“No,” I cut him off. “I can’t.” My heart thudded so hard in my chest I was afraid it would explode any second. I pushed away from him and fumbled for my clothes.

“I’m sorry, this probably wasn’t the best time to say that,” Ian’s voice was husky with regret.

I turned to him, my heart in my throat. “Don’t you understand? There will never be a good time. I didn’t tell you that to make you feel sorry for me or love me. I told you so that you could understand why I can’t love you. Not like that.” I can’t be like my mother. The last sentence was spoken only in my head. I couldn’t lose myself to him. Oh, but I could. I so easily could. I already had. But it had to stop.

“You don’t love me?” his voice was thick with confusion and irritation.

“No, I can’t,” I nearly screamed. Why was he being so fucking calm when I felt like I was coming apart at the seams?

“Can’t or won’t?” his voice was hard.

“Does it matter? Ian, there is a sixteen year old girl out there alone and afraid, needing me to find her and I’m up here lying under the stars fucking you. I need to focus and I can’t. Perhaps if I’d had my head more on work and less on you we would have found Bokor by now and Rangel would still be alive and Millie would be at home safe with her family.” I pulled my pants and shirt on, feeling a little braver fully clothed.

Ian pulled on his pants and stood across from me, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “I see, so you stopped blaming me for your mother’s death so you can blame me for Rangel’s death and Millie’s kidnapping?”

“No, that’s just it. I don’t blame you. I blame myself. I’m too much like my mother. I let myself get so wrapped up in you that I failed to do my job. If I had been more focused, I would caught on to Bokor’s game in time to save Rangel. I should have realized Millie would be a target, I should have protected her.” I couldn’t quit sobbing, which pissed me off and made me cry harder.

“And who died and made you queen of the world?” Ian’s voice was calm and steady.

“What?”

“I was just wondering when you became the omniscient ruler of Earth? When did the welfare of the entire population become your responsibilities? When did your clairvoyant powers kick in? When did the world start revolving around you?”

Had he lost his mind? “Don’t be a jerk. I know the world doesn’t revolve around me.”

“Do you? Because you seem to want to take responsibility for every bad thing that has happened. So you either came into some sort of powers that would make it possible for you to have prevented them, or you are incredibly arrogant. Or perhaps you are just scared.” His tone was ice.

“Of course I’m scared. Millie could die.” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

“That’s not what you are scared of. You say you don’t want to be like your mother. You don’t want to love me because I make you lose your focus. That caring about me makes you not able to do your job. But that is a load of crap. You aren’t afraid of being like your mother. You are afraid I’ll be like your mother,” he sneered.

I wanted to protest, but he kept going.

“You already love me, but you don’t want to because you think I’ll leave you like she did. You think if you push me away now it won’t hurt as much as it would if I leave you later.”

“Yeah, who’s being arrogant now?” I shot back at him, not wanting him to know how close to the truth he was. “You are right about one thing. I am afraid. But not of you, Master Necromancer.” I spat the last two words out like they tasted bad in my mouth. “I’m afraid because people are dead, and still more are missing. It is my job to stop this monster before more innocent people are abducted or killed,” my voice had reached near screeching pitch, but I couldn’t seem to get it under control.

“It’s not your job to save the whole world on your own. It’s not even your job to save Millie alone. There is an entire team working to find her. And there’s me. I’m your partner, Fiona.” His voice was quiet, but hard as steel. He took a step towards me, but I stepped back, ramming my spine against the wooden work bench.

“You are right, you are my partner,” I yelled, clenching my teeth against the pain in my back. “So, act like it and get to work. You’ve had your head stuck up my ass for days, when you could have been out doing something, anything, to find this creep. Instead you’ve been too busy playing touchy-feely with me.”

“That’s crap, and you know it.” He was shouting now, almost as loud as me. “This asshole is coming for you, Fiona. For whatever reason he has you in his sights. I was ordered, by Sam, to stick to you, to protect you. You know that what’s between us has not affected my job performance. And since your memory of how things have been going down the past few days seems a little blurry, let me remind you that you came to me. You showed up at my home in the middle of the night looking for a fuck.”

I took a deep breath and forced my voice back into a calm, steady tone, despite the fact that I couldn’t stop shaking. “Your right. I showed up looking for a fuck. A fuck, Barroes, not love.” I saw him flinch at my words, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. “I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Jarrett and Pinky are here to protect my sisters. You aren’t needed here. Go home. I’ll scry Sam tomorrow and ask him to assign us new partners. We need every person we can get on this case.”

He bent to pick up his boots and shirt, but didn’t make a move to go.

“Leave.”

“Fiona,” his voice was soft again, full of defeat. “Don’t do this.”

“I said get out.” Even I could hear the tremble in my voice. I turned away from him so he couldn’t see the tears had started falling again.

We stood like that, in complete silence for several minutes, though it felt like hours to me. Finally I heard the creak of the rooftop door opening, then Ian’s voice, “This isn’t over.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant the fight, our partnership, or whatever else was between us. It didn’t matter.

“Yes. It is.”

The door swung shut, and a bone deep loneliness settled over me. It was over.

A narrow path ran around the top the edge of the building, between the three-foot high lip where River’s jungle of trees and plants started. I paced it now. I’d gone down earlier, about half an hour after Ian left. My face had been fresh scrubbed of tears and I plastered on a half smile as I let River and Anya and Pinky fuss over me. I had dinner with them and Jarrett, as had been planned before the world had fallen apart. They tried to keep the conversation light, only once asking why Ian hadn’t stayed for dinner. I told them he had work to do, and no one questioned it, though Jarrett gave me a raised eyebrow look.

Now River was asleep and Jarrett, Anya and Pinky were downstairs in the pub, now clear of the aftermath of today’s fight, playing cards, doing their best to enjoy a forced night off, despite the circumstances. And I was on the roof, alone, walking miles around the building because I couldn’t sleep.

Actually, I hadn’t even tried to sleep. I’d taken one look at my empty little bed and fled back up to the garden. But once up here, I couldn’t force myself to go in, to walk among the flowers and vegetables and trees. Couldn’t bring myself to go in and sit in my favorite spot. I would probably never be able to sit there beneath the apple trees again, not after making love with Ian, there. Not after ripping him from my life there.

So I spent my evening between the ugly concrete wall that marked the edge of the building and the lush garden that made it more than just a roof. For what might have been hours I walked and stared out over the city at the lights of candles, hearth fires and crystal lanterns flickering like hundreds of fireflies. Somewhere out there Millie Linton was fighting for her life. Maybe, just maybe, Farah Purcell was still alive and doing the same. And there I stood, in safety and comfort completely useless. I felt so completely powerless.

I hated that feeling, I hated it because it made me feel like I was five years old again, watching my mother as she lay in her bed in our apartment over Pinky’s Pub, crying herself to sleep over my father, who had already been gone so many years I didn’t even remember him. But she did, and she wept every night she was home, with such complete desperation and sorrow. And so I would tiptoe into her room and crawl onto the narrow bed with her and pat her on the back and say, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’m here.” But she would pull away from me, curling into a ball, and scream at me in her tear roughened voice to go to bed. And so I would, and I would sit there in the center of my bed, my knees hugged to my chest, listening to my mother sob, feeling alone and helpless and waiting for dawn. Because when dawn Pinky would close up the bar and go to bed. I would sneak down to his room and though I knew he only pretended to not hear me, he never sent me away when I crawled onto the foot of his bed and curled up at his back and fell asleep.

I pushed the memory, and the sick feeling it invoked out of my head and refocused my gaze on the quite of the city. Well, it was quite from up here, but down in the streets. Even at this hour, people milled around, shopping or going to bars, or whatever they did. The night was the time of the vampires, the only time they could do the normal things everyone else did during the day. So, while in the outer edges of the city and off towards New Nashville lights started blinking out and settling down for the night, the streets right below me were bustling and bright with life and laughter.

I had always loved that strange contrast. All of the street lights and cook fires burning in the inner city, and slowly fading out as you looked further out towards the wall. From my vantage point I could just see the outline of the city wall. The Guards pacing their watch along it were tiny dots in the distance, backlit by the bonfires beyond the walls. Which added another element to the beautiful contrast. Unlike the small fires flickering from inside windows or from rooftop or sidewalk fire-pits in the city, huge outdoor bonfires raged every night out past the wall. Dozens of small communities existed in the few miles beyond the city, close enough for the inhabitants to work or trade in the city, but still live free of Nash laws, as well as Nash protection. Most of the little villages out there, of anywhere from twenty to a hundred people, built huge bonfires at night for communal food cooking and for warmth. Up close, those communities were sad and dangerous, most home to gangs and outlaws, but from afar, their fires were like twinkling against the black velvet night like fireflies. The sight always calmed me.

Oh, fuck. I was so incredibly stupid. The outlying villages were mostly home to gangs of thugs and outlaws. Of course! We’d searched the entire city and found nothing, because maybe, just maybe, Bokor’s hideout wasn’t in the city. The city gates were closed at twilight every night and few were let in, but anyone would be let out. If someone came into the city during the day, getting back out at night would not be a problem. I still didn’t have a clue as to how he was getting the mages out of the city unseen, but I was suddenly positive that he was.

I ran downstairs, to the apartment. It was, as I had expected, empty except for River who was quietly snoring in her room. I was as quiet as possible as I jotted down a note where I was going and headed out. I stopped in the back room and grabbed my cloak and hanbo, then quietly snuck out, releasing, then reinstating the alarm wards on the back door as I slipped through it. Once outside I paused for a breath. No screeching sirens sounded behind me. Pinky hadn’t made good on his threat to set a keep-in spell. Of course, why would he? I had pinky-sworn not to sneak out. A wave of guilt rocked me in my boots, but I stood firm. There was no sense in getting everyone excited over this lead until I had something solid to go on. Besides, if I told them I needed to go out and why, Pinky would insist Jarrett go with me. That would leave my family unprotected. I was not prepared to do that. So, I snuck out, and hoped Pinky would be able to forgive me for breaking his trust.

****

I banged on the heavy door as hard as I could with my fist. “Carly, Matt, are you in there?” Though it had seemed like days had passed since my confrontation with Bokor, it was only 10 p.m. Way too early for Matt and Carly to be asleep. Perhaps they were out. I banged on the door one more time.

I heard the thud of boot-clad feet racing then the door was jerked open. Mateo and Carly Corsini stood in the opening, their eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Matt asked as the door swung open, his eyes darting behind me, looking for trouble.

“I’m fine. I just need to get into the archives. You didn’t hear me when I knocked at the front doors, so I came around to your private entrance,” I said. They gave me blank stares and I finally realized what they were wearing. Mateo had on a pair of pants, the top button still undone and his boots were unlaced, as if he’d just stuck his feet in them and ran. Carly was wrapped in a blanket, her hair wild. I hadn’t expected to wake them, it was early by vamp standards. But then, they hadn’t been sleeping. “Oh, crap. Oh, Carly, Matt, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I started to call on my way over here, but I left my scry crystal at home. I wouldn’t disturb you if it weren’t extremely important. I swear.”

Behind Matt, Carly’s eyes softened, “Is it about the case you and Ian have been working on?”

“Yes. I think I might finally have a breakthrough on a location, but I need to take another look at that pre-cataclysm list of churches and the maps. I would have waited until morning, but he’s taken another girl, and he’s killed a City Guard. I want this guy.”

“We heard about Marcus,” Mateo said, referring to Rangel by his little used first name. He stepped back. “Come in. I’ll take you to the map room while Carly gets dressed. She’ll probably be more help to you in the actual research, though, since she lived in Nashville before the Cataclysm.”

“I’ll be right there,” Carly called over her shoulder, already making her way into the depths of their apartment to get changed.

I followed Matt into the room where they kept old maps and other historical images. Mat went to a large metal cabinet and pulled two ancient maps out of a drawer. He carefully unrolled them and laid the out, side by side on the large table in the center of the room. One was a street map of Nashville, circa 2012, the year before the Cataclysm started. The other was the same map, but with the city wall, city gates and other modern landmarks drawn in.

By the time Mateo had the maps set up, Carly had joined us. In her hands she had a huge old book with extremely thin yellow pages. “Okay, this should have what you are looking for listed. What exactly are you looking for? I think we covered every religious setting in the city.”

“Within the walls of the current city, yes. But I think he is taking the mages outside the walls. What I’m looking for is somewhere of spiritual or religious significance somewhere in the O.Z., but still a part of the original city Nashville.”

“Holy smokes, Fee,” Mateo exclaimed. “Do you know how big Nashville was?”

“Not to mention the number of churches?” Carly added.

“I know. Well, I don’t know the number of churches, but considering the number there were just inside the walls, I can imagine. I know Nashville was huge. But, I think I can narrow it down,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. All I really had was a hunch, a feeling. Nothing solid to go on. This could just be a wild goose chase.

“Okay, I’m up for the challenge,” Carly said, settling down in a chair at the table so that the maps were on either side of the huge book. She flipped the book open until it said “churches” on the top corner of the page. “Okay, give me your criteria.”

I sat in the chair opposite her, Mateo still stood, leaning against the metal cabinet. “The first criteria is that it has to be within a couple of miles of the walls. I can’t imagine he would be traveling very far with an unconscious mage. Whatever drugs he is using would have to wear off eventually.”

“Okay. But that still leaves us with a pretty wide area, if we don’t know what general direction he’s going in,” replied Carly.

I shook my head. “No, still no witnesses. This is all pure speculation on my part, so no idea of direction. But, it needs to be a significantly large structure.”

“Why?” Mateo asked.

“For one, it needs to be still standing. But mostly, and I was just thinking of this on the way over, it needs to look religious or spiritual. I realized, we are finding old religious spots by using the archives.”

“Which he doesn’t have access to,” Carly chimed in, catching on to my train of thought.

“Exactly. So, it needs to be a structure that is still standing that looks religious. I also realized it might not actually be a church. I can’t imagine that there are many still upright in the O.Z.”

“No, there aren’t many pre-cataclysm buildings standing at all, at least not in the few miles surrounding the city. Those that weren’t demolished by war, weather, and earthquakes were taken down during the reconstruction, to help nature reclaim some territory and make it friendlier to animals,” Mateo informed us.

“It could be a cemetery, or a statue. There could be a more modern structure built near it, or there is still the possibility that he is a part of a gypsy tribe.” I said.

Carly began to flip through the book she’d brought in with her and we were all quite, the tension thick in the room. After a few minutes, Carly leaned back in her chair, her face scrunched in concentration. “Wait, a minute. You said possibly a statue? So it doesn’t have to be a particular type of religion? Just has to seem to be religious or spiritual?”

“Yes. We don’t think this guy is a vampire, so the likelihood of him having a strong grasp of pre-cataclysm religion is pretty slim. It is more likely that he has adopted somewhere that he thinks is of spiritual significance as his home base. Which is why I’m thinking cemetery,” I told her.

“I think I have an idea of the place we are looking for,” she said, slowly. “It’s not a cemetery. It isn’t even a place of religious meaning or worship, at least not in the 21st Century. It was actually a part of a park. It is a replica of an ancient religious site on the other side of the world. Even then the religion hadn’t actually been practiced on a wide scale for thousands of years. But, I do think it would seem, to someone born after the cataclysm, as somewhere sacred.”

“That sounds like the place,” I said.

“Hang on,” Carly said and ran out the door. In a few minutes she returned with several small, colorful booklets and papers. “This is where you are going,” she said, handing me the papers.

While Carly filled me in on the basic layout of the building, Mateo drew a rough map from the closest city gate to the approximate area of the building.

“This was once a park,” Carly said. “But, that was two hundred years ago. I have no idea what it’s like there now. It could be that the building is in ruins or so covered up by vegetation that it hasn’t had eyes laid on it in centuries.”

I sighed. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take. At this point, I’ll take any lead we can get.”

****

I stepped out of the library and stood there for a moment trying to decide where to go. Ian was still, technically, my partner, so I should go to him with the information I had just learned, first. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to be alone with him and after our conversation earlier, he might not even allow me in his building. The better thing to do would be to go to Headquarters and call Sam in. Then Sam could call Ian, along with the rest of the team. I had no doubt we could assemble a full assault team within a couple of hours. Nor did I doubt that he would, even with the information, the entire operation was based on a hunch. But, it was better than spinning our wheels.

I laughed out loud. What a funny expression. I had heard it often and used it just as often but had no idea where it came from.

I shook my head to clear it. Okay, on to the Blades building, I thought and I started jogging along the quiet road. I touched my hand to my thigh pocket again. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten my scry crystal. If I had it I could call Sam now and he would get to the headquarters building shortly after me.

A rickshaw for hire ambled up the street towards me. Which seemed odd considering the part of town we were in. Despite the bustle of Broadway, a couple of blocks over, this part of town was quiet and deserted at this time of night. The driver stopped a few feet away and called to me, “Can I offer you a ride?”

I stopped jogging for a minute, and considered. A cool breeze blew, so it was a good night for a run. Perhaps my mind would be a little more clear by the time I’d ran the few blocks between the library building and Headquarters. Besides, he was going the wrong way. By the time he went around the block I would be almost to my destination, even at a slow, jogging pace. “No thanks,” I called back and resumed my run.

I ran about another block, when I felt a sharp pain in the side of my neck. I stopped running, my hand flying to my neck. Something long was protruding out. I pulled on it, and it came out in my hand, but suddenly the world was spinning. I stared at the object in my hand, blinking my eyes to try to clear my blurry vision. It was a feather. Why did I have a feather in my neck? Fog rolled in on my brain, but I fought for control. No, not a feather. It had a feather on it, but it was a dart. Someone had shot me with a dark. I tried to turn my head to see who could have done it, but I couldn’t. I realized everything felt numb, I couldn’t move my legs or even wiggle my fingers. Then suddenly the ground rushed up to meet me as my body crumpled. I landed on the concrete sidewalk cheek first, and my last blurry thought was, “Thank goodness I can’t feel anything.” Then everything went dark.