The Gateway Trackers Books 1 & 2

by E. E. Holmes

  “Finn?” I called. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  At my voice, he clicked his heels together stiffly and stood at attention. Maybe it was the psychological effect of being back in the place where he’d been drilled so relentlessly during his training, but it seemed like Finn had reverted back to the strictest of Caomhnóir behaviors—he’d been at attention more often than not since we’d arrived.

  He looked at me, perhaps surprised by my tone, and relaxed his posture. “Yes, of course.”

  “I just… I want you to know that I considered you,” I began.

  He scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “I considered you when we made this decision. I didn’t just make it for myself and Hannah.”

  “You didn’t feel the need have a proper talk with me beforehand, though,” he pointed out.

  I sighed. It was a very fine line I was walking, between my need for independence and the need to accept that our lives were inextricably linked together—even though “together” didn’t come to mean at all what I’d hoped.

  “You’re right Finn, I didn’t. Because it still needed to be our decision—mine and Hannah’s. We’re the ones who’ll be taking on an entirely new role here, the ones whose lives will be upended. You’ll still be doing what you’ve always done—protecting us in our day-to-day lives. That part doesn’t change.”

  “That never changes,” Finn said brusquely, and I thought I heard some resentment there. I tried not to let it derail me before I said what I needed to say.

  “But I was thinking about you too. I’m not that selfish… I realize that this will impact you. It will probably make your job harder some of the time.”

  “I never said you were selfish,” he grumbled.

  “I know, I know. Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, I just want… wanted you to know that,” I said, dropping my eyes from his face.” I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I thought about it, and felt it would be worse for you if other Caomhnóir were following us around. I thought that would feel like an insult to you.”

  Finn’s eyes widened just a little. “Jess, I—” he began, but then he stopped himself with a violent shake of his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I… appreciate the consideration,” he finally said stiffly.

  I wasn’t convinced that that was what he’d intended to say, but I let it go—let it go like so many unsaid and unexplained things between us.

  “Alright,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I turned quickly and began walking back to my room. I couldn’t start torturing myself over Finn, not now. Tomorrow was my first full day as a Tracker: We had our target, and I was starting to feel like I’d been born for this.

  11

  The Lafayette Boarding House

  A LOT CAN HAPPEN IN THREE DAYS. Take me, for example. Three days before, I’d been a part-time museum tour guide, part-time barista in Salem. Now, after only a few days at Fairhaven, I was a full-time Council-sanctioned Tracker about to go undercover as a wealthy heiress at a psychic retreat in New Orleans. I couldn’t even keep track of how many levels of weird this was.

  The Lafayette Boarding House, where we would be staying during our first night in New Orleans, was located in the historic Garden District. The Lafayette Boarding House stood on a street lined with other pristine, elaborate houses—like gingerbread confections brought magically to life. Each Victorian was painted in bright colors, surrounded by a small but meticulously kept garden, and enclosed by a shiny, black wrought-iron fence. I would’ve been instantly enchanted by the history and Southern charm of it all if I hadn’t been so horribly jet-lagged and motion sick. Even with Durupinen “travel perks,” our trip took nearly eighteen hours—an ordeal that left me exhausted and longing for unconsciousness.

  “Bennett, stop the car for a moment, please,” said Catriona.

  “But the house is further up the street. This is number twenty-five. The Lafayette Boarding House is—”

  “Is that how those little numbers on houses work? My, that is confusing, isn’t it?” Catriona said scathingly, tapping a finger to her chin. “Stop the bloody car.”

  Bennett pulled the car to the curb, muttering resentfully under his breath. Catriona, with a serious expression on her face, turned to us.

  “There are a few things you ought to know about your hosts,” Catriona announced.

  I sat up straighter and tried to look awake. “That sounds serious. What is it?”

  “As you know, a fair few Durupinen assimilate into normal society. They get married, have families, hold down normal jobs, the lot. But for some… well, the gift can be isolating, and some of us take that isolation rather to the extreme.”

  She paused as though she were stringing her words together and testing them out in her mind before letting them fly. “The Lafayette Boarding House is owned by Loretta and Lu-Ann Lafayette. They come from a very old clan—one that’s been rooted in this city since the French arrived in the early 1700’s. They were never what you’d properly call a political clan—they kept to themselves for generations. By the time Lu-Ann and Loretta came along, the clan was entirely reclusive. In fact, I’m not sure that Lu-Ann and Loretta have so much as set foot off their property since they were Apprentices.”

  “Okay, so they’re hermits. That’s what you needed to tell us?” Hannah asked.

  “It’s rather more extreme than that. Like you, they’re twins. But even beyond that, their bond is… particularly close. It’s simply… a bit tricky to put into words. You’ll see what I mean—they can be a bit off-putting. And the house—”

  “My whole life is off-putting,” I said, cutting her off. “Thanks for the heads up, but we can deal.”

  Catriona smirked at me. “Very well. I’ll let you ‘deal,’ as you say. Drive on, Bennett. The Ballard twins are quite ready to meet the Lafayette twins.”

  A minute later we came to a stop in front of a beautiful two-story house painted in bright red, with a mustard-and-white gingerbread trim. From the outside, the second floor looked almost exactly like the first; identical bay windows and columned porches were stacked one on top of the other, with creeping vines winding up the railings. The vines seemed to be tying the whole house together like laces on a huge shoe. The boarding house sat perched daintily in the center of a spectacular garden, which was bursting with lush plantings and semi-tropical blooms.

  The Lafayette Boarding House was as picturesque and inviting as any other house in the district, with one glaring exception—a faded sign, peeling from years in the sweltering heat, hung on the low, wrought iron fence. It read: “The Lafayette Boarding House: No vacancies.” Then, just to drive the point home, the unapologetic next line announced: “Trespassers will be shot on sight.”

  Okay, that got my attention: I was awake now.

  “Shot on sight?” Milo read out loud. “Is that even legal?”

  “Having the sign is, I guess, as long as you don’t actually follow through with it,” I replied. Then I turned to Catriona, narrowing my eyes. “They’re expecting us, right?”

  Catriona smiled. “Yes, of course. It took a good bit of persuading, but they agreed to help.”

  “How much persuading?” Hannah asked nervously, but Catriona had already opened her door and was sliding out onto the sidewalk.

  “How much persuading?” Hannah repeated in a tiny voice, apparently just to herself. My sister was in many ways the strongest person I knew, but the many tribulations that had called upon her strength had marked her with a good deal of nervous energy.

  By the time we’d all clambered out of the car, Catriona was already pulling the chain of the house’s antique doorbell. I could hear the bell pealing through the enormous house; its echoes overlapped so that it sounded as if each new clang was multiplied.

  Finn took a half step in front of me as the sound of locks being undone came from the other side of the heavy oak door, signaling its imminent opening. His arm swung out prot
ectively and instinctively—like my mom’s used to do when our car would stop short. However fleeting his touch, his hand against my collarbone left me momentarily breathless. The touch triggered something in him too, because he turned to look at me; a familiar something blazed in his eyes. But the moment was quickly forgotten as we turned and saw what was standing in the doorway.

  The opened door revealed a bizarre time warp into which the last ninety years hadn’t ever managed to intrude. But even creepier than the museum-home itself were the two diminutive women framed in the doorway. They stood there holding hands, and looked so identical to each other that, at first, I thought a mirror was playing tricks on my eyes. Their faces were pale and chalky; each was plastered with a thick layer of makeup that had settled into their wrinkles in a way that made them look as if they needed to be dusted. Each head of mousy gray hair was parted down the middle and slicked mercilessly into a tight bun. They were dressed in outfits nearly a century out of style—boxy, flapper era, navy blue dresses with square sailor collars.

  “There are no vacancies,” she said. No. No, they said. Both of their mouths were moving, like two red-ringed eyes on a single face, but their voices were so in sync that they were almost indistinguishable.

  “Um, yes, we saw the sign out front,” Catriona said, gesturing over her shoulder back toward the street.

  “No vacancies. No room for a living soul, I’m afraid,” they said, shaking their heads regretfully and in perfect unison. “No, not a one.”

  My mouth hung open as I stared unabashedly. I knew I was being incredibly rude, but I simply couldn’t stop myself. Beside me, Hannah was mouthing wordlessly; her face was twisted into an expression reflecting equal parts shock and anxiety.

  Milo managed to speak, but he muttered his words so quietly that I felt them through our connection more than I heard them out loud. “Oh, this is some sideshow shit right here.”

  “Good evening, Miss Lu-Ann. Miss Loretta,” Catriona began. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Catriona Harrington, and these are the Ballard girls, their Spirit Guide, Milo Chang, and their Caomhnóir, Finn Carey. They need some Durupinen hospitality while visiting New Orleans, and you very kindly agreed to put them up.”

  Lu-Ann and Loretta leaned in toward each other so that their cheeks were pressed together, and began whispering to each other in a language I didn’t recognize. They stared at us during their rapid, hissed exchange. At last, they drew apart again and their faces broke into duplicate toothy smiles; I noticed that their unnaturally wide eyes didn’t reflect those smiles.

  “Oh yes, of course. Please do come in out of the heat,” they said. They unclasped their hands, slowly turned their backs on us, re-clasped their hands, and walked, with identical clicking steps, down their shadowed hallway.

  I looked over at Catriona. She was watching us, choking back a silent bout of laughter. “How are you ‘dealing,’ then?” she asked, before following the Lafayette twins down the hall. She whistled as she followed them.

  Finn cleared his throat. “After you,” he said, gesturing to the door.

  “Oh, thanks so much,” I said acidly, pushing past him.

  Hannah followed me inside, then drew her step level with mine. We were walking so close together that our shoulders touched. Milo followed behind us, although he too stayed unnatural close. Shuffling down the hallway as though conjoined, we probably looked just as strange as our hostesses.

  “Are they… what’s wrong with them?” Hannah whispered.

  “I guess they’re just… close?” I suggested.

  “Close to what? Insanity?” Milo cried.

  We followed Catriona through the dust and the gloom. The house was as frozen in time as the women who lived in it. Heavy drapes were pulled across all of the windows. The only light in the house came from the old-fashioned gas lamps lining the walls; thankfully they’d been refurbished for electricity. The furniture was old and uninviting, and it seemed every piece was draped with a doily or faded afghan. Somber portraits, probably painted by long dead artists, adorned the walls; the people depicted in those portraits glowered down at us. A few paintings, though, were covered in white sheets—they looked like cartoon ghosts hanging in midair.

  Lu-Ann and Loretta led us into a formal parlor. Above the fireplace, a portrait of a confederate officer hung as if he were presiding over the room.

  “Won’t you sit down?” they asked, with two pasty hands extended toward a moth-eaten sofa. Hannah and I dropped onto it at once. Catriona perched herself on the arm of a wing chair. Finn took up a quintessentially Caomhnóir position in the doorway; his eyes darted around the room, perhaps on the lookout for the appearance of further creepy doppelgangers.

  “I want to thank you both again. The Council appreciates your cooperation.” Catriona said. “We may need to be in the city for some time, and having a local base to work from will be invaluable.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Lu-Ann and Loretta said. “Happy to oblige.”

  “We’re hoping that Hannah and Jessica will both be staying elsewhere very shortly, but there are no guarantees. Having alternate accommodation at the ready is necessary. Can I assume you’ve made the arrangements we requested?”

  “Oh yes,” Lu-Ann and Loretta said. “We’ve prepared the rooms as you directed. They will be yours for as long as you need them. Our usual guests have made other arrangements until you’ve finished your work here.”

  “Your other guests?” I asked before I could stop myself. “You… um, usually have other visitors staying here?” I looked around at the dust-covered surfaces and the cobwebs hanging from the chandelier.

  “Yes indeed, we are always quite crowded,” Lu-Ann and Loretta said, with simultaneous sweeping gestures. “We always have been. The Lafayette Boarding House has a wonderful reputation for Southern hospitality.”

  It was one thing when the Lafayette twins had been giving short answers in unison. Now they were speaking in whole paragraphs, yet never once did their voices diverge. They were starting to remind me of the “twin” form the Fairhaven Elemental had taken when I demanded to speak with it—and if I didn’t get control over myself, I was going to completely freak out any moment.

  “I don’t doubt that,” Catriona said, cutting off Milo, who was giving every indication that he was about to let loose a snarky comment. “Well, I don’t want to draw things out, as I’m sure you’re terribly busy. I’ve just got some documents from the Council for you to look over regarding your compensation, and then we can get the girls settled in.”

  “We keep our register and our guest records in the library. Won’t you follow us, please?” the Lafayette twins said, leading Catriona through a set of pocket doors into the adjoining room. We got just a glimpse of the library before they slid the doors shut again; surely not a single one of those books lining the walls had been touched or read in years.

  “If I knew we’d be staying in the Bates Motel, I wouldn’t have agreed to come down here!” Milo hissed. “What in the name of Versace is wrong with them?”

  “I’m sure they’re just… I mean, I’m sure they’re not…” Hannah began weakly.

  “They’re not what? Functioning with two separate brains?” Milo gave a dramatic shiver. “Why can’t we just find a freaking Holiday Inn?”

  “The Durupinen always use their networks when they travel. It helps eliminate paper trails and minimizes the risk of outside interference,” Finn said. “But still… I’ll not deny that they’re… unnerving.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century,” I said. “And no one in their right mind would stay here unless they lost a bet! Who are these guests they mentioned?”

  Finn shrugged. “I suppose they could be lying to protect their pride.”

  “Or they’re so crazy that they don’t realize the house is empty. They probably haven’t spoken to anyone else in years,” Hannah said. “Is it just the two of them left in their family?”

  “Who cares? I vote for driving straight to W
hispering Seraph and begging for asylum,” Milo said.

  “Let’s not panic,” I said, trying to be mature and reasonable. “They’re a little weird, but they’re not serial killers.”

  Milo snorted, as though he highly doubted my assessment. “Prove it,” he said flatly.

  “Whispering Seraph isn’t an option yet,” Finn said. “We have to wait until Iggy gets here in the morning with the equipment, and we need time tonight to review our cover story. And besides, our appointment isn’t until tomorrow—Campbell doesn’t reschedule for anyone. We’re here for the night. No arguing.”

  Milo whimpered. Hannah sighed resignedly. I said nothing; there was too much sense in what Finn had said to argue with him. We were stuck here, so we might as well make the best of it.

  The pocket doors slid open again, and Catriona and the Lafayette sisters came back into the parlor. Catriona tucked a few papers into a folder, which she then slipped into her bag.

  “Right. Well, if that’s all, I’ll be off. I’ve got my own… case to work on. For the Trackers. But I’ll be available to assist, if need be.”

  “You’re leaving? Right now?” Hannah asked, with her voice sliding up a whole octave in her panic. “Aren’t you going to… Why can’t you stay?”

  Catriona shook her head. “I’m not a babysitter, pet. I’ve got my own job to see to. I agreed to get you started, and I’ll be in touch. Finn will be giving me daily updates on your progress and will keep me informed of any additional resources you may need.”

  “So that’s it?” I asked. I tried to sound unconcerned, but my undercurrent of anger rippled ever so slightly to the surface. “You’re just going to leave us here?”

  “We believe in trial by fire, love, remember? And you Ballard girls, you’re quite old hat when it comes to fire, aren’t you now?” Catriona said. There was nothing friendly in the smile she flashed at us now, and every doubt I’d had about her being our Tracker mentor was confirmed by that a single baring of her teeth. “Your abilities are legendary already. I don’t expect you’ll need any help from little old me.”