by Alex Gordon
“It’s in this hidden grotto-like place just off the garden. I found it last night while the rest of you were at dinner. It’s wonderful.” She sidestepped onto the lawn as Sam hurried past, her hands over her ears. “Was it something I said?”
“We hiked to Jericho and ran into some insect trouble. Sam got stung a few times.” Lauren looked past Jenny toward the house. “Have you seen Carmody or Kaster?”
“I saw Kaster with his twins at breakfast.” Jenny arched one eyebrow. “Then maybe an hour or so ago, I saw him head out into the garden with Nyssa.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think he’d try something with her, do you?”
“No, I think he’d rather chop off his hand. You haven’t seen Carmody?”
“No, I haven’t seen Carmody.” Jenny folded her arms. “What the hell is going on?” She stared down at Lauren’s makeshift skirt. “And what on God’s green earth did you do to your pants?”
Lauren gave her a quick rundown of what happened at Jericho, taking care to leave out the part about the ward. “You’re a Carmody employee?”
Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
“And you’re a lawyer.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Carmody’s father—his old office is in this house. Nothing’s been moved or changed since he died. Execs go up there all the time to hunt through the old files.”
“And I know what you’re going to ask, but I’m not executive level. And whether I was or not, if I tried to use my ID to gain access, I’d ping security, and you know damn well that they would inform Carmody and I would have to explain why I needed access and what would I say? It’s not the most exciting job in the world, but I’m fond of it.” Jenny looked down at the path, scuffed her sandal along the edge of a flagstone. “What do you want to know?”
Lauren sensed a change in Jenny. How her voice quieted. How she edged closer, as if to keep from missing anything. She could go straight to Carmody with this. But Lauren planned on confronting Carmody anyway. Whether he became angry now or sometime later didn’t make much of a difference. “Elliott Rickard. What sorts of steps Carmody’s dad took to search for him after he disappeared.”
“You think they would keep that here?”
“Where else would they keep it?”
“You remember I said I was in the Jacuzzi while you guys were at dinner?” Jenny slowly raised her eyes to meet Lauren’s. “I was still there after dinner, too.”
Lauren felt her face heat. “How much did you overhear?”
“Everything, pretty much.” Jenny shook her head. “The ghost stuff—I don’t know what to say to that. You thinking Carmody’s a killer and then whatever the hell else you guys did? And then that stuff about his daughter?” She sighed. “Which is why I want to know what you’re looking for.”
“I’m not looking for dirt.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Lauren massaged her forehead, tried to press away the growing ache behind her eyes. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“It’s not that. It’s just—”
“It’s just that as a lawyer for Carmody, you can’t consciously take steps to injure him.”
“Or his company. I’m not his personal attorney, but I am an employee and all that other crap. I signed forms. So many forms.” Jenny stared down the trail that led into the woods. “You think there was something funny about Rickard’s disappearance?”
“He was a close friend of Carmody’s father. There’s a photo of them in the vestibule. It was taken at Jericho.”
“So?”
“All I have are feelings.” Lauren sniffed, and caught a whiff of her shorts, which she had shoved into the waterproof pocket of her pack. She sidestepped Jenny until she stood downwind. “You don’t believe in any of this.”
“No. But I’m surrounded by people who do, and when they do things, they do them for reasons, just like normal folks. They’re not reasons that make sense to me, but they are reasons.” Jenny paused to chew on her lip. “And I like to know what those reasons are, because I am nosy by nature and then I decided to get a license for it.” Then her mouth twisted, as though she had bitten something sour. “You’re the only person who’s seen Fernanda here.” She twitched her thumb toward the house. “I heard Pete and Stef talking on their balcony after breakfast. Their voices carry when they’re upset.”
“You overhear a lot in that pool, don’t you?”
“Beats the hell out of morning cable.” Jenny paced, once again chewing on her lip. Then she stopped. “There’s another library here. It’s open to guests—it has DVDs and audio books and stuff like that. But it also has some company archives. I’m guessing it’s mostly promotional material, but I’ll see what they have.”
Lauren shrugged. “It won’t be anything sensitive.”
“I’ll see what they have.” Jenny looked down at Lauren’s towel, and frowned. “Let’s go. You need to put on some pants.”
They walked up the path to the lower-level garage and from there hopped the elevator for the upper floors. Lauren pressed her hand to the wall of the car as it glided upward. Felt the same thing she always felt when she touched a surface that had nothing to offer. The soft shimmer of blankness. The static buzz of a white noise generator.
In other words, nothing. It had taken her a while to acquaint herself with the ins and outs of her power, and she knew it probable that she still had things to learn. Even so, she couldn’t help but think that the reason the Jericho guard shack had felt like magic-free dead space was that someone, or something, had thrown up a shield that made it seem so. Except for around the ward. That power, she felt. But that’s gone now.
She and Jenny disembarked on the guest floor, then headed in opposite directions to their respective suites. Lauren stashed the pack containing her ruined shorts out on her balcony, then showered, changed, and returned downstairs. Checked out the dining room, and found the staff setting up the lunch buffet. Grabbed a bunch of grapes from the fruit tray and walked out to the garden to see if she could find Kaster and Nyssa. Wandered from level to level, past the medicines and the poisons, the herbs and flavorings. Walked around a sheltered corner and found Heath kneeling on the stone examining one of the statues.
“Oh, Lauren.” He struggled to his feet. “I was so engrossed, I didn’t hear—” He stopped, swallowed hard, then pointed to the statue. “I noticed you perusing the collection last night. What did you think?”
Lauren bent close to the object, which proved to be one of the Etruscan works. A stylized boar, from the same time period as the hare she had seen the previous evening. “I’m no expert. I like it well enough, but I like animal figures in general.” She waited for Heath to make some smart-ass comment about her depth of knowledge or lack thereof, but instead he nodded and stroked his chin as though she had said something profound. “I could have lived without the other ones, though.”
“The little bubble people?” Heath snorted. “That’s what I call them. Crude copies of Paleolithic figures. Not Celia’s best work by any means.” He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. “Well, must get back. Time for lunch.”
Lauren looked down toward the lower levels. “You didn’t happen to see Gene out here, did you?”
Heath’s leather-soled shoes scraped on the flagstones. He turned. “Gene’s here?” His eyes rounded. “I mean, I knew he was here—I saw him this morning—but I didn’t know—” He stopped, blew out a breath. “No, I haven’t seen him.” He nodded curtly, then continued on his way.
Lauren watched Heath walk back to the house. Sam stood waiting for him at the top of the steps and started talking as soon as he reached her. They both turned back to look at Lauren once, then again, before going inside.
Lauren pondered for a few moments. Then she walked back to the boar and knelt close to it. It should be in a museum, not out in the open like this. She jostled it, found that there were no bolts or fittings that held it in place, and pushed it farther beneath an overhanging branch.
We’re all
on edge. She straightened, returned to the walkway, listened for voices. But she heard nothing but the breeze through the trees, the odd chirp or trill, and returned to the house.
CHAPTER 14
Sam freed herself from Heath’s embrace and slid out of bed, then gathered up the clothes that had been strewn across the floor and lay them at the foot. Daytime sex wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, but Heath had been so jumpy after encountering Lauren in the garden that she had no choice but to settle him down.
She knows—the way she looked at me.
She looks at everybody like that, baby. She’s a weirdo.
Sam showered in record time because how could anyone in their right mind dawdle with their ass hanging out for all to see? Scooted into the closet to dry off and dress and checked the welts in the mirror. Lauren was right. They’re almost gone. She’d had visions of her face puffed out like an aging movie star’s lips, but all in all, she looked okay.
She studied herself for a few minutes more. Touched the places where the welts had been. Recalled their sting, how the pain had radiated along her skin. How it had spread beneath the surface, hot as boiling liquid, and how for one terrifying moment she had yearned to tear her flesh with her fingernails and peel it off. Anything to stop the pain.
But now she felt fine. Perfect. Never better.
It was time.
She rooted through the drawers for clean clothes—shorts, a T-shirt—and dressed. Tied her damp hair in a ponytail. Put on her hiking shoes. Listened for the grumbling roar of Heath’s snoring, a sure sign that he would sleep for at least another hour. Tiptoed across the room to the door, opened it just wide enough to slip out into the corridor.
The elevator proved to be stuck on another floor, so Sam opted for the stairs. She heard footsteps coming up in the other direction and forced a smile when Pete Augustin came into view.
“Sam? How are you?” Pete stopped and leaned against the bannister. “I heard you had a rough time out in the woods.”
“Yes.” Sam tried to remember why Pete had to lean. Heath had told her. His hip . . . his knee? She couldn’t remember. “It was scary, but I’m fine now.”
“You went to Jericho?”
“Yes.”
Pete frowned. He had one of those brows that wrinkled, and a high hairline as well. So many furrows, as though someone had removed the skin and replaced it with dark brown ruching. “Heath told you to stay away from there, didn’t he? It was a Council decision.”
Sam nodded from reflex, and to let Pete think she paid attention. Yes, she recalled Heath telling her something, but when she tried to remember exactly what it was, it slid out of reach. Like the reason Pete leaned, and like all those things you struggled to recall but couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Lauren wanted to go.”
“Yes, well. We’re going to have a talk with her.” Pete ran his hand up and down the bannister. “Once we figure out what story to tell her.”
Sam nodded, even as she wondered what was the problem. Stories were easy. She was living one now. “I’m sorry.”
“As long as you’re okay.”
“I am. Thank you for asking.” Sam resumed walking. To the end of the stairs, then across the vast central room and through the bar, then outside to the deck. At one end was a narrow stairway used by the staff, which allowed her to circle around to the back of the house without being seen. She had never known about it before, and wondered how she knew about it now. But she didn’t ponder for long. She had more important things to do.
As she crossed the lawn, a fly landed on her left arm. Large, glossy black, a beautiful onyx marble. It twitch-stepped down to her hand and bit her on the web between her left thumb and forefinger. The pain spread like an oil fire beneath her skin—tears streamed and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Then as she watched, a blister raised, flesh blackening and thickening until it mirrored the creature that had made it.
Then she heard the buzzing, the soft, sweet sound. It filled her head, made all that had been there before seem weak and foolish by comparison.
She had become part of something greater now.
A voice wended its way through the velvet of her mind. You know where I am.
Yes. Yes, she did.
SAM NO LONGER needed the trail map to find her way back to Jericho. She could have found it in the dark. In her sleep. She paused atop the hill overlooking the encampment and gazed at the tumbled ruins.
“Hello, miss.”
Sam turned and stared at the man who stood down the trail. Not dressed for hiking—no, far from it. He wore a white shirt and dark tie, gray trousers. A lab coat. “Hello?” She waited for him to say something else, but he watched her in silence, his weird little smile coming and going like a facial tic. “Did you follow me?” Still, silence. “Did you follow me from the house?”
The man pointed to the name sewn above the breast pocket of his coat. “Dr. Elliott Rickard, miss. I’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?”
“Yes. They told me you would be coming.” Rickard took a step toward her.
“They.” Sam held up her left hand, then turned it so that Rickard could see the raised, blackened blister.
“They.” Rickard held up his own left hand, then turned it as she had, showed her that he bore the same mark, in the same place. Then he reached out to her.
Sam walked to him and took his hand. It felt cold. Damp. And there was a smell about him, like the flies Lauren killed. My little friends. She would have to do something to make it up to the rest for the loss of their siblings.
“But first you must come with me.” Rickard spoke as though he could read her thoughts, which no doubt he could. They were family now. He led her away from Jericho and down a trail she had not yet walked. “There is something you need to do first.” He held her hand as a father would, gently but firmly. “The restorative properties of forest flora are vastly underrated, don’t you believe?” He nodded. “Yes, I know you do. I can sense that in you. You are a student of plants yourself, are you not?”
“Yes.” Cold though Rickard’s hand was, Sam felt warmth move up her arm, as though he had injected something into her vein.
“We should be willing to experiment, don’t you agree? How can we evaluate the effect that a plant has on others without a basis for comparison?”
“Yes.”
Rickard steered Sam off the trail toward a tumble of dead stumps, logs, and large branches, all covered with shelf fungus that held the same gray sheen as his skin, as though it sweated a substance that spread and coated it like wax. “Take this humble entity.” He bent down and tore off a piece from one of the semicircular growths. “You would not think it edible, like some of its cousins. But it is more nourishing than any of them.” He held the piece out to her. “Here.”
For the first time, Sam felt a shiver of doubt. Her eyes watered as the stink of the man and the fungus filled her nose, and acid bubbled to the base of her throat. “Are you sure?”
“Please. It isn’t often I find myself in the company of a fellow experimentalist.” Rickard stepped closer, a strange light in his eyes turning them as silvery and clouded as the fungus. “I look forward to your assessment.”
Sam blinked back tears and held out her hand. The fungus felt slick and soft as raw meat.
Rickard smiled, skin twitching as though something moved beneath the surface. “Trust me.”
Sam closed her eyes, lifted the fungus to her mouth. Pulled back her lips and bared her teeth, bit down fast and swallowed, tasted bitterness and salt and felt the odd slickness. Oyster. It reminded her of a raw oyster.
“Now.” Rickard’s voice held an odd harmonic, like a distant echo. “Isn’t that better?”
Sam breathed in slowly, then out. Hugged her stomach, and felt the warmth that suffused her skin now grow to fill her belly. She had expected the fungus to make her feel sick, but instead it calmed her, like a soft touch. She no longer felt any doubt. “Yes.” She smiled. “I do
feel better.”
Rickard took her hand again. “Come with me, please.”
Sam closed her fingers around his, and wondered when her skin would hold the same cool smoothness. When that time came she would truly be of the woods, as one with the ground and the places beneath.
They walked up the trail to the top of the hill, then down into Jericho.
“We’ve been waiting for you for some time now.” Rickard led her through the gate to the largest building and opened the door. “The little ones do so like company.”
Creatures swarmed along the walls, the ceiling. Small ones, like the flies. Larger ones, like the figures in the Carmody garden that Heath didn’t think were worth a damn. Their buzzing swept over Sam, so loud that she felt the pressure of the sound like a breeze from all directions at once. They leapt to the floor and clustered around her, round mouths opening and closing, like fish. They tugged at her clothes, pressed their mouths to her skin as though tasting her.
“They’re adorable.” Sam placed her hand atop the head of the closest, felt its shock of black hair stiff as wire.
“They are, aren’t they?” Rickard smiled. “They take after their father.”
CHAPTER 15
Lauren sat on the floor of the balcony outside her room and peered between the safety rails at the scene on the main patio three floors below. Kaster was seated at a table as Nyssa Carmody paced back and forth in front of him, arms folded, head down. Kaster had done most of the talking to that point, his voice a soft rise and fall, his characteristic expansiveness nowhere to be seen. What little Nyssa had said had been limited to pushback commentary and the odd expletive. Bullshit . . . Dad paid her . . . what difference . . .
But as the minutes wore on, the occasional question popped up in the mix. The pacing slowed. Then Nyssa sat down across from Kaster and leaned forward, elbows on the table, her voice now as low as his. They had reached the negotiating stage.
He almost has her convinced to at least give it a try. Lauren’s stomach rumbled with nerves. Why am I letting myself get pulled into this? She knew the answer before she finished asking the question. Because I’ve been where she is now. At sea, battered by powers that encroached upon every aspect of her life, isolating, terrifying and, yes, occasionally thrilling her. Hell, I’m still paddling. Why Kaster and Carmody felt her competent to counsel another, especially someone as brittle as Nyssa, worried her as much as the counseling itself.
