The Branded Rose Prophecy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “How did you know?” she demanded. Fear was pushing at her. If Darwin had figured it out, how many other people had?

  “It’s been about six weeks since the empty beer bottles stopped piling up next to your garbage can.”

  Charlee couldn’t help it. She shot a glance toward Lucas. He rolled his eyes. “We forgot about the empties,” he said, sounding vexed.

  “You’ve been hiding it, making out that everything is normal,” Darwin said, “so I didn’t say anything. You’ve always been about six years older than your birth certificate says, Charlee, so I wasn’t worried. Well, not much.”

  “But he did tell me,” Asher added. He glanced at Lucas. “There’s been a private security firm watching the house since I found out.”

  Lucas drew in a breath and let it out. “Thanks. I think.”

  “And no one said anything to me? The three of you did this little conspiracy dance around me instead? What is it with men?” Charlee picked up her wine again and swallowed the rest of it with a jerk of her wrist. The wine burned on the way down, bringing tears to her eyes, but she had been tearing up all day and most of her makeup was gone, so she didn’t worry about it. She blinked furiously to clear her vision. “So why tell me now? What’s changed?”

  “Your father’s passing, Charlee,” Asher said. “There will be lots of state and federal processes that get kicked into action now, and they’ll be looking for your mom to complete some of them. She’s most likely your father’s beneficiary, just to begin. They’ll need her to sign documents and provide information, and I’m guessing they won’t find her.”

  Charlee shook her head. “I don’t know where she is. I woke up one day and she just wasn’t there anymore.”

  “Had her drinking got worse?” Darwin asked.

  “Yes,” she and Lucas said together.

  Charlee bit her lip. “I’m so close to graduating,” she said. “It’s not like I can’t look after myself, with Lucas sending half his check. I already have.” With her mom gone, the utility bills had dropped down to next to nothing. With only herself to feed, and the rent to cover, Lucas’ money stretched a long way. Elizabeth had been as useful a source on not spending money as she was on shopping.

  “They’re not going to see it that way,” Asher said quietly. “You’re still not a legal adult yet.”

  “What will happen to her?” Lucas asked. He sounded resigned, which roused her indignation. After conspiring with her for six weeks, he was abruptly caving, as soon as Asher spoke. Why was he giving way so easily? Didn’t he dislike Asher? Didn’t he object to Asher even talking to her?

  But now that she was thinking about it, she realized that there hadn’t been one strained word between the two of them all day. She and Lucas had been busy, maintaining the fantasy that their mother was back home, sedated and too overwhelmed to attend her husband’s own funeral. Lucas (the legal adult, she thought dryly) had dealt with the funeral parlor manager.

  And now she remembered that Asher had hovered by Lucas’ shoulder, while Charlee had been thanking everyone who had attended. There had been a surprisingly large group of attendees. Quite a number of people from the docks who had worked with Brent; Darwin and Asher; Mr. and Mrs. Clancy, the Irish family that lived behind them; even Principal York, which had been her biggest surprise. He had let his gaze flicker once from her feet to her hairline, then shook her hand quickly and moved on.

  It had been a strain to speak to everyone. Talking to relative strangers always was, these days. Especially today, when she couldn’t let her hair drape around her face, not with the dress she was wearing, nor for the reason she was wearing it. She had suffered through the strained conversations about her father, while they did everything they could not to look at her face. Some had openly stared. But Principal York’s reaction had been the strangest one.

  And now Lucas was bailing on her, after all their efforts. Handing her over for the authorities to do whatever they did in these cases.

  “Foster parents, probably,” Darwin said softly, in answer to Lucas’ question.

  Charlee bit back her protest. It would be selfish to complain about changing schools so late in the year. She bit her lip again and stared at the boomerangs on the table.

  “Which is why I think you’d better move in with me, Charlee,” Darwin added.

  Charlee couldn’t help it. She glanced at Darwin, surprised, then at Asher, to see what he thought of the idea. Asher sat on his chair, his arms crossed. His face gave away nothing, like it often did. But his blue-eyed gaze was on Darwin. He didn’t even seem surprised, damn it.

  “Will they let you do that?” Lucas asked doubtfully.

  “I’ll talk to them,” Asher said, dropping his arms. “I’ll get it smoothed over.”

  Darwin studied him. Then he grinned. “I hope you’re not going to talk to them like you talked to those punk kids that cut up Charlee and Lucas.”

  For the first time, Asher was startled. Then he grinned and shook his head. “I’ll just have a chat,” he said. “I know a few people. It will be worked out.” Then he looked directly at Charlee. “That is, if it suits you?”

  Confusion clouded her pleasure at being consulted. How did she feel about leaving the only home she’d ever known?

  “You’ll be able to finish school,” Lucas said. “And after June, you’ll be eighteen and can decide where you want to live for yourself.”

  Charlee saw that Darwin was watching her anxiously. He gave a small shrug. “My kids are long gone, but I still remember what it’s like to have one in the house. I’m sure you and I can get along well enough until your birthday. If you misbehave, I’ll just make you read more books.”

  Charlee grinned. “Can you cook mulligatawny soup?”

  Darwin’s face fell. “No, but I can read a recipe.”

  “That’s alright. I cook it even better than Lucas used to. I pay my half of the expenses, though, okay?”

  Darwin opened his mouth to protest.

  “She doesn’t agree to this if you don’t let us pay her way,” Lucas said, his tone firm.

  Darwin lifted a brow. “Okay, then. I guess I’m outvoted.”

  Charlee held out her hand and Darwin leaned over the table and shook it solemnly. She glanced at Asher and saw that he was studying her, his arms crossed again.

  The expression on his face was a weird echo of Principal York’s.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For a low-income librarian, Darwin knew his wines, Asher reflected as he picked up the latest bottle and refilled both their glasses. Darwin was busy cooking something. Whatever it was, it smelled pretty damned good, making Asher realize that underneath the light buzz he had from the wine, he was really hungry.

  Lucas and Charlee had gone back to the house to pack essentials for Charlee and start what would be a long and painful process of deciding what to do with the contents of the house. Darwin had stood and stripped off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, announcing that he was going to cook dinner for everyone. He had refilled Asher’s glass along with his own, and started working at the counter.

  Asher countered with the thought that it was time for him to get back to the restaurant, which Darwin had quashed forcefully, holding up the kitchen knife to emphasize his point. “You’re not going anywhere. We have some talking to do, so drink and shut up.”

  Asher had eyed the black man as he moved around the little kitchen. He was tall, but if he weighed two hundred pounds, Asher would be shocked. Even his knees looked knobbly, pocking the fabric of his black suit trousers. The implied threat, that he would be kept in his seat even if he didn’t want to stay there, was an empty one, but Asher stayed seated.

  They hadn’t got around to talking until they had done eating. The stew was a hodgepodge of leftovers, with rice added in, but it was surprisingly good. Stone stew, Darwin called it. “My wife used to make something she called stone soup, using up all the leftovers, but I ain’t got the patience to grow a soup stock the way she would. So I
make stone stew instead. It’s amazing what a can of tomato puree and a heavy dose of spices do to left-over chuck steak.”

  It was a pity they couldn’t serve stone stew in the restaurant, Asher reflected, thinking of the huge amount of perfectly good “leftovers” that got tossed from the kitchen.

  After, Darwin cleared the table, telling Asher to sit down again. “You’ll just get in my way,” he said. He poured the last of the bottle of wine into their glasses and handed Asher a new bottle to open. Then he produced two bowls and dug a carton of caramel and chocolate chip ice cream out of the freezer.

  “Ice cream with wine?” Asher said.

  “I happen to like ice cream, though my doctor keeps nagging me about giving it up. Today is a day for ice cream.” Darwin pushed one of the bowls in front of Asher and held out a spoon. “If your delicate palate objects, I’ll eat yours, too.” He put the rest of the ice cream away and sat down, pulling his bowl over in front of him.

  Asher shrugged. It would be impolite not to at least try to eat it. He took a mouthful and sampled the flavor combined with the wine residue on his tongue. It wasn’t too terrible. He took another spoonful and let the flavors settle. No, not too bad at all.

  He eyed Darwin. “Now you’ve softened me up with food and wine, shall we talk?”

  Darwin gave him a half smile. “Not until I’m done with my ice cream. I don’t want to spoil it.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Asher told him, hiding the sinking sensation he felt in his belly. This didn’t sound good.

  They ate in silence, although the silence wasn’t strained. Asher realized he was enjoying the ice cream much more than he had thought he might. When Darwin scraped the bottom of his bowl and licked the spoon, Asher got up and took the bowl from him. “I know how to drop dirty dishes into a sink of water,” he said, and slid them into the bowlful of suds Darwin had run. Darwin had steadily washed dishes as he had used them. The cooking-and-cleaning was a smooth routine that he had clearly developed from living alone for so long.

  Asher sat down again and found his wine glass full once more. He picked it up. “My thanks for your hospitality. You have been very generous.”

  Darwin studied him for a long moment with an odd look in his eyes. “Very gracious of you to say so.”

  Wariness touched him. Had what he said been too odd? Too old? Damn, he had started to relax and let down his guard. So he straightened up and pushed his glass as far away from him as his arm would reach. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Darwin scratched under his chin. “I don’t like to dig up the past so much, but I heard something, oh, about three weeks ago. I’ve been pondering whether to tell you or not, but stirring you up over what amounts to second-hand gossip seemed like too much effort at the time. But you’re here now, so I figure….”

  “What did you hear?”

  “You have to bear in mind where this comes from,” Darwin said. “The brother of the father of a kid who got mixed up with the gangs for a while a couple of summers ago. That means it’s passed through three mouths that aren’t close to objective about it.”

  Asher waited, curbing his impatience.

  Darwin sipped the last quarter inch in his glass, lowering it by a fraction. “I never did ask how you planned to talk to the asshole Lightning Lords, after that thing with Charlee and Lucas. I didn’t want to know. I live smack in the middle of their turf, and I used to watch them strut on by, scaring the neighbors and generally stirring up trouble. There was always talk about bigger things, more serious things. They looked like kids dressed up for a party, most of the time, with that jewelry and the silk shirts, but I heard enough to know it wasn’t a good idea to make them angry.”

  He took another sip. He had slid into a rhythm of telling a story that Asher recognized from the hundreds of bards and story-tellers he had listened to. Darwin was setting up the background before getting to the meat of it.

  “I always saw them hanging around,” Darwin said. “Every day or so I’d get a glimpse of them, most usually down by the market on the corner of sixty-one. I had the leader pegged. That was one sick boy.” He tapped his temple. “I could see that in him even before he decided he’d rather have you pissed at him than miss the chance of fucking with Charlee and Lucas.”

  Asher pushed aside the ancient habit of keeping his mouth shut and said, “He found out who I was and where I lived. He figured that me knowing he could reach me whenever he wanted took me out of the equation.” He shrugged and didn’t elaborate. It had been hard enough to say that much of the truth, but Darwin deserved even a partial explanation in exchange for the fear and upset it had caused.

  Darwin nodded. “I didn’t know that, but I did know that something had changed for them to come at Charlee the way they did. Then, after that, I didn’t see the gang again. Not even once. They dried up and blew away like so much leaf litter.” His gaze lifted to meet Asher’s, square and confrontational.

  How much had he guessed? Asher didn’t underestimate his reasoning abilities. He might be a simple archivist, but he was extremely well-read. The spines of the many books in the house that Asher had glimpsed as he passed by told him that Darwin roamed all the historical eras, philosophy and much more. The most interesting theme among the many books was that of war. There had been a single shelf devoted to the writings of some of history’s most capable generals, all the way from Julius Caesar to McCarthy. Well-read people were generally clear thinkers, and Darwin had soaked up strategy and human psychology from every critical battle and war that had shaped modern history.

  So Asher stayed silent in the face of Darwin’s mute question. He had to tread very carefully, now.

  Darwin gave it thirty seconds, then he shrugged again. “I’m better off not knowing the details,” he agreed, as if Asher had spoken. “I’ve gone this long not knowing, so my curiosity can stand the mystery a bit longer. Thing is…” He sipped again. He was getting to the point, now, and pausing before the big moment in his story. “This kid, the son of the brother of the man who told me the story…this kid got hooked into the Comanches for a bit, down in lower Manhattan. Gangs don’t like to let go of a brother, so the father figured the only way to fix it was to move the whole damned family out of Manhattan. They moved up here and lived with the kid’s uncle for a bit, until they got their footing and found a house. Point is, the kid had stories to tell, and one of them was about a captain from a heavy-duty Bronx gang who had arranged to trespass on their territory for a few days while they dealt with an enemy.”

  Asher fought not to react and to wait for Darwin to reach his point, which was close now.

  Darwin shrugged. “It would have been of zero interest for me, except that the kid even had a name for the guy they were hunting.” This time his gaze drilled into him.

  “Strand,” Asher said softly.

  “Strand,” Darwin confirmed. “You’re known to the gangs,” he added. “The Comanches have known about you for over three years and even though they tend to shoot first when another gang member strolls onto their turf, word still manages to pass among them. They would also know the Lords have up and disappeared, too, and they’ll make the same connection I did.”

  “Perhaps that’s why they haven’t come calling,” Asher said.

  “There’s no profit in it for them, right now,” Darwin agreed. “But they would have watched you. You’re on their interest list, now.”

  Asher smiled. “I’m a very cautious man.”

  “And these guys make the Lords look like ballerinas. Well, I’ve told you.” Darwin sat back.

  “How is it you know so much about the gangs, anyway? It’s not the usual area of interest for an archivist.”

  Darwin snorted. “Because of you. I’ve been listening and watching and talking to interesting people for a few years now. Gangs aren’t like they used to be in the fifties and sixties. They’re organized. Structured. There’s money behind them. They’re considered revenue generators for the money men and they
’re the sort of money men that settle financial disputes in a way that needs body bags, not legal battles.” Darwin pushed his lips out, a rueful expression that seemed to sum up everything he’d gleaned about New York gangs.

  Then he straightened up and stretched hard and put his hands back on the table. “Gangs aren’t all I’ve been reading up about.”

  Asher reached for his glass of wine again. Screw it. He wanted the rest, after all. And it gave him an excuse not to look Darwin in the eye.

  “I’m damned good at my job,” Darwin said. “It helps that I like what I do, but that’s beside the point. The point is, I can usually find any information I want. If it’s out there in the world somewhere, I can track it down, because I know where and how it’s all stored and how to access it.”

  “I’m quite sure you are very good,” Asher said sincerely. He looked at his watch. “You know, I really should—”

  “I can’t find anything on you,” Darwin said flatly. “Twenty years back, in the early nineteen seventies…every trace of you disappears. “

  Asher stared down at the ruby liquid. His heart galloped.

  “You’re young, yet, but you’re more than twenty years old,” Darwin said flatly. “Then there’s the odd things you say and the way you say them, like that thing about my hospitality.”

  Asher winced mentally.

  “Then there’s your name. Names are one of the most revealing things, did you know? Even the fake ones. There’s always a reason someone picked the name and if you noodle it around for a while….” He trailed off as Asher shook his head.

  “Don’t,” Asher said gently, his heart slamming now.

  Darwin grew wary. “Don’t …what?” he asked, just as quietly.

  “Don’t pursue this. Don’t dig into records. Don’t ask questions, especially about me.”

  Darwin licked his lips, watching Asher, working it out. “Charlee…” His voice was strained.

  Asher gave a soft exhalation. “Christ, Darwin, after what I’ve done to protect her, do you really think I would let her walk into danger because of me?”