The Divine Roses (Jake & Dean Investigations Book 3)

by Richard Amos

  Louise was sandwiched between us, snoring gently, the TV on low playing an animated fairytale.

  “What a day,” Jake sighed. “Maybe we should hit the hay.”

  “Great idea.” I put my arm over the back of the sofa, poked his ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “If it helps her, then yeah. I don’t like it, but your dad’s right. What if she attracts the wrong attention?” He shook his head. “Fuck.”

  I could tell Louise was in a deep slumber by her not reacting to Jake’s cursing.

  “Feels like we’re taking away a part of her,” he added.

  “We can figure out something better to do later. I don’t want this being a permanent thing.”

  “Good. It shouldn’t be.”

  “Everything will be okay.”

  As soon as I said that, a voice called Jake’s name from outside. An American voice.

  “What the hell?” Jake was on his feet, opening the drawn curtains.

  “Parker Smith.”

  Eleven

  Jake

  “What the fuck do want?” I was in the open doorway behind the wards. They were flickering red at the evil bastard presence on the street.

  “Hello there.” Parker. Short and stocky, fair, messy brown hair, glasses over brown eyes, and a perky vibe that grated on me big time.

  It took every bloody piece of will not go down there and kick his teeth in.

  “How’s things?” he asked.

  “They were great until you showed your ugly mug.”

  “Ah, I’m not that hideous, am I?”

  “No, only a creepy stalking bastard like your twin. Elijah’s your twin, right? You need to help me out here.”

  Dean was at my side after letting Soph and Luuk know what was going on. I heard them enter the house from the back way.

  Parker smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m more interested in seeing you dead. And Elijah.”

  “Maybe you’ll be lucky one day.”

  “Fingers crossed.”

  A few people walked past, cycled, giving Parker a wide berth, not stopping.

  “This is only a flying visit. I’ve brought you a gift.”

  Dean bristled. “Stick your gift up your arse. Get the fuck away from my family.”

  Man, that was hot even though this was a dodgy situation. “What he said!”

  “If you say so. But be sure to look in the water.”

  He walked away, and I spotted the body floating in the canal. So did some bloke who yelled and fell off his bike.

  I dashed down the steps, spear in hand, but Parker was gone. He had a really annoying habit of vanishing into thin air.

  Stepping closer to the canal, I saw the body was a woman, floating on her front. There was a glow in the dark water, and the body rolled of its own accord.

  Now with the woman on her back, I could clearly see the rose on her stomach.

  The same thing happened as with Melony—the rose with the mouth, the same bloody words coming out of it.

  “Sin made right, a cleansing for a new world order. Roses where once there was dung. They will reach higher ground, be blessed in all things beyond the dirt and grime of this world. She is saved. The end is coming.”

  Holy shit, this was messed up.

  Parker was the killer? Which meant he was fae.

  That didn’t make sense.

  What else was new?

  A spider hopped out of the water.

  Since when did spiders swim in canals?

  Maybe that did…

  Crap. William, the spider guy, was a lying bastard, and he’d hunted me down and was gonna send webs this way all because I slighted his stupid fucking daughter spider, Diana.

  To think I’d checked him out and all had been fine and dandy—though getting my head around how he made his spider had messed with my head.

  “This your friend?” Dean said.

  “Don’t… Wait. That’s green.”

  “What?”

  “William’s was purple.”

  A small man climbed out of the canal, laughing. Skin so red you’d think he was a lobster, hair made of silk, no clothes on, spinnerets at his nose and nipples just like William, plus an extra one on his cock.

  I retched.

  “What’s wrong?” the man said in Dutch. “Sickened to see such beauty?”

  There were gills on his chest.

  “William is a fool,” he added. “For not embracing his new gifts. But then he’s not as evolved as us, is he, Joseph?”

  Christ! Even the green spider (Joseph) had gills—and was bigger than Diana.

  “I’m not William.” Jets of silk fired from all four spinnerets, straight for me. I jumped to the side but got hit in the shoulder.

  Wham! Fuck! That was some hardcore silk. They say spider silk is like steel in the insect world. Friggin’ felt like it! I hit the ground, shoulder screaming in pain, and was dragged across the concrete.

  The air was normally blue when I was around, but when the green spider leaped on my chest, it was the brightest shade of sapphire.

  Still, I had my spear and a desire not to get wrapped up as a snack and have those fangs, dripping with venom, pierce my skin.

  I whacked the fucker, and it flew off. Simple.

  Not.

  The spider guy yanked me forward again as I tried to get up, bringing me to my knees.

  “You prick!” I bellowed as his pet/kid/freak leaped at my face.

  I never knew I could scream that loud or that high.

  Dean was already in action. The exploder potion went off, and the spider guy’s grip on me was gone. Though some of his insides hit me in the face.

  Joseph forgot me, hissed, reared, and charged for Dean, furious that its master now decorated the pavement like some grim Expressionist painting.

  Dean was brutal with his fists and any weapon in them. Sometimes he wore knuckledusters, sometimes not. This time he has his dagger.

  I watched the show, wiping body gunk off my face.

  I’d shower for a billion years.

  The spider was quick. Dean was quicker. He leaped through the air, missing a spray of silk. Before the twenty-legged (I counted) thing could react, Dean had sunk his dagger into its body. Eyes popped. It shrieked and hissed and tried to go for him, but Dean had already dropped an exploder.

  He rushed at me, actually covered me protectively because he couldn’t help it with the hero stuff, and the spider blew apart.

  Right near our bloody doorstep.

  “You okay, baby?” He offered me a hand.

  “I’m fine.” He helped me up. “What the hell?”

  “A friend of William’s? Maybe a whole group of new spider pod-born?”

  I shuddered. “Don’t say that.”

  “I guess we have another case for the pile.” He checked me over. “It didn’t bite you?”

  “No. Bloody shoulder hurts, though.”

  He checked. “Nothing broken. Do you want to go have it seen to?”

  “No, it’s cool. But I know who I’m calling tomorrow. William better have an explanation for me.”

  “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll call someone to clean this up and contact the council about the rose body.”

  Another horrible thought came to me: What if the spider or the guy had had thousands of baby spiders inside it? Pop goes the body, out comes the offspring.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Twelve

  Dean

  Spider people. First of their kind outside of Ancient Lore.

  Links on the Encyclopedia of Species (EOS) website, via the Paranormal Eyes VPN, took me to articles about Neith, the Ancient Egyptian Goddess associated with spiders, plus a piece on Dante’s Purgatorio, which I quickly remembered. I’d read The Divine Comedy when I was twelve.

  A day of paperwork, also known as a headache, was waiting for us after what’d happened. The council wanted a report regarding
Parker, the body, and the spider guy and his pet. So did the police. They’d hung around outside until midnight taking samples, asking questions, seeing if there were any witnesses.

  There were, but I got the impression the interviewers were more concerned with Parker’s appearance and the body in the canal rather than the spider.

  The body had been whisked away so fast, carried in a van, which Lars told me had ejector seats just in case the body starting leaking pod all over the place.

  Where the poor woman, and Melony, were being stored was the big question.

  Pods did eventually vanish at whatever time they saw fit to. They could last five minutes or five months. It was up to them. Where one vanished, more sprang up somewhere else in an endless contamination. They played by pod rules—rules no one understood whatsoever.

  I held onto the hope of getting rid of them. I refused to believe the rest of time would be dominated by these damn colorful blobs of chaos.

  Eating the last of my bacon and eggs, I took the plate downstairs. I hated eating in the office, but I was too engrossed in what I was doing research-wise. When that happened, I had to follow the thread until my mind had had enough.

  Like now.

  “Hey, Papa.” Lou was sat at the kitchen table, swinging her legs. “How’d it go?”

  “Not bad, darling. Papa’s eyes hurt now, though.”

  “Square eyes?”

  I rinsed the plate. “Sorry?”

  “Daddy told me all about getting square eyes if you watch too much TV or computer. That’s why I’m only having TV time when I need to. I’m scared of square eyes. I like my eyes this way.” She closed them and tapped them.

  “Careful. Don’t poke them out. Where is Daddy?”

  “He’s dusting.”

  “Oh.”

  “He was naughty, though. Said loads of bad words about how much dust there is. I heard him whispering.” There was a hilarious cunning to her tone. “I caught him. Eight euros.”

  “Goodness. Hopefully, that taught him a lesson.”

  “Hmmm… Maybe. One day.”

  Done with the plate, I sat with her. “What you up to?” I could see what she was up to. Coloring, her empty breakfast plate pushed to the middle of the table. I just liked to hear her tell me all about it.

  “Just chilling.”

  “Nice to chill.”

  “It is.”

  She was coloring in Saturn to the exact shades it was usually depicted.

  “Looking good.”

  “Thanks, Papa.”

  “How about going shopping today? Look for some more books to help you with those square eyes?”

  “I’d love that, Papa.”

  We needed a day out of the house together. “Maybe some lunch?”

  “Yum. Yes, please!”

  “Good. I’ll speak to Daddy and sort it out.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  As I stood up, she flung herself at me, gripping me tight around the waist. “Dank u.”

  “You’re welcome, darling. We may as well enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.”

  “That’s right.” She nodded and got back to Saturn.

  I found Jake in the living room with a dusting cloth and polish. He was in his cleaning clothes—shorts and vest that were once white, now that weird gray that comes from over-washing. His face was beetroot even though the window was open, and there was a fan pointing directly at him as his wiped the mantlepiece.

  “It’s bleedin’ roasting in here!” he complained.

  I actually thought it was a bit on the chilly side. Best not to say that, though. “Do you want some water?”

  “No. I’m good.” He stopped what he was doing. “How’d it go?”

  “Nowhere. Yet. Need a break.”

  “Bloody right, you do.”

  “Thanks for breakfast, by the way. That was some good bacon.”

  “Right? I’ll be going to that butcher again.”

  “Listen, I was just saying to Louise about going shopping today. The three of us. Get some lunch, enjoy the nice weather.”

  He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Sounds lovely. I’m in.”

  “Was it really that dusty?”

  “It was bloody shocking. Came down this morning, the room was bathed in light and, well, you know what that means. Friggin’ sunshine showed us up, didn’t it?”

  “You tackled it like a warrior. This place is gleaming.”

  “And this is just the first room. Get ready for more sparkle.”

  Later, books in hand from our favorite book shop, we decided to have lunch at a pub opposite the Stopera (home of the Dutch National Ballet and Opera). We sat outside, watching the city go by. The trams rang their bells, the cyclists too, people went to and fro, and the sun shimmered prettily on the Amstel river separating us from the Stopera.

  Okay, so there was a green pod over on the bridge, but that wasn’t spoiling anyone’s fun.

  “This is so lovely,” Jake said before having another mouthful of his brown bean soup. “I haven’t felt this chilled in ages.”

  Lou was merrily chomping away on her chips, while I’d just polished off a steak.

  Jake was right. The shopping had been fun, the walk had been needed. There were more pods around than usual, but again, it didn’t dampen the day. In fact, the whole city seemed to be in a good mood for once.

  There was a lot to be said for sunshine.

  “What shall we do next?” Lou asked.

  “How about having a wander?” Jake suggested. “Look at the map and point at something.”

  “I like that, Daddy.”

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  Jake’s happy face clouded over.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  I followed his gaze, and there they were, strutting together across the bridge, heading right this way with a gathering of fae guards in plain clothes behind them.

  “Well, look who it is!” My dad cried, hurrying over. Today was another gold day, no other color on his body from head to toe.

  Orla turned heads in a turquoise pantsuit and heels, phone cameras pointed at her as she came over. She certainly looked every part the movie star.

  “Grandpa!” Dad scooped Louise up and swung her around.

  What a turnaround from her trepidation yesterday. She giggled, and he laughed, and anyone watching would think this was such a wonderful family moment, that the grandpa and granddaughter had an amazing bond.

  “Hello, you two,” Orla said pleasantly. “Gorgeous day, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Jake answered, not looking up.

  Couldn’t we have one day without something happening? “What brings you both here?”

  Dad put my daughter back in her seat. “We wanted to explore the city, see Rembrantplein. Have a drink or two. Partake in the coffee shops.” He winked. “Do you recommend anywhere?”

  “Why would we?”

  “Ah, yes. Apologies. You don’t have fun.”

  “Dad!”

  “Oh, lighten up, Son. I was only pulling your leg.” He bent down to Louise. “Silly daddy needs to stop being so serious.”

  “Actually, he’s Papa,” Louise corrected. “Daddy is Daddy.” She pointed at Jake.

  Dad quirked a brow. “Is that so? Well, silly Papa, then.”

  “Papa’s not silly. Well, sometimes.”

  I smiled. “Cheeky.”

  He looked to Orla, who’s smile was trying too hard.

  “Having a nice lunch?” she asked.

  “Great,” came Jake’s clipped response.

  “Excellent. Well, we shouldn’t stay and bother you. There seems to be a crowd gathering.”

  “For you,” my father replied to Orla. “They think you’re a superstar.” He chuckled. “But you’re not a common celebrity. You’re a brighter star than that.”

  “Oh, Evander. Stop it.” Her eyes met mine as they seemed to do every time we came in contact.

  Unnerving, making me squirm, shuffle in
my seat. Piercing, as if she was seeing into my heart.

  All she would find was Jake and Louise. Nothing for her.

  “Shall we?” Dad asked, noticing the locked stares.

  She blinked. “Y-yes. Absolutely. Goodbye. Nice to see you.”

  “Cannot wait for the big party next week.” Dad was overly loud. But it made my daughter laugh, and she got another spin with her grandfather.

  “Bye,” Jake said.

  “See you later,” I offered.

  Orla turned and walked away. My dad bowed and followed, crying, “Such an adorable girl, that grandchild of mine.”

  The army of gatherers followed behind the fae guards.

  Apart from a group of girls hanging around our table.

  “Do you know her?” the tall, blonde girl with body glitter on her fair face asked. “Gosh, she’s pretty. What’s her name? Is she fae? She looked fae. Like a princess. Ohmigod!” Without waiting for an answer, the group ran after her.

  I turned to Jake. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Bit of surprise.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I lowered my tone for Louise. I didn’t want to cloud her mind. That wasn’t fair. If Dad was genuinely going to start being in her life, who was I to stand in the way of her getting to know him? Unless, of course, I needed to.

  Him being a grandparent was going to take time and effort from him and from me. I had to unlock the possibility properly because of the man I used to know. If he did to her what he’d done to me—be absent and unfeeling—then her little heart would break. I was over him, for the most part. It would be nice to start again, but I’d seen enough of life to not go jumping into hoping for certain things. When you haven’t had something, you don’t miss it not being there.

  Now, though, the gate had been opened to Louise. I was regretting, in some ways, setting her up for hurt. Overprotective, yes, but I wanted to be her shield against the pains of the real world.

  Always for her.

  “Grandpa loves the gold,” our daughter said. “Too much.”

  Jake laughed. “I’ll say, Lou. I’ll say. My fu-, erm, my poor eyes.”