So, we just had to do it the hard way.
Before leaving, I tucked Bernadette in for the night, telling her we were going to a costume party. She found that quite marvelous and laughed with delight just before she’d kissed “Tommy” goodnight.
Her tiptop physical shape contrasted sharply with her mental fragility. Of course, her doctor hadn’t known Tommy was dead, so to him, Larrimer as Tommy made perfect sense. Still, he had to be right. Her brain could heal, would heal, from a minor bleed. For now, her confusion made my life easier, but also made my chest ache.
“I figure I’m pretty safe calling you James tonight.” I stared out the window into the cloudy night that threatened snow.
“Sure. I’ll call you Artemis. It suits you.”
I flushed, oddly pleased that he liked my middle name.
“What happened with her grandson, Artemis?” Larrimer put the Audi in gear.
“I was orphaned young.” I told him about my childhood and how I came to be with Bernadette and Tommy. “Anyway, Bernadette was disgusted when Tommy joined the Army.”
He turned the corner, headed toward Asheville center. “And were you disgusted?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want the military, but it was the only way I could afford my college of choice. I majored in psych. Tommy majored in beer and broads, with a minor in philosophy. I went to Clark, did my ROTC training at WPI, deferred the Army, and got my Masters in counseling at Northeastern. Tommy went to UMass on the six-year plan, so we both enlisted at the same time, to Bernadette’s horror.”
“You have nightmares about him.”
My eyes widened.
He took a cigar, a prop, out of his pocket and threaded it through his fingers. “You cry out sometimes. Shout. Say things.”
“The dreams,” I said. “We’d driven cross-country, and stopped at the Grand Canyon. I’d always wanted to take a helicopter into the canyon. Tommy bought us tickets. A surprise for me. Actually rented a special copter so he could fly it. He’d learned in the army.” Oh, how he loved flying.
“I bitched at him like crazy, wanted to go with him. But his was a two-person machine, and a company guy had to accompany him. I went in a second copter. Tommy’s crashed. Exploded. Burned. Gone. All while I watched.”
“And you could do nothing.” His warm fingers threaded through mine. “An accident. But you haven’t forgiven yourself yet.”
“What about you, your life before?”
He chomped on the cigar. “We’re almost there.”
Goosebumps crawled up my arms, and I rubbed them.
As before, we left the car with the valet. I tucked my hand around the crook of Larrimer’s arm, and we crossed the parking lot. The closer we got to the door, the more my nerves prickled. Just under the skin, excitement bit me. I massaged the dangling star earrings, the second, different pair. We’d be fine. Nerves were good.
I lifted my chin, pasted a smile on my face, and in minutes we were through the entrance. No Blondie tonight. I thanked heaven they weren’t triplets.
When we entered the first dining room, a maître d’ bustled over, his hair in a trendy man-bun that pulled his features tight. Larrimer handed him our invitation, and we threaded our way through the diners. I appeared to talk to Larrimer, and he to me, but we both were checking out the guests, the servers, the beefy goons decked out in tuxes.
The maître d’ flashed our invitation to the guard as we entered the second dining room. Same number of diners, same hum of excitement and entitlement, same nasty, potent brew.
He steered us toward a table to the center left. Well, lookie lookie—the Bronze Printing bimbo. Vacation. Right.
“Last time, I sat in that corner.” I smiled at the maître d’ and pointed to a table for two in shadow near the entrance to the third dining room. “More private.” Slick as anything, Larrimer slipped him some bills.
We followed the maître d’ to the requested table. Larrimer assisted me into the seat that faced the third room’s entrance, while he took the one opposite.
A crystal carafe of red wine sat on the white linen, and Larrimer started to pour. “I’d swear there’s blood in it,” I said. “Don’t drink.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“I’m too jacked up, dammit.”
“Look at me.”
Larrimer sure didn’t look like himself, except for a moment, I lost myself in those Pacific-blues. Their touch was warm and calm. Such perfect calm.
His grin spelled danger, and I laughed.
“I’m glad you’re on my side,” I said.
“Always.”
I lay the thick linen napkin in my lap. “We should wait for Roberto to announce tonight’s menu,” Thank the gods only Larrimer could see my revulsion. “They’ll be distracted, filled with excitement. When we disable the guard in the alcove, we can head for that third room. I saw three guards the first time.”
Larrimer had given me one of two tiny aerosol sprays he said would instantaneously knock out each guard. He had the other one.
The sprays niggled at me. Contrary to movies galore, I knew of no on-the-spot drug that could do that. But I was betting those clever guys at his mysterious agency did.
He nodded.
Easy peasy. Sure.
I opened my senses, reassessing the crowd. Emotions popped with fizzy excitement, and low notes of fear and anxiety. I closed down and focused on the wine, pretending to sip. Not even liking the stuff near my lips, I surreptitiously poured some on the floor.
“One teensy thing,” I said. “I meant to mention it earlier.”
Larrimer stifled a groan. “That is not a good phrase.”
“Blondie2 saw my fireflies.”
He cursed under his breath. “Think he told his boss before you took off his head?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll handle it.”
Long minutes later, Roberto bounded out from the far entrance, all smiles.
The room hushed.
“Tonight, we’re serving extra-special delicacies. Our appetizer is fresh dugong from Palau.”
Applause.
“Chimpanzee from the Congo!”
Enormous applause.
“And, for something really unique, the Maned Wolf from Argentina!”
I applauded, mantraed composure, and imagined how my shapeshifter wolves would react to that little treat. Larrimer smiled broadly, clapping like mad.
Waiters swarmed the room, and one placed a thick sheet of vellum in front of me, then Larrimer.
He lifted his. “Wow, looks delicious, doesn’t it, darling?”
I reached for mine. “Divine, honey pie.”
The room was abuzz.
Wearing that fake smile, he said, “Now, I think, darling.”
To impress the gun-toting thug, I undid another button of my blouse, spilling my breasts out further. “I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart.”
I started to rise. Larrimer stood swifter than I, and the room went silent. Two goons had emerged from the rear alcove, one flush against Larrimer, who went ice still. So, a gun. Swell.
Larrimer could take them, but that wasn’t the point.
The taller one nodded to me. “Someone wants to speak to you. Wait here.”
They flanked Larrimer, who threw me a wink, then the three stepped backward, into the alcove, into darkness.
Larrimer. That crazy man was frigging pumped.
On high alert, I resumed my seat.
I dipped the fingers of my left hand beneath the hem of my blouse, slid out my gun, and held it under the table.
Whispers filled the room, like smoke from a smoldering pyre. Candle-flames flickered, shadows dancing, then blazed bright. Nettles scored my skin, my wrist itching like crazy.
He was coming. I streamed out my senses, crashed against hunger and excitement, greed and lust. Too much.
My right hand spasmed. Quiet. The room was so very, very quiet.
Focus. Focus.
That voice,
Da. My mind calmed. I forced my fisted hand to unclench, reach for the water. I sipped. Cool. Refreshing. Sipped again. Drained the glass.
He was near.
I was ready.
A medium-sized man in a silver-gray suit took shape beside the table. I didn’t raise my eyes, but sensed when he waved a hand. The room’s hum recommenced at a frantic pitch. I thrust my shoulders back, poised for battle, and aimed my gun at the man taking Larrimer’s seat.
I looked up.
And the world vanished.
ommy filled my world. He was here. Alive. My lips moved, but no words came. The ghost seated across from me folded his arms, his chocolate eyes bright with delight.
Light brown hair, a strong nose that tilted up just enough to make him hate it, stubbled chin with that sweet cleft I always loved. He had the grace of an acrobat, a man who could fly through the air and catch the brass ring. And me. He always caught me.
“Impossible,” I whispered, unsure of whether I’d said it aloud or to myself.
A pale hand reached across the table, lifted my icy one and kissed it, soft and gentle and real. “Possible, dear Clea. Long time no see.”
The voice, always a little rusty and sharp. I’d know it anywhere. The burning behind my eyes intensified, and I cursed. “Not Tommy. Can’t be.”
The grin that was my sun for years shone from his lips.
“No? Remember that night we were supposed to be studying, but snuck out to go joyriding instead? When you leaned too fast into my old Fiat’s door? The open flap window caught you below your left eye. Your blood gushed everywhere, and you used my new shirt, dammit, to wipe it up. Bad girl.” He chuckled.
I withdrew my hand and raised a finger to the small heart-shaped scar that testified to the event. “I saw you die.”
“But I didn’t!” He smiled. “All fakery, theatrics.”
Not for the dead copilot, nor the other corpse in the helicopter.
“Like your old mentalist tricks,” he said.
Which were hints of my nascent powers. Powers that were murmuring things I refused to hear.
“It’s really you,” I said.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“How did you—?”
“Not now.”
He kissed the back of my hand again, and the intensity brought fresh tears.
“Why don’t you put that gun away now?” he asked.
Zombie-like, I slid it into its holster. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He frowned, nodded. “Not as much as I’ve missed you.”
“Why the charade? Where have you—”
“Later. We have all the time in the world.”
“And Tanya? Are you—”
His eyes twinkled. “Still together.”
But he’d hidden from me, from Bernadette. “Why are you here, in this—”
He waved a finger.
Power bathed me in silence. My ears rang. The world, a tunnel of light, shining around Tommy.
I knew. Of course I knew. The moment I’d seen him. But I hated the knowing. Didn’t want it.
Tommy was The Master.
I forced myself back, pulled reality around me, cloaked myself in it. I lowered my lashes. He’d always been able to see the truth in me.
Acid surged up my throat. I swallowed, hard, reached for the pitcher of water with its graceful lemon slices floating on top. He beat me to it and poured. I couldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t.
How had my universe shattered so utterly?
He waited for me to drink, then ran a finger up and down my hand. “Look at me, Clea. Hear me out.”
I stared at him, my mind galloping across scenes from our childhood. Tommy and me playing He Man. Riding Clem. Building a fort of sheets. The boy I knew better than myself. “It just can’t be. The Master.”
He bubbled with excitement. “It is. And, yes, I’m The Master. But there is so much you don’t know.”
And so much I did.
He leaned in, lowered his voice to a whisper. “As a team, we could help the world. The Chest of Bone. That’s all we need.”
“What?”
“Wondrous power. A grail wrapped in a box.” He sighed. “You don’t understand. Look, magic’s just…” He tapped a finger on the table. “Like the Internet. Magic’s just a tool.”
“No it’s not.” I thought for a moment. How to get through to him. “It’s more like nature, elemental, organic. It’s becoming rewoven into our world, a part of our world. Integral.”
“You don’t get it.” He shook his head. “It’s a device, and someone needs to wield it to keep things in order. On an even keel, right? Control the flow so others don’t abuse it. Why not me?”
I could think of a thousand reasons I wasn’t stupid enough to utter.
He leaned forward. “We’ll be getting in on the ground floor of The Next Big Thing.”
“The magic, you mean. If anything, Tommy, the magic is ours to protect, not to exploit.”
“No no. It doesn’t need protection. Control the magic, control the world.”
Which sounded like a slogan for a bad TV show. “So you’re telling me you can control the magic.”
His finger tapped faster. “Some of it. A lot of it. See, it’s like Amazon. Yeah, Amazon. And I’ll be Jeff Bezos.”
“I don’t recall Jeff Bezos killing anyone, like the way you butchered Dave and murdered Jason. Or kidnapping teenagers. Or—”
He held up a hand and donned a solemn face. “Unfortunate. Dave interfered, and not in a good way. That other guy, he got in the way, too. You have to keep focused on the big picture. We knew those two kids would draw you out.”
He was right about that one. “That thing that attacked me in Mt. Auburn? The attempts to kidnap me? Blondie almost raping me?”
His face froze. “I only wanted you here, with me, like we used to be. Warnings. Threats. Some escalated out of control.”
“Why not just call me? Draw me out?”
“It’s complicated.”
Tommy-speak for, “I had my reasons.” Ones, he knew, I wouldn’t find palatable.
“When I realized…” He shook his head. “I would never hurt you.”
I blinked. “But you did.”
“And I’m sorry. I am. Think of it as a trade, since you took out two of my top associates.” He folded his hands as if in prayer. “This is a great quest. Join me, sweetness.”
I jerked at the familiar endearment. A cut that would never heal. “In what? Finding some box? Controlling the magic? What?”
His fingers danced over mine. “The chest is the key to everything.”
Anouk had called me the key. He obviously didn’t know that. “What chest?”
His eyes mocked. “Don’t play coy. You know about the Chest of Bone. It’s near. I can feel it. You’ll help me find it.”
There it was, Tommy’s truth. Our bond, gone, consumed by some mania I failed to wrap my head around.
“Let me show you.” He rose, and so did I.
He was always a talker. I’d let him unwind the threads of his truth.
His arm wrapped around my waist, hand resting on my hip, casual and light, and the gesture felt the same as always. But at my core, the difference scraped like sandpaper.
The room stilled, all eyes on us, breaths held. We moved toward the alcove.
“You can lose the chameleon act, sweetness.” He chuckled.
I hadn’t realized I was still in character. I buttoned my blouse. “Right. Guess my costume wasn’t so effective.”
“Oh, it was tremendous.” That slow meandering smile of his appeared. “One of your best. But I have my ways.”
He always had.
My shattered heart skipped a beat, then began again, and I consciously sheathed it in steel. I could do this. Had to do this.
We walked past a goon cradling an Uzi who whispered a reverent, “Master.”
Tommy nodded.
Master, my ass. Yeah, Jeff Bezos did that, too. Not.
James and Lulu and Ronan. I said their names over and over.
As we entered the innermost dining room, I locked on Larrimer. Two goons supported his slumped figure a mere ten feet away, face bloody, out cold. They’d beaten him with more than fists. Bastards.
“Was that necessary?” I asked.
“For that drone? Yes.”
“He’s the antithesis of that.” But he knew about Larrimer.
“Oh, my dearest girl, if you only knew the truth.”
Truth. The word rang in my ears, a hollow sound.
A snapshot—a smallish room, twelve-by-twelve-ish, one long dining table, center stage, perpendicular to where we stood. Crystal chandeliers, golden chalices, and a dozen diners, who looked up, whispered, “Master.” He nodded to them, dismissing them back to their gorging.
The diners sucked in their food, and at table’s head… Lulu! She wore indigo satin, a rose pinned to her hair. To her right sat Ronan, his enormous body encased in an ill-fitting tux. Of all the guests’ faces, hers was the only one turned toward us. Ronan looked downward, eating like the others, but Lulu’s violet eyes tracked us. They howled terror, and she shook her head and mouthed a silent “no.” Her hands weren’t on the table, she wasn’t eating. The bastard had tied her down.
Some costume I picked. Lulu recognized me, too.
To the left of Larrimer and the goons, a brick arch spanned a raised stage. Soft, classical music wafted from speakers, and sprays of my favorite sunflowers flanked the arch.
No one seemed in charge. Diners ate like animals, fingers greasy as they shoved food in their faces. Lulu’s eyes grew wider still, and she mouthed, run.
A commotion by the stage. A small man wearing a chef’s cap stood on the low platform holding an enormous domed silver platter. He stepped down into the room and headed for the trestle table.
The chef placed the tray in the center of the table and raised the lid. My stomach lurched, but I couldn’t look away. On it lay a footless human leg, roasted, the ends dressed in a paper ruffle, like the kind on fancy turkeys. Rows of sliced meats lay in an artfully presented circle around the leg, dotted with parsley clips and evergreen sprigs. He began carving the leg. The diners ignored him, kept shoving food into their mouths.
Chest of Bone (The Afterworld Chronicles Book 1) Page 30
