The Bishop's Legacy (World of Shadows Book 3)

by Lincoln Cole

  “Yes.”

  “To die, if need be?”

  “Of course.”

  “To lose even Megyn?”

  “If need be to accomplish the mission, then yes.”

  “Is Megyn equally prepared?”

  “She is prepared to follow my lead.”

  “Is she prepared to die for you?”

  Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “That isn’t her decision to make.”

  “Isn’t it, though?”

  “If you speak to her of this without—”

  “Relax,” George interrupted, “I have no intention of speaking to Megyn about anything. Your relationship with her is your own, and what details you choose to give her are yours to decide.”

  “Good.”

  “What I am saying is this: if you choose to go through with this plan, I will support you, but give me the opportunity to show you a better way.”

  Jeremy hesitated. “I’m listening.”

  “How long has it been since you saw your father? Or your mother? Don’t you miss them? Don’t you wish for a normal life?”

  “Of course I miss them, but it means nothing. I’m not meant for a normal life. None of us are.”

  George pressed on, ignoring his protestation. “If you do things right then you can have both. You could have a family, a normal life, and still accomplish the mission you’ve set yourself upon. I can teach you how.”

  “That involves cancelling my mission. I can’t do that. I’ve already collected the items I need and I’m ready to finalize this.”

  “You plan to hit the hospital, don’t you?”

  Jeremy was shocked. “How do you know that?”

  “I told you: I knew Leopold, and I know you. Together, we can do so much more.”

  Jeremy shook his head slowly. The conversation was turning in directions he didn’t want it to go. He had to reassert himself.

  “I don’t need you to teach me anything,” Jeremy replied. “I need for you to honor the contract you made with my father. You already said you would.”

  “Of course I will, but there is more we could—”

  “There are two people after us, a hunter and the priest who killed my father. The hunter is Arthur, and he was your mistake. You murdered his family with the Bishop’s help, so now you need to help fix the mess you made.”

  “Arthur shouldn’t still be alive,” George said. “A miscalculation, I admit, and one I fully intend to rectify.”

  “Well, he is. I want you to have your little minions in there deal with them, and that is all I want from you.”

  “I understand what you want to achieve but—”

  “Will you help me or not?” Jeremy asked, furious. “I don’t care at all about your plans or your agenda. I don’t care about anything you have to say about Leopold or any of this. I don’t need your opinion, I need your help. All I want to know is: will you do as I ask and help us, or am I wasting my time?”

  He did his best to make the last sound like a threat. A long moment passed while George weighed what Jeremy had said. He was frowning, clearly unhappy with the turn the conversation had taken, but Jeremy didn’t really care.

  He didn’t like that the man was disparaging Leopold’s agenda. How dare he assume that he knew better than the Bishop?

  “Fine,” George said finally. “I owe your father, and so I owe you.”

  “Really?”

  “We will take care of the hunter and the priest for you. One of my friends has told me where they are staying in the city and I will send my men there. We will respect the contract we made with your father, even though your mission is misguided.”

  “Excellent.”

  George frowned at him. “You could have had everything. Maybe you still can. I want you to understand that my door is always open for you and for Megyn. Should you change your mind, just know that I will be here waiting and ready to help you achieve so much more.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Jeremy said.

  He cheered internally, realizing that he had won. They would do his bidding, and he was getting exactly what he asked for.

  He turned and began walking back through the junkyard toward shop to gather up Megyn and get the heck out of here. Hopefully the food wasn’t ready yet and he could beg out of eating it … or maybe just take some to go and throw it away. He might be poor and hungry, but he had standards.

  He had no desire to stick around with these dirty and creepy cultists for a moment longer than he needed to.

  He stopped, though, and turned back to face George.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Oh?”

  “Leopold was a great man, and his plan was perfect. We will get him the justice he deserves and punish everyone who ever spoke ill of him.”

  Including you, he thought, but didn’t add.

  George narrowed his eyes, clearly aware of the unspoken threat in the words.

  “Careful, boy. Remember who you are speaking with.”

  “I could say the same.”

  George stared at him and Jeremy only smiled.

  “We will win.”

  “I hope so, young man,” George said, turning away from Jeremy and walking deeper into the junkyard. He called to Jeremy over his shoulder without looking back, “for your sake.”

  Chapter 8

  “Jeremy isn’t coming back,” Arthur said, laying his head back on the headrest of his rental car and frowning. He was exhausted and cold from staying up all night in the car. They couldn’t run the engine, and the blankets they had taken from the hotel room to keep them warm weren’t enough to fight off the chill overnight.

  Niccolo nodded from the passenger seat beside him and let out a sigh. “I didn’t expect they would. Do you think they saw us?”

  “I’m assuming they spotted us yesterday when we first got here. Or, they must have had someone watching the place to warn them not to return.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Arthur wasn’t completely sure. Mitchell had given them this location, and it had panned out perfectly. The children had been here, and the little girl might have been living here for several days or weeks. Maybe months even, just like Mitchell had said.

  The stakeout hadn’t panned out. They had been so close to catching Jeremy and yet now it was just another dead end. That’s how it went sometimes, Arthur knew. They would get another chance to catch him, they just had to hope it didn’t come too late.

  “Let’s completely search the place,” Arthur said, finally. “Might find a clue we missed or somewhere we should go next.”

  They climbed out of the car and headed over to the broken service station across the street. Arthur had parked out of sight the previous day when they arrived, but it was impossible to hide it completely and still see the building.

  They had staked the building out over the long night, and it had been miserable. Desiree had opted not to come with them out here, which turned out to have been the better choice. She was in her hotel bed, nice and toasty, while they were freezing in the car.

  To his credit, Niccolo hadn’t complained about how cold it got in the car, but he did fall asleep a couple of times.

  The pumps had been torn out years earlier and the fuel reservoir filled with cement. This place was waiting for a demolition crew that was never coming. At least not until gentrification or some other external force made the land worthwhile.

  The smell of rot, and of human flesh rotting in the heat, wafted out of the interior and overwhelmed his senses as they walked up to the door.

  Niccolo gagged next to him. “What is that?”

  “You should wait out here.”

  “Why, what is it?”

  “More death.”

  Niccolo pursed his lips, but he didn’t take Arthur’s advice. He followed into the room behind Arthur, and into the carnage and devastation of the rundown gas station.

  Three bodies were lying on the floor, each in various stages of dismemberment. It hadn’t been long since they
had been killed, around the same time as what happened in the church by Arthur’s estimation. The cuts weren’t precise; they were made by an unpracticed hand.

  “Who are they?” Niccolo breathed.

  “Hard to tell,” Arthur said. “Vagabonds, maybe.”

  “Why kill them? Do you think they stumbled onto the place looking for somewhere to get out of the cold?”

  “Possibly. Look closer,” Arthur said, walking over to the bodies and waving his hand over the midsection of one. “The organs are missing, just like at the church.”

  “You said they had everything else they need for a summoning ritual, right?”

  “It looks like he’s harvesting many people. Whatever he’s planning, it’s big. He must be bringing quite a few demons into the world.”

  “We need to notify the Vatican.”

  “We will,” Arthur said. “But in the meantime, we still have to find Jeremy and stop him.”

  “I think…I’ll wait outside.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Niccolo made the sign of the cross over his chest, turning away from Arthur and heading back outside. Arthur searched for any clues about where Jeremy and the little girl went next.

  More people had been living here than just the little girl. At least two or three other people, the same ones that had been butchered in the main room.

  Why kill them, though? If they were allies of the Bishop, then why would Jeremy want them dead?

  He was solidifying his influence over the little girl. She wasn’t a fully willing participant, then his best course of action would be to get her out on an island. Once he was the only person she could turn to, then she would be willing to do anything he asked of her.

  Even though he found some more clues about their circumstances, nothing in the building made it clear where they went after leaving the service station. No addresses, names, nothing of value that they could use to track the children down. Arthur left with more questions than answers.

  What was Jeremy planning to do with all of the organs? How many demons could he possibly summon? Everyone he had killed so far felt orchestrated, like he was building up to something much bigger.

  What, though? The church, and now this … what was Jeremy’s end game?

  He finally headed back out into the cold and found Niccolo waiting outside. Niccolo was on his cellphone, speaking with the Vatican. He couldn’t overhear anything, but the call wasn’t going well. Niccolo scowled and touched his chin, something he did whenever he was frustrated.

  Arthur waited until the call was over before speaking. Niccolo hung up and then shook his head.

  “They aren’t interested?”

  “They are, but there’s nothing they can do to help right now. It’ll take at least two days to get us any help.”

  “By then it will be too late.”

  “That’s what I said. They just told me to deal with it.”

  “Sounds like they have faith in you.”

  “They shouldn’t. Look how things went down in California.”

  “If it wasn’t for what you did, Bishop Glasser would be on the other side of the world terrorizing even more people.”

  Niccolo shook his head and waved his hand. “We need to hurry. Jeremy still has a head start on us and we’re no closer to stopping him. We’re always one step behind.”

  “We need to know where to search before we start hurrying,” Arthur argued. “You’re right that we’re consistently one step behind, but rushing around isn’t going to bridge that gap.”

  “So, what then?”

  “We find Jeremy’s next target. The church was an intentionally chosen location, so we know the next attack will also be important.”

  “How do we figure that out?”

  “More research. I need you to call your friends at the Vatican or a local office and find out every place the Bishop might have served at while he was in Ohio. Desiree is going to the Akron library to search for information, and with luck she’ll turn something up. We need to look up any location that might be useful and check it out. If we know who in Ohio the Bishop considered an enemy, then we know who Jeremy’s next target is going to be.”

  “Alright,” Niccolo said. “But, what if we don’t find anything?”

  Arthur didn’t answer. If they didn’t find a location of the target before the attack, he knew, then they would sure as hell find it afterwards.

  Chapter 9

  Mikael still hadn’t called them, and they had been out here in Minnesota for two days waiting for something to change. Frieda found herself constantly bored and more than a little annoyed by the lack of action. If he was one of her hunters, she would already be considering punishments for his inability to complete this job.

  He wasn’t, though. All she could do was stew, and it drained on her patience. Frieda enjoyed being in charge, and she hadn’t realized how much she enjoyed it until someone else had the power.

  Worse, Mikael enjoyed reminding her that he oversaw this situation whenever they spoke. He would tell her time and again that he was the one running the show and she was simply here as a favor for the Church. Anytime Frieda questioned the way he was handling this case that was the first thing he brought up.

  Handling, in fact, was too strong of a word. All she and Abigail had been doing since they arrived was sitting around and waiting for something to happen. They spent most of their time in the hotel room with bad television shows waiting for Mikael to tell them it was time to move.

  Which was an utter waste of resources as far as she was concerned. Other hunters needed their help, particularly Arthur’s situation out in Ohio. Based on his last check in, something major was happening. He hadn’t yet tracked Jeremy down, and she could sympathize: she’d thought that threat was dealt with when the Bishop was killed.

  The idea of possibly dozens of demons running around Ohio because of Jeremy was certainly worse than whatever was happening out here with Curtis and Mikael.

  She finished her current phone call with Garfield, slid the phone back into her pocket, and then tossed a sock over at Abigail. Abi was sitting on the hotel bed with a bowl of cereal on her lap and she scowled at Frieda when the sock almost landed in her bowl. She had milk stains all over her shirt and was too engrossed in the television to care.

  “What was that for?”

  “Why is your sock on my chair?”

  “That’s where it wants to be,” Abigail said, throwing the sock back. “It’s the sock’s home.”

  “Sure,” Frieda replied, pushing the sock onto the floor. “If only we had a bag the sock could go in.”

  Abigail turned back to her shows. “If only,” she agreed.

  This would be the only time of the day when Abigail wouldn’t complain about being bored. Once she ran out of cartoons in her morning programming it would be game on for keeping the little girl occupied and out of her hair.

  “What’s Arthur doing now?”

  Frieda hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by Abigail’s question. She wasn’t sure how much of the truth she should admit. On the one hand, Abigail had experienced the worst that this world had to offer, being abused and tortured by a cult for many months — maybe even years, it was impossible to tell — before Arthur finally rescued her.

  But, on the other hand, she was still just a kid and didn’t really deserve to be overwhelmed with things like this. Frieda wouldn’t hide the truth of her work from Abigail, but she didn’t want the girl to grow up thinking the world was only full of bad people.

  “He’s helping to track down a target for me.”

  “More of the kids?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kids like me?”

  “Not quite,” Frieda said. “These children were taken in by someone evil and taught to do bad things.”

  “So … exactly like me?”

  Frieda laughed. “Shut up and go brush your teeth.”

  “Again?” Abigail asked, scrunching up her face.

  “Once aft
er each meal. You finished your cereal, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then brush your teeth. You know the rules.”

  Abigail groaned, climbing slowly from the bed. “I’ll go brush my teeth if you take me to see a movie.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation.”

  Abigail shrugged. “Do we have a deal?”

  “No, we don’t have a deal,” Frieda said, laughing. “But, I’ll think about it. Now get your butt in there and brush your teeth.”

  Abigail grumbled some more under her breath as she headed to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her, and a second later Abigail heard the sink turning on.

  “Arthur doesn’t stand a chance,” Frieda whispered, smiling to herself.

  Soon she would tell him that he was Abigail’s guardian. After this mission once the children were dealt with. The expression on his face would be priceless, especially once he figured out that she was a handful.

  It was imperative that he locate Jeremy and bring him back to the Church. By all reports, Jeremy was the closest of the Bishop’s advisors and in on his plan, so if anyone could put an end to this before more children were hurt, it was him.

  Her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Tolson’s Bakery. One hour.”

  It took her a second to recognize the voice on the other end of the line, but Mikael hung up before she could respond. The line went dead and she cursed for being so slow to respond.

  She went over and banged on the bathroom door.

  “Come on, Abi. We need to get on the road.”

  Abigail poked her head out of the bathroom, still brushing her teeth. When she spoke, the word was garbled.

  “Now?”

  “No, tomorrow,” Frieda said sarcastically. “Yes now. Let’s go. Move, move, move.”

  Abigail disappeared back into the bathroom for another minute before rushing back out. She quickly changed her shirt and then together they headed out of the hotel room and downstairs toward the lobby.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Tolson’s Bakery.”

  Abigail frowned. “What? Why?”

  “No clue. That’s where Mikael said to meet him.”