“Key opens a case in the room, next to the one where I did your reading.” Morgan closed his eyes, feeling real fear for one of the first times in his life.
“That’s a lie. There’s nothing back there! No door to another room, nothing“
“I’m not lying.” He held his hands open wider, feeling his left elbow tap against the wall. “Go look for yourself. There’s a… never mind. Let me up and I’ll show you where it is.”
“I don’t think so. Rosalie, could you—”
“Already on it.”
Elijah listened as her footfalls took her from the door, past the desk he and Morgan were behind, and into the room. He listened for a few more seconds, then glared down at the man’s face. “Is the amulet inside the case? What does it do? Where did you get it? And how did you do…everything that you’ve done?”
Morgan started laughing quietly, his head shaking back and forth. “Tall order, kid. Real tall.”
“You’re seriously going to act like a douche while I have a gun to your head?” Narrowing his eyes, Elijah leaned over him more and his glare became even more potent. His index fingered trembled against the trigger. All he needed to do was give it a gentle squeeze and Morgan’s life would be all over.
“Not being a douche. Just trying my best to survive. And if this is where it ends, well…” He shrugged to the best of his ability. The fear was beginning to edge away into something that more resembled acceptance.
“You practice some sort of dark magic, don’t you? And what was with the assassins? Where did they come from? Did you kill Rosalie’s father? What about Angelique?”
“You’re asking me all of these questions now? I think it’s a little bit late.” A smirk shifted across his lips after he spoke, and then both of his eyebrows lifted. “I think you know the answers to them all anyway. Why not just live with that and be thankful that you’re only a little bit stupid?”
Elijah knew that Morgan was just trying to goad him into action—whether good or bad—and he shook his head slowly. “Give me the answers, Morgan. Or the box burns.”
That fear returned to Morgan’s eyes again, and he glanced around the space. He knew there was nothing he could do…even stalling wasn’t going to help him. “I practice dark magic. Yes.” He couldn’t stop the tremble in his voice. “Worship myself, not any God or Goddess. The magic… it’s in me. I created the assassins with it…controlled their minds, gave them purpose. Told them what to do. Was going to make you one of them, but Rosalie spoiled those plans.”
The pause was long, but eventually Morgan continued. “I didn’t kill anyone. Like I said. The assassins did it.” There was more of a pause, and he knew he was answering Elijah’s questions backwards. At the stare he received, it was clear that the younger man hadn’t forgotten about what he had asked earlier.
“Amulet’s in the case, yes. Got it from Rosalie’s father, who found it in an attic. One of my men delivered it to me many nights ago. As for what it does…” Lie, Morgan thought to himself. He’ll never know. “Not sure. Something important. A long while ago I ‘felt’ it. Sensed it, you know? Knew I needed to have it.” It wasn’t all a lie, but the majority of his last ‘answer’ certainly was. Morgan knew exactly what the amulet did.
Elijah looked ready to speak when he heard Rosalie come out of the room.
“I have the box, Elijah,” she called. “Do you still have the key?”
“Yes. It’s in the left front pocket of my jeans.”
“Okay. Um…when you get the chance you really need to come see what else I found in that room.”
Elijah gave Rosalie a nod, then shifted slightly and moved one of his knees over Morgan’s left hip. He knew the amount of discomfort that his new position caused by the cringe in the other man’s face, and he smiled. Not once did he even partially take his eyes away from Morgan while Rosalie crouched down beside him. She put the box she had found on the floor before reaching into the pocket Elijah had described. After a moment of searching, she finally felt it between her fingers and drew it out. “Got it,” she whispered.
Morgan made his move. The slightest hint of distraction in Elijah’s eyes propelled him to reach for the gun and twist his body away at the same time. But his plan backfired. When he grabbed for the gun, Elijah’s hand tightened. His fingers clenched in an instinctive reaction, and a shot rang out.
Chapter Nineteen
Elijah sat there, crouched on one knee, and stared. He could hardly take in a breath. His chest felt like it was caving in from an unseen pressure, and his throat clenched. As much as he wanted to say something, no sound came out. The fingers of one hand were clenched around Morgan’s shirt collar. The fingers of his other hand were barely hanging onto the gun. Beneath him, eyes wide in shock, Morgan was motionless. Almost directly between his eyes was a hole. Under him, soaking his dark hair, blood began to slowly seep outward.
“Elijah…what did you do?” Rosalie’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“I…I don’t know. I…he wanted the gun and….” Fearful eyes turned and looked up at the Spanish woman. “He tried to… he just wanted the gun…”
“We need to get out of here, now. Now.” Grabbing the box, Rosalie started moving quickly toward the door.
“What about what you found…in the room?” Feeling weightless, so stunned he had forgotten how to breath, Elijah scrambled to his feet. He felt sick enough to collapse, but Rosalie’s moving form ahead of him kept his legs from betraying his body.
“There’s a dead woman in a room adjacent to it on a table. Yet another reason why we need to leave.”
Elijah gawked at Rosalie before stumbling after her. The blast of fresh air on his face as they both escaped the confines of the shop made the air trapped in his lungs finally explode out in a rush. Light-headed, he had to pause and lean a hand against the door. Rosalie’s insistent voice caused him to move again. He felt as though he was in some sort of horrible nightmare.
By the time they arrived at the car, Elijah was trembling. Tears welled in his eyes and whimpers rose in his throat as he all but collapsed into the passenger seat. Morgan had been more than just his friend. Over the short time he had known him, the older man had become more like a father figure. He hadn’t wanted to shoot him. All he had wanted was to live. The understanding that he had willingly taken two other lives not minutes earlier was also taking its toll. Was he some kind of monster? Did he deserve the death that was supposedly coming for him?
“Elijah, get yourself together. You killed people earlier and had no issue!” Gritting her teeth, Rosalie sent the car into reverse and backed out onto the street.
“Morgan was like family!”
Her face paled at Elijah’s outburst. Letting out a slow breath, she just offered a small nod before moving to touch his thigh. When he jerked himself away from her, she set her jaw, slid the vehicle into drive, and headed for the highway. “Where do you want to go?”
“What are you talking about?” His voice came out as a sharp snap.
“Where the hell are we going, Elijah? You had a plan last time!”
“I don’t fucking know.”
Rosalie felt her jaw slacken, and she glanced over at Elijah with wide eyes. Swallowing hard, she steeled herself as they made for the highway. If they went north, they’d be able to catch a ferry and get to the mainland. Vancouver sounded promising. If they headed south, they would hit Victoria in a few hours. There was a huge airport there, as well as a means to get into the United States. “Vancouver or Washington?”
“Whatever.”
“Elijah! Where are we going? You obviously had to have some sort of plan in your head. This isn’t a game. I know you just shot one of the closest people in your life, but I’m not interested in getting killed because you’re too damn stubborn to tell me the best course of action!!”
He stared at her for a few moments, unblinking. Then he shook his head, reaching up to wipe partially shed tears from his eyes. “Vancouver. We’ll blow straight throu
gh and make for Alberta.”
“Let’s do that then. If we get out of here fast enough, they’ll never have time to figure out what happened.”
“Whatever. Fine.”
The drive to the ferry terminal was uneventful. Elijah was pressed against the door of the car, his blue eyes staring out as the world sped by. Rosalie kept her focus on the road, but she couldn’t help the occasional glance in his direction. She was worried about him, but she was afraid to tell him so. He seemed ready to explode into some sort of unbelievable tirade. For as laid back –even passive – as Elijah was, the man she had seen back at her house, killing people… it scared her.
“Do you have any money?” she asked softly. She tried to keep her voice gentle.
“A little. You?”
“Most of my stuff is back at the house, but I think I have some credit and debit cards on me. If not we can figure it out once we’re on the mainland.” There was a long pause, and she gripped her fingers around the wheel. “I’m sorry about what happened. I really am. I’m sorry about everything.”
“Me too.”
Rosalie winced slightly, then half rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the road. It was going to be a long drive. She counted backwards in her mind from twenty in order to keep from wrapping her arms around his slender frame. All she wanted to do was hug the broken man beside her and tell him that everything would be all right. She wanted, too, to be held. She wanted to hear his voice telling her that he forgave her…for everything.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.
* * * *
“You’re insane, aren’t you? Either that or you have a really serious problem with me!” Officer Zan was practically yelling as she half ran after Lukus Born, the Chief of Police. “You have been trying to find a way to destroy me this entire case, the least you could do is tell me why?”
“Officer Zan.” The Chief’s voice was sharp as he turned to face her. One finger was stretched out, pointing mid-chest. His face was red, and sweat prickled around his graying hairline. “No one, least of all me, has any kind of problem with you.”
“But the case was put into ‘Unclaimed’! Everyone here knows exactly what that means. Morgan the magic shop owner was found dead, a damn body was found in his shop, Elijah and this Rosalie person are out there somewhere, possible suspects, and you’re putting this case to bed. Why?! It doesn’t make any sense!” With grinding teeth, Zan narrowed her eyes into a fearless glare.
“There are a lot of things in this world that are beyond your control, Officer. This is one of those things. Now if you don’t let it go, I’m going to have to suspend you without pay.”
“Oh really?” She put her hands on her hips and let out a snort. “Well, you may as well just fire me, sir. Before I fucking quit.” Before the chief could say a single word, she spun on her heel and stormed down the hallway.
“Fine,” he said, though too quietly for her to hear. “You’re fired.” With a low sound, one of regret, Lukus continued on his way down the hall until he reached his office. A set of keys jingling, he opened it and stepped inside. Truth be told, he knew exactly why the Elijah case, as they had all been calling it, had been closed: He had ‘called off the dogs’ so to speak, burying the case under so much bogus paperwork and evidence that it would never see the light of day again, let alone the inside of a courtroom. Why he had done it, he had no idea. In fact, he could scarcely remember even doing it.
* * * *
Three days ago, Lukus Born’s Residence
Rap, rap, rap.
It was almost seven PM when Lukus heard the sound of knuckles hitting his front door. With an inquisitive frown on his lips, he abandoned his dish washing endeavors in the kitchen and headed for the foyer of his medium sized house. In glancing through the peep hole, he spotted the face of Morgan Glasuss. Now even more curious, Lukus unlocked the door and drew it open.
“Good evening, Mr. Glassus. What can I do you for?”
Morgan gave the chief of police a gentle smile. “Good evening, Mr. Born. There were just a few things I wanted to discuss with you about what happened at my shop.”
“Yes, of course. Come in.”
“Oh, that won’t really be necessary. I have it all written here, in this notebook. It’s late, so I figured you didn’t really have time for company.” Still smiling, Morgan held the little blue and white notebook out to the Chief of Police.
“Thank you.” Trying not to sound suspicious, he reached out and took it. When he opened it, a fine mist of dust escaped, drifting upward and into Lukus’ face. He coughed a few times and waved his free hand to try and dispel the dust. “How damn old is this book?” He coughed some more, then started using the book to try and fan the dust away.
“Not that old. Sorry about the dust, though. It can get pretty thick in a magic shop. I do apologize.”
“It’s no problem. If I have any questions about what you’ve written in here, I’ll give you a shout over the next couple of days. Thank you very much for your cooperation.”
“Of course.” Morgan nodded his head in what could have been a bow, then turned on his heel and strode back toward the street. If all went as planned, the ‘magic’ dust that he had conjured up would do its job in closing this whole case down.
Chapter Twenty
Rosalie parked the car near the end of the massive overnight parking lot. Chances were they weren’t going to be coming back for it. Elijah hid the gun in the waistband of his pants before slipping from the car. Rosalie was about to close her door when she noticed something red on the inside of the passenger-side door.
“Is that blood?” She pointed, her brow furrowing in worry.
“Huh?” He looked at her, then looked at where she was pointing. “Oh… yeah. From Morgan and the others.”
Rosalie nodded and felt herself starting to relax. Judging by his tone of voice, Elijah had calmed down since they had first left the magic shop. “Maybe buy a t-shirt at one of the shops and change?”
Elijah just gave her a one-shouldered shrug before he started walking toward the ferry terminal. All he could think about was what had happened last time he had been here. Would they recognize him? It was hard to believe that said incident had only happened a few days ago. It felt like it had been weeks, maybe even years. He turned his gaze over to Rosalie and felt himself moving closer to her without thinking about it. A pain in his right side had begun halfway through the trip to the ferry terminal. He could feel a hot, dizzy sort of heat expanding outward from it. Even though he felt like he wanted to go back to the car and sit down, Elijah kept forcing his legs to move in the direction of the terminal.
By the time they got inside, Elijah was having trouble seeing clearly. Sweat prickled against his brow and trickled hotly down the sides of his face. The ache in his side had now become little more than a numb tingle. The world was unsteady as his stomach lurched. Nausea gripped him, and he glanced over at Rosalie. She was looking at him, her eyes concerned. After another few steps she placed a hand on his chest to stop him.
“Elijah? Are you okay?”
Her voice sounded like it was underwater. He swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yeah…I…I need to sit down or something. I’m gonna go to the washroom, I’ll…I’ll be back.”
The toilet was the first place Elijah went to when he stepped into the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and felt the small amount of food he had consumed over the last 24 hours rising up his esophagus along with untold amounts of bile and other disgusting fluids. His fingers gripped the side of the toilet hard, and he gasped with wrenching sobs. His body trembled as he felt the emotions he had been holding back surge to the surface. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a warrior or an action man. All he had ever done was seek the truth in order to help others. That was all that he had ever wanted to do. And now here he was in emotional agony. Dying and emptying the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl.
Am I really dying? He thought. It all felt
so surreal. The thought had come from nowhere.
“Elijah?” Rosalie’s voice rang softly through the men’s washroom.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he called back to her.
A few seconds later he heard the sound of her feet padding over the plain white tiles. The door shut behind her with a low thunk. “Oh my god,” she whispered. Dropping to her knees, she set the box next to her and moved to wrap her arms around him; but she paused when she felt something damp against the inside of her right forearm and palm. Drawing back her hand, she saw red. “Oh my god. Is this yours??” There seemed to be too much of it to be anyone else’s.
Reaching up, Elijah pulled some toilet paper from the roll and wiped at his face. “Yes.” It came out a reluctant whisper. “I guess…it must have happened back at your place during the attack. I don’t remember being shot. It must have been the other one…the one I killed before you came into the kitchen.”
Palm of Destiny Page 10
