by Julie Kenner
I swear I could feel my heart breaking. “Allie?”
“I’m dead to her,” he said, his voice cracking. “This way is probably how it should be.”
When Stuart came home, he found me red-eyed and puffy-faced, still at the kitchen table. “Hey,” he said, sliding his hands over my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just ... Nadia,” I said, deciding that half-truth was better than no truth at all.
“She’s gone, I take it?”
“And good riddance.” I looked up at him and saw him smile. “What?”
“I’m just echoing the sentiment.”
“Oh really?” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “I would have thought you’d be sad to see her go. Or, at least, to see her wardrobe go.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I can always buy you a red leather bustier.”
My mood was lightening by the second. “Yes, but could you make me wear it?”
“Wouldn’t matter,” he countered. “Since the goal would be to get you out of it anyway.”
“Thanks,” I said, squeezing his hand.
“What for this time?”
“Just for being there. For making me feel better. I love you, you know.”
“I know,” he said, and I could see in his eyes that he meant it.
“So where have you been?”
“Took Timmy out for McDonald’s, and then Laura offered to babysit. I took her up on it.”
My smile broadened. “Good idea.”
“Why don’t we take a walk?”
“A walk?” I repeated.
“Sure. Like we used to. On the beach. Under the stars.” He pressed a kiss to my fingertips. “Could be romantic.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I suppose it could.”
We drove there at a much more relaxed pace than my last trip to the beach, and Stuart parked near my usual space when I come for patrols. We left our shoes in the car, then walked north toward the rocky area and the secluded sandy inlets that you can find at low tide.
We walked hand in hand, talking, but at the same time not saying much of anything. The kids. The night. Plans for the house, for our life.
At one point I shivered, thinking about the ocean and this place and this man. Because the last time I’d walked along the beach, I’d been with Eric, although I hadn’t realized it at the time. So I supposed it was fitting that now I walked here again with my husband.
We’d reached a secluded area near the base of the cliffs, and Stuart pulled me close, then kissed me deep. “I love you,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “I love you, too.”
He kissed me again, harder, the kiss wild and possessive as he pulled me down with him.
“We’ll get sand in our hair,” I said, my voice breathy and my hands never leaving my husband. “In our clothes.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Do you?”
And you know what? I didn’t.
Nineteen
Sunday Mass came and went, followed by brunch at the Coronado Hotel, a nice surprise courtesy of Stuart, who apparently was still in a bit of a romantic mood. Timmy could sense that this wasn’t the usual Denny’s fare, and was on his best behavior, and Allie spent the morning looking down at the beach from our patio vantage point and commenting about the guys playing volleyball in the sand.
It was chilly for San Diablo—in the low seventies—and we were all wearing sweaters. All except Allie, who sported a black leather jacket.
“Is that Mindy’s?” I asked. I’d noticed it earlier, but we’d been in such a rush to get out the door and to the cathedral that I didn’t think to ask.
“Nadia gave it to me,” she said. “Isn’t it cool?”
Since my initial reaction was to toss the thing in the ocean, I chose not to comment on the coolness factor. Stuart, however, came to my rescue. “It’s a great jacket,” he said. “And you look much better in it than Nadia ever would.”
I lifted my mimosa and toasted that, after which we all had to repeat the toast at least twenty times while Timmy demanded “Clink glasses! Clink glasses!” over and over.
By the time the meal was over, I had a nice little mimosa buzz and was in an exceptionally good mood. That lasted until we reached the car, when Stuart’s cell phone rang. Af ter a brief conversation with his boss, Stuart’s plans for the day changed.
“Forgive me?”
“Absolutely,” I said. I was still feeling guilty about missing his candidacy announcement. “Go forth for truth, justice, and all that. Just let me drive you,” I added. “I need to make a run to the grocery store.”
I’d explained to Stuart that a prankster had thrown a rock through the Odyssey’s windshield, which temporarily made us a one-car family unless we decided to break down and get a rental. So far, that hadn’t been a priority.
After that, the day progressed more or less normally. We dropped Stuart off, went shopping, then stopped by Payless to buy the shoes I’d meant to buy Timmy more than a week ago.
With the family’s basic needs provided for, we continued home, and then everyone went about their ordinary tasks. Me tackling the huge pile of laundry, Allie downloading songs and gossiping with Mindy on the phone, and Timmy constructing vast universes from Duplo blocks and Tinker-toy logs. Eddie was absent, but even that was part of the normal life scheme, as he’d skipped breakfast with us in favor of a cup of coffee and a donut at the coffee shop that abutted the library.
“Mom?” Allie bounded into the laundry room, still wearing the leather jacket, even though our house was a quite comfortable seventy-eight degrees. “Can we keep the ring? Or does it still have all that hoochie-do stuff?”
I’d been bent over, trying to get the lint filter back into our dryer, but now I straightened. “The ring,” I repeated. Dear God, we’d never found the ring.
“Yeah. Duh. Daddy’s ring.” She frowned. “Although I guess it wasn’t really Daddy’s. But I still want it. I won’t even touch it. But I ... well ... you know.”
“I know what ring you mean, Allie,” I said. “And no, you absolutely cannot have it back.”
“What’s wrong?” she said, apparently noticing my frown.
“I didn’t see the ring,” I admitted. “Not during or after the fight.”
“Oh.” It was her turn to frown. “But you weren’t there when Andramelech came out, right? You told me you guys were late.”
She said the last with a hint of accusation. “Yes,” I admitted. “But we got there as fast as we could. And in the end, we did stop the creature.”
“Maybe they had to smash the ring or something.”
“Maybe,” I said, but I was dubious, and the lack of a ring bothered me for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
That matter settled, she returned to her room, only to come find me again fifteen minutes later, this time as I was folding sheets. Or trying to, anyway. Sheet-folding is not one of my highly developed gross motor skills.
“Mom?”
“What?” I said, trying to beat the percale into submission.
“I’m bored.”
I counted silently to ten. “I don’t know what to tell you, Allie. Can’t Mindy come over?”
“She’s seeing her dad today,” Allie said.
“What about your iPod? Everything alphabetized and organized?”
“Yes, Mother,” she said, her voice thick with a put-upon sigh.
“Well, I don’t know, Al. Is there something you’re wanting to do?”
“Couldn’t we go train or something? I mean, Stuart’s not home, so maybe you and me and Mr. Long could go somewhere and work out? I bet Aunt Laura would watch Timmy. Please? Please, please, please?”
I drew in a breath and decided to be extremely magnanimous. “Well, I can’t,” I said. “But if Mr. Long wants to pick you up, then you can go train with him.” I concentrated on my folding as I spoke, not wanting her to see my face. Because if Eric really was leaving at the end of the semester, I at least wanted to give him the
chance to see his daughter as much as possible before he left.
That plan was a hit, and she bounded back to her room to call David. About twenty-seven seconds later, she was back. “He’s not answering his phone,” she said. “I called both numbers and just got his machine.” Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed again. “I’m soooo bored.”
A little niggle of worry tickled the back of my neck, but I pushed it away. Andramelech was gone. The demon situation—the current one, anyway—had been handled. David was not obligated to answer his phone each and every time it rang. And for all I knew, he was home screening his calls, and didn’t want to spend time with Allie for fear it would be too painful.
That didn’t sound like the Eric I knew, but as he’d already reminded me, he wasn’t the Eric I knew.
“So will you train with me?”
“Alison Elizabeth Crowe,” I said, reaching my breaking point. “We have been over this. I am catching up on stuff around the house. If you leave me alone so that I can finish-or better yet, help me—then maybe we can train in an hour or two. In the meantime, pick up a dust rag or find something else to do.”
She made a face, then sighed again. “I did all that research on Andramelech,” she said. “Should I type it all up? I mean, like, is that the kind of thing the Vatican would want?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “You would be helping the Vatican in a huge way. That is the perfect project. Go. Do that.”
She disappeared, and I bugged out my eyes at my laundry. And to think I’d thought toddlerhood had been the hard years.
Twelve minutes later, she was back. “What about the stuff I’m not sure of?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was poking around last night in some of those books that Eddie got from the library and I found some stuff that mentioned the whole vessel thing.” She lifted a shoulder. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, but you still want it, right?”
“Absolutely.”
She nodded then disappeared, this time with more purpose. By the time she came back, I’d moved on to the kitchen floors, and Timmy had decided to help me. Considering his help involved using a giant sponge to make a wet spot on the floor, and then dragging his bottom through the puddle, I can’t say that I was making much progress.
“So here it is,” she said, parking herself at the table with a tabbed three-ring binder. It was the kind that had a clear cover so that you could insert your own document, and my daughter hand inserted an enlarged woodcarving of Andramelech.
I had to admit I was impressed. If she would put that much effort into her schoolwork, my kid would be a shoo-in for valedictorian.
“So show me,” I said, both because I wanted to be an encouragingand supportive parent, and because I was plain curious.
“This section’s all the stuff you already know about old Mr. A,” she said. “So you can just read it whenever.” She flipped to the next tab, then blew out a breath. “This is the stuff about Daddy and the ring,” she said, her voice catching a little. “About how the ring works by, you know, tossing the soul into space, I guess.” She paused, then wiped a tear from her eye before flipping to the next section.
I pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder but she shook it off. “I’m okay,” she said, sniffling. “Here, this is the new stuff. I can’t figure a lot of it out, but I put all my notes together so that maybe someone else can.”
“Sounds like a plan. You want to tell me what you did figure out?”
At that point, Timmy decided that cleaning was no longer fun, so he opened the one cabinet I keep without a baby latch, pulled out some pots, and started banging them on the floor. I flashed Allie a just a second look, bribed my youngest with a bowlful of Teddy Grahams, then delivered a Diet Coke to my oldest.
“Okay,” I said. “Shoot.”
“Well, the vessel is all about the ring, at least from what I can tell.” She twisted the notebook around so that I could see, and I saw a hideous woodcarving of a demon emerging from an all-too-familiar ring. Beside him, a human was hung on a tree, dripping blood into an ornate cup.
“Nice,” I said.
“I know, it’s totally disgusting. Anyway, from what I can figure, if the demon comes out of the ring at sunset on the Sabbath—and so long as the vessel is there to be entered-then the demon will be not only human, but invincible forever.”
“Dear God,” I said. “A demon that can walk the earth forever? Undefeatable?”
“Total creep-out stuff, huh?”
“But he has to have this vessel, right?” I asked, realizing that the stone in the ring wasn’t the vessel after all. That, presumably, was the chalice below the body in the picture.
“Exactly. And he has to have it right then. It’s like a one-shot deal. Come out of the ring without the vessel around and he’s just your ordinary demon dude.”
“Do we know where the vessel is?” I asked, hoping she’d tell me that it had been locked up tight in the Vatican for the last twelve centuries.
“That’s the weird part,” she admitted. She got up and retrieved a bag of Oreos from the pantry, then opened it and offered me one.
I twirled my hand impatiently, way more interested in my daughter’s research than her sweet tooth.
“Here’s what it says,” she said, pointing. “And this is from a translation of a translation, so maybe that’s why it’s so much nonsense.”
“Fair enough. Shoot.”
“In the shadow of his enemy’s grave, he will fill the vessel and push out his foe,” she read. “Claiming the shell that is both living and dead, so that the captured becomes the captor. ”
She looked up at me and shrugged. “That’s it,” she said. “Does it make sense to you?”
“No,” I said. “Although something about it seems ... I don’t know. Familiar, maybe.” I shook my head as Timmy started up again with the banging.
As I got up to take care of my budding musician, Allie sighed. “Damn. I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but I was hoping to figure it out.”
“If you want extra credit, I think there are two or three assignments in your homework.”
“Ha-ha,” she said. “Maybe I should try to call Mr. Long again. He might have an idea. Or Eddie. I could walk to the library and see if he has a clue.”
“That sounds good,” I said. “And ask him if he’s coming home for dinner, okay?”
That she agreed surprised me, but I chalked it up to the fact that she wanted to show off her research. I couldn’t complain. I still had Timmy in the house, but at least I’d be able to finish the cleaning that I’d started.
I grabbed a broom and started to sweep up Teddy Graham crumbs, my mind still on Allie’s impressive notebook. I almost wished that David had been home when she’d called, because I would have loved to have shared her work with him. I’d never been much of a bookworm, but he’d loved working with Wilson to poke through all those old records.
David—or, rather, Eric—would have been so proud to see what his daughter accomplished.
I froze, my hand tightening around the handle of the broom.
David. Eric.
Living and dead.
And oh, dear Lord, Eric had been Andramelech’s captor.
The broom fell to the ground with a clatter as the truth overwhelmed me. The vessel wasn’t a stone or a cup or vase.
The vessel was David.
“That’s why we never found the ring,” I said, speaking so fast that I was stumbling over my words. “Because that demon on the table wasn’t Andramelech.”
“But then who was he?” Laura asked, still damp from the shower that my frantic phone call had interrupted.
“Just some old demon,” I said. “It doesn’t really matter. The point is that they were faking it. Pretending so that I’d think that Andramelech was really gone.”
“But he’s not?”
“He’s still in the ring, and when he’s released, he’s going to move into David’s body. And then he’s going to be invinc
ible.”
“And David?” Laura asked.
A shudder rippled through me. “I don’t know. Let’s pray we never find out.”
With Laura watching Timmy, I made use of her car, tearing as fast as I could to the cemetery. I’d gone by the library first to get Eddie—I needed all the help I could get—but he and Allie weren’t there, and I didn’t have time to track them down. Allie had said the ceremony would take place at sunset on the Sabbath, and the sun was mere inches away from dipping below the horizon. We’d been late to the fake ceremony; I couldn’t afford to be late to this one.
I couldn’t remember the details of what Allie told me, but I did recall something about the shadow of the grave of his enemy, and the captured becoming the captor. Since I had no better idea, I had to assume that the enemy was Eric ... and that the ceremony would take place at his gravesite.
The cemetery gate was unlocked when I got there, and I barreled down the main road following a series of twists and turns until I ended up in the section where Eric was buried. This area was marked by rolling hills, massive shade trees and a two-hundred-year-old mausoleum, which held the remains of one of the town’s wealthy forefathers, Alexander Monroe.
I slammed on the brakes just shy of Eric’s gravesite, grabbed my weapons, then got out of the car, armed to the teeth.
I saw nothing, and that terrified me. What if I was wrong? What if they’d taken David away, to the grave of some other enemy? He’d be lost to me forever, and that simply wasn’t a conclusion that I could handle.
No. We had to be right. The ceremony had to be here. In the shadow of his grave ...
I turned in a circle, looking around and examining my surroundings. To the west, the setting sun cast long shadows across the grounds. I cocked my head, watching the shadow from Eric’s tombstone grow longer and longer until it almost reached out and touched the decorative landscaping that surrounded the mausoleum.
Could it be that simple?
I decided that it absolutely could, then crept quietly in the direction of the mausoleum, my knife and holy water at the ready.
The building was constructed of grayish marble, and now it seemed streaked in orange as the dimming light hit it. I knew from my visits to Eric’s grave that the entrance was on the north, marked by an iron gate that was usually locked. Beyond that was a large room, empty except for the stone sarcophagus in the middle, the final resting place of Mr. Monroe. The sides of the tombs provided burial for the patriarch’s family.
