"The body acts as an anchor and now it is gone. Whoever did this has destroyed it in an attempt to keep you from solving the case. Whoever killed her knew that she was going to you for help," he said.
Great, more guilt. Her soul was lost because I'd allowed my own problems to get in the way. I hadn’t helped her when I'd had the chance.
The cellphone in my pocket buzzed once more, and I slipped it out and into my hand. Graham's number flashed on the screen, and without taking my eyes off Marcel, I took the call.
"Yeah?" I said, my clipped tone doing nothing to hide just how truly unhappy I was.
"I need you and Victoria to come back to the office. I've got something I'd like you to look into," Graham said, the tone of his voice giving away nothing to hint at why he was calling us back in.
"And I need you to send another squad to a bar...." I trailed off and glanced around for anything that might tell me the name of the place we'd found ourselves in.
"The Blue Bird," Marcel said.
"The Blue Bird? Why, what happened there?" Graham asked.
"It's a long story," I said with a sigh. "Needless to say, we've got a much bigger problem on our hands than we first thought with Tess Greenville's body turning up."
"Well, tell Victoria to stay there with Marcel to meet the team, but I need you back here ASAP."
There was something about the way he said he needed me ASAP that suggested I wasn't going to like whatever it was.
"Fine, I'll be there," I said, and hung up the phone.
"I heard, and you should go," Victoria said before I could open my mouth. She tossed the car keys to me and I caught them one-handed.
"Are you going to be all right?" I inclined my head in Marcel's direction and the barest hint of a smile appeared on Victoria's face.
"If he tries anything, I'll shoot him." If I hadn't seen the smile, I might have thought she was being serious—even with the smile, I couldn't be one hundred percent certain that she wouldn't shoot him. Not that I would blame her if she did; he'd done nothing but get under my skin from the moment I’d set eyes on him.
Marcel's expression remained neutral and I couldn't help but wonder what exactly was running through his head.
"I'll swing back as soon as I can," I said, moving for the door. Victoria merely nodded in response, but her gaze never left Marcel's face, and I had no doubt that she would keep him in line while I was gone.
6
When I arrived back at the Elite office, the place was a hive of activity. My hand still burned, but at least it seemed to have stopped blistering, and for that much, I was grateful.
"What took you so long?" Graham asked when he met me in the hall, his tone gruff and unfriendly. He looked tired, the dark circles beneath his eyes so deep I had to wonder if he'd been getting any sleep at all.
"The Blue Bird is the other side of town and I haven't figured out how to sprout wings yet."
"Cram the sarcasm, Morgan. This is too important," he barked.
I bit back a retort as I realised it wasn't just exhaustion lurking in his eyes but fear. "Graham, what is it?"
The last time I'd seen him look this concerned had been because of his daughter, Jessica.
"Just come with me," he said, leading the way into the buzzing hive. I followed without another word—questioning him now would only lead to an argument, and I had a feeling that whatever had caused the look of fear in his eyes couldn't wait for us to clear the air.
The other Elite officers paused their whispered conversations as we passed and part of me felt as though I was being led to slaughter; it did nothing to dissipate the unease creeping up my spine.
Graham didn't check to see if I was following him, he just moved steadily forward. Pushing open the door to his office, he stepped inside and simply waited for me to follow.
A man and a woman sat in front of the desk with their backs to me. The woman's blond hair was twisted up in a knot and pinned in place with a dark clip. The beige coat she had on looked old and worn—not that it mattered. The only reason I noticed it was because of the way the collar was torn and hanging down her hunched-forward shoulders as though her entire body could collapse in on itself, causing her to disappear. But that wasn't all—her entire body shook softly as though she were sobbing, but she wasn't making any sound.
The loud creak of the door made the man jerk around in his seat, his terror-filled gaze first falling on Graham and then me. What had happened to make them so afraid? I'd seen some pretty terrible things since I’d joined the Elite, and sometimes if I stared hard enough in the mirror, I caught sight of a haunted look lurking behind my blue eyes.
But nothing like this.
"Mr and Mrs Ellis, this is Amber Morgan, the woman I was telling you about," Graham said gently. I'd never heard him address anyone so delicately. Was he afraid they might startle and disappear?
"You said this wouldn't take long, Detective Lance," the man said, anger quelling the fear I'd seen light his brown eyes just seconds before.
"Trust me, Mr Ellis, Miss Morgan will know how to help your son," Graham said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"Woah, what?" I said quietly, turning to face Graham. The glare he gave me was unlike any I'd ever seen Graham give.
"I said this was a waste of time, Toni," the woman said, lifting her tear-streaked face. It took me a second to realise what I was looking at when I saw the right side of her face. The black and blue discolouration took me by surprise, but not as much as her unfocussed, bloodshot right eye.
"We should go; we've been gone too long anyway," she said. The act of pushing onto her feet seemed to require more effort than it should have, and from the way she was cradling her right arm, I knew that if I could see what lay beneath the layers of clothes she wore, it would match the violent bruising on her face.
"Look, I don't know what Graham promised you, but...." I started to speak but Mrs Ellis shook her head. The action took her off balance and she fell against her husband. It took her a second to recover herself, but once she did, I watched her straighten her shoulders in defiance and I couldn't help but feel a spark of admiration for her.
"We've taken up enough of your time," she said. "This was a mistake."
"Just tell her what you told me," Graham pleaded, moving past me to stand before the Ellises.
"It's about your son," I prompted, moving closer and instinctively reaching out to take Mrs Ellis' hand. The second our fingers brushed one another, pain tore through my core with enough ferocity to rock me where I stood. Sucking in a deep breath, I fought to keep my reaction under wraps, but from the slight widening of her eyes as she stared at me, I knew I'd failed.
"What are you?" she asked, ripping her hand away from me and pressing it to her breast.
"Just someone who wants to help in any way I can," I said, the hoarseness of my voice grating against my ears.
She needed someone who could reassure her, tell her that everything would be all right, but I really wasn't that person. I never would be, and what Graham had been thinking when he'd called me back here was beyond me. He knew better than I did what the outcome of most cases we dealt with was.
"No, we need to leave," she said, her panic fraying the last of my nerves.
Folding my arms across my chest, I let her go. The accusing look she gave me as Graham stood in the doorway of his office, trying to convince them to stay, told me everything I needed to know. There would never be a time when she would accept my help. Not now, not ever. Her son would die and she would let him and all because of her fear.
"What happened, Amber? What did you do?" Graham demanded as soon as the Ellises disappeared out through the doors of the Elite office.
"What did I do?" I said, disbelief colouring my voice as I turned to face him.
"They needed your help and whatever mumbo-jumbo crap you just pulled frightened them off."
"I didn't do anything, Graham. You had me walk in here without a briefing about what I was walking into
the middle of. If you had given me an inkling that she was a true believer...."
"A what believer?" Graham asked, cutting me off mid-sentence.
"It's a religious thing, good versus evil. The shadow sorcerers were mostly persecuted by true believers or zealots. Most of them joined the Saga Venatione and were corrupted by the church, but there still exists some true believers, and Mrs Ellis was one of them."
"So you're saying she knew what you are because she believes in God?" Graham sounded incredulous and I couldn't really blame him. I'd obviously explained it badly; the zealots were far more complicated. They had their own power simply because of their unwavering belief in a higher being, whatever that being might be.
"Something like that. A true believer is simply someone whose faith is so strong, no matter what their religion is, that it allows them to see the truth, no matter what that might be."
Graham shook his head. "How do you keep up with all of this?"
"The more you have to hide, the faster you learn," I said with a shrug. "But the last time I ran into a true believer, the demon mark stopped them from seeing me for what I was...." I could still remember the feel of the mark pulsing, quelling my power beneath its darkness as I'd shaken hands with the priest. Not to mention all the times it had saved my ass around Jason and.... I cut myself off before I could say his name in my head. Thinking about what had happened between Nic and I was simply a distraction I couldn't afford right now.
Graham's voice cut through my thoughts and I turned to face him. "We need to go after them," he said, moving past me to where his car keys sat on the desk.
"You need to tell me what's going on, Graham. What sort of danger is their son in?"
Scooping up his keys and his suit jacket from the back of his chair, he ushered me toward the door.
"Graham," I warned, digging my heels in so he was forced to pause.
"I'll tell you, but we have to move now, or there's gonna be a whole mess of bodies to deal with."
The tone of his voice brooked no argument and it made me want to dig my heels in further. But I trusted him, and if he said delaying would mean more death, then I could wait a little longer. No matter how impatient I felt.
7
Sitting in the passenger seat, I bit down on my tongue, the questions bubbling just beneath the surface. Graham remained stony-faced and silent as he guided the car through the midafternoon traffic.
A red Toyota cut across our lane, causing Graham to jam on the brakes. My body lurched forward, the motion cut short by the tightening of my belt across my chest.
"Motherfucking moron!" Graham shouted, slamming his palms against the steering wheel.
I was pretty sure I'd never really heard him swear, and he definitely wasn't one for road rage. Whatever was going on had him tied up in all sorts of emotional knots, and until he came clean and explained what he knew, I had no idea how to help him.
"Graham, let me help," I said, reaching out to touch his arm. Tension sang through his muscles, making them taut beneath the powder blue shirt he wore.
He turned his face toward me and the anguish hidden just behind his eyes caught me by surprise.
"Is it Jessica? Have they said anything new?"
"No, Jess is still contained." There was so much bitterness in that one little word. The kind of bitterness that, no matter what I said, I couldn’t ever make better. "It's the kid, Peter. The way his parents describe him...." Graham cut off and shot me a sideways glance.
"Spit it out, Graham," I said, tension seeping into my very bones.
"He has a mark, Amber, like you...." His words caught me off guard.
"That's impossible, I...." It wasn't impossible; I knew that for a fact. The moment the words left Graham's mouth, my own mark started to itch as though tendrils of its dark essence were pulsing and brushing beneath my skin. My arm automatically reached up to touch it. I half expected to feel heat radiating from beneath my clothes, but there was nothing.
"Are you not hearing me? He has a mark like you; that prevents it from being a mistake. He's five years old and some fucking demon has put its print on him, marked him as its own."
I bit my tongue. Graham didn't truly believe that a mark meant you belonged to the demon who had done it. I'd proven often enough that a mark could be managed. It had even saved my ass on more than one occasion.
"It doesn't make much sense. I know why I have the mark; without it, the threat I pose to the demon is too great. But a child? It just doesn't make any sense—are you sure?"
Graham nodded and returned his gaze to the road ahead, indicating quickly and taking the exit off the highway. Everything looked eerily familiar, and a sudden feeling of nausea rose up the back of my throat as I recognised the houses and entranceways we passed.
"This can't be happening..." I said as the sign for the town of Nickel came into view.
"I know better than to believe in coincidences, Amber. Whatever is going on here, it's all connected, and somehow, it all comes back to you...." I could feel Graham's gaze on me as I stared out the window.
The car bypassed the street where I'd begun my career with the Elite. I could still remember the smell of viscera from within the Sidwells’ house, and the memory of finding Joshy's broken body at the bottom of the well rose unbidden within my mind. His wide, unseeing eyes still haunted my dreams.
"I didn't cause this, Graham," I whispered, staring out through the passenger side window.
"I never said you did," he said and the silent ‘but’ hung in the air between us.
"You don't have to. I can feel the condemnation coming off you in waves." It was my turn to sound bitter.
It was a pointless emotion, bitterness. I'd given enough years over to it and all it had done for me was drive a wedge between my mother and me; the one woman who could have helped me figure out some of the craziness surrounding me; the one person who had loved me enough to sacrifice herself to save me.
Graham pulled the car over in front of a row of houses that looked eerily similar to ones on the street where the Sidwells lived. Whoever had built the town had obviously enjoyed a uniform look.
"Amber, look at me," he said, the seriousness in his voice drawing me back to face him. "None of this is your fault. I don't blame you for any of it, and whatever you're feeling right now comes from you and not me. I have and will always be your friend...."
Unspoken words hung between us. I saw him as the father I'd lost, and he treated me like his daughter.
"I think it's just making me extra sensitive," I said, pushing the feelings down inside. "Is this it?" I asked, glancing up at the house across the street from us.
"Well, according to the details they gave me when they came in this morning, it is," he said, studying the house. There was a hitch in Graham's voice that said there was something he wasn't telling me, but I didn't press him.
Pushing open the car door, I stepped out into the balmy air and drew in a deep breath. Power prickled along the back of my neck; I fought the urge to spin around in search of the eyes I was suddenly so sure were watching me. But it was one of the traits of unchecked demonic power—spreading fear and paranoia was simply par for the course.
"Do you feel that?" I asked Graham as he joined me outside the car.
"Feel what?" he said, giving me a curious glance.
"It doesn't matter." Perhaps I was feeling it because of the demon mark I wore. This was all new territory for me—it was the first time I'd come across another human with a demon mark. And demonic possession of children, well, I'd always kind of assumed it was another one of the church's fairy stories to keep their flock in line. Demons had no use for children. When a human was possessed, the invading demon burned out the human spirit, leaving the human husk behind; there was never anything to save.
"Shall we go in?" I asked, keeping my gaze trained on the house ahead of us. From the outside, there was nothing to indicate what lay within, but the closer I got to the house, the more the feeling of being watched
prickled along the back of my neck.
"Is there something I should know?" Graham asked.
I shrugged. What was I supposed to tell him? Weird feelings didn't exactly amount to much and this wasn't the kind of case where I could afford to make a mistake. "I'm not sure. There's something, but I don't what it is yet. Maybe it's just me."
Graham took me at my word and didn't question me further. At least he still trusted me. Making my way up the path to the front door, I did my best to ignore the abandoned football on the front lawn. The last thing I needed to do right now was allow my own emotions to get to me. They certainly wouldn't help Peter and if the situation was truly as bad as everyone else seemed to think it was—then I would need all my wits about me.
Graham joined me on the front porch, but before he could knock, the front door opened and Mrs Ellis appeared in the doorway. The fear and panic in her eyes was unmistakable.
"We didn't want to turn up unannounced, but you left us with no choice," Graham said. I knew he was agitated from the way he clenched his jaw. There was something about this case that was really getting under his skin, but unless he told me what it was, I didn't want to hazard a guess.
"You can't be here. I thought we were clear back at the station we don't want your help—we don't need it," Mrs Ellis said, her voice low, as though she didn't want to be heard. Perhaps she didn't.
"Look, I know you love your son and you want to protect him, but you can't do that on your own. Let us help you." I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible; the last thing I wanted to do was make her freak out any more than she already was.
"He's already angry enough.... I can't risk him hurting anyone else. He doesn't mean it and no one will understand."
"Who has he hurt, Karis?" Graham's use of the woman's first name snapped my attention to him. He spoke to her almost as though he knew her but that wasn't possible. He'd have told me if there was a personal connection ... wouldn't he?
"My mother was sitting with him when we left, and when we returned...." She trailed off, her gaze darting back into the bowels of the house.
Touch of Shadow (The Shadow Sorceress Book 5) Page 5
