"Someone branded him?" Sam came to the door then, a mug in her hand. She looked different. Her hair was pulled back from her face on the sides and the makeup was toned down. The mark under her left eye was still there and I leaned more toward it being a tattoo. She handed the mug to me. "It's hot so grab the handle."
I did and she was right, it was hot. I held it under my nose. It smelled like peppermint and honey. "What is it?"
"My version of a hot toddy. It'll put some color back in those cheeks."
Mike nodded to her. "Sam's a great healer. It's sort of her specialty."
"I needed a healer?"
"You remember what the Cherubim did?"
I sipped the toddy. It was spicy and sweet. I liked it. "I remember it hurt."
"She broke your head, Mr. McConnell."
"Just call me Dags."
"That's a funny name."
"So's Sam. Rhymes with Spam."
She looked at Mike. "I say we roast him. I can sell his clothing and the SUV."
I glared at her but didn't comment. I wanted more of the hot toddy. My headache was gone but I still felt woozy.
"So." She leaned towards me. "Branded?"
I repeated what Mike and I'd already talked about before she came in. "And yeah, it was a stupid thing to do. But like I told him, I didn't remember having it done. I went to one of their rituals and the dude in charge said it was for purification for me and three others because we were going to represent the four corners—"
"Quarters. Circles don't have corners. Basic geometry." Sam smiled.
I glared. "Quarters. I was designated air and I drank something in a chalice—"
"You didn't ask what it was?"
"No."
"And you drank it?"
"Yeah."
"You knew these people?"
I set the mug on a nightstand by the bed. "Look, I already admitted it was a stupid thing to do because when I woke up my palms were tattooed."
She reached out and took my wrist. Her fingers were thin and her nails buffed.
"He had them removed and doesn't remember it," Mike said.
"Oh…they're not removed. They're still there." She pulled my hand flat, pulling my fingers back to a point where I winced and tried to pull it away. "The marks are under the skin. Looks like…something integrated the…." She stopped and looked at me. "Who did this?"
"I don't know the tattoo artist's name—"
"Uh uh. I'm asking who authorized this? Where did this symbol come from?"
I sighed, feeling as embarrassed now as I'd been then about my own stupidity. "Well the guy that authorized this was named Allard Bonville, but he—"
Sam moved faster than I expected. Not that I expected any movement. Before I could protest she had the hand and wrist she'd been examining wrenched up behind my back and I found myself kissing the floor. She sat on my bare ass and I swore I was going to get carpet burns on places I did not want carpet burns! "You're Cruorem!"
I cringed. Sometimes we just do stupid shit in our lives that follows us no matter where we go. I wanted to protest that I wasn't a member, and that as far as I knew Bonville was no longer a threat. But that was just impossible because she had my face crushed into the carpet.
I did hear the all too familiar click of a safety being removed from a gun. "Samantha—let him go or I swear, Sentinel or not, I'll fucking blow your head off. Dags is the closest thing to a friend I have and he knew Teresa and Brendi. Let. Him. Go."
Several seconds ticked by before she let go of my arm and took her knee off of my back. Mike grabbed the sheet from the bed and helped me to my feet. He stepped between Sam and I, the gun still in his hand, as I covered up. Things seemed so surreal at that moment—as long as I'd known Mike I'd never seen him with a gun. I didn't even know he knew how to use one. And…it was a really big gun.
Sam stood several feet away by the bedroom door. She looked ready to bolt. "Cruorem are worthless pieces of trash. They don't use magic for good—and Bonville is the worst of them."
I peeked out from behind Mike. Did I mention Mike's taller than me? I come to the top of his shoulders. "Hey, choir here. I admit it was stupid of me, but I told you, I didn't choose to have the tattoos. I woke up and they were there."
"So why are they integrated? And why are they pulsing?"
I looked at my hands. "I don't see anything pulsing."
"It's not something you can see. I felt it. The symbols are portals. Did you know that?"
I nodded. "Bonville had pretty much marked me and three others as instruments in a ritual. The last thing I remember was…." And that's where the memories sort of petered out. I had flashes of a bracelet, one I'd received from a friend. Silver skulls. But I had no idea why I thought of it or where that bracelet was.
"That's where your memory ends, doesn't it?" Mike asked.
I nodded. Mike still stood in front of me and I didn't really feel any need to move out from behind him.
Sam's shoulders relaxed. "So…was it this ritual that fused that book in your soul?"
I put my hand to my chest as Mike finally moved. He stepped forward and turned to face me. "Book in your soul?"
Now they were both looking at me. I held out my hands (yes the sheet was secure). "I don't know. What I was told was that the same Witch that helped me identify the symbols is the one that used the book to save my life."
Mike reset the safety on the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans which just seemed a bit crazy to me. He carried a gun, not just used it? He sat on the bed and faced me. "A Witch used a book to save your life. Shit Dags, and I thought I had a bad year."
"Your year wasn't caused by brain-dead stupidity." Sam's tone wasn't as sharp as her words. "This book—it's the old Cruorem Grimoire, isn't it?"
"I guess…." I hated the fact the only thing I could do was shrug. "I just don't remember anything past that moment. That was December…." I ran a hand through my hair. My head hurt again. "Last December."
Mike waved dismissively at me. "I'm sorry. You've had a rough year and it's okay. You've always been there when I needed you and now I know why you disappeared."
I searched his face and found something I didn't like. I couldn't read minds—or maybe I could and forgot how. But I knew Mike well enough, remembered him, that I recognized pain when I saw it. "Mike…what happened? Did you call me and I wasn't there?"
His face told me everything, and nothing. When I'd first met Mike he was married, and then a few months later he was in the middle of a divorce and discussing the custody of his daughter. She'd been fourteen at the time. Brendi. I remembered her because when he brought her into the bar where I worked and she always asked me to make her a Shirley Temple with extra cherries.
When Mike looked away I knew Brendi was the reason he was here in Savannah. "What happened—"
"Teresa's dead." His voice was flat and he moved away to the window. I watched him, aware of Sam's eyes on me. "Remember how we came to the agreement? That Brendi would stay with me while Teresa chased her job?"
"Yeah...that was after that Cozen doll tried to take your soul."
"Yeah. Little fucker. Well, Teresa moved, ended up in Seattle. Brendi and I were happy. The store did pretty good for a while, but just when the economy tanked and I found myself in a sort of financial straight, I called Teresa to see if she could help take care of Brendi till I got back on my feet. Teresa didn't answer my calls and she always had before. I really started worrying when Brendi's birthday came and went and Teresa didn't send anything, she didn't even visit, and before then she never missed our daughter's birthday."
I put my hand to the wall, my knees shaky. I already sort of knew what he was going to say and I didn't want to hear it.
"Seattle Police contacted me. They found Teresa's body in her home, ripped apart. Said it looked like some kind of animal had mauled her. I had to account for my whereabouts…." He looked at me. "Like I could ever do that to Teresa?"
"No."
"I didn't know how to tell Brendi. She was at school when I got the call. I'd put her in a private school—that's what I needed financial help with. So after I hung up with the police I called the school to arrange to pick her up early. But they told me she wasn't there. She'd been counted absent." He looked down. "I dropped her off that morning, just like I always did. I walked inside, kissed her cheek, and watched her go into her room. There was no way she wasn't there."
"What did you do?"
"I raised holy hell is what I did. I stormed into that school—I was so angry, Darren. I terrified teachers and students when I demanded to know where she was. I pointed at the kids that'd greeted her that morning and they lied to my face. They said they never saw me. So did the teacher. And my performance didn't ingratiate me with the police. They arrested me and then held me pending finding my daughter. When they coordinated with the Seattle PD, they decided I had something to do with Teresa's murder and my daughter's disappearance.
"I tried calling you but you didn't answer. I did get hold of Stella and she arranged bail. Hired me a lawyer and then told me you'd vanished. You told her you were meeting up with friends to head over to Maureen's apartment and never came back. All your things were still over in her garage."
I remembered that. I'd gone over to Nona Martinique's botanica because of the Grimoire and Bonville and…
That's where those memories ended.
But I remembered Stella. So…why hadn't I called her? I'd actually forgotten her name until Mike brought her up.
"You don't remember Stella?" Mike watched my face.
"Yeah I do. I just…so what happened?" I needed to get the focus off of me.
"I'm technically out on bail. They ruled Teresa's death not a homicide because the ME there insisted she'd been killed by an animal, not a man. And too many witnesses placed me in Georgia at the time. They shipped her body back to South Carolina, but her parents wouldn't let me attend the funeral. They're the ones pressing charges. They say I killed Brendi, Darren. But I didn't."
Shit. Fuck. All of my troubles, magic-book-fused-to-soul aside, seemed ridiculously petty. Mike had lost his ex-wife, someone he'd considered a close friend, as well as his daughter. I'd never married or even considered having kids…so I couldn't imagine the heartache he felt.
I thought Sam was going to approach Mike, but she walked past him to me and put a hand to my chest. Something fluttered inside and for a second Sam appeared to glow a bright blue white. It was the color of the symbols I'd seen her use in the cemetery.
"I'm here to help Mike find his daughter and make sure the Planars responsible for this are punished. Your appearance here, the coming of the Grimoire inside of you, is a sign from the Mother that you're meant to help us."
"You…you think someone from one of the planes killed Teresa and took Brendi?"
"I don't think. I know. My partner can smell them. That's how I was able to find you in the cemetery. Through your smell."
"Your partner?" I glanced at Mike.
"Grey. You met her in the graveyard."
The wolf?
I looked at Mike, hoping he could help me understand this. But he was still looking out the window.
The door behind her moved just a bit and the wolf I'd seen earlier, the one that'd guarded me while Sam banished the Angel, sidled in and sat beside Sam's feet. She was even more magnificent in the daylight.
Sam rested her hand on the wolf's neck. "To her, they have a smell. And that is an odor that does not belong in this plane, Mr. McConnell. And as a Sentinel, it's been mine and my siblings' job since the Great Massacre, to kick their sorry asses back to their own plane."
I shook my head. "The Great Massacre?"
"The Bulwark."
I really needed to read up on that.
FAiRiES WILL EAT YOUR FACE
Mike cooked while I explored. Sam took Grey out for a walk. I didn't realize I'd been asleep for so long. The last thing I remembered was being in the cemetery around two in the morning. Color me shocked when Mike offered to make hamburgers for lunch.
I looked around while he told me his version of last night. He was nearby in his jeep waiting on a signal from Sam to let him know she'd found the Planar. He'd been shocked when he'd walked up and saw me there, beaten, and not moving.
"So uh…." Mike began from where he stood at the stove. He'd already made five patties of meat. How many burgers was he gonna eat? "You had a real Cherubim on your ass?"
I was at the sliding door, looking at the small but immaculate deck. The wood looked newly stained and the black iron banister shined under the southern sun. The rest of the yard, though small, reminded me of an English garden. Enclosed by a seven-foot fence draped in variegated ivy, a pond and fountain decorated the back half of the yard, with a semi-circle pattern mirrored on either side, filled in with different plants. I was pretty sure the whole back yard bloomed in an array of colors in the spring. "Yeah. I did." I stopped myself from telling him why Gabriel felt the need to knock me around.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell the world how I'd been bullied away from everyone who knew me by a dick-head Ethereal. But that'd been part of the deal.
I leave.
They survive.
And I tell…no one.
My biggest regret in making the deal was the memory of one woman's expression forever burned into my mind when I told her…
When I told her I hated her.
It'd been a cruel thing to do. But it was the only way to push her away. To keep her and everyone else…safe.
"Dags?"
I blinked and looked over at him. The townhouse was nice. The living room and dining area were wide open, and a marble counter top separated the kitchen and pantry. Two sets of stairs lead to the second floor—one near the front door, the other beside the pantry door. The bedroom I'd slept in was on the second floor. Mike's was on the third. "Sorry. I think I'm still a little tired."
"It's okay. You've got a lot to process." He flipped the last three burgers onto the pile he'd made on a platter and turned off the stove. When he turned to look at me, I noticed he'd aged more than two years. More than he should have. What he'd gone through had really taken it out of him. "I'm in Savannah because Sam says the way to my daughter is here. Why are you here and not in Atlanta?"
"Ah…." I shrugged and shoved my hands into my pockets as I walked to the counter. "I had to get away. Things in Atlanta…."
"Hard not remembering?"
"Yeah…being around everyone and not understanding sometimes the way they looked at me. They all knew things about the past year that I didn't. So I headed south."
"And they all know about the book?"
"Yes."
"So…is it like Sam said? It's a Book of Shadows?"
"I don't know if I'd call it that, but I think the principle's the same. Nona—she was the woman who knew the most about it—told me it was a compendium, a collection of spells dating back over a millennium."
"That's one old book."
"I don't think the physical book is that old, but the spells are. They were written down by an Abysmal Planar." I wasn't sure how much Mike really understood. I noticed an odd exchange in terms since waking up. Instead of Ethereal and Abysmal, Sam had a tendency to call those planes the Light World and Dark worlds. They used angel and demon more than I ever had. Given Sam's personality and the fact it appeared she held nothing back—I assumed he knew everything if not more than me. "She was an Abysmal First Born. Do you know what that is?"
"A vampire?"
Again, impressed. "So you know about their origin?"
"Yeah. They're called Revenants or something. They were born as demons and inhabit the bodies of humans and drink blood. But they're more of a symbiotic relationship, not one of master and slave. Doesn't mean I like it." He pursed his lips. "So the book in your soul was written by a vamp. You know how Hollywood movie that sounds?"
"Yeah I do. But, it's the truth. She didn't write all of it. There's centuries o
f spells in it."
He leaned forward on the counter and rested his elbows on the surface. "You think maybe—given what I've overheard you and Sam talk about—you're a part of the book now? Or is the book a part of you? I mean, if it's keeping you alive, is it possible you're keeping it alive?"
That was a damn good question—and just a bit too quantum physics for me. "I don't know Mike."
"Well let's say you're part of each other." He shrugged. "Then shouldn't you be able to see what's in the book?"
"I don't know." I realized my tone was harsh so I softened it. "Nona said I should be able to access the book's spells. But I don't know how. And I didn't stay long enough to find out."
"So…you could be like Sam?"
"A Sentinel?"
"I guess. You could do magic?"
I hated sounding like a parrot. "I don't know." I should have stayed in Atlanta. I should have learned everything I could. But not when an Ethereal threatened everyone's lives.
"But why Savannah?"
I hadn't considered that part of the question, which was Mike's original. "I don't know."
"You really don't know much, dude."
I dismissed his comment. He was right. Why argue? "I just felt like it was a good place to start over. Find me. See about regaining that year."
Mike shrugged. "Sounds cool. So you could help Sam and I."
"Not sure how. I can't fire a gun and I can't hit the left side of a building with a sword. Knives terrify me. So I'm not sure how that helps."
"You were always good with research, Dags. Remember? If I ever had a question about something that came into my shop, I could always trust you to find out what it was. I mean…who else would know what the hell a Cozen was?"
Without knowing it, Mike struck to the very heart of what had been eating me since leaving Atlanta. I'd been in Savannah nearly a month, walked everywhere, probably taken every tourist train the city had, and when it came right down to it—I'd had no idea what to do. I had money. A lot of it. And I'd made sure it could only be accessed by me so the people I left couldn't take it back.
I put my hands on the back of a chair at the counter. "So…what is it you want me to research?"
Dance By Midnight Page 2
