Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2)

by Gail Z. Martin

  “And he found a Watcher circle?”

  Teag nodded. “Yeah. Said it looked like it had been there for a while – which might mean that it was earlier than all the others. That would match when the first stairway disappearances happened, and when Valerie started to complain about the ghosts.”

  “What about the other attacks?” I asked. “Like at the Briggs Society? Or today?”

  Teag grimaced with frustration. “I’m not sure. Today I’d classify as a personal attack, not a ‘disturbance’. I’d say that the Nephilim targeted Palmetto Meadows either because of Mr. Thompson or to get to Sorren by hurting Mrs. Butler. Same with the attacks at the Archive and the museum and the cemetery. In each case, the Nephilim had the chance to hurt Sorren by killing people close to him – you, Lucinda, and Father Anne.”

  I realized that we weren’t driving Teag’s normal route to my house. “Where are we going?”

  “First, to see Mrs. Teller and have her take a look at your arm. And then, I figured you’d want to be at Trifles and Folly at sunset, when Sorren wakes up,” Teag said. He jerked his head toward the sun that was low in the sky. I sighed. This wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to having.

  Mrs. Teller clucked her tongue and shook her head when she saw my arm, but her powders and potions took some of the pain away, and when she was finished, she assured me that the wound had been cleansed. Teag and I made the trip to Trifles and Folly in silence. We had only been in the store for a few minutes when the sun dipped below the horizon. Right on cue, the cellar door opened. Sorren isn’t usually that prompt leaving his day crypt, and by the look on his face, I knew he sensed that something had gone terribly wrong.

  He looked from Teag to me, and relaxed a bit, as if his first fear was for our safety. “What’s happened?” he asked. I’ve seen Sorren angry, pensive, and worried, but never panicked. And it was real panic that I glimpsed in his eyes, although he strained for outward calm.

  “Sorren, I’m so sorry,” I started. That was when he took in my bruises and the fresh stitches. I’m sure I still smelled of hospital antiseptic, and blood.

  “Nephilim attacked Palmetto Meadows,” I said as gently as I could. “They set it on fire.” I swallowed hard. “The doors wouldn’t open. We fought them, but we couldn’t stop the fire. None of the residents made it out.”

  Vampires can stand absolutely still. They don’t breathe, and their hearts don’t beat. Sorren looked like a pale marble statue, his expression one of despair and loss. He closed his eyes, and bowed his head, struggling for control. “You’re sure?”

  “I hacked the fire department computers,” Teag said quietly. “And the hospital. The only ones who got out were Cassidy, Chuck Pettis, and one nurse. Edwin Thompson died, too.”

  “Tell me what happened.” Sorren’s voice was low and soft, but it fairly vibrated with tension. He was like a steel cable stretched taut enough to snap, fists clenched, jaw locked.

  We went into the break room. Teag made hot tea, and added plenty of honey to mine. I was going to need it in order to talk. Sorren sat, head down, staring at his clasped hands, unmoving.

  I went through the whole thing, while Teag and Sorren listened in silence. Now that I was moving around, my arm hurt even with the pain medication I’d taken at the hospital. I felt like I had been run over by a truck, and my head had started to pound. But right now, I was pretty sure that Sorren was hurting worse.

  “You saw her today?” Sorren asked finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, tight with emotion.

  “I sat in the garden with her and looked at pictures from a long time ago,” I replied. “She fussed over Baxter. And she told me her ‘young man’ was coming to visit her.” I choked up and had to pause. “She fought the Nephilim, Sorren. She stabbed him with her knitting needles and kicked him in the shins. She gave him hell, up to the last.”

  Sorren choked back a sob. “That’s my girl,” he said brokenly. “I went to visit a few days ago. I just never thought –”

  I didn’t know what to do, so Teag and I just sat in silence with him. Outside, twilight became full dark.

  “Helen was so beautiful,” Sorren said finally, and I remembered how stunning she had been in the old photos, probably more so in person. “Smart. Perceptive. She knew what I was, and she cared for me – and kept my secret.” In his ragged voice, I heard centuries of loss and loneliness. Someday, inevitably, Teag and I would be gone, too. Sorren would remain. I did not think that I could go on, were our roles reversed. Yet Sorren did. We sat together in silence for a while.

  “We have work to do.” Sorren said finally, channeling his grief into anger. “And this time, I will make sure that Sariel stays dead.”

  Just then, Teag’s phone rang. He stepped away for a moment, and when he returned, his expression was worried. “That was Father Anne. She wanted to let us know that there were two more stairway disappearances today. And if my calculations are right, then that means we’ve only got a day, maybe two, to figure out where Sariel is going to bring through his last Watcher, and when – if we want to save Charleston.”

  WE GATHERED AT my house. I wouldn’t listen to the objections Sorren and Teag raised. I knew that I needed sleep and medication better than anyone, but there was a job to do, and a city to save. After the horror of Palmetto Meadows, I did not want to see the same kind of destruction play out a thousand-fold with an entire city.

  While Maggie dog-sat, she had made a pot of home-made chicken soup, so the house smelled wonderful. Baxter’s bark was a little hoarse, but he was certain all the visitors were there to see him, and if Teag and I hugged him tight and held him a little longer than usual, he wasn’t going to complain.

  I tried to hurry Maggie out as tactfully as possible. She stood her ground, hands on hips. “Cassidy Kincaide. You think I don’t know what goes on at that shop. I may be old, but I’m not clueless! Y’all go out at night and get rid of bad haints and dark magic. Well,” she said, standing up straight and looking me in the eye. “I can’t fight and I don’t have magic. But I do cook. And an army moves on its stomach. So while you plan your battle, I’ll make sure no one goes hungry.” She relented a bit. “Please, Cassidy, let me help. After all, I was there when Jonathan disappeared, and I’d taken a shine to the boy.”

  Dumbfounded, I nodded. “Sure. And Maggie,” I said. She turned back to look questioningly at me. “Thank you.”

  Usually, my dining room table holds catalogues and packages. We cleared that away, and created a war room. Tonight, we’d called out the troops. Father Anne was there, and so was Chuck Pettis. Lucinda and Caliel came, plus Mrs. Teller and Niella. I was surprised when Archibald Donnelly walked in, but Sorren was expecting him. Even Daniel Hunter showed up, though I noticed that the rest of the crew greeted him with reserve.

  Teag mapped out the locations of the ghostly upsets on a big whiteboard, along with the stairway disappearances and the four Watcher circles. He added the places Sorren or the rest of us had been attacked, along with the dates.

  “You can see the pattern,” Teag said, sounding like a professor. “Each time there’s a stairway disappearance – feeding the Reapers to juice them up for the big strike – a few days later, that’s when the Watcher comes through while we’re sidelined fighting the big supernatural threat.”

  “While you’re sidelined,” Daniel Hunter said. “I’ve been stalking the Watchers, and trying to break through their protections to stop one from coming through.” We all turned to look at him.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he protested, raising a hand to forestall comments. “The threats you were fighting had to be dealt with. I’m just saying that going up against these guys when they’re bringing their last major player across from wherever-the-hell he comes from isn’t going to be a walk in the park.”

  “Where were the newest stairway disappearances?” I asked.

  Teag pointed to a spot just outside of the City of Charleston. “Out here. On Johns Island.”

  Fath
er Anne frowned. “Johns Island? That’s an odd location.” Johns Island is separated from the mainland by the Stono River. It’s only slightly smaller than Long Island or Martha’s Vineyard, although those islands are much better known. Part of it is a nature preserve, and most of the rest is high-end condos.

  “Two men and a woman disappeared. That’s more people at one time than any of the other disappearances,” Teag noted. “In each case, the people had sketchy backgrounds with prior acquittals or inconclusive investigations. Witnesses saw the person start down a stairway inside a house or business. The person was clearly visible at the top of the stairs, but disappeared before he or she reached the bottom. No one found anything – no footprints, no hair or clothing: nothing.”

  “So if the disappearances happen a few days before the Watcher comes through and the supernatural disturbance occurs, we’d better be prepared for trouble in two places,” Mrs. Teller said. “Because the kind of ‘disturbances’ you’re talking about need someone to put them down. But somebody’s got to go stop those Watchers.”

  “The thing is, we don’t know where the disturbances are going to happen,” Teag said. “Or where the Watcher is going to come through.”

  That’s when it hit me. “We know part of it – I think,” I said. Everyone turned to look at me. “When I fought the Nephilim at the Archive, I drew on the power of a model of the Angel Oak that incorporated some pieces of the original tree. And at Palmetto Meadows, it was the Donor Tree artwork resembling the Angel Oak that helped me channel my magic to fight another Nephilim. If that tree is as old as they say with deep, wide roots –”

  Magic has always regarded trees with respect, and included them in the most powerful rituals. Mighty oaks, flexible birch, handsome ash – from the Druids on down to today’s Wiccans, we sense the power in these old, towering, majestic creatures. Like Yggdrasil in the Norse myths, huge old trees draw in the essence of the Earth itself through their roots, and stretch toward the stars. The Angel Oak was said to be at least five hundred years old—maybe over a thousand. Beings that live that long are powerful – and Sariel would want to take advantage of all that stored magical mojo.

  “I think Cassidy’s on to something.” To my surprise, it was Daniel Hunter who took up for me. “Each of the places where a Watcher has come through was located near a natural well of power. Tarleton House was over the old Charleston earthquake fault line. The power plant displaced a huge old cemetery. That abandoned motel was in a flood basin. The Old Jail created its own power-well with its history.”

  It didn’t take much to follow his train of thought. “And the Angel Oak has more than a thousand years of history, with roots that practically go all the way down to China,” Lucinda said. She nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  “Predicting where the supernatural disturbance is going to hit will be harder,” Caliel noted.

  Teag pointed to his map. “Every time, the disturbance happened within a ten mile radius of the place where the Watcher came through. For the Angel Oak, that means somewhere on Johns Island. And since the supernatural seeks its own, it’s likely to be somewhere with a restless past.”

  “Bloody Bridge,” Sorren said. We all turned to look at him. “The battle, back during the Civil War.”

  A battleground was a natural well of power for the supernatural. It had all the elements to keep spirits mired: violence, strong emotion and conflict. Just the kind of place to create a supernatural uproar, turbo-charge the ghosts and get them riled up and dangerous.

  “So,” I said. “Who gets assigned to which team?”

  I was pretty sure I knew part of the answer, but it needed to be said aloud. “I’m going to the Angel Oak,” Sorren said, and I saw a killing glint in his eyes.

  “Me too,” I chimed in.

  “And me,” Teag replied.

  “Count me in,” said Lucinda. “I haven’t forgotten the damage to my exhibit. I’ve got a bone to pick with this Sariel.”

  “You’re gonna need back-up,” Daniel Hunter said. “So I’d better be there.”

  Chuck Pettis gave a harrumph. “If you’re going, then I’d better go – to watch you,” he said.

  “I’ll head up the strike team for the battleground,” Colonel Donnelly said. “Right up my ally, as a necromancer, war ghosts and all.” He gave a curt nod of his head. “We’ll handle it.”

  Father Anne gave him an amused, sidelong glance. “Me, too. I do know something about setting the dead to rest,” she added wryly.

  “We’ll help with the ghosts,” Niella and Mrs. Teller said. I could see that Caliel was torn, but in the end, he nodded.

  “If Lucinda’s with you, I’ll go to the battleground,” he said finally. “Just don’t go having all the fun without us,” he added.

  “Then it’s agreed,” Sorren said, and I could see in every line of his body that he was ready for a fight. “And if you finish early at the battleground, come help us out. We’d better be in position early, because it’s all going to hit the fan tomorrow.”

  “THIS CAN’T BE good.” The approach road to the Angel Oak was closed off. A scribbled sign on a piece of cardboard said that the gift shop had been closed due to a gas leak.

  “Convenient,” Teag muttered.

  “Very.” We parked the car in a maintenance driveway, and hefted the bags with our weapons. My arm hurt, but painkillers were out if we were going to fight. By the time we were back at the entrance to the road, the others had joined us, grim-faced and determined.

  We walked beside the rough gravel road toward the tree. The land around the Angel Oak has been kept undeveloped to preserve the tree, so it was really dark. The only light came from the security bulbs on the small gift shop. That glow was barely enough to show the silhouette of the tree, but even so, the huge size was breathtaking.

  The Angel Oak is gigantic. People who have been to plantations or gardens in the South have seen plenty of live oaks, but nothing like the Angel Oak. At more than sixty-five feet tall and over twenty-five feet in circumference, the tree is epic. No one is quite sure how old the tree is. I had heard people say five hundred years, while others argued more than a millennium. The Angel Oak has limbs that are almost ninety feet long and more than eleven feet thick. Being in its presence is awe-inspiring, like going to the redwood forest or seeing the ocean for the first time. Even people without magic know subconsciously that the tree is a place of power.

  Sariel knew it, too.

  We got to the tree first. Sorren signaled us to stop and wait in the shadows while he scouted. He returned in a few moments.

  “Sariel’s not here now, but he’s been here. Most likely to cause the gas leak problem and guarantee no one would interrupt his ritual,” Sorren reported.

  Score one for Teag’s analysis, I thought.

  We all knew the plan, so we had our roles and our places. Teag and I paired up and moved to the right. Lucinda and Sorren went toward the back of the tree. Chuck and Daniel went left. There was no telling how long we had before Sariel showed up, and we had a lot to do.

  Lucinda began to walk a circle widdershins around the Angel Oak, carrying a walking stick that belonged to a powerful houngan ancestor. She used charcoal mixed with sage and salt to form a sacred circle, and carried a burning sage smudge as she walked and chanted. At one point, she stopped to drape a small rag doll over one of the Angel Oak’s low branches and hung a single old shoe by its laces, to send a message to the spirits on the Other Side. Then she set several cobalt-blue bottles upside-down over some of the tree’s smaller shoots so that they stood upright. Those were ‘witch bottles’, meant to trap less powerful evil spirits. Lucinda laid an offering to the Loas at the base of the great tree: eggs and white flowers, a bottle of rum, several cigars, and a wreath made of leaves.

  Chuck and Daniel walked across the open area around the tree, bending down every so often to nestle something into the grass and dirt. Both men were even more heavily armed than usual. The big handgun Chuck had used at the nur
sing home was in a holster on his belt, and a bandolier across his chest held silver-modified bullets, EMF grenades, a couple of dangerous-looking cylinders with wires and dim red lights, and that odd ray gun he had used at the Old Jail. He also had something that looked like a sawed-off shotgun but with more wires and a power pack. I was in favor of anything short of C4.

  Daniel wore a similar bandolier with bullets and shotgun shells that were likely as magically modified as Chuck’s. He was packing the handgun he had used at the cemetery, and in the moonlight, I thought I saw silver runes running down its barrel and around its grip. Daniel also had something else that looked like a cross between a shotgun and a harpoon, with a sharp silver blade. I also saw some wicked-looking knives on his bandolier that I bet were custom-made and customized for hunting supernatural prey.

  Teag and I wore thin bullet-proof vests under our clothing, with protective woven vests beneath them. With luck, that would protect us from direct hits both mundane and magical, although no one sells ‘anti-Nephilim’ rated body armor, even on the Darke Web. We looked. The stitches in my arm were wrapped up with gauze and padding. Sorren had shown up with shirts for both of us that were supposed to be made out of a ‘cut-proof’ fabric. That might reduce the damage from a knife, but I was willing to bet it hadn’t been tried against fallen angel claws.

  I had one of Josiah Winfield’s dueling pistols, and Teag had the other, and we both had enough ammunition to get in a couple of shots. Bo’s collar was on my left hand, and Bo had been beside me since we reached the Angel Oak, waiting until he was needed to bite one of the Nephilim on its ass. I had Alard’s walking stick hanging from a strap on the left side of my utility belt, and my athame up my sleeve in a wrist holster. The chakram hung on my right side. In my pockets, I’d stashed my Norse spindle whorl to amplify my magic, packets of salt and a couple of other protective charms, and I was wearing my agate necklace.

  Teag had his battle staff, a couple of knotted ropes to replenish his magic, and his espada y daga, a dagger and sword set. He had extra daggers in a bandolier, and the silver-edged urumi whip sword coiled in and hanging from a strap at his belt. He wore his agimat and hamsa charms, and in a pouch on his back, he had two new weapons, the battle net from the Briggs Society and a second net he had woven himself. Teag’s version was knotted with magic and soaked in colloidal silver.