Bare Bones

by Debra Dunbar

  “Drugs,” Sean conjectured. “Brother got in with the wrong crowd, got hooked on something, and the sister got killed in a robbery gone bad. I saw a television series on that sort of thing last week.”

  I shrugged. It was a possibility, but addicts and their dealers didn’t usually skin their victims. And I couldn’t see serial killers hooking up with drug addicts.

  “Drat, I was going to run that human interest piece this week, too.” Janice turned to Sean. “The exorcism? I was doing a story on mental health services. Father Bernard, the priest who did the exorcism, gave me some solid background on how the church is often the basis of referrals for psychiatric care.”

  Sean’s smile reached his eyes as his fingers wrapped around Janice’s. “Sounds like a great story. Maybe wait and see how the murder investigation concludes? Could be that there’s a mental health angle instead of drugs. ‘Brother snaps and kills his sister, in spite of her efforts to get him assistance’?”

  “Oh, what a good idea.”

  And now both of Janice’s hands were laced with Sean’s, the pair of them looking into each other’s eyes. I totally felt like a third wheel again. Totally.

  But the mention of Father Bernard had given me an idea. “How did Amanda Lewis manage to find a priest who did exorcisms? I’d assume it’s kind of a specialty.”

  Janice shrugged. “I think she asked around and one of the priests referred her to him. From what I can tell, he’s the guy who gets all the demonic possession referrals. Doesn’t that suck? Imagine you’re trying to guide your flock, but every month or so some parish out in the county dumps a crazy in your lap?”

  It did suck, but if this priest was the go-to guy for possession, even if the majority of those reported incidents were mental health cases, then he was probably the go-to guy for demon marks. I might not be Catholic, but the priest had seemed knowledgeable about the Templars in history as well as in the modern world. He would probably believe me when I told him about Balsur and the mark. And, although it was a long shot, he might be able to save my soul. It was worth a visit. And it was the only idea I had beyond waiting for my parents to come up with something or rereading my reference books for the nth time.

  “Do you have Father Bernard’s contact info? Can you share it with me?” I asked.

  “Sure.” Janice released her hands from Sean’s and quickly shared the contact from her phone.

  I slugged down my coffee then made my excuses, leaving the awkward threesome early after giving Janice an uncertain thumbs-up on Sean. He seemed nice, weird fascination with my Templar heritage aside. He clearly was smitten by her. She’d been wearing the bracelet I made for her, and it hadn’t given off any warning signs about Sean’s possible sleazy intentions. He was professional, attractive, available, but something about him set off my warning bells. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about Sean Merrill that wasn’t right. I got the impression, unfounded though it may be, that he wasn’t exactly what he seemed.

  Or maybe I was wrong. I hadn’t been all that successful with my own dating life. And I clearly made a lot of bad choices when it came to men, otherwise I’d be snuggled up with Zac tonight and not about to call a certain vampire and see how things were going up north.

  It was well after midnight by the time I got home. I hesitated, my finger over the call button, not wanting to interrupt him in the middle of something that might require his complete attention. Knowing Dario, he’d answer in the middle of a deadly battle just because it was me. I rarely called him unless it was an emergency, and I doubted he’d realize this was just a “checking-in” sort of call.

  So I texted instead. Doing okay? Found the group of renegades yet?

  He called right away. “We’re in Townson right now. Haven’t found anything but a couple of solitary vampires trying to lay claim to some pubs near the college. I’m heading over to an apartment complex where there’s been a spike in assault claims to see if there’s anything there. How’d your meeting with Janice’s boyfriend go? Did he pass your exacting tests and gain approval?”

  “Yeah. I guess. He seems like a nice enough guy. I think I’m just being overprotective. So tell me about these solitaries near the college. What happened with them?”

  The vampire grumbled something under his breath. “Leonora sent us out with a zero tolerance policy. She’s paranoid without the scepter, and there was a time when we didn’t allow any rogue vampires within five miles of our territory line. It’s a reasonable course of action. It sends a message to anyone thinking of making a play for the territory that we’re strong and ruthless.”

  “But…?” I got the feeling that Dario was more likely now to directly disobey Leonora than he had been in the past. It scared me. He was strong. He had a solid group who would side with him if there was a fight for leadership. But would it be enough? And would Dario, who’d never wanted to lead, actually take control of the Balaj as Master? Leonora would have to do something absolutely unforgivable for him to willingly step into the leadership role.

  “These guys aren’t hurting anyone. They get into a scuffle if one tries to poach in the other’s area, but that’s it. They’re both so suspicious that they’re barely taking enough blood to survive. They probably won’t make it another month at this rate. I gave them a warning and let them be.”

  The longer I knew this vampire, the more I liked him. “So what happened with their Balaj? Why are they on their own?”

  “We don’t ask those sorts of personal questions, Aria. Usually they’re on their own because they had a disagreement with the Master. They could have poached a brother or sister’s blood slave, killed a few too many humans during feeding, brought unwelcome notice to the Balaj somehow. Lots of times it’s just because of a general incompatibility. We’ve all got brothers and sisters who don’t really fit in. Usually the group works around them, but with some Balajs, a disruptive influence is cast out.”

  I thought of what Sarge had told me, about how their former Master had cast Dario out for turning Shay, for standing up to protest behavior he disagreed with. Maybe that’s why Dario had more sympathy than Leonora for these solitary rogues.

  “One guy was scared half to death before we even grabbed him. He said there was a human girl who he’d picked up the night before that attacked him. She tried to break his neck.” Dario laughed. “Not that it would have killed him even if she’d succeeded. Can you imagine? What human girl trolls the bars for guys, then tries to break their necks with her bare hands? The vampire said he threw her into the wall and got the heck out of there as fast as he could.”

  “I doubt he filed a police report.” It was kind of funny. Had the girl been watching too many action movies? Decided to take her rage out on random bar pickups? I couldn’t imagine she’d have been successful even if her intended victim had been human.

  “No, of course not. The guy hadn’t eaten for two days he was so shaken.”

  “Maybe you should be hunting for killer co-eds instead of rogue vampire groups,” I teased.

  My words were greeted with silence. I heard a car honk in the distance. “Gotta go.”

  And disconnected. My heart raced and I stared down at the phone, worried about the abrupt end of our conversation. Had he found the rogue group? Did he have back-up? I envisioned Dario on his own, taking on five or six vampires.

  He’d call back. He’d let me know as soon as everything was resolved. He’d know that I’d worry.

  And worry I did. I sat up all night, trying to distract myself with research, television, anything to keep from obsessively looking at my phone every five seconds. Finally about an hour before dawn I got a text message.

  Got one. Need to find a place to go to ground for the day. Talk to you tomorrow.

  My fingers hovered over the keypad wanting to reply with… What? That I was glad he was okay? That I hated the thought of him sheltering in an unfamiliar place while the sun was up? That I had stayed up all night worrying about him?

 
; I clicked the phone off and set it on the coffee table. That was something I didn’t want him to know. It was bad enough we were meeting each night, that on the one night we hadn’t met I’d still wanted to talk to him. He had a blood slave. I was dating. I could never have what I wanted from Dario, and he couldn’t have what he wanted from me. It was best for me to reel this in, cool my jets, and start acting like just a friend—a business friend.

  Business friends didn’t sit up all night staring at the phone, waiting for a text. And if they did, they didn’t admit to it. So instead I went to bed, hoping to get in enough sleep that when I made my way to church tomorrow I was somewhat well-rested.

  Chapter 12

  SLEEPING IN LATE made me feel like a princess. No work today. Nothing to do in the morning but laze around in my pajamas drinking coffee, eating cereal from the box, and watching talk shows. I managed to get showered and dressed around noon for my meeting with Father Bernard. I had no real confidence that the priest would be able to help me, but I didn’t have anything better to do with my day off. When he’d suggested we meet this afternoon, I’d agreed. At this point I was willing to explore every option, no matter how farfetched, to get this demon mark removed.

  I was just about to roll out when I heard a knock at my door. Opening it I blinked in astonishment. The man standing across the threshold from me was model-pretty, with high cheekbones and a perfectly angled jaw. Blond hair drooped dramatically over one of his sapphire blue eyes. Full lips curved into a nervous grin and the man shifted his weight, adjusting the stack of books he held in his arms.

  “Reynard.” I hadn’t seen Raven’s on-again,off-again boyfriend since I’d been thrown out of Haul Du, yet here he stood at my door, looking like he’d stopped by to cram for finals.

  “Um.” He shifted his weight again. The guy was buff. No way a dozen books were weighing him down. “Raven wanted you to have these. There’s more down in the car.”

  He stood expectantly, waiting for me to invite him in. I was torn. I didn’t want him in my apartment, invading my sanctuary with his energy, looking around at all my stuff. He was Dark Iron’s second, and no matter his relationship with Raven I couldn’t see him as any more than an accomplice to the man who’d been my enemy.

  But I couldn’t very well leave him standing in the hall, his arms full of books. Reluctantly I moved aside, opening the door wider.

  Reynard walked in. Actually, he kind of loped. Or glided. He had an energy-efficient way of moving across the floor, gently setting the books on my table. The whole time he took in my room, a mixture of curiosity and caution flickering in his eyes.

  His gaze landed on my sword and froze. I couldn’t help it. I picked up the bastard sword and drew it from the scabbard, spinning the sword hilt along my palm.

  “You actually use that thing?” he asked.

  My mind instantly flashed to a memory of my sword sliding through flesh, red flowing along the blade.

  “Yes, I do use it.” The words came out harsher than I’d wanted. I’d spilled blood with this sword. I’d killed with this sword. And I wasn’t happy about it.

  Reynard obviously thought my displeasure was toward him, not myself. He backed toward the door. “I’ll go get the other books.”

  And now I felt a twinge of guilt. The sword went back in the scabbard with a quick, smooth motion. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  Reynard had parked me in, his Volvo angled perpendicular to the rear of my car. There were two boxes in the back seat. He handed me one, then took the other, shutting the door with a swing of his hip.

  “Who has Rocket?” I asked, wondering about Raven’s French Bulldog. This was killing me, having Reynard show up like this. My friend’s death was still a raw wound, and this visit was ripping off the faint bit of healing I’d been able to do in the last month.

  “I have him.” Reynard stopped halfway up the stairs, turning to me. “I miss her too, Aria. When we were good, we were really good. And when we were bad…well the makeup sex was amazing. And we always made up. Always.”

  I understood, yet I still envied Reynard the time he’d had with Raven as well as every item of hers he still possessed. Evidently I now had her library, while Reynard had her dog. I was pretty sure he had what she’d loved the most.

  His blue eyes met mine. “We lived together the last six months. I loved her. I love that dog.”

  I nodded. “You ever stop loving that dog, you let me know.”

  Reynard’s mouth quirked up in a sideways, dimpled smile that never failed to break hearts. “I’ll never stop loving that dog.”

  And with those words, I was suddenly okay with a man I’d always eyed with distrust. He might be a player, he might be Dark Iron’s crony, but he’d loved Raven. That much I was sure of. We put the boxes down on the table and Reynard dug in his pocket, pulling out a red silk bag.

  “These are some amulets, and a couple rings. They’re not charged, but I thought you should have them.”

  I took them with thanks, setting the bag on top of the books. “So, how are things with Haul Du?”

  We’d never been close, and I sucked at small talk, but curiosity was killing me. What did they think had happened to Dark Iron? Who was running things now that he was gone? Were they all sitting around waiting for him to show up, like he’d just gone off on an unplanned vacation?

  Reynard shrugged, looking just as awkward as I felt. “Things are okay. I’m running Haul Du until the group can vote on a leader. It’s been a month. If Dark Iron was going to come back, he would have at least contacted us by now.”

  I was sure guilt was written all over my face.

  “Oh?” Yeah. Because I could think of nothing else to say. I’d killed Dark Iron, letting the vampires cover it up. He wasn’t coming back—ever.

  “I’m not surprised,” Reynard went on. “The Conclave was getting pressure from some mage in South America to proceed with a theft charge. Even if you’re innocent, nobody wants the Conclave sniffing around your business.”

  I knew nothing about this Conclave beyond the fact they struck fear into every mage’s heart. I was envisioning they were like Templar Elders, enforcing some agreed-upon rules and regulations, only much scarier.

  Besides, Dark Iron was hardly innocent. I wondered what the Conclave would have done if they’d discovered that in addition to theft he’d orchestrated the murder of four mages and personally killed another?

  “Did you hear anything about what’s going on with the Baltimore group?” I asked Reynard. “I mean, I know all the members of Fiore Noir are in jail, but are there other mages who are stepping into the void?”

  He shrugged. “All I heard was that there’s a group of psychics or something that have banded together, but they’re not a certified group.”

  Again, I wasn’t sure how a group became certified, and what role the Conclave played in that. Were groups allowed to be unaffiliated? I knew Russell was a solitary practitioner of necromancy, but I couldn’t imagine any sizable group being able to practice without some kind of oversight.

  I was such an outsider, and it hurt. I’d joined Haul Du excited to be working with others who shared my passion, only to be kicked out after eight months when someone had found out I was a Templar. After that, word had spread and suddenly I was a pariah to everyone practicing ceremonial magic. I looked at the boxes on my table. All this information, yet no one to help me learn it. I knew my limitations. I knew so little, and diving into these books without a mentor would be suicide.

  Raven was going to help me. She’d promised to mentor me, to help rid me of the demon mark. I’d envisioned us working together, her teaching me what she knew about magic, me sharing with her the information we Templars knew, sharing the knowledge I had access to.

  But Raven was dead. And I was standing in my apartment, looking at Reynard as if I were a lost puppy at the pound and he were a potential adopter.

  Reynard pulled a card out of his pocket and set it on top of a box. “I know you d
on’t know me, actually I always got the feeling you wanted to put that sword of yours through my back, but if you have any questions about any of this give me a call.”

  He opened the door, then turned to look at me one last time, his beautiful face serious. “I’m not Dark Iron. I might not be willing to let a Templar join Haul Du, but I’d be negligent if I turned my back while you summoned half of hell and let them loose in Baltimore because you didn’t know how to properly secure a gateway through the veil.”

  It wasn’t the most stirring speech of friendship I’d ever had, but I’d take it.

  Chapter 13

  ST. MARK’S WAS a little stone church in the Highlands. The gardens out back adjoined a neatly mown cemetery with tiny, crumbling markers. I made my way through the late-blooming roses and early mums to the rear entrance where Father Bernard answered at the first ring of the bell. The priest gave me a warm welcome, shaking my hand, inviting me into his office and giving me a hot cup of tea.

  “Did you hear about Amanda Lewis?” I asked, figuring this would be a better conversation starter than jumping right into “I summoned a demon and he marked me.”

  “No,” the priest wrapped his hands tightly around the mug, which had a brightly-colored, modern art cat on white enamel. “Did she find another exorcist? After you left she insisted I try a second time. I gave her the number of a therapist I know and urged her to come speak with me after the service this Sunday.”

  “She’s dead.” Abrupt, but I’m not used to delivering this kind of news. “Her boyfriend found her, and identified her brother Bradley as running from the scene of her murder.”

  Father Bernard stared, his tea halfway to his lips. “Dead? But why? Bradley didn’t seem to be on drugs. He had plenty of money—a trust fund set up when their parents died. He seemed to be getting his life together. I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers. He’s not a killer.”