‘Don’t,’ she stepped back out of his reach. ‘I’m trying dad, I really am. I’m trying to put myself in your place but I just can’t. I need you to give me some space right now.’
‘Olivia.’
‘Just go,’ she whispered, turning her back on him to stare unseeing out of the window. She didn’t watch him leave, was barely aware of the click of the closing door. She just felt empty.
Finally too restless to stand any longer she turned to find Theo propped against the door frame, casually wiping his paint smeared hands on a rag and watching her with unreadable eyes.
‘How much of that did you hear?’
‘Pretty much all of it,’ he tossed the rag down on the couch and walked into the room. ‘You and your dad aren’t exactly quiet.’
‘Well I suppose it saves me repeating myself,’ she looked up at him as he wrapped his arms around her.
She leaned into his warm, strong embrace, letting out a deep breath.
‘You okay?’ he asked, pulling back and cupping the back of her neck gently, allowing her soft dark hair to tumble over the back of his hand.
‘Every time I think we’ve finally found some sort of understanding, some sort of common ground he goes and does something that proves to me I never really knew him at all.’
‘Give it time love,’ he stroked her jaw with the pad of his thumb. ‘He did what he thought was right.’
‘You did hear the part where he was going to leave you stranded in the Underworld, right?’ she asked pointedly.
‘Yes I did,’ his mouth curved. ‘I heard him say he chose to save his daughter over a stranger.’
‘You’re taking this suspiciously well,’ she frowned.
‘I’m not saying I agree with him Livy,’ he replied, ‘but I understand why he did it and I’m not entirely sure that placed in that situation I wouldn’t have made the same choice.’
‘I don’t know how to feel about this right now,’ she sighed.
‘As I said give it time,’ he dropped a kiss on her lips. ‘Let’s get out of here. You’ve had your nose in those books all morning, why don’t we take Beau for a walk down by the lake?’
She nodded slowly, needing the distraction, worried that no matter what happened she was never going to be able to have a normal relationship with her father.
11.
Nathaniel walked slowly across the dusty parking lot. The light was gone, darkness filled the sky with barely a slither of a moon to light the way. The only light source nearby was the brightly lit bar in front of him. Miles from the outskirts of Mercy and sitting in the middle of nowhere in particular, the neon sign flickered with a metallic buzz as it cut out, flaring back to life a few moments later.
The building itself appeared to be little more than a large shack. A squat, unattractive, single storey building of faded wooden clapboards and dirty windows, it was surrounded by cars and a line of motorcycles. Suddenly the door banged open, spilling light out onto the hard dirt packed ground. Two burly bodies fell out of the doorway, grunting as they rolled along the dirt, each trying to land as many punches as possible.
Barely even sparing the two men a glance, Nathaniel stepped around them and opened the door, moving into the less than desirable establishment. The moment he stepped in the door, he was assaulted with a cacophony of sensations, all of which were blatant indications of human deprivation and vice.
The stench hit him first, a sickening stomach churning odor of unwashed, sweating bodies, greasy fried food and clouds of stale smoke. The noise was next, the twang of some sort of country music, and the loud clack of balls as they were knocked around an old pool table. It stood off to the side of the bar, with dented and scratched legs, the felt covering stained with many years’ worth of spilled drinks, discarded ash and many other unidentifiable stains left by amorous patrons.
The whole place reeked of human depravity.
Nathaniel swallowed in disgust, his expression carefully arranged to mask his obvious and violent disdain for the place and its occupants. Ignoring the low chatter and raucous bouts of laughter he crossed the room, heading for the bar, with its scarred, sticky surface. The man behind it didn’t look much better. A thin emaciated stick of a man with barely a few long matted hairs sprouting from his chin, which couldn’t even be called a beard. His open fronted vest, minus a shirt, showcased unpleasant patches of red and scaly skin and his eyes, an unpleasant watery green, followed him with suspicion.
Nathaniel watched as he placed down the grubby looking glass next to the even dirtier rag he’d been using to clean it and leaned forward, his palms pressing against the sticky wood bar top, trying to look intimating. It might have worked, had he not looked so comical with his skinny, twig like arms protruding from his sleeveless leather vest.
Nathaniel stepped up to the bar. ‘I’m looking for the Ravens.’
The bartender’s small weasel eyes narrowed shrewdly, his mouth curving into an unsavory oily smirk, revealing rows of mismatched brown stained teeth. ‘Well they don’t like to be disturbed none.’
Nathaniel sucked his teeth in disgust. He’d love nothing more than to reach over the bar and snap the man’s neck, but he had more pressing matters to deal with and he knew such attention would not serve him well.
With a great deal of patience he reined in his irritation and dipped his hand into his pocket, coming up with a wad of bills. Tossing them over the bar at the thin scabrous looking man, he watched as the guy picked it up and flicked through it, fanning the dollars bills as he estimated the amount he held in his bony hands. Seemingly satisfied he nodded to a darker corner of the bar, where a small round table was tucked away against the wall.
Nathaniel stepped away from the bar, leaving the diseased looking man behind him and headed to the table indicated, his gaze firmly fixed on the two young men lounging against the threadbare, cushioned bench. Their eyes watched him just as appraisingly as he crossed the makeshift dancing area, avoiding the press of gyrating bodies.
Nathaniel drew to a slow halt, staring down at the two young men. They didn’t look as if they could be more than eighteen years old, far too young to be drinking, especially in an establishment such as this, but Nathaniel knew appearances could be deceiving. The Ravens were far older than they looked.
The two emo boys stared up at him unabashedly. The one to the left lifted his hand, revealing black painted fingernails and a thick silver ring on his index finger as he took a long drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing orange with his deep inhale. Beneath the thick black jagged bangs of his shaggy hair his strange looking eyes peered at Nathaniel intently. The irises of his eyes were pale, almost colorless but rimmed with a thick black outline and the pupil was a black pinpoint, almost like the eyes of a bird. A Raven to be exact, and curiously his companion’s eyes were identical.
There the similarity ended. With the exception of their similar style of dress the other boy bore no physical resemblance to the first. They were obviously not related but there was a closeness to them, the way they moved, their very presence, which suggested a deep connection.
The second boy moved his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes. Although similarly styled, shaggy with long bangs, his hair was black, tipped with pure white. He wore a beanie which slouched low on the back of his head and his mouth bore a snake bite piercing, small black hoops either side of his lower lip.
The first boy reached across the table to retrieve his beer, the low light catching the metal studs of the leather cuff at his wrist. As he leaned back comfortably in his chair to take a swig he revealed the design on the front of his black tee shirt, a bleached white, skeletal ribcage encasing a blood red heart.
The second boy folded one booted foot over his other knee, stretching out the ripped and frayed slits in his jeans. He nodded at the scarred wooden seat on the opposite side of the table to them.
Nathaniel sat down at their invitation and opened his mouth to speak.
‘We know who you are,’ the first boy blinked, his tone higher than Nathaniel expected, almost as if his voice hadn’t yet broken.
‘And we know what you want,’ the second spoke, his voice almost exactly the same pitch and tone as his companion.
‘We are curious however to know why you would seek us out.’
‘We do not get involved in such matters.’
‘What the humans do with the Hell book is none…’
‘Of our concern.’
Their words tumbled over each other, overlapping and finishing each other’s sentences in their strange contralto voices. They may not have looked identical but they spoke as if they were one mind merely separated into two bodies.
‘I am not here about the book,’ Nathaniel replied.
‘Then why…’
‘Are you here?’
‘I’m looking for the Hierophant,’ he answered carefully. ‘You know where he is.’
‘If we did…why…’
‘Would we tell you?’
‘Because I have knowledge that would be beneficial to certain people,’ Nathaniel responded.
‘The Hierophant does not…’
‘Seek knowledge, he imparts it.’
‘I know that,’ Nathaniel clenched his jaw, trying to find his patience. He hated dealing with the Ravens, stupid bird brained creatures. Sometimes it was like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall, much like dealing with humans. ‘I need to find the location of the one I wish to pass this information along to and the Hierophant can help me with that.’
The two boys seemed to consider this for a moment.
‘The Arcana must remain neutral in the matter of the book, if this…’
‘Is some kind of manipulation, he will know.’
‘No manipulation,’ Nathaniel replied calmly. ‘I just want the location of someone, that is all.’
The two boys stared at each other as if they were communicating something silently between them.
‘He is in New York,’ one replied.
‘He will be informed of your…’
‘Request. Should he wish to see you, he will…’
‘Pass further instructions of where to find him.’
Nathaniel nodded, watching silently as the two boys rose from the table. Skirting around past him they headed for the door walking so closely side by side, he was surprised they weren’t holding hands. Stupid effeminate creatures. He hated having to deal with the Arcana; he hated mystics, period. It was so lowering, so beneath him to solicit their counsel. However, he was forced to reluctantly admit, it was the only way to locate Zeus. If anyone knew the location of the temperamental God it would be the Hierophant.
Nathaniel stood slowly, heading toward the door intent on leaving but as he by-passed the bar a lonely human caught his eye. He paused, his gaze narrowing in hazy recognition.
The man sat at the farthest end of the bar nursing a glass of hard liquor. His blond hair was shaggy and overgrown, as if he hadn’t bothered to get a haircut in some time. Likewise his beard was thick and unkempt. His clothes were wrinkled but of decent quality. Something about him didn’t quite fit with the other more regular patrons. He didn’t belong in that bar, that was blatantly obvious, but his hunched, defeated posture and the single mindedness with which he consumed drink after drink, spoke of a man who wanted to forget.
There was something about that man, Nathaniel mused, he remembered him for some reason. Fragments of memories kept resurfacing, he could see the man at the bar in his mind. He was slightly younger, his hair shaved short and his face clean shaven. His head was thrown back with carefree laughter and he was wearing a uniform. Not just any uniform, Nathaniel’s mouth pursed speculatively, a police uniform.
Suddenly he understood, it wasn’t his memory floating around in his mind. When Isabel West had trapped him in a body of human flesh and stitched him into it with powerful and ancient blood magic, he’d been connected to the body on a deeper subconscious level. He hadn’t realized it at the time, he was so focused on trying to escape the putrid flesh, but he must have inadvertently absorbed some of the memories of the victims she’d sacrificed, a kind of residual echo of the person the flesh had belonged to.
With that realization the floodgate opened. The man at the bar was Cameron Walker… Deputy Cameron Walker of the Mercy Police Department, Nathaniel thought with amusement. He was the brother of Brody Walker, whose tongue and eyes had contributed to his prison of flesh.
Cameron threw his head back and drained the glass in his hand, before slamming it down on the scarred wood.
‘Get me another,’ he slurred.
‘Now Cam,’ the greasy looking bartender started.
‘I said,’ his eyes glittered dangerously, his words punctuating the air slowly and menacingly, ‘get…me…another.’
‘No Cam,’ he stepped back slightly but stood his ground, ‘it’s time to cut you off. Go home and sleep it off.’
‘Need a reminder of what happened last time you tried to cut me off?’
‘Aw, there’s no need for that,’ he replied cajolingly. ‘I only just had the stitches removed.’
‘This time it won’t be stitches,’ he threatened quietly. ‘I will smash every fucking tooth in your mouth.’
‘Fine,’ his eyes narrowed as he slammed a bottle of cheap whiskey down onto the bar, ‘drink yourself unconscious again. I’ll have Dozer and Tony throw you out with the rest of the trash.’
‘You do that,’ Cameron murmured, refilling his glass.
Nathaniel slid quietly onto the stool next to him. Cameron barely spared him a glance as he tipped his head back and let the fiery liquid scorch his throat.
He coughed hard, that shit was like paint stripper, but it was cheap and it got the job done. Ignoring the ache in his throat he poured another.
‘Cameron Walker?’ Nathaniel spoke up, his voice affecting a more friendly and pronounced accent.
Cam dropped his glass down on the bar and turned his bleary eyes on Nathaniel.
‘Who wants to know?’ he slurred.
‘Nate,’ he held out his hand, his expression easy and approachable, ‘Nate Booth. I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.’
He stared down at Nathaniel’s offered hand for a moment before ignoring it completely and pouring himself another drink. Nathaniel dropped his hand unperturbed.
‘May I?’ Nathaniel indicated the half empty bottle.
‘It’s a free country,’ he shrugged.
Nathaniel lifted his hand once again, and the bartender dropped an empty glass in front of him, eying them both suspiciously before withdrawing to the other side of the bar.
‘You don’t look like a Fed,’ Cam mumbled, raising his glass to his lips and glancing at the dark pants, shirt and jacket Nathaniel wore.
‘I’m undercover,’ he replied.
‘What do you want with me?’ he frowned.
‘I’m investigating a string of murders that took place in Mercy… the young men that were mutilated.’
‘Yeah?’ Cam took a healthy swig of whiskey, ‘you’re about a year and a half too late.’
‘I believe that your brother was one of the victims,’ Nathaniel continued easily. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Why?’
‘Pardon?’ Nathaniel replied in mock confusion.
‘Why are you sorry?’
‘Because his killer was never brought to justice.’
‘No she wasn’t,’ he snapped bitterly.
‘She?’ Nathaniel prodded innocently.
‘Olivia West,’ he ground from between clenched teeth, the muscles of his forearm corded as his fist tightened around the glass. ‘My brother is in the ground rotting, minus body parts, while she gets to parade around town with her new husband like nothing happened.’
Ah, so the disgruntled ex-deputy had been keeping tabs on Olivia, Nathaniel though smugly. It just kept getting better and bett
er, this was almost going to be too easy. Perhaps the human would be useful after all.
‘Yes, I believe the former Chief of Police believed she had some connection to the murders,’ Nathaniel replied.
‘He did, until she killed him to keep him quiet.’
‘You believe she murdered him?’
‘I know she did,’ he growled.
‘Then why didn’t you report it?’ Nathanial poked at him.
‘You think I didn’t try?’ he hissed, ‘but that whore has the new Chief wrapped around her finger. She’s probably fucking him too. He helped her cover it all up and then had me suspended. Tried to get me to see a shrink, tried to imply I was unstable… Mother Fuckers.’
‘They should have listened to you.’
‘Damn straight,’ he slurred.
‘What if I told you, I believe you?’ Nathaniel cajoled smoothly.
Cam looked up at him sharply.
‘What if I told you,’ he continued, ‘that I believe not only is she guilty but she is a danger to others.’
‘I’d say, what are you going to do about it?’ Cam asked accusingly.
‘We…’ Nathaniel corrected him smoothly, as he poured him another glass, ‘what are we going to do about it?’
‘We?’ for the first time he ignored his drink, his eyes sharpening with interest.
‘The problem is, I have superiors too,’ he leaned over, his voice dropping lower. ‘I can go over Chief Macallister’s head you know, have him removed and see to it that Olivia West pays for what she did, but I need proof.’
‘And if I could get you proof?’
‘Well,’ Nathaniel spread his hands and smiled, ‘then I could get a warrant for her arrest. I have friends in useful places, I could see to it that she ends up in one of the toughest prisons and trust me, she will suffer for what she’s done.’
‘What do I need to do?’
‘Watch her for me,’ he smiled coolly. ‘I want to know everything she does, where she goes, who she sees, what she eats, if she sleeps…absolutely everything.’
Cameron studied him carefully as if coming to a decision.
‘I can do that,’ he nodded slowly.
The Guardians Complete Series 1 Box Set: Contains Mercy, The Ferryman, Crossroads, Witchfinder, Infernum Page 170
