Dream Under the Hill (Oberon Book 8)

by P. G. Forte

  Almost, but not entirely. It had been a necessary sacrifice, after all. Jim Phelps had been too greedy, too ambitious, and, in the end, he’d come to know too much about Gregg’s plans. Gregg was quick to admit that Jim’s advice on those plans had proved invaluable. But, in the end, he’d turned into a liability.

  “Ah, there you are,” he purred when he finally found Lauren in the third room he tried, chatting with Liam.

  Suigeneris. You missed tonight’s meeting, Zophiel wrote. Where were you?

  Hello, Zophiel, Lauren replied. My ex-husband threw a fit about Family Day. He showed up at my house tonight as I was getting ready to leave. He’s threatening to sue for full custody of our daughter. He’s wants to take her away from me!

  I still can’t believe he did that. Do you know how he found out about it? Liam asked.

  She probably told him, Zophiel suggested. After all, that had been the point. He’d wanted Lauren’s ex to snap and do something rash. It would test her commitment to the church. It would test her resolve, as well. How badly did she want to get rid of her ex?

  No, of course I didn’t, Lauren wrote back. I’m not stupid! But, he’s a cop! He probably has my phone tapped. He’s probably hacked into my computer – he could be online right now, reading this.

  Do you really think that’s likely? Zophiel chided, annoyed by her childishness. It was unlikely that a simple cop would wield that much power. And, did she really think she was so important to a man who’d already left her, that he’d go to such lengths to keep tabs on her? If that was the case, she must be something special. He’d have to find out.

  Why not? Liam challenged. It sounds like something he’d do.

  Oh? Zophiel shot back. Do you know him?

  I know his type, Liam replied. He’s a wannabe White Hat, right?

  Wannabe is right, Lauren wrote. Nick likes to think he’s one of the good guys, but he’s not lily white. Being a cop has destroyed him.

  Gregg stared at the screen, he drummed his fingers on the desktop as he thought. If what they were saying was true, this Nick might be a bigger threat than he’d anticipated. He didn’t need that kind of trouble. It might be that Lauren – and her ex-husband – were becoming a liability. One he’d have to take steps to neutralize.

  I think you should lay low for a while, Liam wrote. Play along. Let him think you agree with him. You don’t want to give him a reason to act on his threats.

  Gregg frowned. I don’t think that’s your decision to make, he typed. Either of you. You should tell Reverend Gregg what’s happening, and let him advise you.

  You’re right, Zophiel, Lauren replied. That’s what I’ll do.

  No. I don’t know think you should do that, Liam argued. I disagree with Zophiel. Gregg doesn’t need to deal with something like this. It’s too trivial. I don’t think you should bother him with it. Just stay away for a while and let things blow over.

  “You disagree with me?” Gregg growled at the screen. “Who the fuck do you think you are, you little shit?” The boy was asking for another lesson, mouthing off to him like that. And, if that’s really what he wanted, Gregg would be more than happy to give him one. When it comes to his flock, nothing is too trivial to be brought to his attention.

  Oh, yeah? Liam replied. Kind of like ‘the fall of a sparrow’ nothing’s too small for him to take notice of? I don’t know, Zophiel, you’re kinda making him sound like a bit of a control freak.

  He’s not! Lauren wrote. It’s just that he cares so much. Zophiel’s right. I’ll ask to talk to him on Monday.

  If he cares that much, he’ll understand your concerns about your daughter, Liam continued to argue. I’m sure he’ll understand if you have to stay away for a while.

  Gregg glared at the screen. It’s interesting that such a relative newcomer should have such strong opinions. Maybe Reverend Gregg has made a mistake in allowing you entrance to the church.

  It’s not a mistake, Liam replied. I’m only thinking about what’s best for everyone.

  But, Gregg had heard enough for the night. That, too, is not for you to decide, he had Zophiel type, just before he signed off. If you can’t learn your place on your own, I’m sure someone will put you in it.

  “Someone, or several someone’s,” Gregg muttered, fisting his hands on the arms of his chair. He’d been testing his little flock for several months now, leading a selected few into the woods, from time to time, on secret missions; checking to see who was the most loyal; who would follow orders blindly, without question; who could most easily be turned to violence.

  If Liam wasn’t careful, Gregg thought, he could provide his cadre of enforcers with their very first human victim.

  The unexpected face-off had left Gregg too wound up to sleep. He quickly scanned his other accounts, including those he maintained under his old name of Gilchrist. It was handy, having more than one identity. It took upkeep, but it was worth it. If it ever became necessary, he could leave his current life behind him and step back into that other identity without blinking an eye.

  Gregg Gilchrist would resume his life while Gregg Stevens vanished without a trace.

  That was his real talent, after all. He was a shapeshifter, a chameleon. It was a lesson he’d learned too late to keep himself out of prison. But that must never happen again.

  And it never would, he thought as he fondly ran his fingers over the lizard tattoo at the back of his head. He’d had it inked there as a reminder of his true identity, his true power.

  He was the dragon, the basilisk, the chameleon, the serpent.

  Finally, satisfied that all was as it should be in his other world, Gregg turned the computer off, crossed the room and climbed back into bed, slithering between the sheets, rolling Cara into his arms. She blinked up at him, still teary eyed, her face red and swollen.

  He shook his head. “Now look what you’ve gone and done with all that crying. Your face is a mess. I’m gonna have to stick a pillowcase over your head before I can even stand to fuck you.”

  More tears sprang into Cara’s eyes as her face crumpled up once again. She pushed him away. “Go to hell, you bastard,” she muttered, with more spirit than smarts.

  Lucky for her, he was in the mood to be entertained by her antics. He laughed as he pinned her to the bed and sank his teeth in her neck, nipping at her throat for several minutes while she squirmed and bucked beneath him. “That’s my girl,” he said as he smiled down into her face. “I guess it’s gonna take more than an occasional beating to break you down, isn’t it?”

  Her gaze flew to his face, and he could tell she didn’t know how to answer that. He smiled even wider then, amused as always by her fear, by the way it never could keep pace with her anger. “That’s okay, pet,” he soothed. “That’s why I like you so much. It’s why I keep you around. But I guess you weren’t paying attention to what your little friend had to say earlier, were you?” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “You’re in hell, remember? And, you’ll stay here with me, until I decide to let you go.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Have pity upon me, O Lord, for men trample upon me;

  all the day they press their attack against me.

  Introit of the Mass

  For the Monday after the First Sunday in Passiontide

  Nick stared in distaste at the report he’d just read. Damn, he hated Mondays. All the weird shit seemed to wait until the weekend to happen. That meant most Mondays were spent shoveling out from underneath a pile of it. And today was no exception. The mutilated remains of four more animals had been discovered in local parks over the weekend. Three cats, and what had probably been someone’s pet Pekinese.

  “Crap,” he sighed as he tossed the report on his desk. And didn’t it just figure Ryan would pick now to be gone on vacation? Not that his friend didn’t hate this stuff just as much as Nick did himself, but Ryan had made solving the mutilated animal mystery his personal mission, and Nick had been more than happy to turn anything to do with it over
to him. He wondered who he could get to deal with it now?

  Too bad Liam had quit, he thought with a smirk. This was just the assignment for him; something ugly enough to cool the young hothead down. And, if it happened he lost his lunch in the process, along with a little of his attitude, well, Nick wouldn’t exactly mind that overmuch, either.

  He was still seeing red over Liam’s phone call to him the previous morning. It had come too early for a Sunday, it had been made to his home and it had interrupted breakfast with his family. Those three facts alone had him ticked off, but once Liam got talking, that’s when Nick really got steamed…

  “Don’t tell me how I should have handled things with Lauren,” he’d snarled into the phone, forgetting, in his anger, that his daughter was eating breakfast in the next room. “You’ve known her—what, all of two weeks? I was married to the woman. And while they may have been some of the worst years of my life, I did manage to learn a thing or two about dealing with her over the course of them. I think I know what I’m doing.”

  “Well, if what you’re doing is playing right into Gregg’s hands, then yeah, I’d say you do,” Liam had replied hotly. “But I told you last week she wanted you dead, how d’you think she feels about you now? What do you think she’s going to be talking to Gregg about tomorrow?”

  “Oh, fuck, McKnight, you’re a goddamned lunatic, you know that? Don’t give me any more of this contract bullshit. Lauren does not want me dead. Trust me. She’d miss my money too much, if that happened.”

  Liam was silent for a moment, and then he sighed, “Maybe not. Gregg lives pretty large, you know. Could be she figures she won’t miss your money so much if she’s got his to keep her warm.”

  “Jesus,” Nick mumbled, wishing he’d had the sense to bring his coffee with him when he’d gone to answer the phone; wishing it wasn’t too early in the day for anything stronger. He shook his head. “She really got to you, didn’t she? I gotta say I’m surprised. I would’ve thought you’d have more sense.”

  “Got to me?” Liam sounded puzzled.

  “Yeah. As in hooked you. Played you. Rolled you. Or however the fuck you want to put it.”

  “Damn it, she did not play me!”

  “Well, someone must have, because I’m telling you, that woman does not have the balls to hire a hit man! She practically cries when she chips a goddamned fingernail. Her idea of roughing it means having to make do without organic chocolate. You really think she’s psychologically equipped to handle the kind of jail time she’d pull for conspiracy to commit murder?”

  “I doubt she’s thinking that far ahead, Nick. Most people don’t, you know.”

  “Oh, she’s always thinking ahead,” Nick growled, nearly dropping the phone in surprise when his coffee mug was suddenly thrust into his hand. “According to her mother, she was even born premature.” He turned to smile his thanks at Scout, but the fury blazing in her eyes stopped him cold. What now? “And that’s another thing. Lauren knows, better than anyone, what I’m like when I’m angry. She knows not to cross me.”

  “Yeah, you’ve done a great job convincing her you’re one of the bad guys, all right,” Liam scoffed. “Problem is, now she’s got herself mixed up with a real bad guy and she can’t seem to tell the difference. The only thing you accomplished last night was to send her running right into Gregg’s arms.”

  “Yeah, well, good for her,” Nick muttered sarcastically, turning his back on Scout, who was still glaring at him. “I wish them both happy. Just tell me when the wedding is and I’ll send a present.”

  He hung up the phone and turned back around to face his wife. “All right,” he sighed. “Let’s have it. What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” Scout shook her head. “Those were some lovely things you had to say about your daughter’s mother. You think maybe you could have been a little louder, Nick? ‘Cause I think Kate may have missed some of it.”

  “Ah, shit,” he groaned, wincing at the thought. “How much did she hear?”

  Scout sighed. “Not more than a few sentences, luckily. But, only because I sent her and Mandy out on the patio, when I figured out what was happening.”

  Nick nodded, relaxing a little in relief. “Thanks.”

  “What’s gotten into you lately?” Scout asked quietly. “You never used to be this way.”

  “I know,” Nick sighed, feeling wretched; feeling the coffee in his gut turn to acid. There was no way to explain the overwhelming feelings of guilt and helplessness that had plagued him recently; the sense that the world was spinning out of control, that his life was on a collision course, that– Shit. The coffee. “How’d you know I wanted coffee?” he demanded, pinning Scout with an angry glare.

  She blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “You brought me coffee. How the fuck did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”

  “Oh, Nick.” Scout’s eyes filled with sadness. She shook her head. “Don’t make this about me. You feel guilty about Kate or Lauren or whoever else you think you’re letting down? Well, I’m sorry about that. You’re just gonna have to learn to deal with it somehow. But don’t try and turn it around and make out like this is my fault. We’ve got enough problems without your doing that.”

  Damn, he hated that she knew him so well, Nick thought now, as he stared through his office window, seeing nothing. He hated that she was right. Or maybe he just hated that he had been so wrong. And, crap, she probably didn’t need to be psychic to figure out it was guilt that was making him angry. He’d made a mess of things with Lauren. Hell, even Liam had the brains to see that! His fears for Kate’s safety had overwhelmed him and he’d gone too far.

  “Ah, fuck it,” he said turning back to his desk. What was the big deal, anyway? He was not gonna worry about whether Lauren was trying to have him killed—that was still just about the dumbest idea he’d ever heard. He’d figure out some way to smooth things over with her, but it would be some way that did not include allowing their daughter to get within ten miles of that stinking place.

  And if Lauren had gotten herself involved with some low-life creep? Well, that’s what Liam was there for. Or, if it turned out he couldn’t handle it, then Nick guessed he’d just have to figure out some way to fix that, too.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, picked up the report he’d dropped on his desk a few minutes earlier, and glanced through it once again. Might as well deal with this one himself. It was no more than he deserved, for being such an asshole, and it was probably the only sure way to guarantee that no one got the bright idea of dragging Seth back in for more questioning. Not that he supposed it would matter all that much, if they did. Hell, he was already on the outs with his wife, his ex-wife, his daughter – why the fuck not add his cousin back to the list?

  * * *

  This is such a beautiful day, Lucy thought as she looked around the terrace of The Crone’s Nest, even if it was a monday. It was sunny and warm. Birds, perched in the surrounding trees were singing their little hearts out. And the bright scents of freesia and rosemary sweetened the still, morning air. But you’d never guess any of that from the faces of the two women seated on either side of her. To look at either Marsha or Scout this morning, you’d think they were in the middle of a monsoon, or a mudslide, or some other natural disaster.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” she griped, frowning at them both. “Why the long faces? It’s a nice day. Why can’t you enjoy it?”

  Scout sighed. “Does your entire family suffer from the need to blame everyone else for their problems, Luce? Or is it just you and Nick?”

  Lucy stared at her friend, nonplused. A faint, ironic smile, just touched with sympathy, curved Scout’s lips, and altogether too much understanding shimmered in her hazel eyes. She knows, Lucy thought, feeling the now familiar bite of her conscience. She’s figured it out.

  Before Lucy could formulate a suitable response, Scout shook her head. “You really can’t fix everything, Luce. Even when you feel you should. So
, why don’t you just let yourself off the hook, okay? Leave it be.”

  Easy for you to say, Lucy thought, feeling her insides clench. She shot an anxious glance at Marsha, but her friend still looked lost in thought; head propped on her hand, staring sadly into space, as though she hadn’t heard a word the others had said.

  I should be so lucky. Lucy took a deep breath and asked, “And what about you?”

  “Hmm?” Marsha turned her head slowly toward her, as though she were trying to drag herself back from someplace very far away. “Oh. I was thinking about my cat.”

  “Your cat?” Lucy took another deep breath and allowed herself to relax. Okay, that’s good. She was ninety per cent sure she had no reason to feel guilty about Marsha’s cat—maybe ninety-five.

  Marsha nodded. “I think maybe he’s possessed.”

  “Possessed?” Scout repeated doubtfully.

  “Is that possible?” Lucy asked.

  Marsha shrugged. “I think so. For certain animals, under certain circumstances, where there’s unresolved issues of some sort. Following a sudden death, for example.”

  Lucy frowned in confusion. “So, who died?”

  “Celeste.” It was Scout who answered, her eyes filled with sorrow as she gazed at Marsha.

  Celeste? Well, that made no sense. Lucy looked to Marsha for confirmation. “Really?”

  Marsha shrugged again. “He was her cat, after all, but…Oh, I don’t know.” There was a trace of bitterness in her tone, a hint of hopelessness. She looked at Scout. “You think maybe you could stop by my house sometime and check him out? Tell me what you think?”

  Something akin to panic seemed to flare in Scout’s eyes. She glanced around her uneasily. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can do that.” Her restless eyes fell on her watch and she pushed back her chair, rising abruptly. “It’s late. I have to go now. I’m supposed to be meeting Adam for lunch.”