I nearly fell backward at hearing this. They knew who he was? Karl Gibbons…and he'd been killed? Four years ago? That was…a year after he killed Barry, raped me, and then stabbed me and left me for dead.
But, if he died that many years ago…how was it possible he was running around and killing again, unless he…?
Unless he'd been claimed as a Power at his death.
Usually Virtues killed a human at the moment they claimed the use of the human skin.
TC nudged me. "Listen."
I refocused on Mastiff and Joe.
"…disappeared? How did it just disappear?" Joe was saying.
"It's still a mystery, four years later. The body was scheduled for autopsy the morning before he vanished. No forced entry. No security footage. It was more like it just got up and walked out."
And I bet it did, freshly piloted by a Power.
"So you see, Joe, we're not sure this is even possible. But it doesn't end there."
Joe didn't say anything.
"Researching Gibbons's background, we discovered he was once employed at one of the local strip clubs as a bouncer, at about the same time one Nona Martinique, the club's owner at the time, put the club up for sale. It was reported she and Gibbons were close friends."
I squeezed TC's hand. He returned the gesture.
"And even after Mrs. Martinique bought the house in Little Five Points and transformed it into a residence as well as a place of business, she used Gibbons as a handyman."
He…he was there? While I was growing up? I'd been seventeen when she bought the house on Euclid. And I'd gone off to college at the University only to come back in failure. But I couldn't ever remember my rapist's face in that house.
Joe held up a hand. "Hold it right there. I know where you're going and you don't have to talk so loud. I'm right here. I'm alone in my apartment." He rubbed at his chin before he spoke. "You had the DNA gathered from the body before it disappeared tested against the samples taken from Zoë the night of her rape and near murder?"
Mastiff nodded. And though he sounded a bit like a know-it-all earlier, his voice became a little gentler. "Yes. Perfect match. He was the one who raped her in the park that night." The detective finally unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down on the armrest of a chair. "Joe, if there was one thing Daniel became obsessed with after he met Zoë, it was finding her rapist. He made detailed notes in the files we had on who had been around Zoë at the time. But when we retraced the steps he'd taken, there was no mention of a Karl Gibbons."
"Then how did you make the connection now?"
"The captain did." He looked a bit dubious. "I don't know how she figured it out, but she had the information yesterday, and briefed several of us on it so that we can mobilize and find Daniel."
"But Daniel's not the one responsible for those deaths."
"He might not be, but he is responsible for Captain Cooper's death, Joe. As well as the other innocent lives he took. The reason she's linking all this together are those tattoos on their faces." He grabbed up the remote and went back to the image. He paused it on one of the hoodies as the face became visible on the side. "Those tattoos are similar to the ones the new sketches of Karl Gibbons keep sporting. So the captain's theory is they're all part of a gang, but I'm thinking they're one of your weird groups, which is why I contacted Miss Stephens. We need to watch Zoë, put her into protective custody—"
"So you can catch Daniel?"
"Not necessarily." He tapped the edge of the remote to his chin. "More to see if we can catch Gibbons, or whomever he his. If by some unnatural means—and I realize that's wholly possible around you and your people, Joe—Gibbons is still alive, the fact these deaths are occurring wherever Zoë is can be taken as a sign he's stalking her. He might try and kill her."
"You really think he can kill her? The way she is now?"
"Miss Stephens says they have prototypes of those weapons Randall Kemp created." He smiled at the shocked look on Joe's face. "I've been paying more attention than you realize, Joe. Those weapons can hurt creatures like Zoë." He went to the DVD player and retrieved his disk. " Lawrence, Frasier, Zoë, Gibbons…they're all linked together in some bizarre way. And because of that link, people are dying. It has to stop. Either you can rejoin and help us, or we do it the captain's way."
"I'm not going to waste my time going after Daniel. He's not the murderer this time. Gibbons is."
"So the evidence says. A dead man's alive, killing and raping. Sorry if that doesn't work for us. It all revolves around Zoë, or something about her. Either way, you can work with us, or against us."
I felt numb. Was Mastiff actually threatening Joe in a way? Didn't he realize that Joe possessed serious mojo? If nothing else, if that swirling donut of stuff ever let loose, it'd do some awesome damage upside Mastiff's head.
"George," Joe ran a hand through his hair. Even damp, it was spiky. I did notice how he called Mastiff by his first name, probably trying to make their conversation more personal than professional. "Before the captain came to you with this—did you have any visitors?"
"Yeah. Two detectives from Montreal have been at the station since last night. They had a meeting with her, and they were in the briefing with us."
Oh. Lovely. Lemme guess. Alfred Carter and Mae Theotokos.
When Mastiff repeated their names, I nearly groaned out loud.
Mastiff's phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the face, and answered it. "Mastiff."
Joe looked in our direction with a seriously angry face on. Yikes. What did I do? He might be irritated because of what looked like a new power for Daniel, and not one Revenants readily had.
"Okay," Mastiff said before he disconnected and slipped the phone back in his jacket. "Two more bodies found. Grant Park this time." He slipped the DVD back in its case and into his pocket. "Keep the picture. I have copies." He stopped in front of Joe. "I don't want you to quit—and I understand your aversion to doing anything against your heart's desire—but this is serious, Joe. People are dying. It has to stop. The captain said as long as you showed up at the scene, she won't submit your resignation yet."
With that, he looked around the room, patted Joe on the shoulder, and left the apartment.
TC and I became corporeal again just as Joe whirled and pointed a finger at me. "Not here."
Chapter Twelve
At first I wasn't sure if Joe was mad at me and TC, or just me. Although I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.
Then it dawned on me as he started gathering his cop gear quietly—he still didn't trust his apartment. Something to do with Mastiff's visit had him unnerved. I already suspected Mastiff assumed I was there since he knew about my rather peculiar abilities, and it was irritating having to wait 'til we were outside before I could ask.
So, I retreated to the balcony outside to wait for Joe to leave.
TC joined me there. And if we had actually been visible to the world, I'm pretty sure we'd have looked like rejects from some dark fantasy movie set.
Me all dark and ashy with folded wings and a pissed-off expression, and TC looking—
Okay. Well. Normal in a business suit and calm face.
So I looked like a Comic-Con refugee.
Sue me.
"What was—" I started to say, but TC held up a hand. His expression became distant, as if he were listening to something I couldn't hear. Which, having been in the position he was in now, seated in the Abysmal Throne as the Phantasm, I could relate.
I waited, tapping my talons against the iron railing while I kept one eye on Joe moving about in the apartment. And I sort of noticed how cute he was when he was upset. He wasn't as smarmy looking. Just…normal. Determined.
"I have to go," TC said as he refocused on me. "There's something I have to attend to."
"Abysmal disturbances?"
"You could say that." He looked…what was the word…distracted. Like he was paying attention to me, but not really.
"TC,
what's wrong?"
He focused on me, and now he looked worried. "I'm not really sure. I'm getting reports that several regions of the Abysmal have shut down."
I made a confused face. "Shut down? You make it sound like a power grid."
"Well, it is, in a way. All regions exist on the Plane when the power's on. If they go dark, then it means they cease to exist. It becomes empty space."
That didn't sound good. "Uh, TC…what does that mean?"
"I don't know." He put a hand on my shoulder. His touch was warm. "You go with Joe. Keep an eye on him and see what's up with this rapist. There's a lot riding on figuring out what the Ethereals are planning. And on what's happening. The fact they haven't acted on the Grimoire yet is starting to worry me—and I just found out the Seraphim's cut off all communication."
"I thought you said you shut the door on each other."
"Well, yeah, but Geist still went back and forth."
"Not now?"
TC's eyebrows arched. "No. In fact, I'm having trouble finding Geist. A few of my brothers and sisters think the Grimoire's magic is interfering with that. I don't know. I just don't have all the answers yet, but I will." He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and vanished.
I stood still on the terrace even as my wings unfurled in reaction to what my body felt at his touch. TC would always confuse the hell out of me, same as Joe. When I thought of TC, I could remember things like soft touching, ecstasy, pleasure and pain, being bound and binding—but not in a kinky, sexual way. More in a brotherly way.
Yeesh…that sounded even worse than when I thought about it. Maybe "brotherly" wasn't a good word.
"Old lover" kind of feel?
I trusted TC, and that's not something I would have done nearly a year ago. Back then, I'd tried to kill him on several occasions. He was somehow a part of me in ways I don't think my wee human brain was ever going to understand.
And Joe?
Well…
I'm not sure I was ready to go there. Not when thinking of him brought up anxiety about Dags and where he was. And what he was going through.
Which, of course, led to thoughts of Rhonda, and then my thinking descended into all the mean things I could do to her with—
"Hey, you coming?"
I blinked a few times and realized I was perched on the railing like some big exotic bird and Joe was standing in the opening of the sliding glass door, looking a little worried.
"Yeah, sure." I hopped down and followed him back inside.
"Where's TC?"
"He had to leave. Abysmal stuff."
"Poor guy. He's like the CEO of a corporation now and getting nitpicked to death." He slipped a leather peacoat on and turned to look at me. "Is it weird that I like you looking like that?"
I glanced down at myself. When I used to go out of body to be Wraith, my residual appearance in astral form had pretty much been me—only dressed in the black pants, turtleneck, and bunny slippers I wore when I rested on the bed in my old office. But somehow or somewhen after the Horror incident, when I split in two and smushed back together, that all changed. Now when I shifted while still in body, my clothing covered all the right parts in this swirly, black, lacy stuff, and my skin was the color of ash. My hair—I don't even want to talk about what it does since there was no product in the Physical Plane that could tame it like this. My hands had a sort of look all their own, with talons instead of nails. And my feet…think very angry black bunny slippers.
To me, I looked like a goth's idea of a some kind of confused superhero. Complete with gravity-defying boobies.
"I think you need therapy." I beamed and followed him out the door.
For December, it was pretty damned cold in Atlanta. Almost as cold as last year. Only this time a year ago, Daniel was waking up in the hospital, TC was pretty much nonexistent, and I'd vowed to stop going OOB so I could protect my cop.
Now…I was in the truck of another cop, Daniel was a Revenant that could somehow walk through walls, Rhonda and Dags were somehow prisoners of the Ethereals, and Mom—Mom was somehow responsible for my rape and Barry's death. I hadn't wanted to believe that last part, but after hearing what Mastiff discovered about Gibbons's and my mom's friendship… .
If I wasn't already a blithering idiot, I'd have hidden in the closet a long time ago. I just had to believe that, somehow, this was all going to get better.
Once we were on our way to Grant Park, I finally spoke. Yeah, me quiet. Go figure. "Why not in your apartment?"
"I think it's bugged."
"But you zapped it."
"I don't mean bugged in the conventional way. I mean bugged in another way." He glanced at me but generally kept his eyes on the road. "Ever heard of a Fetch?"
Oh yeah, I'd heard of them. In fact, one of my lessons with TC had involved chasing one through an office building after I realized I could become Wraith without going out of body. The former Symbiont had taught me how to control a good bit of my power as well as instilled confidence in me. "I know they're constructs that can be created from either side of the Outer Plane. And they tend to absorb whatever's around them so they can hide."
"Mmhm… good job." He signaled a turn. "While Mastiff was talking, I noticed a fruit bowl on the coffee table."
I frowned. "So?"
"I don't keep fruit bowls on the coffee table. Who does? Fruit spoils. And as often as I'm actually home, you think I want to grow hairy fruit?"
Oh hell. "You think that was a Fetch?"
"Yep. And the fact that it moved to get a better view of the video Mastiff had."
That was just creepy. But I also started wondering why I hadn't even sensed it. TC had taught me how to detect their Abysmal essence…. "Holy hell, it was Ethereal."
"Yep. I didn't think anyone would send an Abysmal creature there, not with the Phantasm right in my living room."
"That explains why I didn't know it was there. I wasn't looking for Ethereal energy."
"Might want to fine-tune that, babe." He made his turn and continued on toward the park. "We're dealing with the opposite Plane now. And from what I've been gathering, they do not play fair."
He was right about that. I thought about my dad and how he'd used my own need for him as a weapon. But he'd also used it one too many times. I didn't trust Adiran Martinique anymore.
Dad or not, if he tried shit again, I was sooo gonna hurt him.
Floodlights and flashing blues and reds greeted us as we approached the park.
Grant Park was sandwiched between Boulevard Avenue and Cherokee Avenue, just below Interstate 20. It was also home to the Atlanta Zoo and the Cyclorama. Not as large as Piedmont Park, Grant Park was better known for its less crowded paths, its pool and tennis courts. I'd always wanted to live in this area, but couldn't ever afford it. And as Joe moved his truck up close and popped a flashing blue light on his dashboard and flashed his badge, I looked over at the zoo entrance.
When was the last time I'd even visited the zoo? And I'd never even been in the Cyclorama.
One of the uniformed officers motioned for Joe to park. He did, and got out as I slipped through the car to follow just above them. My wings were pretty much quiet and only stirred up a slight current of air.
The bodies were near the pool, a good bit away from the zoo, closer to the tennis courts. More floodlights were set up around them, and I hovered nearby to watch as Joe approached Mastiff and a small, no-nonsense-looking woman. She was dark-skinned and her hair was pulled back tight at the base of her skull. Her features were exotic, but her expression was hard.
"Ah, is it Mr. Halloran or Detective Halloran?" Her tone was even less friendly.
But it didn't seem to phase Joe. He walked past her to look down at the bodies. Something I hadn't really wanted to do.
And when I did, I wished I hadn't.
Moments as horrific as rape, or being robbed or mugged, incidents of violence committed against oneself, are hard to deal with. If you've never been confronted with your own mortal
ity, it's difficult to describe.
I could remember every moment of my rape in nasty detail if I let myself. Which is why I remembered the guy's face and was pretty damn sure he hadn't been a Power when he did what he did.
Joe knelt down beside them as he pulled gloves on and a woman with a big camera took pictures. "So, what do we have?"
Mastiff glanced at his iPhone and thumbed the screen up. "Juan Esteves, Latino male, twenty-two, lives nearby according to his ID. The female is Tina Burton, Caucasian, lives over in Morning Side." He looked up from his phone and down at the victims. "The rest is pretty obvious. Mr. Esteves was killed with a knife to his throat, slitting his jugular. Ms. Burton was stabbed repeatedly and gagged with her own underwear."
I didn't have to see it to know that was the same scene they'd found with my body and Barry's. I closed my eyes and let myself drift back. I did not want to actually see this at all.
Until I heard a familiar voice.
"So…this is Detective Halloran?"
I zeroed in on him.
Constable Alfred Carter. He looked pretty much the same as he had in Montreal. I wondered if he'd even bothered to change. Constable Mae Theotokos stood beside him as Joe rose and turned to face them.
"And you must be Alfred Carter." Joe didn't offer his hand, nor did he take the one Carter offered. He did nod to Theotokos, and then turned his attention to the no-nonsense woman. "Is there a reason we have them here?"
"Are you taking lead, Detective?" she asked. I guessed at that moment this was Captain Cooper's replacement, although I didn't know her name yet. I couldn't remember Joe ever even mentioning her before.
I was high enough not be walked through, but low enough to hear and see. Although I did avert my eyes from the bodies.
"Yeah, I'll take point." He glanced over at Mastiff. "But I want make a point right now. I do not in any way believe this was the work of Daniel Frasier. This MO fits a series of rapes and killings perpetrated over five years ago, back when Daniel and I were in uniform working together. I'm not going to close any avenues in catching who's doing this by narrowing my focus onto one man unless I'm sure. And I'd prefer to put that focus on Karl Gibbons—or whoever he is."
Dominion: Zoë Martinique Investigation, Book 6 Page 8
