65
The entire contents of Lynn’s purse lay spread across the glass counter before she found the credit card stuck in a crease at the bottom of the bag. She shrugged and smiled at the pimply-faced, chubby woman. “I thought I’d lost it.”
The girl nodded and continued to chew her gum with ferocity. Lynn held out the Visa card as her cell phone began to ring. She reached over the counter to grab it and knocked her lip balm onto the floor. Lynn watched it spiraling under the wooden rack and shrugged as she flipped the phone open.
“Lynn? It’s like, Heather?” The girl’s voice sounded stressed.
“Yes, Heather?”
“I’m having a problem with Mr. Graves, okay? He thinks he’s going to die?”
“Here,” the pimply sales clerk said, thrusting a pen and receipt at Lynn.
“Why? What’s wrong?” She took the pen with a smile.
“Nothing,” the girl responded.
Lynn covered the phone with her hand and shook her head at the sales clerk. “I’m talking to my work.” “What?” Heather asked.
“Mr. —” She glanced up at the sales clerk watching her and stumbled over the name. “The…uh…our client. What’s wrong?”
“He said that Death is coming to visit him and he has to save Abbey. He said you’d understand?” Heather continued as Lynn handed her pen back to the sales clerk.
“Step aside, please,” the clerk snapped as she popped her gum.
Lynn nodded and scooped the purse’s contents back into her bag.
“Heather, I don’t understand what the problem is.”
“I don’t think he should go with you tomorrow?”
“Heather, he is not dangerous,” Lynn said as the salesgirl looked at her in disgust. “And he’s going with us. It would devastate him not to see Abbey.”
“That’s another thing?” Heather continued. “He says he can feel Abbey and she’s in trouble?”
“He always says that. Don’t worry.” Lynn looked up at the pimply girl and added, “I’m leaving.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Heather, I’m talking to the clerk in the store.” Lynn knelt before the sock rack. She stuck her hand under the wood to retrieve her stray lip balm.
“He’s going with us. He’ll see Abbey and everything will be fine.
Don’t worry.”
“Well, if you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Besides, he is one of the only people that Abbey will open up to. It will be helpful to have him there if she’s in trouble.” Lynn thought of the trunkful of torture devices and shuddered. She hadn’t spoken to Detective Mathers about her suspicions and pangs of guilt washed over her. What if he didn’t understand her concern and never investigated Abbey’s safety? That thought had never occurred to her before.
“Heather, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in the morning.” She slid her hand farther under the rack. As she did, she heard her pants rip. Great. Just great.
She gave up the search and sat on her heels. Well, at least she was going to keep her dignity and wait for the customers to leave. She’d be damned if she was going to show her ass to the whole town. She dialed Mathers’ number and waited for the pimply clerk to finish waiting on the last of the customers. She had never been happier that she wore clean underwear.
66
Mathers said goodbye to Lynn Swanson, closed his cell phone, and sat on the shoulder of the Bastille’s private frontage road waiting for the pickup truck filled with fairies to pass. He noticed that the fairies shared the bed of the Ford with an ogre and a court jester. Can fairies and ogres coexist in peace? When he spotted a fairy handing off a bottle of Guinness to the shirtless ogre, he had his answer: world peace is achieved through Guinness.
The sheer flamboyance of the pre-opening hubbub made him chuckle. The once-innocuous green field had been transformed into a medieval village. A primitive log fence outlined the boundaries of the Faire grounds, set off by the huge arch constructed of woven tree limbs and vines. WELCOME ALL YE WHO ENTER screamed out from a burlap banner displayed over the leaves and stray twigs. Colorful tarps covered the empty booths he had passed last night. Approximately twenty or thirty people in period costume wandered the grounds, setting up tables, hanging signs from tree branches, and preparing for opening day; among them he counted two lances, endless bottles of Guinness, and several swords. Did they have permits for the weapons? One particularly busty young maiden wore a bodice under her tunic, making her look top heavy and lopsided.
Suddenly a realization struck him. Whether they were ogre, fairy, peasant or royalty, all the people walking around looked like they had stepped out of a medieval fairy tale. Just like a fantasy movie. Just like Elfi and Sarah Reisner.
Maybe he was taking the wrong tack. He had been using his research time to look into the past of the women of the Bastille. He had screened DNA, interviewed people, and scoured crime scenes exactly as he had always done on a case. Maybe the key to the case was not the people attending the event, but the event itself.
A convertible of Grim Reapers riding in a Ford Mustang zoomed by, the radio blaring “Angie.” He bet Abbey was going to play a prominent role in this Faire, along with the menagerie of aunts. They were the constant in all the Faires stretching back through time.
The call from Lynn Swanson was just the break he was looking for. Ever since he spoke with Helen, he had sat in his car wondering what to do next. Then, like a gift, Lynn gave him his answer. She was afraid for Abbey’s safety at the hands of the aunts, no matter how much she danced around the issue trying to be ethical. If she wasn’t fearful, she wouldn’t have called him again.
A horn honked and he looked out the window at the truck that had parked alongside his vehicle.
“Hey, stranger,” Janet Gage shouted from the truck. “Don’t you know you’re holding up traffic?”
“Am I?” Mathers joked. “Some cop should give me a ticket.”
“I’m headed up to the Faire site to sign off on extinguisher placement. Want to tag along?”
Mathers smiled. “Yes. Yes I do. I may have to be there a while, though.”
“Sal’s going to be there. He’s grilling burgers for the vendors who will be unloading after dark.” She unlocked the passenger side door and ushered him into the truck.
“Hurry up!” she joked. “Lots to do before the Faire opens in the morning.”
67
They are amiable horses, but terrible conversationalists,” Merlin said as he trotted to Abbey. “I’ve never been one for formalities, but these two are a bit…full of themselves.” He jerked his head toward Fire and Water, who stood staring at Abbey from the center of the corral.
“I wish to be alone,” Abbey said, walking into the barn and barely noticing the warmth of the stone tiles heating her feet.
“So do I,” Merlin answered as he overtook her. “All wishes cannot be granted, however.” He brought his head down to rest on her shoulders, his eye locked onto hers. “At least not immediately.”
She flung the horse off her shoulder. “Do you not understand English? I said I wish to be alone.”
“And I responded in equally good English that not all wishes can be granted. Perhaps your excursion into the Tapestry erased your ability to listen?”
She flew at the horse and grabbed him by the mane. “Do you realize I watched myself burning to death twice?”
The horse stomped in frustration, not wanting to crush the girl’s feet. “I do.”
“Do you realize I have also seen myself drown?”
“I do.”
“Do you realize these are two images I would never wish to see again?”
“Do you realize,” Merlin said, struggling to hold still as Abbey twisted on his mane, “that these are the two most important scenes in history? Dear,” Merlin said through clenched teeth, “would you mind letting go? I do not wish to hurt you, but I feel the urge to trample you right now.”
Abbey let go and touched Merlin’s neck. “
I’m sorry.”
“You are still very strong.” Abbey’s lips went up slightly and Merlin nudged her shoulder. “Ah! I see you still can smile.” Abbey threw her arms around him. “Not in front of them,” he nodded to Fire and Water who stood in the corral glaring at them. “They get jealous.”
“Always talk to yourself?” The voice startled Abbey and she spun around, tripping over Merlin’s hooves.
“Detective Mathers?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but the Faire workers said you’d be up here.”
“I do not mind the interruption.”
“Abbey,” Mathers said, “can we chat?”
She nodded and stood against Merlin, who stood glaring at the detective. “If you don’t mind walking.”
He shook his head and held out his hand to her. She ignored the hand and followed him out of the stable. “I’m not sure how to say this, but we don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll be blunt,” he stammered before continuing. “Are you getting along with your aunts? Are they...good to you?”
“Why do you ask, Detective?” He stopped and she followed suit. Merlin, who was following too closely, ran into her and she had to flail to keep upright. “Are you concerned for me, or the case?”
She thought she saw a flicker of a smile before he answered. “I’m always concerned about people’s safety.”
“Safety?”
He paused, weighing his answer. “If anything is happening that causes you to feel…scared…would you tell me?”
“Do you care?”
“I do.”
Abbey nodded. “I see. You are a man as well as a law enforcement officer.”
He grinned. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to protect.”
“From what Aunt Livia tells me, your reputation is well-protected.” “Oh?” He sounded shocked.
It was her turn to grin. “Aunt Livia…let us say that nobody learns anything about this family without my Aunt Livia finding out.” His smile faltered as he considered this. “I know much more about you.” “That…probably isn’t a good thing for a cop to hear.” “No,” she agreed.
“So…Abbey.” He leaned close to her. “I don’t know much about your family, but I do know this: They’re involved with these bodies somehow.” He studied her face for a reaction but she stared at him blankly, a model of neutrality. “Well, if you need help, or want to tell me anything, here.” He handed her a business card. “Please call. My cell number is on the back.”
He paused for a moment and thought he saw a flash of something across her face. He leaned in to her. “Abbey?” The girl looked at him with a vague, distant expression. “I’ll figure out what’s going on sooner or later.”
She nodded and turned back to the horse.
Reluctantly, he headed back towards the Faire grounds feeling more helpless than he had in a long time. He hated grasping at straws.
68
Robert shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for the damned detective to move away from Abbey. How long had that vile man been speaking to her? It seemed like hours, although barely an hour had passed since Joshua dropped him off at the intersection and he nearly died beneath the wheels of the convertible full of Grim Reapers. Disgusting costumes, but an idea struck him as they drove past: If he donned a black cloak, anyone who caught a glimpse of his face would see the face of a woman! He couldn’t resist the deliciousness of wearing two disguises and set about separating a costume from its owner. After several minutes of arguing with the pimply teenager, he decided to be done with the bickering and kill the lad when the young man decided to sell the cloak for a hundred dollars. The transaction left Robert feeling empty. He hadn’t killed anything in days and the youth cheated him out of a kill.
He hadn’t wanted to bury another body anyway.
He feared for a moment that the treacherous bitch, Livia, spotted him as she conversed with a group of vendors, but his luck held. Just as he was about to cut back towards the Bastille, he noticed Detective Mathers.
Gambling that the detective was not here for a social visit, he followed the man under the ropes defining the Faire’s boundaries and into the woods. Just as he suspected, the detective led him to Abbey. He hadn’t anticipated the two of them talking for long and he felt himself growing impatient as he spied on them from the trees next to the stable. At last they parted and Robert re-covered his head with the cloak’s hood, placed the piece of Tapestry inside his cleavage, grabbed the knife in one hand and the syringe of the Doctor’s concoction in the other. Thus prepared, he bolted towards Abbey.
What the hell was he thinking? Mathers stepped under the rope strung between the trees and entered the flurry of activity around the Market Square, which would be the center of commerce when it opened to the public in the morning. From this square, the patrons could move left to purchase handmade goods, watch the wandering artists perform, or buy food. Veering to the right would enable them to observe the sewing circle where the women of the Bastille sang period songs and demonstrated quilting techniques. Mathers leaned up against a huge old oak tree and pondered his discussion with Abbey. Wasn’t it time to admit that he was less obsessed with Abbey’s safety than he was with uncovering the truth? Could he stop asking himself so many questions?
No. He was a detective and asking questions was second nature. He couldn’t explain why, but he suddenly needed to talk to her again. He turned and retraced his steps under the ropes. He picked up his pace as he headed back towards the stable. Within minutes, he found himself running.
Water smelled the interloper when Robert was a few yards from Abbey. The horse reared back, hooves kicking the air. They would have hit their target, but Immortal blood gave Robert the edge he needed to dodge the horse’s legs and to come within striking distance of Abbey.
“Abbey! Run!” Merlin shouted as Robert came up next to Merlin’s rear flank. With inhuman speed, Robert sank the knife into Merlin’s hind end and Merlin screamed, stumbling backwards as his hind leg collapsed under him.
Robert looked up and saw Abbey hesitate atop Water. The pause was the opening Robert needed. Gripping the syringe tightly, he grabbed her leg. She kicked at him, but he held her shin and plunged the syringe into Abbey’s leg. He uttered the Spell of Passing and the two of them disappeared into the Tapestry.
Mathers froze, unable to believe what he had just seen.
One minute, the Grim Reaper had been running towards Abbey and her horse; the next, they disappeared.
What the hell was going on here?
Eleanor screamed as a bolt of pain shot through her. “The Tapestry’s been breached!” she screamed when she found her voice again. “Abbey’s gone into the Tapestry.” Sounds of hounds braying echoed through the house and Tomyris entered the office followed by the dogs, Ruth, Boo and Zen. Eleanor looked up and motioned for Tomyris to sit down. “Shut them up,” she said, pointing to the dogs. Turning to Ruth, Eleanor continued. “Ruth, dear, where was Abbey when she crossed over?”
“The stable,” Tomyris said, putting her iPod into her pants pocket.
“Merlin is with her.”
“The stable?” Eleanor demanded. Tomyris gestured to the dogs. “Of course.”
“Merlin speaks canine. The dogs, however, are not so fluent at horse,” Tomyris began. Eleanor cut her off.
“Boo-”
Boudicca was already out the door and into the hallway. Eleanor turned to the other women. “Tomyris, send the dogs to Merlin. Find out what happened. Ruth—” she turned to the crying woman, “dear, can you please alert Livia?” Ruth nodded and trotted out of the room behind the hounds.
“This is Robert’s work. He has taken her,” Zenobia said, sitting down at the desk. “It’s hopeless.”
“Dear, if that is all you have to say,” Eleanor said, heading for the doorway, “then it is best we hear only silence.”
69
When Abbey awoke, she lay naked between the sheets of a wide canopy bed, thinking that she had urinated on herself.
Her head pounded, her thighs quivered like jelly, and she felt as if she were going to vomit.
She sat up and immediately regretted it. Her vision blurred, her head swam, and blood pounded through her ears. After her nausea passed, she slowly looked around. She lay within a castle. Heavy wooden furniture filled every inch of the room and tapestries hung on the walls of the cavernous room. From her vantage point in bed, she could see out the great arched window and into some kind of public square.
She scanned the floor and saw no clothes, no robe or anything with which to cover her nakedness. She wrapped the bedsheet around her as she stood up, making sure to move slowly to keep the nausea under control.
She inched her way to the window and her blood ran cold. The familiar pyre of wood and burning stake stood just yards away.
“Ah! You are awake!” a voice said from behind her in a thick French accent. She swung around to see a handsome, dark-haired man carrying a silver tray. He wore a finely detailed doublet, an embroidered shirt, wide leather belt, and sturdy leather boots. Around his waist hung a large knife sheathed in a fine scabbard. “I figured you may be hungry, my love.”
Abbey stared at the man. She had seen him before, but she couldn’t summon his name from the recesses of her mind. The fuzzy balls of memory bounced through her mind, but they slipped through a fragmented past. “Who are you?”
He smiled and the sight of his perfectly white teeth struck another bell within her.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember me.” He shook his head and placed the tray on the dresser next to the door. He backed up to the entry door, never turning his back on Abbey.
Abbey’s blood ran cold as she heard the sound of the lock sliding into place. “Why am I a prisoner?”
The man held out his arms. “No, my love!” He wrapped her in a warm embrace. “They took your memory and with it, they took us. My love, it is me—Robert. You are my wife. And…” he laid his hand on her stomach, “at long last, you now carry our child.”
Guild Of Immortal Women Page 20
