Secrets in Blood: Lake Of Sins, #2

by L. S. O'Dea

  “As of right now, no one knows anything. We’ll keep it that way,” said Buddy.

  He took a deep breath. “You’re right. No need to panic.” He smirked and shook his head as he sat and pulled paper and pen from the desk. “Burrowing wasps. That Tim is a real joker. Those are nasty little creatures.” He scribbled a note and then looked at Buddy. “How did he even catch them? It’s not like they sell them at the store.”

  “I would have paid to see that. I bet he has quite a few stings,” said Buddy.

  “Before you go to the encampment, take my carriage to Benedictine with this letter.” He slid the paper into an envelope, sealed it and handed it to Buddy. “But first, take a couple of Grunts along and cart away the wasp infected carriage.”

  “What do you want me to do with it?” asked Buddy.

  “Burn it, of course.” If he destroyed the evidence, no one could find out what Tim had done.

  “The Grunts are going to love that job,” said Buddy as he walked to the door and stopped. “What if Benedictine wants his old carriage?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s in the note. It seems that one of our Grunts accidentally rammed his carriage.”

  Buddy raised his eyebrows. “Who was driving, may I ask?”

  “Reese,” he said, trying to suppress a smile.

  “She’s going to love that.” Buddy chuckled.

  “Oh, before you leave, send Reese to buy me a new carriage.”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE LATE MORNING SUN beat through the window, warming Hugh’s shoulders as he sat, tapping a pen on the desk. Buddy should have been back by now. Time was very important in this situation. If Tim had done something else, he needed to get in front of it before it ruined his career, his life.

  His mother burst into the library, her small, frail frame tense with anger. “Hugh Matthew Truent, what do you think you’re doing keeping my House Servant under guard?”

  Little Sarah, Tim and Sue followed her into the room.

  “Lovely to see you too, Mom.” The time for confrontation was now. He stood and held a chair for her. “Please, have a seat.”

  “It would be nice to see you, if you weren’t torturing my Tim,” she said as she sat.

  He rolled his eyes. Her Tim. It had always been that way. Tim had been treated like a member of the family instead of a Servant, except when his father was home. He’d quickly learned that lesson. His father had been fast to dole out punishment for what he deemed behavior not becoming an Almighty.

  Tim stood behind Mom’s chair. As with most House Servants, his frame was still lean and fit even though he was in his forties. His dark brown hair fell below his collar and had yet to be visited by gray. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, probably to cover the welts from the wasps. There were only a few small, red marks on his hands. He must have worn gloves while capturing the insects.

  Hugh walked to the liquor cabinet, staring at Tim as he spoke. “Anyone care for a drink. You’ll probably need it before we’re done.”

  Little Sarah harrumphed. “It isn’t even lunch yet.”

  “Still prim and proper. I thought life would have tarnished you up a bit, like it has to the rest of us.” He could only stand so much of his sister’s better-than-thou attitude.

  “I don’t use alcohol as a crutch,” said Little Sarah. “That’s something that only the males in our family do.”

  “Are you comparing me to Father?” His voice was low with anger. He strived every day to be as little like his father as possible.

  “Make mine a double,” said Mom.

  “Really, Mother, do you think you should?” Little Sarah straightened in her chair.

  He grinned at Little Sarah as he poured a drink for their mother. Mom was a source of great annoyance to his sister, always had been.

  “Yes, I do. And don’t go on about my health. I’m dying and rather quickly too, so a glass of whiskey is not going to make any difference.” Mom accepted the drink and took a sip. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. So what if Tim visits a friend now and again.”

  “Are you also aware of his other nighttime activities?” His mother probably knew everything about Tim’s life but he had to ask.

  “What are you talking about?” Mom patted Tim’s hand.

  “Why doesn’t Tim tell us?” He took a long swallow of his drink.

  Tim remained silent, staring straight ahead.

  He mentally counted to ten. The House Servant’s ability to completely ignore him pricked his temper like nothing else. That was probably why Tim did it so often. “Do you have anything that you wish to explain? Give your side of the events.”

  Tim still did not speak.

  “Okay. If you won’t talk, I will.” He held up a finger. “First, I know that you’ve been visiting a hut in the East Side Producers’ encampment.” He held up another finger. “Second, I know that you’ve been visiting either a Producer called Millie or one called Remy. I’ll know which one when Buddy returns.”

  Tim didn’t even blink.

  Was it only an odd attraction between a Producer and a House Servant? He held up another finger. “Third, I know that this has been going on for quite some time. Months.”

  Tim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

  He suppressed a smile. Tim didn’t realize that his body housed the latest in tracking software. During initial testing he’d needed more subjects. So, unknown to his mother, he’d installed the new system in her Servants as well as his own. It had worked out more advantageous than he’d imagined. He held up another finger. “Fourth, I know that you visited the Lake of Sins Parking Garage last night.”

  Tim stood a little straighter.

  That got his attention. “Coincidentally, a carriage there was found to have been overrun with burrowing wasps.”

  Little Sarah gasped.

  “That can happen naturally,” said Mom.

  He walked toward Tim. “The problem with working with those creatures is that they will burrow into anything even flesh.” He grabbed Tim’s wrist, pushing up his sleeve.

  The House Servant’s arm was covered with red, oozing welts.

  “I’m calling the doctor,” said Mom.

  “Don’t. I’m fine.” Tim pulled away, pushing his shirt down.

  “I’m sure he had a good reason.” Mom’s chin jutted out stubbornly

  He ran his hand through his hair. She didn’t realize how serious this was. “Tim, I’d really like to hear your side. You are”—he stopped himself before saying family—“a good Servant to Mom. This offense is not minor. It is punishable by law and all the power lies in the hands of the offended party.”

  “I’ll replace the carriage,” said Mom. “That should settle it.”

  There was no reason to tell her that he’d already done that. “For anyone else, perhaps, but the Almighty who owns the carriage is Benedictine Remore.”

  Mom’s lips pursed in concentration and then realization set in like a slap to the face. “No. He’s vile. Cruel and—”

  “Vindictive.” He tipped his head. “Just my point.”

  “I can handle Benedictine.” Mom sat a little straighter in her chair.

  “You’re right. You have the friends and position to handle Benedictine but what about once you’re dead?” He walked back to the desk. He was tired of this game. He wanted answers.

  “Hugh, don’t say that,” said Little Sarah.

  “Well, she is dying. She tells us that enough. It shouldn’t bother her to hear it. Right, Mother?”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed.

  He may have pushed too hard. His mom was sharp. He’d better tread lightly if he wanted any information. “Benedictine will insist on taking Tim.”

  “I won’t let him.” Mom grasped Tim’s hand.

  “You may be able to stop him while you’re alive but after you pass, who will champion your Tim then? Little Sarah?” He refilled his glass.

  “I will not,” exclaimed Little Sarah. “I don’t want
him coming to my house at all now.”

  “I always knew you were a nitwit but I thought you’d do the right thing in the end.” Mom stared at Little Sarah, the hurt clear in her green eyes.

  Little Sarah opened her mouth to speak and then shut it.

  “I guess you need me. Don’t you, Mother?” His sister had played her hand as if he’d coached her. He fought back a smug smile. People were so easy to manipulate that it was almost no fun at all.

  Mom took a deep breath and then turned to him. “Are you going to make me beg?”

  His mother had never begged for anything. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “Please, you have to help Tim. I’m begging you,” she said, without an ounce of pleading in her tone.

  He barked out a laugh. “You need to work on your delivery.”

  Mom cocked her eyebrow and managed, somehow, to look down her nose at him which was an amazing feat since she sat and he stood. He uncrossed his arms. That one look sent him flying back to his boyhood. He’d do anything for her. She’d always been there for him and he’d never been a failure in her eyes as he had been in his father’s.

  “If he tells me the truth, I’ll do what I can.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

  “That’s not enough,” said Mom.

  “That’s the best I can offer without knowing what he’s done. I may not be able to cover it up.”

  There was a knock. Sue, who was stationed by the entry, sniffed once and opened the door. “It’s Buddy.”

  “I need to speak with you in private,” said Buddy as he walked into the room.

  Sue wouldn’t say anything and since it was about Tim, Mom probably already knew. The only one who might speak outside this room would be his sister. She would tell her husband. “Little Sarah, leave us.”

  “What?” She looked at him and then her mother. “I have every right—”

  “Now!” By the look on Buddy’s face, this was important. He didn’t have time to placate her.

  Little Sarah’s face fell. She stood, her back ramrod straight and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  He frowned. He’d apologize later. “Go on, Buddy.”

  “A young female Producer escaped the encampment last night and there is the possibility that she was involved with the killing of five Producers,” said Buddy.

  Tim glanced at Buddy and then quickly looked back at the wall.

  “Please tell me she didn’t live with Millie and Remy,” he said.

  “No. I mean, yes,” said Buddy. “Remy does not live there. He only visits. Millie and Trinity live in the hut.”

  “So, not only did our little Timothy sneak out at night and destroy a carriage owned by an Almighty, but he also helped a Producer escape, a suspected murderous Producer.” He wanted to pull out his hair. This was bad, all sorts of bad. If Tim did help this Producer, the matter was out of his hands. Thank Araldo that he’d sent Little Sarah out of the room, she and her family did not need to be involved in this. “Sue, tell my sister to go home. I’ll contact her when I can.”

  Sue left the room.

  “Benedictine will be at the encampment shortly. The Lead Producers are hoping the young female is hiding somewhere in camp, but so far no luck,” said Buddy.

  He took a deep, calming breath. This was a mess. He could not cover up the escape. His only hope was to hide Tim’s involvement. “How old was this Producer?”

  “Probably around thirteen or fourteen. This was her List year,” said Buddy.

  Tim’s jaw was tense and his shoulders stiff. For some reason speaking of the female was pissing him off.

  “Hmmm.” He tapped his finger against his lips again. “So, Tim, are you visiting both the mother and the daughter or only one of them?” Tim didn’t seem the type to be involved with someone that much younger, but it could happen.

  Tim was a taut as a bowstring. A few more pokes and he would fire.

  “Thirteen. Is she sweet? Her skin must be smooth and firm, her body supple.” He winked at the House Servant.

  In a flash, Tim sprang, striking out with his claws and managing a slice across Hugh’s cheek before Buddy knocked the Servant across the room. The two tangled and fought, snarling and grunting. Tim was fast but the Guard outweighed him.

  He touched his face and winced. Damn, that hurt. They should all be declawed.

  “Stop it, stop it,” screamed Mom. “Hugh, do something.”

  Buddy was winning. There was no reason to interfere. Let Tim take a beating first. When he didn’t move, she approached the fray.

  “Mom, stop.” One glancing blow from either of them could cripple her.

  She ignored him.

  “Stand down, Buddy,” he said. “Now!”

  Buddy backed away from the floored Tim, limping a little. The House Servant stood and cracked his neck from side to side. Both of them had bruises and cuts on their faces and hands. Poor Buddy would feel this fight tomorrow. He should have stopped it right away. However, by the almost frantic expression on his mom’s face, it was time to push forward, not retreat.

  “Tim will tell me everything, or I’ll let Buddy kill him.”

  “Please, Tim. Please, tell him.” Mom lovingly touched the Servant’s bruised face and started to cry.

  Tim helped her back to her chair and knelt beside her. “Stop crying. Please stop. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

  “I know.” She sobbed harder.

  “I’ll tell him everything about last night as long as he promises not to do anything that could harm Millie.”

  “Hugh?” She looked up at him through her tears.

  “Fine.” He shouldn’t agree without more information, but he’d do anything to keep his mother from crying.

  Tim stood. “Millie has been my mate for years.”

  “Go on.” That was surprising. He hadn’t realized that House Servants had it in their nature to be faithful to one mate, but it still didn’t explain about the escaped Producer.

  “Trinity escaped into the forest. She is...was supposed to return last night. One of the Lead Producers found out she was missing and was going to report her. I destroyed the carriage to buy her time to come back home.”

  “She went into the forest on her own? Why? Wasn’t she frightened?” There really wasn’t anything dangerous in the woods. Shit, besides Gaar and Mirra, the last Handler and Tracker, there wasn’t anything bigger than a fox, but it was a closely guarded lie perpetuated by the Almightys to keep the other classes in line. Only the upper echelons of the Almightys were informed of the Necessary Truths. He’d been told after he’d been bestowed with the title of ‘High.’ If the other classes were starting to disbelieve this lie, then they had bigger issues on their hands than a missing Producer.

  “There was a...situation between her and a couple of teenagers. She’s never really fit in with the others.” Tim’s faced reddened and he shot a quick glance at Mom.

  “I need to know everything, or I won’t help.” They were hiding something.

  Mom nodded at Tim.

  “She’s going to be on the Harvest List. She left to find out where the teenagers are taken when they are removed from camp.” Tim looked at him expectantly.

  If Tim didn’t know what Producers were used for, he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. It was odd that his mother hadn’t. He tried to catch her eye but she remained focused on Tim.

  “How do you know she’s going to be on the List? The announcements aren’t made for another couple of weeks.”

  “She’s not like the others.” Tim glanced at Mom again.

  “I still don’t understand. Why did you risk everything to buy this Trinity some time? Didn’t you realize how much trouble you’d get in for damaging an Almighty’s property?” He ran his hand through his hair. “Is this Millie’s first offspring?” He’d heard that Producers often got very attached to their first born.

  “Go on, Tim,” coaxed Mom.

  Tim sighed. “No. Her las
t. We will not have any more children.”

  “We?” He couldn’t have heard correctly.

  “Trinity is my daughter.”

  “No. That’s impossible.” He started to smile. Tim had to be joking.

  “You think you know everything, but you don’t,” said Tim, smiling wearily. “High Hugh, the genius. The prodigy. Well, there is a lot in this world that you know nothing about.”

  Tim was messing with him. “Those from different classes can mate but they cannot produce viable offspring.” He began to pace. “It’s a proven fact. You’re mistaken.”

  “I’m not mistaken,” said Tim.

  “How do you know that this Millie didn’t lie to you?” Poor besotted Tim. Millie must have passed off another Producer’s offspring as his.

  “She wouldn’t do that. I am her only mate. The children are mine.”

  “Children? There are more?”

  “Were. Some were taken and others died years ago when the Terrible Sickness swept through the encampment.”

  Mom squeezed Tim’s hand.

  “What about Remy?” asked Buddy. “He is her assigned mate. I’m sure that they...”

  Tim stepped toward Buddy, but Mom kept a hold of his hand.

  “She does not mate with Remy. He is...”

  Mom visibly tightened her hold.

  “This does not leave the room,” said Tim.

  Hugh nodded slightly. Whatever it was, Mom was concerned.

  “Remy is...well...not attracted to females,” said Tim.

  “Ahhh.” Those types existed in all the classes, most of the time it was overlooked, although in a Producer it would be a death sentence. Still, he needed proof of the offspring’s parentage. “If this is true, I need to see...your daughter.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” said Tim. “She was supposed to come back.” He looked to Buddy. “You said that there were deaths at the camp?”

  “Five Producers all slaughtered,” said the Guard.

  “Do you know who?” asked Tim.

  Buddy glanced at Hugh before answering. “Three Lead Producers. Hector, Hap and Troy.”

  Tim’s face paled. “Troy was the Lead Producer who was going to sound the alarm. I overheard him talking to the hairless Guard yesterday morning when I was leaving the camp. He knew Trinity was gone and was going to tell Benedictine.”