Summoned to Thirteenth Grave (Charley Davidson #13) Page 21

  The house wasn’t supposed to catch fire, but it did. His body burned, saving the taxpayers hundreds of thousands of dollars in trials and attorney fees.

  I rematerialized beside my husband.

  Reyes took hold of my arm. “You should have let me do that.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Because you’re the dark one?” I laced my fingers into his. “Maybe I’m a little dark, too.”

  “I know you. You’ll regret taking a human life.”

  “Yeah, well, not today.”

  He and Garrett carried Belinda and Molly to safety. They placed them on the steps to the Village Hall, and the two girls cried and held on to each other while Garrett grabbed a blanket and some water.

  Belinda’s sobs were cavernous, deeply agonizing. I knelt beside them, not sure I should’ve been the one to tell them, but they needed to know.

  “Belinda, Meiko is alive.”

  She slowly turned toward me, and the look she gave me bordered on insulting. She thought I was as crazy as her abductor.

  “He’s in a coma, hon. Your abductor—who was not Reyes Alexander Farrow, by the way—placed him in a Dumpster. A janitor found him and called the police, but he wasn’t gone. He’s still alive.”

  “His name was Hale,” she said, clearly going into shock. “Hale Walker.”

  “Yes. And now he’s gone, and your son is waiting for you.”

  Gratitude with a healthy dose of disbelief swirled inside her. “Thank you,” she said, simply not sure what to believe.

  Who could blame her? She’d been through hell with no one there to save her.

  “You’re welcome. I’m going to see what we can do about getting you to him.”

  Uncle Bob pulled up with about a dozen cops and the entire fire department, followed quickly by Kit and her gang.

  Garrett waved everybody back, explaining to Uncle Bob that he needed a hazmat crew, the smoke was toxic, and we didn’t know what Hale used.

  His mother kicked and screamed when Reyes forced her to the other side of the road, away from the smoke.

  I looked at her but spoke to Uncle Bob. “Arrest her.”

  “On what charges?” he asked.

  “Taking the cold, heartless bitch thing to a whole new level.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that’s an arrest-able offense.”

  “How about the fact that she helped her son keep three children locked in a box for years?”

  He nodded. “That’ll do it.”

  Ubie took the woman to his SUV and put her in back so they could take her in for questioning.

  “He’s still in there,” she said, scanning the burning house for any sign of her son as firefighters hustled to get it contained. We were too close to the bosque to let it get out of control.

  I took a dark pleasure in telling her, “No, he’s not. He’s with his father now.”

  Her face morphed into one of shock and indignation.

  She wanted to hit me with her broom again.

  I wanted her to try.

  But just to make sure all my t’s were dotted and i’s were crossed, I raised my hand and marked her soul. She was now destined to join her son the moment her soul left her body, and I felt the better for it.

  Uncle Bob locked her in the backseat of his SUV and set a uniform to guard her, then went to help where he could. I could see exhaustion on every face there. The town was being torn apart, and now this. We were definitely not helping the situation.

  Amber, Quentin, and I had set up camp on the steps of the Los Ranchos Village Hall as the emergency crews worked. Garrett and Reyes helped out where they could as well. Watching them was the most fun I’d had all day. And Belinda and Molly were sitting in the back of an ambulance as an EMT checked them over.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t much of a breeze, so the smoke was drifting up and away from the residential area. And away from my two camp mates. Cookie would kill me if I gave her daughter cancer from whatever was burning in that fire after bringing her back to life.

  Kit walked into my line of sight. I watched as she searched the area, only stopping when she spotted me. She shook her head as she walked up. “Davidson, one of these days, you’re going to have to tell me how you keep doing this shit.”

  “One of these days,” I said, coughing into a blanket an EMT gave me, making it look good. “Can we get Belinda and Molly to Meiko? I think seeing them, hearing their voices, would help him.”

  “Or maybe you would?” she asked, suspicion narrowing her lids.

  “Does it matter if it’s them or me?”

  “No. I suppose not.”

  * * *

  I rode with Molly to the hospital and called Cook on the way, telling her everything that happened as succinctly and metaphorically as I could, since I had an emergency tech sitting right beside me. But I wanted to keep her in the loop. And to warn her we were all a bit smoke damaged, but no one had cancer that I could detect.

  “Oh,” she said, surprised. “Well, that’s always good to hear.”

  “Right?”

  “But honestly, hon, you can’t leave the house without causing an international incident.”

  “This one was totally domestic. And it wasn’t my fault.”

  “Mm-hm.” She only sounded skeptical. I could tell she was happy we were all okay.

  Molly had never been outside, and she’d never been away from her mother. The spaciousness of planet Earth and the absence of her mother was causing her blood pressure to rise, so I held her hand and we sang songs together.

  When we got to the hospital, word had spread about who was coming in. There were already reporters at the entrance. Security had to push them back to get us inside, and they escorted us directly to Meiko’s room.

  Belinda’s hand flew over her mouth when she saw her son. After thinking he’d died last week, she could hardly believe her eyes.

  I looked down at him as he stood beside his mother, trying to get her attention.

  “Mommy, I’m right here.” He tugged on her shirt, and while to him it felt very real, Belinda didn’t feel a thing.

  I whispered to him, “I’m going to play with your toes.”

  He giggled and waited for me to chase him. Instead, I reached over and touched his big toe.

  Belinda had draped herself over him, his body tiny in the huge hospital bed. Molly stood beside her mother, not sure what to do or who all these people were, when Meiko’s lids slowly opened.

  “Mommy?” he asked, confused and bewildered.

  “Meiko!” She hugged him to her while the hospital staff tried to shoo her away to check his vitals.

  It was a miracle, after all.

  Still, Belinda’s mind had been fractured after everything she’d been through. I needed to get them out of town and fast.

  “Kit, I need them released. Now.”

  She started to argue but stopped herself and nodded instead. We’d both seen all the infected when we arrived. This family had been through enough.

  I walked over to Belinda. “Sweetheart, can I talk to you?”

  “Anything,” she said, speaking to me at last.

  “I know you were abducted and were kept locked in a room for ten years, but we’re going to have to abduct you again.”

  She tilted her head to the side, confused.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of what has been happening.”

  “He told me a little bit. We weren’t allowed to have a radio or TV.”

  No outside contact. He wanted them completely isolated. Completely at his mercy. Dependent upon him for everything.

  “But he would tell me things. He said there was an epidemic.”

  “Yes, and you’ve been through enough. We have to get you to safety.”

  “But, wait, my mother. She needs to know.”

  “I have my assistant on it now. One of the guys from the scene, Garrett, is picking her up as we speak. They’re going to meet us at our headquarters, and we’ll fly you all to safety tonight.”

>   “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Look,” Meiko said. “I can spell my name.” He painstakingly finger-spelled his name, struggling with the K but pulling it off to nigh perfection.

  He remembered.

  “I want to do that,” Molly said, fascinated.

  “All I know in your name is M and O.”

  “Here.” I held up my hand. Even though Quentin should have been teaching her—it was his language, after all—I said, “I’ll show you.”

  By the time we got back to HQ, Belinda’s mother, Geri, was there. They hugged for twenty minutes before Belinda introduced her mother to her children. A part of her was ashamed, as though she’d done something wrong, but her mother had no such qualms.

  She couldn’t have been happier, the gratitude shimmering in her eyes so genuine, it warmed even the darkest, coldest corners of my heart. I’d just committed murder. I had to have at least a few dark, cold corners.

  * * *

  “You guys were amazing,” I said to Amber and Quentin later. “If not for the work you did, we might never have found Meiko’s family.”

  They blushed and took turns socking each other in the arm.

  “You’ll be getting our bill,” Quentin said.

  “Oh, didn’t you hear?” My expression filled with sympathy. “I lost all my money at the card table last night. Sorry.”

  “Fifty billion dollars?” Amber asked.

  “Hey, either go big or go home. That’s my motto. Also, I suck at gambling.”

  They laughed and went in search of the kids, wanting to get to know Meiko in the flesh and his sister, Molly.

  I went in search of a sister myself. One Miss Gemma Vi Davidson. I found her in the kitchen, talking to Reyes as he cooked. In an apron. With utensils.

  I lost myself in the spectacular image before me for a few moments when Gem asked me, “Did you need something, or are you just going to ogle your husband all evening?”

  Reyes chuckled as he stir-fried something delectable. And hopefully edible. Soon.

  “I like ogling. I’m good at it. I feel like we should stick with what we’re good at.”

  Gemma deflated. “There goes my shot at the Olympics, then.”

  Who knew my sister had a sense of humor?

  Cookie was helping Reyes. “Oh, I have some info on your serial killer.”

  “Another one?” Gem asked, taking her turn at ogling.

  “No,” I said, swiping a carrot. “Same one, but he’s not a killer, serial or otherwise.”

  “It’s on my desk.” Cookie gaped at Reyes. “Seriously? That’s your secret? sriracha?”

  He shook his head and held up a jar of red chili paste. “Better than sriracha.”

  “There’s nothing better than sriracha.”

  He chuckled. “Okay.” Holding up a spoon, he let her taste his masterpiece, literally hand-feeding her. At least that was how it looked when Uncle Bob walked into the room.

  She moaned and made little whimper noises. I felt like I were watching porn. Reyes would be so great in porn.

  “Hey,” I said, ready to let him know of his imminent career change when Gemma pointed out the fact that I had a smidgeon of drool on the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away, then gestured for her to follow me. Now was as good a time as any.

  We went to her room and sat on her cot.

  “This seems serious,” she said.

  “It is. It’s just—” I paused, cleared my throat, and began again. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Gem. More than anything, I’m so sorry.”

  Gemma went completely still, her face the picture of anxiety.

  “There’s a reason you haven’t heard from Wyatt.”

  One hand rose to touch her mouth, a nervous gesture. “Is he . . . ?”

  “No. He’ll be fine. He needs to recover, but he’ll be okay.”

  Her boyfriend had been injured while trying to stop a crowd of looters, but I’d been assured he’d be fine.

  I reached forward and took her hand. “Gemma, first I want you to know, there’s a way I can see all your memories. Even the ones from that night that I’m afraid you’re still repressing.”

  “What does this have to do with Wyatt?”

  “Nothing and everything. We have to stop the Shade from expanding any more. It’s growing bigger every day. Consuming more every day. And for a reason I cannot possibly fathom, I need to know exactly what happened the night Mom died.”

  “But I told you what I remember.”

  “I think there may be more.”

  She rose and walked to the window. “No. If there were more, I’d know.”

  “Gemma, you’re a psychiatrist. You of all people know how the mind works. How it plays tricks on us. How it wants us to believe one thing when the exact opposite is true.”

  She shrugged and sat back down. “So, what, you’re going to do the Vulcan mind meld?”

  I laughed. “In a way. I just want you to know that I love you and that . . . that you can be with Mom and Dad. You can cross through me.”

  “Cross through you?”

  My chin shook as grief took hold. “I’m sorry, Gem. The female client who attacked you? She was infected. She . . .” I choked on a sob, allowing the loss of my only sister, the emotion of that loss that I’d been holding on to tooth and splintered nail, to wash over me at last. “She killed you.”

  “What?” She stood and backed away from me in disbelief.

  “Think about it.”

  “No. No, you’re wrong.” She shook her head and thought back. “Carolyn came in and . . . and I fell. She pushed me, and I fell. That was it. I was knocked out.”

  Tears were running freely down my face, the pain I felt excruciating. “I’m sorry. She . . . you died of multiple stab wounds before she took her own life. It wasn’t her fault. It was—”

  I couldn’t even finish the sentiment. The truth. It was my fault. I’d killed my own sister in a roundabout, totally fucked-up way.

  Uncle Bob had been dealing with her death, the autopsy, the police reports, and the funeral arrangements, while Reyes and I tried to figure out how to close what we’d opened. How to finish what we’d started. And I felt no closer to a solution than I had two days ago.

  I didn’t understand what any of it meant. Even with Pandu’s help and Garrett’s translations, none of it made sense. The box, the gold flakes, the heart, my mother’s death. Nothing connected. Nothing fit together. I liked puzzles as much as the next girl, but this was getting ridiculous.

  “Yours?” she asked, her voice full of venom.

  I dropped my gaze.

  She bounced back and glared at me. “Damn right it is. I am so telling Mom.” She stood up and started to walk through me.

  “Wait.” I held up both hands, but it was too late. She’d crossed, and a thousand images hit me at once. A million memories.

  I fought to swim through them, to get to the one I needed. But before I got far, Gemma did something no other departed had every done to me. I didn’t know a departed could do it to me. She backed out. She put herself in reverse and came back out of my light.

  “Gemma,” I said, appalled. Not sure if she was allowed to do that.

  “What the hell?” she asked, her voice shrill with anger.

  “What?”

  “I’m supposed to be a part of Beep’s army?”

  “Wait, you saw my memories?”

  “Yes, and I will never be the same, thank you very much.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s disturbing.”

  “You were going to send me to the other side.”

  “Do you think everyone sees my memories when they cross?”

  “I’m supposed to be the healer.”

  I snapped out of it. “Gem, that was before we set loose a hostile dimension on this plane. We’ve changed history.”

  “Like hell you have.” She crossed her arms. “I’m staying put.”

  “Gemma, I’m convinced that most if not all of Beep’s army
has already crossed. I think that when she needs them, when she needs you, she’ll be able to summon you, just like I can.”

  “But—”

  “Gem,” I said gently, “go. Be with Mom and Dad . . . and Denise. And good luck with that.” I snorted so loud I scared Artemis. She rose out of the floor, believing I’d summoned her, growling and barking. I rubbed her ears to calm her down, then put her back to bed. So to speak.

  Gemma glared at me. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Sadly, I am.”

  “Fine. I’m still telling Mom.” Then she marched through me. Again.

  This go-around, I got a foothold on her memories. Focused on different aspects of her life. And gasped aloud.

  “You kissed Freddie James?” I yelled into the celestial realm. “On the mouth? While I was seeing him?”

  I could’ve sworn I heard a giggle all the way from the other side of eternity.

  And then, when I least expected it, it was there.

  The vending machine. The waiting room. Uncle Bob sleeping on an orange sofa.

  That’s when she heard it. Gemma woke up to a strange sound and looked over at Ubie. He hadn’t roused, so she stood and walked out into the hall, her tiny footsteps barely audible against the cold tile.

  Nurses were rushing into the delivery room, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the huge demon with shiny black scales and razor-sharp teeth as long as her arm that glued her to the spot. And it was fighting her mother.

  It threw her against the wall, only she went through it. She disappeared for a split second before the demon wrapped its claws around her ankle and pulled her back into the hall. It slashed its claws and opened her up, light spilling out of her, draining her of her life force.

  But she wasn’t real. It was only her spirit. She couldn’t die, right?

  Our mother, in a desperate act, screamed a name. Gemma couldn’t make it out, but a second later, an angel appeared, massive brown wings spread, the tips touching the walls on either side of him.

  He was young, around twenty, strong with light brown hair and olive skin. He was magnificent. And also too late.

  With one slash of his gigantic sword, the angel killed the demon. He plunged it into the demon’s heart while Mom dragged herself to Gemma. Gemma stood petrified. Unable to comprehend what she was seeing.