The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death
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marysuevirusTitle: The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death
Chapter Sixty Four: What a Wicked Web We Weave
Fandom: Anita Blake universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of LKH. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
Author's Notes: more nothing bad happens. that's two chapters in a row! i think that's a new record. also. this chapter marks the beginning of the end of the fic. believe it or not, we are nearing the conclusion. what follows is stuff i've had on tap for this fic for... a good long while. there are three or four major plot points to deal with, plus a few smaller ones. then it should be done. are you glad? are you ready for it to be done yet?
The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death - Index Link
Janika frowned when the car came to a halt in the lot outside of The Hanging Gardens. This wasn't their normal date night. And she was pretty sure they weren't due to visit the restaurant again for at least a couple weeks. They went at least once a month, generally so Asher could have Janika try something new the cook had created for the restaurant. Their last visit had been with Aedan and that hadn't been that long ago. So she had to wonder why they were visiting now.
Their driver opened the door and, without saying a word, offered Janika his hand. She took it, casting a glance back at Asher, and allowed the driver to help her from the car. Asher followed after her, settling his hand against the small of her back when he stood beside her. She allowed him to nudge her forward. Together, the two of them made for the door, which was opened from the inside by the hostess. She was a smart, capable woman with touches of grey in her hair and wire rimmed glasses that only accentuated the sharpness of her gaze. She was smiling at them, something Janika hadn't seen her do before. Oh, the woman smiled, but always in a professional manner. This was much more open than she'd ever seen before.
"Asher. Janika. Welcome. Your table awaits you," she said with warmth coloring her words.
"Thank you, Celia," Asher replied as he and Janika stepped past her.
The first thing Janika noticed when they stepped into the small foyer was that it was very quiet inside the restaurant. The Hanging Gardens was always busy, always jammed with people, always filled with cacophonous chatter and soft music. Tonight, there was nothing. Not even a note of music playing over the PA to distract her from the lack of speech. Janika had to wonder just what was going on because she'd never been to The Hanging Gardens when it was silent.
Celia closed the door, the sound of the lock being turned loud in the silence. Janika shot a look to Asher's face, but he was wearing the blank mask that told her absolutely nothing. There were some days when she really hated that face. Part of her insisted that she ask questions and demand answers from him. The other part of her told that first part to shut it, because he wouldn't answer those questions if he didn't want to.
Asher urged her forward, just a small application of pressure to the small of her back with his hand. The two of them stepped into the dining room to find it completely empty. There wasn't a single table occupied. Which was insane, because there was never an empty table inside the place. Something was very definitely going on and she had to wonder just what it was.
They crossed the floor to their normal table, the one with the walls built up around it. Instead of pots of simple greenery, someone had replaced all of the green plants with flowering ones. Janika saw so many different colors and smelled so many different scents that it was unreal. The table was set for two, with a giant crystal vase resting in the center. It was jammed full of roses in a alcove with intimate light. Janika gave Asher a confused look.
He ignored the question in her eyes and helped ease her down into her seat, making sure to push her chair in like a gentleman. Then he turned to Celia and gave her a nod, sending the woman off toward the kitchens. "Asher? What's going on?"
He shifted his attention back to her for a moment, eyes clear and shining with some secret knowledge. The smile he gifted her with was warm and knowing. It was one she couldn't recall ever seeing him use before. And then he turned back to stare in the direction of the kitchen. Janika looked past him to see that Celia had emerged from the back room. And she wasn't alone. There was someone following behind her. Someone who...
"Mama?" Janika asked, voice little more than a faint whisper.
Celia brought her companion to the table. "Your other guest, Asher." And then the hostess was gone, leaving the three of them alone. The new arrival took time to simply stare at them, then a broad smile spread across her face.
"Janika!" Beata said, voice a soft prayer. Janika threw herself from her seat and into her mother's outstretched arms. Beata wrapped them around her daughter and hugged her tight, shoulders shaking as emotion overwhelmed her.
"Mama. Is it really you?" Janika asked, pulling back to stare at her. Beata smiled and nodded, one hand lifting to stroke the length of Janika's hair. Then she was cupping her daughter's face in both hands.
"I've dreamt of this day for so long," she said. Emotion clogged her voice, making her words thick. "I cannot believe its here. Look at you! So grown up!" A flood of Hungarian issued forth, so fast that Janika almost couldn't keep up with it. It had been a long, long time since she'd had cause to speak her native tongue and the disuse had left her brain struggling to catch up.
"Mama. Mama! Slow down. Its been too long," Janika told her. Her mother blushed, the rush of words trickling out as she turned her attention to Asher.
"This is your young man, Janika? He's so handsome," she said. Her words saw a smile touching the corners of Asher's lips.
"I am pleased to finally meet you, Mrs. Odon. Janika speaks highly of you," Asher told her, bending at the waist to offer the woman a bow. He even did her the honor of taking his gaze off her.
"Such manners," Beata glanced at Janika. "Where ever did you find this one? And do you plan on keeping him?"
"Mama," Janika admonished, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. She motioned to the table behind them with one hand as she struggled with finding the best way to inform her mother of Asher's undead status. "Please. Let's sit. I'm sure Asher has planned out an amazing meal for us. His chef is an artist."
Beata nodded and allowed Asher to help her into her seat. She watched with a steady eye as he did the same for Janika, then took his place across the table from Janika. Janika saw her mother's gaze flick to the table, which had place settings before her and her daughter, but not their host. She turned a look on her daughter. "A vámpír?"
Janika felt the urge to defend herself rise to the surface. Especially with her mother using the Hungarian word. She'd known that this part would be hard, but she hadn't thought about how hard. Her mother had lived with vampire hunters from the day she'd gotten married, which had been at the young age of eighteen. Which meant more of her life had been spent around hunters than not. "Yes, Mama. Vámpír."
Beata stared at her, not a single smile on her face. Her expression may as well have been carved from stone as she considered her daughter. As she turned that consideration on Asher. As she pondered the situation at length. Finally, she turned back to Janika. "Does he make you happy, daughter?"
"He does, Mama," Janika told her quietly. She let her eyes slide to Asher so that he could see the truth in them as she spoke her next words. "I love him."
Beata considered that a moment before turning to Asher. "And you, vámpír? Does my daughter make you happy?"
The smile Asher gave was soft, barely an uplift of the corner of his lips. His eyes focused on Janika as he spoke, let her see the light within them. "She does. I love her more than life." The words filled her with a rush of joy and surprise. She wanted to get up and go to him, wanted to settle in his lap and hug him and kiss him until there was no breath left in her chest.
Beata was silent, as if measuring his words against some internal ruler to find the truth in them. Moments passed and tension pulled Janika's shoulders tight. All of this, Asher's search for Beata and the reunion between mother and daughter, would all be for naught if Beata couldn't or wouldn't accept Janika's decision. She loved her mother deeply, had missed her so much since she'd left her family and the only life she'd known behind. But she would put the woman from her new life if her mother couldn't accept her relationship with Asher. It would hurt and it would be hard, but she'd do it. She loved him that much.
Beata finally let her gaze shift back and forth between the two of them. The look on her face was serious and Janika couldn't help but brace herself for eventual heartache. "So long as you're good to my girl, I'm happy for you. Both of you." The last sentence came with a gentle smile. Janika felt herself relax, then caught the wistfulness in her mother's voice.
"Mama?" she asked quietly.
"I've only ever wanted love for you, my little Janika," Beata told her. She kept her voice soft and quiet, but it didn't stop Janika from hearing the pain and anguish lurking beneath. "Your father wanted something else. The way he chose to raise you was wrong. But I could never make him see that. He wanted you to be strong, like him and your brothers. I could see, as you got older, that you took no joy in the killing the way they did."
Beata stopped herself there and turned her attention to Asher. Janika saw a touch of regret on her face. "My husband hunted your kind," she told him, voice strong and sure in what she no doubt felt would quickly become the face of rage.
"I am aware of your family's history," Asher replied. "When I told Janika that I would help find you for her, I found that to do so meant digging deep into historical records. It is how I found out that your husband's line was in service to the king for many years."
Beata regarded Asher for several seconds, as if adjusting her assessment of him. She gave him a smile that didn't seem quite as broad or bright as her earlier ones and nodded her head. "My husband took great pride in his family's accomplishments. But he was a fool," she admitted. Then she turned to her daughter, a look on her face that Janika understood. "Your father, Janika. Your brothers. They're gone. Slaughtered at the hands of a vámpír."
She reached out and laid a hand over Janika's, the touch conveying sympathy. Janika copied the motion, putting her free hand over her mother's. "I know, Mama. And I met the vampire who is responsible. I'm going to kill him and regain our family's sword."
"You know who killed Gábor?" Beata asked, obviously surprised.
"Yes, Mama. I saw it. When this vampire touched me," Janika told her. Beata stared at her a moment, as if trying to see inside her mind, then shook her head.
"I should have known. You received the gifts given by my ancestors, even though I tried so hard to keep them from you." Janika frowned at her mother. They'd rarely spoken of her mother's side of the family. All Janika really knew is that there were so few of them left and that it pained Beata to think that they were gone. "Your brothers, János and József, never showed signs of inheriting our gifts. But you, daughter... You showed signs at a young age."
"Your family's gifts go to the women of the line," Asher said. Beata nodded at him.
"I was so happy when I finally gave birth to a girl child. There have been so few in my family. She was a miracle, a gift from God himself. I told myself that she was too far removed from the rest of my family to inherit our gifts, but it was a lie. A fool's lie. And Janika, of course, proved me wrong."
"Visions?" Asher asked, obviously curious about these revelations. To be honest, Janika was, too. Her mother had never discussed her side of the family, deflecting by saying that it was too painful a subject for her.
"Not then. She was too young for the visions. It was other things. The way she spoke with animals. The way she never got lost in the woods, even though her father and brothers needed a compass to show them the way home, and even that wasn't always helpful. Little things."
Janika frowned. This was starting to sound more like something out of a Disney movie than real life. "You act like I'm some kind of Disney princess. Who was this family that you never spoke of?"
Beata paused a moment, as if gathering her courage, then took a deep breath. And her words, when they came, were a torrent of Hungarian that Janika found baffling. She was still a little slow with translating it, her brain having been stuck in English for too long. But she caught on soon enough, and the more her mother talked, the wider her eyes got.
What the ever loving fuck?
~*~*~*~*~
Beata sounded distressed as she poured forth her story. Janika looked increasingly incredulous, as if she simply couldn't wrap her mind around whatever it was her mother was telling her. Asher did not know any Hungarian, so he was forced to pluck things from Janika's mind when they flashed through. There were very few images, her attention so caught up with translating and understanding that she didn't have much time to think, much less convey her thoughts to him. But one word stuck out among the rest merely because of the reaction Janika had to it. Beata stared at her daughter and, without any emotion, whispered that single word to her. "Tündér."
"Mama?" Janika asked, eyes going wide. Beata said nothing, prompting Janika to stare at her all the harder. All the more desperately. "Mama, you must be joking. Tell me you're joking."
"I cannot, Janika. It is a truth I've kept secret from you all these years, because I wanted to protect you." Beata whispered the words, her voice filled with regrets.
"But... Why?" Janika's voice made the question more a demand and the look she was giving her mother suggested she was close to raising her voice. Asher considered dipping into her head in an effort to calm her, but pushed it aside because this was something she would first have to deal with on her own before he could help her deal with it. So he sat silent and motionless, waited to see what would happen next. "I don't understand, Mama. Why would you keep something like this from me?"
"I told you, Janika. To protect you. There are so few of our kind left in the old country. And those that are left hide what they are. Because just as there are humans who hunt vámpír, there are those that hunt tündér. And though their reasons for doing so are different, their results are the same."
Asher considered her words. He thought he had a clue what had passed between mother and daughter now. The preternatural world, while inhabited by many different groups, was still small. Especially when put against mankind. Vampires controlled the growth of their population. Too many would prove detrimental to humans. Most lycanthropes he knew could not procreate because the change every month generally induced miscarriage in a pregnant female. To his knowledge, the tigers were the only ones who had possibly found a way around it. Many of the other groups had been hunted to near extinction, which meant that the populations would be slow to recover, if they ever did. And then there were the groups that were still physically capable of having children, but their birth rates were so low that it was almost as if they had no children.
Asher let his gaze slide from Janika, who was staring at her mother with eyes so wide, it seemed they threatened to spill from her head, to Beata, who looked to be on the verge of tears. He considered letting the two women continue on until someone let something slip to confirm his suspicions. But that consideration was shoved aside when he realized that Janika's stubbornness would keep her from revealing anything to him until she was ready. And it was highly likely that her mother was just as stubborn as she was. So he felt it best to ask questions and hope that Janika would forgive him for intruding. "Your people were hunted for their blood?" he asked her quietly.
Beata turned to him, a gleam in her eye telling him she'd just readjusted her opinion of him yet again. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Some witches used it in their potions and spell crafting. There were those of your kind that wanted my people because of the magic in our blood. Many of my people fled. Many more were killed."
"So you hid Janika's abilities to keep her safe, because there are still people who hunt your people?" he asked, though there was really no need.
"Yes. She started showing signs so early. I had to believe that her abilities would be strong. She would have attracted attention. Especially if she was out on a hunt with her father. I did what I had to in order to protect her."
Janika was blinking at the, obviously having problems fully grasping what they were talking about. Asher suspected she had an idea. But she didn't know if she should trust her own thoughts because this whole evening had been one shock after another. He turned his attention to Janika and let her see the understanding in his eyes. "You bound her magic."
"I had to," Beata insisted. As if she thought that Asher would be angry with her for what she'd done.
"You can unbind it?" he questioned. More for Janika than for himself.
"I can. If that's what she wishes." The edge in Beata's voice drew his gaze back to her. She was watching him carefully, as if trying to determine whether or not he posed her daughter any threat. Asher offered her a smile.
"I love Janika. When we first met, I thought she was annoying and pushy. But she refused to let me ignore her. She refused to let me wallow in my own dark thoughts and self-pity. She was there for me when I lost someone very dear to my heart. She kept me from losing the will to simply exist. Janika fills holes in my life that I was unaware existed. I said before that I love her more than life. It is the truth. It is also true that I would kill for her if she was threatened." He paused and let Beata absorb everything he'd just said. After several long moments of silence, he pressed on. This time, his voice was low and filled with as much truth as he'd ever let into it. "Her magic means nothing to me. It is hers. What matters to me is her happiness. And if having you unbind her magic will make her happy, then that will make me happy."
"If I unbind her magic, that could create problems for her. People could come for her and try to take her magic. Her blood. Her life." Beata spoke softly, but Asher heard the fear anyway.
"She will be safer here than in the old country," Asher assured her. "And she is stronger now than she once was. I have seen to that. Janika is my human servant. My strength has become hers."
Beata turned wide eyes to her daughter. "You let him mark you? Willingly?"
"I did, Mama. I love Asher so much," Janika admitted. Her words sent pleasure spreading under his skin, a warmth that he could not attain through the drinking of blood. He had known for some time that he loved her. It had been that love that had spurred him into marking her in the first place. The thought of her dying because of a madman had been more than he'd been able to stand. But until this moment, he honestly hadn't been sure if her feelings were the same. It was the most amazing thing in the world to know that Janika loved him as he loved her.
"She would be alone here," Beata warned.
"She would not. Because she has me. Because she has you. Because there are others like you here in this country. You have but to seek them out," Asher told her. His words saw Beata's eyes going wide again, this time in surprise.
"You would want me here? A meddling old woman who would make your life hell?"
Asher gave her a brief smile. He knew that she was offering him a way out of effectively having a mother-in-law looking over his shoulder the rest of her days. She would want to ensure that he treated her daughter well. To others, it might have seemed like a kind of hell. To him...
Asher brushed his hair over his shoulder, revealing the scarred half of his face to Beata's view. Her eyes widened again, this time in shock and dismay. She didn't turn from his scars, didn't show any disgust or pity. Instead, he saw anger simmer in her eyes. "As you can see, I have already been to Hell."
"Holy men know nothing," she spat, muttering a curse in Hungarian that saw Janika blushing.
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, Beata. Janika needs you. She has missed you greatly these past months. It is why I made such an effort to locate you for her. Because I love her and she deserves to have family around her."
Beata studied him for several moments, eyes pinning him in place. Finally, she smiled and nodded her head at him. "My daughter is lucky to have someone who loves her so much. I thank you for bringing us back together. I will happily stay, if that is what Janika wishes."
"Of course I wish it, Mama," Janika responded, one hand reaching out to take hold of her mother's hand. The other crossed the table so she could take his hand in it. She squeezed them both, then let go and gave her mother a confused look. "Now what was all this talk about magic?"
"You have magic, daughter. You always have. To protect you from the hunters, I bound it inside of you when you were still but a small child. Not even old enough to start school. I wanted to keep you safe from those who would try to harm you. The binding isn't permanent. It can be broken. And I will break it, if that's what you wish me to do."
"I... I don't know, Mama. I've lived my life for so long thinking I was nothing special," Janika began.
"You are very special, daughter. You are from a line of proud, strong people. Magical people," Beata insisted. She beat Asher to the punch because it had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her the same exact thing.
"Those stories you told me as a child. Those were real? They weren't simply fairy tales?" Janika asked, obviously still trying to wrap her head around what her mother had told her. Asher made a note to ask her about them when he caught a flash of wonder and awe from her. That must have been how she'd felt upon hearing the tales.
"They were real," Beata nodded. "They weren't simply fairy tales. They were tales of Faerie. Of the Fae. Of our people."
Janika stared at her mother, mind trying to turn everything over all at once. He could sense that she was overwhelmed by it all, that this was nothing she'd ever suspected. Asher didn't think he could blame her on that one. Few people were told that their family carried the blood of the Fae in their veins. "I never saw you use magic, Mama. I never suspected or sensed it or anything."
"I haven't used my magic very much in a long time, Janika. I had to protect you. Which meant protecting myself. And how would you sense something that has always been there, that is as much a part of you as breathing? You had no idea what to look for, child."
"Will it hurt?" she asked softly. When her mother gave her a look of confusion, Janika continued on. "Breaking the binding, I mean. Will it hurt?"
"It will be as if a soft breeze blew against your cheek, child," her mother assured her. "Does this mean you want me to break the binding?"
"I think so," Janika said. "But not tonight. Later. I want to think it over a little more before I make my decision. Is that okay? Can I do that?"
"Of course, daughter. Take time to consider what you're asking of me. It has waited this long. It will wait a little longer," Beata replied, a gentle smile breaking over her.
Asher let his gaze slide from mother to daughter. He could see the resemblance. The same sharp eyes stared at him from two faces, one still young and smooth. The other was older, with a few lines here and there. Beata had given Janika her fiery hair color, though her hair was strung through with strands of white here and there. Beata was a touch taller, but Janika was thinner. If not for the difference in age, they could have been twins.
He lifted his hands and clapped twice. At his signal, the door to the kitchen swung open and Selia, one of his best servers, came through the door with a tray in hand and a smile on her face. "I think it is time we started our meal. If you ladies will permit, I have taken the liberty of planning the menu. And, because this is a celebration, I have ordered up the most expensive bottle of wine from the cellar."
Selia arrived with the tray and began laying out the chef's newest appetizer. She made sure to settle the dishes between Janika and Beata. When she was finished, she gave a slight bow. "Bon appêtit!" Then she was gone and Asher watched as Janika and Beata dove into the appetizer with reckless abandon.
A smile spread across his face as he took in their joy and pleasure. It was going to be a very good evening.
~*~*~*~*~
Zerbrowski watched a young uniformed officer haul a box of files out of Dolph's office on a dolly with a bemused expression on his face. The officer looked put out by his task, as well as sullen because he'd probably voiced his dislike of this particular duty to Dolph. Who had no doubt taken a layer of skin off the kid's back in return. When the kid had wheeled out of the hallway, Zerbrowski knocked on the door's frame then left himself into the room. As was usual, Dolph had his nose buried in a stack of papers.
"What was all that?" he asked, motioning with one hand toward the empty hallway where the officer had just been.
"I'm sending some work Kinkade's way," Dolph replied gruffly. That surprised Zerbrowski, because he knew how Dolph felt about the woman at the moment. Despite the fact that she'd done her damnedest to put an end to the killings happening in the city, Dolph wasn't going to forgive her for attaching herself to the Master of the City.
"I thought you were under the impression that she wasn't a very good cop," he said softly.
Dolph paused a moment, leaving Zerbrowski to think that the man was going to lift his head and actually look at him. But the moment passed and Dolph continued to stare intently at his papers. "I took your words to heart and gave her the benefit of the doubt," Dolph told him. Zerbrowski stared at the man's bent head for a few seconds, waiting. Because he knew there was more. "I also had one of my own FBI friends get me a look at her file. It was an impressive read. I have no doubt she'll be a great cop some day."
"She's already a great cop. She just needs more experience to back it up. And for people to give her a chance to prove she's a great cop." Dolph didn't bother to acknowledge the fact that Zerbrowski's last comment was pointed at him. Zerbrowski hadn't expected him to. The room fell silent briefly, but Zerbrowski's curiosity got the better of him. "What work did you send her way?"
"The demon summoner killings. Our guys have looked a hundred times and they still can't find that one little thing in Ellie Wilson's files that will give us our killer. Maybe Kinkade can find him or her for us. Since she's a great cop."
Zerbrowski had to admit that he was a touch startled by that. He didn't think that Dolph had any faith in their new Federal Marshal, despite his having looked into her file. He wasn't sure if the man truly believed that Aedan could find the killer when their own people seemed unable to do so or if he was sending her work in order to see her fail. So he could say loudly to anyone who would listen that Aedan didn't deserve her badge or her job. If that was the case, it was a really petty, really dick move. And Zerbrowski was pretty sure he'd lose all respect for Dolph if that happened.
"I'm sure she'll find the summoner," Zerbrowski returned, confidence in his voice. He kept to himself the fear that she actually would find the summoner and that it would be disastrous. Zerbrowski had been watching Aedan from the beginning and, if anything, he'd found she was almost more determined than Anita. Determined to succeed. Determined to save people. Determined to prove herself. He could see that determination getting her into serious trouble.
The room fell silent for another a moment as Dolph went back to his papers and Zerbrowski watched him glance through them. Apparently, if they were going to have a conversation, he was going to have to be the one to start it. And carry it. And possibly end it. He'd seen Dolph like this before. It meant he'd found something and he was chasing it down, all intensity and focus. "What are you working on?" he asked Dolph without preamble.
"Got some more files on the good Reverend Solomon and his family," Dolph told him without lifting his head. Zerbrowski let his frown come and settled into one of the empty chairs on the visitor side of the desk.
"You're not going to let that rest, are you?" It seemed an odd thing for the man to pursue, given their caseload. But Dolph probably had something. And if there was ever a good description for the man when he was on to something, it was 'dog with a bone'.
"No. There's something very bizarre going on in that family. I intend to find out what it is. And how it ties in to the lycanthrope killings."
"You mean besides two of the man's children being the killers?" Zerbrowski asked.
"Yes. Besides that," Dolph confirmed. He glanced up at Zerbrowski and scowled. "Maybe if I can figure out what it is about the family that's so weird, I'll be able to figure out what turned them into killers."
"Any responses to the information we gave to the media to release?" He was pretty sure he knew what the answer to that was, but he had to ask.
"Nothing that will help with the case. There hasn't been a word on Grace or Paul Solomon," Dolph admitted, confirming his suspicions. "But there was something strange that came through. Someone who called anonymously claimed that Carter Solomon is an adulterer before God."
Zerbrowski blinked at that. Dolph was right. That certainly wouldn't help with the case. But, if true, it was an interesting turn of developments and it could very possibly play into the absolute strangeness of his family. "Did the caller offer any evidence to support this claim?"
"No. Just a single sentence," Dolph replied. Zerbrowski watched as he sorted through his pile of papers until he found what he was looking for. He held the paper up and looked at it. "It says, and I quote, Carter Solomon is an adulterer before God. End quote. The cop who took it was just as baffled by it as you and I. But since it came in through the tip line, it got forwarded to me."
"You're thinking something. Because you wouldn't have paid that tip so much attention otherwise. I've known you a long time, Dolph. You think that tip means something."
Dolph looked at Zerbrowski and gave a brief nod. "After looking at it, I spoke with the officer who took it. Asked him questions about the caller. Rodriguez said there wasn't much to tell. It was a woman who was speaking in a low, hushed tone. She told him that Solomon is an adulterer, then she hung up. It took all of fifteen seconds."
Zerbrowski stared a moment. "You think it was Solomon's wife."
"I think it was Solomon's wife. The wording fits with someone who has lived in a religious household all her life. We saw with our own eyes that she does not like or love her husband very much. And it may be that she knows more than she let on, but was unable to share more because she was afraid of being found out."
That made Zerbrowski frown. "You think Solomon is smacking his wife around?"
Dolph considered the question before giving a nod of his head. "I think its a distinct possibility. We both got the feeling that Solomon isn't nearly as pious as he wants us to believe. If he is sleeping around on his wife, its entirely possible he's beating her, too. The question is, are those his only two crimes, or has he committed more?"
Zerbrowski knew that tone. He knew that look. Dolph was thinking some serious things that could have absolutely everything or absolutely nothing to do with their case. One thing he'd learned about the other man during their time together at RPIT was that his instincts were usually pretty spot on. If he was sure there was something about that family that had to do with the murders, then there was probably something about that family that had to do with the murders. "What are you thinking?"
"I've done a lot of digging into the Pure Heart Ministries after Solomon took over. Remember I told you it went from being tiny to having hundreds of followers in months?"
"Yeah," Zerbrowski nodded. A look told him that Dolph's brain was working overtime on this. Something to do with the murders or not, he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Dolph could obsess, and it didn't always come with a good ending.
"Well, that following just kept going up and up and up. As did the amount of money he made. He might have presented himself to us as a humble man of God, but the man is worth millions. Millions." As he spoke, Dolph rifled through the papers before him. Eventually, he pulled a small stack out that had been stapled together and passed them over to Zerbrowski. A glance told him that it was an extensive listing of all the property owned by Carter Solomon. Most of it was in the name of the Pure Heart Ministries group. But some of it wasn't. And that was interesting in ways Zerbrowski couldn't put his finger on. Yet.
He lifted his gaze to Dolph and studied the man a moment. "You think he's using these places as... what? Fronts? Recruitment centers?"
Dolph shrugged. "That's a very real possibility. Don't you think its odd that the symbol we found on our dead lycanthropes just so happens to be a bastardized version of the Pure Heart Ministries' symbol? And don't you think its odd that the people using that bastardized symbol just so happen to be Carter Solomon's children?"
"It does sound suspicious," Zerbrowski agreed. "Especially when you factor in that the knife we were sent that was used to try and kill a vampire had the actual symbol engraved on it."
"Exactly," Dolph's eyes lit up. Zerbrowski stared a minute, then his mouth dropped open when it hit him and he couldn't quite hold on to his surprise.
"You think he's the one behind the weird attacks that have been happening. The ones where homeless people are attacking the preternatural community." Zerbrowski stopped and thought about it as soon as he finished speaking. The look of surprise faded, became one of disgust. "It would be easy. Many members of the homeless community are mentally fragile. It wouldn't take much for him to plant a few ideas in their heads. Convince them that this was a purpose for which they'd been chosen. And no one would be able to find the killer until they were caught in the act. Because who looks at the homeless?"
"Exactly. I think its highly likely that Solomon is behind all of the weird killings and attempted killings that involve that odd symbol. And I think he believes he's doing the world a favor."
Zerbrowski considered that a moment, finding he agreed. Their one meeting with the good reverend had left him thinking that Solomon was that kind of twisted. "So. Do you think that means he put his kids up to killing the lycanthropes? Or do you think they did that on their own?"
Dolph sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure on that one. I've been digging, but I can't say one way or the other."
"What have you found?" Zerbrowski asked. He was pretty sure Dolph had made his decision, but he was always one to move forward with caution on such things. It made him a good cop. Now if only they could do something about his anger...
Dolph started shifting papers around before picking up a few sheets and handing them across the desk to Zerbrowski. He took them and started looking at them. When he lifted his head, there was a frown on his face. "These are reports from children's welfare."
"They are. They were filed some years ago based on a few anonymous tips received at the time," Dolph replied. The way his mouth flattened said he didn't like the implications and that he was pretty sure the anonymous tips had been made with good reason. "Several neighbors noticed that the Solomon children were pretty aggressive with the neighborhood kids. Aggressive in ways that went beyond normal childhood rivalries."
"Abuse?"
"Probably. The case workers naturally never found any signs of abuse, but they did note in their reports that the children seemed especially well behaved in the face of being asked such questions. And they noted that something weird passed between the children and their father. Ruth Ann was never present during these interviews. Only Carter."
"As if he wanted to ensure they didn't say anything incriminating," Zerbrowski murmured, paying close attention to the things that hadn't been explicitly stated in the reports. "They didn't see any signs of physical abuse. No bruises or marks that would give away beatings. But the children didn't act quite normal." Zerbrowski considered it just a moment, then lifted his head and frowned. He didn't like the conclusion he was coming to. "Sexual?"
"That's my belief," Dolph said, attention focused on him. "The question is, was it only one of his children? Or was it all? And did his wife know about it?"
Zerbrowski shook his head, unwilling to even consider that option for the moment, and turned his attention back to the papers he held. They were full of pretty standard stuff. Everything the case workers asked. Everything the children said in reply. Neighbor testimonies. Nothing damning... Wait a minute. "Dolph, did you see this?" Zerbrowski asked, gaze stuck on one small section on one of the earlier reports.
"What?" Dolph asked.
"A neighbor woman mentioned an ninth child. She said she could recall a third girl child playing in the yard with the rest of the kids. But by herself. She said it looked to her that the other kids shunned this girl. She said she mentioned the girl because she saw her for a while, then never saw her again." Zerbrowski shuffled papers around, letting his gaze skim each one. "There are no other mentions of a third girl child later. But there's a clear, intentional mention in this one." Zerbrowski held up the report in question. Dolph squinted at it a bit, then began digging through his piles of files and reports. He finally found what he was looking for and spent a few moments looking through the file carefully.
"There are only eight birth certificates issued to Carter and Ruth Ann Solomon," Dolph said, flipping over page after page in the file.
Zerbrowski's brain kicked into overdrive. "The anonymous tip said he was an adulterer. What if he was? What if he did step out on his wife? And what if he had a kid with one of his side women? What if that was the child this woman was talking about?"
"Its possible. The man comes across as having balls of steel. He strikes me as the type to bring home an illegitimate child. But where is that girl now? What happened to her?" Dolph asked. There were other questions that he didn't give voice to, but Zerbrowski could feel them lingering on the air. "If Solomon did step out on his wife and he had another child with one of those women, if he brought that child home to his wife and family, what happened to the child's mother? And what would raising another woman's child do to Ruth Ann?"
"Do we go talk to her?" Zerbrowski looked at him.
"Maybe," Dolph replied. The answer was non-committal. Zerbrowski knew him well enough to know it was almost a definite that they'd go speak to the good reverend's wife. "But if we do, we'd have to find a way to do it when her husband couldn't be present. I don't think she'd answer questions otherwise."
Zerbrowski nodded and stared at that one tiny passage. And it had him thinking. Their one meeting with Carter Solomon had left them both with a bad taste in their mouths. He and Dolph were sure that Solomon was the kind of man who knew how to lie in his sleep. Deep in his gut, Zerbrowski was almost one hundred percent sure that the man had a hand in the killings that had been taking place. The allegations of abuse added a new layer to the lycanthrope killing case.
Because what if the killers, Solomon's children, had learned everything they'd needed to know at the hands of their father? What if the abuse allegations were more than allegations? What if Solomon actually had abused his children? Physically. Sexually. Mentally. Emotionally. What if the things he'd done to them had pushed them to purge their anger and rage and fear by abusing someone else?
His thoughts were brought to a halt abruptly by Dolph loudly shuffling around a few pieces of paper. "A third one of his children has gone missing."
"What? Which one? And how do we know this?" Zerbrowski asked. Dolph lifted a glossy piece of paper that Zerbrowski knew was the photograph of the family. Dolph pointed to one of the boys.
"Peter Solomon. He's apparently gone missing. And we know because after discovering who the lycanthrope killers were, I made sure the feds had their names. They had their people doing searches for the name Solomon and they found out someone had been making inquiries about Peter Solomon. It was even suggested that he's the one who tried to bomb The Church of Eternal Life." Dolph sat back in his chair and stared at Zerbrowski. "If that's the truth, then its probably safe to say that the apples didn't fall too far from the tree in that family."
"This family gets stranger and stranger with every little bit of information we find on them," Zerbrowski muttered, mulling over what it all meant.
"Then you're going to love this," Dolph replied. He reached for a stack of files set off to the side of the desk and lifted the top one off it. Flipping it open, he let his eyes drift over whatever was inside of it before clearing his throat. "Patient name: Grace Solomon."
Zerbrowski blinked. Patient name? A medical file? How the hell had they gotten hold of a medical file? He wanted to ask Dolph about it immediately, but he knew the other man well enough to know that Dolph wouldn't tell him anything until he felt it was time. So he sat and waited. And wondered what this had to do with everything else.
The look on Dolph's face told him that the man knew he was hooked and waiting. Dolph let his eyes drift up to glance at Zerbrowski, then they slid back down to the file in his hands. "Reason for visit: lycanthropic attack."
"What the hell?"
"This file is from just a few years ago. Right before Grace Solomon ran away from home," Dolph told him. He reached for the next file on the stack and handed it to Zerbrowski. "That file is the missing persons report Reverend Solomon filed about Grace after she ran away."
Zerbrowski opened the file and looked at the first page. A police report. Dated only about two years previous. He skimmed the file, knowing instinctively what words and phrases to look for after having typed up and read his fair share of them over the years. The girl had been seventeen when this had happened. Most of the responses given to the questions asked had made Solomon out to seem like a grieving father who was terribly concerned about his missing child. There was no mention of Ruth Ann in the report, though Solomon was quoted as saying 'Grace's mother and I' numerous times.
"I took the liberty of digging up the moon chart for the months surrounding these reports. Grace's attack happened just before the full moon that occurred that month. She ran away shortly after the full moon the next month."
"After her first change," Zerbrowski said absently, still looking through the missing persons report.
"The doctor made some notes in this file that really had nothing to do with Grace's attack. Things like the girl seemed on edge when she was in her father's presence. How she didn't quite seem to understand what had happened to her. Solomon insisted she'd been attacked by a dog in the neighborhood, but the emergency room doctor had seen enough animal attacks to know the difference between one done by a real animal and one done by a larger version of that animal," Dolph told Zerbrowski as he read. There was silence a moment, making Zerbrowski realize that there was more to come and that Dolph was trying to build up a touch of tension before he dropped the bomb.
"The most interesting information in the doctor's notes are that Grace Solomon was a month pregnant when she was brought in from this attack. When the doctor asked her about it, she told him that she'd been raped by the beast that had attacked her."
Zerbrowski lifted his head. No wonder Dolph had been so quick to mention sexual abuse. That little bit pretty much confirmed it. "The son-of-a-bitch got his own daughter pregnant," Zerbrowski said softly. Dolph nodded.
"It was over a year before Grace returned home to her family after she ran away."
"Jesus Christ, this family is twisted," Zerbrowski shook his head. His mind went back to what he'd read in the social workers' reports and he frowned. He did not like what their investigation suggested. "Do you think Solomon is fucked up enough to have done the same to his sons as he obviously did to Grace?"
Dolph considered it a moment. "I honestly don't know. But if he did... It would explain why Grace and Paul did the things they did to the lycanthropes they killed."
Zerbrowski nodded and glanced at the wealth of information that Dolph had collected together on his desk. It all pointed to some of the worst of behavior a human could enact upon another human. The fact that all of this was done by a father against his children made it so much the worse. If Solomon had, in fact, done the things they'd discussed. The abuse and murders were, at this point, still alleged. But, deep down in his heart and his gut, Zerbrowski knew that he was as guilty as sin.
"So what's our first move?" Zerbrowski asked.
Dolph looked up at him and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~
Aedan stared at the stack of papers on her desk with a dismayed frown. She'd gotten a call from Dolph shortly after she'd woken, asking her if she had time to look over the demon slayings files. Seemed his men were coming to a stand still on it, unable to find the name of the summoner in the files left behind by Ellie Wilson. She had a feeling that wasn't exactly the case, that he wanted to see if she really was some kind of preternatural blood hound, and had sent them over to give her something to do. She couldn't figure out what his angle was with it, but she actually had a slow night at Animator's, so she figured the least she could do was look the files over and see if she was better at leg work than all of Dolph's trained detectives.
Bringing a cold bottle of water with her to her desk, Aedan sat in her chair and opened the first file. It was the first murder scene and seeing the glossy photos that had been paper clipped to the flap of the folder almost threw her right back into that bloody scene. It took a few moments of steady breathing and shoring up her walls to keep the horror from rushing back into her.
She went over each of the photos first, making notes about little things that she hadn't necessarily noticed when she'd been at the crime scene. About things she'd written off as unimportant at first. Time and more scenes had given her more to work with, more similarities to comb through, so she was able to pull more details from the glossy images than she had previously.
She wrote methodically, barely lifting her eyes from the pictures in order to ensure that her writing stayed on the line and that it didn't run into itself. Once she finished with the photos, which proved to be a monumental task unto itself because of all the copies that had been included with the file, she moved on to the written reports. Names were jotted down and she made short notes after each name. Age, gender, order of death... Anything she thought would be helpful.
It took her far too long to make it through the first file, and she had to sit back in her chair, rub her eyes and take a breath, before moving on to the next file. There was an ache in her back and a cramp in her hand from dealing with that one file for so long. And the memories of that night clung to her brain, brought the horror to the surface. She needed time to get herself back under control before starting on the next file.
Once she'd let five minutes run by, once she was sure she could look at it without losing her lunch or her mind, she tackled the next file. As with the first file, she made notes about the photos first, occasionally having to pause to swallow down bile at the vividness of the images. She could recall being at that crime scene, too, could recall the horror she'd felt when she'd realized the demon had taken eyes and tongues this time around. She still couldn't figure that one out, because there'd been no reason she could see for removing the eyes and the tongues. Unless...
Aedan pulled a fresh sheet of paper to her and wrote down a few notes about that. It reminded her of the lycanthrope killer and how he liked to pour silver down his victims' throats. They'd come to the conclusion that the killer had been silencing the most vocal members of the lycanthropic community in order to tell others like them to keep their mouths shut. Seeing as how the police had never given that bit of information to the public, no one had known they were supposed to keep their mouths shut. So what if pulling the victims' tongues out at the second scene had been meant as more than a way to warn others to remain silent? If that's what it had been meant for at all.
Aedan frowned. That didn't feel right to her. Why would the demon care about something so trivial as people being warned about its coming? Given that the dead were all members of the same coven, they'd have known that a demon was hunting them. News like that would have traveled, tongues ripped out or not. She had a hard time believing that any member of that coven would have remained silent in the face of such a threat to their chosen family.
No. The reason those young men had been savaged as they had was something else entirely. She stared at the photo of their severed heads and considered it.
What if the demon removing the young men's tongues had been a way to keep them from telling anyone what had happened? What if removing their eyes had been to keep them from telling what they'd seen? What if the demon had removed their eyes and tongues not for whatever ritual the summoner was performing, but to make sure that those particular victims couldn't tell anyone who had killed them? What if they'd known who the summoner was?
She reached for the next file, flipped it open and ignored the photos in favor of the medical examiner's report. She needn't have bothered, because she knew that the third demon summoner scene had been Ellie Wilson's house. And the demon had barely done any damage to the older woman. It had removed her organs, but she'd put up little resistance to it, so it hadn't been forced to ravage her body the way it had with the others.
She grabbed the fourth file and stared at it. The one where the victim had been prepared for the demon's arrival. That hadn't helped him in the long run, but it had proved helpful to the police. She stared at the medical examiner's report and found that, despite the trauma the victim had gone through, he'd kept his eyes and it looked like he'd kept his tongue. Most of the damage had been done to the victim's torso.
The next file, which was the biggest and also the last one, took the most time to get through. There were so many bodies and body parts that it had taken the medical examiner's office the better part of a week to identify them all. She looked through each report, catalogued everything that had been taken against everything that had been found. No eyes had been missing. No tongues. Just major internal organs.
By the time she was done reading each of those reports, she was sick to her stomach and there was a headache trying to pound itself to life behind her eyes. But there was a thought there, among all the violence and death and gore. A thought that, now she'd had it, wouldn't go away. And it made sense. Those boys were special in their deaths for a reason. One that no one had really considered or looked at. She could have kicked herself because the answer had been staring at her the entire time. She could have put a stop to this a long time ago of only she'd seen the sign. And there was a sign. Why hadn't she seen it before?
She searched through the files until she could find the information that they'd recovered from Ellie Wilson's house. Shuffled through papers until she found the one she was looking for. The list of names that the police had had absolutely no luck finding their suspect in. Frowning, she studied it intently. Looked up every bit of information the police had added to the file on each of the names listed there. And then her eyes lit upon the one name that just suddenly screamed at her. Jesus Chris, it was suddenly so obvious. How had they all missed it until now?
Tugging her phone from her pocket, she chose a recipient and tapped out a text. I know who's summoning the demon. Hit send.
She set the phone on her desk and went back to reading the information the police had gathered together. Waited. She didn't have to wait long. Her phone chimed, letting her know she'd gotten a text in return. She picked up the phone and glanced at it. "You are sure?"
I'm sure.
"What will you do?"
She stared at the brief sentence intently for several long seconds. She could feel the curiosity behind them, as if the sender wasn't sure they believed her. Her mouth went flat and grim determination took up residence on her face. She typed in her next text almost angrily. Whatever I have to do in order to put a stop to things. Remember your promise. Its been real.
Aedan thumbed the power button on her phone, shutting it off so that no one could disturb her. She didn't want any disruptions or possible attempts to stop her. She'd been on this path almost from the very beginning. She could see that now. That everything she'd done, everything that had happened since she'd gone to that first scene and seen that family torn apart, had been building up to this moment. She'd be fucked if she let anyone try and stop her. The summoner had made this her duty simply by calling up a demon in her city. She was going to fucking put a stop to it. Come hell or high water.
She took a few minutes to put all of the files back together and restack them into a neat pile. Put a sticky note on them marking them as property of the St. Louis Regional Preternatural Investigation Taskforce, along with a short note telling Dolph she'd discovered the identity of the summoner and she was going to deal with them.
Then she wrote a second note, very carefully wording it so that the recipient would know exactly what to do and when. Folding it up, she tucked it into an envelope and sealed it, adding a name and address to the front face of the envelope. She'd have Craig courier it over to its destination tonight. As soon as she left the office.
Once she had everything organized, she took a moment to sit back in her chair and think about what was to come. It wasn't going to be pretty, but it had to be done. The summoner was too stupid to realize that they were playing a game they couldn't win. The police had been thorough in their investigation into the summoner, had provided her with every last bit of information she'd needed to put it all together. Especially with the things she'd gotten from Rhia. The summoner was looking for power. And they had allowed the lies of a demon, worded as promises, to lure them onto this idiotic path. What they hadn't figured out yet was that the demon was going to end their life when it got what it wanted. And then it would reign down fire and destruction upon the world.
Which was why she had to stop it. And stop it now. Before it could attain a flesh and blood body on this plane.
She considered the task that lay before her, what it would mean for herself and for the others. She had no illusions that she could accomplish this on her own. But she knew the part she had to play. She could only hope that the others would be able to do what was needed to finish it all. And she hoped that her family would be able to forgive her.
She felt his power as it flowed into her mind, announcing his arrival before he even uttered a word. She'd wondered how long it would take him to either call her or use their link to contact her. He must have felt her discontent. "Aedan? Is there something wrong?" Jean Claude's voice was like a soothing balm to the chaos that currently occupied her mind.
No. Nothing's wrong. Just thinking, she replied, carefully checking her gun to ensure that it was loaded. In case she needed it.
"You are sure, ma mie? Your mind seems... cluttered." He sounded unconvinced. Smart man. Which made it a good thing that she was so adept at keeping her thoughts to herself. Because if he knew what was in her head now, if he knew what she was planning, he'd be trying to talk her out of it. He'd be on his way there to stop her.
I'm sure, Jean Claude. There's just a lot going on right now. I need a night off where I can do nothing but lounge in front of the TV in grubby clothes and eat junk food all night long. She was going to need it after this. And it sure sounded like heaven right then.
There was a pause as he considered her words. She could tell he didn't really believe her. But he didn't press. Just sent her the impression of a smile and she felt the gentle touch of his hand at her forehead, of his lips pressing a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Very well. I will leave you alone. I look forward to seeing you when you get home. And we will do something about making your night in front of the TV happen."
Thanks, Jean Claude. I should be home later. I've got some things to finish up here before I can leave. I'll see you then. She closed the connection before he could ask anything else, then got up and gathered her things.
Gods, she hoped she knew what she was doing. She hoped that this worked. If it didn't... She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and simply stared a moment. "I don't know if you're watching over everyone, but if you are... Lend me your strength," she whispered. With that, she put her blank cop face on and headed for the door.
The rats standing outside her office fell into step behind her as soon as she passed them. She was going to have to find a way to get by them without letting them know something was up. She wouldn't be able to do what needed doing with the two of them tagging along. And the last thing she wanted was to get them killed. She was going to have to wing it and hope for the best.
Craig looked up at her curiously when she stopped at his desk. She held out the envelope to him, watching as he took it and stared at the address written on it. "Have this couriered to that location tonight. Immediately. Its very important. Also, call the RPIT offices and let Dolph know that he can pick up his files. I'm done with them."
Craig stared at her for a moment, eyebrows coming together in a faint frown. She could tell he wanted to ask if something was wrong. But his gaze flicked to the two rats and the look was gone. Instead, he nodded and started digging through the computer for phone numbers. "Anything else?" he asked.
"No. That's it. If anyone asks, I am out of the office for the rest of the night. Something important has come up and I have to go," she told him. He nodded, did his best not to purse his lips at her. Finally forced a smile onto his face.
"Got it. Have a good evening, Aedan," he told her. She smiled at him and turned for the door. The rats were right behind her as she stepped out into the hall. When she stepped into the elevator.
When the doors slid open on the first floor of the office building, Aedan stepped out alone. She spared a glance for the two rats, presently unconscious and on the floor, and hoped they'd forgive her for her actions. She let the door slide shut, knowing she wouldn't have much time, and hurried for the front door. She was just pulling out onto the road when a glance in her rear view showed her two very disoriented rats coming out of the building.
She was in so much trouble when this was all said and done. So much trouble.
She frowned and stared out at the road. Took the opportunity to tighten her shields. Because she knew, without a doubt, that the rats were already on the phone with Jean Claude. He wasn't going to be happy with her. She'd lied to him and ditched her guards in order to go off on her own. He was going to be furious. He was going to try and break through her shields to find out what she was doing. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't drag him into this. She wasn't going to risk him.
He was going to be so, so furious.
She'd deal with it later.
So much trouble...
Chapter Sixty Four: What a Wicked Web We Weave
Fandom: Anita Blake universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of LKH. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
Author's Notes: more nothing bad happens. that's two chapters in a row! i think that's a new record. also. this chapter marks the beginning of the end of the fic. believe it or not, we are nearing the conclusion. what follows is stuff i've had on tap for this fic for... a good long while. there are three or four major plot points to deal with, plus a few smaller ones. then it should be done. are you glad? are you ready for it to be done yet?
The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death - Index Link
Janika frowned when the car came to a halt in the lot outside of The Hanging Gardens. This wasn't their normal date night. And she was pretty sure they weren't due to visit the restaurant again for at least a couple weeks. They went at least once a month, generally so Asher could have Janika try something new the cook had created for the restaurant. Their last visit had been with Aedan and that hadn't been that long ago. So she had to wonder why they were visiting now.
Their driver opened the door and, without saying a word, offered Janika his hand. She took it, casting a glance back at Asher, and allowed the driver to help her from the car. Asher followed after her, settling his hand against the small of her back when he stood beside her. She allowed him to nudge her forward. Together, the two of them made for the door, which was opened from the inside by the hostess. She was a smart, capable woman with touches of grey in her hair and wire rimmed glasses that only accentuated the sharpness of her gaze. She was smiling at them, something Janika hadn't seen her do before. Oh, the woman smiled, but always in a professional manner. This was much more open than she'd ever seen before.
"Asher. Janika. Welcome. Your table awaits you," she said with warmth coloring her words.
"Thank you, Celia," Asher replied as he and Janika stepped past her.
The first thing Janika noticed when they stepped into the small foyer was that it was very quiet inside the restaurant. The Hanging Gardens was always busy, always jammed with people, always filled with cacophonous chatter and soft music. Tonight, there was nothing. Not even a note of music playing over the PA to distract her from the lack of speech. Janika had to wonder just what was going on because she'd never been to The Hanging Gardens when it was silent.
Celia closed the door, the sound of the lock being turned loud in the silence. Janika shot a look to Asher's face, but he was wearing the blank mask that told her absolutely nothing. There were some days when she really hated that face. Part of her insisted that she ask questions and demand answers from him. The other part of her told that first part to shut it, because he wouldn't answer those questions if he didn't want to.
Asher urged her forward, just a small application of pressure to the small of her back with his hand. The two of them stepped into the dining room to find it completely empty. There wasn't a single table occupied. Which was insane, because there was never an empty table inside the place. Something was very definitely going on and she had to wonder just what it was.
They crossed the floor to their normal table, the one with the walls built up around it. Instead of pots of simple greenery, someone had replaced all of the green plants with flowering ones. Janika saw so many different colors and smelled so many different scents that it was unreal. The table was set for two, with a giant crystal vase resting in the center. It was jammed full of roses in a alcove with intimate light. Janika gave Asher a confused look.
He ignored the question in her eyes and helped ease her down into her seat, making sure to push her chair in like a gentleman. Then he turned to Celia and gave her a nod, sending the woman off toward the kitchens. "Asher? What's going on?"
He shifted his attention back to her for a moment, eyes clear and shining with some secret knowledge. The smile he gifted her with was warm and knowing. It was one she couldn't recall ever seeing him use before. And then he turned back to stare in the direction of the kitchen. Janika looked past him to see that Celia had emerged from the back room. And she wasn't alone. There was someone following behind her. Someone who...
"Mama?" Janika asked, voice little more than a faint whisper.
Celia brought her companion to the table. "Your other guest, Asher." And then the hostess was gone, leaving the three of them alone. The new arrival took time to simply stare at them, then a broad smile spread across her face.
"Janika!" Beata said, voice a soft prayer. Janika threw herself from her seat and into her mother's outstretched arms. Beata wrapped them around her daughter and hugged her tight, shoulders shaking as emotion overwhelmed her.
"Mama. Is it really you?" Janika asked, pulling back to stare at her. Beata smiled and nodded, one hand lifting to stroke the length of Janika's hair. Then she was cupping her daughter's face in both hands.
"I've dreamt of this day for so long," she said. Emotion clogged her voice, making her words thick. "I cannot believe its here. Look at you! So grown up!" A flood of Hungarian issued forth, so fast that Janika almost couldn't keep up with it. It had been a long, long time since she'd had cause to speak her native tongue and the disuse had left her brain struggling to catch up.
"Mama. Mama! Slow down. Its been too long," Janika told her. Her mother blushed, the rush of words trickling out as she turned her attention to Asher.
"This is your young man, Janika? He's so handsome," she said. Her words saw a smile touching the corners of Asher's lips.
"I am pleased to finally meet you, Mrs. Odon. Janika speaks highly of you," Asher told her, bending at the waist to offer the woman a bow. He even did her the honor of taking his gaze off her.
"Such manners," Beata glanced at Janika. "Where ever did you find this one? And do you plan on keeping him?"
"Mama," Janika admonished, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. She motioned to the table behind them with one hand as she struggled with finding the best way to inform her mother of Asher's undead status. "Please. Let's sit. I'm sure Asher has planned out an amazing meal for us. His chef is an artist."
Beata nodded and allowed Asher to help her into her seat. She watched with a steady eye as he did the same for Janika, then took his place across the table from Janika. Janika saw her mother's gaze flick to the table, which had place settings before her and her daughter, but not their host. She turned a look on her daughter. "A vámpír?"
Janika felt the urge to defend herself rise to the surface. Especially with her mother using the Hungarian word. She'd known that this part would be hard, but she hadn't thought about how hard. Her mother had lived with vampire hunters from the day she'd gotten married, which had been at the young age of eighteen. Which meant more of her life had been spent around hunters than not. "Yes, Mama. Vámpír."
Beata stared at her, not a single smile on her face. Her expression may as well have been carved from stone as she considered her daughter. As she turned that consideration on Asher. As she pondered the situation at length. Finally, she turned back to Janika. "Does he make you happy, daughter?"
"He does, Mama," Janika told her quietly. She let her eyes slide to Asher so that he could see the truth in them as she spoke her next words. "I love him."
Beata considered that a moment before turning to Asher. "And you, vámpír? Does my daughter make you happy?"
The smile Asher gave was soft, barely an uplift of the corner of his lips. His eyes focused on Janika as he spoke, let her see the light within them. "She does. I love her more than life." The words filled her with a rush of joy and surprise. She wanted to get up and go to him, wanted to settle in his lap and hug him and kiss him until there was no breath left in her chest.
Beata was silent, as if measuring his words against some internal ruler to find the truth in them. Moments passed and tension pulled Janika's shoulders tight. All of this, Asher's search for Beata and the reunion between mother and daughter, would all be for naught if Beata couldn't or wouldn't accept Janika's decision. She loved her mother deeply, had missed her so much since she'd left her family and the only life she'd known behind. But she would put the woman from her new life if her mother couldn't accept her relationship with Asher. It would hurt and it would be hard, but she'd do it. She loved him that much.
Beata finally let her gaze shift back and forth between the two of them. The look on her face was serious and Janika couldn't help but brace herself for eventual heartache. "So long as you're good to my girl, I'm happy for you. Both of you." The last sentence came with a gentle smile. Janika felt herself relax, then caught the wistfulness in her mother's voice.
"Mama?" she asked quietly.
"I've only ever wanted love for you, my little Janika," Beata told her. She kept her voice soft and quiet, but it didn't stop Janika from hearing the pain and anguish lurking beneath. "Your father wanted something else. The way he chose to raise you was wrong. But I could never make him see that. He wanted you to be strong, like him and your brothers. I could see, as you got older, that you took no joy in the killing the way they did."
Beata stopped herself there and turned her attention to Asher. Janika saw a touch of regret on her face. "My husband hunted your kind," she told him, voice strong and sure in what she no doubt felt would quickly become the face of rage.
"I am aware of your family's history," Asher replied. "When I told Janika that I would help find you for her, I found that to do so meant digging deep into historical records. It is how I found out that your husband's line was in service to the king for many years."
Beata regarded Asher for several seconds, as if adjusting her assessment of him. She gave him a smile that didn't seem quite as broad or bright as her earlier ones and nodded her head. "My husband took great pride in his family's accomplishments. But he was a fool," she admitted. Then she turned to her daughter, a look on her face that Janika understood. "Your father, Janika. Your brothers. They're gone. Slaughtered at the hands of a vámpír."
She reached out and laid a hand over Janika's, the touch conveying sympathy. Janika copied the motion, putting her free hand over her mother's. "I know, Mama. And I met the vampire who is responsible. I'm going to kill him and regain our family's sword."
"You know who killed Gábor?" Beata asked, obviously surprised.
"Yes, Mama. I saw it. When this vampire touched me," Janika told her. Beata stared at her a moment, as if trying to see inside her mind, then shook her head.
"I should have known. You received the gifts given by my ancestors, even though I tried so hard to keep them from you." Janika frowned at her mother. They'd rarely spoken of her mother's side of the family. All Janika really knew is that there were so few of them left and that it pained Beata to think that they were gone. "Your brothers, János and József, never showed signs of inheriting our gifts. But you, daughter... You showed signs at a young age."
"Your family's gifts go to the women of the line," Asher said. Beata nodded at him.
"I was so happy when I finally gave birth to a girl child. There have been so few in my family. She was a miracle, a gift from God himself. I told myself that she was too far removed from the rest of my family to inherit our gifts, but it was a lie. A fool's lie. And Janika, of course, proved me wrong."
"Visions?" Asher asked, obviously curious about these revelations. To be honest, Janika was, too. Her mother had never discussed her side of the family, deflecting by saying that it was too painful a subject for her.
"Not then. She was too young for the visions. It was other things. The way she spoke with animals. The way she never got lost in the woods, even though her father and brothers needed a compass to show them the way home, and even that wasn't always helpful. Little things."
Janika frowned. This was starting to sound more like something out of a Disney movie than real life. "You act like I'm some kind of Disney princess. Who was this family that you never spoke of?"
Beata paused a moment, as if gathering her courage, then took a deep breath. And her words, when they came, were a torrent of Hungarian that Janika found baffling. She was still a little slow with translating it, her brain having been stuck in English for too long. But she caught on soon enough, and the more her mother talked, the wider her eyes got.
What the ever loving fuck?
~*~*~*~*~
Beata sounded distressed as she poured forth her story. Janika looked increasingly incredulous, as if she simply couldn't wrap her mind around whatever it was her mother was telling her. Asher did not know any Hungarian, so he was forced to pluck things from Janika's mind when they flashed through. There were very few images, her attention so caught up with translating and understanding that she didn't have much time to think, much less convey her thoughts to him. But one word stuck out among the rest merely because of the reaction Janika had to it. Beata stared at her daughter and, without any emotion, whispered that single word to her. "Tündér."
"Mama?" Janika asked, eyes going wide. Beata said nothing, prompting Janika to stare at her all the harder. All the more desperately. "Mama, you must be joking. Tell me you're joking."
"I cannot, Janika. It is a truth I've kept secret from you all these years, because I wanted to protect you." Beata whispered the words, her voice filled with regrets.
"But... Why?" Janika's voice made the question more a demand and the look she was giving her mother suggested she was close to raising her voice. Asher considered dipping into her head in an effort to calm her, but pushed it aside because this was something she would first have to deal with on her own before he could help her deal with it. So he sat silent and motionless, waited to see what would happen next. "I don't understand, Mama. Why would you keep something like this from me?"
"I told you, Janika. To protect you. There are so few of our kind left in the old country. And those that are left hide what they are. Because just as there are humans who hunt vámpír, there are those that hunt tündér. And though their reasons for doing so are different, their results are the same."
Asher considered her words. He thought he had a clue what had passed between mother and daughter now. The preternatural world, while inhabited by many different groups, was still small. Especially when put against mankind. Vampires controlled the growth of their population. Too many would prove detrimental to humans. Most lycanthropes he knew could not procreate because the change every month generally induced miscarriage in a pregnant female. To his knowledge, the tigers were the only ones who had possibly found a way around it. Many of the other groups had been hunted to near extinction, which meant that the populations would be slow to recover, if they ever did. And then there were the groups that were still physically capable of having children, but their birth rates were so low that it was almost as if they had no children.
Asher let his gaze slide from Janika, who was staring at her mother with eyes so wide, it seemed they threatened to spill from her head, to Beata, who looked to be on the verge of tears. He considered letting the two women continue on until someone let something slip to confirm his suspicions. But that consideration was shoved aside when he realized that Janika's stubbornness would keep her from revealing anything to him until she was ready. And it was highly likely that her mother was just as stubborn as she was. So he felt it best to ask questions and hope that Janika would forgive him for intruding. "Your people were hunted for their blood?" he asked her quietly.
Beata turned to him, a gleam in her eye telling him she'd just readjusted her opinion of him yet again. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Some witches used it in their potions and spell crafting. There were those of your kind that wanted my people because of the magic in our blood. Many of my people fled. Many more were killed."
"So you hid Janika's abilities to keep her safe, because there are still people who hunt your people?" he asked, though there was really no need.
"Yes. She started showing signs so early. I had to believe that her abilities would be strong. She would have attracted attention. Especially if she was out on a hunt with her father. I did what I had to in order to protect her."
Janika was blinking at the, obviously having problems fully grasping what they were talking about. Asher suspected she had an idea. But she didn't know if she should trust her own thoughts because this whole evening had been one shock after another. He turned his attention to Janika and let her see the understanding in his eyes. "You bound her magic."
"I had to," Beata insisted. As if she thought that Asher would be angry with her for what she'd done.
"You can unbind it?" he questioned. More for Janika than for himself.
"I can. If that's what she wishes." The edge in Beata's voice drew his gaze back to her. She was watching him carefully, as if trying to determine whether or not he posed her daughter any threat. Asher offered her a smile.
"I love Janika. When we first met, I thought she was annoying and pushy. But she refused to let me ignore her. She refused to let me wallow in my own dark thoughts and self-pity. She was there for me when I lost someone very dear to my heart. She kept me from losing the will to simply exist. Janika fills holes in my life that I was unaware existed. I said before that I love her more than life. It is the truth. It is also true that I would kill for her if she was threatened." He paused and let Beata absorb everything he'd just said. After several long moments of silence, he pressed on. This time, his voice was low and filled with as much truth as he'd ever let into it. "Her magic means nothing to me. It is hers. What matters to me is her happiness. And if having you unbind her magic will make her happy, then that will make me happy."
"If I unbind her magic, that could create problems for her. People could come for her and try to take her magic. Her blood. Her life." Beata spoke softly, but Asher heard the fear anyway.
"She will be safer here than in the old country," Asher assured her. "And she is stronger now than she once was. I have seen to that. Janika is my human servant. My strength has become hers."
Beata turned wide eyes to her daughter. "You let him mark you? Willingly?"
"I did, Mama. I love Asher so much," Janika admitted. Her words sent pleasure spreading under his skin, a warmth that he could not attain through the drinking of blood. He had known for some time that he loved her. It had been that love that had spurred him into marking her in the first place. The thought of her dying because of a madman had been more than he'd been able to stand. But until this moment, he honestly hadn't been sure if her feelings were the same. It was the most amazing thing in the world to know that Janika loved him as he loved her.
"She would be alone here," Beata warned.
"She would not. Because she has me. Because she has you. Because there are others like you here in this country. You have but to seek them out," Asher told her. His words saw Beata's eyes going wide again, this time in surprise.
"You would want me here? A meddling old woman who would make your life hell?"
Asher gave her a brief smile. He knew that she was offering him a way out of effectively having a mother-in-law looking over his shoulder the rest of her days. She would want to ensure that he treated her daughter well. To others, it might have seemed like a kind of hell. To him...
Asher brushed his hair over his shoulder, revealing the scarred half of his face to Beata's view. Her eyes widened again, this time in shock and dismay. She didn't turn from his scars, didn't show any disgust or pity. Instead, he saw anger simmer in her eyes. "As you can see, I have already been to Hell."
"Holy men know nothing," she spat, muttering a curse in Hungarian that saw Janika blushing.
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, Beata. Janika needs you. She has missed you greatly these past months. It is why I made such an effort to locate you for her. Because I love her and she deserves to have family around her."
Beata studied him for several moments, eyes pinning him in place. Finally, she smiled and nodded her head at him. "My daughter is lucky to have someone who loves her so much. I thank you for bringing us back together. I will happily stay, if that is what Janika wishes."
"Of course I wish it, Mama," Janika responded, one hand reaching out to take hold of her mother's hand. The other crossed the table so she could take his hand in it. She squeezed them both, then let go and gave her mother a confused look. "Now what was all this talk about magic?"
"You have magic, daughter. You always have. To protect you from the hunters, I bound it inside of you when you were still but a small child. Not even old enough to start school. I wanted to keep you safe from those who would try to harm you. The binding isn't permanent. It can be broken. And I will break it, if that's what you wish me to do."
"I... I don't know, Mama. I've lived my life for so long thinking I was nothing special," Janika began.
"You are very special, daughter. You are from a line of proud, strong people. Magical people," Beata insisted. She beat Asher to the punch because it had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her the same exact thing.
"Those stories you told me as a child. Those were real? They weren't simply fairy tales?" Janika asked, obviously still trying to wrap her head around what her mother had told her. Asher made a note to ask her about them when he caught a flash of wonder and awe from her. That must have been how she'd felt upon hearing the tales.
"They were real," Beata nodded. "They weren't simply fairy tales. They were tales of Faerie. Of the Fae. Of our people."
Janika stared at her mother, mind trying to turn everything over all at once. He could sense that she was overwhelmed by it all, that this was nothing she'd ever suspected. Asher didn't think he could blame her on that one. Few people were told that their family carried the blood of the Fae in their veins. "I never saw you use magic, Mama. I never suspected or sensed it or anything."
"I haven't used my magic very much in a long time, Janika. I had to protect you. Which meant protecting myself. And how would you sense something that has always been there, that is as much a part of you as breathing? You had no idea what to look for, child."
"Will it hurt?" she asked softly. When her mother gave her a look of confusion, Janika continued on. "Breaking the binding, I mean. Will it hurt?"
"It will be as if a soft breeze blew against your cheek, child," her mother assured her. "Does this mean you want me to break the binding?"
"I think so," Janika said. "But not tonight. Later. I want to think it over a little more before I make my decision. Is that okay? Can I do that?"
"Of course, daughter. Take time to consider what you're asking of me. It has waited this long. It will wait a little longer," Beata replied, a gentle smile breaking over her.
Asher let his gaze slide from mother to daughter. He could see the resemblance. The same sharp eyes stared at him from two faces, one still young and smooth. The other was older, with a few lines here and there. Beata had given Janika her fiery hair color, though her hair was strung through with strands of white here and there. Beata was a touch taller, but Janika was thinner. If not for the difference in age, they could have been twins.
He lifted his hands and clapped twice. At his signal, the door to the kitchen swung open and Selia, one of his best servers, came through the door with a tray in hand and a smile on her face. "I think it is time we started our meal. If you ladies will permit, I have taken the liberty of planning the menu. And, because this is a celebration, I have ordered up the most expensive bottle of wine from the cellar."
Selia arrived with the tray and began laying out the chef's newest appetizer. She made sure to settle the dishes between Janika and Beata. When she was finished, she gave a slight bow. "Bon appêtit!" Then she was gone and Asher watched as Janika and Beata dove into the appetizer with reckless abandon.
A smile spread across his face as he took in their joy and pleasure. It was going to be a very good evening.
~*~*~*~*~
Zerbrowski watched a young uniformed officer haul a box of files out of Dolph's office on a dolly with a bemused expression on his face. The officer looked put out by his task, as well as sullen because he'd probably voiced his dislike of this particular duty to Dolph. Who had no doubt taken a layer of skin off the kid's back in return. When the kid had wheeled out of the hallway, Zerbrowski knocked on the door's frame then left himself into the room. As was usual, Dolph had his nose buried in a stack of papers.
"What was all that?" he asked, motioning with one hand toward the empty hallway where the officer had just been.
"I'm sending some work Kinkade's way," Dolph replied gruffly. That surprised Zerbrowski, because he knew how Dolph felt about the woman at the moment. Despite the fact that she'd done her damnedest to put an end to the killings happening in the city, Dolph wasn't going to forgive her for attaching herself to the Master of the City.
"I thought you were under the impression that she wasn't a very good cop," he said softly.
Dolph paused a moment, leaving Zerbrowski to think that the man was going to lift his head and actually look at him. But the moment passed and Dolph continued to stare intently at his papers. "I took your words to heart and gave her the benefit of the doubt," Dolph told him. Zerbrowski stared at the man's bent head for a few seconds, waiting. Because he knew there was more. "I also had one of my own FBI friends get me a look at her file. It was an impressive read. I have no doubt she'll be a great cop some day."
"She's already a great cop. She just needs more experience to back it up. And for people to give her a chance to prove she's a great cop." Dolph didn't bother to acknowledge the fact that Zerbrowski's last comment was pointed at him. Zerbrowski hadn't expected him to. The room fell silent briefly, but Zerbrowski's curiosity got the better of him. "What work did you send her way?"
"The demon summoner killings. Our guys have looked a hundred times and they still can't find that one little thing in Ellie Wilson's files that will give us our killer. Maybe Kinkade can find him or her for us. Since she's a great cop."
Zerbrowski had to admit that he was a touch startled by that. He didn't think that Dolph had any faith in their new Federal Marshal, despite his having looked into her file. He wasn't sure if the man truly believed that Aedan could find the killer when their own people seemed unable to do so or if he was sending her work in order to see her fail. So he could say loudly to anyone who would listen that Aedan didn't deserve her badge or her job. If that was the case, it was a really petty, really dick move. And Zerbrowski was pretty sure he'd lose all respect for Dolph if that happened.
"I'm sure she'll find the summoner," Zerbrowski returned, confidence in his voice. He kept to himself the fear that she actually would find the summoner and that it would be disastrous. Zerbrowski had been watching Aedan from the beginning and, if anything, he'd found she was almost more determined than Anita. Determined to succeed. Determined to save people. Determined to prove herself. He could see that determination getting her into serious trouble.
The room fell silent for another a moment as Dolph went back to his papers and Zerbrowski watched him glance through them. Apparently, if they were going to have a conversation, he was going to have to be the one to start it. And carry it. And possibly end it. He'd seen Dolph like this before. It meant he'd found something and he was chasing it down, all intensity and focus. "What are you working on?" he asked Dolph without preamble.
"Got some more files on the good Reverend Solomon and his family," Dolph told him without lifting his head. Zerbrowski let his frown come and settled into one of the empty chairs on the visitor side of the desk.
"You're not going to let that rest, are you?" It seemed an odd thing for the man to pursue, given their caseload. But Dolph probably had something. And if there was ever a good description for the man when he was on to something, it was 'dog with a bone'.
"No. There's something very bizarre going on in that family. I intend to find out what it is. And how it ties in to the lycanthrope killings."
"You mean besides two of the man's children being the killers?" Zerbrowski asked.
"Yes. Besides that," Dolph confirmed. He glanced up at Zerbrowski and scowled. "Maybe if I can figure out what it is about the family that's so weird, I'll be able to figure out what turned them into killers."
"Any responses to the information we gave to the media to release?" He was pretty sure he knew what the answer to that was, but he had to ask.
"Nothing that will help with the case. There hasn't been a word on Grace or Paul Solomon," Dolph admitted, confirming his suspicions. "But there was something strange that came through. Someone who called anonymously claimed that Carter Solomon is an adulterer before God."
Zerbrowski blinked at that. Dolph was right. That certainly wouldn't help with the case. But, if true, it was an interesting turn of developments and it could very possibly play into the absolute strangeness of his family. "Did the caller offer any evidence to support this claim?"
"No. Just a single sentence," Dolph replied. Zerbrowski watched as he sorted through his pile of papers until he found what he was looking for. He held the paper up and looked at it. "It says, and I quote, Carter Solomon is an adulterer before God. End quote. The cop who took it was just as baffled by it as you and I. But since it came in through the tip line, it got forwarded to me."
"You're thinking something. Because you wouldn't have paid that tip so much attention otherwise. I've known you a long time, Dolph. You think that tip means something."
Dolph looked at Zerbrowski and gave a brief nod. "After looking at it, I spoke with the officer who took it. Asked him questions about the caller. Rodriguez said there wasn't much to tell. It was a woman who was speaking in a low, hushed tone. She told him that Solomon is an adulterer, then she hung up. It took all of fifteen seconds."
Zerbrowski stared a moment. "You think it was Solomon's wife."
"I think it was Solomon's wife. The wording fits with someone who has lived in a religious household all her life. We saw with our own eyes that she does not like or love her husband very much. And it may be that she knows more than she let on, but was unable to share more because she was afraid of being found out."
That made Zerbrowski frown. "You think Solomon is smacking his wife around?"
Dolph considered the question before giving a nod of his head. "I think its a distinct possibility. We both got the feeling that Solomon isn't nearly as pious as he wants us to believe. If he is sleeping around on his wife, its entirely possible he's beating her, too. The question is, are those his only two crimes, or has he committed more?"
Zerbrowski knew that tone. He knew that look. Dolph was thinking some serious things that could have absolutely everything or absolutely nothing to do with their case. One thing he'd learned about the other man during their time together at RPIT was that his instincts were usually pretty spot on. If he was sure there was something about that family that had to do with the murders, then there was probably something about that family that had to do with the murders. "What are you thinking?"
"I've done a lot of digging into the Pure Heart Ministries after Solomon took over. Remember I told you it went from being tiny to having hundreds of followers in months?"
"Yeah," Zerbrowski nodded. A look told him that Dolph's brain was working overtime on this. Something to do with the murders or not, he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Dolph could obsess, and it didn't always come with a good ending.
"Well, that following just kept going up and up and up. As did the amount of money he made. He might have presented himself to us as a humble man of God, but the man is worth millions. Millions." As he spoke, Dolph rifled through the papers before him. Eventually, he pulled a small stack out that had been stapled together and passed them over to Zerbrowski. A glance told him that it was an extensive listing of all the property owned by Carter Solomon. Most of it was in the name of the Pure Heart Ministries group. But some of it wasn't. And that was interesting in ways Zerbrowski couldn't put his finger on. Yet.
He lifted his gaze to Dolph and studied the man a moment. "You think he's using these places as... what? Fronts? Recruitment centers?"
Dolph shrugged. "That's a very real possibility. Don't you think its odd that the symbol we found on our dead lycanthropes just so happens to be a bastardized version of the Pure Heart Ministries' symbol? And don't you think its odd that the people using that bastardized symbol just so happen to be Carter Solomon's children?"
"It does sound suspicious," Zerbrowski agreed. "Especially when you factor in that the knife we were sent that was used to try and kill a vampire had the actual symbol engraved on it."
"Exactly," Dolph's eyes lit up. Zerbrowski stared a minute, then his mouth dropped open when it hit him and he couldn't quite hold on to his surprise.
"You think he's the one behind the weird attacks that have been happening. The ones where homeless people are attacking the preternatural community." Zerbrowski stopped and thought about it as soon as he finished speaking. The look of surprise faded, became one of disgust. "It would be easy. Many members of the homeless community are mentally fragile. It wouldn't take much for him to plant a few ideas in their heads. Convince them that this was a purpose for which they'd been chosen. And no one would be able to find the killer until they were caught in the act. Because who looks at the homeless?"
"Exactly. I think its highly likely that Solomon is behind all of the weird killings and attempted killings that involve that odd symbol. And I think he believes he's doing the world a favor."
Zerbrowski considered that a moment, finding he agreed. Their one meeting with the good reverend had left him thinking that Solomon was that kind of twisted. "So. Do you think that means he put his kids up to killing the lycanthropes? Or do you think they did that on their own?"
Dolph sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure on that one. I've been digging, but I can't say one way or the other."
"What have you found?" Zerbrowski asked. He was pretty sure Dolph had made his decision, but he was always one to move forward with caution on such things. It made him a good cop. Now if only they could do something about his anger...
Dolph started shifting papers around before picking up a few sheets and handing them across the desk to Zerbrowski. He took them and started looking at them. When he lifted his head, there was a frown on his face. "These are reports from children's welfare."
"They are. They were filed some years ago based on a few anonymous tips received at the time," Dolph replied. The way his mouth flattened said he didn't like the implications and that he was pretty sure the anonymous tips had been made with good reason. "Several neighbors noticed that the Solomon children were pretty aggressive with the neighborhood kids. Aggressive in ways that went beyond normal childhood rivalries."
"Abuse?"
"Probably. The case workers naturally never found any signs of abuse, but they did note in their reports that the children seemed especially well behaved in the face of being asked such questions. And they noted that something weird passed between the children and their father. Ruth Ann was never present during these interviews. Only Carter."
"As if he wanted to ensure they didn't say anything incriminating," Zerbrowski murmured, paying close attention to the things that hadn't been explicitly stated in the reports. "They didn't see any signs of physical abuse. No bruises or marks that would give away beatings. But the children didn't act quite normal." Zerbrowski considered it just a moment, then lifted his head and frowned. He didn't like the conclusion he was coming to. "Sexual?"
"That's my belief," Dolph said, attention focused on him. "The question is, was it only one of his children? Or was it all? And did his wife know about it?"
Zerbrowski shook his head, unwilling to even consider that option for the moment, and turned his attention back to the papers he held. They were full of pretty standard stuff. Everything the case workers asked. Everything the children said in reply. Neighbor testimonies. Nothing damning... Wait a minute. "Dolph, did you see this?" Zerbrowski asked, gaze stuck on one small section on one of the earlier reports.
"What?" Dolph asked.
"A neighbor woman mentioned an ninth child. She said she could recall a third girl child playing in the yard with the rest of the kids. But by herself. She said it looked to her that the other kids shunned this girl. She said she mentioned the girl because she saw her for a while, then never saw her again." Zerbrowski shuffled papers around, letting his gaze skim each one. "There are no other mentions of a third girl child later. But there's a clear, intentional mention in this one." Zerbrowski held up the report in question. Dolph squinted at it a bit, then began digging through his piles of files and reports. He finally found what he was looking for and spent a few moments looking through the file carefully.
"There are only eight birth certificates issued to Carter and Ruth Ann Solomon," Dolph said, flipping over page after page in the file.
Zerbrowski's brain kicked into overdrive. "The anonymous tip said he was an adulterer. What if he was? What if he did step out on his wife? And what if he had a kid with one of his side women? What if that was the child this woman was talking about?"
"Its possible. The man comes across as having balls of steel. He strikes me as the type to bring home an illegitimate child. But where is that girl now? What happened to her?" Dolph asked. There were other questions that he didn't give voice to, but Zerbrowski could feel them lingering on the air. "If Solomon did step out on his wife and he had another child with one of those women, if he brought that child home to his wife and family, what happened to the child's mother? And what would raising another woman's child do to Ruth Ann?"
"Do we go talk to her?" Zerbrowski looked at him.
"Maybe," Dolph replied. The answer was non-committal. Zerbrowski knew him well enough to know it was almost a definite that they'd go speak to the good reverend's wife. "But if we do, we'd have to find a way to do it when her husband couldn't be present. I don't think she'd answer questions otherwise."
Zerbrowski nodded and stared at that one tiny passage. And it had him thinking. Their one meeting with Carter Solomon had left them both with a bad taste in their mouths. He and Dolph were sure that Solomon was the kind of man who knew how to lie in his sleep. Deep in his gut, Zerbrowski was almost one hundred percent sure that the man had a hand in the killings that had been taking place. The allegations of abuse added a new layer to the lycanthrope killing case.
Because what if the killers, Solomon's children, had learned everything they'd needed to know at the hands of their father? What if the abuse allegations were more than allegations? What if Solomon actually had abused his children? Physically. Sexually. Mentally. Emotionally. What if the things he'd done to them had pushed them to purge their anger and rage and fear by abusing someone else?
His thoughts were brought to a halt abruptly by Dolph loudly shuffling around a few pieces of paper. "A third one of his children has gone missing."
"What? Which one? And how do we know this?" Zerbrowski asked. Dolph lifted a glossy piece of paper that Zerbrowski knew was the photograph of the family. Dolph pointed to one of the boys.
"Peter Solomon. He's apparently gone missing. And we know because after discovering who the lycanthrope killers were, I made sure the feds had their names. They had their people doing searches for the name Solomon and they found out someone had been making inquiries about Peter Solomon. It was even suggested that he's the one who tried to bomb The Church of Eternal Life." Dolph sat back in his chair and stared at Zerbrowski. "If that's the truth, then its probably safe to say that the apples didn't fall too far from the tree in that family."
"This family gets stranger and stranger with every little bit of information we find on them," Zerbrowski muttered, mulling over what it all meant.
"Then you're going to love this," Dolph replied. He reached for a stack of files set off to the side of the desk and lifted the top one off it. Flipping it open, he let his eyes drift over whatever was inside of it before clearing his throat. "Patient name: Grace Solomon."
Zerbrowski blinked. Patient name? A medical file? How the hell had they gotten hold of a medical file? He wanted to ask Dolph about it immediately, but he knew the other man well enough to know that Dolph wouldn't tell him anything until he felt it was time. So he sat and waited. And wondered what this had to do with everything else.
The look on Dolph's face told him that the man knew he was hooked and waiting. Dolph let his eyes drift up to glance at Zerbrowski, then they slid back down to the file in his hands. "Reason for visit: lycanthropic attack."
"What the hell?"
"This file is from just a few years ago. Right before Grace Solomon ran away from home," Dolph told him. He reached for the next file on the stack and handed it to Zerbrowski. "That file is the missing persons report Reverend Solomon filed about Grace after she ran away."
Zerbrowski opened the file and looked at the first page. A police report. Dated only about two years previous. He skimmed the file, knowing instinctively what words and phrases to look for after having typed up and read his fair share of them over the years. The girl had been seventeen when this had happened. Most of the responses given to the questions asked had made Solomon out to seem like a grieving father who was terribly concerned about his missing child. There was no mention of Ruth Ann in the report, though Solomon was quoted as saying 'Grace's mother and I' numerous times.
"I took the liberty of digging up the moon chart for the months surrounding these reports. Grace's attack happened just before the full moon that occurred that month. She ran away shortly after the full moon the next month."
"After her first change," Zerbrowski said absently, still looking through the missing persons report.
"The doctor made some notes in this file that really had nothing to do with Grace's attack. Things like the girl seemed on edge when she was in her father's presence. How she didn't quite seem to understand what had happened to her. Solomon insisted she'd been attacked by a dog in the neighborhood, but the emergency room doctor had seen enough animal attacks to know the difference between one done by a real animal and one done by a larger version of that animal," Dolph told Zerbrowski as he read. There was silence a moment, making Zerbrowski realize that there was more to come and that Dolph was trying to build up a touch of tension before he dropped the bomb.
"The most interesting information in the doctor's notes are that Grace Solomon was a month pregnant when she was brought in from this attack. When the doctor asked her about it, she told him that she'd been raped by the beast that had attacked her."
Zerbrowski lifted his head. No wonder Dolph had been so quick to mention sexual abuse. That little bit pretty much confirmed it. "The son-of-a-bitch got his own daughter pregnant," Zerbrowski said softly. Dolph nodded.
"It was over a year before Grace returned home to her family after she ran away."
"Jesus Christ, this family is twisted," Zerbrowski shook his head. His mind went back to what he'd read in the social workers' reports and he frowned. He did not like what their investigation suggested. "Do you think Solomon is fucked up enough to have done the same to his sons as he obviously did to Grace?"
Dolph considered it a moment. "I honestly don't know. But if he did... It would explain why Grace and Paul did the things they did to the lycanthropes they killed."
Zerbrowski nodded and glanced at the wealth of information that Dolph had collected together on his desk. It all pointed to some of the worst of behavior a human could enact upon another human. The fact that all of this was done by a father against his children made it so much the worse. If Solomon had, in fact, done the things they'd discussed. The abuse and murders were, at this point, still alleged. But, deep down in his heart and his gut, Zerbrowski knew that he was as guilty as sin.
"So what's our first move?" Zerbrowski asked.
Dolph looked up at him and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~
Aedan stared at the stack of papers on her desk with a dismayed frown. She'd gotten a call from Dolph shortly after she'd woken, asking her if she had time to look over the demon slayings files. Seemed his men were coming to a stand still on it, unable to find the name of the summoner in the files left behind by Ellie Wilson. She had a feeling that wasn't exactly the case, that he wanted to see if she really was some kind of preternatural blood hound, and had sent them over to give her something to do. She couldn't figure out what his angle was with it, but she actually had a slow night at Animator's, so she figured the least she could do was look the files over and see if she was better at leg work than all of Dolph's trained detectives.
Bringing a cold bottle of water with her to her desk, Aedan sat in her chair and opened the first file. It was the first murder scene and seeing the glossy photos that had been paper clipped to the flap of the folder almost threw her right back into that bloody scene. It took a few moments of steady breathing and shoring up her walls to keep the horror from rushing back into her.
She went over each of the photos first, making notes about little things that she hadn't necessarily noticed when she'd been at the crime scene. About things she'd written off as unimportant at first. Time and more scenes had given her more to work with, more similarities to comb through, so she was able to pull more details from the glossy images than she had previously.
She wrote methodically, barely lifting her eyes from the pictures in order to ensure that her writing stayed on the line and that it didn't run into itself. Once she finished with the photos, which proved to be a monumental task unto itself because of all the copies that had been included with the file, she moved on to the written reports. Names were jotted down and she made short notes after each name. Age, gender, order of death... Anything she thought would be helpful.
It took her far too long to make it through the first file, and she had to sit back in her chair, rub her eyes and take a breath, before moving on to the next file. There was an ache in her back and a cramp in her hand from dealing with that one file for so long. And the memories of that night clung to her brain, brought the horror to the surface. She needed time to get herself back under control before starting on the next file.
Once she'd let five minutes run by, once she was sure she could look at it without losing her lunch or her mind, she tackled the next file. As with the first file, she made notes about the photos first, occasionally having to pause to swallow down bile at the vividness of the images. She could recall being at that crime scene, too, could recall the horror she'd felt when she'd realized the demon had taken eyes and tongues this time around. She still couldn't figure that one out, because there'd been no reason she could see for removing the eyes and the tongues. Unless...
Aedan pulled a fresh sheet of paper to her and wrote down a few notes about that. It reminded her of the lycanthrope killer and how he liked to pour silver down his victims' throats. They'd come to the conclusion that the killer had been silencing the most vocal members of the lycanthropic community in order to tell others like them to keep their mouths shut. Seeing as how the police had never given that bit of information to the public, no one had known they were supposed to keep their mouths shut. So what if pulling the victims' tongues out at the second scene had been meant as more than a way to warn others to remain silent? If that's what it had been meant for at all.
Aedan frowned. That didn't feel right to her. Why would the demon care about something so trivial as people being warned about its coming? Given that the dead were all members of the same coven, they'd have known that a demon was hunting them. News like that would have traveled, tongues ripped out or not. She had a hard time believing that any member of that coven would have remained silent in the face of such a threat to their chosen family.
No. The reason those young men had been savaged as they had was something else entirely. She stared at the photo of their severed heads and considered it.
What if the demon removing the young men's tongues had been a way to keep them from telling anyone what had happened? What if removing their eyes had been to keep them from telling what they'd seen? What if the demon had removed their eyes and tongues not for whatever ritual the summoner was performing, but to make sure that those particular victims couldn't tell anyone who had killed them? What if they'd known who the summoner was?
She reached for the next file, flipped it open and ignored the photos in favor of the medical examiner's report. She needn't have bothered, because she knew that the third demon summoner scene had been Ellie Wilson's house. And the demon had barely done any damage to the older woman. It had removed her organs, but she'd put up little resistance to it, so it hadn't been forced to ravage her body the way it had with the others.
She grabbed the fourth file and stared at it. The one where the victim had been prepared for the demon's arrival. That hadn't helped him in the long run, but it had proved helpful to the police. She stared at the medical examiner's report and found that, despite the trauma the victim had gone through, he'd kept his eyes and it looked like he'd kept his tongue. Most of the damage had been done to the victim's torso.
The next file, which was the biggest and also the last one, took the most time to get through. There were so many bodies and body parts that it had taken the medical examiner's office the better part of a week to identify them all. She looked through each report, catalogued everything that had been taken against everything that had been found. No eyes had been missing. No tongues. Just major internal organs.
By the time she was done reading each of those reports, she was sick to her stomach and there was a headache trying to pound itself to life behind her eyes. But there was a thought there, among all the violence and death and gore. A thought that, now she'd had it, wouldn't go away. And it made sense. Those boys were special in their deaths for a reason. One that no one had really considered or looked at. She could have kicked herself because the answer had been staring at her the entire time. She could have put a stop to this a long time ago of only she'd seen the sign. And there was a sign. Why hadn't she seen it before?
She searched through the files until she could find the information that they'd recovered from Ellie Wilson's house. Shuffled through papers until she found the one she was looking for. The list of names that the police had had absolutely no luck finding their suspect in. Frowning, she studied it intently. Looked up every bit of information the police had added to the file on each of the names listed there. And then her eyes lit upon the one name that just suddenly screamed at her. Jesus Chris, it was suddenly so obvious. How had they all missed it until now?
Tugging her phone from her pocket, she chose a recipient and tapped out a text. I know who's summoning the demon. Hit send.
She set the phone on her desk and went back to reading the information the police had gathered together. Waited. She didn't have to wait long. Her phone chimed, letting her know she'd gotten a text in return. She picked up the phone and glanced at it. "You are sure?"
I'm sure.
"What will you do?"
She stared at the brief sentence intently for several long seconds. She could feel the curiosity behind them, as if the sender wasn't sure they believed her. Her mouth went flat and grim determination took up residence on her face. She typed in her next text almost angrily. Whatever I have to do in order to put a stop to things. Remember your promise. Its been real.
Aedan thumbed the power button on her phone, shutting it off so that no one could disturb her. She didn't want any disruptions or possible attempts to stop her. She'd been on this path almost from the very beginning. She could see that now. That everything she'd done, everything that had happened since she'd gone to that first scene and seen that family torn apart, had been building up to this moment. She'd be fucked if she let anyone try and stop her. The summoner had made this her duty simply by calling up a demon in her city. She was going to fucking put a stop to it. Come hell or high water.
She took a few minutes to put all of the files back together and restack them into a neat pile. Put a sticky note on them marking them as property of the St. Louis Regional Preternatural Investigation Taskforce, along with a short note telling Dolph she'd discovered the identity of the summoner and she was going to deal with them.
Then she wrote a second note, very carefully wording it so that the recipient would know exactly what to do and when. Folding it up, she tucked it into an envelope and sealed it, adding a name and address to the front face of the envelope. She'd have Craig courier it over to its destination tonight. As soon as she left the office.
Once she had everything organized, she took a moment to sit back in her chair and think about what was to come. It wasn't going to be pretty, but it had to be done. The summoner was too stupid to realize that they were playing a game they couldn't win. The police had been thorough in their investigation into the summoner, had provided her with every last bit of information she'd needed to put it all together. Especially with the things she'd gotten from Rhia. The summoner was looking for power. And they had allowed the lies of a demon, worded as promises, to lure them onto this idiotic path. What they hadn't figured out yet was that the demon was going to end their life when it got what it wanted. And then it would reign down fire and destruction upon the world.
Which was why she had to stop it. And stop it now. Before it could attain a flesh and blood body on this plane.
She considered the task that lay before her, what it would mean for herself and for the others. She had no illusions that she could accomplish this on her own. But she knew the part she had to play. She could only hope that the others would be able to do what was needed to finish it all. And she hoped that her family would be able to forgive her.
She felt his power as it flowed into her mind, announcing his arrival before he even uttered a word. She'd wondered how long it would take him to either call her or use their link to contact her. He must have felt her discontent. "Aedan? Is there something wrong?" Jean Claude's voice was like a soothing balm to the chaos that currently occupied her mind.
No. Nothing's wrong. Just thinking, she replied, carefully checking her gun to ensure that it was loaded. In case she needed it.
"You are sure, ma mie? Your mind seems... cluttered." He sounded unconvinced. Smart man. Which made it a good thing that she was so adept at keeping her thoughts to herself. Because if he knew what was in her head now, if he knew what she was planning, he'd be trying to talk her out of it. He'd be on his way there to stop her.
I'm sure, Jean Claude. There's just a lot going on right now. I need a night off where I can do nothing but lounge in front of the TV in grubby clothes and eat junk food all night long. She was going to need it after this. And it sure sounded like heaven right then.
There was a pause as he considered her words. She could tell he didn't really believe her. But he didn't press. Just sent her the impression of a smile and she felt the gentle touch of his hand at her forehead, of his lips pressing a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Very well. I will leave you alone. I look forward to seeing you when you get home. And we will do something about making your night in front of the TV happen."
Thanks, Jean Claude. I should be home later. I've got some things to finish up here before I can leave. I'll see you then. She closed the connection before he could ask anything else, then got up and gathered her things.
Gods, she hoped she knew what she was doing. She hoped that this worked. If it didn't... She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and simply stared a moment. "I don't know if you're watching over everyone, but if you are... Lend me your strength," she whispered. With that, she put her blank cop face on and headed for the door.
The rats standing outside her office fell into step behind her as soon as she passed them. She was going to have to find a way to get by them without letting them know something was up. She wouldn't be able to do what needed doing with the two of them tagging along. And the last thing she wanted was to get them killed. She was going to have to wing it and hope for the best.
Craig looked up at her curiously when she stopped at his desk. She held out the envelope to him, watching as he took it and stared at the address written on it. "Have this couriered to that location tonight. Immediately. Its very important. Also, call the RPIT offices and let Dolph know that he can pick up his files. I'm done with them."
Craig stared at her for a moment, eyebrows coming together in a faint frown. She could tell he wanted to ask if something was wrong. But his gaze flicked to the two rats and the look was gone. Instead, he nodded and started digging through the computer for phone numbers. "Anything else?" he asked.
"No. That's it. If anyone asks, I am out of the office for the rest of the night. Something important has come up and I have to go," she told him. He nodded, did his best not to purse his lips at her. Finally forced a smile onto his face.
"Got it. Have a good evening, Aedan," he told her. She smiled at him and turned for the door. The rats were right behind her as she stepped out into the hall. When she stepped into the elevator.
When the doors slid open on the first floor of the office building, Aedan stepped out alone. She spared a glance for the two rats, presently unconscious and on the floor, and hoped they'd forgive her for her actions. She let the door slide shut, knowing she wouldn't have much time, and hurried for the front door. She was just pulling out onto the road when a glance in her rear view showed her two very disoriented rats coming out of the building.
She was in so much trouble when this was all said and done. So much trouble.
She frowned and stared out at the road. Took the opportunity to tighten her shields. Because she knew, without a doubt, that the rats were already on the phone with Jean Claude. He wasn't going to be happy with her. She'd lied to him and ditched her guards in order to go off on her own. He was going to be furious. He was going to try and break through her shields to find out what she was doing. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't drag him into this. She wasn't going to risk him.
He was going to be so, so furious.
She'd deal with it later.
So much trouble...
