Bound by Light (9 page)

"Her people arrived at the same moment we did," he explained, his stormy blue eyes reflecting concern as he studied her. "Came in through the back and turned on the lights as we were coming through the front, but the priestess was already dead. Looks like suicide—but ritualistic. What do you think?"

The sirens drew closer.

Backup. Jake had radioed for backup before they entered. She remembered that much, at least.

Merilee noticed Jake didn’t ask what had happened to her, or make a big deal over whether or not she was okay. He just got right back to business and treated her respectfully, professionally, which she appreciated—though she could tell from the questioning look on his handsome face that they would have to discuss her little "breakdown" later.

For now, there was work to do.

Jake’s calmness washed over her, into her, and Merilee collected it like errant wind. She drew it into herself and battled back her grief over Charlotte’s death, and regained another measure of her own focus.

Duty. Work. Yes.

It was time to clean up this mess.

Merilee gestured to the coven members, who moved back to allow her to study the protective design drawn on the floor around Charlotte’s body. Sea salt mingled with human blood, definitely designed to repel anything evil or ill intentioned. Since Charlotte’s coven had easily crossed the unbreakable elemental barrier she had established and sealed with her own blood and death, and since they were obviously receiving Charlotte’s final gift of temporary powerful protections, Merilee had to assume they were clean, or at least not involved in whatever happened here.

She returned her arrow to its quiver and slung her bow over her shoulder. "This makes no sense, Jake." She told him about the pattern’s meaning, but added, "Charlotte was one of the most positive, upbeat people I’ve ever known, and she had real talent, a deep sensitivity for all sorts of elemental energies. She would never do this to herself."

Yet, even as she made that pronouncement, Merilee had a flash of the walking statue man, the creature that had . . .
touched
her . . . and turned her blood to frost.

Jake remained silent as Merilee gazed at the pattern surrounding Charlotte’s body and took another deep breath of pungent absinthe.

Truth settled on her shoulders like a weight as she realized the Stone Man had been coming here, likely for Charlotte herself—but the pagan priestess’s ritual and sacrifice had thwarted him, and offered her coven some fierce though transient protection as well.

And me, and Jake, too.

Had Charlotte known she was a target, that the man of stone was coming this night, for whatever purpose?

Is that why she chose death?

But what did the Stone Man want with Charlotte?

And what does he want with me?

The sirens grew unbearably loud, then abruptly shut off. Merilee heard tires squeal as cars stopped outside. Flashing lights blazed off and on, painting the faces of Charlotte’s coven members eerie shades of red.

Merilee shivered again. "We need to question all of them and search the place for any journals or information Charlotte might have left behind. I need to know if she was having bad dreams."

Once more, Jake didn’t question her. Instead, he greeted incoming OCU officers, made arrangements for the processing and removal of Charlotte’s body, and requested that the descending crime scene techs clear at least one room where statements could be taken and interviews conducted immediately.

Grateful for the extra time to get over what had happened earlier and accept the reality of Charlotte’s death, Merilee stood to the side and let him work. His efficiency impressed her, and she kept having to remind herself that Jake was a demon. Not a half-breed, either. A full-blooded Astaroth who just happened to be as calm and decisive as any Sibyl or police officer she knew.

Keeping her attention on Jake helped her heart, and kept her from crying over Charlotte. She didn’t need to do that here, right now. That was for later, in private.

The perfect muscles in Jake’s arms bunched and relaxed as he pointed and gestured, and Merilee couldn’t help noticing his grace. Dressed in those tight jeans and that even tighter T-shirt with a blue overshirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, Jake moved with the self-possession and balance of a seasoned dancer. He seemed completely comfortable inside his human form, earthy and grounded, and in charge.

Somewhere inside him, there’s a storm, though. I can sense it when I’m close enough.

Like when he touched her and spoke to her to bring her back from that terrifying void. The warmth of his fingers snagged in her mind, along with the bass echo of his deep, encouraging whisper.

Breathe
.

Yeah. That’s what he had said.

She needed to do that now.

Especially when Jake broke away from the OCU officers and crime scene techs and came striding toward her. She took him in, from the short blond hair to the tanned biceps and those thick thighs bulging in his jeans as he walked.

"We can use the kitchen," Jake said, and the sound of his voice sent warm shivers all over Merilee.

"Okay" was all she could manage.

Merilee noted that Charlotte’s green and yellow kitchen was smaller than most police interrogation rooms, and the little oak table only had four chairs. A single light fixture offered a meager yellow glow, and the room felt hot even though Merilee had opened a window and the back door.

She had been in here for several hours, sitting next to Jake, her leg pressed into his as they spoke to each of Charlotte’s coven members. The sensation of his body against hers was distracting, but she had managed to keep her mind on the business at hand.

So far, through eleven interviews, the responses had been fairly uniform.

Yes, Charlotte had been upset lately, especially this last week.

No, they didn’t know why.

No, Charlotte hadn’t seemed despondent or suicidal.

Yes, they knew people with paranormal abilities were leaving New York, and they were thinking about going, too.

No, they couldn’t say why. Just an instinct. A bad feeling.

Most of the people cried as they spoke, male and female alike, and Merilee didn’t sense any deception. Only despair and desperation and loss.

As the twelfth subject, a petite, pale woman who looked to be in her early twenties, entered the little kitchen carrying a notebook, sadness emanated from her in hot waves. Merilee could barely breathe in the face of so much anguish. Beside her, Jake tensed, and she wondered if he felt it, too.

The young woman sat down across from them, put the notebook on the table, tucked her brown hair behind her delicate-looking ears, and began to cry. Hers weren’t the noisy, jagged sobs they had encountered so far, but steady, silent tears that somehow dug even deeper into Merilee’s soul.

"I’m Amy," the young woman whispered between rattling breaths. "I am—I was—Charlotte’s apprentice."

Jake’s leg pressed against Merilee’s a little more firmly, and she realized he had straightened himself in the little kitchen chair. He glanced from Amy to Merilee, and his gray-blue eyes seemed a shade brighter, almost expectant.

Merilee immediately turned back to Amy and dispensed with some of the more basic questions they had asked the rest of the coven. "Can you tell us anything about the last week of Charlotte’s life? I need to understand her state of mind, and anything that might have been troubling her."

"This will help." Amy slid the notebook a few inches toward Merilee with one shaking hand. "She told me some of it, but mostly, she sketched it. Charlotte always kept a picture journal. There are dozens of them in her closets, but this is the most recent. She gave it to me yesterday in case—"

The girl broke off, took a breath, then made herself finish. "In case something happened to her."

"So Charlotte felt like she was in danger?" Jake asked as Merilee picked up the spiral-bound sketchpad.

Merilee flipped to the first page, which was dated a week earlier, and went totally still, both mind and body.

The Stone Man, or rather the charcoal shadow of him, glared out at her from the stark white page. Malice radiated from his outline, from every blurred, indistinct feature. At first glance, he seemed stiffly human, statuesque—but the image shifted even as Merilee stared at it. He was birdlike now, with a giant maw. Wait, wait. No. He was too rounded, maybe scaly, like a reptile, only large. Even in two dimensions, he had a vastness about him, an endlessness she couldn’t begin to describe.

"Charlotte
knew
she was in danger." Amy’s voice penetrated Merilee’s stunned haze.

Merilee looked up, surprised by the young woman’s sudden surge of elemental energy. More powerful than Merilee would have expected given the girl’s age and size—but then, Charlotte had picked Amy as an apprentice, obviously with good reason.

"Charlotte thought something was stalking her. Some creature too powerful for the coven to fight." Amy pointed toward the notebook. "It looks human, but it’s not. That’s all she knew, or all she told me. That, and she said he—it—was evil. Very, very old, very strong evil."

Even as her mind pushed against it, Merilee forced herself to look back at the changing charcoal image of the Stone Man.

That creeping, slithering cold gripped her again.

Stalking. Yes. He was stalking Charlotte. And now . . . he’s stalking
me.

"Do you know who he is, or what he is?" Amy asked from seemingly very far away as Merilee turned a page in the journal—and almost flinched back from it.

Familiar winged creatures glowered at her from the next page, standing atop a carpet of shed black feathers, leering grins revealing hooked fangs ready to gouge and slash.

Merilee almost pulled her fingers back from the likeness.

Charlotte dreamed about the Keres. Why? Was she already thinking about suicide when she drew these?

Sibyls or anyone else who knew about the Keres could go to them of their own free will, if they wished to take their own lives—but the death spirits couldn’t come off Káto Ólimbos to claim victims anymore. That was part of the treaty.

Still, Merilee had never known of anyone but Sibyls—usually only air Sibyls—who saw visions of the Keres under any circumstances.

She tried to quiet her increasing unrest and confusion by turning the page.

The next drawing showed the sea at night, dark moonlit water, so peaceful, yet somehow ominous. The Stone Man came next, larger, more frightening, sketched in black pencil, though still lacking detail, and seeming to shift even as she tried to get a fix on his appearance.

And the Stone Man again. This time Charlotte had sketched so fiercely her pencil had ripped through the next and last page, which showed a tidal wave crashing into Manhattan, toppling buildings like toys.

"Why did this happen to Charlotte?" Amy asked, loud this time, but Merilee had no answers. All she could do was look from the picture of destroyed New York City to the young woman and shiver, and try very hard not to throw up.

"We don’t know any more than you do," Jake said, his words rumbling out smoothly, almost hypnotically.

From the hallway near the kitchen, shouts broke out, and Amy squeezed her eyes closed. "They’re arguing again. It’s been happening all week."

One man was yelling about needing to get out of the city. A woman screeched back that their place was here, fighting if it came to a fight.

"How can we battle an enemy we can’t even name?" the man hollered, and the wall rattled like he had punched it.

Jake’s muscles bunched as if he might be getting ready to stand, but the next thing Merilee heard was a police officer encouraging everyone to settle down, no need for all this screaming.

The noise died away.

Jake relaxed a little, but Merilee didn’t.

Neither did Amy. Her pretty features hardened, and her lips trembled. "Charlotte always told me I could trust the Sibyls, especially you—but what am I going to do?" Her voice seemed too quiet now, and her tears were still flowing. She glanced at the notebook. "My coven does need to leave, I just know it. And I can’t help them. I’ve been having those dreams, too. If that—that
thing
comes for me—no way. I’ll do what Charlotte did before I let him take me."

Merilee almost agreed with the young woman before she caught herself. "We can get you to safety," she said as she closed the notebook, and wished she could seal the evil being inside the harmless pages. "To one of our training facilities. No place on Earth is more protected than a Motherhouse."

"The Sibyls can help you escape New York," Jake confirmed. He gazed at the closed sketchbook like he could sense the horror of its contents and wanted to destroy it. "And my unit can arrange for your coven to have protection or leave the city, too."

This seemed to give Amy some comfort, but as Jake got to his feet, she stared into Merilee’s eyes. "Running might work for now, but as long as this creature exists, he won’t give up on what he wants—whatever it is. You know that, right?"