Deceptions: A Cainsville Novel (37 page)

He stopped. He imagined it. Ricky called for him, confused, but Gabriel stood there, lost in his thoughts.

Then he made his decision.

G
abriel never called back. I tried Ricky again but continued getting the “customer unavailable” message. In desperation, I dialed Gabriel’s number forty minutes later, only to find that I had no reception.

Maybe he tried to call.

That wasn’t it. I’d checked for messages every few minutes as I’d wandered the hospital, the endless halls and sequences of rooms that only ever brought me back to the cribs. My phone worked fine then.

When I realized he wasn’t calling, I’d thought of dialing someone else. Anyone else. Hell, 911 if it would help.

Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?

I’m lost.

Where are you?

In an abandoned hospital. I can give you directions, but I don’t think you could find me even if I did.

I had to get myself out of this. Only I couldn’t. Walk in any direction and I ended up back with the cribs. I’d tried staying there, in case there was more for me to see, trapped in a performance where the exit doors wouldn’t open until the final curtain call. But the same scenes had repeated over and over.

“Okay!” I finally shouted. “It was Pamela. Todd was the innocent one. I get it. And also, you’d like me to kill myself. I get that, too. Not happening!”

No one answered, of course. Ricky had long since stopped shouting for me, if it ever had been Ricky at all, and not just a phantom voice. If it hadn’t been Ricky, where was he? Was he all right?

Those were just the kind of thoughts that sent my brain flapping madly, like a bird in a too-small cage. I’d told Gabriel that I felt as if I might go mad in here. I’d been trying to joke—hey, if it gets any worse, I’ll
belong
here,
permanently
, heh-heh—but it was no joke. I kept thinking about Isolde and seeing those words, feeling the truth of them, along with the very possible truth that I wasn’t in the hospital at all but had already gone mad, and that’s why Ricky wouldn’t answer and Gabriel wouldn’t call back. I was trapped in the prison of my mind, and there was, indeed, no escape.

Finally, I did what I would have sworn I’d never do.

I gave up.

I stayed in that crib room as long as I could bear it, until I was certain there was no more to see. I walked in every direction, only to end up where I’d started. Then I walked into the hall and sat. Just sat, because for the first time in my life there was honestly nothing I could do, no action that would fix this, and that was, perhaps, the surest sign that I was, in fact, losing my mind.

My surrender didn’t last for long. I’m not sure if that’s a sign of sanity or sheer bullheaded insanity, banging my head against a brick wall and expecting it to crumble before I dashed out my brains. I redid the circuit, taking every possible route out of the crib room, only to end up back there. On my fourth return visit, I stepped inside to see a figure with his back to me.

I knew who it was. There was no disguising that back. God knows, I’d stood behind it often enough. The white shirt was rumpled. The shoes were brown . . . under black trousers. But there was still no denying who it was. Or who it was
supposed
to be.

Gabriel turned as my sneaker squeaked. When he saw me, his shoulders sagged, as if he’d been holding his breath. Then, “There you are,” with a note of impatience, as if I’d waltzed off five minutes ago. Maybe that should have told me it was really him, but I’d been in this place too long, seen too much that wasn’t there.

“What’s the first Sherlock quote you said to me?”

“What?” His brow furrowed. Then, “You’ve been having visions, and you think I’m one of them.”

No shit,
I wanted to say, but I waited until he said, “
The game’s afoot
.” A twist of a smile. “Although, if I admit to it, that might seem proof it can’t really be me.”

“I’ll take it. Okay, so you’re here.” I glanced around. “You know the way out, I hope.”

From the look I got, this wasn’t the reaction he expected. And what
did
he expect? That I’d break down sobbing in gratitude that he’d finally come looking for me? Maybe that’s unfair. I
was
grateful, but I couldn’t forget that he’d taken almost two hours to reply to my frantic call for help.

Gabriel used to be very clear that I couldn’t rely on him. If we’d stuck with that, then I
would
be grateful right now. But I’d blurted that nightmare to him, one that now seemed more premonition than dream, and three times he’d told me it was wrong. Three times he’d said he would never ever ignore me if I needed help. That was why I blamed him—not for failing to run to my rescue, but for telling me that he would.

“You haven’t seen Ricky, have you?” I said. “I lost him when all this started and . . .”

I trailed off as I saw his expression.

“Something happened,” he said. “Ricky . . .”

“Is he hurt?”

I hung there, waiting for that expression to disappear in a blink as he saw I was freaking out, for him to say,
No, nothing like that
.

But the look did not change.

“Gabriel?”

“There was . . . an accident.”

“But he’s all right?”

“He was when I left, but . . .”

“Left?”
I strode into the hall. “You left him?”

“To get help, Olivia. We should go and phone for—”

“You go. After you tell me where the hell Ricky is.”

“The belfry.”

I started to run. Every other time I’d gone that way, I’d never found the stairs. But now the hall kept going, exactly as it should, the stairs ahead. Gabriel thundered after me, saying, “Hold on.”

I swung onto the stairs.

“They’re rotted!” he called after me.

I ran up, moving fast enough that when one gave way, it broke after my weight was on the next. Gabriel kept calling after me, telling me to stop or at least slow the hell down. He actually said “hell,” which was probably code for
I’m serious
. I did exactly what he’d spent the day doing to me: I ignored him.

I found the belfry ladder. When I reached the top, the first thing I saw was blood. It arced across the wall and dripped onto the floor. The belfry railing was broken. A hole in it, just the size for someone to have fallen through, with fresh jagged splinters on both sides.

“Ricky!” I started running toward the hole.

“Olivia! Stop!” It was Gabriel. “The floor—”

My foot hit a hole, and I stumbled. As I did, I saw Ricky, unconscious, propped against the wall, his neck bound with strips from his shirt, the rest discarded beside him. His chest rose and fell with steady breathing.

I took a step in that direction.

“Careful!” Gabriel said, his voice harsh as he crested the steps.

I picked my way toward Ricky.

“We thought we heard you up here, and something attacked him,” Gabriel said. “It cut his neck and knocked him through the railing. Luckily, he caught the edge. I hauled him back in and bound his neck. When I left, he was conscious but weak from loss of blood. Is his breathing—?”

“It’s all strong,” I said, putting my hands to his chest.

Gabriel exhaled. “Good.”

As he crossed the floor, I saw why he’d been slow coming after me. He was limping—badly.

“You’re hurt,” I said.

He gestured at the hole in the floor. “It’s the same leg I injured before. It’s just acting up. I’m fine.”

It was doing more than
acting up
. Pain flashed in his eyes with each step.

“I’ll go for help,” I said.

He shook his head. “I don’t want you getting trapped again.”

“I think that’s over,” I said. “And from the looks of it, if you take another flight of stairs, you’ll end up at the bottom. Keys.”

“I can handle—”

“Give me your damn keys, Gabriel. Someone’s blocking cell service in here, and I may need to drive to get a signal. The longer you argue, the worse Ricky is going to get, and—”

He handed over the keys.

“Now sit,” I said. “There. And don’t move.”

At a pained quirk of his lips, I hesitated, and then said, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry if I didn’t say—”

“You don’t need to. I’m the one who’s sorry, Olivia.” He met my gaze. “For everything.”

I nodded. He looked away then, lowering himself to the floor beside Ricky and saying, “There, I’m sitting. Now go on.”

A
t the bottom of the steps, I hesitated. I fingered my gun and switchblade. I should have given one to Gabriel. At the very least, I should have told him to take out Ricky’s knife. He’d said something attacked Ricky, which meant we weren’t alone here.

I was considering going back up when I heard Gabriel’s voice, so distant I had to strain to pick it up.

“I know you’re there,” he said.

I slowly climbed three steps.

“Stop hiding in the shadows,” he said. “I’m not the one who sees visions and hears voices. I know you’re there. Come out.”

I quietly picked my way past the rotted steps.

“Are you sure that was me, Gabriel?” a man’s voice said. “I suspect it sounded a lot like that little inner devil you humans seem to have, the one that sits on your shoulder and whispers all the things you want to do and know you shouldn’t.”

“That’s called a conscience,” Gabriel said. “Mine might be underdeveloped, but I recognize its voice perfectly well.”

The man laughed. “No, boy. That’s not conscience. It’s cowardice. Which is much the same with your kind. You tell yourself you should not, when in truth you only dare not.”

I knew that voice. It was exactly who I expected to find here: Tristan.

I continued down the hall, painfully slowly, testing each step first, for the rotted boards and to keep silent.

“I’m not going to kill Ricky,” Gabriel said, and I stopped dead, my heart pounding. “You can whisper all you like. I’m not Gwynn.”

“No, boy. You don’t have the balls.”

“If you think that will provoke me, then you understand me much less than you believe. I might be Gwynn’s representative in this drama. I’ll accept that. I’ll even accept that there’s more to it than that, that part of me
is
Gwynn. But the whole is not, and that’s a choice I am free to make.”

“Pretty speech, but you aren’t in front of a judge here, Gabriel. I’ve already rendered my judgment and delivered my verdict.”

“Arawn dies at Gwynn’s hands. Something tells me you don’t want peace after all. What a surprise.”

“My, you are cynical. Your darling Matilda bought it quite handily.” Tristan’s voice took on that earnest tone from the lake. “
I just want everyone to get along. Give peace a chance.
” His voice reverted to normal. “You didn’t believe me for a second. Too bad you didn’t tell her that. So, Mr. Walsh, attorney-at-law, tell me, what’s my real plan? Let’s see that illustrious mind at work.”

“Chaos. That is your plan. Your only plan. You set James against me to separate me from Olivia. When that failed, you decided to remove me from the picture. But you can’t kill me. You don’t dare provoke the Tylwyth Teg like that. So you murdered James and framed me. I did consider the possibility you were working for the Cwn Annwn, since all your plans involved removing me. But the fact that you’re now ordering me to kill Ricky proves the Cwn Annwn are innocent in this scheme. Which means your plan is, as I said, chaos. War, to be precise. The Tylwyth Teg already blame the Cwn Annwn for my arrest. Then the Cwn Annwn would blame them for Ricky’s death. You take both of us away from Olivia, and you set the two local fae factions at war, with their so-called champions both lost.”

Gabriel had been raising his voice for each of his speeches. Nothing obvious, just enough that, if I was still in earshot, I might pick it up. It also helped to muffle my footsteps as I returned, picking up speed as he talked, then slowing when he stopped.

“Would you like to know your next step, too?” Gabriel continued, in that same unhurried way, as if he were indeed in front of a judge, and the case wasn’t really all that important.

“Please.”

“Your attempt to play on my sense of competition failed, so you will now appeal to a stronger motivation: my sense of self-preservation. You’re holding a gun on me. You’ll threaten to pull that trigger unless I reach over and . . . strangle him? Yes, I suppose that would work best, though I’d need to remove the bandages first, so my fingerprints will be on his neck, leaving no doubt that I killed him.”

A short laugh. “If you really expect me to believe you’ll give in that easily, you think me a fool, boy. You would kill him to save yourself, but the prospect of life in jail is going to give you pause. No, you’re stalling, waiting for . . .”

Tristan swung on me, poised at the top of the ladder. He pointed the gun. “You both think you’re clever, but you’re still human. There are limits and—”

Gabriel sprang—his leg obviously not as bad as he’d pretended. He snatched the gun from Tristan’s hand. “No, I don’t believe there are limits. Not to fae arrogance, that is.”

Tristan laughed. “Do you think that will hurt me? Go ahead. Shoot. See what happens.”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said. “My goal was simply to stop you from pointing it at her.”

I lunged and buried my blade between Tristan’s shoulders. We both went down, me on him.

“That won’t kill you, either,” I said. “But it will slow you down. Particularly with this.” I rammed a nail into the hole. He snarled and bucked.

“Iron,” I said. “Again, it won’t kill you. But there is a grain of truth in the lore.” I leaned over to his ear. “I had a little chat with someone about
spriggans
today. He wouldn’t tell me how to kill fae—probably afraid I’d use it on him—but he did tell me how to incapacitate one. Cold-forged iron. Or regular iron inserted under the skin. Seems to work quite well.”

“You two do love to talk, don’t you?” Tristan snarled under me.

“It’s genetic. So let’s keep talking. Yes, the Tylwyth Teg would suspect the Cwn Annwn killed James and framed Gabriel, but that’s complicated. Having Gabriel kill Ricky is a much better guarantee of chaos. So why start with James?”

“I’m sure I had a reason,” Tristan said. “Or perhaps someone else did. Someone with a slightly different agenda. Someone whose allegiance I could use.”

“Pamela.”

I didn’t think before I said her name. It just came out, and as soon as I heard it, I expected him to laugh. Which he did. But it was not the laugh I wanted to hear.

“Pamela?” He feigned shock. “Your sweet, wrongly accused, deeply devoted mother? Whatever would make you say that?”

Yes, Pamela was the one responsible for the Valentine Killer murders. In my gut, I knew that was true. The pain of that was alleviated by the conviction that she’d done what she thought best. She’d done it for me. But this? This was like a right hook to the gut, leaving me gasping inside, screaming I was wrong, even as I knew I was not.

Pamela hated Gabriel. Even the fact that he represented her best chance of freedom didn’t help. She hated fae, too, and recognized that blood in Gabriel. Moreover, he was their champion. She wanted to hurt the Tylwyth Teg and to wrest me from their clutches. Framing Gabriel would do both.

What had Tristan told me in his message? Check Pamela’s visitor log. Tipping his hand in arrogance, delighting in pointing me in the right direction, knowing I wouldn’t find him there because he’d used an alias.

“Pamela conspired with you to kill James and frame Gabriel,” I said. “I don’t know if you had anything to do with Ricky beating James, but if not, I’m sure it was an added bonus, throwing extra confusion in the mix. Mutilating James to match Pamela’s victims threw a little confusion in there, too.”

“Bravo,” Tristan said. “Guilty as charged—on all counts, though I suspect dear Pamela won’t appreciate my saying so. There’s very little of your father in you, Eden. Poor Todd, always trying to do the right thing, a coward hiding behind the cloak of conscience. Like your mother, you’ll do whatever it takes to protect those you love. I think you and I can come to an agreement, as long as I promise not to harm your darling boys.”

“I don’t need your promise. You’re right, I’ll protect them—by myself, as my mother did for me. I’m my father, too, though. I can worry that my voice of conscience is too soft, but it’s loud enough that I want nothing to do with you and your plans. Here’s mine. Once I get help for Ricky, you’re coming with us—to the Tylwyth Teg or the Cwn Annwn or whoever wants to deal with you. So—”

“Actually, I believe I can simplify this next step,” said a voice from the ladder. Patrick pulled himself up, fastidiously wiping his hands on his trousers as he stepped into the room. “Tristan, good to see you—particularly in that position. You’ve caused a lot of trouble, and I’m going to win a heap of gratitude turning you over to the elders.” He looked at me. “Don’t worry. I know you don’t trust me enough to turn him over so easily. Gabriel will accompany me back to Cainsville with Tristan, while you take care of the boy.”

Patrick walked over and looked down at Tristan. “Nicely done, Liv. You took my instruction well. After both you and Gabriel called today, asking about
spriggan
, I knew something was up. Fortunately, Gabriel was more forthcoming with a name. Tristan’s associate, Alis, supplied the rest after some effort. She told me where to find you. I arrived just in the nick of time, before anyone got hurt.” He looked at Ricky. “Well, close enough.”

Patrick smiled at me, very pleased with himself. It wasn’t only the elders he wanted to win gratitude from.

I pretended not to be impressed, and said only, “Gabriel’s hurt, too. He’ll be fine to accompany you, but he can’t carry Ricky. That’ll be your job.”

His brows shot up. I hauled Tristan to his feet and led him out.