Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) (2 page)

Riley’s shoulders drooped. What a crappy day.

“Miss?” The clerk waved at her from behind the counter.

Feeling even more miserable, Riley shuffled forward and dropped her letters down on the counter. She bought her stamps, shipped off the bills and left.

Outside, in the crisp autumn air, Riley moaned shamelessly. She closed her eyes and let the breeze wash over her, gelling the sweat to her skin and unplastering her only nice blouse from her spine. It was the last scrap of her pride that kept her from stripping out of her clothes right there and letting nature cool her skin. Instead, she adjusted the strap on her purse and started around the building to the parking lot. But she couldn’t have taken more than a handful of steps when her foot treaded on something squishy.

For a split, horrific moment, she was certain it was a dead rodent, something that had fallen out of a nearby tree and was now embedded with her shoe print. It was the only image she needed to make her run away without looking back. Curiosity and the need to sleep without nightmares of flattened road kill under her shoe, forced her to take a peek, just one, just so she would never have to wonder again if those shoes needed to be burned.

It was a man’s wallet, black with soft, worn leather. Relief pulsed through her as she swooped down and scooped it up, surprised by its weight. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of the owner, but she was the only one there. Part of her wondered if she should take it to the post office and leave it with them. Maybe the owner would retrace their steps and return for it. She started to turn back, even as her fingers flipped it open to the flaps. No picture. No driver’s license. But there was enough cash and credit cards to buy a small island. The thing was stuffed full of fifties and hundreds. Nothing less than twenty dollars in bills, no loose change here, and somehow, there was still room for a packet of matches, a receipt from the post office for stamps and an unwrapped condom in silver foil. Someone had tucked several business cards to the same place into one of the slot.

Carefully, she withdrew one of the cards and read the fine, loopy print. “Octavian Maxwell.” It was followed by an address.

It surprised her that the address was on the same stretch of highway as her house. More so, that she had never noticed a turn off anywhere between her house and that place. She wondered again if she should just leave it with the post office clerk, but decided against it. It was on her way for one thing, and for another, she doubted anyone who got their hands on all that cash was going to return it. Hell, even she was tempted. There was enough money to keep her afloat for months. It was enough to help ease the load until she could find a job. Even a handful of the bills would have been enough. But she’d lost money before and no matter how much of it you had, losing any hurt. Besides, for all she knew, this could be all the money the person had and they’d been on the way to the bank or something. It could make all the difference in that person’s life. It sucked, but she’d never be able to sleep at night if she didn’t return it. She’d drop it off and go home and sulk about the money she could have had.

She stuffed the wallet into her purse and hurried to her prehistoric Toyota and climbed in. The thing grumbled like an old man being asked to move, and puttered out of the parking lot at a snail’s pace. Riley flipped the radio on, drowning out the car’s protest with
Skillet
belting about
Monsters
as she followed the address to the outskirts of the city, along the industrial stretch of highway reserved mainly for delivery trucks. She kept her speed under the required limit, not wanting to miss this mysterious turn stated on the card.

When it materialized, almost quite literally, Riley almost missed it. She slammed down on her brakes, thankful no one else was behind her as she twisted the wheel and pulled onto the shoulder to gape.

She’d driven down that road a million times. She lived a single block further up and yet not once in ten years had she ever noticed that opening. Yet, there it was, so either she wasn’t very observant of her surroundings or it had appeared by magic. She went for the first, because magic did not exist.

Carefully, she eased into the bend, keeping her foot light on the gas as she maneuvered the tight wind deeper into a stretch of wilderness she wasn’t all too comfortable navigating. The dirt path carved deep into the unknown, guiding her, seemingly compelling her forward without an end in sight. It felt like hours before the thin, bare trees finally parted, revealing an opening paved in gravel, weeds and dirt. The surrounding trees loomed like gangly giants all around, reaching up to the heavens, choking the blue and sunlight with creeping shadows. It was no wonder nothing grew there. Every bush, plant and shrub was dead, barren and wilted.

Riley shuddered as she pulled up in front and cut the engine. Aside from her car, there were a number of very shiny, very expensive looking cars crouched like hunched mammoths throughout the wide clearing-turned parking lot. She climbed out, slammed her car door closed and faced the monster of a house looming like something from the
Addams Family
before her
.

The place was a jungle of vines climbing over dark stones and stained glass. Columns of granite loomed with massive force over curved stairs leading onto a broad porch. With the four turrets, several levels and the sheer height, it was impossible to judge just how many floors actually created the place, but it was a thing of horror movies. She wondered briefly if she’d find wind chimes fashioned of human bones hanging from the drain pipes and if a creepy Frankenstein butler would be answering the door.

Riley second guessed her decision to continue the handful of steps from where she stood near the safety of her car and climbing the marble steps to the grand opening. But move she did, crossing the distance until she stood before the doors.

It was a thing of legends, ten feet of solid bronze stamped into mahogany. Sunlight spilled pale fingers down the precise design, tracing the grotesque figures immortalized in the metal. It took some squinting and two full steps back to fully take in the image.

It was a bird, majestic wings sprawled from frame to frame in flight. Its feet were buried in the disemboweled bodies of men crawling from fiery pits. They clawed at the bird’s legs, trying desperately to untangle themselves from the flames tearing flesh from bones. Over the bird’s head, men stood on clouds, brandishing bows and arrows aimed below. Above the door, the words
Final Judgment
were burned into smooth oak. Riley swallowed thickly, wondering what the hell kind of place she’d stumbled across. Then she spotted the umlaut carved into the plaque just beneath the sign.

“All shall be judged,” she read quietly to herself. “Lovely,” she muttered, exhaling.

Well, she’d come this far. Turning back now just seemed like a waste of time. Plus, she still had to return the wallet, which was weighing heavily in her purse.

Resigned, she knocked loudly, not trusting the person on the other end to hear her judging by the massive size of the house. She tapped her fingers against her thighs, waiting. Seconds turned into minutes and she tried again, using her fist this time. When nothing happened again, she glanced at the cars darkening the driveway and frowned. She turned to the house and tilted her head back, taking in the massiveness of it.

Hesitant, she reached for the bronze handle and twisted. The door swung inward to a soundless emptiness that seemed to echo through the grand chamber crafted from stone and wood.

At first glance, there was nothing welcoming about the place. It was dimly lit by flickering candles mounted on the stone walls and hung from the iron chandelier overhead. The floors were glossy hardwood that appeared black in the gloom. The only occupants were the square tables and iron chairs scattered throughout the place, interrupted only by a square dais rising from the ground. A neat pile of firewood rested in the center, unlit, but ready to be so at a moment’s notice. A solid oak bar loomed at the far corner with shelves of alcohol lining the wall behind it in brightly colored bottles. There was another counter on the opposite end with an old fashioned register on top and a rectangular window cut into the wall behind it. It was an odd set up, but it made sense, seeing as how this appeared to be a restaurant and bar combo. The only problem now was that she was the only one there.

“Hello?” she called, crossing over the threshold tentatively and moving to the counter with the window. She strained her neck to try and see into back. “Is anyone—?”

“Yes, someone is.”

Riley released a startled scream before she could stop herself. She whipped around to confront the smooth voice behind her. Her hand flew to her heart as it hammered frightfully in her chest.

“Geez!” she blurted, staring at the man standing there serenely.

As handsome went, the man took the cake. He was downright gorgeous with a headful of glossy black hair swept back from an elegantly classical face, topped with a square chin, rugged jaw and prominent brow. He stood dominating her tiny frame by a full foot, bringing him to a little over six feet tall with a build made for the cover of romance novels. It was concealed by a neatly tailored suit of rich navy that complimented his striking good looks and tan features.

Riley felt her jaw slacken.

The man smiled, apparently amused by her reaction. “I apologize. I sometimes forget how quietly I walk, a fact my wife berates me over constantly.” He moved around her to stand behind the counter. “Are you here for lunch? Or can I help you with… something else?”

Maybe it was her imagination, but the way he said
something else
made her cheeks flush.

She shook her head, more to clear it than anything else. “No, I’m looking for someone.”

His dark eyebrows lifted, interest now plain on his face. “Are you? And who might that be?”

Riley dug into her purse for the card she’d stuffed there. She unearthed it and held it up to read. “Octavian Maxwell? Is he here or do you know him?”

Something like mild confusion blended with interest behind his features. “Are you an acquaintance?”

Riley met his gaze levelly. “No, we’ve never met. He was at the post office earlier today and dropped his wallet. I’m just here to return it.”

There was no concealing the outright shock on the man’s face this time. She could have announced she was part alien from the planet Uranus. “You… you brought back his
wallet
?” There was an accusing tone in the question, like he was appalled that she dare bring Octavian drugs.

It was Riley’s turn to look bemused. “Uh…” She pulled out the wallet and held it up for the man to see. “I think it’s his. I mean, it had his business cards inside…”

The man stared as though she held a cobra. “So you did…” He quickly seemed to catch himself and his smile returned, full and cheerful. “Well, isn’t that thoughtful of you. I’m afraid my son isn’t here at the moment, but I can take it—”

Riley took a quick step back, clutching the wallet to her chest. “I’m sorry and no offense, but I’d like to give it to him personally. There are some very important things inside and I’d feel better knowing he got them. Not saying that you wouldn’t give it to him, but…” She hastily stuffed the wallet back into the safety of her purse.

Straight, white teeth flashed in a brilliant smile. “I understand. In that case.” He circled around the counter to face Riley fully. “Why don’t you stay for lunch? We don’t get very many visitors during the day. Most of our patrons prefer the cloak of darkness.” He smiled as though he’d made a private joke. “I’m sure Octavian will be back shortly.”

Riley thought of the measly handful of coins at the bottom of her purse, barely enough to cover a cup of coffee, and shook her head. “That’s really nice of you, but I—”

He waved her excuse away. “Nonsense. It’s on the house. Think of it as our way of thanking you for your… kindness.”

“It was really no trouble. This place is actually on my way home, so…” she trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks.

“Nevertheless.” He guided her with a gentle hand to a nearby table. “I insist.”

Riley sat as he hurried back to the counter. He returned a moment later with a plastic encased menu. She thanked him, but didn’t touch it until he left her with a polite inclination of his head. He disappeared through the swinging doors behind the counter, leaving Riley alone in the eerie room.

She glanced at her purse resting on the table in front of her and wondered what kind of person carried that amount of cash around and how the hell did one not notice losing it? She’d go out of her damn mind if it had been her. Granted, she’d never had that much money in her life to lose, but even misplacing ten dollars was a big deal. She remembered washing a pair of jeans with five dollars in the pocket once. She’d been devastated when she’d pulled out the torn and crumpled bits of paper from her pocket the next day. It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to pay for a loaf of bread and a carton of milk. No, that had not been a good day for her. So she could only imagine what Octavian must have been feeling at that moment.