The Dark Communion (The Midnight Defenders) (18 page)

“And the parents saw this?”

“No, but they’ll tell you someone shot out their daughter’s window.”

“That would be you?”

I smiled.

“You shot at a little girl?”

“No. I shot at a psycho trying to steal a little girl.” I chose not to mention I did so while he was holding her; I didn’t think that would have helped my chances any. “Talk to the parents. They’ll verify the story. The little girl will tell you about her imaginary friend.”

“Why do I care about her imaginary friend?”

“Adam Gables had one. So did Julie Easter. And I have it on good authority that at least one other did as well.”

“What does that mean, good authority?”

Dared I tell her about Paddy O’Brien? Would I just sound crazy at that point? “Look, there’s too much there to just be coincidence. You gonna check on it or not?”

Stone didn’t say anything.

“Fine,” I said. “If the past – Krueger and Lochmeyer, those cults, the demon possessions – if it all meant nothing…”

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She turned to the mirror and asked her reflection, “Did you get that? Run a check, get the parents on the phone or send a unit down there. Tenth floor, window on the alley side.”

“And Arthur broke into the sporting goods store. Not me.”

“Arthur?”

“The dead guy. I saw you take his body out of there.”

“You mean the guy you killed?”

“I didn’t kill him,” I said. “I never pulled the trigger. Did you find a gun near me?”

“No. But that means very little. You could’ve stashed it.”

“Yeah, right before I passed out.” She didn’t seem amused. “Alright, fine. What about me?”

“What about you?”

“The cuts and bruises, the blood, my fucking shoulder was dislocated, I had to pop it back in myself. I could probably use a sodding doctor.”

“You attacked an old man and he defended himself.”

“A fucking invalid in a wheelchair attacked me, tore up my coat, and threw me across the room? I’m sorry, Nat, but it’s time you admit that there are other things out there that you can’t explain with police tactics and so-called logical reasoning. There’s something else going on here, and you’re not seeing it…”

“Oh, yeah? Like what? What am I missing, Swyftt?”

“The fucking kids – all of them for the past few months – they’re all connected.”

“We know that,” she said, annoyed. “Why do you think the FBI has been brought in? We just don’t know the connection yet, and I’m not buying the floating theory of a connected web of homeless people.”

“No. It’s something else. It’s one thing. I talked to it. It spoke to me, told me to bow to it or some shit.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s one thing’?”

“It’s a demon, probably. It seems to take possession of people, speaks through them, controls them.”

“A demon?!” she said, amazed. “Like a fallen angel?”

“Demons aren’t angels.” I should be instructing a group of first graders; this was Hunter 101. “And for the record, Angel’s don’t possess people, they have bodies. Demons are the spirits of the Nephilim that God destroyed with the flood. Technically, they’re the sons of angels…”

“Nephilim?”

“You ever read the Bible? They’re giants in Exodus.”

“Demons…biblical giants….” She looked at me like I was crazy. Then she looked at the mirror and said, “Are you getting this?” She turned back to me. “You’re right, maybe you won’t get the chair. They don’t usually give the death penalty to insane people.”

“What about the demon possessions before? You saw those.”

“That was different. They weren’t trying to kill anyone, and they weren’t used as a thinly-veiled attempt at your alibi.”

“Fuck it,” I said. “Lock me the fuck up. When the killings continue, it’ll be on you. You don’t have to believe me, but it doesn’t make me any less right.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “Let’s say I buy the demon thing.” She looked up at the ceiling for a minute and put her hands up. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. This is what you do to me, Swyftt. You drive me crazy!” She took a deep breath, leaned her hands against her side of the table, bowed her head, and looked up at me. “Obviously, I think you’re crazy.”

“Noted. I could be, but not about this.”

“Fine. Say I believe you. Why do you think it’s a demon?”

“At first I wasn’t sure, but the way it spoke suggests a demon. ‘Who hath…’” I struggled to remember the words it had used. “’Who hath…prevented me, that I should repay him?’ I think that’s what he said.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s from chapter forty-one Job.” She looked unimpressed. “Job’s believed to be the oldest written book of the Bible.”

“And you just happened to know that?”

“I was a priest. I know the Bible. And the fact that this thing is quoting…”

“You know I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” she said. There was a knock on the door behind her, and then it opened. A uniformed officer stood there, peeking in just a little, clearly not wanting to intrude, and he handed her a piece of paper and the tree bark in the sandwich baggie. “Thank you,” she said, and he closed the door.

She tossed the baggie on the table in front of me and said, “Do you recognize this?”

“It’s the bark from the tree that trashed the store.”

“I’m not even going to acknowledge that one,” she said. “This is leather from your torn jacket. It was found at the scene.” She was silent a moment as she looked over the paper, and then she looked up from it and caught my eyes. “There was a spot on there that looked like blood, so I had it analyzed.”

“And?”

“And it is blood. But the report says it isn’t human.”

“So you believe me?”

“No. Because the initial reports on the body we took from the scene – Arthur, I believe you said – confirmed that he was indeed human.”

“So what’s the other blood?”

“That’s what I need you to tell me.”

I shrugged. “I had a burger for lunch. I don’t think they cooked it all the way.”

“You expect me to believe that? With all your talk of monsters and such. You don’t want to take this opportunity to try and convince me of something else?”

“Not really,” I said. “What can I say, I have to take a shit. I just want to get back to my cell.” I stood and walked around to the front of the table, leaned up against it.

There was another knock on the door and this time What’shisname poked his head inside and said, “I’ve got the girl’s parents on the phone. Their daughter’s window was shattered tonight.”

Stone nodded to him, and when she wasn’t looking, I slid the baggie into my pocket. “Bring the car around,” she told her partner. “Let’s get over there and talk to them. We’ll figure this out.”

“You’re starting to believe me,” I said.

She spun to look at me, eyes narrowed. “I’m just feeling out your story.”

“Ask the girl,” I said. “Ask her about her imaginary friend. Ask her if she was given anything. If I’m right, the something – whatever it is – would have belonged to one of the other missing kids. Julie Easter, maybe, or I don’t know, Adam Gables.”

She looked at me blankly for a minute and said nothing. I could tell she was searching me, trying to decide if I was being honest with her. Then she looked at the mirror and said, “Detective Anderson, please make sure that Mr. Swyftt is escorted back to his jail cell.”

.

22

Anderson, ever the good detective, escorted me back to my cell. “Hate to be doing this to ya, son. You know how them federal agents can be.”

“I know.”

“My hands are tied.”

“At least they’re not cuffed.”

He smiled a hearty, toothy grin. “No,” he said. “I don’t suppose they are.” He shut the door to the cell. “Again, real sorry, Mr. Swyftt. Hopefully, your little girl will be along soon to spring ya and take ya home to a cozy bed. You need anything before I go?”

“I never got my lobster dinner.”

“No, and I don’t suppose you will here in this place. They can’t even spring for a decent coffee machine.” He chuckled to himself. “I was thinking more like a blanket or somethin’ like that.”

I shook my head, and he left. As I sat on the bed, my mind began to wander, swimming with ideas and theories. I hadn’t had a quiet, conscious moment since the attack.

The only thing worse than getting your arse kicked was not knowing what kicked it. I didn’t know what I was up against, and that scared me. Knowledge was power. In fact, it was usually my greatest weapon. Not knowing left me feeling weak, impotent.

Whatever it was, it had taken over Arthur, spoken through him, possessed him. Sure, there were a few things that did that, but when you factored in the diet that it had been eating – little kids – and that particular passage of Job it had been quoting… I tried to tell Stone, but she didn’t want to hear it, didn’t believe me. She didn’t see the significance in the quote or understand that God was addressing Job, a man He declared righteous. It was a story I knew well, related to, even. Years ago, I had a similar talk with the Man Upstairs; it’s why I quit the priesthood. He didn’t ask me fuck-all like, “Do I know where the rain is kept?” and those other idiot riddles he spoke to Job. But He might as well have.

It occurred to me then that maybe it wasn’t the voice that had spoken to me in the sporting goods shop that I found familiar but maybe just the words and the tone: Acid flashbacks of an older life. Whatever had been inside of Arthur spoke with authority, spoke as if it thought itself as God.

I was not a righteous man, so I knew that whatever it was could not have been God himself, because He wouldn’t speak to me that way. Whatever Arthur was, whatever I considered myself, we were at least once removed from the characters in the metaphor.

I had thought that I was dealing with a demon, but now that didn’t quite add up. Demons weren’t that arrogant.

Of course, the Fallen were, but the technique was off. It lacked their passion, their pizzazz. Kidnapping children was too small-scale for Fallen Angels. They’re all about dividing and conquering, bringing down nations and setting themselves up as gods.

Fuck.

So where did that leave me? Korrigan? They were nothing more than demoted angels, after all. It was possible that one of them was running some kind of game in town.

There were too many variables, too many unknowns. But still, I couldn’t escape the thought I was missing something, and as I tried to recall the events of the past two days, I fell asleep.

I dreamt.

It was twenty years ago, and I was a detective in London, looking in on a case involving missing children. In my dream, I knew who was doing it and why, just not where he would strike next.

I came home to our flat, and Alara was on her knees, crying, and I kept asking her where Anna was. Over and over again, I just kept asking, “Where’s Anna? Where’s Anna?” But she wouldn’t stop crying. She wouldn’t look at me.

I sank to my knees before her, took her shoulders and made her look at me, but her eyes were gone and in their place were two empty holes. She cried blood and yelled, “Why did you do this to me? Why did you bring this on us? Why did you let her go?”

I cried then and reached to comfort her, but my hands were severed, replaced with smooth stumps. I tried to speak, but my lips refused to open.

I woke in cold sweat, my shirt and forehead damp and clammy.

I put my hand against my forehead and took a deep breath. My arms shook, and my heart beat too fast. Unable to calm myself or focus, I started to pace the length of my little cell.

I hadn’t dreamt in years. This shit was starting to get to me. I kept opening my hands, closing my hands, pacing and massaging my head with my palm or rubbing my forearms like I was trying to stay warm.

“You don’t do well cooped up,” came a female voice, the only thing that existed outside of my own, nervous skin. “You’re really going stir crazy. It hasn’t been that long.”

I turned to Nadia. I must have looked crazy to her.

“You okay?”

I took a deep breath, shook my head. “No. I’m losing my mind.”

“Jono, just calm down. You’re not losing anything,” she said, her voice warm and reassuring. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I had a dream.”

“Lots of people dream.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“You haven’t lost anything.”

“That’s not what Ape says. Ape says I’m losing my edge.” I shook my head. “You come to get me out of here?”

She arched a brow. “I tried to write you a check, but Agent Stone’s put a hold on your bail.”

“Well, don’t let that stop you,” I said. “I’m on a case, and we had our first major breakthrough. I need out of here.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Work your mojo.”

“You want me to break you out of jail? You usually operate in the gray, but this is pushing it, even for you.”

“Nadia!” I snapped. “I don’t have time to argue. I have to get home. I have to talk to Ape. We need to figure this thing out.”

“He’s got his own case, Jono…”

“It’s the same case!”

That stopped her. “What?”

“Look, I’ll explain everything to you in the car. Just…just get me the fuck out of here.”

She hesitated a moment, looked at me carefully. Finally, nodded, put her left hand on the lock of the cell door, and pulled the right back to the corner of her mouth as though drawing back an arrow on a bowstring.

In the span of a few short seconds, Nadia’s pupils dimmed in a cloudy, cataract-film, and her hand began to glow in a white haze of light. Fog gathered and swirled like a galaxy parallel to her open palm, and the random spirals spun faster before crystallizing into a paper-thin sheet of what looked like stained-glass as bright as a Christmas light.

She closed her fingers gently around the edge of it.

In one motion, she pulled her hand away from the lock and swung the disc down through it, like a karate chop. The latch clicked. The door swung free. Her hand sprung open like a trap, and the energy that she held became vapor again, breaking apart and vanishing back into the ether. Dust to dust, so it goes.

I gave her a weak smile and walked out of the cell. “You look terrible,” she said.

I nodded. “Tell me about it.”

“You tell me.”

“In the car.”

We began to move together down the hallway, her hand on my shoulder. I stopped, braced my hand against the wall, grimaced. “What hurts?”

“My face. My shoulder. Failure.”

“Who have you failed?”

“Adam Gables.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Julie Easter. Toby Emmerich. How many other nameless children? How many cases have I turned down in the last few months? Eric Patterson, Joel Conklin, Emily Yankee. Those are just the ones I can name…”

“You need to stop,” she said, forcefully. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You didn’t do that to those kids.” We stopped moving, and she met my eyes. “Ape is wrong. You are not slipping. You were beaten and bruised. You got arrested. So what? You’ve been beaten worse.” I tried to look away, but she caught my cheek with her hand and spun me back to look at her. “The Jono I know wouldn’t give in to defeat so easily. Not like this. And if you don’t want to fail Adam Gables, you need to bring that Jono back.”

She was right. I knew she was right, but part of me still refused to listen. I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye as I said, “What about Anna?”

“Anna?” She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly, and I felt her forehead lean against mine. “Dammit, Swyftt. Is that was this is about? Ape told me what he said to you in the car, but I guess I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to believe that after all this time…maybe you had made peace with it.”

I shook my head, shaking hers in tandem. She moved away, and I could feel her gaze on me. “I know you blame yourself for losing her, but what happened to Anna was not your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could. I know you. I know the way you don’t give up, and I know you would have been as great with her…that if you were only even half the dad that you’ve been with me all these years…” She paused, searching maybe for the next words. I heard her sniffle. My breathing became harder. I felt my eyes begin to water and looked around, making sure we were alone.

“What about Hux…”

She smacked me.

“Don’t you say that,” she stammered, the emotion quavering in her voice. “Don’t you fucking dare say that. That was not your fault. You don’t get to blame yourself for every bad deed that happens in this world. You can’t take that upon yourself.” She tried to hide what she was feeling, tried to come across as stronger than she felt, but I was staring at the floor, saw the lonely tears fall from her cheek. “Whatever you think happened that day, whatever you’re blaming yourself for,” she said, her voice broken almost to a whisper. “I forgive you.”

Quieter, she said, “I always forgave you. I never even thought to blame you…”

We stood there for a moment, the silence heavy and pregnant with all the things we couldn’t say. I felt one hand on my shoulder, the other on my elbow. She squeezed both. “I know it’s hard,” she said and sounded stronger. “But you have to shake this off because there are people counting on you.”

“Like who?”

“Eric Gables, for one. Adam. Ape and I. You’re no good to us like this.”

I thought about that a moment and turned away from her, wiped my eyes with the hem of my shirt. After a minute, I turned back, saw her red-rimmed eyes, large and glossy, and smiled. I nodded and said, “Cheers.”

She smiled back, hugged me. “You don’t get to give up,” she whispered into my ear. “You’re the rock that keeps this dysfunctional little group together. You’re the one that pulls us up when we fall.”

She broke the hug and said, “And right now, Ape needs you because I’m afraid that whatever you’re about to tell me is causing him to give up.”

I ran a hand through my hair casually, held the top of my head for a minute, and looked at her. “Someone did right by you,” I said.

She smiled bigger.

“Don’t tell me I had anything to do with that. I’m not that good a person.”

“You’re better than you know.”

We walked out of the hallway and into the office at large, passed the desk where Stone had deposited my pilfered jacket. I stopped and slipped it on.

At the front door, I heard Anderson’s call, “Mr. Swyftt!”

Cautiously, I spun. I was out of my cage and caught.

“Detective Anderson,” I said.

Anderson walked into the reception area with another plain-clothes detective and two uniformed men. “Where do you think you’re going?” His face was serious.

“My…daughter, here,” I said, motioning to Nadia, “bailed me out.”

Noticing Nadia for the first time, he extended his hand to her. “Nate Anderson.”

“Nadia Prince.” She shook his hand.

“Glad to know you, ma’am,” he said. Then he turned to me. “Perfect timing. We just got a call. Another child abduction uptown. If you don’t have anywhere pressing to be, I’d appreciate you riding along on this.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’ve done good work,” Anderson said. “Psychic or not, I’d like your opinion. Check things out for me?”

I turned to Nadia. She nodded, the look in her eyes said, “If you’re feeling up for it.” I nodded back to her and turned to the Detective. “We’ll follow you.”