Vigil: Verity Fassbinder Book 1 (30 page)

He shook his head, but I’m nothing if not persistent; besides, it’s all in the phrasing. ‘Did you
see
your son?’

A hesitation, then what might have been a muffled ‘
Yes
.’

‘And when was that?’

‘Last night.’

So that was the end of the Concrete Blonde. Baker made another grab for the watch and this time I let him have it.

‘Did it
look
like him?’

He sobbed. ‘No, Christ, no! It –
he
– said things . . . I couldn’t understand much of it, but I understood enough. It was Donovan.’

So the golem could still talk. Was there a house on this man-made island or in the mainland suburbs where no trace of the
inhabitants would ever be found? How had the golem managed to get to the Gold Coast and back? Train or bus didn’t really seem
like an option, so it must be being chauffeured around; that would also explain how it had made it to the National Park, and
Pullenvale.

‘When did you realise he was changing?’

‘I didn’t – not until last night . . .’ He trailed off and started putting
his son’s watch on, rubbing it as though to smooth the metal. ‘Maybe it’s not him – it could be someone else, someone pretending,
couldn’t it?’

But he knew as well as I did that the thing was his son. Donovan had whispered to him, the words of an angry child who’d finally
found the strength to rebel against a loathed parent. My only surprise was that he hadn’t taken Anders Baker out – then again,
the rage required to answer back didn’t necessarily correlate to patricide.

He began wheedling, ‘But you can
help
him, can’t you? He’ll get better, won’t he?’

Reluctantly, I said, ‘I think it’s too late. He’s been transforming for too long. What’s beneath – the real Donovan – is being
eaten away. Soon he might not be able to change back at all. You’re lucky to still be alive, Mr Baker.’

His eyes bulged, his head jerked, a panicky movement. ‘He wouldn’t hurt
me
.’

‘He’s hurt a lot of other people. If he survives, he’ll be brought before the Council – or what’s left of them.’

‘That bunch of
freaks
! My son doesn’t have to answer to them!’ His face twisted with a hatred so intense it was difficult to believe he’d once
married into the Weyrd. But then, maybe he’d only learned to hate them after he’d said
I do
.

‘A Normal court won’t be able to try him, but he needs to answer for what he’s done.’ And I saw from his expression that was
exactly what he’d been counting on: a Normal court, somewhere he could influence the outcome. So Dame Rumour had been correct;
he’d purchased justice before. If he’d got away with murder, why shouldn’t his son?

‘Did Donovan contact his grandfather?’

He looked at me blankly. ‘I told you before, my father’s dead.’

‘Not your father. Your wife’s.’

He paled, his lips thinning. ‘Why would he do that? He knows nothing about them.’

Maybe not from you
, I thought. ‘You said it yourself: he was lonely. Mr Baker, how stupid
are
you? It’s only natural he’d seek out family members.’

‘
I’m his family
,’ he shouted, and when I didn’t answer, he felt the need to go on, ‘He didn’t know
anything
about Nadasy.’

‘Well, someone told him.’

‘Who?’

I shrugged, ignoring the vibration in my pocket. ‘Look, even if your son could be changed back, he might not
want
to be. Whatever you know about Nadasy, you’d better share. Is he alive? Have you seen him recently?’

He began to bawl, inconsolable as a child. Shaking his head, he cried, ‘He’s taken my son, my only boy, hasn’t he?’

‘In all fairness, you did kill his daughter. But I have to ask, why didn’t he just slaughter you?’

He snorted, eyes sparking up. ‘I showed that old fucker! He’ll never see his precious little girl again, but she’s mine forever.’
He leaned forward, snakelike, and spat, ‘And that’s all you fucking need to know!’

My back felt tingly, the way it does when something with eight legs is taking a day-trip along the spine, and I looked at
him in disgust. ‘Mr Baker, a friend of mine is missing – I’m not saying you’re involved, but if I find out you or Donovan
had anything to do with it, I swear I’ll send your son back in a Jiffy bag.’

*

As we pulled up outside David’s building, my mobile buzzed again, like a vaguely annoyed wasp. It was McIntyre, telling me
she’d had the blood work from Mel’s place rushed through and, consequently, I owed her big time. The red stuff wasn’t Mel’s
– she was A positive – and whatever had spilled was, well, not quite anything. It was corrupted, mixed with mud and deteriorated
from age.

After she’d finished describing the analysis, she asked if I’d had any luck on either angel or baby front. My negative answer
displeased her, but I didn’t have anything else to leaven it.

Before he took off I shared the latest with Ziggi and asked him to let Bela know. I just couldn’t face talking to my boss
that evening. Then I made my way inside the complex, thinking it might be wise to set some protective spells around this place,
too.

I’d barely even knocked when the door flew open and a wide-eyed Lizzie appeared, giving a damn good impersonation of a child
who’d temporarily forgotten her sole parent was missing.

‘Oh, Verity! You won’t
believe
what he’s got here!’

‘I probably will, honey.’

She’d obviously been communing with the Wii. The image on the TV was paused, partially pixelated, and I raised an eyebrow
at David, who was hastily trying to hide the fact that (a) he’d been playing a game in which a cartoon cat with a handbag
beat up Godzilla, and (b) he’d been losing badly to an eight-year-old. I didn’t say anything. Then I noticed two mugs sitting
on the kitchen bench, cold grounds in the bottom. I frowned.

‘You didn’t give her coffee, did you?’

Lizzie answered for him, throwing the words over her shoulder like an ice bath, ‘Bela came to visit and the boys had es-peress-os.’
Oblivious to her bombshell, she switched to single-player mode and continued smashing Tokyo.

I felt like someone had stuck a steak knife under one of my
fingernails. I looked at David for clarification, while I auto-corrected Lizzie. ‘That’s Mr Tepes to you.’

‘We had a chat about guy things. He left this for you.’ David’s tone was carefully neutral; it was never easy to meet the
predecessor. In my defence, we had briefly covered the topic of Bela when we’d had ‘the talk’, but still . . . also, I might
have glossed over precisely how handsome my ex was. On the one hand, if Bela ruined this for me, I would kill him. On the
other, if David was the kind of guy who was rattled by Bela, then I’d kill him. He handed me an off-white envelope with my
name in old-fashioned cursive script scored deeply into the thick paper. I slid it into my pocket, saving any nasty surprises
for later.

‘So.’

‘A bit Vlad the Impaler, isn’t he?’ David tried for flippant but the snark was there, oh, it was there, just enough to make
me relax and grin.

‘Jealous?’

‘No. Judgemental. Look, I can’t say I like the idea of you working for your ex, but it’s not my choice.’ He caressed my face.
‘Besides, I trust you.’

‘You’re jealous.’ I was gloating a little, I admit. Then I put my arms around his neck and was relieved to feel him pull me
closer. We held each other tight, watching the stars pulse and sparkle in the sky outside his window.

‘So, Zvezdomir Tepes, do we need to talk about boundaries? Specifically, you
not
visiting my new boyfriend.’ I did my best to keep my voice level, but I wasn’t sure I’d succeeded.

Bela’s brows went up, black caterpillars on their way towards his hairline.

‘How did you even know where he lived?’

‘Ziggi.’

I glared, and Bela looked uncomfortable. ‘Don’t be too hard on him – I bribed him.’

Of course: my faithful sidekick’s only weakness. How sad it wasn’t some sort of heroic weakness; instead, I’d been sold down
the river for a piece of chocolate cake. Okay, so
very
good chocolate cake, but cake nonetheless.

‘Bela, listen, I need to have a life, an ordinary life outside of the work I do for you. Or at least part of one. And I need
high fences around that part of my existence. Don’t screw this up for me, or so help me, I will—’

‘I wasn’t . . . That certainly wasn’t my intention.’ He scratched his head. ‘I wanted to check on Lizzie, to ask her a few
more questions.’

‘Stuff you think I wouldn’t have asked?’

We were sitting at a McDonalds, which wasn’t my first or even twelfth choice of venue, but Lizzie had begged for an Egg McMuffin
and I couldn’t bear to say ‘no’ to a currently motherless kid. Lizzie, having gobbled her food at frightening speed, was now
running around the play area, making friends. Bela was glaring at a pile of hash browns as if he couldn’t quite understand
what they were doing on his plate and I was picking over my pancakes with not much appetite. Neither of us were drinking the
black sludge.

‘She believes in you, you know. Utterly,’ said Bela, gazing at her as she climbed up the slide instead of using it in the
more traditional manner. ‘That’s why she’s not
too
upset. Yet.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She told me so. She misses her mother, but she absolutely believes you’ll bring Mel back. I think she’s told herself her
mum’s away, just for a bit; she has no doubt she’ll return.’

‘No pressure then.’ I shuffled in my seat, which gave McIntyre’s office furniture a run for its money in the discomfort stakes.
‘In other news, Baker’s seen his son and knows the boy’s not the way he used to be. His security guard is missing, too – probably
another victim.’

He was silent, but at least this time he didn’t deny what Donovan had become.

‘And Bela, someone has to be helping the golem move around. There’s a fundamental lack of tunnels between here and the coast,
and here and Pullenvale too. And it has to be someone confident of their hold over the creature, not scared of being eaten.
Do you have any reason to think it’s not Vadim Nadasy?’

‘Other than no one’s seen hide nor hair of him for roughly fifteen years?’

‘Other than that, yeah.’ Lizzie was hanging upside down from the monkey bars, her face going red. ‘Did you look for him when
he went missing?’

‘Of course – he’d been my friend, V. He helped me out of a
backwards Eastern European country filled with people who liked to shove stakes through
anything
they didn’t understand. We lost contact for many years, but when he wanted to move his family here, he found me and of course
I assisted.’ He sighed and looked at Lizzie again. ‘When Dusana died I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to listen
to anyone. There was no proof she’d been murdered and the Council refused to let him go after Anders. They told him to wait,
see how the inquest came out . . . he got no satisfaction there, but by the time the verdict was handed down something had
changed. I don’t know why, but he let it drop.

‘A while after that, Vadim disappeared. All I could discover was that he’d purchased a one-way flight to Budapest. His arrival
was logged by Customs there, and then he immediately dropped out of sight. I enquired about him, on and off, for a couple
of years, but he was gone, and he’d left no trace.’

‘He could have come back, though, right? He’s loaded? So little things like international borders aren’t going to stop someone
like him getting where he wants to go.’

‘Very true. Vadim was always very persuasive, and on the right kind of mind even the slightest mesmerist power can work.’

‘If he’s that persuasive and Donovan’s that weak-willed, it’s a match made somewhere creepy.’ I flicked my cardboard cup distractedly
and almost upended it. ‘You didn’t know he owned the house at Chelmer? You didn’t know that when we went there the first time?’

‘I didn’t know, V, truly. Believe me, if I had, I’d have been more careful. Vadim was a mage of considerable force and I wouldn’t
have put it past him to booby-trap the place.’

‘He didn’t need to; he’d brought the ’serker through. It mightn’t have been for us specifically – maybe it was just like a
big fuck-off guard dog.’

‘You’re probably correct.’

‘What about Baker? Why are you working for him?’

‘Strictly speaking, I’m not. This isn’t –
wasn’t
– a Council matter until Adriana . . . I got to know Anders pretty well. I didn’t like him, but that didn’t stop me feeling
sorry for him. Dusana . . . she wasn’t very nice.’

‘The fact he’d probably killed her didn’t annoy you a little?’

‘You want to hear this or not?’

‘Okay, okay.’ I raised my hands in surrender and buttoned my lip like a three-year-old.

‘There was no evidence, V. He appeared to be genuinely cut up over her death, and I helped because of the child. No matter
what, Dusana loved her little boy, and he was devastated when she died. I used to talk to him. He . . . he thought his mother
was going to come back. He asked me to bring her home. And I couldn’t.’ He paused, then said quietly, ‘I failed.’