“Did you know?” Dev asked into the cell phone.
“Did I know what, Randy?” Aurum asked mildly, thousands of miles away and yet Dev still felt his meddling hand on everything that had happened.
Taking a deep breath, feeling his ribs creak in remembered pain, Dev managed to say, “That the rogue was Lana. That she survived Friedrich…” He trailed off because it wasn’t true. She’d hadn’t survived, not really. Lana had died in Friedrich’s mansion. The person who’d escaped hadn’t been her. At least, telling himself that was the only way he’d made it through the past couple of days.
Aurum sighed. “No, I didn’t know that. Does this mean you’ve found her?”
“Yeah. She’s dead.”
“I am very sorry to hear that, Randy.” And surprisingly, Aurum actually sounded like he was saddened by the news. “I must apologise for not picking up on her subterfuge in California. If we had investigated the body further, we would have determined it wasn’t your sister.”
Holding back the need to yell accusations, Dev gritted his teeth. Only when the urge had relented a little did he say, “She fooled us all.”
“She would have been a magnificent sorcerer.”
It was probably meant to ease his pain but it just hollowed out Dev’s stomach even more. Sorcery wasn’t the gift Monty had tried to tell him it was. It certainly hadn’t done him any favours. Certainly hadn’t helped Lana have a long, beautiful life.
“And Matthew Hawkins?” Aurum asked. “How did he fare?”
Aurum had his spies everywhere, but Dev wondered how much he actually knew. Not for the first time in this whole mess Dev hedged his bets. “He’s… fine, for now at least. Certainly lived up to your recommendation, in the end.”
“Good. And Mercy Belique?”
God. Dev hated being right. He didn’t even have to ask if it had been Aurum who’d lured him and Lana here. All of this could have played out in California, but that hadn’t suited the Gold Primal. Lana and the spell had been incidental. A means to get Dev here so he could give a report on Aurum’s pet psychic and his vampire. Lana was dead, truly dead this time, and Aurum only cared about his game with Matt.
“She’s okay, too. Took down the stone footballer by taking his head right off. Her wounds are mostly healed after a day of sleep.”
“Ah. She is a remarkable creature.”
“I suppose. Not that the physical injuries are what you should be worried about.”
“Hmm? Explain.”
Dev stood on the dock at the back of Matt’s house, soaking up the endless sunlight, waiting for the moment it got deep enough to touch the cold inside. He’d been out here for most of the morning already and it hadn’t happened yet.
“I mean, whatever you have planned for Matt and Mercy might not work the way you want it to.”
There was a long silence on the far side of the world, then Aurum asked, low and carefully, “What do you think you know about my plans for them?”
“Nothin’, I’m sure. Don’t have a conniption. All I’m sayin’ is, Matt killed Lana. He was already hurting, Aurum. Only time will tell if this breaks him.”
“Hmm.”
Goddamn him. “He’s not like the rest of us, Aurum. He wasn’t trained for this life. You kept him isolated too long. He’s too human.”
A chilly little chuckle came down the line. “Don’t you understand, Randy? That is exactly why I want him.”
That did it. The decision Dev had been toying with the past couple of days was made in that instant.
“I’m out.”
“Pardon?” Aurum asked.
“I’m not doin’ this anymore. No more work for the Council. No more sorcery. I would have been happy with a normal life, you know. Taught history at a nice little school in Texas somewhere. Fallen in love, had a family. I only followed the Art for Lana. She’s gone, and so am I.”
“Randy, I believe you should consider rethinking—”
Dev hit disconnect on the cell. It rang and he dropped it off the dock and into the salt water.
It was another hour before he went inside.
Matt was in the garage, punching the stuffing out of a kick bag. He was fully healed, physically, regaining strength rapidly over the last couple of days. But there was a haunted look in his eyes, still. The same one Dev saw when he looked in a mirror. Lana’s ghost would stick with both of them for a long, long time.
“Call go well?” Matt puffed, jabbing two rapid right hooks into the bag.
“About as well as could be expected. Aurum’s still an insufferable prick, so you can guess how it went.”
“Yeah.”
He considered telling Matt what Aurum had said about him and Mercy, but decided not to. The man already had trouble sleeping.
“I told him I quit.”
Matt crashed to a stop, hanging onto the bag for support as he stared at Dev. “Quit? Quit what?”
“Everythin’.” Dev quirked a small smile. “Well, the sorcery, at least. And workin’ for the Council.”
“Shit. Really?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t really my choice in the first place.”
“What do you plan on doing now?”
Dev shrugged. “Go home, I suppose. Monty left us the ranch. Haven’t been back since I began working for the Council. Maybe I’ll run some cattle.”
“Sounds… well, boring.”
“I think boring might be nice for a while.”
“Wish I could join you, but I have two cars to replace. Can’t stop working.”
“Any time you want to visit, you’re welcome.”
He left Matt’s the following morning. Drove the new rental right past the airport and back to Coorparoo and the storage facility. When he got to the Balescos’ unit, he took a deep breath and opened it. There was a lot of expensive information Dev could use. He wasn’t going to work for the Council and he wasn’t going to use his sorcery any more, but that didn’t mean he was going to roll up and ignore the world. He knew what was out there and any ammunition he could get his hands on, the better he’d feel.
The storage unit was empty.
Not even the rat bodies remained.
“Goddamn you, Aurum.”
#
I met up with Erin at the gates to the cemetery. The graveside service was already underway as we walked across the damp grass. A soft breeze cooled the effect of the blazing sun overhead.
It was only a small crowd at the funeral. A middle aged couple, dry eyed and stony faced, presumably Sean’s parents. Beside them was an older man who appeared genuinely upset. Perhaps a grandfather. There were also three guys, about Sean’s age, looking uncomfortable and fidgety. Old school friends here out of a sense of fraternal obligation? Opposite this paltry showing was the Tool Brigade. Well, some of them. Fiona, of course, her bottle-red hair a beacon. Beside her was Razor, both weepy and fierce, protective physically and emotionally. A couple of the younger boys from the group, unsure if it was okay to cry or not.
Erin and I stopped several gravesites back.
“Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live,” the female pastor said solemnly, “and is full of misery.”
As she continued with the service, I leaned into Erin. “How’s Fiona doing?”
“Better,” she murmured. “We got her a place at Logan House, a drug rehab centre. She’s in good spirits, considering. Rachel visits her every day. Razor,” she explained when I cocked an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name.
“Good. I liked her. Tough.”
“In the midst of life,” the pastor continued, “we are in death.”
“Did you make that appointment?” Erin asked, gaze fixed on the ceremony.
I shifted from one foot to the other. “Yeah. I’m going there after this.”
Erin made a positive noise.
“Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.”
“Thistlethwaite came by this morning.” She nodded toward the older man beside Sean’s parents.
“How did that go?”
“Terrible. Oh, he was gracious about the investigation finding nothing, but when I gave him back Marcel… Moloko, he was devastated.” She pulled in a steadying breath. “One good thing to come of it, as a result of the interest in the Tool Brigade’s house, the police did a raid and Chop’s been charged with drug possession and intent to sell. He’ll be off the streets for a while.”
It was something, at least. “And Courey? Still thirsting for my blood?”
“No more than usual. The mess on the Story Bridge was tempered by Dr Carver’s testimony that you rescued him when he was abducted and that it wasn’t you driving your car when it crashed on the bridge. Courey’s still convinced you’re behind all the weirdness, but his captain’s told him to cool it until he gets some solid evidence.”
By the grave, the pastor lifted a hand in benediction as the coffin was lowered into the ground. “Thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.”
We were silent as those gathered around took up handfuls of dirt and, one by one, consigned Sean to his rest.
“We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
It was over quickly after that. Erin whispered the final words, “Lord, have mercy upon us,” along with the pastor. The small group broke up swiftly. Parents and friends heading off one way, the remains of the Brigade in the other. Fiona saw us and, through her tears, gave a little smile, then tucked herself into Razor’s side and turned away. The gentleman who turned out to be Thistlethwaite stayed by the graveside a minute longer, then left as well.
Only then did Erin and I go over. We scooped up handfuls of dirt and while Erin trickled hers over the coffin in the ground, I found I couldn’t tip my hand.
“Matt?”
I was no stranger to cemeteries. Kermit lived in one and I still made a yearly pilgrimage to the site of Eloisa Morrow’s grave, sometimes more often if I was feeling in need of a reminder for why I did the things I did. I understood graves were more for the living than the dead.
But standing there, next to Sean’s open grave, mound of dry, warm dirt in my hand, it wasn’t the coffin that transfixed me.
Sean Carey had a simple gravestone, a rectangular marker, scroll work carved into the top, two chubby-cheeked cherubs watching over him from above. His name, the span of his short life, a generic ‘Dearly Loved, Missed Forever’.
I looked from the gravestone to the dirt in my hand. This was what Sean had been reduced to, a stone marker that summed up his entire life.
“Born of flesh,” I whispered, “and at the end, stone and dirt.”
“Pardon?” Erin asked gently.
“Nothing.” I tilted my hand and sprinkled the dirt into the grave. “Just understanding something, finally.”
As we walked back toward the entrance, Erin asked, “Did Dev get away okay?”
“Don’t know. He left yesterday morning, said he had an early flight.” I snorted. “I’m pretty sure I saw his booking was for today, though.”
“What do you think he’s up to?”
I shrugged, but asked, “Did you get that thing organised for me?”
“Done. Though I’m still not sure why.”
“Call it a hunch.”
We parted ways at the gates, Erin in her BMW, me on my bike.
Dr Angelshire met me in the foyer of the Mentis Institute and suggested we take a stroll in the park across the road. Aware, if not completely convinced, of the supernatural elements in our world, Dr Angelshire was the only person I could talk to about any of this shit. He listened and, even if he wasn’t totally on board with the reason behind all my trauma, he promised to help me deal with it.
From there, I went to Coorparoo.
As I walked through the corridors to the Belascos’ unit, I could feel the tingling remains of Dev’s anger at finding it empty. He might have sworn to quit the sorcery but I guessed it wouldn’t happen immediately.
Stopping at the unit next to the Belascos’, I keyed in the PIN Erin had given me and the door rolled up slowly.
Inside was all the information the Belascos’ had spent their lives gathering. The boxes, the filing cabinets. Even the antique armoire.
Sighing, I pulled out a folding chair and put it in front of the As.
It was time to finally learn just what was out there.