“Knock knock.” A shadow slouched in the door of the apartment. “This a private pity party or can anyone join?”
Ben looked up to see a man of average height and above average scruffiness. Everything about him had seen better days, from his battered bomber jacket to the tips of his scuffed boots. Only his eyes, obscured but not hidden by his scruffy fringe of brown hair, were alert. “Gunn?” Ben tried to stand, but he’d been sitting too long. His legs were stiff, unresponsive. “What are you doing here?”
“My job.” Gunn sauntered over to look down at the circle, putting down the case he held. “I don’t visit you for kicks, you know.”
Ben was not glad to see Gunn on principle. The Department Seven officer knew too much and had too few scruples about using what he knew to his own advantage. But it was a relief to have another living presence―comparatively speaking―in the room. “What’s the job?”
“Getting a sample analysis of the extant demonic circle linked to the death of Audrey Hawick, aged thirty-two, wife of Austin Hawick, deceased, and mother of Bennet Hawick, pain in the rear―and lately of Little River and a possible demonic case there.” Gunn flicked open the case, lifting out a heavy camera. He removed the cap, stepping back to get a shot of the restored array. “Thanks for saving me the hard work of reassembling this thing. Much appreciated.”
Ben watched as Gunn took his photos of the array. “Careful. I might make a habit of helping you. And then where would you be?”
“Save your breath. We both know that’s an empty threat.” Gunn worked efficiently, taking photos of the circle from all angles. Directly above was last.
Ben looked away as Gunn stepped into the circle. I’d never be able to do that. His legs felt weak again just thinking of it.
To keep himself steady, Ben leaned against the wall. He concentrated on the things that were different. Instead of the faint smell of orchids that hung around his mother, he concentrated on Gunn’s more pernicious odor. Stale, sour, and sulfurous. The combination was only slightly improved by the strong smell of tobacco overlaying it.
But instead of rooting himself in the present, Ben had a flash of memory. When he’d ducked past the guard and been given back to the child psychologist, there had been a lingering smell of tobacco. “Did you work on this case?”
“Yeah, I did. You don’t remember me, Benny? I’m hurt.” Gunn returned the camera to the case. He pried a sliver of wood free from the center of the circle and then started working on part of the outer circle. “I remember you. A preternaturally silent little crotch-dropping. A normal kid would have cried or kicked up a fuss. You… There was a feeling in the department that there was something uncanny about you. And look how right we were!”
Ben rolled his eyes. Gunn might be a terrible person, but he was a competent police officer. The two slivers were bagged for magical analysis. Next would be a sliver from somewhere else in the room to act as a control. “And the fact that my mother had just been murdered by demonic intervention didn’t strike you as a possible explanation?”
“The case had holes,” Gunn said. “Holes wide enough you could lose a small child in them.” He considered Ben. “I always thought you knew more than you were telling us. Wanted to interview you myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“For some reason, child services said it was ‘inadvisable.’ They thought I might scar you. Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous?” Gunn scanned the room, settling on a dusty corner for his last sample.
Ben shifted so that he leaned against the wall on one shoulder, watching Gunn. “You called me a crotch-dropping just now.”
“And? Kids these days get too much coddling. A little trauma now and then is good for the little maggots.” Gunn stabbed viciously at the floorboards with his knife.
As the owner of the apartment building, Ben considered saying something. Not worth it. Never is. Much easier just to carpet the entire floor once the investigation was closed. “Where’s Kenzie?”
“Kenzie?”
“Your partner.”
“I know who Kenzie is, Benny. And she’s not my partner. She’s my subordinate. I can investigate without her.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. A werewolf’s nose was invaluable, even in a decades-old cold case like this one. There had to be a very good reason Gunn hadn’t brought his right-hand woman along with him. “Does Kenzie have kids?”
“The little maggots aren’t even hers!” Gunn complained. “Her sister produces them. Her sister should reap the consequences. But no, the pustulant excretions brought back some highly infectious disease from the germ center they patronize, and Kenzie is under doctor’s orders not to expose the rest of the city to her bacteria.”
Ben very carefully bit his lip. If I say anything…
“Depriving the city of a skilled police officer is a crime! If they were older, we could charge them with obstructing justice, but apparently, the law doesn’t apply when you’re in preschool.”
“Who would have thought?”
Gunn glared. He bagged the last sample and jerked his thumb. “Since I’m down my best sniffer, you mind submitting to a brief scan?”
Ben watched him take the scanner out of his case. “Do I get a choice?”
“Between getting scanned or not getting scanned? No. The difference is whether we do this here or down the station after several hours in a cell.”
“You don’t have grounds to arrest me.” But Ben was also interested in the results. In the sheriff’s hands, the scanner was little more than a party trick. Gunn, however, was not just an expert in the supernatural, he was supernatural himself. Augmented by Gunn’s own talents, the scanner readings were much more accurate. “Hit me.”
“Don’t say things like that to me, Benny, please.” Gunn raised the scanner.
Ben felt a pulse of energy. The hairs on his arms stood at length as if a burst of static shot through him. The scanner produced light-blue sparks and a reading that Gunn noted down in his pad.
“Interesting.”
Asking Gunn for details was an exercise in frustration, so Ben waited. He was sure he knew what Gunn’s next move would be.
Sure enough, the police officer extended the scanner over the circle. Ben felt the same pulse of energy tingle through him, blue sparks dancing across the surface of the circle. The scanner lit up.
Gunn whistled. “See that response? Our demon’s been active lately.”
“So it is the same.” Ben sagged back against the wall.
“Why are you even asking, Benny? You saw the resonance.” Gunn wrote down the numbers in his pad quickly. “Demon your mother summoned is the same that killed Harriet in Little River.”
“You’re sure?”
“I worked on the case. Yeah, I’m sure.” Gunn snorted, putting his notepad away. Ben was not surprised to see it replaced by a lighter, Gunn fishing in his pocket for the inevitable packet of cigarettes. “Guess that solves the question of how you wound up demon-marked.”
Ben folded his arms. It was always best to meet Gunn as firmly as possible. Weakness was a red flag when he was around. “If you knew about this already, why didn’t you tell Chinquapin’s Forensics Team the reason I tested positive for demonic contact?”
“I had to be sure.” Gunn tapped the circle with his foot. “Wanted to come back here and confirm first.”
“And that took you this long?”
“You want to take a crack at us, Benny? You try brokering peace between werewolves. We haven’t gone twenty-four hours without a power struggle between packs all week.”
“All the more reason to get this out of the way. You didn’t need to come here to confirm. The records at the time―”
“Confiscated by ARX.”
Ben stared. “What?”
“Like I said, there were holes in the case. Tons of them. Why your mother would go to the trouble of crafting the circle only to lose her nerve and allow the demon to kill her? It doesn’t make sense.” Gunn’s unnaturally yellow fox eyes settled on Ben. “People who trade with demons aren’t people who go meekly to their deaths. They struggle right up until the last moment because they know what is waiting for them beyond.”
Ben swallowed. The closeness of the room and Gunn’s musty smell were beginning to turn his stomach. “But you just said this cleared me―”
“Cleared you, maybe. But your father―now there was a tough nut to crack.” Reluctant appreciation tinged Gunn’s voice. “Tested positive for exposure only. But he could have told us more, I’d swear it. But before we could even get started on the investigation, there was pressure from above. ARX took over the case. They found it a clear case of suicide. Clear case of cover-up, if you ask me.” Gunn sneered. His yellowed teeth had an uncomfortably sharp edge to them. “But that’s ARX for you.”
Ben was glad that the wall behind him kept him from taking a step back. “Did you find anyone who demonstrated agent levels of demonic exposure?”
Gunn eyed Ben with dislike. “You know we didn’t. But if ARX hadn’t moved in…” He lit his cigarette. “You’re very defensive. Thought you quit ARX.”
“I did.”
Gunn leered at him unpleasantly. “Having second thoughts? The world a bigger, scarier place without your vampire boss looming at your back?”
“I sometimes wonder if you enjoy being wrong on purpose.” Ben crossed his arms, refusing to be baited. “If there was a summoner to find, you’d have found them. There wasn’t. Which means―”
He looked at the floor. He couldn’t say it. Not with the memory of her lying there, quite normal, except for the hole in her chest―
“Interesting mental block. You don’t want to accept her death or that she tried to kill you?”
“Fuck you, Gunn.” That response was reflexive, automatic, but it spurred Ben’s mind out of its frozen state.
Gunn shrugged. “That sort of thing leaves an impression. Child psychiatrist insisted we had to protect you from the truth, but I always thought you knew.”
After a moment, Ben nodded. “There was something…wrong,” he said slowly. “Something really pointed about it. I didn’t know at the time, but after she died… I knew that it was supposed to be me in the circle.” He looked down at the brown stains. “What would have happened, if it―had been me?”
Gunn leered. “Our demon would have been fed, you would be out of existence, and our lucky agent would have got a ten-year respite before needing to find their next victim.”
Ben’s head whipped up sharply. “Next?” This was what he was most afraid of.
“This isn’t a one-off offer. Far as we can tell, this particular demon works on a recurring deal model.” Gunn tapped his cigarette against the wall. “Demon finds someone in dire straits. Makes them an offer of the thing they want most. All they got to do is deliver a victim to him in ten years. Masterful, really. Ten years is a long time, and these people are desperate. They agree. After all, ten years is time enough to figure a way out of it.” Gunn paused to drag on the cigarette. “But when the time rolls around, they’re comfortable. They don’t want to give up what they’ve got. They make excuses to themselves. ‘People die of natural causes all the time! Who cares if someone dies a little sooner… It’s their own fault, for not being more careful!’”
Ben took a deep breath. It was just as he’d told Ray, he just―hadn’t applied it to his own situation. Easier to think of it as a momentary aberration of judgment rather than planned ahead of time. He covered his confusion by walking across the room to open the window. “You’re very well acquainted with demonic practice.”
“Are you surprised?” Gunn eyed Ben in insolent challenge. “You know what I am.”
“I know your feelings about ARX.” Ben sat on the windowsill. Compared to Little River, the air coming in from outside was dirty, tinged with car exhaust and warm concrete. Compared to Gunn and his malodorous stench, it tasted like purest mountain air. “Bet you swatted up, determined to find any hole in their case, any evidence of wrong-doing.”
For a moment, rueful appreciation gleamed in Gunn’s eyes. “I may have kept the case open…on an unofficial basis.”
“And?”
Gunn shook his head. “Nothing. All the principals in the case remained in New Camden. If it wasn’t your mother, there’d have been a second summoning ten years later. Instead…” Gunn shrugged.
Ben frowned. Ten years later―I’d have been nineteen. They’d been living with Hunter then. Summoning a demon right under a vampire’s nose? Way, way too risky. Or maybe that’s the point? Hunter’s power― “Is there any way to stop it? Once you’ve made the pact with the demon.”
Gunn removed his cigarette from his mouth with an annoyed expression. “Why are you asking me questions a five-year-old child should know the answer too? You studied this for ARX. The only way you get out of a demon’s pact is that you don’t.”
“But if my mother died―”
“If the summoner fails to provide a victim, the demon collects their soul. And I can tell you that is generally not pretty.”
“Pretty?” The word struck Ben as incongruous coming from Gunn.
“Didn’t they cover this in your fancy lectures?”
Ben frowned. “Demonic practices is a fourth-year paper,” he said.
“ARX?”
“I―don’t know. I guess we never got around to it.”
“And yet, that small-town sheriff made it sound like you knew your way around a summoning rite.” Gunn’s grin was distinctly unfriendly.
Ben was unimpressed. Try harder. “Compared to her? Sure. But that was basic stuff. Identification only. I always figured the in-depth stuff would come later.”
“You telling me that ARX’s star overachiever didn’t do a little research of his own?” Gunn smirked at him. “I’ve seen your university record. Your employee history. You don’t wait for later. You like to know now.”
“All right,” Ben said. “You’ve got me. I didn’t look into demonology because I didn’t want to know.” He swallowed. His chest felt tight as if it wasn’t big enough for the feeling it contained.
“And why is that?” Gunn had felt his pain, knew he had an easy victim. “Fear, Benny? Or were you protecting someone? Or―protecting yourself?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Ben said harshly―too harshly to be believable, but Gunn was tuned to emotions like a piranha to blood. He already knew. “You said it yourself. The demon wasn’t summoned again.”
“Oh, it was, Ben. Just not by any of your lot.”
Ben frowned. “You mean―”
“Ten years is a long time to wait for your next meal. Particularly if you are an ambitious minor demon with an eye on the next chance.” Gunn told his story with relish, enjoying Ben’s discomfort to the fullest. “He plays several games. Has two―maybe three, possibly four―agents on the line at once. The Little River deaths were done by another of his agents.”
“Is that a fact?”
Gunn patted the camera. “This is by way of the final confirmation. I’ve seen the photos they took of the Winkler crime scene. That circle’s identical.” He scratched his chin. “Little River’s a long, long way to go, just to get murdered. I bet the scenery’s nice. Lots of vegetation.”
“This isn’t your case. It’s none of your business.”
“Once your name entered the case, I got interested. Dusted off our records, looked up theirs. Too bad you were in a different part of the country entirely.”
Ben didn’t bother pointing out that he’d been fourteen and entirely disinterested in girls. “I’m not a suspect in this case.”
“Ben, Benny, Bennet. You know you’ll always be public enemy number one as far as I’m concerned.” Gunn smirked at him.
“Please.” Ben crossed the room. He opened the door, motioning for Gunn to use it. “You’ve got an actual demonic agent out there to catch―not to mention the entirety of ARX to mess with. I’m the last thing on your list of priorities.”
Gunn ground the butt of his cigarette into the bare wood boards and swaggered over to Ben. “I know you and your slippery ways. As long as you’re a suspect in the Little River case, I intend to keep a very close eye on you.”
“I’m no longer a suspect, Gunn. Between the time of death and the fact that I was clearly miles away―” Ben stopped. He had a premonition.
“Yeah,” Gunn nodded. “Forensics means shit when magic’s involved. Who cares about an alibi when the guilty party can summon their demon boss to take care of their problems?” He poked Ben in the chest. “We have werewolves working the highway between here and Little River. You stepped off the road to summon a demon, we’ll know about it.”
“An admirable waste of time,” Ben said tightly. “Anyway, you’d know if I had recent demonic residue. This―” Ben paused. “This doesn’t make sense.”
Gunn watched him, a cruelness lingering around his mouth. “What’s bitten you?”
“You said I tested positive for demonic residue back then. The same that I tested for just now. But I was screened before I went to work for ARX. If there had been demonic exposure, they’d have known about it.”
“And?” Gunn shrugged. “ARX knew.”
“But they’d have told me if that was the case! I got a copy of my records. It―” Ben looked down.
“I always thought there was something really fishy about how quickly your dad changed career streams. From being one of ARX’s daytime investigative agents to Hunter’s personal housekeeper. Made me wonder if a deal of some sort wasn’t made.” Gunn picked up his case. “A deal involving a clean slate for you, perhaps?”
Ben followed him out into the stairwell. “I’m not involved in this case, Gunn.”
The Department Seven officer made his way down the stairs as casually as if Ben hadn’t spoken at all. “Yeah. And I’m nominated for a sainthood.” His laugh echoed all the way up the stairs.
✩✩✩
After the cramped apartment and Gunn’s assorted offensive smells, the supermarket was paradise. Ben walked down the aisles slowly, basking in their uniform cleanliness and order. The cleaning agents, in particular, looked very attractive.
Powerful enough to remove decades of grime in just one application. Ben considered the Spray and Wipe. Kills odors in seconds? Now we’re talking.
But while spraying Gunn with fast-acting stain remover was incredibly tempting, Ben was on a mission. I have to think like Godfrey.
He continued his circuit of the supermarket. Close to Hunter’s townhouse, his father had favored this particular store during his time as Hunter’s housekeeper. It had a good variety of products, including the hard to find foreign items or luxury goods the residents of the upmarket area desired. No denying that Hunter has expensive tastes. It was a dinner night. They’d be entertaining. Which meant fresh ingredients―Godfrey was particular about his role as host.
But would he shop here? As a vampire, Ben hadn’t bothered himself with the minute details of the household. He regretted that now. Would Godfrey favor convenience or prefer to patronize a more economic establishment? He paused in the produce section. No one could fault the quality of the supermarket’s fresh stock―and that was what Godfrey would care about most, right?
Ben looked down at a display of apples, picturing the man who had been something between grandfather and mentor. Godfrey’s wizened form had contained considerable energy and a brain that was sharp despite its owner’s advanced age. He balanced meeting the needs of the three vampires around Saltaire’s unpredictable schedule, organizing their social engagements, keeping the household running smoothly and regularly maintaining the magical wards on the property. As a talented witch possessed of power unrelated to Saltaire’s own, Godfrey’s wards not only protected the vampires’ property, but allowed them to occupy it without any other vampires suspecting their presence.
Or at least they had. Ben’s mouth twitched. Nate had crashed through Godfrey’s wards the same way he’d crashed into Ben’s life―completely demolishing all safeguards and leaving a trail of wreckage and confusion in his wake.
What if they’ve moved? Ben gripped the supermarket display. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. If they have―
He’d never find Godfrey, not without approaching ARX. And his inquiry would get reported all the way to the head office, and it wouldn’t take long for them to investigate, discover that he was alive and then―
Then it would all be over.
“Excuse me.” The voice was mild and elderly, with something formal in its tone. Ben didn’t catch the reply, looking immediately for the speaker.
A middle-aged woman smiled, pulling her shopping cart back so the elderly man could step in front. He didn’t hesitate, selecting a fresh bunch of asparagus with a practiced glance and stepping back with a half bow for the waiting woman. “Thank you.”
That old-fashioned courtesy, particularly towards women, was Godfrey all over. Ben felt an ache as he saw the familiar profile lift, Godfrey seeking his next object and moving towards it without hesitation. It should have been obvious―beyond obvious―but it only now occurred to Ben how much he’d missed him.
Godfrey had a basket, not a shopping cart, and he walked right past the tomatoes towards the red bell peppers.
Ben breathed out. Godfrey tailored each of his meals, not to their guests, but to the preferences of the vampires who fed from them. Saltaire liked a Mediterranean diet, of which tomatoes, sun dried or fresh, were a major part. Hunter, on the other hand, favored the soups and stews of his European home.
Ben’s suspicions were confirmed as mushrooms and onions were added to the basket. A rich stew, simmered long. And that meant―
“Here.” He held out the flank steak. Cooked for hours over a low heat, it would break down into tender, flavorful chunks.
Godfrey turned towards him. “I think you have me confused…” The sentence trailed off, Godfrey’s owl-like eyes widening in shock. “Bennet?”
Ben swallowed. It was painful seeing the familiar face whiten in reaction to himself. “It’s me.”
“But in daylight―” Godfrey reached beneath his coat.
Ben steeled himself for what was to come. It’s not personal. In our profession, surprises like this aren’t usually good.
Godfrey withdrew his rosary. He held it out, the iron crucifix at the end thrust towards Ben.
It took all Ben’s self-control not to recoil. Vampires knew instinctively what would hurt them. Exposure to a cross burnt. It was strange to look at it dispassionately. It’s only an object. He reached out, cupping the cross in his palm. “It doesn’t burn. See? I can touch it without pain. I have a pulse. I breathe. I―”
“This isn’t possible.” Godfrey’s voice was hoarse. “It should not be possible.”
“I know,” Ben took a deep breath. He was rather glad he hadn’t cut his hair yet. The barrier of his long fringe was comforting. “It’s not possible, but here I am anyway.” He looked up. “I―”
Godfrey’s arm shook, the crucifix swinging erratically.
Ben took his arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you!” He looked around. Godfrey was so organized, so alert and wise, that Ben forgot he was old. “There’s got to be somewhere you can sit down―”
Godfrey’s fingers closed around his arm. Ben was surprised at the strength in them. “You have a pulse. No,” he said. “I don’t need to sit down. I need to hear all about this.”
✩✩✩
They compromised. The shopping center the supermarket was attached to had a cafe. Ben carried the tray of cappuccinos and sandwiches back to their table. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m not that delicate,” Godfrey complained. “You coming back from the dead―again―startled me. It did not shatter me.” He tapped Ben’s seat. “Sit down. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
Ben explained, exactly as if he were still Godfrey’s apprentice and he was recounting every step in his process that had led to an unexpected outcome. “Peter performed a substitution rite. My vampire powers for his humanity. He didn’t plan on me living long enough to make use of it. As soon as he’d completed the exchange and could be sure that no possibility of backlash existed to him harming me, I would be dead. Again.”
“Brilliant,” Godfrey said simply. “Ambitious and entirely unprincipled―but that was Peter all over. I no longer wonder that he was frustrated by his treatment at ARX. I only wonder that he didn’t succeed.” He picked up his cup of coffee but didn’t drink immediately. “How did you escape?” His eyes twinkled. “Or does a certain young man with more good intentions than sense come into the equation?”
Ben felt a second stab of pain. “I owe Nate my life,” he said shortly.
“Is Nathan all right?” Godfrey put his cup down, sitting up. “His name was not among the official list of victims―”
“Nate’s―” complicated “―fine.” Ben took a deep breath. “We…had an argument. I’m― We’re not talking right now.”
Godfrey’s eyebrows raised. “I have a hard time thinking of an argument strong enough to deter him. He was very determined to rescue you―even from yourself.”
“I’m not here to talk to you about Nate.” Ben looked down at his coffee, willing himself calm. “I’ve got questions.”
“I can imagine.” Godfrey leaned forward. “As far as I know, what Peter attempted has never been done before, but that is not to say that there haven’t been similar experiments. Years ago―many, many years ago, when I was still a field agent, I heard whispers of such cases.”
Ben stared at him. “But that’s― I did the research myself! There’s nothing―”
“This was, as I said, a very long time ago.” Godfrey’s tone was apologetic. “In the days of my novitiate which should give you some idea of how long ago I’m talking.”
“Didn’t you leave the Church before you worked for ARX?”
“Actually, it was because of my experience within the Church that I became of interest to Saltaire,” Godfrey said. “It was a different time. Not that my superiors were happy I chose to accompany Saltaire on his mission, but they could not dissuade me from it.”
Ben frowned. He’d never asked about Godfrey’s youth. An entire, unexpected vista had opened before him. He had questions, many questions―and any other time, he’d have demanded more information about Godfrey’s earlier years. Now… “How is it you never mentioned these cases until now?”
“The new vampire is, unfortunately, inclined to be preoccupied with what he has lost.” Godfrey’s voice was apologetic. “He will take too many risks in order to attempt to regain what he has lost. You… Your half life never sat well with you.” His tawny eyes were sympathetic. “I was not sure whether or not it would become an unwholesome preoccupation.”
“So you”―Ben looked down at his coffee rather than face that too understanding gaze―“hid the knowledge from me?”
“Curtailed what resources were available to you,” Godfrey adopted a matter-of-fact tone. “You would have been given full access to our library―and my memories―in time.”
For a moment Ben wanted to ask what the books he’d withheld were. First things first. He had a mission. “Like you curtailed my knowledge of my mother’s death?”
Godfrey went very still. After a long pause, he put his cup down. “Hunter and I wondered how much you knew. We didn’t think it possible, as Austin said, that you’d observed nothing. But at the same time… Well, you were a very sensitive and intelligent boy who had just lost his beloved mother in tragic circumstances. We did not want to upset you. Hunter and I decided it would be best to wait for you to speak of it first. But in fifteen years of knowing you, this is the first you’ve spoken of it.” It wasn’t a question. Godfrey knew, as surely as if Ben had said so. “It’s happened again.”
Ben nodded. “There was a murder―a hunter. It seemed to be tied to a girl who died ten years ago, sacrificed by a demonic agent. But I don’t know why yet. All I know is that it’s the same demon that murdered my mother.”
“The same,” Godfrey repeated quietly. “It was always a possibility. It would only have had to wait…” He looked up at Ben. “You’re wondering what we know about the case?”
Ben nodded. “I remember what happened. But I don’t know why.” He took a deep breath. “I was supposed to be the one who died. But Audrey―Mother―something happened. Dad was angry and she died instead.” He took a deep breath. “He killed her―and made it look like a demon.”
Godfrey’s eyes widened. “Is that what you thought?”
Ben nodded. “I know that’s what happened. He―” He stopped. It was hard to continue. The words had been locked inside for too long. “He said that she was in bed when we left the house, that she was sleeping, but that was a lie. I know it was because I looked and she wasn’t there.” It felt wrong to say the words. Ben shut his eyes. He’s dead. It won’t hurt him now.
“Ben―”
“He took me to the zoo. I didn’t understand it then. I’d made Mother cry. I should have been in trouble. Instead, he was spoiling me. It’s obvious now. He was establishing an alibi. I caught him looking at his watch a lot. And when I was coming back from the bathroom, I saw him dropping a little plastic container―the kind medicine came in―into a rubbish bin. He used gloves to do it, dropped those in too.”
“You never said anything.” Godfrey’s voice was sympathetic.
Ben, startled into a laugh, looked at his companion. “How could I? He’d just murdered my mother!”
“But you covered for him?”
Ben had to drop his gaze. “I was scared. My mother was dead. I didn’t understand why, but I knew it was because of me. And if my father went to jail… I’d be entirely alone.”
“And rather than lose him, you said nothing.” Godfrey laid his leathery old hand over Ben’s. “Ben. I am so sorry.”
Ben blinked hurriedly. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t there.”
“There were things about the case that didn’t add up,” Godfrey said, his voice quiet but perfectly calm. Ben listened to it as if it were a recording, noting dispassionately the melodic cadence to the simple words, the way Godfrey carefully enunciated every syllable. A throwback to his monastic training? “It seemed too great a coincidence that the one day your father, an employee known for his impeccable health and attendance, chose to take off would be the day his wife tried and failed to summon a demonic entity―and that you and your father would be safely out of the way when she did. Austin was in a senior position within ARX. Hunter and I looked into the matter ourselves. He found the gloves and the medicine bottle, just as you described―fingerprints or the lack thereof are no match for a vampire’s nose―or a witch’s magic.”
Ben drew a shaky breath, but the words didn’t come.
Godfrey continued. “On the surface, it seemed clear enough. Austin slips his wife a sleeping drug, takes her downstairs to the empty apartment, lies her on the array he has forced her to draw with her own blood. He leaves with his son, careful to establish an alibi, knowing that at the appointed time, the demon will arrive to claim its victim.”
“But―”
“On the surface, it seemed straightforward.” Godfrey steepled his long fingers together. “But there is more to the matter than you know. Your father was never a murderer, Ben.”