Born of Deception (18 page)

His anger hits me before I can even see his features. He’s furious. Why? What did I do? Then I feel Billy’s arm tighten around my shoulders and I know.

I shrug away from him, ignoring the look of hurt crossing Billy’s face. I can’t worry about him right now. I have to explain to Cole.

“Where on earth have you been? Did you ever think that people might be worried about you?”

Cole’s fury lashes out and I feel Billy stiffen next to me. He and Cole face off, like day and night, staring each other down.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” Billy says.

“No! It’s all right. It will be all right. Billy, I have to talk to Cole about what I saw. Please go inside.” My voice is pleading and he looks undecided, clearly not wanting to leave. I give him a little push. “Please.”

The look on his face is unreadable but he does what I say, though he and Cole bump shoulders as he passes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Cole as soon as Billy was gone. “I was hungry and left without telephoning you first to let you know I got back safely.”

His jaw works and I anxiously want to run my fingers along the side of his face to make him feel better, but I can’t. “What’s going on, Anna?”

I nod toward his motorcar. “Can we get inside there? I need to talk to you.”

“Are you afraid of what
he
might see?”

His voice is bitter and my mouth drops open.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

I understand his jealousy and know how it must have looked to him, my walking up the street with Billy’s arm about me. I have felt it plenty of times over Calypso, but as he always tells me, we have more important things to discuss.

“No. Never mind. I had a vision, Cole. We need to talk.”

He brings himself under control, though I know I haven’t heard the last of it.

“What happened?” he asks once we’re inside his motorcar.

“I was eating dinner . . .”

“With him,” Cole states flatly.

“Would you stop it? I didn’t even go to the café with him. He was already there so I ate with him. Now do you want to hear what I have to say?”

He shuts his mouth.

“I was eating and I smelled burned sugar, then the visions started.” I put my hands over my face as if that could block the images I’d seen. “When it was over, I felt so awful that Billy brought me home. That’s why I was leaning against him.”

I feel a pang of guilt and erect a block so Cole can’t feel what I’m feeling. I can tell from the pain in his face that it’s too late and I look away.

“What did you see?” he asks.

I glance over at him to find him staring out the front windshield. In a small voice, I tell him exactly what I saw. “Do you think we should warn Calypso?”

He shakes his head. “I just dropped her off. She was meeting Mr. Casperson to talk over some test he wants to conduct. She’s fine.”

Jealousy flares and I know Cole feels it because he turns to me with a sardonic eyebrow. This time it’s my turn to look away.

“Have you seen Walter since the séance?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Because it sounds as if he is trying to warn you. Which is pretty much what Mr. Price said.” He scrubs a hand over his face and meets my eyes. The midnight velvet of his eyes has never hid his emotions so well.

“There’s more,” I tell him, taking the medallion out of my purse. “I found this outside my hotel door just before I left for France.”

He takes it and frowns. “What is it?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure but I had it looked at while I was there, and the expert told me that the symbol on the front means blood death and the letters are from the Enochian alphabet, which is—”

“I know what it is.” His voice sounds like death itself. “This is the same lettering that was on the scarab found in Pratik’s hand.”

My stomach turns.

Cole continues, “It took the Yard several days to even find out what language the symbols were in. It wasn’t until we started checking ancient languages that they finally figured it out.” He glances at me. “How did you find someone so quickly?”

“The library I went to in Paris has documents and collections from the Middle Ages. It took the old librarian sixty seconds to know what it was.”

Cole snorts. “That figures.”

“So if we already knew that Pratik’s murder was ritualistic, what does this tell us?”

“Good question.” Cole rubs his temples as if the whole situation is giving him a terrible headache. I know the feeling.

“Harrison says there are only a few organizations that actually use the Enochian alphabet. One of them is the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, though there are rumors that one of the adepts is trying to throw it out because he believes it to be demonic rather than angelic.”

“How does he know so much?” I ask curiously.

“Harrison was friends with a man in the order when he was younger. They keep in touch and Harrison brought him in as one of the consultants on the case.”

I shiver. In all our days as fake mediums, my mother and I never strayed into the occult. I’d touched on it, of course, in my quest to discover the truth about my abilities, but other than saying the odd magic spell during our séances for effect, I had pretty much left the occult alone. We had run across too many mediums who’d played with it and ended up burned.

Now here I am stuck in the middle of it.

Cole continues. “According to his friend, a blood sacrifice is needed in order to cast spells that take a lot of energy, such as curses.”

I can almost feel the blood draining from my face. “So we can expect more horrible things to happen?”

“It’s a possibility and I think we should be prepared.”

So Pratik’s blood had been stolen to do more evil. As if what had been done to him wasn’t evil enough. “Why would someone give me a clue linked directly to Pratik?” I ask.

“Maybe they’re getting cocky,” Cole says slowly. “Or perhaps there is some reason they want us to know that something is coming.”

We sit in silence for a moment and I wish more than anything that he would take me in his arms, but I know that isn’t going to happen. Underlying his worry and concern, I can still feel his hurt. “Be careful, Anna. I couldn’t bear it . . .”

I hold my breath waiting for him to say the words that would make everything seem better, even in the midst of all this chaos, but he doesn’t say them.

“I wish I could get my mother and grandmother out of town,” he finishes.

My heart feels as if it’s being crushed and I’m having a hard time breathing. I nod and climb out of the motorcar. “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

He nods and, after I shut the door, pulls away.

Sixteen

C
ole hasn’t been back.

He sent a note yesterday, telling me that he was taking his mother and grandmother to visit relatives in Bath and would be back as soon as he got them settled. I know he has to be relieved that they will be someplace safe, but I can’t help but wonder if he isn’t thankful to have an excuse to avoid me. At least his mother and grandmother are out of danger. I spent yesterday napping and reading, only going out when I was forced to. Not only was I worried that Cole might get back from Bath but I was afraid of running into Billy.

Not because I didn’t want to see him. Because I did.

Now I’m waiting for him to come downstairs because I have the information I need on Dr. Boyle. Not only is he in England, he’s currently residing in London. The address is in my coat pocket, as well the number of a man Uncle Arnie gave me just in case I wanted some help. I shuddered to think of what kind of help this man would offer, but I pocketed it anyway.

I have a hard time believing that Dr. Boyle is behind Pratik’s murder. Not that I don’t think he could kill someone if he felt he or his master plan were threatened, but I can’t see him draining someone’s blood. He’s just too fastidious.

So my plan is to talk Billy into going with me and take Dr. Boyle by surprise. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get both information and a clear read on his emotions. In other words, if he is hiding something, I’ll be able to tell.

Now I have to talk Billy into helping me without telling him why.

Cole would have kittens if he knew what I’m about to do, but if there’s a chance that Dr. Boyle knows who killed Pratik or where Jonathon is, I have to take it. Plus, I think I’m a little annoyed that Cole isn’t here when I need him.

As an added measure of safety, I take my balisong out of my handbag and put it in my coat pocket, where I can get at it more easily.

Billy smiles when he sees me. “I thought you’d run off.”

He’s so handsome in his cowboy hat and his face is so kind that I can hardly even look at him. I clear my throat. “I need a favor and it’s a big one.”

His smile disappears. “It sounds serious.”

“It is. I need you to come with me when I confront someone and keep a lookout for me.” It sounds ridiculously silly said out loud and he raises a brow.

“It’s not the fellow you’re seeing, is it?”

I shake my head.

“Good, because I don’t want to get messed up in that. All right, then. I’ll do it.”

I let my breath out in a rush. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Lead on, Macduff.” He tucks my arm into his and I frown at how comfortable I have become with him. It makes me feel twitchy and guilty.

I push the thought out of my head to concentrate on the task before me. My nerves jangle as each step takes me closer to my enemy. We take a taxi, while Billy plays twenty questions, trying to figure out what is going on. Finally he just asks what he wants to know: “Are you in any danger?”

I give him a grim smile. “Not with you around.”

I have the driver drop us off a block away from Dr. Boyle’s address at the end of a line of smart row houses. I would prefer not to have to go into his home but can only wait so long in this neighborhood before someone sets a bobby after us.

By the time we get out of the taxi, I’m strangling Billy’s arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks a little anxiously.

I nod. “I don’t have a choice.”

His jaw tightens and I know how difficult this must be for him. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“He’s not my friend,” I say shortly, and then think about it for a minute. Why not? “I actually think that will be a good idea. The idea is to intimidate him enough to not only ensure my safety but to get the information I want.”

“Are you blackmailing someone?” he asks, his voice amused.

“Unfortunately not. That would be more fun.” My voice is grim and he grows quiet. I feel his jitteriness through his arm, but also his determination. I feel much better knowing how seriously he is taking this. Even though he’s several years older than Cole, his playful personality and humorous outlook on life often make him seem younger.

The sunny weather has disappeared and the rains are back. It’s as if the sky itself is dripping all around us. Suddenly I see a figure coming toward me. My heart leaps as I recognize him.

I take a deep breath and nod toward the man. Firming my step we walk toward the man who once tried to kidnap me.

“Dr. Boyle!” I call, raising my voice. Watching my mother taught me a lot about gaining and holding the upper hand. Of course, she has years of experience and is naturally more intimidating than I will ever be.

I feel rather than see his surprise. For a moment he seems nonplussed as he recognizes me. “Anna.”

Dr. Boyle hasn’t changed. He still looks like a jovial English squire. Hard to believe how callous he can be when he wants something.

“Billy, this is Dr. Boyle. Dr.
Franklin
Boyle.” I stress the name so Billy knows exactly who I am talking to and Dr. Boyle knows that Billy knows.

Billy acknowledges the introduction with a curt nod.

“Shall we walk, Dr. Boyle?” He nods, his gray eyes watchful. I take Boyle firmly by the arm, trying not to show my repugnance. I still get a better read on people’s emotions if I touch them.

“Whatever you wish, my dear.”

Billy falls in behind us.

“I’ll be right behind you, if you need anything,” Billy calls.

I take my balisong out of my pocket and open it with an expert flick of my wrist. “And just in case my protector doesn’t impress you, know that I have a weapon and have no qualms at all about using it.” The knife is lying benignly in the palm of my hand, the blade glistening even in the gray light of day. I give him a quick demonstration, the blade and the covers swinging ominously, before I close it up. He watches the knife carefully and knows I didn’t put it back in my pocket even though I lowered my hand to my side.

“Your show of force is understandable but quite unnecessary, Anna. I don’t mean to harm you. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt the last time we met. And, remember, my dear, I didn’t put this little surprise visit together.”

I keep my voice even. “I know, but whether you meant for me to get hurt or not, that is indeed what happened, so you’ll excuse my caution.”

He nods. “Fair enough. Just know that the whole ordeal was entirely mishandled.”

“It’s hard to kidnap someone well,” I flare before remembering that only by keeping my composure can I keep the upper hand. “But I didn’t come to discuss the past with you.”

“Then why did you come?” he asks.

I keep my hand on his arm, trying to sort out the myriad sensations I’m getting from him. He’s nervous, that much is coming loud and clear, and also curious. “I’ve come because I find myself in the odd position of needing your help.”

“Indeed?” The inflection in that one word shows the depth of his surprise.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“What on earth would give you the idea that I would help you with anything?” He smiles expansively, reminding me just how charming he actually can be.

“Because, as unconvinced as I am that you have any human compassion whatsoever, I do know you have a great sense of self-preservation.”

“I always knew you were a particularly astute young woman. I have very little compassion, nor do I want it. I have found that it only gets in the way of personal ambition. Most of the great men of the world, the ones who have accomplished much, were selfish in their pursuits. But I am not a monster. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t experiment on humans.”

I snort. “Sensitives desperately need to know how to control their abilities. For you to withhold that information on purpose is no better than performing experiments on them.”

He shrugs. “Honestly, what makes me so much worse than the Society’s board members or scientists? They don’t want the Sensitives to learn control any more than I do—why do you think they have discouraged interaction among the Sensitives? And they do conduct experiments on people. What makes my methods so different?”

“They are allowed to leave.”

“Touché, Anna. The only Sensitive I have ever wanted to have on board without his full cooperation was Cole. You were a by-product of that. But I’m not going to debate my methods. I have places to be. Why are you speaking of self-preservation?”

I feel his irritation and decide to get to the point. “How would you like to go to prison for murder, Dr. Boyle?”

He stops in his tracks but I yank him along beside me and keep talking. “Pratik Dahrma was found brutally murdered and I think you know something about it.”

“You can’t prove anything.” His voice is cold. “Don’t make empty threats”

“Oh, they are far from empty. I think you forget just how enterprising I can be. Now don’t fret, all I want is information. I know you are putting together a stable of Sensitives. Did you want Pratik for some reason? Did something go wrong?”

He is silent for so long I think he isn’t going to answer. His indecision is evident in the emotions coming from him.

Then he tilts his head to one side and considers me for a long moment. Nodding his head as if he just made up his mind about something, he says, “I have a colleague who has proven untrustworthy.”

I tense. He
knows.
“Why should I care about your problems with your help?”

“Because my help is insane and murdered Pratik Dahrma.”

His blunt response turns my stomach and I stumble. I hate that he got to me and I especially hate that he knows it. Slipping my knife into my pocket, I wipe my hand on my coat. Somehow holding it in my hand doesn’t seem right when thinking about what happened to Pratik.

“Why haven’t you gone to the authorities?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Only a monster would sit on such knowledge and then pretend to care.”

His head jerks back as if he’d been hit. “Don’t be ridiculous and don’t insult me. My patience is wearing thin. You say you want information and by giving it to you I am ascertaining that you and your self-righteous young man will take care of a problem for me.”

“Perhaps. You have yet to tell me anything. It is difficult to know what I can do unless I have more information.”

“As you wish. My colleague is not only insane, she’s incredibly resourceful. She has certain abilities that make it difficult for me to stop her. She’s a loose cannon and, quite frankly, if you don’t stop her, I’m afraid someone else will get hurt.”

Her. It’s a woman.

My mind is spinning and I have a hard time focusing on what he is saying.

“You must go to her father. Only her father has the power to contain her.”

“Why? What kind of abilities does she have? Who is it?”

“Come on, Anna. You’re a smart girl. Haven’t you guessed?”

I know as surely as if he’d said it. I think perhaps part of me has always known. “Calypso,” I whisper.

He nods. “I thought her talents would come in handy. After all, her ability to influence people is extremely useful, especially when paired with her obvious charms and her other talents. I knew she was a bit unbalanced, but unfortunately, I underestimated just how demented she actually is.”

My stomach churns. “What other talents?”

“Don’t you know? She’s a witch. A black magic practitioner. Likes to dance with the dark side, does our Calypso.”

Panic blooms in my chest, remembering how Pratik had been murdered. My God. She led me to Pratik’s body. The poppet. The psychic attacks. God only knows what else she had been planning.

“What do you expect me to do?” I ask, trying hard not to be sick.

“Stop her, of course. I wash my hands of her. All I wanted was someone on the inside to give me information on what the Society was doing and if there were any new recruits. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t abduct people.”

“What about Pratik?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I had nothing to do with Pratik. Not really. She persuaded him to join us.”

Something isn’t adding up. “But Mr. Gamel’s home had been broken into.”

He shrugs. “Perhaps she wanted everyone to think it was a crime scene. Perhaps she has interesting ways of persuasion. Who knows? I only know that both he and Jonathon came willingly enough to begin with. Whether that’s still the case with Jonathon or not, I don’t know.”

“Wait. If he joined you of his own accord, why don’t you know?”

His mouth tightens. “She disappeared from our little hideaway last week and took several of my Sensitives with her.”

It dawns on me what he wants in return for his information. “You want me to get them back.”

He shrugs.

“You’re just as insane as she is if you think I am going to help you in any way.” I start to turn away and Dr. Boyle grabs my sleeve. Billy hurries toward us.

“Don’t forget, she’s the one who killed Pratik. She said she needed the blood for a major incantation. Do you really want to take a chance with the lives of four young men, Anna?”

Billy comes up next to me. “Everything all right here?”

I don’t answer. Dr. Boyle is still holding my arm and our eyes lock as if we’re frozen in some kind of battle of wills. Neither one of us wants to be the first to look away.

“There’s one more thing, Anna.” His voice is soft, almost caressing. “You recall I said the only one who could control her is her father. That’s because her father is the only person I know even more powerful than she is. Do you want to know who her father is, Anna?” He leans toward me and I will myself to remain motionless.

“Aleister Crowley,” he whispers.

I gasp and jerk my arm from his grip. I want to run, but am frozen in place.

“That can’t be true. Someone in the Society would know!”

He adjusts his coat, smiling—a smile that doesn’t reach his cold eyes. “The Society doesn’t care about the Sensitives any more than I do, my dear, so why would anyone check Calypso’s background?”

I close my eyes for a moment as I digest this truth. Then I glare at him. “What do you want me to do?” My voice is harsh and I sense Billy’s confusion next to me, but I can’t think about him right now. I can’t care about what he must be thinking. I focus on Dr. Boyle, and his triumph makes me want to hit something. Makes me want to hit
him
.