Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (13 page)

Straightening myself, I moved towards the boards like a professor about to start class. “From what you’ve told me about your work with George, enchanted cloth needs specific tools.” I watched my uncle’s face for affirmation before moving on. “Then there’s the fun fact that this house and the grounds are enchanted as well. Whoever is behind this would need a way to counter them.”

Andrew continued to stare at me as if I were ignorant. “What in the world would ever make you think that?”

Walking over to the table, I picked up a file labeled Neil Nunez. I pulled out a photo and showed it to my uncle. “Any chance you know this man?”

Andrew rubbed his chin and said. “It’s possible I’ve seen him, but I don’t have a clue as to who he is. Why?”

Opening the file again, I pulled out a receipt and a handwritten note of Martha’s interview with George Nguyen. I handed the receipt to Andrew. “That’s a receipt for the blue shirt he was wearing when he was murdered.”

Andrew barely looked at it before handing it back. “I don’t understand how this relates to the subject at hand.”

Taking a deep breath, I remained calm as I spoke. “Neil was stabbed through the heart with a long silver dagger, according to eyewitness accounts.”

Andrew stared at me, still not comprehending the situation. “A lot of people get stabbed in this city.”

My irritation grew and I felt it creep into my voice. “Not everyone is wearing enchanted clothing that’s supposed to prevent that very thing from happening.”

Andrew flinched, snatched the receipt out of my hand again, and looked down at the photo. “Are you sure that’s the same piece he bought from George?”

I held out the handwritten note to Andrew. “I don’t have to be. George identified the article of clothing.” I motioned for him to keep reading. “You’ll see that Martha did some testing on it as well, and discovered that no matter how she tried to puncture the shirt, nothing penetrated it.”

Andrew fell into the chair next to the table. “That’s impossible.”

Irritation still in my voice, I replied, “Yet it happened.”

He was frustrated and poured over the notes again in hopes of finding a discrepancy. “But it shouldn’t have.”

“I know,” I replied.

Andrew sat the note atop the file. His face twisted in anger, fear, and finally acceptance. “It would take years, as well as a deliberate attempt to undo someone else’s enchantments. It’s bad form, not to mention highly counterproductive. There are laws that prohibit such actions. Why would anyone do such a thing?”

Taking a seat across from him, I pulled the file close and skimmed it again. “That would explain the need for so many enchanters over the years. One building on the others work.” I saw the defiance on his face, his objections and arguments mounting by the second. “You’ve got to remember a lot of people died. Many of them were missing for long periods of time. Trust me on this, given the proper motivation, torture for instance, people will do things they normally might not.” I stood and walked back to the chalkboard and removed a file. “This one was missing for nearly a year before they turned up face down in the Arkansas River. Martha has a note here about an Aaron Lopez from Honduras that has been missing since April of last year.”

Andrew was having a hard time accepting this. “I’m not sure—”

I cut him off quickly so he couldn’t rationalize it away. “Look, we know that it did happen. We may not know how or by who, but we know it did happen. You really need to accept that so we can formulate a suitable defense.”

Andrew’s head hung limp at his shoulders for a moment longer before he raised it and looked at me. “What are you proposing?”

Leaning back in my chair, I stroked my chin. “Nothing yet. Let’s go over what we know. Someone has been killing off stone born and stealing their stones over the last five decades.” Putting up another finger, I pointed at the closed door. “You have a massive collection of them just down the hall, and until recently no one knew you had a living heir, so it stands to reason that you’d be on that list.” Another finger popped into view. “We know they have a weapon or weapons that can penetrate some, if not all, of your enchantments. So your usual safeguards are out the window. You’ll need to develop new defensive strategies.”

Andrew shot me an absurd look. “That’s easier said than done. Enchantments like that take months to complete.”

I responded a bit more flippantly than I’d intended. “Then you’d better get started. The one big thing we have on our side is the fact we know about it and they don’t know about me.”

Andrew’s posture told me he wasn’t so sure about our advantages. “That’s one way of looking at it.” He looked me over, and noticing my calm, he furrowed his forehead. “This was probably the last thing you believed you’d get caught up in when you came home. I’m sorry I’ve put you in danger.”

I laughed. I hadn’t meant to but I couldn’t help it. This was a life I was accustomed to. This was where my skills blazed into existence and made me a force to be reckoned with. “Don’t worry about it. This is something I understand. This is something I can help with.”

Andrew became concerned at my words. “Just what did you do all those years over there? I’m doubting it was pushing paperwork as you’ve suggested/ lied to me about.”

There was that sensation again. The one that made me want to tell him all my deepest, darkest secrets, but that was never going to happen. “Let’s just say that this is an area in life that I excel at and leave it alone.” I left the last bit unsaid...
Pray that you never have to witness the kind of man I can be when everything goes to hell
.

I felt the dark part of my soul stir as I finished that thought. The old familiar Grim begged to be released. It wanted out, it wanted to find the people responsible for these crimes and make them pay. Soon, I promised, soon.

The sensation lessoned and I looked up to see my uncle staring at me in a peculiar way. The look on his face was a combination of concern, fear, and awe.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Brushing off his concern, I sat up straight and tried to mask my old friend. “Of course, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He looked at my hands and then my face before slowly letting out a long breath. “I thought I saw something, but it must be the lack of sleep catching up to me.”

We heard a knock at the door and we both jumped. I was on my feet heading across the room when it opened. Isidore stood there on the landing with two small parcels under his arm. He saw me coming and hefted the parcels in my direction. “I’m glad you’re here. George called me earlier…he didn’t have your number.” He handed me the packages and turned his attention to Andrew. “Is it all right if I come in?” Then he caught sight of the living room and stopped in his tracks. “What the hell is all that?”

Andrew looked tired but he stood and waved at the boards as he explained what Martha was working on. He went into detail about the enchanters and the stone born that had been killed, and how since many believed he was without an heir he was on the list. Andrew was careful to leave out the room full of stones, and instead implied that they wanted only his and probably mine now if they knew about me.

In an instant all the joy and lightness that normally oozed from Isidore ceased, replaced by something quiet, calm, and deadly. It was as if his physical form became denser as his body became clearly defined under his silk shirt. His voice was lower, with a hard edge. Every syllable was calculated as he fought to control his emotions. “Do you know who it is?”

Andrew barely looked away from the board as he continued to piece it together. “We don’t, but as Gavin said we know about it now, which is more than I could say two days ago.” He looked over at the table and pointed at the file belonging to Neil Nunez. “It appears whoever this is has a weapon that can pierce the enchanted clothing we’re wearing.”

Isidore picked up the file and quickly skimmed the notes. “Just the one weapon?”

Andrew put up his hands, clearly at a loss of further insight. “I don’t know.”

Isidore thought for a moment, looking back at me and then Andrew again. “I can stay in the room downstairs if you want.”

Andrew appeared to quickly consider his offer before accepting it. “That might not be a bad idea.”

Isidore turned and looked at me. “I’m sorry you came home to this.”

I found it odd how they both were so accepting of the danger placed at their doorstep, yet somehow felt a need to apologize because it involved me. They needn’t worry though…this was my specialty. “This isn’t the first time someone has wanted me dead. I didn’t oblige them, and I don’t think I’ll oblige whoever this is either.”

Isidore looked curious but turned his attention to Andrew. “I’ve got to grab some things from home. Should I call Heather?”

Andrew shook his head. “No, she’s got a wedding tonight and will be back tomorrow. We can tell her then.”

Isidore clearly didn’t like the idea but accepted it. He turned on the spot and headed for the door. “You two be safe until I get back.”

We walked Isidore out the front door and locked the gate behind him. Once we were up the stairs I looked over at Andrew and asked. “How’s Isidore staying here going to help?”

Andrew found the question far too amusing for my taste. “We are two days away from the full moon, which means it’ll take more than a sharp pointy stick to put the man down. That, and the more people we have here the better I like our odds.”

Like I understood any of that, but I accepted his words. In the package I found a new pair of black slacks and a cobalt blue long sleeve button up shirt. I tossed them on the bed and went back to work trying to figure out who was wanted to kill us, and how the UCD captain was involved. Why had he asked to be involved in choosing the next
vigiles
, and why did he say that Andrew’s opinion only counted so long as he was in charge? How did being in charge of a bookstore even rate a visit or a rant from the pudgy little man?

Isidore returned with his hackles up and ready to rip off someone's head with the slightest provocation. Andrew was obsessed with digging through the boxes attempting to uncover the next clue. I, on the other hand, was ready to go pay a visit to the one man I was sure had his hand in the mix, Walter. If that didn’t pan out, I was sure I could find the appropriate pressure to apply to Captain Hotard to get answers. He knew more than Andrew had picked up, of that I was sure. There were phone records, notes, and photos that could point me in the right direction.

The phone rang about a quarter to six. Andrew answered it and then handed it to me. “Heather says she needs your help.”

Squinting at my uncle, I took the phone. “Hello?”

Heather sounded a little panicked. “I hate to ask this, but my ‘date’ bailed on me five minutes ago, and you’re the only other single man I know.”

Weddings weren’t my thing, but I figured I’d try to let her down easy. “You could always meet someone there.”

She growled. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. One of my old friends will be there, and if I don’t show up with a date she’s going to try and fix me up with an old ‘family friend.’ I’m sure the guy is nice, but your uncle and he were probably born in the same decade.” She sniffed. “Please, will you just do this for me? I’ll owe you one.”

Hanging my head, I knew I’d been beaten. The first sniffle had done it. I hated to see or hear women and children crying. “Fine. Where and when?”

She relaxed and I could almost see her smile. “I’m not far away; how fast can you dress?”

Damn! “I’ll be down in fifteen.”

“Can you make it ten?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure.”

Hanging up the phone, I looked up at my uncle. “It appears I’m going to a wedding tonight.”

Andrew didn’t look pleased. “Are you sure you want to go out with everything going on?”

I smiled and patted him on the shoulder as I headed for my room. “Relax, I was going to be going out one way or another tonight. At least this way I’ll be with Heather and not looking into Walter.”

Andrew huffed. “That’s not comforting at all!”

I was changed and downstairs in eight minutes. Heather pulled up in a Kia Sedona two minutes later and waved me in. We were off to the Elms Mansion on St. Charles Avenue for an evening of rich people spending a ton of money on a party instead of a new house or car or god forbid, student loans!

Chapter 8

As if the bride and groom had planned it, the sunset occurred at the close of the ceremony, bathing them in the last vestiges of the day…talk about pretentious. That was about an hour ago, and since then the giant ball of flaming death had disappeared over the horizon allowing the temperature to drop several degrees. That and the small yet welcome breeze out of the north permitted me to remain somewhat comfortable under my dark suit jacket. The humidity was at a reasonable level for New Orleans, which of course meant I felt clammy, but not so much so that it was noticeable.

I’d worn the cobalt blue shirt and black slacks I’d received from George earlier. I’d finished the look by pulling on my black suit jacket I’d worn to the funeral, along with a red silk tie. Heather wore an emerald green form fitting silk dress that landed just above her knees. The matching five-inch heels put her at eye level with me. I’d always thought there was an unspoken rule that you weren’t supposed to look better than the bride, but if that were the case I was certain she wouldn’t be invited to many weddings.

As to be expected from the city’s exceptionally wealthy, the evening's events were lavish beyond comprehension. The wedding itself was an overdone yet beautiful ceremony decked out in rare flowers, white silk, and all the other trimmings money could buy. The seven-inch Samsung tablets set atop the finest floral china place settings obscured the white linen tablecloths. From what I gathered, the tablets were the party favors for the guests. Obviously someone had more money than sense.

Shortly after dusk, dinner was served atop the antique china, along with actual sterling silver utensils. The most unfortunate part of the evening thus far had been the fact that Heather’s original date was a vegan, forcing me to choke down stinky tofu specially imported from Japan with many, many vegetables. How I prayed for a burger or a steak during the entire ordeal.

After we’d finished, Heather stood and drug me to my feet. “Come with me.”

Wiping the corners of my mouth, I dropped the napkin and stood. “Where are we going?”

She turned, holding my hand, and pulled me along behind her. “I need to introduce you to my mother.”

That drove ice through my gut. “I’m not sure I’m the kind man you want to bring home to Mom.”

She paused a moment, looking back at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’re not going home...yet.” She let out a giggle as she guided me through the crowd. “Besides, she’s just over there.”

I caught sight of our intended destination several seconds before we arrived. The woman we were approaching was nearly identical to Heather save for the blonde hair. She wore a yellow version of Heather’s green dress, and a massive rock on her ring finger.

Heather waved at her mother, and she turned to take us in, me in particular. Her eyes cascaded over me as she appraised my worth. She seemed happy enough to see me trailing behind her daughter.

Heather pulled me up next to her, practically glowing with excitement. “Mom, this is Gavin.” She looked back at me and waved at her mother. “Gavin, this is my mother, Kimberly Broussard.”

I gave her a slight bow and gently took her hand in mine. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Broussard.”

Kim’s voice was raspier than her daughter’s, yet no less pleasant. “The pleasure is all mine.” She looked thoughtful for a moment and asked, “Didn’t I see you with Andrew at the funeral Friday?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

She sucked on her cheek for a moment. “If you see Andrew, would you tell him how sorry we are for his loss?” She made a face suddenly. “We didn’t want to interrupt him after that nasty business with Walter.”

“When I see him again I’ll let him know.”

She appeared pleased, leaning forward to give Heather a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to make the rounds and pay our respects, since your father had to ‘work’ tonight.”

Heather’s beautiful face contorted for a fraction of a second at the mention of her father. When she spoke her voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. “You’d think being the head of surgery would have its perks.”

Kim’s face turned sour quickly before she regained her composure. “It does. He doesn’t have to attend funerals or even weddings if they inconvenience him in the slightest.”

Lesson one: when women are discussing their husbands or fathers in a negative way, never interject your opinion. It never goes well for anyone, especially me.

Kimberly gently squeezed my forearm as she swept by.

Heather’s eyes widened and her face became brighter. “She likes you!”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked.

Heather rolled her eyes and she guided us back to our seats next to the wrought iron fence near St. Charles. “That’s a great thing! I don’t have to allow myself to be set up with some old geezer that my father would approve of and my mother would hate.” She grabbed a crystal flute of champagne when the waiter passed. “The man I was supposed to come with tonight is one of those set ups by my father.” She took a long draught of her champagne and anger flickered across her delicate features. “My father desperately wants me to get involved with the creepy little shit that works for him.” She shook her head in disgust. “I only agreed to the date tonight with him to shut my father up! Then the fucker turns around and stands me up at the last minute.”

I wisely kept my mouth shut and sipped on my Coke and ice in a rock glass. Just because I’d left the safety of the house didn’t mean I was going to be reckless. Drinking when people wanted you dead was a sure fire way to allow it to happen.

We took our seats at the end of the table, allowing us to watch the traffic on St. Charles Avenue and still have a view of the overdone gazebo where the band was playing. Some of the guests were still picking at their food while drinking and generally being rowdy…well, as rowdy as rich folks got, I supposed. Our table was empty now, allowing us to have a proper conversation without having to either whisper to keep from being overheard or yell at one another.

She kept her face serene while she swirled the champagne around in her glass, watching the crowd swell and thin at an odd rhythm. Finally, she turned her eyes back to me. “So, what did you think?”

Her question forced me to stop scanning the crowd for possible security issues. “Of the wedding?”

Heather’s pink lips twitched and she let a delightful giggle escape. “Of course, the wedding!”

I’d seen this type of thing a lot over the years and I hated every minute of it. The vast waste of money combined with arrogance and ignorance of it all pissed me off.  “Honest answer?”

She fixed me with a stern look. “We literally just met yesterday. I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t start our friendship by lying to me.” Her face screwed itself up as she downed the drink and grabbed another from a passing tray. “Actually, if you could promise not to lie to me at all that would be spectacular.”

I took a drink of my Coke, never actually agreeing consciously. “I hated every last second of it!” Grabbing my new tablet off the table, I held it up in disgust. “The money they poured into this ‘party’ could have paid for a very nice house and a car.” Looking around at the decadence, I felt uncomfortable. “I’ve always felt that people throw these type of parties to brag and tell others how special they think they are.”

She sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down and she tried not to laugh. Finally, the fit passed and she gasped. “Oh, thank the lords above!”

Setting my glass on the table, I was suddenly curious. “I thought these were your friends and you were sort of required to like it out of, I don’t know, camaraderie or something.”

She waved a hand around airily, in an effort to utterly distance herself from the event. “These are more my father’s friends than mine.” She made a face as she caught sight of the bride drifting around the front tables, fawning over the more special guests. “My mother and I show up for appearance’s sake, but honestly, I hate these things and so does she.”

I was treading into dangerous territory, but this was the second time her father had come up in such a negative manner. “And these being your father’s friends, is there any reason he didn’t wish to be here tonight?”

Anger and bitterness clouded her beautiful features before she downed another gulp of champagne. “My ‘father’ does his best to avoid anything he considers beneath him.” She glowered and leaned forward. “These are simply the children of one of his more influential friends. A suitable gift was purchased in each of our names and sent to the bride. A task he surely delegated to the help, and then Mother and I are sent as his emissaries, bearing the news that he was just too swamped with work, otherwise he would’ve surely made it.”

It was clear from her tone that she held a deep resentment for the man, and was even more bitter about being used in such a fashion. Holding up my glass, I toasted her and gave her a big smile. “The one great thing about this evening is you got me out of the house, and possibly saved my liver in the process.”

That snapped her back to reality, placing her champagne flute on the table and she took my rock glass, sniffing it before taking a drink. “What the hell?”

Her mock outrage was amusing. “What?” I said innocently.

She pointed across the lawn to the open bar. “You may not know this, but it’s a cardinal sin to refuse an open bar here in New Orleans.”

Taking my drink from her, I pulled a face that made it clear I didn’t mind sinning. “Andrew has been pouring scotch down me by the liter since I arrived.” I waved a hand at the Coke on the table. “I needed a break.”

She let loose with another fit of the giggles, which I assumed was brought on by the onslaught of champagne she’d drank since we arrived. “The old man can put them back.” She beamed at me again as she looked back at the open bar. “It’s a real shame you didn’t take advantage, but I can sympathize.” She fondled her tablet for a moment longer before tossing it back onto the table in disgust. “You’re right about this being a way to show off.” She looked over at the band and smirked. “The cost of the band could’ve paid off my car.”

Leaning forward, I put my weight on the table. “I just assumed you were well off.”

She shifted a little in her seat. “My mother's father was wealthy and set up several trust funds for me, which I don’t touch unless I have to.” She scrunched her face as if she’d smelled something foul. “My father is definitely well off, but that’s his money and he takes every opportunity to remind everyone of that fact.” She shivered at the thought. “I’m well enough off, I suppose. I inherited my grandfather’s house, and I’ve got money from when I used to model, but I have bills like everyone else.”

Wanting to change the subject, I shifted gears. “How did you go from modeling to working for my uncle?”

And just like that she perked up and her mood instantly lightened. “That’s a long story, not to mention several years apart. However, Andrew used to date my mother, and my father has never forgiven him for it! So when I was looking for a mentor, my mother, of course, suggested Andrew. I was floored when my father not only approved but encouraged it.”

Now, that was odd to have such a massive shift of opinions. Perhaps the old man wasn’t a complete piece of shit and truly wanted the best for her. “I see.”

Heather grumbled. “You don’t, but after you meet my father you will.” She paused and glanced around to make sure we were alone. “Are you really his nephew?”

The question caught me off guard and I stammered my reply. “As far as I know. Why do you ask?”

Her eyes went big lighting up in excitement. “Are you like him? I mean, are you one of the stone born?”

I felt myself stiffen at the question, and a part of me wanted to avoid it. “To be honest, I have no idea what I am. As for being like him, I doubt it. He appears to be on a scale of power that would far exceed my own.” I frowned and suddenly wished I was drinking scotch. “I have no idea what I can do other than being impervious to his mental manipulation…and yours, for that matter.” I inhaled, catching the scent of jasmine far off in the distance. “I’ve only been introduced to this world two days ago.”

She leaned forward, glancing around again as she whispered. “Really?”

Trying not to make a big deal about my ignorance, I put my drink on the table. “Really. I’ve been away a very long time, and well, Andrew only told me about my family after the funeral Friday.” I leaned forward in my chair as I looked around to make sure we were alone. “If you’d told me anything close to this before then I would’ve thought you were mental.”

Her languid smile brightened the evening, and she gently tossed her hair back with a flick of her hand. “Some days I feel a bit mental anyway.” She bit her lip as her eyes traveled down my arm to my left hand. “Care to tell me how that happened?”

I thought about the promise I’d never actually agreed to earlier but still felt obligated by, and chose to answer as best I could. “I’d really rather not.”

She pushed out her bottom lip in a pout, yet her eyes were full of amusement. “Perhaps you’d feel up to answering what you do for a living.”

I suppressed a silent titter. “At the moment I’m gainfully unemployed.” I held up a hand to stop her follow up question. “I may not have family money, but I’ve have three decades of paychecks I haven’t touched. I’m looking for a new career, but not today, since I’ve also got thirty years of vacations I need to catch up on.”