Dark Demon Rising: Whisperings Paranormal Mystery book seven (13 page)

“I’ll
talk to Tiff now,” he said when she rejoined us.

She
sat with her knees together and hands clasped on them.

“Go
ahead,” Royal said.

Where
to begin? I smiled—forget Dark Cousins and mysterious messages, Royal knew what
must be foremost on my mind and would be perturbed if I didn’t immediately ask
about Mac.

“Royal,
I know about Mac. Jack, Mel and I left the hospital with you and went to my
house, and to Mike. You’re living at my place so you can look after Mac. And I
heard your conversation with Mike.”

I
hoped he didn’t consider it a major intrusion.

Royal
consciously inhaled deeply to steady himself and replied somewhat dazedly. “You
were with me?”

“Yes,”
I said in a small voice.

“I
did wonder about Jack and Mel when Mac made a fuss, but did not imagine you
were there.”

“No
way you could.” I sniggered. “Never thought I’d see the day when you spoke to
Jack and Mel.”

“Sometimes
I surprise myself.”

I
dreaded asking, but had to know. “Do I have brain damage?”

His
hands squeezed so hard the light bronze faded to white. “A low velocity bullet penetrated
above your right ear and barely entered the frontal lobe. They removed it. Swelling
caused the brain to push on the brain stem but they relieved the pressure
before it caused damage to the reticular activating system controlling
brainstem neurological function. Tiff, the brain is a miraculous organ with the
ability to heal itself and they do not think the angle of entry and level of
penetration can have caused brain damage. They can find no reason why your body
will not function unassisted.”

Royal’s
gaze slid away from Maggie. Speaking to me, knowing he heard
my
words,
but seeing them come from another person must be hard. He kept trying to find
me in the room.

My
voice shook, although Maggie’s didn’t. “I’m not dead yet, Royal. Don’t pull the
plug on me.”

“Pull
the. . . .” He frowned. “Do you mean take you off life support?”

“In
the hospital, I heard you say the doctors advised it.”

His
expression cleared. “I
began
to say they suggested I talk to a Harvard
neurosurgeon. He is one of the ten best in the world.”

“Oh.
What a relief.” I felt stupid. All the stress for no reason. “You won’t give up
on me?”

Uncannily,
his gaze settled on me. “I never will, Sweetheart.”

I
worked on keeping Royal calm. I’d seen him lose his composure but never this
badly. He acted close to manic in his demand I speak through Maggie.

Maggie
croaked on the last word. Her eyes looked tired. “Well done, Maggie. Take a
break,” I told her.

“Thank
you.” Her muscles relaxed and she lolled on the chair. “I think this is what’s
called being emotionally drained.”

Royal’s
head jerked as his gaze tripped around the room. “Tiff?”

“She’s
hasn’t gone anywhere,” Maggie said. “She told me to take a break.”

“I’m
not going anywhere,” I said quietly.

“I
thought I could take a break?”

“Tiff,
talk to me,” Royal said.

“I
should be paid for this,” Maggie said to me.

“I
will pay you. Name your price,” from Royal.

This
was getting out of hand, fast.

I
eventually made him see I would not disappear and suggested letting Maggie rest
her voice for a while was to our benefit as well as hers. And the girl was not
a machine, she had needs.

Royal
fixed her the best Reuben sandwich and home fries she ever tasted. After eating
and a bathroom break, her shoes drying near the heat register, Maggie stepped
up to the plate again. Bless her. She closed her eyes when repeating my words
and I think it made Royal more comfortable. It also provided the advantage of indicating
the words he heard were mine, not Maggie’s.

“Helps
me concentrate on what you say, blocks the distractions,” she mumbled, eyes
pinched shut.

A
major distraction sat across from her. Legs splayed, head lolling, Royal sat on
one of the couches in his apartment. He tore the leather band off his pony tail
and his hair fell in loose waves on his shoulders. His blue jeans and cream,
long-sleeved waffle-weave shirt might have been spray-painted on.

“Good
idea,” I encouraged Maggie.

Maggie
hunched on the other couch, the unlit Christmas trees in a row behind her. I
eyed the tree Gia Sabato threw me into as I thought about the Dark Cousins and
Dagka Shan. They said they’d contain him so he would never again be a threat.
What happened? Did he escape? Or did they deliberately free him?

“What
does Dagka Shan want? Is he taunting us, or are we supposed to find him?”

“I
think we are meant to find him,” Royal said.

“No
way. I don’t want to go near him, never again. Nope,” I said firmly.

“I
do not think we have a choice.” Worried, he sat up and gripped his kneecaps
with crooked fingers. “He made Magnusen shoot you so I would go after the man.”

“So
he could give you the message?”

“Yes.”
He soared upright and paced across the room. “But we do not know where the
Cousins are.” He spun to face Maggie but spoke to me. “You remember what Gia
said to you before the Cousins went into hiding?”

Remember?
How could I forget? The woman pinned me to the wall at the time. “Something about
going to a deep dark place where men have never set foot. But you said you’d
find them.”

“And
we have searched. We pursued them worldwide from one isolated location to another,
but on our arrival they were already gone, always one step ahead of us. Then
they disappeared altogether.”

“I
never asked before, but what are you going to do if you get them, anyway?”

“Gelpha
in North and South America stand ready to answer the call. We can take an army
to the Cousins and contain them in a place from where they cannot escape. But it
is irrelevant now. They appear to have vanished off the face of Earth.”

“Did
they. . . .” I had been careful how I spoke of Shan and the Cousins; Maggie probably
thought they were relatives of mine. But I couldn’t keep quiet when I needed
answers. “Did they open a Gate?”

Maggie
hesitated when she repeated my words. As expected, the Gate reference puzzled
her.

Royal
shook his head. “I did not feel it, as I did when they closed.”

He
pushed his fingers into his hair again and grasped a thick hank in each hand,
as if to literally tear his hair out. He squeezed his eyes shut. “How can we. .
. ?”

His
hands and shoulders dropped at the same time, his eyes opened to slits. “Only
the other day a fellow Enforcer proposed a location. I was inclined to
disregard his suggestion but it is the perfect hideout for the Cousins. We deliberated
if we should go there. Your shooting put everything on hold. But now. . . .”

“Why
deliberate and not just go?”

“What
we know of it is vague, more legend than fact. And it is without doubt a
dangerous place.”

“Where
is it?”

He
pushed an open hand in Maggie’s direction. “I would rather not say.”

I
clenched my hands. He frustrated me something awful. “Royal Mortensen, spit it
out!”

“A
hidden place. Part of the world but not of it.”

“
Part
of the world but not of it,”
I parroted in a dry voice. “And a legend to
boot? Sheesh, could you be any more mysterious? Then why did your friend
suggest it? Why discuss going there with other Enforcers?”

“Some
of my people insist they have been there.”

I
slapped my hand to my forehead and tried to calm down.

He
said, “I do not want to give you false hope, but I intend to check it out.”

I
braced my hands on my hips. “I hope it’s not a waste of time.” Who knew how
long remained to me, but I didn’t wound Royal by telling him that.

He
lifted his hands, palms out, fingers spread. “I’m ready to try anything, Tiff.”

“Fine,”
I grumped.

“I
have to speak to someone, if I can find him. I should not be long.”

“Whoa!”
Maggie’s eyes snapped open. She sprang to her feet. “Enough! What are you two
talking about?” She eyed Royal through half-lidded eyes. “Who
are
you?
Who are these people you’re chasing? And what in God’s name is a Gate? And
hidden worlds? Are you two crazy?”

Hell’s
bells.
“Maggie—”

“Don’t
waste your breath, Tiff. I want answers or I’m gone,” she said sharply.

Royal
considered her from across the room. He knew he should tell her something if he
wanted her cooperation. He scowled, expression anything but friendly. “Very
well,” he said in a flat tone. “Sit down.”

She
backed up and lowered her butt to the couch. Royal stood in front of her,
making her look up at him. And he told her about Gelpha and Dark Cousins, only
a fraction but enough to blow the average human mind.

He
sat and clasped his hands, threading his fingers. “As for this other realm, if
I can find the man I need, I will bring him and he can tell you of it.”

“Wow.
Oh wow,” she said after a silence. She wasn’t capable of anything more. “Wow.”

“I’m
going now.” Royal looked anything but eager to go out into the night. His
slumped posture radiated exhaustion. He looked tired and needed to rest, but I
knew he’d ignore any suggestion that he take a break.

He
hauled his tall body off the couch. “You will wait for me, Tiff?”

“If
it’s okay with Maggie.”

The
girl opened her eyes. “Why the hell not? It’s not as if I have anything else to
do, such as get on with my life.”

Ouch.
Not a happy clairvoyant.

Royal
stood at the door. “I’ll return soon, Sweetheart.”

And
we could go retrieve my roommates. “While you’re doing whatever you’re doing,
we’ll go get Jack and Mel.” I didn’t look forward to persuading them they
should go to my house. Much as I appreciate how they helped me, I didn’t want
them here, constantly butting in when Royal returned.

Maggie
told Royal and his brow scrunched. “You will not.”

“Why
not?”

“I
need you here when I return.”

“How
long will you be? Half an hour? An hour? We can pick them up by then.”

His
gaze narrowed on Maggie and he pointed one finger at her. “You will stay, Miss
Benson. Is that clear?”

She
opened her eyes, gulped and croaked, “Yes.”

How
dare he! We’d see about that. “I don’t need Maggie. I can go get them myself.”

Maggie
shut her eyes again to repeat me.

“How
long will you take to find either of them, how much longer to find the other? What
if we must leave immediately when I return?”

I
wished he saw my glare. It would have reduced him to a quivering puddle.
Honest.

“Go
on then, but I’ll make sure Jack and Mel know abandoning them is your fault.”

As
if that would save me from their ire.

Staring
at the floor, Maggie said not a word. She must be trying to process what Royal
told her. I was surprised she hadn’t interrupted him with questions.

A
second later I knew why.

She
reached for her backpack, stood and headed for the door. “Thanks for an entertaining
evening.” She spun and looked at me. “
Don’t
come to my house again.”

She
did not believe a word Royal said. Perhaps she would, had he been more
forthcoming but his terse statements barely scraped the surface.

“Maggie,
please.” I walked toward her.

One
hand pushed air in a defensive gesture. “And don’t try to grab me. I hope you
get into your body, Tiff. But you’ll do it without my help.”

I
tried to reel her back in. “Maggie, wait. Listen to me before you go.”

I
spoke quickly at first to anchor her interest before she walked out. A couple
of minutes later she still stood there with her mouth open. I didn’t have all
night to tell her
everything
, but when I finished she knew how I met
Royal, my history and ancestry. And I elaborated on what I said to Royal: the
Norton case in England, our romantic getaway to Boston which ended up anything
but romantic, and my devious uncle Cicero.

I
didn’t want to tell Maggie about Cicero but I mentioned him to Royal as a
surefire way to get his attention, and she heard enough to warrant an
explanation.

When
I think of my uncle, though I try not to, I imagine him moldering away in the Gelpha
penitentiary; in my mind’s eye it’s a cold stone structure, suitably dark and
damp, where prisoners never see daylight. I hope Lawrence never sets him free.

Telling
Maggie consumed the better part of an hour and thankfully my voice didn’t
become hoarse. When I finished, Maggie was back on the couch, staring up at me.
I gave her a moment before asking, “Do you believe me?”

She
pinched her lip between her teeth, then said, “Yes.” And with more strength, “It’s
ridiculous, and fascinating, and blows me away, but I do believe you.”

“Then
please stay.”

She
exhaled a chuckle. “How could I leave now?” She returned to the couch. “They look
different from you? What does Royal look like?”

How
do you describe Royal to a person who has not and never will see a Gelpha as
they truly are? I smiled as his image glowed in my mind’s eye. “The sun.”

“He
adores you. I can tell. I guess he’s okay, for an alien.”

“He
is
not
an alien.”

“What
else can I expect? Vampires after my blood? Werewolves skulking in the shadows?
Zombies shambling through the streets?” She bounced on the couch. “Please tell
me there
is
going to be a zombie apocalypse.”

Maggie
dozed on the couch. I looked through the office window and watched life go on
without me. Pedestrians strolled or hurried along the slushy sidewalk: couples,
groups, families, chatting, laughing, moving beneath the warm glow of the faux
antique street lamps and colored neon in shop windows. Two small children
stomped in a wide puddle and their mother scolded them. Cars drove slowly,
heading Uptown or Downtown, or searching for parking spots.

Royal
did not return alone.

Hair
the color of heavy cream laced with shimmering yellow strands framed an
aristocratic face with an aquiline nose. Pencil-thin brows arched above
pale-yellow eyes with black iris. As he turned his head, the light picked out a
trace of pewter in his skin. A beautiful man, tall and well-built, in a soft creamy
wool shirt under a brown leather jacket, and heather-brown slacks.

“Tiff,
this is Felipe Noyola. He is an old friend. I explained the situation to him so
you can talk freely.”

Felipe
made a brief half bow, eyes never leaving Maggie’s face. “I am pleased to meet
you.”

“This
is Maggie.” Royal’s head swung side to side. “You are here, Tiff?”

“Hi,”
Maggie said sourly as she sat up. “Yeah, that’s me, Maggie. Ignore me, same as
he does. I’m merely the vessel Tiff speaks through.”