Demon Demon Burning Bright, Whisperings book four (25 page)

If the phone was left at my house, Jack and
Mel would see who put it there. They’d tell me.

They’d tell me it wasn’t Royal.

The person who put the phone in my desk
drawer wanted me to think Royal left it. He couldn’t do that in my
house where my roommates would see him, as he saw them.

Dammit.
Cicero or one of his minions
left the phone. Cicero got Royal out of the way somehow, and
planted the
goddamn
phone!

I swung around and grabbed up my Ruger
.
If you need anything or want to talk, my bedroom is across the
way.
Goddamn right I needed something. I needed to put a bullet
in his goddamn. . . .

I stopped my feet as they took me to the
door, stood with the gun hanging in my hand, sucking in deep
breaths.
Calm, Tiff, calm
.
Don’t forget Lawrence.

The negative way in which Cicero spoke of
Lawrence set my teeth on edge and my uncle was a bad man. He was
Orcus, the Burning Man. Lawrence had reason to fear for his life.
But I couldn’t shoot the High House’s Seer. Seers served the Gelpha
for centuries; they would not believe me if I marched in and told
them what their precious Seer was really all about. I needed
proof.

You’re an investigator, so investigate.

I put my gun on the bedside table. On
impulse, I opened the tall closet. Two pairs of blue denim jeans.
Two T-shirts, white and navy-blue. I checked the tags; all in my
size.

And a long white robe, like Cicero’s.

I sat again to unlace my boots and pull them
off. Shedding the rest of my clothes on the way to the bathroom, I
dropped them on a plastic stool in one corner. A tall mirror on the
wall made me pause and gaze at my reflection.
Hecate.

After using the commode, I turned the water
on and adjusted the temperature before stepping in the shower.

Bliss.

Water pounded my head and dashed against my
body as I unraveled my braid. I closed my eyes, turned my face up
to the water and reached for the soap. As I lathered up, I went
over what Cicero told me. My uncle and I were human with no
superhuman abilities. Except, we saw dead people. How did he use
that in his capacity as Seer to the High House? He denied he
possessed other abilities, but did he? Abilities I did not?

I pressed my forehead to the smooth tile.
What a fucking adventure. Watching people die in Dun Falmor.
Attacked by assassins. I didn’t expect any of this when I left
Clarion with Gia and Chris. Certainly not finding an uncle.

I rinsed off, washed my hair and rinsed it
twice. I got most of the water out but my hair continued to drip as
I walked in the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, toweled out
more water and began the laborious process of brushing and
braiding.

My rolled socks and underwear went in the
backpack. Putting on clean underwear felt better than it ever had,
and my clothes didn’t reek, yet. I ignored the clothes in the
closet.

Time to do a little investigating.

I sat for a while, giving Cicero plenty of
time to settle down and fall asleep. Now I could think, try to fit
the pieces together, wonder about which were missing. His words
circled in my head. He told me so much, yet too little. I couldn’t
process all of it at the time. I still couldn’t.

I began my search with the room, which
yielded nothing. Paperback and hardcover books stuffed a long, tall
bookshelf against the wall near the bed. The books, though, were
printed in Chaldean. Titles on a stack of CDs next a small stereo
system were the same, and I had no inclination to listen to music.
Nothing in the bedside table’s small drawer, or the king-size
armoire.

Now to check out the rest of the place and
be alert for trouble as I did. I doubted Cicero would let me go
without a fuss if he knew what I thought of him and his plans for
me. When I left, I might have to do it the hard way.

I smiled grimly. I might have to shoot him
after all.

I tucked my Ruger in the waist of my jeans,
Derringer in a hip pocket, found my lock picks and flashlight in
the backpack and put my hoodie on. I didn’t need it in the warm
confines of Cicero’s home, but it hid my guns.

Cautiously easing the door open a crack, I
listened to the silence before stepping outside and closing the
door behind me. Five wary paces took me across the corridor to
Cicero’s bedroom door. I stood for a long minute with ear pressed
to the wood until I detected gentle snores from within.

We were alone, my Uncle and I, and he slept.
Lacking a Gelpha’s sharp hearing, he would sleep on if I didn’t
blunder into something and make a noise.

I went back along the passage we traversed
to reach his suite. None of the doors were locked. Going through
another suite of rooms took me longer than I liked and yielded
nothing of interest.

Another room contained canned foodstuffs on
shelves and dry goods in barrels on the floor. In another, twin
rows of large filing cabinets. The files were handwritten in
Chaldean, but I went through them, just in case.

I started back the other way an hour later,
passing mine and Cicero’s bedrooms. The passage swung right. I
walked for half an hour and probably covered a mile. I was about to
give up when I came to a wall. But not a dead end; the wall had
been built across the passage, with a big door slap dab in the
center.

I pressed my palm to the wall, then the
door. Odd. Why a wall and door made of lead? Molding and putting
them in place had taken some doing.

I smiled. Lock picks, flashlight, a standard
lock, no problem.

I had to work at the door, but at least
Cicero used old-fashioned locks in his home, not keypads. I don’t
know how to bypass a keypad, although Royal does.

I pulled the door shut behind me but didn’t
lock it. I stood in a tunnel of unevenly hewn gray rock walls; an
arched ceiling curved above my head. The absolute silence and cool,
dry, stale air made me think of old bones lying quietly in their
grave. The drop in temperature brought on a shiver.

I walked on. The tunnel bore to the left and
took me to a door of metal bars. I folded my fingers around two of
the bars and pressed my face to them. Globes on the ceiling gave
out a muted glow, barely enough light to lift the darkness. The
wall appeared to change farther along; I saw a dull, metallic
sheen.

I scratched my head.
What the
hell?

The lock was clean and well-oiled; it came
open without protest.

I stared along the tunnel’s length. The
walls did change, to thick, dull metal bars. I stopped at the first
bar and looked into a cell of bars on three sides, the rock wall in
back making the fourth. The first in a row of adjacent cells, it
was clean, bare of any furnishings and empty. An amber globe high
on the back wall hardly penetrated the gloom. Hands on the bars, I
half turned to see over my shoulder. This cell mirrored one on the
opposite side of the tunnel and likely those beyond.

I went on. The floor seemed to absorb all
but the slightest
sluff
of my boots heels. I passed the next
empty cell, and reached one with an occupant.

At first, I didn’t understand what I saw,
until I pressed the button on my flashlight and directed the beam
through the bars. It picked out the glitter of metallic hair.

The woman sat with her back to the stone
wall, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. My
light sheened over long violet hair which sparkled like a fairy’s
wings. She brought her hands up quickly as my flashlight dazzled
her. I turned the beam up so it shone above her head. It still
caught the glimmer of her hair.

I squatted, glanced back at the gate to make
sure I had not been discovered, then back at the woman. She kept
her hands cupped over her face, covering eyes, nose and mouth. Pale
skin with a hint of color on face and hands. Eyes sparkled between
her fingers.

“Hello,” I whispered.

She didn’t move.

“Can you hear me? My name is Tiff. Who are
you, why are you here?”

She lowered her chin to her knees.

“Please, talk to me.”

She shuffled to face the wall.

This woman was a prisoner. I fingered my
lock picks. I could let her out, but I’d have to shoot her if she
attacked me.

I stood slowly, knees creaking. More cells
ahead on both sides. I turned to face the one behind me and saw
movement.

Watching me, a male demon stood with his
back pressed to the wall. I scuttled over there.

He shaded his eyes with his palm when my
light fanned over him. The glow reflected the glint of his eyes and
scintillating strands of hair, copper and gold. My heart leaped in
my throat. “Royal?”

My heart slammed back into my chest. He was
too lean to be Royal.

He, too, turned his back on me.

Then I got it. They took me for a Seer.

My voice sounded like a plea. “I’m a
stranger; I’m not part of whatever’s going on here. You can talk to
me. Who are you? Why are you here?”

Useless. He would not turn to face me.

I sighed audibly and went on. The cell next
his was empty. An elderly woman squatted in the opposite cell.
Altogether I passed fourteen cells, seven on each side. Five were
occupied. Five Gelpha who refused to acknowledge my existence.

Perturbed and not a little annoyed, I walked
on.

The passage split. I went right, but decided
to head back if it split again. That’s all I needed, to get
lost.

A huge wood gate blocked the passage.

Weariness dragged me down. I needed rest,
and maybe Cicero rose from his bed early. I had another day before
Gia’s deadline and I meant to make the most of it. Maybe I could go
through Cicero’s office and sneak a peek at his laptop. I’d come
back here tomorrow night.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A tall, gangling boy, all arms and legs,
chubby cheeks and shy smile, Thomas ducked his head as he took my
plate.

“Thank you, Thomas. Delicious. You are
becoming quite the chef,” my uncle told him.

“Thank you, Sire.” Thomas lifted his head
briefly to flash a smile. “The culinary books you brought are
excellent.”

Mexican today. Chicken enchiladas in green
chili sauce with sour cream and diced green onions. Cicero had
watched me while I ate in my kitchen; he knew my favorite
foods.

It didn’t taste the same. No doubt the basic
ingredients available in Bel-Athaer differed from those on Earth.
It was still good. Pity I didn’t have an appetite.

The day about murdered my patience. I
couldn’t let my uncle know I found the Gelpha captives and putting
on a bright face made my facial muscles ache.

Cicero attended to business after breakfast,
so I was alone all morning. But when I opened his office door,
Thomas had the laptop on his knees. He looked up with an inquiring
smile.

I grinned back. “Just wandering, getting my
bearings.”

Damn and hell.
I didn’t dare prowl
the passageways with Thomas nearby.

Cicero and I went to the village in the
afternoon. It was a pleasant place, a little haven in the middle of
barren scarps. We walked among slim trees with fresh green leaves.
Pale grass on the outskirts reached my shins, whispering over my
jeans like soft feathers. Metal rang on metal in the distance.
Though I wasn’t hungry, the aroma of freshly baked bread made my
mouth water. Two larger one-level structures nearer the
mountainside would be the dormitories. A few small, sturdy
buildings sat beneath the trees. A cow lowed from inside a big
barn. A rooster led eight hens across our path; he paused to ruffle
his wings and squawk at us menacingly.

Cicero introduced me to his people, who came
from the houses, and dormitories, the mill, workshops and whatever;
perhaps two hundred men, women, youths and children. Some of those
from the dormitories wore black, Ninja outfits minus hoods. Adult
men and women were tall – I’d say between six-two and six-six - and
all had silver-white hair and pale-blue eyes. They wore their pale
hair in various lengths and styles. None looked like me and
Cicero.

They couldn’t have been more obsequious. You
don’t act that way for love of someone, you do it from fear.

“Am I related to any of them,” I asked as we
climbed the terraces back up to the cave mouth.

“Distantly, as we all are. Regretfully, we
are the last of our line.” Cicero patted my shoulder. “We’ll find a
husband for you one day in the future. Perhaps you will bring more
Seers into our family.”

I couldn’t believe he said that.

“They are from families allied to the High
House. By tradition, they serve the Seer for five years, but many
stay longer. Two here were aspirants.”

“Ones who didn’t make the cut?”

“Precisely.”

I often shifted my gaze to the mountainside,
but saw no indication Gia and Chris lurked up there. If they were
here, they hid themselves well.

Now we sat at the table in the kitchen
again. Thomas put small glass dishes in front of us. “Sorbet,” he
announced.

I spooned up the icy pink concoction,
letting it melt in my mouth before it trickled down my throat.
“Wonderful, Thomas.”

Cicero stood, letting his napkin fall on the
table. “I must return to my business of this morning. I’m sorry to
leave you alone so much, but this was unexpected.”

“That’s okay, Unc.” I swung my gaze to the
sink. “I’ll help Thomas with the dishes then go. . . . Is it okay
if I take a wander?”

His expression momentarily tightened. ”You
may, but some areas are unsafe and others . . . you would do well
to avoid until your training begins. You’ll know when you come upon
them.”

I would not be here for any training. I had
to meet Gia’s deadline. I needed her to get me to the High House,
or at least near it, as she couldn’t show herself there. Proof or
not, I determined someone would listen to me. I would be gone
tomorrow.