Devil's Own (15 page)

“What happened to her?” Gus asked, sounding sympathetic.

Oswald shrugged. “I don’t know. One day she was just gone, neither hide nor hair seen of her since. It was so very odd. I thought she and Goddard had been happy together. In love. Never made any sense to me.” He twiddled his fingers. His shoulders slumped. Niall assumed he was under the same stress from the weight of family secrets hanging over him as the rest of them. “Then, a few years ago, three I think, Goddard met Farrah at a social function, and they hit it right off. I was happy for him.” Oswald smiled ruefully, but the gesture soon faded. “Then, less than a year later, he had his stroke. Nothing was quite the same anymore.”

Right then there was a knock on the door. Hughes went to answer, and Niall saw the uniformed officer by the door whisper something to him. Hughes immediately grimaced and gave out a low snarl. The moment Gus had told them Patience Lansdowne was Tia Delaney, Hughes had put an APB out on her—and Deon Delaney too—so if that was the response, then Niall knew they had been unsuccessful in finding and apprehending either one or both of them.

Hughes came to Niall, brooding. Gus sidled up to them as well. “Deon Delaney isn’t at his office, and Tia Delaney is gone too. Nowhere in sight. Her assistant at the gallery said Delaney had gotten a phone call and left the establishment immediately after that.”

“Someone tipped her off,” Niall concluded, baffled at the impossibility of it. No one outside this room knew what Gus had discovered, and Oswald had never been out of their sight.

“How can that be?” Gus hit the nail on the head on this one.

“Could this room be bugged?” Niall asked, lowering his voice to a hush.

Hughes winced. “I’m more concerned about those secret passages.” He looked warily at the walls, as if they were alive with big ears pointed at them.

“You still have officers exploring them, don’t you?” Niall inquired, sharing the worry.

“Yeah.” Hughes rubbed his stubbly jaw in contemplation. “I think we should do another sweep down there. Especially the altar room.”

“You don’t think Florian Talbot could’ve been able to come back without being seen?” Niall asked, incredulous but acknowledging the possibility. After all these years, Florian must have known the tunnels inside and out, possibly able to avoid any intruders prowling there.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Hughes sounded noncommittal, but Niall knew better. Hughes was truly bothered by this latest turn of events.

“If it is Florian, eavesdropping in the tunnels or not, why would he warn Patience—um, Tia? Florian did do business with her, so he knew she was still alive and around, but it still begs the question.” Gus sounded awfully sensible.

Niall actually had nothing to offer to that, and apparently neither did Hughes, who was busy frowning at the incongruity. “You’re right, babe. It doesn’t make sense.” It wasn’t until a smile lit up Gus’s face that Niall realized he had used the endearment in front of Hughes. Still, he wasn’t about to take it back, so with serenity and confidence, he met Gus’s gaze.

“Yes, well, ehrm…,” Hughes muttered, looking away, his cheeks reddening a bit. “I’m gonna take another look at the tunnels.”

“I’ll join you,” Niall offered, itching to get moving again. This sort of questioning and sitting on his ass didn’t suit him well. He needed to take action, to do something useful.

“I’ll stay here with Oswald,” Gus suggested congenially. “Maybe he could be allowed to speak with Henrietta. And I’d like to talk to Nola too, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, kid, knock yourself out.” Hughes went to the door, but before he got there he whipped around and directed his words to Oswald. “I’ll arrange for you to speak with Mrs. Devin. I trust I don’t need to remind you neither of you is allowed to leave the premises.”

Oswald nodded his compliance, relief softening his stark countenance.

Hughes spoke to the uniformed officer and arranged for Henrietta Devin and Nola Dubois both to be brought in. Niall gave Gus a questioning look, wishing to convey to his boyfriend that everything was going to be all right and would he be comfortable and safe left behind? Gus gave him a wicked smile and a brave wink, and Niall knew things would be fine.

After following Hughes to the closest entrance to the secret passages, Niall went one way and Hughes another, both resuming their search for anything they might have missed. Since Hughes headed in the direction of the altar room, Niall chose another route.

Only while they were inside the house was the floor made of wooden planks. Once he moved into the underground tunnels, there was only dirt and gravel. The air was chilly and dusty, and Niall did his best not to cough out pieces of his lungs even as he wondered what kind of crap he was inhaling. The gravel crunched beneath the soles of his shoes, and he had to duck sometimes and squeeze through narrower parts of the passage. His flashlight shone on the ground illuminated a couple of footprints, so Niall knew to expect someone.

When he saw the back of a stationary uniformed officer ahead, he called out with his normal tone, “Hey, find anything?”

Just then he thought he heard something behind him and whirled around, pointing his light back the way he came. Dusty shadows danced in the light, but nothing moved as far as he could see. Not a sound echoed back to him, no footsteps, no loose pebbles, no creaky floorboards. Only silence greeted him.

Except… a tiny squeak from a small fluffy rat came from the corner. Then the little critter vanished into the shadows once again.

Exhaling in relief, Niall turned back to the uniformed officer—and faced a man with dark piercing eyes, a crooked smile, and a Taser in his hand.

Niall didn’t get the chance to grab his weapon, which was strapped at his side, when electricity hit him square in the chest. Pain lashed at him, blinding stars flickered behind his eyes, and then darkness overtook him as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

“H
EY
,
YOU
find anything?” Gus asked, watching slightly amused as a dusty, dirty Hughes returned to the sitting room, grouchy and grimacing.

“Dunno. Do spiders and muck count?” Hughes shook himself, clearly irritated. Then he glanced around, mystified. “Where’s Valentine?”

“He hasn’t come back yet.” Gus left the couch, where Oswald and Henrietta sat holding hands, to join the detective. He lowered his voice when addressing Hughes. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Hughes fidgeted. He dug out his police radio. “I got a bad feeling. My gut tells me something’s not right.” With a faint rattle, the radio came to life, and Hughes demanded, “Everyone check in.”

Young and older men’s voices carried to them. “Post one checking in. All clear.”

“Post two, all clear.”

“Post four at front door. All clear.”

Then nothing more as silence reigned supreme. “Post three, check in,” Hughes gave out the order in a gritty voice. But the radio remained dead silent, as if mocking them and their heartfelt concern. “Post three, check in now,” Hughes demanded again, his pitch rising. No one replied. “Anyone got eyes on post three?”

It was quiet for an awful, long moment. Then a breathless voice answered, “Post two reporting, sir. I found post three—er, Officer Ross. He’s unconscious, hit over the head. And sir? His uniform is gone.”

Gus gasped, horror filling every hollow nook inside his being. “Niall….”

Hughes cursed so loudly that Oswald, Henrietta, and Nola in her lounge chair all jumped at the harsh words and sharp sound. “Call for immediate backup. What’s your location, post two?” The young officer at the other end sounded small and yet brave when he gave directions as best he could.

Meanwhile, Gus punched in Niall’s number on his cell. It rang. Then came a reply. “Hi, um, this is Officer Avery of the SPD. Who—”

“It’s the same officer, your post two,” Gus said in a shaky voice, trying not to sob as he handed the cell to Hughes.

“Son, this is Hughes. Where’d you find that cell phone?” Hughes all but shouted into the line, and Gus could hear the young man reply with something about the ground, a broken screen flashing on the trampled dirt of one of the tunnels.

“He’s got Niall,” Gus whispered huskily to no one in particular. His boyfriend was at the mercy of a cruel, smart killer—who would absolutely not show even an ounce of clemency. All he could think of was the horrible, gut-wrenching possibility he’d never see his Niall again alive, safe, and sound. Gus would never hold Niall in his arms, feel those soft, warm lips molding against his own, kissing his breath away. He’d never feel that quickened heartbeat, gaze into those dark eyes, know the man he loved—

“We’ll find him, Goodwin,” Hughes growled out through gritted teeth, his brown eyes flaming. His grip on Gus’s shoulder was so fierce it damn near hurt.

Perhaps that touch of pain was all Gus needed because his mind cleared of the fog of terror his imagination had created around him. “I think I’ve got an idea where he might take Niall.”

“A
H
,
THE
mystery man awakens.”

His head pounding like the inside of a drum, Niall awoke to flickering natural light and the deep shadows of the falling night—and the tall figure of a man standing not ten feet away. The candles burned behind him, so Niall only saw the man’s outline and the stars twinkling above him.

“You must feel pretty strange right now. Don’t worry. The feeling will dissipate.”

Niall’s body felt weird, twitchy, at once full of energy and weary to the bone, his too-tense muscles vibrating and flexing. He knew it was from getting shot with a Taser, the volts running through his system like a live wire, firing him up only to force him to come crashing down, plunging headlong into the blackness of his mind.

“Here, have a drink.” The man offered him a goblet. The smell of red wine was fruity and moldy, quite unpleasant after encountering the odor while in danger for the second time.

“No thanks,” Niall rasped out, gasping for air, fearing drugs or poison.

“As you wish.” The man moved off, walking with smooth grace, a fluidity that came with expert knowledge of one’s physical attributes and abilities. Niall was well aware that he could not underestimate this adversary, or it could cost him his life.

Although that might already be ahead of him.

Niall began to process his surroundings. His hands were tied behind his back and also around a tall metal pole. Above him the crackle of fire was audible, as the glow was visible to his slitted eyes. The metallic rod was cool to the touch and clearly so well jammed into the earth that it didn’t budge.

What came through most clearly, however, were the smells and sounds of a night outdoors: crickets in the bushes, night birds in the trees, rustling leaves, soft chilly winds. He was outside, perhaps in a garden or a park. Apart from the metal poles and the candles farther away, there were no artificial lights around. The sound of traffic was feeble and distant, but no people could be heard. Wherever Niall was, no one but his abductor seemed to be around.

Well, that’s what he thought, anyway.

When he was able to clear the haze left behind by unconsciousness from his eyes, Niall counted four metal poles surrounding a circle of red stones on the ground. Opposite Niall was an altar made of stone, with candles burning on it. Over the altar hung a black flag with an inverted pentagram, similar to the tapestry down in the altar cave, with Baphomet’s goatlike face staring at him from the center.

But the most important things were the two naked young women lying on the altar.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” The man, who Niall now knew to be Florian Talbot, stood still behind the altar, staring at Niall with his deep-set, startlingly hypnotic eyes. The darkness within them seemed to stem from some nefarious place Niall didn’t want to even think about, let alone see ever again. “Young, full of life, beauty, sex.” His fingers danced on the fair skin of the closest girl.

Only when she squirmed a little and let out a soft whimper did Niall realize the women weren’t dead.
Yet. Hopefully not tonight
.

“What do you want?” he asked, buying time. Though Niall had no idea where they were at the moment, he had to trust Gus and Hughes to find him.

Florian chuckled, his black hair quivering in the wind and with the movement. “I notice you didn’t ask my name. I suppose you know who I am.”

“Florian Talbot.” No point in denying the truth. When Florian bowed his head in a formal manner, Niall felt bursting with questions. “Why fake your own death? Why didn’t you just leave town? You had a good head start.”

“I had scores to settle,” Florian replied vaguely.

“Murdering your own son?” Niall asked, struggling with his bonds as inconspicuously as possible. Florian’s eyes widened a bit. “Titus was your son, wasn’t he? With Patience?”

At that remark, two female heads lifted off the altar to regard him anew, both faces full of confusion and surprise. Niall recognized them both: Ida Talbot, Florian’s younger sister, and Ella, Florian’s child apprentice into the satanic faith. Niall didn’t know the extent of Ida’s involvement in Titus’s murder, but Ella formed a clearer picture, as there were only two possibilities: either she had learned via the secret passages that Florian wasn’t dead, or she had known all along as an accomplice. Obviously, neither of them had seen this revelation about Titus’s origin coming, however, not if their stunned expressions were any indication.

“What’s he talking about?” Ida asked, frowning.

Niall was forming a mental picture of all the loose threads of the case, hoping against all hope he was as close to the truth as possible, and that Florian would feel confident enough in his position to confess his sins. “Patience, your older brother’s first wife, whom you either seduced or violated, and who ran away and became… someone else.” Niall wasn’t 100 percent sure if Florian knew Tia was Patience, so he left the name out. Just because they did business together was not proof. People could change in twenty years. “And then Patience had a son, Titus.”