Goddess With a Blade (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Her hands worked without much thought. Twisting and bundling, she aided the acolytes and the few nuns who tended the Goddess’s flame in their own way. On the table, a small hill of Brigid’s wheels rose. They’d be hung on or above doors to mark Imbolc.

This place, this time every year was her refuge and her spa weekend all at once. She’d arrived two days before. Harried and exhausted. She’d walked out of customs to find Susan there waiting with Sister Alma.

It had taken all her willpower not to fall into their arms crying. Instead, she’d cast it off. Every last bit of upset, anger, sadness. She’d sloughed it like dead skin and embraced her purpose once again.

And she’d understood just exactly why it had been necessary to come. All different things came to her, she used different parts of her brain, of her emotions and her skills. Parts she needed just as surely as martial arts or hand-to-hand fighting.

The train ride to Kildare had been good. Sister Alma plied her with tea and cakes while Susan had knitted and told them about her trip to Spain as they moved, rhythmic, soothing, down the tracks, away from her life as Hunter and to the center of her existence as a Vessel.

Here, in Ireland, she was blissfully happy. Her job was sometimes difficult, yes, but this homecoming—this connection she had with the magical part of her life—it satisfied. Her agitation settled, smoothed away with an utter certainty of purpose.

Rowan’s mother had died before she could teach Rowan to make the wheels, so it fell to Sister Alma. Sister Alma who’d shown up at the Keep along with the Mother Acolyte, Rachael.

They’d demanded Rowan be turned over to them for a set period of time every year. She’d come to Kildare because that is what her mother would have done for her.

None of them knew, at the time, that it had been Theo who’d ordered Belinda Summerwaite killed. Rachael had been doing her duty to raise Rowan as an acolyte as Belinda had been. But that she had barged in and demanded Rowan be trained, demanded it of The First, had been an act Rowan had admired all of her life.

And at that very first Imbolc, as the three-year-old Rowan had learned to make the wheels, they’d discovered she was not meant to be an acolyte, but was in fact Brigid’s Vessel.

And then Rachael had moved to Germany where she was allowed contact with Rowan once per week for six hours. It had been in those sweet, all-too-rare lessons where Rowan had learned how much more she’d been. She was more than a descendant of a family of service. More than the favored human to The First.

He hadn’t liked her divided affections. But to his credit, he’d never stood in the way of her training, not that Brigid would have allowed it. But he
added
to her training.

“A shadow crossed your face, Rowan. Blow it away, there’s nothing but our flame here,” Sister Alma murmured.

Alma had taken over when Rowan had left the Keep and started her life as a Hunter. Rachael had been getting older, less able to travel. There were pictures in an album at home, sisters to the ones she knew Rachael, Alma and now Susan had. Sitting at this very table. Year after year as Rowan had grown.

These women had been her mother in one way or another. Rowan smiled, relaxing after she pushed the memories of Theo’s lessons from her head. She was home and surrounded by people who loved her. There were far worse places to be.

“Are you ready, Rowan?” One of the acolytes came to the door. She needed to go out to burn the old wheels and hand out new ones.

She stood. “Yes, thank you. Can you all please give me a moment?”

The others got up, gathering the rest of the wheels into the basket Rowan would carry.

Susan pressed a kiss to her forehead and they went out, leaving her alone.

She padded in bare feet over the smooth, cold stone floor to the hearth where a hearty fire played.

She willingly gave of herself, letting Brigid rush through her, letting the Goddess do the driving. This was for her, this was part of who Rowan was and she fell away.

As Rowan walked outside, the cold slapped at her exposed skin. Sister Alma tutted at her, motioning to the boots near the door.

Properly chastened, she slipped them on and thanked Susan for the snow-white wrap.

A knot of people had gathered in the courtyard near the flame. Brigid was pleased to be remembered, pleased to see not so much the wheels themselves, but that the rituals had not been entirely lost or blotted out by others who came after and tried to downplay her importance.

Brigid, whether one wanted to call her the Bride or a saint, was the same as she had always been. She had little care for what other symbols were wielded around her, only that her memory did not die.

The acolytes, together with the nuns and several who’d come to Kildare to settle and live in Her presence, tended Her flame openly and reverently. Her shrine was near the well, miles from the old cathedral. Rowan had been happy to see just how many houses bore the wheels on doors, how many stores in town had been selling candles.

The events of that day blurred together. She visited with the people in town, was driven about the countryside blessing farmland.

Rowan only knew that when she slipped between the covers in the lovely, overstuffed bed in Sister Alma’s guest room, it had been pleasing, the kind of day that chased all her troubles far away.

Rowan looked out the window at Las Vegas spread out beneath the plane. Lights everywhere. Life. Death. Everything in between.

Never in her life had she felt so totally connected to it all, the tides of life and death as they brushed against each other.

When she’d woken up on her birthday, before the dawn to ready for a long day of Imbolc activities, she’d felt a little uneasy. Anticipatory perhaps, though it was hard to remember what it was like…before.

Salt for purification.

All in white, she’d entered the field, each line she spoke, each time she stopped to mark another part of the ritual, the bell was rung.

And then she was washed away from herself. Away from all anchors. Frightened at first until she realized it was meant to be. She let go, went under and did not drown.

With a gasped breath, she came back to herself, full of wonder that she could stand after what felt like swimming forever and ever. But it was then, then as Rowan opened her eyes, that she realized this was what her mother had alluded to all those months ago at the ranch house.

Life. So much life pulsed within her she wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself a kaleidoscope of color and pulsating energy. It hummed low, delicious. A counter to the sharp-edged power resting a little higher, that power that pushed her to take what she needed to make things happen.

When she bent to grasp the bundle of rushes at her feet, a line of green leaped from where she stood. Grass shot up several inches higher.

That had been two days before. Two days and she’d realized through much meditation and discussion with Alma and the new Mother Acolyte, Lara, this was healing and life. This was fertility and sensuality. The maiden had matured.

She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but had decided the Goddess would let her know just exactly what she was supposed to make of it when it was time. Rowan knew this because the connection to Her was constant in a way it hadn’t been before. In the past, Brigid had ebbed and flowed as Rowan had needed her and called.

But now they were intertwined in a way that words failed to describe. Rowan only knew it felt right and that it would serve her mission.

Five days. She’d only been gone five days but it’d been revolutionary. All her life she’d had small and even some major revelatory moments, but the last five days had brought her a whole new level of knowing and understanding her path.

Certainty was a rarity in her life, so she accepted the way things worked, knowing that at least they did. So she didn’t know what to expect when she landed, but she knew it would be something. But she knew she’d been led to this very point in this very way for a reason. And the closer she got, the more that something felt very, very wrong.

Her phone had seven messages when they landed. Suddenly her life as a Hunter came back in full force as she saw Jack’s number over and over. She sent out a prayer that she could handle whatever this was.

She had the phone to her ear, trying to get through to Jack when she looked up gratefully to find David waiting with her luggage. Even better, he pressed a coffee into her hands, kissed her cheek and told her he’d be right back with the car.

And then he handed her a file.

By the time he’d returned with the car, she had gotten hold of Carey, who was already working on the information. He briefed her on the disappearance and she had moved on to calling Jack.

“I just got in ten minutes ago. I’m on my way to you. I trust you’re at work?” She maneuvered through traffic, heading to the police station.

As she’d sent him home with her luggage, David had protested, telling her she needed to come with him to at least shower and change to be rested, but she knew Jack needed her.

“Where have you been, Rowan?” His voice sounded so lost.

“I was in Ireland for my birthday. With my mother’s family. I’ve been on trains and planes for the last day. I was over the ocean when you called.”

“I’m at work.”

“Be there as fast as I can.”

Once at the station, Rowan headed to Jack’s desk and found him there, looking miserable.

“Tell me. I know the basics, but what’s the situation?” She bussed his cheek and sat.

“Lisa didn’t show up for work a few days this month. Or she’d be late and looking like shit.”

Rowan had noticed the other woman looking rather worn and crappy over the last months, but she’d assumed it was just her attitude. Or Rowan’s own hatred of the woman.

“We got into a fight on Wednesday. A big one. She…” He licked his lips but didn’t continue.

“Jack, you have to tell it all. I can help you, I
will
help you, but the more I know the better. I know I’m not the president of her fan club, but I care about you and I certainly don’t wish her any ill.”

“I caught her stealing from me.”

Rowan exhaled, hard. She promised herself not to let her utter contempt for Lisa show on her face, but it was a close thing. “Like what?”

“My credit cards.”

It took all her restraint not to yell out, “Your girlfriend the cop stole your credit cards?” Instead she took notes and tried to remain detached. “What happened?”

“I caught her in the act. She tried to deny it, but she had my Visa card in her pocket. I confronted her and she lied to my face, even though there was no way she was believable there like that.”

“Did she eventually share with you? I mean, is she in trouble? Gambling maybe?”

“She said she had money problems. I knew this, I’ve loaned her quite a bit of money lately. She said she was just going to use the credit cards for gas. But, well it wasn’t the first time she’d stolen from me. So we had it out. Or rather, I did and she denied, clammed up and then stormed off after I made her give the cards back. I went through her stuff and she’d also lifted a silver box that had been my grandmother’s.”

Why hadn’t he told her all this before? She felt like shit for whatever judgment she’d shown toward Lisa that had contributed to him dealing with all this stuff alone.

“What else did she steal?”

“You remember that time last year when I messed my hip up? I had some pain pills left. They disappeared a few months ago. I only noticed when I was looking for something else in my medicine cabinet. I wouldn’t have even thought it was a big deal. Until I found the bottle at her place. Along with several others that didn’t have her name on the prescription. Other things had disappeared before and I didn’t want to think it was her. Stupid. God.”

He bowed a moment, his head in his hands and she reached out, squeezing his knee.

“You love her. We all do stupid things for love sometimes.” Rowan looked down at the paperwork in the file, allowing him to get himself together. “So you had a fight on Wednesday night and on Thursday she was suspended from work.”

He nodded. “Fuck, Rowan, I haven’t loved her in a long time. She’s being accused of taking something from the evidence room.”

“Let me guess, drugs of some sort?”

“Crystal meth, guns and a large amount of cash.”

“What the fuck was she involved in, Jack? You were her boyfriend, yes, but you’re a cop to your bones. Even I saw how ragged she was looking. I thought she had mono or something.”

“I knew she’d…indulge from time to time with pills. I didn’t care. Christ, if you do your job and pay your bills and stay out of trouble, I don’t give three shits about what you do in your off time.”

She waited for him to continue.

“But you know, so she starts having trouble paying her rent. And Vegas is expensive, so I paid it for her a few times. She asked to move in with me, and God help me, Rowan, I said no. Maybe I could have helped if I wasn’t such an asshole. I just couldn’t have her living with me and fighting with me all the time. I needed the peace and now she’s missing.”

“That’s dumb and you know it. Did you have any part in her disappearance? Did you hurt her, Jack?”

He snapped his head up, outrage on his face and she sat back, shrugging.

“Exactly. So you didn’t want your crazy, ragey on-and-off-again girlfriend with sticky fingers and a pill habit living in your house. Makes you smart and also, human. You didn’t hurt her, you tried to help her and so you know what? You and I are going to find her and that’s that.”

“It’s meth, Rowan. What if she’s caught up in whatever is happening to those other women? What if we find her like that?”

She put her things aside and took his hands. His turmoil rose and battered at her. All she could do was hope that wasn’t the case.

Right then though, Rowan could help a little bit. She opened herself up to him, taking his angst and turmoil into herself and replacing it with calm. Soothing and hoping it helped.

His agitation seemed to lessen, his gaze glossed just a small amount. “They questioned me. I felt like a fucking criminal, Rowan. I know it’s their job, I get it, but it sucked anyway.”