Promises to Keep (5 page)

She followed the path mainly by the sense of
rightness
drawing her, since this area of the cemetery was dimly-lit, at best. Bushes rustled and things crackled, but Ellen summoned a thread of current and let it glimmer under her skin, and whatever it was decided to leave her alone.

She heard the chittering off to the left. Whatever was drawing her was drawing them, too. Ellen looked up. The light was shifting, just like in her vision. The clouds had cleared and the moon was bright on the horizon, even as the faintest pink was starting to creep into the eastern sky. Up ahead there was the glint of water, and her breath caught.

“Here and now,” she whispered, and finally paused long enough to ping Pietr

*here and now* and a sense of the water in front of her, a single huge tree just ahead, the path curving to the right, even as she was walking faster, and then running.

Not two men. One. He was cast in shadows, standing by the water. Too-close, Ellen could see-sense - the presence of direlings. Not approaching; waiting. Ghouls at the feast-to-be. The chittering was faint but she could hear it, raising the hair on her arms.

“They don’t eat the living,” she reminded herself. Where the hell was Pietr?

“Hey.” She spoke softly, the way she used to when she lived back home and was never sure what kind of reception she’d get, what she’d done to piss people off this time. One guy, wrapped in shadows, his posture broad-shouldered yeah but somehow slumped in on himself. She exhaled, and counted back from three into magesight, trying to find out what about this guy drew her.

Human - a Null, without magic - but there was something funky about him. His silhouette wouldn’t stay tight, shifting from a normal misty-black to this intensely annoying glimmer, too harsh to look at directly, like staring at the sun. He moved, and the double-image moved too, like…

Like two men, not black and white but sharp and muted. She didn’t know why or how, but there were two of him in the one. Her mind flitted through a race of ideas, discarding them almost as quickly. Possession was a myth, ghosts were rare, and chimeras manifested outwardly, not like this.

“Go away.”

His voice was low, too, but not soft. The shifting sharpness she saw was in his voice, scraping at the air.

“Can’t do that. What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Nothing.” His edges almost connected, then shifted apart again. Ellen was having trouble keeping track of the magesight and the conversation, but was afraid to let go of either. “I’m just too tired to keep it together, that’s all. Why do you care?”

She swallowed. Where the
hell
was Pietr? “Because I do. This… this isn’t the answer.” She didn’t know how he was thinking he’d kill himself; the pond couldn’t be all that deep. But it was clear that was what he was planning. “It’s really not.”

There was a tingle of current, like a flash through the air, and she heard obvious footsteps behind her. Pietr, finally. *this is him* she pinged. *i don’t know what to do*

*he’s alive* Reassurance and reminder: whatever was going to happen hadn’t, yet. She was in time. But could she
do
anything? “Please.”

“I’m tired,” he said. “Tired and crazy and why the hell were you even here? Nobody here except us dead men.”

The chittering in the distance go louder, as though his words made them anticipate.
Fuck you
she thought, fiercely desperate.
You don’t get him yet
.

“It’s my choice.”

She looked at Pietr, but he’d taken a step back, and she knew he wouldn’t interfere. It was up to her.

“I saw you. That means you’re supposed to live.”

“What the hell does that mean?” His outline shimmered and almost clicked, then fractured into painful sunspots again.

*wildly bi-polar* Pietr pinged, the actual thought like a lightning flash in her brain. *or split personalities? Something that’s causing him enough pain he can’t handle it*

“You can get help. There’re doctors, medications…”

The stranger’s voice held an undercurrent of savage laughter that unnerved her almost as much as the direlings gossiping to themselves behind them. “You don’t know that. You think I haven’t
tried
?”

“You’re not crazy.” He was, he absolutely was, but she’d thought she was crazy too, probably was crazy, after everything, after getting dying people shoved into her head, and she wasn’t sure what the hell crazy meant any more. “No more than anyone else. Don’t do this. You’re supposed to live.”

“You’re as crazy as I am. You don’t know that.”

No, she didn’t. Too many she Saw were dead already. But not this one. Not yet.

“It’s your choice,” Pietr said quietly, “but you don’t know she’s not right.”

“Not today,” Ellen said. “Not this way. Not face down in a pond, stripped to your bones by carrion-eaters. Do you hear them? They’re waiting for you. They won’t even give you the decency of a proper burial. Screw them. Walk away.” She shoved every certainty she had into her voice, and prayed it would be enough. “I wouldn’t have stayed out here all night, freezing my ass off, if you weren’t supposed to walk away, after.
Alive
.”

“All night? Why the hell were you sitting here all night?” He turned, and she could see, in the growing graying light, that he was older than she’d thought, maybe even in his fifties, and the expression on his face was one of disbelief, and - worry?

“So I could be here when you needed me,” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And right then, to her, it was.

“Fuck.” He turned back to look at the water, and she let go of the mage-sight, knowing somehow that she’d won, that he wouldn’t do anything now.

“Go the fuck away,” he said. She nodded, then turned and walked away. He’d done as she’d asked, she could do as he’d asked.

Pietr and Ellen walked back up the path to where she’d left her chair, then turned to look again, the light enough to see clearly, now. He was still standing there by the edge of the water, a rough shadow, but as they watched, he turned and walked away.

“He’s someone’s dad,” Pietr said. “Probably a daughter. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - do anything while you were there.”

“He could still do it again tomorrow,” she said.

“He could. It’s his choice. But you gave him something to think about today. You gave him someone who cared.”

She wouldn’t see the sharp-and-muted man again; the visions didn’t work like that. At least, she didn’t think so. She’d never know what happened to him, because she didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to come here again, to try.

She’d won. For this one moment, she won.

“C’mon, kid,” Pietr said, even though he couldn’t be all that much older than her. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

Coffee. She didn’t drink the stuff, but she needed to pick up a new coffee maker for the office. And take a shower. And get to the office. And…

Yeah,” she said, folding up the chair and shoving it into the carry-bag. “Getting out of here sounds good.”

“Jesus. Look what the cat wouldn’t bother dragging in.” I’d seen Ellen tired before - we’d worked some insane hours - but this took the proverbial cake, and a cupcake beside. “I hope you left the other person or persons in similar shape?”

She put a brown shopping bag on the desk, and tried to glare at me, but a yawn caught her off-guard. She’d tied a bright blue scarf around her hair. I liked it. It made her seem funkier, younger.

“And you’re late,” I went on, knowing better than to comment on her attire, at least. I made a show of looking at my watch, a clunky wind-up that had survived more than a decade of working around Talent.

“Yeah well, I got us a new coffee machine,” she said, indicating the bag. “And I solved the vision.”

“Oh, good,” I said, although I’d actually made a pot at home, before heading in, and filled a thermos. “And wait, you did what?” I squinted at her. “Shadow, tell me you didn’t go back to the cemetery last night.”

“Okay.” She started to unpack the bag, taking out what looked like a basic but shiny espresso machine. Well, that would be classier than our old Mister Coffee, for sure.

“Okay you didn’t, or okay you won’t tell me?” Jesus, I was starting to sound like my mother. Although there were worse people to sound like, given the situation. “You went back to the cemetery.” I wanted to yell at her but despite all sound-alikes, I wasn’t her mother, and the visions were hers, not mine.

“Pietr was there,” she said, heading off my next question. “So it wasn’t like I was alone.”

She hadn’t known he’d be there when she went, though. I decided not to push it. Instead, I took the bits and pieces of the coffee maker out of her hands, and started assembling them on the counter. “So tell me what happened.”

She told me, complete with shifty-eyed looks when she left something out, and expressive hand gestures I didn’t think she was even aware she was making. Normally she kept her body still and quiet when she spoke, as though afraid to attract attention, or like someone had told her it was impolite to fill the air outside your own personal space.

“I’m still pissed that you went back out there without arranging for backup,” I said when she was done. “That was incredibly stupid.” Even when I was working alone, if I was going into a potentially hazardous situation, I called for help. Most of the time. Enough that I felt justified scolding her. “But you did good. I’m proud of you. And no, you’re not getting a raise. Like you pointed out, this was your gig, your time.”

I fitted the last piece of the machine together and frowned at it. We’d need better coffee, to go with this thing.

“And now we’re back on the clock with the McConnell case. You going to be able to stay awake?”

I turned back just in time to see her pull a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper from the shopping bag. Question answered.

“So, what’s on the agenda?”

She was being far too cheerful. If someone else had come in and announced that they’d stayed up all night and cracked the case, I’d expect more than a little ego-puffing and outward satisfaction. But I was starting to figure my Shadow out, a bit. She had an ingrown sense of responsibility for shit that wasn’t her fault, and when it was her responsibility she went a little overboard. So yeah, she cracked the case, but she’d only saved the guy once, and he sounded like there was way more than walking off the ledge to be done. She was smart enough to know that, too.

But if she was going to pretend she wasn’t thinking about that, I was willing to let it go. My promise had been to teach her, and help her find the people in her visions, that was all. Knowing that she was repressing the worry…well, indulging in the worry, wasn’t much better. To each their own emotional management techniques.

“We need to follow up on the most viable leads, which would be the possible connection between our missing man, and the possible offspring. So it’s time to visit mom. Or mom’s people, anyway.”

That got her attention. Ellen had spent the past ten years being told that the not-humans she thought she saw weren’t real, and she was still torn between fascination and unease around the fatae - at least, new breeds. She was used to me by now, and PB was so overt you almost forgot about him. Demon were like that.

“How do you know what she is - or who she is? The report Mahiba gave us only had a name.”

“Names are chock full of information, if you know what you’re looking for,” I told her, picking up my coat and waiting for her to do the same before escorting her out and locking the door. She added a quick cantrip to seal the lock - I never bothered before but it made her feel better, and was good practice.

And a little extra protection never hurt anyone.

“Names?” she prompted.

“Right. It’s like human cultures, where different names are popular at different times, and in different countries. You won’t find many guys named Jesus in Scandinavia, for example, or women named Mary-Margaret in Jewish families, right?”

“Not unless they married in. But yeah, okay. So what does “Kerrieon” tell you?”

I paused outside the elevator, and sighed. “Lilin.”

oOo

Some of the breeds prefer to live alone, mingling more with outsiders than their own kin and kind. Others gathered in enclaves, usually somewhere like Central Park, or - in the case of some of our less social types - in the tunnels below the subways. The Lilin, not unexpectedly, went upscale. Their enclave was out in one of the better neighborhoods of Brooklyn, in a pre-war building that had clearly been updated to modern standards while still retaining the charm of the original. Say what you will about Lilin, and history certainly wasn’t quiet, they had style and taste.

The rain had cleared, but it was still damp and miserable outside. We found a place to park the rental car a few blocks away, and walked down the street in silence. There had been discussions about how to approach this, but none of them had seemed guaranteed to win friends and influence confessions. We walked up the brownstone’s steps without a clue how we were going to proceed. Not that something like that had ever stopped me.

“Well, hello.”

The woman who opened the door was wearing jeans and a heavy sweater than hit her mid-hip. She was in her early fifties, at a rough visual, with blond hair cut short, and faint wrinkles around the eyes. Her voice didn’t ooze sensuality, and she wasn’t particularly va-voom, but every part of my body stood up and took notice. It wasn’t personal on either side, so we both pretended it wasn’t happening.

“We need to speak with your elders,” I said, giving the courtesy of assuming that wasn’t her. She didn’t blink or show any sign of surprise, but stepped back into the hallway and let us come in.

“May I take your coats?” she asked. “You’ll need to wait a bit, before they are able to see you.”

We handed over our jackets, and let ourselves be escorted into the parlor on the first floor. It was a comfortable room, cozy in a way that made you expect to see a cat draped over one of the sofas, and a paperback book left on the end-table, half-read. There was in fact a cat, opening one sleepy eye to assess us and then going back to sleep, but the end-table held a series of cell phones and an e-reader, instead. The fatae had adapted quite easily to the technological age, thank you very much.

Ellen sat down next to the cat, who deigned to uncurl and let itself be scratched behind the ears. It blinked at me, and I blinked back from my chair on the opposite side of the grouping. I like cats fine, but I could see the door from my position, and that was more important to me. We waited a few minutes, maybe ten, max, and then the door swung open again and two Lilin walked in.

The woman at the door had been sexy. These two were seduction personified. I regretted letting Ellen come with me, even though I knew it was better that she encounter them first with me to look out for her. Despite whatever you’ve heard about succubi or incubi, Lilin don’t intentionally go out to seduce mortals. In fact, most of the time they don’t even crook a finger. They just happen to be deeply sexual beings, and human chemicals respond to that.

So do most fatae, if we’re being honest, and faun genetics are predisposed to anything that sparks of a good time. I ignored my dick with the poise of years of practice, and offered my hand in greeting to the elders.

“Thank you for your time, so unexpectedly,” I said. “My name is Daniel Hendrickson, this is my associate, Ellen.” She had refused to give or use her last name - given her family history, I could understand that - so I went traditional. “Ellen
Ychna bat
Genevieve.” I handed the woman my card, and she took it with grave, graceful formality.

“I am Alineon Layil,” she said. “This is my brother Simeon. How may we aid you?” She gestured for us both to be seated again, and took chairs of their own. The cat climbed back into Ellen’s lap and went to sleep.

“It is in the matter of Kerrieon Lavil,” I said. “And her infant.”

“Infant?” That got Simeon’s attention; he sat up out of his previously indolent drape, and leaned forward, intent as a mouser spotting movement. “Kerrieon had no infant.”

“Simi. Pause and let the faun speak.”

“She is on record as having given birth nearly nine months ago. To a half-human child.” All right, we didn’t know that for certain - there were no medical records. But she’d named a human as father, so that was what we were going on.

“Impossible,” Alice retorted.

Hardly impossible, with me here as witness. I didn’t say that, though. “Is the girl here to speak for herself?”

“No.” The woman didn’t flinch from my question. “She has not lived here in several months.”

“A year,” Simeon said. “If the laundry comes out, at least let it all come out. She left us a year ago.”

“And went where?”

“We don’t know. What happened to the infant, Mister Hendrickson?”

“We were hoping that you could tell us that.”

“No. As I said, we did not even know that she was pregnant. Had we -“

“You seemed taken aback that she gave birth to a cross-breed.”

That caused Simeon to let out a bark of laughter that wasn’t even remotely amused. “Taken aback, yes. But - no. I see where your thoughts go and no. Never. We would have taken the infant in, no matter its parentage”

I believed them. Like I’d told Ellen, babies are rare enough. And it wasn’t as though Lilin hadn’t proven they were cross-fertile, millennia ago. Rare, but not impossible. They’d been reacting to the fact of their not-knowing, not the impossibility of the act, then.

“Does she have friends here?” Ellen spoke up for the first time, one hand still petting the cat. “Sisters? Best-friends-forever kind of friends, that she would have confided in?”

“Rachel, perhaps. A human girl she went to school with. But Kerrieon was not the sort to confide. She was…” Alice paused, and my bullshit detector gave a faint tremor. “She was not a girl prone to belonging, if you understand my meaning.”

Ellen raised her eyebrows, and I almost laughed. Of all the Cosa members in this city, they were talking to two people who could
absolutely
understand that.

“Do you think she’s all right?” Simeon said. “Both of them - the baby and Kerrieon ?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out, sir.”

“If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know. And if you find the infant…” He looked to Alineon for permission, first, and when she nodded faintly, went on “it will have a home here. If it’s needed.”

The infant, not the mother. Interesting.

oOo

“Oh
god
.” Ellen barely held her reaction to the Lilin until the door closed behind them and they were back on the street. Danny laughed a little - at her, she thought. But fair enough.

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re a bit much, aren’t they.”

“Are they succubi? I mean, succubi and incubi?”

“Ugly nicknames for a perfectly respectable breed,” he said. “Don’t use those terms in polite company. That was good thinking about the boon companion. Do you think they were lying?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Or, they think there might be someone, and they didn’t want us talking to her. Or him.”

“To what purpose?”

Danny did that, asked questions in the middle of a job, made her say what she was thinking, verbalize her thoughts no matter how dumb they sounded. Sergei laughed when she’d complained, said Danny was making her self-actualize, whatever that meant. But he was right: if there was a flaw in her logic, it was more obvious when she said it out loud.

“Because they want to deal with it themselves. They live all together, you said, so they probably aren’t used to trusting outsiders… if someone screwed up and a member - and a baby - disappeared, they’re going to want to handle it internally.”

“Reasonable.” They had reached the car, and Ellen scanned the windshield for a ticket. There was none, so she unlocked the door and got in, waiting while Danny got in on the passenger side. “And also reasonable to assume that they did not take the baby, since they didn’t know about it. Unless they’re playing a very deep game to throw us off their tracks but that’s unlikely. Most people just aren’t that complicated, and too many people in that house would have to know about it, and keep silent. Things like that, someone breaks, and usually sooner rather than later. We’re just not designed to keep secrets.”