Shadow Rising (21 page)

I glanced around. The cats were playing with some toy in the corner—it was a round track with a ball caught in it and
cardboard in the center, and the three of them seemed terribly involved in a game of keep-away with the ball. They were still kittens, and Carter was incredibly fond of them.

“If you’re looking for Tobias, he’s no longer here.” Carter glanced at me through long lashes.

Actually, I
had
been looking for Carter’s gentleman friend but didn’t want to seem nosy. Carter wasn’t gay. Nor was he straight. I don’t know if I’d even apply the term
bi
to him. Carter was…well…Carter, and he lived by his own rules.

“Lover’s quarrel?” I winked. I felt like I could be myself around him—at least for the most part. Carter didn’t fit into any one world, either.

He settled himself on the chair next to the sofa. “Tobias proved to be…unsatisfactory as a companion. And as a djinn, it was a given our tryst would run its course. They are simply not capable of sustaining anything long term except grudges. Apparently, he remembered one he had not yet put to rest. He left last week after I indicated that doing so might be in his best interests.”

I nodded. Djinn were tricky and not to be trusted. We’d fought against one in league with Karvanak.

“I’d say I’m sorry but somehow, you don’t seem too grief stricken.” I wasn’t very diplomatic and, with Carter, didn’t feel that I needed to be.

He smiled faintly at me. “I’d say I’m sorry, too, but I’m not all that broken up over it. Fondness is about as close to love as I ever get for anyone, and even that wears thin. At least, most of the time.” He stopped, toying with his glass of sherry, and I knew he was thinking about Kim, his adopted daughter.

“You miss her, don’t you?” I leaned forward. “You did love
her
.”

A soft laugh, and then he saluted me with his glass. “Touché. But more than love. I trusted her, and she betrayed that trust. I gave her everything, I treated her like my own daughter. And she spit in my face.” A cold fire raced through his eyes and suddenly, I felt nervous. We had no clue what Carter’s full powers were; we’d never been privy to them.
I wondered…just what could a demigod do when he was pissed enough?

“Yeah…I get it.” I decided it was better to backtrack from this line of conversation. “We had a problem tonight.”

“What happened?”

I frowned, then said, “This touches on demonic activity, since I happened to see a demon, as well as some crazy-assed ghosts. We are dealing with the Greenbelt Park District again.” And I told him all about our evening. “So, I want to know about the history of that area. I figured if anybody knew why it was so haunted, it would be you.”

He considered the question for a moment, then motioned me over to his desk. “Let us see what we can find. I should be able to come up with some answers for you. That district has been a hotbed of activity for decades, and it seems to be getting worse.”

“I keep thinking Gulakah has to have something to do with the ghostly activity there.” I paused. “And what about the whole blood-running-down-the-walls thing? I tasted it. It was
not
blood.”

“No, it wouldn’t be blood,” he said. “That would be a form of ectoplasm—although the term is a little misleading. I merely use it for expediency’s sake. There’s a form of electromagnetic energy that can manifest at times around ghosts and spirits. That it appears as blood is a parlor trick, usually played by malevolent spirits, to frighten mortals. You smelled blood but when you tasted it, it probably had an odd coppery taste—almost metallic, right?”

I nodded. “Yes, but not in the way that blood does.”

“As I thought. Scare tactic and manifestation of a buildup of energy.” He thumbed through a bookcase while I settled myself in a chair by his desk. After a moment, he hauled out two heavy scrapbooks and—acting as if they were light as a feather—tossed them on the desk, where they landed with a resounding
thud
.

“Can I ask you something?” It probably wasn’t a good idea, but since we were being all buddy-buddy tonight, I decided to pry a bit.

Carter settled into the chair opposite me and turned on
his computer. “You may ask what you like. A question does not oblige me to answer. What is it you wish to know?”

As he took hold of the mouse, his gaze glued to the monitor, I felt an odd disconnect. He seemed so mortal at times, but then the glamour would lift and his power would shine through. I could feel it now, as he focused on searching through his databases. He was brilliant—probably genius level beyond any mortal on this planet, and I could feel a chilling shroud of intellect surrounding him. All of a sudden, I wasn’t surprised that Tobias had left.

“If you don’t want to answer, I won’t be offended. How did you get the brace on your leg?”

He looked over at me, surprise washing across his face. “The brace? Why, I seldom think of it anymore. My leg was permanently injured when I was caught in the midst of a daemon uprising in the Subterranean Realms. I was there on business, and Trytian’s father was just forming his rebel group. I got it into my head that I needed an adventure and joined them. We went against one of Shadow Wing’s outposts. This was before he ascended to rule over the Sub-Realms.”

“You were part of a rebel group?” It was hard to picture, but the more time I spent around him, the more he surprised me.

“Yes, I was. I signed on for a lark. It turned out to be a grueling battle, and hundreds on both sides died. I was maimed—my leg is twisted, but I survived. That was enough war for me. I was quite happy to retire back to my desk.”

He snapped his fingers. “Here we go. I found something of the history of that area. I’ve never done much research into it, just documented what came past my inbox. By the number of entries I’ve logged, a great many evil deeds have occurred there in the past ten years. However, when we look back to the beginnings of the city, the district was…let me see…”

“If you say it was a graveyard, I’m going to break your computer.” I grinned at him.

He raised his eyebrows and then winked at me. “Why, Menolly, you underestimate my loyalty to my technology. I’d have you down and pinned in no time.”

I gaped at him, not sure what to say.

Carter chuckled. “A
joke
. I’d never threaten to stake you—I do not threaten death lightly. However, I do warn you.
Never
underestimate me.”

“I won’t.” It was all I could think of to say.

“Good. Well, here we go. While yes, there was—and is—a graveyard there, that’s not what I was going to say. The district was the site of one of the first mental institutions in the area. An asylum, really. This was back in the day when the insane and disturbed were treated cruelly. We’re talking electroshock therapy, starvation therapy, and—because the owner was a thoroughly demented prick—plenty of abuse, rape, and murder made out to be accidental.”

Holy shit. That would be enough to stir up unsettled spirits, all right. “How come this isn’t common knowledge? The little I’ve read about the district doesn’t mention a word about it.”

“You think that sort of knowledge would be encouraged by the tourism council, or by residents looking to buck up their property values? No, the asylum—and it
was
an asylum, not a hospital—operated for fifty years before it burned to the ground one cold, blustery night.” He gave me a smug look and began leafing through his scrapbooks.

“Fifty years of debauchery. Were operations all under the original owner?”

“No, the son took over about thirty years in. Like father, like son, so it seems.” He paused, then turned the scrapbook so I could see the articles. “Here, it says that the hospital was in the center of the district, and the administrator owned five hundred acres buttressed up to the left of the asylum.”

I stared at the pictures of the building. It loomed in black and white, stark and cruel and twisted. I could see that much through the photos.

“How did it burn down?”

Carter let me look at the article while he opened the other scrapbook. After a moment, he pushed it back.

“A group of patients managed to overpower their guards. They killed the administrator—the son—and went on to massacre a number of their fellow patients. Some escaped, but so many were killed. They took control of the asylum. At that
point, things aren’t too clear, but it looks like one of their worst patients—Silas Johanson, who was incarcerated for being criminally insane—went down to the boiler room. They aren’t sure what he did, but the boiler exploded and a gas main burst, and the building went up in a massive explosion.”

I stared at the outside of the asylum. Even the pictures dripped with fury and hatred and fear, and it was hard to be sorry the place had burned to the ground, except for the people who had been caught inside the inferno.

“How many died?”

“Three hundred fifty-seven patients, twenty-five guards, and two dozen nurses and doctors.” Carter leaned forward and stared at me from across his desk. “They said Silas complained about voices telling him to harm the other patients. However, he was in there for killing his mother, father, wife, and three children. He swore the devil made him do it, and so they tossed him in there.”

“Yeah, the devil gets blamed a lot for what people do.”

“We demons get a bad rap. Occasionally you get a demon who can control others through mind tricks, but we’re not Jedi and we don’t go around forcing our will on others. Not usually.” His nostrils flared.

“But a ghost…a ghost can drive someone nuts, can’t they?” I thumbed through the pages recording all the activity at the Greenbelt Asylum. Time and again, I saw records saying that patients complained about voices ordering them to do things against their will.

“Perhaps, if the person is prone to control.” One of Carter’s cats jumped on the desk and he absently stroked her long, fluffy fur.

“Aegean, right? Delilah and Camille told me.”

“Yes, they are Aegean. This one is Roxy. The other is Lara, and the third—a newcomer—I named Zhivago.” He paused to remove the cream-colored cat from his desk, then returned to musing over the clippings. “I don’t think this was the beginning of the hauntings in that district, though it certainly contributed to it. But there has to be more. I will research and let you know what I can find.”

It seemed like that was plenty to me, but I didn’t argue.

“Do you have the time? I hate to put you out.” I genuinely liked Carter, though he frightened me sometimes. I think he frightened all of us.

He shrugged. “Time? What is time? I have more time than most of the world, my dear Menolly. I might as well fill it productively.”

As I stood, I suddenly felt sorry for him. He seemed lonely, but I didn’t want to say anything to exacerbate the issue, or—worse—to make him think I was interested. He was definitely attractive, and he’d take on a demon no problem, let alone a vampire. Maybe
that
was the problem. Whoever his partner was would end up being the vulnerable one.

“Do you ever…if you are ever in our neighborhood…We always have plenty for dinner.” I wasn’t sure what I was asking but he just laughed, softly.

“Oh Menolly, I do not travel much—not via modern conveniences. And I never
drop in
. I am an old-school gentleman when it comes to proper decorum, if you haven’t noticed. It is only in…private…that I wear the ringmaster’s hat.” The emphasis told me all I needed to know about his personal preferences. As he stood, I hastily stumbled back.

Carter noticed, of course, and he held out his hand for mine. “Do not be alarmed. I am a gentleman with all of my guests. If I may speak frankly, my paramours, perhaps, are of another flavor. They must have a taste for the…exotic. But trust me, you and your sisters will only receive the most proper behavior from me.”

As I gave him my hand, he brushed the top of my hand with a light kiss and pressed close to me, so that I could feel the steady pulse of his blood through his clothing. “Do not feel sorry for me, Menolly. I need no pity from anyone. I am content in my life, and I have my friends and lovers. Count yourself lucky you are among the former and not the latter.” And with that veiled warning, he escorted me to the door and waved me into the night.

As I turned to my Jag, I let out a strangled cry and the door flew open again. “What is it? Are you all right up there?”

My eyes glazing over with anger, I whirled back to him. “No! Somebody keyed my Jag!” There was a long scratch
gouged in the paint of my Jaguar, and I was pissed out of my mind.

Carter shook his head. “It can’t be. I have the wards strong—wait.”

He closed the door, and a moment later, when he came out again, the horns had vanished. I knew he’d simply cloaked them, but he made a striking-looking man without the headgear. He made his way up the stairs, somewhat stiffly, but I had the feeling it was more for show than anything else.

“Well, obviously they aren’t working right now. What the hell happened?”

Closing his eyes, Carter reached out one hand. After a moment, he let out a low guttural sound that could have been either a growl or a warning. Or both.

“I don’t know, but the wards have been broken. I’ll find out and call you. Something is on the move, and I don’t like what it seems to be bringing to town.” He slid his hand into his back pocket and brought out his wallet. “I’ll pay for your car to be repaired, of course.”

“No need.” I didn’t want to hold him responsible—I had assumed it would be safe because it always was, but it wasn’t his fault the wards had been broken.

“Nonsense. Here’s my accountant’s card. Get an estimate and we’ll make arrangements. I’ll let him know. And Menolly…” He paused.

“Yes?”

“Be cautious and tell your sisters to be careful. There’s mischief afoot. I’ll call you tomorrow night with what I’ve found. Or your sisters. Either way, I’ll try to have more information for you by then.”

And with that, he nodded gravely, turned, and went back inside. I heard the tumblers of his locks click, and it occurred to me that if the son of a demoness and a Titan felt the need to lock his door, we were facing something very big, and very unhealthy.