She Dies at the End (November Snow #1) (11 page)

“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  How’s Pine?” November asked.

“Still hanging on.  Thanks to you,” Willow replied.  November grabbed her drawing pad and a couple of pencils and headed out the door.  They walked down to the library, where she and Willow used one of the secret doors to descend to the basement.

It turned out that there were several rooms down there that locked from the outside.  The dungeon area was separated from the vampires’ resting places by a long, well fortified hallway.  As they approached Dogwood’s cell, November hesitated.  Willow looked at her with concern, saying, “You don’t have to be frightened.  He is well-secured.  He cannot harm you, and several of us will be in there with you.  You are in no danger.”

“I know,” she replied.  “Lord William does not seem to be a careless man.  It’s more that . . . I’ve never done anything like this before.  I mean, I’ve never done a reading on purpose without permission, with the intent of doing the subject harm.  I realize he deserves it, but it disturbs me.”

“Well, try to think of it this way: the more you find out, the less we’ll have to hurt him afterwards,” Willow said brightly.  November suppressed a shudder.  She didn’t like to think these people she was coming to care about did such cruel things.

Willow turned to face her, bending over to meet her level.  “It must seem barbaric to you, but this is how our justice works.  It’s how human justice works, too, in many places.  They just hide it from you so you don’t have to think about it.  We don’t torture people over petty crimes.  And at least we don’t lock people in boxes all alone for 50 years like humans do. That’s barbaric.  We have four punishments only: fines, pain, banishment, and death.  Dogwood knew what he was risking, attacking Lord William’s people, in his own territory.  He does not deserve your pity.”

“I know.  Let’s get this over with.”  November and Willow walked to the door of Dogwood’s cell.  The fairy was dressed now in beige hospital scrubs and was bound with many yards of silver chain to a cast iron chair that appeared to be set into the concrete.  She felt assured that he would not be going anywhere any time soon.  His face had healed from the mace’s blow.  It was a face that she suspected had started life handsome but had wound up twisted by misdeeds.  William, Daniel, and Birch were also in attendance.  There was an empty folding chair, presumably for November.  “I’ll need a few minutes to get used to the room before I start in earnest.”  William nodded his understanding, and they crossed the threshold.

A parade of previous prisoners passed through November’s mind.  There were fairies, vampires, werewolves, in varying degrees of distress.  There were not as many as she had feared, and William had listened to her request and used a room with no history of cruelty to torment and distract her.  Perhaps they had a separate room for suffering.  The thought of that repelled her.  When she opened her eyes, the prisoner spoke.  “So this is the prize for which I lose my life.  She hardly seems worth it, all the bodies piling up at her feet.”

“On that point, Mr. Dogwood, I believe we are in agreement,” November found herself replying.  He looked surprised to hear her speak coherently.

“Oh-ho, Knox, you don’t keep her on a leash, then?  Is she more fun that way, unenthralled?  Or maybe just more useful?” Dogwood asked snidely.  No one gave him the satisfaction of a reply. 

November sat down in the chair, saying, “I’m just going to touch your arm for a few minutes.  Please forgive the intrusion.” 

The prisoner barked a laugh at her unexpected civility.  “Poppet, it will be rather the highlight of my evening, I expect.”

   November braced herself, unsure about the strange waters she was entering.  She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and reached out her hand to touch the fairy’s bare, hairless arm.

She began with the recent past, hoping that would be the best bet for relevant information.  The visions were more fragmented than she was used to.  This being the first fairy she’d really tried to read, she wondered if this was true for all of them.  While reading William had been like swimming through deep water, reaching out to caress the visions as she passed by, reading Dogwood was like sifting through debris as it fell and piled around her, as she tried to grab enough broken pieces to put together something coherent without cutting her hands.  It was still easier than reading a human, when she often felt as though she were drowning and smashing against submerged hazards, dragged through the visions by unseen forces. 

She tried to block out as much as she could of Dogwood’s brutal fight with Pine as well as her own intervention in it.  She saw a flash of him speaking on a cell phone and caught the word “Manteca.”  She then saw him speaking to a cruel-mouthed man in expensive-looking black clothes.

The man has one brown eye and one blue.  They are talking about a plan and the need for patience.  Dogwood bows to him at the end of the conversation.  Their words are unclear.  Dogwood carouses with Agnes and Philemon, all taking turns feeding on a doomed man.  Their victim dies with his eyes open as Dogwood sucks away the last of his life

That one made her shudder, but she forced herself to continue and push further into the past.  Sexual assault also seemed to be a popular activity for the three of them.  Cruelty after cruelty she picked up and discarded in the search for something useful, forcing herself to wade through many violent deaths of vampire and werewolf and fairy and human.  She was rewarded with the sight of him helping a vampire woman put on a vest of explosives and hide it under a purple jacket.  He seemed to be encouraging her, preparing her.  She caught the names “Clara” and “Victor.”  That was a satisfying find.  The next scene she found was a surprise, as she watched Dogwood and the late Queen Marisha in what appeared to be an intense conversation, about what, she could not tell.

November returned to her body with a jolt, looking up at William’s face as he cradled her head and held a handkerchief against her nose.  He had pulled her chair away from the prisoner, breaking their contact.  “What happened?” she asked, confused and wondering why he’d stopped the session.

“I decided that enough was enough.  Your nose started bleeding,” he said.  “Does that happen often?  When you do readings?” November shook her head.  She’d never been affected like that while working.  William held up a handkerchief soaked with blood and took a box of tissues from Willow.  November grabbed a few and pinched her nose.  In a few minutes, the flow stopped and she looked around the room.  Dogwood looked amused.  William looked hungry, for blood and information both, November suspected.  

“You better hope she doesn’t do that in front of a younger vampire.  You can barely restrain yourself,” said Dogwood with an ugly smile.  “Even a teetotaler like you, who eats animals like a filthy werewolf.  She’s wasted on you.”  He turned his attention from November back to the psychic.  “What did you see of my future, fortune teller?” Dogwood asked. 

“I didn’t bother looking,” she replied honestly.  “I think we all know that it will be neither very nice nor very long.”  Her tone wasn’t mocking or cruel, simply matter-of-fact.

“They won’t be able to protect you, you know.  My master will have you for himself or he will see you dead.  You should wish he’d found you first.  He would enjoy you and then make you a queen,” Dogwood called out to November as William helped her to her feet and out the door.  As she passed Willow, the fairy reached out and squeezed her less-injured shoulder, a much appreciated and unanticipated gesture. 

“I strongly suspect that I would rather be a corpse with these people than a queen with your master,” November responded firmly.  She did not turn around for a last look at the doomed man.

As they slowly climbed the stairs back to the library, Birch following close behind, Knox requested that she give him a brief report to inform his questioning, after which she could draw and write down her impressions in more detail. As they settled into some chairs, Savita walked in.  “Perfect timing,
akka
. November has just done a reading on Dogwood and was about to give us her initial thoughts.  Hopefully they will give you somewhere to start with the prisoner.”

November looked questioningly at Savita.  The vampire explained, “I’m the Royal Inquisitor.  I suppose I'm similar to a federal prosecutor.  I handle major criminal investigations on behalf of the court.  As the assailants likely came from out-of-state and may be involved in significant ongoing criminal activity, my brother has invited me to participate in the inquiry.”

“How did you end up with that job?” November asked.

“I’m a mind-reader, November.  Even when I was human.” November's eyes opened wide.  “Don’t worry dear girl; I have to touch you in order to hear anything much.  You are harder to read than other humans.  I refrained from telling you the other night because I suspected that you were already rather overwhelmed.”

“Fair enough,” the human replied.  She was intrigued that Savita had possessed her ability even when she was human.  November had never met anyone like herself.  She was also relieved to find out that William had tools other than torture at his disposal.

“Shall we begin?” William asked as he pulled up a chair.  “I’ve already briefed Savita on this evening’s events at the gas station.”

“You acquitted yourself quite well, I’m told,” Savita complimented the human.  November tried to shrug and regretted it.

“Well, first of all, I saw Dogwood talking to someone on his cell phone about us stopping in Manteca,” she said, and William nodded, unsurprised.

“We’re already looking for bugs and tapped phones,” William replied.  “I rather hope we find one, as the alternative is unpleasant to contemplate.”

“Even if we do find one, we have to consider the possibility of a mole.  After all, someone would have to plant the bug,” Birch replied.  His deep voice matched his always somber face.

William gestured for her to continue.  November shared, “I saw Dogwood speaking with a man he seemed to treat as his superior.  They kept referring to a plan, and the man said that they would have to continue to be patient.  I didn’t catch a name, but I’ll sketch him for you.  His eyes were two different colors, his hair graying.  Handsome in a creepy sort of way.  Something about his mouth.  Black clothes.” 

Recognition washed across all three of their faces.  Apparently this man was no stranger.  “Could you tell how long ago they were speaking?” Birch asked.  “Recently?  Centuries ago?”

“Based on the style of clothing, I would guess recently, within the last few years.   I’m sorry I can’t be more specific,” she apologized before moving on.  “I also saw a lot of random violence, which may or may not have any significance given his predilections and line of work.   I’ll draw them.  Sometimes he was with Agnes and Philemon.” 

William nodded sadly.  “No surprise there.  Please continue.”

“This one seemed quite important: I saw him helping a girl with what looked like a vest of explosives.” 

William’s eyes lit up, and even Birch managed a small smile of satisfaction.  “Oh, November, do you have any idea how long we’ve waited for a solid lead like that?  We may finally be able to begin unraveling this mess.  Do you know anything else about it?”

“The names ‘Clara’ and ‘Victor’ seemed to be associated with that part of the vision.”

“Victor, the lord of New York, was killed 8 months ago.  Clara I’m not sure about.  Perhaps it was the name of the bomber?  At least this gives us somewhere to start,” the Lord of California replied.

“There’s one more thing,” November said, hesitating before she continued, “I saw him talking to Queen Marisha.”  The room went completely silent as the three listeners looked at one another, suddenly on edge.

“When?  Were they fighting?” Savita asked intently.

“The clothes looked like latter 18
th
century to me, maybe, turn of the 19th?  I’ll draw them and you can confirm.  It looked like an intense conversation, but not like an argument.  They were seated close together, and the body language wasn’t particularly hostile,” November reported.  “I couldn’t make out what they were saying.”

“I can’t imagine what she would have been doing talking to a creature like that,” November said incredulously.

“We shall look into it,” Savita replied.  The three of them stood.

“We’ll check on you before dawn.  If you need to rest, please do.  We can pick up again tomorrow evening.  Office supplies are in the armoire over there in the corner if you need anything to help you with your work,” Savita instructed her as the vampires headed for the hidden door.  November nodded and began drawing.

As they opened the door, Birch turned and said, “I thought it was folly, when Lord William went to find you.  Evidently, I was mistaken.” November nodded her appreciation of his gesture of goodwill, and the three creatures disappeared back into the basement. 

A few moments later, Willow came up from the basement and walked through.  “Boss said I should check on you and Pine and then get some rest,” the fairy said wearily by way of explanation.  November gave her a weak smile and then set about her work.

November started by checking the armoire, where she found ordinary pens and pencils as well as charcoals, colored pencils, pastels, and paper.  She also appropriated a binder and sheet protectors.  She liked to be organized in her work.  It gave her a sense of control her life often lacked.

She focused first on the scene with the explosive vest.  She wanted to be sure to include all the details she had seen in case it would help Savita and Knox match her to a particular attack, like the one in New York.  The bomber herself looked quite calm.  She certainly didn’t appear to be having second thoughts.  Dogwood was the one who looked anxious.