Symphony of Light and Winter (27 page)

“No, not at all.” I wondered why his voice took on such a somber tone.

“Linden, if anything should ever happen to me, Overton will take care of you. Promise me that you’ll go to him.”

“What on earth could possibly happen? You’re immortal. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I could be indisposed on another continent or something like that. I don’t doubt your ability to survive, but things are different now.”

“All right if the bogeyman comes for me and you’re ‘indisposed,’ I’ll call Overton.” I sounded like a petulant child.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone and handed it to me. Cyril was the only man who came to breakfast fully dressed. Thank goodness.

“This phone has every number you will ever need. Every member of my family is listed here, and a few close allies. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Cyril, I’m just going to work. That’s not exactly risk-taking behavior. You act like I’m saying good-bye. I’m stuck here for at least the time it will take for me to find another apartment.”

“You might not be leaving, but I am. I’ll be away for a while, which is why this display needed to happen this morning. I didn’t want there to be any questions about my intentions for you while I’m gone. Especially with you staying here. I’m going to find a way to fix all this; I’ll find a cure. I need to help my men and release you from your tie to me. I can’t do that here. I do however, need the book.”

“Cyril, this all makes me nervous. Things don’t always go as planned for you. I’ll get you the book if it’s still there, but what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know exactly, I have a few theories.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head.

“Cyril, please, is there any other way? I could just move out and avoid everyone.”

“I don’t think that would work. It will be OK. Go on, go to work.”

What I wanted to say I couldn’t bring myself to verbalize;
why did it feel like he was saying good-bye?

All of a sudden I was filled with more ridiculous thoughts.
How long would he be gone? Would he call me? Would he
miss
me?
Fuck. I needed to get a grip.

I looked over and saw Overton staring at the floor.

Cyril wrapped me in his arms one last time and kissed the top of my head. He moved to place his lips softly against mine, lingering to savor the contact, and then helped me off the counter.

I looked up at him. “Be careful, Grim; don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” He rolled his eyes.

Overton held up my keys to my car and I snatched them from him. With my freedom in hand, I was no longer a prisoner but rather a guest.

“Thank you.” I placed a quick kiss on Overton’s cheek.

Cyril’s growl rang through the kitchen.

Chapter Fifteen

Book

The symphony hall used to be a place that grounded me, but today I felt like a stranger. Gone less than two weeks, it felt like a lifetime. Excitement and apprehension filled me at the prospect of seeing Clarence again. I couldn’t share all I’d discovered, so how to explain my absence? Damn, I needed a story. Time to improvise.

Thankfully, I didn’t encounter a single soul between my car and the development office suite. When I opened the large metal fire door, it thrilled me no one manned the front desk. I slipped into my office unnoticed.

After stepping inside, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Nothing could convey my relief. They hadn’t packed up all my things. My name was still on the office door and nothing had been touched. Guess I was still employed.

I was booting up my slow-as-shit computer when all Clarence broke loose. “Where the fuck have you been?” His face red, arms flailing, anger creasing his brow.

I couldn’t let him get to me. “I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit, Linden. I called you so many times. Couldn’t you at least have picked up the phone? Don’t give me Overton’s canned bullshit. What happened?”

I hoped teasing him would lighten the mood. “Careful there, Clarence, someone might think you care.”

“I do fucking care. Don’t be a bitch. First Olivia goes missing, then that fucking British bastard starts feeding me lies. I thought they killed you. If you didn’t return Saturday after your
trip
, I was going to the cops. You didn’t marry Hotness, did you? Lying British fuck!”

“Clarence, it’s OK. I’m fine. No, I didn’t marry him. It’s a really long story.”

Clarence paced, palming his bald scalp with both hands, then stopped to glare at me. “Fuck you. I think I deserve the long story.”

I ignored his outburst. “Oh good, my login still works.” I shot him a smile.

“Of course it fucking works! You’re never getting fired; in fact, you’ll probably have to escape. How did you do it? Was it from him?”

“Do what? Was what from whom?” I was confused and a bit distracted by the flickering icons on the screen.

“Are you serious?”

“Ah…yes?”

“An anonymous donor pledged five hundred thousand dollars a quarter to the symphony for as long as you work here. The first payment already arrived. Fucking Edwin creamed his jeans. He’ll stay stuck at the goddamn podium for as long as you live. That creepy fuck will probably lock you in the basement. I was hoping next season would be his last. We need a conductor that doesn’t feel like he could be a character in
Silence of the Lambs.
”

“Ewww…trapped in the basement with Edwin. Thanks for changing my dream into a nightmare. But you do know the audience loves him. They don’t care if he’s creepy. It’s his theatrical conducting they love.” I chuckled.

“It’s not funny. Where were you and is the donation from Peters or whatever the fuck his name is?”

“Overton knew what he was doing after all. That clever bastard,” I mistakenly said out loud.

“Overton? Linden, what is going on?”

“It’s complicated. I think you need a raise, and a day off. How about a field trip?”

“A raise? A field trip? Have you lost your mind? Did they drug you? Have you even been listening to me?” He huffed and stabbed his finger in my direction. “
You
don’t need anyone.
You’ve
made your goal from now to the end of time.
You
don’t need a team. Have you listened to anything I’ve said? Or did they fucking eat your brains or something?”

“Money or not, I do need you especially since it seems our schedules have cleared. Thank you, Mr. Overton. I’ve got a project for us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Go, get ready, and bring your things. You’re not coming back here tonight. I’m going to authorize your raise, look through my mail, and then we’ll get going.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” I shot him a big grin.

“What the fuck, Linden?”

With a bigger smile I said, “I have to get a book.”

“A book? Can’t you do that yourself?” His irritation was tangible.

“Yes, I probably could, but I’d like the company. Besides, you can bring me up to speed on Olivia’s investigation. Just go, we have a lot of work to do.” I shooed him out of the room.

When my e-mail in-box popped open, there were two thousand eight hundred and fifteen unread messages. Over half of the messages were from Clarence and Allison. Even though I didn’t read them all, in skimming I noticed Clarence’s messages grew more colorful as the days went on, and they sounded like a journal. He speculated about all of the things I might have been doing. I severely underestimated how my absence would affect him. We had been close but never sure if it was just a close professional relationship, or if he considered us friends. I now knew the answer, and owed him.

I sorted through the paper junk mail, redundant memos and forms when something caught my eye. It was a small cream-colored envelope. The paper was thick and it was obvious the stationery was quite expensive. The only thing listed on the envelope was my name in expert calligraphy. I hesitated to open it. I retrieved a small plastic letter opener in the shape of a treble clef and sliced open the top. I retrieved the beautifully simple card from within. The elegant script read:

Linden,

I have something you want. You have something I want. Care to make a trade?

When you are ready, call 555-555-5555 on my secure cellular line.

The letter contained no signature.
The first thought that came to mind was Michael. But why take Olivia?

Without thinking, I picked up the office phone and dialed the number. A man’s voice answered. I didn’t let him speak.

“Who the fuck is this?”

* * *

I didn’t tell Clarence about the note or the phone call.

“Where are we going?” he asked again.

“I’ve told you. We’re going to get a book.”

“No shit! But where are we going to get it?”

“A cemetery.” That shut him up.

The Solstice hugged the curves of the winding Pennsylvania roads like they were old friends. The leftover leaves made for slick driving, but I didn’t care. I was on a mission.

The radio blared to discourage conversation with Clarence. Things were about to get complicated, and I needed to think. Clarence tapped his fingers on the dash, thick nervous energy pouring off him. When I signaled to enter through the large iron gates at the entrance of the cemetery, I lowered the music out of respect.

“You weren’t fucking kidding. Did they give you a lobotomy?”

I gaped out the window, leaning forward as if getting closer would make it more believable. “You asked me once where I met Cyril.” I motioned toward Clement Burleighes’s grave. “Well, it was right over there, next to the stone with the Masonic symbol.”

“Were you one of those morbid, clove-smoking, patchouli-wearing depressed chicks?”

“I’ll have you know I didn’t smoke or wear patchouli.”

I wound the car up the hill and looped around the circle of cannons in the memorial park. After driving onto a grassy area so other cars could get by, I reached across Clarence to retrieve my flashlight from the glove compartment, then turned off the car, exited, and headed for the nearest tree.

“Where in the hell are you going?” Clarence had to peel himself out of the small car. He stumbled when he tried to right himself, but strode after me.

The branch from the old maple tree was dead and dry. It snapped with ease. I pushed past Clarence and headed for the cannon facing east. When the place where Cyril had died came into view, it flooded my mind with the tragic images, and I froze. The agony of that night would never leave me. Inhaling a deep breath, I willed myself back to reality. With a flashlight and long stick in hand I proceeded to investigate the cannon. I wasn’t hopeful. It had been ten years.

Clarence stood by, but paced as he looked about.

The flashlight beam did not reach the back of the cannon. The stick encountered an obstacle, but it gave way. Another look and the light reflected. A few more tries with the stick and I hooked something. Carefully, I pulled the object down the cannon barrel, all the while praying it wasn’t something dead or disgusting.

“I can’t believe it!” The plastic bag held up to the elements, but was covered in a black sludge composed of rotten leaves and grime.

“What is it?”

“It’s the book! I can’t believe it’s still here.”

Clarence stood behind me, looking over my shoulder as I opened the seal strip on the plastic bag. The metal lunchbox inside wasn’t even rusted. Clarence’s hand rested on my shoulder as he leaned in for a better look.

The lid popped as I opened it to reveal the book. It smelled like him.

Clarence pushed away and yelled, “What the hell is that?”

I turned to show it to him. “It’s a journal.” The look on his face was one of utter fear. “What’s wrong?”

“Shut the lid! Put it away!” He held his hands up in front of him while he backed up.

As I closed the lid I remembered Cyril’s story about the book. Only the two of us could touch it.

“What is going on? What the fuck is that?” Clarence’s finger stabbed the air, pointing at the book. His hand covered his mouth as if he was trying not to vomit.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll put it away.” I wrapped the book back in the plastic and headed to the car. The trunk beeped and popped open when I pressed the button on my keys. I securely wedged the book between the spare tire and the emergency kit. Slamming the trunk, I turned to address Clarence. It was then I saw a car winding up the hill.

“Fuck you, Linden. What…was…that?”

“I need you to listen. Please don’t make me regret bringing you here. I know you can handle this. I need you to. You might not understand everything that’s about to happen, but it’s important you remain calm. I need to talk to whoever is in that car. You wanted to know more; well, that’s about to happen. You wanted answers. Don’t freak out, but I think the person in that car knows where Olivia is.”

“Linden, you know this is bullshit, don’t you? What the fuck are you thinking?”

“Quiet. Just follow my lead.”

The red Mercedes came to a stop in front of the Solstice. Out of the car stepped a tall, attractive man with short-cropped hair and at least two days of growth on his face.

“Lance, fancy meeting you here. I think the last time we were together you were playing paramedic and pronouncing my husband dead. I hope you brought your medical bag. We might need it again.”

“Husband? You never told me you were married. What other kind of secrets have you been keeping?” Clarence stomped his foot.

“Clarence, not now.” My words barely escaped my gritted teeth.

“Settle down,” Lance said and picked some lint from his jacket.

“Where is she, Lance?” I crossed my arms and planted my feet.

“She’s with Michael.”

“Why on earth would Michael want her?”

He didn’t answer my question. “So, do you want her back?” His tone was bored.

“Of course I do. Why are you doing this? Is she still alive?” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I feared his response.

“She’s alive for now. I wish Michael had never found you again. I thought for sure I was rid of you. But that man is bat-shit crazy. He thinks you are some manifestation of his deadbeat Goddess. He wants you for himself and to use you to destroy Cyril. He’s got a hard-on for that guy and not in a good way.”