Tangled Souls (39 page)

O’Fallon checked his watch. It’d been twenty-six minutes. “I have a lead on her. I’ll get back to you.”

“Sounds good. Later, O’Fallon.”

“Thanks, Zimansky.”

He disconnected the call and dialed the witch. It rolled to her voice mail as his nerves sizzled with apprehension. He flipped the phone closed, sucked down the remainder of his beer, and asked, “How about we go for a ride?”

Adam nodded, downing the rest of his brew in a swallow. “I’m game, providing you tell me what that call was all about.”

O’Fallon nodded his agreement. “It’s time you were in the loop.”

* * *

Her kidnapper didn’t talk while they drove. When she’d tried to make conversation, he’d jammed the gun into her ribs and told her to shut up. She took the hint.

When he finally did speak, the sound made her jump.

“Over there,” he said, waving with the gun toward the curb. She pulled up in front of an abandoned lot.

“Where’s your purse?” She dug under the seat and he snatched the bag from her, dropping it onto the floor at his feet. “Get out and leave the keys.”

“Look, the car and the purse are yours. Nothing else is negotiable,” she said, staring straight ahead, her hands clenched around the wheel.

The gun jammed into her ribs, making her wince.

“Get out.”

As she pulled herself out of the car, she instinctively reached for her cane, the only weapon she had.

“Leave it!” was the terse command.

“I can’t walk without it,” she bluffed. Her captor hesitated, but before he could change his mind, the Dark Guardian appeared next to him, whispering so quietly Gavenia couldn’t hear the words.

Taylor came to a decision. “Leave it.”

Gavenia’s panic escalated. To combat it, she picked up the rose. Holding it somehow gave her strength, as if O’Fallon were standing next to her, keeping her safe.

As her kidnapper exited the car, she took time to study him. He was about five eight or nine, brown hair with blond roots, perhaps in his early thirties. He had a tattoo on one arm. She could see the bottom of it, a mermaid’s tail fin, just below the T-shirt’s sleeve.

He pointed across the street. “That way.”

The structure seemed incomplete, as if a child had thrown the pieces together and then abandoned the project. No Trespassing signs hung at regular intervals from the tattered fence that encircled the property.

As her eyes adjusted, heaps of broken masonry and burned timbers became apparent. Some of the exterior walls slanted ominously, and birds settled into the exposed rafters with fluttering wings. A nearby streetlight clicked on, illuminating the soot-kissed sign above the main entrance.

CUTLER AND SONS PRODUCE

“Move it!” Taylor ordered. She held her ground, debating her options. O’Fallon was expecting her to call, and when she didn’t, he’d hunt down Janet Alliford. If Gavenia could buy enough time, maybe he’d find her before . . .

“No one knows this place,” Taylor said. She eyed the Dark Guardian again. It was feeding him information.

Gavenia clutched the rose tighter, and a thorn dug into her palm. She focused on the pain, blocking out all other thoughts.

Taylor gave her a shove and she stumbled. “I’m getting there.”

“Not fast enough,” he said.

Her stomach roiled. She knew that tone; she’d heard it the last time a man had her under his control. The Dark Guardian trailed behind them. In her heart, she knew she should fear it more than the mortal it guarded.

I don’t guard him; I rule him
, was the swift answer.

Guardians can’t do that
, she retorted.

A chilling hiss returned.
What else didn’t they tell you, Shepherd?

Her cell phone rang and she automatically reached for it. The gun slammed into her ribs.

“Don’t touch that.”

She figured he’d take it, but he didn’t.
Why not?
The answer chilled her. A cell phone was only useful to the living.

As they approached the building, Taylor hobbled ahead and peeled back a section of the fence. He’d apparently been here before. As she ducked into the wreckage, the rank smell of smoke, mixed with the stench of charred electrical wiring and rotten produce, struck her nose.

Gavenia moved cautiously toward the gaping front entrance. As she crossed into the building, Taylor shoved her. She fell to her knees, scraping her hands in an attempt to brace herself. The rose disintegrated at her feet, silky petals raining on the cinders.

“Stop it!” she snarled. “I’m moving as fast as I can.”

Swearing, her captor grabbed her braid and pulled her upward. Gavenia grimaced at the pain and struggled to find her footing. As she regained her feet, her hand curled around a piece of brick. Once she reached her feet, she spun around, slamming the brick into Taylor’s face before his Guardian could react. Taylor spit out more obscenities, lurching backward as blood blossomed from his forehead.

Run!

It sounded like Bart’s voice and she heeded it without thinking. Skittering farther into the building, she dodged around broken timbers and debris. Her steps were unsure, the floor treacherously uneven. As she ducked under a wide beam, her hair caught, strands ripping out. She swore, pulled hard, freeing the braid.

“You bitch!” A shot went wide, striking a support beam nearby, ricocheting brick fragments around her. Gavenia kept moving, instinctively heading into the shadowy recesses of the building. Behind her she felt the Dark Guardian’s presence. It called to her, but she noted it kept a respectful distance. It still feared her, at least for the moment.

A shot whined by her ear and she jiggered sideways, but not before another grazed her arm. Gavenia cried out, grabbing at the wound. She swung to the right, but found that path blocked by a mound of debris. Swinging back, she clambered over a large iron beam. The floor felt spongy and it slowed her flight. Another shot; she lurched sideways. A timber slewed downward, clipping the side of her head, and brilliant pain mushroomed behind her eyes. She struggled forward, unable to see clearly until her feet found nothing beneath them.

Gavenia flailed in the air and then rolled into a ball as she plummeted downward into the darkness. She collided with the debris, and broken bricks gouged her left side. As her momentum abruptly halted, her head struck a piece of broken concrete.

Reginald’s snide voice edged its way into her mind.
Oh, bravo! Well done.

Before she could reply, oblivion claimed her.

“What the hell?” O’Fallon found a familiar object in the gutter. “The fairy wand.” It was the one he’d seen in the back of Gavenia’s car and had meant to chide her about until he’d seen the bullet holes. He knelt and reached for it, but instantly snatched his hand back. Sensations bled off the thing even without physical contact. He had to prepare for this vision or it might prove more than he could bear.

A pair of tennis shoes came into his field of vision.

“You okay?” Adam asked.

“Yeah.” O’Fallon gazed upward. “You aren’t psychic, are you?”

“Not like you.”

O’Fallon blinked in surprise at his candor.

“Dad told me God had blessed you in a very remarkable way.”

O’Fallon huffed. “That’s debatable.” He pointed at the wand. “That was in Gavenia’s car last night. Could you pick it up? If I touch it . . .” He hoped he didn’t have to explain further.

“Sure. You have gloves in your trunk?”

O’Fallon nodded and dug out his keys. The young cop crossed to the car, popped the trunk, and returned with a pair of latex gloves. O’Fallon stared at them, though he’d donned them innumerable times during his career. Now they were a poignant reminder that the wand might be evidence of a crime. His stomach lurched at the thought and he swallowed to keep the beer at bay.

Adam donned the gloves, picked up the wand, and studied it under the patchy glow of the streetlight. “I don’t see any blood.”

O’Fallon mentally thanked him for that. “Let’s go back to the car. The uniforms will be here pretty soon. I don’t want to do this out in the open.”

He stripped off his coat and laid it on the driver’s-side seat. He repositioned the passenger seat and then settled in. Adam knelt by the open door and watched with anxious eyes.

“This could get nasty,” O’Fallon warned.

“Do you, like, grow fur or something?” his companion asked.

O’Fallon couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, nothing like that. Just make sure I have an open airway, and the rest will take care of itself.”

Adam raised his right arm, the one in the cast. “CPR isn’t an option, so don’t crash on me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

O’Fallon closed the fingers of his left hand around the fairy wand as his right hand sought the Saint Bridget’s cross. He opened his heart and let the wand talk to him.

He heard a man’s voice talking to Gavenia about the wand. She shook her head. A name . . . Bart.
Gavenia’s Guardian.
Then the darkness descended like a theater curtain. As he sank further into the vision, he swore he saw the devil leering back at him.

* * *

O’Fallon heard a voice, but it took time to put the words together.

“I’m . . . okay,” he whispered.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” Adam said. When O’Fallon opened his eyes, he found the fairy wand was now in an evidence bag in Adam’s lap. He didn’t remember it being removed from his hand.

“You sure you’re okay?” Adam asked.

O’Fallon nodded and leaned back in the seat. His skin felt clammy, and sweat pooled near the waistband of his pants.

“What did you see?” his companion asked earnestly.

O’Fallon didn’t answer right away, but took a deep breath. Finally, he found his voice. “I heard a name:
Taylor
. And I saw something else. Something . . . evil.” He shook his head. “I can’t really explain it.”

“Anything else?”

“The strong scent of burned timbers and charred wiring.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. It’s not an exact science.”

“No kidding,” Adam agreed.

Blue lights swept behind them as a patrol car slid to the curb.

“I suppose they’ll need to talk to both of us,” O’Fallon said.

“Most likely. What about this?” Adam asked, pointing toward the wand.

“Let’s keep it off the table for right now.”

The detective pondered for a moment and then nodded. “Whatever you say.”

By the time the parade of crime-scene techs, detectives, and uniformed cops were done with Janet Alliford, O’Fallon was pacing, eager to be gone. They’d had to relate their story no less than four times, and each time his impatience grew. He wanted to be on the streets looking for Gavenia, but leaving a crime scene before they were excused would only put Adam into further trouble. The cop’s career was already on the line.