Vengeance (5 page)

"Thanks. She'd try, but she's too small." He laughed. "Lucinda doesn't know she's tiny."

We got the Mission-style piece with an inlaid top out of the trunk and up her drive. Lucinda had gone inside and opened the garage door for us. Fairchild and I maneuvered the furniture up three steps into her house, entering into a small, old-fashioned kitchen with white cabinets and countertops covered in the classic boomerang pattern. We leaned the tabletop against the wall and paused, unwilling to move into the house with our slushy boots. Lucinda and the elderly woman were standing together near the plain white stove, the older woman with an arm around Lucinda's shoulder.

"You did what you could, but she just wasn't strong enough," I heard the old woman whisper. "There was nothing to be done."

Lucinda's head was bent and she nodded, her dark curls looking droopy and sad. "I know. But I so hoped that she'd..." She raised her head and I saw unshed tears in her eyes. "The kitten died." She swiped at her face with one Mickey Mouse mitten then straightened. "Thank you for your help, I appreciate it. You can just leave that there, I'll move it later."

"I'm sorry, Slayer," Fairchild said. "You tried." He touched the table. "I hope you can get some use from it."

"Thanks, John. I will, I know."

We all moved toward the door. I paused before leaving. "Don't forget to call me about that jewelry you're looking for." I glanced at her bag, which she'd set on a kitchen counter.

"I will. Thank you. I seem to say that a lot. But thanks." She put a hand on my arm. "Could I take you out for lunch sometime to thank you? Not only for the ride, but for taking care of that dog." She gave me a rueful grin. "He really is an ugly dog. You're a true humanitarian to take him in for the night."

I looked down at her hand, still in its woolen Mouse mitten. I covered it briefly with my leather-gloved fingers. "I'm busy for lunch tomorrow, but how about dinner? There's a little place on Minnehaha Parkway I'd like to try,
The Cheese Whiz
. Have you heard of it?"

"Oh. Tomorrow?" I'd taken her by surprise, I could tell. "That's not far from my office."

I was counting on the proximity to convince her. "Good, then you won't have far to drive. Five-thirty? Shall we meet at the restaurant?"

"I suppose...I--"

"Great. See you then." I left before she could protest. I wondered if she'd call and cancel. I hoped not. I had a plan forming for her death, but I needed a few more details. But first I had to deal with the occupant in my car. That was the more pressing problem.

Fairchild and I went outside, the motion light from the garage coming on again and illuminating my Jag, now coated with road salt and slush. The dog was staring out the window at the house, his breath leaving moist splotches on the glass.

"Thanks for giving her a ride," Fairchild said as we got to my car door. The dog woofed out a noise. "And for dealing with that dog. Knowing Lucinda, she'd take him in and knock herself out trying to get him presentable enough to find a home." He slid down the drive toward his car. "She's always picking up strays. I can't believe she and Cara are sisters. They're like night and day. Cara would have left those kittens outside in the snow while Lucinda--" He shook his head. "Good night."

"Good night." I remembered my research. Lucinda Delacroix had one living sibling, Cara Delacroix, an older sister. Their brother, Aaron, had been killed with his wife in a car accident years ago, leaving behind two orphaned children whom Lucinda helped raise.

I opened the car door.
Everything okay?
the dog asked.

I got in, waiting for Fairchild to move his sports car. I looked up at the house. Lucinda was peering out the kitchen window, the curtains pulled back and framing her face. She smiled when she saw me and waved.

"The kitten died," I said then I wondered why I told him.

Oh. Poor baby. At least it was warm and with its mother when it died. At least it had some love before it died.
The dog peered out the front of the car, woofing softly as Lucinda moved away from view.
She's a nice lady. Pity you have to murder her
.

"Are you going to explain how you know about that? And about Persa?"

I told you. Persa is in limbo. She's been reborn but has no knowledge of her former life. She has no memories of her former betrayal or your death and rebirth from the virus Meyer infected you with
. The dog fell against the seat as I put the car into gear then righted himself. I looked in the mirror. The animal was turned in the seat, staring back at the lights from Lucinda's house, three yellow beacons in the darkness.
She's a nice lady
.

"Okay, we've verified that you think Lucinda Delacroix is nice." I downshifted as we approached a stop sign. "And it's a pity I have to kill her. Now tell me about Persa."

How much do you know about Lucinda Delacroix?
The animal turned to face forward again, propping his head over the back of the passenger seat.

I glanced to my right. He was watching me, that shock of dark hair shading one eye. "I'd rather talk about Persa."

And I'd rather talk about Lucinda. How much do you know?

I kept my temper with difficulty. "She's an executive with a small company that does medical research. They don't do any drug or equipment manufacture, just research into causes and possible cures." I thought of the agricultural project Lucinda said Meyer wanted to develop. What a naïve notion--Robert Meyer doing anything to benefit humanity? Ridiculous.

"Her father was David Delacroix. He founded the company with Roger Masterson in 1965. Masterson died in 1970 and Delacroix died in 1998, leaving the company to his heirs, who by that time were Cara Delacroix and her sister, Lucinda. Each sister has a thirty percent share in the company. Their brother's children each have a fifteen percent share. Fairchild has the remaining ten percent. He's Delacroix's son by his first wife."

We were at the eastbound interstate now. I joined the traffic flowing back into the city. The dog was snuffling in the backseat. "Are you sick or something? Whatever you do, don't barf back there, this is a new car."

So I see. It smells new
. He snuffled again.
Someone had sex here and not long ago. You, perhaps?

"What?" I almost drove the car off the road in surprise. "What do you mean, someone had sex back there? That's impossible!"

The nose knows. Do you have valet parking anywhere?

I gripped the steering wheel, fuming. "I send it to an auto detailer once a week for cleaning, inside and out." I thought of the college-age boys who manned the shop. "Those bastards. If they're using my car for sex, I'll--"

You'll what? Tell them you smelled it on the seats?
The dog made that huffing, laughing noise.
I suggest you change auto shops.
His head poked over the passenger seat, peering out the window.
We'll probably want to stop and get some dog food. And some bowls and maybe a bed.

"You aren't staying with me that long." I merged in with traffic heading north on one of the interstates that wrapped around the city. I checked the clock. It was almost seven. The worst of rush hour was over. "Where did you come from, anyway? Are you a shapeshifter? A Companion? Are you with a Guide? The History Patrol never sends out a Companion without a Guide or vice versa, right?"

I'm on special assignment. Are we going to your cabin? Or to your house in town?

"How did you know about my cabin?" This damn animal had a lot of inside information about me. "Or my house?"

Like I said, it's a special assignment. So what else do you know about Lucinda? Did you do a complete background check?

"I've just started to research her. I got the assignment yesterday. I was lucky she had a flat tire tonight."

Luck
. The dog made a sneezing sound.
Like luck had anything to do with it.

I felt something damp on the back of my neck. "Hey! Watch it!"

Sorry
. He didn't sound contrite.
I might have caught a cold, having to live outside. Oh, look. Isn't that a dog food store up there?

"I told you it won't be necessary, you won't be--"

I thought you were trying to impress her.
He regarded me with a sidelong look, part hangdog and part sly.

My hands clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. He had a point. Fuming, I jockeyed for position to the exit lane. Sure enough, a pet food superstore loomed near the ramp, brightly lit and doing a booming business.

I've heard these places give bath
s, the dog commented as I parked the Jag.

I turned in the seat to regard him, only to find myself almost nose to nose with the creature. We both drew back at the same moment. "I'd probably need a reservation."

You have money
.

I rolled my eyes. "Wait here."

No problem. I'll guard
. He flopped onto the backseat, put his head on his paws then yawned, his jaws splitting so wide I heard them crack.
Take your time
.

I slammed the door and strode off into the store.

With sufficient monetary incentive, I convinced the dog groomers to fit us into their schedule. While my unwanted companion was bathed and groomed, I roamed the aisles of the store. Before I knew it I had a shopping cart full of dog food, a blanket, a bed, a dog brush and some chew toys. Remembering the animal's suggestion about impressing Lucinda, I went to the feline aisle and loaded up on catnip toys, scratching boxes and treats. By the time I checked out the grooming was done.

It was a vast improvement. He actually looked like a dog instead of a matted amorphous hulk. He pranced next to me as I wheeled my purchases out the door, making his new collar and leash jingle.
Nothing like having a professional haircut
, he said as I spread out the clean blanket on the backseat.
And some new jewelry to impress the girls.

"Glad you like it." I stowed the rest of the gear in the trunk. "It cost a fortune. I paid Tiffany prices to get you in."

Thank you. It was worth it, wasn't it?

I got into the car and turned to regard him. He now looked like a Border Collie/sheepdog cross, with black markings on his back and sides and a rakish mop of hair on the top of his head. "Did they brush your teeth?" They looked whiter.

Sure did. I'm all spiffed up and ready to take a nap in front of our fireplace
.

"My fireplace." I started the car. "This isn't permanent." I pulled back onto the interstate. "What is your name, by the way?"

I told you. Cerberus
.

"I thought you were joking."

What better name for the dog owned by Hades?
He leaned over the passenger seat again, peering out the windshield.
Now, back to our problem--Lucinda Delacroix
.

"She's not a problem. My problem is Persa and the History Patrol. Where is she? Are they going to send me back?" I had been thinking about this for more than two hundred years and I wanted some answers. "Why didn't my recall chip take me back home to 2195? I was told all Guides had a recall chip embedded in their bodies."

Look, trust me. Our problem is Lucinda Delacroix. If we can solve that, we can solve your little problem of being stranded in time
.

"Little problem?" If I hadn't been driving, I'd have pulled out my Glock and shot him. "I've been stuck here for two centuries! I had to fend for myself. My Companion was--" I couldn't continue, my rage choking my voice.

Lucinda Delacroix. Lucinda P. Delacroix
.

His calm, even voice stopped me short. An icy dread started to chill me. "What?"

Her parents had a penchant for mythology. Her sister is named Cara Athena. Her brother was Aaron Perseus.

I remembered Lucinda's off-handed comment in the coffee shop, "It's better than my middle name." Sweat pooled in my leather gloves. "What are you saying?"

Headlights illuminated his face as he turned to stare at me.
Persephone
.

"What?" I barely managed to keep the car going steadily down the highway.

Lucinda Persephone Delacroix.
His pale eyes were large and mournful.
Persa
.

"You're wrong," I said flatly, my voice trembling. I steered the car off the road onto an exit I didn't recognize, almost sideswiping a truck in the process. A horn blared at me as we skittered onto the poorly plowed ramp. "You're wrong."