Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (25 page)

Before pocketing my Nexus 6 I dialed my other number. It rang twice before Heather answered. Her voice was coy and full of mirth. “About time you called.”

Laying back on the bed, I smiled. “Last I checked your fingers weren’t broken.”

She snickered. “True.” She hesitated and I heard sheets rustling in the background. “Everything all right over there?”

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I sat up. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

She hesitated again as worry crept into her voice. “I heard that Andrew was involved in an accident at Martha’s.”

News traveled fast, even if it was wrong. I got to my feet. “And who told you that?”

She lowered her voice. “I overheard Brad talking to my dad outside the door.” She suddenly sounded somewhere between pleased with herself and angry. “That little shit won’t come in since you ran him out of here the other day.”

“Brad?” I confirmed.

“Yes!” she huffed.

It was then that I remembered seeing someone upstairs. At the time I’d passed it off as wishful thinking or even manufactured memories from taking a sharp blow to the head when I landed. Of course, hadn’t I seen him before things blew up? It was hard to remember now. “Don’t worry about Andrew. He’s safe and sound here at home. I’ve made him beef up security. Which means he brought in someone named Alexander.”

Her intake of breath was audible, and what followed surprised me. Her tone was hopeful when she spoke. “As in a very large dark haired biker looking guy?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I take it you know him.”

She seemed embarrassed. “You could say that. He used to watch over me when I was a little girl.” She suddenly sounded angry again. “I was so glad when Andrew was able to help him and his family.”

Oh, damn! Alexander was the werebear that Andrew had freed twenty years ago when he changed the laws. No wonder he trusted them. “When are you getting out of there?”

She grumbled. “I’m hoping tomorrow.” She whispered into the phone. “Do you think Andrew would let me come over and visit...maybe even spend a few days while I recover? Mom and Dad are in the middle of splitting up, so things are pretty ugly at home.”

I nodded my head out of reflex. “I don’t think that will be a problem. You can have my room and I’ll take the couch if it comes to that.”

She giggled. “So what’s changed between Sunday night and today?”

Puzzled, I stopped pacing. “What?”

She cackled. “You weren’t quite so anxious to get me into your bed the other night, but now it’s all ‘come sleep over for a few days.’”

My cheeks went flush, and I stammered, “That’s not at all—”

She laughed even harder. “Oh, this is far too easy!” She paused as she composed herself. “Ask Andrew for me.”

“I will.”

“Good. If I don’t hear anything I’ll assume that it’s okay and have Mom drop me off when I get out of here.”

“Sounds good.”

She whispered in the phone. “Thanks. I gotta go, someone’s coming.”

The line went dead and I pocketed the phone. I spent the next twenty minutes tidying the place up…just in case she showed up. After tucking the last of the dirty clothes into the basket and closing all the drawers, I headed for the living room. I was nervous and didn’t know how to ask my uncle for permission to have a girl over, but it was for her own good. Her parents weren’t in any condition to take care of her right now.

Andrew looked at me with curiosity on his face. “Something on your mind?”

Shuffling to one side, I felt my face get warm. “I just got off the phone with Heather. She asked if she could come by for a few days. It seems that Mrs. Broussard wasn’t kidding about divorcing Robert.” I felt my words get caught in my mouth as they rushed out. “She wanted to visit with Alexander as well. I told her it would be all right.” I looked at my uncle, who was clearly enjoying my torment. “It’s all right, isn’t it?”

Andrew’s smile quieted my fears and put me at ease instantly. “Absolutely. She can’t very well make a full recovery with people trying to slit each other's throat at any given moment.”

I felt myself relax. “That’s what I said.”

Andrew beamed. “I’ll get one of the guest rooms available.”

A part of me was disappointed that she wouldn’t be staying in my room. “Need me to do anything before heading out?”

Andrew shook his head. “I think we got it covered.” He pointed at the phone in my pocket. “Call us if you need anything.”

“Sure thing.”

Five minutes later I was pulling out of the gate as Alexander and two of his men waved me out. They were quick to lock up and vanish behind the thick gray cement walls. As for me, I had a few things I needed to run down. Pulling the card for Lieutenant Baptist out of my pocket, I dialed his number and got his voicemail. I asked if he could use department resources to track down the owner of the phone that was left at Walter’s. It took another twenty minutes to reach the old DHL center in Elmwood.

I was hoping I could find some further information about Walter, and now I wanted to know more about Brad. Heather had never mentioned his full name during our conversations, but I was starting to get suspicious of the man. I wondered if I wanted him to be involved in this just to shove his face into a wall because of Heather or his hate of werewolves, or for any number of other reasons. Still, it would be a poor investigator who didn’t follow up on a lead like this. How else would he have heard that Andrew was there?

Chapter 18

Friday June 5th

Leaning forward, I placed my head in my hands, forcing myself awake. It’d been a long day to say the least. Looking up at the clock, which read 12:15 a.m., I knew I was running on fumes. My hands were shaky and I was tired, and generally done for the day. Yet I could still feel a deep recess of untapped power.

Whatever I’d absorbed was now a part of me, and not something that could be taken away or used up, like the minor bits of magic used against me. The souls of the slain were now mine in a way that neither I nor the denarius could quite understand. Their power was a part of me, and would be at my disposal for the remainder of my life. In what capacity that would happen I was unsure.

Gabriel had taken his leave of me a few hours back to get some rest. I desperately wanted to find a comfy spot and do the same, but something about the office was nagging the crap out of me. Everything I’d found earlier was out in the open. Martha hadn’t bothered to tuck anything away from possible prying eyes.

Not that I suspected she’d hide anything from her son on purpose, but it felt awfully convenient. I couldn’t help but believe that I was missing some very important pieces of the puzzle. It would be prudent of her to keep a file on all the Archive’s officials in her jurisdiction. I hadn’t even found a file dedicated to Walter, a prime suspect. All the file cabinets seemed to be filled with pawns, but all the heavy hitters were missing.

Frustration was getting the better of me, and I got up and eased the door closed. I didn’t want to wake Gabriel when the obscenities started to flow. I bowed my head and started grumbling every curse word that came to mind. Falling back into the plush office chair, I rolled it forward, placed my forehead on the edge of the desk, and stared at the tile floor.

The phone in my pocket rang, surprising me, and I nearly jumped out of the chair. Regaining some of my dignity, I sat up straight and answered the phone. “This is Gavin.”

Andrew’s voice was tired. “Just checking in. Everything all right?”

He sounded about as good as I felt. Leaning back in the chair, I tried to focus. “I’m fine. Get some rest…I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

Andrew sniffed and I heard him move, presumably to get up from his seat. “Stay safe and get some rest. I got a feeling you’re going to need it.”

Pitching forward again, I placed my elbow on the counter. “I got a feeling you’re right.”

Andrew let out a tired chuckle. “Good night.”

“Night,” I replied, and with that the line went dead.

Tucking the phone in my pocket, I rubbed my face, got back on my feet, and searched the office again. I knew that I had to be missing something. It took me a good twenty minutes to work my way around to the file cabinet next to the door.

I tugged on the top drawer, it was locked, but I felt the whole thing pivot. Allowing the cabinet to turn on the spot, it swiveled to the right and blocked the door as it snapped into position. There in the floor I found a heavy duty handle attached to a thick piece of steel. I grabbed the handle and pulled, allowing it to reveal itself slowly. 

It was a fireproof—and by the looks of things, bombproof—file cabinet that appeared to be connected to some sort of counter weighted pulley system. Going to the others, I turned them to the side and found similar cabinets under them. The design was truly inspired; you had to lock yourself in the office, turn the first cabinet, and only then would it reveal its secrets.

It only stood to reason that if the key to opening the cabinets was the first cabinet, that was the place to start, and I was right. In the top drawer at the very front was Walter’s file. Taking a couple of minutes to sift through the files and the next two drawers, I figured out the system. Active cases were in the top, while the older and unsolved ones were relegated to lower sections.

I grabbed the notebook she had tucked in front of Walter’s file and sat back at the desk. She was very good at keeping notes. I suspected that I’d better start following her example, just not tonight. After I got through her notes and found some sort of understanding, then I’d start making my own. No need to jump ahead to conclusions only to have them proven wrong deeper into the notebook. Best to get all the facts first, then make a decision.

I was tempted to sift through the other cabinets, but I knew that I needed to take a small section and dig in. With that thought firmly in mind, I took Walter’s file and spread it across the long desk before starting on Martha’s notes. The first page out of the file was much like any police issue form, with a current photo clipped to the top right corner of the page.

After that the basics followed; his address, boring details such as race, eye color, etc., but what caught my attention was a list of business holdings and interests, which to my great surprise included a seat on the board of directors for Touro Hospital.

Martha had scrawled several notes that referenced the documents within the folder. The first and hardly surprising fact was that Walter was an only child from a broken home. From what I’d seen of the asshole he probably would’ve eaten his siblings, but that was hardly helpful. I continued to read that he’d been abandoned at the doorstep of a local orphanage that closed decades ago. She made several notes about him suffering from what she called a wasting disease, and his ability to manipulate the element of fire.

Martha described the wasting disease as the ability to absorb the essence of any living entity and pull that into himself, to be used to fuel other, darker magic. In her words he was a cancer upon the world that would need to be removed. Other notes showed Elizabeth Dodd intervening on Walter’s behalf over the years, essentially blocking Martha’s ability to incarcerate the man. An allowance that she had regretted recently and would not allow to happen again.

Turning the page, I found a marriage certificate clipped in place. Pulling it free, I gave it a thorough once over before deciding it was probably the original. I turned it around so I could read it properly. According to this, Walter had married a young woman named Mary Percy on May 21 of 1973. Flipping back, I reread the section that said he didn’t have any living relatives before flipping the certificate over. Moving deeper into the notebook, I found a photo attached with a yellow Post-it note stuck over the face that read Mary.

I found it odd that she’d covered the face. Removing the yellow sticker, I suddenly understood. My stomach twisted; anger, resentment, and finally disgust won out. Still it took several more seconds for me to come to terms with the photo. Mary Percy was the spitting image of Martha, so much so they could’ve been identical twins.

That wasn’t exactly true…even in the old black and white photo I could see the difference. It was the eyes…they were all wrong. Martha’s eyes were full of life, intelligent, and genuinely happy. Mary’s were dull, flat, and nearly lifeless. She had the eyes of someone who’d been broken in mind and body. I’d seen the same look on prisoners, drug addicts, and slaves.

Replacing the Post-it, I moved to the next page. The rest of the information I felt may have been speculative, but if not I had no idea how she’d come to the conclusions. According to Martha, Mary and Walter never lived with one another. There were extended visits, perhaps, but no actual cohabitation. During the investigation, Martha had found two birth records; one from July, 1974 for a Walter B. Percy, Jr., and one from December, 1985 for a J. Brody Percy. That, however, was where the paper trail ended. It was as if the kids had never existed in this world, other than on paper.

A sick feeling struck me, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why. Maybe I was allowing my brain to race ahead, creating possible scenarios. It was clear he’d done something to Mary, but would a father really kill his infant children? Maybe that was when he got a taste for it. Maybe that was why he collected the stones. Maybe they were trophies, a keepsake that none but the Archive would realize was missing.

Huh...I’d never asked if it was guaranteed to birth a stone born from just one such parent. My grandfather had two with a human, and my father had me with a...I wasn’t sure what my mother was. Perhaps a shaman? That would be something I needed to ask Andrew, along with several other questions given this new information.

Glancing over at the clock, I saw it was nearly 4:00 a.m. If I left now I might be in time for breakfast before catching a few hours’ sleep. Putting everything inside the folder, I set about the office, putting it back the way I’d found it. With the last cabinet restored, I headed out the door and nearly ran into Gabriel.

He looked nearly as surprised to see me as I was to see him. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

Cocking my head at the exit, I said, “I was just heading back to Andrew’s place. Need anything before I go?”

He simply waved. “Nah, I’m good.”

Giving him two thumbs up, I grinned. “See you soon.” Glancing back at the office, I let out a long breath. “I got a feeling there’s a lot left for me to sift through.” Holding up the file, I grimaced. “I’m hoping this will set me on the right track and I can put this thing to bed shortly.”

Gabriel eyed the file with interest. “Good luck.”

With that I was out the door and headed for home. Traffic was light this time of morning, and I pulled into the drive a half hour later. Alexander was, of course, there to greet me.

Alexander for his part looked well rested and happy to see me. “Long night?”

For the slightest of moments, I thought he took a long breath through his nose, but then again I was tired as fuck. I regarded him with a frank expression as I pondered the last twelve hours. “You could say that.”

He thumbed back at the house. “I saw the lights come on a little while ago, so they’re up.”

“Good to know,” I replied, heading for the back door. “Have a good morning.”

“You too.”

Not seeing anyone in the living room, I headed for the kitchen in the hopes of finding breakfast. I wasn’t disappointed. Isidore was sitting at the table while Andrew stood watch over the stove. Both gave me a warm welcome and Isidore pushed out a chair with a foot.

Andrew called over his shoulder. “Hungry?”

“Absolutely!” I said as I sat at the table, sliding the file just to the left of me.

Isidore looked between me and the file and became curious. “Anything good in there?”

Remembering what I’d found my stomach turned, forcing me to fight back the sickness I felt. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Andrew dropped a heaping pile of eggs and sausages in front of Isidore, and a more manageable sized plate for me. He returned quickly enough with his own and took his seat. He gave me a quizzical look as he cut into his sausage. “I’m glad to see you made it back unharmed.” His eyes flitted over to the file. “Find anything helpful?”

Chewing on a mouthful of food, I put a hand on the file and moved it closer to me in case either of them got too curious. “Before we get into what I found, I need to ask some questions.”

Irritation crossed Andrew’s face, clearly not used to being denied information he desired, the novelty having already worn off. “Shoot.”

Seeing his expression, I thought I’d go for the easy questions first before lobbing a big pile of shit into the mix. “If one parent is a stone born and the other is human, what are the odds of that child being a stone born?” Taking another bite of food, I waited for him to answer.

He leaned back in his seat, thinking before he adopted a professorial tone. “While there is no such thing as a guarantee, the odds are fairly good that the resulting offspring will be stone born.” He grimaced as an old pain gripped him. “It’s not as if our kind is prolific in that aspect, but if we are able to create life and that life is brought to term, the likelihood is very strong, no matter the species, to result in a stone born. It has been known to happen that children are born human—which is exceptionally rare—or some other species, but again rare.” His eyes trailed over to the file again. “Why do you ask?”

Needless to say I wasn’t ready to share at this point, but a part of me felt compelled to give him something. It felt wrong keeping the information from him. But then again there was the whole creep factor of Walter marrying Martha’s doppelganger….

Putting a hand on the file, I grumbled. “Combination of educational purposes and practical ones.” It was then that I decided to fuck up everyone’s day. Putting my fork on the plate, I turned to the file and pulled out Mary’s photo, careful to leave the Post-it note in place. “Did you know that Walter was married?”

Isidore and Andrew both exchanged looks before shaking their heads no.

Andrew’s face soured. “As far as I know he’s never been married.”

Laying the photo on the table, I scooted it towards my uncle. “Her name was Mary Percy and they were married in ‘73.”

Andrew seemed angrier about the information than I believed the news warranted, but there was clearly some history there I wasn’t aware of. He put a finger on the corner of the photo, pulled it closer, and removed the Post-it. A storm rolled across his features as fury welled up inside him.

His voice was full of anger and hate, staring at the photo. “The bastard just couldn’t get past it.” He slapped the yellow sticky over the face quickly, shoving it back in my direction. His disgust was all too apparent. “When she wouldn’t have him for so many obvious reasons, he went out and found this poor thing.” Still glaring at the yellow paper, he growled. “What does this have to do with your investigation?”