Born of Deception (21 page)

“Anna!” Leandra cries.

She puts her hand on my shoulder and I receive another bone-jarring hit of rage so deep and menacing that I almost cry out. I have never in my life felt anger like that, fury so wild and unleashed, it’s like a deadly plague from the heavens.

And it’s coming from Leandra.

I stare at her, my eyes wide, but even as it transmits itself from her hand to my shoulder, she reins it in. I straighten. “I’m fine,” I tell her.

Mr. Crowley looks from me to Leandra, his eyes alight with interest. “Well, well, well. What have we here? Not just pretty women, but women of power as well. Could it be the reincarnation of Catherine Cadière, or perhaps the original Jezebel, who have come to visit me this day? At any rate, I hate to disappoint my fellow practitioners, but I don’t have a daughter named Calypso.”

My body trembles from the emotional hits I just took from both Mr. Crowley and Leandra. I stare at him, uncomprehending. If Dr. Boyle lied about that, what else might he have lied about? But no. I can feel dishonesty oozing from Mr. Crowley like sweat from pores. Whatever he says, Calypso is his daughter.

“Calypso is in over her head,” I continue as if he hadn’t spoken. “If she isn’t detained or subdued, she could go to jail, or worse, end up in an asylum.”

He stares at me, his black eyes glowing like dark twin embers. I feel as if he is reading and dismissing my abilities. Leandra is frozen next to me and I can feel her trembling with the effort it’s taking to control herself. We’re at an impasse, the air around us crackling with power and tension.

“What has Calypso done?” he finally asks.

“Sacrificed a human,” I tell him, my entire being focused on him. His jaw tightens and the disgust I feel is immediate. Whatever the rumors are, this is a man who has not sacrificed humans.

His face stills and the clenching of his jaw eases. His control over his emotions is incredible. “Assuming I am the father of a girl named Calypso, what would you have me do? Especially if I haven’t seen her for months.”

“Tell me where you think she might be hiding.”

“Are you her friend?” he asks. I hesitate for a moment too long and comprehension dawns. “You’re not. So what is your stake in all this? How do you plan on subduing her?”

“I was hoping you could tell me how to do that.”

He turns away and walks to the door. For a moment I think the interview is over, but he gives his man rapid orders in a language I don’t understand.

“When you subdue her, bring her to me. Do not give her to anyone else except me. You may not die if you betray me, but you will wish you had.” His voice is as cold and commanding as a north wind blowing from Siberia.

Leandra is clutching my hand and I feel her shaking like a leaf. I clutch at a straw. “Why don’t you come with us, sir? I am sure she will be more amenable if you are with us.”

He chuckles as if we were discussing the weather instead of the life of his daughter. “Because she thinks she hates me right now. She is being quite rebellious. Plus, I am in the middle of a casting a lengthy and rather complicated spell and shouldn’t leave the house.” He laughs again, and the sound is so disturbing, I almost feel sorry for Calypso. But then I remember what she’s capable of. Mr. Crowley can have her. They deserve each other.

The old man comes in and hands me a paper. I glance down and find an address on it. “Is this where she is?”

“That’s where she could be,” Mr. Crowley corrects. “And may I ask if you are properly protected?”

In answer I pull out the amulet and show it to him. To my discomfort, he steps toward me and narrows his eyes. He’s so close I can see his pupils darting around the various symbols as if he’s reading them. He probably is.

He licks his lips. “Where did you get that?”

I shudder. “Mr. Harry Price gave it to me.”

He nods as if his suspicions were confirmed. “That should protect you fairly well.” He looks at me for a moment longer. I resist the urge to step back, even though every instinct I have is screaming for me to run; but logic tells me that running will make me look like prey and Mr. Crowley is definitely predator. “Beware of mirrors. In my world, mirrors can be pathways for all sorts of undesirable visitors from the netherworld. Now, as enjoyable as this has been, ladies, I must get back to my work.”

The old man firmly sees us out the door and Leandra and I find ourselves standing on the steps, just that fast.

“Did we really just have a meeting with Aleister Crowley in a room with shrunken heads?” Leandra’s voice wavers and she continues without waiting for an answer. “No, don’t tell me. I would think that was a nightmare, except that I don’t generally have nightmares in the middle of the day.”

I snort. “I do.”

“Really? You must tell me about it sometime, but right now I say we quit this place.”

We hurry down the steps to climb into the car. The sky is dark and ominous and I feel eyes boring into my back. “I think there’s going to be a storm,” she says after she starts the engine.

I’m silent but finally decide to just ask, “What happened in there? Not with Mr. Crowley but with you?”

For a moment she looks straight ahead and I think she isn’t going to answer.

But then she shrugs. “I don’t really talk about it. Let’s just say that anger is as much a part of who I am as the color of my hair or eyes. I don’t have any choice in the matter. I do, however, have a choice about how I let that anger control me. As a mother and human being, I refuse to let it affect my life. But sometimes like today, its gets the better of me. I felt the threat from him toward you. Plus, it almost felt as if he were stripping me of my control.” She gives me a rueful smile. “I rarely lose control like that anymore. It nearly ruined my life once. It may have except I met Harrison. He introduced me to the Society and I learned to diffuse it. That’s why I get upset at how the Society has changed. We Sensitives
need
that knowledge.”

I want to ask more, but sense her reluctance to say anything else.

“You can ask Cole about it. He can give you the rest of the story. I am just not up for it today. Besides, we have more important things to consider, like what our next move should be.”

I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to put her at any further risk. She deserves to go spend time with her children. “I need to pick up a few supplies to confront Calypso, but after that I want to head back to the hotel, if you don’t mind. I think I’ll wait for Cole to come with me.”

“All right. Where do we need to go?”

I tell her and she takes me to a grocer’s. I’m worried she’s going to see what I’m planning, but her mind has already leaped ahead to the moment when chubby arms and sticky fingers will be wrapped around her neck.

I hug her hard before she leaves me at my hotel.

“Be careful,” she whispers.

“I will. Enjoy your children and stay safe.”

I wave as she chugs off and then go upstairs with my bag of supplies. Once in my room, I pull a box out of my wardrobe and take out several pairs of handcuffs before selecting three. I have no idea what I’m walking into and I should be prepared.

I pack them in a small satchel and add a length of clothesline that I picked up at the grocer’s. Then I pull out the solid silver knife and leather strap and sheath Cynthia had given me for my going-away present.

I strap it on to my thigh and smooth my slip down over it. I pull down the mirror from over the dresser, shivering when I remember Mr. Crowley’s warning about mirrors. I set it against a chair and turn this way and that until I’m satisfied that the knife doesn’t show. I haven’t put it on until now. Of course, I’ve never had to until now.

Lastly, I take out the two-pound bag of salt I bought at the grocer’s and add it to the satchel.

Taking a deep breath, I look at the materials I’ve gathered. They seem inadequate against an occultist who practices black magic and commits ritualistic murder to harness more power, but it’s all I’ve got. Besides my ace in the hole.

Walter.

Nineteen

O
f course, I have to contact Walter and enlist his help, and I’m pretty hazy on how I’m going to do that. I’ll think about that later. First, I have to write a note to Cole.

I’m taking a risk by not going over the plan with him beforehand, but if he knew what I’m about to do, he’d try to stop me. I’m not going to put more lives at risk because he wants to keep me safe.

Maybe Calypso does practice witchcraft, but I don’t for a second believe she can wave a wand and make things happen like in a fairy tale. Spells, at least how I understand them, take time to prepare and execute. In the end, Calypso is just a girl and she’s younger than I am.

Cole,

I’m going to confront Calypso. I’ve spoken to her father and he wants me to take her to him. I believe he will help us. Please meet me at the following address as soon as you get this note.

I jot down the address and chew on the end of the pen, wondering if I should add something personal. If something bad were to happen to me tonight, wouldn’t I want him to know how I feel? Cole’s sensitive, handsome face comes to mind and the image bruises my heart with tenderness.

So I simply finish with
Love, Anna.

It’s my plan to send the note to him and go directly to the address Mr. Crowley gave me. No matter how strained things have been between us, I know Cole and he’ll be there within minutes.

As added insurance, I also send a note to Harrison. I may be foolhardy, but I’m not completely stupid. Though I suppose my intelligence or lack thereof is completely dependent on how tonight turns out.

I write another note to Louie, apologizing for missing rehearsal tonight. I hope he doesn’t think I’m taking liberties because I’m top billing now.

My final note is to Mr. Gamel and the Society, declining their invitation to join. It turns into a two-page letter, telling them why I won’t be involved and giving them tips on making the Society a place that I might like to be a part of someday. I finish up with:

In closing, I guess I’m just too American to accept “taxation without representation,” so to speak.

Anna

That done, I lie on my bed and wait. It’s important that it’s almost dark when I get to where Calypso is so she won’t see Cole or Harrison coming.

Unrelated thoughts float through my mind. I wonder if Harry Houdini is still in Europe and why he made it a point to come to my debut. I wonder if my mother really wants me to stay with them and if I could ever be happy not performing my magic. Then I wonder if I will be happy being on the road all the time. I wonder if Jeanne and Louie are going to have a boy or girl and what Louie will do if he quits vaudeville. I think of Cole, not the disapproving Cole, but the Cole with the wonderful laugh and the dark, velvety eyes that always have a special warmth just for me. Then Billy pops into my head, smiling as if he were channeling sunshine. And I stare at the cracks in the ceiling and face the truth. Billy’s friendship, the relationship we have, is very special, but it’s not the same as how I feel about Cole. My heart pounds as the truth settles over me. I love being around Billy but he’s not Cole. Cole feels as necessary to me as breathing.

Restless, I check my watch and then sit up. Maybe I should try to call Walter or something, but then I shudder and decide against it. In reality, I don’t know whether Walter is friend or foe. Instinctively, I feel as if he might be a friend, but what if he just wants to inhabit my body and doesn’t care about Calypso or the other Sensitives or anything else that I care about? No, I can’t risk it. I’ll have to wait to call him . . . and hope he shows up.

It’s still a bit early in the afternoon, but I’m too twitchy with nerves to rest. I put on my coat, slip my balisong into the pocket, and gather up my things. Stopping in the lobby, I hand the clerk my notes with a coin. He will give them to a messenger boy to deliver. That done, I hurry out into the wind and rain, clutching the address in one hand and my satchel in the other. The storm has arrived.

I duck my head against the rain and run right into Billy.

He puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “Whoa. Slow down there, Nellie.” He turns on the twang, which usually makes me laugh, but I’m not in a laughing mood.

He takes one look at my face and grows immediately serious. “What’s wrong?” He looks down at my satchel. “Where you going?”

Caught unaware, I’m too startled to make something up and his eyes narrow. “This has something to do with that man, doesn’t it? Wherever you’re going, I’m going too.”

“No, you don’t have to,” I protest. “It’s fine, I’m just going to . . . dinner.”

But it’s too late and we both know it. The taxicab I had the clerk call pulls up to the curb, and Billy reaches for the door. “If you want me to remain scarce, I will, but I
am
going with you.”

I hesitate. I suppose I could try to make him stay, but the truth is, having Billy watch my back is tempting. Who knows when Cole will get there, and Harrison is probably taking Leandra to the train station. If neither one of them receives the notes in a timely manner, I’ll be on my own. Reluctantly, I nod. “But you have to stay outside, all right?”

He nods and waves a hand toward the cab. I crawl in and scoot across the seat. The driver opens the small sliding window between the front and the back seat and I hand him the address.

“Do you trust me enough to tell me what’s going on yet?” Billy’s voice is quiet.

I shut my eyes for a minute as the taxi rattles and shakes down the street. “It’s not a question of trust,” I finally tell him. “It’s not really my secret. So, no, I can’t let you know what is going on.”

The sun is just starting to go down, but I can still see the look in Billy’s eyes. My heart wrenches at the disappointment on his face. “People are in danger,” I say, unable to stand it. “It’s complicated, but I have to go confront the person responsible and see if I can’t keep anyone else from being hurt. I really can’t tell you more, but thank you for wanting to come.”

Tears clog my throat as I see his face soften. “Anna, I will always be here if you need me.”

Letting myself fall in love with Billy would be so very, very tempting, but I feel the wrongness of it in my gut. Even if Billy fits perfectly into the part of my life that is performing and magic, could he ever understand the part of me that is a psychic?

I give myself a mental shake. There will be plenty of time for pondering my love life after the Sensitives are safe and Calypso has been taken out of the equation.

I look out the window, my heart sinking. Wherever Calypso is holding the Sensitives, it’s not in an upper-crust neighborhood. In fact, it’s as seedy a part of London as I have yet seen. There are fewer streetlamps and many of those don’t work. Those that do, illuminate shuttered buildings and people huddled in doorways.

The driver pulls up in front of a dilapidated apartment building several stories high. My heart races and I take a deep breath. This is not good. Had it been a house, I would have felt more comfortable leaving Billy to guard the front. As it is, I’m not sure what to do. The driver passes me back the paper with the address on it. My heart sinks further when I see the apartment number 13 on it. Had that been there before? I rub my eyes. I hear a faint buzzing in my ears but when it doesn’t grow any louder, I ignore it. Apparently the pendant is already working and blocking the mental confusion.

“What now?” Billy asks after we exit the taxi. “I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me against the wind. “I have to go in. Someone inside one of the flats may need my help. Can you watch the door for me from the hall? If I don’t come out in, I don’t know, thirty minutes or so, you can bust in after me. Isn’t that what you cowboys do?”

I’m babbling and he knows it. I can feel his apprehension through his hand on my arm, but I also feel his determination. He won’t let anything happen to me if he can help it.

We enter the building. Most of the electric lightbulbs in the hallway are broken and the plaster is falling off the walls in places. I shiver as a sense of foreboding fills me. The building itself heaves with the anguish of centuries, and my skin crawls with the eerie sense that the halls have seen unimagined horrors—murders, ghosts, and intrigue of the most despicable sort.

Calypso is not the first person to commit murder here. I feel spirits all around me, touching me with their long bony fingers, whispering in my ears with their foul breath.

Maybe it’s my imagination.

“If I’d had some warning, I would have brought my guns,” Billy whispers next to me. “This is not a good place.”

Or maybe it’s not my imagination.

In my experience, apartment buildings like this are loud, but no noise issues from behind the doors we pass. Perhaps the occupants know to keep quiet and let the ghosts reign. Or perhaps there are no occupants.

We arrive at number thirteen and I twitch my head. As if he’s done this type of thing before, Billy melts back into the shadows. He probably would have made a good bank robber had he wanted to, I think inanely. Of course, any women present would have been able to give a detailed description of him, so maybe not. I place my hand on the doorknob and then jerk it back. My heart pulses in my ears.

It’s warm.

Maybe from her black magic?

It’s locked. Taking out my picklock, I silently make short work of the lock. Then I clutch at the amulet at my throat, say a quick prayer, and make the sign of the cross over my chest even though I’m not Catholic. In spite of all that, fear slices through my body. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for this kind of terror.

Heart in my throat, I open the door as quietly as I can. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when I do, I gasp. Red silk hangs from the walls like I’ve entered the apartment of a sultan. Cushions and low tables line the walls. My eyes take in a window on one side and a hallway on the other. A giant mirror in an ornate wooden frame hangs on one wall. I shudder, remembering Mr. Crowley’s warning. For a moment I think I’m alone, but then I spot a young man propped upright in the corner. He’s bound and gagged and his eyes are closed. His skin is ashen and he’s so thin, his cheekbones jut out of his face like knives. I pray that whoever it is is still alive. Then I hear a low moan coming from down the hall and gay laughter that is so out of place that a shiver runs down my spine.

Calypso.

Moving silently, I first check on the man. His eyes fly open in terror at my touch and I put my finger to my lips. He nods. I take the gag out of his mouth. He licks his lips.

“Is she alone?” I whisper. Unable to speak, he nods.

I want to cut him loose, but first things first. I need to make a circle of salt on the floor to bind her with and then get her to step into it. The odds are slim, but if I can’t subdue her, I won’t have a chance. Who knows what kind of evil she’s capable of? Pulling the bag of salt out of my satchel, I quickly make a large circle in the middle of the room. It’s not straight—my hands are shaking too badly to pour a perfect circle, but I think it will work.

The silver knife is sharper and sturdier than my balisong, so I reach under my skirt and pull it out of its sheath. I’m about halfway through the young man’s bindings when the hair on the back of my neck tingles and his eyes widen.

I know Calypso’s behind me before I even turn around.

Her short hair is mussed as if she just crawled out of bed, and she’s wearing a long, peacock-blue dress with kimono sleeves. She claps delightedly, causing the sleeves to float like bat’s wings. “Oh! You came! I was so worried you wouldn’t!” Then she eyes the knife in my hand. “Oh, you won’t need that.”

Suddenly something begins squeezing my hand, and within seconds the pressure increases so much that I drop the knife in pain. It falls to the floor with a clatter.

How did she do that?

My stomach knots as I search for a probable explanation. Psychokinesis, as far as I know, is just a parlor trick done by fake mediums. The only person near me is the young man, whose arms are still bound. Which leaves spiritual interference. Considering what I now know concerning her father, that’s a very real possibility. I glance at the floor. She’s about three feet from stepping into the circle.

“Why?”

“Why won’t you be needing your knife? Or why all of this?” She waves her hands around the room.

“Why all of this? Why didn’t you just send me an invitation?” I speak casually, but my heart is pounding so loudly that I’m surprised she can’t hear it. Or maybe she can, it’s difficult to tell. I can feel something hovering nearby, but no matter how often I turn my head I can’t catch it. I can almost see it, but not quite. It’s like a dark shadow, or a puff of smoke in the corner of my eye, that disappears when looked at directly.

Calypso tilts her head to the side in a strange birdlike gesture as if listening for something. Or perhaps she’s listening
to
something.

Then she straightens and smiles, her black eyes flat. “This way was so much more fun! Plus, I needed time to gather everything together. According to Aiwass, everything comes together in good time.”

The name jolts me. That’s what Walter said during the séance. “Who is Aiwass?” Suddenly, the thing out of my line of vision is swirling around me. I swallow convulsively.

“My father’s spirit guide. Aiwass left him long ago and came to me, because he knows I have far more potential than even the great Aleister Crowley.”

Her voice is petulant, like a spoiled child’s, and I shudder. Everything, all of this, is because she wanted to show up her father?

My God.

But Aiwass, the spirit guide, is not the figment of a deranged mind. The scent of evil, like rotting meat, assaults my nostrils. My stomach roils and I cling to my composure by the thinnest thread. Why did I come in here alone?
Why did I come here at all?

Behind me, the young man whimpers and I remember. There’s more at stake here than just me and my fear.