Brooding City: Brooding City Series Book 1 (17 page)

Brennan tightened his
somber black tie and flattened the collar of his dress shirt.

His jaw had been set, and scans showed only a hairline fracture in the bone. No surgery required, but his face was still far from a pretty sight. The bruises had started to fade over the past few days, but they were still clearly visible in patches all over his face. At least he could pronounce soft syllables correctly again.

Greg sat on the couch with a bouquet of flowers, an untouched glass of water resting nearby. He was already suited up and ready to go, and the shakes that had accompanied his withdrawal from the patch subsided yesterday. He looked healthier, but he hadn’t said a word all morning, and Brennan knew he was still hurting inside.

They were getting ready in Bishop’s apartment. She had been acting as de facto caretaker for Brennan and Sam after they were cleared from the hospital, though the latter had recovered much more quickly. Sam sat on a bar stool beside the kitchen counter. He was staring into the middle ground, keeping the entire room in view with unfocused eyes and a neutral expression on his face. He was respectfully quiet, knowing what today meant for Brennan and his nephew.

The door to Bishop’s bedroom cracked open, and an orange tabby cat sprinted out into the living room. Brennan raised an eyebrow at the furry intrusion. Bishop was half a step behind it, and she delicately scooped up the cat before it could jump on Greg’s lap. She held it at arm’s length, not wanting to get any fur on her clothes, and she dropped it back inside her bedroom before swiftly closing the door again.

Bishop wore a black dress with a dark jacket over top, and she went without any jewelry. She wore enough makeup to hide her injuries as best as was possible. Her eyes met Brennan’s briefly and she nodded sympathetically.

“Was that…?”

“Nettle’s cat?” Bishop nodded. “I couldn’t leave the poor thing to starve.”

“Careful,” Brennan said, thinking back to the yowling he’d heard earlier in the week. “She might be pregnant.”

“He’s a boy.”

“That significantly lowers the odds, then,” Sam noted.

Brennan gave them both a brief smile before the solemnity of the day brought his mouth back into a frown. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, smoothing out the wrinkles in front of the mirror. The four of them left in silence.

It was a short drive to the cathedral of St. Agabus, located on the western edge of the city. Nestled within one of the more affluent quarters of Odols, it was the only church Brennan knew of that served mass every day of the week. The stained-glass windows of its sanctuary were aligned with the rising and setting sun, and it was the largest cathedral in the Midwest. It was also where Brennan’s family was buried.

They followed the side path that led around to the back of the cathedral. A field of standing stones rose to greet them, each one a marker for the dead. The memorials ranged from unadorned headstones in simple plots to one squat, very ornate mausoleum in the back corner. Some of the graves were adorned with recent tokens of love from visiting family members: pictures, flowers, or trinkets that carried some special meaning.

The ceremony for Madison Warner was simple and straightforward, just as she would have wanted it to be. An older priest presided over the burial, sprinkling holy water on the casket as a thurible swung on its chain from his other hand, wafting incense over the grave. Finally, he petitioned to God that her soul should rest in peace.

No other words were spoken, and no other words were needed.

Greg stepped forward and placed the bouquet on top of the casket, over his mother’s hands. His shoulders trembled, and he couldn’t stop fresh tears from streaking down his face.

Brennan held him close as her body was lowered into the grave.

Goodbye.

The four of them stood around the grave for a while after the priest had departed. Time passed—minutes or hours, it didn’t matter. Sam and Bishop stood in solidarity with them, for which Brennan couldn’t express his gratitude enough. They were better friends than he deserved. When they were finally ready, they left the same way they had come, taking the path around the side of the massive cathedral to the parking lot.

The sky was a clear one that day, and the morning sunlight was shining directly into Brennan’s eyes as they approached, but he could make out a figure standing idly by Bishop’s car. He shielded his eyes with a hand and made out more features; an old-fashioned dark suit, sparse white hair, and small, dark glasses. He was small in stature, barely taller than the car he leaned against.

“Arthur Brennan,” the man rasped. “We need to talk.”

Bishop cast a glance between Brennan and the newcomer. “Brennan, who is this?”

“Benjamin,” he growled.

His response was terse, and Bishop must have recognized the tension that suddenly settled in Brennan’s shoulders. She took a half-step to the side and turned slightly, presenting a slimmer profile. Sam mirrored her movements on Brennan’s other side, his eyes never leaving the strange old man.

Benjamin sighed, a sad sound coming from the frail old man, like the last bit of air fleeing a deflated balloon. “Whatever your feelings toward me may be,” he said, “I am afraid you must put them aside. We have larger issues that must be dealt with.”

Brennan’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. “Any business we had together ended long ago. You have no right to be here!”

“Ah. The death of your sister is regrettable, and you have my condolences,” Benjamin said lightly. “I only need a moment of your time, to convince you of my—”

“No,” Brennan cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. Bishop, start the car.”

Bishop unlocked the car doors with the fob in her hand. Benjamin stepped aside carefully, testing his cane against the ground before shifting his weight. Sam and Greg exchanged a glance before walking toward the car, keeping a wary distance between themselves and the strange man as they piled into the backseat. Brennan made a move toward the passenger side, but he was stopped by the wrinkled hand that shot out and grasped his arm.

“Detective,” the old man croaked. “You have your reasons for disliking me. But trust me in this: death is coming to Odols.”

Brennan shook off the old man’s hand and put the car between them. The vehicle shifted beneath his weight as he sat down. “Bishop, we’re leaving,” he called before resolutely slamming the door. She joined them a moment later, her face a blank mask, and pressed a button to bring the car to life. They pulled out of the parking lot in silence.

Brennan watched her repress a shudder as they put the church in their rearview mirror. He knew all too well what thoughts were crossing through her head, since the same fear had taken hold in his own mind. Doubly so, for his power confirmed the truth of Benjamin’s words.

Death was coming to Odols.

Howdy, readers!
First off, thank you very much for reading my debut novel,
Brooding City
. You made it this far, so I’m hoping you enjoyed it. If you have a moment, please share this book with others.

Now is your chance to earn a free copy of the next book in the Brooding City series,
Patient Darkness
. New allies and deadlier foes await!

If you write a review of
Brooding City
on Amazon.com, I will send you a free digital copy of
Patient Darkness
, the pulse-pounding sequel to
Brooding City
.

Thank you for your support!

Tom Shutt writes
paranormal suspense with generous helpings of humor and a sprig of mystery thrown in for good measure. Sometimes he dabbles in fantasy, but in all cases, he strives to push the boundaries of modern fiction in search of good answers to hard questions.

He lives on the perpetually rainy East Coast with some cats, dogs, and a basement full of mistresses. His favorite authors are Jim Butcher, George R. R. Martin, Jonathan Stroud, and Eoin Colfer. He knows how to hide a body from the police, and the research for his novels has likely landed him on a few security watch lists. He enjoys reading, gaming (
Halo, Civilization, BioShock, Call of Duty, Minecraft
), playing pool, chasing deer, hunting deer, riding deer, and lying about what activities he does with deer. His favorite shows include
Supernatural, Game of Thrones, iZombie,
and anything created by Joss Whedon.