The Immortals (32 page)

T
aylor sat in the Adirondack chair on the back deck. She felt the chill of the breeze, but ignored it, let it bite and chap her. She was beyond feeling at this point, or so she thought. When the phone rang, she saw it was Baldwin, but made no move to answer.

After a few moments it stopped, leaving her in peace. She didn't want to talk to anyone just now.

As instructed, she'd seen the department shrink, and that had helped a bit, but it wasn't enough, not yet. She was on an enforced leave of absence, some vacation time, while they sorted through the mess at Hillsboro High School. She needed to get her head back in the game, figure out what she wanted to do.

Nothing. She just wanted to be.

Erasing the mental image from the shooting was proving to be harder than she'd ever imagined. The memory of those eyes burned into her. The gun snapping again and again. The small splat of blood that flashed from the wounds. The look of sheer surprise on his face as he dropped to the ground. The sunlight glittering off the silver ankh around the boy's neck. No, those images weren't going away anytime soon.

She took a long pull on her beer, eyes closed, basking in the meager sunlight. When she tilted her chin down, she
thought she saw a flash of black. A raven? That would be fitting.

“Lieutenant?” a garbled voice asked. The black thing moved closer. Taylor opened one eye fully and saw a face attached.

“Ariadne,” she said, shuffling herself a little more upright. “You look like hell, if you'll forgive me saying so.”

Ariadne mounted the steps to the deck, sat in the empty chair with a shrug. Her jaw was still wired shut, the bruises still livid, but beginning to fade. A quick healer. Taylor wondered idly how healed she could be, then let it go. Her head drifted back again. She was just so tired.

“I rang the doorbell. You didn't answer.”

“How did you find me?”

“Detective McKenzie.”

Damn that man.

“I expected…” Ariadne started, her dainty hands shifting in her lap. “I thought you'd be happy. You solved the case.”

Taylor looked away, over the woods that backed to their yard. If there was one thing she'd learned in her years in Homicide, there was never such a thing as a closed case. Faces, wounds, last words, the screams of those left behind, images of caskets dropping into cold, hard dirt—these were the things that stayed long after the legal battles ended, the case files sent to storage. She could usually find it in her to celebrate a good solve, but this case didn't fall into that category.

“Oh,” Ariadne said. “I had no idea.”

Anger flared, giving Taylor a spark of clarity. “You're reading my mind again?”

“It doesn't take a psychic to see you're in pain. Maybe you should put the beer down. Why don't I make you some tea?”

Taylor narrowed her eyes at the witch and polished off the rest of the beer. She tossed the bottle behind her, heard the clink of glass as it met one of its brothers.

“Like that, is it? You're over here feeling sorry for yourself?”

With great effort, Taylor kept her tone civil. “Ariadne, why are you here?”

“I was worried about you. Detective McKenzie told me your man is out of town. You shouldn't be alone right now.” There was an admonishment in her tone that fired Taylor up.

“Baldwin didn't have a choice. He would be here if he could.”

As she said the words, she realized how upset she was that Baldwin
wasn't
the one cajoling and nursing her back to an optimum mental level. She felt foolish. She'd been avoiding his calls because she'd resented the fact that he wasn't guiding her through this mess. Since when had she become so dependent on him? Was it dependence, or something more?

“Your love for him is your saving grace, you know.”

“Damn it, Ariadne. Quit it. That's not fair.”

“Oh, Lieutenant. Don't you see? Love is humanity. If you can't feel, you become as empty and drawn as the boy. He had no love, not the right kind, anyway. His path was chosen long before you came across him. But yours? Yours is still being written. You have a choice. Love will save you. If you let it.”

“Has love saved you, Ariadne?” The words were cutting, and Taylor felt a moment of sheer remorse when she saw Ariadne flinch.

“I'm sorry. I'm…upset. This has been very difficult for me. I hate taking life, hate it worse than anything. And he was just a child.”

“Raven would have killed you and never given it a second thought, Lieutenant. And then he would have turned the gun on the crowd. He'd decided. Couldn't you see that? Couldn't you see he'd given up? His life was forfeit the moment he spilled blood the first time. He knew that. He accepted that. You must, as well.”

“My life is forfeit as well, is that what you're saying?”

“No,” Ariadne said softly. “You were called upon to be a savior. That is your role, whether you're comfortable with it or not. And saviors have to make sacrifices.”

Taylor reached for another beer. “Ariadne, why are you here? Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you and I are linked, whether you like it or not.” Eyes downcast, she folded her hands gently over her belly.

Taylor caught the gesture, heart in her throat. She set the beer down on the railing untasted, her mind whirling.

“No. It's too soon to tell. Didn't they give you Plan B at the hospital?”

Ariadne smiled, lips thin against her teeth. “I refused. Life is a gift, regardless of its origins.”

Taylor put both feet on the deck. “That's a lovely sentiment, but for God's sake, he raped you.”

“And you killed him.” The words weren't accusatory, but Taylor felt like she'd been struck in the face.

Ariadne scootched closer, took Taylor's hand. She spoke softly. “You had no choice, Taylor. Who knows how many lives you saved? You made a split-second decision. That's what you're trained to do. And it was the right one. That's why I refused the pills. I could feel the stirrings inside me, knew that enough blood had been shed. I made a choice, too.”

How simply a life could be ended. A bullet, a flick of a knife. A heart turned to stone in despair.

The phone rang again, long and loud, the pealing bells grating on her nerves. She looked at the caller ID. Baldwin again.

Ariadne smiled. “He won't stop trying, you know. He's bound to you. He will protect you, whether you want it or not. Go to him, Lieutenant. Let him comfort you.”

Taylor stared into the witch's blue eyes. Such calm, such purity. So sure of her path, her convictions. Taylor wished she was that certain.

Resistance was futile. She answered the phone.

Baldwin's deep voice came through the line, relief bleeding through each word.

“I didn't think you'd ever answer. Honey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised to hear how hollow her voice sounded. That wouldn't do. There was no need to punish Baldwin. She tried again.

“The woman who worked the case with us, Ariadne? She's here. We've been…chatting.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Good, you need cheering up. And I'm going to help you with that. I have some good news.”

“Really?” she asked. “You're coming home?”

“Taylor, better than that. Much better. Honey, we have Fitz. We found Fitz. He's alive. He's hurt pretty bad, but he's alive.”

She felt the thaw of disbelief begin.

“What?” she whispered.

“We've got him. He wants to say hello. I'm putting him on the phone right now.” She could hear the buoyant joy in Baldwin's voice, and she stood up, focusing on the rustling sounds in the phone's background. A moment later a gruff, familiar voice came through the phone.

“Hey, little girl. How've you been?”

“Fitz? Is that really you?”

The crusty laugh she'd been dying to hear sounded like gold. “It's really me. Who else would it be?”

Goose bumps rippled across her flesh, so intense that Ariadne turned to stare.

“Thank God,” Taylor whispered.

For the first time since she'd killed Schuyler Merritt, she started to cry.

There was, as always, a village to help along the way:

Scott Miller—my fabulous agent, without whom I'd be lost.

Linda McFall—my brilliant editor, who has the vision to make these stories sing.

MacKenzie Fraser-Bub—the cheer in every day, and the rest of the Trident Media crew, for all their hard work on my behalf.

Adam Wilson—the rock to our paper.

Megan Lorius—my sister in OCD publicity crime. Thanks for the details!

Deborah Kohan and Christine Khoury of Planned Television Arts, who are just plain wonderful.

Kim Dettwiller of Team Strategies—my Nashville insider and quip manager.

The rest of the MIRA Books team: Donna Hayes, Alex Osuszek, Loriana Sacilotto, Margaret Marbury, Diane Moggy, Heather Foy, Don Lucey, Michelle Renaud, Adrienne Macintosh, Nick Ursino, Tracey Langmuir, Kathy Lodge, Emily Ohanjanians, Karen Queme, Alana Burke, Tara Kelly and Gigi Lau—a girl couldn't ask for a better group to work with. You're the best!

The BMWs (Del Tinsley, JB Thompson, Janet McKeown, Cecelia Tichi, Peggy Pegen, Mary Richards, Rai Lynn Wood) for listening, critiquing and overall encouraging me.

Fellow writers Laura Benedict, Jeff Abbott, Erica Spindler, Allison Brennan, Toni McGee Causey, Zoë Sharp and Alex Kava, for the daily inspirations and sanity breaks.

My buds at Murderati—the very best blog on earth, hands down.

Evanescence, for getting me in the mood.

Keith Barent Johnson, for bidding on a character name
and allowing me to morph him into the Vampyre King. You're a good sport, Keith.

David Achord, who always has an answer.

Andromeda DeArmande, for her blog Spell Works, which helped set me on the path.

Angie and Traci, for tons of great advice on pathwork. No, I won't read the spells aloud anymore. Bad me.

Last, but not least, my darling parents, for loving me through thick and thin, and the rest of my great family, for always being there.

And Randy, my love-struck Romeo. Thank God you fell in love with me. What would I do without you?

This novel was a joy to write—surprisingly, no nightmares! I read a number of blogs and books getting myself into the Goth, Wiccan and Pagan worlds, research I found utterly fascinating. The blogs are easily found through Google searches, but here are a few of the books that kept me on the path during the writing of this novel:

Allen, Sarah Addison.
Garden Spells.
New York: Bantam Dell, 2007.

Belanger, Michelle.
The Psychic Vampire Codex: A Manual of Magick and Energy Work.
Newburyport, MA: Red Wheel/Weiser, 2004.

Buckland, Raymond.
Buckland's Complete Book of Witchcraft.
2nd ed. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2007.

Cunningham, Scott.
Earth, Air, Fire & Water: More Techniques of Natural Magic,
rev. ed. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2006.

Digitalis, Raven.
Goth Craft: The Magical Side of Dark Culture.
Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Worldwide, 2007.

Grimassi, Raven.
Italian Witchcraft: The Old Religion of
Southern Europe
(Previously titles
Ways of the Strega
). 2nd ed. Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Worldwide, 2006.

Hesiod.
Theogony
(Translated by M. L. West). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988.

Hesiod.
Works and Days
(Translated by M. L. West). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988.

Illes, Judicka.
The Element Encyclopedia of 1,000 Spells: A Concise Reference Book for the Magical Arts.
London: HarperCollins, 2008.

Konstantinos.
Vampires: The Occult Truth.
Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Worldwide, 2006.

Konstantinos.
Gothic Grimoire.
Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Worldwide, 2007.

Sabin, Thea.
Wicca for Beginners: Fundamentals of Philosophy and Practice.
Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Worldwide, 2006.

Theitic, ed.
The Witches' Almanac: Spring 2008 to Spring 2009 (Issue 27).
Newport, RI: The Witches' Almanac.

Winkowski, Mary Ann.
When Ghosts Speak: Understanding the World of Earthbound Spirits.
New York: Grand Central Publishing, 2007.