“No.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Um, Lavie, can I ask you something?”
“Sure you can.”
“Oren mentioned that your aunty and Jacinta Mills knew each other. Do you think if I asked her a few questions about the woman she’d answer them?”
Lavie frowned. “I’m not sure. Jacinta’s been a sore point with my aunt for years.”
“I thought they were friends.”
“They were, are—it’s complicated.”
“Most friendships usually are.” I sighed, trying not to mull over the awkwardness with Gareth. “Maybe you could ask her for me, and let me know if it’s okay. The last thing I want to do is upset your aunt after everything she’s done for me.”
“Yeah, predicting your death is a hard thing to forget.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I’m just joking.”
I faked a laugh. “Of course you are.”
“I’ll ask her.”
“Thanks.” By now we’d reached the building where we usually met. 669 Wallace Street was accessed via a disturbingly filthy foyer that led to rickety stairs and a top floor with a gaping hole in the ceiling. We’d been meeting in the same spot the last Friday of every month, five minutes before midnight, since the beginning of the year. I was hoping Burr Okell—the person responsible for gathering us in the first place—didn’t have anything bad to report tonight.
Besides, I wanted to talk to him about accessing the shadow patch.
After maneuvering our way around the moldy newspaper stacks and random litter on the ruined floor, we reached our destination. Oren was already there, stalking the shadows and staring out the window facing the motorway, appearing concerned.
“Sierra, Lavie,” he called when he heard our approach and turned around. “How’s Jason?”
“He’s okay.”
“Good.” He touched my elbow. “I really am sorry that I delivered the sad news.”
“Don’t worry about it.” What else could I say? At the end of the day, it was probably better to have gotten the heads-up rather than being shocked when the police called.
“What happened to Jason?” Lavie asked.
“His father died,” I replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Please pass on my condolences.”
“No problem.”
Ebony and Conrad appeared at the top of the stairs, and as soon as she spotted Oren, Ebony gravitated towards him. What was going on with these two? I watched as they moved away into a darkened corner and leaned into each other to have a private conversation.
“Has she remembered anything?” Conrad whispered at my side.
“Not yet.”
“When the fuck is she going to?”
We both knew that whatever Cam had done to her memories was permanent. Only something magical was going to bring those back.
“Good night to everyone!” Burr Okell appeared out of nowhere. He looked like a balloonish, badly constructed human. He resembled a ring announcer at the circus, dressed circa 1920. He claimed to be a Tailor with the Patch Watchdog, an organization responsible for keeping all the patches away from each other.
We murmured our hellos.
The smile on his face stretched wider, making his thin moustache look like it was about to slip off the side of his lip. “It’s always good to see all of you, though I come bearing some terrible information.”
Looking around, I was glad to see Vixen wasn’t around. She used to be a werewolf hunter but after being attacked by the
Perro Negro
, she’d withdrawn from the position. She’d pestered Papan constantly for a few months but no one had seen or heard from her in a while. Ebony claimed she didn’t even frequent the church they both belonged to anymore.
I secretly hoped she’d moved away—somewhere far away, where I’d never risk crossing paths with her again.
When none of us spoke, Burr continued, “Nothing has happened yet, but something really big and bad is heading our way.”
“Something wicked this way comes,” Lavie whispered.
“Exactly, my dear!”
“What is it?” I asked, disheartened to hear more crap was on the horizon.
Burr raised his pudgy shoulders in a shrug. “I’m afraid I don’t know yet. We haven’t been able to get a clear reading, but if our predictions are right, the network of patches we try so hard to keep separated will soon start bleeding into each other.”
“What are you saying?” Oren closed in on Burr and the bigger man stepped back.
“I’m saying that something dark and powerful is lurking in the wings and has somehow managed to penetrate several patches already, slipping in and out before we have a chance to catch a glimpse or even a whiff of their magic.” Burr’s waxy skin glistened, even in the dark, and he pulled out a big white handkerchief. “We believe this will have catastrophic results if we don’t find out what it is.”
My stomach dropped. It could only mean one thing—the
Obscurus
was at it again. The fact they hadn’t tried anything since March made me more nervous each day, but to hear this only confirmed what Oren had said yesterday. There was no way they were giving up. And with alliances in the shadow patch and certain demons at their disposal, who knew what they were planning?
None of us would ever be safe until this group disbanded and any mention of them was erased from civilization. So no other darkly ambitious morons could get any ideas.
With Mace being a phantom and able to manipulate so much, things were about to get really ugly.
“So, we don’t know if it’s a demon, vamp or ghost?” Conrad asked. He’d crossed his arms and was scratching at his goatee. The silver cross sitting in the hollow of his throat glowed in the darkness surrounding us.
Burr shook his head. “We have no idea.”
“Maybe it’s all of the above,” Ebony whispered, but it was loud enough for all of us to hear.
As insane as something like that would’ve sounded last year, nowadays I knew anything was possible. Dark entities were always willing to team up with whoever shared their motivations, and even if they didn’t, knowing what the prize was usually served as enough motivation for some.
“The Patch Watchdog is hard at work and we will not stop until we get an answer, but I do need all of you to be extra careful. We’ve already lost two of our numbers, so I don’t want to lose any more.”
So he’d noticed Vixen’s absence. And Jonathan’s.
Not going there.
“What do you need us to do?” Lavie asked. “I’ve got several contacts in the underworld that might be able to help.”
“You should talk to anyone and everyone,” Burr said with a nod. “I encourage all of you to do the same.”
“What about what’s happening here?” I asked. “Where are we going to meet if this site is demolished?”
“I have a feeling that our meetings will be cut short in the coming months, but for now we’ll still be able to meet at this juncture. It’s not the building that lures us, it’s where it stands.”
I looked across the room at Oren. Was he thinking the same thing I was? I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of ley lines lay beneath this place if a Tailor could access it so easily, Ebony’s church chose this location to conduct their worship, and so many otherworldly entities called this area home. Yeah, there was something about this spot and I would find out what. It might take a little of my blood and some scrying to find out but I was willing, especially if the name of the apartment complex meant what I suspected.
But not tonight, I’ll come back another time.
“That’s it for today. Unless anyone has anything to add…”
No one did, so we disbanded. I waited for the others to head for the stairs before approaching Burr. I didn’t want him to vanish into thin air after his very vague revelation, but also wanted to catch him alone.
“Burr, can I speak to you for a sec?”
He flashed his fake smile. “Of course you can, Sierra Fox. What can I help you with?”
“Remember when you said you’d help me make sure the
Obscurus
didn’t get what they wanted out of me?”
“How could I forget? I’ve been waiting for your call.”
I bit the inside of my lip. “Well, I think I know how to deprive them of one of the things they want so badly.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got a theory, but need access to a certain patch to test it.”
For the first time, he frowned.
“I know what I’m about to ask is huge and probably breaks some kind of Tailor law, but I really need to get into where the shadows live.” My request was finally out there.
“You want access to the shadow patch?”
I nodded.
He was quiet for a long moment, eventually nodding. “Yes, yes, I think I can help you.”
“Great, excellent—”
“But you need to know something first.”
Here we go. Here’s the catch.
I swallowed. “What is it?”
“There’s only one way of opening a door into their patch.”
I nodded. “Sure. I’ve got a demonic Hand of Glory.”
“Excellent! That will help guide you once you’re inside and need access within their world, but it’s not what you need.” His waxy skin beaded with tiny bubbles of sweat.
“What do I need?”
“You’ll have to use a human child as bait,” he said, flashing his chalky teeth.
“What?”
Burr sighed and wiped his face with the handkerchief. “Shadows can access our world from their end whenever they wish, but we can only get in and out one way—when
they
filter through and open a door,” he said. “And the only way we can lure a shadow is to dangle a vulnerable child in front of it.”
“You want me to give them an actual human child?”
“It’s the only way to get their attention long enough to sneak in behind them.” Burr glanced at the smudge of makeup he’d left on the handkerchief. He quickly shoved the hanky into his pocket. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”
“But you’re a Tailor! Can’t you open paths wherever you want?”
“Our entire existence is for one purpose—our job. And our job is to be the Patch Watchdog, not to open and close punctures between. Or we wouldn’t have needed your help so many times. We are virtually powerless when it comes to freely venturing into other patches, or controlling them. But if you’re able to lure one of the monsters out, I will be able to keep that pathway open for a certain amount of time.”
“For how long?”
“One hour, two, three at the most…”
This was getting worse by the minute, but what choice did I have? “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Perfect,” he said with a smile. “We’ll meet here with your bait two hours before the night of the blue moon is over.”
“Thanks.” I might be thankful he could help, but it wasn’t what I’d expected. Where was I going to find a willing victim?
What the hell was I saying? There was no way I could use some poor kid—not that I knew any—as bait.
I can’t believe I agreed to this insanity.
Before he could disappear, I said, “Burr, just one other thing.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Why didn’t another werewolf hunter replace Vixen?” This had been nagging me for some time, and it was worth asking about. My curiosity knew no bounds.
“There’s no need for a werewolf hunter. There never was.” He shrugged. “Wolves take care of their own business just fine. Vixen was an anomaly—a self-proclaimed hunter because her twin sister was killed by a werewolf.”
“Then why did you invite her into this group in the first place?”
“I wanted to keep an eye on her,” he said. “Is that all you need?”
I nodded absently.
Ah, so that’s why Oren couldn’t see a hunter’s mark on her aura.
Chapter Six
“I’m glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, sliding into the booth across from Henry Sallas.
After a very average and uneventful Saturday spent with Papan, my sister and her new dog, the police finally contacted Papan about his father. He’d left to go to the local police station a few hours earlier and I’d reluctantly headed out to meet with this man.
Henry looked me in the eye while sweeping his hand over a jagged, red rock which sat on the table between us. As soon as his fingers rushed over the surface, it looked more like a lit-up gem and a blanket of heat tumbled over the booth.
“You’re using a Look-Away Gem?” Thanks to Oren, my knowledge of charms, stones, amulets, and their properties was a lot more extensive than it used to be. “You must be really serious about keeping our meeting quiet.”
“I wasn’t exaggerating. It’s best if no one knows I had any contact with you,” Henry said with narrowed eyes. “If my colleagues find out I’m here, it will jeopardize everything.”
I glanced at the gem. It was similar to a cloaking spell and would redirect attention, but it didn’t actually make us invisible. It just made the scattering of patrons inside Monster Coffee Break look right over us, as if we weren’t important enough to warrant their attention.