Hellsbane 01 - Hellsbane (15 page)

My heart skipped. A picture? Could it really be that easy? If not for Tommy’s smashed laptop, I wouldn’t have even called.

Tommy had searched for years and come so close, but not close enough. I’d been marked a little more than two weeks ago, and I might have already discovered the name and photographic proof of the Fallen who’d fathered me. Of course, if it was really him I’d still need to find him somewhere in the great wide world. But with a first name, a picture, and people who actually remembered details about him, I’d have a good place to start.

“Ha!” Uncle Greg said, his voice fading and shaking as though he was walking with the phone. “I told you we had a picture of him.”

My heart leapt to my throat. I held my breath as I drifted to a slow stop at another light.

“Let me see that,” Aunt Sara said and I realized Uncle Greg must’ve brought his extension and the scrapbook into the same room as her. “I’m the one who took that picture. Nobody there was interested in Carol romantically.”

“What about this guy?” Uncle Greg asked.

I waited for the couple to come to some verbal conclusion but my curiosity got the better of me. “Uncle Greg, could you send me a copy of that photo?”

“Sure, honey,” he said. “Give me a second and I’ll snap a picture of it with my phone and text it to you.”

I was coming up to a gas station on the right so I flicked on my blinker and pulled in. After turning off the Jeep I sat for a moment, waiting for the picture to come through.

“I have no idea who that is,” Aunt Sara said. “He wasn’t working with Carol’s group, I can tell you that.”

“Okay, Emma,” Uncle Greg said, ignoring his wife for the moment. “Did it go through?”

My phone beeped. “Got it. Thanks.”

I thumbed the touch screen to open the text and photo. It took a minute to recognize my mom, twenty-three years younger, standing among a clutch of people posing for the photograph. It was taken indoors, the group standing in three short rows. Behind them in the near distance, leafy green ferns grew from long planters on top of a stone wall and gave the feel of a public location.

“I’m telling you, Sara, that guy had something to do with the fund-raisers or politics.” Uncle Greg’s voice rumbled with leashed temper. “I mean, I figured he was working on the campaign. He was around enough. You even asked him to be in the photo, but he was camera shy or something. Hell, I talked to him every time we went down there. Isaac was his name, or maybe it was Ivan. No, it was…it was one of those
I
names…Damn, why can’t I remember?”

“Which guy, Uncle Greg?” I asked.

“The guy walking behind the group there,” he said. “His face is kind of blurry, but you can see him right over your mom’s shoulder.”

Until that moment I hadn’t noticed the man in the background. He hadn’t been posing with the group, but he’d looked at the camera when the photo was taken.

Nearly a foot taller than my mother, he was blurred by motion, the details of his face hidden except for the cornflower blond of his hair and beard. But his blue eyes had caught the light and flared in the picture like two small gas-lit fires. He wore a white shirt with a black tie and slacks.

He could’ve been anyone.

A minivan pulled in behind me, and I watched through my rearview mirror as the driver and passenger hopped out. The passenger, a woman, dashed inside the convenience store while the man who’d been driving began pumping gas.

My attention flicked back to my phone. “You said his first name was Isaac, Uncle Greg?”

“Well, I don’t remember him,” Aunt Sara said with a final denial.

“Yeah. Isaac. Isaac…” Uncle Greg’s voice trailed off as though searching his memory. “Aw, hell. I can’t remember. It was Isaac something.”

Aunt Sara sighed. “Never heard of him.”

Isaac
. My gaze fell to the blurred photo of my angelic father. Did he still go by the same name? How many women had he seduced since this photo? How many half siblings did I have? The questions whirled through my head, each one spawning a new thought. But like an island amidst a raging sea, one crystallized above them all.

Could I kill this man?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Hey.”

I refused to turn, just kept my eyes on the numbers rolling over the gas pump, like I hadn’t heard a thing.

“Hey, aren’t you Madame Hellsbane, the psychic?”

Most times I get a kick out of being recognized. This wasn’t most times. I tensed my cheek muscles, forcing a smile as I looked over my shoulder at the guy standing next to the minivan. “Hi.”

“It is you. I knew it. Hey, honey…” Mr. Minivan, in his tie-dyed T-shirt and faded jeans, turned, yelling to his honey, who was still in the convenience store. He spun back to me. “She’s gonna be thrilled. We’re big fans.”

“It’s great to meet you,” I said, practiced professional smile in place.

I seriously didn’t have time for this. I’d just gotten a huge clue to the identity of my angelic father and I still needed to figure out a way to get close enough to take out Tommy’s. I needed to get home and do some serious Googling. Plus…I needed gas.

The problem was, in my business, reputation was everything. And this guy seemed nice. Nice enough to have a lot of friends. Plus, he kind of reminded me of Tommy. Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.

But he was tall like Tommy, over six feet, with the same thin, gangly, long-limbed build, though Tommy had been more muscled and about ten years younger. My tie-dyed fan kind of reminded me of a high school science teacher, with his hawklike features and his silver wire-framed glasses.

“My name’s Kyle.” He offered his hand, and I shook it over the top of my other, still on the gas pump. “You probably remember my wife, Sherry. You did a three-card reading for her at the big Beltane gathering last year. Waited two hours in line to see you.” His smile brightened. “It was great, by the way. Dead on.”

I nodded with a polite “good to know” smile. Even if I didn’t do thousands of readings a year, I’m horrible with putting names to faces.

The gas hose clicked off, and I yanked the nozzle out of the Jeep, turning to hook it back in the pump. “It was great seeing you again, Kyle, and I’d love to say hi to Sherry, but I’m kind of in a hurry…”

“Kyle?” a woman’s voice called, two beats before she joined us between my Jeep and the gas pumps. Seeing her tie-dyed shirt and jeans, I made the giant leap that she was Kyle’s wife.

“Ohmygod…You’re…you’re…”

“Madame Hellsbane,” Kyle said, translucent brows high on his forehead, smile wide and bright. “I tried to tell you.”

Sherry rushed toward me, shouldering Kyle out of the way. She grabbed my hand and shook it hard enough I thought she’d loosen my arm from my body.

“It is you—do you remember me—I can’t believe you’re pumping gas like a normal person—I’m such a fan—you’re shorter than I remember.” Words gushed out of her like she’d taken a verbal laxative.

I didn’t mind much. She was a sweetheart with twinkly milk chocolate eyes and a cheery smile. And she clearly liked me. Always a big plus.

“Of course,” I said, amping up the professional smile a few watts. “Sherry, right? We met at the Beltane gathering last year.”

Her jaw dropped, eyes wide. “That’s right. That’s right. You remember.”

I would’ve admitted to gleaning the info from Kyle if he called me on it, but he didn’t. Typical. People only pay attention to about half of what they say.

“Ohmygoodness, would you use your powers to tell us if we’re going to get pregnant soon?”

Crap
. I exhaled, smiling as I said, “Sure.”

The moment I agreed, a strange unease settled in my stomach, like the first hint of nausea. I scanned the small gas station lot on reflex. Cars passed by on the streets, stopping and starting with the stoplight. People pumped gas and strolled in and out of the convenience store, going about their business without so much as a glance in our direction.

Forcing myself to ignore the sensation, I took Sherry’s hand in mine. She reached for her husband. This would be the first time I tried foreseeing the future using the full angelic powers I’d been born with but only recently had begun to explore. I wanted to see what I could do on my own.

Eyes closed, I opened my mind to Kyle, then Sherry, their thoughts swirling fast and chaotic on the top of their minds. With questions about pregnancy and the wish for babies fresh in their thoughts, the couple’s hopes, worries, and fears rushed through my mind, filling my body with the sensations of their emotions. My stomach tightened, lungs squeezed, and a dull ache started at my back. Together, they were carrying a ton of baggage.

Please let it take this time,
Sherry thought, and her doubt twisted my gut.

What if I’m not a good dad?
I heard from Kyle, and his anxious emotion turned my veins to ice.

I pushed harder, pressed through the hazy layer of unfocused musings to the deeper echo of more concentrated thoughts. Within seconds, I learned they’d been trying for five years to get pregnant. There was a problem with Kyle’s sperm count, but pregnancy wasn’t impossible and their determination was undeniable.

And then,
Was Richard Hubert right? This is all our doing. We can fix this. We have the power within us to achieve perfection of the mind and body,
Kyle’s voice whispered through my mind. My heart stuttered at the mention in his thoughts of Richard Hubert. I opened my eyes before I could stop myself. The couple stood with their eyes closed, Kyle clutching Sherry’s hand with both of his.

The power is in me. I believe. The power is in me.
The mantra-like chant echoed through Sherry’s mind. I shifted my gaze to her. She and Kyle were desperate, clinging to any spark of hope. Richard Hubert, Spiritualist of the Faith Harvest Church, had given it to them. It seemed wrong.

“How do you know Richard Hubert?” I asked.

They opened their eyes together, blinking slowly, like they were trying to reason out why I’d asked.

“We…we just came from his afternoon sermon,” Kyle said. He dug into his back pocket, and handed me a twice-folded brochure. The edges of the folds were white and ragged from riding in his pocket, but I opened it to the front page and was met by a smiling photo of Richard Hubert.

He had the same jock-star good looks as Tommy. His thick build reminded me of a farmer, a man whose muscle and mass came from hard work rather than hours in the gym.

The photo caught him with his mouth open as though he’d been talking when they snapped the picture. His gaze skyward, his eyes bright blue, joy shining through clear as the sun. He had the same creamy butter-blond hair as Tommy, and the same rich curls, too. The biggest difference between father and son besides the age was that Richard Hubert wore his hair in a long ponytail at the base of his neck.

“He’s amazing,” Sherry said. “We’ve been watching him on TV for pretty near a year and when we heard he was gonna be right here in Pittsburgh, well, we just had to come and see him in person.”

“You met him? Like face to face?” I asked, wondering for one horrifying second if Sherry could have been the fallen angel’s latest victim.

“Sure, well, I mean, close enough,” she said, blushing. “We didn’t have great seats but we could still see him. Would’ve loved to actually shake his hand, but they rushed him off right after the sermon. Never got that close to him. Doesn’t matter—it was still amazing. There’s something about him. I just…believe. He makes sense, y’know? Some say he’s…well, they say he’s an angel.”

“Seriously?” How had anyone found out? Was Hubert telling humans what he was? That couldn’t be good.

Sherry nodded, quick and eager. “Yeah. And, well, normally I’d assume they meant it metaphorically, but after meeting him, listening to him…I don’t know.”

“Right.” My gaze flicked to the pentagram on the silver chain around her neck. “I thought it was a Christian revival thing?”

“No,” Sherry said, her hand fluttering to her necklace, fingering the pentagram charm. “Faith Harvest is an open-faith church. Believers in God in all His forms are welcome. It really is amazing.”

Yeah. So she kept saying.
Amazing
.

“There’s an admission coupon in there. Everyone who attends one of his sermons gets a brochure to spread the word,” Kyle said. He wagged a finger at the paper. “You can have it.”

“Thanks,” I said, folding the brochure along the same worn seams and shoving it into the back pocket of my jeans. It might come in handy if I couldn’t find the guy who’d promised to get Tommy into the sermon.

I sighed and took Sherry’s hand again, refocusing on the task. I was sure with their strong-willed determination and the powerful medical regimen they’d committed to, Sherry would eventually get pregnant. That was as close to predicting the future as I’d ever been able to do. I smiled and opened my mouth, ready to give my reading, when another voice tickled through my mind.

The power is in me. I believe. The power is in me.
The voice was softer, barely there, like a shadow following so close behind Sherry’s thoughts it was nearly indistinguishable. Every notion flittering through Sherry’s mind echoed in the thoughts of this other voice. As though this other mind shared every contemplation and emotion Sherry had, knew and thought only what passed through Sherry’s mind first.

My gaze dropped to her flat belly. A tiny little voice, an unfinished mind, cocooned in silence except for the thoughts and feelings of the one that surrounded it.
Holy Cow
. “You’re already pregnant.”

Sherry’s thoughts stopped cold and with it the echo of her baby’s thoughts. Her smile trembled at the corners of her mouth before taking hold.

“I am?” she said.

I am?
her baby’s thoughts echoed.

“I hear…” I stopped myself before I spoke crazy out loud. “I mean, I get the strong sense of another life joining yours and Kyle’s. And I believe that life is already with you.”

Sherry turned to Kyle, his eyes wide, his chest stiff with his held breath. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “We’re pregnant.”

I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant,
the wee voice mimicked. The sweet sound of it puttered through my mind, and I closed the door between us.

Sherry laughed, tentatively at first, before the emotion rolled through her body like a runaway snowball, shaking her slight frame and infecting Kyle. His breath exploded, his laugh bursting out of him like a champagne cork. They threw themselves together, hugging and kissing, utterly confident I was right.

I was.

How powerful was this ability? I’d tapped into the mind of a person who was barely a person at all. What more could I do? How far was my reach? The possibility sent a cold rush across the back of my neck. I shivered. A blanket of goose bumps tingled over my skin.

My powers were only a shadow of what the angels could do. These powers were new to me, mostly uncharted, untested. But there were illorum out there who’d been at this for decades, maybe longer. Who knew how much more there was to discover, how much more those seasoned illorum had learned?

The Fallen had sinned and continued to do so, but we, their children, were their most devastating offense. What kind of monsters had the Fallen unleashed on the world? Our fathers had to be stopped.

“I have to go,” I said, turning my back to the couple and heading around the front of my Jeep. “It was nice meeting you. Good luck with the baby.”

A warm breeze swept across the lot as I opened the Jeep’s metal-framed door. The heady scent of gasoline, mixed with the teasing aroma of French Fries and burgers from the neighboring fast food joint, flavored the summer air. But underneath, like decaying wood beneath the pretty plastic siding on a house, was the rancid odor of rotting eggs, ruining the sun-warmed scene.

“Brimstone.” I scanned the lot again, my vision touching for a moment on the two cars parked near a pay phone next to the exit. Two people sat in the front seat of one, though I couldn’t make out details. The other car looked empty. There were a few others parked in front of the store and at the far pump. Nothing out of the ordinary. I shifted my gaze to the street, to the people walking by, to the traffic stopping at the light, then driving on.

The hairs at the nape of my neck tickled with the feel of being watched. My heart thumped faster and faster by the second. The demons were close, whether I could see them or not. The risk of witnesses was all that stopped them. I was relatively safe in the busy convenience store lot, but cowering by the gas pumps wouldn’t get me any closer to Tommy’s Fallen. I had to get home, where I could safely surf the Internet for answers.

I climbed in behind the wheel and slammed the lightweight door closed. Kyle and Sherry waved as I pulled onto the main road.

No one was following; I was almost positive. Glancing back between the long strips of electrician’s tape that patched the slices in my back window, I kept an eye on the cars leaving the lot behind me. None pulled out after I passed. None of the cars nearing behind me looked like any I’d noticed in the gas station. I was away, clean.

More than halfway home, I made the left into Sycamore Park out of habit. It was a little after three, and the sun was bright, but the twisting road through the park was lined with thick trees, branches arching over the pavement like the roof of a tunnel. Sunlight dappled through like a strobe light. I knew the road by heart, and during the flashing instances when my vision was obscured, I drove by memory.

Almost at the end of the park, the road made a long, blind bend to the right around a steep hill. I turned the wheel just as the street began to straighten out, and a blur of movement caught my eye to the right. Before I could think, something shot down the hillside beside me and onto the road. I stomped the brakes and the clutch together, screeching to a stop, but not before I plowed into the large, solid obstacle.

God, what was that?
What had I hit, a dog, a deer? I could taste my heart at the back of my throat. My hands clenched so tightly on the steering wheel, my knuckles whitened. I peered over the hood and saw the mangled bicycle in the middle of the road.
Oh God, oh God
. I’d hit a kid.

Despite my foot on the clutch, the Jeep had stalled, but I turned the ignition off to make it official. I didn’t want to look. I knew I’d hit him hard. My windshield was shattered, my hood dented in the shape of his shoulder and torso. I unhooked my seat belt and opened the door, slipping out.