Infernal Games (Templar Chronicles Urban Fantasy Series) (8 page)

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T
he
crime scene unit came hustling in right in the wake of the Preceptor’s departure
and for the next twenty minutes Riley had his hands full directing their
efforts in processing the scene. Their work was well underway by the time he
found a moment to follow-up on his other pressing concern.

All
the Templar vehicles – be they for land, sea, or sky – were outfitted with
electronic tracking devices to allow the Order to best support their personnel
in the field. The SUV Cade had decided to take for a joyride had one as well,
and it was a relatively simple matter to corner Kepler, one of the Crime Scene
Unit’s tech specialists, and ask him to run a trace on the vehicle.

“Do
you want to know where it is now or where it’s been?” Kepler asked.

“You
can do that? Track where the vehicle has been?” Riley was surprised, he
hadn’t realized that was possible.

Kepler
shrugged. “You make it sound like rocket science, but it’s really just a
matter of tracking the cell towers that the tracker uses to ping its location
and then building a trail from there. The towers purge their data nightly, so
as long we’re not tracing a route that’s more than twenty-four hours old we’ll
be just fine. Give me fifteen minutes.”

It
took less than ten. Before he knew it Riley was staring at a satellite map
displayed on the screen of Kepler’s laptop watching a reconstruction of the
route the SUV had taken after roaring out of the parking lot of the warehouse
complex. The vehicle had wound its way through the city streets until it
reached Interstate 95. From there it had headed southwest for several exits
before getting off on one of the county roads leading north. A few short minutes
after that the vehicle arrived at its destination.

841
Didymus Lane.

It
was an address Riley knew well; he’d been teasing his friend about living on a
street named after Doubting Thomas for several years now.

Kepler
opened up a smaller window on the screen and looked at the numbers displayed
there before whistling aloud. “Damn, your boy was moving fast!”

“How
can you tell?”

“Look
here,” Kepler said, pointing at one of the columns displayed on the screen.
“These are the times that the transponder in the car binged the cell tower;
there’s less then five minutes between pings. These numbers here,” he
continued, pointing to another column, “given the distance between towers. I’m
no math genius, but off the top of my head I’d say your boy was pushing a
C-note headed down I95.”

Why
had Cade needed to get home so fast?

Riley didn’t know, but he intended to find
out. He thanked Kepler for his help, gave orders to the rest of his team to
assist with whatever the CSU squad needed, and then commandeered one of the
other SUVs for his own use. Within minutes he was on his way out of the city,
following the same route Cade had taken nearly an hour before.

––––––––

R
iley parked the car on the side of the
street opposite the house and sat and watched the property for a few minutes,
not wanting to rush into anything. The SUV that Cade had “borrowed” was parked
in the driveway near the entrance to the house, the driver’s door standing
open. The lights were on inside the house, but Riley didn’t see any movement
through the windows and he had the definite sense that no one was home.

He
got out of his vehicle and quietly shut the door behind him. Reaching down
with his right hand, he unseated his pistol from the holster he was wearing
gunslinger-style around his right thigh and then reseated it again. He didn’t
want the weapon getting stuck if he had to draw it suddenly and there was no
doubt that the situation had him on edge.

Doing
what he could to keep an eye on the house and the SUV at the same time, Riley
walked up the long driveway and approached the Suburban. The interior light
was off, but there was enough ambient light coming from the house to let him
see that the keys were still in the ignition.

Had
Cade been in such a rush that he’d simply left them there? Or had he been
planning on leaving in a hurry and hadn’t gotten the chance?

His
apprehension growing, he climbed the steps and crossed to the door. This close
he could see that it was only held on with one hinge and had been simply
propped in its frame.

Riley’s
heart skipped a beat at the sight.

He
reached down and drew his pistol. With it extended in front of him, he reached
out with his other hand and gently pushed the door.

It
moved about an inch or so and then stopped. Through the gap in the door he
could see something was pushed up behind it.

The
sofa?

Planting
his feet more firmly, Riley put his hand flat against the door and gave it a
solid shove.

This
time it opened about a foot, giving him just enough room to slip inside.

He
paused and listened for movement, unconsciously mimicking Cade’s activity of
less than an hour before. Like his former teammate, he heard nothing.

The
house felt empty, even more so now that he was inside, but he was too good a
soldier to take something like that for granted. He moved through the first
floor – living room, foyer, kitchen/family room – turning on lights as he went
and making certain there was no one waiting in the shadows. When he was
satisfied that the first floor was as deserted as he’d suspected it to be, he
made his way up the staircase to the second floor.

The
room at the end of the hall beckoned, the fire-blackened door and obvious
interior disarray like a magnet for his attention, but he refused to be lured
into making any hasty moves. He cleared the two bedrooms on either side of the
hall and then the bathroom just beyond before moving to satisfy his curiosity
with the final bedroom.

The
charred blast circle near the edge of the door showed where it had been hit
with a bolt of arcane power, proof enough that someone other than Cade had been
in the house and recently.
Had he gotten some kind of warning that someone
had breached his defenses? Had that been why he’d rushed out of the
warehouse?

Cautiously, Riley stepped forward into the
room, gun at the ready, turning as he did to take in the entire interior.

There
was no one there.

This
room, like all the others, was empty.

It
was clear that a struggle of some kind had taken place within its confines,
however. If the damaged door wasn’t enough evidence, the slashed bed sheets,
crushed bookcase, and tattered paperbacks lying all over the place certainly
fit the bill.

Who,
or what, had Cade been fighting?

From
the window in the back bedroom he had a good view of the rear yard and looking
out, his gaze fell on the converted barn that served as Cade’s workroom and
study. Riley had been inside quite a number of times, most recently when he’d
helped save Cade’s life after he’d exhausted himself hunting through the Beyond
for the soul of his dead wife.

Correction.
Not-dead. But not quite alive either.

The
thought of Cade’s wife, Gabrielle, caused another memory to surface in Riley’s
mind.

Cade
had exhumed his wife’s coffin several months ago. Riley had helped him do it.
The Knight Commander had been suspicious that his wife had not perished at the
hands of the Adversary, but was actually trapped in some purgatory-like realm
between the lands of the living and those of the dead. He’d been right, too;
they’d found Gabrielle’s body lying inside on that bed of satin, perfectly
preserved. There had even been color in her cheeks, as if she was just about
to get up and begin the day anew.

The
average person would have freaked out at the sight, but the supernatural was a
regular part of Riley’s day-to-day existence and Gabrielle’s strange stasis was
barely a blip on his oddity meter given what he dealt with on a daily basis as
a member of the Echo Team. Riley had helped Cade bring his wife home but had
forgotten all about her in the events that followed, including his own
near-death at the hands of the Adversary.

So
what had happened to Gabrielle? Had the Adversary’s death freed her in some
fashion? Was she what Cade had been fighting to protect?

More
questions, too few answers.

And
he wasn’t about to find any while standing around here.

There
was still a chance there was something to learn in the workroom out back, so he
retraced his steps through the house and left via the back door in the kitchen,
headed for the large structure behind the house.

A
pair of doors on rolling tracks provided entrance into the workshop and Riley
found them unlocked. He slid one to the side and then flipped on the light
switch just inside.

The
barn’s original structure had been gutted and rebuilt, turning the lower floor
into a well-furnished study. What had once been horse stables was now a large,
open room with bookshelves covering every available inch of wall space and
several work tables arranged in a semi-circle in the middle of the room facing
the door. A wood-burning stove, now cold and dark, stood in the far corner,
its black pipe running up through a hole in the floor to the second story, high
above.

The
large circular mirror that had once occupied the center of the room through
which Cade had accessed the Beyond was gone and the enclosure that had turned
the hayloft above into an enclosed room had also been torn out, leaving the
space open and bare.

A
quick check showed Riley that Cade’s go-bag, the one he kept stocked and ready
for an emergency call out, was missing, as was the sword that was normally
stored in its place of honor on the wall. The missing equipment made Riley
realize that Cade’s personal vehicle was missing from the driveway outside as
well.

Cade
was gone and he’d taken his gear with him.

Sighing
in frustration, Riley holstered his weapon, reached into his pocket, and took
out his cell phone. He dialed a number, then waited for the voice mail prompt
to finish.

When
it had, he said, “We need to talk. Call me and let me know what’s going on,
Cade. People are starting to get worried.”

He
didn’t bother leaving his name, knowing Cade would recognize his voice.

He
just hoped his friend would call him back before things got worse.

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A
s
Riley was going methodically through his house, Cade stepped up to the TSA
agent at the podium, handed over his passport and boarding pass, and calmly
waited while his paperwork was being examined.

In
exchange for the safe return of his wife’s body, the Necromancer had demanded
that Cade carry out three specific tasks. Cade had little choice but to agree;
he didn’t have the slightest clue where the Necromancer might be hiding and
couldn’t afford to endanger Gabrielle while he worked to track the Necromancer
down. Better to go along with Logan’s request and wait for the opportunity to
turn the tables on the other man when and if the chance presented itself.
Given that Cade’s cooperation depended on Gabrielle’s continued well-being, he
was fairly confident that she would be all right for the time being, even in
Logan’s hands.

The
TSA agent glanced at Cade’s face, then at the picture on the passport.

“Your
destination?”

The
information was right there on his boarding pass, but Cade smiled just the same
and replied, “Paris.” He knew better than to add any additional details; the
less said the better, for it reduced the chance you’d screw up later if someone
tried to catch you with your own contradictory statements.

The
TSA agent gave his damaged face another quick look and then made a quick
checkmark on Cade’s boarding pass before handing his documentation back to him.

Cade
breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. The passport was technically
genuine – it had been officially issued by the Vatican with his picture on it –
but it was under a false name and had been one of the cover identities the
Order had provided for his use while head of the Echo Team.

Of
course there was the chance that the Order would have flagged all of his
passports, or at least those they knew about, but he didn’t think he’d given
them reason enough to do so yet. The time would come, he was certain of that,
but he thought he had a few more days of free movement before they started seriously
trying to track him down.

Hopefully
he would be finished before then.

He
stepped over to the x-ray machine and handed both his duffle bag and his sword
case to the TSA agent standing there. The other passengers gave him a few odd
stares, but he ignored them; his bags were marked with Vatican diplomatic seals
and as such couldn’t be searched or subjected to x-ray examination. Which was
a good thing, he mused as he stepped into the body scanner, since the sword and
firearms the bags contained would no doubt cause a bit of an incident.

The
TSA agent running the scanner must have been in a bad mood, for he kept Cade in
the machine twice as long as normal and then subjected him to a pat down and
wand search on top of it all. Cade dutifully did as he was told and was
eventually sent through. He collected his bags on the other end and then
headed for his gate.

Cade
had booked a first class seat on a direct flight out of New York to Paris and
the plane was boarding when he arrived at the gate. He stored his bags in the
overhead compartment and then settled into his seat, his thoughts on what was
to come once he reached France.

“Can
I get you a drink, Father?”

Cade
didn’t realize the flight attendant was speaking to him until she put a hand on
his wrist and repeated herself. “Father Evans? Would you like a drink?”

Cade
blinked, then smiled. “Yes, please. Orange juice if you have it.”

“Of
course.”

As
the flight attendant moved to the galley to comply with his request, Cade
mentally kicked himself for momentarily forgetting who he was supposed to be;
his anxiety over Gabrielle worse than he realized. His passport had him listed
as Father Michael Evans, a priest travelling to Paris on Vatican business, and
he was dressed for the role in black pants and shoes, black shirt, and the thin
piece of white plastic that was often jokingly referred to as a dog collar.

Evans
, he told himself.
Your name is Evans.

He
needed to clear his head and get with the program or he could screw it all up
before he even got started. And Gabrielle would suffer for it.

When
the flight attendant came back he chatted with her for a few minutes, knowing
the conversation would help him adopt his new persona so that he could pull it
out when he needed it, like slipping into an old but comfortable suit. He
didn’t expect anyone to question him or his background when he arrived at his
destination, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

After
the attendant moved on to deal with other passengers, Cade draped a blanket
over himself and settled in for some rest. Flying time was just under seven
hours. With a six hour time change between the two cities he should arrive in
Paris just before lunch. That should give him plenty of time to rent a car and
make the drive to his destination in the Pyrenees Mountains before dark. He
didn’t want to be on those narrow mountain roads in the middle of the night if
he could help it.

With
that in mind, he drifted off to sleep.

For
the first time in months, the dream returned.

He stands alone in the center of the street, in a town that has
no name. He knows from previous experience that, just a few blocks beyond this
one the town suddenly ends, becoming a great plain of nothingness, the
landscape an artist’s canvas that stands untouched, unwanted.

This town has once again become the center of
his universe.

Around him, the blackened buildings sag in
crumbling heaps, testimony to the battles he has fought here on previous
visits. The sky above the ruins is growing dark, though night is still hours
away. Dark grey storm clouds laced with green-and-silver lightning are rolling
in from the horizon, like horses running hard to reach the town’s limits before
the fated confrontation begins. The air is heavy with impending rain and the
electrical tension of the coming storm. In the slowly fading afternoon light
the shadows around him stretch and move, reminding him that they have teeth of
his own.

The sound of booted feet striking the
pavement catches his attention, and he turns to face the length of the street
before him, expecting to see his foe emerge from the crumbled ruins at its end,
just as he has emerged each and every time they have encountered one another in
this place, as if his enemy is always there, silently waiting with infinite
patience for him to make his appearance.

For the first time, however, the street
remains empty.

His enemy is not here.

Of course not,
he thinks in a moment of
lucid clarity.
The Adversary is no more. You destroyed him.

But the sense of expectation remains.

A chill wind suddenly rises, stirring the
hairs on the back of his neck, and in that wind, he is certain he can hear the
soft, sibilant whispers of a thousand lost souls, each and every one crying out
to him to provide solace and sanctuary.

The voices act as a physical force, pushing
him forward from behind, and before he knows it he is striding urgently down
the street. As he does so the scene shifts, wavers, the way a mirage will
shimmy in the heat rising from the pavement.

When the world solidifies once more, he finds
himself standing in a cemetery. He recognizes it; he has been here before, as
well. Large, carefully sculpted angels adorn the nearest of the gravestones,
with only the word Godspeed carved beneath them. Older, more decayed stones
decorate the other burial plots nearby, but he is not close enough to see the
details etched there.

A feeling of urgency grips him in its bony
fist.

It forces him into motion, and he sets off
across the lawn, winding in and out between the stones, letting that feeling
guide his passage until he sees a small plot set off from the rest by a white
picket fence. In the strange twilight, the rails of the fence gleam with the
wetness of freshly exposed bone. The coppery tang of blood floats on the night
air.

As he moves closer he can see that the earth
on the other side of the fence has been freshly disturbed. A grave lies open,
a gaping hole in the peaceful sea of green grass that surrounds it, filled with
darkness deeper than that of the night sky above. This intrusion of the
landscape and of the sanctity of the place draws him closer still, pulling him
in toward it the way a fly is coaxed into a spider’s web.

He stops just short of the small fence and
gazes down into the darkness of the grave.

His
wife’s body lies resting at the bottom of the grave, dressed in the same
clothes she’d been wearing earlier that morning, the clothes Cade himself had
dressed her in.

This
is new and his heart beats all the more swiftly as the familiar fades into the
unknown.

Gabrielle
looks so peaceful lying there, a faint smile upon her lips.

That’s
when her eyes pop open and that faint smile stretches into a terrible grin.

“
Hello, Cade,”
she says in the voice of the
Adversary.

Cade jerked awake with a start, his heart
trip hammering in his chest and his face covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

For
a moment he didn’t know where he was, then the flight attendant’s voice came
over the intercom, announcing their approach into Charles de Gaulle airport and
the events of the last several hours came flooding back.

He
was on a plane, headed for France to steal the hand of a dead man on behalf of
one of his most despised enemies.

Just
another day in the life.