Out of Sight (14 page)

“I knew is all. I’ve got it written down. And he was easy to find once I got here. I want to stay.” He looked hard at Sykes. “I can stay if I want to, I know that. But I want to know my…dad.”

It was Sykes turn to swallow. The kid was needy, but not sorry for himself. Determined. But he also longed for family connections.

The glasses were a nuisance. Sykes was convinced that without them, when he could get a good look at the eyes, he’d know if this was a Millet—even if they weren’t green.

“How long have you been into the Goth thing?”

David shrugged. “My stepdad hated it.”

“Does that mean you’re into it because of that?”

“It made it more appealing,” David said. “It’s been a while now. Will you help me persuade Pascal to give me a chance? I mean a chance to prove myself?”

Sykes considered the question. “Do I seem like a soft touch to you?”

“No! But you’re fair and you’re too strong to be afraid of anything. What can you do?”

The way David phrased that made Sykes smile. “Leave marks for you to follow evidently. What do they look like?”

“Black shapes.”

“That’s it? The shape of feet in black or what?”

“Black shapes. All kinds of them. Now it’s your turn.”

Sykes laughed aloud. “Fair enough. I’m telepathic. So are you, but you can’t get past my guard. I could get past yours if I wanted to, but we have rules about respecting privacy. Unless we’re threatened, or someone innocent needs help.”

“You know I’m telepathic because you felt me trying to read you,” David said, matter-of-factly. “I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t getting anything. Tell me what else you can do.”

“No. In time you may learn more about me, we’ll see.”

“Who are the Embran?”

Sykes didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “Where did you get that?”

“Gray. He’s worried about them. With Marley expecting a baby he’s afraid the Embran will hurt her because he thinks she’ll try to help stop them. I just don’t know who they are or what they’re doing.”

“I think we should get back to Royal Street.”

“You just figured out I’m the real thing, didn’t you?” David said.

Sykes took out some bills and put them on the table.

David unzipped a couple of inches at the top of his coat and contorted himself to get a hand deep in an inside pocket. He took out two tens. “How much do you think this was?” he asked, craning to see the blackboard. “I ought to pay for both eggs.”

“This is on me,” Sykes told him.

“I pay my own way.”

“You didn’t decide to come in here, I invited you. It’s rude to turn down hospitality.”

David stared at him. “You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’m just fine.”

Just fine, and desperate to prove you can carry your own weight.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Sykes said. “But I’m buying this meal.”

David tightened his hand around the money, his eyes trained hard on the table. Then he slid the tens back inside his duster.

That was when Sykes saw traces of green and yellow bruising above the baggy neck of a black cotton turtleneck.

“I
’m going to find him,” Pascal said. “And when I do, I’ll kill him.”

He couldn’t keep still and moved from one side of his office at the back of the shop to the other.

For once Anthony didn’t try to calm him down. As buff, blond and all-American-looking as ever, he watched his partner with the same kind of rage mirrored in Pascal’s eyes. Anthony might spend most of his time in sweats and looking after Pascal’s health, but he had also learned at the elbow of a master and knew his antiques well enough to be very useful. In many ways he was Pascal’s right hand and he was certainly his number one fan.

Sykes glanced through the windows of the office toward the steps up to Pascal’s flat where David had been sent to wait with Gray and Nat.

“I’m making a lot of assumptions,” Sykes pointed out. “I don’t think he wears all the heavy clothes because he likes being hot as hell. I think he’s covering up bruises and the only kind of bruises you take that
much trouble to hide are the kind you don’t want anyone to ask about.”

“Did it look like someone put their hands around his neck?” Anthony said.

“Could be. I can’t be more exact than that. He likes you, Pascal. He’s ready to idolize you.”

His uncle closed his eyes tightly and in a rare show of affection, Anthony put an arm around his shoulders. “You gotta keep an open mind. Whether he’s your boy or not, maybe this is a chance to do something for a youngster who would benefit. Sykes says he’s got talents.”

“I think he could be powerful,” Sykes said. “I caught him trying to read me. Didn’t get him anywhere, of course—he didn’t deny it. But the way he found me at Fortunes couldn’t have been an accident, and I told him so. He reads energy patterns. Says they’re black and white—on the ground—and we all have different ones.”

Pascal nodded slowly. “Yes. I can’t recall who else has something like that, but it’ll come to me. I want a doctor to look at him.”

“Good luck,” Sykes said, although Pascal’s reaction didn’t surprise him.

“He wants to please you,” Anthony put in. “If he thinks it matters to you for him to see someone, he’ll do it.”

“I’ll have my guy make a house visit.” Pascal drew himself up. “Then we’ll see what comes next.”

“He’s got things to tell you,” Sykes said. “He told me a bit but I’m going to let him talk to you himself. He says he’s got some sort of proof he is who he says he is.”

“He is,” Anthony said, fixing his eyes on a distant point.

Pascal frowned at him. “How would you know?”

“I may not be paranormal, but I’ve got some good instincts.”

“Hogwash,” Pascal said with his customary command of contemporary lingo. “I’ll be the one to make my mind up about this.”

“He knows about the Embran,” Sykes said.

“What?” Pascal scrubbed a hand over his smooth scalp. “How can he? Who’s he been talking to?”

“He hasn’t been talking to anyone. It was last night. He was hooked into Gray and Gray’s worried about Marley trying to help out with the current situation.”

Pascal’s smirk, rather like a proud parent, made Sykes smile.

“There’s trouble up there, y’know,” Pascal said, replacing the smile with a frown. “Gray’s told Nat he’ll fill in for Bucky Fist.”

“Ah.” Sykes drew his lips back from his teeth. “And Marley’s pissed.”

“It’s Wazoo who’s angry. She says Nat’s taking advantage. As soon as Marley went to her workroom, Wazoo laid into Nat. Things were going badly when you arrived.”

Sykes had sent David up to the flat and told him to ask Pascal to come down to the shop where Anthony was watching over things.

Mario sat on Pascal’s desk looking from one face to another as they spoke. Sykes couldn’t imagine another animal who would get away with being on that venerable piece of furniture, but Pascal had an obvious liking for the rough-haired red critter who’s little ears stood up in perky points while his whiskers stuck out in a bristling mustache.

“We’re really busy,” Anthony said in a hoarse whisper. “Right now. Look at this map. It’s an English county map from the 1700s.”

Sykes and Pascal moved as one to bend over the desk and stare at a hand-drawn map in poor condition but interesting just the same. “What’s going on?” Pascal said.

“Drama on the stairs,” Anthony said, offering Pascal a magnifying glass. “Love is such sweet sorrow.”

“That’s, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow,’” Sykes said.

“Same difference,” Anthony remarked. “Probably fits the situation better.”

“Gawd,” Pascal said. “Arguing Shakespeare, no less.”

Sykes contrived to look up from beneath his brows. Nat and Wazoo were talking on the stairs but almost at once Wazoo walked the rest of the way down and headed for the door.

Nat followed and when he took her in his arms she
didn’t resist. Sykes cleared his throat. “Keep studying the map.”

His next check showed a passionate kiss that had staying power.

Wazoo flattened her hands on Nat’s chest and slowly withdrew. She looked up at him and Sykes saw the sheen of tears on her face. Then she opened the door and hurried away.

Nat stood there looking out, his hands in his pockets, before he bowed his head and sank to sit on a dark wooden stool.

“O-kay,” Sykes said. “We need to get out of this carefully—unless Nat does us a favor and decides to leave, too.”

Nat stood up again and scuffed his way across the floor. He had seen the three men in the office and he opened the door. “Gray’s up there with David. Nice kid. Gray’s going to come back on board with me for a little while. I’m going to need you, Sykes, and both Liam and Poppy later this afternoon. I’ll let you know when.”

“Right,” Sykes said.

Nat made to leave the office but stuck his head around the door again. “In case you’re interested, Wazoo’s got to get back to Toussaint to see some clients. That’s all I’ve got to say about it, so don’t ask any questions.”

When he had been younger, Pascal thought that if he was ever in a stable relationship it might be a good
idea to adopt a kid. When he was forty he met Anthony and now they had been together for eight years. The subject of a child had not come up between them.

And now, while he sat in his sitting room surrounded by the collection of beautiful things he had put together, and thought about the comfortable patterns of his life, it amazed him that the thought of having someone who was part of him, and could turn out to be a big responsibility, appealed so much.

His doctor was giving David the once-over. At first the boy demurred, but just a little harder push and he gave in.

Anthony wanted David to be Pascal’s. Pascal knew his friend too well not to recognize the difference between sincerity and trying to make him happy.

Dr. Phil Cooper came into the room.

Pascal leaned to one side, expecting to see David behind him.

“He’s getting dressed, and I told him to lie down and rest a bit until you went back to get him. He’s worn out and undernourished. I’d like him to come to the office for some blood work. I think he’s probably just exhausted, mentally and physically, and he’ll bounce back fast if he’s given the opportunity.”

“Did you find out…what else do you think?”

The doc rested his bag on the arm of a chair and pushed his glasses back up his squat nose. “Someone beat the crap out of him. Probably tried to strangle him, only he fought them off. David’s thin but he’s strong. Whoever did it used something that allowed him
to beat him without getting too close. The mess around that one eye must have slowed the boy down, too. It looks worse than it is. It’ll be fine.”

Pascal listened and simmered. He didn’t realize he’d made fists until his fingernails dug into the skin on his palms.

“I can’t work this out for you, Pascal,” Phil said. “But if you want to talk, I’m there for you. Let him have a quiet twenty-four hours, then get him to me. I want to see him regardless.”

“Regardless?”

“Of what you decide to do about him. He’s a very bright kid and he’s had a rotten time of it. The recent beating was only the latest of many. If you want my guess, I’d say he stayed wherever he was for someone else’s sake.”

When Phil had left, Pascal took a while to gather himself. What did he know about kids? True, this one was eighteen and as good as a man, but he wasn’t a man yet. He needed guidance from someone who understood the right things to do.

He couldn’t let the boy wait in there and wonder what was going on any longer.

The door to the guest bedroom was ajar. Pascal knocked once and when he heard a mumble, pushed his way in. Rather than lying on the bed, David sat in a chintz wing chair Pascal kept because it had belonged to his mother. The sunglasses were on the bedside table and there was no sign of the black duster. In a long-
sleeved gray T-shirt and jeans, David looked different, and not just because the bruises around his neck were clear to see, or he had a short wound by his blackened left eye that sported a couple of fresh butterfly dressings Phil must have applied. David was, indeed, very thin.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was stupid to come here like this. If I came at all I should have waited till—” he touched his temple “—till all this was faded. I heal fast. But once I made up my mind to find you, I felt like I had to hurry. Don’t know why when I waited so long already.”

Pascal sat on the edge of the bed where he could get the best look at David. “Is your hair red?” He thought he saw the start of red glints growing back.

“Yeah. I used to dye it black and wear it long to make Sim mad, but it’s easier just to shave it.”

The eyes that looked at him as if waiting for a death sentence were as green as Pascal’s own. David’s eyebrows flared and when his face filled in a little, he would look like Pascal, only it was obvious David would eventually be taller.

Pascal looked at his hands.

“We have something in common,” he said. “We’re both rebels. I shaved my head for a different reason but it was because I wanted to make a point, just like you.”

David gave a single laugh and cleared his throat.

“We’ve got a problem,” Pascal said. “You understand that?”

“Of course. And if you don’t want to know anything else about me, I’ll understand and I’ll get lost.”

“What did you think would happen when you came here to me?”

“I didn’t know. My mom said you were a really good guy. She always told me that. She said the two of you weren’t meant to be together, and she understood that. But Mom wasn’t sorry to have me. She told me that a lot.”

“What do you want to happen now?” Pascal said. He couldn’t admit he didn’t remember the boy’s mother.

David spread his long fingers. “I’m embarrassed,” he said. “I feel like a little kid who believed in fairy stories. Like you were going to throw your arms around me and tell me you’d been trying to find me for years, or something. I’m just being honest but I’ve got it together, so don’t worry. I’ll get a job and a place to live, and now I don’t have to deal with my stepfather anymore, I’ll see about getting into college.”

“You’re paranormal.”

David smiled. “Yep.”

“I’ve been trying to remember who else I know who can follow movement energy patterns.”

“Sykes told you.”

“Yeah. He says you’re going to be really good.”

David looked pleased. Thin white curtains billowed away from an open window, bringing the heady scents of the city into the room. Pascal noticed the appreciative flare of David’s nostrils.

“You move things but you don’t expect that to last as you get older,” Pascal said, smiling a little. “It may, though. How much control do you have?”

With his eyes lowered, David appeared deep in thought. Pascal jumped when the wraparound sunglasses landed on his face.

Impressed, he said, “That’s a permanent thing. You’re a hundred percent in control. Really useful.”

David took the glasses back from Pascal. “Sykes wouldn’t talk about his talents—except the telepathy.”

“I don’t suggest you ask him again,” Pascal said, amused. “And you’d better hope you don’t find out because he needs to neutralize you.”

“He’s a killer?” David said in hushed tones.

“I didn’t say that.” Pascal decided it was time to move on. “Dr. Cooper wants to do some blood work on you.”

David’s brow furrowed. “I’m in great shape. This is nothing.” He touched his eye and winced.

“I want you to get it done.”

In the silence that followed, they looked at each other.

“I should get out of your hair.” David laughed and ran a hand over his own scalp. “So to speak. The Y will do until I can get a place of my own.”

“Do you have a picture of your mother?”

The kid went still.

“Do you?”

“Yes. Three of them. My mom’s a looker.” He got
up and went to pull his backpack out of the closet. He unzipped a side pocket and took out a long envelope. When he slid the photos from inside, he looked at them one at a time, his expression closed. Then he handed them to Pascal.

David’s mother as she must be now: tired-looking but attractive with light brown hair falling straight and shiny from a side part. The hair turned under at the bottom. Her eyes were blue. She wore a floral sundress and had a nice figure.

It was the earliest picture of the woman, somewhere in her twenties, that made Pascal catch his breath. In baggy denim overalls, a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back, this girl’s wide smile smote at him. He managed not to blurt out that he knew it had been taken at a Habitat for Humanity project in Alabama, or that he wouldn’t be surprised if David’s mother had never had a drink before that night but that, together, they drank enough to pass out cold. He didn’t tell him that he and the girl had been friends and they had really liked each other. They had gone their separate ways after that night, the last night they had been there, and never been in contact again. Gillian. He remembered her name now.

Gently, David touched a folded piece of paper to Pascal’s fingers.

Their eyes met and Pascal took what he was offered, unfolded it and looked at his son’s birth certificate.