Unholy Ghosts (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-three

“It is always wise to have a fireproof safe, or perhaps a safe-deposit box located elsewhere, in which to store family photos and documents, particularly those of a genealogical nature. You never know when disaster might strike.”

—
Mrs. Increase’s Advice for Ladies
, by Mrs. Increase

The envelope wasn’t under the mattress, not quite. It sat inside the box spring, tucked into a clumsily mended slice in the flowered fabric, but Chess’s breath caught just the same. She hadn’t expected it would be there. Most people destroyed incriminating documents, or at least stored them elsewhere. In the normal run of a case Chess might interview dozens of friends and acquaintances, would break into their homes later to hunt for anything they might have been given and told to hide. So for this to be here, still in the house…inside the box spring was a safe hiding spot, but not the safest.
Unless they’d known it was all going wrong, had felt their energy being sucked away as the thief gained power, and had put it there in hopes it would be found by someone who could help them. Someone who would need to know who’d done this to them, so the culprit could be punished. Also possible.
She shrugged. Wasn’t up to her why they’d chosen to incriminate themselves, only that they had. She picked up the envelope and straightened the pins on the flap.
The contents were light. Only a few sheets of paper and two faded photographs. One of a woman—barely more than a girl, really—with a tired, mournful expression, holding a baby. The other was of a young man at a graduation—a Church graduation, wearing a blue brimmed hat and sash. Chess had a hat just like that in her apartment, still in its clear plastic box shoved to the back of her closet shelf.
Oh, fuck. She’d been wrong, wrong and stupid. The awkward smile on the face staring back at her—how many times had she seen that smile, dismissed it? Dismissed him? Not a good Debunker, boring, not very smart…
Looked like Randy Duncan was a lot smarter than she’d thought.
Randy Duncan who, according to the birth certificate in the envelope, was Mrs. Morton’s illegitimate son. Now that Chess was looking at it she saw the resemblance, the very thing that had bothered her the first time she met Mrs. Morton.
Randy never told her he’d found his birth mother, or anything about his life at all. Chess knew he was adopted, but all of this—the birth certificate, the bill from a private investigations firm showing how much money the Mortons had invested in finding him—he’d never mentioned. Not once. Of course…He wouldn’t have. Not when he figured he could use the Church to recoup their money for them and finally get them that bigger house.
The Mortons would report a haunting. Randy would investigate and claim it was a real one. The Church would pay, and everyone would be happy.
Until she stepped in and took the case. Now at least she knew whose name had been next in the case queue.
Was this really what all of this was about? Why the fuck had he brought the Lamaru in on this, what the hell was he thinking? Was he really such a failure he’d needed to turn to them to summon a ghost, instead of doing it himself? They learned basic Summoning in their second year, for fuck’s sake. She could have summoned a ghost right there, if she needed to—it would have been illegal, but she could do it—so why couldn’t Randy? Why had he needed to go to the Lamaru, why summon an entity like Ereshdiran instead of a basic ghost?
That just didn’t make sense, didn’t fit, even as the rest of her questions were answered. Her instinct at her first visit, that the Mortons were faking, had been right on. They had been—before. But somehow during that visit, they’d managed to get Ereshdiran here—Ereshdiran, jacked high on her own power—and all hell had broken loose, with her in the center of it. And all because Randy wanted to help his family. Poor, stupid, naive Randy—Randy who’d gotten mixed up somehow with the Lamaru.
No wonder Mrs. Morton hadn’t destroyed these, hadn’t even been able to bear storing them elsewhere. It must have been awful, giving up a baby, searching for years…Chess couldn’t imagine it, any more than she could imagine what it would be like to have someone spend that much money and time just to be a part of her life.
She cleared her throat. “Okay. I think this is all we—”
“Not so fast.”
Oh, shit. She spun around on legs that felt ready to collapse beneath her to see Randy in the doorway, barely three feet from her, with a dull, black hunting knife clutched in one shiny, pale hand. His normally messy hair stuck to his forehead in crooked, sweaty stripes; his teeth gnawed at his dry lips, leaving red spots where they tore the fragile skin.
How stupid was she? Of course Randy was going to show up here. Of course he would have a knife. Had she actually thought a locked front door would keep him out?
She’d thought she was being so clever, having Terrible park one block over so their presence in the house wasn’t advertised, bringing him up here with her to help her search so it would go more quickly. It hadn’t even occurred to her to set any magical traps of any kind.
Now she would pay for that with her life.
Terrible was on the other side of the bed. There was no way he could reach Randy before Randy reached her, and she wasn’t a bad fighter, but she didn’t think she could take Randy down before he hurt her badly. She caught Terrible’s eye, gave her head a tiny shake.
“I think you have something that belongs to me,” Randy said. “Quite a few things, in fact, starting with my birth certificate and ending with my amulet. Drop the papers and tell me where the amulet is, please.”
The papers fell back to the bed with a quiet rippling sound. “It’s in my bag. Over there by the closet.”
“Oh, no. You go get it. I’m not taking my eyes away from you and whoever this thug you’re hanging out with is. Not after what he did to Doyle.”
“So you ran into Doyle, huh.”
“Get the bag. Move slow.”
She slid her foot to her left, inching sideways across the carpet. Terrible stared at her, his face immobile but his eyes a little wider than usual, a little more intense. What?
Randy’s hand slid over her shoulder to grip the back of her neck. “I don’t think I want you too far away from me,” he said. “And yeah, I ran into Doyle. He told me you were asking about Goody Tremmell—like
she’d
have anything to do with this, please—and about the Lamaru. Why don’t you mind your own fucking business? Didn’t you learn anything from what happened to that kid you were hanging around with?”
Brain had seen the ritual…From the back Randy and Doyle could almost pass for each other, especially in the dark. Especially when the witness was a terrified young boy. No wonder Brain had run, and run again when he saw her coming for him. He’d thought she was involved. He’d died thinking she’d given him up.
She felt sick, tried not to show it. There’d be time for that later. And Goody Tremmell—Randy must have broken into the filing cabinet, taken that invoice, and tossed it away, while he was hanging out in the Church earlier, intercepting phone calls and such. Not the Goody at all. He must have given her the key ring, too; a bribe to make sure she didn’t skip his place in the queue? She thought of offering a silent apology to Goody Tremmell, but remembered the snotty look on her face when she’d seen Chess behind her desk and decided not to. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “What I don’t understand is how you got mixed up with them in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t, would you? You thought I was an idiot. Just like everybody else. Poor Randy, he’s a lousy Debunker, he’s a fool…Whatever. You don’t know anything. The Lamaru do, and so do I.”
The pride in his voice, even after everything that had happened, made her wince. “Randy…”
“No, don’t ‘Randy’ me, don’t you fucking ‘Randy’ me! The Lamaru needed me, they promised me—they promised me everything. And they gave it to me, too. When they take over, I’ll be a leader. I’ll be in charge.” His defiance sent fresh waves of terror pumping through her blood. Nothing in the world was more dangerous than someone who believed they were about to get everything they wanted—someone who believed in the empty promises of madmen.
Without looking away, Chess knelt slowly by her bag and reached for it with her stiff and aching right hand. It took her two tries to close her fingers over the tongue of the zipper.
Randy glared at her. “First you take
my
case, just wave those miniscule tits at Elder Griffin and get handed the case that should have been mine, then you poke around that airport and power up my ghost. We had him, don’t you understand? We had him under control, until you did that!”
“I’m sorry,” she said, because it seemed to be what he wanted. What was she supposed to say?
Her stiff fingers closed over the cloth-wrapped amulet. When she handed this to him he would kill her. Slit her throat, probably, then be ready to stab Terrible when Terrible leapt for him. And it would look like Ereshdiran did it somehow, or at least that’s what Randy would say, and why would anyone doubt him? The regular police didn’t have jurisdiction in Church matters at all.
“When the Lamaru are in charge, things will be different. No more laws regulating what magic people are allowed to do and what they’re allowed to believe in. No more lies, no more answers to questions that shouldn’t have them. Look around you, Chessie. Do you honestly think this is a good world we live in? Do you honestly think it’s good for people to obey laws out of fear, and to know exactly what happens when they die, and to believe in nothing but themselves and power? There’s no mystery. There’s no hope. It’s like a little hell, this world.” Randy shook his head, his lips curling.
“And the Lamaru want to put the mystery back, the hope. And they needed
me
to help them do it, me and
my
skills. Me, to show them how to get into the City, me to help raise the thief. What the fuck were you doing at that airport, anyway?”
“How did you get involved with them?” She wasn’t about to give him an answer, and she didn’t think he would notice. Her thinking might have been fuzzy from drugs sometimes, but Randy had left sanity behind a while ago.
For a minute Chess felt sorry for him. He was right. He had been something of a laughingstock at Church, like a mascot nobody took seriously. Then all of the sudden he had a family, and a powerful magic group wanting to learn from him, promising him power and wealth and respect…and now he couldn’t escape. They would kill him if he tried, and he knew it. Behind his boasts she heard the panic in his voice.
As for his comments about the world they lived in…she couldn’t even consider that. Such thoughts were heresy, and the Church had given her more hope than she’d ever known could exist. Maybe he had a point about answers, but then, if the answers were there, didn’t people have a right to them?
She glanced at Terrible again. This time he moved, flexing the fingers of his right hand. With his arms folded he was pointing to her right, where Randy crouched.
Where he
crouched
. He was only balancing on the balls of his feet. It would be simple to knock him off balance. If she could hit him—he had her right hand crowded, but she couldn’t use her right anyway. It was too difficult to bend her fingers. Her left, though, if she could swing around and catch him with a left, she might be able to knock him far enough away that Terrible could get him.
She blinked, hoping he read her agreement in it, and tensed her arms.
“I met one of them at the Sp—just give me my amulet.”
“I can help you, Randy.” Her mind whirred. So the Lamaru were meeting—or at least recruiting—at the Bankhead? Where did their money come from? She looked up, tried to catch his eyes with hers, but he refused to let her. “I can help you, we can get rid of them together, the Church will understand, they’ll—”
“Shut up!” His free hand raised, preparing to strike. Terrible made a sound low in his throat, but she didn’t dare look at him, and Randy dropped his hand back to her neck.
“I can help—”
“You don’t get it, do you, you stupid bitch?
I don’t
want your help
. All this—all this mess, it’s your fault, and they’re holding me responsible for it, and if you don’t give me that amulet they’ll kill me, too, not just—” He snapped his mouth shut, like he was about to reveal a secret. Like she didn’t already know the Lamaru wanted her dead. “Just give it to me. They need me. I can talk to them, I can tell them it was an accident and you don’t know anything.”
Yeah. She believed that one. She drew in a shaky breath. “Okay. Here it is.”
She twisted her upper body, crowding him with her right side as she pretended she was going to give him the amulet with her right hand. He was holding the knife in his right hand, so had to take his left off her neck to make an awkward attempt to collect the amulet.
She’d never been very good with her fists, much preferring weapons, but she made do with what she had, driving her left across her body. It felt unnatural and strange, but it worked. Her fist connected with his eye, knocking him backward. Chess let the amulet fall from her hand and grabbed her knife, driving it forward, but Randy was too fast. He caught her hand and squeezed.
The butt of the knife slammed into her injured palm. Pain clouded her vision. She screamed and rolled sideways, trying to pull away from him, but he squeezed harder. Through a haze of tears she saw his face, his lips twisted in rage. He raised his right hand. Moonlight hit the edge of the blade.
Terrible grabbed him, lifted him, threw him. Randy hit the wall with a room-shaking thud and fell back to the floor. It would have been comical if he hadn’t sprung back up so quickly.
He made a sound somewhere between a howl and a scream and lifted the knife, but Terrible was too fast. He shoved himself forward, one hand grabbing Randy’s wrist while his big shoulders pushed Randy back to the wall again. He slammed Randy’s hand against it hard enough to crack the plaster. The knife fell to the floor.
Randy’s left hand pounded at Terrible’s back, stopping only when the tip of Terrible’s blade hit his throat.
“What action you want?”
“We’ll bring him with us,” Chess said. “I think I saw some rope downstairs. We’ll tie him up, and he can come along and send the Dreamthief back.”
“You can’t send him back,” Randy said. “Don’t you understand? Without the amulet we don’t have the control we had. He’s getting stronger, you saw what he did to my mom down there. We have him trapped, but he’s breaking free, I need the amulet to—”
The lights snapped off. All the lights, leaving them standing alone with the warm darkness breathing around them. Her skin burned and itched along the lines of her tattoos.
Randy’s whisper crackled like dead leaves. “He’s here.”