Gabriel clearly cared for his aunt, and there was nothing obsessive or unnatural about that. Yes, Rose could be useful, but she seemed to be the one pushing her gifts on him. He was a reluctant recipient, as if she was the one person he didn't want to take anything from. Didn't want to use.
Last night he'd been annoyed because he was worried about putting me in danger. That sounded almost comical when you thought about it. "I'd feel bad if you got hurt and, damn it, I don't want to feel bad." But given what Evans just said, it made sense. Gabriel could form attachments. He just really, really didn't want to.
So had Gabriel killed his mother? No. I remembered his speech when I confronted him about giving drugs to Desiree. That wasn't the reaction of a man who'd dispatched his drug addict mother half a lifetime ago. Seanna's abandonment hurt. Really hurt, even fifteen years later.
So what did I think happened? Yes, his mother was dead. Yes, he knew it. She'd OD'd, probably at home, and he foresaw children's services in his future. So he'd done the same thing we did with Josh Gray when we realized how inconvenient the discovery of his murder would be. Moved the body.
I put the phone on my nightstand and slipped into the living room.
"Gabriel?"
He didn't even twitch. If his back wasn't rising and falling, I might have been worried. I walked over and crouched beside him.
"Gabriel?"
Still nothing.
I touched his shoulder. "Gab--"
His arm shot out, hitting me so hard I toppled onto my ass.
"Oww..." I said.
He'd rolled back onto his side, hands clenched, ready to leap up swinging. For a second, he stared up, as if wondering where the groan came from. Then he looked down and saw me on the floor.
"Olivia?"
As I rose, he took in my nightshirt, then glanced down at himself, bare chested, legs wrapped in a sheet. His eyes widened.
"Yes, you're sleeping in my apartment," I said. "On my sofa. It was an exciting night, but not that exciting. I'd really hope you'd remember if it had been."
"Wha--?" He blinked, still confused.
He looked ... young. Very young and very vulnerable. His face relaxed. His expression relaxed. His blue eyes ... not cold, not empty. Wide and bewildered and, yes, damn it, vulnerable. I looked at him and I felt things I really didn't want to feel about Gabriel Walsh. Not now. Probably not ever.
"You said your friend at the SA's office told you about Joshua Gray?" I said.
He looked up. Met my gaze. Blinked some more. Still confused and sleepy. Good. Pounce before he got his guard up.
"The police report," I said. "The one where Josh said Peter told him a secret just before he died. Do you actually have it? Or did your friend just tell you about it?"
He rubbed his face. "The...? Yes. Sorry. The police report. I have it. Those particular pages, that is. Copies."
"Could I see them?"
"Do you think I missed something?" He sat. "I doubt it, but, yes, you should take a look. It's at my office. Do you want that now or...?" He looked around, still trying to orient himself.
"When we head into the city."
"Okay." He ran a hand through his hair and snarled a yawn.
"Long night. You were dead asleep. That's why I had to poke you. A mistake I will never repeat."
"Sorry."
"Or maybe I should wake you up more often. I bet you haven't apologized that much in the last decade." I turned. "I'll get coffee. Caffeine will help."
"Thanks." He started rising, then looked at the sheet around his legs.
"Don't worry, you're wearing pants," I said.
"Right."
He located his shirt and leaned over to grab it as I headed for the kitchen.
I was measuring grinds into my new coffeemaker when I heard Gabriel. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, watching me. I was--I will point out--perfectly decent, dressed in an oversized T-shirt that hung to midthigh. That was, admittedly though, pretty much all I was wearing.
Gabriel yanked his gaze away.
"Should I get dressed?" I said.
"No, of course--" He stopped. "Perhaps. If you'd be more comfortable."
I turned the coffee making over to him. As I passed, I noticed him watching me again. He looked away fast.
"Oh, and there is a reason I woke you up before six," I said. "Dr. Evans called."
Genuine confusion, then he swore. "Chandler contacted him."
"Which you expected, right?"
"That depends." He paused, and I could see him pulling himself back together. When he spoke again, he sounded more like his usual self. "If it required an early morning call, that means he's alarmed by our visit. Perhaps we can use that. What did he say?"
"I'll tell you after I'm dressed."
His hand lifted, as if to tell me not to bother. Then his gaze slipped to my bare legs.
"Yes. You do that. I'll prepare the coffee."
So what did I tell Gabriel? That Evans had called out of concern that we'd joined forces again.
Gabriel sighed. "I should be flattered that he finds me so intimidating, but it's becoming irritating. What does he want?"
"Me to come over right away. He says he has information on you that I need to see."
Gabriel shook his head. No surprise. No consternation. Just that head shake. "I'm sure he does. Some rumor he's dug up and believes himself the first one to do so, which he is not, such being the nature of rumors. All right, then." He paused. "I'm presuming he said to come alone?"
"That's the idea."
"Immediately?"
"Yep."
Now Gabriel did look concerned.
"Yes, I know," I said. "It screams setup."
"It certainly does. However, if that were the case, it would make more sense to invite both of us, since we are clearly both a threat."
"Unless he figures I'll bring you anyway. Or he might really just want to talk. He's seventy years old. I don't think he's going to jump me at the door to silence me."
"Anyone can use a gun, as someone did to silence Joshua Gray."
"You think Evans did it?"
"I have no idea." He paused. "Perhaps he's simply nervous about the pharmacological connection and believes you're the more sympathetic ear. I'll still insist on coming along, though I'll stay outside."
"Not going to argue."
"All right, then. Ms. Mosley's lead can wait. We'll pursue this first."
"Anita has a lead for us?"
"She left a message on my voice mail. Another potential contact, someone she needed to confer with before passing along his name. He was a subject in one of Chandler's experiments. One that Evans participated in. He'd very much like to speak to us, apparently."
I set my coffee cup on the counter. "Shouldn't we do that first? If he can add to the picture, it would help to have that before I visit Evans."
"Perhaps. Evans is waiting, though."
"And it might not hurt to keep him waiting. Let him stew a little. I'll text and say I can't make it right away, but I'll be there by noon." I stood and dumped the rest of my coffee. "Let's go speak to this subject."
He stood. "All right, then. My office is on the way. We'll pick up that police report."
Chapter Sixty-one
I waited on the front stoop while Gabriel brought the car. If he'd left the Jag in front of my apartment overnight, by morning everyone in Cainsville would know he'd stayed over, and that was just awkward.
As I waited, a figure crossed Rowan down at Main Street. He paused, shielding his eyes against the rising sun and then headed in my direction.
It was Patrick, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. I walked to meet him.
"Getting an early start?" I said, waving at his bag.
"The muse is a fickle bitch. Woke me at five. You're up early yourself. I hope that means you're taking Susie's shift. I've been meaning to talk to you. I dug up a few things you might find useful."
As I was saying that I wasn't working toda
y, Gabriel's car rounded the corner.
"Ah, so you are working," he said. "Just not at the diner. And you're back with Gabriel. The old folks will be happy to hear it. They were terribly worried, you know."
I was saved from a reply by the purr of the Jag sliding to the corner. I bent to tap the passenger window, but the driver's door was already opening, Gabriel getting out.
"Gabriel," Patrick said. "Good to see you."
Gabriel dipped his chin as he said hello, his shades off. A respectful greeting, like the ones he'd give the town elders.
"Patrick was just telling me he had some research notes," I said. "And I was just going to ask if he has a second to talk about them now."
"Yes, of course." Gabriel waved to my building. "We'll go inside."
"Mmm, better not," Patrick said. "Grace ... isn't exactly a fan. How about Rose's place?"
"It's a bit early for my aunt." Gabriel's tone was oddly apologetic, as if torn between waking his aunt and offending Patrick. I guess I wasn't the only one who caught those odd vibes from the young writer, the ones that warned to tread carefully around him.
"Oh, I think it'll be fine today," Patrick said. "In fact, I think you're about two seconds from being summoned."
We turned to see Rose in her open doorway. She was wearing a robe and slippers, watching us, as if waiting for a moment to interrupt.
As we walked over, Gabriel said, "You're up early. Do you mind if we come in? Patrick wanted to speak to us, and the curb doesn't quite seem the place to do it."
Rose nodded. Something was bothering her--I didn't need an omen to see that--but Gabriel only apologized for the intrusion as he held the door. Patrick waved me in. Then he paused, hand on the door frame.
"May I?" he asked Rose. "It is very early."
"Yes, of course," she said, her tone distracted. "You're always welcome, Patrick. You know that."
He smiled and crossed the threshold.
Rose murmured that she'd make tea. I said that wasn't necessary, but she insisted and asked Gabriel to help her. They left as Patrick and I headed into Rose's parlor.
"She's seen something," Patrick murmured. "That's what has her up so early, worried about Gabriel. Whatever you two planned for today, you may want to reconsider."
"You believe in it, then?" I said.
"The sight?" His brows shot up. "You might as well ask if I believe in oxygen. I can't see it, but I'm quite certain it's there."
I glanced at him, expecting to see a knowing smile. He was watching me with a very different sort of amusement, the sort reserved for the child who insists there is no such thing as oxygen.
He waved me to a chair. "The sight is one of the manifestations of the old blood. Bendith y Mamau."
The hair on the back of my neck rose. "That's Welsh, right?"
He smiled. "Very good. It means 'the mother's blessing' and is one Welsh name for the fae. The more common one is Tylwyth Teg, which translates to the fair folk. In the context of the current conversation, Bendith y Mamau seems more appropriate."
I tried to follow what he was saying, but my mind stayed stuck on my first question. "So you know Welsh?"
"Some. It's common enough in Cainsville. It was founded by exiles from the British Isles and hasn't come very far since. You may have noticed that." He lowered his voice to a mock whisper. "Not exactly the most racially diverse town in Illinois."
I looked at Patrick, sitting there, smiling slightly.
He's playing with me.
No, he's not. Look at him, Olivia. Really look. You know there's something--
A noise in the hall. Gabriel and Rose, talking as they approached. The door swung open, Rose holding it as Gabriel carried the tray.
"I remember MKULTRA," Rose was saying, looking relaxed now. "Mind control." She rolled her eyes. "What rubbish."
"Says the woman with second sight," I murmured.
Gabriel's lips quirked in a smile.
"Apples and oranges." Rose took the teacups and began filling them. "I cannot inflict my sight on anyone. No more than a person who sees omens can force another to see them, too."
I tensed, but Patrick was adding sugar to his tea, and he didn't notice.
"What about hypnosis?" I said to Rose. "You do that."
"Hypnosis merely taps into something already present in the subconscious. At most, it plants an idea. I can use it to help someone who wants to quit smoking; I cannot use it to force someone to quit against her will. That is mind control, and it is beyond the realm of possibility."
"Mmm," Patrick said, stirring his tea. "Beyond the realm of science, I would agree. But the idea of controlling another person is very common in folklore and the occult, everything from fully possessing another person to controlling the risen dead. Even simple spell-craft--incantations, potions, and the like--aims to control behavior. Now, if the CIA's scientists had been more open to those explorations, I'd wager they'd have had better luck finding their elixir."
"Sadly, it seems the people we're hunting only practiced the simplest version of behavioral control," I said. "Shutting someone up by putting a bullet through him."
Patrick's lip curled slightly. "How pedestrian. If that's the angle you're pursuing, then I'm not sure my research helps, but if you still want it..."
"I do. Please."
Patrick was right. As much as I appreciated his research, I wasn't sure it got us anywhere now.
What he'd found was another Druidic link. Each stone left in the victim's mouths had a small hole through it. At first, they'd been mistaken for amulets, the presumption being that the holes had been carved. Later, they were discovered to be naturally occurring perforation.
Adder stones, Patrick called them. They often had a glassy center, usually flint. Ancient Celts believed that center was the hardened spittle of snakes--or even dragons. Adder stones were particularly prized by Druids. They were known as Gloine nan Druidh, or Druid's Glass, in Scottish Gaelic, and were said to aid in spirit travel.
What did that mean? We had no idea, only that it was a second Druidic link. Patrick said he'd keep digging for more. I told him he didn't need to, but apparently he was having fun chasing this particular mystery.
Mingling the Mystical
Mind control. That was an interesting possibility. It couldn't be done by natural means; Patrick was sure of that. Even by unnatural means, it was difficult. One could certainly influence behavior. There were also charms and trances. But their effect was sadly limited. Yet if there was a way to mingle the scientific and the mystical ... Very intriguing.
Equally intriguing was the fact that Olivia and Gabriel seemed to actually be making headway in their efforts to prove the Larsens innocent. That was unexpected. It was presumed among the Tylwyth Teg of Cainsville that the Larsens were in fact guilty, that the ritualistic aspects of the crimes proved they were responsible even if no one quite knew what the ritual was supposed to accomplish.
Was it possible they had been, as the boinne-fala would say, framed?
Definitely intriguing.
Chapter Sixty-two
Patrick stayed to visit longer with Rose. As we left, I commented to Gabriel that they seemed to know each other well.
Gabriel shrugged. "Well enough. They have similar interests, as you noticed."
"What do you make of him?"
Gabriel looked over, frowning, as we reached the bottom of the steps.
"It's just..." I began. "Cainsville seems very old-fashioned in some ways. Respect for elders and all that. But Patrick appears to be exempt. If anything, he seems to be as respected as the elders. Which seems odd for a guy younger than me."
Another frown, deeper now. "Patrick? He's older than I am, Olivia."
"What?"
"Not by much, I presume. But I recall him as a young man when I wasn't more than a teenager. He's definitely older than I am."
I remembered what Patrick said when I commented that he'd seemed young to be published. I'm older than I look. Apparently so. Tha
t explained a few things.
As we crossed the road, Gabriel said, "Catch," and I turned just in time to see silver flashing toward me.
"I'm driving?" I said as I caught his keys.
"Yes, though those were just for dramatic flourish. Technically, you don't need the keys. As long as they're in the car, you can drive it." He paused. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."
I grinned. "In other words, from now on, whoever gets to the driver's seat first takes the wheel?"
"Unless I refuse to get in the passenger seat."
"Spoilsport." I walked around the Jag and opened the driver's door. "You're serious, though. I get to drive?"
He waggled his cell phone. "I need to check e-mail."
"So I'm actually chauffeuring you."
"Are you arguing?"
I slid in. "Nope. Are we still heading out to interview that MKULTRA subject? Patrick seemed to think Rose had a vision that we shouldn't."
"She did receive a warning. Typically vague, something to do with me, terrible danger, and all that." He climbed into the passenger seat. Then he paused before closing the door. "On second thought, perhaps we should switch places..."
"Too late."
I started the engine. He only smiled as if he'd been teasing.
"You don't take the warning seriously, I presume?" I said.
"I do, but a warning only means that I should be alert, and that was all Rose wanted to tell me. Be careful. Danger is in the cards today." He fastened his seat belt and made a show of double-checking.
I made a face at him.
"Go on," he said. "Just keep your foot light until you hit the town limits. Or I'll get blamed, no matter who's driving."
----
There are no stoplights in Cainsville. There are, however, a lot of crosswalks, and you're expected to slow at each. It was still early Sunday morning, but kids were already out, heading to something at the community center.
As I idled waiting for the children to pass, I noticed another gargoyle I hadn't seen before. It was a monkey tucked under a roofline, which would make it completely useless for its original purpose. It was cute, though, peeking out from the shadow as its hands gripped the overhang. Another one to add to my list.
I glanced at Gabriel. He had his head bent as he read his e-mail. He must normally use something to discipline his wavy hair and he obviously hadn't found a substitute in my bathroom, because a chunk of it had fallen forward. He'd taken his sunglasses off to read, blue eyes fixed on his phone. His expression was as intent and serious as ever, but the hair in his face spoiled the effect, and when I looked from him to the monkey, I thought of a boy hunting gargoyles.