“He looks just like an old friend’s son, if you can believe that.” He motioned at Adam, who quickly pushed his way around his mother. “Come, let me have a closer look at you.”
“I… I don’t know,” she began, but faltered, her mouth moving in silence like a gaping fish.
“Hush, Mrs. Moreland. Everything is just fine. No worries at all.” She nodded, and Drake turned back to Adam, reaching up to take his chin in his hand. “Indeed. The bone structure is very similar. The eyes are the same. And I shall not have to dye your hair. Wonderful. Wouldn’t you say, Mrs. Moreland?” They both nodded. “Adam, look me in the eye, son, and tell me if you don’t see the key to your life’s dreams within them.”
Adam stared, head cocked slightly to one side, like a dog who has heard a peculiar sound. “I think I do.”
“Of course you do.” He patted him on the shoulder. “They are dreams of death and quiet and peace of mind.”
“I really hate music,” he said.
Drake’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “I know. Parents always believe they know best, do they not?”
He nodded. “She’s a real bitch about it sometimes.”
“Why don’t you get in out of the rain, my boy? You can leave that wretched violin outside.”
“Yeah, cool. Thanks.” He stepped into the darkness of the car.
Drake stepped forward and placed his hand on Mrs. Moreland’s wet cheek. “I shall be taking your boy here, Mrs. Moreland. Perfectly safe, I assure you. You will think nothing of it. He shall be well taken care of.”
She nodded. “I’ll just head home then. Will you be bringing him by the house later?”
“You are very tired, Mrs. Moreland. Those lovely eyes are completely stressed. You need to sleep. You can worry about your boy in the morning.”
“Okay. I’ll worry in the morning.”
He folded up the umbrella and laid it down inside the car, taking both of her cheeks in his hands. “And you shall worry a lot when you find his bed empty. You will be sure your precious boy has come to great harm, that he may in fact be dead.”
She stared into the glowing, soulless orbs. “But he’ll be with you.”
“He will be dead, and you will know who did it, but the image shall elude you, like chasing a dandelion upon the wind.”
“Oh.” The rain running down her cheeks looked like tears. “I won’t remember?”
Drake shook his head. “I am afraid not, my dear. You will only know that if you had not made him play music, he might still be alive. Now go, rest. Sleep the sleep of the dead, Mrs. Moreland.”
He stepped into the Rolls and pulled the door closed so she could walk by. She drove away without looking back.
Adam sat in the seat, staring straight ahead. “Your eyes are full of death.”
He clasped the boy’s knee with his hand. “You will be fine, son. Death is not the end.”
“You’re going to kill me.”
Drake grabbed Adam’s chin and turned his head to face him. “Does it look so terrible in there, Adam?”
“It looks cold.”
“Indeed. Indeed, it is very cold. You shall make new friends though. You shall see.”
“And what then?”
“Hmmm? What then?” Drake sat back in the seat, giving Adam a sidelong glance. “Well, then you truly shall die.” When Adam merely nodded and continued to stare ahead, Drake pushed the intercom button. “Take us away from here, Wendall. Perhaps later you may have a glass of Scotch with me.”
Wendall looked back at the one-way glass dividing them, a smile upon his lined face. “That would be lovely, sir.”
Chapter 13
The afternoon had provided little more than a draining of his gas tank. Nick sat in his darkening office, considering what possible preparations they could make and wondering how he was going to keep the FBI out of this until the end. He had no answers. Until Drake made his presence felt again, there was little for them to do other than search the city and hope they got lucky. It would be soon. Given the current state of law enforcement, the timeline would be condensed, a couple days at most between kills. So it was no surprise when Nick felt the familiar pang of the other side, pulling at him like a spaceship drifting too close to a black hole.
Cornelius was drawing upon the energy of the dead, which meant he was feeding on someone. The feeling had been so faint with the boy Nick had been unable to zero in on it. He had not even been sure of the feeling until he saw the body under the tree. This time, he was leaving little doubt. Somewhere within a few miles, Cornelius Drake fed on another victim, daring Nick to find him. He reached to pick up the phone and call Shelby, only to have it ring as he grabbed it.
“Yeah?”
“Shelby’s on the line, Nick.” Cynthia patched her through without waiting for his answer.
The rumbling roar of her BMW motorcycle made it nearly impossible to hear. “Say that again, Shel. I can’t hear you.”
“North of downtown!” Her voice filled his head, full of excitement and anger. “I can’t tell if the fucker is west or east of the river though. A bit of the real stuff, Nick, I’d find him within the hour.”
“No,” he replied emphatically. “I’m on my way up now. Just keep trying to zero in on him.” She had promised no more blood, and Nick knew the disadvantage it put them in, but it just was not an option, not anymore.
“Nick…”
“No blood!” he repeated and slammed down the phone.
Out in the hall, he grabbed a bottle of synthetic from the fridge and gulped it down in one long, bitter draught. Cynthia was standing beside her desk when he came out into the main room.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” There was a hint of fear in her voice.
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “If anything is going down, I’ll call. Keep the doors locked and don’t leave for any reason until I come back.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Just in case, Cyn. I’m not taking any chances. We have no idea what he’s up to yet.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Thanks.” He gave a brief nod and headed out the door.
Thirty minutes later, Nick had his Jeep on the north side and was wishing he had driven the Porsche in to work. The feeling was definitely stronger, but without the spike of energy real blood would give, they would have to get damn close to home in on him. Drake was teasing them, and Nick clenched the steering wheel in frustration as he dodged through traffic, trying to get a better sense of where Drake was feeding. It had been an hour now, which gave them another half hour to forty minutes tops. If anything, Cornelius could be counted on to be consistent.
Shelby called in again, and Nick could hear the distinctive squeal of tires and the blaring of horns in the background. The woman was hell on wheels, enough to scare the shit out of the best NASCAR had to offer. He tried to keep the image of her getting plowed by a CTA bus out of his head. Damn woman!
“I’m east of the river, beginning to think he might be southwest of here.”
“Okay. I just crossed the river at Chicago. I’ll head west from here and then south,” Nick said. “Head north of me a couple miles and then come over and head down. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“We need blood, not luck,” she snarled in his ear and clicked off.
As the minutes ticked by, Nick knew she was right. The odds were slim, and someone was dying, but there would be no bloodshed to find him. It’s wrong, Nick told himself, like he had been telling himself for years, but the temptation was there, and just the thought made his mouth begin to salivate. Drake, on the other hand, was at that very moment quenching his thirst, draining the life of some poor soul, burning with the cold fire of the power of death. Nick had no clue how he would deal with Drake even if he did find him. Would bullets stop him? Enough of them might. Even the power of the other side can only heal so fast. With blood though…
Shelby interrupted the tormenting thoughts with another call. “West!” she shouted. “He’s west of me. Your side of the river.” Her engine was loud in the background, revved up high.