“Don’t mistake me,” he said. “I loved my son. I couldn’t be prouder of him if I tried. But he didn’t have the gift. I always wanted a son I could share my trade with. Someone I could teach the things I’ve learned, the secrets I’ve discovered. When my son died, I was devastated. No father should ever have to outlive his child. After I came here, I didn’t know what to do with myself, but then I found you hawing runes on a street corner. It didn’t take long for me to know you were worthy to be my heir.”
Alex put his hand on Iggy’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Ignatius,” he murmured. That means a lot.”
“Don’t you see?” Iggy said. “I’ve already lost one son. How can I bear to lose another?”
Alex stood up and pulled the old man to his feet.
“You haven’t lost me yet,” he said. “So, if my time is short, let’s not waste it. Let’s go get something to eat and we’ll go see Father Harry off. Then, when we get back here, we can talk about the rest.”
Iggy hesitated, then he patted Alex’s arm and withdrew downstairs.
Watching him go, Alex felt a pang of guilt. He’d done what had to be done, there was no doubt about that. Hundreds of thousands of people would have died if he hadn’t used his escape rune. It had cost him a good chunk of his own life, but he didn’t regret that. If he hadn’t done it, he would have been dead anyway.
What he regretted, standing alone in his room, was that he had hurt Iggy.
Pushing that thought from his mind, Alex headed for the shower. When he caught sight of himself in the bathroom’s tiny mirror, he jumped. His hair had turned entirely white, like new-fallen snow. Whiter even than Sorsha’s platinum-blonde hair.
“Well,” he said tugging at it. “At least it’s still there.”
That would definitely take some getting used to.
In the shower, Alex examined the place where his escape rune had been tattooed. Only a fading burn mark was left. He’d wait for it to completely disappear before having it redone. That would give him time to design a new one.
Ten minutes later, Alex arrived downstairs, shaved and dressed. He’d had the presence of mind to hang on to his suit jacket when Sorsha’s castle went down, but his hat had been a loss.
“Here,” Iggy said, pulling a slightly old-fashioned fedora from the coat wardrobe by the vestibule.
“Thanks,” Alex said, putting it on and turning the brim down in front.
They made their way to The Lunch Box and then across town to a cemetery next to a little church on the far side of the Core. Only a few dozen people had turned out for the funeral of a clergyman of no great renown. As the Bishop of the Diocese droned on at the gravesite, Alex wondered if this were the kind of funeral Jesus himself received. It made him smile to think that Father Harry would have liked it. He was a simple man who went about doing what good he could, like his Master before him.
Iggy and Leslie, who had joined them at the cemetery, moved off with the other mourners after the service, but Alex lingered at the gravesite. Father Harry had been a literal father to him when no one else cared. He just wanted to stand before the open grave in the quiet of the little cemetery and pull his scattered memories back into the forefront of his mind. As the years turned back in his head, he fixed the images in his memory, so they would live on in Father Harry’s stead.
“How are you holding up?” a frail voice brought him out of his reverie. He turned to find Sister Gwen at his side, and he smiled.
“I’m doing all right,” he said, hugging her awkwardly, given his arm was still in the sling. “You?”
She nodded with a wistful smile but then frowned, looking up at him.
“What happened to your hair?” she asked.
“Slight disagreement with a spell.”
“It suits you.” Sister Gwen said with a determined nod.
“Is the Diocese going to reopen the mission?” Alex asked.
“No,” Sister Gwen said in a weary voice. “Too much is gone now. Father Clementine was the heart and soul of that place.”
“What will you do?” Alex put his arm around the frail nun and hugged her against his side.
“The Bishop is sending me to a convent in Miami,” she said. “I’ll be teaching new sisters and helping them learn their duties.”
“Sounds like he’s looking out for you,” Alex said with a grin.
Sister Gwen leaned close and whispered. “I asked him for the post,” she said. “I’m getting too old for these New York winters.” She hugged him again but didn’t let go. “Did you find out who killed Father Clementine?” she asked.
“I did,” he said, patting her on the back. “He fell to his death trying to hurt a lot more people.”
“Good boy,” she said fiercely, then let him go and stepped back. “Well, I’ve got a bus to catch, Alex. Be good, and God bless you.”
Alex promised that he would, and the old nun turned and walked away. “I’ll miss you, too,” he said after her.
He stood there for a long minute, then finally reached down and picked up a handful of dirt, tossing it onto the simple pine coffin at the bottom of the grave.
“You finished?” Leslie said, walking around the grave to stand beside him. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I’m done,” Alex said, taking her arm and strolling off through the gravestones. “Iggy’s waiting for you out front,” she said. “So how does it feel?”
“I don’t even notice,” Alex said, running a self-conscious hand through his white hair.
“Not that.” Leslie elbowed him gently. “Solving your first big case.”
Alex hadn’t really thought about it, but he did save the city. All by himself. Of course no one would ever know what he did, since the government was hushing the whole thing up. Then there was Father Harry, and Evelyn. The price he’d paid solving this case was very high, and that had nothing to do with his lost years.
“Not like I thought it would,” he admitted.
“Don’t let it throw you, boss,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I like the hair; it makes you look distinguished.”
Alex laughed at that.
“It’ll be easier next time,” she said. “You’ll see.”
Alex failed to see how it could be worse.
“Did you get what I asked for?”
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “It took me most of yesterday and a good part of this morning to find this,” she said. “Can’t for the life of me figure out why you want it.”
“And yet you seem to be in a very good mood,” Alex noted, taking the paper and slipping it into his pocket. “I must send you to the dusty parts of the library more often.”
“Don’t you dare.” Her face soured. “Do you have any idea the kinds of deplorable old letches who inhabit the tables by the card catalog? They practically cheered every time I had to bend over to look in a lower drawer.”
“Well, all that attention must have done you good.”
“That and the thousand dollar check I found waiting for me at the office.”
Alex stopped short.
“A grand?” he asked. “Who’d send us that much dough?”
“Your sorceress friend.” Leslie nodded off to the far corner of the cemetery where several people stood for another service. Even at this distance, Alex had no trouble recognizing Sorsha’s platinum hair. “The note said it was your reward for finding and returning stolen government documents.”
Alex started to smile, but the memory of Evelyn’s demise wiped it from his face.
“Be sure to thank her,” Leslie said, disentangling her arm from his. “I’m on my way to the bank to put it in the account, then I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Alex winked at her and smiled.
“You deserve it, doll,” he said. “Peel off a ten spot and have some fun.”