"He says to meet him at Green Lake on the south side of the community center. He said he'll smell you coming.”
For a moment, I felt chilled. Carlos scared me more than most— but not all—of his kind. A powerful bloodsucker, he was also a necromancer. He could see, touch, and taste the ghosts and Grey bits that clung to me and was an intimate of death and dead things. I'd almost gotten him killed for good and all once and I still wasn't sure how he felt about that, no matter how many favors might be owed otherwise. I supposed I was going to find out.
I drove north to the gemlike park around Green Lake, slowed by the remaining tail of rush-hour traffic on Aurora.
The last time I'd seen him, he'd still been a cinder creature with charred skin cracking on burned bones and clothed in the reek of destruction. I wasn't sure what to expect in either looks or attitude since then.
I was glad there were people on the streets. Joggers wearing headlights and reflective vests ran on the path around the lake and neighborhood people came and went through the doors of the restaurants and bars across the street. I hoped I had nothing to fear, but even a busy, human-rich environment couldn't protect me from Carlos if he chose to kill me.
I felt him long before I laid eyes on him. A pitching, queasy sensation in my guts and a shiver of icicles up my spine alerted me. Light from the windows of the community center picked out his silhouette but didn't seem to penetrate the dark clot of bleeding Grey that hunched around him. I could see his eyes spark as they met mine, but he stayed still and let me walk almost to the water to meet him.
Up close, I could see that his skin was patterned with scars in coiling loops and baroque twists. He'd regained his intimidating height and breadth, but his black beard and hair were thin. He held himself stiffer than I remembered, but he still had the posture of a poised tiger. His eyes remained black pits that burned with intimations of Hell, even more horrible among the scars.
He gave me half a nod before I could speak. "Blaine. Let's walk," he added, tipping his head toward the water. "I imagine your business with me won't bear the scrutiny of daylighters.”
It seemed Carlos no longer considered me one of the daylight people. I knew I had moved a bit sideways of normal, but I wasn't one of his own. He wasn't causing me the sickening discomfort I would have expected if he were angry, but Carlos was tricky and mercurial in his temper, so I went beside him warily.
We turned together and began walking along the lakeside path.
"What is it you want?”
"A young man was killed last week," I started. He cast me a sideways glance. "It seemed to be an accident, but it's mysterious and the cops are treating it as a murder. I. . have an interest in the case and I need to know if a ghost was on the scene when it happened.”
"Can you not tell?”
"No. I don't have that sort of skill. And it's not a normal type of ghost.”
Carlos had developed a small unevenness in his stride. "And what do you want of me?”
"Is this some kind of ritual? That I have to be explicit with you or you won't help me?”
His mouth quirked in cruel amusement, which sent my stomach on a crash dive. "It is. So be explicit.”
I swallowed before replying. "You owe me a favor for checking on Cameron's. . mistake. I need to know if the ghost in question was there and what it did. So I am asking you to come and see the scene and tell me what you can.”
"Where?”
"It's an apartment in Fremont. The cops are done with it and the key is missing, so I think we should have no problem getting in, as long as we're discreet.”
"Ah. 'We. You still accept equal risk. That's good. You do this for yourself, none other?”
"If you mean is someone else controlling me, no. This is strictly my side of the daylight.”
"Such as it is. Your daylight is darker than most.”
"Yes." I made myself level my gaze and look without flinching into his hell-depth eyes. "Are you going to help me out or not?”
He chuckled a small earthquake through my bones. "When?”
"Tonight, I'd hoped.”
His eyebrows quirked. "Tomorrow. I've already given you too much of my time tonight.”
"Then why did you?" I blurted.
He cupped one giant hand over my left shoulder and drew something off me, flicking it away like lint—perhaps some remnant of Celia. I shuddered and felt a hot twisting thrum in my chest and down my arms. He crossed his own arms over his chest and looked down at me. "You continue to interest me, Blaine. And as you say, I owe you. I'll go with you tomorrow, though I don't guarantee that what I can tell you will be to your liking.”
"It never has been.”
"When it is, I shall be very surprised. Come here tomorrow night at the same time and we'll see what there is to dislike.”
I was dismissed and I left him, feeling the hot/cold bore of his watching gaze as I walked away.
CHAPTER 19
I was roused out of bed early Wednesday by the wretched intrusion of the cell phone s happy burp. I remembered now why I had resisted them for so long. No one likes a chirpy morning person—especially an electronic one—when they've slept like Pinkerton. Carlos s touch on my shoulder had set off a buzzing, burning sensation in my body that had left me with bad dreams and restless sleep.
Snatching the phone from its charger I snapped at it, "Hello." "Ms. Blaine, I'm concerned, in light of Sunday's events, to have outside confirmation of the monitoring equipment for today's session.”
It took me a moment to put the voice and information into context. "Tuckman, it's seven a.m. Your session isn't until three thirty.”
"Yes. I'm making a last-minute request. I thought you'd appreciate as much time as possible to accommodate it," Tuckman replied. His voice oozed condescension. "You appear to have an electronics expert you trust to vet this. I'd like you and your expert to reexamine the room and observe the session to confirm our procedure is as documented.”
"Look, Dr. Tuckman, my expert doesn't work for free and may not even be available on such short notice." My brain was kicking into gear and I wondered if I could get ahold of Quinton so early. He kept bandicoot's hours. "This is a bit of an intrusion and I suspect he'll charge extra for it, if I can get him at all.”
"Immaterial. Whatever got past us last time mustn't happen again. I've spent a lot of time on the phone with the subjects to get them to try one more time. I even had to concede to this ridiculous idea that Mark Lupoldi is haunting them. I've put some additional safeguards in place and added some additional protocols and checks to document the session. But they have to be inspected and checked off by an independent expert before the session. We only have today." I hesitated.
Tuckman lost his cool. "Damn it! I've been up all night to do this!" I didn't know if it was caused by exhaustion or fear, but the sudden whining snap to his voice got me raising my eyebrows.
"Calm down, Dr. Tuckman," I soothed. "I'll get it done." "I have to have outside corroboration." I could hear him breathing fast.
"I understand. I'll set it up as quickly as I can. Make sure the room is locked and remains that way until we get there unless you're in it. No one else should enter that room, if possible. If they have to, you need to be with them and watching them every second, or you can't guarantee that the room is properly controlled. And the same goes for the observation room. No access to anyone but you until I get there.”
Tuckman took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. That reminded me of the relaxation breathing I'd been forgetting to practice myself. "All right. I'll make sure it's secure. I'll have Terry deliver my lecture so I can keep working on the room." Lucky break for Terry—I imagined Tuckman's ego didn't allow anyone else much time in his limelight.