“I understand,” Barb said, smiling. “It’s no sillier than chasing a white ball around with a club and at least it can be done indoors.”
“He wanted to meet at the Waffle House,” Timson said, gesturing out the window. “And I told him to screw off. It’s damn cold out there. Take care.”
“Same to you,” Barbara said, smiling as he opened the door to the stairwell.
She nodded at a couple of young guys in trench coats as they stepped out the door. But they only went as far as the portico and pulled out cigarettes and lighters with already shaking hands. She grabbed the radio when it started to beep.
“Anything?” Greg asked.
“Nothing,” Barb admitted. “No feel, nobody trying to get out.”
“They could have gone out by the kitchen doors,” Greg admitted. “And there’s a door behind the offices. But I’d think that he’d try to just nonchalantly slip out.”
“I’m not sure he could get his…” She paused and grabbed her head. “Greg?”
“Are you okay?” Greg asked at the strained tone.
“Get Janea,” Barbara gasped then summoned her power, shutting down the feeling of horror in her soul. “I think we underestimated our target: somebody’s dead.”
Timson was slumped against the wall of the stairwell, his eyes wide and staring at nothing.
“Oh, Freya, be kind to his soul,” Janea said, looking at the boy. He had a look of utter horror on his face.
“He’s changed MO,” Greg said, straightening up with a frown on his face. The landing was right up by the roof, the door above locked. An out-of-the-way spot in a packed hotel, perfect for a quiet killing. “There’s not a mark I can find. At the least he wasn’t strangled or cut.”
“No,” Barb said, furious. “His soul was ripped from his body.”
“Are you sure?” Greg asked.
“Very,” Barbara said, shaking in anger. “It’s so strong I’m surprised you can’t feel it. I felt the power of the ’mancer’s gear and then the death.”
“I need to call in support,” Greg said. “We’re going to close down this con and shake it to the ground. This isn’t a game anymore.”
“He’s hunting, now,” Janea pointed out. “We can’t just try to cover the entrances. We need to run him to ground and take him out.”
“Why?” Barb asked. “He could have run even in this. At least out of the con. Why kill? And why Timson?”
“Timson’s powerful,” Janea said. “Well, was. He wasn’t an adept, but he could have been. He had a strong soul.” She suddenly looked intensively sad.
“It’ll be okay, Jan,” Barbara said, wrapping her arm around the woman’s shoulders.
“He had a strong soul,” Janea said, shaking her head. “One of the strongest and finest I’ve ever met. And to just have it…”
“We’ll find him,” Barb said, the righteous anger welling up in her again. “And we’ll bring him to justice one way or another. He will face the Lord and be Judged. And there can be but one judgment for such as he.”
“But you hit the nub,” Greg said, looking at the dead boy. “Why has he gone to killing? Instead of running? You’re the experts, you need to think.”
“Give me a second, okay?” Janea said, wiping her eyes. “He was a friend, okay?”
“I’m not sure we’ve got a second,” Greg pointed out. “Not if this guy is ripping souls from people’s bodies, now. Not if he can kill this fast and silently. Why is he killing? This is completely outside MO.”
“Power,” Barbara said, suddenly. “Oh, my God.”
“He’s building his power,” Janea said, nodding her head. “He’s preparing for a battle. With us.”
“That means Timson won’t be the last,” Barb said. “Greg, call for backup right now.”
“I would if I could,” Greg said, looking at his cell phone. “Do either of you have any signal?”
As it turned out none of the three cell phones had any signal at all.
“And I’ve already tried the hotel phones,” Greg said. “Even the Internet connection is out.”
“Well, we need to get hold of the local police, at least,” Janea pointed out, gesturing at Timson. “We’ve got a dead body on our hands.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Greg said, frowning. “You two stay here, I’ll go check with the management. For now, we’re not treating this as a homicide. There’s no indication of violence and that’s just fine by me.”
“This is terrible!”
The hotel manager was a tall, distinguished-looking Hindu. Barbara had seen him around the hotel dealing with problems and he’d always risen to the occasion. Now he was wringing his hands in worry.
“This will be terrible publicity!” the man moaned. “And so horrible for the young man and his family. This is very terrible! He must have overdosed, yes? I do not allow drugs in my hotel! I have a well-run hotel!”
“You have a very well-run hotel, sir,” Greg said, soothingly. “But we have to call the police and have them come in with this.”
“You are FBI, yes?” the man asked, his face working. “Can not you handle this? Quietly perhaps?”
“It’s a local jurisdictional matter,” Greg said, shrugging with the lie.
“But we cannot contact the police,” the manager said, his face working. “I have tried. The phone lines are out. I cannot call the 911, yes? The roads are closed with snow! And we cannot simply leave him here. It is very dishonorable. And if anyone else were to find him…”
“Jesus Christ,” Greg said, shaking his head.
“Another swear, please, Agent Donahue,” Barb replied. “We’ll need a camera, a good one. And some plastic bags, large trash bags. And the key to this roof door.”
“We can’t disturb a crime-scene like this!” Greg said, furiously. “It has to be meticulously recorded. Not just dump his body in a bag and shove it out the door!”
“Oh, really?” Barbara asked. “How long do we leave him here, Agent Donahue? What do we do, post a guard? The hotel security guard left last night when the snow started to get bad. Do we get somebody from the con?” She paused and looked Greg dead in the eye, daring him to force her to go on. Because she was pretty sure unless they tracked down the necromancer, fast, this wasn’t going to be the last body they discovered.
“You are with the FBI, too?” the manager asked, uncertainly.
“I’m a special consultant,” Barb said then gestured at Janea. “We both are.”
“Okay, okay,” Greg said, blowing out. “Yeah, we’ll need some big trash bags and a camera. And some time alone. Can you get that?”
“Yes, of course,” the manager said, nodding. “I go now.”
“And we’re eventually going to need a linen cart and a bunch more bags,” Janea said, gritting her teeth. “This is going to get bad, Greg.”
“We need to find this perp,” Greg replied. “Now.”
“I’ll go ask the LARPers if they knew who Timson was meeting with,” Janea said, looking one last time at her former lover. “I am seriously going to go full berserker on this guy when we find him.”
“And I’ll go ask if anyone saw him,” Barbara said. “Besides me,” she added, blanching. “He walked right past me to the stairs and then went up. To meet with… whoever it was.”
“Anyone go up the stairs before him?” Greg asked, frowning.
“No,” Barb said. “He was the only person I saw use them. Whoever it was must have entered from one of the other levels. I’ll go ask down there if anyone saw him or who he was meeting with.”