And an expert on magic was exactly what Eddie needed.
He walked forward to meet him, extending his hand. Lannes engulfed him in an immense grip that felt different than it looked: Instead of human fingertips, Eddie felt claws scrape his skin — and the carefully restrained strength in that touch was more than human.
“I’m sorry for being late,” Lannes said, glancing at the people around them and lowering his voice. “I had to make certain Lethe was safe with her family.”
“Safe?”
Lannes grimaced. “We’re still not sure we can trust her parents. Lethe hasn’t even told them about me.”
“You’re married.”
“They don’t know it. Every time she goes over there, they try to get her back together with an old boyfriend.” His grimace turned into a scowl. “He looks like a Ken doll.”
Eddie ducked his head, trying to hide his smile. “Your illusion wouldn’t fool them?”
Lannes growled. “Stop laughing. And no, even Lethe can sense it, just with the training I’ve given her. Her family would certainly know me for what I am. We can’t take the risk.”
Hearing him say it like that wiped the smile off Eddie’s face. “I didn’t think all witches were a threat. When your brother told me that your wife’s family was full of. . of magic-users. . I just assumed. .”
He didn’t finish, watching as a cold, humorless, smile touched Lannes’s mouth. “Lethe’s own grandmother tried to sacrifice her to demons. And Lethe was her favorite grandchild.”
Eddie held silent. Lannes said, “So, you understand.”
“I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I’d known,” he replied quietly.
“We want to help. And Lethe doesn’t think the rest of her family means her harm. Her grandmother was an anomaly.”
Eddie raised his brow. Lannes said, “Yeah, I know.”
“Someone should have told me.”
“Why? Your job is to find a girl.”
“And protect her. But if learning how to do that puts you or your wife at risk—”
“Stop. You’re not responsible for us.”
“Responsible enough. You’re not sure she’s safe with them.”
“I’m biased. I hate witches. I love Lethe. So I compromise. I have to trust her judgment.”
Eddie was not comforted. “Could the Cruor Venator be members of her family?”
“I hope not.” Lannes rubbed his shoulder and winced. “Let’s talk in the park. My wings are killing me. I need to loosen the restraints.”
As they walked, Lannes did his best to give other passersby a wide berth. Eddie, trying to avoid a stroller, brushed too close and hit something firm and invisible — about eight inches away from the gargoyle’s body.
“Sorry,” Eddie said.
Lannes grunted, giving him a sidelong look. “It’s why I don’t like cities. I always get touched in a crowd.”
“Your brother doesn’t bind his wings.”
“Which is why he only comes out at night and dresses like a crazy person.” Lannes’s mouth twitched. “I use a leather strap. Foot wide, cinched around my wings and chest. Imperfect, but it cuts down how often I bump into people when I walk. I hate it, though. I can’t take a deep breath.”
Eddie studied the illusion but found nothing that would give away the fact that a winged gargoyle walked through Columbus Circle, in broad daylight. “Does it ever make you nervous that a trick of light is all that keeps you from being discovered?”
“Used to. Until I realized there were things more frightening than being. . seen.” Lannes gave him a pointed look. “I hope you’re prepared for the possibility that you’ll face some of those bad things.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
Lannes studied him a heartbeat too long.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Eddie pretended not to care. “I haven’t said it yet, but thank you. It was good of you and Lethe to come down from Maine for this investigation.”
“Witches are hunting a girl,” said Lannes simply.
It was a short walk. The leaves in Central Park had turned golden and red, and a long line of horse-drawn carriages was parked alongside Fifty-ninth. Tourists surrounded them, taking pictures. The drivers stood off to the side, in small groups, smoking cigarettes.
Just past Merchant’s Gate, Lannes and Eddie left the path and cut between the trees to a small grassy clearing still within sight of the Time Warner Center. It felt quiet. Private, even. Dead leaves crunched beneath them. No one else was around.
“Where will you go after this?” Lannes asked.
“We were given a list of places she likes to visit, but there’s a second list that Roland put together, on his own. I have a photo of the girl when she was young. I’ll be showing it around.”
“Needle in a haystack.”
“We’re close. That’s what Roland and the others say.”
“Psychics.” Lannes said the word like some would say, kids.
He fumbled at a spot above his chest. His fingers shimmered, as though immersed in a heat wave or the watery light of a prism. Eddie watched closely, searching for a break in the illusion.
It never came. He heard the distinctive sound of leather creaking, and the gargoyle’s chest expanded several inches — as though he had been holding his breath. He let out a quiet sigh.
“Better,” he said, and looked at Eddie. “What did my brother tell you about witches?”
Not enough. His brother, Charlie, was another agent of Dirk & Steele, and lived in San Francisco. Asking about witches had not elicited a positive reaction — more like suggestions to run for the hills and never look back.
“A witch imprisoned you and the rest of your family,” he answered. “Charlie said he was the only one not turned to stone.”
Lannes closed his eyes. “I thought he was lucky at first. But then the witch began carving up his body. Every night, like a slaughtered hog. We had to watch her eat his flesh. There was nothing we could do to stop her.”
Eddie didn’t speak. Charlie had not told him that part.
Lannes took a breath, then exhaled slowly. “Imagine being imprisoned inside your own skin for years, unable to move or breathe, existing only as a thought. Forced to watch someone you love be tortured, over and over again. And the only way to stop it is to sell your soul.”
Eddie didn’t need to imagine. All he had to do was think of his sister.
I watched. I was helpless. I couldn’t move or breathe. In the end, I sold my soul.
I did something I could never take back.
He remembered, and heat suffused his skin, rolling through him in a slow wave that poured from his head down to his toes. Eddie breathed slow and deep through his nose, trying to maintain control.
Lannes didn’t seem to notice. “The witch who captured us was incredibly powerful. And she loved that power. She wanted more of it. She wanted to flaunt it.”
“You’re warning me,” Eddie said in a strained voice. “I get it.”
“You better.” Lannes gave him a flat, empty look. “There’s a tipping point. It’s different for everyone. I don’t know if the witch was born without compassion, but somewhere in her life, she forgot it. She began enjoying the pain she caused. She fed off the agony of others.”