Shadow Rising

Page 20

“And it happened.” I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes. “Chase, you’re all right. You know that, I hope.”
He laughed. “Menolly, anytime you pay me a compliment, I pay attention. I know you don’t bullshit, so I listen.”
And with that, he fell silent and so did I. All the way to the FH-CSI building, the only sounds that passed were those of his breath, his still-beating heart, and the whir of the wheels eating up the road.
Chapter 10
After I made sure Abby and Fritz were okay, I glanced at the clock. I couldn’t believe it, but it was still only around ten P.M., so I decided to pay a visit to Carter. He’d confirmed that Gulakah—the Lord of Ghosts—was definitely back in Seattle, but I wanted to know more about the Greenbelt Park District. And Carter would know its history.
I sped through the streets, worrying over the evening. By now, I was used to having to multitask battles as we connected the dots along the way. Even though Abby and Fritz’s house of horrors seemed most likely related to the Greenbelt Park District activity, since the house was in that neighborhood, I couldn’t help but wonder if somehow Gulakah had a hand in it.
As I waited for a stoplight to turn green, I glanced over at Galaxy—one of the newer clubs in town. It was on the corner of Broadmore and Wales, and Camille had told me it was frequented by mages and witches. At first I’d feared another Energy Exchange, but she and Morio had checked it out and, apparently, it was more of an FBH hangout for Earthside pagans to learn about Otherworld magic.
As the car idled, I watched a group of people loitering around the door. They didn’t look particularly troublesome, but something seemed amiss. I rolled down my window and listened. Most clubs played loud music, and even from this distance, with my hearing, I could catch the throbbing beat. But the FBHs and the Fae hanging around the entrance seemed lethargic. Most were either leaning against the building or looking like they’d already reached the hangover stage.
The light changed and I crossed into the intersection, turning left. Carter’s basement apartment was up ahead and I eased into a parking spot and hopped out into the misting night. As I pressed the key lock and pocketed my keys, I glanced around. Nobody was prowling the streets. Carter had a foolproof magical grid set up by local witches. It cost him a pretty penny but kept the area around his apartment, including the parking spaces, protected.
I clattered down the stairs and knocked at the door, once, then again. After a pause, I heard the sound of locks clicking and the door swung wide. For once, it was Carter himself who answered. He had great coiling horns and a brilliant shock of red hair that was tousled by the best hairstylist. When he saw it was me, he smiled and motioned for me to come in. He walked with a brace on his leg but was incredibly charming and charismatic.
Carter was part demon, part Titan. His father had been Hyperion, one of the ancient Titans, and his mother had been a demoness. He was one of a litter, and his father had taken over the parenting duties when Carter’s mother abandoned her young. He was also one of the agents of the Demonica Vacana Society. They watched over demonic activity Earthside and recorded it. Whatever else they did, I hadn’t a clue. Carter was a relatively tight-lipped demon, as pleasant as he was.
“Menolly, come in, come in. What can I do for you?” He gestured me to the overstuffed, Old World upholstered sofa. Carter had a penchant for all things opulent and ancient.
I glanced around. The cats were playing with some toy in the corner—it was a round track with a ball caught in it and cardboard in the center, and the three of them seemed terribly involved in a game of keep-away with the ball. They were still kittens, and Carter was incredibly fond of them.
“If you’re looking for Tobias, he’s no longer here.” Carter glanced at me through long lashes.
Actually, I had been looking for Carter’s gentleman friend but didn’t want to seem nosy. Carter wasn’t gay. Nor was he straight. I don’t know if I’d even apply the term bi to him. Carter was…well…Carter, and he lived by his own rules.
“Lover’s quarrel?” I winked. I felt like I could be myself around him—at least for the most part. Carter didn’t fit into any one world, either.
He settled himself on the chair next to the sofa. “Tobias proved to be…unsatisfactory as a companion. And as a djinn, it was a given our tryst would run its course. They are simply not capable of sustaining anything long term except grudges. Apparently, he remembered one he had not yet put to rest. He left last week after I indicated that doing so might be in his best interests.”
I nodded. Djinn were tricky and not to be trusted. We’d fought against one in league with Karvanak.
“I’d say I’m sorry but somehow, you don’t seem too grief stricken.” I wasn’t very diplomatic and, with Carter, didn’t feel that I needed to be.
He smiled faintly at me. “I’d say I’m sorry, too, but I’m not all that broken up over it. Fondness is about as close to love as I ever get for anyone, and even that wears thin. At least, most of the time.” He stopped, toying with his glass of sherry, and I knew he was thinking about Kim, his adopted daughter.
“You miss her, don’t you?” I leaned forward. “You did love her.”
A soft laugh, and then he saluted me with his glass. “Touché. But more than love. I trusted her, and she betrayed that trust. I gave her everything, I treated her like my own daughter. And she spit in my face.” A cold fire raced through his eyes and suddenly, I felt nervous. We had no clue what Carter’s full powers were; we’d never been privy to them. I wondered…just what could a demigod do when he was pissed enough?
“Yeah…I get it.” I decided it was better to backtrack from this line of conversation. “We had a problem tonight.”
“What happened?”
I frowned, then said, “This touches on demonic activity, since I happened to see a demon, as well as some crazy-assed ghosts. We are dealing with the Greenbelt Park District again.” And I told him all about our evening. “So, I want to know about the history of that area. I figured if anybody knew why it was so haunted, it would be you.”
He considered the question for a moment, then motioned me over to his desk. “Let us see what we can find. I should be able to come up with some answers for you. That district has been a hotbed of activity for decades, and it seems to be getting worse.”
“I keep thinking Gulakah has to have something to do with the ghostly activity there.” I paused. “And what about the whole blood-running-down-the-walls thing? I tasted it. It was not blood.”
“No, it wouldn’t be blood,” he said. “That would be a form of ectoplasm—although the term is a little misleading. I merely use it for expediency’s sake. There’s a form of electromagnetic energy that can manifest at times around ghosts and spirits. That it appears as blood is a parlor trick, usually played by malevolent spirits, to frighten mortals. You smelled blood but when you tasted it, it probably had an odd coppery taste—almost metallic, right?”
I nodded. “Yes, but not in the way that blood does.”
“As I thought. Scare tactic and manifestation of a buildup of energy.” He thumbed through a bookcase while I settled myself in a chair by his desk. After a moment, he hauled out two heavy scrapbooks and—acting as if they were light as a feather—tossed them on the desk, where they landed with a resounding thud.
“Can I ask you something?” It probably wasn’t a good idea, but since we were being all buddy-buddy tonight, I decided to pry a bit.
Carter settled into the chair opposite me and turned on his computer. “You may ask what you like. A question does not oblige me to answer. What is it you wish to know?”
As he took hold of the mouse, his gaze glued to the monitor, I felt an odd disconnect. He seemed so mortal at times, but then the glamour would lift and his power would shine through. I could feel it now, as he focused on searching through his databases. He was brilliant—probably genius level beyond any mortal on this planet, and I could feel a chilling shroud of intellect surrounding him. All of a sudden, I wasn’t surprised that Tobias had left.
“If you don’t want to answer, I won’t be offended. How did you get the brace on your leg?”
He looked over at me, surprise washing across his face. “The brace? Why, I seldom think of it anymore. My leg was permanently injured when I was caught in the midst of a daemon uprising in the Subterranean Realms. I was there on business, and Trytian’s father was just forming his rebel group. I got it into my head that I needed an adventure and joined them. We went against one of Shadow Wing’s outposts. This was before he ascended to rule over the Sub-Realms.”
“You were part of a rebel group?” It was hard to picture, but the more time I spent around him, the more he surprised me.
“Yes, I was. I signed on for a lark. It turned out to be a grueling battle, and hundreds on both sides died. I was maimed—my leg is twisted, but I survived. That was enough war for me. I was quite happy to retire back to my desk.”
He snapped his fingers. “Here we go. I found something of the history of that area. I’ve never done much research into it, just documented what came past my inbox. By the number of entries I’ve logged, a great many evil deeds have occurred there in the past ten years. However, when we look back to the beginnings of the city, the district was…let me see…”
“If you say it was a graveyard, I’m going to break your computer.” I grinned at him.
He raised his eyebrows and then winked at me. “Why, Menolly, you underestimate my loyalty to my technology. I’d have you down and pinned in no time.”
I gaped at him, not sure what to say.
Carter chuckled. “A joke. I’d never threaten to stake you—I do not threaten death lightly. However, I do warn you. Never underestimate me.”
“I won’t.” It was all I could think of to say.
“Good. Well, here we go. While yes, there was—and is—a graveyard there, that’s not what I was going to say. The district was the site of one of the first mental institutions in the area. An asylum, really. This was back in the day when the insane and disturbed were treated cruelly. We’re talking electroshock therapy, starvation therapy, and—because the owner was a thoroughly demented prick—plenty of abuse, rape, and murder made out to be accidental.”
Holy shit. That would be enough to stir up unsettled spirits, all right. “How come this isn’t common knowledge? The little I’ve read about the district doesn’t mention a word about it.”
“You think that sort of knowledge would be encouraged by the tourism council, or by residents looking to buck up their property values? No, the asylum—and it was an asylum, not a hospital—operated for fifty years before it burned to the ground one cold, blustery night.” He gave me a smug look and began leafing through his scrapbooks.
“Fifty years of debauchery. Were operations all under the original owner?”
“No, the son took over about thirty years in. Like father, like son, so it seems.” He paused, then turned the scrapbook so I could see the articles. “Here, it says that the hospital was in the center of the district, and the administrator owned five hundred acres buttressed up to the left of the asylum.”
I stared at the pictures of the building. It loomed in black and white, stark and cruel and twisted. I could see that much through the photos.
“How did it burn down?”
Carter let me look at the article while he opened the other scrapbook. After a moment, he pushed it back.
“A group of patients managed to overpower their guards. They killed the administrator—the son—and went on to massacre a number of their fellow patients. Some escaped, but so many were killed. They took control of the asylum. At that point, things aren’t too clear, but it looks like one of their worst patients—Silas Johanson, who was incarcerated for being criminally insane—went down to the boiler room. They aren’t sure what he did, but the boiler exploded and a gas main burst, and the building went up in a massive explosion.”
I stared at the outside of the asylum. Even the pictures dripped with fury and hatred and fear, and it was hard to be sorry the place had burned to the ground, except for the people who had been caught inside the inferno.
“How many died?”
“Three hundred fifty-seven patients, twenty-five guards, and two dozen nurses and doctors.” Carter leaned forward and stared at me from across his desk. “They said Silas complained about voices telling him to harm the other patients. However, he was in there for killing his mother, father, wife, and three children. He swore the devil made him do it, and so they tossed him in there.”
“Yeah, the devil gets blamed a lot for what people do.”
“We demons get a bad rap. Occasionally you get a demon who can control others through mind tricks, but we’re not Jedi and we don’t go around forcing our will on others. Not usually.” His nostrils flared.
“But a ghost…a ghost can drive someone nuts, can’t they?” I thumbed through the pages recording all the activity at the Greenbelt Asylum. Time and again, I saw records saying that patients complained about voices ordering them to do things against their will.
“Perhaps, if the person is prone to control.” One of Carter’s cats jumped on the desk and he absently stroked her long, fluffy fur.
“Aegean, right? Delilah and Camille told me.”
“Yes, they are Aegean. This one is Roxy. The other is Lara, and the third—a newcomer—I named Zhivago.” He paused to remove the cream-colored cat from his desk, then returned to musing over the clippings. “I don’t think this was the beginning of the hauntings in that district, though it certainly contributed to it. But there has to be more. I will research and let you know what I can find.”