The Twin Prophecies, page 4
“Impressive,” Mira said, nodding at Jack. The blue wall of defense had shrunk, but it was still here. Jack shook his head—more out of confusion than anything else—and it disappeared. “You shouldn’t have needed that, but like I said, I got distracted… on purpose.” Mira pointed the toe of her boot at the ash pile. “His little friend attacked me so he could make his move on you two.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what are you doing here?” Violet asked.
“And who are you?” Jack chimed in.
Violet turned to Jack, explaining quickly. “This is Mira, the witch who saved my mother from a vampire before I was born… the night she found out about supernaturals.”
“There’s no time. For all we know, there could be more. You two need to get home. Tell your friends you’re ready to go. Now. I’m parked at the entrance. I’ll be following. Go.”
Even if the children knew what to say, Mira hadn’t left room for more conversation. So they did as they were told.
*
When they entered the house, Dr. Tesla was waiting in the foyer. They explained what had happened. Jack did most of the talking. By the time he got to Mira saving their lives, she had walked through the front door without knocking. Dr. Tesla suggested they move the conversation into the living room, where Mira kept shooting quick looks to the windows and doors, as if expecting a vampire attack at any moment.
At one point Violet, who was sitting on the love seat near where Mira stood, whispered, “No one can get in here that doesn’t belong. Ms. Sweet placed a spell around the house.”
“Honey,” Mira said, no smile on her face, “I don’t trust anyone’s magic but my own.”
Alrighty then.
Violet turned her attention back to Jack, who was in the middle of apologizing for being at the pipe farm to begin with. Violet hadn’t thought about that. She was now sure that wasn’t where Dr. Tesla had imagined they’d be when they said they’d be hanging with their friends for a few hours. He didn’t look mad, but Violet knew that meant nothing. Dr. Tesla was very good at handling one crisis at a time. They’d discuss the attack, and there would be consequences later.
Dr. Tesla stood behind the sofa where Jack was seated. “Well, there’s no doubt the ‘she’ he was referring to was Grace.”
“Of course,” Mira said, nodding.
“Obviously, I knew she was still a threat. That’s why I had you watching the children, but I’m surprised she has tried again so soon. She can’t restore their souls without the items, which she doesn’t have. And she can’t kill Jack and Violet because she needs their souls.” Dr. Tesla was looking down at the carpet, more thinking out loud than addressing anyone in the room.
“She could just be messing with you or trying to scare the children,” Mira offered.
Violet didn’t like being referred to as the children, especially when she was sitting right there. “But Jack said the vampire was supposed to bring us to her. If she can’t perform the only spell to extract our souls without the bowl and dagger, then what would she want with us in the meantime?”
No one said anything, but Violet could tell they were all thinking the same thing: Grace Bale wouldn’t have any qualms about keeping them to torture. Jack said, “Maybe she thought taking us would force you to give her the bowl and dagger.”
“Dr. Tesla wouldn’t do that,” Violet answered quickly. Mira looked at her as if really seeing Violet for the first time. Violet supposed Mira hadn’t thought her capable of such a shrewd observation. Dr. Tesla would never give Grace Bale what she wanted, because that would mean reviving Lincoln and Ashlyn and the possibility that they’d fulfill the prophecy to end the world as everyone knew it—the very prophecy that prompted The Trust to take their souls to begin with. He’d sworn an oath to protect the existence of supernaturals and he wouldn’t go back on that for anything. Not even Jack and Violet.
Dr. Tesla looked at Violet for a long moment, and then said, “I suspect Mira may be right. Grace is trying to scare you and remind us that she’s still out there.”
“As if we could ever forget,” Jack scoffed. “Hey, how’d you do that thing with the vampire? Was it a spell?”
“What thing?” Dr. Tesla asked.
Violet had almost forgotten. “I don’t know. He was about to bite me and I just said the first thing that popped into my head. I was scared. And then he just… stopped. He looked out of it.”
Dr. Tesla walked around the sofa and sat next to Jack, facing Violet. “What did you say? Do you remember?”
“Something like, ‘Don’t do this, please?’” Violet closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“No,” Jack said, shaking his head, “You said, ‘You don’t want to do this.’ I remember thinking it sounded like something someone in a movie would say.” He smiled.
“Gee, thanks. But you’re right. That’s it. You don’t want to do this.”
“Were you making eye contact with the vampire?” Mira asked.
Violet thought a moment then said, “Yes.”
“Compulsion,” Dr. Tesla and Mira spoke at once.
“She can compel people now?” Jack asked, incredulously. “No fair! How long have you been able to do that?”
Violet shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know I was doing it! I just said it and I felt kind of warm behind my eyes, and…”
“What?” Dr. Tesla asked.
“I did it today in the cafeteria. To Charlotte. I thought she was just trying to be funny.”
Dr. Tesla sighed. “Well, it’s not like we didn’t know this was a possibility. You’re inheriting Ashlyn’s mental-based powers, and Jack is gaining all of Lincoln’s touch-based ones.”
Jack looked at his hands briefly and asked, “Lincoln could heal people?”
Mira laughed. “If Lincoln Bale had the power to heal with his hands, I guarantee he never used it.”
She’d secretly been a little envious of Jack’s second power after he used it that first time to heal her, but now that she’d apparently developed a new one, Violet wasn’t sure how she felt. Could she make people do anything she wanted? How long would it last? Had she been doing this and not noticing? No, she decided. If I had, I’d have known - now that I know what’s happening, what it feels like when I’m doing it. Jack was looking at her oddly.
“Violet, do me a favor. Just say, ‘These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.’”
“Oh, that’s really funny,” Violet said, heavy on the sarcasm. She turned to Dr. Tesla. “Are you going to call… I mean do you have a way to contact—”
“Kalina? Yes. I can reach her and Ms. Sweet if I need to, though I’m not sure this calls for them to stop investigating before they’re done.”
“Wait a second.” Mira put a hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side. “You mean to tell me you trusted a vampire with that?”
Dr. Tesla stood and regarded Mira, his face stern. Jack and Violet had never seen him questioned and he didn’t seem to like it. “Yes, I did. I trust Kalina completely, and when the usual methods of research yielded nothing I thought it would be best if… let’s just say we needed access to doors that would be closed to us, but welcoming to a fairy or a vampire.”
Mira didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. “But when this is all done, I assume the items will be placed…”
“At Gendarme, yes.”
“What’s Gendarme?” Jack asked.
“Another Alliance facility. Don’t worry about that now. You two should get to bed. Violet, we’ll talk tomorrow about this new power. You can work with Mira until Kalina returns.” Everyone understood that Dr. Tesla was done answering questions for the night—everyone except Mira.
“You have the vampire training them, too?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Yes, I do. And her name is Kalina.” There was a note of finality in Dr. Tesla’s voice. Even Mira seemed to get that the subject was closed. She shrugged and headed for the door.
“I will see myself out. Jack and Violet, try not to get into more trouble… at least, not until the morning. I need a solid eight hours sleep or I’m a complete witch.”
*
Detectives Tedesco and Czarnecki stood on the sidewalk in front of what used to be a modest two-story home with a porch, an awning, and a thriving garden. All that remained that dreary morning was a pile of ash and wet rubble covered by a blue tarp and surrounded by caution tape. Dr. Manton had called with the news that the Jane Doe from the Preston was definitely Czarnecki’s missing woman from Philadelphia. She’d been missing for almost a year, but dead only a couple of months at best. As bad as he felt for Czarnecki—he was now working a homicide, and there’d be no happy reunion for Angela Harkin’s family and friends back in Philly—Tedesco was tasked with putting the puzzle together.
They’d come to the scene of the house fire because it was the only lead they had. As they walked around the perimeter of the damage, Czarnecki refreshed his memory of the details that led to a dead-end back in Philly. “Angela was an underwriter for an insurance company. She was single, dated a little, but nothing that went beyond a handful of dates, no kids. And she was reported missing after two days of no-show no-call at work. We interviewed all the co-workers, neighbors, the little family she had. Everyone agreed it wasn’t like her to just go off without notice. There was no credit card activity and her last cash withdrawal was for sixty dollars, even though there was thousands in her checking account. If she were planning to run off, she’d have taken more. If she was being robbed and it went bad, we thought, they’d have made her take more. The ATM camera footage proves she was alive and, seemingly, alone the day before she failed to turn up at work.”
Tedesco crouched and lifted the edge of the tarp. Dipping his head slightly to look under it, he thought he was looking at what was once a sofa or loveseat. The fabric and cushioning had all been completely burned away, but there was a still a severely charred frame and twisted seat springs. He said, “Maybe she was running from something and didn’t want to leave a trail, but that doesn’t explain—”
“It doesn’t explain why she kept her name. People who are running from something will change their names,” Czarnecki said, shaking his head.
It was overcast and cold. Both detectives were wearing heavy leather jackets over their slacks and dress shirts. Normally Tedesco would be wearing jeans, but they were going to interview some of Angela Harkin’s neighbors. It could go either way. Sometimes people felt more compelled to talk honestly when you dressed down and came off less intimidating. Other times people needed to see you as an authority figure and professional, or they’d be less inclined to part with information. Czarnecki admitted that he would have preferred something less stuffy, but he was a visitor. He didn’t want to assume to be that comfortable. Well, Tedesco thought, door-to-doors and crouching in soggy rubble called for comfortable clothes. If this investigation went another day, he suggested they go more casual. Czarnecki agreed.
Tedesco liked having a partner again, even if it was temporary. Czarnecki was a thinker, which meant he wasn’t a lazy cop. They worked well together. Both asked questions and worked them through to all logical scenarios. And then they asked more questions. Like Tedesco, Czarnecki was young with a baby face only made more youthful by large blue eyes and deep-set dimples. If they ever had to play Good Cop Bad Cop, Tedesco knew who’d be playing good cop.
Tedesco rose and pointed at the folded papers in Czarnecki’s hand. “It also doesn’t make sense why none of that raised any flags.” The other detective was holding a photocopy of Angela Harkin’s Pennsylvania and New Jersey driver’s licenses side by side, and a copy of the county records showing she’d purchased the house they were standing next to – or what was left of it – shortly after she went missing. “How do you get a driver’s license, register to vote, and purchase a house in the next state over, and no one notices?”
Czarnecki simply shook his head and they went knocking on doors to find out.
*
One of the homes directly next to the burnt structure was for sale, so they didn’t bother going there, and the detectives didn’t get an answer at the house on the other side or the one directly across the street. When people connected with their neighbors, they tended to do so with the ones who lived the closest. They finally found someone home at the house diagonally across from Angela Harkin’s.
Moments after Tedesco had rung the bell, a petite black woman answered the door with a toddler on her hip. She reflexively smoothed her hair with a free hand and wiped what looked like powdered sugar on her face in the process.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a smile, shifting the boy to the other hip. “Can I help you?”
Tedesco and Czarnecki presented their shields and asked if they could come in. They had a list of residents on the street, so they already knew she was Daphne Nelson, married to Liam and mother of Jamie. When they explained that they were there to discuss the fire, Daphne seemed not only willing to talk about it, but anxious to do so. She settled the curly-haired boy at a play table in the living room and brought out three cups of coffee with several slices of lemon Danish on a tray. After expressions of gratitude and a sip of coffee each, Tedesco took the lead.
“Did you know the woman who lived in the house? Angela Harkin?”
“Not very well,” Daphne said, keeping an eye on her son, who played quietly. “She kept to herself mostly. The few times we did speak, she was very friendly though.”
“Did she live alone?” Czarnecki asked. He was taking notes in a small pad he’d pulled from his inside jacket pocket.
“I think so. I never saw anyone coming and going on a regular basis. I don’t think she worked. She worked in her garden a lot. And I have to tell you; it was the most beautiful garden I’d ever seen. The best in the whole neighborhood. I don’t know how she did it, a woman her age.”
Czarnecki stopped writing and looked at Tedesco. He’d caught it too. “A woman her age?”
Daphne looked embarrassed. “Well, I’m not an ageist or anything. My mother is up in age and still gets around on her own quite well. But the constant bending and squatting, and pushing around the wheelbarrow of soil? No, Ms. Harkin definitely put most women her age to shame.”
Czarnecki unfolded a sheet of paper and handed it to Daphne. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Daphne looked down at the photo and Tedesco watched her face carefully. He’d studied the color photo closely and could see it in his head. Complaints about driver’s license photos were common, but Angela Harkin’s picture was an exception. The photo showed her smiling brightly, large hoop earrings sat next to her high cheekbones. She looked happy and not a day over her thirty-two years of age.
Daphne studied the photo and then read the name on the license. “Oh. No. This… I don’t know this woman. You have the wrong Angela Harkin.”
The detectives exchanged glances. Tedesco asked, “Are you saying this isn’t the woman who lived in the house across the street?”
She laughed. “Oh, no. Not even close. She’s at least sixty and she’s a redhead.”
Daphne handed the paper back to Czarnecki, who asked, “Were you home the night of the fire?”
“Yes. Jamie had been sick, a little cold, nothing major, but he was cranky. I’d finally gotten him down to sleep and my husband and I were in the living room watching television. We heard commotion outside. Some of the neighbors were outside, all pointing at the house and panicked. I wasn’t sure what was going on at first so I went to check on Jamie while Liam went outside. By the time I joined him, more than half the house was in flames. There was a lot of crying. Even though several people had called the fire department, we knew that if she were home, there’d be no way to get her out. Liam and a few of the other men got as close as they could and even walked around the side, trying to see if there was a clear way in.”
She looked over at her son, who impatiently tapped a puzzle piece into the wrong slot before realizing his mistake and finding the right one. Daphne wiped a tear from her eye. “This is gonna sound awful, but… I’ve been very grateful they didn’t find a way in. There’s no way they’d have survived and especially since it turned out she wasn’t even home. Thank God!”
Tedesco smiled politely. She was embarrassed at the admittance, but she was right. He’d read the reports and there was no way Mr. Nelson or anyone else would have made it out of that house alive if they’d tried to be a hero. He asked, “Have you seen her since that night? As you know, there wasn’t a body found, but no one has been able to locate her since then.”
Daphne shook her head. “No. Everyone seems to think that… well, we know she didn’t die in the fire, but talk around the neighborhood is that she has to be dead somewhere. I think…” She ducked her head shyly.
Czarnecki smiled and nodded, indicating she could continue. “Well, I was telling Liam that maybe someone did something to her in that house, moved the body somewhere else, but burned the house down to hide evidence.”
She looked so proud of her theory the detectives nodded and fixed their faces like they were giving it serious consideration. Tedesco thought she watched a lot of crime dramas on television, and as much as she genuinely felt bad about the fire and the disappearance of her neighbor, the whole thing had given Daphne Nelson a taste of excitement, something to talk about over dinner instead of the humdrum details of her own life.
“That’s a possibility,” he said.
She smiled triumphantly. “And you know,” she continued, really warming up, “it just seems so weird that all of this happened so soon after the Rosses died.”
“The Rosses? Who were they?” Czarnecki asked, inching forward in his seat.
She rubbed the palms of her hands on her knees. “They lived in the house next to Ms. Harkin’s, the one that’s for sale? About three months before the fire, they died in a car accident. It was very sad. They had a daughter, Violet. Sweet girl. She babysat for us a few times. Jamie really liked her. I think she went to live with some doctor or lawyer or something. He’s a bachelor, I think.” She made a quiet tsk tsk noise and continued. “A girl her age without a mother just breaks my heart. But she seemed to grow really close to Ms. Harkin after her parents died.”
