2 Brooklyn James (8 page)

Tony looks at him perturbed, as if he should already know the answer.

Dr. Godfrey holds his hand up, bowing his head, accepting his foul on the play. “In Greek mythology, Hades is the god of the underworld. The devil, one may conclude.” He scrunches up his nose hoisting his spectacles nearer to his eyes as he situates himself closer to the recliner’s edge. “A Hell Hound is a hound of Hades, or a dog of Hell in the literal translation. They are the guards to the underworld, relegating who is sucked in and who is declined access. They have even been known to track down lost souls, the dead or the dying, and bring them to Hades. European lore can lead one to believe seeing a Hell Hound may be an omen of death.”

Tony rolls his eyes, tiring of the extravagant explanation.

Dr. Godfrey nods, acknowledging he will orient toward a more direct point. “As described in legends, Hell Hounds have glowing red eyes and supernatural abilities. They’re rarely seen, very phantom-like. They may appear as if out of nowhere and vanish with the blink of an eye. An elusive creature. Hell Hounds are associated with fire and often have fire or heat-based abilities.”

“‘They burned…so hot,’” Tony rehearses Gina’s sentiments aloud.

“What burned?” Dr. Ryan inquires.

“His eyes,” Tony says, starting up his incessant pacing. “How does this work? This Vigilare thing? How are
powers
defined, or relegated?”

“This is yet to be identified.” Dr. Godfrey shrugs. “It seems to be innate. A natural inclination. But that’s not proven. Only speculation,” he clarifies.

“That figures,” Tony huffs brusquely. “If your theory is correct, the natural inclination of a convict, a murderer, a rapist…” he searches for words to describe Manny Briggs’ characteristics.

“Pure evil,” Dr. Godfrey resolves.

Tony shakes his head. “And just exactly how does ETNA plan on maintaining control of such a beast?”

“Gina,” Dr. Godfrey concludes knowingly.

“Her natural inclination,” Tony deduces, abruptly ceasing his pacing.

Dr. Godfrey nods. “She’ll sacrifice herself.”

“That’s why she can’t be running off alone,” Dr. Ryan speaks up, concerned by Gina’s disappearance.

“I wouldn’t be worried with Gina’s whereabouts at the moment,” Tony advises. His focus shifts to William Truly. “You might wanna go find your daughter. And her sidekick.” He glances at Marks sensing his interest in Aubrey Raines. Dr. Godfrey smiles at Tony’s deduction, respectful and proud of his
natural inclination.

“But Gina is the mark,” Dr. Ryan argues.

“It’s not a new concept, lady,” Tony devises. “How do you think mob bosses maintain control of their personnel?”

She looks at him with renewed understanding.

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “You should be familiar with the process. The same way you got Gina to go along with your scheme.”

“They go after the heart,” she says warily, her gaze falling on William Truly.

“Come on,
Lancelot,”
William Truly orders, rapping his hand off Marks’ iron chest plate and opening the door.

Jolting to attention, he barks, protesting the moniker, “It’s Marks.” Dutifully and hastily following William Truly out of the apartment, he reiterates, “Officer Sam Marks.”

Tony grabs his keys off the counter, heading for the exit.

“I’m coming with you,” Dr. Ryan balks. Tony stops at the door, his expression all the motivation she needs to stay put.

Dr. Godfrey pats her hand sympathetically. “Detective?” he calls. Tony taps his foot as if to say,
Spit it out!
“At the room, in the hotel, the masquerade ball…were you drawn to her?” he questions his connection to Gina.

“Like a moth to a flame.” Tony leaves ardently.

“He’ll find her,” Dr. Godfrey consoles, helping Dr. Ryan to a seat on the couch, unable to hold back a wide grin, his mind spinning with the wonderment of what’s to come.

“DeLuca,” Tony begs her attention, calling her name for at least the tenth time.

She pivots defensively at his closeness, her collarbones moving up and down at labored speed, facilitating her rapid respiration caused by the shifting of her memories from exquisitely pleasant to disturbingly foul. “You should be more careful about who you sneak up on,” she warns softly, retracting her assertive body language.

He looks at her, his eyes overtly apologetic.

She shakes her head, disturbed at the whole lot of them for telling Tony her truth. “Don’t look at me that way,” she orders.

“What way?” he inquires, furrowing his eyebrows, acutely unaware of his tender expression.

“Your pity is wasted on me, Gronkowski. Save it for someone who needs it.”

“I’m sorry, Gina,” he expels, unable to stop himself.

“Well, I’m not. And you shouldn’t be, either.” She busies herself, bending over searching through the scattered debris, slinging chunks of metal and ash.

“If it’s any consolation, it makes me understand you…all of this…better.” He follows her lead, digging through the waste.

She bolts upright. “Oh yes, it gives me great comfort that you can fully understand me now,” she barks, winging a chunk of charred wood. It crumbles with the force as it connects to the lone, tall stone pillar maintaining its integrity.

“They had no other option but to tell me the truth,” Tony defends gently.

“It wasn’t theirs to tell.” She picks up another chunk of carbonized timber brandishing it at him. “And if you value your handsome little hazels, it would behoove you to expeditiously change their sentiment,” she warns.

He juts his hands up to shoulder level, palms turned out, a sign of compliance, his straight lips slowly turning upward into a grin. “Handsome,” he lingers over the word, causing her to exude a faint smile. “So, what are we looking for?”

“Nothing, really. Something. Anything.” She turns circles, her feet sifting through the ash. He inspects her from head to toe, garbed in his oversized t-shirt, jeans and boots, a pleasurable sight. “Don’t worry. I’ll wash them before I return them,” she addresses his recognition.

He shrugs his shoulders. “You can keep ’em…forever…if you’d like,” he adds, emphasizing the promise of forever. She ignores the proposition, knowing full well it’s impossible to entertain such a notion. “What the hell happened to this place anyway?” he jumps in filling the silence.

“That man. Upstairs at the masquerade ball. The heat from his stare was excruciating,” Gina reasons.

“Manny Briggs,” Tony concludes.

Gina’s attention snaps in his direction wondering how he knows the man’s identity. “They told you everything,” she speaks, defiantly shaking her head.

“He did this?” Tony asks disbelieving, looking around at the wreckage.

“Nobody lived here. The place has been vacant since…” she stops, unable to expel the words. “Dr. Ryan,” she mutters the name with disdain, “kept it for me.”

“Why?” Tony asks confounded.

She shrugs. “In case I ever wanted to stroll down memory lane, I guess.” She runs her hand the length of the mantle on the stone fireplace, another structure withstanding the blaze. “The point is, they’re trying to get to me…”

“ETNA,” Tony interrupts.

She looks at him, again surprised at his knowledge. “Well, why don’t you break it down for me, seeing how you seem to know just as much as I do, if not more,” she sputters.

“I’m just trying to make sure I understand, DeLuca.”

“What do you need to understand? This doesn’t concern you. And trust me, you don’t want it to, Gronkowski,” she argues for his benefit.

“Doesn’t concern me?” he says offended. “You saw what happened back at the hotel. I turned, too, Gina. I didn’t sign up for this…but I’m in it.”

“Nobody’s going to be
in
anything. It stops here.” She pounds her hand off her chest.

“So, that’s your big plan? You’re just gonna give up,” Tony jeers.

“There are others to think about besides me. I’m not giving up. I’m just doing the right thing, Gronkowski.”

“Oh, so if they want you, come and get you, huh?” he continues to dig.

She props herself gingerly against the stone fireplace, her arms crossed over her chest. “Yep.” She eyes him challengingly. “Now, if you’ll excuse yourself, I might make for a more enticing captive.”

He meets her ante with a defiant look, flopping himself onto the floor. The ash fluffs up around him, his legs folded into one another, his elbows casually resting on his knees.

“Get out,” she orders.

“To
get out
would imply we’re in an enclosure. The damn house is blown to shit, DeLuca.” He looks up at what would otherwise be the ceiling to find a few dimly lit stars in the dusky sky. “I can’t get anymore out.”

“Leave. Go. Vamoose. Beat it. Take a hike,” she pauses between each expression allowing the words to roll off her tongue, fully sinking in.

“You wouldn’t leave me,” he defends.

“I don’t want you here,” she replies sharply. “This isn’t Vanguard PD. And this is not some run-of-the-mill case.”

“‘Run-of-the-mill,’” he repeats. “Is that what you think of me? I’m good enough for Vanguard PD, but not for some hardcore, advanced supernatural shit,” he mocks, clearly offended.

“The last thing I need is some rookie Vigilare to worry about. You don’t even know how to handle yourself yet…your transformation. How do you propose to handle mine? Or Manny Briggs’?” She flings her hands out to her sides letting them fall, frustrated, slapping against her thighs.

“Teach me.”

“There’s not enough time.”

“I’m a quick study, DeLuca.” He winks. “And by the way, Manny Briggs is now
Hell Hound,”
he chuckles with the moniker, attempting to lighten the severity of the title.

“Oh, dear God, you’ve been talking with Dr. Godfrey.” She shakes her head. “Hell Hound?” she contemplates before curtly dismissing, “I’ll believe it when he grows three heads.”

“Huh?”

“Cerberus…the famous hell hound…he had three heads,” she reasons, seeing Tony is not following, obviously Greek mythology not his strong suit. “Oh, forget it.”

Tony tilts his head to the side in thought. “Maybe he does…have three heads. How else could he make you believe he was your dead…” He stops abruptly.

“Go ahead,” she encourages harshly. “You can say it. How could he make me believe he was my dead husband?” She pushes off the fireplace, walking past him.

“DeLuca,” he summons.

“You stay. I’ll leave.” She disappears into the night.

Tony remains seated in the rubble and ash, eyeing the place in all its dark, spooky dreariness. A screech owl screams causing him to wince, sending goosebumps dancing over his skin. He shudders his body, an attempt to loosen it up. “Fine. I’ll stay,” he talks to himself, the distant peepers sounding off a soothing song. “That’s nice,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I just gotta warm up to the place.”

Digging through the debris, he pulls his hand back abruptly at its contact with something metal and scorching. “Shit!” he sputters sucking air through his teeth, loosely shaking his hand back and forth at its wrist joint attempting to cool the burning sensation. Grabbing his flashlight from the side of his duty belt, he uses its end to poke around in the soot, exposing a shiny silver crucifix. He grimaces deep in thought with the familiarity of the pendant. He flashes back to the hospital—Vanguard General Hospital. ‘What’s that?’ Gina asked of the crucifix hanging above her hospital bed. ‘Dr. Godfrey hung it there,’ he answered.

He reaches for the necklace, jerking his hand back before even making contact, an autonomic response to the fierce radiating heat. He closes his eyes, shaking his head, as the crucifix appears to glow a hungry red hue. “Get it together, Gronkowski,” he coaches, peering through first one eye then the other. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, sweeping from it a collection of sweat beads. The ash below him in close proximity to the pendant begins to snap and pop, its heat quickly invading his space. “DeLuca!” he yells back-pedaling from the demolished residence.