Autumn Whispers (An Otherworld Novel) (30 page)

After a few moments, he leaned back and crossed his good leg over the one with the brace. “I have some answers for you about your casts and the cigarette, but they also netted more questions.”

Once again, I pulled out my notebook but he shook his head. “I’ve printed out the information for you. Here’s the thing—the cigarette? Whoever smoked it is purely human. No Supe blood whatsoever. Hard to tell with the casts but the energy coming off them? Human. However, there is something attached to this person. Some energetic binding . . . much like you had with Vanzir for a while. This human is bound to a daemon. Not a demon—but a daemon. But who and why, I cannot tell you.”

Camille frowned. “Possession? Could it be someone who is possessed?”

Carter shook his head. “No, it isn’t that. The human is capable of making his own decisions. And it
is
a man. Now, the fact that you were asking about daemonic activity in the Farantino Building seemed like too much of a coincidence, so I did a bit more sleuthing. And I came up with several pieces of information.”

We both leaned forward. One of Carter’s cats leaped onto my lap and I absently stroked her, but then she jumped down and went to Camille, who scooped her up, rubbing her face in her fur.

“You mentioned that Grandmother Coyote told you that Michael Farantino had connections with demons and the like. So I did more research into his background. It seems his grandfather was a member of a cult in the old world—Italy. They weren’t Strega—the Italian witches—but some FBH tradition that had passed down through the years. I discovered that the Farantino family was heavily involved in a magical war with another prominent clan in their village, which was started over a territorial dispute.”

“That sounds all too familiar.” I shook my head. “Clan fighting, family turf wars, they’re common as rabbits in Otherworld. We saw them a lot between members of the nobility, though quite often the attacks were subtle.”

Carter nodded. “Yes, and they aren’t much better here. As a result of this particular feud, one of the Farantino women was cursed. In retaliation, the patriarch of the family made a deal with a daemon, bargaining his family’s freedom in exchange for help and a grab for glory. And so, as the Farantinos rose to power, the other family faded their curse vanished, broken under the weight of their downfall. Eventually, the Farantino family was deeply involved in daemonic activity and the tradition was passed down. The children were bound to the daemon at birth, and they grew up in his service. Everything they did was affected by this daemonic activity, and if they didn’t pay proper tribute, they were ground to dust by poverty and ill health.”

Camille frowned. “So Michael Farantino was a part of this family and he grew up steeped in daemonism. It would make sense for his building to be infused with this energy then.”

“That means Gerald Hanson was immersed in the tradition, too.” It made sense—his soul and memories had been too cold, too calculating.

Carter nodded. “Yes, and Michael passed the building on. Eventually, his great-grandson, Gerald Hanson came to own it, and I believe he was intent on carrying on his great-grandfather’s work. Grandmother Coyote is correct, a dark force is connected to that building and I’m not sure what it is, but it’s ancient and powerful, and linked to the daemonic realms. Whatever is behind it still sleeps, but that doesn’t mean it will continue to do so. Meanwhile, there are lesser, though still vile, energies connected to the building. And I’m sure that Gerald managed to open several gateways before you sucked his soul into the abyss. Especially since he’s got a fraction of Were in him.”

Camille and I looked at each other. So we had a long-running fam-trad focused on daemonic worship. Fam-trads—family traditions—both in Otherworld and Earthside, could be highly dangerous. They tended to be insular, and they tended to be volatile.

“What could they be waking up? And if the Farantino family no longer owns the building, why are the energies still continuing?” It didn’t make sense to me. Since the building had been sold, the daemonic hold should be lightening up.

“There’s the rub. I did a facial features match on the picture you snapped of the man in the coffee shop.” Carter’s expression faded from inquisitive to concerned. “Damned if it’s not Lowestar Radcliffe—the current owner of the building. So I dug into his background a little further.”

“What did you find?” I was almost afraid to hear. It seemed like all the news was bad lately.

“Radcliffe shows up in a number of financial journals. Very successful man. But . . . and here’s the rub . . . he seems to have just arrived one day, bought the building, and moved into Seattle. He supposedly has a history with Yale—a degree in business management—but damned if I can locate the files. He was supposed to have been born in India, but again, no birth certificate. Lowestar Radcliffe might as well have just appeared out of nowhere.”

Camille frowned. “That doesn’t bode well. Either he went to great lengths to cover up his tracks, or . . . or I don’t know what. You can’t become that successful without leaving a trail. Do you know why he bought the building?”

Carter shook his head. “No. Just that the deed suddenly transferred hands. Gerald Hanson was the owner and he stayed on. I looked into his financials, and there was no indication he was in trouble on that level, so there had to be some reason that he gave control of his great-grandfather’s prize possession to someone outside the family. Find out why, and you may find out what’s going on.”

“Here’s another question to answer: why would Gerald stay on if he sold the building? But wait, did he actually
sell
the building? Or did he just deed it to Lowestar?” Camille asked.

Carter tilted his head. “That’s a good question. I didn’t actually look at the deed. Let me see what I can find. Give me till tomorrow, if you would. I’m expecting company for dinner tonight.” By the way he said it, it was obvious that he was talking about a date. Which sounded ridiculous, when you considered that he was essentially a demigod.

Braver than I, Camille snickered. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or man?”

Carter gave her a sly smile. “No one you know. But if things work out, you may get to meet her in the future. Your scaly-winged husband may know her—her name is Shimmer and she’s from the Dragon Reaches. And that is all you need to know for now.”

“You’re dating a dragon? Since when?” Camille was teasing, but Carter’s expression smoldered.

“Oh girl, don’t press your luck. Or I might just . . .” He paused, and the look passed. “You will know if and when I decide you need to know. Now run along, and take the information that I gave you. Oh, and have you contacted your cousins yet?”

I shook my head, deciding to take the focus off Camille. She needed to learn how to be more diplomatic. Although I certainly couldn’t provide much of an example.

“No, we haven’t even told Menolly yet. We will tonight, though. With the Wayfarer burning down, and with the destruction in Otherworld, we’ve had too much on our plates. Our father is still missing, too.” The last, I hadn’t intended on letting slip out, but slip out the words did.

Any snark or danger on Carter’s face vanished. His shoulders slumped and he leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, truly. I hope you can find him, safe and in health. As to the Wayfarer, I will ask around. Perhaps someone has heard something. And Otherworld? There are no words for this matter. Not now, not with what’s going on.” And with that, he stood to show us out.

We were on the street when Camille’s cell rang. She motioned for me to wait before I got into my Jeep while she answered.

“Hello? What’s up? . . . What did he say? . . . No, no—we’re on our way home. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty depending on traffic . . . Don’t do anything until we get there.” She hung up and turned to me. “We have to get home. Morio said there was a call through the Whispering Mirror. Trenyth wants us to contact him. He said that he has some news for us, but he wouldn’t tell Morio what it was.”

Her voice was shaking. I reached out to take her hand. Two of her husbands were in Otherworld, as well as Rozurial. What if something had happened to one of them? Or what if Telazhar had captured one—or more—of the Keraastar Knights? Given that there was an army marching on the city, any number of things could have happened.

“Let’s go. You okay to drive?”

Camille nodded. “Yeah, I just want to be home.” She jumped in her Lexus as I swung into my Jeep. We headed out, and I had the feeling neither one of us was paying much attention to the road as we wound through the rain and the traffic to Belles-Faire.

• • •

By the time we got home, everyone—including Iris and Bruce—were gathered in the living room. Morio had brought the Whispering Mirror downstairs from Camille’s study. He shrugged.

“I just thought it might be a good idea to have this here. At least for now, considering everything that’s going on.”

Hanna brought in tea and cookies, and the smell of spaghetti bubbled on the stove. Menolly had woken up and we gathered in the living room. Camille stared at the mirror.

“I suppose I’d better call him and find out what’s going on.” She bit her lip, gnawing on it until Morio tapped her mouth.

“Stop that. You can’t help anything by hurting yourself. Do you want me to put in the call?” He kissed her forehead, gazing deeply into her eyes.

“No. No, let’s just . . . let me get this over with.” She settled herself in front of the mirror, activating it with the magical password.

I snuggled close to Shade, and he draped his arm around my shoulders. He leaned down to whisper in my ears. “Whatever happens, you will be all right. Your sisters will be all right. We will weather through this.”

I kissed his hand, feeling the warm promise of his love seep into my heart. “Thank you, thank you for being here.”

Camille caught her breath as the mists in the mirror lifted. Trenyth appeared, looking tired and wrung out. We waited for him to speak.

“Girls, are you all there? Menolly—is she there?”

“I’m here.” Menolly couldn’t be seen through the mirror, though she could talk through it.

“Good. I have news for you. First, Sharah has been . . . as you say, fast-tracked. She took the throne this afternoon and is the new Queen of Elqaneve. For the first time since before the Great Divide, the Elfin race has a new leader.”

That wasn’t exactly grounds for celebration, given the circumstances. Be that as it may, at least the elves had someone to look to for guidance, as inexperienced and young as she was.

Trenyth shifted in his seat. “The goblin forces are nearing the gates of the city. But the armies of Y’Elestrial are here to face them with us. There will be bloody war before the morning light hits. We have set up a temporary headquarters in a protected area. Before you come over to Elqaneve again, let us know so we can whisk you away. We can’t give out the location because we are still too vulnerable—not until we’ve fully reinforced our defenses.”

There was something he wasn’t telling us, but knowing Trenyth, he would get around to it in his own time. I squeezed Shade’s hand, waiting.

Trenyth’s gaze flickered as he glanced down at a paper in his hands. “Camille, your husbands and friend are hunting for the Knights. So far we do not believe that Telazhar has captured any of them, but neither have we discovered where they went. We do believe they’re all in hiding. They were instructed, if something should ever happen, to run for the hills and forests, and hide.”

“Then Smoky, Trillian, and Rozurial are all okay?” Camille’s voice was shaking.

With a nod, Trenyth smiled softly. “Yes, they are all right. I spoke with them about an hour ago. They are spending the night here before going out hunting again.” He paused again and I could feel something hanging.

And then, he dipped his head. “I have other news. We discovered Queen Asteria’s body. She was crushed beside her throne. She will be laid to rest tomorrow. We have no time for formal rites and ceremonies. She will be placed in the Barrow Mounds, where the Oracle lived.”

I pressed my hand to my lips. We knew—hell, I had escorted her out of her body, but it was truly real now. She had been found, and she had passed into history, and the Elfin race would have to march on without her wisdom.

Trenyth motioned to someone out of sight of the Whispering Mirror. Trillian came into view, and Trenyth moved to let him take the seat in front of us. “Girls . . . Trillian, please.”

We waited in silence. The air in the living room felt thick, as if something tangible—palpable—was hovering around us. Camille scooted close to Morio and he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Trillian gazed at Camille, holding her gaze. “My love, I have news for you and your sisters.” He let out a long sigh. “I thought to visit your father’s home in Y’Elestrial. I traveled there via the portals this morning. I went to your family shrine . . .”

The room felt like it was beginning to spin. Camille let out a faint cry and Menolly lowered herself to the floor, moving to take my hand. We stood, crossing to stand near Camille. Everyone backed away, letting us have space.

“What did you find?” Camille’s voice was so faint that we could barely hear her.

“My love . . . your father’s soul statue. It’s shattered. Sephreh ob Tanu is dead. Your father is dead.” As Trillian spoke, the room fully started to spin on me.

I shook my head, letting out a whimper. Father had been a constant in our lives. He’d been there from the beginning and for some reason, I’d never thought he’d die. He was hard on us, and his honor was both his downfall as well as his foundation, but he’d always been true to his beliefs.