The Tree, Page 5

  Two of the Antes stayed behind even as the others left. One resembled a heptagram balanced on one of its points, made of something thin, white, and furry. The other was the golden serpent with the human face. Its face looked like a stereotypical pornographer from the seventies; a large bushy blond mustache adorned its upper lip. Its cheeks were spotted with tufts of hair and the smile on its face was pure smarm.

  The serpent spoke clearly. There was no cartoonish hiss to its words. Just a dry airless quality as if they were said with little breath behind them.

  “We apologize for the wait, Byron of San Francisco. The Hunt is taking precedence, but we are aware of your presence and your failures.”

  Byron straightened and opened his mouth to defend himself.

  “I’ll have you—”

  The serpent spoke over him as if he had said nothing at all, rising up on the coil of its tail so that it towered over all of them. “There have been failures on this side as well. We have lost the girl. The old man is now a necessity instead of a liability.”

  Byron nodded.

  “There is more planning to be done. We will come for you this evening and escort you to a safer space.”

  The heptagram said nothing. Byron wondered if it could even speak. Both of the Antes turned toward the exit and paused when they saw The Door standing there.

  The serpent studied The Door for a long moment and The Door, who it seemed they all had forgotten was still in the room, simply stared back and made no move one way or the other. The serpent swayed back and forth but The Door simply raised an eyebrow until the serpent finally flung itself out the door. The heptagram unfolded itself into a long thin rope of white fur and followed.

  The Door studied him for a moment.

  “So you will be leaving soon.” It was not a question but a statement.

  Byron nodded and turned to his minions, carefully closing off the power still flowing to them, allowing them free will again.

  “What was that?” Melisande whispered it.

  “Which part?” Byron asked.

  “We know you said there are other things here but—we didn’t think they would be—” Bastion tried to finish the thought, but struggled himself.

  “So alien?” Byron asked. Now that contact had been made some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Back to the room now.” He had forgotten The Door was there once. He would not do so again. They were playing a game of their own and he had no idea what it was. He was sure that the two Antes he had run into earlier were the ones being hunted, but the Ante covered in eyes had somehow not seen the knowledge in his head.

  Was it something to do with the ritual? With Ruth’s sacrifice? There must have been a reason that image hit him so strongly as it delved into his mind. Once they were ensconced in their room again, he turned to the two humans.

  “You will say nothing about the earlier incident with the two Antes and the children to anyone. Do you understand me?”

  He did not lace his voice with command. He thought about it but decided that this would be a test. They had no contact, and no one to tell. But if they tried he would know it was time to dispose of them. Even if The Hunt had not been looking for the two Antes from earlier, which he highly doubted, they were running from something, and that kind of knowledge was always valuable to someone.

  He had no illusions about the deal he had made or the trustworthiness of those he had made the deal with. He had a little leverage but this could mean much more. Byron was no fool. They would cease to be allies as soon as he outlived his usefulness. They were using each other, though he was sure the Antes believed him to be sincere. It was part of his charm—a more subtle effect than the one they all saw him use—and one he was thrilled to know also worked on Antes.

  For now.

  ERIK

  How do you avoid a ghost?

  Distraction and a good dose of “la la la, I can’t hear you!”.

  Eventually Daniel got tired of his constant silence and would leave. Erik had enough to deal with and the emotional toll of having his dead ex around was stifling and distracting, to say the least. The guilt was still crushing and, according to Matthias, was most likely what was affecting his healing powers. He certainly had enough to do without dealing with the emotional fallout of Daniel’s death. The time for crossing over into Zebub was approaching rapidly, and he was becoming more and more nervous.

  He filled his time reading as many files as he could get his hands on, both from the Organization and the Agency. Reading the files from the two competing bureaucracies was intriguing. Both had extensive files on The Blooded inside and outside of their respective groups. The differing cultures and priorities came through in many small ways in their reports. The Agency was focused on controlling information and limiting exposure, and given its governmental connections, it was far more rigid and hierarchal, and very concerned with policy and procedure. The Organization seemed more concerned with gathering power and knowledge—as protection against the Agency, or for its own sake? Given the trust issues so many independents seemed to have towards the Organization, and recent revelations about hidden connections to The Angelics, this seemed like a legitimate question. The less strict culture that the Organization fostered meant it was more than likely that individuals in the Organization had competing and hidden agendas. This was one reason why an outsider like Erik had been given so much power—to ferret out just how widespread the hidden alliance with The Angelics was.

  Erik read the files on himself first, of course, followed by all the people he knew. There had really only been two big surprises in those files. One was the revelation that his grandma had been pretty big in the Bay Area Blooded scene during the fifties and sixties. Reading about her exploits . . . well, he had learned a lot but also had a lot of questions.

  The second surprise was less positive: Tae had been lying to him. The boy he’d been prepared to call a friend wasn’t weak and in need of training to compensate for his lack of power. In fact, the Organization had yet to find an upper limit to his powers. Since he had learned this, all of his texts from Tae had gone ignored, which was why when the theme song for Buffy the Vampire Slayer rang through his room, he didn’t move.

  Only when he finished reading the entire file on the Anzu bloodline did he look at the screen.

  It was from Matthias. Another part of his life that Erik would rather avoid. The last few days had been difficult between them, as they struggled to find a balance between former Counselor and Aspirant to . . . friends? Something else. It had been easier to limit their interactions to business only. Not that their relationship hadn’t always been business, but Erik made it a point to ignore hints of anything else now. Matthias was clearly not interested, and Erik would not continue to feed into some impossible happy ending.

  daya and i are on our way over

  Erik sighed as he read the text from Matthias and the doorbell rang downstairs immediately afterward.

  He met his mother in the entryway.

  “It’s probably your grandmother. It would be just like her to show up a day early to catch us off guard.”

  “I think it’s Matthias and Daya, actually.” Erik replied.

  Immediately his mother’s shoulders lost some of their tension. He hurried to the door as she disappeared behind him with a call out:

  “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Erik wondered why she was leaving. His mother had sat in on every other meeting related to the Agency, which she and his grandmother would be in charge of in his stead. He shook his head. It was probably nothing. Every time she did something odd now Erik wondered if it had some connection to her powers manifesting? She was still so secretive about what gifts her awakening had granted her.

  He opened the door to Matthias and Daya, the latter with a bag over her shoulder made of dark purple velvet. Erik stared at her for a second. They had not truly spoken or been in such a small group together since their blow-up underground. He held no ill-will towards her—they had b
oth been under massive stress. But he still did not like how she had spoken to him or the things she had implied. He nodded at her, keeping his face blank.

  She returned the gesture although the blankness quickly turned to a grimace as she looked over at Matthias.

  “Can we come in?” Matthias asked.

  Erik moved to the side and let them into the entryway.

  “What do you guys need?” Erik asked, his eyes being drawn back to the bag. There was something about it that made him uncomfortable. “Where’s Elana?”

  “We didn’t want her around for this.”

  Erik put his back to the door and looked at them both. They were hovering carefully out of reach. He rolled his eyes. “For what, exactly?”

  “Let’s talk in the living room.” Matthias smiled.

  Erik rolled his eyes again. If he kept doing it he was worried they would end up permanently pointing in the wrong direction. He gestured toward the kitchen, as a small act of defiance, and followed them in.

  “First off, is he here?”

  Erik knew who Matthias meant and he shook his head, using the motion to take a final glance around the room. Sometimes Daniel snuck up on him and by the time he noticed the ghost, he always had the feeling Daniel had been watching him for a very long time.

  “Good. We’re still worried about him.”

  Erik was worried too but he also didn’t doubt that the ghost was Daniel. He was worried about what death had done to Daniel.

  “So, we want you to do something for us.”

  Erik narrowed his eyes. “What?” He sat down at the small table and they sat across from him.

  Daya putting the velvet bag on the table between them. The bag was lumpy and oddly shapen and he could smell the faint scent of wet dirt.

  She pulled it open and took out a white plastic plate that was stained yellow along the edge and covered with painted symbols. Then she reached in again and pulled out a skull.

  “Shitballs.” The skull looked fake to Erik because it was so white. Skulls weren’t that clean and pearly, were they?

  “This is an old working. We went to visit my Tia Heloise to get it. Neither of us have this kind of specialty,” Daya explained.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Erik asked.

  “The dead,” Matthias answered.

  “Yeah, I got that part. What about the dead?” Erik snarked back.

  “This will allow us to speak with the spirit of Daniel,” Daya said.

  “We can already do that, though,” Erik said slowly.

  “This will summon his spirit into this vessel.” Daya patted the skull, which she carefully placed on the plate facing Erik. She then pulled out a scrap of orange fabric, stained with blood, then a handful of seeds and a white candle.

  A suspicion started to build.

  “So, any skull will do for this?” Erik asked.

  They looked at each other and lowered their eyes.

  “Solange in an elevator! Really?” Erik looked at the skull in front of him, now sure it was Daniel’s. They both just looked at him and waited for him to say yes or no.

  Daniel’s body, along with most of the other dead, had appeared after the destruction of the tree. Whatever explanation had been given to his family Erik didn’t know. They had made it clear that they had no interest in allowing him to attend the funeral. Erik could not blame them, even if it was for the wrong reasons. Daniel was dead because of him. He did not deserve to mourn with those who lost him, because someone had turned Daniel into a weapon. A weapon aimed at Erik.

  “I guess if you went to all the trouble of grave robbing, how can I say no?”

  He saw Matthias grimace at his tone and looked to Daya, who did not meet his eyes as she lit the candle.

  “Put your hands on the skull.”

  Erik hesitated for only a moment before doing what she asked.

  “And call out his full name.”

  “Daniel Crispus Moorehead.”

  They all waited. Erik felt weird doing this in the middle of the day in his yellow and white kitchen. It should be midnight in a graveyard, right? When the skull rocked back and forth under his hands he yelped and jumped, his chair sliding back a foot. The skull shook back and forth again, slowly rocking and rotating on the plate, taking in Erik, Matthias, and Daya.

  What am I doing in this vessel?

  The voice was Daniel’s but it was truly dead, no emotion or inflection to the words at all. The skull spun again and its empty sockets focused on Erik.

  Were you this desperate to see me again? I would have returned shortly. Or was this for them?

  Words that would have been flirtatious or mocking became menacing and ominous when stripped of all tone. Erik looked at the other two.

  “Well, what was the point of this?”

  They both ignored him and Matthias focused on the skull, which swung around to face him as he spoke.

  “What is your name?”

  Erik frowned at the question but held his tongue.

  Daniel Crispus Moorehead. There was a pause. Ah, now I see.

  Erik looked at the skull as it turned its empty eye sockets on him and answered the question on his face.

  I cannot lie like this.

  Erik looked to Matthais and he would not meet his eyes though Daya did so defiantly. Erik felt a flare of anger, not because they had done this but because they hadn’t filled him in. Did they trust him at all anymore?

  “What exactly are you two looking for?”

  Neither of them answered him and, rather than repeat his question, he sat silently as they began to question the skull. He sat there as they asked questions about his relationship with Daniel. He sat through the recounting of Daniel’s death, from Daniel’s perspective; the dry emotionless voice reciting the terror that Daniel had felt. It sent shivers up his spine.

  “Are we done yet?” Erik asked, his tone clipped.

  Matthias looked at him and winced at whatever was showing on Erik’s face.

  “Almost. Just one last question,” Matthias replied.

  Daya interrupted. “But—”

  “Daya. One more question.”

  She made a face but leaned back in her chair and didn’t push it any further.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The skull shook for a moment.

  I am here to watch over Erik.

  It should have been an “awwwwww” moment; instead, when it came through the non-existent yet somehow scratchy throat of the skull on the table, it turned into an “oh Jesus, fuck no” situation.

  “On whose orders?”

  No one’s but my own.

  Daya and Matthias shared a look and then Daya snuffed out the candle and the skull very lightly clattered back down, but shattered the plate anyway.

  “Tia said that might happen. She’s gonna make me work that off for sure.”

  Matthias snorted. Daya packed up everything she had brought and left with a goodbye for both of them. He and Matthias were left facing each other, alone. The awkwardness descended almost immediately. Matthias broke the silence before it stretched too long.

  “I’m meeting with a few independents from Oakland in an hour, would you like to come along?”

  “Yes.”

  They headed toward the door, on more solid footing now that they had a mission to focus on. Matthias had been taking Erik around, introducing him to as many of the independents around the Bay Area as would agree to meet with him. After all, he was an eighteen-year-old who had taken over the office of one of their enemies. He really couldn’t blame some of them for being cautious.

  They got into the Mini Cooper that Erik was pretty sure Matthias just considered his now, and Matthias guided it out onto the street. He saw a couple of photographers in the yard and frowned at them. He hadn’t had much problem with paparazzi lately. A stern warning from people in dark suits did wonders in scaring most off.

  Matthias was silent until they were on the Bay Bridge and Erik busied himself by
gently feeling out the forces around the car. Now that he was aware of it he found it soothing to fall into the easy rhythm of the speed and the mass of the car cutting through the air resistance.

  “You should forgive Tae.”

  “I will. Eventually,” Erik responded immediately.

  “It’s not his fault he’s not trustworthy,” Matthias responded.

  Erik raised an eyebrow at him. He was mad at Tae for lying about the level of his ability but Erik realized it wasn’t completely rational. They had barely known each other. Why would Tae tell a practical stranger everything about himself? It still stung.

  “He’s a seer.” Matthias shrugged as if that explained everything.

  “Yeah. I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that.”

  “Seers don’t have the best reputation. They can see a lot, but they’re not necessarily the best with interpretation and they become . . . focused on their vision, either trying to make it come true or trying to avert it. It makes them chaotic.”

  Erik nodded as they pulled off the freeway and turned into west Oakland.

  “I’m not saying he would actively hurt you or anything, but he won’t put your relationship first.”

  Erik looked away. “Well, who does?”

  They rode the rest of the way in brittle silence. They parked on the street and walked into a small diner called Pretty Lady. As they entered, the older Asian woman behind the counter smiled at them and gestured for them to take a seat.

  “We’re actually meeting some people,” Matthias answered.

  She nodded and went back to serving those at the counter. Erik looked around and knew who they were here to meet as soon as he saw them. They were seated in the back-corner booth. Physically they weren’t dressed differently than the other customers; they were smiling and joking with one another, and they hadn’t noticed Erik and Matthias yet.

  There were three of them, two Black women and a Native man, all dressed similarly in jeans, boots, and t-shirts: things they could move in easily. As Matthias approached them, they looked over almost in unison. They smiled warmly at Matthias, but as they spotted Erik, the smiles became more practiced. False.