Highborn. Part 12

"But you admit to generating the list for someone, someone," Redmond pressed. "If you won't give up a name, then at least tell us why and how you pa.s.sed the information."

Kwan's mouth tightened. "I don't think so. Why don't you ask your girlfriend?"

Redmond frowned. "Excuse me?"

"That redheaded b.i.t.c.h who was in the bas.e.m.e.nt with us. She claims she knows so much-ask her. her."

d.a.m.n, Redmond thought as his mind spun. It always came back to Brynna, didn't it? No matter how much he tried not to think of her, to keep her out of his picture. "Other than having stumbled onto the place where you were keeping Cho Kim prisoner, she has nothing to do with this," he said. He hoped he didn't sound too stiff. No matter what kind of wild c.r.a.p she'd tried to feed him on purpose, this was the best he could come up with on short notice.

"Right." Kwan's smile was blatantly fake. "Like I said-whatever."

When he said nothing more, Tarina sighed. "I'll talk to my client," he finally told the two detectives. "We'll work something out and I'll get back to you." He glanced sideways at the Asian man, but Kwan's gaze had s.h.i.+fted up and to a spot vaguely near the ceiling, as if he'd just flipped a mental switch to the I-don't-give-a-d.a.m.n position.

"You do that," Redmond said. But the only thing that kept running through his mind as he and Sathi made their way back to their office was that one, loaded question: Why don't you ask your girlfriend?

Fourteen.

Brynna had just settled onto the bus seat when she glanced to her left and saw the nephilim killer through the window.

She was up and across the aisle in less than the time it took to inhale, but he was already out of sight. The hard-eyed driver, who was watching her in the rearview mirror, didn't stop or slow down when Brynna lurched to the middle exit door and yanked frantically on the call line for a stop. Brynna reached for the emergency k.n.o.b, but the slightly shrill voice of the driver stopped her.

"You pull that k.n.o.b, lady, and you will never never ride my bus again!" ride my bus again!"

"I have to get off," Brynna snapped. "I have to go back!"

"It's not my fault you forgot your purse or your cell phone or whatever," the driver shot back. "That k.n.o.b is for emergencies only, only, and I don't see any emergency happening right now on my bus." The woman glanced at the road, then her gaze cut back to Brynna's in the mirror. "Next stop is two blocks down. You can walk back like everyone else." and I don't see any emergency happening right now on my bus." The woman glanced at the road, then her gaze cut back to Brynna's in the mirror. "Next stop is two blocks down. You can walk back like everyone else."

Brynna's fingers hovered below the k.n.o.b, then she let her hand fall back to her side as she craned her neck and tried to see if the nephilim killer had come back onto the street. The place where she had seen him was fading fast behind her. She rode this bus to work every morning that she had an early job, and while she was building a nice bit of savings, a car was still a long way off in her future. Did this prissy-faced little woman actually have the authority to forbid her from riding it? Brynna wasn't sure but she couldn't take the chance. It was infuriating, but she could endure it because it wasn't fatal; the nephilim killer might be hanging around the building, but Mireva was long gone to school.

Brynna resisted the urge to wrench at the call line, instead giving it an exaggeratedly gentle double pull-ding! ding!-right before the bus reached the stop. Perhaps this sliver of say-so was all the control this woman would ever have over any part of her life. The driver coasted the bus to a stop, then pulled the lever that released the doors and waited, stony-faced, as Brynna called out a cheery "Bye!" and jumped off the bus. It roared away, but Brynna barely noticed-she was already das.h.i.+ng back toward her building, moving as fast as she could in her business suit and high heels. Her pace was far better than a normal person's, but it still wasn't good enough.

The building looked as it always did: dirty, run-down, and depressing, a structure that the sun's rays had somehow skipped. Brynna easily picked up the nephilim killers's scent; what should have been sweet and delightful was, as it had been that first time at the drugstore, infused with the caustic smell of gunpowder. Not as strong because he hadn't fired his weapon recently, but it was still there.

She checked the entry door but the scent was faint-he'd tried the k.n.o.b but hadn't forced his way inside on finding it locked. Brynna stopped for a second, then backtracked, following the man's unique smell until it peaked across the street, in the doorway where she'd glimpsed him through the bus's window. She couldn't pick up anything else-the air was too full of car and bus exhaust, oil, trash, and a thousand other things a.s.sociated with inner-city living. Still, he shouldn't have been able to simply disappear- Tires squealed down the block, followed by the sound of a straining automobile engine. Brynna's eyes narrowed as she focused on the sound then saw a nondescript car speed past the building. She wasn't up on makes and models, so the best she could say about it was that it was small and white-and the man driving it was definitely the nephilim killer.

d.a.m.n, Brynna thought as she stared after the car. She should have told Redmond about this guy days ago. The truth was, she'd kind of pushed him out of her mind. Yeah, Redmond had talked constantly about the serial killer, but was there any real reason to tie the guy who'd shot her drugstore nephilim with any of the other victims? None that she could find, but she was suddenly very sure that Redmond wasn't going to see it that way. That the guy had shown up here, sniffing around the building where Mireva lived, was way more than jarring-to Brynna, he couldn't have called more attention to himself had he been walking around with a five-foot, blinking red arrow pointed at his head.

It was another twenty minutes before the next bus and then an hour's ride downtown. She was barely going to get to this morning's translation job on time, but Brynna wasn't going to stress about it. If they could find another Ndonga translator to replace her, good for them. She didn't think they could pull it off, so the lawyers and their client, an Angolan immigrant fighting deportation because of allegations he was aiding the rebels in his home country, would just have to wait.

The commute gave Brynna plenty of time to think about the nephilim killer and Mireva. Although she'd have to struggle to get Redmond to believe it, there was no connection between herself and the nephilim killer. There was also no such thing as coincidence-he was here for a reason. Since that wasn't Brynna, the only person left was Mireva, and it didn't take a mathematician to figure out that he was here to kill the teenager. The only way he could have known about Mireva, who she was and her address, was if someone had given it to him. And the only way that could have happened would be via Gavino.

Using one nephilim to kill another ... Brynna had to admit that it was an ingenious way for a demon to get to his target. Since demons were forbidden to kill nephilim outright-that would have been far too easy and and unfairly weighted in the demon's favor-they had spent eons perfecting the dark arts of persuasion, lying, and tempting. When she'd faced off with him in the hallway, Brynna had a.s.sumed Gavino was simply trying out those age-old skills on Mireva. Apparently not. This time around the boy was going for the big guns-no pun intended-by using one hapless human to murder others. For the demon, it was a dual win-the nephilim target was killed unfairly weighted in the demon's favor-they had spent eons perfecting the dark arts of persuasion, lying, and tempting. When she'd faced off with him in the hallway, Brynna had a.s.sumed Gavino was simply trying out those age-old skills on Mireva. Apparently not. This time around the boy was going for the big guns-no pun intended-by using one hapless human to murder others. For the demon, it was a dual win-the nephilim target was killed plus plus another nephilim was corrupted. Brynna couldn't help wondering what Gavino had said to his young murderer to make it seem all right. another nephilim was corrupted. Brynna couldn't help wondering what Gavino had said to his young murderer to make it seem all right.

Funny, she'd never thought Gavino was that smart. In any event, now it was a case of double trouble: to keep Mireva safe, Brynna would have to watch out for Gavino and and his armed nephilim flunky. his armed nephilim flunky.

"SOMETHING'S WRONG HERE," MICHAEL Klesowitch said in a strained voice. "Something's really wrong. It's Klesowitch said in a strained voice. "Something's really wrong. It's off, off, I know it is. I have to figure this out, I have to I know it is. I have to figure this out, I have to fix fix it." it."

A dim part of his mind was very aware that he was talking to himself as he drove, but that was all right. He wasn't crazy, he knew that-he was just trying to verbally sort it all out. He did his best thinking out loud, almost as if he were spreading out the store's paperwork at the end of the day to get it organized and tally up the day's packages and receipts. As the a.s.sistant manager of a UPS store close to downtown, Michael knew how to be organized. He was good good at it, d.a.m.n it. Methodical. Efficient. Those were the reasons he'd been able to get this work done, these unpleasant tasks, without being caught. at it, d.a.m.n it. Methodical. Efficient. Those were the reasons he'd been able to get this work done, these unpleasant tasks, without being caught.

Well, that and the Holy Man's protection, of course.

Hank-yes, that's what he needed. He needed to talk to the Holy Man, to lay it all out, the pros, the cons, the surprises, surprises, and figure out what could be done to and figure out what could be done to fix fix it, because something wasn't it, because something wasn't right, right, it wasn't- it wasn't- The sudden blaring of a horn made Michael realize he was veering over the center line on Lincoln Avenue and into the oncoming lane. He overcorrected by wrenching the steering wheel to the right and nearly sideswiped a parked car. By the time he got the d.a.m.ned car heading in a straight line, he was hunched over the steering wheel like a half-blind old man and crawling along at fifteen miles an hour while sweat streamed down both sides of his face. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he whispered. "That was close. Too Too close." His gun, a Chinese Type 64 silenced pistol that the Holy Man had given him, was in the trunk, and the last thing he needed right now was to have an accident. Just the thought made him shudder all over again. He felt like he was going to vomit. "Come on, Klesowitch," he hissed. "Just calm down. Breathe. Everything'll be fine, just fine." close." His gun, a Chinese Type 64 silenced pistol that the Holy Man had given him, was in the trunk, and the last thing he needed right now was to have an accident. Just the thought made him shudder all over again. He felt like he was going to vomit. "Come on, Klesowitch," he hissed. "Just calm down. Breathe. Everything'll be fine, just fine."

But it wasn't fine, fine, oh no. It had been, sure, up to the point that the bus had pa.s.sed him. A oh no. It had been, sure, up to the point that the bus had pa.s.sed him. A bus, bus, for G.o.d's sake. A dirty, smelly, old city for G.o.d's sake. A dirty, smelly, old city bus bus. Not even a new one-the CTA saved those for downtown, where all the tourists could ride in clean, air-conditioned comfort and marvel at how the city transportation system was so awesome. No, this bus, the one that was causing him all the grief, had had all its windows open, which meant that the heat be d.a.m.ned, its air-conditioning wasn't working.

But something had ... happened happened to him when it sped by on the street, something weird. Michael had been standing in the doorway of a building one number down and across the street from where his target lived, hanging around to see if she'd come out. If the information Hank had given him was correct, this was about the time she'd be going to summer school, although he wasn't sure if she took city transportation or a school bus. That was a fact he might never know, because Michael was trying very hard not to think of her as an actual person, as an actual high school to him when it sped by on the street, something weird. Michael had been standing in the doorway of a building one number down and across the street from where his target lived, hanging around to see if she'd come out. If the information Hank had given him was correct, this was about the time she'd be going to summer school, although he wasn't sure if she took city transportation or a school bus. That was a fact he might never know, because Michael was trying very hard not to think of her as an actual person, as an actual high school girl. girl. She had to be just a She had to be just a target, target, a thing that Hank had told him must be eliminated for the greater good. Michael had seen a printed version of her yearbook picture and that was bad enough-she was a beautiful girl with clear skin and ink-black eyes who smiled innocently at the camera. Hank had told Michael that she was tall, like Michael himself. How could she be anything as evil as the Holy Man insisted? a thing that Hank had told him must be eliminated for the greater good. Michael had seen a printed version of her yearbook picture and that was bad enough-she was a beautiful girl with clear skin and ink-black eyes who smiled innocently at the camera. Hank had told Michael that she was tall, like Michael himself. How could she be anything as evil as the Holy Man insisted?

But she had to be, because the Holy Man had said she was. There was so much Michael didn't know, and he never would-it wasn't Michael's job to know the answers to the questions about things like this. He couldn't let it frustrate him, couldn't let it cloud his judgment. He had to make good, sensible decisions, like opting not to go to her school and eliminate her there. Nothing was guaranteed to draw the police faster than gunfire at a high school, and there was a police station only a few minutes away from Lane Tech's location at California and Fullerton. Plus, the sheer size of the girl's high school made it likely there would be cops all over the area every morning and afternoon; even in a brain factory like Lane Tech, they'd be constantly on the make for dealers, predators circling the prey just like the dealers circled the buyers.

Another horn blared and Michael jammed on the brakes reflexively, then gasped as the car behind him nearly rear-ended him. In the side mirror, he saw a guy lean out the window and scream something about speeding up, but before Michael could press the accelerator again, the man's car squealed around Michael's. With his heart racing, Michael spotted a bus stop with enough s.p.a.ce behind it for half a car and lurched into it, hoping any cops around would have better things to do than focus on him. When no one pulled up next to him, he sat there, shaking and perspiring for a good five minutes before he could get his labored breathing to slow.

That bus-yeah, it had started with that. Like someone was watching watching him through the vehicle's dirty windows. Then, after it had driven by and he'd decided to run across the street and check the door to the target's building, he'd been hit with ... what? A really bad him through the vehicle's dirty windows. Then, after it had driven by and he'd decided to run across the street and check the door to the target's building, he'd been hit with ... what? A really bad feeling. feeling. That was it-a feeling. Nothing more, but it had been a truly spectacular one, hadn't it? Big enough to make him suddenly turn tail and flee like a rabbit trying to outrun a diving hawk. He'd never felt anything like it before. h.e.l.l, he'd never even had deja vu or a sense of foreboding about anything, but this ... it was like the hand of death had reached out and caressed the back of his neck. All he'd wanted to do was curl up in the doorway and try to make himself as small as possible-that rabbit thing again-but instinct had stepped in and driven him to do something to save his sad and sorry a.s.s. That was it-a feeling. Nothing more, but it had been a truly spectacular one, hadn't it? Big enough to make him suddenly turn tail and flee like a rabbit trying to outrun a diving hawk. He'd never felt anything like it before. h.e.l.l, he'd never even had deja vu or a sense of foreboding about anything, but this ... it was like the hand of death had reached out and caressed the back of his neck. All he'd wanted to do was curl up in the doorway and try to make himself as small as possible-that rabbit thing again-but instinct had stepped in and driven him to do something to save his sad and sorry a.s.s.

Michael was calmer by the time he finally pulled back into traffic, but he still wasn't sure what he was going to do. He had no way of contacting the Holy Man, so he was just going to have to wait. It wouldn't be long, he was sure; in the past he'd always been able to get his a.s.signment completed in a day or so, but he was working on four days now. The Holy Man was bound to show up at his apartment at any time. That was a good thing-a very very good thing. good thing.

Because for the first time Michael had some questions that he was going to insist be answered.

"I SHOULD HAVE CALLED SHOULD HAVE CALLED first," Redmond said. "I know it's rude to just show up." first," Redmond said. "I know it's rude to just show up."

Brynna shrugged and stood to the side so he could step into her apartment. "If you want to come over, come over. I have no objections."

He stood uncertainly in the room as she closed the door behind him. "I guess sometimes it makes people think I'm checking up on them," he said uncomfortably. "It's been an issue ... in the past."

She gestured to the table area. "Have a seat. I went to the store this afternoon. Would you like some fruit?"

"Sure," he said, but Brynna didn't think he was really listening. She would prepare a meal for him, she decided. He was always taking her out to eat, so she should repay his kindness. She didn't cook, but she had plenty of things that could be served just as they were.

As she began taking things from the tiny refrigerator, Redmond pulled a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket and placed it on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing you something to eat," she said. "It's ..." She tilted her head, searching for the word. "Sociable. I'm trying to fit in better."

"Fit in?"

"With city life." She'd started to say human life, human life, then changed her mind. She had no idea why she was sugarcoating things for him, but maybe that had to do with trying to fit in, too. He'd clearly had a problem with their last conversation, so why not try to make this one easier? And in all honesty, she had an idea that he was going to be pretty ticked off at her once he found out about the nephilim killer. Maybe a meal and trying to soothe his feelings would help somehow. She didn't understand why she cared about how Redmond felt or what he thought, but she did. Some things were what they were, and you just had to deal. then changed her mind. She had no idea why she was sugarcoating things for him, but maybe that had to do with trying to fit in, too. He'd clearly had a problem with their last conversation, so why not try to make this one easier? And in all honesty, she had an idea that he was going to be pretty ticked off at her once he found out about the nephilim killer. Maybe a meal and trying to soothe his feelings would help somehow. She didn't understand why she cared about how Redmond felt or what he thought, but she did. Some things were what they were, and you just had to deal.

He watched her in silence for a moment, fidgeting with his papers. "Can I help?" he finally asked. "I feel weird, just sitting here watching you."

"Nice thought, but it's way too small in here for two people. And I'm done anyway." She carried a plate over and set it in front of him.

Redmond eyed the contents and a smile played at the corner of his mouth. "This is interesting."

"It's all good," she promised as she offered him a paper towel and a beat-up fork. "And healthy. Grapes, olives, fish, and bread. People have been eating these same things for thousands of years." Oops, she hadn't meant to say that-she didn't want to go into that area of discussion, at least not yet.

He poked at a grape and finally put it in his mouth. "I have to say that I never thought of sardines in hot sauce as 'fish.'"

Brynna looked a little sheepish. "I like the spiciness," she admitted. "I didn't buy any of the plain."

"It's fine. And thanks."

Brynna had found an old folding chair in the bas.e.m.e.nt and now she sat across from him, watching as he ate and trying, yet again, to figure out how she was going to tell him about the nephilim killer. She hadn't come any closer to a helpful solution when Redmond pushed the paper towel aside and leaned forward.

"Listen, I didn't come over here for a free snack," Redmond said. He tapped a finger on the papers next to him. "There's something I need to show you."

"Okay."

"This list," he told her, "was printed off the computer in Kwan Chul-moo's store. It's four pages long, and we think it's a hit list. A lot of the people on here are dead, and included are the names of every one of the eight people who've been shot by the same person we're trying so hard to find. It would be an enormous breakthrough, except that the only thing we can't figure out is the connection they have to one another. There has to be something we're missing, but we can't find it. They're all different ages, races, and occupations. As far as we can determine, not a single person on here even knew each other. We're stymied." He was silent for a long moment. "The girl in this building, Mireva ... her name is also on this list."

Brynna frowned, not liking where this was going. "You got this list from that jewelry store? The one where the Korean girl was?"

"Yes."

Lahash.

"c.r.a.p," she said unhappily.

"Whatever it is that you're not telling me needs to come out right now," Redmond said. His voice had changed, gone to the edge of harsh, but Brynna could tell he was trying to tone it down. He was, she realized, going to be even angrier than she'd antic.i.p.ated. The idea upset her, a lot, although again she didn't understand why she should care. Maybe it was a give-and-take thing; the man had been good to her and now she wanted to be the same for him. Unfortunately, today he was going to feel like that was the last thing she was doing.

"The names on your list are probably all nephilim," she said.

"Oh, Jesus. Here we go again."

"It's true," she said stubbornly. "If you don't believe me, check your ... records, I guess. You're going to find that they're all physically similar-tall, like Mireva. Probably very good-looking." She paused. "And none of them, or their mothers, will actually know where their real fathers are. They probably won't even be able to tell you their fathers' names."

Redmond ran one hand through his hair, then unconsciously smoothed it back into place. "Great. So according to you, all the people on this list are the children of angels." When she nodded, he made an exasperated sound, then shook his head. "Brynna-"

"This morning I saw the man who killed Tobias," she blurted.

Redmond's mouth worked but no sound came out. "What?" he finally demanded. "Where? And why didn't you call me?"

"Here," she admitted. "Outside the building. I was already on the bus and by the time I could get off, he was driving away." Before he could ask, she added. "It was a small white car, but that's all I could tell you about it." She glanced at the list again- Lahash.

-and exhaled. "I think he was trying to find Mireva. To kill her."

"Why didn't you call me, d.a.m.n it?" Redmond was practically vibrating on his chair. She could hear how furious he was.

"I was going to," she said. "I just ... didn't know how to tell you."

"What the h.e.l.l does that that mean? You just tell me, just like now." He stared at her. "Unless there's more." When she didn't speak, he smacked the heel of one hand against his forehead. "Oh, I just don't believe this. mean? You just tell me, just like now." He stared at her. "Unless there's more." When she didn't speak, he smacked the heel of one hand against his forehead. "Oh, I just don't believe this. What, What, Brynna?" Brynna?"

"There was someone else in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the jewelry store."

"What?"

Brynna took a deep breath. "His name is Lahash. He's like Gavino, only stronger. Much Much stronger." stronger."

Redmond gripped the edge of the table. "Then where did he go? There was no way he could have gotten out of there without someone seeing him. And And"-he held up a hand to stop her before she could answer-"why didn't you tell me about him when you were at the station that very first time that you started talking about demons and spells and witch doctors? Why not then?"

"Because I didn't know why he was there," Brynna said. She got up and put the opened can of sardines in the refrigerator. "And you never saw him, so I figured you wouldn't believe me."

"I never saw the so-called witch doctor, either."

"And if you're honest with yourself, you really don't believe he he was there." was there."

"But where did this Lahash go go?" Redmond pressed. "You said you killed the witch doctor. Did you kill Lahash too?"

Brynna shook her head and lowered herself back onto the chair. "The witch doctor was nothing but an evil human. It would take a whole lot more than a little fire to get rid of Lahash. He's a demon. A Searcher."

Redmond drummed his fingers on the table. "A Searcher, like Gavino. So if I've got this right, you're telling me that Cho Kim is a nephilim."

"No," Brynna said. "She's not. Which is why I didn't mention him-I couldn't figure out why he was there in the first place, what he would want with a n.o.body human girl. Oh, and there's the small fact that he's unbelievably dangerous."

The detective squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. "So this Lahash demon is somehow tied to this list, which then ties him to the serial murderer and to Mireva-"

"And to Gavino," Brynna finished for him. "Don't you see? They're working together. together."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Yes, it would, would," Brynna insisted. "This isn't human business, Eran. Demons don't collaborate. They do for themselves and that's all. This is absolutely unheard-of, unheard-of, and I can't think of anything short of the actual apocalypse that could be worse. If I were you, I'd be terrified." and I can't think of anything short of the actual apocalypse that could be worse. If I were you, I'd be terrified."

"If you say so," Eran said. "But right now I'm still trying to figure out how Lahash got out of the bas.e.m.e.nt without anyone but you knowing he was there."

Brynna sighed impatiently. "He just did, that's all. You couldn't see him because he didn't want to be seen." She paused. "Had there not been so much going on-all the noise and people running around-I really think you would have felt felt him, though. He's pure, perfect evil." him, though. He's pure, perfect evil."

"Unlike you."

Brynna looked away, trying not to be stung by the sarcasm. "I don't know what I am," she said. "I'm just ... trying to change."

"Right." Redmond looked around the room, but she didn't think he was really seeing anything. "And how exactly is it that he can not be seen? Last I heard, invisibility wasn't an option."

"He's a demon, Eran. He has demon abilities."

"As do you ... supposedly."

"We each can do what we can do. That's the only way to explain it. Lahash may look human but that's just a facade at best, a game that he likes playing because he thinks human clothes are amusing. Beneath the surface, he's absolute demon and he has full access to his demon abilities." Brynna had slipped into a pair of denim jeans before going up to the roof to water Mireva's plants, and now she ran her hands lightly across the tight fabric encasing her thighs. "For him, the human form is just a sort of lightweight cloak. He can toss it off at any time. For me, it's fully s.h.i.+fting my form that enables me to hide from my own kind, at least until they get up close. But this shape limits me. In my real one ... well, let's just say there's a lot about me that you'd find really surprising."

"Can you get in touch with this Lahash?" Redmond said, changing the topic. "Maybe he knows where the killer is."

"Lahash will never cooperate," Brynna said. "But it doesn't matter. I know where the killer lives."

"You know where he lives lives?" Redmond's voice was incredulous. His face went white with shock and he looked like he was going to fall off his chair. "Good G.o.d, Brynna-all this time and you didn't tell me? People have died died!"

"I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it. Brynna spread her hands, trying to find a way to make him understand. "Don't you see? I've never had to think about stuff like this before. About people and how they feel, about how short your lives are. I'm still ... I don't know. Learning, I guess."