Against a Brightening Sky (7 page)

Alina had stopped sobbing, but she kept her head on Libby's shoulder and her face turned toward the wall. She was likely both hiding and listening to everything that was said. The young woman didn't know any of them, and given what had happened, she'd good reason to be cautious.

At Jack's they'd all be safe, at least for the moment. He didn't have many men to spare, but he'd find two or three to stand guard over the Fitzgerald house. Gabe wasn't willing to take any chances. “That's an excellent idea. Libby and Alina will be more comfortable and Annie will worry less if she has someone to fuss over until Jack comes home. Square things with Libby.”

Butler moved to kneel next to Libby, keeping his voice low and talking quickly. Libby glanced up, meeting Gabe's eyes, and nodded.

Gabe took Taylor aside and gave the patrolman his orders. His estimation of Libby Mills went up a notch when she took off her shawl and draped it around Alina's head and shoulders, swaddling the girl so that her face was almost completely hidden. Libby helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around Alina's waist. “That will help warm you up and keep you from taking a chill. Come along, now. We're going someplace you can rest.”

Delia watched the whole exchange, but didn't say anything. She kissed Gabe's cheek and took Stella's hand. “Let's go home to Annie. She must be lonely without us. Wave good-bye to Uncle Gabe.”

Mullaney stood awkwardly off to one side as they left, still toying with his hat and obviously torn about whether to leave or stay. Exhaustion tugged down the corners of his mouth and made his shoulders droop. Gabe took pity on him.

“Go home, Dominic. It's been a rough day for all of us. Just don't get the idea that I'm finished with you. I want you in my office to answer questions tomorrow morning.” Gabe fished his fedora out of an inside pocket and combed fingers through his hair before putting the hat on. Lifting his arms that high still hurt like hell, but he wasn't going to let Mullaney see. “If I don't hear from you by noon, I'll issue a warrant for your arrest.”

“I'll be there.” Mullaney looked Gabe in the eye. “I've got nothing to hide, Captain. I'll answer any question you want.”

“I'll hold you to that. Answer one for me now, and then you can leave.” Gabe stuffed his hands into his overcoat pockets, surprised to find they weren't filled with debris. He nodded toward the far side of the lobby. “That man's been watching us since we started talking. Who is he?”

Mullaney glanced over his shoulder. “A friend, Aleksei Nureyev. He's one of the union officers. Why?”

“Curiosity. I like to know who's watching me.” He shrugged and gave Dominic a fleeting smile. “Don't forget. Tomorrow before noon.”

“I'll be there.” Mullaney slicked his hair back before walking away. “Get some rest, Captain. You look like you need it.”

Butler came to stand next to Gabe, arms folded over his chest. Together they watched Dominic cross the lobby and join Aleksei Nureyev.

“Sam, I need to ask a favor.”

“Let me guess. You want me to dig something up on Nureyev.” Sam gave him a sideways glance. “Consider it done. Any special reason?”

“Call it a hunch. Something about him rubs me the wrong way. And I really do like to know who's spying on me.” Gabe stared across the lobby, watching Dominic talk to Nureyev. Aleksei was angry and red faced, holding tight to Mullaney's arm and speaking rapidly. The only thing that kept him from yelling was that Gabe and Sam were watching. At a guess, Aleksei knew he'd been seen skulking and trying to eavesdrop, and that Dominic had given the police his name. Mullaney might not have anything to hide, but Aleksei Nureyev did.

Nureyev's secret was the top question on Gabe's list. He doubted that Dominic knew the answer.

 

CHAPTER 4

Delia

I tucked another blanket around Connor, relieved and grateful that he could relax at home and had fallen asleep so easily. The wards and boundaries on the house were stronger than I'd hoped. Even after four years, they still served well to keep all but the most determined spirits from entering his bedroom.

“Determined” was the only word to describe the princess ghost. She'd followed me here, just as she'd followed me all day. I'd discovered her image in the corner of a silver picture frame and in the small mirror hanging near the door. She watched as I got Connor settled, interested and aware, and noting my every move. As long as she didn't disturb his rest, I was content to let her be, at least for now. Mustering the energy necessary to send her away would be difficult at best.

I sat in the rocker next to Connor's small bed, one hand resting lightly on his back, and studied her. Whether it was a mask donned to show the members of court I couldn't say, but she carried herself with a confidence instilled in royals from birth. She'd been sure of who she was, of her future and the path laid out for her. I didn't sense any arrogance, or any hint that the princess had looked down on people of a lesser station. Death had come for her suddenly, a surprise, cutting short the dreams she'd had for herself.

That was a sad thing to realize. We all had hopes and dreams.

The princess observed me in turn, calm and placid in a way I'd rarely seen in such a strong ghost. Normally strong spirits were disruptive, inserting themselves into the world of the living and imposing their will on anyone unable to resist. People had gone mad under the combined onslaught of a ghost's focused anger and pressure to do as the spirit bade. Some minds had never recovered after being broken. I counted it a blessing she appeared to have no interest in Connor.

But it occurred to me that the princess wasn't here because of Connor's sensitivity to spirits. I became more sure of that the longer I looked into her eyes. She wanted something of me, desired I deliver a message or fulfill a task she couldn't perform herself. I'd learned through hard-won experience that the princess, like all ghosts, would persist until I found a way to banish her or the task was completed.

I was nothing more than a means to get what she wanted, a tool to be used and discarded. The truth of that nestled into my bones. She'd warned me before the shooting started not out of any sense of altruism or concern for my welfare, but for reasons of her own. Not the least of those reasons was that I'd be useless to her dead.

“Who are you, spirit? Where did you come from?” My words were little more than a whisper, but I knew she'd hear. I'd no hope she'd answer. “And why come to me? I can't imagine what use I'd be to royalty. Those who knew you or might have cared for you are on the other side of the world. Europe is a long way from San Francisco.”

Curiosity about who the princess had been and where she'd lived warred with my good sense. Much as I wanted to know why she'd sought me out, I couldn't take the risk of letting down my guard. She'd shown no interest in Connor as of yet, but that couldn't last. His safety was more important than seeking answers to my questions.

The flurry of Dora's arrival sounded from downstairs, complete with flirtatious greetings for the officers on guard. Living with Randy Dodd had ended her quest to conquer the hearts of all the officers in Gabe's squad, but nothing would keep her from flirting. Still, I heard the strain in her voice.

“Be a dear, Charlie, and hang up my coat. Where is Mrs. Ryan?”

Officer Finlay's voice echoed in the entryway. “She's upstairs with the lieutenant's little boy. Any word from the hospital?”

I could imagine Dora shaking her head and touching his arm before answering. “No, nothing yet. I'd hoped someone here would know.”

Rapid footfalls sounded on the stairs, reaching the top so fast, Dora must have taken the steps two at a time. She hurried down the hallway just as quickly.

I glanced at the princess ghost to see how she'd react to Isadora's arrival, wondering if she'd vanish or her expression would change. Instead of reacting as I'd imagined, the spirit had turned to watch the door, calm and seemingly unconcerned.

That puzzled me and added another layer of worry, not that I needed more. Most ghosts had the self-preservation and good sense to avoid Dora. I'd learned a great deal about the spirit realm and the occult world from Isadora Bobet over the last four years, but her abilities still far outstripped mine. Spirits feared what she could do in terms of driving them from the world of the living.

They had good reason to be afraid. No spirit had ever stood for long against the force of Dora's will.

I didn't think for an instant the princess was ignorant of Dora's power. The question was whether her willingness to face Dora came from arrogance or some arcane knowledge that nothing could touch her. Gazing at the spirit's serene expression, I wasn't sure it mattered. The princess ghost meant to stand firm.

Dora appeared in the doorway, flushed and uncharacteristically teary eyed. She hurried across the room and pulled me up out of the chair, folding me into a fierce hug. “I've never been so glad to see you, Dee. I drove Randy over to the Palace Hotel. I couldn't get very near the square or the fountain. They … they were still uncovering bodies in the rubble. Are you all right? And Gabe? I haven't heard a word from anyone about him.”

“I'm shaken and a bit frightened, but otherwise fine. Gabe admits to being sore and bruised, but he's not letting that stop him from working. He refused to go to the hospital with Jack. Sam's looking after him for me.” I hugged Dora in return and stepped back to see her face. “Sadie and the children, and Sam and his friend Libby all escaped unhurt. It was a near thing for all of us, but we made it home in one piece.”

“I was half-frantic when I first heard what happened, and after seeing the wreckage … I was beside myself. Noah Baxter told me you were all right, but I needed to see for myself. But your husband is the most stubborn, obstinate creature I've ever known, and I plan to tell him so. Gabe should have seen the doctor.” Dora gripped my hand tight, steeling herself for the next question. “I know Sadie went with Jack to the hospital. How much should I worry?”

“Jack was terribly pale and quiet, but he managed to walk to the Palace lobby before he collapsed. Scott Jodes is taking care of him, so I'm not so worried as I'd be otherwise. Sadie promised to call as soon as she knew anything. All we can do is wait.” Connor stirred in his sleep, stretching and kicking at the blanket, but didn't wake. I patted his back and went on. “I'm just as glad to see you, maybe more so. This has been a very strange and trying day, and a lot of what happened baffles me. I'm hoping you might know what to make of things. Men tossing bombs off a roof and shooting into the parade crowd aren't near half of it.”

“Really … I thought escaping bombs and rifles was more than enough. I should have learned by now to set my standards higher.” Dora sat on the end of Connor's bed, leaning back on her hands. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything. My guess is that at least part of this involves Connor, or you wouldn't be hovering over him.”

“A great deal of it involves Connor. We were right about him being able to see ghosts, but his sensitivity goes far beyond that. I can't put off speaking to Sadie another day.” I recounted my fight to keep an ever-growing number of ghosts away from him, the way dead kings and other royals watched him with knowing eyes, and how near I'd come to being overwhelmed by the sheer number of haunts seeking him out. Relating the story of people who'd never dream of committing violence eagerly joining a riot, phantoms reaching out of the clouds and banshee screams earned me a raised eyebrow.

At the last, I told her about the princess ghost. By the time I'd finished, Dora was on her feet, pacing the room and scowling.

“You've quite the talent for bringing me pretty problems to solve. First things first. We do need to speak with Sadie and Jack, but she has enough on her plate for today. I'm going to ask you to put it off until after Jack's home and on his feet. That will give me a day or two to come up with a solution to the problem of protecting Connor. When the time comes, we'll both talk to them.” She stopped next to Connor's bed and stared down at him, her face a study in regret and sorrow. “Poor little boy. I'd never have wished this on him.”

“Neither of us would.” I'd been drawn to Connor from the day he was born, my bond with Sadie's son much stronger than it had ever been with her daughter. Now I understood why. “And I know it's silly, but I can't help but think this might be my fault somehow, that … that Connor's being with me pried open a doorway. He's so young and I spend so much time with him.”

“You are being silly, but I'll forgo teasing you this once. It truly isn't your fault.” Dora draped an arm around my shoulders. “Spiritual talent can't be transferred or awakened by associating with a practitioner. A person is born with the ability or they're not. We both know Esther saw ghosts, but I'd thought that was a result of age and illness. Many times the ability to pierce the veil between worlds skips a generation or two. When the talent surfaces again, it's almost always stronger.”

“You're saying someone in my family saw ghosts as I do.” I twisted my fingers in the soft wool fabric of my skirts, trying to imagine what growing up might have been like if I'd known I wasn't alone in how I saw the world. Connor wouldn't be alone. I took comfort in that. “I know neither of my parents saw spirits. A grandmother perhaps, or one of my grandfathers.”

“That's precisely what I'm saying.” Dora beamed at me for my cleverness and gave my shoulders an affectionate hug. “Talent runs in families, though it's not entirely unheard of for it to manifest on its own. I don't think that's the case with Connor. Esther is the most likely candidate, but we can't rule out his having inherited his sensitivity from Jack's mother either. Aileen Fitzgerald was an extremely powerful spirit.”