Dead Man Rising

Chapter Thirty-seven

Sunlight spilled through the station house windows, but in Gabe's cubicle the glow of a full-spectrum bulb painted the air. Paper stirred on her desk, and the two empty brandy bottles were in the wastebasket with a drift of frozen gray cigarette smoke turned to ash.

"You caused a helluva lot of damage," Gabe said, her arms folded. "You razed Rigger Hall, there isn't a stick left. We didn't even get to recover a body. We only have your word—"

"Have there been any more murders?" I asked. "No? Good."

She sighed. "I believe you, Da

I shrugged, looking down at her desk. What could I tell her? The circle had been mine to close. Had I been the only one strong enough to close it, or had I just been picked by blind chance?

Did it matter? It was over. It was done. I no longer heard Christabel's whispering in my head. Wherever she was, I hoped she was resting more comfortably.

Phones rang in the background, I heard someone's raised voice—the punchline of a joke. Guffaws greeted the attempt. My nose filled with the scent of humans, and my own fragrance rose to battle the stench.

I knew enough to do that, now.

"I'm sorry, Gabe. He was… it was…" My sword, lying scabbarded across my knees, rang softly. I pushed a strand of inky hair back, tucked it behind my ear. "Anyone else would have been a liability instead of a help, you know that. He would have killed a hell of a lot of cops if you'd gone in to take him down." Amazingly, my voice didn't crack. I swallowed. "Keller must have been an incipient, natural Feeder. Taking from Mirovitch triggered that propensity, but the ka was dormant and he might have thought he was safe. He held out for ten years, thinking Mirovitch was dead, getting as far away from Saint City and Rigger Hall as he could. His uncle even went to work in the Putchkin under diplomatic contract—I'd guess to get Keller away." Leaving no trail for us, because all diplomatic-visa workers have their personal information under blind trusts.

"And then, Mirovitch finally breaks free." Gabe shuddered. "Hades."

I nodded. "The necklaces were an etheric link: nice, passive, and undetectable. Mirovitch would drive his mule right up to their doors. He didn't have to crack their shielding—that was done from inside, by the necklaces themselves. Fed by the very glyphs Keller had taught them. They thought they were protecting themselves from Mirovitch's echo—but that very defense killed them." And Mirovitch pawed through their minds to get the pieces of himself they'd torn away. No wonder none of the victims were able to talk—that kind of psychic rape right before death echoes for a long time.

That was what had saved me, the fact that there was no piece of Mirovitch inside my head for him to retrieve, my refusal to give in. The simple act of remembering.

That, and Japhrimel.

I shivered, thinking again of the clawed maggot fingers blindly squirming inside my head. My skin went cold, and the mark on my shoulder pulsed once, flushing me with heat. I straightened in the chair again, looking down at the lacquered scabbard. My reflection, ghostly and distorted, stared back at me with wide dark eyes.

"Why kill the uncle, then?" Gabe shifted her weight, leaning back slightly and regarding me. I looked up and saw without any real surprise the touch of gray at her left temple. It was only a few strands, and she had a lot of fight left in her.

I shrugged. "Here in Saint City, the uncle was a liability. If anyone started tracing former Rigger students, the uncle probably knew enough for an investigator to get the picture with the right questions. Either that or the uncle found out. We'll never know. That's why the shields on Smith's house were intact—Keller didn't need to rip them to get out."

And without Christabel's clue, I might not have caught on so quickly. Had she been looking over my shoulder? I didn't care to guess. That was one mystery I was happy to consign to the gray land of just-don't-think-about.

Silence stretched between us, a taut humming full of other questions. Other things neither of us could ever say. She didn't ask where I'd vanished to for three days after Rigger Hall was leveled, didn't ask where I had washed up, and especially didn't ask me if I was okay. Instead, she kept her distance, a brittle fragile professionalism presented to me during the two hours of my taped statement and this less-formal wrap-up. Case closed. Crime solved.

Game over.

"Da

I nodded. "I'll call," I promised.

I saw the crows'-feet at the corners of her eyes, the fine lines begi

And me? I wouldn't age. I would look just the same. And when Gabe died, who would I have left that remembered?

When she no longer remembered me, would I be dead too?

"Gabe?" I made it to my feet in one movement, caught myself. My right leg was still a little unsteady, despite my body's fantastic ability to heal. I struggled to find the words I wanted, failed, tried again. "Look, I just… be careful, all right? Take care of yourself."

"You sound like you're going to your own execution instead of on vacation." She laughed, her shoulders had relaxed. She was possibly looking at a promotion from this case. The most tangible benefit she'd received was a gold medallion and a silver credit disc. The credit disc would get her into Nikolai's office building downtown if she ever needed help. The gold medallion was an award for "superlative police work." Add to that a fat raise she didn't need and the goodwill of the Prime Power of Saint City, and she was as well-off as I could possibly hope for. I could rest for a little while, knowing she was safe.

I had one last question. "How's Eddie?"

She shrugged. "Okay. Dealing with it, I guess."

I nodded. That was good news. "Tell him… Tell him I killed Mirovitch myself. He isn't coming back." My stomach fluttered briefly, the papery whisper of Mirovitch's voice echoing in the darker corners of my mind. "Tell him Dante gives her word Mirovitch is dead."

It was her turn to nod, thoughtfully, the emerald on her cheek flashing. "Da

I felt my face tighten. I stepped forward, balanced on both feet, and put my sword down deliberately on the chair I'd just vacated. Then I spread my arms. She stared at me for a second, jaw dropping, and then moved haltingly forward, flinging her arms around me. She was so short her chin rested against the top slope of one of my breasts, but I hugged her anyway, carefully. She squeezed me with all her wiry strength, earning a slight huff of breath out of my lungs for her efforts. "You're my friend, Gabe," I whispered, my ruined voice creaking and breaking. "Mainuthsz."

"Mainuthsz" she echoed. Then she sniffed, as if her nose was full. "You'd better believe it. Go on, go on your vacation. And if you need me, call me."

"Likewise. Give Eddie my best." We untangled ourselves. I scooped up my sword. Turned away. Took four steps.

Taking the fifth step, out of her cubicle, was the hardest thing I'd done so far.

I did it, and was just about to turn the corner when she called out.