Dominion (Book 1 of The Dominion Series) (28 page)

Michel's jaw tenses. "What's so important?"

"Well, first, Eve was snooping around in Terri's files. The personnel files and she found her own."

Michel turns to look at me, and instead of mild disinterest, he appears concerned.

"How much did you read?"

I shake my head. "That's not important." I turn to Ed. "
Tell
him."

"Tell me what?"

Ed sits on the couch across from Michel, who grips onto the arm of the sofa and his book slips out of his hand onto the floor. "Julien?"

Ed nods and stares at Michel.

"Staked. We found him just after midnight. He's intact, but he's dead."

I watch Michel and his eyes close, his nostrils flaring as he absorbs the news. He covers his eyes with a hand and my heart clenches for him.

Ed clears his throat. "He wasn't working on some clandestine operation we didn't know about?"

"Not that I know of," Michel says, his voice barely audible. "We've only recently begun speaking again."

"You'll have to find someone to revive him."

"Of course," Michel says, and bends to pick up his book. I reach down for him, glancing at the title. Aquinas,
Summa Theologica.
I hand it to him and our fingers touch for a second. A surge of sadness fills me from him and I want to take his hand and feel more, but he quickly pulls his hand away from mine as if avoiding my touch. He glances at his watch.

"I'll have to make arrangements..."

"I'm sorry about this Michel," Ed says, his earlier anger gone, replaced by patience. "We should go to the morgue," Ed says, standing. "You need to identify him. Take possession."

Michel slips the book onto the table and follows him. I take up the rear and walk behind Michel. He's being amazingly calm, considering but I can tell he's very upset by the stiffness to his body and his movements, as if he's holding himself in, desperately trying to control his emotions. I want so much to comfort him, but know there is nothing I could do or say. We stop in the entry and Michel speaks to a servant, who brings him his cassock-coat, helping him with it. I note the way all the staff treat him with deference, keeping their eyes downcast.

Michel speaks with the guard who greeted us, and when we drive away from the grounds, I notice there's a car tailing us.

We drive to the morgue in silence. Michel is seated beside me in the back of the sedan. I glance at him and he's looking down at his hands, which are in fists, his hair partially covering his face. I want so badly just to lean over and put my arms around him.

"You met with him before Montana and once we were there," he says quietly. "Did he say anything?"

"You already know what we spoke about."

"I have no idea what you spoke about," Michel says, turning to me, frowning. "I was away on personal business."

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I thought I saw a vampire in the alley behind the café. I thought it was you."

"Spying on you? I was busy all that night until I saw you."

"Michel," I say, leaning in closer, taking his hand, squeezing, needing to touch him. "He has that tattoo – the same as the other victims of the River Man. The Lorraine Cross."

He frowns and turns to me, squeezing my hand back, his grief barely held at bay.

"He does? I haven't seen it but we've been estranged for decades…"

I remember the thick scarf Julien wore the night he showed up. I wonder if he hasn't been hiding it for it was only because Julien's scarf fell open when we had coffee that I saw it.

Michel lets me hold his hand, but I get nothing from him of where he's been or what he was doing. He's just a wall of raw emotion.

"There's a video camera so you can identify him at a distance," Ed says from the front seat.

Michel shakes his head. "I want to
see
him."

"Michel," I say and pull his hand closer. "When I was with Soren, I read him. He's the one killing Adepts. He's the River Man."

Michel turns to me and shakes his head.

"He can't be. He has an alibi for every murder."

I look at him. Can't he see that Soren can compel anyone to give him an alibi?

"I know what I felt."

"What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything, but if he's more powerful than a vampire, he might be able to block my telepathy. But I know I felt him and he's the River Man."

We arrive at the SCU. Michel and I walk hand in hand to the storage area and we wait while an attendant retrieves the body. After a nod from Ed, the attendant pulls the draping back to reveal Julien's white face. The attendant keeps the shroud just above the shoulders, covering the stake.

"Why haven't they removed the stake?"

"It has to stay in," Ed says. "So they can do the rite."

I reach out to touch it and see if there are any memory traces but Ed reaches out to stop me.

"Let me check it," I say.

He shakes his head. "It's obvious this is the work of the same killer."

"But it's my job…"

Michel squeezes my hand to stop me. "Eve," he says, his voice choked. "This is
not
your fight."

I frown. Michel lets go of my hand and stands next to the table. I glance from one brother to the other. Identical except for Julien's hair and scar.

"He was older by four minutes," Michel says, his voice choking. "The first to do everything – to walk, to speak, to kiss a girl..."

The first to die…
I think, completing his thought.

I wonder about the legendary bond that exists between identical twins. It's impossible to explain in purely scientific terms so one has to resort to paranormal phenomena to account for it, but I'm a scientist. I cling to the belief that everything has a material basis – even telepathy.

Michel covers his mouth and leans down, pressing his forehead against his brother's. He grabs Julien's jacket and squeezes, and I fear he's going to lose control.

After a moment, Ed clears his throat, and Michel straightens and wipes his eyes. I feel a surge of sympathy for him when I see his tears, and mine bite at the corner of my eyes in response. Finally, the attendant recovers the body. I take Michel's arm and lead him out of the room and his hand slips down my arm, threading his fingers through mine.

"Our witness told us what happened, but he's not really reliable."

"A witness?"

"Some old vagrant sleeping in the street outside the cathedral," Ed says. "Probably senile. Always pestering the parishioners for spare change."

"You don't think he staked Julien?"

"No," Ed says. "He was too old and weak. Probably another vampire or an Adept."

Michel's face is grim as we wait for the elevator to the third floor offices. I get in beside Michel, and am almost overwhelmed at the intensity of his grief. He holds it in such control, his body stiff, his face blank, only his hand gripping mine so tightly shows any emotion.

We enter Ed's office and Ed sits behind his desk and Michel sits on the chair across from him. He sinks into it and wipes his eyes. I remain standing at the side of the office.

"I have your brother's personal effects," Ed says, and thrusts an envelope and a sheet of paper towards Michel. "You'll have to sign this release form."

Michel opens the envelope and retrieves a watch, rosary and a ring. He puts them in his pocket but keeps the ring in his hand, turning it over and over in his palm.

"His clothing," Ed says while Michel signs the release form, "his overcoat is being kept as evidence. It's quite damaged."

Michel nods. He examines Julien's ring, and then slips it on the index finger on his right hand.

"I know this is painful," Ed says, speaking in a soft voice, "but do you have any idea who might have done this to him? Any enemies? People with a grudge? Was he trying to take over anyone's territory?"

"No," Michel says, his blue eyes red from tears. "We've made many enemies over the centuries."

"It was Soren," I say to them both, but they ignore me, as if they can't even hear what I'm saying. Ed flips a few pages in his file. A knock at the door draws my attention away from Michel. One of the clerical workers hands Ed a file. He returns to his desk and flips through the contents.

"You should see this," he says, motioning for Michel to join him. Michel goes to his side and leans down to examine the file, which contains several pages of email messages. I peer over Michel's shoulder, careful not to get too close. There I see a research paper on the Cathars. Michel picks it up and reads through the first page.

Ed glances up. "What about any groups your brother might have been involved in?"

"Groups?"

"Yes, you know. Special study groups. Religious sects. That sort of thing."

"We were both of the Order of Preachers, the Dominicans, if that's what you mean, but it's hardly a sect. Julien used to go rock climbing with some of the monks. He volunteered at a local library archives, cataloguing old documents. That's all I know. No groups."

I pick up one of the emails. It's addressed to "In Doubt" and was from someone with the handle "Brother Novae". The body of the email mentions a meeting to discuss "The Pure".

Ed rustles through the printed pages in the file.

"Forensics found some interesting information in your brother's email," he says. Ed holds up an email and reads it. "He had a trip planned for the summer to France to follow the path of the Albigensian crusade. And there were a few email addresses to a group known as 'The Pure'. Do you know anything about that?"

Michel shakes his head. "Trip down memory lane? Julien fought to defend the Cathars back in the day. I sided with the Church against them," Michel says. "It's old news." Michel rises. "If we're done here, the sun will rise very shortly."

"Fine," Ed says. "Take some time to arrange things. But please, keep your phone on."

Michel nods, and now I'm so curious about why he was out of contact for the past twenty-four hours.

"Do you need anything?" I say, touching his arm. "Let me know how I can help."

Michel takes my hand, squeezing it. "I'm fine," he says.

I know he's anything but.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"A wounded deer leaps the highest."

Emily Dickenson

The next evening after sunset, I take a cab to the cathedral, hoping to find Antonio and ask him some questions about what happened. Once I arrive on monastery grounds, I go on foot. The noise from the distant highway has faded, and now all I hear is the sound of my thumping heart. A walk will help me relax. The events of the previous night and morning have drained me and I need the exercise.

The streets are still wet from the rain. To the north, the fog distorts the view of the cathedral buildings, deep within a small wooded area. A long wall of stone surrounds the grounds, and there, about half way up the street, sits a figure in a tangle of cardboard and plastic, a hat and muffler obscuring his face. Ed indicated that a few homeless people lived in the area so this might not be Antonio, but I forge on in hope that he is.

I draw closer and slow my pace, my gut knotting when I see Michel turning onto the sidewalk in front of me. He's facing the other direction and doesn't see me, so I hang back, wondering what he'll do.

When Michel approaches the seated figure, the man looks up and I recognize Antonio from the curve of his nose. He shakes his hand as if demanding a coin. Michel reaches deep into his pocket and retrieves a few coins, then drops them into the outstretched palm. I join him rather than hang back and remain out of sight. I'm worried what Michel might do. It's impossible to predict the behavior of those who grieve.

"
Deo grazia
." Antonio says as I join them. Michel looks at me and frowns.

"Are you following me?"

"No," I say, embarrassed and insulted at the same time. "I wanted to check out the crime scene. I saw you and came over."

"You shouldn't be out alone, especially not at night. My security team has failed I see."

He turns back to Antonio. The old man counts the coins and then closes his hand around them, placing his hand against his chest.

"Accept my condolences for your loss," he says.

"You were here when he was murdered?" Michel clears his throat as if he finds it difficult to speak. "You saw my brother die? Did you see who killed him?"

"Julien always gave something." The old man shakes his head. "He had a generous heart."

"Who are you?"

"Me?" he says and shrugs. "I'm no one. But my name is Antonio."

"Did you
see
who killed my brother?" Michel says once again.

The old man closes his eyes and makes the sign of the cross.

"The Dragon has returned and even now walks among us. Someone strong must destroy his minions and send Him back to the pit where He belongs."

Michel shakes his head and turns to me, disappointment clear in his eyes.

I sigh. "We told you he wasn't … reliable."

Michel turns away, but before we can leave, Antonio reaches out and grabs Michel's pant leg.

"Your brother wanted to fight," he says, looking up at Michel. "He would have killed the Dragon if he could have, but he was not strong enough. It happened too fast and we were not prepared. And I . . ." The old man shakes his head and rubs his eyes. "I was weak. I couldn't save him."

"What are you talking about?" Michel jerks his leg out of Antonio's grasp and strides down the street towards the cathedral.

"Don't be so quick to dismiss what I say," Antonio calls out when Michel's a few paces away. His voice has lost its age and is now strong and firm. "This guise is useful, for it protects me from those who would try to stop me and others like me."

Michel turns back, and I'm also compelled to stay and listen. A thrill goes through me at the sound of lucidity in Antonio's voice.

"What do you mean, others like you?" Michel says.

"Others who are pure. One day, you'll understand – if you survive the trials."

"I'm not pure," he says and shakes his head, his voice catching.