Jenn Bennett - Grim Shadows

They may not want Hadley’s life, but they were still hungry to reap souls. Lowe nearly said this out loud, but caught himself. In Dr. Bacall’s mind, Lowe barely knew Hadley at all. And if the man got an inkling of what Lowe had been doing to his daughter? Well, he damn sure could take away the dangling check, couldn’t he?

“We haven’t spoken for years, Noel and I,” Bacall said. “But I knew he’d heard about your discovery of the amulet base, because a week after it appeared in the papers, I received an anonymous note telling me I’d never see the amulet rejoined with my own eyes. Later that day I lost my sight.”

“The blindness is magically induced?”

“Quite. I believe the spell was embedded into his note. And it’s degenerative. I seem to be aging at an inhuman rate. He’s slowly killing me.”

Lowe exhaled a long breath. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop the aging?”

“All my hope rides on the amulet. If he dies, I live—if he lives, I die. It’s not just revenge anymore. It’s both self-preservation and concern for Hadley’s well-being. If I die, I’m not sure what he might do to her.”

As long as Lowe was still breathing, not a damn thing.

Christ. He now understood why Bacall was willing to part with a small fortune to obtain the amulet. And consequently, why Noel Irving would go to any lengths to stop him. Lowe would have to give Bacall the real amulet—not Monk. That’s all there was to it. He’d figure out some way to make it work. He always did.

“Where can I find your partner?”

Bacall shook his head. “He officially dropped off the map after Vera died. I can tell you where he might be hiding, but if he’s trailing you, you’re going to need to seek out some stronger protection.”

Lowe began to assure the man that he would, but Bacall seemed to struggle with several breaths. Sweat broke over the man’s brow. “Are you all right?” Lowe asked.

“My neck seems to be—” The blind man slammed a fist to his own chest and clutched at his shirt before his body began slipping out of the wheelchair.

HADLEY GLANCED UP AT the oversized clock in the hospital waiting room after the doctor strode away. It was nearly midnight, and she and Lowe were the last people sitting on a cold bench in a long, sterile hallway. She could hardly believe mere hours had passed since she’d gotten Lowe’s phone call. It seemed like days. But now that she could finally take a moment to exhale and relax her alert posture, her mind decided to crackle into action.

“Only a mild heart attack,” Lowe said at her side. “You heard the doctor. It happens all the time. Some people never even seek medical help.”

“Yes, but those people aren’t having the life sucked out of their bones by a madman wielding dark magic.”

“It was likely just the natural progression of the original aging spell, not a new attack.”

“Not much of a consolation.”

“And he’ll be able to come home in a day or two,” Lowe said. “He’s going to be fine.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough for us to either find his old partner and send him to the bottom of the Bay in a bag filled with rocks, or to find the last two crossbars.” He ducked to catch her gaze. “Listen to me, Hadley. We won’t fail him.”

She slumped against the stiff bench and sighed. “All of this is simply overwhelming. The heart attack and everything he told you before it happened. I’m torn between feeling sorry for my father and selfishly angry with him for not telling me sooner. And the worst part is that I have to pretend I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you can sort it out with him when this is over.”

She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. In the stress of the last few hours, she’d completely forgotten about something. Now it hit her like a punch to the gut. “Lowe? You’re going to think I’m mad, but . . .”

“Madness is in the eye of the beholder. Try me.”

“You said my father called his former partner ‘deathless,’ and that nothing could kill him.”

“Yes.”

“Are we to assume that means the man doesn’t age?”

Blue eyes slanted her way. “I didn’t ask, but anything’s possible.”

“Oliver confronted me at the museum this afternoon.” She told him everything he’d said. Told him about the kiss. Lowe made a low, growling noise in the back of his throat. “I pushed him away,” she argued. “It wasn’t reciprocated, and he’s never been that brash before. It’s just you’ve told me all this about my mother and Noel Irving, and Oliver said . . .” She looked up at Lowe, too shocked to finish.

“Impossible,” Lowe mumbled. He swiped a hand over his hair and jostled his foot nervously. “I mean, you’ve seen photographs of your father’s partner, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but the man had a beard and mustache. Besides, all those photographs are from the turn of the century—all blurry or from a distance. Taken on antiquated equipment.”

Lowe exhaled through his nostrils and frowned. “When exactly did you first meet Oliver?”

“Exactly? I don’t know.”

“Three months ago?”

She started to pick at her coat and stopped. “Yes.”

“When I uncovered the amulet base in Egypt. When your father got the note from Noel Irving and started aging.”

“But . . .” Her brain grasped for anything at all that would disprove this madness. “If Noel Irving was interested in finding the amulet—”

“Not interested in finding it. Interested in stopping your father from assembling it. If he believed that the amulet would be the end to his ill-gained immortality, he’d damn sure want to ensure that door never opened.”

“Easiest way would be to take one of the pieces,” she said.

“And your mother hid the crossbars, but the newspaper reports of my find might as well have put a gigantic red arrow pointing to me.”

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently. “But if Noel Irving is Oliver Ginn, why in the world would he try to get to know me? Why not just befriend you if that would better serve his purpose?”

A string of Swedish curses spilled from his lips. “Oliver’s got family in Oregon?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“What about your father’s partner? Any idea where he’s originally from?”

She shook her head, suddenly sickened. “I don’t know anything about Oliver. He always called on me at work—he never picked me up from home. Never even asked for my home telephone number.” Panic sunk its claws into her belly. “Lowe, I don’t even know where the man lives. And my God, if Oliver is Noel, he’s been flaunting himself under my father’s nose, courting me at the museum in the room right next to his own enemy?”

Lowe whistled sharply and put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? One thing at a time.”

“Yes,” she said, forcing her frantic breathing to slow on a long exhalation. “Yes, of course. You’re right. Panic will get us nowhere. Must stay clearheaded. For Father’s sake.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll see what I can dig up on Oliver, and I’ll ask my brother if he can send someone here to keep an eye on you and your father. Until we know for sure, I don’t want Ginn within a hundred feet of either one of you.”

“I have the Mori,” she argued, more to calm her own nerves. Because of course she had them, and cursed though they may be, they would protect her.

“That’s well and good, but I’m still calling someone out here to watch the two of you. Not taking any chances. If that jackass is Noel Irving, he’s a dangerous maniac. And if he’s not, he’s got ulterior motives. Not to mention, he put his hands on you. And no one gets to do that but me, ja?”

She nodded as warmth bloomed over her cheeks.

A thousand thoughts swirled in her head. Noel. Oliver. All the secrets her father had kept from her. “What if I’d gotten married and had a child? Would the curse pass on when I died? Was my father ever going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

“And how could he still worship that woman?”

“What woman?”

“My mother. She was having an affair with his best friend while pregnant with me? That’s ghastly. Scandalous. And goddamn selfish.”

“She paid for it in spades,” Lowe said.

She slanted him a sharp look beneath her lashes. “You just don’t want me to get angry and smash you with an operating table.”

“I’d prefer not, given the choice,” he said, smiling softly.

She attempted to smile back, but ended up merely wilting against his shoulder. He slung a strong arm around her and tucked her tighter into the diminishing space between them. She didn’t resist. He was warm and reassuringly solid. Even his clothes smelled comforting. And if one of the nurses told her father of seeing them like this, she didn’t really give a damn at the moment.

All of this was madness. Pure, unbridled insanity. Thank God Lowe had been there. If not, would she be picking out caskets for her father? Heading out to Lawndale again to make funeral arrangements? No matter what problems stood between them, she couldn’t bear to lose Father right now. Not like this.

Feeling uncharacteristically fragile, she reached across Lowe’s lap for his maimed hand. A small noise vibrated in his chest before he curled his fingers around hers. How quickly things had changed between them. When they’d met on the train, she’d avoided shaking his bare hand, but now his touch was a balm to her shattered nerves. She shoved aside her worries for the moment as exhaustion settled. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for the lily.”

“You liked it?” He said this with a boyish tilt to his lips, as if he wanted to be proud of himself for thinking of it but needed her confirmation to be sure.