Darkest Night - Smoke And Ashes Part 31

"You didn't see him earlier," Jack muttered.

Before Kevin could turn, Henry shook his head and the reporter froze.

"The page, Mr. Groves."

His head jerked around toward CB. Then back to Henry.

Still smiling, Henry stepped away. "We'll talk later, you and I. Right now, I think you should get Mr. Bane that page."

"Oh, for pity's sake," Leah sighed as Kevin dropped his backpack off his shoulder and began to rummage frantically in its depths, "leave the poor guy alone."

"I have done nothing to him. Which is more than you can say."

"Hey, I did nothing to him. With him, yes. Not to."

"Are you so sure of that?" Demongate.

She straightened. "Don't push me." Nightwalker.

CB cleared his throat.

Silence fell.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?" Jack demanded.

"Mr. Groves has brought us a piece of a ma.n.u.script that seems to define the Demonic Convergence." "From the crazy monk guy Leah mentioned this afternoon?"

"That has yet to be determined." With the page on the desk in front of him, CB leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Mr. Fitzroy and Ms. Burnett are going to have a look at it."

"What; is he a demonic consultant, too?"

"In a manner of speaking." CB shot a look at the reporter that cut off an already somewhat strangled laugh.

"Tony's the wizard," Jack said pointedly. "He should examine it."

"Later," Henry said as he moved around the desk. "Right now, he needs to regain his strength." The vellum was badly yellowed, the edges touched with water damage.

"That's not from the monk's book," Leah sighed as she joined him. "It's all numbers."

"It's astrological charts." Kevin looked up from fussing with Raymond Dark's inkwell and added defiantly. "I told you that."

"How did you know it had to do with the Demonic Convergence?"

"It says so on the other side."

Frowning, Leah carefully turned the page over. In the margin, about halfway down, someone had written charts Demonic Convergence in pencil.

"Not me!" Kevin protested quickly. "That was there when I found the page."

"An earlier researcher?" CB suggested.

"Probably. Hang on." One hand holding back her hair, Leah leaned forward and squinted at the bottom of the page. "There's more writing, but it's faint." She carefully flipped the page. "It's on both sides. I think it was done at the same time as the charts."

"It looks around the same age," Henry agreed, when she moved out of the way so he could examine the barely visible brown marks. "But those aren't words; that's a pattern."

"Just because you don't recognize them, junior..." With one finger, she spun the vellum around and bent to breathe gently on the lettering. "Damp will sometimes bring the ink up a bit."

"Or damage an irreplaceable artifact."

"I think the margin notes have already lowered the value a bit."

"Still."

She flashed Henry a smile he'd very nearly seen in his mirror. The dimples were noticeably absent. "I know what I'm doing. Breath gives life to death."

"That's a total..." He let his protest trail off when it became obvious the ink was growing darker.

"It's a prayer," Leah announced after a moment. "Or part of one. Keep us safe, Guardian of the West." She turned the page again. "In light and life I beg thee."

"Let me see the other side again."

She sighed but complied. "You're still not going to be able to read it." "No." Frowning, he traced the largest of the letters, its loops and swirls now visible. "But I recognize it."

"How?" CB demanded.

Henry straightened. "I'm not entirely positive, but I think I own the rest of the book."

"You own an ancient book on the Demonic Convergence?" Arms folded, Leah raked him with a disbelieving stare. "You don't think you might have mentioned this earlier?"

"I didn't know it earlier. But this lettering..." He tapped the air above the prayer. "... is the same. The same shape and in the same place on the page." The doc.u.ment as an object was familiar. It was only the content he didn't recognize. "Unfortunately, because I couldn't read it, I didn't know what the book was about. If this is a page from it, I do now. And you can read it."

Slightly mollified by his acknowledgment of her ability, Leah shook her head. "Why would you own a book you can't read?"

"He owns it so others can't," CB said quietly.

"Oh, my." Her eyes widened in mock outrage. "Censors.h.i.+p. I need to see that book," she continued when Henry didn't bother denying it.

He looked at his watch. "It's almost three. I've time to get it and bring it back here."

"Bring back coffees, too," Jack told him, reaching for his wallet. "Hit a Timmy's. Extra-large double double and whatever anyone else wants. Oh, and grab some of those special Halloween donuts with the black and orange sprinkles."

"Way to work the stereotype," Leah snickered as Henry suggested the constable call it a night.

"No." And if Jack didn't meet his gaze, he came closer than many who'd seen what he'd seen. "I'm here until this ends."

"You don't have to work tomorrow?"

"I'll take a sick day. I'm not leaving until I know what's going on."

"You know..."

"And," he interrupted stubbornly, "until you can guarantee no more horror movie rejects will be out and about on my streets."

"Your streets?" Leah asked.

"It's a cop thing," Henry told her before Jack could answer. "They're all remarkably possessive."

"Well, you'd know possessive. I should go with you," she added crossing the office as he took Jack's money and folded it into the front pocket of his jeans. "Just in case."

"In case there's an attack on you while Tony sleeps?"

She moved a little closer and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "With Tony out, you're my best bet."

Henry stared for a long moment at the creamy flesh below the curve of her ear. "No," he said at last. "Too great a risk."

"You think that's a greater risk than running into a new demonic minion?"

He gave her back the smile she'd given him earlier. "I do." "What the h.e.l.l is going on between those two?" Jack muttered as Leah returned to the astrological charts on the desk and Henry headed for the back door.

"You don't know?"

He turned to see Groves standing tucked in behind his left shoulder. "No," he snapped, putting some decent distance between them. "I don't know."

The reporter shuddered. "Lucky."

"You know?" Stupid question. He obviously thought he did. "So, what's going on?"

And why is a romance writer a better choice to protect her than an armed police officer?

Groves answered the actual question instead of the subtext. "She tried for power over him. He threatened to kill her."

Jack blinked. "You're completely bugf.u.c.k; you know that, right?"

It wasn't so much a book Henry dropped on the desk as a collection of loose pages stuffed between wooden covers. The pages were paler and the writing darker, but that, Jack realized, had more to do with the way Groves' page had been stored than any actual differences.

He wasn't a big believer in inanimate objects having an aura-in the last few months new and unusual animate objects had pretty much used up all available ability to believe-but under oath on the stand he'd say this book felt unpleasant. He was just as glad he wasn't the one with his nose barely an inch above the writing.

"Do you think you could avoid dropping sprinkles on a priceless literary artifact?" Henry carefully swept a bit of orange icing off the top sheet.

Jack backed up a step. Not like he minded being farther away from that book. "So what's it say?"

"I'll let you know when I've got it in order." Leah sat back, rubbing her eyes, then bent forward again. "This page seems to be more dates. This is a description of a body, the injuries, and how it was found. Oh, this is about the woman who found it and what relations.h.i.+p she was to the... well to either the dead guy, a dead guy who might not be that dead guy, or to the person writing.

Boring stuff so far."

"It sounds like a police report."

She looked up and nodded. Jack barely resisted the effort to reach out and push her hair off her face. "It could be. Somewhere in here, there's probably information on who's writing and why. It's going to take a while before I can find anything that's going to do us any good. If there's anything in here." She yawned. "I'm beat, and my eyes hurt. I need some sleep."

"We need the information."

"Then you stay up and get it."

"He can't read it," Jack reminded her as Henry checked his watch. "And we're all tired." Dimples flashed. "Then we should all find a bed."

"Cute." A strangled noise flicked his attention momentarily to the reporter. From the expression on Groves' face, he couldn't take a joke. "But you're right..." Back to Leah. "... we've got to sleep sometime." And finally to Chester Bane. "If you closed the studio, we could make this our command center."

The big man shook his head. "I can't afford to lose a day's work. Make it your command center with the studio open."

"And if a demon shows up when the director yells quiet, we all just pause until the camera's off?"

"Yes. That should be sufficient."

Jack studied his face and realized: "You're not kidding."

"I don't kid. The studio stays open."

"We should be safe enough tomorrow," Leah told him, covering another yawn. "One way or another, we dealt with the two weak spots I could sense."

"Fine." Since no one was listening to reason and since the RCMP wasn't backing his play, giving him no official weight to throw around, he'd just have to make the best of things. "Tony's security system has been breached. Is it still functional?"

"No." Leah pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and folded her arms. "I crossed it with no reaction when I got Kevin from the office."

"Why would it respond to you?"

"Everything responds to me."

She sounded so matter-of-fact about it, Jack decided not to argue. "All right." He drained the last sweet dredges of his coffee. "If we can get some more cough syrup, Tony can resecure the perimeter when he wakes up."

"Cough syrup?"

Jack explained quickly, and Chester Bane nodded.

"Get me an empty bottle, and I'll see that he has what he needs."

"Good. And tell your people that a rain of cherries is the sign to hit the deck." He glanced around the office set. "You got a shower in this place?"

"Two." The producer held up the requisite number of fingers. "There are en suites in both of the large dressing rooms although I'd advise you not to use Mason's. Mr. Nicholas is likely to be much more reasonable, particularly as he is aware of what's going on."

"Maybe you'd better talk to him, then." Jack tilted his head back and stared over the tops of the walls, up into the grid hanging from the ceiling. "It's a big place. When your crew shows up, we'll just stay out of each other's way. We'll send..." He paused, leaned back until he could see the end of the chaise and frowned. "What the h.e.l.l is the name of the guy with Tony?"

"Zev Sero. The musical director. Although he and Mr. Foster are no longer..." A pause. "Ah. With. Currently. Never mind."

"Send him home. Whether he comes back is up to you two." If it was up to Jack, he'd send Chester Bane home as well. The last thing they needed was more civilians around. "You..." Groves jumped. "I'm not inclined to let you out of my sight in case this all shows up on page one next to the cow that does Elvis impersonations."

"It won't." He was facing Jack but looking at Henry, picking at the cuticle around his right thumb, two spots of color high on each cheek. "I promise." The look was either terror or love, and in this crowd, Jack figured the odds were pretty much even. "You break that promise and..."

"Trust me, Constable Elson," Groves interrupted, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, "there's no need to make threats. I know what's at stake. Oh, G.o.d!" Both hands rose to cover his mouth. "I didn't mean to say stake!"