Indigo(37)

“Yes, yes … we’ve both only just come home, haven’t we? But the thing is, I’ve been back in New York an hour and cannot find hide nor hair of Charlotte, or any of the other members of the inner circle. I’ve made phone calls, but this is my first house call. Before I continued my search, I thought I would make absolutely certain you don’t know what’s gone wrong.”

“With your plans for the so-called blessed event? I couldn’t care less.”

Rafe stepped in close. Graham stiffened, as if remembering that he really ought to be afraid of the other man. Rafe inhaled deeply, as if drawing in Graham’s scent and studying it, as if he could learn something from that smell.

“All right,” Rafe relented. “Fine. But I want the list.”

“I don’t have it. And I won’t have you rummaging through my wife’s things without her consent. Get it from Winston.” Graham’s posture was stiff and he groped along the table edge as if he were searching for protection.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed until they gleamed like chips of dirty ice. He closed the gap between them and stared into Graham’s face. “You’re weak, Edwards. You’re not worthy. That’s why I’m the one in Charlotte’s bed, not you. No matter what asinine excuse you make for yourself.”

Graham’s lip twisted with revulsion, and he took a sudden step away from the hall table. He held a blocky, black automatic in the hand that had moved so nervously. He wasn’t nervous now. Graham swung the gun up and pointed it at Rafe’s face. “Get out.”

Rafe chuckled and stepped back. “You have no problem living with the fruits of assassination, extortion, and trafficking, but this suddenly makes you grow a spine—”

Graham shoved the muzzle into Rafe’s left eye. “Get. Out.” Graham’s voice had gone silky cold. “Or I’ll put a bullet through your head and make somebody very happy.”

Rafe spread his arms, still chuckling, and walked backward to the door. “Fine. I’m going. I’ll see you at the event. You will be there, my friend. You can’t step away from the circle. You know how this goes.” Rafe’s gaze passed over Indigo in her shadows as he reached to open the door. He frowned for a moment, but that vanished as he stepped outside the doorway and turned back to Graham. Rafe grinned. “Give my love to the kids—especially that adorable daughter of yours.”

Graham slammed the door in Rafe’s face and spat, “Smug, twisted little motherfucker.” Graham rearmed the perimeter alarm and turned away, still muttering to himself about Rafe Bogdani and the “bloody blessed event.”

Blessed event, Indigo echoed. It’s gotta be whatever these sick bastards have in mind for the other two kids Bullington mentioned. And from the sound of it, Charlotte Edwards had offered up her own offspring for the ritual. Her husband might be an evil son of a bitch, but at least he had balked at that.

She toyed with staying and seeing what she could get out of Graham, but it seemed more likely Rafe had the information she wanted. Before she left, Indigo tucked Charlotte Edwards’s keys into an ornamental box on a bedside table. She couldn’t be caught carrying them, but she might need them again if she could figure out what they unlocked. I guess Nora will have to “run into” Rafe—ever so coincidentally, of course.

She left Graham Edwards alone with his bottle and his gun and hoped he’d blow his own brains out—saving her the trouble of coming back. Indigo reached for the deepest shadows outside the brownstone, felt the pathways available to her, and sensed the shifting night come alive at her touch. She stepped from the apartment onto those dark paths and reappeared on the street, following Rafe. He didn’t head across the park on foot toward Winston’s co-op, but toward the nearest subway station.

Perfect.

From patch to patch, she slipped along behind him and down into the station, coming to rest in the murky gray space behind the stairs. She watched Rafe pace on the subway platform until his train pulled in. Once he’d stepped aboard, she hurtled forward, out of the darkness, shedding her shadows, shedding Indigo.

Nora darted through the gap just ahead of the closing doors. They groaned shut as she tumbled into him, saying, “Sorry, sorry, ohmigod, I’m so sorry.…”

Rafe caught her, holding on for maybe a second longer than a gentleman should have before he set her back on her feet. He frowned, while the shadows in the corners of the car reached toward them, trembling. A darker feeling inside her twisted, pulling away while the rest of the shade seemed to want the opposite. The shifting patches inside the train car behaved as if they had more than one master. It made Nora queasy, and Indigo curious. She stood still, blinking as if surprised.

Rafe gave her one of the sweet smiles he’d used at the memorial. “Don’t I know you? Sorry, that sounds totally creepy, doesn’t it? But I’d swear—”

“Oh. Yeah.” For a moment it was a struggle for her to sound like innocent Nora and not like someone who knew Rafe Bogdani had been banging the Queen of the Kid Killers. She shook off the weird feeling that her shadows were divided, then dropped her gaze as if the memory of their first meeting hurt. The only hurt she was feeling was the restraint of not whacking the dirtbag right here and now.

“Maidali Ortiz. We met at the procession for her.”

“Right!” He snapped his fingers. “Shelby … Coughlin. Right?”