Visions (Cainsville #2)(87)
Frustration welled in my gut, and I thought of those words in the bathroom. I DON’T UNDERSTAND. Goddamn it, I didn’t understand, and I was so sick of these teases, of these hints, of all this weird shit that meant something and didn’t mean something, and I just wanted—
“To go back to your old life?” he said, as if I’d spoken the words aloud.
“What are you?” I asked. “I want answers, or—”
“Or you’ll what, Eden Olivia? Shoot me? Walk away? Neither does you any good. As for what I am, that’s a very personal question. I’ll give you a name instead. You may call me Tristan.”
My cell phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen.
“Mr. Walsh, I presume?” Tristan asked.
It was. As the call went to voice mail, Tristan came closer. I lifted my gun.
He smiled. “I think we’ve already established that won’t do any good.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Go ahead.” He put his hand over the barrel of the gun, palm blocking the end. “Fire at will, Eden Olivia.”
Before I could decide whether to do it, he snatched the phone from my hand and danced backward, hitting Play on the voice mail as he did.
“I see you called a couple of hours ago,” Gabriel’s voice said. “But I’m certain my phone didn’t ring. Is there a problem? Call me.”
Tristan tapped the screen and started to text.
“Hey!”
I lunged. He dodged and kept typing until I managed to grab the phone. Too late. The message had been sent.
Need help. Please come. Followed by an address, then, Don’t call. Too dangerous. Just come. Please.
I started to text him.
“You know that won’t help. What will you say? Sorry, but a madman who lured me to an abandoned hospital sent that. I really don’t need help.”
I hesitated.
Tristan continued. “Even if you could explain it, he’d come anyway, just in case. The cry for help has been sent. He must answer. It’s his job.”
“If you mean he’s being paid to protect me—”
“Paid? No. I chose my words poorly. It’s his duty. One he executes with pleasure. He’s formed quite an attachment to you, as has young Mr. Gallagher. And you to them. Three pawns in a very old game. Do you like being a pawn, Eden Olivia?”
I said nothing.
“Of course you don’t. You are Mallt-y-Nos. You rule over pawns; you are not one of them.”
“I am what?”
“Special,” he said. “Isn’t that what every little mortal wants to be? Oh so very special. Except it’s not nearly as wonderful as they think, because when you are special, you inspire avarice and fear. Everyone wants to control you. Use you. If they cannot, they will kill you, because if you are not theirs, you are dangerous. Right now, they circle, watching and waiting. You’ve seen the ravens. The owls and the hounds. Watching. Evaluating. Do you want to know why?”
“Yes.”
“Then start asking questions, Eden Olivia. I’ve been sending some to you.”
“You’ve been sending me body parts. You killed an innocent—”
“I did not kill Ciara Conway. I merely took advantage of her death to . . .” He smiled. “Stir the waters. Wake you up. Wake them up. You say Ciara Conway is innocent, and you are correct. Yet there is someone who was even more wronged in this: the girl waiting for you here. She’s connected to Ciara and has suffered through that connection. Those responsible for her suffering surround you in Cainsville. Find the connection. Ask the questions. See what it has to do with you.”
He turned and headed for the door.
“Hold on,” I said. “I—”
“You’d best go find Miss Macy. I may have”—he grinned, all teeth—“moved her. I wouldn’t suggest you leave until you find her. That would be very unfortunate for the poor girl. This place doesn’t see many visitors.”
He walked out. I ran after him, but when I got to the door, he’d vanished, just as he had that night at Ricky’s apartment. I knew now that it hadn’t been a trick of light and shadow.
As I retraced my steps, I called Ricky.
“He got past you,” I said.
“Shit.”
“Not your fault. It was some kind of trick. He’s gone now, though, I think.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. We just had a conversation. A very weird conversation. I’ll get the girl and—”
I veered into the room where Macy said she’d be. It was empty.
“Damn it,” I muttered. “She’s not here. He said he moved her. Great.”
“Hold on. I’ll be right there.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
After I gave Ricky directions, I searched the room. It didn’t take much. The place was about fifteen feet square, with one exit, no windows, and no debris large enough to hide anyone. The walls were covered in graffiti, but it was only the usual “I was here” markers.
As I paced, I tried to call Gabriel to let him know what was going on, but I got a “customer unavailable” recording. I texted a very basic Everything’s fine now. Call when you can.