Dark Currents

“She was my sister,” Emma Sudbury said simply. “And there was no one else. It wasn’t her fault she was broken.”



“No,” he agreed. “It wasn’t.”



Cody cleared his throat. “Any information you have might be helpful to us, ma’am. Any detail, no matter how small. Do you have any idea where Mary is now?”



“No.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Mary cut off all contact with me. She said it was for the best.” Her tears gathered, spilling over the reddened lower lids. “That she was finally able to set me free.”



“And when was that?”



She looked at him, seemingly unaware that she was weeping. “April, I believe.”



“And there’s been no contact since? Letters? Phone calls? Has anyone reported seeing her?”



“No.” A tear etched its way into a wrinkle. Finally registering her tears, Emma pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her cheek. “We kept to ourselves, Officer. No one in Pemkowet knew Mary’s story. We wanted to keep it that way.”



“I understand,” Cody said, circling back to an earlier question. “About this Raymond—do you know where she met him?”



“Oh!” She dabbed at her other cheek. “Yes, I’m sorry. She met him at Our Lady of the Lake.”



“The Catholic church?” Cody couldn’t keep a note of surprise from his voice.



“They have a youth ministry,” Emma Sudbury said, as though it explained everything. “There were children there. And it was the anniversary.”



“What the hell would Ray D be doing at a Catholic church?” I wondered aloud. It didn’t exactly seem like the haunt of choice for a meth-dealing ghoul.



“Our relationship with faith is a complicated one, Daisy,” Stefan said quietly. “Raymond would not be the first of his kind to seek to reconcile it. And I have spoken with Father Domenico. He strikes me as an enlightened fellow who is sympathetic to the unique needs of his parish. Indeed, given your particular circumstances, I’m surprised you have not sought him out.”



Again, huh.



“My mom was raised Lutheran,” I said. “I think she was afraid the Catholics might try to exorcise me or something.”



“Some might,” he admitted. “Not all.”



“Is there anything else you can remember, ma’am?” Cody asked Emma. “Anything at all Mary might have said?”



She shook her head, then reconsidered. “She said Raymond meant to keep her like a queen.”



“But not where?”



“No.” She regarded the damp tissue wadded in her hand. “No, Mary didn’t want me to know. She is in trouble, isn’t she? Something bad has happened.”



“It’s possible,” Cody said gently. “But we don’t know the extent of your sister’s involvement.”



Emma Sudbury took a deep breath, releasing it in a long, shuddering sigh. Her gaze shifted to Stefan, and her voice took on a note of bitterness. “You’re like her, aren’t you? Why aren’t you broken?”



Stefan met her gaze without flinching, his pupils fixed and unwavering. “We remain what we were, my lady. I fear your sister was broken before her death. My circumstances differed. I was not.”



“But you died?” she asked him. “Died, and came back?”



He inclined his head to her. “I am Outcast, yes.”



There was a terrible hunger in her lined face: an addict’s hunger. “I miss her, you know. Oh, God, I miss her! It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I should have become dependent on her to ease my misery, is it?”



“No.”



Emma knotted her hands together, shredding the tissue, a look of desperate cunning creeping into her eyes. “You could help me, couldn’t you?”



Stefan hesitated. “In the greater scheme of things, I would be doing you no favor, my lady.”



She made a cracked sound that was half laugh, half sob. “Do I look like someone with the luxury of thinking about the greater scheme of things in the years to come, Mr. Ludovic? Please. You would do me a kindness.”



He nodded. “So be it.”



Cody and I exchanged a quick, uncertain glance as Stefan rose and stooped on one knee to cradle Emma Sudbury’s head in his hands. His lips parted and his pupils waxed alarmingly as he drank in her fear and worry.



Her expression eased, her face softening. In a totally creepy way, it was sort of like she was receiving a benediction.



Stefan closed his eyes, hiding his own reaction. And yes, I was grateful for that. After a long moment, he released her and took a step backward, his hands loose and open at his sides. He opened his eyes, his pupils steady, dilated, and glistening. “You should embrace your freedom, my lady. Lay down your long burden. You belong to the world of the living. Return to it.”



“After so long?” Emma Sudbury murmured. “I’m not sure I know how.”



“You will find a way,” Stefan assured her. “I promise you.”



She gazed trustingly at him. “And Mary?”



His ice-blue eyes were grave. “There, I make no promises.”



Thirty



It’s fair to say that at least two of us breathed a sigh of relief on the sidewalk outside Emma Sudbury’s cottage, free of its dark, frowsty confines and the weight of fifty-some years’ worth of accumulated suffering, misery, and guilt.



Cody shuddered and shook himself all over like a dog, his service pistol, flashlight, portable radio, and various other items on his officer’s utility belt rattling in their respective holsters. “Damn!” he said fervently. “It’s just so . . . awful.”



Stefan’s expression was indecipherable. “Yes.”



I might not be able to read his face, but there was something new in his voice. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”



He glanced at me. “I had not realized Mary Sudbury’s case would prove so . . . extreme. For an infanticide to be Outcast is rare.”



“Yeah, about that,” Cody said. “I’m a little hazy on how this whole business works. Mary Sudbury killed her child and committed suicide. So why does hell give her a pass? Not guilty by reason of insanity?”



“In a sense.” Stefan’s voice was somber. “Over the years, I have spoken to priests and philosophers alike. And I spoke the truth when I said no one fully understands the how and why of our existence. Not even we ourselves. This I will tell you: Due to Mary’s madness, she committed a mortal sin as an act of profound faith. Heaven does not admit unrepentant sinners, and hell does not welcome true believers. Like all of the Outcast, Mary fell between the cracks.”



I cleared my throat. “Hel . . . I mean Hel the goddess . . . said that gh—” Damn, I felt guilty saying it now. “That the Outcast were mortal beings slain at height of great passion. I have to admit, I don’t get how this fits.”



Stefan’s gaze rested on me. “Despair is a passion unto itself, Daisy,” he said softly. “Do not doubt it.”



“Okay,” I said. “So what does it all mean?”



His phone rang, chiming with a baroque phrase of classical music I couldn’t even begin to identify. Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, Stefan gave me an apologetic look. “Excuse me.”



Cody and I exchanged glances again, both of us still thinking about the haunted figure of Emma Sudbury.



“My mom’s got a friend who volunteers at the senior center,” I offered. “Sandra Sweddon. Mom’s doing the dresses for her daughter Terri’s wedding. I could ask her to ask Sandra to look into contacting Emma Sudbury. They’ve got an outreach program for seniors living alone. Whatever happens, I have a feeling poor Emma’s going to need it once this is over.”



“Good idea.” Cody raised his eyebrows. “Terri Sweddon’s getting married? I hadn’t heard.”



“Yes, you did,” I reminded him. “You were right there when Mom told me.”



“I must not have been paying attention,” he admitted. “Who’s she marrying?”



“Cory Dalton.”



“Really?”



“I think so.” I counted on my fingers. “Curtis, Cameron . . . Cory’s the youngest Dalton boy, right? He was a year behind you.”



He nodded. “And Terri was a year ahead of you? She has a sister who’s younger, too. What’s her name?”



“Sherri?” I hazarded. “Yeah, I think that’s right. Terri and Sherri. She was a couple years behind me.”



Having concluded his discreet conversation, Stefan Ludovic, who was already several centuries old when Cody and I were attending Pemkowet High with the Dalton boys and Sweddon girls, strode back down the sidewalk, his bootheels ringing against the cement. “That was Johnny,” he announced. “He says that the place that Jerry Dunham was renting appears to have been abandoned.”



Oh, crap.



“What about the bikes?” Cody demanded. “He wouldn’t leave without them.”



Stefan shook his head. “Gone. All gone.”



“He checked the garage?”



“Yes, of course.” Stefan tilted his head, narrowing his ice-blue eyes. “He is an Outcast. The garage was the first thing he checked.”



It took me a few seconds to realize he meant biker-gang Outcast, not heaven-and-hell Outcast. The overlap was a little confusing.



“Shit.” Cody hit his palm with his fist. “We spooked him.”



“Yep.”



“It is as I said,” Stefan said in a matter-of-fact manner. “The unfeeling have strong senses of self-preservation. If Jerry Dunham was involved with some nefarious scheme, I do not doubt he had an exit plan in place.”



“Oh, I’m pretty sure it was nefarious, all right.” Within the confines of my jeans, my tail lashed with righteous outrage. I stilled it with a conscious effort, curling it between my thighs. And in case you were wondering, yes, it does feel kind of good there. I try not to think about it at inappropriate intervals. “So what now?” I asked Cody. “Do we try to bring in Matthew Mollenkamp for questioning or interview the priest?”