“Sadly, it seems the people we’re hunting only practiced the simplest version of behavioral control,” I said. “Shutting someone up by putting a bullet through him.”
Patrick’s lip curled slightly. “How pedestrian. If that’s the angle you’re pursuing, then I’m not sure my research helps, but if you still want it . . .”
“I do. Please.”
• • •
Patrick was right. As much as I appreciated his research, I wasn’t sure it got us anywhere now.
What he’d found was another Druidic link. Each stone left in the victim’s mouths had a small hole through it. At first, they’d been mistaken for amulets, the presumption being that the holes had been carved. Later, they were discovered to be naturally occurring perforation.
Adder stones, Patrick called them. They often had a glassy center, usually flint. Ancient Celts believed that center was the hardened spittle of snakes—or even dragons. Adder stones were particularly prized by Druids. They were known as Gloine nan Druidh, or Druid’s Glass, in Scottish Gaelic, and were said to aid in spirit travel.
What did that mean? We had no idea, only that it was a second Druidic link. Patrick said he’d keep digging for more. I told him he didn’t need to, but apparently he was having fun chasing this particular mystery.
MINGLING THE MYSTICAL
Mind control. That was an interesting possibility. It couldn’t be done by natural means; Patrick was sure of that. Even by unnatural means, it was difficult. One could certainly influence behavior. There were also charms and trances. But their effect was sadly limited. Yet if there was a way to mingle the scientific and the mystical . . . Very intriguing.
Equally intriguing was the fact that Olivia and Gabriel seemed to actually be making headway in their efforts to prove the Larsens innocent. That was unexpected. It was presumed among the Tylwyth Teg of Cainsville that the Larsens were in fact guilty, that the ritualistic aspects of the crimes proved they were responsible even if no one quite knew what the ritual was supposed to accomplish.
Was it possible they had been, as the boinne-fala would say, framed?
Definitely intriguing.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Patrick stayed to visit longer with Rose. As we left, I commented to Gabriel that they seemed to know each other well.
Gabriel shrugged. “Well enough. They have similar interests, as you noticed.”
“What do you make of him?”
Gabriel looked over, frowning, as we reached the bottom of the steps.
“It’s just . . .” I began. “Cainsville seems very old-fashioned in some ways. Respect for elders and all that. But Patrick appears to be exempt. If anything, he seems to be as respected as the elders. Which seems odd for a guy younger than me.”
Another frown, deeper now. “Patrick? He’s older than I am, Olivia.”
“What?”
“Not by much, I presume. But I recall him as a young man when I wasn’t more than a teenager. He’s definitely older than I am.”
I remembered what Patrick said when I commented that he’d seemed young to be published. I’m older than I look. Apparently so. That explained a few things.
As we crossed the road, Gabriel said, “Catch,” and I turned just in time to see silver flashing toward me.
“I’m driving?” I said as I caught his keys.
“Yes, though those were just for dramatic flourish. Technically, you don’t need the keys. As long as they’re in the car, you can drive it.” He paused. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
I grinned. “In other words, from now on, whoever gets to the driver’s seat first takes the wheel?”
“Unless I refuse to get in the passenger seat.”
“Spoilsport.” I walked around the Jag and opened the driver’s door. “You’re serious, though. I get to drive?”
He waggled his cell phone. “I need to check e-mail.”
“So I’m actually chauffeuring you.”
“Are you arguing?”
I slid in. “Nope. Are we still heading out to interview that MKULTRA subject? Patrick seemed to think Rose had a vision that we shouldn’t.”
“She did receive a warning. Typically vague, something to do with me, terrible danger, and all that.” He climbed into the passenger seat. Then he paused before closing the door. “On second thought, perhaps we should switch places . . .”
“Too late.”
I started the engine. He only smiled as if he’d been teasing.
“You don’t take the warning seriously, I presume?” I said.
“I do, but a warning only means that I should be alert, and that was all Rose wanted to tell me. Be careful. Danger is in the cards today.” He fastened his seat belt and made a show of double-checking.
I made a face at him.
“Go on,” he said. “Just keep your foot light until you hit the town limits. Or I’ll get blamed, no matter who’s driving.”
• • •
There are no stoplights in Cainsville. There are, however, a lot of crosswalks, and you’re expected to slow at each. It was still early Sunday morning, but kids were already out, heading to something at the community center.
As I idled waiting for the children to pass, I noticed another gargoyle I hadn’t seen before. It was a monkey tucked under a roofline, which would make it completely useless for its original purpose. It was cute, though, peeking out from the shadow as its hands gripped the overhang. Another one to add to my list.
I glanced at Gabriel. He had his head bent as he read his e-mail. He must normally use something to discipline his wavy hair and he obviously hadn’t found a substitute in my bathroom, because a chunk of it had fallen forward. He’d taken his sunglasses off to read, blue eyes fixed on his phone. His expression was as intent and serious as ever, but the hair in his face spoiled the effect, and when I looked from him to the monkey, I thought of a boy hunting gargoyles.
Somewhere in Cainsville was a gargoyle with the face of that ten-year-old Gabriel and I wanted to see it. But even as I imagined asking—lightly, teasingly—where it was, I couldn’t. Would he want me knowing he’d hunted gargoyles? That he had one modeled after him? No. I didn’t think he would. So I waited until the children passed and continued down Main Street. I put my foot down the second we passed the town sign. Gabriel didn’t look up from his e-mail, only chuckled and shook his head. I was playing with the acceleration, wishing I had a road more exciting than this flat stretch, when something made my foot pop off the pedal.
Patrick’s lip curled slightly. “How pedestrian. If that’s the angle you’re pursuing, then I’m not sure my research helps, but if you still want it . . .”
“I do. Please.”
• • •
Patrick was right. As much as I appreciated his research, I wasn’t sure it got us anywhere now.
What he’d found was another Druidic link. Each stone left in the victim’s mouths had a small hole through it. At first, they’d been mistaken for amulets, the presumption being that the holes had been carved. Later, they were discovered to be naturally occurring perforation.
Adder stones, Patrick called them. They often had a glassy center, usually flint. Ancient Celts believed that center was the hardened spittle of snakes—or even dragons. Adder stones were particularly prized by Druids. They were known as Gloine nan Druidh, or Druid’s Glass, in Scottish Gaelic, and were said to aid in spirit travel.
What did that mean? We had no idea, only that it was a second Druidic link. Patrick said he’d keep digging for more. I told him he didn’t need to, but apparently he was having fun chasing this particular mystery.
MINGLING THE MYSTICAL
Mind control. That was an interesting possibility. It couldn’t be done by natural means; Patrick was sure of that. Even by unnatural means, it was difficult. One could certainly influence behavior. There were also charms and trances. But their effect was sadly limited. Yet if there was a way to mingle the scientific and the mystical . . . Very intriguing.
Equally intriguing was the fact that Olivia and Gabriel seemed to actually be making headway in their efforts to prove the Larsens innocent. That was unexpected. It was presumed among the Tylwyth Teg of Cainsville that the Larsens were in fact guilty, that the ritualistic aspects of the crimes proved they were responsible even if no one quite knew what the ritual was supposed to accomplish.
Was it possible they had been, as the boinne-fala would say, framed?
Definitely intriguing.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Patrick stayed to visit longer with Rose. As we left, I commented to Gabriel that they seemed to know each other well.
Gabriel shrugged. “Well enough. They have similar interests, as you noticed.”
“What do you make of him?”
Gabriel looked over, frowning, as we reached the bottom of the steps.
“It’s just . . .” I began. “Cainsville seems very old-fashioned in some ways. Respect for elders and all that. But Patrick appears to be exempt. If anything, he seems to be as respected as the elders. Which seems odd for a guy younger than me.”
Another frown, deeper now. “Patrick? He’s older than I am, Olivia.”
“What?”
“Not by much, I presume. But I recall him as a young man when I wasn’t more than a teenager. He’s definitely older than I am.”
I remembered what Patrick said when I commented that he’d seemed young to be published. I’m older than I look. Apparently so. That explained a few things.
As we crossed the road, Gabriel said, “Catch,” and I turned just in time to see silver flashing toward me.
“I’m driving?” I said as I caught his keys.
“Yes, though those were just for dramatic flourish. Technically, you don’t need the keys. As long as they’re in the car, you can drive it.” He paused. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
I grinned. “In other words, from now on, whoever gets to the driver’s seat first takes the wheel?”
“Unless I refuse to get in the passenger seat.”
“Spoilsport.” I walked around the Jag and opened the driver’s door. “You’re serious, though. I get to drive?”
He waggled his cell phone. “I need to check e-mail.”
“So I’m actually chauffeuring you.”
“Are you arguing?”
I slid in. “Nope. Are we still heading out to interview that MKULTRA subject? Patrick seemed to think Rose had a vision that we shouldn’t.”
“She did receive a warning. Typically vague, something to do with me, terrible danger, and all that.” He climbed into the passenger seat. Then he paused before closing the door. “On second thought, perhaps we should switch places . . .”
“Too late.”
I started the engine. He only smiled as if he’d been teasing.
“You don’t take the warning seriously, I presume?” I said.
“I do, but a warning only means that I should be alert, and that was all Rose wanted to tell me. Be careful. Danger is in the cards today.” He fastened his seat belt and made a show of double-checking.
I made a face at him.
“Go on,” he said. “Just keep your foot light until you hit the town limits. Or I’ll get blamed, no matter who’s driving.”
• • •
There are no stoplights in Cainsville. There are, however, a lot of crosswalks, and you’re expected to slow at each. It was still early Sunday morning, but kids were already out, heading to something at the community center.
As I idled waiting for the children to pass, I noticed another gargoyle I hadn’t seen before. It was a monkey tucked under a roofline, which would make it completely useless for its original purpose. It was cute, though, peeking out from the shadow as its hands gripped the overhang. Another one to add to my list.
I glanced at Gabriel. He had his head bent as he read his e-mail. He must normally use something to discipline his wavy hair and he obviously hadn’t found a substitute in my bathroom, because a chunk of it had fallen forward. He’d taken his sunglasses off to read, blue eyes fixed on his phone. His expression was as intent and serious as ever, but the hair in his face spoiled the effect, and when I looked from him to the monkey, I thought of a boy hunting gargoyles.
Somewhere in Cainsville was a gargoyle with the face of that ten-year-old Gabriel and I wanted to see it. But even as I imagined asking—lightly, teasingly—where it was, I couldn’t. Would he want me knowing he’d hunted gargoyles? That he had one modeled after him? No. I didn’t think he would. So I waited until the children passed and continued down Main Street. I put my foot down the second we passed the town sign. Gabriel didn’t look up from his e-mail, only chuckled and shook his head. I was playing with the acceleration, wishing I had a road more exciting than this flat stretch, when something made my foot pop off the pedal.
