Patterson, James - Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

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like a magic trick/ Kyle said. 'Doesn't that strike you, Alex? Some connection to magic?' 'Yeah, but it wasn't a magic trick. Daniel and Charles are dead, and so are a lot of other people. Going back a lot of years.' 'We're nowhere. Is that what you're saying?' 'Yeah. And I don't like it here,' I said.

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Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

Chapter Seventy-Six

I worked late that night in the FBI office. So what else was new? Around nine I was feeling lonely and edgy, all messed up. I called home, but nobody was there. That worried me a little, until I remembered that it was my Aunt Tia's birthday and Nana was throwing a party at Tia's new house in Chapel Gate, north of Baltimore. I hadn't bought Tia a present. Damn it. Damn me. Ever since I had come to Washington as a kid, Tia had never forgotten my birthday. Not once. This year, she had given me the watch that I was wearing now. I called her house in Maryland, and I got to talk to most of my relatives. They teased that I was missing out on some great sock-it- to-me cake. They wanted to know where I was on Tia's birthday, and when I was coming home. I didn't have a satisfactory answer to give them. 'Soon as I can. I miss you all. You have no idea how much I miss being there.' I decided I needed to stop in at the magicians'house before I went back to the Dauphine. Why did I need to do that? I wondered. Because I was wired. Because I am obsessive. A couple of New Orleans policemen were stationed out front. They looked bored and underutilized, and definitely not obsessive. I showed them ID and they let me inside. No problem. Detective Cross. I really wasn't sure why but I had a vague feeling that we had missed something in the house. Forensics had spent hours going over the place. So had I. We hadn't found anything concrete. Still, I

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didn't like being in the house again. The domain. Maybe I needed a gris-gris for protection. I walked through the over-done, very ornate foyer and living room. My footsteps made the big house sound empty. I kept wondering, what were we missing? What was I missing? The master bedroom was situated off the hall at the top of the stairs. Nothing had changed since the first time I was in there. Why in hell had I bothered to come back here? The large, open room was filled with dark, modern art, some of it hung, but several paintings were propped up against the walls. The magicians slept in a bed, not in the coffins we'd found below in the tunnels. As I was searching through their clothes closet again, I came across something I hadn't seen before. I was sure it hadn't been there when I'd canvassed the bedroom the first time. Lying among the shoes were effigies of Daniel and Charles - miniature dolls of the magicians. There were slash marks across the throats, chests and faces. Just like the way they were murdered. Where the hell had the gruesome effigies come from? What did they mean? What was going on down here in New Orleans? Who had gotten into this house after we sealed it? I was tempted to call Kyle, but I held off. I wasn't sure why. I didn't want to go back down into the tunnels alone, and at night, but I was here, and I figured I ought to take another quick look around. There were two cops posted just outside the door, right? What were we missing? Unspeakably violent murders that went back at least eleven years. Our two best suspects had been murdered. Someone had put effigies in their bedroom. I went down to the cellar, then into the tunnels that spidered out in several directions from the main area. New Orleans is about eight feet below sea level and the cellar and tunnels were probably always damp. The walls sweat. I heard a scraping noise, and stopped. Someone or something was walking around. I reached into my shoulder holster, took out my Clock.

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I listened closely. Nothing. Then more scraping. Mice or rats, I thought to myself. Probably all it was. Probably. Almost definitely. I had to go and look further, though. That was my problem, wasn't it? I had to go look, had to investigate, couldn't just walk away. What was I trying to prove to myself? That I had no fears? That I wasn't like my father, who had quit on just about everything in life, including his kids and himself? I inched forward slowly and quietly, listening to the house. I could hear water dripping somewhere in the dank tunnels. I used my old Zippo to light a few of the torches hung on the tunnel walls. There were really bad images in my head. The bite wounds on the bodies I'd seen. The way Daniel and Charles had been attacked. The poisonous bites I'd suffered in Charlotte. You're one of us now. The anger, the rage connected to the murders was present in so many cities. What were the killers angry about? Where were they right now? I never heard them coming, never saw a movement. I was hit, twice. The attackers had come swiftly out of the darkness. One went for my head and neck. The other hit around my knees. They were a team. Efficient. I went down hard and it took the wind right out of me. But I fell on one of the attackers, who was still wrapped around my legs. I heard a loud crack, maybe a bone breaking. Then a scream. He let me

go- I got up, but the second assailant was attached to my back. He bit me! Oh Jesus, no! I cursed and slammed him into the wall. I did it again. Who the hell were these fantastic madmen? Who was the leech riding my back? He finally let go, the sonofabitch! I spun around at him, clipping the side of his head with my gun. I hit him again with a solid left hook. He went down like a sack. I was breathing hard, still full of fight, though. Neither of the

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assailants was moving much now. I kept the gun on them while I lit another candle on the wall. That was better; light always helps. I saw a male and female, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen. Their eyes were like dark holes. The male must have been six foot six or more. He had on a dingy white T-shirt with 'Marlboro Racing First to Finish', printed on it, and baggy, scungy black jeans. The girl was around five two with wide hips, wide everything. Her black hair was stringy and greasy, with reddish highlights. I touched my neck and was surprised that the skin wasn't broken. There was no blood on my hand. 'You're under arrest,' I yelled at the two of them. 'You goddamn bloodsuckers!'

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Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Vampires? Is that what these twisted creeps were? Assassins? Murderers? Their names were Anne Elo and John 'Jack' Masterson and they had attended Catholic high school in Baton Rouge until about four months ago, when they had dropped out and run away from home. Each was seventeen years old. They were just kids. I spent three hours attempting to question the suspects that night, then another four hours the following morning. Elo and Masterson wouldn't talk to me or anyone else - not a word. They wouldn't say what they were doing inside the mansion in the Garden District. Why they had attacked me. Whether or not they had placed the sinister effigies in the closet of the dead men. The teens simply glared across the plain wooden table in one or another of the interrogation rooms at police headquarters. The parents were notified and brought in, but Elo and Masterson wouldn't speak to them either. At one point, Anne Elo finally addressed her father with two words - 'blow me.' I wondered how the cult of the vampire had satisfied her needs, her incredible anger. In the meantime, there were still lots of others to talk to from the Fetish Ball. The commonality among most of them was that they held 'straight jobs' in New Orleans: they were bartenders and waitresses, hotel desk clerks, computer analysts, actors, and even teachers. Most were afraid to have their alternative lifestyles come out at work, so they eventually talked to us. Unfortunately, no one told us anything revealing about Daniel and Charles, or their murderers.