Page 81 of Dropping Like Flies

Cade pulled a face. “It’s hard to believe she didn’t when he was doing it for her. Either she put him up to it, or he was doing it off his own back to do what she couldn’t with the mask.”

“And what is that?” Bellamy asked. “We never knew what she wanted the mask for.”

Ben let out a sigh. “To bring her daughter back to life. Janessa O’Reilly died six years ago and, from what we can surmise, Abigail O’Reilly isn’t ready to let her go.”

An uncomfortable feeling settled in my gut. Because much as I might not want to have something in common with a woman cold-blooded enough to hold John and Bellamy at gun point—leaving them with no choice but to use a graveyard of the Victorian dead as a weapon to keep the mask out of her hands, and who may have sent her son on a killing spree—I had a certain empathy with her, because if I got the chance to bring Whitney back, could I honestly say I wouldn’t do whatever it took?

“You think,” Ben asked slowly, “that this isn’t over yet? That she’ll keep trying?”

Cade nodded. “I’m sure of it. I’m also sure that now she’s back in the country,”—his gaze skated back to Bellamy and John—“that she’ll have a few scores to settle.”

John rolled his eyes. His shoulders had sagged, though, and he’d lost a lot of his usual bravado. “What are you planning to do about it?”

Cade smiled. “I’m planning to stop her. With your help.” He walked over to his desk and pulled a folder out of his top drawer. He held it up to John and Bellamy with a question in his eyes. “What do you say? Are you ready to sign these contracts and come back to work?”

John closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall in the universal sign of asking for strength. “I was hoping she’d fallen down a well or something in Germany.” When he opened his eyes, there was a grim determination in them. Letting go of Bellamy, he strode over and snatched the folder out of Cade’s hands. “Fine! I didn’t stop her once, only for her to find another way of doing it.” He waved his hand. “Give me a pen.”

When Cade provided one, he signed before passing the other contract, along with the pen, to Bellamy. Apparently, Bellamy was also going to work for the PPB in some capacity.

Calisto had been so quiet during the meeting that I’d almost forgotten he was there until he cleared his throat. “If all she wants is her daughter, then maybe we should let her bring her back. If she’d gotten her way with the mask, then the murders wouldn’t have happened.”

“People like O’Reilly,” John said, “don’t just stop at one thing. Do you really think that if she had an artifact that powerful in her hands, or a demon to do her bidding, that she’d stop at bringing her daughter back to life? I’ve met her and I can tell you she wouldn’t. She’s a dangerous woman. Far too dangerous to let get her own way.”

Calisto nodded, bright spots of color appearing on his cheeks. “I see.”

“Where do I come into this?” Ben asked.

“As a liaison between us and the police,” Cade explained. “And… before you ask, yes, I’ve okayed it with Baros. He’s happy to share information with us, and vice versa.”

With nothing left to say, the meeting wound down. When everyone else drifted outside Cade’s office, I stayed, my list of questions for him having only grown. “Why was Calisto here? He has absolutely nothing to do with any of this.”

Cade met my gaze, his expression a strange one. “He will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s all I can say at this point.”

“Why does Asher avoid him?”

“Who says he does?”

I rolled my eyes. “They’ve never met. I can’t think how that could have happened unless one of them went to great lengths to make sure it didn’t. You know, like Asher, conveniently not being here today. Don’t tell me he didn’t know Calisto was going to be here.”

Cade rounded the desk to squeeze my shoulder. “You think too much.”

“I’ve hardly thought about anything but whiskey for the past few years, so I’m making up for lost time. I’m assuming you’re not going to answer my questions?”

Cade crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me ask you a question.”

“Great! Answer a question with a question. Why am I not surprised?”

“What do you know about Calisto?”

“What do I know?” I frowned, not sure what he was getting at. “Friendly. Too friendly most of the time. Acts like a kicked puppy, if you’re mean to him.”

“I meant more to do with his skills as a necromancer.”

I regarded Cade silently for a few moments. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

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