Angeli: The Pirate, the Angel & the Irishman Page 17

  “We need to talk to Con. He’s our number one suspect. Come with me back to Anne’s and let’s find out if there is any chance he’s our man.”

  “I—” Michael’s first thought was how awkward returning to Anne’s room would be right now, but he found himself unwilling to discuss the situation with Leo.

  And if he happened to interrupt Anne and Con’s reunion, would that be so bad?

  “Fine,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Come sit down!” Anne tried to grab Con’s hand, but her fingers passed through him with little resistance. “Damn.”

  Con looked at his palm. “You have to give me some warning.”

  “Sorry. Can you sit down? Do you prefer to just, uh, float there?”

  “I can sit,” said Con, moving to the sofa. “I can’t promise I’ll put much of a dent in the cushions, though.”

  They moved to the furniture and Con sat. Anne hovered near him a moment, resisting the urge to hug him or touch his hair. She felt compelled to do something that proved him real.

  “Say something.”

  Con looked at Anne. “What’s that?”

  “Say something. It’s so nice to hear your voice again.”

  “Ok,” said Con. “I’d like a whiskey, please.”

  “You can drink?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what I can or can’t do yet, but I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of experimenting.”

  Anne moved to the mini bar, which she found restocked since Con’s last visit masquerading as Jeffrey. She shuddered to think how much the hotel charged her for the refrigerator raid. No matter how much money one amassed, mini-bar prices never failed to horrify.

  “So tell me everything,” Anne said, retrieving two tiny whiskey bottles.

  Con stretched and put his hands behind his head. “I was born a stout lad in County Tipperary in 1801...”

  “Very funny. Should I bother to put it in a glass?”

  “No.” Con reached for the bottle, his hand growing brighter as the rest of him dimmed.

  “Got it?” Anne asked as his fingers curled around the tiny bottle. She slowly released her grip on the mini.

  The bottle stayed steady in Con’s grasp. He pursed his lips, concentrating, and took a careful sip. He swallowed, and looked back at Anne.

  “How is it? Can you taste it? Should I feel the cushions to see if it went right through you?”

  “I didn’t wet the sofa. I’m not one of your mutts.”

  Anne laughed. “Sure you are. My favorite.”

  Con smirked.

  “Though,” said Anne, growing serious. “I do feel the urge to inform you none of my babies would ever go-go in the house. They’re all very good kids.”

  Con nodded. “That goes without saying.”

  “So how was it?” asked Anne, nodding toward the tiny whiskey bottle.

  “I can taste it. I just have to take tiny sips, which feels totally unnatural, but I’ll adapt.”

  “Want to try a thousand dollar can of macadamia nuts?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “So,” Anne sat in the comfy chair beside the sofa. “Tell me everything!”

  Con took another careful sip of whiskey and then looked at her.

  “Remember when I came up earlier to talk to you and you rudely chased me away?”

  Anne frowned. “That’s not exactly how I remember it, but for the sake of argument, yes.”

  “My big news was that I have been healing. My energy has been coming back to me as my energy. It’s been taking feckin’ forever, but it is coming back. I wanted to let you know that I thought that maybe in another hundred years or so, I might be good as new.”

  Anne felt her stomach lurch at the thought of having to wait another hundred years.

  “A hundred years? But you seem so close now...”

  “Well, just a second, missy,” Con held out his hand. “Things have changed. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve jumped about ninety years worth of progress.”

  Anne opened her eyes wide. “How?”

  Con took another sip and then put the empty bottle on the table. No longer concentrating his energy in order to hold the bottle, the rest of Con’s form came more sharply into focus.

  “I met a man on the street. I guess he was a man, I don’t know what he was. He wasn’t human, Angeli or one of us. He touched me, and Anne I can’t explain it, but I started to pull away his energy without even meaning to. It was like draining a Perfidian, but the energy stayed with me as if it were my own all along. Another couple of seconds and I could have been fully back!”

  Con closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, reliving an opportunity missed.

  “What happened?” asked Anne, leaning at the edge of her seat.

  “He realized he’d made a mistake getting that close to me and disappeared in an instant.”

  Anne considered this. “You might have killed him?”

  “I didn’t kill him, he left,” Con replied with certainty. “I didn’t even come close.”

  “And he’s not a Perfidian?”

  “No.”

  “But you siphoned him?”

  Con nodded and even in his semi-transparent form, Anne could see his eyes shift down and right. She knew he was hiding something.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I also drained a human,” Con added, blurting the statement as if that made it slightly less true.

  Anne’s jaw dropped.

  “When? Where?”

  “Earlier today. I borrowed a kid’s body to have a drink and a think and some dosser started with me at the bar. My temper got the better of me and the next thing I knew I was draining him.”

  Anne shook her head, unable to process the information. “How is that possible?”

  Before Con could answer, Anne jumped to her feet at the sound of sparks crackling behind her. She turned to watch Michael and Leo manifest in the room. Con stood and stepped forward to stand beside her.

  “He drained a human,” said Leo, the moment he appeared, pointing at Con as he did so. “And he took Ariel. You might as well confess, Con.”

  Anne turned to Con, who threw up his hands in confusion.

  “Who the feck is Ariel?”

  Leo pointed a finger. “You know exactly who she is. And you’ll tell us why you took her or I’ll beat it out of you.”

  Con stepped toward Leo.

  “You’ll be wantin’ to keep yourself where you are,” he said, pointing back at the Angelus.

  Leo stopped, rocking side to side with agitation, his eyes locked on Con. He wore jeans and a beige t-shirt that strained across his pectorals, leaving little to be imagined on the strapping man’s physique. Anne thought he looked like a predatory cat waiting to pounce.

  Leo took another half step towards Con and straightened to his full height.

  “Just try it, Sentinel,” he growled.

  “Oh, boyo, you know I’m more than just a Sentinel now. You want to find out how much more?”

  Michael put a hand on Leo’s arm. Leo jerked away from Michael’s touch. He glared at Con and took a step back to resume his place at Michael’s side.

  Michael sighed. “Sorry. Leo was really excited to try good cop/bad cop.”

  Leo looked away with disgust. “You can’t tell them it’s good cop/bad cop,” he grumbled.

  Michael turned to Anne. “We came to find out what Con knows before we continue our investigation. I don’t know if Con’s told you, but he’s acquired some unusual powers lately, similar to those of the creature who attacked you.”

  Anne noticed Michael’s eyes appeared tired. She wished not everything had to happen all at once.

  “He’s told me. He also told me he met a man on the street who wasn’t human, Angeli or Sentinel.”

  “What man?” asked Michael, turning his attention to Con.

  Anne held up a hand, asking Michael to be patient, then she turned to Con.

  “Before we get into this, yo
u need to know why they are suspicious of you. An Angel named Ariel tried to kill me, while possibly under the influence of some other creature, presumably the monster that attacked me in the alley. So once I had, um, neutralized her—”

  “Neutralized her?” said Con flashing a smirk in Michael’s direction. “That’s my girl.”

  Michael remained stone-faced.

  Anne continued. “Anyway, that means there’s something out there that can affect both Angeli and Sentinels. If you can suddenly drain Angeli and humans, it’s only logical you might be a suspect.”

  “So, that’s why blondie has his knickers in a twist,” said Con, rolling his eyes toward Leo.

  “When I caught you in the bar draining a human. It occurred to me you might be our man,” said Leo.

  “You didn’t catch shite. And anyway I can’t drain Sentinels like this other thing.”

  “How do you know?” asked Michael.

  “Know what?”

  “That you can’t drain other Sentinels? Try to siphon Anne,” suggested Michael, as if he had just asked Con to shake her hand. “Maybe you can siphon Sentinels.”

  “What?” said Anne, her head snapping in Michael’s direction.

  “Let him see if he can siphon you,” said Michael. “Even if Con isn’t our man, this other thing has similar powers. We need to know what it might be able to do.”

  “This thing already drained me pretty well in the alley,” said Anne, pointing out the flaw in his plan. “We already know it can drain Sentinels.”

  “Well, if Con can’t drain you, we know he and it are not the same thing, which is also something good to know. And if he can...” Michael allowed his sentence trail off.

  Anne fell silent and considered Michael’s idea. She knew Con was not the thing that had attacked her in the alley. She’d recognize Con’s presence blindfolded. But, she did wonder what his new powers might entail.

  Anne held her arm out to Con. “Do it.”

  Con looked at Anne and then Michael. With some trepidation, he grasped Anne’s wrist.

  Anne watched as a purple light wrapped around her arm. She felt the familiar effect of her energy siphoning away. She gasped and jerked away.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” said Michael.

  “Purple?” asked Leo.

  Anne rubbed her wrist, unwilling to make eye contact with Con or Michael as the unpleasant sensation faded.

  Leo frowned at Con with renewed distrust. Con turned away, took a moment to compose himself, and then swiveled back to the group.

  “Let’s skip all the dancing around. You know I’m not your man.”

  “Do we?” asked Leo. “That’s a lovely lavender light you emanate now.”

  “It’s more of a royal purple.”

  “Whatever. It’s the color of suspicious.”

  “Look, I don’t have any idea what this new creature is that attacked your girl and mine, but there’s a good chance the gent I met on the street is him. And I can tell you one other thing: I could drain him as well.”

  “Really?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “If what you say is true, you may have just moved from suspect to weapon. Does that have something to do with your sudden reappearance? Did draining that thing on the street speed your healing process?”

  “It had everything to do with it,” admitted Con. “If I’d been able to hold on to him for another second, I’d be back to my old self, I’m sure.”

  “What did he look like? Where did he go?”

  Con shrugged. “I can’t describe him. He had a human shape, he wore clothes, he wasn’t in a borrowed body, but...” Con paused. “I couldn’t focus on him. He was like some sort of electrified blur. I thought I was seeing him, but then I wasn’t. And he buzzed. If that makes any sense.”

  “Not really,” said Leo.

  “It does to me,” said Anne. “That was my general impression of the attacker in the alley. He also buzzed, like a swarm of insects.”

  “Yes! Or high-voltage lines,” added Con.

  Michael reached into his suit jacket and retrieved a photograph. He held it toward Con, who took a moment to grant his hand solidity and then grasped the print.

  “How can we be sure you have nothing to do with this?” Leo asked.

  Con’s gaze remained on the photo. “Because I just told you, ya gobshite,” he muttered.

  Anne turned to Leo. “Come on, Leo. Michael and I have known Con forever. He wouldn’t turn Ariel into a murdering puppet, and he certainly wouldn’t try and kill me with the puppet, even if he had.”

  Con handed the photo to Anne. “That, and the fact that man I saw on the street is the same man in your photo here.” Con looked at Michael, his face growing red with anger. “Is this why you brought Annie here?”

  Confused by Con’s ire, Anne looked at the photo. She was aghast at what she saw. In the picture, Ariel lay on a bed with a streaky monster hovering beside her. The monster held aloft a scrap of paper.

  “Bring me Anne Bonny,” Anne said, reading the note in the creature’s hand. She looked up at Michael.

  “You brought me here because this thing asked?”

  Michael held a steady gaze on Anne as he spoke.

  “You were safer here, where I could watch over you. Clearly, you were in danger.”

  “You mean I was safer here where you could use me as bait.”

  Michael opened his mouth and then shut it again.

  Anne handed the photo to the dark-haired Angelus. She wanted to punch him. She wanted him to leave. She wanted to scream. Instead, she set her jaw and stiffly barked orders at him.

  “Go to my apartment in New York. In my office, in the desk, third drawer down on the right you’ll find an old sepia tone photo of a man on a Mexico City street pointing at a woman. The woman is me. There are too many similarities between that and this, though the man in that photo still has a bit of face. Maybe you’ll recognize him.”

  Michael took the photo back from Anne, slipping it into his jacket. He looked into her eyes as if searching for some chance to explain himself, but she turned away.

  “All right, Leo, let’s go,” Michael mumbled. “Good-bye, Anne. Con.”

  Leo threw one last scowl at Con, and then he and Michael disappeared.

  Con looked at Anne. Her shoulders slumped. She offered him a small, stiff smile.

  “So tell me more about this guy and your boost.”

  “Hey,” Con did his best to solidify enough to offer her a hug. “I’m sure he didn’t put you in harm’s way on purpose.”

  “I’m fine. It’s fine,” said Anne, releasing a slow, steady breath. “It’s just been a really long day.”

  Con stepped back and held Anne at arm’s length by either shoulder. “Hold that thought.”

  Con disappeared. Anne jumped. She was used to Angeli blinking in and out of a room, but Con never possessed that power before.

  The Irishman returned, holding aloft a gallon bottle of whiskey.

  “Let’s get drunk,” he announced.

  “It’s four o’clock in the morning!”

  Con shrugged.

  Anne eyed the gallon of whiskey.

  “Wait. Where did you get that?”

  “The hotel bar,” said Con, reaching into the mini-bar area to retrieve two glasses.

  Anne sighed. She was going to have to send the hotel an anonymous donation. Or maybe just ask Jeffrey not to steal all the robes this time.

  Con held a glass to Anne and she took it, shooting the cool whiskey before he could blink.

  “Why does that turn me on so?”

  Anne chuckled. “The sun rising turns you on.”

  “Aye, ‘tis true, ‘tis true.”

  “To your glorious return,” said Anne holding aloft a fresh pour.

  Con tucked his left arm to his side and held his glass high with his right.

  “There are good ships, and there are wood ships, there are ships that sail the sea. But the best ships are friendships, and may they always be.�
��

  Anne laughed. “I am never going to win in a toasting contest with you.”

  “No. I’m Irish.”

  “So am I!”

  “You left when you were a wee lass, that doesn’t count,” said Con, dismissing her protest with a wave. “See how I did that? I said wee lass. Very Irish.”

  Anne chuckled and flopped into her chair. She stared at the wall. Her mind drifted back to Michael’s photo and the note the monster held aloft for the camera. Had Michael brought her to Annapolis at the request of a monster, without so much as a warning? If she had known, would she still have been blindsided in the alley? Would she have even come?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” said Con.

  Anne heard his voice, but it took a moment for her to refocus on her surroundings. Pushing her hurt feelings aside, she smiled at Con, who sat before her, slightly faded. She felt a rush of emotion, seeing Con in his own body after so long. Every decade, things seemed to become more complicated but Con always managed to remain upbeat, even after losing his corporeal body. Now that he had returned, even partially, it felt as if the sun was rising after a long, dark night.

  “I love the little wrinkles,” said Anne, pointing at the crow’s feet on either side of Con’s blue eyes. He had been thirty-five years old at the time of his transformation. “I think it’s nice you got a little wear and tear on you before you became a Sentinel.”

  “Thank you. And I love the fact that you were eighteen.”

  Anne gasped, nearly choking on her drink. “Dirty old man!”

  Con moved forward in his chair to draw closer to Anne.

  “So you were just sitting there thinking how sexy I am?”

  “No, I was thinking it was good to have you back.”

  “It’s good to be back. Well, mostly back.”

  Anne stood from her seat and leaned forward to hug Con. She gingerly placed her arms around him and did her best to embrace him.

  “This weird, almost-solid effect you have going on is the strangest thing I’ve ever felt,” she said.

  “Sadly, that is not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  Anne laughed.

  Con solidified his lips, and kissed Anne on her neck. She turned her face and kissed him back, her arms again sinking through his body.