Vigil Read online

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  I leaned over him and kissed him. “I plan to work you up so much that you have tons of hard-ons. Plenty for practicing with.”

  He grinned at me. “We’ll see.” He kissed me again.

  * * *

  We ate breakfast in the dining room that morning. Callum and I sat at one end of the long table. I felt like the room swallowed us. It was so elaborate and enormous.

  Nolan served us, bringing in French toast and fresh strawberries with orange juice and coffee. He cast disapproving looks at me whenever he thought I wasn’t watching him. But I saw what he was doing. He obviously still didn’t like me.

  As much as I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care, Nolan’s furtive glares got to me. To distract myself, I started to talk about Maria Shaw, whose legs we’d found.

  “She worked as a secretary for Barclay, Barclay, and Price,” I said.

  “She wasn’t a stripper?” said Callum. “Or a prostitute?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s the weird thing. She doesn’t fit the pattern at all.”

  “So why’d he kill her?” said Callum.

  “Because his father made him watch fucked-up—”

  “Don’t.” He gave me shocked eyes. He lowered his voice. “Nolan doesn’t know. I don’t want him to. He’d blame himself.”

  I looked around. Nolan wasn’t in the room, but I supposed he could be listening in somewhere.

  I squared my shoulders. “The point is that it’s out of character for him. And he hid her legs in that storage unit. And when he did it, he rented it as The Phantom, not as Barclay.”

  “Well, he wouldn’t want that storage unit associated with his real identity,” said Callum. “And Maria blows his cover. She worked for his uncle.”

  “Right,” I said. “He hid her legs because she was the key to uncovering his identity.”

  “He probably saw her a lot,” said Callum. “He felt compelled to do it, drawn to her, and then when it was done, he knew he had to hide it.”

  I nodded. He was probably right. But there was something about it that bothered me. Something that wasn’t right.

  I ate a strawberry and puzzled over it.

  “You okay?” said Callum. “You look like you’re concentrating really hard.”

  “It’s only that it doesn’t fit,” I said.

  “What doesn’t?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Something…” I ate another strawberry.

  “Something about Barclay? About Maria Shaw?”

  And then I had it. “About protecting his identity.”

  “What?”

  “He was connected to Darlene,” I said. “She wasn’t his only girlfriend, but they were close enough that he rented her an apartment and everything. And he didn’t have any problem dumping her torso in the bay. I don’t think it’s about his identity.”

  “Well, you do make a good point.” Callum sipped his coffee, looking thoughtful.

  “You’re right, though,” I said. “He would have seen her a lot. Because the woman at the desk told me that he comes by the law offices every day and takes the stairs…” It all snapped together in my mind. “It’s about the building.”

  “What?”

  “He has some kind of lair or something, and it’s under that building,” I said. “I bet the rest of the legs are there.”

  “Why do you think this?”

  “The other night when I saw the two of you outside the law offices, the woman at the desk said he’d just come in. I remember thinking he was in the building. But then I saw him outside in the alley in his Phantom costume. He comes in every night as Hayden, and then he takes the stairs down to his hidden, secret place where he changes into The Phantom. That’s the secret he was trying to protect. He didn’t want anyone looking into that building.”

  Callum raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re right.”

  I grinned. “You do? Then we have to check it out. If we get pictures, if we find the legs, I think we have enough to take him down. And it’ll make a dynamite article.”

  “Okay,” he said. “But it’ll have to be later tonight. I have this work stuff I have to do.”

  “Work stuff? Do you even work?”

  “I run a multi-national, billion-dollar corporation, Cecily. I work.”

  “Yeah, but not that hard, right? I mean, you never talk about work.”

  He pressed his lips into a firm line.

  Okay, so maybe that was a little bit rude on my part to insinuate that he didn’t work. “Sorry,” I said. “How much later tonight?”

  * * *

  “You can’t be down here alone, Ms. Kane,” said Nolan. He was standing in the doorway to Vigil’s lair—the one that connected to the subway.

  Apparently, as I’d just discovered, it also connected to the Rutherford mansion. And now that I was in here, I was realizing that there were lots of nifty weapons and gadgets that could come in very useful.

  “Well, I’m down here.” I turned my back to him, surveying a wall of clubs—like police officer billy clubs. They were thick and black. I picked one up. “So, is this seriously just to like hit people over the head with?”

  “Put that down,” said Nolan, his voice rising.

  I turned to face him. He was striding across the room.

  “Why would Vigil need all these clubs?”

  “They aren’t just clubs,” he said to me as if I were very stupid. “They have other capabilities as well. They’re state of the art, I assure you, built especially for Master Callum.”

  I tapped it into my palm. “Feels like a regular club to me.”

  “You’ll need to put that down,” said Nolan, “Put it down and leave this place immediately. I can’t allow you to be here. I simply can’t.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” I said. “I’m just looking around.”

  “You’ll break things. And Master Callum is a very private person. He wouldn’t want you snooping around.”

  “Actually,” I said, “he’s opened up to me quite a bit.”

  “Yes, I realize that you’ve somehow manipulated the poor boy into a relationship with you. But I don’t approve, I want you to know. I know exactly what kind of woman you are.”

  That kind of hurt my feelings. “What kind of woman am I?”

  “Well, Master Callum does seem to lack taste in that department, always hiring tarted-up hussies to accompany him wherever he goes. And then I read in the newspaper that you’re just another of the same kind. Only worse, because you’re a reporter. You’re using him, don’t think I can’t see that. Don’t think I can’t see that you mean to exploit him.”

  That was what Nolan thought about me? I tightened my grip on the club. “You don’t know anything about me. I would never hurt him.”

  “So, what are you doing in here, in his secret room, if you aren’t digging up things that you can publish?”

  “I’m looking for weapons,” I said. “To go after The Phantom. The man who killed my best friend. The whole reason I came back to Aurora in the first place.”

  “I can’t let you stay in here,” said Nolan. “And I certainly won’t let you take anything away from this room.”

  “How do you propose to stop me?”

  He reached for me, his hand closing tightly around my arm. He had quite a grip for an old guy.

  “Let go of me,” I said.

  He tugged at me. “Come with me now, Ms. Kane.”

  “Let go.”

  His fingers bit painfully into my skin.

  I hit him over the head with the club.

  I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, not exactly. I just knew that I wanted him off of me, and I was holding a weapon in my hands. It was instinctual.

  But I must have hit him pretty hard, because there was a loud cracking noise.

  And he fell down, down in a heap on the floor. Unconscious.

  Oops.

  CHAPTER TWENT-TWO

  I had t
he club and a knife stuck inside my pants when I walked into the foyer of Barclay, Barclay, and Quinn. I’d discovered the club also was a flashlight. It might have done other things too, but I couldn’t figure them out. There was a part on it that twisted, but I didn’t know why, and no matter how much I played with it, I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t think I was really going to need weapons.

  According to the woman at the desk, Barclay didn’t go into his lair until near sunset every night.

  It was noon.

  I’d called to check in at the paper. I told Lauren I was on a hot Vigil story, and I’d give her details when I could. I had the afternoon clear to explore. I could find all the evidence I needed and be gone before Barclay even showed up.

  But I had the weapons just to be on the safe side.

  Loretta was at the desk when I came in. She smiled brightly. “Hi there, Ms. Kane.”

  “Oh, hi there, Loretta,” I said.

  “You here to talk to me some more about Maria?”

  “No, no,” I said. “You gave me everything I needed. I’m just doing some follow-up. I want to look around the building.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Look around the building?”

  I nodded, trying to think of a good reason for it. “Yeah, I need to have a good idea of where Maria worked before I can, you know, write about her. It helps to, uh, ground me.”

  She still looked skeptical.

  “I promise not to disturb anyone,” I said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll be practically invisible. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  “Well, okay, then,” she said doubtfully.

  “Great.” I turned around.

  “You sure you don’t want to take the elevator?”

  “No, no. Good for you, walking up steps.” I smiled over my shoulder.

  “Good luck,” she called.

  And then I was through the door, in the stairwell.

  The stairs stretched up above me, zigzagging back and forth up the narrow stairwell, so high that I couldn’t make out the top.

  And they also continued below, delving down under the building.

  I knew that the lair had to be in the basement, underground, so I began to walk down the steps.

  Even Vigil had chosen someplace underground, off the subway tunnels. He and The Phantom shared their origin. They both had watched the videos of their mother in The Phantom of the Opera. She’d been Christine, and a masked man had dragged her down under the opera, underground…

  I continued my descent.

  After I got down one level, the air grew more musty, and the walls—which had been painted a bland beige color—were now only bare concrete. It was a little cooler here too.

  I drew in a deep breath, fighting a brief feeling of being closed in. I wasn’t claustrophobic or anything, but the thought of being crushed underneath the tall building overhead was overwhelming for a moment.

  I shook myself, clearing my head, and continued down.

  I rounded a corner and realized I’d just come to the last set of stairs. I went down them.

  There was a door at the end. Stainless steel. No window.

  I grasped the handle and pulled it open.

  It opened onto a dark parking garage. The overhead lights were yellow and dim. One of them was flickering, making a slight buzzing noise.

  I went through the door.

  A parking garage, huh? I hadn’t even known there was one down here.

  I walked down the center aisle between the rows of cars. Their blank headlights seemed to stare at me, like eyes.

  I shook myself. Pull yourself together, Cecily. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. Something about being down here was getting to me a little.

  I grasped the club for reassurance, peering between the cars at the wall behind them.

  I was looking for a secret door of some kind, some way into The Phantom’s lair.

  But I didn’t see anything except concrete walls with big yellow lot numbers painted on them, marking each of the spots that the cars parked in.

  I walked up and down a few more times, walking all the way to the place where the floor started to slant upwards so that the cars could drive to the next level.

  Nothing.

  Was I wrong? Was it up a level?

  And then I saw it.

  It was in the corner, a hidden door. It had been painted to look like the concrete blocks that surrounded it. As long as it remained half-lit, and the angle was right, it was impossible to see. Whoever had painted it had also painted in shadowing, making it look 3-D. It fit seamlessly into the rest of the wall, completely camouflaged. However, now that I could see it, it was obvious to me. I couldn’t not see it. Not anymore.

  I made my way over to the hidden door, finding its cleverly disguised door knob, which had been painted in such a way so as to hide its existence. I opened it.

  The door opened into pitch blackness.

  I stepped inside, trying to keep the door open behind me, in order to let in some of the scant light from the parking garage.

  But it was too heavy, and it slammed shut behind me, plunging me into thick darkness.

  Complete darkness. I couldn’t see my own body—my limbs or my torso.

  It was warmer here, and the musty smell was worse—almost too much. I felt as if I’d been swallowed into the city’s stomach.

  I scrabbled in the darkness, feeling for the doorknob. I needed to open the door again. I was too closed in.

  But when I tried it, the door knob wouldn’t turn in my hands.

  Locked.

  It had locked after me, and I was shut up in this darkness.

  Panic shot through me, hot and bright. My breath quickened. Sweat broke out on my brow.

  I was trapped down here. Alone. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t get back the way I’d come.

  I covered my face with my hands, feeling hysterical tears bubbling up in my chest.

  “Get it together, Kane,” I said aloud in my best no-nonsense gym-teacher voice.

  The door was locked. Okay. Fine. I’d have to find another way out. There was one. I was sure of it. Barclay came in this way, but he came out as The Phantom, and he sure as hell didn’t go back through the lobby of the law firm.

  I took a deep breath. I was going to be okay.

  And then I remembered that the club I’d brought with me was also a flashlight.

  I switched it on.

  A circle of blue light appeared ahead of me. I shined the light around, taking in my surroundings.

  I was in a narrow hallway with a low ceiling. It was made of smooth stones, haphazardly fitted together so that there were no chinks between them.

  This must be old, some old underground passage from hundreds of years ago. The city of Aurora had been settled since the early 1700s. This could be that ancient.

  I pushed forward, moving deeper into the darkness.

  The ground under my feet was earthen. I saw a few insects crawling over it. Big insects. Blind and scuttling.

  I shuddered involuntarily.

  I forced myself to keep my breathing steady. I was not afraid of bugs. I was bigger than bugs. They were gross and creepy-crawly, but I could handle it.

  I kept walking.

  The passageway went on for some time. I pushed through its musty warmth.

  Something was crawling on my back.

  Instinctively, I reached back to brush it away.

  Oh. My hair. My own hair.

  What the hell was up with me?

  I pushed on.

  No, there was still something crawling on me.

  I twisted to look.

  There was nothing there.

  I let out a whimper. I hated this.

  Every few seconds, the sensation persisted. I felt something crawling on me, and I had to try to brush it off.

  There were never any bugs on me.

  I was beginning to wonder if it had been a good idea for me to come down here by myself. Here I was going into The Phantom’s l
air. He was a serial killer. And I was freaked out by the dark. By bugs. I was having a hard time breathing, and I was jumping at things that I imagined.

  I was losing it.

  But I couldn’t go back.

  The door was locked.

  I had to keep going, bad idea or not.

  I picked up the pace. I didn’t want to be in this damned passageway anymore. I felt like it was growing narrower on me, like the walls were closing in.

  I imagined the walls coming for me—pressing against my skin, the stones vaguely slimy and cool.

  I would push at them. I would struggle.

  But they would be too strong.

  They would squeeze me and squeeze me.

  I’d scream. I’d rake my nails against the hard stone.

  But they’d bear down on me, inexorable. Crushing.

  I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  My lungs would be pressed together.

  My bones would snap—

  Fuck.

  I sucked in air through my nose.

  The air was musty and dead.

  I could swear I heard the goddamned bugs crawling everywhere. They were coming up my legs.

  I started to run.

  My breath was loud and labored, echoing through the corridor.

  The light of my flashlight bobbed up and down, bouncing crazily over the smooth, stone walls.

  I tore down the hallway, panic tearing at my chest, tears sliding down my cheeks.

  I would have yelled, but I didn’t have the breath for it. I was pushing myself to run faster and faster. I needed to get out of that fucking hallway. I needed to get free.

  My lungs were filling up with the fetid air, and I felt like I was drowning.

  And then—

  I tumbled into a room.

  There was a step down, and I stumbled, barely catching myself, barely remaining on my feet.

  I knew that something had changed, I could feel that the air was cooler, that the walls were farther away.

  I shined my flashlight around, and then I spied something out of place.

  A light switch.

  Down here?

  I didn’t care right then. It was civilization. It was something from the world I knew down in this dank, closed-in world, and I ran for it, flicking it on.