Raving Moon, Lords of the Night Book One

Chapter 23: Agatha Home

De La Rosa was gone by the time we reached the parking garage and Lord Clovis had adjourned the debriefing by the time we returned. I grabbed Jacob and told him to feed and meet us out front in an hour. Ariane and I grabbed a bite to eat at the diner on street level. Two steaks and baked potatoes. We were finishing up the milkshakes when our ride pulled up across the street. I tipped the evening cook and we left. I had the tingling sensation that we were going to make a breakthrough and I was eager to get Carl the help he needed.

Jacob turned us towards the bridge and we set out for Stygia.

"I still think your potatoes would taste better with less sour cream and more extra sharp cheddar," Ariane said.

"Maybe more bacon and chives," I replied, "but the sour cream stays."

"But you put too much!" she whined, before breaking into laughter.

"You don't put enough."

Jacob cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant."

I looked up at the rearview mirror. "Yes?"

"Ummm, not you, sir." He glanced around Ariane. "You, sir."

Her brow furrowed. "What's on your mind?"

"I need... I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday."

Ariane studied the driver for a moment. "Apology accepted. I look forward to working with you."

She and I exchanged surprised looks.

"I've been trying to get promoted for years and it rubs me the wrong way that you came into the fold as an officer." He stared at the road, pointedly keeping his eyes forward. "But I heard some things tonight, rude things, and I don't want to be associated with any of it. We're thrones and I need to act like it."

I'm not sure who was more impressed, Ariane or myself, but we continued to Agatha Home in quiet contemplation.

Agatha Home was an opulent estate seated on the Stygia waterfront. Once a public cemetery, the property had been converted to an exclusive memorial park with a large portion of the interior dominated by a palatial mausoleum. Surrounded by eight-foot high wrought iron fencing and topped by silvered barb wire, it was enough to keep all but the most curious away. Armed security guards patrolled the grounds twenty-four hours a day. The rats only came out at night.

The perimeter flood lights filled the interior of the van with blinding brightness. Jacob took us up the gravel driveway through a wooded section of the cemetery until we came to a wide open parking area. Rats were everywhere. Big ones, small ones, and some who probably spent some of their time in human form. A group of broad shouldered men approached the vehicle, cold looks in their eyes. They scanned the van and the road, taking in everything with military efficiency.

"What is your business here?" asked their leader, a 6'3 slab of muscle and attitude. He shined his flashlight into the van.

"We're here to speak to Mr. De La Rosa," I said past Jacob.

"Mr. De La Rosa is not expecting any visitors." His thick accent seamlessly substituted Ws for Vs.

I tried to read the man's expression, but he moved the light to disorient me.

"Can you lower your flashlight?"

"No. I can not," he said with a mocking tone.

A speaker out of my line of sight said something in Russian to the security guard. The tone of his reply said he didn't like it one bit. The beam died with a click. The guard clipped the flashlight to his belt and unclipped his pistol holster. His companions did the same, one in the back jacking two rounds into a double-barreled shotgun.