“If there’s anything you can tell us about him, it would be helpful in saving his life. Do you remember if he was beginning to have any indication of his past incarnations? Of when he was in cycle last?”
“He did mention it, but I can’t remember. Somewhere in Europe, maybe? I’m sorry. You will find him, won’t you? Before they burn him like they did this poor girl? I have become quite fond of the boy. With our work, his father and I don’t get to see him that often, but we do miss him.”
THIRTYSEVEN
The House of Records
That night Deming studied her case files again, paying close attention to the notes on the obscure message the Venators had found in the original video. She had dismissed it as a mere distraction at first but now she took a second look. The head of the Repository believed they had cracked the code and that the three images—Lucifer’s sigil, the sheep, which stood for humanity, and the symbol for union—indicated that the Morningstar was in league with Red Bloods. If so, it meant that whoever had made the video and had taken the hostages was part of this movement. A human in service to Croatan? It was simply unheard of, which was why she had ignored it as a diversion. To think that it might be real unsettled the usually stoic Venator.
Before sunrise, she crept into Duchesne to pick up her lucky jade turtle from her locker—it was a silly superstition but she didn’t want to do a DeathWalk without it. Her twin had bought them the tiny figurines in a Hong Kong market, and Deming had made it a habit to bring the little guy wherever she went. She wanted to slip in and out without anyone noticing or asking any questions. With the early hour, the school was empty save for the janitors, so she was surprised to bump into Paul Rayburn walking out of the third-floor library with a cart of books. The junior lockers were located right across from the library doors.
“Paul, hey,” she said.
“Oh hey,” he said, his affectus turning the usual shade of orange in her presence.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m a library aide. Part of the work study program,” Paul said, jangling keys. “I try to get my work done before school. It’s better than staying late.” He looked sleepy and tired, and Deming was moved by how much effort being a student at Duchesne must have cost him. It couldn’t be easy to be poor around such wealth.
She felt the now-familiar stirrings of bloodlust in his presence, but his shy smile invoked a different reaction as well, one that went deeper than the impulse to drink his blood. “It’s not even morning yet,” she said as she stuffed her files into her book bag. She realized that her heart hurt a little, knowing that after today she would probably never see him again. Once she found Stuart, and she was certain she would, her assignment would be complete and she would leave the country.
It was a pity, since she felt something for Paul, a queasy mixture of desire and affection that she could not figure out. And it scared her because her life until now had been about order and discipline. Her feelings for him were a distraction. They would only cloud her judgment, if they hadn’t already. The best Venators were unencumbered by emotion, and Deming strove to be the best.
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. What brings you here so early?”
“Honestly, I couldn’t sleep,” she told him.
“Maybe we can catch up later? When we’re both awake?”
She was about to shake her head when it occurred to her that maybe instead of running away from her feelings she should see where this was going so she could completely shut it down. “I’d like that. How about this time tomorrow? A sunrise breakfast?”
Paul gave her a dazzling smile that made Deming momentarily forget she had asked him to meet her only so she could crush any romantic ideas he might harbor about the two of them.
Only when he left did she realize she had forgotten to ask him about what he’d told her about Victoria, Bryce, and Piper. She wanted to know where he had heard that piece of false information.
*
The House of Records was located in the midtown headquarters, in a restricted section of the Repository. The clerk stared balefully at the black-clad Venator as he handed over a yellowing stack of paper. “Regent sign the warrant?”
“I have it right here,” Deming said, handing over the certificate with Mimi’s flowery signature. The Regent had agreed to open the file just for this instance.
“Privileged information, this is. Not just anything everyone should know,” the walleyed clerk grumbled.
“I understand that. That’s why I have a warrant,” Deming said patiently.
“Take the fourth cubicle.”