Chapter Twenty-Five

Topside: Nunu's Bar, downtown San Diego, two days later, December 24th

Faith instinctively clutched her purseclose to her chest as their group approached the grubby beige door of Nunu's. She couldn't believe Toni had chosen to meet Aunt Idyll at a dive bar, although considering the topic of conversation was going to be the Symbol Killer, it probably did make sense to go someplace obscure and private. Plus, there probably weren't many establishments open on Christmas Eve night.

Three of the Special Ops Team members stayed outside to surround the building: Thomal, Gábor, and a black-haired Varcolac named Vinz, whom she remembered from that life-changing night in ??ran?'s garage. He had long sideburns and was Nyko's substitute.

Why had Nyko been left behind? Faith had gnawed on her fingernails for the entire twenty-minute elevator ride to the surface as she'd considered options. Because his arm hurt? His arm hadn't hurt two days ago when he'd been shot, so that was doubtful. Plus Thomal was here, and he'd suffered a worse injury. Was the team worried that Nyko would stick out like a sore thumb at a topside bar? He would, but he could've manned the perimeter like the others. Or had Nyko purposely opted out of this mission because he knew the Teague twins would attend a meeting with their aunt and he was, once again, avoiding Faith. She clutched her purse harder. That was the most likely and thus the most painful.

Warriors Dev and Jacken accompanied Toni, Kacie, and Faith inside. The dimly lit bar had cushioned burgundy-colored booths lining the walls and lamps of yellow-and-burgundy stained glass hanging from the ceiling over each. Faith relaxed a bit now that they were inside. With its offbeat color scheme and wood-burning stove, Nunu's wasn't without a certain quirky charm. Kind of a circa-1940s Sam Spade meeting place…although back then there wouldn't have been all the TVs playing sports.

As they passed the large polished wood, U-shaped bar to head to the back booth where Aunt Idyll already waited, the bartender tossed them a friendly smile.

"My girls!" Idyll jumped up, stepping over her small suitcase to open her arms to Faith and Kacie.

They rushed into their aunt's hug.

Open a Webster's Dictionary and look up the definition for a Pagan priestess or shaman—or shamanka, as a female priestess would be called—and there'd be a picture of Idyll O'Shaughnessy. She fit nearly every stereotype. This evening's outfit consisted of long ropes of beaded necklaces, bangles stacked at each wrist, hoop earrings, open-toed sandals, and a floor-length beatnik-style dress made out of the kind of rough-woven, patchwork fabric one might find on a carpet bag. The dress was sleeveless, exposing Idyll's slender arms; the forty-seven-year-old woman still had a svelte body concealed beneath the roomy folds of her clothing. One non-stereotypical part of Idyll was her hairstyle. It was cut short, layered, and colored a chestnut brown with blonde, streaking highlights—very modern and fashionable.

Tears pooled in Faith's eyes as the comforting fragrance of incense enveloped her, and she squeezed Idyll harder. She never thought she'd miss her crazy aunt so much, but when life went topsy-turvy, even a grown woman needed her mother, surrogate or not.

Idyll leaned back and beamed at them. "It's been so long since I've seen you two. I was overjoyed when you said you were coming west for Christmas, although"—she glanced around Nunu's—"I figured we'd be eating cooked goose at home by now."

Another non-stereotypical thing about Idyll; she wasn't a vegetarian.

"Sorry, Auntie," Kacie said. "Our life has taken a bit of an unexpected detour."

"Well, it's served you beautifully, Kacie. Such roses in you cheeks!" Idyll gushed. "I've never seen you look better."

Kacie glanced at the group. "Aunt Idyll could always tell us apart."

"Yes, well, this one"—Idyll cupped Faith's cheeks between her soft palms—"always had the serious eyes." She gave Faith a tender smile. "Not much has changed, I see."

Faith ducked her head, gently extricating herself from her aunt's hold. There hadn't exactly been much to be happy about for a while. Over the past two days especially, faced with Nyko's unwavering rejection, her mood had plummeted to something more bleak and downcast than even when she'd first arrived at ??ran?. Which was saying something.

Introductions were made.

Idyll shook hands with Toni and Dev, then hesitated when it came to Jacken. Pulling her hand back to finger one of her necklaces, Idyll observed him with open caution.

Jacken was wearing a navy blue, long-sleeved Henley shirt to hide his forearm tattoos, along with a dark brown leather jacket, under which Faith knew he also hid a varied selection of weapons. But there could be no disguising his hard-jawed face and black eyes.

"He looks like a bad guy," Toni said, a note of humor in her voice. "But he's really not."

"Yes, of course. Excuse me." Idyll didn't shake Jacken's hand, though.

They all slid into the half-moon-shaped banquette, Jacken and Dev taking the outer seats,

Toni sitting across from Idyll, and the twins in the middle.

The bartender arrived. "What can I get for you folks tonight?"

"A round of coffees for us," Toni said. "Make mine a decaf, please." Toni gestured at Idyll. "Ms. O'Shaughnessy?"

"Idyll," she corrected, her mouth edging downward. "It's nearly 9:30 at night. Won't coffee keep you awake?"

Toni smiled. "We work odd hours."

"I make a sick Tequila Sunrise," the bartender told Idyll.

"That'll be fine, then," Idyll said.

As the bartender left, Toni set a manila file on the table in front of her. "I appreciate your willingness to meet with us, Idyll."

"Of course. Faith said you're in need of my Celtic expertise."

Toni nodded. "It's about the Symbol Killer. Have you heard about that?"

"Yes. Ghastly stuff." Idyll leaned back in the booth. "Good gracious, are you trying to figure out who that serial killer is?"

"We already know who it is," Toni said, earning a lift of Idyll's brows. "We're trying to figure out his next move, so we can anticipate it and catch him." From her file, Toni extracted a drawing and set it before Idyll. "This is the symbol being carved into the victims' foreheads. We know it's Celtic and called a quaternary knot, and that the symbol is grounded in the concept of four, since it's divided into quadrants."

"Yes, very good," Idyll said.

Toni nodded at Faith. "Faith has explained that in Druidic philosophy the quaternary is a symbol of protection."

"Correct again." Idyll cast a pleased glance at Faith. "Nice to know someone was paying attention all these years."

"So what I'm wondering." Toni rested her hands on the file. "Is why a murderer would use a symbol of protection in his killings?"

"I can't imagine a single reason why he would." Idyll pointed to the drawing. "Are you sure the symbol is exactly this?"

"Fairly sure. I have pictures of the victims, if you would care to check for yourself." Toni pushed the file folder across the table to Idyll. "They're pretty gruesome," she warned.

"Don't worry about that," Idyll said. "I have an extremely strong stomach."

Faith looked sidelong at Kacie. Isn't that the truth? Remember when Aunt Idyll killed a chicken with her own hands, just chopped the head off with a cleaver and proceeded to pluck it?

Kacie's mouth quirked up at one corner. We thought her spiritualism had finally graduated into the realm of making animal sacrifices.

Aunt Idyll had merely laughed at their expressions. The meat's freshest this way, silly girls.

Idyll took out all five of the 8x10 crime scene photos and carefully inspected them. "Ah, see, it's not the same. The knot on the victims' heads has been cut through."

They all leaned forward to give the photo a closer inspection, except for Dev, who maintained his constant surveillance of the bar.

Aunt Idyll was right. There was a knife slice in the exact same spot on each corpse's forehead.

Toni glanced only briefly at the photos. "What does the cut mean?"

"Well, break a symbol of protection and what happens?" Idyll asked, her brows raised.

"You remove that person's protection," Jacken answered.

"Exactly."

"Protection from what?" Jacken asked.

Idyll drew a measured breath. "In ancient Celtic tradition, the soul reposes in the head. So when this killer un-protects the head, he exposes the soul of the victim."

"Exposes it to what?" Jacken probed again.

"To abuse, manipulation, theft…" Idyll suggested, shrugging.

The bartender approached with a tray of drinks, and Toni quickly shoved the crime scene photos back into the folder.

He set down five mugs and spoons, a small pitcher of milk, a pot of sugar, and Aunt Idyll's cocktail. "Just to let you know, we're closing in about an hour because of the holidays."

"Thank you," Toni said. "We'll be out of your way before then."

Idyll stirred her Tequila Sunrise, whirling the red grenadine at the bottom of the glass up into the orange juice. "However a person would have to possess immense power of a supernatural nature in order to perform a Celtic un-protection ritual successfully. Are you sure your serial killer has that sort of power?"

Jacken and Dev exchanged glances.

Faith knew what they were thinking. The instant her aunt had said the word "supernatural," the two warriors had gone on high alert. How much did Idyll actually know of such matters? How much could safely be told to her?

"You're not sure?" Idyll persisted.

Toni's face smoothed of expression. The situation had become tricky. If Toni either confirmed or denied the killer's possession of this kind of power, she'd be admitting to its existence. "Not exactly that."

Idyll eyed her curiously. "I can't help you unless you tell me the truth, Dr. Parthen. The entire, unvarnished truth."

"It's Toni," she offered the same correction. "And, I appreciate that, Idyll." Toni slowly added cream and sugar to her decaf. "But there are some things we don't discuss in public."

"You mean like this one"—Idyll gestured at Dev—"being a vampire." She smiled serenely. "Like that?"