Lina was pouring through the small journal. The first entry was dated 1 March, 1879, and it had been only sporadically updated from that point on. The last entry was only three years prior from the current date, and at least a quarter of the pages were still blank.
Most of the notes didn’t make sense. They seemed to be formulas, or material lists, or even random comments. She finally handed it off to Jan and Rick, who’d been working the phones with Andel to get more backup.
“My brain’s fried,” she said. She flopped back onto the bed. “I can’t handle this. I can’t believe I couldn’t fry Fat Boy’s balls. I am such a sucky Goddess! That fucktard is still running around loose out there somewhere!”
“Stop it,” Jan said. “Quit talking like that.”
“Well, that’s exactly what happened. He got away because I didn’t fry his ass. No telling how many more people he’ll kill.”
Uncle Andel sat down on the bed next to Lina and shooed Jan away. “Lina, listen. No one is blaming you for anything. You are expecting far too much from yourself. Quit beating yourself up so much.”
She looked at him. His amber eyes focused on her. She tried not to focus on the scar splitting his face from between his eyes to below his chin. “How can you say that to me after what they did to you?”
He kindly smiled. “Listen to me, what happened to me and mine happened many, many years before you were born. You bear no responsibility for that. The cockatrice are to blame, pure and simple. From what Zack and the Cailleach—”
Across the room, Callie cleared her throat at that.
“Excuse me. From what Zack and Callie told me—”
“Thank you,” Callie said.
“—you performed admirably.”
“I let him get away.”
Zack let out a celebratory hoot. “I think I found something!”
“What?” Callie asked.
“I think I found our silversmith. And good news, looks like he’s still here in Brussels.”
They all piled into the rental van and headed for the address. The house was located just outside the city, in a rural area. On a couple of acres of land, it was relatively isolated from its neighbors.
Just as they pulled up to the drive, Jan’s phone rang. “Yeah… Crap. Okay. No, we’re out on an errand. We’ll meet you back at the hotel in a little bit… Okay, thanks.” He hung up. “That was Wally. They struck out. The house was ransacked, and they barely got out of there before the police arrived.”
They all looked up the drive at the house. “We need to do this,” Lina said, anxious to get up there, to obtain any clue to finding Fat Boy again.
“Yeah, but we don’t want to walk into a trap,” Zack said.
Uncle Andel let out a sigh. “I’ll do it.” Before anyone could stop him, he hauled himself out of the front passenger seat and walked up the short drive. At the front door he knocked, waited, and knocked again. After a minute, he walked around the house, out of their sight for a moment. When he returned, he waved them up.
“Here we go,” Rick said as he pulled the van up to the house.
“Yeah, this isn’t inconspicuous,” Lina snarked. “We look like a geeky SWAT team.”
They all piled out. Andel tried the front door and found it unlocked. “You two stay here,” he said to Lina and Callie.
“Excuse me?” Lina said.
“He’s trying to be chivalrous,” Zack said. “Give him the win.”
“Fine.”
The men disappeared into the house while Callie and Lina kept watch. After just a moment, Zack called out to them. “Come on in.”
They walked in and stopped in the foyer. The house was a disaster. And not in a Hoarders: Buried Alive kind of way, either.
Lina was afraid to ask. “Is he…?”
“Yeah,” Zack said. “Very.”
Callie and Lina followed the sound of his voice. A man lay dead on the kitchen floor.
Lina didn’t want to see. She walked outside and got into the van, Callie on her heels. She felt numb.
Christ.
A few minutes later, the men wordlessly returned to the van. Rick climbed behind the wheel and they departed.
“Find anything?” she finally asked.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“I…” Lina shut her mouth. She suspected what they didn’t want to tell her. “How many kids?” she whispered.
Zack found his fingers suddenly very interesting. “Three,” he softly said.
“Was this our guy?” Callie asked.
Rick nodded. “Yep. No doubt about it. He had a setup and tools in his basement. He was definitely a silversmith.”
They rode back to the hotel in silence. When they reached their floor, Lina headed for their room. Zack tried to stop her, but she shook his hand off. “Please, I just need to be alone for a while.”
“Okay.”
She let herself into the room and collapsed facedown on the bed, where she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, after breakfast, they all gathered in Zack and Kael’s room. The men looked grim. “We think we know where one of the cockatrice are, based on info we recovered,” Kael said. “He lives about twenty minutes away. Name’s Gunther Hodgson.”
“We’re working on locating the nest,” Jocko said. “We think we’re close.”
“Nest?” Lina asked.
“That’s what they call it,” Kael said. He looked like he’d eaten something sour. “You know, like a nest of rats, or roaches.”
“How do we know this guy is one of the cockatrice?” Lina asked. “Are we sure? Did you see him sprout feathers?”
“Don’t worry,” Kael assured her. “We won’t hurt him unless we’re sure.”
“I can tell,” Callie said. “Send me in.”
“Without a doubt?” Lina asked.
She nodded. “Without a doubt.”
Lina refused to be left behind. She didn’t want to risk missing Fat Boy again. “We’re going to kill him if he is, aren’t we?” she asked. Part of her had a hard time wrapping her head around that notion.
Part of her wanted blood when she thought about the nightmare of Kael’s family’s murder.
Zack nodded. “Yeah, honey. We are. Cockatrice are worse than mobsters crossed with cockroaches. They have no priority except self-preservation and reproduction. If you don’t stomp them out completely, they keep coming back. That’s the only thing that stops them.”
“But only if we’re sure?” she asked.
Callie nodded. “Only if we’re sure.”
“Then let’s go.”
They took both the van and the car. Kael, Daniel, Callie, and Wally went in first. That left Lina sitting in the van with Jan, Rick, and the rest of them and nervously drumming her fingers on her thigh.
“Why haven’t we heard back from them yet?” she nervously said.
“It’s only been five minutes,” Zack said. “Calm down, sweetie. They’re fine.”
They waited another five minutes. Finally, Zack’s phone rang. “Yeah?... Okay. We’re on our way.” Jan started the engine and they drove to the house.
The older house looked run-down. Weeds and scraggly bushes controlled what little yard there was.
Inside, a young, angry-looking man she assumed to be Gunther Hodgson had been tied to a chair. His left eye was swollen, and someone had put duct tape over his mouth. Callie stood next to him, flexing her right hand. “You punched him?” Lina asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Felt good, too.”