“Yeah, yeah,” the lead tech said. “Point made. And from what I see, she’d been in the ground for decades.”
“Ingram. Any chance the church did this?” T. Laine asked.
“I’ll have to ask Mama to nose around. See if burials of ‘evil women’ were done this way in the past, off church grounds, unmarked.”
Wincome sighed. “So we’ll turn this over to the locals and my report will read, ‘The skeletal remains are that of a female, likely human, no signs of magic used in her death, no magic was in the stake or the brick, and that makes it a mundane murder investigation.’ Agreed?”
“Agreed,” T. Laine said. “I’ll make mine the same and send it in from home. I might be able to steal a little me time from what’s left of my day off.”
“I hear ya,” Dora said.
I jumped out of the CSI unit and walked through the pattering rain toward my car. Our part in this was over, but the body worried me. As my hair and shoulders absorbed the rain, I looked back at the long line of foundations to be dug for the new power lines. Would any more bodies be found? And had the church been involved?
As T. Laine and Dora Wincome turned the body back over to the city, I drove out of the parking area and headed back to HQ, only then remembering that I had dug up a new twig of the vampire tree and potted it. And left it in the trunk all day.
* * *
Change-of-shift report at seven p.m. was held in the conference room, which had become, by default of size, the main IT room too. When day shift turned over to night shift, everyone who was working gathered, including Occam and me, our split shifts overlapping. The crew consisted of FireWind, LaFleur, Occam, JoJo, Margot, and me. Tomorrow there would be a different mix. Weekends at PsyLED were either boring as all get-out or lively and bloody.
JoJo had dug up info about Tomás de Torquemada, but only bits and pieces might be valuable to the case involving the Lost Boy and other homeless men who had been tortured to death. The grand inquisitor was born to the wife of Pedro Fernández de Torquemada in 1420, in a place called Valladolid, Castile,which was an old-fashioned name for Spain, and Tomás’ death date was listed as September 16, 1498, at Ávila, Castile. He was the Roman Catholic Church’s first grand inquisitor, who had a penchant for torture, rape, maiming, and burning witches at the stake. JoJo said, “His name is synonymous with the Christian Inquisition’s horror, religious bigotry, and fanaticism.”
His methods had been adopted by the church a few times over the centuries. I had been threatened with burning at the stake. And if some of the elders had their way, I’d have been tortured first. All at age twelve.
I thought about the beheaded skeleton of the woman with the stake in her rib cage and a brick in her mouth. I needed to talk to Mama, but I’d have to be doubly careful because Occam was lead on Arial Holler’s case, which put him into direct confrontation with the church leaders. I had no doubt that I’d be drawn into that one, too close to the participants or not.
As JoJo read the report on Torquemada, I looked down at her words on my laptop screen and skimmed his early years as priest and theologian.
JoJo said, “In August 1483 he was appointed grand inquisitor. And that’s when the horrors began, most of it supported by public opinion, at least early on.”
Public opinion was worth nothing, to my way of thinking. Public opinion was usually governed by self-interest and mob rule. I didn’t offer that, as I was sure that FireWind would suggest that my personal opinion was worth just as much as public opinion. Nothing.
“At some point before 1494,” Jo said, “we believe Torquemada was turned by a vampire, perhaps willingly. But he was already an old man and in poor health, and we believe that his turning was not as successful as he might have hoped. In June 1494, due to Torquemada’s health—again probably the result of being turned late in life—combined with widespread public criticism, Pope Alexander VI appointed him four assistant inquisitors, but their real job was to restrain him. The assistants/guards were Don Martin Ponçe de Leon, Don Inigo Manrique, Don Francisco Sanchez de la Fuente, and Don Alonso Suarez de Fuentelsaz, all of them bishops.”
Without looking up, I said, “Those four were turned at some point, and they faked his death and their own and moved himelsewhere, but they’re still with him, and according to my source, Tomás was eventually imprisoned in the Vatican.”
“Your source?” LaFleur asked.
“Yummy. Yvonne Colstrip.”
JoJo continued, “I don’t have many contacts in the Vatican, so I called Alex Younger, who does have a contact there, and we’ve learned that, in addition to the original four guards, the church added four more in 1649, for a total of eight. Those are: Alvaro Cardoso, Miguel de la Peña (now dead), Domingo Ponçe (now dead), Escobar Sarmiento. There were an additional eight added in the 1700s, for a total of sixteen, all still undead when they came here from Spain a week ago. There were four killed true-dead at Ming’s, including Domingo Ponçe; three killed at Ingram’s sister’s place, including Miguel de la Peña; and that leaves nine, and Tomás himself as tenth.”
Rick said, “Normally PsyLED would not take an interest in vamp-on-vamp attacks, but since homeless men in the city have been tortured to death by methods similar to those used by the Spanish Inquisition, and since one of our own has been attacked twice, things are different. We need research into all these known ‘guards.’ ”
Adingsounded and JoJo said, “Shit.” Her eyes were on the central screen overhead. It was showing the outer door of HQ. “We have visitors.”
Standing at the door were Cai, two unknown vampires, and their mistress, Ming of Glass.
EIGHT
FireWind’s face took on an expression of mild amusement as he stood. His long black braid swung forward and back. “Jones,” he said to JoJo, “can you harden our electronic defenses, keep track of every one of them while they are here, and then sweep the entire place when they leave?”
“Affirmative.” The screens overhead went black, and Jo clacked so fast it was like a dozen castanets clattering at once. As she typed, she rolled her chair into a corner and arranged a single laptop, the screen not visible from the room.
“Excellent. Everyone arm up. Make certain there are sufficient chairs in here. Someone make fresh coffee and tea. Those off the clock may go home.”
“I’ll stick around,” Margot said.
“Me too,” Rick said.
