Echo Cross

By Rachel E Twiss

All old cities have their secrets.

Early morning, August 1882. Inspector Aloysius Allaway is awoken and brought into the investigation of a strangely dressed young woman found in King’s Chapel Graveyard while 138 years later rookie Detective Shiloh Amsel finds a mummified human heart.

Two different crimes, connected by Echo Cross, Boston’s most closely kept secret. A hidden neighborhood, refuge of fae and supernatural beings, becomes the center of a conspiracy linking both detectives to a dark world of cults, conspiracy, and curious rifts in time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel E Twiss
• Release date: Apr 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310278198

Rachel E Twiss

Rachel E. Twiss, author of the fantasy novels Fenn and Echo Cross, was born and raised in Worcester, Massachusetts. She has a BA in English from Sacred Heart University in Fairfield, Connecticut and an MA in Victorian Studies from the University of Leicester. While doing her undergraduate work Rachel spent time in Dingle, Ireland she fell in love with far away islands and fairytale worlds. Her love of Ireland has colored her writing ever since.

Book preview

ECHO CROSS

by Rachel E. Twiss

For Erik and Heather Kozlowski

"The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes." - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Aloysius

The pounding on the door came just as the bell tolled three.

Gemma sat up abruptly in their bed, clutching the cross on her chest in a panic.

Ordinance of 1827, dear.  You don't need that.   Aloysius told his wife as he stumbled out of bed, still mostly asleep though his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest.

When someone bangs on your door at three in the morning in Echo Cross you take precautions.   She said as she got up as well. She pulled on the dressing gown she kept on a bald nail next to the bed and tied it around herself, pulling her messy red braid from the collar.  It took him time to parse through the thick accent even after three years of marriage but when he did he smiled sleepily at her as he went searching for a pair of trousers.

Boston's safe.   He said.  She handed him his trousers with a kiss and marched off to answer the door.  Aloysius dressed himself in a hurry to save their night time visitor from the wrath of the young Mrs. Gemma Allaway.  

Ah glad to see you up and ready, Allaway. The man at the door said in a low, nearly melodic tone the moment Aloysius was at the front door.  Gemma, he noted, looked none too pleased with their visitor.

Ephraim Bagley was a young looking man - though he was Aloysius's superior and ten years older he looked to be barely twenty.  In the light of the frosty full moon his red hair looked golden while his pale skin looked sallow with a spattering of whiskers in a weak attempt at having a beard.  The way his sunken in black eyes searched Aloysius's person always made Aloysius wonder if he hoped to find a drug of choice hidden there.  His clothes, however, were always neat and impeccable.  On this night he wore a tightly fitted black coat and trousers that looked to be ripped from the best tailor's shop in town with his shiniest pair of boots.  Even at three in the morning he put Aloysius's second-hand, rumpled coat and mismatched trousers to shame.  

I was just explaining to Mr. Bagley that coming to people's houses at all hours of the night and expecting them to be perfectly fine with the intrusion is...is...well it's poppycock! Gemma said.  She crossed her arm over her chest, holding her robe closed protectively around her.

I was telling your wife that she needs to let me borrow you.  There’s been…well, we need you.  I don’t want to explain in front of Mrs. Allaway for fear of upsetting her more.   Ephraim explained.  

Aloysius kissed Gemma on the cheek.  Work, darling.

Be safe, darling.   She chided, handing him his coat.  Aloysius took it with a smile and pulled it on as he walked out into the chilly night.

Once the door was closed, Ephraim led him out into the misty August night.  They walked in silence until they were fully out of Echo Cross’ odd pocket space that hid the neighborhood in what, to the naked eye, looked like the service drop-offs of Public Alleys 424 and 425. Ephraim seemed not to notice that they were out of Echo Cross, leading them out onto Dartmouth Street and even then Ephraim kept quiet. Instead he silently went through the motions to tap down and light up his normal walking pipe in the most elaborate manner until they were out onto the relative protection of Boylston Street in front of the newly built South Church.  It was beginning to get to Aloysius, who cracked after such a stretch of silence from the normally chatty man.

Are you going to tell me why you woke me up at three in the morning or are we just going to walk, Mr. Bagley?   Aloysius finally asked.

Ephraim let out a long stream of smoke from his newly lit pipe as he set off east.  

There’s been a…situation.   He said carefully.  Situation was Ephraim’s delicate way of telling someone that there had been a murder.  It had always been a weakness of Ephraim’s, which seemed a bit ridiculous considering their occupation.  Sixty years previous, after a particularly bad breakout of murders the Ordinance had been put in place, forcing all vampires out of the city limits of Boston.  In the aftermath of the murders the city had set up the Fae and Supernatural Being Bureau to specifically take care of any other incidents similar.  Over the years the Fae and Supernatural Being Bureau had become a glorified neighborhood watch for the area around Echo Cross.  While the vampire attacks that had happened well before the thirty-three-year-old had been born meant nothing to him, Aloysius had joined on as an inspector for the Bureau after his former employer had given him a letter of recommendation and a means of getting better work than the mundane clerical jobs he had been doing.  He had risen through the ranks through sheer ability alone, much to his wife’s delight. Even though he had not been given the traditional Boston training as an inspector, Aloysius was cautious to get all the details before they got to wherever Ephraim was leading him.

What’s the situation?   He asked.

Ephraim took another pull from his pipe as he thought.

I need to prepare you for her.  Not the body mind you; we’ve seen bodies mangled worse before but….Aloysius.   He stopped.  The light of the moon shifted and Aloysius realized that it was not the moonlight that was making Ephraim sallow.  He was terrified.  He waited for Ephraim to compose himself and to continue.  They dressed her like a joke and left her where anyone could have found her. If the night guard hadn’t come by when they did then God knows who would have found the poor woman.

Where is she?   Aloysius asked.

To his relief Ephraim began walking again.  He wasn’t sure he could look at the other’s pale face much longer and he needed to mull over what he meant by dressing the body as a joke.

She was left on the old Pain grave in King’s Chapel.   

They were quiet for the rest of the walk.  Aloysius let his mind wander back to the warmth of his and Gemma’s bed, wishing he could still be sleeping.  Even though it was August three in the morning always seemed to be cold.  And he doubted he would be able to find a way to get warm in the two hours he would have before he had to be in to work officially.  Ephraim continued to smoke his pipe and only put it out once they were close enough to King’s Chapel Burial Ground that they could hear voices.  A small cluster of Fae and Supernatural Being Bureau officers were already assembled around the Pain grave sight.  Their Bureau’s photographer was at work.  Every man’s face looked grave.

Inspector Allaway, Inspector Bagley, thank you for coming at such a God forsaken hour.   Said their captain as he moved out of the knot of knot of officers.  Captain Brunel looked ragged as if he had not slept in days.  Perhaps he hadn’t.  It made Brunel look older than his estimated thirty-five years of age; no one was quite sure how old he really was. Aloysius had heard rumors that the Captain had been working himself ragged over the past few weeks trying to come up with reasons for the mayor to continue to fund their branch of the police department without help from outside money.  They had all heard the rumors and rumbles within the department.

Captain Brunel cleared his throat.

Has Inspector Bagley prepared you for this Inspector Allaway?   He asked.  Aloysius nodded.  His captain looked him over, looking as if he was about to argue with Aloysius's response, but he instead turned and led Aloysius through the thick small crowd so that he could see what they were dealing with.  We’ll have to say it was a regular murder.  If word gets out that there was a vampire attack right near the courthouse we’ll be let go for certain.

Aloysius did not hear him.  He was far too focused on the body of the woman laid out in front of the grave marker of Elizabeth Pain.  She looked to be in her twenties though it was hard to tell with the heavy makeup she wore.  Her hair was loose around her shoulders, falling into the grass and carefully hiding the teeth mark in her shoulder.  Her clothes were atrocious, a mockery of undergarments in a violent shade of green.  It exposed her chest, her arms, and her legs below the thigh.  It also exposed the large gouge in her chest.  Aloysius knelt down next to the body, peering at it.

Has the scene been touched at all?   He asked Captain Brunel.

No, of course not.   Brunel told him.  What have you noticed?

You’ve seen she’s missing her heart?   Aloysius asked.  He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and used it to point at the gouge without touching it.  Brunel nodded to him, letting out a soft noise of agreement.  His boss had noticed the missing organ as well.  But there is no blood at all, see?   He motioned for Brunel and Ephraim to get closer.  It was hard to see the ground even with the torches but it was clear that the grass around the grave was neither discolored nor sticky.  There was no doubt in his mind - the body had been moved from someplace else.  

But she was killed by a vampire bite.   Ephraim said, keeping his voice low. He used his pipe to push her head to the side, revealing two rather atrocious gouges in the dip of her neck.  While they were open, festering wounds they looked to Aloysius as if they had been old wounds reopened. He kept that to himself, thinking to put it in his report notes later.

You’ve never read our manual, have you? Aloysius said snappishly. Ephraim gave him a quizzical look but did not argue. Vampires can’t bite to kill.  They can drain a lethal amount of blood from a human but not enough to take out every bit of blood.  If they did then every overindulgent vampire would be bloated like a tick and our division would have been overpowered before it even existed.  Her heart was taken out someplace else and she was brought here for us to find.  Someone wanted her to be seen by us but was careful enough about the Ordinance to bite her and kill her someplace else then bring her body here, truss her up like a tart, and set her up nicely for someone to find. Aloysius rubbed his tired eyes as he tried to think.  He had no idea how a body could be carried this far without anyone noticing.  He glanced at Ephraim who looked just as perplexed and sighed.  Straightening up he began to pace, trying to think.  

Where are you going, Allaway?   Captain Brunel called.

I’m just going to walk the surrounding streets, see if I find anything important.   Aloysius decided.  Nodding to his captain he began to walk, hoping for clues.

This was, perhaps, the most puzzling case he had been put on in his short time with the Bureau.

Isra

Isra, You’re late!

I’m on my way.

You know you’re in our databases; I can track -

Shiloh, I’m going through a tunnel, I’ll call you back.

God dammit, Nejem, get-!

"Sorry, can’t hear you, goodbye, Shiloh."   

Isra ended the call, shut off the ringer on her phone and shoved it back into her purse without breaking her quick stride.  As she strode through the throngs of day trippers and tourists she kept her head held high, looking just over her sunglasses.  

About a block and a half ago her mark had noticed her trailing him.  He had begun to move desperately, just as she expected.  She did nothing about it; she kept walking straight ahead.  Following him would result in losing him, and she wasn’t about to be caught off guard by an imp.

She also wasn’t about to run down the cobblestoned side streets in her brand new heels.

It only took her another two blocks before he turned down a side street that was empty enough for her to strike.  In two large steps she was behind him.  Isra grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him into the brick wall.  She heard the satisfying crack of bone and could smell the blood.  She hoped she had broken his nose.  

What the hell’s your problem lady?   He demanded as he struggled.  He was dressed as a normal teenage punk but the pale green tinge to his skin alerted anyone that was looking close enough that he was definitely her man.  Even so she had to ask - polite was polite.

Are you Mark D’Angelo?  He struggled to turn and spit out the blood accumulating in his mouth but she wouldn’t let go. She grimaced at the sight of the blood on the pavement; she wasn’t sure how she would explain it away if a beat cop happened by.

Jesus lady, yeah I am.  Who the hell are you?   He demanded.

Isra Nejem, maybe you’ve heard of me?   She said.  And I believe you have something that I want.

Mark swore at her.

I’ve got nothing for you, now let go of me.   He demanded.

Being pinned to a wall by a  bounty hunter means absolutely nothing to you does it?   Isra asked.  Now I’m going to ask you nicely, and then I’m going to break something else, got it?   Where is the necklace, Mark?

He grunted.  How do you know I haven’t pawned it yet?

Isra clucked her tongue, shaking her head at him. That’s not an answer to the question. She reached down for one of his pinned hands and easily broke his finger.  The snap and his swearing made her grin slightly.

Fine, fine.  Jesus lady.   He pulled the hand with all  fingers still intact away from the wall and rifled through the inside pockets of his unseasonable puffy jacket and pulled out the necklace.  It was a small gold affair, nothing fancy, but it had a rather large opal on the chain that could have easily been sold off the books for a high price.  Isra took it from him, slipping it into a pocket of her leather coat.  With one final shove she walked away from him.  Shiloh was already on the warpath and Isra couldn’t afford to piss her off anymore.  

Head held high, Isra started out towards Mass Ave.  Mark stayed stunned for a minute longer, then pushed away from the wall.  Isra heard his heavy steps coming towards her but waited until she was just at the mouth of the side street.  She pulled out a small gun and pointed it at him, turning slightly.  Mark stopped, hands instinctively going up at the sight of it, but laughed.

Lady, you know that’s not going to do anything, don’t you?

No, but it’ll be enough of a pain in the ass for you and it’ll let me get close enough to you with this.   She turned her hand, letting him see the sapphire ring that she had slipped on when she had pocketed the necklace.  Imps aren’t fans of these, are they?   She asked in mocking innocence.  Mark bolted, disappearing into the throng of Japanese tourists that had just started down the street.  She sighed.  These were the boring sorts of days when she wished she did not have to deal with these normal jobs.  Even still, she had money to make and quickly pulled out her phone and began to dial the woman who owned the necklace, ignoring the multiple messages that Shiloh had left on her phone.  

She walked down the street chatting with the woman who owned the necklace when an unmarked car pulled up next to her.

On my way my ass Isra.  You’re walking the wrong way.   Shiloh groused as she pulled the car over.  

Mrs. Hebert I have to go; I’ll call you back later and we’ll figure out when we can make the exchange.  Yes.  Yes, of course….goodbye.   Slipping her phone back into her purse she walked around the car and got in, not in the mood to deal with Shiloh’s attitude.  "You know if you