Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel(64)

“Well, there’s a surprise,” I muttered.
“And they want you gone. As in yesterday. They think they have enough information to take this guy down themselves.”
There was a commotion at the door and we stopped talking to stare as Will limped in, aided by his sister.
“Feels a bit like a bad joke,” I said. “A shape shifter and Druid walk into a police station recently molested by zombies.”
Agent Valley snorted. “You forgot the part about the witch child hacking off zombie limbs with a sword.”
I leaned back and laughed. “You have potential, Agent Valley. This is my life. Welcome to it.”
He stepped closer to me, his face serious. “What do you need to make this happen?”
Lips tight, I dropped my chin to my chest, thinking. I had the Druid I would need to block the Necromancer’s exit. I had a witch at my back and two shifters that would go with me, regardless of whether or not they were one hundred percent.
But there was still that niggling piece of doubt in the back of my mind, courtesy of O’Shea. If I’d never worked with him, I never would have started to question the ‘why’ of things. The easy thing to assume was that the Necromancer was a pervert, was using the children’s bodies for things I’d rather not think about. But that didn’t explain the way the house had been set up, as if the kids were well cared for, even in death.
“Where’s Kyle?”
Agent Valley looked over his shoulder. “In the back office, pissing his pants the last time I checked.”
Giving Agent Valley a nod, I strode past him, heading to the office I’d first been interrogated in. Excuse me, introduced to the ‘team.’
I didn’t knock on the door, just walked right in, startling Kyle. He shot out of his seat, his face pale, eyes so wide they looked like he might have been doing drugs if I didn’t know better.
“Are the zombies dead?”
“Yes. Are you done crapping your pants?” I leaned against the table and smiled at him. He blanched even more. Good. He had a long way to go before he got back in my good books. “You need to get on your little computer and pull up some files for me.”#p#分页标题#e#
Kyle nodded rapidly. “Yeah, of course. What do you need?”
“Brittany Mariana Tolvay. She’s a kid that died a long time ago. Find out if there are any relatives still living, what happened to her, anything you can. And make it snappy, I don’t have all fucking day.”
He scrambled to the closest computer and within ten seconds his shaking had subsided. I pulled a chair out, sat down, and leaned my head back so I could stare up at the ceiling and let my mind go blank. For just a moment, I wanted to not think about anything.
It didn’t last long.
Kyle pushed his chair back with a screech. “Okay, I’ve got her. She has one living relative, but I’m thinking it must be a mistake. Same name as her mother, right down to the date of birth. Year is wrong, of course.”
I pushed myself to my feet and went over to his computer, staring at the screen.
Kyle continued to talk, his nerves showing in the rapid fire of his words. “Brittany was killed by influenza, so was her father. Mother survived but went missing within weeks of the kid’s death.” He tapped a few keys and a grainy picture came up of a tall woman, hair pulled back in a severe bun, long dark dress that covered her from her ankles to her chin. “This is her mother. Anne Tolvay. But this is the part that gets creepy.” He tapped a few more keys and a color photo, looked like it was a driver’s licence shot, came up. The same woman now in living color. Her hair was yanked into the same severe bun and her eyes stared straight ahead, a blankness to them that I recognized all too well. I’d seen it more than once on Giselle’s face. Shit, were we dealing with a crazy Necromancer?
I tapped the screen and the computer hissed at me, the monitor going fuzzy. I stepped back. “Where’s this picture from?”
Kyle drummed the keys again, fingers flying. “Garden West Home for the Insane.”
That’s what I was worried about. “Can you pull up her files?”
He didn’t say yes or no, just got back to work. I knew from experience it wouldn’t take him long.
The door to the office creaked open; Pamela stuck her head in.
“Rylee, I think you’d better come out here.”
“What now?” I grumbled, striding to the door.
She smiled and giggled, though it was a tad bit nervous. “There’s a Harpy on the roof.”

21
The rooftop was solid, at least; it would take Eve’s weight. The Harpy was, to say the least, bedraggled. She was soaked through, her feathers having lost their luster in what must have been a knockdown, drag out flight across the Atlantic to make it here this fast. Alex bounded, the best he could in his injured state, around her.