Cal gapes, for once actually looking like a big stupid guy instead of just a big guy. Then he shakes his head. “No,” he rasps. “I saw everyone who was in there. She wasn't.” He looks wildly from his left to his right, as if she's hiding behind a couch and ready to jump out like it's a surprise party. “Where is she?”
“I don't know,” Kingston says, his voice tighter now. He looks at me.
I shake my head. “She definitely left. Unless she's with Lanz. Or maybe she came in the back and went up to her room?”
Now Cal's posture shifts again, like he's collapsing in on himself. Hands fidgeting together at his chest.
“What?” I say. Not too harsh. Not accusatory. Just the tone of someone who can tell when something's up, because I sure fucking can, and I really don’t like it. “Callahan, look at me.” I snap my fingers, point at my eyes with my two first fingers. “What. Is. Going. On.”
“I…” Cal stammers, licks his lips. “I thought...” He shakes his head slowly back and forth. “I thought it was a test. They said they did those with you guys. Tests. Like loyalty or something. They tell some of you something and not the other one?—”
“Hang on.” I hold up a hand. “What are you talking about?”
“Who did, Cal?” Kingston’s on his feet now. “Who said that?”
“The Brothers,” Cal says. “The White Brothers. Like that was part of training, part of what we’re supposed to do, and so when they asked me to?—”
“Slow down. Slowdown.” Kingston barks. “What do you mean, when they told you?”
In halting, uncertain sentences, Callahan rambles out some tale about running into someone from back home down in town. About going back to Boston, his home parish. Some dedication ceremony. And when he did, there was some Consistory motherfucker waiting for him.
“And so I thought…I thought it was what I was supposed to do. To tell them to come here, that we’d found…something. Her.” His voice is breaking. He rakes his giant hands through his hair. “Fuck me.”
“Why would you do that?” Kingston says tersely. “And you wouldn't tell us?”
“I thought that was part of it,” Callahan says. “I'm sorry. He was going on about how I wasn't there in France with you guys, and…” He sucks in a quick, sharp breath. Glances up the stairs. “And I thought it would help, okay?”
There's a long moment of silence.
“Thought it would help,” I repeat, still flat, not angry, but curious. Because Cal’s face isstricken,plain with how badly he needs to have not fucked up, and God help me, but I am going to withhold judgment until he spits whatever the fuck it is out.
"Lanz," he says. “I thought it would help Lanz.”
My heart falls into my ass.
“I mean, you guys have seen,” Cal goes on. “He looks like shit, and he won't say what's going on. He's falling over, he looks like he's dying, and…I don't know." Cal’s voice gets very low. “I think maybe…maybe I misunderstood.”
I should haul off and hit him. Scream in his face for being such a dumbass.
But I can't. Because I'm looking at Cal's face again—that horrible, dawning understanding of what he's done—and I recognize it.
Ashamed. Naive. Faithful to a fault.
Of course he thought the Consistory would help. Because they’re supposed to. They’d always said that’s what they said they do.
And I just…can’t find the anger for him.
It’s just not there. I know it should be, but no—404, page not found, this number is no longer in service. Maybe because I’m no longer such a vindictive asshole myself. Maybe it’s because I know Cal and I know he’s just genuinely that…caring,I guess. Or maybe because I know what it's like to do terrible things when you’re in love with someone that bad, to make the best of shitty choices even when you’re pretty sure the tradeoff will be brutal.
Because I've done that, and I'd do it again.
"How did they do it?” Kingston says. "Did they?—"
"They gave me a candle,” Callahan says. “I guess some kind of beacon, a way to reach them. Said I would know whenI was supposed to use it. And then Gwenna wasn't making any progress on her stuff, and then Lanz told me…he said…” Callahan trails off.
“Okay. Fine. Bygones.” I don't have time for this. I might not be angry, but I am impatient. And scared. I’m really fucking scared right now.
“Where the fuck is she?” There's no heat to my voice, which is scary in and of itself. “We have to find her. Now.”
