"All right," he said. "I have a client meeting at two, but I'm free until then."
Patrick cleared his throat. Gabriel said, "One moment," to Olivia and muted the phone before telling Patrick, "I need to follow up on something related to your case," and rising from his seat.
Of course the bocan protested, but Gabriel made it out of the cafe before a group of incoming students logjammed the exit.
"I'm heading for my car," he told Olivia. "Presumably, I'll need it."
"Mmm, actually no. Not as long as you're okay walking about a half mile."
"Of course."
"Head east then, and tell me about Lambert."
EIGHT
GABRIEL
Gabriel was deep enough in conversation with Olivia to pay little attention to his surroundings. She directed him, and he walked as they discussed Lambert.
"That sounds like fae compulsion," she said, and he caught the emphasis.
"But you have doubts?" he said.
"I'm reserving judgment at the moment. For reasons."
"Which are?"
"Reasons. Unlike our architect friend, I'm not under any compulsion to share thoughts that may make me sound like an idiot. I need more data and your unbiased opinion."
"My opinions are always unbiased."
"Impossible. As soon as people voice an opinion, they're guaranteed to influence our own, depending on our opinion of their competence. And given your opinion of anyone else's competence, I'm keeping my mouth shut."
"I respect your opinions, Olivia."
Silence. He felt it stretch and grow heavy with the weight of the unspoken. The weight of that moment when she'd told him about Gwynn.
"No, Olivia. I'm sorry. You seem to believe this, but it isn't true. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect none of it is true. I understand that you've been in a difficult place, your world turned upside down, and it's easy to get confused--"
"Are you suggesting I'm imagining the visions?"
"Not entirely. I think you've been in a susceptible state, and these creatures--fae, what have you--are taking advantage of that."
"You have a point, though," he said quickly. "The fact that I'm predisposed to trust your opinion would bias me in favor of your conclusion. So you don't think this is fae, then? Patrick insists we're dealing with a ghost."
"Have you reached the mausoleum yet?"
"Maus..." He trailed off as he looked around to realize he was not cutting through a park, but a cemetery. He glanced over his shoulder. "I see one about fifty feet back. It appears to be the only structure on this particular path."
"You walk too fast. You know that?" Forced lightness in her voice. "Okay, back up and make a right--no, that'd be a left now--at the mausoleum."
She continued to direct him. When she told him to stop, he knew what he'd see. He said nothing, though, letting her play this out.
"Okay, turn left," she said. "Take three steps."
"If I take three, I'll ruin my loafer and possibly break my toes bashing into a headstone."
"Three normal-person steps, Gabriel. Headstone. Read it."