Cronin's Key II by N.R. Walker

vampires.”
    “Maybe.” Cronin frowned. “He also said ‘He is risen already, as she was risen.’”
    “You think that was about Queen Keket?”
    “It’s hard to say for certain,” Cronin answered. “His answers were hardly coherent, but we’d not talked about any other female vampire. Only Keket.”
    “’He is risen already, as she was risen.’” Alec repeated. “So whoever is plotting some evil plan this time around is already risen. Risen from the dead? Like a mummified vampire? Or just reborn as a vampire?”
    “Risen to power?” Cronin offered. “It could mean anything. Or nothing.”
    “Or everything,” Alec said. “And ‘the earth will come to life.’ Is he talking volcanoes, earthquakes? I can’t be fighting natural disasters, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t the kid just work it out in his head before he speaks?”
    Cronin laughed. “And which Jorge would you prefer to speak?”
    Alec shivered as he remembered. “Preferably not the one with the black eyes.”
    Cronin feigned offense. “Is there something about black eyes you don’t like?”
    Alec laughed at him. “Your irises are black, yes, not your whole eyeballs. There’s a difference. Yours are a fiery, smoldering black. His were dead, like a shark’s.”
    “It is unnerving, yes?”
    Alec nodded. “And as unnerving as it is, I think we need to see him again.”
    “I believe Jodis has spoken to Eleanor and asked her to visit,” Cronin said. “We shall talk to her first and determine if she has seen anything of this new threat, without the riddles. She might be able to shed some light on Jorge’s words.”
    Eleanor was a seer. A vampire with the talent of foresight. Not always accurate, and her visions could change on a whim, depending on decisions made and other outcomes, whereas Jorge’s visions, although cryptic, were never wrong.
    “And if we still need further clarification,” Cronin continued, “then yes, seeing Jorge again makes sense.”
    “Maybe he can elaborate about all the stone references,” Alec said. “Do you know what he meant by that?”
    “Possibly.”
    “And the red hand? Silver river, blue moon. We think we know what blue moon means, but what the hell does the rest of it mean?” Alec shook his head. “I’m too tired to figure this out.”
    Cronin took his hand. “Then rest. We can discuss theories after you’ve slept.”
    Alec studied Cronin for a long second. “What aren’t you telling me?”
    “Nothing, I—”
    “Bullshit. I can tell.” Alec pulled back his hand, leaned his ass against the dining table, and folded his arms. “Have I not told you everything?”
    Cronin sighed. “Alec, I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. I don’t know if I’m even on the right track. Please don’t be mad at me.”
    Alec knew his temper frayed easily when he was tired, and Cronin looked so sad that Alec’s anger melted away. He almost forgot Cronin had experienced some transference of vampiric talents and that was weighing heavy on his mind. He opened his arms and invited Cronin into an embrace. “I’m not mad, but please don’t think I’m some weak human who can’t shoulder this with you.” He cupped his hands to Cronin’s face and kissed him. “Are we not in this together?”
    Cronin almost smiled. “We are.”
    “Then tell me your theories,” Alec said. “Tell me what you think Jorge was referring to about the stones.”
    “It wasn’t the stones that concerned me,” Cronin said. “It was the comment on the red hand.”
    Alec tried for some cryptic skew. “Some sort of communist mentality? There is the Irish reference to the red hand of Ulster. Could that be what he means? It’s some Irish psychopath this time?”
    Suddenly Jodis and Eiji were in the room, looking at them, clearly interested in their theories. “The Irish?”
    Cronin simply shook his head. “I don’t think so. The only vampire reference to a red hand I recall belonged to a vampire that lived eight hundred