by E G Stone
Was it winter? I hadn’t realised. Time must have moved differently during my transition. Did that mean I had been at this job more than a year, or just the few days that it felt like? Death had said that Elsewhere touched the mortal realms at specific points in time and space. Then, if so much time had passed, would these humans still be investigating Magnus’ death? I took a deep breath and hoped that spring just came later to Norway than I had thought.
There were some things I wasn’t prepared to deal with, yet.
“You care too much,” Janos replied. “Reporters don’t care about the truth of the matter. They care about a story. If the story is wrong, they’ll issue a new story correcting the first.”
I smiled with one side of my mouth. “All hail the internet.”
“Indeed,” Janos returned my half-smile with one of his own. “The way I see it, you’re either cops like myself, or you’ve been hired by an independent, outside source.”
“We’re—” Yolanda started. I waved my hand at her to cut her off.
“We’re just trying to figure out the truth. And we won’t get in the way of the police, alright?” I said easily. Calmly. Hoping desperately that Janos would believe me and be willing to cooperate.
“I think it’s a bit late for that statement,” Janos said in a low voice. He looked at the rear-view mirror and fixed Yolanda in his sights. She shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but kept her mouth shut. She was finally doing as I told her. “You were about to tell me that you were hired by somebody, weren’t you, ma’am?”
“No,” Yolanda shook her head. I could see a hint of grey skin underneath her human visage. Hopefully all Janos saw was a slightly-nervous woman. “I was just going to say that we just want to know what happened to Magnus. It’s a matter of some importance,” she continued, easily returning Janos’ look.
The detective scowled more and swerved to pass a car perhaps slightly more aggressively than was strictly necessary. “You two are involved in this up to your necks. I should take you in for questioning.”
“You wouldn’t find a whole lot,” I said. Janos didn’t deign to answer, and I had a feeling that whether we liked it or not, Yolanda and I were going to the police station.
Turns out, I was right. We drove into a town with a name I couldn’t pronounce and went straight to the police station. The town was one of those big enough to act like an actual city, with different neighbourhoods, industries, a decent night life, and the crime to go with it. As a result, the police station had a decent number of cars parked outside. It was big and boxy and modern Scandinavian style, which meant steel and wood and very clean lines. It also had all sorts of interesting technology.
Yolanda and I were passed through the metal detectors and body scanners and deemed clean. We were then paraded through a number of offices that looked very much like how I would expect a police station to look, only nicer. I was thankful that we hadn’t been put into handcuffs, yet. We weren’t under arrest, just being questioned for being very suspicious.
Detective Janos had no idea.
Yolanda and I were shoved into separate rooms before we could say two words to one another. She gave me a panicked, wide-eyed look before the door closed behind her. I tried to convey confidence in my returning look, but I’m not sure I succeeded. If she started spouting a story about Life and Death, we were snookered. The door closed behind Yolanda and I was led to my own room. The space was small enough to be able to hold only a tiny table, two chairs, and the cameras in the corners. There was a small air vent on one wall, but there were no other exits. The walls were also boring and grey, and the carpet didn’t even have a pattern. A person could die of boredom—or anxiety—in that room.
Janos didn’t bother sitting down to interrogate me, first. He just threw me a smirk and closed the door with a click. I didn’t hear it lock, but I doubted that I would be able to walk back through the office without being stopped by one of the many people there. A quiet but subtle way of keeping me where I was.
I sure hoped Death’s amulets were going to provide us with a decent explanation for why we were really out by the cabin. Because I didn’t have one.
I sat down in one of the chairs, and the waiting began. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Since there wasn’t anything to occupy my attention, I let my mind wander over the last few days. I sure had been killed a lot. Almost killed. Same thing. But really, what did I know about Magnus?
One: he was, actually, a jewel thief. Life loved him for it because it was some sort of weird way of fighting for her. She didn’t make things easy on people, so those who fought against her were the ones she loved. And she had loved Magnus.
Two: he had been killed with an Ennedi Tiger. Whoever had done it had somehow managed to circumvent Death in the matter. I don’t know how, but I imagine it had something to do with using Death-style powers without Death himself. The Ennedi Tiger was probably significant, but the one group of people who had ready access to the Tigers didn’t do it. Who else could possibly have done it that way, then? Someone who worked with the Order, maybe? With but not a part of? I would have to ask Yolanda if that were even possible.
Three: upsetting the balance between Life and Death had not been the purpose of the murder. If it had been, then the Order of Silence would have been involved up to their eyebrows trying to stop it. But they were certain that there were no traitors and, given their proclivity towards torture-as-loyalty, I believed them. Unfortunately. There was another reason for killing Magnus. It had to be related to Life’s devotion to him, or his being a thief. Maybe he stole from the wrong person. Yolanda had said that the supernatural crossed over to the mortal realms. So why couldn’t Magnus have accidentally gotten involved in a crime ring led by a super-powered baddie? Maybe.
Some part of my mind told me that I should be soundly freaking out about the last few days instead of calmly rationalising. I mean, I worked for Death. I had seen wyverns and trolls and vampires. I had been almost killed. A lot. I had been almost tortured. I was way, way beyond my area of expertise.
That part of my mind was just about to start screaming, loudly, when Janos walked in.
I relaxed my shoulders and gave him a friendly smile. I hope it was friendly, at least. Detective Janos frowned and stepped aside. Another person, this one female, probably fifty, with the sort of look to her that told you she was made of iron, walked in with a packet of papers.
“We apologise for the inconvenience, Mr. Roberts,” the woman said. Her voice sounded funny and I realised it was because the amulet wasn’t translating. She was speaking in accented English. “We only received your passport and Interpol identification a few minutes ago. The embassy sent a courier as soon as they determined where you were.”
Interpol, huh? And an embassy sending a courier? Just who exactly did she think I was?
“It’s no problem, really,” I said, assuring her with my best PR voice. I took the papers and flipped through them. There was a passport—American—as well as an Interpol badge, a form for sending lost property, and a letter certifying my need to work on the Magnus case. “No harm done, Ms…”
“Wilkerson. Chief Wilkerson,” she replied, showing her teeth in a feral smile. It was probably meant to intimidate me into playing the docile investigator, only here to help. Unfortunately for Chief Wilkerson, I had been intimidated by things far more dangerous than she. Things even Yolanda was scared of.
“A pleasure.” I extended my hand and she shook it stiffly. “Now, I know that it’s getting rather late, but if you have a copy of the files thus far, then I’d love to look over them.”
“Of course,” Wilkerson jerked her head in a nod. “Detective, please get Inspector Roberts and his assistant the files.”
“They’re in Norwegian,” Janos muttered in that same language. Wilkerson’s eyes flashed.
“It’s no problem,” I said. “I can read them.”
The two police officers exchanged a look and strode out of the room, Janos follo
wing his chief closely, while I strolled along behind them. Yolanda was already waiting for me, her face set in a scowl. I squinted to look through the image and saw that her troll-features were looking even more stony and grumpy than usual. For such a nice person, she really needed to learn how to smile more.
“Any problems?” I asked, doing my best to be gentle.
“They kept asking me questions. Twisting my words around so that no matter what I said, it was making me look like I was involved,” Yolanda growled. The sound rumbled through the floor and I felt it in my feet. I put a hand on her arm, alarmed.
“They know we’re not involved,” I assured her. “We’re just here to help the investigation along.”
Yolanda shook her own packet of papers in understanding. The grumpy expression remained.
Janos handed us a disappointingly slim case file and walked off before I could even ask for a place to read it in peace. I sighed and found an empty conference room, ignoring the stares of all the people we passed. Whispers followed in our wake and Yolanda’s expression soured further. I closed the door behind us with a definitive click and pulled out a chair. Yolanda followed suit, slouching. I started flipping through the file, reading as quickly as I could manage. It quickly became apparent that the human authorities knew even less than we did.
“Cause of death: disembowelling,” I read out from the file. “No duh. Evidence at crime scene…nothing of significance to indicate a killer. Really! Here we go, known associates: Marcus Rousseau, import-export specialist, friend. Alice Nuberg, possible girlfriend. Criminal associates: unknown. Occupation: unknown, suspected thief. And that is pretty much the end of the file.”
“We know he was a thief,” Yolanda said helpfully. I pulled off my glasses and cleaned them on my shirt, stifling a yawn. “Maybe his girlfriend knows something.”
“I’d be more willing to bet that the import-export guy, Rousseau, is involved,” I said. “If that’s not a code-name for smuggling, I really don’t know what is. Besides, how many secrets do people keep from their significant others? A lot, going by the rate of divorce in the mortal realms.”
Yolanda considered, tilting her head. The human image wavered for a moment, her eyes flashing more yellow than green. “Those are the only people they know of? What if they don’t know anything?”
I shrugged, closing the file. “I would say that something is better than nothing. I’d bet you all the salted snacks in the office that this Rousseau guy knows something. I mean, surely even the magical community here in the mortal realms needs to move things discreetly. Right?”
Yolanda nodded. “There are many things that can only be found in the mortal realms that the magical community wants. Salty foods. Jewels of certain qualities. Potion ingredients, like ground bone.”
“Ground…bone?” I gulped. “Please tell me that’s chicken bone.”
“Oh, no!” Yolanda beamed. “Human bone. Very useful for many potions and charms. Adds extra…oomph? I think that’s the word.”
I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. “You know, maybe there are some things you shouldn’t tell me. Let’s just focus on the job at hand, alright? We know two of Magnus’ associates. Let’s hope that the answers lie with them, or we’ll have nothing. Rousseau first; he’s my best guess.”
“We go see him, then?” Yolanda pushed up from her seat at the table with inhuman eagerness. I glared at her, feeling the effects of everything that had happened that day. Also, it really was getting late. I didn’t know the time difference between Elsewhere and Norway, but I was definitely jet-lagged.
“Tomorrow,” I said, rising and gathering all the papers together. The passport and badge I shoved into a pocket. I slipped the file under my arm to be returned to Janos. “It’s late. I’ve been bound and captured by the Order of Silence. I’ve been almost killed multiple times. I’ve travelled between worlds and gotten nowhere in the investigation. I’m tired.”
Yolanda nodded. “I will find a brothel for the evening.”
“Hotel,” I said, pinching my nose. “It’s a hotel, not a brothel.”
“Oh.”
“You really have the most frustrating blanks in your vocabulary,” I told my assistant. Mostly, her lilting talk was fine, and she explained unfamiliar Elsewhere topics extremely well. But, really. “Where did you learn English?”
“A correspondence course!” Yolanda replied with a big grin, showing off her white teeth. “And the internet. I like watching videos.”
“Of course you do. Come on, let’s go find a hotel.”
Drop Dead
I slept as though I hadn’t felt a bed for days. It was more than magical, which was saying something considering my life now. When I woke, the sun was streaming in the windows and things were looking a whole lot less horrible than they had the day before. Also, my phone was ringing.
Where in the world had I gotten a phone?
“Hello?” I answered groggily. Hearing nothing, I looked at the caller ID and saw an unfamiliar number, so I held the device to my ear again. “Hello?”
“Mr. Roberts,” a sharp voice snapped at me through the phone. I sighed.
“Good morning, Chief Wilkerson,” I said, sitting up. I half-expected to feel as badly as I had done when waking up in the hospital with Graveltoes peering at me. I was pleased, then, when the reality was that I felt more or less human. My wrists were a little sore, and the cuts that I had received at spear-point were stretching under their scabs, but on the whole, I felt pretty okay. “What can I do for you?”
“Detective Janos informed me that you had not provided any new insights into the case,” Wilkerson said. “I would presume that Interpol has a reason for sending you here?”
“Yes, of course they do,” I replied. At least, they would have done if I had actually been Interpol. I just had no intention of telling her the real reason why I was here or why I was interested in Magnus. “Though I was told to keep the number of people who had the details down as close to zero as possible.”
“Well, I look forward to hearing your debrief as soon as you get in,” Wilkerson snarled and hung up the phone. I sighed and threw the mobile to the bed. Then I shuffled over to take a shower, which was almost as magical as sleep. Clean and rested, I felt like an entirely new man.
I found Yolanda in the bar area of the hotel, where breakfast was being served in a buffet. She and I were some of the few people still working on breakfast. Apparently I had slept a whole lot later than intended, which didn’t bother me in the slightest. Yolanda was happily munching away at eggs and bacon. Even as I sat down, my plate loaded with toast and some yoghurt, she shook about a tablespoon of salt onto her forkful of eggs and stuffed it into her mouth.
She was getting a few weird looks from the two other people in the room.
“You may want to lay off the salt until you can eat it in peace,” I suggested. Yolanda frowned, but put the salt down.
“Cal! Did you know they let you eat however much you want here?” she grinned. “This is my third serving!”
“That’s kind of the point of an all-you-can-eat buffet,” I said, ignoring the looks from our fellow diners. I poured some creamer into my coffee and took a sip. Oh, glory. The drink was heavenly, enough to send a jolt of pleasure through my veins. I hadn’t had coffee in days, and my addiction was more than happy to be fed.
“What are we going to do today?” Yolanda asked around a mouthful of bacon.
“Chief Wilkerson is demanding that I bring her up to speed on the Interpol case,” I said.
“But we are not…Interpol?”
“International Police. They deal in, well, international crimes,” I explained. “The point is, we don’t actually have an Interpol case to show her.”
“What about the amulets?” Yolanda asked.
I took another caffeine-laden sip of coffee. “What about them?”
“They provide us with all the documents we need, no?” Yolanda cleared off her plate of the last of its food and sat
back with a satisfied sigh.
“Are they that thorough? I mean, passports is one thing. A case is a whole different situa—” I gaped as Yolanda reached into a pocket and pulled out a full-sized Interpol case file. The file wasn’t even creased. It was thick enough to suggest being significant and definitely official.
“Death is a powerful master,” Yolanda said. That earned another strange look from the person sitting closest to us. She edged away with her chair.
“You may also want to keep mention of our mutual boss to a whisper,” I said. “Such things tend to make the other humans uncomfortable.”
Yolanda’s eyes widened and she looked around the room as if noticing we weren’t alone for the first time. We weren’t holding a conversation that was loud enough for the others to overhear. My experience, though, is that people will start hearing you just as soon as you don’t want them to do so. It’s just a rule of life, and having met her, I could definitely believe she would do something like that.
Yolanda muttered an apology and sank into her chair a couple of inches. I finished off my toast and had a look at the case file. Most of it was an almost-exact replica of what the Norwegian file had said. There were a few points of information that they didn’t know. Namely, that Magnus had definitely been a thief. His main work was in jewels and he was working with a fence in the area. The rest, though, was complete nonsense.
I pointed to the scribbles, “What is this?! We can’t give this to Chief Wilkerson.”
Yolanda glanced at the file and shrugged her massive shoulders. “That? It’s just a suggesting.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“A suggesting is a small spell. It just sort of lets people fill in the blanks. Nothing of importance, and if they want to repeat it to someone else, later, they’ll have forgotten the details. But it’s awfully useful for passing along false information,” Yolanda explained.
“Uh-huh. So it’s going to make Wilkerson believe that whatever is in this file is worth letting us poke around? That’s a little disturbing. But also cool. I wish I’d had one of these back in my days with Harcourt. That would have made things so much easier with the old bat.” I picked up the file again and stared at the squiggles. They didn’t seem to do anything to me, but I was still impressed.