by Kim Fielding
“I can make it as far as the Palace, with help. But first I have to piss.” Abe groaned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to stand. Thomas rushed over to steady him.
“We can take a taxi.”
Abe grinned. “To the bathroom?”
Thomas lightly swatted Abe’s bare ass as they shuffled along. Abe whistled at the fancy plumbing fixtures before lightly shoving Thomas back and shutting the door in his face. “Leave a man some dignity, okay?”
“I’ve had my cock in you more than once. I can manage seeing you use the toilet.”
“Well, that makes me feel sensual. Thanks.”
Arms crossed, Thomas leaned against the wall beside the door and waited. Abe emerged less than ten minutes later, still naked, with colorful bruises blooming near the bandaged wounds. But he’d tamed his hair and, judging from the scents, washed up and brushed his teeth. “I can walk to the Palace. It’s four or five blocks.”
He needed help getting into his clothes, though, and he complained about the state of them. “I look like a walking corpse. Might have a slight whiff of one too.”
“You can take a bath at the Palace while I find us something to wear.”
Abe’s sudden smile was bright as the sun. “It’s nice having someone take care of me. I can’t remember the last time someone did.”
It was also nice to be the caretaker, although Thomas didn’t say so. He gathered their few belongings and, with Abe leaning on his arm, they made their way to the lift.
They took a taxi after all, because by the time they’d walked the length of the St. Francis lobby, Abe was clutching Thomas and trying to stifle moans. He managed to look presentable enough not to scare the cabbie, at least, and he leaned against a pillar in the Palace’s long, gleaming lobby while Thomas got them a room. This one was on the fifth floor.
“President Harding died here, you know,” Abe informed him as they rode the lift.
“That’s promising.”
“Everybody has to die somewhere.”
And better a posh hotel than an army hospital, Thomas had to admit.
Abe was too exhausted to bathe, so Thomas helped him undress and tucked him into bed. Then Thomas took out his notebook. “Tell me your sizes.” Abe grinned and complied.
“I’ll likely be gone a while,” Thomas said. “But I’ll bring you some liquor, and I’ll also find us some lunch.”
“Okay.”
Thomas set Munroe’s pistol on the nightstand beside Abe. “You said you know how to use one of these things.”
“I do.”
“Well, don’t unless you have to.”
“That’s good advice.”
Thomas went to the cheap men’s goods store he’d frequented in the past, choosing underclothes, socks, and three white shirts for each of them. He also found himself an extra pair of trousers. But Abe needed a whole suit, and this store’s wares just wouldn’t do. Toting the shopping bags, Thomas went to City of Paris in Union Square, where he found an outfit that was ridiculously expensive but would look great on Abe.
“You’re going to burn through your money,” he warned himself. But what the hell.
Arms laden, he returned to the Palace and dumped the bags on a chair. Abe gave him a sleepy smile. “What, no lunch?” he joked.
“You’re getting spoiled.”
“Yeah? I always wondered what that would feel like. It’s not bad.”
Thomas headed back out, stopping first at a favorite blind pig on Market Street where he bought four bottles of whisky. It was too bad they didn’t carry slivovitz; he’d have to ask Abe where he got it. Finally, Thomas went to States Hof Brau. He could have bought lunch at the Palace, but that tended toward pricy and froufrou, and he wanted something solid. States was a cavernous place packed with tables and echoing with conversations. A short discussion with the maître d’, combined with a generous bribe, got Thomas two orders of boiled beef and cabbage with rolls and baked potatoes, a small tureen of goulash, and a couple slices of apple pie. The maître d’ handed him everything in a big paper bag and, despite making him promise to return the plates and cutlery, didn’t seem assured that Thomas actually would.
Funny, really. A few days earlier he was almost broke, and now money flowed from him like water. But a few days earlier, he had an office and a flat; now he had safe access to neither. And a few days ago, he was alone. Now he had… well, he didn’t know what he had.
18
Abe’s exhaustion weighed him down like a suit of lead, and he was in more pain than he’d let Thomas know. But he wasn’t dead, and that was a surprise. Curled up in a big bed at the Palace Hotel, waiting for Thomas to return, Abe realized he was happy to be alive. Also a mild surprise: he hadn’t realized he’d cared much one way or the other.
He considered discussing the matter with Birdie, who was as much an expert on life and death as anyone. But although Birdie was there, hovering just out of awareness, Abe was reluctant to focus on him. Their connection was too strong already, and something inside of Abe was pulling at Birdie, making Birdie the moon to Abe’s Earth. He didn’t want to destroy both of them by allowing a merger.
But he was so tired, and it was so hard to fight. He massaged his temple and waited impatiently for more booze.
Thomas swept into the room with the smell of rain and good food. “Still hungry?”
“Thirsty.” Abe sat up, wincing at the twinge in his gut.
After setting a paper bag on the table, Thomas approached with a bottle of whisky and handed it to Abe. He set three more bottles on the nightstand, near the gun, and then hung his overcoat and hat in the closet.
Abe uncapped the first bottle and swallowed almost half of it in one go. He felt the burn rather distantly and focused on the blessed layer of insulation the alcohol gave him, as if booze created a psychic shell. “Thank you,” he said to Thomas and sighed as he set the bottle down.
“Did your stomach do okay with breakfast… and now the drink?”
“As far as I can tell, everything seems to be working okay.”
“Jesus. You were seconds away from death yesterday.”
“I told you that spirits are powerful. Even more when they connect with the living.”
Thomas scrunched the corner of his mouth. “But you get weaker.”
“Mostly because I’m resisting… joining with him. If I stopped resisting, the thing we’d become would be very strong indeed.”
“Joined.” Thomas startled Abe by rapidly approaching and then bending to grasp Abe’s bare shoulders. “I don’t want that. And I don’t want you to be replaced by Birdie either.”
“But you love Birdie.”
Thomas answered in a fierce growl. “Birdie’s dead. You and I, we’re still alive.”
Abe’s throat tightened, and he very much wished he was well enough to make love. Instead he wrapped his arms around Thomas’s middle and drew him into an embrace. It was an awkward angle, and Thomas was taking care not to jostle Abe’s wounds, but it was powerful and lovely nonetheless.
“Lunch,” Thomas said hoarsely after a moment, pulling away. “Shall I serve you in bed, Your Majesty?”
“Yes,” Abe replied, hoping he’d captured a regal tone. He’d never had the opportunity to indulge in elaborate sex games. He liked to fuck fast and hard, and he could get that when he wanted. But it was nice to imagine playing a king waited upon by his lord of the bedchamber. And the time after that, perhaps he’d be an innocent farm boy taken captive by a pirate. Or….
“I meant serve food,” Thomas said grinning, apparently reading Abe’s mind. Which should have been Abe’s trick.
“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that for now.”
Thomas poured something from a tureen into two bowls and brought them to the bed, along with spoons. “Gulyás!” Abe exclaimed when Thomas handed him a bowl.
Although Thomas didn’t reply, he looked pleased with himself as he pulled over a chair so he could eat next to the bed.
Abe couldn’t remember whether his mother’s goulash had tasted better, but this was certainly good. And the company, silent but near, was satisfying as well.
They finished off the stew and then tore into the boiled beef and cabbage. Abe ate a lot, but he didn’t keep up with Thomas’s prodigious appetite. “The army must have struggled to keep you fed.”
“I spent the entire war hungry. Afterward, when I was back in London and… ready to face the world again, I ate so much for weeks that I made myself sick.”
“Were you working as a policeman then?”
“I’d been one before, so it was easy enough to get my old position back. Turned out to be hard to keep it though.”
“Why?”
Thomas blew a heavy breath. “I was bloody tired of people telling me what to do. I hadn’t been all that good at it before the war, and after…. I thought I’d strike out on my own.”
“In another country?”
“You’re not the only one who’s haunted.”
Abe nodded knowingly and then finished the rest of the whisky, sip by sip, while watching Thomas eat pie. “I’ve been thinking about the amulet.”
“Oh?” Thomas shot him a wary look.
“Emil said that it requires incantations to be used properly.”
Thomas huffed. “Why? Why not just push a button or heat it in a flame? Who makes these bloody rules?”
“I don’t know. But magic does have rules, as do spirits and ghosts—and monsters too, I suppose. Extensions of the laws of nature. I had a teacher once who said that before God created the heavens and the earth, there was chaos, and that laws of any kind are what hold that chaos at bay.”
“All right,” Thomas said with a scowl. “Rules. Pertinent to our situation how?”
“Is Townsend a foolish man?”
“No.”
“So when he got his hands on the talisman, he probably looked for someone to help him use it. That someone might have helpful information.”
Thomas stood, collected the dishes, and brought them to the table. “Do you know who that someone might be?”
“Maybe. You had me give you a list of magicians, but I think that’s the wrong direction. I think we need a scholar. There’s a professor in Berkeley who’s an expert on these things—I’ve met her a few times through Emil. I think we should call her.”
It took several moments for Thomas to consider this, but eventually he nodded and gestured at the phone.
Although at first Edith Payne had been reluctant to meet on short notice, Abe bribed her with a promise of dinner at the Garden Court. This was expedient for Abe too, since the famous restaurant was located in the Palace Hotel and he wouldn’t have to go far. “It shall have to be an early dinner,” she informed him. “I don’t want to take the ferry home too late.”
“Of course. Six?”
“I’ll see you at six, Mr. Ferencz.”
When Abe hung up the phone, Thomas was grinning at him. “You are an exceptionally persuasive man, Abraham Ferencz.”
“Am I?”
“I tend to get my way through brute intimidation. But you lay on the charm and offer the other person exactly what they think they want.”
Abe put on his thickest Hungarian accent. “It is alvays my great pleasure to meet the needs of my acqvaintances, sir.” He added a bow, as deep as he could manage with his wounds.
But Thomas’s expression had gone thoughtful, his gaze unfocused. “Imagine,” he said quietly.
“Yes?”
“What the two of us together could accomplish. If we were partners.”
The blood rushed in Abe’s ears and he fought to keep his voice calm. “I thought you worked alone.”
Thomas lifted his eyebrows and gave a half shrug. “I thought so too.” Then he stomped into the bathroom and firmly shut the door.
Abe spent the afternoon alternately dozing and drinking, while Thomas smoked endless cigarettes and stared out the window. His hands were shaking more than usual, but his back remained straight and his jaw steady. The weak sunlight bathed him, smoothing out his rough edges.
At five o’clock Abe got out of bed and made his slow way across the room. Thomas drew a bath and helped him in, then brought whisky so Abe could sip while he soaked. Thomas sat like a guardian on the edge of the tub.
Abe was able to dress on his own, although he exclaimed over the suit Thomas had bought him. “This is expensive.”
“I wanted something that fit you properly.” The cost had been worth it, just to see Abe smile.
Professor Payne arrived moments after they did. She wore a dress two decades out of style, sturdy black shoes, a strangely shaped black hat, and a colorful scarf worthy of an Asian queen. Abe performed the introductions, explaining that Thomas was an acquaintance interested in the history of magic. She stared at Thomas frankly, without demanding more information. He stared back.
It was fortunate that their table was ready, because Abe couldn’t have remained standing for much longer. Professor Payne oohed and aahed over the restaurant, taking in the large and glamorous room, the glass atrium hung with enormous chandeliers, the many pairs of yellow marble columns, and the tasteful gilding—just enough to be elegant but not overdone. “I’ve always wanted to eat here,” she said as she smoothed a napkin over her lap. “But an academic’s salary rarely affords such extravagance.”
“I’m glad you could join us,” Abe said.
“I would have thought you’d invite Emil as well. If we’re to discuss your field, I mean.”
“I haven’t seen much of him lately. He’s been busy, I think.”
“Of course.”
They made awkward small talk for a bit. She and Thomas discussed London, which she’d visited two years earlier. She was a particular fan of the British Museum. She also enthused about the guest lecturer who was coming soon to discuss his work in Egypt. “He was one of the people who excavated King Tutankhamen’s tomb, and he’s helping Mr. Carter catalog the contents.”
“Do you study ancient Egypt as well?” Thomas asked her.
“Not exclusively. My specialty is systems of magic in ancient civilizations, however, so Egypt certainly interests me.”
The waiter appeared with the first course. Abe ate his but wished he had alcohol instead. He felt the intrusive buzzing of spirits in his brain, which wasn’t something he wanted to explain to Professor Payne. She didn’t know of his unique abilities and, unwilling to become the object of study, he’d never mentioned them to her. He was certain Emil never had either, agreeing with Abe that those abilities were best kept secret.
Over the rest of the meal, Thomas asked about some of the professor’s work, and she was happy to respond. Abe was mildly curious too. Until now, magical artifacts had never appealed to him as a topic of particular interest.
They were almost finished with the main course before the conversation turned to the Prince of Gandhara. When Abe mentioned it, as if in passing, she made a face. “Oh, that!”
Abe pasted on his most innocent face. “What do you mean?”
“I received a visit recently from a man who claimed to have the amulet in his possession. At first I was quite excited—I’d dearly love to add it to the university’s collection. But he wasn’t interested in donating it, or even selling it.” She made a dismissive pfft noise.
“Then why did he contact you?”
“He wanted to use the thing! It requires complicated incantations, you know.”
Abe and Thomas exchanged a quick look. “What did you tell him?” Thomas asked. He seemed calm, almost nonchalant, but Abe knew him better by now; Thomas was keenly interested in the reply.
“I told him he was going to have to talk to someone else.” She waved a hand regally. Then she gave a mischievous smile, leaned forward, and dropped her voice. “In truth, I possess most of the necessary invocations. They’re in Woodedge’s Cantus et maledictus antiquae Asiae, of which I possess a partial copy. But I didn’t tell him that. I am interested in the stu
dy of magical items, not their actual usage. Or misusage.”
The next part had to executed gingerly. Abe smiled at her. “Well, I know you have an excellent collection. So if you don’t have the complete incantations, nobody does. So your supplicant, Mr.— What was his name?”
“Townsend. Mr. Herbert Townsend.”
“Yes, well, Mr. Townsend is out of luck, I guess.”
She set down her fork and took a sip of water. “Oh, he’ll find it if he looks hard enough. There’s a man in Philadelphia with a remarkable collection of texts, and he doesn’t mind using them now and then. You may have heard Emil talk about him. Konstantin Maksimov. He’s Russian, you know. He fled his country during the revolution and managed to get all his books here too.”
Thomas looked as if he badly wanted to take out his black book and write down the name, so Abe shot him a reassuring look. Abe had a very good memory.
Professor Payne decided to skip dessert, which was just as well because Abe was flagging. He needed bed and booze. They walked her through the hotel lobby and out the doors, helping her into a taxi and waving as the car pulled away.
“Anything helpful?” Abe asked when they’d returned to their room. He collapsed onto the bed with a groan.
Thomas strode over and began unlacing Abe’s shoes. “Mostly confirms what we already knew. She seems to think Townsend still has the amulet.”
“Which means whoever does have it hasn’t gotten in touch with her.”
“Hmm.” Thomas tossed aside Abe’s shoes and socks and helped him take off his trousers and undershorts. “Several possibilities. Could be that the fellow who went after it hasn’t found it yet—maybe Gage handed it to someone else. Could be the thief has it and doesn’t want to use it yet. Or could be he doesn’t have the connections to know about your professor friend.”
“Or maybe he’s in Philadelphia by now.”
Thomas seemed disheartened by that thought, but then he shook his head. “You know that bath you took earlier? It looked really nice. I’m going to have one too.”