Got Hope

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Got Hope Page 14

by Michael Darling


  “Hang in there for two minutes and we’ll be gone.”

  It looked like every person in the building was in the lobby now, curious about why the paramedics were here. Nobody was looking in our direction.

  I whispered, “Tine,” and sent out a thread of flame. I aimed at the lock but missed, decorating the steel frame of the door with a curlicue of char.

  “Finesse,” I said. I was trying too hard to make it happen fast. I tried again, pushing the thread through the air more carefully. Once I hit the lock, burning through the metal was easy. I fed my anger into the spell. Listening to Oz’s pain, barely constrained, I fed the sadness I also felt at the woman’s death into the door. Slag fell away, hissing on the ground.

  Two minutes later, as promised, we hustled through the door.

  * * *

  Oz grieved in the passenger seat. We’d made it through the laundry facility and out the north side of the hotel without fuss. Oz ran on auto-pilot, getting into the car, scarcely paying attention, his thoughts on another planet.

  I had a million questions but Oz beat me back to Earth.

  “How did you know?” Oz asked.

  “Know what?”

  Oz sniffed. “How did you know it wasn’t really Hope? I mean, it’s a point of professional pride that we get the details right. Every illusion should be perfect.”

  “I can see why that would be important, Oz. Did they tell you about the injury on Hope’s wrist?”

  “No.”

  “That was a clue. Not your fault. You can’t make a perfect illusion if you don’t have complete information, right?”

  Oz gave the quick nod.

  “Vapeman’s the one who gave it away,” I said.

  “Vapeman?” Oz asked, then laughed a short laugh. “That works, I guess.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Someone from the Behindbeyond. Someone important but only Ciaróg and Feithid know who he is. And their boss in Boston.”

  “We need to find out,” I replied. “Anyway, I mentioned something that happened to Hope and Vapeman asked if Hope was all right. Why ask that? If he had the real Hope waiting in the wings, then he would’ve known she was all right. He wouldn’t have asked that question.”

  “I see,” Oz replied.

  “I was so stunned when I saw the fake Hope that I almost missed it though. The Hope I saw in there was real. Convincing. You had me fooled at first.”

  Oz looked at his hands. The hands that had crafted the illusion. “But now she’s dead.”

  “That’s true,” I replied. “By the way, she doesn’t look like Hope forever, does she?”

  “No. The spell fades pretty quickly.”

  Interesting. “I want to put this gently, Oz, but you knew you were working for very bad people, right?”

  Oz stayed quiet. I let him stew. It occurred to me that Oz might be setting me up. He could be trying to get close to me so he could get to the real Hope for his boss. On the other hand, his pain seemed real and it was hard to fake that kind of emotion. Plus, his boss couldn’t have known I’d grab him and take him with me. For now, I’d accept him at face value.

  I needed to think about next steps. I had to keep Oz somewhere but I wasn’t sure if it should be my house. It wouldn’t do him any good to see Hope in person and it would raise more questions for her. From the cues I’d observed, the woman who had been killed tonight had been Oz’s girlfriend. He was already barely holding himself together. Seeing Hope face-to-face could push him over some edge or other and he might never find his way back. He was going to need time to recover and even though he’d done things he should regret, he was a human being. If I put him in a hotel, he might run or get found. Nat’s place was a bad idea, too. My house wasn’t a great location, but I couldn’t think of a better one.

  Finally, Oz responded to my question. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

  “I don’t,” I agreed. I let his comment go even though it sounded like an excuse. “I’ll need to know why they did what they did.” I used “they” to keep Oz out of the group. “They’re going to use what happened against—”

  “It’s another video,” Oz said. “One of the waiters had a hidden camera. It’s going to look like you killed Sarah, looking like Hope.”

  There. He said the girl’s name. That was a good step for him.

  “Okay.” I let the mental magnets roll around for a minute as I turned toward home. The sky kept getting darker and I had to remind myself that it was still just the middle of the afternoon. Instead of going the fastest route, I used side streets. In part so I could think but also to spot any police.

  Oz saw us heading south. He glanced over his shoulder. “Go back downtown.”

  Mm-kay. I made a pair of right-hand turns and waited for more instructions. While I waited, I marinated, my brain basting in thoughts.

  Short term, there were two ways this could go.

  If Vapeman was finished with me, he could turn the video over to the police and they’d come after me. There was a major problem with that option. I had the real Hope. If the police asked me about killing this woman in the video, I bring her out and that would solve at least part of the problem. On the other hand, the video was going to show me killing somebody. And there was somebody, in a bag, going to the morgue today. There would be an investigation.

  And Erin was the Medical Examiner.

  Not long ago, an autopsy would have been done for any case of violent death. However, Erin’s budget had recently been cut. A case like Sarah’s was straightforward—gunshot with witnesses—so Erin or her staff might not examine Sarah closely. Still, I’d have to tell the authorities I’d been there and let Erin know what had happened. And I should do it before her office got going. At the moment, Sarah would be processed and her family advised, if she had family in this realm. Nothing would be done until morning.

  Morning.

  When I’d be gone to the Behindbeyond at my father’s request. And I had a million decisions to make before then.

  Flashing police lights appeared in my rear-view mirror, which gave my heart pause. The car wasn’t coming on fast, however, and it was half a mile behind us. After a moment, they turned down a side street.

  Keep going, guys.

  Oz pointed. “Left at the next street.”

  I followed directions, made another turn, and we arrived in front of a building under construction where Oz told me to stop.

  “What’s this place?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. But Marcus is moving his corporate offices here.”

  The building was close to completion. Windows had been installed and it looked like the floors were almost done as well.

  “Does this have something to do with what happened today?” I asked.

  Oz shrugged. “They’re planning something. They won’t talk about the details in front of us, but they’ve mentioned this building more than once. If they won’t talk about it openly, it must be important, right?”

  “That’s good thinking.” I wanted to give Oz something positive. “Is there anyone who could tell us more?”

  “No. But you’re a detective, right? Maybe you can find something out. Make them pay for what they’ve done.”

  They had turned Sarah’s body over to the police instead of getting rid of her, which I assumed they could have done. The Behindbeyond was right around the corner—literally—from the mortal realm, but they’d decided to let the police take her away. I couldn’t think of a reason why they’d do that.

  Unless they still needed something.

  If they did, I was missing a piece of the puzzle. Some piece that hadn’t yet fallen onto the table because I’d be able to see a complete picture if it didn’t have so many holes.

  Of course, there was a puzzle piece next to me.

  Oz.

  I had their illusion maker.

  If I thought like a criminal, I’d be trying to decide how to play him. How to use him as a bargaini
ng chip.

  Using people wasn’t in my nature.

  And it wasn’t smart to play him when the rules were still unclear. There had to be more.

  I pulled away from the building. At the next stop, I looked sideways at Oz. He had his hands clasped in his lap and his eyes closed. He was weeping. Possibly praying. Asking angels to take Sarah home.

  We continued in silence as I wound my way to my neighborhood, my street, my house.

  No cops. No ambulances. No news vans.

  I stopped short of my driveway.

  Oz looked up. He stared at the house but he didn’t ask where we were. I had a feeling he’d been here before, or he knew my place from photos.

  He avoided looking at me, chewing on the side of his mouth.

  “You’ll have some questions,” I said. “I’ll answer them if I can. If I can’t I’ll just tell you ‘no comment’ and you shouldn’t read that as a confirmation or a denial one way or the other. All right?”

  “Is Hope in there?”

  “No comment. Anything else?”

  “No.”

  I dug my phone out of my pocket. Max answered.

  “Max? Can we make accommodations for a guest? He’ll want to be alone.”

  “Understood, sir,” Max replied.

  I ended the call. I’d have to ask Max in private to modify the ward to keep Oz from leaving the house.

  “I do have another question,” Oz said. He looked at me like there were extra clues in my eyes and I took a guess about what he wanted to ask.

  “You’ll be safe here. My home is a place between worlds. Not entirely mortal. Not entirely Eternal. There’s very little that anyone can do to us from either side.”

  “Can you get to the Behindbeyond from here?”

  I thought about his question for a moment. The answer was obvious, I thought. He was really asking a different question. “Do you have a safe place there, Oz? I could take you somewhere but I need to keep tabs on you. And I don’t know how deep Vapeman’s reach goes. I think you’re better off here.”

  Oz nodded, his expression defeated. “You’re probably right. I have friends there. Other illusion casters like me. We just make illusions, though. We’re not fighters.”

  I drove up and parked the car under the portico. Oz shuffled into the house like a condemned man, and I guess he was his own judge and jury. I’d probably feel the same way.

  Max met us in the entryway.

  “Oz this is Max,” I said. “Max, this is Oz.”

  Max had an air of official humanity. He shook Oz’s hand. “Welcome, Mister Oz.”

  “Hello,” Oz replied. Having found a safe harbor, the tension in Oz’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Max will get you something to eat,” I said. “Get you a place to sleep. All right?”

  Oz gave me the quick nod again. He looked dead tired, and I suspected his physical and emotional batteries could use recharging as much as his magical one. I caught Max’s eye. “Nothing will get in or out tonight, I promise.”

  Max gave me a tilt of his head. We’d be on lock-down tonight.

  “Oh, Max. Do you know when we need to leave here to arrive at the castle by dawn?”

  “Yes, sir. Leaving at 5:00 a.m. will get you there in good order.”

  I nodded my thanks.

  Oz shuffled down the hall. I was going to ask him how he’d come to be named “Oz” but it didn’t seem like the right time.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley had written a sonnet called “Ozymandias” and it was about finding a broken statue of a pharaoh out in the middle of a desert waste. Inscribed on the pedestal were the words:

  My name is Ozymandius, king of kings:

  Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

  The irony, of course, was that the works of Ozymandias had all fallen to dust, including the statue of the king. A fate familiar to my new friend Oz. Nobody would name their kid that, though, right? Not even in the Behindbeyond.

  I’d ask him about it later.

  Right now, I needed to talk to Hope.

  Chapter Sixteen: Stuck with the Truth

  “Come in,” Hope said. “Is it dinnertime? I’m starving!”

  I smiled, opening the door to the guest room and peeking in. “Thought we could have a team meeting,” I said. “How’s my quarterback and wide receiver and defensive end?”

  “She’s bored out of her mind.”

  Scanning the room, there were more papers than I would have guessed. On the bed and on the desk and more on the wing chair in the corner. A dozen pens and pencils, the natural parasites of papers in the wild, were scattered around as well. The television was on but the sound was off. Hope was streaming a movie I didn’t recognize, but I swear I saw a unicorn. Hope sat on the floor with a laptop, her hair in pigtails and her makeup washed off. Makeup wasn’t needed for her eyes to still be attractively over-sized and startlingly blue.

  “Bored?” I asked. “With all this fun stuff?”

  Hope pointed at the bed, the desk, and the wing chair in turn. “Yes. That’s the fun stuff for my credit cards. That’s the fun stuff for my bank. And that’s the fun stuff trying to get some of my contacts since my phone is lost and also trying to report that my phone is lost. Not to mention all the appointments and cheer practices and dinner dates I have to deal with.”

  “Yeah. I saw the list.”

  Hope picked up the laptop and held it over her head. “Max brought me this.”

  Max had a laptop?

  Wait.

  Max knows what a laptop’s for?

  Hope put the laptop back on top of her lap.

  “I got into my social media. Finally,” Hope said. “There are a couple of my friends I wanted to talk to. That’s okay, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “They saw the game last night and loved it.” Hope’s eyes sparkled, bright and happy. “They posted on YouTube for me and it already has over 400,000 views. I haven’t announced to anyone that I’m probably quitting, though.”

  “There’ll be time.”

  “And I haven’t told anyone where I am.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Of course, they keep asking. I’ve been very mysterious. They think I met a guy and we’re shacking up.”

  I looked at my shoe. There was a drop of blood on the instep. Sarah’s. “The facts apply. Only the interpretation varies,” I said.

  “I told you that’s how I started with Marcus.”

  Don’t remind me.

  “Anyway, they can think what they want.” Hope stopped to take a breath. “What have you been up to, coach?”

  I laughed but the laugh was soft and only half-humored. “I found out some things. I found out who put you in front of my house with a bomb.”

  Hope had the presence of mind to put the laptop down on the carpet before she stood up. Her eyes waxed like twin moons, gaining light.

  “Omigosh,” she said. “Who was it?”

  “Marcus hired some people, and they have ties to certain . . . criminals.”

  Hope looked at the floor. After a moment, she nodded as if she’d made a decision. Her hands started to shake. “This really is about me then. And—”

  “Hope,” I interrupted, taking her hand. “I don’t want to scare you, but there’s more to it. A lot more.”

  She went on. “We can put a stop to it. We can call the cops. Or call that lady at the television station and they can put Marcus getting arrested on the news. Then the judge will enforce the prenuptial agreement and I can take care of my dad. We can do that, right?”

  “I wish it were that simple, Hope.” Her eyes begged for answers. “We need evidence, and that’s going to take some time. We want to make this stick so Marcus can’t weasel out of it. We need to have better ammunition than he has. And we’ll get it, okay?”

  Hope nodded but there were cracks in her momentum. “I understand. What do we do?”

  “There’s a lot more I need to explain.” I led Hope to the wing chair and transfer
red the papers there to a clear spot on the floor so she could sit.

  I didn’t want to look into her eyes anymore. Her eyes were so—the only word for it was “hopeful”—all the time, and some of what I needed to tell her wasn’t hopeful in the slightest.

  “As you might imagine,” I began, “I make enemies. It comes with the territory in my work. Some enemies are very powerful. Powerful in ways that are obvious and not so obvious.”

  “All right,” she said. I wasn’t looking at her but the darn hopefulness carried in her voice.

  I forged ahead. “Although you and I didn’t know each other before yesterday, the people Marcus is working with are linked to people who want to destroy me. So, with you here in Miami and certain bad people connecting the dots—”

  “We’re a BOGO,” Hope said. “Buy one, get one.”

  That made me laugh and I had to look at her again. “Exactly. These people saw an opportunity to do what Marcus hired them for and do a favor for someone else at the same time. Someone who would benefit from my demise.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Well, I have the death sentence on twelve systems.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I needed to tell Hope about Sarah.

  Hope put her hand on my arm again. “Got. I can tell something’s on your mind, and it’s not because I don’t get all your jokes. I appreciate that you don’t want to shatter my optimism, but you don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. I’m a big girl. My daddy taught me to be tough. And besides, I trust you.”

  I smiled again. “Thanks for taking off the pressure.” I still needed a deep breath for the next part. “We already knew they were ruthless. Today they murdered a woman. They’re going to implicate me if they can but I’m not sure how.”

  Hope scootched away, driven to the back of the chair by the shock. “Murdered?” She covered her mouth with her hands. “Did you see it happen?”

  “Yes.” I looked down again at my shoe. At the spot of Sarah’s blood.

  “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.”

  “It’s not something you get used to. I know one thing that they want, and it may help if it looks like I’m cooperating. At least until I find out what’s really happening.”

 

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