Smart boy. I would have eaten him had he spoken a word, he thought, then set to hauling the ice into the bathroom. Ten hellish minutes later, he descended into the tub and nearly wept at the instant, cooling relief that encased him. With his chin in the icy water, he reveled in the sensation of heat sloughing off him like hot steel dunked in a bath. With one, then two bracing cups of wine, he began to feel new sensations spreading along his major nerve areas; tantalizing hints of his becoming something newer, a thing incapable of death under any circumstances. He sniffed experimentally at the fragrant waves emitting from the water when he moved. Even a nose as keen as his could not properly place each of the scents, or perhaps it was simply that he had not smelled them in so long, and he was merely rediscovering his true nature. It didn’t matter in that moment, since his weakness was waylaid by the temporary succor of the ice.
He slipped back into the frigid water, knowing he had time enough for such consideration later, when his metamorphosis was complete. With that, he closed his eyes once again, running his tongue across teeth that chattered delicately from his ministrations. Are my teeth loose in their sockets? Is this a product of such changes, that even my bite will be lethal? Oh, let it be so! He could tolerate such indignities if it meant a complete renewal of his body, and eventual perfection. After all, godhood would not be easy, and if there was no pain, then there could be no sense of achievement. With that last admonition of his own weaknesses, he closed his eyes, and in seconds, he slept.
32
Florida
Liz gaped at the plate Boon placed before her. “What is that?”
Boon merely gave her a secretive smile and walked away without speaking a word. We were ensconced in one of the back tables at The Butterfly, and I had bullied the usually conservative director of our charity into something a bit more adventurous. Actually, I may have asked Boon to have Pan cook whatever he thought looked interesting, which to me, sounds like heaven. For Liz Brenneman, a woman who grew up in a Midwestern household where variety meant moving the potatoes to the left side of the beef, it proved to be nothing short of a trip to another dimension. Tiny legs from an unidentified crustacean poked defiantly upward from her entrée, which had a variety of peppers, vegetables and roasted coconut, just to keep things interesting.
“I think it’s a, well, it’s some sort of a shrimp. I think,” I repeated hesitantly. It might have been a shrimp. It could just as easily have been a tiny horse, given the odd hoof-like structures on the end of each leg, but Liza was a gamer, so she picked up one of the beasties and crunched down slowly but certainly. Seconds later her mouth rounded with the universal expression for holy shit this is hot.
“Have some coconut. It’ll cool the fire,” I pronounced with what I hoped was some sort of authority. I’d heard that coconut may cool the fire of the ubiquitous peppers she’d eaten, but it was anyone’s guess as to whether I was actually right. When Liz smiled at the obvious effect of the coconut, I leaned back in my seat with a professorial air and sniffed. I really do need to consider wearing tweed at some point; it would do my image some good. It’s more befitting a man of my intellect, although I’m not sure how wool would go over in a sub-tropical climate. When I felt Liz could continue our discussion, I invited her to report on the general state of our charitable works.
“We’re good. It’s been a quiet month, really, but I did manage to track down the children of Stacia’s last victim—a man named Don. You remember him? Killed by one of Elizabeth’s daughters . . . she fed on grief, like a succubus, but without the physical gratification.” Liz said, frowning.
I did remember Stacia because she was ruthless, subtle, and more importantly, still alive. I had my suspicions that she was the Undying who killed Gabriel, Glen’s brother, if only because we had accounted for all of the remaining immortals under Elizabeth’s tutelage.
“Where were they?” I asked. “What did we do for them?”
Liz paused in mid bite. “This is really delicious once you get past the little feet.” She laughed and took a cooling sip of tea. “Two estranged children, both working in the mining industry in Wyoming. One an instructor, the other a heavy equipment mechanic. They’d lost touch with their parents when cancer began to slowly kill their mother. It killed the family, too.” She smiled bitterly, knowing that the scenario must be playing out in thousands of homes across the world. A major illness was like money. It often brought out the worst in people. “I created a simple insurance payout, over five years. Escrowed the money out of our hands, and we’ve completely cut ties with the entire process, so we’re clean. It isn’t life-changing money, but it’s something, and maybe it will change the way they think about their parents.” She looked hopeful. I loved the optimism within Liz; it was one of the reasons she was so good at her job.
“I’m glad that we were able to salvage something from that mess,” I said fervently.
Liz pointed upward, remembering something important, and then reached for her purse. “I did get something unusual yesterday.” She withdrew a plain white envelope and placed it on the table. I didn’t reach for it, but waited for her analysis. “You know we get the occasional hustler or con man who gets wind of our money and thinks we’re an easy target. Well, this is different. For one, it’s a local postmark—Hollywood. Another point that has the ring of truth is this.” She held out the letter and the first sentence caught my attention with a jolt.
The demon known as Elizabeth killed my lover, and took me from my family.
I whistled softly. “That’s not something a con artist would write. That’s—”
“Completely believable. I know. Here’s the thing. I don’t know how to verify the story without alerting the two principles, who are the parents of someone called ‘Davis’, according to the letter. He asks for a very modest stipend to be paid to his parents, who relied on him for some monthly income. They live in Silverton, Colorado.”
I chewed contemplatively. “I’ll have Risa look around for a missing person named Davis, and have her concentrate in that general area. If he cares enough about his parents to write this letter, then I’m betting he hasn’t gone very far from them.”
“Exactly,” Liz agreed, and then studied her fork and what it held. “I think this one’s waving at me.”
We both laughed uproariously as she tossed the alleged shrimp a jaunty salute before crunching it with glee. We passed the remainder of lunch, trading news about Liz’ ideas for the next month, and how she wanted to integrate Risa’s investigative skills into her plans. When we finished, I pocketed the letter after forcing Boon to take some money, which she did with a jingle of her bracelets, and a mock scowl. I had a task for Risa, a full stomach, and an afternoon with no responsibility. My day was looking up.
* * *
I opened my eyes very slowly without moving at all. My phone clock read 3:18, and I realized, groggily, that I had been asleep for nearly five hours. With some concentration, I kept my breathing in the same pattern it had been before I heard Gyro’s alarming whimper. Something is wrong, flashed through my mind and I stood silently, drawing upon all of my stealth as I picked up my knife and put a calming hand on Gyro’s head. Stay, said my gesture, and he lay down with only the barest protest. Out in the hall, I saw only Risa’s door open, so I entered quietly, knife in hand, and bent my head to her ear. She stirred lightly and came awake with moderate alarm, but saw my face in the dim light of the window.
“Pick up your knife, and follow me in a few seconds. I’m going out back. Stay close.” I whispered. Ever vigilant, she simply nodded, stood from her bed, and pulled the heavy trench knife from under her mattress with a silken motion. She wore a shirt and nothing else, and her feet made tiny skritching noises on the tile as she paced behind me through the house. When I pulled the back door open with exaggerated care, I turned around to look at her, and waved her forward.
Dark dominated the backyard, partially due to the shadowing effects of trees and hedges. A waxing moon cast white ligh
t over the water of the canal, which was quiet, and a light wind moved the palm fronds to speak in whispers. I stepped deliberately onto the grass, still warm from the day’s heat, and caught a flash of color on the dock.
Shoes. The running shoes I’d given to Gyro for destruction were placed neatly next to each other in the shadow of a piling. I waved Risa closer, and pushed my hands down in the air. She looked curious, but took my intent and sat down a few feet back from the edge of the dock. Not a single duck traversed the water, and even the wind died down to leave complete silence, except for a distant barking dog and the constant muffled hum of cars.
“You know what I wonder?” I asked, loudly enough that Risa started. My voice shattered the quiet.
After a moment, she caught my eye and replied, “What?”
I settled on the dock with great commotion. “I gave these shoes to Gyro to chew up, but I gotta admit, I feel bad. The day I found them at the park there was only one girl running, and believe me, she needs them. Short but thick. She was a plump little thing, she had a funny look about her, and I just have to give a girl of that size credit for getting out there on the pavement and giving it a try, when obviously, she shouldn’t be doing anything more strenuous than opening a box of cookies. I’m actually surprised she was even able to—”
A column of black water erupted in front of me and the woman jogger from the park landed with the agility of a cat, hands extended in tightly balled fists. Rage colored her face, and her braid swung in a wild arc.
“I am not fat, you asshole!” she shouted, furiously, and kicked water at me from one of her sopping feet. “I—” She stopped at the realization that Risa and I were laughing raucously after the initial shock of her memorable entrance. Lowering her hands, she sniffed, regained some of her composure, and put a hand on a hip that was cocked aggressively outward. “Well, I’m not. And you’re still an asshole, even though you knew I was in the water—wait, how did you know I was in the water?” Her peevishness turned to curiosity.
I pointed at the shoes. “Those. Your disappearance at the park raised some questions, and you’ve clearly failed to do your research on Great Danes.”
“What?” she asked, and then took a step back when she noticed our knives.
“Oh, these? A precaution,” I said, putting my blade behind me with great show. Risa did likewise, and some of the tension around us dissipated. “Have a seat. Or, come inside, and have a seat? I can explain my theory inside much more comfortably than out here, even though it’s a lovely night, and maybe you have a few things to say as well.”
Thinking hard, she nodded once and waited for me to pull Risa to her feet.
“Care for a towel? A drink? Anything?” Risa asked, her manners returning without hesitation.
“Yep. Towel first, then a beer, maybe?” She stood on the tile, dripping, but not shivering, despite the cool of the house. Gyro greeted her with suspicion and she stepped back involuntarily. He has that effect on everybody, it seems.
“That’s the Great Dane who was supposed to use your shoes as a toy. He’s not the tidiest fellow, so to see both sneakers next to each other was out of the ordinary, and since no one else except you even knew about the shoes . . .” I waved helplessly at the power of my logic and her inept assessment of Great Dane chewing habits.
“Oh, jeez. You’re right,” she admitted, and turned as Wally returned with Risa, towel in hand.“Hiya.” Scarlett said in greeting.
Wally regarded the stranger coolly, then turned to me and asked, “She has a strange accent. Is she from another planet?”
After my laughter subsided, I quickly moved to quell any argument between the mystery woman and a freshly-awoken Wally. “No. She’s from Wisconsin.” I recognized that accent easily, being a native Midwesterner myself.
“Is this true?” Wally pursued. Risa looked interested, but remained silent.
“Yep. And I’m Scarlett Benser, didn’t mean to be rude,” she said while wiping herself off. She wore the same shorts and shirt I had seen her in days earlier. Risa and Wally muttered hellos.
“Scarlett, have a seat. Hot or cold drink?” I asked, standing in the middle of the kitchen where my options were open.
“Cold. Beer? The water was a touch salty, tide turned hard.” Scarlett finished her ministrations and handed the towel to Risa with thanks. We all took seats and I handed her a bottle of beer, then the moment stretched uncomfortably.
Wally said, “Are you a fish?”
Scarlett laughed, shaking her head. “No, I’m a Swimmer. I just like the water, but I’m a human.”
“Swimmer? That’s a new one to us,” Risa confirmed. Our world just keeps get more interesting.
“My whole family is. Or was, I should say. There aren’t many of us left.” The regret in her voice was unmistakable.
“Why is that so? Are you immortals?” Risa continued her probing.
“No, I don’t think so. And the reason there is only a few of us—my family was a pod, but now, there’s just me—well, one of us made a mistake. And now I wonder if that mistake is going to cause you problems, because for me, it’s cost my family at least six lives, and I think it would be seven if I wasn’t careful.” She looked around at us and waited.
“First things first,” Wally declared, “why were you in the canal?” It was a legitimate place to begin.
“Well, I don’t have a car,” Scarlett admitted. “I’m usually wet, so cabs hate taking me places, and I don’t really carry cash that often.”
“So you swam here. From where?” I asked, more confused than before.
“Holland Park. I sleep in the observation tower, or in the trees, but I can get a hotel room when I want a bed. I eat at the beach, mostly for the view,” she answered, and when we said nothing, she went on, “I’ve been here for a little over a week.”
“Okay, that’s a start. Tell us more about what a Swimmer is, and then by all means, explain why you think your own family history could be dangerous to us,” Risa instructed, and settled, elbows on her knees.
Scarlett moved her lips soundlessly, counting, and then began, “So, Swimmers are people who live partially in the water. We—or when there were more of us, I should say—we would take family trips, sort of, through rivers, lakes, whatever. The whole family would go for months at a time, like migrating, but we didn’t do it for any reason other than the fun of it. Some families go to the Grand Canyon, we went downriver. I always knew my family was different, but it was just what we did. Before I was born, my family went east for a change, and spent the entire summer looking around.”
“Didn’t you go to school? Or work? How did you live?” Wally asked.
“Didn’t hafta. We’re not only Swimmers, we’re finders, too. You wouldn’t believe the things that people lose or throw away into rivers and lakes, let alone the ocean! I found this before the tide today, near the jetties.” She handed over a small wallet to Risa, who flipped it open.
“Geoff Astbury. United Kingdom. Huh.” She pulled out money, credit cards, and a few unknown papers. “I think Geoff’s vacation is probably ruined.”
“Lost it off a cruise ship, I bet,” Scarlett said. “I find lots of wallets near the coast. The rivers are interesting, too, but not as much money. Usually it’s just things, although there are lots of valuable old coins, some jewelry, car parts. I found an entire Civil War ship once; it had a lot of cargo still buried inside it.”
“That’s incredible. Where was the ship?” I was stunned that something that large could be hidden in a river.
“Tennessee. I’ve been taking stuff out of it for years.” She sounded proud.
“What do you do with it all? The . . . treasure, I guess?” Risa asked.
Scarlett looked at us queerly. “EBay. What do you think I do with it? I’m not a mermaid, you know. I have a condo. I just prefer the water.”
That was the third surprise of the evening for me. “So how do we fit in with your family history, Scarlett? And don’t leave out det
ails, because Risa will just pester the shit out of you until you’re ready to scream.” At this, Risa winked, flipped open her laptop, and began to type.
Scarlett gathered her thoughts again, and asked, “Have you been in contact with people called the Chanticleers, a brother and sister named Boots and Ella Tolson?”
The silence in the room was total. I nodded, slowly, and said, “How do you know them?”
Scarlett shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, I guess there’s no other way to spin it, but about thirty years ago, my family accidentally-on-purpose drowned their parents.”
I looked at Risa, who stopped typing and said, “We have the nicest houseguests.”
33
Bern, Switzerland
“Herr Krieger, line one please.” The clipped tones of his newest assistant came across the speaker on his office phone. Dieter grumbled with renewed ire at the loss of his longtime employee. An extended stay in the United States, doing the business of the now dead Elizabeth, had cost him more than just time and money.
Although a ruthless monster, Elizabeth had nonetheless given him some degree of structure, despite the near constant threat of her temper, an emotion that, when pricked, could result in some truly horrific consequences. Dieter was a banker of considerable success, but his exposure to the world of the Undying was most unfortunate. Immortals loved money as much as humans, but they would aspire to wildly pernicious lengths to acquire each other’s money, particularly when the general knowledge that the protector of said possessions was mere ashes on the wind. The period of suspicion and fear that accompanied the death of his mother had been expected, but it was the silence after that he found truly disturbing. Quiet, Dieter surmised, was good in the banking industry and something to fear among the Undying.
With a hesitant hand, he picked up the phone and said, “This is Herr Krieger.”
Box Set: The Fearless 1-3 Page 61