Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  When I lurched out of the entrance of the library I saw Constance on the floor, struggling to her feet.

  “She took my legs out from under me. That...that...bi...” she frowned, and then pointed down the entry hall. “That way.”

  I limped to the entrance hall and stopped, Breno was shambling toward me from the hallway to the living quarters.

  “What’s happenin’ Benny?” he asked, his forehead crinkled into a mass of worry.

  “Not now. Get back in your room!” I barked. The front door to the apartment suite was still closed. At the opposite end of the entry hall the door that led to the rooftop garden was wide open. A pair of high heels thrown to one side testified to the redhead’s practicality.

  “Is it the bad lady?” Breno whispered.

  “No, now go back to your room and lock the door,” I said and ran to the stairs leading up to the roof.

  My heart was pounding and my breath came in sandpapery dry gasps. I used the handrail to pull myself up the wrought iron spiral staircase, the smell of my sweat and the metal hanging in the air.

  When I got to the top of the stairs the door to the roof was ajar and I stumbled out into the night air. The misting rain, the scent of evergreens, and the sound of leafless maple branches rubbing against each other made the familiar setting seem ominous. Why they had run to the roof instead of heading down was confusing. Why head up and allow themselves to be cornered?

  I was frantic as I scanned the garden. I had trouble making out details because the lights were off and the moonless sky provided only a black backdrop. Taking a step back to the doorway I felt with my hand and found the light switch.

  The roof exploded in light from a thousand tiny bulbs strung in the trees and bushes. It cast a beautiful golden glow through the greenery. At the far end of the garden the redheaded woman and Sawyer were standing near the edge of the roof, looking out over the street.

  “Stop!” I yelled.

  Sawyer whipped his head in my direction, while the woman just glanced back over her shoulder and grinned. Her lack of concern might have wounded my pride if I’d stopped to think about it. I was just trying to figure out how the hell they were planning to escape.

  They turned back to look up, reacting to something I couldn’t see, and then two dark shapes dropped out of the sky, landing behind them. The two delicate figures were barely over five feet tall and very slender. Their means of flying or gliding appeared to be some kind of rigid material that flared behind them. Their clothing was a dark green, almost black, their heads were covered too, making them hard to see.

  Moving quickly and silently they split up. One approached Sawyer, who threw his arms around the much smaller person. The other ran to the woman, and they all headed toward the edge of the roof.

  The dark figure with Sawyer stretched out both arms and the wing-like material behind it snapped taut in the wind. Sawyer clung to its waist and they started to lift off the roof. Running toward them I thrust out with my knack and attempted to collapse its wings. The redhead and her companion were a few feet away, stepping to the edge of the roof.

  I split my focus between the two pairs and achieved partial success. They all bounced up and down in the wind but couldn’t get airborne.

  That was when things went bad.

  Again.

  Sawyer used his knack to guide a lance of energy at me, which I deflected, but it caused me to lose my focus on the other pair. Freed from my interference they lifted up, while Sawyer and his partner dropped to the roof in a tangle of arms and legs.

  “Stop!” I yelled again, like that was going to work. Casting out with my knack toward the redhead and the shadowy figure who were floating away, I tried to foul their progress. Although the winged shape wobbled they continued to drift up into the dark sky.

  Swiveling my attention back to Sawyer and his accomplice, I heard footsteps behind me.

  The first gunshot caught me completely by surprise, deafening me and forcing me to my knees. A roaring in my ears muffled Danton’s shout as I watched him fire again, too dazed to interfere with the gun even if I’d wanted to. Judging from his aim it looked as though he had only fired warning shots.

  Startled by Danton’s gunshots, the person or thing that was carrying the woman screamed. Twisting in midair it let go of her. Both flailed wildly, their screams creating a nails-on-chalkboard duet as they fell out of sight. Sawyer and his partner recovered while I was trying to pull my wits together. Holding hands, they ran to the edge of the roof, and dove over the side.

  I got to my feet and stumbled toward the roofline where they had all disappeared, Danton staggered after me.

  When I reached the low wall that ran the length of the roof I gripped the edge and looked over. I couldn’t see them anywhere.

  Sawyer, the redheaded woman and the two flying whatevers were gone.

  FORTY-FIVE: JOIN THE TEAM

  I ALLOWED MYSELF to sink down, my hands gripping the low wall. Danton bent over the edge, his right hand clutching his chest. He looked down and swore.

  Reaching into his jacket he pulled out his cell and stared at it in disgust. The plastic case was melted and the glass screen had a hole in it.

  “Ruined,” he said to no one. Frowning, he offered a hand to help me get to my feet.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Danton, I—”

  “Don’t,” he growled. “Later.” He lurched toward the doorway that led to the stairwell.

  His jacket and shirt were a mess, burned from Sawyer’s electrical blast. He looked down and shook his head. My mind was spinning trying to put together an explanation that made sense. Yeah, I gave that up after a few seconds and tried to come up with an alternate plan for damage control. I had nothing. A bunch of secrets were totally out there now, with no way to un-ring those bells. Life was going to change, and probably not for the better.

  “Danton I think we need to check on...” Whoops. Check on what? How did I explain Kenwoode? Or anything he’d seen for that matter.

  Cocking an eyebrow he just waited for me to finish my sentence. When I didn’t he made a frustrated sound. “Exactly,” he said, pointing out what both of us knew: there was no explanation that was going to come out sounding believable.

  Giving my shoulder a push he said, “Back downstairs. I need a phone.”

  A few minutes later we were standing in the library. It was empty which I was okay with other than the fact that I had no idea whether Kenwoode had survived. Danton’s stony silence shut down any chit chat. Watching him I had the uneasy feeling that he was getting ready to lose it. He stood there, gaping at the empty room. He’d been doing a real good job on the frowning scale, like maybe an eight or a nine. He surprised me with an entirely new level of pissed off.

  “Where are they?” he snarled, breathing hard.

  “And I should know that because...?” I asked. I was just as confused as he was, but for different reasons.

  “No more games, Benny. You don’t get a pass on this. I discharged my sidearm. I shot someone. I saw someone fall to what should have been their death. I saw...I saw stuff here that needs an explanation.”

  Rubbing the back of my neck I said, “They might be in one of the bedrooms. Constance...Doctor Santome is probably trying to patch up...work on...trying to help.” I shrugged, realizing I wasn’t making any sense.

  “Show me,” he said, shaking his head.

  When we entered the hall to the bedrooms, Breno was peeking around the door to his room. Quickly reassuring him I asked him to sit tight and close the door. I was thankful when he did as I asked without any argument. We headed down the hall to Mr. Goodturn’s room, where the door had been left open.

  We found most of the group inside. Kenwoode wasn’t present.

  Mr. Goodturn was in his bed, sitting up, and alert. Brock was slouched in a chair looking nauseous while Constance stood next to him, shining a small flashlight in his eyes.

  “All right everyone, I’m detective Danton of the SPD. I need to borrow
a phone. And then I’m going to speak with each of you about what’s been going on here,” Danton said, his shoulders squared, trying to look authoritative despite his ragged appearance.

  Mr. Goodturn shifted slightly under his covers, and smiled at Danton. “I’m afraid we can’t allow you to make that call detective. No matter how noble your intentions might be.”

  I looked at Danton wondering how he would respond to that, surprised at his silence.

  Then I looked at his eyes, which were bugging out. His chest was heaving and his hands trembled at his sides. I’d seen Mr. Goodturn do this particular trick a year ago, but it was unsettling to see it used on someone I knew. Danton was being held in place by my mentor’s knack.

  Constance paused in her fussing over Brock, who let his head fall back, eyes closed.

  Waving a hand in apology, Mr. Goodturn looked a little embarrassed. “I regret forcing my will upon you, detective. I detest using my knack this way unless it is for my own preservation, or the protection of others. And unfortunately I think that in this situation those rules apply.”

  Danton shook slightly, his face shining with sweat.

  Mr. Goodturn looked at Danton like a patient grandfather counseling a fussy grandchild. “I’m prepared to make you an offer detective. It’s something I’ve done a few times in the past. Benjamin trusts you. I know this because I know him and can see he holds you in high regard.” He paused. “However this offer carries some responsibility and a burden that may be difficult for you.” He sighed. “I dislike doing this while you cannot speak on your own behalf. If I release you will you be civil?”

  Although I couldn’t hear it I assumed that there was a telepathic agreement between the two of them because Danton’s head jerked suddenly and he stepped awkwardly to one side, like someone catching their balance.

  He glanced at me, then at Mr. Goodturn. Constance looked on, her lips parted in anticipation of his reaction. Brock groaned and threw an arm over his eyes.

  “I’m not agreeing to anything until I know what you’re talking about,” Danton said.

  Smiling, Mr. Goodturn nodded. “Fair enough, but full disclosure here detective: your choices are limited. I cannot let you share what you’ve observed or anything that I am prepared to tell you.”

  Danton scowled. “Get to it.”

  I was wondering exactly how this was going to unfold. What offer was he going to make and why was he even considering it? Danton getting to a phone and launching a full scale investigation would create havoc. And unleash a level of scrutiny that none of us wanted.

  “First, you need to know that I have the capability to cause you to forget everything you’ve witnessed here tonight. You would be spared the burden of reconciling what you know of the world with what you’ve seen. There are secrets that have been hidden from normal society for centuries. If you desire to keep your memory of what’s transpired here you will not be allowed to discuss it with anyone, except for those of us who have been here this evening.”

  “You’d wipe my memory?” Danton snorted, clearly doubting what he’d just been told.

  Mr. Goodturn shook his head. “No. Just the events that took place in this building. And only those you witnessed this evening.”

  “Right,” Danton said. His eyes travelled from each of our faces as though looking for confirmation. I nodded when he made eye contact with me.

  Clearing his throat Mr. Goodturn continued, “If you choose to retain your memories you’ll also be accepting a role, perhaps small, perhaps large, in a conflict that I’ve spent my life trying to prevent.”

  I could practically hear the wheels grinding in Danton’s head. “Conflict,” he said.

  Pursing his lips Mr. Goodturn nodded. “Yes. But if you aren’t comfortable with the potential difficulties I’ve described, you can just choose to forget everything and enjoy the rest of your life and be none the wiser.”

  “None the wiser,” Danton repeated. “I don’t like the way that sounds.”

  Mr. Goodturn shrugged.

  Danton rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, an athlete’s habit. “You said if I agree, that I’m going to have some kind of role in all this craziness. Small or big, you said. Which would it be?”

  Mr. Goodturn’s smile disappeared and he looked sternly at Danton. “That detective would depend entirely upon you.”

  FORTY-SIX: LOOSE ENDS

  DANTON’S IMPLIED AGREEMENT to keep our secrets opened up a dicey conversation between him and Mr. Goodturn. Constance helped Brock to his feet and they left the room to the three of us.

  As Mr. Goodturn laid out a careful description of our collective circumstances Danton’s expression changed from incredulous to skeptical to angry and then bemused. Eventually he adopted a blank stare. I figured he was on overload.

  Mr. G clued him in on knacks, and without getting into the history of Shades and Naturals, touched on the fact that there were two sides in the knack community, and that they were at odds with each other. There was no discussion of Kenwoode, or his disappearance. In his current state Danton didn’t seem to care.

  My emotional state was a mess. I was struggling with what Danton had seen and what that meant for me. Not to mention all of the whacked crap that had just gone down.

  Sawyer’s betrayal bothered me. How had I been so easily fooled? The knack that allowed me to sense someone’s inner nature, while not specific, allowed me to get a good read on their character. I’d mentally pinged Sawyer and nothing had shown up that indicated that he was a crook.

  The two winged people that had taken Sawyer away and rescued the woman were a new variable that I was having trouble getting my head wrapped around. They were obviously knacked but what was their ability to fly? It had seemed to be artificial. Their ‘wings’ had appeared to be part of their clothing. And why were they helping the woman?

  And then there was Kenwoode, and his transformation, not to mention his disappearance. It occurred to me that even if Danton hadn’t agreed to keep our secrets he would have had a hard time convincing anyone of what he’d seen. Most of the people involved had vanished.

  “So you see detective, with you as an ally in the local constabulary we would be able to prevent bloodshed and hopefully preserve a balance that has existed for a very long time,” Mr. Goodturn said. His eyes were red and glassy. The activity and stress of the evening looked like they were leaving their mark. I hoped Danton would be satisfied soon and that the conversation would reach a conclusion. Despite the fact that I was still conflicted with his interference in my life I didn’t want Mr. Goodturn to overdo it.

  “The constabulary? The way you talk. Like out of a book, or from some old movie.” Danton blew out a sigh. “If I even believe what you’re telling me, and that’s a big if, I won’t lie to the force.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to, that speaks to Benjamin’s opinion of you. You’re a good man. I’m comfortable with letting your conscience guide you in that regard,” Mr. Goodturn said.

  Danton looked at me. “All that ‘with my mind’ bull, and the hocus pocus crap you put out there. All true, huh?”

  I nodded. As a way of putting an exclamation point at the end of his statement I invoked my camouflage. Danton’s jaw went slack and Mr. G chuckled.

  “So much control! Benjamin, I’m so proud of you!” he said.

  I dropped the camo, and tried to reconcile the pride and discomfort his praise generated.

  “Uh, yeah,” Danton mumbled. “Unbelievable.”

  He shook himself, and turned to Mr. Goodturn. “The redheaded woman. Who was she? And those people on the roof. Who were they? What are they?”

  Mr. Goodturn’s tone turned serious. “The woman is a mystery to me as well. My associates thought they had captured someone else, the same person who kidnapped Benjamin and is responsible for the Zombie Deaths you and your brethren have been trying to solve. The winged creatures? They’re people like BenJAMIN and me that possess knacks. Their ability to fly was probably aided
by their knacks, likely levitation, and not true flight.”

  “True or not they were doing it. Like the damn monkeys out of The Wizard of Oz.” He frowned and brushed at his damaged coat and shirt. “So, you know who’s responsible for the Zombie Deaths?” he asked.

  What they were referring to were dozens of unexplained deaths over the last two years. People, all vagrants or criminals, had been turning up on the Seattle streets in a state of catatonia. All had been knack practitioners with a lower level of manifestation. They had been victims of Sonja’s knack vampirism. Unable to do anything more than breathe when she was done with them, they had withered away in downtown hospitals. The police and medical community had been at a loss to define exactly what had happened to them. There had been several published theories, ranging from Hanta virus to Anthrax poisoning. The media in its desire to sensationalize the phenomenon and sell papers had dubbed them the Zombie Deaths.

  “I believe so. The woman I think caused those deaths is someone I’ve known for many years. Her name is Sonja Hoch. She was the person that my friends were seeking. Not the redheaded woman,” he said.

  “Hawk,” said Danton. He gave me a steely-eyed glare. It had taken him only seconds to connect the dots to my story of an obsessive CPS worker.

  I shrugged and nodded.

  Mr. G wiped at his eyes. Sonja’s predatory nature affected him deeply. In addition to the death of innocents, his relationship with her weighed on him. I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t bother to share that with Danton.

  Danton ignored Mr. G’s reaction. “Okay. So, a few answers. None of which make me very happy.” He looked at me. “The Winters’ girl. Is she...like you? She’s got some of this magical juju?”