by David Jobe
They all laughed, except for William. “Man. With the way things are today, you have to be careful about where you jump into. The police are all jumpy as it is. A dude showing up like you did might have them reacting before they can reason it out.”
“And you black.” Dance added. “That’s one against you already.”
William nodded, as if that was part of what he was trying to say, but didn’t feel comfortable.
Julian nodded. “A friend of mine said something along those lines too. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Anytime.” Dance and William said in unison.
Julian smiled and began to move toward the direction of the Chalice House. He hoped that his family was okay. It had killed him to be away for so long. He had tried to get someone to reach out to them to let them know he was okay, but no one could seem to locate them. He was glad his worse fear was way off base and that it sounded like his family might still be alive.
Though as he walked, he was overcome with the fear that he was being watched by the man he was sure would like to kill him and his family. He feared that if he looked up at one of the passing cars, he would see the hateful face staring back at him. Or worse, he would see the muzzle of a gun right before it flashed his final goodbye. Even though it hurt, Julian resolved to walk faster. He was sure his family was as eager to see him as he was them.
The Chalice house looked to Julian to be more of a complex than a house. The home for battered women and their families dominated three separate apartment buildings nestled behind high fences and razor wire that ran along the top. The front gate stood at least ten feet high and made of black wrought iron. The rest of the wall had been a combination of red brick and mortar. Next to the gate stood a guard house that sported two large thick windows. One window looked out at the street, and the other looking at the gate itself. Inside, a large woman with skin much darker than Julian's gave him a customary smile that did not feel genuine.
She leaned over to click on an intercom button. A speaker mounted on a wall next to the window buzzed then asked, "Can I help you, Honey?"
Julian looked at the woman, then at the intercom. He could see that the intercom had taken some damage. The woman, the gatekeeper, held herself as a woman that had more often than not dispensed bad news to people not known for taking no very well. He leaned in and pressed the red button, the directions having long since been lost to abuse and years. "I am here to see my mom."
She gave him a sympathetic smile while shaking her head. "I am sorry, dear. Visiting time is long since over. Plus, you need set up an appointment to visit someone in here. Unexpected guests can be very unsettling."
He smiled and nodded. "That I understand. But-"
"Not buts, child. Those are the rules. No amount of explaining is going to change the rules or get me to break them." Her smile remained, but there was iron in her eyes. Iron he had seen in his mother’s eyes once upon a time. Julian suspected that she had this hard job because she had to be able to say no, stay polite and not lose her cool.
"I understand. Can I leave her a message? She's worried about me."
The woman shook her head, long hair dancing around her oval face. "You look like a nice kid, so I am going to be straight with you. The people in there, they got someone out here that is looking to do them bad. We seen all manner of trickery that those people use to poke and prod at the people in the safety here. Even something as simple as telling them, 'Jimmy dropped by to say hi' is enough to send some of these poor ladies into panic attacks."
Julian swallowed hard. He couldn't argue with her logic. He had seen firsthand his mom flinch at certain things his stepfather had said or a sudden movement. It hurt that his mom had to be here, but he couldn't argue that she needed to be here. He rubbed his temples, trying to think of a way around this problem. He could very well just jump in with his powers, but he suspected that would set off a chain of events that would only make matters worse. The women in there felt safe, and him bypassing the security so easily would destroy that sense of safety. Plus, the place was huge. The Gatekeeper would have the police on him before he had any chance of finding his mom in that brick haystack.
"You best to calm yourself, young man. I have a panic button right here. I suggest you be on your way before I bring the police around."
Julian blinked, but then saw his hands. It could easily have been misconstrued as him trying to stifle anger and not confusion. He nodded. "Not mad, Ma’am. Just trying to think of a way to let my mom know I am safe, and not break any of your rules. Tell me, do the women in here have people that work here that are assigned to them? Handlers or something?"
The woman seemed to ponder if she should answer him. "They do. Service workers that work their case and assist with helping them get back on their feet."
"Those sound like angels to me." He smiled. "Are they clued in on what or who is causing their people trouble?"
"Intimately," her tone and gaze implied that they would know bull from a mile off.
That was fine with Julian. "Can you tell my mother's angel that I was here. To tell her," he raised his hand to forestall argument," should she deem it, that I came by, and that I am okay. I will be down at the old Landers motel tonight and tomorrow. I have enough money for that. If they want to call and ring my room, I will be there. Does that sound fair?"
The woman was writing, so he hoped it meant she was on board with that. She looked up and nodded. "Sure. But if you come here again without getting clearance from her, I won't even ask. I will call the police. Am I understood?"
He smiled. "I understand completely. Thank you. I just know my mom is worried sick about me. Let her know that I am healing fine." He lifted his shirt to show the bandages across his stomach," And that I will keep a look out for my stepdad. I won't let him close enough to stick me again."
Tears shown in the woman's eyes. "You be careful out there, okay? Now, what's your mother's name?"
He gave it, feeling himself choke up as he did. Then he excused himself before he started crying in front of a stranger.
Chapter Nine
Los Biembeins
As Lanton left Mac’s room, Nurse Mille stood nearby, conferring with the nurse that had called him a narc. When Nurse Millie saw him walk out, she hurried over to him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.
“Have a seat, Detective.” She motioned to a nearby chair that sat in a small alcove. He imagined families sitting here, biting their fingers as they worried about a loved one in a nearby room.
Lanton shook his head. “I told you that you can call me, Lanton. I insist.”
Nurse Millie moved to stand in front of him, her steps a dancer’s grace. “Sit down, Lanton.”
Her eyes held a sadness that stole the remaining energy from him. He did as he had been told, flopping down into the seat like a puppet cut of his strings. “Chris had said something about puppets.” The memory flashed through his mind after he had scooped his friend up off the hospital floor. He told himself that he would have to swing by and see Chris. Ask about the puppets.
“Are you with me, Lanton?” Nurse Millie knelt before him, her eyes filled with worry as her gaze shifted from his left eye to his right.
“Yeah. Just something about the case.” He shook his head. “What is the bad news?”
Nurse Millie blinked. “How do you know it is bad news?”
Lanton sighed. “Is there any other kind? Just tell me. Rip the Band-Aid off.”
She nodded and appeared to steel herself from what she intended to say. “Brian is dead.”
Lanton let out a rush of air as if he had been punched. He felt like he had been punched.
“I am sorry, Lanton. The doctors did all they could, but the damage was just too extensive.”
Lanton nodded, feeling tears slip from his eyes. “I. I.” he paused, patting his jacket. “I should go tell the family.”
Nurse Millie shook her head. “The Captain, and I believe the Mayor are going to do it. Already on their
way, as a matter of fact. I think you need to take a bit of a break.” She placed her hands on his wrists. “How about when my shift is over I take you to my place for a nice home cooked meal? Nothing fancy, but someplace away from the madness will do you good.”
He smiled and nodded. “That sounds nice. I-“ His cell phone started to ring. “Creep” by Radiohead.
Nurse Millie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you answer that.” Her tone said serious, but he could see mirth in her eyes, narrow as they might be.
He pulled out his cell phone and took a look at the readout, though the song gave it away. Carrie Anne, the medical examiner. He turned the phone to display the readout. He had put a skull as her icon, so it blinked a skull and read “Carrie Anne”.
Nurse Mille raised a brow. “Ex?”
He chuckled. “None of those still alive.” Paused and realized how that sounded. “I mean because I am old, not that I killed them.”
Nurse Millie chuckled and rose, leaning forward enough to give Lanton the briefest glance of cleavage under the uniform she was wearing. “I knew there was something sinister about you, Mr. Lanton.” She gave him a wink. “Finish that up, and be ready to leave in about an hour.” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner at the phone.
Lanton nodded and answered the phone. “Detective Lanton.”
“Detective, It’s Miss La Morte.” Her voice sounded frazzled, though, with Carrie Anne, he could never be sure. Women on a whole were strange creatures, but Carrie Anne rose as their queen of strange. Besides surrounding herself with death, she had this habit of making off-color and sometimes unsettling jokes and puns.
“I know.” Lanton said, wiping the tears from his cheek. “What can I help you with?”
“Are you still in the hospital?” Yes, frazzled.
“I am. What’s up?”
“Not on the phone. Can you come down to the morgue?”
“Very cloak and dagger, Carrie. Does this hospital even have a morgue?”
La Morte chuckled. “Fine, can you come to the basement freezer where they whimsically like to display their dead people?”
Thinking of Brian, “I’d prefer not to.”
“I am afraid I must insist.”
“Fine.” He stood up, looking for the nearest elevator. He waved a hand at Nurse Mille hoping she would understand that he meant he would be right back.
“Chop chop.” She gave that weird giggle of hers. Lanton guessed she meant it as a medical examiner pun. “Before I vanish too.” Then the phone went dead.
Lanton pushed open the swinging gray door to the morgue. Cold air rushed against his face, bringing with it the faint odor of death and the strong odor of cleanser. The room itself was spacious. This hospital serving a large portion of Indianapolis, it would have to be. Six steel tables lined the center of the room, a bank of square vaults making up the back wall. Lanton peered around the room, finding the medical examiner, Carrie Anne La Morte standing at the far end of the room, close to what appeared to be a door to another room, possibly an office of some sort, though Lanton couldn’t imagine anyone who would be insane enough to have an office beyond a morgue. Then he remembered who he had come to see.
Maybe he knew one person.
Carrie Anne had the features that could have landed her on any pageant around. Hailing from the Dominican, she had bronzed skin and long curly black hair. She had a slender frame that bordered on too thin, at least by Lanton’s taste. Most noticeably, she held herself with a sense of authority that he had not seen in anyone else. She wore the white smock of her profession, but he could see that her pants had the look of finely tailored origins. Carrie Anne always dressed well, though most believed that her money came from her husband, who owned a business of some kind. She stood over one of those large sinks that he remembered from working as a dishwasher so many years back, though he doubted this sink ever held remnants of the Monday Meatloaf special. Carrie Anne held her right arm with her left, flexing the fingers on her right hand in steady repetition. Lanton couldn’t be sure from his spot by the door, but her right arm appeared pale from the top of the forearm down, as if she had just withdrawn her hand from some icy water.
“Everything okay, Carrie Anne?” He moved across the room, running a finger along the cold steel of a table as he passed.
Carrie Anne looked up, perhaps noticing him for the first time. She flashed a smile that would melt other men’s hearts. “Stiff muscles.” She said, adding that weird giggle of hers. Lanton suspected that other men might find it appealing, perhaps some of her Dominican accent bleeding through, no matter how well she spoke English, there remained no doubt it was not her native tongue.
Her puns were the worst. Lanton managed to keep from moaning and nodded. “You wanted to see me for something?”
She nodded, sweeping her right arm across to indicate the room. Lanton guessed it had been a trick of the light, as her arm now appeared to be the same smooth tan as the rest of her. “We have a case of the body snatchers.”
Lanton shook his head. “I am going to need you to be more clear. I know that’s a movie reference, but I have never seen the movie.”
Carrie Anne sauntered over to the table that he had just run his finger along. “Miss Fire was on this table not thirty minutes ago.” As she stepped into the brighter light of the examining table, Lanton could see that she had another image over her too, though it acted in a different manner than the one he had seen over the reporter. This one was appeared to be a single ribbon that wrapped over her body in spiraling fashion, like a colorful snake floating half an inch above touching her. It changed colors depending upon what area of the body it covered, and the motion it gave made it feel as if it was slithering over her, keeping the same color over the different body parts. Though Lanton couldn’t place it, it didn’t feel as malicious at the reporters or Swandon’s. This felt more like a coiled snake relaxing, but deadly if disturbed.
Lanton realized that she had been speaking but he hadn’t been listening. “I am sorry, what?”
Carrie Anne sighed. “Miss Fire’s body was here thirty minutes ago. I was beginning to work up the documents for her injuries. I went into the office to get more papers.” She paused. “She had a lot of holes,” she explained. “When I came back, she was gone.”
“Are you saying someone stole the body?”
Carrie Anne crossed her arms over her chest, a sort of pout coming to her red lips. “Well, I doubt very much that she walked out on her own.”
“Are you sure?” The world had gone crazy, as evidenced by the fact that he felt he had to ask.
She chuckled, this one different than the off-putting giggle. “In my homeland, they do make zombies, but they don’t move so fast. I was gone five seconds. No way someone came in, did the ritual and then they walked out.”
Lanton nodded as if that whole explanation made rational sense.” So, whoever stole the body was fast?”
She nodded. “Fast and silent. I didn’t even hear the door open or close.”
Lanton frowned. “You didn’t hear me enter.”
“I did. I just didn’t acknowledge you. There is a difference.” She glared at him with her piercing green eyes.
“Anything else missing?”
She rubbed her right forearm, staring at him for a moment. The serpentine shadow that circled her glowed a soft red around her forearms and hands, like smoke drifting over a campfire. “No.”
Lanton nodded. “Take a second look around to be sure, and let me know. One question though.”
“Only one?” The right side of her lips turned upwards.
“Why didn’t you want to tell me on the phone?”
She stared at him long and hard. Then, “A feeling I get. Like there are things listening that mean us ill will.”
“Things?” Lanton leaned against the counter, but as the cold seeped into his clothes he straightened up.
“My mother called them Los Biembeins. Stories that parents tell wild children to keep them inside a
t night. She said they were once human, but something twisted them. Made them evil. Evil and mean. “ She shivered. “In my homeland, they hide during the day and come out at night to do their wickedness. I think that this city maybe brought them here. Or maybe they were here and this city twisted them even more.”
“I don’t believe in monsters. Well, only the human kind,” Lanton said.
“A month ago, I didn’t believe that people could fly on their own, or create fireballs. Or that boys could be turned into demons. I think it is kind of shortsighted to be dismissing anything as impossible at this point.” Her tone bordered on condescending.
Memories of the boy he had found hung floated back into his mind. That had been his first run in with an Altered. That was when Holly Hunt had been the medical examiner. Before her violent death. Lanton shook his head to cast aside the horrible images. “You make a good point. I will keep an eye out for these Los. Los what?”
A deep frown. “Biembeins.”
Lanton nodded. “Them. And slow zombies.”
Carrie Anne slid across the space between them with speed and grace. Looking up at him with her dazzling green eyes, she said, “Mock me at your peril, Detective. Death has made Indianapolis its home, and it is powerful hungry. Whatever is causing all of this has distorted the air, upsetting the balance. Whatever it is, I believe it calls out to the wicked and when it doesn’t find wicked, it creates them.”
Lanton stepped back, feeling the cold of the counter press against him. Carrie Anne may be petite by normal standards, but she always carried an impressive power to her. “I’ll be careful.”
She stepped back and nodded. “Good. Because I like you detective. I’d hate to have to cut you open.”
Lanton blinked, finding her choice of wording off-putting, though he understood she meant at an autopsy. “Let me know if you find anything else missing.”
She nodded, “I’ll swing by the main office and have a look there.”
Lanton muttered something, though even he wasn’t sure what it was. He hoped it passed for a polite goodbye and moved for the door. As soon as the door swung behind him, he let out a long breath. A breath he had not known he had been holding.