The Light Who Shines

by Lilo Abernathy

  She winces again, stops tapping her pencil, and starts squeezing her fingers while simultaneously watching our expressions.

  “Blue, do you want to reschedule this meeting until tomorrow?”

  Blue looks surprised but lifts up her chin and says, “Absolutely not. Let’s get through it.”

  I scowl at that and turn to Gambino. “What issue will you run into if we question the councilman?”

  Gambino settles back in his chair and answers carefully. “Tobias is in control of the entire city budget. He could cause problems. He is also closely connected to the mayor, so we could get pressure to stop the investigation.”

  I can’t stand politics. All the simpering and sly maneuvering is pathetic. I stand and start to pace as my distaste gets the better of me. Unfortunately, Blue’s office is too small, and only a few paces take me to the opposite end. After I’ve thought about it a bit, I turn to Blue and Gambino. “Then we will just have to question the other three first. Then hit Tobias.”

  Gambino, in a much calmer state than I, studies the situation for a minute. “If we question the three, word will get back to Tobias quickly. We won’t have much time to move.”

  I frown and look out the window while running through the possibilities in my mind. Finally I pound on the window frame in frustration. I hear a soft sound escape Blue’s mouth. Immediately contrite for making the noise, I turn to her. She must have a headache. I wish I could sense her like she can sense people. Then I wouldn’t have to wonder. That thought rolls into another.

  “Blue, do you think you could question the three covertly to try to pinpoint their whereabouts after the interview? You would need to try to confirm through a second party, if possible.”

  Blue looks excited, like she thinks this could work, despite her continued finger fidgeting and brow furrowing. She says, “I could also use my sixth sense to validate what they tell me. I’ll need to be creative, but, yes, I’m sure it can be done.” She turns to Gambino and says, “I’d like you to participate so that you can give me your take as well and so you stay in the loop.”

  Gambino looks happy to have a plan. “Sure. I think this is a good way to start.”

  “Great,” Blue says. “I have some more research to do on the amulet. Can you meet me here at, say, one o’clock tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing,” Gambino says.

  “Good. Dress casually.” Then she looks at both of us, and with her finger poking into her temple again, she says, “Thanks for playing, boys. Now, I have a stabbing headache, so I’d love to call this meeting to a close.”

  Chapter 43

  Soliciting Assistance

  Bluebell Kildare: May 31, 2022, Red Ages

  My declaration of pain quickly rushes Jack and Gambino out of my office. Thank goodness for small miracles. As soon as they leave, I reach into my purse and with trembling hands, shake two more painkillers out of the bottle, and swig them down with some more water.

  After a few slow breathing exercises, I dial Robert LaRoche. A butler or assistant or whoever rich people from old money have answering their phone answers and gets Mr. LaRoche on the line.

  A robust, pleasant voice says, “Good afternoon. Mr. LaRoche speaking.”

  I, trying to sound casual, say, “Hello, Mr. LaRoche. This is Bluebell Kildare calling. We met at the Glenwood Charity Gala last Friday evening. Is this a good time for you?”

  Mr. LaRoche says, “Certainly! How are you, Ms. Kildare?”

  I wince at his enthusiastic voice. The noise goes straight through my head. Then I lie, “I’m great, Mr. LaRoche. It’s such a beautiful day today!” The truth is I can’t even remember the temperature this morning. I glance outside to make sure it isn’t storming or gray or anything else that will give me away as a liar.

  “I was wondering if you’d mind if I stopped by to tell you about the special piece I mentioned.”

  “I would be delighted to discuss it with you. When did you have in mind?”

  “Would tomorrow morning be terribly inconvenient for you?”

  Mr. LaRoche says, “I have some time at nine a.m. if that works for you.”

  I poke my finger into my temple, trying to create a point of pain outside my head to distract me from the greater pain inside my head, and I gush, “That would be perfect! Thank you so much, Mr. LaRoche. I really appreciate it.”

  Mr. LaRoche says, “It’s my pleasure! I’ll see you then.”

  Something about acting like a brainless twit has me feeling like a brainless twit because I actually feel myself blushing despite my headache. “Awesome! Thanks, Mr. LaRoche.” I hang up the phone and then practically vomit in my mouth. Awesome? Did I really just say awesome to an attractive, scholarly man? It must be the headache. I would vomit, but it would hurt too much.

  I flip open my chimerator and chime Alexis’ line next. She comes into view with a bright, happy “Herbal Enchantments!”

  “Alexis,” I beg, “can you please try to talk softly? I have a terrible headache and I called to ask you if you can hand deliver some products to me this evening.”

  Alexis whispers, “Sure. What do you need, and what in the unholy fire happened to your face?”

  I whisper back, “I need something for a splitting headache from a knot on my head. I need something to reduce bruising and swelling on my face. I also need something to help with sore muscles in my body. I’m willing to pay whatever price you require. But I also want to know if I can borrow something to wear for a meeting tomorrow with a high society gentleman.”

  Alexis is silent for a moment, then says, “Well, that depends. Did this high society gentleman have anything to do with the knot on your head, the bruising and swelling on your face, or the sore muscles all over your body?”

  “No,” I whisper.

  Alexis whispers back, “Then I guess I do. But it will cost you full details about the bastard who’s responsible. I’ll come over as soon as I’m off work.”

  I gush, “Thank you Alexis.” And this time I really mean it.

  Chapter 44

  Covert Sentinel Revealed

  Bluebell Kildare: May 31, 2022, Red Ages

  Ding donnnngggg.

  Shoot, I guess I have to move now. “Coming,” I shout toward the door.

  Striking pain assails my head behind my eyes at the sound of my own voice. With great effort, I lever my body from its prone position on the sofa into a sitting position. The dull throbbing in the back of my skull decides to join the melee of unwanted sensations by becoming not so dull. I grimace and push myself up into standing position, sort of a hunched standing position.

  Diiinnngg doonnnnnngggg.

  I yell “Hold on!” and wince at the pain generated from my own voice. I start to move stiffly in the direction of the door, and as I do, I slowly straighten my spine out. For crying out loud, this sucks!

  Finally I reach my goal. Varg is already at the door wagging his tail. When I open the door, I see Alexis standing there with a look of ghastly interest on her face and two bags on her shoulder, one green and one white. She’s wearing a cream pantsuit and a light gray shell. Her perfectly clear chocolate skin shines, and her large, dark eyes are as round as donut holes.

  I whisper, “Come in.”

  She whispers back, “Oh, you sure did get worked over good!” She sounds like she’s savoring my injuries the way most people enjoy a fine wine.

  I wave her into the kitchen and whisper, “Yes, yes, I know. I’m a Healer’s delight. You probably have erotic dreams about wounded people showing up at your door.”

  Alexis chuckles and greets Varg with a good back rub, then puts the green bag on the table and starts pulling things out of it. She gives me a small blue bottle and says, “Drink all of this right now. It will help your headache immediately, and it will reduce inflammation to help your head and your puffy eyes and your swollen lip.”

  “Way to make me feel beautiful.” Then I greedily grab it and toss it down. Ugh, it makes me want to vomit. I sputter and grimac
e. “Is that made of dead rats?”

  Alexis says solemnly, “Yes. Dead rats and snake tails.”

  I look at her suspiciously. “You are kidding, right?”

  Alexis puts her arms on her hips. “Of course. Don’t be ridiculous. Snake tails are way too expensive.”

  Hey, now she’s speaking at a normal volume and I’m not cringing. Well, this is a positive development. “What about the rats? I hope they’re too expensive too.”

  She ignores me and gives me a tiny red bottle. “Heat up some tea and pour half of this in. It’ll taste strong but pleasant, like spiced tea. Drink one cup now and one before bed. This will help with the bruising.”

  She pulls out a jar and continues. “This is a salve for your muscles. It smells like eucalyptus. Use it morning and night over all the stiff areas.” Alexis pauses and says, “Well, that’s it! Let’s get the kettle boiling.” And she heads to the kitchen to do just that.

  I attempt to follow her, but she says, “No, no, go put the salve on, and I’ll have the tea ready when you’re done.”

  I nod obediently and shamble off to the bathroom with my salve. When I finally emerge, I smell like a minty eucalyptus tree, but I can feel the salve going deep into my muscles with a cold heat and loosening them up. Alexis is sitting quietly on the sofa, sipping her tea with a cup and saucer for me on the table beside her. This is the part that I dread: the talking about what happened part.

  I sit down beside her and say, “I feel much better already. My head is clear and my muscles feel so much looser.”

  I warm my hands with the tea and smell it. A fragrant aroma of cinnamon and cloves with a hint of pepper fills my nose and makes my mouth water. I take a small sip and the taste is similar, except with a stronger sense of hot. Not black pepper—maybe cayenne? It is peppery and spicy and delicious.

  Alexis leans back on the sofa and lifts her eyebrows. “Now for my payment.”

  I put my tea down and sigh. “Okay, but don’t go getting all emotional on me because then you’ll make me all emotional.”

  Alexis agrees, but I know better.

  So I pick up my tea again and stare into its depths of swirling spices and start to spill the story. I tell her about Schmidt’s name calling, his abuse, and his attempted rape, all while looking down at my tea. I can feel her empathy and sadness and anger floating over me. Then I tell her how Varg rescued me. Not until then do I look up. Her eyes are big and watery, and her full lips are turned down in a frown. Shoot! I knew it. She’s using the trick I use on my perpetrators when I question them.

  Her empathy twists up my gut, and all the emotion I had bottled in, all the scared little girl, all the helpless anger, come rushing up. I can handle anything but that empathy. And I start crying. Not just crying but bawling, sobbing, great heaving shoulders, soul-ripping, snotty, ugly, face-twisted crying. Alexis pulls me into her arms and squeezes me, and I hug her back.

  When my sobs finally quiet down, she asks, “So what’s going to happen to Asswipe Schmidt?”

  I say, “Jack found out and paid Schmidt a visit afterwards. Schmidt won’t bother me again if he values his life. Jack said he wouldn’t be going back to the police force either.” As I say this, I pull myself together and lean out of the hug and hold on to my life preserver teacup.

  Alexis says, “That’s good. So that’s why Jack is camping out on our roof.”

  I choke on my tea and sputter, “Camping on our roof?”

  Alexis looks at me queerly. “Yes, I saw him up there when I came home. Didn’t you know?”

  I’m flabbergasted, floored, stunned, then suddenly a slow, burning irate. “I certainly did not! He’s got some nerve!”

  Alexis gives me another one of her keen looks and says, “Actually, I think it’s sort of romantic.”

  I protest, “Romance has nothing to do with it. Jack has absolutely no interest in me whatsoever. He as much as said so.” My voice sounds somehow deflated as I finish that sentence.

  Alexis says, “Humph! I don’t care what comes out of his mouth. I’ve seen his eyes when you’re nearby. I feel like I’m a peeping tom just being in the room with you two.”

  I think about it a minute, and my anger, even if it is mixed with a little pleasure, is still stirring. “Still, he has no right to stalk me like this.”

  Alexis asks, “Is he stalking? Or protecting?”

  I wave her words away. The difference seems negligible to me at this point. “Regardless, I’m going to have a few words with him about it, for sure.”

  Alexis says, “Well, that is between you two.” Then she changes the subject. “Have you seen the news about the Dilectus Deo? They’re staging protests all across the country against Vampires and the Gifted. And yesterday a college couple was found dead in the girl’s dorm at the university. They were both Gifted.”

  “No!” I say. “I ran into a few protests here recently, but I had no idea it was a national issue. I have to catch up on what is happening more. My incident with Schmidt sidelined me quite a bit for the last two days.”

  Alexis nods understandingly, and we chat a bit more. Alexis updates me on the happenings at her shop. Then she asks, “So what’s the deal with your meeting tomorrow?”

  “I have to interview a man about a piece of evidence we found in our case. He’s a wealthy man, comes from old money. I’m trying not to be obvious about the fact that I’m asking him questions regarding a case, though I’m not lying to him about it.”

  Alexis pulls her white bag up on the sofa and says, “I think what I brought will be perfect, then.”

  She pulls out a beautiful, white silk tunic with a mandarin collar surrounded by little blue and gold flowers made of embroidery and beading. The wide cuffs of the sleeves have a matching ring of embroidery around them. Then she pulls out a matching set of loose, flowy pants.

  I hold up the tunic and admire the handiwork, and then I finger the silky smoothness of the rich, white fabric. “It’s exquisite.”

  Alexis says, “It can’t be machine washed. Just bring it to me dirty. I have a special charm that will clean it safely.”

  I nod absently, still tracing my fingers over the delicate little flower pattern.

  “Well,” Alexis says, “I should let you rest, and I have some more cooking to do tonight.”

  I follow Alexis to the door and hug her again. “Thank you for everything,” I say. “You are truly a good friend.”

  Alexis smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. I shake my head. That woman, she never stops working. I wonder if my parents were like that. I sure wish I’d known them.

  Chapter 45

  A Confusing Illumination

  Bluebell Kildare: May 31, 2022, Red Ages

  I close the door on Alexis and sit down to finish my tea while I ponder Jack. We did have that beautiful moment. And he is very protective of me. But I definitely know I felt disgust. On the other hand, he is standing guard on my roof. For crying out loud!

  I get up and do the only thing that will help me resolve this mess: I go talk to Jack. As I leave, I hold the door open for Varg, but he is sitting pleasantly on the rug, apparently not feeling like he should intervene. “Traitor!” I say, then walk down the hall to the stairwell leading to the roof.

  Before I open the door, I take a few deep breaths. I’m going to be calm. I’m going in with Zen emotions.

  I open the stairwell door and walk up the staircase. It’s dark except for the light shining through the cracks around the door to the roof. I arrive at the top landing and open the door. The roof opens up to the evening sky with stars shining around Jack, who is leaning casually against the half wall, watching me. He’s wearing his office attire, which always fits him perfectly and somehow looks comfortable at the same time. His broad shoulders make a striking outline against the deepening blue-black of the night sky. A small light over the door illuminates his face. He’s giving me his half grin that slightly crinkles his beautiful green eyes.

  I tilt my head as I lo
ok at him and sashay over to him casually. I place my elbow on the wall a few feet away from him and look up at him. I say, “Fancy meeting you here. Do you come here often?”

  Jack casually replies, “I’d be lying if I said it’s my first time. The views are exceptional.”

  Clever man. I take this in stride and ask, “Have there been a rash of homicides on my roof that you’ve failed to inform me about?”

  Jack stands straight now and says, “I consider my presence here to be more proactive than reactive.”

  I tilt my head up to look him in the eyes. “Are you concerned about Schmidt or the mysterious portal jumper?”

  Jack shifts on his feet and says, “Actually, both parties deserve concern.”

  I lean over the wall and look down at the sidewalk. “Can this proactive protection detail be done in my apartment rather than on the roof?”

  Gently, Jack says, “I think it would be best if I stayed out of your private space.”

  Ohh, the rejection rips another hole in my heart and Zen evacuates my mind. We are back to this again. I push away from the wall and snap, “Fine. If my aura disgusts you so much, then stay on the roof all night. Enjoy the cold.” And I rush toward the door.

  But before I can take two steps, I see a blur, and then Jack appears between me and the door. He leans over me, his eyes shining like brilliant green lights. Jack asks, “What in the world makes you think your aura disgusts me?”

  I shoot daggers at him and say, “You forget what I am. I can feel strong emotions. I know you were disgusted yesterday. I could feel it when you told me what happened to my aura.”

  Jack reaches a hand out and tenderly traces my jawline. My whole body shivers from his touch.

  Jack’s deep voice washes through me as he says, “Blue, your aura doesn’t disgust me. Your aura is an extension of your soul, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld—except for perhaps you, but then, it is a part of you. From the first day I met you I’ve found it beautiful. It shines a shimmery bluish white light that feels clean and holy. Sometimes—no, all the time—I believe it’s the only thing in this world that is still truly clean and holy. It draws me to you like a buttercup tracking the sun. I can’t seem to turn away.”