“Thanks, Millie,” I said with another sigh. I swept up the juniper berries, while Millie saw to the collection of fallen aloe leaves. I looked at the time. Ten pm. I saw Mille looking up to the ornate wall clock that Grandma had supposedly gotten from the bequest of Lady Frieda.
“Yep, you need to leave now. Go home, get some rest.” I urged my tired looking helper. A pang of gratitude went out to her, my humble assistant. Here she was over five hours past her schedule, helping me clear up a mess that one of my moggie’s made. Millie gave me a grateful smile and grabbed her coat and bag from the back kitchen.
She was just going out the back door when she turned around with a mischievous look in her eyes.
“So, when are you and Dav—“
Her face suddenly went blank, and her mouth hung open. But a second later, she shook her head and asked, “Uhh, what was I saying?”
Suspecting what had just happened, I said, “You were just going to say good night, honey. See you in the morning?”
“You know it,” Millie said with a winning smile that didn’t quite cover the fact that she had wanted to say something else just a moment ago.
As soon as the door closed behind her, I traced the rune of protection on the back door and said, “Thank you for that bit of kindness, Eclipse.”
“My pleasure, dear,” Eclipse said, rounding my leg for a scratch from me. Eclipse rarely liked to be touched, but on the odd occasion he'd sometimes relent and give into me for some loving.
While I gave him an affectionate ear rubbing, I asked, “So where’s Midnight? I’ve got a few choice words for him for making Millie freak over what happened at the Spires.”
Eclipse purred and said, “Oh, he’ll probably sleep all the way until his namesake rolls around. There are times when I regret that I can’t make my brother’s own memory blank out as I can you humans.”
Fraidy, in an unusual fit of courage, came out of the shadows, evidently in need of an ear rub himself.
“Of course, I could add that lament to being unable to use my Obliviscatur charm to help YOUR condition, brother,” Eclipse noted as he padded away out of sight. Irritatingly, the spell didn’t work on Eclipse’s Lemniscate brothers and sister.
“Hey, what’s wrong with being concerned?” Fraidy countered.
I shook my head. Fraidy’s idea of “concern” was so overblown that it would take years of therapy to get it down to out-of-control paranoia.
With the shop secured, I went upstairs to my apartment. Fraidy, trailing behind me, asked, “Are you sure it was a good idea not to say ‘no’ to Chief Trew? Or to let Shade do his thing?”
“Too late now either way,” I said back with a shrug. “Right now, I’d just like to get to bed so I can make some deliveries during business hours tomorrow.”
“Well, count me out of any more field trips for the foreseeable future,” Fraidy said when I opened the apartment door. “What Shade was thinking when he somehow talked me into coming to that horror show this afternoon…”
Fraidy dashed past me to go under my bed, which I joke is his natural habitat. He thinks I don't know, but he has at least three of my sweaters under there with him. He's made a low-walled bed of cashmere and merino wool. Bless his socks; I didn't have the heart to destroy his haven. As usual, the leader of the pack, Onyx, was on top of the bed, one eye arched in an expectant look.
“A rough day, then,” he said.
“Ask your brother if you want details,” I said. “Frankly, I’m not in the mood for one of our chats tonight.”
Onyx hummed in his usual thoughtful way, looked over the lip of the bed as if weighing the merits of whether he should talk to Fraidy.
“I take it Shade won’t be back this evening?” he asked.
“Tomorrow morning, he said,” I answered, pulling out a fresh candle to light the room that was dimming in the dusk. “You know why he’s out there tonight, right?”
Onyx gave another knowledgeable sounding hum. “I know what Midnight had to say to Millie. Since you’re still alive, it, therefore, follows that Nebula Dreddock is dead.”
“Yeah and David Trew wants me in on this case as a consultant,” I added, putting the candle in the holder. “If it hadn’t been for me seeing what I did with that scrying spell…”
I stopped short when I realized that Onyx was getting that insufferably smug look he always gets when I carry out one of his well-guided suggestions.
“Did you know I was going to perform that spell?” I asked him point-blank, realizing what his knowing little grin meant.
“We knew something was going to happen,” Onyx said. “And it did. What could be simpler, Seraphim?”
I gave him a sharp look at the mention of a name I no longer claimed. To his credit, Onyx realized that he had gone a step too far.
“Sorry,” he said, genuinely meaning it. “When you’re eternal, old habits really do die hard.”
I had to give him that. See, my eight cats, whom I call The Infiniti (Onyx prefers the more traditional term: “The Lemniscate,” which looks like a stretched out, horizontal number “8”) are immortal. The Lemniscate is the well-known sign for infinity, so that’s how they picked up their collective name. All of them, somewhere on their bodies, have that symbol as a birthmark. The Infiniti were my other family inheritance, along with The Angel. I’ve never really been clear on what they were: familiars, fairy creatures, magically experimented upon cats. All I knew for sure is that they served my family (though they saw it as the other way around), they lived forever and that they always knew a lot more than they told anybody; me included.
The candle suddenly sprang to life with a flame that went halfway to the ceiling before settling down to a reasonable length. A quick look around and I spied my cat, Carbon, next to my bedroom door, purring contentedly as he looked at his latest handiwork.
“Shouldn’t you be curled up in front of that fire that’s always going downstairs?” I asked, grateful that I had been far away enough from the candle flare not to get my eyebrows singed.
“You know, a simple thank you wouldn’t kill you, Hattie,” Carbon said with a pout in his voice. “I saved you the use of your last match, after all.”
“And who burned up the other matches while I was out on delivery last week?” I asked.
Carbon harrumphed at the implied accusation. “Well, I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”
He then slid his way back under my apartment door. Never mind that the door was closed. Carbon had a skill of billowing into and out of tight spaces. He behaved the same way the smoke from his beloved fires did. He could seep into any crevice, that heat-loving cat of mine.
“Hattie, we’ve been around your whole life,” Onyx said patiently as I started getting ready for bed. “Why the continuing trust issues?”
I frowned at the leader of my feline sidekicks. “I told you that I wasn’t in the mood for this chat tonight.”
“Okay,” Onyx said, jumping off the bed. “We’ll try it again tomorrow.”
“She might not want to try it then,” a depressed voice said at the foot of the bed. “I wouldn’t want to.”
I suppressed a chuckle. Leave it to Gloom, the feline version of Eeyore, to make me feel a little better.
“It’s just all that stuff with Nebula that’s making me cranky, Gloom,” I said. “I mean, she was dreadful, and all, but it wasn’t a pleasant sight.”
“It never is,” Gloom agreed. “Makes you understand why people try so hard to avoid death. And, makes me understand why I have no wish to be ‘people.' ” She added, in an even more dismal tone.
“Well, Grandma always said that death is just a natural part of life,” I said, turning down the sheets. “In the meantime, you’ve got better things to do than to think about it.”
“That’s what Onyx tells me,” Gloom said. “Can’t say I believe him.”
“Oh, I don’t know, sister,” Onyx said jumping back on the bed to settle in. “You’re a lot more optimistic than
you were last century.”
“Well,” Gloom admitted reluctantly. “This century isn’t over with yet.”
By then, I had climbed into bed and started the slow process of sinking into sleep. But somehow it just wouldn’t come.
I tossed. I turned. I tried every position I could think of that was comfortable. But I wasn’t any less ready to go under than I had been when I crawled into bed. It was looking like a night when I was going to need Grandma’s sleepy tea recipe, but I was too settled to want to get up to make it.
A loud purring sound accompanied a cat landing on my stomach, interrupting my thoughts. I peeked over the covers to see Midnight, the gossipmonger, looking at me.
“Sorry about scaring Millie,” he said by way of greeting. “But, she needed to know something as to why you hadn’t made it back to the shop.”
“Would it have killed you to give her a straight answer for once?” I asked in frustration.
“Hey, we can’t even give YOU a straight answer,” Midnight said. “What makes you think we could tell Merry Millie any more than that?”
“So, are you here because it’s now halfway to dawn or did you just want to give me another reason not to sleep?”
“Actually,” Midnight said with a little regret. “Just got the word from a couple of hogmellavins that you’re about to get a call.”
Right on cue, the vintage 1920 candlestick phone on my nightstand started ringing. Midnight had sense enough to get off my stomach so I could pick up the receiver in relative comfort.
Putting the earpiece next to my right ear, I said into the stand, “Hello?”
“Hey, Hattie, it’s David,” David’s voice said on the other end of the line. “Sorry to call you so late in the night but—“
“What time is it?” I asked, thinking about Midnight’s sudden appearance.
“About midnight,” David answered. “But, the reason I’m calling… Maude Dulgrey just finished up her autopsy on Nebula Dreddock. Maude says she’ll be there for a while still, so …”
“You want me to come along for my first official consultation,” I finished.
“Like I said, I know it’s late and you can always get the report from me later if you want. But maybe you could, I don’t know, spot something Maude might have missed.”
The corner of my lip tugged downward. Normally, the last thing I wanted to do was visit that polite ghoul of a coroner any time of the day or night. But, despite her appearances, Maude’s alright. She’s a friendly, super-smart ghoul, and since I wasn’t able to get to sleep anyway…
“Can you give me half an hour?” I asked. “I just got ready for bed.”
David assured me it was no problem and he hung up.
“Did I hear the name of Maude Dulgrey on the other end of the line?” Carbon asked, suddenly appearing at the bedroom door once more.
Getting out of bed, I looked at him and asked, “How did you—“
“A little feline super-hearing goes a long way,” Carbon said, twitching his right ear. “Since you’re going to see my second-favorite human, okay if I hitch a ride?”
“You actually want to see a dead body?” Fraidy asked from under the bed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“The very question I’ve been asking you for at least the last five decades,” Onyx said peering over the edge of the bed to his brother.
“Besides, I’m going to see Maude, not her latest corpse,” Carbon added.
“There’s a difference?” Fraidy quipped. I had to smile at that one.
While they were talking, I was already out of bed. I pulled out a t-shirt and jeans from the top drawer of the dresser and debated whether or not I had enough time for some of Grandma’s all-natural cosmetics. Something told me to try it. I grabbed the candlestick and took it over to the dresser mirror. I looked at my reflection. Not a bad looking twenty-seven year old. My auburn hair was thick, wavy and just past shoulder length. My lips were pretty full, and luckily my teeth were straight and almost impressively white. I had an honest smile. “Sincere,” Grandma used to say. It reached my eyes when I cracked it, and I liked that. I think other people did too. I didn’t wear that much makeup usually. A) I was too lazy, and, B) I think I looked better without it. My green eyes were almond shaped, and my lashes were a somewhat flattering frame for them. Still, I noticed I looked a little wan, so I didn’t think some rouge would hurt.
I swished the brush around my cheeks as I told Carbon: “Promise to not light an inferno in the boiler room, and you can come along. I’m not sure why Maude lets you in there if I’m to be honest. I mean she’s supposed to keep those cadaver’s chilled, you know?”
“It’s very chilly in the morgue,” Carbon protested. “Maude’s hands are always cold, so she welcomes the temporary surge in temperature. It helps her get her work done more efficiently,” he added haughtily.
I shook my head. Maybe he’d surprise me and actually spot some useful clue while he was there. But, with fires to stoke and maintain, I highly doubted it.
Carbon trotted ahead of me on a kitty leash while David and I walked to the morgue. Cars aren’t unheard of on Glessie but thanks to strict importation limits, most people get around on foot or bicycle. Since Maude’s establishment was only a couple of blocks from the Angel, David and I opted for a late night stroll. He was carrying some sort of valise in his left hand.
David still gave Carbon an uneasy look. “Are you sure we can trust this cat of yours to be discreet?”
“Really, Chief Trew,” Carbon said, looking up at David without breaking stride. “As you should know by now, my siblings and I are perfectly capable of speaking for ourselves.”
“I think he just wants a second opinion that backs up yours on how bringing you along is a good idea, Carbon,” I said, turning the corner and giving my cat a slight tug in the right direction.
“And, are you offering that opinion, dear lady?” Carbon asked, turning his attention back to his walk.
“As long as it’s just a social visit with Maude, then yes, I am,” I said.
David nodded but looked unconvinced. Like me, he came from a magical background that he could trace back to at least the Warlock Wars. Also, like me, he fooled around with magic as little as possible, a perk that being the chief of GIPPD allowed him to indulge in. David had his own reasons for wanting to steer clear of spell casting. All in due time, of course ...
In contrast to the rustic, wooden buildings around it, the local morgue was a solid stone slab. It lacked windows of any kind, and its front doorway looked like it had been carved as an afterthought. Depending on my mood, I thought it looked the rock deposit that Stonehenge had been quarried or a place where books were incinerated. Regardless, the heavy death vibe that went with the equally heavy material it was made from kept away the curious and larcenous. Even the Unawakened tended to give it a wide berth without really knowing why.
David gave a couple of knocks to the only part of the outside structure that wasn’t stone, the wooden front door. The door opened, and the torchlight beyond reflected a bright, bone-white smile. Stepping in the light of the gibbous, Maude Dulgrey looked genuinely happy to see us. But that happiness did nothing to take your attention from the grayish pallor of her skin, her opaque, yet inquisitive eyes, and her short crop of hair that looked only slightly less gray than her complexion. She looked no appropriate age other than older. Or, somewhere between her late forties and dead. Her mouth could never fully close over the rack of clambering teeth crammed between her two liverish lips. She offered one of her most toothsome smiles as she greeted us.
“Why, Hattie, dear,” she trilled in her contralto voice that seemed to resonate with the mysteries of death. “What a surprise.”
“Good evening, Maude,”
“Oh, how many times must I tell you?” Maude fussed pleasantly. “It’s Maude, dear."
Huh?
Yep, Maude was pretty batty.
“Hattie’s acting as a consultant on the Dreddock case,” David
explained. “No offense to your skills—“
“And none was taken, Chief Trew,” Maude said, waving the imagined affront away.
“But, Hattie, being the last herbalist Ms. Dreddock worked with, might spot something that you might have missed.”
Maude gave a high-pitched giggle. “The lengths a man will go to to get a date, eh, Hattie?”
I was still processing that piece of conversation when Maude waved us in. As she shut the door, Carbon said, “And when are you going to get around to noticing me, Maude?”
“Oh, I was most certainly getting to it, Carbon, my dear friend,” Maude said, leading us down the torch lit corridor that looked like it belonged in some ancient dungeon. “One of the side effects of working with the newly dead is that you always take your time with things. I was just distracted by the novelty of seeing your mistress in tow.”
“My PET, Maude,” Carbon asserted. “That’s something I’ve had to tell you more than a few times.”
“And, how many kitty treats will it take to make you forgive me this newest lapse?” Maude asked as we came up to the door at the end of the corridor.
“Six?” Carbon proposed hopefully, while Maude opened the door.
“Quite doable,” Maude said, pale light streaming in through the other side of the door. “I’ll get them once we’re inside.”
In contrast to the Spanish Inquisition setup at the front, the room we were in was incredibly modern. Fluorescent lights hung from overhead. Steel cabinets in the walls had room for what looked a hundred corpses to be stored. The bulk of Maude’s work seemed to be centered on a stainless steel table in the middle of the room; complete with overhead lights and a surgical tray. A sheet covered the current body on that metal slab; presumably Nebula, given recent events. It occurred to me that this was the second time I’d been in proximity to her corpse in one day. I hoped that this would be the last time.
Maude, being used to all this, showed none of my discomforts and went over to what looked like a surgical cabinet. From the third drawer down, she pulled out the promised treats and tossed them to Carbon one by one. Each of them vanished in an eye-blink down his throat.
The Infiniti Investigates: Hattie Jenkins & the Infiniti Chronicles Books 1 to 5 Page 3