by Greg Ballan
"You've known that since your change. Why should today be any different?"
"I know Alissa, still, the training is therapeutic and does help me work through my…" Erik made quotation marks with his fingers "…issues." Erik tossed the towel in a laundry bin and sat on a chair. Alissa picked up some errant bag filling, brushed the sand contrail with her foot and sat next to him.
"I'm sorry about Mr. Denton's son, that's just terrible."
"It is," Erik nodded staring off into the dark studio. "Martin never talked much about his family. I know he lost his wife some years ago but I confess we never really talked about our personal lives all that much. I'm ashamed to admit that for all the years I've known him I really don't know the man all that well." Erik sighed. "Another of my personal failings, I guess."
"You're in a melancholy mood this evening, what else is going on?"
Erik turned toward her. "This." He gestured all around the empty gym. "This is all a ruse. The firm bought this gym from Neal Dawkens. Not only that, they cosigned the business loan I took out from the bank to finance the renovations and the new equipment. We're not helping out a friend. The feds are babysitting us. I wonder how many of our members are employed by the firm?"
Alissa giggled.
Erik stared at his friend, his eyebrow raised.
"That's terrific news, Erik!"
"Enlighten me, please."
"You've been stressing over that loan and making the payments and you've been worrying about letting Mr. Dawkens down." Alissa patiently explained. "Mr. Dawkens is no longer a problem for you to be concerned about and if the business loan gets behind, the bank will simply chase down the firm for the money and leave you alone. Banks always go after the one with the deep pockets." Alissa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Think about it Erik, they just took all the pressure off you to make this place succeed. Let them have all their employees join up here if they want. Hell, we'll enroll all of them if we can. Why should you care? We're making money either way, and the firm's cash is just as green and spends just as easily as anyone else's."
Erik considered her words for a few moments and burst out laughing. "Very well put."
"You'd have arrived at the same conclusion, eventually, but not after breaking more equipment and brooding for hours on end." Alissa's face turned solemn. "Also you don't need this weighing you down. I have a feeling you're walking into something very big and you don't need to be distracted by this place. We'll handle things here and I'm sure Margaret will pop in on Shanda and EJ as will I."
"Thanks, Alissa."
"You're welcome. I gather 'welcome back to the world of espionage and intrigue' is a bit premature so I'll just say get off your ass and go find who killed Mr. Denton's son."
Erik tilted his head and nodded, "I'll get right on it."
◆◆◆
Erik pulled into his driveway much later than he intended. Shanda was already home from work and was no doubt worried about him. Erik made as little noise as possible walking down the hallway to their bedroom. He quietly peeked into EJ's room. His son was fast asleep. Erik crept over and gently stroked his son's hair.
"Sleep well little man. I'll see you tomorrow."
He crept back out and tiptoed into the master bedroom, slipping under the covers.
"Like I wasn't waiting up for you." Shanda's whisper broke the silence.
"Sorry, there was more to the meeting than I'd anticipated. We need to talk."
Shanda reached over and turned on a lamp. "This sounds serious."
Erik sat up and described the meeting's details. Shanda was stunned and saddened over the loss of Martin Denton's only son but not surprised that the firm was still directly involved in their lives. She sat up, adjusting the pillows.
"I agree with Alissa, the firm's done us a big favor, and that fat check certainly goes a long way toward making amends for the last two and a half years."
Erik flexed his powerful arms. "Don't take this the wrong way, babe. I'm glad for the money, for our family's sake, but I don't like the firm's tentacles wrapped around our lives. I admit we were struggling but we were getting by just fine without the firm of Denton, Ross and Priscoli hanging over our heads. We're not living a flashy life but we're doing okay, aren't we?"
Shanda spun toward him. "Hon, I love our life and I love what we have here. I don't need riches or bells and whistles to be happy. We've got a nice home, great neighbors, and an amazing son. I'm proud of all you've done and I'm proud of the stand you took with Eunice Kim against Richard and the firm. They need your skill set and you need to help our friend, Martin. God works in mysterious ways, Erik. We just have to have faith that this is all part of the big plan. But truth be told, a big fat check with lots of zeros makes life just a bit sweeter."
Erik laughed and tussled her hair. "You're such an optimist."
"That's why you married me, Mister Glass-half-empty."
"Funny you mentioning God, I thought with all that I am, all that we've seen, you'd have a different perspective about God."
"My view of God is my own and probably wouldn't get me any preacher's spot in any conventional church. I do, however, believe in a binding force that created and guides the universe. I don't believe we're just a random occurrence. Now do you want to discuss religion or make love to your wife before you fly off to Italy?"
Erik leaned over her and turned off the light. "Do you even have to ask?"
Chapter 2. Getting Back on the Horse
Erik woke up, uneasy. EJ was crying in his bed. His screams were not just that of an upset child, but of a child terrified. Erik leapt from the bed and ran to his son's bedroom. He grabbed the doorknob but it refused to turn. Erik pushed on the door but it wouldn't give. He increased his force and still the door refused to open. Shanda came up behind him panicked. Erik applied another burst of strength and the doorjamb split. He pushed the door open, ignoring the fragments of wood, and both parents ran to their screaming child. Erik scooped up his son and held him close.
"It's okay buddy. I got ya. Mom and dad are here."
EJ held on to his father, clinging desperately to his shoulders while Shanda gently patted his back reassuring him that he'd had a bad dream. Once the child settled, Erik gently placed him in Shanda's arms and approached the ruined door and frame. He tried to turn the doorknob but it was frozen solid. He looked over at his wife, baffled.
"I left the door ajar like we always do after I checked on him. I'm guessing there was a good cross breeze last night causing a draft strong enough to close the door." Erik pointed toward the half-open window. "The inner mechanism seems to be jammed. I'll replace this before I leave."
Shanda nodded absently as she held EJ close. "That scared the crap out of me."
"Me as well." He studied the frozen doorknob. He tried again to turn the knob and it still refused to budge. Erik grasped the doorknob in a grip of steel and forced it counterclockwise under his enhanced Esper strength. The knob groaned and creaked as tortured, overstressed metal parts yielded to the immense applied pressure. The doorknob sheared clean off and several bent pieces of metal fell to the floor. He studied the remnants carefully. Some of the metal was corroded but that corrosion wouldn't account for the mechanism freezing up completely. "To hell with it. I'll pick up a whole new pre-hung door this morning. I'll take EJ with me. He loves tooling around the hardware store."
◆◆◆
Vatican City, Rome
"Do we have any more information on the theft? Is there anything at all that you've uncovered in the last two days?"
A Vatican police officer was visibly uncomfortable. He'd been on the receiving end of a verbal bombardment from the papal hierarchy for nearly an hour and could only say he had no answers so many times before his grip on civility began to slip.
"You refuse me access to the one witness who survived this attack, refuse to allow my coroner access to the bodies for autopsy and won't let a team of forensic techs touch the crime scene and you have the gall to pressure
me for my lack of any credible results, Bishop O'Malley. Even a pampered Vatican hack must see the insanity in your line of questioning."
The bishop reacted as if slapped. "I don't like your tone, officer."
"And I don't like being stonewalled, Bishop. When you decide to get off your high horse and allow us to do our jobs, maybe we can get you some answers. Until then, don't bother me with this anymore. Maybe your team of Americans can get you the answers you desire while keeping whatever obvious political secret you so desperately want to keep, buried. Let me remind you though, the Americans didn't take a solemn oath to serve God and the holy orders like my men and I have."
The bishop did a poor job keeping a poker face. No one was supposed to know of the Americans coming over to investigate. "Where did you hear this?"
"Like the Papacy, we have our own channels of information and our own methods of gathering intelligence. I gather by your reaction the information we obtained is accurate."
O'Malley steepled his fingers, "Yes. We've reached out to a branch of the Central Intelligence Agency. Two men will be arriving tomorrow to investigate the murders and the theft. Our purpose is twofold. One of the men is of interest to the hierarchy and requires vetting. The other is the father of one of the deceased. It's not our intention to be deliberately vague, but this act has all of us aghast. This theft will start the final war between Dark and Light in a matter of months instead of the decades we expected. The butchery committed by the Dark factions in our city cannot go unpunished, but the implications to the war already being fought are catastrophic."
The seasoned Vatican cop rubbed his brow. "I don't know about holy wars between Dark and Light, Bishop. I deal with the more mundane human crimes in the holy city, and believe me, there's enough dirt and corruption to keep my forces gainfully employed. Having said that, I'm still responsible for the security here and I'd appreciate being kept in the loop. If it's going to rain cats and dogs and the plagues of Egypt are about to befall us I'd like to know beforehand."
The old bishop nodded. "I will do what I can to keep you appraised."
The defiant officer excused himself. He turned to face the robed panel before he left the chamber. "Be careful playing with fire, gentlemen. Your actions have often caused more damage to our church than good. Playing God is best left to God himself."
Bishop O'Malley raised an eyebrow. "We'll keep that in mind."
O'Malley waited for the cop to depart and he turned toward his peers. "I want a complete dossier on Erik Knight. I want information on family, friends, everything our sources can get their hands on. We need to know exactly who and what he is beyond our current information. I've heard the stories about him. Now I want some facts to either validate or refute the fairy tales. We need answers, gentleman. The Holy Father needs explanations and answers. Somebody gave away the location of the Ruby Crucifix—supposedly the best kept secret on the planet." The bishop sighed. "Let's pray this detective is as formidable as his legend."
◆◆◆
Milford, MA
Erik examined his handiwork and nailed in the last piece of finishing trim. "Can you hand me another nail, partner?"
Tiny hands fished a long thin nail from a glass jar. "This one good, daddy?"
Erik looked down and smiled as his son. "That's perfect, bud." Erik drove the final nail in place and stepped back to admire his work. With a casual tap he pushed the door closed, the latch caught and the door closed solidly. He reached, turned the knob and the door opened effortlessly.
"Give it a try, EJ."
The young boy pushed the door closed and then reached up and turned the bright brass doorknob, the door opened easily. He looked over at is father and smiled. "It works!"
Erik laughed. "Of course it works, buddy. We fixed it together."
EJ peeked carefully in his room looking apprehensive. Erik felt a wave on unease radiating off his son. "What's spooking ya, buddy?"
The young boy looked up at his father. "I was looking for the ghost."
Erik flinched. "The ghost? When did you start seeing a ghost?"
"This morning. It was watching me and I got scared. It flew out the window when you broke the door."
Erik knelt down and held his son. "Well I think the ghost got scared and won't be back. You don't have to be afraid anymore. But if you see something else while I'm gone, you tell your mom. Okay?"
"Okay, daddy."
"Right now, head into the bathroom, do your business, and we'll head out to JJ's for some ice cream."
EJ smiled and ran to the bathroom. Erik stepped into his son's bedroom. He focused his eyes on the room, scanning. His eyes shifted through all visible spectrums looking for any traces of energy, or residual disturbances in the room. Erik's eyes burned radiant blue, shifting through energy spectra, some known only to the Esper species. Again nothing. No residual energy or evidence of any presence.
"Ancient warriors, alien constructs, and human hybrids. Why not ghosts? Just not here, not in my home." Erik tried the door again and it worked flawlessly. He shook his head and went to fetch his car keys. He didn't have to be at the gym for another two hours and he'd make the most of his time with his son. This was the first time since the birth of his child Erik would be away for more than a day. The detective had to admit he was a bit nervous and uncomfortable. He hadn't worked a big case or done any large-scale sleuthing for two years. He'd heard other detectives talk at symposiums about losing the edge over time. He hoped this didn't apply to his skills and ability.
EJ came out of the bathroom, racing down the hall, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Ice cream, ice cream," the young boy screamed happily.
Erik scooped up his son carrying him out to his truck dismissing the unusual discussion they had, dismissing it as part of his son's bad dream.
◆◆◆
Washington DC, Columbia Heights
He stayed in the shadows avoiding the brightly lit streets clutching a dark case in one hand. Artificial light wasn't a danger but the bright luminosity would cause his head to throb and ache for hours. He didn't want to be seen by anyone carrying an object of such immense value and importance. Human muggers and thieves weren't much of a concern but there were other entities lurking about, hiding in the shadows, looking for an opportunity to strike. He was also aware that the owners of his stolen property were scouring the planet hunting for any trace of the holy relic. The specter hoped the dark shroud concealing the relic would shield it from the forces of Light and the renegade forces of Dark that called Washington DC home.
He clung to the side of a small five-story building overlooking the "Starlight Bistro," an upper echelon establishment for men of power as well as other beings that dealt in money, power and influence. He leapt the fifteen-foot chasm separating the two buildings, scaled down the back side of the Bistro, and crept toward the entrance. He approached a tall, muscular human guarding the front doorway, who coordinated the coming and going of limousines. The man spoke into a headset, relaying some sort of instructions to another disembodied voice heard over the earpiece.
"Hey, you! Where do you think you're goin'? Not in here dressed like that!" The large man blocked his way.
"I apologize for my less-than-formal attire, but I have an urgent package for Senator Paul McMahon. He is expecting me. Can you tell him Lazarus has arrived with the object he requested?"
The doorman spoke into his earpiece again, this time addressing someone inside the ritzy establishment. Thirty seconds later the doorman nodded. "The senator is expecting you, Mr. Lazarus." The large man pointed to a young woman inside. "Find our guest a dinner jacket and a tie, then escort him to Senator McMahon's private table in the executive room."
He smiled an evil, shark-like smirk that made the human involuntarily shudder. "Actually, it's Father Lazarus, thank you, my son. God will reward your kindness."
The man laughed. "I'll take any blessing I can get, 'Padre'." He watched the man as he was escorted away. "Damn creepy lookin
' holy man."
'Father' Lazarus was escorted by a curvy waitress to a large, isolated VIP lounge. A heavy, balding, middle-aged man was enjoying the attention of two barely dressed women. Next to him were two other well dressed men dining on expensive delicacies and sipping thousand-dollar-a-bottle champagne. Lazarus sat across from the large man smiling wickedly.
"Do you have my package?"
"Yes, Senator, it was no small feat mind you but I managed to locate your coveted trinket."
McMahon smiled, his eyes hungrily searching his guest.
Lazarus placed a hard leather case on the table, careless of the hors d'oeuvres and expensive entrees. "In here. Concealed within the shroud of darkness, just as you instructed." He was about to open the case.
"No!" the senator croaked near panic. "Keep it hidden. Every supernatural being in the twelve realms will feel its presence once it's exposed. I want this transaction as low key and under the radar as possible. The fewer people that know of this the better."
Lazarus cackled the laugh of the insane. "You can't hide this, Senator. Your opposition already knows their loss. Secrets of this kind cannot be kept for long. I have no doubt that the forces of darkness are also aware of this unauthorized acquisition."
The senator's face paled. He brushed the girl's hand away from his lap. "What did you do?"
"I did nothing but what you and your associates asked, Senator. I risked obliteration and committed the ultimate sin against God in the process." Lazarus cackled again showing the senator his scarred hands, "And I still have the burns to prove it."
The senator studied the scarred flesh and turned toward a waitress. "A glass of your finest blood for my friend here. He's earned it."
The senator reached inside his suit coat and produced a small, white linen bag. "Each coin is solid silver as you requested—thirty freshly minted American Eagle coins." McMahon slid the bag across the table. Lazarus undid the tie and gazed upon his prize.