Tyler blinked in surprise. “You getting a little punchy?” Sally asked him.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “It’s been a weird couple of days. What day is it, anyway? I only meant to take a nap but if you got here from California already…”
“It’s Friday night,” Tyler said.
So he’d been asleep most of the day, Oliver thought. That wasn’t what he’d intended to do, but his body had probably needed the rest.
There was a sudden knock at the door. “You expecting someone?” Tyler asked.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Oliver pointed out. “Who is it?” he called.
“Room service,” replied a man’s voice.
“I didn’t order…” Oliver began, but then he paused. That voice had been familiar, as well.
“Oh, shit,” Tyler said. Sally’s hands darted into her jacket pockets and came out with her silver pistols.
The knock at the door was repeated. “Open the door, Mr. Jones,” said Mr. Teasdale. “I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, you really don’t have anywhere to go.”
Oliver looked around the room desperately. He was on the top floor and there was no other way out of here. Mr. Teasdale was right. He had nowhere to go.
Chapter 16
“How the hell did he find me?” Oliver asked. Tyler had said he and Sally had found him by following a “tracker” they’d placed on his clothes. Could the assassin have done the same thing? Oliver started to pat himself down before he realized he’d never even noticed the first device. He had little chance of finding a second.
Sally’s expression darkened. “You’ve been using credit cards, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Of course,” Oliver said. “I had to pay for the room. Oh, and I bought gas this morning.”
She sighed. “That’s how. The charges left an electronic trail and he followed it right to you.”
There was another knock at the door. “Mr. Jones? I’m waiting.”
“You want to try that magic door thing again?” Tyler asked. “See if you can get us out of here?”
“I don’t know how!” Oliver insisted.
“Tap your heels together three times,” Sally sneered. She leveled her pistols at the door and nodded to Tyler. “Open it.”
“You’re just going to let him in?” Oliver asked. That was her plan? Opening the door and letting the assassin come in had to be the worst plan of all time.
“There’s no other way out of here,” Sally pointed out. “So unless you’ve got a better idea, let’s just get this over with.”
Oliver backed away from the door and stood near the window. Tyler drew his own pistol, then unlatched the door and quickly stepped back.
The door swung open slowly. Mr. Teasdale stood there, a small smile on his face. He was carrying his briefcase and still wore the same black suit and red tie Oliver had seen him in yesterday. He wondered if the man ever wore anything else.
The man’s skin looked as ill-fitting as it had the day before, but there was no sign that there ever had been so much as a scratch on his head, much less the bullet wound that Oliver had seen yesterday. Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of that. In a world where vampires and werewolves were just outside walking around like everyone else, who knew what else could be out in the world? Teasdale could be something he had never even heard of before.
Mr. Teasdale frowned at the sight of Tyler and Sally, along with the small arsenal they had aimed at him. He made a small tsk sound with his tongue. “I must say, this does not make me feel very welcome at all.”
“Come on in,” Tyler said.
“And close the door behind you,” Sally continued.
Mr. Teasdale stepped into the room, not seeming to care that two people were standing ready to shoot him inside it. He closed the door behind him and smiled pleasantly at Oliver. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Jones.”
“Thanks,” said Oliver. “Nice to…” he began automatically, before cutting himself off. He really needed to work on being less polite.
Mr. Teasdale turned to Sally. “It has been a while, Sally Rain.”
“So it has,” she said.
“I had been meaning to tell you that while certain parties were unhappy with your recent…indiscretion…I myself could not help but admire the artistry of it.” He nodded slightly. “True genocide is such a rare thing, and it is something to be savored.”
Oliver blinked. Genocide? He must mean the cyborgs everyone kept going on about. What had happened with the cyborgs, anyway?
Sally looked unfazed. “Thank you,” she said. She did not lower her pistols.
Tyler stepped in front of Oliver. “You obviously can’t kill him with us here to stop you. You lose this round. Get in the bathroom, shut the door, and don’t come out until we’re gone.”
Mr. Teasdale turned and regarded him coldly. “Mr. Jacobsen. You shot me,” he scolded the other man.
“I’ll do it again,” Tyler said.
“And it still won’t kill me,” Teasdale said. He sighed and made a conciliatory gesture with his hand. “I will forgive you for yesterday. We were both doing as our respective professions dictate, and therefore it would not be appropriate for me to perceive it as a personal insult.” His eyes were cold. “However, I will not forgive you a second time.”
Oliver frowned. “But you’re still both doing what your respective professions dictate,” he pointed out.
“I am not,” the assassin said. “The Kalatari violated the terms of our contract.”
“They did?” Tyler asked.
Sally suddenly gasped. “Of course. They told you it was a mistake, then they killed that other guy and went after Oliver themselves.” The edge of her mouth twitched up into a crooked smile. “They lied to you.”
“They lied,” Mr. Teasdale hissed. He looked genuinely angry. “Lying is not permitted once a contract has been established.”
Tyler lowered his pistol. Sally did not lower either of hers. “So why are you here?” she asked.
Teasdale raised his briefcase. “I have brought an offering for Mr. Jones,” he said.
“I have a briefcase already,” Oliver said.
Teasdale sighed and gestured at the bed. “May I?”
Oliver nodded. Teasdale crossed the room and lay the briefcase down flat. He clicked the latches and was starting to open the case when Sally stopped him, gesturing with her pistols. “Slowly.”
“As you will, Ms. Rain.” Teasdale opened the case slowly. He reached inside and for an instant Oliver thought he was going to come out with a weapon, but instead he held up a small spherical object wrapped in white cloth. “For you, Mr. Jones. Payment for a broken contract.”
Oliver shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. We never had a contract.”
“We were not required to establish one,” Teasdale said. “When the Kalatari broke my contract, they became the target of that contract. Rules are rules, Mr. Jones.”
“Oh my god,” Tyler said, looking at the wrapped object Teasdale held in sudden horror.
“What is that?” Oliver asked, nodding at the sphere.
Teasdale held the object up in one hand, the other poised above it as if to unwrap a birthday present. “If I may?” he asked, glancing at Sally. She nodded. Oliver watched them with a sense of foreboding. What did he mean, the Kalatari had become the target of his contract? Exactly what rules did this man play by?
Teasdale began unwrapping Oliver’s “offering,” revealing a small fleshy red thing the size of a fist. It looked oddly familiar to Oliver, but he was sure he hadn’t seen anything exactly like it before.
Tyler turned away, looking queasy. Sally leaned forward. “Oh, that is nice,” she said, her eyes widening.
“What is it?” Oliver asked, not understanding.
“It’s a heart,” Tyler groaned.
“What?”
“A heart,” Mr. Teasdale confirmed. “Specifically, it is the heart of Sathis Rin, formerly chief minister to the Kalatari matriarch.” He noted
Oliver’s confused expression. “The man who ordered your death,” Teasdale explained.
Oliver felt his stomach flip-flop. “That’s a heart?”
“That has been established.”
“A lizard heart?”
“I am not a biologist, but as I know that by ‘lizard’ you mean the Kalatari race, yes. A lizard heart.”
Oliver wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s not bloody.” He was instantly frustrated with himself. Was that really the best remark he could come up with?
Mr. Teasdale looked offended. “Of course it isn’t bloody, Mr. Jones. I cleaned it for you. We are not barbarians.” He extended his hand, offering the heart to Oliver.
“Um…on the table is fine,” Oliver said quickly.
Teasdale sighed and placed the heart delicately on the desk. “I have no personal knowledge of this,” he mused, “but I have been told that they are quite lovely stewed with star anise and cinnamon.”
Oliver blinked in surprise. “You think I’m going to eat it?” he asked.
“I did not think you were going to mount it on your wall,” Teasdale replied. “Although I suppose there is no reason you could not,” he continued thoughtfully.
“Okay, then,” Oliver said.
Teasdale waited expectantly. Oliver wondered if he wanted a tip. “Am I supposed to pay you?” he asked finally. Was that part of the contract as well? Who was Teasdale going to kill if he didn’t have enough money? What was the going price on lizard hearts these days?
Mr. Teasdale sighed as if he were dealing with a stupid child. “Typically, Mr. Jones, one says ‘thank you’ when one has just been presented with a heart.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Teasdale snapped his briefcase shut. “Well then, I will be off. Good bye, Mr. Jones, Ms. Rain.” He nodded at each of them in turn. Then he turned to Tyler. “Mr. Jacobsen, if you ever shoot me again I will cut your face off and wear it as a mask to frighten children on Halloween. Are we clear?”
Tyler swallowed hard. “Clear,” he said, fingering his pistol.
“Farewell then,” Teasdale said, moving toward the door.
“Wait!” Oliver called after him. Teasdale stopped and looked back at Oliver curiously. “Did he tell you why?” Oliver asked. “Why they want me dead? I mean, before you killed him.”
“Oh,” Teasdale said. He shrugged. “He claimed that the Matriarch had a prophetic vision. She called you the ‘destroyer of worlds’ and foresaw that you would murder their entire race.”
Oliver tried not to look as startled as he felt. “I see.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Mr. Jones,” Teasdale reassured him. “The Matriarch is known to indulge in a variety of hallucinogens. Her prophecies never come to anything.”
Oliver took that as good news. “So it’s a mistake, then?” he asked tentatively. “They’re not going to kill me?”
“Oh my no, Mr. Jones,” Teasdale replied. “I meant I am sure you are not going to exterminate them. But they will certainly kill you.” With that, Teasdale nodded politely and went through the door, disappearing shortly down the hall.
Tyler looked at Sally. “That went better than I expected.”
She shrugged. “I kind of wanted to shoot him. Just to see what would happen.”
“I shot him yesterday. It didn’t do much.”
“Maybe you didn’t shoot him enough,” Sally suggested.
“What exactly is he?” Oliver asked. “Do either of you know?”
“I have no idea,” said Tyler. “Something old and powerful, that’s for certain.”
“Artemis might know,” Sally said. “If not, I don’t know who you’d ask.”
“And I still can’t believe his name is Hilary Teasdale,” Oliver continued. “He sounds like the villain in a Three Stooges movie.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Tyler. “I always saw him with the Marx Brothers.”
“Who are the Marx Brothers?” asked Sally.
Tyler and Oliver both turned to stare at her. “Really?” asked Tyler.
Sally scowled at them. “Forget it.”
“How could you possibly not know…” Oliver began.
“Forget it,” Sally warned.
“Anyway, we can’t stay here,” Tyler said. “If he was able to find you here, whoever else the Kalatari have after you won’t be far behind.”
“So back to running,” Oliver sighed. “You brought a car, I suppose?”
“Better than that,” Tyler said. “We brought a plane.”
Chapter 17
Five minutes later they were on the sidewalk trying to hail a taxi. They were on a major street, or at least what passed for a major street in Portsmouth, but they hadn’t seen a single cab go by yet. Sally looked annoyed. “It’s like they’ve never heard of a taxi line here,” she said.
“It’s Portsmouth,” Oliver told her. “I doubt there’s a taxi line anywhere in the city.” It was hard to imagine any place here needing one.
“It’s worse than San Francisco,” she complained.
“Nothing is worse than getting a taxi in San Francisco,” Tyler said. Oliver nodded. He’d heard people use the difficulty of getting a cab in San Francisco as an argument for buying a car. He’d never believed things were that bad until he’d been late for work one morning and decided to call a cab instead of taking the train. After waiting an hour for it to arrive he’d called to cancel it, and then called in sick to work.
Sally went into the hotel and spoke to the front desk clerk. “They’re calling one,” she said when she returned. “Next time we get a rental.”
“They didn’t have a rental place at Pease,” Tyler protested.
“Then we buy a damn car,” Sally said.
The taxi came at last, a sedan that was far too small to seat the three of them in the rear. Sally sat next to the driver and they started toward the airport.
“Werewolf?” Oliver asked suddenly.
Startled, Tyler looked out the window. “Where?”
“No,” Oliver said. “Do you think Mr. Teasdale is a werewolf?”
“Oh,” Tyler said. “You scared me for a minute.”
“Sorry.”
“No, he’s not.”
That made sense, Oliver thought. “You’d be able to smell it if he was?”
Tyler frowned. “I’m not sure. Maybe. It’s never really come up.”
“Are there a lot of werewolves?” Oliver asked.
Oliver noted the cab driver’s confused expression in the rear view mirror. He’d gotten far too casual in talking about these things openly, he realized. He’d have to be more careful about that.
Sally had noticed the driver’s look as well. “Those two are in town for a convention,” she said to the driver. “For…people who like to dress up in animal costumes. What that’s called.”
“Furries?” asked Tyler.
“Yeah,” Sally said.
“We’re not furries!” Tyler protested.
“Yeah, you are,” Sally said. “Especially him,” she said to the driver, nodding at Tyler. “He’s the biggest furry I’ve ever seen. He loves it.”
“Oh,” the driver said, nodding a bit uneasily. “Well, different strokes and all.”
“That’s right,” said Sally, looking out the window. “Hey, guys, why don’t we talk about something else for a while? Like, anything else?”
Oliver had many more questions but decided they could wait until they were in private. He found that in a way he was becoming accustomed to getting strange answers to simple questions. He wasn’t sure there was anything more that could happen that would truly surprise him.
That wasn’t a good thing, was it? He frowned. Earlier he had thought perhaps he’d suffered some kind of brain injury and was imagining all of these things. He no longer felt that way, but then how could he explain his newfound calmness? Shock? Was it possible that he was in shock?
Tyler’s cell phone chirped. He answered it and listened for a moment
. “Artemis,” he said, ending the call. “She wants us in the air.”
“We’re about to be,” Sally said. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere. Just up.”
“Just up?” asked Oliver. “What does that mean?”
“The Kalatari can’t fly,” Tyler explained. “Up is about the safest place we can be. She’ll let us know when and where to land.”
Oliver thought about it. He had to admit, it made sense. The Kalatari weren’t going to be able to find him if he was 40,000 feet up in the air.
“That’s a funny name,” the cab driver mused.
“Kalatari?” Tyler asked. Sally gave him a dark look. “Oh, that’s just the name of my…” he struggled to find a word. “Um…furry friend…”
“No,” the driver said. “Artemis.”
“Oh,” Tyler said. “Yeah, I guess. It’s an old Greek name.”
“So she’s Greek?” Oliver asked.
“For god’s sake,” Sally sighed. “She’s not Greek. Does she look Greek to you?”
Oliver didn’t think Greeks were typically pale-skinned and blond, but he also wasn’t sure he actually knew any Greek people. “No,” he said. “But you never know. People don’t expect Italians to be blond, but in Northern Italy it’s pretty common.” Oliver had never been to Italy. He’d discovered this by watching the Travel Channel.
Tyler was considering it, though. “I don’t know,” he said. “Things change over time. We don’t actually know what the Greeks looked like when…” he stopped abruptly, glancing at the driver. “Forget it.”
“Why don’t one of you just ask her?” Oliver asked. Sally snorted, and Tyler just stared at him. “What?” Oliver asked. “Why was that a crazy question?”
Neither of them answered. “It’s a pretty name,” the cab driver mused. “Wouldn’t name my own kid that, but it’s kind of nice.”
It didn’t take long to reach the city limits of Portsmouth and they were quickly out on the freeway. Oliver wondered when he would get to the East Coast again. This had been quite an unexpected trip; he’d like to come back and spend some proper time out here.
Or perhaps he was just being nostalgic, he thought. He’d been here with his family, and he hadn’t seen any of them in a while. He’d have to do something about that, provided he lived through the next few days.
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