Lucie held her finger to her ear. “Oh, what’s that? I have breaking news: Fakey Gracie is freshly unemployed.”
Marti’s jaw dropped. An enormous grin spread across her face. “Ohhhhh, game over! Fakey Gracie goes down!”
Lucie nudged Marti. “Just not like she hoped.”
“Meanie. I love it.”
Gracie shook her head. “To hell with both of you. I don’t need this.” She took a long look at the forbidden black door.
Lucie reached out and touched her hand to Gracie’s cheek. “No, Lauren, this is exactly what you need.”
Tears flowed down Gracie’s cheeks. She didn’t reply. She spun on her heel, ran out of the salon, and into the desert. The sun beat down oppressively upon the land. Waves of heat haze radiated from the sand. A single tree, bare of leaves stood a few paces away. An inky black vulture sat on one of the branches and squawked.
Gracie dropped to her knees. Other than the tree and the vulture, no other signs of life were evident. Gone as well were her tormentors, and Trixie’s salon. She scooped up handfuls of sand and let them trickle through her fingers. She wept as the sand fell to the ground, and the sun scorched her half-shaved head.
“This is my life now. I don’t have anyone or anything.”
The vulture squawked again and flew away. Gracie threw up her arms in defeat.
“Okay, you win. I’m fake. Fake, fake, fake Gracie. Is that what you want me to say? Fine, I confess. I confess to having a fake name, and a fake spot on a roller derby team, and I thought I had a shot with Trixie, but I was just fooling myself. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. My brother’s apartment burned down and I don’t know where he is, my sister Agnes is weird, and I hate my oldest sister with a passion. I want what I can’t have, and I don’t want what I deserve. Now I deserve to die. Here I am. I’m here to die. Put me out of my misery!” She scooped up fistfuls of sand and threw them in front of her in disgust.
She flopped onto the hot sand on her stomach and buried her face in her sleeves. She allowed herself to just purge. The breakup with Aimee. Marc’s apartment erupting in flames. Not spending time with Marc at Christmastime. She could have seen Aimee anytime. He just wanted time with his favorite sister after traveling across the country and she couldn’t be bothered. Agnes trying to bond with her over sibling gossip. Gracie keeping her at arm’s length. They were supposed to be sisters, but Gracie always treated her like an unwelcome house guest who had long overstayed her welcome. Agnes did nothing to deserve it. She never complained. Gracie felt like the lowest form of life in the universe.
She looked up through a veil of tears to see someone approaching in the distance. She had long brown hair and wore earth tones. Gracie rose to her knees.
The heat haze shimmered, and the mysterious woman came closer, making no effort to get there quickly. Gracie wiped her nose with her sleeve. After a few more minutes of baking in the sun, the woman came into view. “Agnes?”
Agnes did not speak.
Fresh tears poured onto Gracie’s cheeks. “Agnes, I’m...sorry. For everything. I’m a terrible person.”
Agnes did not speak. She smiled thinly and continued her advance. Gracie dropped to her hands and knees and bowed her head. They sent Agnes to be her executioner, she concluded. She’d wait for her to come get it over with. Instead, she felt a hand press against her head. It slid slowly down to her chin and encouraged her to tip her head back. Gracie resisted, then complied.
Agnes smiled sadly at her sister. She knelt in front of her, and kissed Gracie’s forehead.
“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
Gracie squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. “Agnes, I’m a terrible sister.”
Agnes’s voice was soft and soothing. “You’re my sister. You’re our sister.”
“I treat everyone so awfully.”
“You’re not so bad.”
Agnes reached into her knit bag and pulled out an unopened bottle of water. She removed the cap and pressed the bottle to Gracie’s parched lips. Gracie spat out the first swig, then allowed herself to swallow the second. The water felt essential to her. She felt it flow through her body, filling in the desiccated nooks and crannies. Gracie nodded thankfully and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
“How did you find me here?”
“I heard a sound, and I came to find out what was the matter.”
“How did I get here?”
“You fell.”
Gracie’s eyes widened. “Fell how?”
Agnes reached out and shook Gracie’s shoulder gently. “Gracie, would you like more water? Open your eyes, and I’ll give you more.”
Gracie shook her head in surprise. “My eyes are open.”
Agnes smiled. “Okay, close them and open them again.”
Gracie gave her an odd look. She opened her eyes and found herself sitting on her bedroom floor with her back up against the bed. Agnes knelt before her in her nightgown, holding a water bottle up near Gracie’s mouth.
Gracie felt around, and the carpeting rubbed against her palms. “But... the desert...!”
Agnes shook her head slowly. “You’re home.”
Gracie’s eyes teared up. “Why are you so nice to me, Agnes?”
Agnes smiled sadly. “I care about you. Drink some more water.”
Gracie grasped the bottle and took a sip. “Sit with me for a while. I don’t want to... be alone right now.”
Agnes nodded, and sat.
CHAPTER 67: THE MONEY-CHANGERS
The countess looked around nervously, and especially didn’t appreciate being cast in the harsh light of a bare bulb that hung over the steel door that stood between her and a very comfortable retirement. It was just a matter of time before the police and security staff at Mercy Hospital found surveillance camera footage that clearly identified her, and for her likeness to start circulating via various means. Most damaging would be the local TV news.
Her alias of “Aunt Barb” would at least throw up a temporary barrier while the police followed that lead to a dead end. But she was unique enough in appearance as to provide a very short list of suspects. She had to act quickly.
She rapped on the steel door and winced when she heard dogs barking in the area in response to the noise. She hoped not to knock twice. To her relief, the door opened. A slovenly man in jeans and an untucked shirt stood in the opening.
“Yeah?”
“Hello, Leo, I have a parcel for you, as we discussed.”
“This better be good. I can’t be letting people in back like this.”
The countess clutched her purse and giggled. “Oh, I assure you that this is well worth your time. May I?”
Leo looked around, then opened the door wider. “Get in.”
The countess stepped up into the back of the gold exchange, where Agnes had made a trade earlier in the week. Her ingot had been processed and shipped off, leaving the countess none the wiser as to its existence. She clutched her purse and swayed into the back room of the exchange, doing her best not to betray the weight of the precious item housed within its leather hide.
Leo wanted the transaction completed quickly. His eyes darted around the room as he gestured toward a cleared space on a table. “Okay, let’s see it.”
“Yes, yes, of course, my dear,” cooed the countess. She set her purse down, and lifted a plastic bag out of it, setting it heavily down on the table. The bag was labeled LAUNDRY in blue letters, with the logo of an off-brand motel emblazoned across the side. Leo glanced at the bag, then at the countess.
“This isn’t cash for clothes.”
The countess laughed. “Of course not, don’t be silly. Security through obscurity, dear heart.”
She pulled the sides of the bag down to reveal a sizable lump of gold, roughly in the shape of a kidney bean. It was etched strangely and appeared rough. Leo reached out to touch it, but the countess waved him off.
“Now, now, Leo, mustn’t be careless. I have much invest
ed in this unique piece. It saddens me to part with it, but, sometimes to live means to sacrifice, don’t you agree?”
Leo grunted. “Just from the looks of this… thing… this easily could rake in a few mil. It would need to be melted down and shaped into something more conventional, but yeah, we could be talking millions here.”
The countess lit up at the mention of the value of her item. “Splendid! Yes, millions would do quite nicely. That would take the sting out of the sacrifice I am making in parting with this treasured family heirloom.”
Leo looked puzzled. “If you say so. But, you do know that you’re not getting that kind of dough from us, right? We don’t buy for the book value. We’ve got to make our money too. The owners— “
“Yes, yes, of course. I wouldn’t imagine being so greedy as to cut you and your employers completely out of the deal. I’m just looking for a little… security.”
“Security. Like what?”
“Oh, I think five hundred thousand should see me through my current difficulties.” She tipped her head and gave a matronly smile.
Leo snorted. “Five hundred? We don’t clear that in months here. We’re a small potatoes outfit. This ain’t Switzerland… or Montana, even.”
The countess stiffened and pursed her lips. “Cut the crap, Leonard. I have it on very good authority that this outfit clears a hefty sum, monthly. I know what this lump is worth. I’m being extraordinarily generous accepting a fraction of its value. Now, if we can dispense with this tiresome banter, let’s close this deal, shall we?” She perked up and re-applied a matronly smile to her chiseled features.
Leo turned red. “I’m not your monkey. I can’t move this… thing. Neither can you. I have some strings I can pull, but that’s gonna take time and money. So, you either take what I’m giving, or take this eyesore and find someone else to sweet-talk into a lousy deal.”
Fury flashed across the countess’s eyes, but she swallowed hard, patted her hair, and swayed over to the table. She lifted the sides of the plastic bag and bunched it up at the top.
“Good evening, Leo. I’ll be on my way, then.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, nothing personal, okay?”
The countess looked impassively ahead. “Nothing at all.”
Leo started to walk to the back door to let her out when she swung the bag with all her might and clocked him across the side of his head with the golden object. Leo cried out and fell awkwardly into a shelf containing plastic tubs of unprocessed jewelry.
The countess dropped the bag on the floor and groaned. “I didn’t think I had that in me.”
She patted her hair and adjusted her clothing. She swayed and clanked her way over to a tall gray safe that stood against a wall that bordered the front of the exchange. The owners selected this placement to reduce the possibility of smash-and-grab robberies. They were in for a rude discovery in the morning. The countess reached for the dial to the combination lock on the safe door and glanced over at Leo’s body sprawled out on the floor.
“Funny story, Leonard, my late associate Henry—oh, bless his dead soul—was a gifted man. Very gifted, that Henry! You see, he had the gift of telepathy. Let me distill that down for you, Leo, as that’s a mighty fancy word. ‘Telepathy’ means that he could hear other people’s thoughts, you know, like mind reading? Yes, it’s true, Henry possessed this gift. And he enjoyed showing off his gift! Oh, yes, Leo, he did indeed! And do you know what he told me? He told me that Jack Adamson, you know, good old Jack, one of those ‘owners’ you’re always going on about, well, Henry told me that he enjoyed dinner with Jack at a town function one recent evening, and Jack, well, this won’t surprise you I’m sure, but Jack had to remind himself of the safe combination every so often. Isn’t that too much?”
She twirled the safe dial to the right. “He said, over and over, so he wouldn’t forget, ‘thirty right’.” The dial stopped at 30. She turned the dial slowly to the left. “Forty-five left, was the next one. Ah, here it comes… yes! Progress!” She turned the dial to the right, taking care not to turn the dial past the correct number. “And last, but certainly not least, ‘eighteen right’. Here it comes, Leo, can you feel the excitement? And… open, sesame.”
She gripped the latch responsible for opening the safe door. It didn’t budge. The countess tugged harder, but to no avail. “Well!” She spun the dial again. “Maybe I didn’t get that quite right. No matter, Leo, I have time to be careful. It’s not like you are going to stop me.”
She leaned forward and paid close attention to the numbers as she spun the dial accordingly. She heard something click inside of the safe, then grasped the handle once more. It didn’t budge.
Leo, on the other hand, did. He sat up straight, resting his back against a shelving unit. Blood trickled down the side of his face, and his eyes were dark. He smiled at the countess and shook his head slightly. He spoke with a flat, impassive voice.
I can’t allow you to take that. You’ve taken enough that doesn’t belong to you.
The countess reddened and pushed down on the handle with greater urgency. It did not give way. She turned to Leo in a blind rage.
“Allow me? I’ll take whatever I wish. I’ll kill you, Leo, then your stinking corpse can watch me empty this safe in peace.” She snatched a screwdriver from a table and brandished it like a knife.
As she stepped closer to Leo’s smiling, disaffected body, she felt something grainy against her palm. The screwdriver dissolved into salt. She rubbed her hands together in disbelief, then bent down to pick up her plastic bag. “Fine, I already bashed your skull in once. Two times should do the trick.”
Yes, you did. And soon, Samuel will no longer be focused in physical reality. My apologies, you know him as Leonard. He was Samuel to me, when we knew each other in your reality. He was content to give me the use of his body for my purposes. I shall make full use of the opportunity. You know me as Image, and you are familiar with my capabilities.
The countess raised the plastic bag containing the golden lump above her head with both hands and gave off a primal scream as she prepared to bring it down squarely on Leo’s head. Instead, water splashed down upon her own, dripping into her eyes, enraging her further. She screwed her face up and howled, as water dripped onto her shoulders.
Take your leave now.
The countess wiped her eyes and looked around for something else to use as a weapon. She found a fire extinguisher hanging on a wall. She reached out for it, and it dissolved into salt.
Take your leave now. Samuel will take his as well. This is the trade you will make.
The countess clutched her hair and gave a hard pull. She let out a long scream, then relented. She reached for her purse, then hesitated. “May I?”
Leo/Image nodded.
She clutched her purse to her chest and gave a dismissive snort as she exited the gold exchange. She clip-clopped to her car and pulled the door open with an air of indignation. She plopped down onto the driver’s seat and slammed the door. She gripped the steering wheel and let out a howl of impotent rage.
She cursed the day Agnes had first set foot in the Manor. Henry was well-intentioned, but gravely incompetent. He styled himself as a worldly man, practiced in the arts of various mystics and religions, but at root, he was a charlatan with a mildly impressive parlor trick. The countess gravitated to him, recognizing the opportunity to fleece suckers, because at root, she was simply a grifter with a gift for social engineering. Poor Bess believed she was her mother. She had been abducted at a very young age when a con required the countess to be a single mother. Agnes came along and displayed actual gifts and abilities, culminating in the miraculous transformation of turning stone into gold. She was going to make her association with Henry finally—literally—pay off. Now he was dead, and she was empty-handed. She cursed again.
Her fury was interrupted by the chime of her cell phone at the bottom of her purse. She wanted to ignore it, but deigned to fish it out and look at the caller
ID. It read HORACE S.
Her eyes widened. Horace was Henry’s twin brother, whose fortune led him down a more productive and fruitful road. She hoped she could salvage a small victory from her bitter defeat.
The countess took a moment to compose herself, then she answered the phone. “Helen speaking.” She nodded and made non-committal grunts as the caller prattled on with excitement. Her eyebrows arched at the news.
“I see. Gifted, you say? Now, Horace, I am preparing to travel to Nepal. I can’t simply change my plans on a whim— “
The man said something that caused her jaw to slacken.
“Yes, yes, of course. We must be supportive. I will be there as quickly as possible.”
The countess concluded the call and tossed her phone aside. She started the engine and drove slowly away from the gold exchange, bitterly cursing the loss of her golden nest egg.
Leo’s eyes turned lifeless. His left hand slid off his lap and onto the cement floor. The safe door creaked open, revealing shelves stacked with money. The owners would discover this scene in the morning.
CHAPTER 68: THE GODDESS AT DAWN
Marc awoke to find Inanna snuggled up against him under his left arm, fast asleep, and smiling broadly. Her ear was pressed to his chest, and he figured she was either enjoying the sound of his heartbeat, or she had a thing for growling stomachs. He reached over and stroked her hair with his right hand.
They had enjoyed a luxurious bath before going to bed the night before. Marc normally only took hot showers, and just long enough to feel like he accomplished something. Soaking in the tub took him way back to his childhood, and even then, he never experienced a bath quite in the way that Inanna artfully directed.
They remained incapable of vocal conversation. She would either speak to Tobias who would most likely summarize her side of it, and presumably Inanna got his edited response. To really engage in unfiltered, intimate conversation they had to communicate on a whole other plane of consciousness. He didn’t know how to explain what they did, or how they did it. He just knew that if they pressed together closely and he concentrated on her, they could speak to each other non-verbally.
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