by Hunter
“Well, of course, she’ll have to be eliminated before she gets much older. I’ll bring her to you if you like. You can try another cream sauce. Or perhaps a hunter sauce would be more appropriate? ”
“An imbued child would be quite a prize. Thank you for the offer, but I’ll defer to my prince. Or the current seneschal. Depending on which way the wind is blowing. ”
“Wise as always. You’ll be seneschal yourself some day. ”
“Yes, I think you’re right, ” Garth said with a smug little smile. Then, again proceeding as if it were the same thought, he added, “You have no interest in rising in the ranks, Dr. Eberhardt? ”
Eberhardt gently shook his head and opened his palms towards his office, “I’m quite content with my lot. ”
“A man without ambition is simply a man whose ambitions remain unknown, ” Garth said, smiling. “Well, life is long and there is much to learn. At any rate, as long as these Hunters continue to grow in number and become more of a nuisance, your position is quite secure. I’m sure our prince will grant your permission. You have no other hunter-clients right now, so there’s little danger of her being… affirmed, shall we say? Take your time. More than with the last, for heaven’s sake! ”
“Oh yes. Peterson. It’s a shame the drugs destroyed his mind so quickly. I was getting close to isolating the mechanics of some of his abilities, ” Eberhardt said apologetically.
“Tut-tut. I didn’t mean it as a reprimand. In science you learn as much from your mistakes as your successes, no? ”
“Thank you. ”
“I know. I know, ” Garth waved off the gratitude. Then he began to vanish again. Watching him, Eberhardt, surprisingly, laughed.
“Is something funny? ” the Keeper said.
“I just realized, to me, you’re the visible face of the prince, yet you’re usually invisible! ” Eberhardt said.
“Quite right! I am fond of it, ” Garth said, chuckling himself. What little color he had faded. Then the black and grays of his form subsided into the wall.
Outside, a few blocks away, Garth re-materialized among the evening crowd. He had to check up on some drug deals the primogen were squabbling over - he was often the visible face in their dealings with humans as well. There were faster ways to reach the slums, but, feeling unusually cheerful, he instead made his way to the elevated trains, one of his favorite ways to travel. There was always someone interesting on board to talk to, or follow, or feed on there.
Overly distracted by his general sense of well being, he failed to notice that he was being watched. Across the street in a parked Honda Civic, James Padavano, police detective, followed the odd figure with his eyes as he punched a number on his cell phone.
“O’Malley, ” the voice at the other end said. “This is Jim. Warburton just hit the trains. ” “Did he see you? ”
Annoyed, Padavano pushed some breath between his lips, “Like I said, this is Jim. All of a sudden you don’t trust me? I’ve seen this guy talk to a score of dealers. Just because I haven’t managed to connect him with any suppliers yet doesn’t mean I’m going soft. ”
No answer, then: “You ever… ” the voice trailed off.
“Ever what? ”
“Nothing. ”
“What? ”
“Did you ever notice anything strange about him? ”
“Strange like what? ”
“Like… anything? ”
“You mean aside from the usual horrible narcotic crap? Needles, sadism, torpor, abandoned babies, vomit, blood? ”
“Yeah. Aside from that. ”
Padavano thought about mentioning the fact that Warburton was able to slip through crowds like mercury, often disappearing in the time it took to blink. Then he figured he was just tired, that it was a trick of his eye, and rather than reinforce any doubts O’Malley may have about his abilities, he just said “No. ”
“Okay. Good. If you do, you lemme know. Not in an hour, not in a minute. Immediately. ” Click.
• • • •
As I was walking up the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there again today.
I wish, I wish he’d stay away!
— Hughes Mearns, The Psychoed
“Let’s play a game. Do you like games, Jessica? “Yes. ”
“You ask me a question, any question — and I’ll answer it, as truthfully as I can. Then I’ll ask you a question and you answer me as truthfully as you can. Does that sound fair to you? ”
“Yes. ”
“Good. You go first. Ask a question. ”
Surprisingly, she didn’t have to think about it and asked, rather quickly, “Do you like being a monster? ”
Eberhardt, for his part, didn’t have to think much about the answer.
“Yes, Jessica, yes I do. Very much. I’m strong, I can see and do things that humans can’t, I never get sick and I believe I’ll live forever. ”
He leaned back in his burgundy leather chair and let her mull his answer. He could almost see the wheels grinding in her small brain. The lines her facial muscles made were a much better match for her dark surroundings than the pink dress, light brown locks and fair skin. She seemed to almost glow against the heavy curtains and deep brown built-in bookshelves that lined the office walls. Some patients had commented that it always seemed slightly shadowed in here, no matter how many lights were on. He assured them they were projecting their own negativity.
Tonight, after two weeks and six halting, cautious sessions, Eberhardt was beginning relax and enjoy her small brain. To be sure, it was often simplistic and usually chaotic, but, on occasion it was capable of the sort of insight about things one only has when seeing them for the first time. He also enjoyed, albeit less consciously, telling her the things about himself he could never tell other patients, things which would bore other Kindred to tears.
“Don’t you miss your family? ”
“Ah — my turn, Jessica. When did you see your first monster? ”
“Under my bed. Only it wasn’t real. ”
He shook his head.
“No. Truthfully. You know what I meant. Your first real monster. Like me. ”
“In the park. A long time ago. It was night. . He was eating a hot dog, only it wasn’t really a hot dog. I told mommy, but she wouldn’t believe me. My turn. ”
She pointed a stubby finger at the orb on the end table.
“What’s that? ”, she asked.
Eberhardt pursed his lips and exhaled. Noticing, her eyes twinkled. She was tickled by his discomfort as if it were a prize she’d unearthed at the bottom of a cereal box.
“It’s a saiwala, a soul-trap. In it, as far as I know, is a man’s soul. Do you know what a soul is? ”
She shook her head.
“Well, some people might say it’s the part of us that makes us who we are, and no one else. ” Her eyes went wide. She pulled her knees up under her and moved towards the edge of the couch for a better look.
“And he can’t get out of there? ”
“My turn. How many kinds of bad-eyes have you seen? ”
With great ceremony, she put her hand in front of her and counted her fingers: “One…
two… three… four… no, wait… One… two… three… four… five…, uh… ”
Fearful she would spend the rest of the session trying to get past six, he shook his head for her to stop, “Just describe them for me. ”
“Okay. There’s the bald ones, they’re really scary, the dirty ones, the animal ones, the crazy ones, the ones with nice clothes, the ones who wear like… like… daddy when he goes to work, only funny and black, ” she said.
“Suits? ” Eberhardt offered.
“Yeah, suits. There’s fancy ones, ones with dark skin and… and… the crazy ones… and the bald ones…, ” her voice trailed off.
“It’s hard to tell which are which sometimes, ” she offered, trying to keep up her end of the deal.
He nodded. He r
ecognized a few of the clans. The bald were Nosferatu. The crazy Malkavian. The dark skin could be Lasombra, but where would she see one in t/us city? Wherever, the fact remained that though her lexicon was highly personal, her catalog might well be complete. Was that part of the imbuing, too? The way a newborn rodent knows to be afraid of snakes? “Which kind do you think I am? ”
She shook her head, said, “My turn, ” and pointed to the orb again.
“Is he stuck in there forever? ”
Eberhardt bobbed his head back and forth noncommittally.
“Pretty much, unless the glass breaks. My turn. Which kind do you think I am? ”
She looked at him, scrunched her eyes and concentrated for a while. Finally, she shrugged. “I dunno. ”
“Well, if that’s the truth, then it’s your turn, ” Eberhardt offered. He’d have been surprised if she had picked a clan for him. He was Caitiff, high generation, quite far removed from the famous, supposed biblical progenitor of the Kindred, so he had no inherited characteristics and hence no discernible clan. Though he was certain his nose had gotten sharper since his Embrace, Garth and others assured him this was vanity. He had no need for a clan, adopted, as he was, in a sense, by the primogen and the prince for his work.
He expected her to follow the question up and ask what kind of bad-eye he was, so he was busy figuring out how to couch his response, when she surprised him.
“If being a monster is so good, why didn’t you change your family into monsters, too? ”
Eberhardt stared at her, silent for so long she had to nod her head for him to answer. Recovering, he said, haltingly, “Well, when you become a monster you don’t feel the same way about things or people anymore. I just don’t care about them that much. ”
“But you still have their picture. ”
“For decoration. So people don’t know I’m a bad-eye. ’’
She stared at him, sensing some distance between himself and his words.
“Well? ” he prodded.
“You said the truth. That’s not the truth. ” Eberhardt smiled. He was about to say something about how she’d understand when she was older, when he remembered she wouldn’t be getting very much older at all.
A click of the outer door made them both turn. “Your parents, ” Eberhardt said, relieved, “Time to go. ”
Wordless, perhaps still expecting an answer to her question, she followed his movements with her eyes as he rose, walked across the room and opened the door. Mark and Sheila were smiling, always happy to see him, comfortable there was progress being made. Their acceptance of Jessica’s fantasies as normal had doubtless led to a lot less tension at home. Eberhardt, for once, was genuinely pleased to see them as well.
“How is she doing? ” Mark said softly.
“It was a good session. I think I’m starting to get through to some of the underlying structures that compose her fantasy. ”
“That’s good, ” Mark said, nodding. He turned to Sheila and repeated, “That’s good. ” He expected some confirmation from her, but she hadn’t heard him. She was looking into the office, motherly consternation crossing her face. “Jessica, put that down! That’s not yours! ” Eberhardt whirled just in time to see Jessica holding the Saiwala high above the hard wood floor.
How could he not have heard her?
He visibly tensed. The parents noticed immediately.
“Honey, put that down right now, ” Sheila said.
Jessica, a look of fake innocence plastered on her angelic little face, moved to place the globe back on its stand. Eberhardt couldn’t be sure if it was a childish lack of coordination or malevolent intent, but she missed the table by a half inch.
The thing that hurt most was that he could have caught it easily. In fact, he could have snapped her neck, pinched both parents on the cheek and caught it with time to spare, but that would mean having to explain how he happened to be faster and more agile than a cheetah. Instead, he braced himself, grinding his teeth as the precious bauble shattered and the soul within it, set free, melted, unseen, into the world.
The child’s face registered joy for a moment, then tensed as she awaited punishment.
“Jessica! How could you! That was very, very bad! ” Sheila said, running up and grabbing her arm.
“It was an accident! ” she protested.
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t yours. You shouldn’t have been playing with it to begin with. ”
“I’m sorry, Mommy! ”
“Stuart, please, ” Mark said, reaching for his checkbook, “Let me pay for it. ”
Shaky, Eberhardt waved off the gesture, “That’s all right. Really. ”
“Wait until I get you home young lady… ” she said, yanking Jessica along by the arm. Just before they disappeared down the hall, the girl turned and gave Eberhardt a mischievous little smile.
He shut the door and listened to the silence at his back. Closing his eyes, he hoped he was alone.
“That was most unfortunate… ” Garth said, melting in from the window.
They both stood there for a moment, staring sadly at the pieces. Eberhardt spoke first.
“Garth, even Bellini, the Giovanni who gave it to me, wasn’t certain there was a real soul there. It was primarily symbolic. ”
“Still, ” Garth said, then repeated, “Still. It was a lovely gift. ”
Eberhardt slumped into his chair.
“Tilings are changing, ” Garth said.
“Oh? Why? Not the orb, I hope? ”
“The orb, the fact that the child knows the clans. The fact that she was able to snatch your most precious object when your back was turned. The fact that she hurt you. ”
“And? ” he asked, expecting there was more. “She’s one of these ridiculous predators. She’s a hunter. ”
“She’s a child, ” Eberhardt said, balking at the thought she might be some sort of threat.
Garth drummed his fingertips against one another and looked off through the window.
“A young lupine, ” he said, “lost, deranged, I suppose by that strain of rabies that seemed to be making its way through them then, stumbled its way here about ten years back. An unsuspecting Toreador cornered it, thinking to indulge his curiosity, never having seen one, and believing, as you, that it was only a child. It chewed straight down to the neck-bone before the three others traveling with him managed to pry her off. ”
“I take your point, Garth. Anything else? ” Garth sighed, hesitated, then spoke, “Yes. Her questions about your family rattled you. ” Eberhardt smiled at that.
“I know how this has to end, ” he said, “I look forward to it. ”
Garth cocked his head to the side.
“Do you? ”
“Do you underestimate me that much? Don’t you understand how much I’ve learned so far from her? How far we can go? ”
Garth smiled and shrugged pleasantly.
“I suggested no course of action. I still hope to leave that to you. ”
The sudden reminder of Eberhardt’s “place” in the scheme of things riled him, but he knew expressing that emotion at this point might do him terrific damage. Eberhardt shook his head as if dislodging beads of anger from his brow. Regaining control, he vaguely pointed to the shards of glass that still covered the floor and began to apologize.
Garth already knew the excuses he was about to make, the apologies he was about to offer — being upset and so on over the destruction of his precious saiwala. Garth also wasn’t convinced they’d be genuine.
“All right, all right, ” Garth said. Then he left.
Eberhardt cradled his head in his hand. That was a mistake. It had all been a mistake; the level of honesty, the game, turning his back on her after explaining how the soul could be freed. It all smelled of weakness, awkwardness at best, at worst… what? He should be done with it now, medicate her ego into oblivion, snap her sweet neck, or wrap her up as a gift to the prince, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that deeply rattled his ol
d psychiatric bones, that he was on the verge of a major break-through. And what would that mean, if he reached it? What paths would the answers reveal? Could he help the clans be rid of the Hunters permanently? Would it bring him vindication?
Garth, meanwhile, slipped vertically down the side of the building, caressing the rough texture of the frayed brick walls like black mercury. The uncomfortable exchange with the good doctor had left him very tense. As such, he debated reporting the shattering of the saiwala, but decided against it. It was Giovanni business at best, little to do with the primogen or the prince. He would make a careful note of it, though, laying a paper trail in case it proved to foreshadow some later aberration. But even then, no one would blame his silence. Eberhardt was highly thought of and Garth, well, Garth, for the most part, was allowed.
As was his habit, he reformed in an alley three blocks away. After a few steps, a dull nagging made him stop short and thrust his nose in the air, as if literally smelling something amiss. He whirled a full half-circle, a straight ebon tree trunk pivoting on its center among the lesser pedestrians, before his eyes came to rest on a pock-marked, midnight blue Civic across the street. Making eye contact with the driver, Garth strode through the traffic and stopped at the window.
“Come with me, ” Garth said.
Nodding, James Padavano stepped out of his car.
• • • •
“We’ll eat you up, we love you so! ”
— Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are
Four weeks later, Eberhardt sat on a fire escape outside the fifth story window of the apartment building where Jessica’s family lived, pondering the end of the game. As invisible as he could manage, though a piker compared to Garth, he watched Sheila read Pierre, a children’s book about a boy who didn’t care, while Jessica listened, rapt.
It was time, according to Garth, to get the lay of the land and make plans. The sessions, though dragging on, were moving, in fits and starts, towards what even Eberhardt had to concede was a natural conclusion. He tried to convince himself that watching her further growth would provide even more valuable insight into the hunter-psyche, but logic had mercilessly truncated that line of reason. Reports of hunter-attacks were rampant. It was only a matter of time before another hunter spotted her — and she became, full-fledged, full-blown — the enemy, not only to the Kindred in general, but likely to Eberhardt in specific. He did not kid himself that their odd little truce in the therapeutic bubble of his office would stand the test of harsh reality. What was to be done was not an issue. The question was how?