by G. R. Lyons
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh, shutting off the computer and following him out the door.
* * *
CHARLIE SAT at the conference table with Chief and the other detectives, absorbing the depressing news.
“We've questioned everyone we can possibly think of, and still no answers,” Malrin said, slapping down a disc and sinking into a chair. “No clues. No leads. No nothing.”
After numerous interviews of family, friends, and coworkers for the three murdered women, not a single thing had turned up to point to their killer. The only thing they'd managed to track down was the shop from which the flowers had been sent, but when the shop owner checked her sales database, she found the entry blank. Even her backup servers showed a missing file that couldn't be retrieved, no matter what they tried.
“Just another dead end,” Malrin groaned.
“Alright,” Chief said wearily, rubbing his eyes with one hand while he clutched a mug of coffee with the other. “That's enough for today. Good work, gentlemen. We'll just have to keep looking.”
Charlie rose from his seat, seeing the others shuffle out of the room with the stooped postures of the defeated. He was the last to the door, leaving only the chief sitting at the table, staring at the wallscreen.
“Is there any chance he actually could be a ghost?” the chief asked quietly.
Charlie turned around to answer, but Benash wasn't looking at him.
“Sir?” Charlie asked.
The chief started and spun around in his chair. “Oh, sorry, Crawford. Didn't know you were still here.”
“You alright, Chief?”
Benash nodded, glancing over his shoulder, then back up at Charlie. “Just frustrated, that's all. You go on.”
Charlie nodded, eyeing the chief suspiciously, then quietly left the room, seeing Benash spin back around in his chair and sigh as he gazed up at the wallscreen.
Charlie rubbed his eyes, wondering if the stress was making him imagine things that weren't really happening, and took himself upstairs.
He walked into Asenna's room without knocking, closed the door quietly behind him, and lurched to a stop in the middle of the room.
The washroom door stood open, and he saw Asenna leaning back against the sink, her back to the mirror on the wall while she held up a small mirror in front of her with one hand and ran a set of clippers through her hair with the other.
Charlie froze, watching her, standing there naked from the waist up, shearing off what little bit of hair had grown over the past few weeks. When she finished with the back and sides, she turned around to face the wall mirror, taking up a pair of scissors and trimming down the top and around her ears.
She turned back around, touching the clippers to a few spots at the back of her neck, and Charlie's gaze dropped to her bare chest, a neat surgical scar on one side and a jagged, stretched scar on the other where her breasts used to be.
Charlie tore his gaze away and went over to the couch, sinking down onto it with his elbows on his knees. He took a deep breath, clasped his hands, and peeked over his shoulder.
Asenna had turned back around to face the mirror again, leaning forward and running her hands through her close-cropped hair as she checked out her handiwork.
Out of nowhere, a memory rose up in Charlie's mind, showing him Saira, the night before their wedding, standing naked in front of a washroom mirror the same way Asenna was at that moment. They had just made love, for what would be their first and only night, and Saira had gone to the washroom, wanting to clean herself up. Charlie remembered lying naked on the bed, watching her as she stopped at the mirror, leaning toward it as she ran her hands through her long, dark hair, the silky tresses spilling down her back in springy waves. Then she'd looked over at him, a glorious smile on her face, and climbed back into bed, her body soft and warm in his arms.
Charlie gasped and shook his head, trying to clear the memory before it pulled him down. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and peeked over his shoulder again.
Asenna had put away the clippers and scissors and was rapidly sweeping up the trimmings scattered all over the counter and floor, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized the surfaces to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Charlie blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and looked away again in a hurry when his gaze dropped to her scars.
“Saira's gone, Charlie,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “That's Asenna, not Saira. Get it together, man.”
He shook himself, rubbing his eyes, and held his head in his hands, trying to think of something to focus on so that the memories would go away.
“You're tired and stressed, that's all,” he told himself. “Just take it easy. Saira's gone. She's–”
But he couldn't make himself say the word again.
Through the open washroom door, he heard the shower turn on, and clasped his hands together, his knuckles turning white as he rested his forehead down on them.
“Keep it together, Charlie. You told Chief you could do this, and you will. Remember why you're here.”
He took another deep breath, held it for as long as he could, and let it out slowly as he relaxed back onto the couch. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened to the sound of running water and simply waited, not seeking out any other distractions, until Asenna came out in her bathrobe.
“Oh, shit, Crawford,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Didn't know you were in here.”
“Sorry,” he said, straightening up. “Didn't mean to startle you.”
Asenna exhaled heavily. “It's fine.” She paused, tilting her head to one side. “You alright? You look awful.”
“Thanks a lot,” he muttered, resting his forearms on his knees.
“No, sorry, I just…It's really getting to you, isn't it?”
He looked up at her from under his eyelashes, raising his eyebrows. “Which it, precisely?”
“Mmmm, good point. Sorry. Anything I can do?”
Charlie shook his head, then stopped, turning to look at her. “We should get out of here. Take a break. Get away for an hour.”
Asenna froze mid-step on her way to the kitchenette.
“You mean, like, outside?”
Charlie stood and took a few steps toward her, holding his hands out at the sight of her wide-eyed worry. “I'm sure it'll be fine. Besides, the gods know we could both use some fresh air.”
She rapidly shook her head. “Crawford, I can't go outside.”
Charlie pressed his lips together, thinking, then asked, “Alright, what if we have Chief come along? Would that make it easier for you?”
Asenna twisted her fingers together and bit her lip.
“Come on,” he murmured. “You can't tell me you like being stuck in this room all the time.”
She grimaced. “I hate it, but…” She paused. “I really would like to see the suns again.” She glanced toward the window, biting her lip again. “Alright,” she sighed.
Charlie grinned, feeling oddly relieved. “Get dressed,” he murmured. “I'll wait for you downstairs.”
He headed toward the door, looking back over his shoulder to make sure she actually intended to go, and saw her biting her lip as she yanked some clothes out of the closet. Charlie closed the door, went to the top of the stairs, then darted over to the chief's office instead.
The door was slightly ajar, and as Charlie approached, he heard Dr. Galvin's voice, saying, “…been an interesting study, that's for sure. But how much longer do you think you can keep this up? This is not a dance to be taken lightly, and may never be over if you're not careful.”
“I don't–” the chief began, then straightened up as Charlie pushed the door open. “Crawford.”
“Chief,” he said with a nod. “Doc.”
“What is it?” Chief asked, his expression closed.
Charlie stepped inside the office and pushed the door almost shut. “I'm taking Asenna downtown for lunch,” he began, and held up a hand to forestall Benash's denial. “We'd like you to join
us.”
The chief raised an eyebrow as he looked up at him, then glanced over at the doctor.
“Bad idea?”
“Well,” Dr. Galvin began, “it certainly defeats the purpose of keeping her hidden, but…Might be good for her, actually. Certainly not healthy for her to be in that room all the time. No, I think the change of scene would do her good, especially since she's always been afraid to go outside.”
“Why?”
The doctor spread his hands. “Besides the fact that she's not used to being out of that room, she's afraid of going outside because she thinks that what happens to others in her visions will happen to her directly. I call this progress. But I agree, you should go along.”
Benash nodded thoughtfully to himself, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“We can finish our talk later, Chief,” the doctor said, rising. “You could use the break, too, I'm sure.”
The chief breathed a laugh at the doctor's authoritative tone, and nodded. “Thanks, Galvin.”
The doctor nodded at Charlie and left the room, and Charlie found the chief looking up at him silently.
“What?” Charlie asked.
Benash continued silent for a moment, then asked, “What are you doing, Crawford?”
Charlie sank into a chair. “Trying to solve a fucking nightmare.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Charlie nodded. “My mind is so full of case details, and being cooped up in that room all day is just…” He paused, shaking his head. “I'm starting to have trouble separating memories and nightmares and reality. It's all blending together, and with the mess of these cases…”
“Crawford, do I need to have you replaced already?”
“No!” he insisted, sitting forward. “No, I came here to do a job, and I'm going to do it. I promise. I just…A short break, that's all I need. Get out of that room, get my mind off everything for a little bit. And she needs it, too.”
Benash nodded, his gaze going unfocused. “She spent so much of her early years outdoors, under the trees, she never really was keen about having a roof over her head. Until she grew up, of course.”
“Really?” Charlie asked. “Was that back when you all were–”
“I really don't want to talk about the past right now,” the chief said, cutting him off. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”
Charlie nodded, keeping his mouth shut, and waited while Benash thought it over.
“Very well,” the chief conceded. “We'll go. Just for an hour. But I want you fully armed and keep your communicator on.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlie agreed, and rushed off to get his shoulder holster and guns.
Chapter 10
ASENNA STEPPED out the front door of the agency office, tucking her chin against her chest as she surveyed the street before her. People walked about, going their separate ways, and paid no attention to the three detectives wearing suits that hid concealed weapons.
She brushed her arm along her side, feeling the bulge of a gun where it was tucked into a shoulder holster under her jacket, and stood up a little straighter. The chief watched her curiously while Crawford beckoned her with a smile, and Asenna took a deep breath and joined them on the sidewalk.
They strolled along in silence, breathing deeply and gazing around at the glorious city that surrounded them. Tall buildings of steel and glass rose to the sky, half covered in vertical gardens and trailing vines that left the city feeling more like a living jungle than a busy metropolis. The air was fresh and clean, the colors vibrant, and the streets hummed with industrious activity.
Asenna forgot her fear as she lost herself in the beauty of downtown New Haven. Window boxes burst with the colors of several different types of flower, while entire walls were overgrown with decorative plants or fresh vegetables: the latest trend in clean air and affordable produce within the city proper. Asenna marveled at the sight.
Four blocks from the agency, they came upon an acre of space in the heart of the city, the ground covered in a beautiful array of marble, stone, and stained concrete. Surrounded by the skyward ambitions of men with purpose, Divinity Square was a tranquil centerpiece to the glorious banquet, despite its draw of crowds.
“Gods,” Asenna whispered, stopping as she took in the sight. “I forgot it was all so big.”
Chief and Crawford looked back at her, both of them looking much more at ease than they had when they'd left the agency. Crawford offered her a smile and extended his hand, beckoning her forward.
They weaved their way through small pockets of people and went to one end of the Square, turning their gazes upon the marble statues of the holy Seven.
The statues rose nearly twenty feet high, arranged in a teardrop shape with the One at the point and the Six forming the curve. Asenna gaped at each one in turn, admiring the Mother's flowing grey hair and skirt of seaweed. A handful of farmers gathered at Her feet, heads bowed in prayer. Beside Her, the Fathers stood tall and proud, with Zhagos wielding his mighty ax and Kalos sparkling in myriad colors. A woman in a wheelchair faced Kalos, her lips moving silently while tears streamed down her face.
Asenna tore her eyes away from the suffering woman, and looked up at the Twins. Inadra and Inaria stood connected at the hip, both of them achingly beautiful, the one almost moving Asenna to tears with the purity radiating from her face, while the other stirred up hidden desires that Asenna had been trying to deny.
She looked next at Thrysundir, Lord of Action, and felt a swell of determination in her chest. Without a word, she walked slowly over to the statue, hearing the footsteps of the chief and Crawford behind her, though they hung back to give her some space.
Asenna stopped at Thrysundir's feet, gazing up at the god's determined expression, inspiring action and purpose.
“Help me to keep going,” she whispered. “Help me find the answer.”
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and though she wasn't inclined to believe in the gods speaking directly to individuals, a thought came to her that those who deserve help most are those who first help themselves.
Asenna opened her eyes, looked up at the marble depiction of the god, and nodded subtly.
She turned away, and looked last upon the statue dedicated to the One. As the One did not have anything like a human form, the statue was simply a tall, narrow column of the purest white marble with a torch at its cap, always burning from a constant source of renewable fuel. The flame had never once gone out since the statues had been raised so many years before, and Asenna suspected it would take another Breaking to make that flame wither and die.
Smiling to herself, she turned around and saw the chief standing over by the statue of Kalos, silently gazing up at the hairless rainbow god. She looked at Crawford, who shrugged, and they both went over to join him.
“You alright, Chief?” she asked, seeing the tense look on his face.
His jaw tightened, but with a deep breath, he managed to murmur, “I keep asking Him why there must be such suffering in this life. I'm not sure I've ever gotten an answer.”
“Because we are not perfect,” someone answered respectfully, “and we're not meant to be.”
Asenna looked around, and saw a young man in blue-grey robes rise from his knees before Kalos and turn to face them with a smile.
“Kalos made each of us different and unique, so we all have our varied strengths and weaknesses,” the young man went on, and pointed at Inadra. “Then They gave us passions and desires,” he said, then pointed at Inaria, “as well as morals,” and moved his finger to point at the Lord of Action, “from which we might make decisions and choices and take action, for good or for evil. Suffering is, for better or worse, part of what makes life go on. Part of what makes us who we are as individuals is what we do with that suffering when it comes to us. Do we wallow in self-pity, drown in our suffering, give up on life, and become a burden to our fellow man? Or do we harness that suffering, and use it to make ourselves stronger, rising
from the ashes with renewed determination? That is each man's choice.”
“You speak with such conviction,” Crawford murmured, staring at the man.
The man shrugged. “I'm of the Siksani, a priest of the Seven, a senior student of Jadu'n.”
“The magi,” Asenna gasped, looking at him in wonder, as she'd never seen a mage in person before.
“Father's love! No,” the young man corrected with a chuckle. “Not quite. But perhaps very soon. I'm on my way back to Jadu'n this very moment to attend my final trials, to see if I've earned my Rajali status—that is, full mage, certified by the Jaduan High Council. I only stopped here a moment to pray for the Father's blessing. If you'll excuse me, I must be going. Master Cryntz is not particularly forgiving of tardiness.” He bowed to them with all sincerity. “Seven be with you.”
With that, he turned on his heel and crossed the Square, heading toward the far side where the starglass Gates stood.
“Shall we go watch?” the chief asked, and Asenna nodded. They slowly crossed the Square, roughly following the man, and stopped within several feet of the Gates.
The Gates dominated one end of the Square, seven enormous, glittering doorways erected in a shallow arc, one for each of the other Isles in the world. Asenna watched the man walk straight toward one of the Gates and simply vanish as he stepped through it, while others arrived or departed through other Gates, not even a hesitation in their steps as they approached the glittering surfaces, as though they were merely out for a stroll.
“That's amazing,” she breathed. “One of these days, I want to try that.”
The chief gave her a strange look, but she ignored it as she turned and strolled down the line of Gates, reading the destination of each one.
“Andria…Jadu'n…Erostil…” She drew up short as two women emerged from the Erostil Gate, completely hairless, marvelously tanned, and just barely dressed. Asenna stared at them, dumbfounded, then blinked and continued on. “Ceynes…Falsin…”
Again she stopped, staring at the sight of an enormous man just arriving from the frozen Isle in the north of the world. He stood at least seven feet tall, his skin icy pale and his hair dark as pitch, long braids woven through with claws all clicking together as he moved. Even covered in furs, his body was clearly nothing but muscle, and his face seemed frozen, as though capable of no expression whatsoever. He shook a pile of snow off his shoulders and continued on his way.