by Joshua Bader
“Look, I think I’ve got everything under control. But if I start to lose it...”
“Start? We’re well out of the starting gate of insanity, my friend.”
“…I’ll call you. I promise.”
I stood up, ready to see this mysterious lawyer of mine and hunt down some dinner. “So how did they figure out I didn’t kill that guy anyway?”
Agent Salazar looked grim. “There was another killing while you were in custody. Same MO.” He shook his head. “Go bury your father, Mr. Fisher. Try and forget about this mess.”
4
No fewer than three officers walked me downstairs to my attorney. No doubt they were hoping I’d kill someone on my way out so as to make my recapture simple. Their manner was tight, closed-mouthed, and disciplined. Second body or not, these men still believed me guilty of something. I wondered how much the FBI had told the OSBI about Sarai’s disappearance.
I spotted her immediately, though lawyer was not the first, second, or even third idea I connected to her. Her hair was an unsullied white, coifed to right below the shoulders in a manner that assured she kept a professional stylist on a hefty retainer. As I got closer, I amended that to an entire professional salon on salary. Her white linen dress reminded me of Marilyn Monroe. She filled it out in a way that would have made even the first supermodel jealous. A tan, lean leg stretched from an ivory spiked high heel to a slit in her dress just before her thigh. If she had been handcuffed, I would’ve thought she was a very expensive hooker.
“If she was handcuffed, I’d ask how much.”
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, she looked over at me. I blushed, half-afraid that she had heard my lusty inner voice. The embarrassment turned to confusion as I realized my escorts were marching me directly to her. Within moments of arriving next to her, the officers scattered as if whatever she or I had was highly contagious.
“Mr. Fisher.” Her accent was vaguely continental. “I am glad you are finally free. Will you forgive me for taking so long in liberating you?”
I accepted her manicured hand and bowed to gently kiss her knuckles. “Of course, I didn’t even realize I had a lawyer. Somehow I doubt you’re a public defender.”
Her laughter was rich and throaty. “No, you’re quite right. My employer instructed me to fetch you.” She whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “There’s not enough money in the world to get me to defend some of these parasites…or to get me in handcuffs if I don’t want to wear them.”
I pulled back at that and looked her over again. She was flawlessly beautiful. Her skin was a creamy olive color that no spray or tanning bed could ever imitate. Her eyes and lips shimmered a ruby plum. I simultaneously wanted her and wanted to be nowhere near her. Had she heard my thoughts? I doubted it, but...
“I’m sorry,” she purred. “I can be a little forward. I hope I haven’t offended you.”
“No, no, you haven’t. I just…I had thought of you in handcuffs before we ever spoke and your comment caught me off guard. Great first impression on my part. Colin Fisher, horny pervert.”
She wrapped her arm around mine. “Duchess Deluce. Shall we get out of here or are you going to proposition me in front of all these officers of the law?”
There was something about her that suggested she was used to getting what she wanted from men with a whisper, a purr, and an arm-wrap. That was enough to make me want to go the other direction just to prove a point. “I’d love to, but I’ve got to find out what they did with my car.”
“Already taken care of. It’s being towed from impound to an auto shop. I can provide our transportation until she’s ready.”
“Oh. Thank you, Miss Deluce, but I don’t know that I can afford a mechanic.”
We started walking toward a series of glass doors leading out to the street. “As I said, it’s already taken care of. My employer gave me a healthy budget for this task and there’s plenty extra since I didn’t have to post bond for you or bribe any public officials. And, please, call me Duchess.”
“She corrected the name, but not the ‘miss’ part. Jackpot.”
“Hush, you. There’s clearly been some kind of mistake. I don’t have any friends rich enough to hire her to help me. We’ll be nice, meet her employer. And once he figures out I’m not the guy he thought I was, I’ll offer to pay him back out of my inheritance…assuming I haven’t been formally disinherited.”
When I looked up, we were standing beside a Lincoln MKX, a uniformed driver holding the door open for us. Duchess was staring at me, her head tilted to one side as if she were confused. I smiled and made a sweeping gesture into the vehicle. “After you, Duchess.”
As she bent over to get in the car, I duplicated the spell I had used at the store last night, imagining an eggshell-white protective layer all over. I don’t know why I did, but somehow I felt naked next to her.
“I can’t imagine why you’d associate her and nudity. Really, not a clue.”
5
Why the dinner date remained popular was a mystery to me. Most of the foods I preferred were difficult, if not impossible, to eat while projecting an aura of savoir-faire at the same time. It was even worse when the female half of the date was so obviously out of my league. Fortunately, I was starving and my survival instinct vetoed any desire to impress my lawyer.
Duchess had suggested a place called the Petroleum Club, but I stood firm. I didn’t want to run up the tab any higher than I had to until I actually met her mystery employer. She had assured me a few thousand here or there wouldn’t faze him. I then played my trump card and said that after only two candy bars and bean paste in the last day, I didn’t think I could wait for a kitchen to prepare anything. Consequently, Duchess was the most elegantly dressed woman to ever sit in a McDonald’s booth.
“So when do I get to meet this boss of yours?” I asked between monster-sized bites.
She slurped from her strawberry milk shake. “Tomorrow morning. He’s flying in from Boston.”
I laughed. “You’ve never been awkward a day in your life, have you?”
She glanced around nervously, as if the décor might attack her. “What? Is there…?”
“No, I mean you looked mortified when your straw made that noise. Have you ever even eaten fast food before?”
“Is it that obvious?” She shook her head and returned my laughter in kind. “I haven’t giggled like this in ages. You…I can’t predict you.” She slurped loudly, this time on purpose. “So, client-to-lawyer…did you kill any of them?”
“Are you sure that’s a burger-and-fries type of question?” I glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “And how many is 'them'? The FBI wasn’t particularly specific as to how many bodies I was supposed to have racked up.”
“Six in the last month. All frozen, all mutilated. The police are getting desperate. Be glad I showed up or you’d still be stuck in there, sixth body or no sixth body. And you didn’t answer me. Did you kill any of them?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“But you’ve killed someone before?”
“No…I don’t know.”
“Yes.”
Duchess winced as if she had an air horn go off next to her ear. I put my hand on hers. “Are you okay?”
“That’s the second time something like that has happened. Let me try something.”
“What are you up to?”
“Just keep talking to her and stealing glances at her chest. I’ll handle the rest.”
“Duchess…are you all right?”
She shook her head, looking very far from all right. She stole a swig of my Dr. Pepper. “Headache, I think, nothing too...”
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”
She stopped in mid-sentence, her cheeks paling till they were the same tint as her hair. “All right, all right, I’ll behave,” she said weakly.
I nibbled my fries contemplatively. “You’re a telepath.”
She nodded. “I barely even think about it anymore. Most p
eople practically broadcast what they’re thinking. You…your defenses are impressive.”
I tried my shielding spell again, adding a helmet-shaped bubble covering my head. “Be careful when delving into the affairs of wizards for they are subtle and quick to steal your French fries. I may be misquoting.” I waited another second. “Is that better?”
“I’m out, Girl Scout's honor. I can shut it down when I have to.”
“Murder, telepathy, and handcuffs. Definitely not the usual first dinner conversations. Most people would have run away screaming long ago.”
She snaked one golden strand of crisp potato between her luscious lips. “I’m not most people. Unseelie fey blood on my mom’s side.”
Now it was my turn to look shocked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, what about you? You’re clearly not human.”
I didn’t know how to answer. “As far as I know, yeah, I am. I have been studying magic ever since...”
“Totally human, absolutely. Nothing to see here, move along.”
When I didn’t finish, she picked up where I left off. “Since when? I’ve met a few wizards and most of them are as easy to read as anyone else. Fakers and shakers.”
“Since…you asked me if I ever killed someone. I haven’t. At least I don’t think so. I had this fiancée in college, Sarai. I loved her like crazy. She worked in a bookstore off campus. I must have bought a hundred extra books just as an excuse to see her. It took a while, but she gave in. We had a year together. One wonderful year…and then she was gone. She had spent the night in my apartment. We stayed up late reading spooky stories and munching popcorn. When morning came, she had simply disappeared. I…it changed everything.”
Duchess rubbed her hand on top of mine. “Let me guess. You spent all your time looking for her instead of going to class. You saw her everywhere, but it was never really her. Losing a love sucks, believe me, I know. But you didn’t kill her. And how did it get you into magic?”
“Maybe I did kill her. I have trouble remembering that night. And…the door was still chain-locked in the morning. Either she jumped out of a fourth-floor window, walked through a wall, or she never left the apartment.”
“You ate her. Every last drop.”
Duchess leaned back and closed her eyes. She tightened her face in an effort of concentration. “I believe you, Colin. I’m going to tell him that you didn’t kill any of his employees. I’m also going to tell him to hire you. If he offers you a job, any job, I suggest you take it.”
“Is that why he sprung me out of jail? A job offer?”
Her smile was melancholy. “No. He wanted you free so he could torture and kill you himself. He’s not happy that someone is picking off his employees. And when he’s not happy...” Duchess shuddered all over.
6
I called home to Uncle James and Aunt Celia that night before going to bed. It was awkward and difficult.
My sleep was restless for the rest of the night. I blamed it on the soft mattress at the hotel. I had gotten so used to sleeping in the car or under the stars that a real, honest-to-goodness bed gave me bad dreams. Thinking about murder all day might have had something to do with it as well.
In my mind’s eye, I could see Sarai, curled up into a ball at the end of that hideous paisley couch I had back in college. Her feet were tucked underneath her, her arms wrapped around her knees, her teeth absentmindedly digging into her lower lip. I’m reading a story from the book, that cursed, vile tome I threw into the fire years ago. Every word terrifies her, tantalizes her, the fear and the passion all tangled up together inside of her. Sarai loved to be scared.
In the dark recesses of that ancient cavern,
I could hear the mad priest still chanting,
His deathless voice repeating the forbidden words,
Fast and frantic, an insane jumble of ranting;
Yog-Shoggoth Abishai Nostaru Nofar Immi-shoggoth.
Yog-Shoggoth Abishai Nostaru Nofar Immi-shoggoth.
Then, she is next to me, her face nuzzled up against mine. She kisses me, her lips seeking deep purchase in mine. Her taste is salty, metallic…bloody from where she bit her lip. She pulls back from me with a mischievous grin. “Blood of a virgin. Better be careful.”
“You know we could fix that. No mad priest could use you for a sacrifice if you weren’t a virgin.”
“Mmm. I suppose you’d chant over me as we made love.”
“Only if you wanted me to.”
She pulls back into her story-time position. “Finish the story. If I like the way it ends, maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Let’s see, where was I …?”
Yog-Shoggoth Abishai Nostaru Nofar Immi-shoggoth.
Yog-Shoggoth Abishai Nostaru Nofar Immi-shoggoth.
Each syllable of that dark tongue echoed
Over water and stone and I knew then what must be done.
When I pause to turn the page, it is no longer Sarai on the couch with me, but Agent Devereaux. “We found my body, you know.” She pulls off her t-shirt to reveal the bloody cavity between her breasts. “Why? Why did you kill me?”
“Blood of a virgin. How could I have known?”
I hear Duchess’ voice whisper in my ear. “You’re clearly not human. You ate her. Every last drop.”
I dreamed that same dream with slight variations five times that night. In the worst of them, she made love to me while I stared at the hole where her heart should have been.
7
The chauffeur delivered me to an IHOP six blocks from the hotel. I got quite the assortment of looks in the parking lot. I wondered whether it was my jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket contrasting with my transportation or the fact that it was a limo in front of a pancake restaurant. I suspected most of them craned their necks to see whose bodyguard I was. Duchess wasn’t with me, so the celebrity gawkers had to be disappointed.
I happily noted Dorothy’s presence in the parking lot, her silver hood shining under a fresh coat of wax. I took good care of her, but she looked fit for royalty after Duchess’ people got through with her. Whoever she worked for, he didn’t believe in doing things halfway. Assuming there was a new battery to go with the makeover, I would have to sincerely thank him.
“Unless he also wired a bomb to her ignition. Don’t forget he sent Duchess to kill us,” my inner voice was kind to remind.
“Only if I was guilty. And he wanted to kill me himself. If you’re going to spew paranoid conspiracy theories, at least keep your facts straight.”
The restaurant was mostly empty. The senior citizen early birds had finished their meals, while the late morning brunchers were still packing their kids off to school. Kids were still going to school, right? It was mid-October, but I didn’t have a clue what day of the week it was. Windowless cells have that effect on a lot of their residents, but I wasn’t much of a calendar and appointment book guy before that. Thursday, I decided. It felt like a Thursday.
It wasn’t hard to pick out Duchess’ boss. For starters, he could have purchased ownership of the restaurant for substantially less than what he had spent on his black designer suit. It had been tailored to his unique frame, lending him an air of grace and sophistication, while still providing hints of the iron muscle underneath. A white Nero-collar shirt with silver buttons contained his large neck and bulging chest. His black hair was neatly trimmed, every wisp held in place by a veneer of hair spray. Beyond his well-coifed exterior, however, he radiated a commanding aura. I doubted any lesser mortal could be called “boss” by Duchess Deluce.
As I showed myself to his table, I tried to relax my vision to look through him. An old herb woman in Oregon had taught me how to see auras, a talent I didn’t practice nearly as often as I should have. I pretended I didn’t do it often because it was an invasion of privacy, but the truth was that it was too much like work. It was hard on the eyes to let loose of my focus, but it was even harder if what I saw forced me to take action. I can’t see someone depressed, in pain, or haunted b
y a spiritual parasite and not try to help. Deep down, I have the heart of a knight. Like most knights, I’d had the crap kicked out of me more often than I could count for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. Both dragons and damsels can be equally resentful of outside interference, no matter how well intentioned.
However, meeting a fae-blooded telepath reminded me that I was part of a much larger universe. If pressed, I called myself a wizard, but that was only out of convenience. I couldn’t throw a fireball or call lightning out of a cloudless sky, but I was capable of things that would make even the most cynical atheist pause. Most of my magic fell into one of three distinct categories: Foresight, Chance, or Emotion. Aura sight was part of the first and mostly involved convincing my conscious brain to shut up long enough for me to hear how my unconscious brain viewed the world. If Duchess’ boss was anything other than human…
But human was all he was. His aura blurred in around the edges, but looked much like any other essence. I briefly closed my eyes to get a better feel for the color by contrasting it against the back of my eyelids. Most auras have a rainbow assortment of colors with band thickness and distance from the body telling the story of the person’s current internal state. His revealed only a granite gray shell, the outside layer concealing all else. It was human, but it was disciplined human. He either meditated regularly or was using something akin to my eggshell shield spell. The choice of color, cold, hard, and unyielding, spoke volumes about the man.
“Mr. Fisher. Sit, please.” His voice fit both the outfit and the aura. I thought I heard a slight Boston accent on the r’s, more “ah” than “er”. I did as he asked, taking up residence in the booth across from him.
With a gloved hand, he produced an ivory white business card and slid it across to me. In silver letters, “Lucien Valente” had been embossed in the center of the card. No phone numbers, titles, or e-mail addresses cluttered it; only his name appeared. While I inspected it, he removed the glove before grabbing a piece of toast off his plate and holding it out to me. “Take, eat.”