One Way Fare

by Barbara Taub

  He looked down. “Except maybe that scarf.”

  Leila realized she had been slashing at the scarf with the knife. Carefully, she put the shredded scarf and jewels back on the table, sat down, and laid her head onto her folded arms as the red mist faded. She felt Thomas pressing the cloth against her cheek and awkwardly patting her shoulder. He asked if an omelet might make her feel better.

  Actually, it did.

  “So let’s review.” She looked up from the mountain of eggs and potatoes heaped on her plate. “We don’t know who’s after us, we don’t know how to get to Raqia or find my Donor, and we don’t know what we’re supposed to do. But we do know how to find the Mustache here in Seattle. And we might be able to find your grandfather in London. We need someone who didn’t play hooky during Nephilim school.”

  Thomas looked away quickly.

  “Wait.” She pointed an accusing finger. “You already thought of your grandfather, didn’t you?”

  He went absolutely rigid. Through clenched jaws he said, “Of course I thought about him. How many nights do you suppose I laid awake? Not just thinking of getting to my grandfather, but wondering if there was any way I could change things? Stop Danny and Cécile from getting in that car? I want it so much I can’t breathe. But then if I do, I won’t match you, and we won’t take the Metro back to get the chance to save them and… Then I just keep seeing Danny falling on top of Cécile.”

  At the desolation in his eyes, her chest hurt. But she hadn’t been his “sister” this long for nothing.

  “Thomas! Focus!” she snapped.

  He looked shocked.

  “We both know this is like, so totally about me,” she channeled her best Valley Girl imitation.

  He snorted and reached around to snag her plate. Over a mouthful of her potatoes, he managed, “You just keep telling yourself that, Princess.”

  They decided he would write to his grandfather in London, claiming to be a distant American cousin and asking for advice about his Nephilim heritage. “Good thing we live a long time,” Thomas grumbled when he heard it would probably take a couple of months to deliver their letter and get a response.

  “A telegram!” Leila was delighted. “I’ve always wanted to send one.” With much debate, they finally produced a message:

  I AM AMERICAN COUSIN. URGENTLY NEED INFORMATION AS REGARDS NEPHILIM. MATCH AT STAKE. PLEASE SEND TO THOMAS CHAPEL AT LA FONTAINE RESTAURANT SEATTLE STATE OF WASHINGTON UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

  “How much to send this to Mr. Sebastian Chapel, Chapel House, Park Lane, London?” she asked. Ignoring both the raised brows of the telegraph operator and Thomas’ gasp of outrage at the cost, Leila paid for the telegram. Then she dragged a still-protesting Thomas back to La Fontaine.

  The Mustache was their obvious next-thing. Thomas sent a messenger with notes to tell his assistant chefs they would be on their own that night, while Leila added a message to their headwaiter, Michel, offering him her place as Maître d’hôtel due to the sale of the restaurant.

  “Is there a reverse for déjà vu?” Leila wondered aloud as they made their way back to the railroad station. “This feels like we’re going backward from what we did a year ago.”

  “Well, nobody shot me today, and we have a pile of money, so I call it progress,” Thomas replied firmly. “Course, it’s still early.”

  The train station now had a sign proudly proclaiming LADIES WAITING ROOM and boasted benches for waiting passengers. While they waited, Thomas brought her a cup of tea, and they looked over their Things We Know lists.

  Leila shook her head in frustration. “Maybe we need to look at where our evil villain wannabe has gone wrong?”

  “Joe and Bill.” Thomas’ nod was decisive. “And I quote: ‘If a group of henchmen fail miserably at a task, I will not berate them for incompetence then send the same group out to try the task again.’“

  “Evil Overlord List,” she approved. “I like it.” They killed a few more minutes trading their favorites from Peter Anspach’s list of The Top 100 Things I’d Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord. Thomas liked number four, “Shooting is not too good for my enemies.” But Leila insisted nothing would ever top number thirty-four: “I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.” She finished her tea and glanced at the clock on the station wall. They still had several hours before they needed to worry about prepping for dinner service. “I wonder if Alex is going to be upset when he finds out I made Michel the Maître d’hôtel.”

  “Hope so,” muttered Thomas.

  “Everyone else loves Alex,” she teased. “What do you have against him?”

  To her surprise, Thomas responded seriously, “Why is he always there? Hanging around us? Trying to touch you? It seems like we can never get rid of him.”

  As if on cue, Alex dashed into the station. His face lit up when he saw them, and he was already speaking as he approached. “I heard what happened last night, and I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you all right? Are you going somewhere? What’s going on?” Before they could answer, Alex continued, “You have to come right away. It’s the Fryes. They were in Madison Valley looking at property, and they were attacked. Emma is hurt, and they are both asking for you.”

  Leila leaped to her feet, but Thomas didn’t move. “How did you know we were here?”

  “Michel told me,” said Alex.

  Thomas’ fingers pressed into Leila’s arm. Her eyes widened as she remembered they hadn’t told anyone where they were going. Alex saw her hesitate. He stepped closer to her, and she felt something hard pressing against her ribs. In a voice so soft she knew nobody but Thomas could have heard, Alex breathed, “Thomas, don’t even think about going for that little gun of yours. If you move, she’s dead. Now you’re going to walk in front of us like the good friends we all are and get into the wagon outside. Keep your hands where I can see them. You’ll drive, and we’ll be sitting right behind you. If I see your hands leave the reins, I’ll shoot her.”

  Thomas looked at Leila and shook his head slightly. After a solid year of Thomas-speak, she knew what he meant. Don’t do anything yet—let’s see where this goes.

  She blinked slowly and hoped he was as good at Leila-speak. Okay, but there better not be blood.

  His eyes flickered to her coat pocket holding her little gun. Alex thinks I’m the one with the gun. Be careful. Trust me.

  She rolled eyes slightly. You’re not the boss of me.

  Thomas pressed his mouth into a grim straight line, but his gray eyes smiled approval at her.

  As the wagon rolled off, Leila looked up to meet the eyes of the Mustache watching them from the shadowed depot entry.

  “What do you want, Alex?” Leila sat very still as Thomas guided the wagon through the crowded streets.

  “Not this.” Automatically, Alex turned his boyish grin on her, only to have it slip as he met her stony glare. Looking hurt, his voice edged into a whine. “I really like you Leila, but I have to find the Book. It’s the only way for my family to survive, and everyone is counting on me.”

  “Book? What book?”

  Thomas glanced back, looking as mystified as she felt, but he said nothing.

  “Um, Alex?” Leila felt like a character saying lines from the wrong play. “We don’t have any book. We don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “You have it,” Alex insisted. “I saw you wearing the sapphires last night. Now I need the other earring, and I need you to show me how to form the Book.”

  “Is that book with a capitol B? What is it about?”

  “It’s about everything.” Alex pulled his gun away from Leila’s side to wave it as emphasis. “My sister says the Archangel Raziel wrote it on a sheet of sapphire and gave it to Adam after the humans were driven from paradise. We need to get it back before they use it to build the new Null City.”

  “Ooh-kay.” Alex, your sister is a few bricks short of a load. Must run in the family. But that’s fine because you don’t have that gun in my
side anymore…

  Leila considered their options as the wagon rolled past the edge of Seattle streets toward the road to Madison Valley. Thomas might not have been much of an angel, she decided, but Alex sure didn’t know the first thing about being a villain.

  “Alex?” she asked cautiously. “Have you ever heard of the Evil Overlord List?”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “Cause you’ve broken a bunch of the rules, and I thought we’d just go over a few of them. Thomas—do you remember the one about physics?”

  With no notice, Thomas pulled violently on the reins, jolting the wagon. Leila had braced herself, and as Alex was thrown forward against the wagon bench, she whipped out her little gun and whacked him on the head with it.

  As she stared down at the unconscious Alex, Leila recited: “I will not wait for the hero to pull up alongside of me and try to force him off the road as he attempts to climb aboard. Instead I will slam on the brakes when he’s directly behind me—a rudimentary knowledge of physics can prove quite useful.”

  Thomas looked at her accusingly. “Why did you pick the physics rule? What’s wrong with ‘Shooting is not too good for my enemies’?”

  “Blood,” she reminded him. “Yuck.”

  By now they were on the road to Madison Valley, and Thomas was able to pull the wagon into the trees where they wouldn’t be seen from the road. “Let’s get him tied up,” he said as Leila retrieved her little gun. “Is there anything back there I can use?”

  Leila lifted the tarp at the back of the wagon, and Joe’s sightless eyes stared into hers. She turned and briskly vomited over the side of the wagon.

  “Rope won’t hold him,” said a voice behind them. “Better use these.”

  Thomas and Leila whirled to see the Mustache standing behind the wagon holding out two sets of handcuffs.

  “Who are you?” Leila dropped her hand to the pocket holding her gun. “And why have you been following us?”

  “I wasn’t following you. I was following Alex Menard. I spend a lot of my time cleaning up after his family.” He held out the handcuffs. “And you can call me … Sam.”

  “Does anyone else call you Sam?” Her eyes narrowed, and she made no move to take the cuffs.

  “Not that many,” he admitted. “You going to put these on him? He won’t stay down for more than a few minutes.”

  Thomas reached around Leila and took the two sets of handcuffs. He snapped them onto Alex’s wrists and ankles, raising an eyebrow as he noticed there didn’t appear to be any way to unlock them. Then he methodically searched Alex’s clothes. Like him, Alex also carried a knife on his back. Thomas reached for it only to pull back with a yell. He and Leila stared at the blistered skin of his hand.

  By then Alex was stirring. The eyes he opened … glowed. In a voice to rival Leila at her most demonic, he looked past her to Sam and growled, “Let me go. You know you’re not allowed to interfere with my free will, and if I don’t get the Book, it will be the end of all of us.”

  He seemed to make an effort, and his face returned to the Alex they knew. With rueful charm, he smiled at Leila and shrugged against his cuffs. “I’ve been your friend since you got here. I’ve watched over you. I saved you from him at the building site that day. And I was worried about you last night, so I was watching outside La Fontaine when Joe came out. He was cut up pretty badly by the glass as he went out your window. But before he died, he told me he had been hired by him,” Alex jerked his chin toward Sam, “to steal the earrings. It’s true I was sent to Seattle to look for the Book. We knew it had to appear before they built the new Null City. You have to help me. It’s the only way we can save my parents, my family. And Thomas’ brother.”

  “Wow.” Leila stared at him. “As an Evil Overlord, you really suck.”

  “Right.” Sam drew his own gun and pointed it at Alex.

  “Wait!” yelled Alex. “Before you shoot me, you have to…”

  Sam pulled the trigger and Alex slumped over. “No,” Sam told him thoughtfully.

  Sam turned to Leila and Thomas. “Actually, I have read the Evil Overlord List. ‘When I’ve captured my adversary and he says, ‘Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?’ I’ll say, ‘No.’ and shoot him. No, on second thought I’ll shoot him and then say ‘No.’”

  He smiled at their appalled faces. “Don’t worry about him. His kind heals pretty fast.” Sam hoisted Alex’s limp body over his shoulders. As he was about to turn away, he tossed something to Leila’s automatic catch. “Here, you’ll need this.” He trudged toward the trees. Just before he stepped into the woods, Sam looked at Leila. “Tell your Daddy I said hello.”

  Leila stared after him for a long time before looking down at the sapphire earring clenched in her fist.

  They debated what to do with Joe. Finding a shovel in the back of the wagon told them Alex must have intended to bury Joe at least. “In the movies,” Leila panted as they took turns digging a grave in the woods, “this never looked so hard.” Thomas took the shovel and finished the hole. He wrapped Joe’s body in the tarp from the back of the wagon and carried it to the grave while Leila looked away. Leila shoveled dirt back over and they tramped it down.

  They both looked down at the packed dirt when they were done. “I can’t remember Joe’s last name,” she said quietly.

  “Good thing the 1891 Seattle Police Department doesn’t have a CSI team,” Leila observed as they pulled the bloodstained wagon into the alley behind La Fontaine. “But we should probably cover this up.” As they reached the restaurant, another wagon pulled up behind them.

  “Kerosene delivery for La Fontaine,” called the driver.

  Leila met Thomas’ eyes. As she signed for the delivery and paid the driver, Thomas piled the barrels over the bloodstained rear bed of Alex’s wagon. Heading inside, they met a messenger delivering a telegram.

  COME TO LONDON. URGENT. S CHAPEL

  Thomas whistled in admiration. “Short. I bet it didn’t cost half of what we paid.”

  They were surprised to find the restaurant empty, but it was still early afternoon and nobody had arrived to start the dinner prep. After packing quickly, Leila wrote a farewell letter to the Fryes while Thomas wrote out instructions to Michel and the assistant chefs. Locking up the front of the restaurant, they left through the back. Neither noticed the couple standing uncertainly outside the front entrance of La Fontaine.

  Thomas and Leila headed to the pier to inquire about passage to England. There was a steamer sailing to San Francisco in a few hours. From there they would have to take a train cross-country to New York, and then sail to England, a total journey of about four weeks if everything went well. They booked the last available room and staggered into their tiny cabin.

  “Don’t go all It Happened One Night on me,” warned Thomas, “but there’s only one bed. And we’re both so tired it’s where we’re going to sleep tonight.”

  “I’m too tired to argue with you or even to ask what stupid old movie you’re talking about.” Leila wearily unbuttoned her dress. “Turn around, and this time no peeking.”

  Thomas gave her his back and addressed the wall, “How can I put this in context for you? You know the part in The Little Mermaid where…” The corset hit him on the back of his head.

  Clad in the slip she now knew as a chemise, Leila climbed under the covers. Thomas simply removed his jacket and lay down on top of the blankets. Despite physical and emotional exhaustion, they lay rigidly facing away from each other. Finally, he rolled toward her and his hand crept over and clasped hers. She pressed back and was asleep in moments. They didn’t notice as the steamer pulled away and left Seattle behind.

  “Leila!” Thomas’ voice was urgent. “Help.”

  Leila snapped awake and whirled to try to look at him. Their little cabin was dark, so she put out her hand to find him shaking and sweating.

  “Thomas! What happened?”

  “I think I’m dying. I want to die
.”

  She found the lamp and managed to light it. Turning back, she saw Thomas’ face was so pale it seemed almost green.

  “You’re not dying; you’re seasick.” Looking around, she spotted a pitcher of water with a bowl underneath. She handed him the bowl in the nick of time.

  The trip to San Francisco was not pleasant.

  GABY, Chapter Eleven

  1891, Seattle

  Gaby and Luic rapped on the door of La Fontaine Restaurant even though, according to the discrete sign by the door, the restaurant wouldn’t be open for several hours. Eventually, a man in a dark suit answered and, in a heavy French accent, informed them the restaurant was closed until dinner. Then he hesitated. “Because of the … events … of last evening, several reservations have cancelled. If you wish to reserve a table, I can help you.”

  He introduced himself as Michel, La Fontaine’s Maître d’hôtel. When they explained it was urgent for them to get in touch with Thomas and Leila Chapel, Michel shook his head sadly. “There were two attempts on Miss Chapel’s life in the past week. She and her brother sold their restaurant and left without leaving any way to get in touch with them.” Then he brightened. The new owners, Mr. and Mrs. Frye, were scheduled to eat dinner there that night. Perhaps they would care for a reservation?

  After arranging for a table, Luic asked about hotels. Michel told him Leila and Thomas had stayed at the Seattle Hotel in Pioneer Square before moving into rooms at the restaurant. As they walked to Pioneer Square, Gaby marveled at the changes of the past century. But when Luic registered them as Mr. & Mrs. LeMuir, every thought came to a halt. As the door of their room closed behind them, she turned to him. “Luic.” Whatever else she had been about to say was lost as he whirled her around and backed her against the door.

  “Gabrielle.” He pushed back the veil on her little hat, and then the hat was on the floor, and he was kissing her and pulling the old-fashioned silver clip out of her hair. “Why do you have so damn many clothes on?” Frowning blankly at the antique clip in his hands, he thrust it into his pocket before his hands went to the buttons of her coat.