They talked a little longer, hammering out the details of when they would be introduced to the rest of the company. When asked if they would like stage names, they both turned them down. She was already playing a role; she didn’t need to have to try to remember a false name as well. As with most things, simpler was better, especially since they would be coming into the situation as outsiders without knowledge of the little nuances that any group of people that have been together for a while will develop.
Wrapping it up, she remained seated while Lirim showed them to the door. Hearing it shut, she allowed her posture to relax and closed her eyes for a moment. Her head was starting to ache from having her hair so tightly contained, but she ignored it as a petty annoyance. She reached up and absently rubbed her temple, trying to soothe the ache away. She opened her eyes to find Lirim studying her closely.
When she started to ask him what he wanted, he spoke first, “Hang out here and relax. Don’t bother to look at the file that they left; we can do that when I get back. I’m going to do a quick food run. I think you need to eat. It looks like you’re still recovering from yesterday. I’ll be back soon.”
She wanted to grimace at his overprotectiveness, but was unable to refute his observations. “Thanks, Lirim.”
He nodded and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. She thought about ignoring him but grabbed a pencil out of her bag and started to draw instead.
* . * . *
Lirim made the trip to the restaurant and back in record time. Although Aletta looked composed, he hadn’t liked her color by the end of the meeting. She was a few shades paler than normal, and he could tell that she had the beginning signs of a serious headache.
Pulling into his parking spot, he reviewed the meeting in his mind. He didn’t think that she had used any of her gift, but maybe he had missed the signs of it. She had a way of using it almost imperceptibly at times, and although he couldn’t think of how she would’ve used it, it was quite possible that she had without realizing it.
He gathered up the rather substantial lunch he had bought and made his way back to the conference room where he had left Aletta. He hoped she had rested like he had asked her, but he had no illusions about his stubborn partner. The door had probably not even shut behind him when she opened it.
He opened the door silently, hoping to catch her off guard. To his surprise, she had not opened the file, but neither was she resting. Instead, she was bent over the pad she had used for notes earlier, drawing. He was stunned to see that she looked relaxed, her shoulders having finally lost their tension. Her face was also softer, more open, as if she forgot to keep her walls up while she drew.
He softly cleared his throat to announce his presence. Instead of her head shooting up in surprise, she calmly added another couple of lines, then set the pencil and pad aside. Stretching her arms above her head, she peeked over her shoulder and grinned at him. “Well, don’t just stand there in the doorway. I’m starving. Tell me that you brought extra.”
He held up the two big brown bags and she gave a little cheer. He mocked sighed, arranging his face in a dejected expression. “I see, I’m only good for bringing you food.”
Instead of drawing back like he expected, she teased, “And you’re not even doing that right. Ishall perish of hunger with perfectly good food being held hostage not even three feet away.” Her stomach growled loudly as she finished, punctuating her statement.
He laughed and moved over to the table, carefully setting the food down. Standing, she pounced on a bag and opened it, giving a tiny squeal of delight when she saw what it contained. “Chinese! Tell me that you got beef and broccoli?! And house fried rice? Oh, please tell me you got orange chicken.”
Digging through the bags, he pulled out the requested boxes and handed her one with a pair of chopsticks, arranging the others on the table in front of her chair. To his surprise, she didn’t sit but instead plopped down and spun around once before opening the container and digging into the orange chicken.
Locating his order of Szechuan shrimp, he grabbed the other set of chopsticks and carefully sat across from her. He didn’t say a word, just ate a few bites quietly, watching as she happily alternated between the three containers. Finally, he ventured cautiously, “You seem... happy.”
She paused, a bit of beef dangling in her chopsticks, then shrugged and ate the beef. Once she finished, she asked, “Is it bad to be happy?”
He took a bite, carefully formulating his answer. “Not really, but I want to make sure that you’re not having any side effects from whatever it was that we did yesterday.”
She stopped eating while he worked on wording his answer, but the subtle tension in her face eased at his reply. Snagging a shrimp from the rice, she laughed. “Oh no, I’m fine. I just forget how good I always feel after drawing. I’m not very good at it, but it’s very soothing for me.”
Noting that she hadn’t turned her pad face down, he asked, “Do you mind if I look?”
She waved her chopsticks absently at him in assent, looking through one of the bags. Snagging the pad and pulling it across the table, he said dryly, “The egg drop soup is in the other bag.”
She shot him a thumbs up, fully focused on her quest. She swiftly located it in the other bag and added it into the mix. He wondered absently how all of those tasted eaten randomly like that but knew that magic use could make one hungry enough to eat cardboard.
As she settled back into her feast, he flipped the pad so that it was right side up. He drew in a breath when he saw what she had drawn. It was her friend that was in the coma, but not. That woman had been so still, only the click and whir of life support machines breaking the silence of the room.
The woman on the page was vibrant and alive, caught in mid-laugh. Laughter sparkled in her eyes, and her cheeks were flushed. An unruly strand of hair had escaped and feathered across her cheek. How Leta had managed to capture all of that with a simple pencil, he didn’t know, but it shone through clearly. And she had said that she couldn’t draw.
He glanced at her questioningly, but she was still contentedly eating, so he turned his attention back to the drawing. He noticed that there were some pages flipped over the top of the pad. He lifted it up and pulled the page above where he could see it. It depicted another woman who looked vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t place her. Her face had a well-done sneer, her eyes somehow managing to convey her disdain for the observer.
He held up the picture so Aletta could see. “Who’s this?”
She looked up, surprised that he was looking at the other pictures. “You actually met her today. That’s how Elizabetta used to look. She’s changed a bit from our academy days.”
“I thought you didn’t recognize the name when you read it in the car.”
She snorted, “I didn’t. Her real name’s Millicent Mitchell. She went by Milly. And in case you’re wondering, her accent’s fake as well. She’s Jersey through and through. I betcha if we get her mad enough, she’ll slip right back into her normal accent. Pity we have to behave.”
He shrugged, “You’re the one who insisted that we be on our best behavior.” She just rolled her eyes at him. He flipped another page and showed it to her. “A fox?”
“Lacroix. Something about him strikes me as sly. He’ll obey Mr. DuPont to a certain extent, but I bet he’s creative about exactly how he carries things out if you irritate or cross him.”
“Fair enough. And he was surprisingly well-educated about different types of pipe bombs. He did say that the bomb they found was created so that it couldn’t be triggered. I have a call in to a buddy on the bomb squad, so we’ll know soon enough if that is true of not.” He flipped the next page. “The shark. DuPont?”
“Yes. He had the eyes of a predator. He seemed like the kind of man that it would be a very bad idea to cross. I’m going to be watching my step very carefully around him.” She watched him more closely now that she had sated the worst of her hunger.
He nodded
to show her that he agreed with her assessment. He turned the final page and saw the drawing of an apple. However, it looked off somehow. Upon closer observation, he saw that it was almost metallic. “What does this one represent?”
She grinned at him, “Guess.”
He looked at it again. “It’s an apple of some sort, but it looks kinda metallic.”
“The name of the opera the Canticum Company is performing is Il Pomo D’oro. It literally translates into The Golden Apple. When we talked about it earlier, that’s what I pictured.” She sighed contentedly, pushing the empty containers away from the edge of the table and settling deeper into her chair.
Seeing that she finally seemed full, and impressed that she had managed to polish all of that off, he snagged the closer bag and fished around in it. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a fortune cookie and tossed it to her. She deftly snagged it out of the air and thanked him. Opening it, she pulled out the fortune and read it. She scoffed and passed it over to Lirim, who raised an eyebrow and took it. It read:
You learn from your mistakes…You will learn a lot today.
He chuckled. “Since when do fortune cookies have snark?” Setting aside her drawing, he reclaimed his neglected lunch. After taking a bite, he asked, “What did DuPont mean by ‘you’re a rare commodity’?”
She sighed. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t remember that.”
He just looked at her expectantly.
“For almost all singers, supernatural and human, they have to been trained carefully. Supernaturals have to be taught how to sing so it’s pleasing to human ears and loud enough for them to hear clearly. For humans, it’s the other way around; they have to be trained to soften their voices enough that they don’t grate on supernatural hearing. A select few, however, naturally have the talent to sound pleasing to both races without any extra training. I happen to fall into that category. Adding to that, I have a surprisingly large range. It was what had placed me on the fast track to a leading lady spot. However, I don’t want that life anymore; I’m happy where I’m at. So please don’t bring it up around Madame Prima. You might get both of us killed by a jealous woman.”
He laughed, finishing off his meal. “It’s no big deal to me either way, but I sure would hate to have to break in a new partner.” He saw she was relieved that he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, but he had told her the truth. It didn’t matter to him if she could carry a tune or sound pleasant to both supers and humans, although it would help with their current case. What mattered is that he trusted her to have his back. Over the past few months, she had proven her loyalty repeatedly. And someday soon, they would solve this case and move onto the next one, so it was all moot in the end.
Seeing that Aletta didn’t look inclined to move anytime soon, he stood and started gathering up the lunch trash. He had just finished when there was a pounding knock on the door.
Seven
The door opened, admitting four people. A man dressed in a police uniform strode in first, followed by two detectives, a man and a woman, followed by another male police officer. By the way Aletta straightened and pulled on her official mask, he guessed that the first officer was Wells.
Straightening, Lirim put on his best icy mask, becoming the man some of the agents accused him of being. “Sirs, ma’am, please be seated. I believe that you’re a bit early, but we’ll find a way to make it work.”
He turned his back to them and deliberately took his time carrying the trash over to the bin in the corner. When he turned back to face the room, he was pleased to see that Aletta had remained sitting and had even regained her usual composure. Three of the four had taken seats, but he wasn’t surprised to see Wells still standing. Striding over until he was in the other man’s personal space, he said quietly, “Is there a problem, Officer?”
Wells looked uncomfortable, but refused to take a step back. “I’m Officer Wells. We’re here for the joint task force meeting. We may have been a little early, but I don’t see that there’s a problem. You were already waiting.”
“Well, Officer, Agent Sheridan and I just happen to work here, so of course we’d already be here. When we meet at the station, I would venture to guess that you will be the one there early. Now, if you would take a seat so we can get started?” Although his tone was polite and everything he said was perfectly reasonable, he was sure that disdain and authority were both clear in his eyes.
Although he could see the irritation clearly in the other man’s eyes, there was nothing that the officer could do without seeming petty. Wells seemed to be the type of man to whom saving face was everything. He clenched his teeth, but nodded and made his way over to a chair as far as away from Aletta as possible. This suited Lirim as well. He wanted that toad nowhere near her.
Making his way over next to Aletta, he sat down and coolly surveyed the table. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?”
* . * . *
Aletta was feeling completely relaxed when the pounding on the door startled her. Her eyes flew to the clock, where she saw that there was still another half an hour to go until the task force met. Before she could even form the words to ask Lirim about it, the door swung inward, revealing Wells. She couldn’t help stiffening, but carefully composed her face so that it wouldn’t show any of her feelings. It was something that she did automatically any time she saw Wells. She fought the urge to leap to her feet and won. She didn’t need Wells to see how badly he could still rattle her.
When Lirim spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Instead, she discreetly swiveled in her chair so she could see him. Her lighthearted partner was gone; the icy agent she had heard about in his place. He invited them to sit, then coolly continued what he was doing, his composure impressing her. As the three people she didn’t know headed for the table, she reached over, grabbed her pad, and flipped it to a blank page. She didn’t mind sharing her drawings with Lirim, but she didn’t want anyone else to see them.
She mentally rolled her eyes as she saw Wells remain standing, then challenge Lirim. Didn’t the man know that he was facing a predator? Did he have no self-preservation instincts? Still, she was pleased that Lirim remembered what she had asked and had remained polite, even after Wells challenged him a second time.
She watched with interest as Wells was forced to back down, the first time she’d ever seen that. He grudgingly made his way over to the table, taking a chair as far from her as he could. She wasn’t bothered by this since she wanted him as far away as from her as possible. All at once, she saw the humor in the situation. He was still holding onto petty grudges while she had moved on and made more of her life.
Suddenly she was glad that things had happened like they had. She could’ve been stuck as this man’s partner, and that would’ve driven her back to the opera for sure. She would’ve never known the joy of solving a difficult case, never known about her gift, wouldn’t have become a pack friend or outran an ogre. The burden that she’d been carrying all this time fell away in an instant, leaving her feeling infinitely lighter.
Right then, Lirim sat beside her, drawing her back to the present. His voice was cool as he spoke. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?”
The others nodded, and there was a general flutter of movement as everyone pulled out paper and writing utensils. Lirim glanced over her, obviously checking to see if she was ok. She didn’t grin, but she allowed him to see the humor dancing in her eyes, lightened with just a touch of mischievousness. This startled him, but his mask was back in place faster than she could blink. She was impressed by his control.
Hearing the noise of rustling paper die down, she looked back over the table and saw that everyone was ready. Deciding to go ahead and take the lead for the moment so Lirim could observe the situation, she smiled and spoke, “Thank you, everyone, for coming today. I am Agent Aletta Sheridan and this is my partner, Agent Lirim Bosk. We appreciate that you could make it to HSI for this initial meeting. However, other than Officer Wells, I am afraid
that I am not familiar with any of you. So why don’t we start off with everyone’s name and agency?”
She saw the only other woman in the room glance at her, warmth and approval evident in her eyes. “I’ll start off. I’m Detective Miriam Jones and this is Detective Alan Watkins. We’re with the investigative branch of the Bureau of Civilian Affairs or BCA for short.”
Alan nodded genially to the room but didn’t add anything. His eyes remained watchful, and she had the feeling that he was carefully noting everything.
She turned her attention to the two Isenton Police officers. The young one, obviously a rookie, swallowed nervously, then turned and looked at Wells. Wells straightened, which should’ve been impossible because he was already sitting stiffly upright, and spoke, “I’m Officer Travis Wells, senior officer, this is my partner, Officer George Martins.”
The younger officer stuttered out, “N...n...nice to meet you.”
She waited to see if Wells would add anything, but he squared his jaw and his eyes glittered with challenge. She had to bite back a smirk. He had a lot to learn if he thought that that would rattle her. She had changed a lot since she was a rookie; she was no longer the meek girl he once knew.
“So what information has everyone received about this case?” She felt Lirim subtly relax at her apparent unconcern over Wells’ antics.
The detectives went first, followed by Martins, as Wells sat there stonily. The kid stuttered a few times when he started, but as Aletta just waited patiently, his nervousness eased and his delivery became smoother. It made her wonder how harsh Wells was when no one else was around.
After ascertaining that everyone had received the same information she and Lirim already knew, Aletta proceeded to fill them in on the multiple lists and the fact that they were waiting on more information. However, she didn’t feel that it was relevant to mention that she and Elizabetta were old rivals or that DuPont was hoping to truly lure her away from HSI. They knew that Aletta had been picked because of her previous connections to the opera. Why she had left that life and her true talent were not included, and she had no plans of sharing any of it.
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