by A. L. Tyler
She shook her head, her eyes going wide. “Oh my God. You did kill my grandmother, you sick, twisted—“
“No one murdered your grandmother!” He yelled. He was getting angry again, which Lena liked in a derisive way. She wanted to see him upset.
She yelled back at him. “Well, from where I’m sitting, her death is looking pretty convenient!”
“Well,” Griffin took his good arm off the wheel long enough to wipe his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know anything about it.”
Lena sat back. “Don’t patronize me. You might not know, but you sure as hell suspect. You might not have known about everything your father was up to, but let me tell you Griffin, you’d have to be a complete moron to claim you knew nothing.”
“Leave him out of this.” Griffin glared at her. The car was picking up speed, and Lena wasn’t in any kind of mood to yield.
“I’ll leave him out of this. But only because he’s a whole other fight we’ll have someday—because I know I’m not going to be done with you this easily! Right now I want to know what you know about my grandmother’s death!”
Griffin suddenly slammed on the brakes, sending Lena crashing forward into the dashboard. He pulled the car over to the shoulder as she rubbed the place on her arm that had taken the brunt of the collision.
Griffin turned and looked at her, danger flashing in his eyes. “I can’t take back what I did. He lied just as much as I did, and someday I’m sure you’ll forgive me, too—“
“You arrogant son of a—“
Griffin slammed his fist into the steering wheel. “Shut up! For once, will you just shut up!”
Lena fell silent as Griffin leaned further towards her. She reached for the door handle and pulled, but Griffin must have set the child lock at some point because the door didn’t budge. She didn’t exactly cower, but she did pull as far away from him as she could.
“He lied too.” Griffin hissed. “His lies were as big as mine, and I’m really sorry about everything that’s happened to you, but it’s not my fault. I’m not personally responsible for every death in your family, even though you seem to feel that way right now. I don’t know who killed your brother, or your grandmother, or your grandfather. But it wasn’t me. If you’re going to hate me, at least do it for things that I’m actually responsible for.”
He stared her down until she finally looked away. She didn’t buy it—she was beginning to believe Warren Astley’s version of events more and more. Master Corbett had done it all, and there was no way that Griffin, now pulling back onto the road, couldn’t have known. He might be a puppet, but he wasn’t a stupid one.
They didn’t talk until Tulsa, when Griffin prompted her to start looking for anything that looked familiar. She told him to pull over at one of the smaller hotels; it was the only hotel she could be certain about, as it was the only hotel Ben had mentioned by name in any of his letters. It was noteworthy, apparently, because the continental breakfast included a remarkably large array of frosted donuts. It had been Ben’s intention to stay at that hotel for several days to finish up some private study concerning the portal before he turned it over to the Council.
Maybe it had been a mistake to reveal his exact location in the letter to the Council, because his body had been found in a field twenty yards away. Ironically, the field was now a parking lot for a donut bakery. Lena scanned the letter over several times, but he hadn’t mentioned the room number anywhere.
It was room thirty-nine. It’s in the Council records from when they came out looking for him the first time, but apparently you skipped reading that one.
“Shut up, Griffin. I didn’t ask you. Just get us some rooms.”
He fought with her for a moment over whether or not it was a good idea for them to take separate rooms when her life was clearly in danger. She reminded him that he put his own life in danger if he forced her to stay in a room where he was sleeping. Eventually, he obliged and got two rooms right next to each other—number thirty-nine wasn’t available that night, but he reserved it and the one next to it for the next night. The concierge was confused, but seemed a little less perplexed after Lena explained that her grandfather had stayed in the room some odd ten or fifteen years earlier, and it was a family landmark.
Lena and Griffin checked into their mutual rooms, and Lena was almost immediately out of hers and wandering around. She got halfway to the other side of the hotel before Griffin even realized she was gone.
Lena!
What?!
She turned and saw him running up next to her, panting and annoyed. He was clutching his injured shoulder. “You can’t go running off like that!”
She gave him a pitying look and wondered if he really cared. Ignoring him, she continued on her stroll down the hallway. The hotel had been redone at some point in the early nineties, judging from the mode and wear of the blue carpet. There were scuff marks on the wallpaper from where wheeled luggage had accidentally bumped, and the ceiling had the signature popcorn texture of that era. Large bay windows let in more light than was necessary, and the hotel did not seem as busy as it should have been. Lena suddenly felt a tingling under her skin and whipped around. Griffin was gone.
She turned again, and saw that the hallways had changed. The carpet was distinctly beige, and the walls far less dinged up. It looked to be early morning.
Lena stood stalk still for a moment, trying to decide what to do, then started walking down the hall in the same direction she had been going. She passed the newer looking concierge desk and welcoming hall, and then went on to a room with tiled floors and several tables and chairs. People were milling about, stacking food onto their plates from a buffet-style lineup on the counter against one wall; the air was filled with the smell of stale coffee and sickly sweet breakfast foods. Seated in a far corner, happily munching a coffee-dipped donut as he read the paper and scribbled something down on a piece of notebook paper, was Ben Collins.
Lena went over to him and tried to read over his shoulder. Among several sketches of what appeared to be a large traveling trunk was a list.
Rm #39
Breakfast 7:30
P.D. 6:00
L.C., Corner Diary
As if by an afterthought, he tore the last entry off of the list and stuffed it into his pocket. At some point later in the day, he must have sewn it into the lining—exactly where Lena would find it so many years later. She felt her heart jump, and she knelt down next to the table.
Even though she knew he wouldn’t hear her, she couldn’t contain herself. “Tell me what it means, Ben. You’ve got to tell me because I don’t know what it means. Say something…”
“Lena?”
She looked over her shoulder, and saw Griffin, framed by the hallway. She was back where she had started, on her feet, exactly where she had been before Griffin had disappeared. A wave of vertigo swept over her and she tried to regain her balance—even though she was on her feet, her brain was clearly under the impression that she was still crouched next to the breakfast table. Griffin was giving her a look of mixed concern and aggravation.
“I can’t let you stay in that room alone.” He said with finality.
Lena tried to shake off the creepiness of what had just happened. “Why?”
“Because you’re getting very effective at this, and I think you’re going to lose it when you walk into that room and see…whatever it is that you’re going to see. It could be very bad.”
Lena hated to admit it, but he was right—she didn’t want to go into that room alone anymore. But she was going to. “As my personal stalker, you know I’ve seen enough dead bodies to handle one more, Griffin. And yes, I know he was shot, so stop giving me that look.”
Lena marched back down the hall to her room and locked the door behind her. She was almost certain it was going to work. In less than twenty-four hours, she was going to come face to face with Ben’s last moments. It was her aim to see who had killed him; that person would either have the portal or know wh
ere it was. She couldn’t back down now; and she knew she wouldn’t. This was for the New Faith Representatives, the human-borns, Ben, and her own freedom, but mostly it was for the simple fact that she had promised the Council results—and she was about to deliver. Matias Rivera, the friend she might have had, would have been proud.
Lena didn’t sleep well that night. She fell asleep and woke up several times, and in every dream she saw Griffin. He had managed to taint the last clean memories of her life before Waldgrave, making them as ghastly and deceptive as everything else in her life. Wherever she saw him now, she saw her grandfather; she wondered how much of her life had been his smoke and mirrors. Around three, she got up and started pacing her room. When it wasn’t enough, she picked up the ice bucket and went out to find the icemaker. The hotel halls were dim, but still illuminated. As Lena walked past the bay windows and looked out, she noticed a lone figure sitting by the side of the pool. Lena squinted into the darkness; she recognized the signature jacket and realized the ice bucket was now nowhere to be seen.
She walked outside, hugging herself to keep warm. Ben was straddling one of the pool side recliners with a hotel sewing kit, scissors, and his inverted jacket in front of him. He had torn the stitches in the hem and pocket out, and was trying to fit the note he’d written into the seam he was about to re-sew. Lena sat down on the plastic cushioned recliner next to him and leaned forward to watch.
“Trouble. The whole family is trouble, Abbie. I recommend you stay away from them and their situation if you can, because nothing good can come of it. I intended to take it back, for better or worse. I can see now that it’s only going to be more trouble; Pyrallis won’t let me. He says it’s his, and I heartily agree, but the Council won’t let him have it despite his promises not to open it. Stubborn ass that he is, he wants to talk about it. I think he just wants to see it—to know that it’s real. After it gets back, the Council will never allow the two in the same room again. He’s breaking the law coming out here tomorrow without telling anyone. I don’t know what he wants me to do, but I’ve got a bad feeling.” He stopped and shook his head. “Friendship makes us do stupid things.”
Ben fitted the last stitches and then looked out at the still, glassy water of the pool. His eyes were already changed; somehow, the universe knew that his time was drawing near. He was marked.
“This is a fool’s quest, Abbie. There is no treasure or reward to be found. Your mother should have left this thing where she found it, because I can already feel the trouble these last few weeks will cause. But then, this has always been my life and my purpose—I’ve devoted myself to the curiosities of our history, and I’ve spent a good deal of time cleaning up all the social and political messes that Pyrallis has made. Aaron’s a mess maker, too; I almost feel bad for Howie, because he’s like me. He’ll clean up the messes long after I’m gone. My only wish for you is happiness, but I hope it’s not too much to ask that you learn to clean up after yourself.”
They sat back, watching the stoic pool. Lena kept glancing over, wondering if Ben had fallen asleep, but he was still there, just staring at the water.
“You know, your grandmother begged me not to come out here. She said we should let someone else do it, because she had a bad feeling. Can you imagine that? She’s human. A human with real intuition; she takes her little moods so seriously. I didn’t listen to her because I didn’t take her seriously. She’s a woman, after all—I hope you don’t take offense to that. She worries too much over me and the boys. It’s ironic, but I think she was right. I shouldn’t have come out here, despite the fact that I’m the most qualified person for the job. I never saw any harm in bringing it back until now. But then, my talent has always been the past, not the future.”
Ben shifted uncomfortably as he twisted to put his jacket back on.
“This jacket’s been in the family a long time. I think my grandfather bought it new, and we’ve been patching it up ever since. I want Howie to have it after I die, because I’m afraid all of this is going to turn into one big mess he’s going to have to clean up. I hope he finds my note, if that’s the case. I’m not sure if I’m going to make it out of this; I’m almost glad Pyrallis is coming out now, as his presence might swing fate a different direction. He’s a strange man, and I can’t say I agree with many of his views, but he treats me as a good friend.” Ben paused. “He’s trusted me with many things. Still, as close as we’ve been over the years, I can’t say I know him. I know everything about his family, and I can’t say I’ve ever felt that I know him. It’s very strange. But if Howie never gets my note, you should go looking for that diary. I’ve never been able to figure it out, and it nags me. I can’t help believing that little book has all the answers, no matter what Pyrallis says.”
Lena stared at Ben. The note was for Howard? It dawned on her that Ben had never had intended it for her—he’d been calling her Abbie the whole time. He didn’t know that she went by Lena; to Ben, her initials were A.C., for Abilene Collins. But if the note was for Howard, then what was L.C. supposed to mean?
Lena!
Lena blinked and Ben was gone. She turned and glared through the bay windows, where Griffin was standing out in the hallway between the line of doors and the windows. What?!
He stared around for a moment before catching sight of her. Get back in here! What the hell are you doing?
Lena stood up and walked back into the hotel, where Griffin was looking extremely perturbed. He was in his night clothes, glaring at her with tired eyes. Lena crossed her arms and tried to seem unimpressed. “What?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You know what. You’re not supposed to go wandering off like that when—“
“Okay, whatever. I thought we discussed that you’re not allowed to do this anymore. I take my life in my hands. Okay? Do you know of anyone in my family with the initials L.C.?”
Griffin starred at her for a moment, as if he hadn’t quite understood what she had said. His eyes wandered back out to the pool, where he seemed to have the realization that she hadn’t actually been alone outside. “Lenore Cassius.”
Lena wanted to smack herself on the head—she had held Lenore’s diary in her hands, and had completely forgotten about her. Griffin had said she was irrelevant. “What’s in her diary? What does it say?”
Griffin shrugged. “I don’t know. She doesn’t say a whole lot. If you’d been paying attention, you might have remembered that most of her diaries are sketch books, and I can’t see any of them.”
“Oh…right.” Lena was puzzled. What would Ben want with Lenore’s sketch books, especially considering the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see them?
Griffin escorted her back to her room, where he tried to make her thoroughly swear she wouldn’t leave again without calling him first. Lena told him she would make no such promise, but that she had no further plans to leave until breakfast the next day, which she would be taking around nine. Griffin shook his head in frustration.
“You’re a brat.”
Lena only smiled sardonically, and then shut the door on him.
The next day they managed to make it through breakfast without issue, and then went back to their rooms and packed everything into the car until they could check into their new rooms after two. Griffin insisted on taking her out to lunch at a real restaurant, even though she said she was okay with drive-thru.
After the waitress settled them into a booth and left them to study the menus, Lena’s suspicions concerning Griffin’s motives were confirmed.
“I really am sorry. I don’t want to leave.”
Lena sighed. She regretted that he had the only set of keys to the car. “Griffin…”
“I’ll leave. I have no problem leaving. I just want you to consider the fact that we’ve been good friends for a while now, and if you’re ever ready for me to come back, I think it would be better. Concerning the artifacts and historical research, I mean.”
Lena didn’t want to fight anymore, but she took issue with
the assertion that they had been friends. She had thought that they were friends, but it clearly had never been the case. “How’s your shoulder?”
Griffin looked down at his menu. “Healing.”
They ordered and ate quietly. As the meal drew to a close, Griffin started talking again. Lena tried not to act too exasperated, but she was sure she was going to yell at him if he tried to convince her to let him stay one more time.
“So. I guess this is it then.”
Lena looked at him uncertainly. Then she realized he was talking about Ben. “Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.”
“You’re still sure you want to go alone?”
Lena took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Absolutely.”
“Because I’ll go if you want. I’m just as anxious to know who it was as you are.” He watched her for a moment, looking genuinely interested. “Personally, I’m curious if whoever it was is still alive. No one was supposed to be out here while he was bringing it back, so someone’s going to be in big trouble.”
Lena nodded and looked away. She hadn’t told him about what Ben had said the previous evening. Pyrallis had been coming to see him, and he had clearly never told anyone. Whether he had arrived before Ben’s death or after was about to be revealed; it was understandable that he had kept it a secret—even without the untimely death of his friend, his brief vacation would have been viewed as a serious infraction. He had purposely gone behind the Council’s back to get a view of the portal.
Griffin’s voice was playful. “Are you keeping a secret?”
Lena looked back at him, clearing her thoughts. “No.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Lena pulled herself up and put on a look of mock pompousness. “It’s family business!”
Griffin smiled. “And I’m not family?”
Lena laughed a little. “Care to place a bet on who it was before we go back there?”
Griffin looked at her slyly for a moment. He gazed around the restaurant, then returned his eyes to Lena. “I don’t think I have fair odds on this one. You could already know and not have told me.”