“You are a disgrace,” she spat. “You have your desired revenge. Now quit your pathetic weeping and take a bath.”
She spun on her heel and walked out of the room. I got to my feet and tried running after her, rubbing my throat the whole way. She turned the corner towards the door by the time I got back to the room entrance, but she vanished by the time I turned that corner myself.
I looked around for her and saw nothing. This time, I hadn’t even heard the door opening. After a minute, I knew I had to accept that she was gone. Gone and left me with two corpses, no shirt and an ultimatum.
I looked over my marked shoulder at the living room. The coffee table had a number of newspapers piled on it, roughly a week’s worth. I picked up one of the papers and felt it nearly fall apart in my hand. The date on it was from three weeks ago, the print and pages seriously decayed. It was a classified section, full of circled ads for jobs. More than a few of the circles were X-ed out.
Right next to the paper was a stack of envelopes. I shuffled through to find letters from the state on the subject of unemployment, a set of divorce papers, and a bible’s worth of late notices. On a hunch, I sat the envelopes down on the coffee table and flipped on the light switch on the opposite wall. Nothing. Apparently the power company cut him off a while ago. That would explain all the candles in the house that burned out long before dawn’s early light. The music I heard must have been running on a battery-powered stereo.
I went back into the hallway, doing my best not to look at the corpses waiting for me there. At the other end of it was a dining room, dominated by an antique dining set. The chairs were in poor repair, while the table had a shrine to Sidhe on it. Pictures of her in publicity stills, candid shots of her from afar, album cover art, and the requisite forest of votive candles. The setup would have done credit to a Catholic saint. It made me wonder what else was upstairs, besides the stereo.
As that thought crossed my mind, I glanced over at the small kitchen to my right. It made the inside of my car look like a five-star hotel room by comparison. Bottles of hard liquor and beer were piled up in the sinks, the countertops filthy with things I didn’t want to even guess at, and the floor littered with dust, dried stains and other grime.
I cocked my head to the side. Some of the bottles in the sink looked familiar. An instinct deep inside screamed not to touch anything else, to think it through. I ignored it and walked into the room. The heat of the candles and lack of a functioning heating and cooling system had done this place no favors.
Burying my nose in my bare elbow, I finally got a good look at the bottles. Sure enough, some were familiar. In addition to the empty beer bottles, I recognized the distinctive shape and label of Jack Daniels No. 10 in the mélange. There was a third type of bottle at the top of the pile: boilermakers, courtesy of the gas stations on Mount Peter Road.
I was beginning to get a picture of the man I killed, and it wasn’t pretty. That she-devil who’d “helped” me mentioned how he’d fallen under Sidhe’s charms through her music. It turned into an obsession, costing him his wife, his job, possibly his kids if he had any. How it hadn’t cost him his house yet, I couldn’t begin to guess. But Sidhe didn’t care about that. She got what she wanted from the deal. The only thing she craved: devotion and adoration.
I caught a faint reflection of myself in the window over the sink. I noted the unkempt hair, the scraggly beard, and the sunken eyes. But it was the look in those eyes that finally broke through my numbness. I flashed back to the moment I dropped Brewster to the floor and realized his face wore the exact same look I was giving the window.
My stomach lurched, making me lean over the sink to puke again. I thought I’d gotten it all out, but there was some left to upchuck onto the bottles.
I wanted to die. God, I wanted to die right there and then. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind that the brand burned again. It sent a forest fire of pain through my body, making every nerve ending a blazing tree of agony. My stomach was included in the conflagration, making me go through another round of dry heaves that hurt worse than the last round.
As both pains ceased, I pushed myself off the sink and ran straight for the front door. I didn’t care that I was conspicuous. I didn’t care if I got caught. I didn’t care about anything other than putting as much distance between me and that house of horror as my legs would go.
*
I’m still unsure how I managed to avoid being flagged down by the cops on the way back. I couldn’t have been more obvious if I was a nudist in a Southern Baptist church. It wasn’t like I gave that kind of danger much thought, anyway. I was too busy focusing on my boat back at Neptune’s Fork. I wanted to get away from it all, this time for good.
I somehow squeezed through the bars again and took off down the road, dodging a few cars and winding up back at the creek. I felt such relief to get there, like it was years, rather than hours, since I’d been here.
I pushed the boat out with all my might and hopped inside. A few cranks of the outboard motor confirmed that it didn’t have any gas left, but that was all right. The current was taking me back out to sea anyway. Soon enough, the water was at least twelve feet deep.
I looked at the bottom of my boat again and noticed a few near empty bottles of Jack. Each of them had maybe a swallow or two left. Thinking about Bogie and Hepburn in The African Queen, I unscrewed each of the bottles and dumped what was left into the sea. I watched the liquor dissipate in seconds, just like my tears. When I was done with each bottle, I dumped them back in the boat.
Then my throat caught as I saw Mr. Royal sitting near the stern. It still had bloodstains on its fur that I hadn’t been able to wash out. I picked the plushy toy up and wondered what Line would have thought of her daddy doing what he did last night. For that matter, what about Marissa?
I kissed the top of the toy just before I jumped straight into the water. To hell with it and to hell with Lady McDeath. My life had always been my own, and so would my exit from it. I held Mr. Royal tight in my right hand as I flipped my head towards the bottom.
This time, there would be no leaving my first love. She was all I had left now and I wanted her to hold me as I breathed my last. Take me away, I thought as I swam towards the bottom.
The seabed was just coming into sight as I felt my breath give way. But that was the plan all along. When I gagged on the briny water, my shoulder burned, a dull, stabbing throb.
No, no, back off, I thought. My death, my business. You don’t get a say here.
With the last of my strength, I kicked my legs and waved my arms towards the bottom. My face hit the soft silt as I felt my lungs choking on the water I was swallowing. My shoulder continued to blaze away like a son of a bitch. I fought through the pain, tried to find the sweet release of death. I tucked myself underneath a nearby rock and waited for my collapsing lungs to do the rest.
But that damn shoulder…the mark on it wouldn’t let me go. The pain I felt at the house shot through my body again. It was an amped up version of not getting comfortable enough to go to sleep. No matter how long I waited, no matter what I did, the pain kept me firmly grounded in the here and now. I heard the otherworldly bitch’s voice echo in my head.
“Your death is mine, Bellamy Vale.”
I have no idea how long I stayed down there, denying that voice, hanging between life and death. I just know that I finally had to bow to the inevitable. I pushed myself out from under the rock and swam upwards. The moment I surfaced, I barfed up what felt like half the ocean.
When I was sure that the last of the water was out of me, I glanced over at Mr. Royal, who was moving around in my water-treading right hand. The sea managed to wash him clean of the blood. I found myself wishing that it was that easy for me.
Chapter Eight
Beyond The Pain
The swim to shore hadn’t been that bad. I was less than a quarter mile from the
coastline and I could swim a full mile easy.
The docks were a good distance from Neptune’s Fork. But nobody would think twice about a bare-chested man walking the beaches to get back there.
The sun was starting to rise when I got there. I found a surprise waiting for me in the parking lot. In place of my old Honda was a Stingray roadster, a fancy ride that belonged in that slot as much as I belonged at Mountain Bay last night. Without thinking about it, I reached for the driver’s side to open it up. The door was unlocked and I could see the keys dangling in the ignition.
The inside had that new car smell and a couple of surprises. First, there was a stack of men’s clothes in the passenger seat that looked like they were my size. Second was a card on top of it, written in the same hand as the note around the knife.
You represent me now, envoy. Start looking like it.
After checking to make sure no one was watching, I climbed into the car and changed into the top shirt and pants on the stack. Next, I turned the keys in the ignition and wasn’t surprised at all to find the car had a full tank of gas. As I put the car in reverse, I knew there was only one place I wanted to go.
*
I set Mr. Royal gently down on Line’s grave and sighed. The dirt on both her and her mother’s burial place was fairly fresh. It’d be a while yet before the grass reclaimed that stretch of ground.
I got back up, wandering if the cops were looking for me—or at least a man matching my description. Despite my better attire, I still wore the same hairstyle and whiskers as before. Ray Charles could have found me in a heartbeat.
Someone a little shorter than me walked past my left. I could only see him from the back as he laid a set of fresh flowers on Marissa’s grave. I wanted to say some kind of thanks but I couldn’t find the words. Then he turned around to face me and I felt a fresh jolt run through my system as I saw who it was.
“Figured you’d be here sooner or later,” Bob said, his voice a lot deeper and creakier than usual. It was a good match for his face, which was covered in actual tree bark. His deep green eyes reminded me far too much of the woman who claimed ownership of me. I took a couple of steps back.
“Let’s get the obvious out of the way, Bell,” he said, holding up his wooden, gnarled hand for emphasis. “No, you aren’t hallucinating. No, I’m not here to turn you over to the cops or kill you. Yes, I completely understand why it took you this long to get here.”
Somehow, I pulled myself together enough to say, “Think you forgot one, Bob. Why are you here?”
“For a lot of reasons,” he admitted as he faced the graves again. “Mostly, I’m just here to help a friend down on his luck one last time.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “I thought you said that—”
“And I meant it,” my boss assured me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But because of what happened with Sidhe, I’m afraid that I can’t stay here too much longer.”
I felt a deep sense of shame go through me. “I know this is stupid but…I’m sorry I never got back in touch.”
Bob just gave me a sad smile. “It’s not stupid at all. Like I said, I understand. I’ve got a nice severance package waiting for you when you’re ready.”
I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “How much do you know about what happened to Sidhe?”
He shrugged. “Everything…you running out of the house this morning was a big clue. The rest, we deduced from what we found inside.”
“So you were watching the house the whole time?”
“Yeah, just didn’t provide any actual security. Her High and Mightiness was very specific on us staying away and out of sight. I interpreted that order to mean that if something unpleasant were to happen to her while she was still inside…”
I swallowed as I thought of the implications. “So you’re from where she came from?”
“Yeah, our own little slice of Alterum Mundum. That’s where I’m headed as soon as I wrap up everything here.”
“But what about Roman Square Security?”
He shrugged again. “It’s going bye-bye when I leave. I’ll make sure my guys are taken care of before that.”
Then he glanced over at me with unmistakable pity in his eyes. “Wish you’d come to me when they died, Bell. I could have arranged a lot easier contract than the one you wound up striking.”
I swallowed. He wasn’t kidding when he said he knew everything. “Do you know who I’m working for now?”
“I do, but one thing you learn in Arcadia is that it’s a really bad idea to say names like hers. I can tell you that she’s got a very well-earned rep for viciousness, and a bad habit of using up her errand boys.”
“What did she have against Sidhe?”
He laughed a little at my question. “How in all the hells would I know? Half the time, when it comes to those kind of players, I don’t even think they know why they love or hate anyone. But whatever Sidhe did against her, it was bad enough to flee to this side of the mystical border.”
I remembered a detail. “That woman…she called Sidhe a ‘banshee’. Was she being literal?”
“Uh huh,” Bob said with a nod. “The foretellers of death, which would have put Sidhe right in your new boss’ neighborhood.”
“Why did Sidhe go from hot chick to Grandma Moses when I…?”
I couldn’t quite bring myself to finish that sentence. So what if Sidhe hadn’t been human? She still had a life that I’d taken.
“Let me show you something,” Bob said, reaching in his left pants pocket.
He pulled out a small vial with a rubber cap on top of it. There was a silver liquid inside it which almost seemed metallic. He popped the cap off with his thumb, catching it with his opposite hand. Then he lowered his catching hand so he could pour the liquid onto it. In a few seconds, it went from tree bark to human skin. He then showed me his palm so I could see the tree bark still in place there.
“It’s called Glamour,” he explained, putting his transformed hand down. “Very handy camouflage when you want to look human in a crowd. Arcadia’s been producing this stuff for centuries, but it took the modern world to make the rest of Alterum Mundum come up with their own versions.”
My eyes widened. “You mean, there’s more to this Alterum Mundum than just your—”
“Oh, way more,” Bob affirmed, waggling his mossy eyebrows for emphasis. “But you’ll find out about all that soon enough. Right now, we’ve got a few elephants we need to herd out of the room.”
He put his changed hand on my shoulder and gave me a compassionate look. “Me and my guys wiped out all traces of your presence from that house.”
“Even the puke stains?” I asked with a dubious look on my face.
“Even the puke stains,” Bob assured me, squeezing my shoulder. “Fingerprints, footsteps, and a little reconstructive memory work on the few witnesses who saw anything…they’re all gone now. Really, we had to do it that way. It’s going to be a major media circus when the press gets hold of the story. The way we’ve got it framed, they’ll rule it a murder-suicide when everything’s said and done.”
Then he dropped his hand from my shoulder and said, “Oh. Got you something.” He reached into his pants pocket to exchange the rubber stopper for a sheathed knife that I instantly recognized from the hilt and handle. I gave him a skeptical look.
“Go on, take it,” he admonished me as he gestured with the sheath. “I don’t much care to hold a piece of cold iron longer than I have to.”
I reluctantly took it and put it in my pocket. “How are they going to explain the knife wounds on Brewster and Sidhe?”
“Just so happens that there’s now a knife—of much less painful manufactured steel—lodged in Mr. Brewster’s side that will perfectly match the cut on Sidhe’s neck.”
Then I went back to something Bob said earlier. “How will an
yone recognize Sidhe for who she is?”
Bob held up the empty vial and shook it from side to side. “We put enough on her to be recognized. It should hold up under the strain of the autopsy and thirty days from now, she’ll go back to her natural state. She’ll be long buried by then.”
“And the internal organs? Won’t they be different?”
Bob gave me an appreciative nod. “Don’t miss much, do you? No, the innards of a humanoid Fae creature are a pretty solid match for a human’s. There may be a few weird things they can’t account for, but nothing that they won’t gloss over.” Then he gave my face a critical eye. “Just making an educated guess here, but it looks like you’ve been living homeless since the funerals.”
“Not exactly,” I countered. “I’ve been living on my boat on the docks…even though that’s kind of…gone now.”
To his credit, Bob didn’t ask me more about that. “I got an in with a guy who could show you some condos. Not converted rat-traps either, but good places, the kind you actually want to live in.”
“Any place where I could see the ocean?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Bob said with a tilt of his head. “You’d have to ask him. But I can get you in touch with him.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about a car. That one’s been covered.”
Bob looked perturbed at that statement. “Yeah, I saw the Stingray on my way down. It’s a good match for those clothes I know she picked out for you.” Then he sighed and added, “I know you don’t have a phone, though…so here.”
He handed me a brand new, top of the line smart phone that I just looked at in awe.
“It’s in your name,” he explained. “First two months are already paid for. Consider it part of your severance package.”
My mouth just hung open for a second before I could make it work. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t have to say anything,” Bob said, putting a hand on my shoulders again. “Not even thanks. You got dealt a bad hand. I’m just giving you some better cards.” Then he put his hands back in his pockets. “Come by the office when you’re ready…but only when you’re ready. You need to spend some time with your family right now.”
Hostile Takeover (Vale Investigation Book One) Page 7