by Richard Hein
Kate’s head snapped up, eyes burning as she glanced between the two of us. “Quite a number of years,” she said in a voice that could have peeled skin from muscle. “Maybe longer. I don’t remember. What, does every little ache have a sinister cause in your world?”
I blew out a breath. Well, that was something at least. “Hey, can’t be too cautious. I thought you wanted my expertise. That sort of thing could be a problem.”
“I’ve had them for six or so years,” Kate sighed. “Happy?”
“Rarely.”
Daniel picked up the journal from the table. “Well, uh, we should head over to your brother’s house and… Wow. What are these?” he said. “Hebrew?”
“Well, I was hoping you’d have some insight,” Kate said in a dry voice, rubbing at her temples. “Being the expert and all.”
Daniel spun the journal, a giddy sort of excitement filling his face. “These are fascinating. No two are the same, though they’re similar. Like a cross between pictographs and letters. I’ve never seen its like, and I’ve spent a lot of time down in the archives.”
I turned and snatched the leather-clad book from Daniel’s hands before I’d even registered the motion. Daniel hissed and sucked a finger into his mouth, but my own digits were already flicking through the pages.
“Gah, paper cut,” Daniel muttered. I ignored him. Kate pressed close, craning her neck over my shoulder as I found the pages in question, littered with cramped symbols drawn in a frantic hand. The lines were uneven and heavy, some symbols smashing into each other, with no flow to the characters either up and down or side to side. It looked like a page of doodles I might have made while on the phone with a client.
I flipped a page, and my chest grew cold. Drawn in the same rough pencil was a knife or dagger, spanning both pages. The weapon had an aged look about it, and its blade covered in the same sort of crazy symbols. I frowned. So was the rest of the page. Did that mean they were actually etched onto the knife, or had Ben’s tortured mind simply driven him to cover every open space in the page with the writing?
“Does that look sorta… sacrificial to you guys?” I asked.
“I never saw anything like that at Ben’s house,” Kate said. Her voice trembled. “I didn’t search his office, though. That’s where he was when he died.”
I nodded absently, eyes unfocused. My hands flipped the pages back and forth, trying to find anything that jumped out at me. “Is this Hebrew?” I muttered.
Daniel sighed and hung his head. “That’s what I said.”
“It’s not Sumerian. Maybe an actual alphabet, but not anything I recognize.”
I snapped the book closed and stuffed it into a pocket of my jacket and turned to face the two of them. Daniel was watching me with weary resignation, while Kate’s eyes sparkled.
“We should wander on over to casa de Ben,” I said, scratching at my chin. “Maybe there’s something that would tell us more about why the EDEs are chasing you.”
“I, uh, said that as well,” Daniel added. His eyes flashed dark as he turned away from me. I felt a spike of anger. What the hell was his problem? He should be damn thankful for the help of someone with experience.
“I thought you were done,” Kate said.
I thought I was too, but maybe this was a small chance at redemption. If I could keep Kate alive, then maybe it would quell the nightmares that clawed at me.
Or maybe we’d all just wind up dead. Hooray.
“I’m just helping Danny,” I added, clapping the kid on the shoulder and giving him a vigorous shake. “He will have my considerable experience to draw upon.”
Kate’s eyes went wide as she pressed the tips of her fingers against her chin. “Are you expecting to face demons from a universe of cheap gas station booze?”
“Once he has some information,” I said, rolling my eyes at her as hard as I could, “protocol is that it’ll work up the chain and I’m sure it’ll get the attention of someone important.”
Daniel sighed. “That’s… probably true.”
“I’m just making sure you stay in one piece until you can cover my fees for this little excursion,” I said, snatching up Daniel’s forgotten bagel and breaking off a hunk. It was like eating cardboard, only less flavorful. “It’s all going on my tab.”
“We should get some sleep,” Daniel said, rising. “It’s rather late in the real world. There’s bunks downstairs we can use. Many of us sleep on site during duty shifts and there’s plenty available. Maybe can approach this fresh after we’re all well rested.” He smiled, like a child opening the first present on Christmas. “It’s important to have a clear head when going out on assignment like this.”
“I’m thinking I should sleep elsewhere,” I said, glancing around at the faces still not trying to stare at me. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally wake up dead or anything.”
“Are you two kidding?” Kate said. “I’m just now getting traction on this. We should be out there figuring this out. I’m still being hunted and you want to sleep?”
“Not happening,” I said, rubbing at my eyes. “Maybe you’re all fired up and running on pure determination, but the rest of us mere mortals still require the recommended daily allowance of ten hours of sleep a night.”
“I… yeah,” Kate said, deflated. “I guess.”
For a moment, it was like being part of a team again. A mission, a group of people to work with, to watch my back and keep an eye on with lives on the line. Sitting in Sanctuary with the familiar smells and sounds stoking the fires of memory, it could almost be like times past, like things hadn’t gone awry. My gut twisted with a dull, empty ache. It felt familiar, but it wasn’t real, a facsimile of a better time. I glanced around at the faces watching me and sighed.
“First things first,” Kate said, throwing an arm around Daniel. The kid’s face twisted, part bliss, part hysterical awkwardness as his limbs locked up all at once. “You’re going to tell me about Samuel back in his prime. Before he got like this.” She waved a hand at me.
“Hey,” I said. “I aged well. Like cheese. You age cheese, right?”
“Cheese molds,” she said.
Chapter 6
“Well, this is pretty swanky,” I said, leaning over my steering wheel and staring up at the mansion. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been up in the Queen Anne area of Seattle. Now I remembered why. I’d need a money bin like Scrooge McDuck to afford a place like this.
The street was wide enough for parking on one side and a car to squeak past on the other. Trees crowded both sides, the leaves forming a little tunnel above us. The houses were too fancy to lower themselves to the level of a common street and were set up on little hills, lording above the common rabble that might drive by. There was a stone wall set into the hill just beyond the sidewalk, complete with a set of wooden sliding doors built into them. I imagined it was probably a bolt hole for when the government invaded for withheld taxes, but more likely it led to a basement and let them drag their garbage cans out to the curb.
I liked my idea better.
I’d parked at the base of the steps. Kate stared up at it, hands folded in her lap, silent and lost in thought. Worry lines appeared on her normally young face, but otherwise I found no hints to the turmoil that might be roiling within. She’d faced things from outside our universe, been outside our universe, returned to the scene of her brother’s death, and she barely let it show. What was swimming beneath the surface? I was a hastily assembled walking wreck of issues and problems, but Kate… Kate was taking it well. Still, there was no need to rush things. We’d given the block a slow drive around and everything seemed fine in Mister Rogers’ Ritzy Neighborhood. No immediate sign of anything from outside reality, anyway. Mostly I wanted my own mini episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, though.
I hooked an arm behind Kate’s seat and spun to look at Daniel. Interns get the back seat. “You want to take her in and look around?” I asked. “I’ll go talk to the neighbors.”
I shrugged, unbuckled and slid from the car as I pocketed my keys. We wandered from the car beneath the whispering tree branches, keeping Kate in full view just in case. I stretched. Daniel swiveled on me, arms crossed, looking very much like an angry chemistry teacher. He wore a button up white shirt and pullover navy vest, a very thin tie done with a very neat double windsor knot. Breaking the illusion was the wide nylon belt across his slacks, two cylinders strapped to his left hip, and his collapsing baton hanging in a half pouch on his right. Honestly, he might have passed for private security if he’d held himself with a little more authority, a little more gravitas.
“Samuel,” he said, holding up his hands. He hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Uh, not that I don’t appreciate the help on this one, but what are you doing?”
“Helping?”
“I thought you didn’t want to be a part of this life anymore?”
My neck flushed as I stared the kid in the eyes. I was starting to hate this echo. “Right,” I said. “You think people would appreciate a bit of—”
“Do you trust us?”
My jaw snapped shut. “What,” I said, completely neutral. It wasn’t a question, more of a statement of confusion when you found a train hurtling at you when comfortable in your bedroom. A curveball of epic proportions.
“You either trust the OFC to do the job, or you don’t,” Daniel said, looking away. The Wizard had found him some courage, but not enough to look me in the eyes it seemed. “You either trust me, or you don’t.”
“Come on, man,” I said, throwing up my arms. The muscles in my neck tightened. The nerve of him, I thought. I’d started doing this before he’d even hit puberty. “We’ve worked together quite a bit, right?”
“Exactly,” he said. “Which means I know you better than you think. This is my first field mission alone. I need this. I need you to follow my lead on this. Please.”
I swallowed the laugh that tried to bubble out and ran a hand across the sandpaper on my chin. God, I wanted to laugh. He was a kid still, and he hadn’t even seen that this wasn’t a field mission as far as the OFC was concerned. They didn’t send interns out alone for those. He was on an information-gathering exercise.
He should be deferring to my experience.
Still, as I absently scratched my jaw, I had to admit that maybe on some distant level, Daniel might be right. I’d slid back into the familiar role like a comfortable pair of jeans, determining who would handle what. It galled me, but I swallowed a heaping spoonful of bitter pride, pushed down my simmering anger, and smiled.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. The words stung like jagged bits of glass as I disgorged them. The smile hurt my jaw. Why the hell did people smile, anyway? It was unnatural, something you did when you wanted something. Right now, I wanted the kid to be less whiny. “It’s your deal, man. Call some shots here. What’s the play, boss?”
Daniel watched me for a few seconds, likely to see if I was blowing smoke or serious. His eyes narrowed a fraction, but he nodded. The intern sucked in his gut and straightened his back, but it only made him look like a child dressed in his father’s clothes.
“Well, uh, let’s go with what you suggested,” he said. He waved a vague hand toward the house closest to Ben’s. “You talk to the neighbor while Kate and I rummage through the house.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and turned. “Solid plan. Say it with more authority next time though. Try not to use words like ‘rummage’. Makes you sound like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah,” he said with a weak smile. “Okay. Just one more thing. Could you remember that we’re working together? I don’t remember you being so angry before.”
I snorted. “Three years bouncing in and out of office jobs wears away at the soul, kid. Let’s go.”
Kate was standing behind the passenger door of my car, arms across the top, watching us with a wry look etched on her face. “You boys done figuring out who is in charge yet?”
“He has the magic stick,” I said, flicking the collapsible baton on Daniel’s hip with one finger. The familiar smell of ozone wafted to me. “Him boss.”
“Maybe Daniel should talk to the neighbors?” Kate said, closing the door. “The locals are used to someone who buys alcohol that comes in bottles that cost more than your monthly income.”
“Hey,” I said. “Alcohol is alcohol.”
Kate threw an arm around my shoulder. “In some parts of the country, that statement would get you shot.”
I shooed them on with one hand. Kate turned and lifted a foot. It hovered over the first step, held up by memories and the pain I could see on her face. Her eyes flicked across each window, a tumult of emotion playing across her features. Maybe she wasn’t doing as good as I’d thought. She just hid it better.
A feeling I knew all too well.
“Kate,” I said, shifting closer, but she twisted away from me without a glance, back straightening and fingers tightening as she ascended to the house. I shared a quiet look with Daniel, who vanished after her. Maybe I should have asked her to stay in the car while we looked, but I got the impression Kate would push on anyway. She didn’t seem the type to just let things slide, to push them onto someone else and wait for results.
I glanced up at the looming mountain next door, trying to imagine what it would be like to own a house in a neighborhood as fancy as this. I then imagined a number with a large amount of zeroes trailing after it and gave up.
Each house on the block rose up on a mild hill, lording over the streets below. Wide stone steps ascended from the sidewalk to every one of them. None were made out of anything so common as concrete, though I wasn’t a geologist. A waist-high hedge of flowering bushes separated Ben’s house from the neighbor’s, curving all the way down to the street.
I passed through a stone trellis, interwoven with what would be beautiful roses in spring. A trio of marble cherub angels played trumpets of watery notes as I ascended to the house proper a bit winded. Even the grass smelled nicer in this part of town. It took awhile to ascend the pathway, and I made a mental note to hire some Sherpas to help me make it up to Ben’s house after I left the neighbor’s.
The doorbell chimed politely. I managed to get my coat zipped up and covering my faded Def Leppard t-shirt just as the door whipped open, a set of sharp eyes staring down at me from within a mass of tired wrinkles.
“Gah,” I said, flinching back. I’d seen creatures from other universes that were friendlier. She angled her head to stare down her nose at me. I didn’t think people actually did that. I swallowed, focused on the fact that this was for Kate, and fixed my middle management smile on my face. See? Only when people want something.
“Uh, hello,” I said. Should I bow? This isn’t Jane Austen, I told myself irritably, but my mind refused to conjure up any sort of appropriate manners for the situation. I settled on a curt, business-like nod. “I was a friend of Ben’s. I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”
The tangled mass of wrinkles and lines broke into an enthusiastic grin. “Oh, he was such a dear lad,” she breathed, pressing the tips of her fingers to her chest. “I was heartbroken when I heard about the tragedy. Too young, of course, but they always are.”
I blinked. Her tone was dripping with kindness. I peered at the tight-wrapped bun of gray hair. No sign of snakes. Huh.
“Jessica MacIntyre,” she said. “Would you like to come in? I’ve a spot of coffee on, if you’re interested, while we talk.”
Apparently rich people could afford to be trusting. I flashed back to the styrofoam cup full of sludge I’d gulped down from the convenience store by my apartment, and almost nodded, but caught myself up short. Blissful nectar of the gods or not, this wouldn’t take long and I didn’t think it would amount
to much. The sooner I got to searching that house and looking for more clues, the better. I dialed my smile up from middle management to something just this side of sincere and shrugged haplessly.
“Thanks Ms. MacIntyre…”
“Jessica,” she beamed, voice warm and inviting. Oh, what the hell. I gave her an authentic smile. I kept one in my pocket, just in case. I did want something after all.
“Jessica,” I amended. “Tempting, but no thank you. I just need a moment of your time. I was hoping you could tell me if anyone strange was showing up to Ben’s in the last month or so before he died.”
“Before he was killed, you mean,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I never bought that nonsense about suicide. I don’t care if that boy was found with a razor in his hands or not. I’ve known Ben since he bought the place in oh-four, and the boy that pulled my trash out to the curb every week wasn’t going to do that, God rest him.”
I nodded. “Truth be told, I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Are you a private investigator, mister—”
“Eli,” I offered, going for my middle name. I liked the lady, but my real name would cause trouble. It was in Ben’s journal, so a little subtlety was in order.
I also neglected to answer whether I was a private investigator. I’m not against lying when it accomplishes something, but I don’t want lied to old ladies chiseled into my tombstone. There simply wasn’t enough room after the other sins.
Jessica spent a few moments watching me. I waited, the smile starting to make my jaws ache.
“One man, a few times,” she admitted. Her eyes flicked away, and she shivered as if an army had just marched across her grave. “I never did get a look at his face. He always wore a big, bulky coat with a hood like too many damn kids do these days. Showed up almost every day at sunset for a few weeks, just before Ben died. Strange thing was, when I asked Ben about the man, he acted like he had no idea who I was talking about.”
I frowned. “What about the day he died? Did you see the man then?”
Jessica shook her head. “No.”