Dead Matter

by Anton Strout

  I breathed an inner sigh of relief. At least Connor’s subconscious was capable of stepping in line with Department policy. There was hope the rest of him could be brought back in line as well.

  “Maybe that’s it.” Connor nodded, looking a bit better for having confessed all this to us. “When I wake up in the morning, I’m exhausted . . . but I find myself compelled by the dreams. So I’ve been searching him out in the spirit world, hoping I could find something out on him one way or another. I have to know if he’s dead or not or if I’m just going crazy.”

  “And that’s why you’ve been Knocking,” Jane said, her voice soft and reassuring. “You’re hoping that maybe the lingering dead have news of him passing over.”

  Connor nodded again. He looked drained still, but at least a little more at peace for confessing to us. He lay back down on the couch. Within seconds his breath slowed and he was deep asleep.

  “Should we move him?” I whispered to Jane.

  Jane tucked his trench coat up around his neck and stood up from the couch. “I don’t think I can lift him again, Simon, and frankly I don’t think we should wake him.”

  “Fair point,” I said. I checked his face. “I think most of the bleeding has stopped anyway. I say we let him sleep it off. In the meantime, I really think we need to get some sleep of our own. I’ll talk to the Inspectre about this tomorrow. Do you mind if we scrap date night and turn in early? I’m not sure I can feel my spine right now.”

  Jane looked a little sad, but managed a wan smile. She nodded.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “All the ghosts, gargoyles, and blood were enough theatrics for one night. And probably more entertaining than Mamma Mia would have been anyway.”

  5

  The next morning I got up early and headed to the East Village and the Department of Extraordinary Affairs while Jane headed to Tome, Sweet Tome. At this time of morning, the Lovecraft Café was already filled with hipsters and wannabe writers all searching for inspiration. I was still groggy and a bit beat-up from last night so I grabbed a frozen iced coffee in the café section before heading back to the offices.

  The Silence of the Lambs had already moved on from the theater. This morning a few patrons were scattered around the theater watching The Lost Boys up on the big screen. Kiefer Sutherland was playing mind games with the lead character, making him eat a rice container full of maggots, which always turned my stomach. I looked away and kept walking until I was back in the offices

  Thankfully, they were quiet this time of the morning. It was easier to concentrate that way and I welcomed the silence as I filled out yet another incident report for the Inspectre to look over when he got in.

  My brain was numb after a half hour of writing the incident out and documenting it on several sub forms. Even though it was early, I already felt a little slaphappy. In the “Special Notes” section of the form, I couldn’t help but add:

  GARGOYLES! JUST LIKE FROM THE ANIMATED SERIES!!

  Well, not quite like the animated series, I thought as I headed upstairs to drop the report off outside the Inspectre’s office.

  I slid the report under the Inspectre’s door. This was the second time in two days that I had done so and a strange sense of déjà vu washed over me. I felt like I was turning a college paper in late, but all thoughts of gargoyles left my brain when the Inspectre’s door creaked slowly open on its own.

  When I stood up and looked in, I saw that Inspectre Quimbley was already in his office, leaning against his desk. And he was not alone. A vaguely familiar dark-skinned woman with black shoulder-length hair was leaning on the desk next to him, in a modern tan pantsuit that sat well on her slim frame. She was in her late thirties, early forties tops, but her eyes looked a thousand years old, and she wore a silver necklace stamped with a circular pattern on its pendant. The two of them had been reading a file together when they noticed me and stopped.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t expect anyone up and about this early. Well, aside from the graveyard shift wrapping some things up . . .”

  “Haroom,” the Inspectre said, looking a little flustered. He fussed with his mustache, brushing it between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes, well, no doubt most of them are freshly returned from actual graveyards . . .”

  I stifled a groan at his attempt at humor, and the woman next to him didn’t even react to it. She just kept on staring at me.

  “I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” I said. I pulled one of my gloves off, crossed to the woman, and took her hand in mine. “I’m Simon Canderous, Other Division.” Her grip was strong but warm.

  She looked at me with a gentle smile and deep brown eyes. “I’m Allorah Daniels,” she said. “We’ve met.”

  I cocked my head at her. “We have?”

  The woman nodded. “We have,” she said. “I remember you. You’re the one who captured Faisal Bane and brought him back here.”

  For a brief moment, I felt a little like a rock star for having captured the head of the Sectarian Defense League. First the ghosts had heard of me; now this. “Ah,” I said, “I see my reputation precedes me.”

  Allorah lowered her hand and leaned back against the Inspectre’s desk. “I seem to recall that when the Enchancellors were questioning Mr. Bane, you . . . tackled him. Yes?”

  My momentary swell of pride disappeared in an instant. “Rumors of my football prowess in the workplace are greatly exaggerated,” I said.

  Allorah smiled again, this time looking a bit less gentle than before. “I wasn’t talking about rumors here, Mr. Canderous. I was there.”

  “You saw the actual incident?” I repeated. A realization hit me. “Then that means you’re . . .”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m one of the Enchancellors.”

  I looked to the Inspectre, but he was shaking his head and trying to suppress a laugh.

  “You’re so . . . young,” I said, fumbling, “To be fair, it wasn’t so much of a tackle . . . More of a man hug, really.”

  “And why on earth did you do that?” she asked. All of a sudden I felt like I was on the spot, giving testimonial in front of the Enchancellorship again.

  “I’m psychometric,” I said, “and Faisal Bane wasn’t willing to share his knowledge, but there were just some things I needed to know.”

  “Fascinating,” she said, but I couldn’t read anything in her tone this time.

  I turned to the Inspectre, feeling a little jumpy and still a bit slaphappy from earlier. “I’m not in some kind of trouble, am I? Because if I am, you’d better just set fire to all that paperwork I still have to do and light the rest of the place ablaze if you expect me to . . .”

  Inspectre Quimbley put his hand on my arm, giving me a sense of instant reassurance. “Relax, my boy,” he said. “You’re not in any kind of trouble. This is about the report you turned in last night before heading out.”

  I relaxed a little. “About the incident at the grocery store,” I said.

  “Yes.” The Inspectre nodded. “I was just consulting with Enchancellor Daniels on it.”

  Allorah looked back down at the file in her hands and flipped through it. “When going over case files, I like to keep my eyes out for certain watchwords. I especially take an interest when I see words like ‘garlic’ and ‘fangs’ popping up in an incident report.”

  “Vampires?” I asked. I shook my head. “Look, I know I’ve never seen or encountered one before, but if you’re thinking this thing is a vampire, let me stop you. By no definition was this thing that attacked us remotely the living dead. I get that vampires don’t run around wearing capes and making quips about not drinking wine at dinner parties, but this thing wasn’t even close to human like they are.”

  Allorah looked up from the file. “I can read, you know. I see your description of the creature here.”

  “Look,” I said, frustrated. “No offense, but I’m a bit hesitant to call something vampiric these days. I was the guy who called ‘vampires’ a few months
back, remember? If I seem a bit wary, it’s because I haven’t really finished wiping the egg off my face over that yet. And while it was my bad call, the Enchancellors took their sweet time trying to ramp themselves up to action. You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical about them making a good call on this.”

  “Mr. Canderous,” Allorah said, sharpness thick in her tone this time. “I’m not here as an Enchancellor.”

  “Oh, no?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Not at this time, anyway. I’m here because Argyle asked me to look at this. I’m here because I’m the resident vampire-hunting expert.”

  I went to speak, but realized I had nothing to actually say. I was taken aback. After a moment, by way of apology, I said, “I didn’t even know we had one of those. Sorry.”

  Allorah gave me a thin-lipped smile. “I’d thank you to leave any deducing about what is and isn’t a vampire up to me, then,” she said. “Or would you rather I rely on the judgment of a man who can’t tell the difference between a chupacabra and the living dead?”

  I held up my hands. “Hey, all yours,” I said. “Contrary to what you may have heard, I’m not interested in hogging all the fame and glory around here. I just want to get that thing that attacked me and my fellow agent off the street.”

  Allorah softened when she heard that. “Good,” she said, going back to the file once again. “Now, you saw only one?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Only the one. Do you think there’s more? Do you really think it’s vampires?”

  “I won’t rule out the possibility until I know more,” she said. “I trust you still have your clothes from last night?”

  I nodded. “What’s left of them,” I said. “Yes.”

  “What’s left of them?” she said.

  I reached over to the folder she held and flipped a few pages forward. “I believe it’s on page four or five. The ‘battery acid’ incident.”

  Allorah scanned the page. “Ah,” she said. “So I see.” She read in silence for a moment. “I’ll need you to hand those over. You know, it is customary to bring in evidence when it pertains to a case.”

  “I’ll bring them in tomorrow,” I said, feeling a bit nervous now. “You know, if they haven’t dissolved.”

  “See that you do,” she said, closing the folder and sliding it under her arm. “If you gentleman will excuse me, I believe I shall take my leave of you before Mr. Canderous here says anything that might cause me to report to the Enchancellors. I’ll be off in my lab if you need me, Argyle.”

  The Inspectre nodded. I didn’t dare speak for the strange lump of fear that was forming in my throat. Also, not speaking might ensure that I got to keep my job.

  Allorah headed out of the Inspectre’s office, leaving the two of us alone.

  “You’ll have to forgive Allorah,” he said once she had headed off down the stairs. “She can be a bit abrasive when it comes to the V word.” The Inspectre pointed at the file I had slid under his door when I had first arrived. “I take it this is about the call I sent you on last night?”

  I nodded, then turned and picked up the file. The Inspectre moved to sit down at his desk and I crossed to it, putting the file there before him. He pulled out a pair of reading glasses from the inside pocket of his coat and slid them on before reading the report. When he was done, he flipped the folder closed.

  “Connor, eh?” he said, grave. “I knew he was having a tough time after not finding his brother, but little did I imagine the old pro would go so off the deep end.”

  “Jane and I have him sleeping it off,” I said, “but I think we need to get him some help.”

  Inspectre Quimbley looked hesitant. “Well, that’s a bit of a sticky wicket.”

  “What is?”

  He pushed the folder off to one side of his desk. “Technically, Connor is on leave from the Department,” he said. “He’s earned that time and he’s taking it. In that regard, there’s nothing we can do in an official capacity. Once he’s back here at Other Division, well, then, then we can take action.”

  “And how long does he have left?” I asked.

  The Inspectre went to an old wooden filing cabinet off to one side of the room. He pulled it open and flipped through the files within it for several seconds before finding what he was looking for.

  “Connor’s service records,” he said. He sat back down at his desk and looked through the folder. “Ah, here we go. He’s accumulated quite a bit of rollover time in Other Division.”

  “How much longer does he have off?”

  “If he so chooses to take it all at once,” the Inspectre said, “another month.”

  “Another month?” I repeated. “He’ll be ready for Bellevue by then!”

  “Hold on, my boy,” the Inspectre said. “I said there was nothing we could do in an official capacity. I didn’t say we were going to ignore him.”

  I sat down in the chair across from him, leaning in. “So what, then?”

  “Since you’re part of the Fraternal Order of Goodness, I think it’s well within your job description to keep an eye on him.”

  “Is it?”

  “Us F.O.G.gies operate in an unofficial capacity a good percentage of the time,” he said. “The Department can’t do anything while Connor is on leave, but you can.”

  “What can I do?” I asked. “It’s not like the Order has put me through any kind of psychology boot camp.”

  “It needn’t be that complex, my boy,” he said. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly. “Be his friend. Take an interest. For instance, when was the last time the two of you had a social engagement together?”

  I thought back. “I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe a few weeks before he took his leave. After we hit a dead end tracking down his brother. He’s a very private person.”

  “Most of us who are drawn to the Department are,” he said. “I think a lot of darkness forces people into the light that is this profession.”

  I considered his words. It was certainly true in my case. My own history as an ex-thief was a testament to that. When my old career criminal squeeze Mina Saria had come back from my past and threw her personal chaos my way, how hard had I tried to keep that part from everyone at the Department? Pretty damned hard.

  “I’ve been an awful friend,” I said. “I didn’t notice any of this happening to him. It doesn’t seem like he’s been out of the office all that long. Time’s been flying by in a flash, what with having to pick up his caseload . . .”

  “Don’t beat yourself up too much over it,” the Inspectre said. He reached for another folder and started looking through it. “Just do something about it.”

  I nodded, standing up. The Inspectre went back to his folder without another word. I took my cue to leave, not relishing at all the taste of my foot in my mouth from talking with Allorah. It was something that had been happening less and less with my time in Other Division, but it still was all too familiar for my liking.

  6

  My workday turned into a work night, leaving me with a fine array of paper cuts to show for hours of filing, but I was thankful to have my head down in the paperwork all day. At least then I couldn’t risk embarrassing myself in front of any of the Enchancellors. By the time I finally gave up on processing reports and headed home, it was nearly ten. I was thrilled to see Jane was still up, waiting for me in a JOSS WHEDON IS MY MASTER NOW tank top. She sat cross-legged on the old-school leather couch in the center of my faux gentleman’s club common room. Her laptop was balanced across her legs and miniature firework displays were shooting off of the screen and bursting a foot above my couch.

  “Nice trick,” I said. “Hope your technomancy’s not scorching my furniture.”

  “It’s harmless,” she said, closing her laptop. The fire-works vanished as the screen clicked shut. “More of a light show than actual pyrotechnics.” Jane patted her hand on the empty spot next to her. “I take it your Olympic-level caseload went well today?”

  “
Kinda,” I said. I pulled off my jacket, a fresh array of pains shooting throughout my body from yesterday’s gargoyle attack mixed with being hunched over my desk all day. “Had a lovely chat with one of the Enchancellors today about the grocery store incident. Allorah Daniels. She’s about a billion years younger than the rest of them.”

  Jane’s face fell serious. “Why do the Enchancellors care about our case?” she asked. Jane sounded nervous. Apparently, she was just as wary as I was when the eyes of the über-bosses were upon us.

  “They probably wouldn’t be taking notice,” I said, “but Allorah’s a vampire hunter on top of her Enchancellorship. I wonder if that doubles her pay scale.”

  “Really?” Jane said, giving a surprised smile. “I thought they bred Enchancellors to be a bunch of stuffed-shirt bureaucrats?”

  “Not this one,” I said. I threw my coat onto one of the hooks by the front door and joined Jane on the couch. “But I did get schooled on vampires. Allorah thinks that the creature from the store has a thing or two in common with them. If you ask me, that monstrosity didn’t look a thing like Frank Langella or Gary Oldman. Oh, remind me in the morning that I have to bring those clothes from last night in tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” Jane said, giving me a salute.

  When I was finally seated, she leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, then looked past me toward the entrance to my apartment.

  “Wow,” she said. “One whole month without having your door smashed in, huh? Is that some kind of record?”

  “Well, you’ve got a key now,” I said, “and Mina’s disappeared off the face of the planet, so that insures my safety a little bit. That, and I had the Inspectre take my name out of the ‘Hottest Places for Cultists to Visit’ directory . . .”

  Jane raised an eyebrow. “Hon, I know I’m going to regret asking this, but in our line of work I just have to . . . Please tell me you just made that up.”

  “I think I did,” I said. My back ached and I settled back into the couch a little. “I’m so exhausted right now, I’m not sure. Check the box of departmental pamphlets on the bookshelf over there.”