The Book of Mayhem

by Melissa McShane

  I looked at Judy. “Dibs on not calling your father.”

  “Oh, no,” Judy said. “I’m not going to relay this third hand. This is a job for the custodian.”

  I grumbled, “Fine,” and headed for the office. “Call me if anyone comes in.”

  In the office, I debated between using the office phone, a putty-colored lump so old it had square push buttons and a handset connected to the base with a long curly wire, and using my own phone, which carried with it the possibility that Rasmussen would see my number on his caller ID and ignore my call. In the end, I opted for the office phone. I punched in Rasmussen’s number and waited. After a handful of rings, someone said, “William Rasmussen’s office.”

  “This is Helena Davies at Abernathy’s. Could I speak to Mr. Rasmussen, please? It’s official business.”

  There was a long pause. Then Rasmussen’s familiar smooth voice said, “Ms. Davies.”

  “Mr. Rasmussen, I’m calling about Tiffany Alcock. Were you aware she didn’t die in fright?”

  There was a longer pause. I kept from tapping my fingernails restlessly on the desk. Finally, Rasmussen said, “How do you know?”

  “A friend spoke to Tiffany’s mother at the funeral. She looked peaceful—the mother said it was like she’d died happy. Could that have something to do with the anomalous nature of the invader attack?”

  Another pause. It was starting to feel like I was talking to Rasmussen on a taped delay or something. “It could,” Rasmussen said. “Thank you for the information.” He disconnected before I could say anything else. I stared at the handset, now emitting a droning whine, then hung up. It wasn’t like I’d expected Rasmussen to suddenly become cooperative, but I’d hoped to at least learn something.

  I met Judy in the hall, heading my way. “Campbell’s here,” she said. My heart did a funny little leap I scolded it for. I managed to keep my pace sedate instead of running to greet him.

  Malcolm and Viv were having a conversation that cut off when we arrived. “I’m here for an augury,” he said, handing me a slip of paper with a smile that set my foolish heart racing again.

  “You haven’t decided to be conventional, have you? Coming in the afternoon?” I unfolded the paper and glanced at it, then took a second, longer look: Where is the creature who killed Martin Wellman?

  “I was busy this morning. My team has been in the field since nine o’clock last night.” He did look tired, his dark eyes shadowed and his face unshaven. Combined with the suit, it made him look more like a male model than a businessman. I wondered why he’d taken the time to change but not bothered to shave. Focus, Helena. The augury was so close to the one Rasmussen had asked for I almost asked him about it. But that would be unprofessional, so instead I smiled at him and entered the oracle.

  I’d half expected a storm, but the light merely went bluish as usual, and I smelled freesias. I wandered among the bookcases, searching for the augury. Derrick was a pediatrician; surely he couldn’t just call in sick when the team needed to be out all night and into the next day. Or maybe I was wrong about that. For all I knew, Derrick’s practice catered exclusively to Wardens, the men and women magical and not who fought the Long War against the monstrous invaders. They would understand if fighting invaders took him away from his day job. From what I knew of my customers, the Wardens who hunted invaders saw that as their true jobs, and their mundane employment was just something that paid the bills.

  I rounded a corner and found the book, outlined in a blue glow, and took it back to Malcolm. “$650,” I said, handing it over. “Can I ask you something about it? We can go in the office if you’re concerned about privacy.”

  Malcolm paused in the act of removing a tube of sanguinis sapiens from his inner pocket. “Ask away,” he said, but he looked wary.

  “It’s nothing dire. Just—” I glanced at Judy, who was scowling. It was past time to forget about secrecy. “It’s almost word for word the same as one I had a few days ago.”

  “Really?” He handed the tube to Judy, who set it on the counter with a clink and began fiercely writing up a receipt. “I won’t ask you to violate the Accords by telling me whose augury that was.”

  “No, and I wouldn’t tell you. But I can tell you that the subject of that augury was killed by invaders, but in an anomalous way.”

  Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “Anomalous how?”

  “There were no invaders found in the area of her body. And she looked like she died happy.”

  “Hmm. That matches what the team and I have been seeing.”

  “And I thought…you know how the touch of an invader makes me euphoric? I wondered if there was some relationship between the two cases.”

  “It’s an interesting notion. I hadn’t thought of it, but it’s possible.” Malcolm leaned against the counter and tapped his fingers on the glass in a rhythmic one-two-three-four. “We have encountered three deaths matching that pattern. So far we have had no luck in tracking the killer, but I am convinced we are looking for a single invader rather than three. I hope this augury—” he tapped the book’s glossy cover—“will give us more specific guidance. Thank you.”

  “Wait!” He turned around at the door. “Is Olivia well?”

  “She is fully restored. I’m afraid I allowed an invader to slip past me and attack her.” A shadow crossed his face. “But we had plenty of sanguinis sapiens to replace what the monster stole. I’ll tell her you asked after her.”

  “Thank you.”

  When he was gone, Judy said, “You were really close to the edge there, Helena.”

  “I know. But I don’t think I crossed over, do you? And I didn’t tell him about the second augury, the one that had no result even though only one word was changed. That would have definitely crossed the line.”

  “I think all this secrecy is bad for you,” Viv said. “It’s only a couple of hours until closing. Let’s go get dinner afterward.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. Then I closed my eyes and swore. “No. I promised Cynthia I’d go shopping with her.”

  “We could come along.”

  “Thanks, Viv, but she said she wanted it to be ‘just us.’” I groaned and rubbed my temples. “What’s the incubation period for bubonic plague?”

  “Two to six days,” Judy said.

  “I’m scared that you knew that right off. I’m not going to ask how.”

  Judy smirked. “You shouldn’t. Besides, if you’re going to fake a disease you should fake one that’s not so disfiguring. Like colitis.”

  “What’s colitis?”

  “An inflammation of the colon.”

  I made a face. “Remind me to stop asking you questions.”

  6

  I held my hands perfectly still and let the manicurist have her way with them. I’d never had a manicure before and I still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, what with handling books all day. I could imagine my beautifully polished nails (light pink, like the curve of a rose petal) getting chipped on the edge of a bookshelf. But Cynthia had been enthusiastic, and I hadn’t been able to say no.

  Now I endured the final buffing and watched Cynthia receive the last touches on her acrylic nails. I’d politely turned them down for myself—it just didn’t feel like me—but Cynthia’s turned out so nice it was hard not to reconsider, just a little bit. Her nails were square-cut and French-tipped, with little rhinestones on the ring fingers. She managed to make everything she wore look perfect.

  Cynthia saw me watching and smiled. “I think the maintenance is worth the end result, don’t you? And yours look so pretty! I can’t believe you’ve never done this before.”

  “Pedicures, sure, but not my hands.” I held them up and examined how my nails shone in the lights. “This is…fun, actually.”

  “Don’t sound so astonished.” Cynthia leaned forward to address the lady in the mask working on her nails. “My sister can’t believe we’re having fun together, isn’t that awful?”

  I smiled weakly. She was right;
I couldn’t believe it. I’d gotten into Cynthia’s BMW tense, worried about what torment she might unload on me. But we drove to the mall (my New York City sister, going to a mall in Happy Valley?) and she hadn’t said anything more insulting than calling me Hellie once or twice. She hadn’t made fun of the stores or the people. The manicure had relaxed me further, and while I was still wary—this was Cynthia, after all—I wasn’t mentally braced for the worst anymore.

  “You really ought to do this more often, you have such pretty, small hands,” Cynthia said after we’d paid and exited the salon. She took hold of my right hand and brought it up in front of her face. “See how elegant they look?”

  “I guess,” I said, retrieving my hand without jerking it away. “So now what?”

  “End of the Rainbow. Mom raves about it.”

  “Oh. The accessory place.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic. People will think you want to be here.”

  “Sorry. I haven’t been there either.”

  “I’m starting to wonder why you hang out with Viv, if you never go anywhere. End of the Rainbow seems just like her thing.”

  “I’m just not a fan of shopping, that’s all.”

  Cynthia hooked her arm through mine and pulled me along. “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

  The accessory store turned out to be a rainbow assembly of color—big swathes of it, because everything was grouped by color, purses, jewelry, everything. I wandered over to the turquoise blue section to browse. My favorite color, and here it all was in one place.

  “Check it out,” Cynthia said. She held a pair of ruby red chandelier earrings up to her ear. “My thing, or what?”

  “I like them.”

  “I may get them.” She ostentatiously looked around, then mimed putting them into her purse.

  “Cynthia!”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t shoplift. Not like you, back in the day.” She picked up a necklace that matched the earrings and looked at herself in the tiny shelf mirror.

  “I never shoplifted! That was you!”

  “It was not. You totally took that bracelet and then acted like I’d put you up to it.”

  The tension built behind my eyes again. “Cynthia, you told them I’d planted it on you. I can’t believe you don’t remember!”

  “Whatever. The point is, I never stole anything in my life and I’m not about to start now. You should try on that bracelet. But not blue. You ought to wear amber and gold. Warm colors.”

  I picked up a coil of turquoise beads that wrapped five times around my wrist and admired it defiantly. “I like this one.”

  Cynthia shrugged. “Suit yourself. But Viv will tell you it’s wrong for you.”

  I bought the bracelet just to piss her off, but she didn’t say anything else about it. I left the store feeling irritated, my earlier pleasure gone. “Jamba Juice?” Cynthia said.

  “Sure.” I spun my new bracelet on my wrist. I didn’t have anything I could wear it with. That would teach me to buy things out of spite. Well, Viv might like it. Or, more likely, she’d make me buy something to go with it.

  We sat in the food court and sipped our drinks and watched the other shoppers. “That woman shouldn’t have gone with the orange hair,” Cynthia murmured, pointing discreetly. “She looks like she had an accident in a paint factory.”

  I sputtered with laughter I tried to contain. “That’s mean.”

  “It’s true! It’s not like I think she’s a bad person, I just believe in being honest about things like that. It’s why I have the job I do. I’m willing to say the hard truths.”

  “Yeah, but that woman probably thinks she looks beautiful, or she wouldn’t have chosen that color. You’d just hurt her feelings.”

  “Better a little pain now than a lifetime of people looking at you and going ‘where did you hide your pot of gold?’” Cynthia said in an exaggerated Irish accent.

  I snorted and had to suck down some of my smoothie to conceal it. “You’re awful.”

  “Just honest.” Cynthia leaned back in her seat. “What’s that?”

  I looked off down the promenade, well-lit and crowded with shoppers. Something was coming our way fast, something low to the ground that scurried like an animal on a well-waxed floor. It was shoving people out of the way, and cries of fear and anger drifted toward us. Apprehension gripped me, and I stood. “We should move.”

  “Why? It looks like a dog. A big dog.” Cynthia stood and watched the oncoming creature. It glittered under the soft lighting of the mall like a beetle, and its many legs scrabbled at the floor, sending up impossible sparks like metal on stone.

  Following behind it at a dead run were several people dressed in military fatigues and carrying long knives. They passed the people knocked down by the creature without provoking any more cries of astonishment. They were fast, but the invader was outpacing them.

  I grabbed Cynthia’s arm. “We have to get out of the way,” I said.

  It seemed everyone else in the food court had the same idea. We shoved through the crowd of shouting, screaming people, back in the direction of Jamba Juice. Cynthia fought me, and I yanked hard on her arm, begging her to move.

  “It’s just a frightened dog!” she shouted over the din. “Nothing to be afraid of!”

  I couldn’t see the illusion the invader had put on itself to blend in, the better to isolate and kill a victim, but I was pretty damn sure it looked scarier than a frightened dog. “Let Animal Control handle it!” I said. “It probably has rabies.”

  Cynthia succeeded in pulling away from me. I darted after her. She emerged from the crowd right in front of the thing, which instantly focused on her. Cynthia knelt down and put out her hand toward it. Its mandibles clacked as it barreled down upon her. I screamed and flung myself at her, knocking her over, and the thing missed its strike and tumbled over both of us.

  “Stay down!” a woman commanded, and I put all my weight into keeping Cynthia down. She struggled, shoved me aside, and I fell on my butt. The creature had come up against a wall of frightened people and turned around. The hunting team was between it and us now, and I sucked in air and tried to calm myself. What illusion were they under, those paramilitary types with their knives? Animal Control? If they killed the thing in full view of everyone in the food court, so much for keeping a low profile.

  I grabbed Cynthia’s leg to keep her from crawling away. “Don’t get in their way!”

  “They’re going to kill it!”

  “They’ll just…subdue it…”

  The pop of a tranquilizer gun went off, provoking more screams, and the thing collapsed. The woman who’d told us to stay down, an Ambrosite I knew named Allie, went forward to pick the invader up in a fireman’s carry. “It’s all right,” she said in a loud voice. “No one was injured. We apologize for not capturing it sooner.” She looked at me, and her eyes widened. I jerked my head in Cynthia’s direction, hoping Allie would take the hint and not address me in public.

  She did. She and her team turned around and went back the way they’d come. They were gone so rapidly no one had time to do more than gape. Excited conversations started up all around us, strangers brought together by a near-crisis. I stood and brushed myself off. “Well, that was exciting.”

  “Are you kidding me? Those people should be fired, if not arrested. Letting an animal like that run loose in a populated area,” Cynthia said, pushing herself to her feet. “And why did she look at you like she knew you?”

  Damn. “I’ve never seen her before,” I lied. “Maybe she thought I was someone she knew.”

  “And it came right at us. Like it was looking for us. Helena, what’s going on?”

  I couldn’t tell her that as custodian of a Neutrality, I was just enough different from the average non-magical human to draw the attention of invaders. They didn’t come after me often, but when they had before, there had always been a team or a warded area I could be safe in. “I told you we were in its way. That’s why I wanted you t
o move. I read somewhere that rabid animals move in a straight line.”

  “It looked at me. Like it knew me.”

  “I think you’re overwrought. Come on, let’s just go home.”

  Cynthia gathered up her purse and said nothing more. I was so relieved at not having to evade any more questions I didn’t think to worry about her silence until we were nearly at my door. “You have seen her before,” she said as I was getting out of the car.

  “Seen who?”

  “That woman Animal Control officer. She was in the bookstore the other day. You sold her an expensive book. How does someone working for the city make that kind of money? Because I doubt they pay Animal Control people very well.”

  “Good memory. I don’t remember her at all,” I said, laughing weakly.

  “I just think it’s weird, that’s all,” Cynthia said.

  “If I get attacked by another dog, I’ll agree with you,” I said, and ran for my door.

  Once inside, I leaned against the heavy steel door and cursed. Cynthia might be superficial and mean, but she wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t have guessed she could identify Allie from one quick meeting. Well, it didn’t matter. The number of invader attacks in the city might be higher than usual, but the odds of me running into another one, let alone while I was with Cynthia, were in my favor. And she’d be gone by the end of the week.

  I went upstairs and let myself into my apartment, kicked my sandals off and dropped my purse on my kitchen counter. I spun the turquoise bracelet around my wrist again. It was pretty, and I didn’t care if it didn’t suit me.

  My phone buzzed. I dug it out of my purse.

  ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

  Malcolm. Allie must have told him about the attack. I’M FINE. MY SISTER SUSPECTS SOMETHING WEIRD.

  No response. I poured myself a glass of water and stared out the window at the busy street below, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. Cynthia had done a good job of acting like a human being today, which only made me wonder what she wanted from me. She couldn’t possibly believe that a couple of hours shopping and a manicure could fix what was broken between us. Well, I had the advantage of her: I didn’t care if we were friends. She’d been absent for years and I hadn’t missed her, and I wasn’t going to miss her when she went back to New York.