"Is there coffee?"
"Yes," came the answer from the kitchen. "I'll pour you a cup."
"Don't, I'll get my own."
"It's not a problem."
They almost collided at the kitchen door, him with a ceramic mug held before him very carefully and she almost drunk stumbling. There was only a little splash across his hand. Kevin switched hands and sucked coffee off his fingers.
"Here you are."
It already had cream in it and everything. She took it with slow hands, afraid to drop it.
"Thank you." At least she remembered her manners.
"I made omelets."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. There were vegetables we didn't eat, so thought it would be a good way to get rid of them."
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. It was almost perfect. By now, he knew how to make it so she'd drink it. Just the right amount of cream, no sugar. Resting the cup against her lip, she watched him as he got another plate out of the overhead cabinet. Everything smelled so good: the coffee, the food, everything. It was a better day. She could almost forget the terror which had awakened her the night before. As if thinking about it brought it to life, she turned to the television just in time to see Sylvia's face on the screen.
The news was talking about her.
Marie walked back into the living room and turned the television up.
The investigation of the suspicious death of young Sylvia Bridge is asking for your help. Anyone who has seen this symbol...
The still shot changed to one of Sylvia's wall of photos with the Scythe in the Moon painted on it. Marie's hair shot up on her neck. The ceramic mug cracked when it hit the floor and splattered hot coffee all over her feet and legs. Marie was too busy covering her mouth with her hands. Squeezing her eyes shut, she said,
"I didn't see that."
Summoned by the breaking, Kevin came in as the image changed to another news story.
"Didn't see what?"
His voice broke the spell and Marie cursed. Her legs were wet and she was standing in a puddle. She danced out of that spot and then stalked past him into the kitchen to get paper towels.
"Marie," he called her name. "MOLL!"
She stopped and trembled.
"Didn't see what?" he asked again.
"It was real." It was all she could do to stand in one place and not shiver. In the morning light, everything should have been okay again, but she was reminded that things were not okay. Sylvia was dead and something was going on that she didn't understand.
"What was real?"
"My nightmare," she spat. Then she turned down the hall and ran into the bedroom. Tearing books off the small bookshelf beside the bed, she came back with the first copy of Grave Silence.
"It's right here, on the book."
"What is?" Kevin blinked as she shoved the book under his nose.
"The Scythe in the Moon, the symbol on the wall of Sylvia's apartment. It's from my books."
Comprehension dawned in Kevin's eyes and he took the book from her studying the cover carefully. The symbol was carved into the top of the mausoleum the Gravekeeper emerged from in the first book. It was the symbol on all the Dark King's minions. Kevin had seen it on posters and book cover reproductions since she'd started doing the books.
"How many people would make the connection?" he asked.
"I don't know. Some of my crazier fans, I guess."
"Then we should be fine. No one is going to call the cops about it."
Kevin went back into the kitchen and picked up the two plates off the counter. Each had already been given a fork.
"Let's eat before it gets cold."
"Kevin." Marie cradled the book against her chest. "This is serious."
"It's a symbol from a book written on a wall. It's probably one of your crazier fans. Don't worry about it."
"But shouldn't we call the detective?"
"If we call the detective, we have to explain the whole thing to him. Do you really want him back here poking into our lives again now that he's been handed another reason to hound us?"
The clink of the china being set out on the coffee table, beside the stain on the floor, was the next thing she heard. Marie stood there with the book in her arms and shook her head. She didn't want the detective back there making a mess of things, but this was important. She'd seen it. Of course, who would believe it? She couldn't even make her husband believe it and he was a magician.
She put the book down on the kitchen counter when she went in to get the paper towels again. This time she came back with the roll and cleaned up the mess she made, leaving the broken coffee cup on the table next to her plate.
"Your food is getting cold," Kevin said.
"I know."
Yet she took the mess of paper towels into the kitchen and dumped them in the trash before coming back to the table. When she sat down in the living room, he asked,
"Do you want me to make you another cup of coffee?"
"No, I'll be alright," she said. "I'm apparently clumsy this morning."
"You're perfect, don't lie," he said, smiling around a mouthful of egg, cheese, spinach, mushrooms, broccoli, and onion.
"Don't talk with your mouth full. You know better."
Before he spoke again, he swallowed as if to point out her choosing to chastise him.
"Thank you for letting me make you breakfast."
"I didn't really let you." Marie forked a mushroom into her mouth.
"You're eating with me. We haven't done this in months."
Why was he bringing that up? They were having a good moment. Now she had the uncomfortable feeling of Sylvia coming between them all over again. She dropped her fork on her plate and just stared at him.
"What?"
"Nothing." In a huff, she got up and headed into the kitchen grabbing the cracked mug on her way. With a savage satisfaction, she spiked it into the trashcan.
"Baby." He followed her as far as the door of the kitchen.
"Don't baby me. You just couldn't leave it alone."
"It's not as if you've given me a lot of time lately."
"Maybe because I couldn't stop imagining what I saw."
"Are you ever going to forgive me?" The way he shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck only made her see red. How could he be so oblivious?
"You are awful."
"Moll, please." Reaching out, he dropped to one knee. "Please."
Inhaling through her nose, Marie tried not to say anything. He was between her and the exit, but she refused to rush past him no matter how much she wanted to be clear of this situation. Marie wanted the sanctity of her writing desk and a closed door.
"Get out of my way."
"Marie, please."
His blue eyes weren't full of tears and for a moment she wanted them to be. It would have been better if he had ever shed a tear over what he had done. Instead he moved on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't spit all over their marriage vows by sleeping with his assistant.
"No."
In slow motion, he cleared the doorway. Marie rushed past him standing there and retreated to her office. Shutting the door behind her, she took a steadying breath and let it out in a slow whistle. Over on the desk, the power light on her computer blinked orange waiting for her touch to bring it awake again. The idea of getting lost in the fictional world she created would normally be a beautiful wanted thing, but in light of the circumstances and last night's dream, she feared it. What if she made something else happen? Covering her face with her hands, she slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor and let the tremors take over her body.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After Moll's unceremonious retreat, Kevin went back to the living room and kicked his feet up. Breakfast no longer held any interest for him, even if the food still smelled good and was mostly still warm. He could have gone back in the kitchen for a cup of coffee, but he didn't want to go that far back. The kitchen and her office shared a wall. He did
n't want to feel as if he were spying on her.
The news story about Sylvia came back on while he sat with the television on. Concentrating on her face, he tried to remember her smile from when she was alive. So many things you take for granted about a person until they're taken away. The timbre of her voice had always been a favorite. Her tendency to give him a thumbs up or thumbs down on a new trick. It was almost always a thumbs down if it didn't involve her unique talent of looking really good in spandex and sequins, but after she got over the initial disappointment, she was normally fair. Sitting back against the couch, he went over his last memory of her in his head.
Telling her over and over again to get out. Threatening to call the cops on her if she didn't leave.
Now she was dead. How much worse could he have been?
The program showed the symbol again and Kevin picked up the book which had been discarded next to Marie's plate. It was the same symbol if you were a little creative with how you looked at it. The mediums were different. The book thudded against the coffee table when he dropped it. So what if it was a symbol from Marie's books on Sylvia's wall? The symbol wasn't a secret; any nut job could reproduce it if they wanted to. Marie sold bookmarks with it on them at conventions. What disturbed him more was the number of pictures of him Sylvia seemed to have. It was normal enough that she would have pictures of them together in their makeup, but pictures of just him were too prevalent. Had Marie been right when she said Sylvia was simply obsessed with him? He would never know for certain, but the evidence suggested yes.
Why him of all people? Sylvia hadn't dated much that he remembered. There wasn't a lot of time for it between rehearsals and shows, but he had managed it with Marie. He had even managed to hold onto his career and get married. Not that he was having a lot of fun being married just now with Marie refusing to even accept his small efforts at rebuilding the bridges between them.
The channel had moved on to sports and Kevin switched it off. Golf did nothing for him. In fact, most sports were just reasons to ignore the TV as far as he was concerned. The living room was silent long enough that he started humming.
To his right, his phone rang. It screeched at him like an eagle meaning he was actually getting a call as opposed to the lesser cheep-cheep that was his text message notification. The eagle screamed again before he got to it.
"Hello?"
Kevin. The voice on the other end of the phone knew him well enough to call him by first name and after a moment, he knew it as well.
"Caitlyn?"
Yes, Kevin. I'm sorry to be calling so early but there's a problem here at the Trubeau. Someone broke in. Some stuff is missing. We need you to come in and do an inventory.
"Nobody would want my stuff, Caitlyn."
If nothing is missing, then that's fine, but we need to be sure.
"Okay, Caitlyn. I'll be in before lunch."
Thanks, Kevin. I've got some other people to call. I'll see you when you get here.
He let the phone drop to the couch. A break in at the Trubeau could mean anything. It was a small theater with a consistent after dinner crowd that he enjoyed working at. It wasn't like working the Ombre, where he had to essentially make his props. He had stuff at the Trubeau.
The plates ended up on the kitchen counter with the leftover food still on them. For a moment, he stood outside of Marie's office. His hand hesitated over the door. Deciding against it, he moved into the bedroom. The dresser was against wall and glared at him with its brass knobs. Pulling out a drawer, he found himself a Redfern Fire Ale t-shirt and black jeans. Once he was dressed, he grabbed a set of socks and slid them on his feet. Tennis shoes came last. They were old or better to say well broken in.
Then he was outside her door again. "Marie." There was no answer. "Marie. I'm leaving."
"Okay," came the muffled response.
Shoving his wallet in his pocket from its place by the door, he headed out.
The Trubeau sat at the edge of Markston's downtown and held the distinction of being the first theater in town. It towered over the buildings around it with its wraparound marquee. He wasn't on the marquee this week. The cab dropped him off at the glassed off ticket booth. The front door wasn't locked because the acts often went in and out during the day. The front room was done in burgundy and gold. Past concessions, he came to a set of stairs. Up the stairs were the projection booth and the only office. Before he got to the office, there was a desk. Caitlyn was sitting behind it.
"Kevin," she greeted him.
"Hi, Caitlyn." He gave her a small wave. "So what's the deal?"
"I have the last paper inventory you did." Small hands shuffled a few sheets of paper until she came up with one two page sheaf. "Which is over a year old, it was time for you to do another one anyway." Handing those papers to him, she got up. "I'll accompany you down. I have to call the cops if anything is missing."
"Okay."
The actual storage space for the Trubeau wasn't very large and was only used for the acts which had taken contracts with the theater. To his knowledge, Kevin only knew two acts other than his own had bothered with it. Kevin and Caitlyn walked through the main theater which was also done in burgundy and gold. The shadows were heavy at the edges of the room with the lights at half for the day. They hurried through to the stage and then behind the thick velvet curtains into the wings. The storage area was blocked off with a chain link fence. There was a keyed lock on his section, but the lock was hanging open. He flicked the light on. The bare bulb threw sparse light around the room. His sawing table looked well used in the light. Beyond it was a cabinet for his smaller props. Scanning around the room, Kevin took quick stock of what was there and stopped.
What was missing couldn't be missing. He searched the room without a word and then shook his head.
"Kevin, what's wrong?"
"It's gone."
"What's gone?"
"The escape box."
"How big is it?"
"The size of a closet cabinet."
"Where is it normally?"
"Over there in the corner."
As far as he could tell, nothing was moved, but it still wasn't there and there was no way around that.
"Caitlyn, call the police. I don't know why anyone would take it, but it's gone."
"You should check the rest of your stuff before I do that. Do it really carefully." Caitlyn pushed him forward until he was standing in a spot of shadow. For a moment, he suppressed a shiver as the room turned a little chilly. Taking a ring of keys out of his pocket, he opened up the cabinet. Inside were extra sets of cards, small balls, scarves, and other up close magic bits. He opened each of the drawers in turn and counted the pieces. Everything was there. His sawing in half table was there. Everything appeared to be there just from a cursory evaluation. Looking down at the paper, he ticked things off in his mind. He rolled over to the second page and on it was two items: the sawing in half table and the escape cabinet.
He looked at the empty space and shook his head. There was no way to get that cabinet out of there without moving absolutely everything in the room. Yet it wasn't there. He couldn't believe it.
Kevin stopped the merry go round turning in his head of how the box got out with the recognition that everything else was there. The largest piece was gone, but all the small stuff was still there.
"Caitlyn." When she didn't answer, he turned around. The room was empty except for him. "Where'd she go?"
The awareness of being alone made the room seem even colder and Kevin found himself rubbing his arms to get a little warmth. His eyes drifted over the lock on the door. It wasn't broken, so it must have been jimmied. But why would they take the box and not take anything else?
Well, he didn't know if they hadn't taken anything else, they might have taken other things from other people. It was just that all he was missing was one very large cabinet. After the feeling of something breathing down his neck brought his short hairs to attention, Kevin let himself out of the room. Back
out in the wings, it felt almost normal, but he couldn't escape the feeling of being watched. It wasn't a friendly watching either. He went looking for Caitlyn.
She was in lobby with a cell phone, her blond head bobbing up and down like a dashboard ornament.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."
Kevin drew up to her elbow and waited. Turning his direction, she signaled for him to be quiet.
"I'm doing that now, sir. Mr. Ellis is here about his locker and the Cavarti twins are out of town, but will do an inventory of their locker just as soon as they get back."
There was a pause as the person on the other end said something that caused Caitlyn to pale.
"I can't do that. Go through all their things without their permission. That might open us up to a charge of theft ourselves." Her lips disappeared as she listened. "Yes, of course, sir, I'll get right on that. I promise. Goodbye."
She coughed as she let out her breath.
"Sorry about that, Mr. McCarthy about the break-in. As you can imagine, he's less than pleased."
"I've been through all my stuff." He tried to hand her the list but she refused to take it. "The only thing missing is the cabinet."
"You're sure. They didn't take anything else?"
"Nope, nothing else. Just the biggest, heaviest piece of furniture I have."
"Any idea how they got it out of there?"
"Other than with a crane, I have no idea. It's not light because it's solid wood. The last thing my mentor ever gave me."
"So it has sentimental value."
"Some." Kevin cut off that line of question with a stare. He wasn't about to talk about where he'd learned his trade. That was his business and no one else's.
"What do you want done if they find it?"
"I want it brought back. It's mine. It means I won't be able to do any tricks involving it until it's returned, but I'm not scheduled for any heavy shows for a while. I can avoid worrying about it for right now."
Caitlyn said,
"Thanks for making the time to come down so quickly. I'll get the police on the horn about it and see if we can't get it back sooner rather than later."
Dark King Rising Page 6