"That can't be right," coming from the foreman himself. Dean was talking to Andrew, the architect. Andy, a man more bone than muscle, stood over the stockier foreman pointing at something on the blueprints.
"There's a twist going on somewhere, I'm guessing about the eighth floor where we put in the first set of shakers."
"How bad is this?"
"Better to ask how bad could this get. If we don't correct for it now, putting the rest of the building together won't matter because it won't stand up to the forces of the first earthquake that comes along."
Dean turned his eyes on Ray, noticing him standing there listening in.
"Well, don't just stand there, Raymond," Dean said. "Introduce yourself."
"I'm Raymond Vargas, head of the scaffolding crew."
"Then this is partially your fault," said Andy.
Ray blinked and pulled his hand back from where he'd offered it.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Well, someone put the skeleton together wrong. Otherwise, there wouldn't be a nine degree twist in one of the main columns."
"We don't do anything but build what we're told, so if there's a problem, it came from the plans, not from the men," Ray said.
The two men stared at each other like dogs readying for a fight. Dean was not having that in his office. He put his hands between them.
"If I had to put money on this fight, Andrew, I'd back Ray. You've got the reach, but he's got the power and he believes more than you do."
"Good thing this won't come to blows then," said Andy. "Either way, I've got to check my numbers to be sure we do this right. Otherwise, it will cause more trouble than it fixes."
"Okay. You and Ray head up there and check for the twist you mentioned. It could be that your calculations are off and there isn't one. It's only nine degrees. You could be wrong," said Dean.
Ray shrugged and said,
"Is that what we're doing this morning?"
"Until Andy gives us the okay, we can't move on with anything else, so get your radio and head up. You're to watch his back while he's up there."
"Yeah, yeah, Dean." Ray snatched a radio out of the bank of them and switched it to default safety channel two. Andy followed him out.
"Don't you need a hard hat, amigo?"
"Oh right, left it on Dean's desk."
Andy came back out of the trailer with a hard hat bearing a vicious red stripe down the center. Ray raised an eyebrow at it.
"Girlfriend. She is convinced I'm going to get hit with a brick and that's exactly where it's going to brain me. I've already told her, I don't usually work with bricks."
"Right."
"Look, no hard feelings about that in there. It's just that this is really important to me."
"Let me guess, you're the architect?"
"It's my building."
"Well, it's my guys working on it; we do what we're told. If it's wrong, not our fault."
"You said that already. I'll take your word for it."
"You don't have to take my word for it," Ray said. "Anybody out here will tell you."
"Right, right. Like I said, I'm sorry. I was out of line."
Ray let the apology pass without comment and turned to head for the elevator. They could only go so high yet. The upper stories still needed a lot of work.
"Eighth floor. That's where the first set of joints are, so we can check for the twist there."
"Ah huh." Ray mashed the button to take them up and the small cage rattled its way upward with the two men standing in silence. At the eighth floor, Ray stopped the elevator and let them off. Andy moved along the beams cautiously almost feeling the way along with his feet. Ray took easy loping steps across them. They moved to the center of the building where the main columns were. They were actually tubes worked into the construction of the building to allow it to handle different loads.
At the central well, Andy pulled out an instrument Ray didn't recognize and ran it around the outside of the tube.
"Ah huh," Andy said to himself. "There's that."
Ray watched him as he side stepped a little around the edge of the well. The urge to push him off came and went. Then it came and stayed whispering in Ray's ear how no one would know it for anything other than an accident. Ray clenched his hands and looked beyond Andy to the horizon and the rising sun. Soon the whole ground would be flooded with light. Morning coming to the yard. Still the unwanted need needled him. Andy would be a stain on the ground. His blood soaking into the dirt. Skull cracked and leaking. Ray slowly unclenched his fists and took a steadying breath.
Do it. Push him.
The thought was so loud, Ray almost stumbled there 80 feet off the ground. He blinked as it came back again.
Do it. Do it.
At the edge of his vision, he saw a shadow. The Gravekeeper floated there and crooked one finger at him in beckoning. Then the apparition pointed at Andrew who was moving around the central well with a little more confidence now recording whatever it was that the thing he brought recorded.
Do it.
"No," Ray said. He put his hands to his ears but that did nothing to block out the sound pinging around in his own skull. "Stop it."
The voice was unfamiliar to him and Ray knew he had at least three voices in his head. Naomie's voice reminded him of all the things he said he would do. His own was essentially his conscience telling him what not to do. Then there was his Father who reminded him of how much his career choices had cost him. This new voice was none of those. If he had to describe it, he would call it dark in a sinister sort of way, like a villain out of a book.
Of course. Now push him.
What did it mean, of course? Ray put his hand on his knee and pushed it back straight rather than taking a step forward. Andrew was almost across the circle from him. He had checked three of the five columns making a star from where Ray stood.
If he pushed him, they would fall eight stories. It was survivable, but that wasn't the point. The point was that pushing him would give him a thrill. Ray felt something well up inside of him, a sort of elation at throwing the other man from the building. All it would take was one hand. Just to tip him. The stiff way Andy stood would carry him off the building on its own. He'd never recover in time with his hands full. Ray took one step forward.
Push him. Push him. Push him.
The urging voice wrapped around Ray's senses and he thought for a moment he could taste it like bitter chocolate on his tongue.
Another step forward. Andy had his back to him. Ray slinked across the space until he stood in Andy's shadow. Morning heat dampened his armpits. Andy turned toward him.
"What?"
Ray shoved Andy. The other man dropped his machine and it shattered on the ground below while he grabbed Ray's hands.
A moment later, Ray held onto Andy with everything he had.
"Help me!" Andy screamed.
Ray heaved back on the other man, trying to settle both of their weight but Andy wiggled too hard in his fear. The two of them slid from the beam.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Naomie shut the door of her office with a resounding thud. On her walnut desk were stacks of files and law books left half open. The research for the Carriger case sat topmost. Kevin's file had been buried a bit, but she wasn't worried about it. She had requests in for all the evidence in his case and would get it sometime soon. She wiped her face with one hand and pulled her hair away. Fixing her collar, she circled her desk and sat down.
Someone chuckled.
Her empty office echoed.
Reaching onto the top of the pile, she grabbed the evidence file for Carriger and opened it. Another light bout of laughter sprayed her and she looked around.
You hear me just fine.
Naomie blinked and shut the file in front of her. Rubbing her eyes, she tried not to hear whomever that was talking to her. Hearing others in your brain wasn't completely unheard of, but it was not something a woman on track to becoming partner indulged
in.
A knock on her door got her attention.
"Come in."
"Ms. Naomie," Matthew, one of the junior lawyers, poked his head in. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about a deposition."
"Is it for a case coming up in the next few days?"
"Thursday."
"Then yes, in about thirty minutes. I have a recording of my own that I need to listen to. What case is it regarding?"
"Norfolk versus Norfolk."
"That nasty row of a divorce they're handling in your department?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Another black chuckle trilled across Naomie's senses. She settled her nerves by pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Bring me a summary of the deposition along with the cassette. We'll go over it together."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now get out of my office."
He hastily withdrew. Naomie moved her hand from the bridge of her nose to her ear and rubbed it lightly. She heard something not there.
Yes, you hear me just fine.
A warmth hit her chest and she massaged the spot it made through her shirt. Underneath her silk blouse, a thin glow appeared. It lit up all the way to her throat.
It's time to go.
Despite having things to do in the office, Naomie got up and started for the door. Closing her eyes, she shook her head and pulled away from the influence of this voice in her head. It reminded her of something warm and welcoming becoming uncomfortable. It wrapped around her senses and suffocated her common sense.
"Go away."
No, you will do what I say, my heart.
Fear struck like a lightning bolt as Naomie put her hand on the doorknob. Her hand wavered there as she fought the compulsion.
"You will not force me to do anything." Her accent grew heavy under the strain and she stood there at her office door stiff against this prodding.
My heart, it called again. The heat at her chest increased until Naomie thought her own heart might very well be on fire. Her hand grasped the knob and turned it. She headed out of the office. Others watched her move, but didn't comment as she passed. Caught as she was, Naomie did not smile, an unusual sight in her office. At the elevator, she pressed the down button.
A man stopped beside her and said,
"Naomie, heading out for an early lunch?"
She tried to speak but her mouth felt gummed shut. Instead she could only turn to this man, senior partner Patterson, and wave slightly. He looked at her with some concern. He looked quite spry in his tennis attire holding a racquet. Naomie said nothing. Sweat popped up on her forehead from the heat in her chest. Naomie burned from within. Opening her mouth, she panted.
The elevator dinged.
She rushed forward.
A flower delivery man stepped out in her path.
They collided.
When the roses touched Naomie's chest, the fire went out like an arctic breeze had gone over it. Naomie clutched at the bouquet even as she slid to the floor.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the delivery man said. "I'm so sorry, Miss." He gathered the bouquet up and Naomie came up with it.
"May I have one?"
"These are for a woman named Stephanie and I doubt she would be all that happy if I gave up one of her roses to a strange woman."
"Oh, I know Stephanie," Naomie said, still holding on to the bouquet. "I can give them to her."
There were three Stephanies in the firm, one in accounting, one as a junior lawyer, and one working in administrative.
"I really can't," he said. He gathered the roses to his chest. The plastic crinkled. "Thank you, ma'am." He moved away.
The heat flared across her chest and then her back.
My heart, the voice soothed. Come to me.
"No," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. Naomie pulled back from the elevator and returned to her office with frightened steps. She shut the door and threw herself into her chair, balling up as she went.
"I won't," she said. With trembling hands, she reached for the phone. With one finger, she dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang.
"Professor Coren's office," Marie responded.
"Marie."
"Naomie?"
"Marie, something is terribly wrong." Naomie's voice wavered and the heat in her chest made her rub it seeking some relief. "I think the heart is trying to kill me."
"Naomie, I don't understand."
"Marie, something is wrong." Repeating it didn't make it any less imperative that she make her best friend understand the dire straits she was in. "I need to see you. Come to my office and bring roses." Then she hung up.
Come to me, my heart.
"Not on your life, you bugger," Naomie said.
When Marie showed up a half hour later, Naomie was still sitting in her office with the door closed, but she had nearly carved divots in her chair with her nails. Her hands formed claws on the arm rest. Marie brought two yellow roses with her. Upon entering, she handed them to Naomie who clutched them to her chest. Then Marie sat down across from her.
"What is going on?" Marie asked.
"I've been dealing with this all morning. Someone calling to me in my head." Naomie sighed. "It's gone now. Apparently roses can keep it away."
Marie looked at her with wide eyes.
"He's reaching through your connection," Marie said. "Bastard."
"What do you mean?"
"When you got the heart, you got a piece of him. And it's in you. So he's using that to try and control you." Marie stopped there then said, "Have you talked to Ray today?"
"Not since he left this morning before I came into the office."
"Call him."
Keeping the roses to her chest, Naomie dialed Ray's phone. It rang and rang.
"It's probably in the truck. He won't be able to answer until lunchtime."
"It's almost noon," Marie said. "Shouldn't he be on lunch or calling you?"
Naomie broke into a new sweat. She redialed the number and it rang again until it went to his voicemail.
"You've reached Ray Vargas, leave a message."
"Do you know the number to his work site?"
"I don't, but I do have Dean's number."
One handed Naomie searched her rolodex. Dean Chambers, ArchiTECH foreman. She dialed him from the card.
"Dean Chambers," a voice answered after two rings.
"Dean, hi, it's Naomie."
After a pause, Dean said,
"Naomie, I've got bad news."
"What?"
Marie leaned in as Naomie did.
"Ray's in Emergency. He fell off the building today."
"I'll be right there," Naomie said.
"Alright," said Dean. Then he hung up. Naomie collapsed forward onto her desk. Marie put her hand on Naomie's shoulder.
"You go. I'm done for the day. I'll go home and tell Kevin and we'll meet you at the hospital."
"I have to shut up shop here first, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes. Thank you for the roses."
"I owe you too many times for too many things to begrudge you some flowers. I should buy you flowers as often as a boyfriend as often as I need you."
"That you should," Naomie said. "But I won't expect it of you. Give Kevin my love."
"Of course. Be safe driving."
Marie ducked out of her office and Matthew stuck his head in.
"Matthew, change of plans, I can't look over that deposition with you. Have Kendricks do it. He'll be better at it anyway." Naomie packed her briefcase without looking at the young man.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I have to leave the office. Somewhere I have to be."
At her level, she didn't have to announce herself leaving the office as long as she let the secretary know to forward her calls to her cell phone. That was easily done and she was down the stairs before the elevator made it to her floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
After seeing Naomie and hearing about Ray, Marie was anxious to get home. Sh
e had left Kevin there by himself when she went in to the office that morning. Of course, he would be fine, but she could no longer be sure of that with the strange happenings going on. The Dark King tried to use his connection with the heart to manipulate Naomie, no telling what he might be doing with the others. With Ray in the hospital, she wanted more than anything to hold Kevin and make sure he was okay.
She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Her sense of misgiving waxed strong. The house looked no different than when she left it. The front windows covered in curtains. Undoubtedly, the door locked. At the front door, she slipped her key in the lock and the door swung open. Poking her head in, she said,
"Kevin?"
No answer.
Marie stepped into the living room and shut the door behind her. "Kevin?" She walked through the living room and into the hallway. From there, she could see the door of her office standing open. The door she remembered closing before she went out. Sliding cautiously down the hall, she came to stand before the door and looked in. Kevin sat in her chair staring at the computer screen. She eased into the room and put her hand on his shoulder. He didn't move. With a shake, she tried to rouse him.
"Kevin. Kevin."
Suddenly, his eyes shot wide and one hand gripped hers so hard she winced.
"Kevin, let go," Marie said. But he didn't let go, his grip increased until she thought her bones would break. She struggled away, pulling him around in the chair until she could see his face. A rictus grin covered his mouth. At his throat, the box of the voice glimmered. "Kevin, Ray's in the hospital," she tried explaining. "We've got to go see about him."
The man with his hand gripping hers seemed immune to the knowledge. Instead he stood up and advanced into the space between them. For a moment, Marie thought he would hit her, but he stopped. Her husband had become a statue again.
"Kevin, let me go."
"This will not end as you intend," Kevin said.
"What do you mean?" She wasn't talking to her husband and she knew it. He wouldn't address her in such a formal manner.
"Look to those you love. They will be your payment."
Marie pulled away as hard as she could and Kevin let her go. She rebounded off the wall and almost fell. Then she ran, turning toward the front door. Behind her, Kevin followed. Out on the driveway, she threw herself toward the car. Then she was in it. At the door of the house, Kevin stopped. His eyes seemed shadowed despite standing in full sunlight. Marie backed the car down the driveway. Her last vision was of him standing in the doorway looking too much like a mannequin.
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