by JL Bryan
“I don't know,” Darcy said. “That's a lot of responsibility.”
“You can handle it, Darcy. I have confidence in you.”
“Okay...” Darcy slipped the card into her pocket. “Wow. This is big.”
“One thing,” Jenny said, “Don't tell anybody we were here. Just tell them you found it on Ashleigh's desk or something when you taking care of Maybelle.”
“Why?” Darcy whispered. “Are y'all in trouble or something?”
“Don't worry about us, Darcy,” Jenny said. “Just take care of the girls.”
“I will,” Darcy said solemnly. “I promise.”
***
Representative Eddie Brazer felt a little uncomfortable as he was escorted into the senator's office. Junius Mayfield belonged to the opposition, the president's party. Still, based on the polling, it looked like Eddie might be joining the august body soon, and there was no reason to snub one of his future colleagues in the Senate. Mayfield's people had been very insistent that Eddie meet with the senator ASAP. Eddie had no idea what the man wanted with him.
“Eddie Brazer,” Senator Mayfield said, standing up to greet him. The man looked like what he was, an old backslapping politician from the Deep South, jowly and gray, the nose and cheeks of a heavy drinker. “Whiskey for you?”
“No, thanks.”
“One for me, then.” Mayfield sank into his chair and poured himself a glass. “Looks like you'll be taking over Buddy Cobden's old seat.”
“So far, so good,” Eddie said.
“Old Cobden won't last for shit in retirement,” Mayfield said. “I give him two weeks on the golf course before he's dead of boredom. Or maybe he'll have a heart attack in the arms of his favorite hooker, the way he always wanted to go. What do you think?”
“I couldn't guess, Senator.”
Mayfield cleared his throat several times, as if a thick wad of phlegm were wedged inside.
“What can I do for you, Senator?” Eddie asked.
“Hell, call me Junius, we're practically co-workers,” Mayfield said. “There's just a little mess I need your help mopping up. This damn Fallen Oak thing. I know you folks in the House aren't really planning to hold public hearings, are you?”
“We are,” Eddie said. “We have substantial evidence that the President conspired to hide information of great importance to public health and national security—”
“The President is dumber than a paper bag full of donkey shit,” Mayfield said. “Couldn't pee without Nelson Artleby holding his pecker.”
Eddie was amused to hear that from a member of the President's party. He nodded.
“Nobody really cares what the President knew or didn't know,” Mayfield said. “Hell, nobody cares much about anything, except who's diddling who. There's no good reason to raise a big stinking mess here, Brazer. You're just pulling a rabid dog's tail. You're gonna get bit.”
“Is that a threat?” Eddie asked.
“Hell, yes, it's a threat. Look, those people down in that little place in South Carolina have been through enough. Nobody needs you upsetting them.”
“I don't see how a thorough investigation would upset anyone.” Brazer grinned.
“I think you're missing the big picture here, Brazer. Our basic job is to keep the public feeling safe and secure, so they go to work, pay their taxes, and leave us the hell alone. You don't want to get a reputation as a boat-rocker.”
“That's pretty cynical.”
“Hell, yes, it is,” Mayfield said. “You don't think I survived this long in the game by believing a bunch of airy-fairy nonsense, do you? Now, look here. You're a freshman. You don't want to come in here making enemies, when you could be making friends. Why make your life harder than it has to be?”
Brazer waited to see if Mayfield was really finished. Then he said, “Okay. I'll consider your advice.”
“Oh, will you 'consider' it, you little snot? You might want to consider this.” Mayfield turned his flat-screen computer monitor to face Eddie, and then he pawed and clicked at his mouse.
Eddie watched as the monitor shifted from a PowerPoint presentation, to a couple of news websites, to an online poker game.
“Damn, I hate computers,” Mayfield muttered. Eddie couldn't suppress an amused smile at the man's bumbling.
Mayfield pressed a button on his speaker phone. “Jordan, get in here and play that video of the congressman diddling his assistant.”
The smile vanished from Eddie's face, and a jittery feeling formed in his stomach.
A stunning girl in a long, tight black skirt entered the office, smiling.
“Hey, Senator,” she said in a Southern accent. She leaned across his lap and took the mouse from his hand. While she focused on the computer, Mayfield leered at her rear end, which was just in front of his face. He waggled his eyebrows at Eddie, as though expecting him to join in the leering, but Eddie wasn't exactly in the mood.
“Here you are, Senator,” the girl said. On the monitor, a video window popped up. It showed Eddie taking Esmeralda from behind on the hotel bed, his face very clear as he grunted in pleasure.
“Oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy...” Esmeralda cried.
“‘Oh, Daddy,’ my word,” Mayfield said. “It's like she was trying hard to sink you. Don't you have a daughter about her age?”
Eddie buried his face in one hand, shaking his head.
“Ever seen one this small?” Mayfield held up a narrow, palm-sized video camera. “My first telephone was bigger than that. I tell you, the things they make these days.”
Eddie sank in his chair. Esmeralda had disappeared several days ago, and now he understood why. She really had been too good to be true—she was a spy for Senator Mayfield, or his cronies.
“That's it for now, honey,” Mayfield said to the girl, and she left the room. “Now, Eddie. This is gonna get real ugly. The kids on my staff tell me it's no trouble to put a video like this all over the Internet. They say it would take about two minutes. Can you believe that? Two damn minutes, and you're dead in the water. What would your constituents think? Your backers? How about that wife of yours?”
Eddie didn't say anything.
“Now, again, I want this little investigation of yours sealed, shredded and forgotten. Is that clear?”
Eddie nodded.
“Say it,” Mayfield said.
“The investigation’s over. It never happened.”
“Good man,” Mayfield said. “That's it for today. If you do make it to Senate, you bear in mind I've got your balls in my back pocket. Don't you think about making any trouble for me and my friends. Now don't be a stranger, hear?”
“I won't,” Eddie managed to say. He stood up and made his way to the door.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Jenny stood in the crowded Cour Puget at the Louvre, a palatial gallery that felt like it was outdoors because of the glass ceiling soaring above her. She was fascinated by the huge bronze sculpture of Hercules, gripping a giant snake called Achelous by the throat. It reminded Jenny of the time when she was a toddler, and she'd almost been bitten by a rattlesnake, but the pox had killed it first. Her dad had freaked out.
“What do you think?” Seth asked, strolling up behind her.
“I think Hercules is going to win,” Jenny said.
“Man, don't they have a pretzel cart or something? I'm hungry.”
“We're in Paris, and the only food you want is a pretzel?”
“Or a hot dog.”
“I like this sculpture a lot,” Jenny said.
“Maybe you can make something like that one day.”
“Seth, I work in clay, not metal.”
“You can always branch out.” Seth put an arm around her waist and hugged her close. “I think it would be badass, watching you make stuff with a welding mask and blowtorch.”
“We'll see.” Jenny smiled and leaned her head against him.
They'd be in Paris a little more than a week. Seth had rented an apartment overlooking
the Seine, since Jenny wanted to be near the arts scene on the Left Bank. Jenny had spent a few past lives in France, so she was already fluent in the language, something that would have been handy to remember in her high school French classes.
Their arrangements had been made with care. The names on their passports were fake, but the passports themselves were real, manufactured secretly by somebody at the State Department who apparently did things under the table for Hale. Seth and Jenny also had green cards that enabled them to work, though Seth had enough money in an account in Lichtenstein to live on for the rest of their lives, in case they were never able to go back home.
“I love Paris,” Seth said, and he kissed her. “And I love you, Jenny. More than anything.”
“I love you, too,” Jenny said, and she meant it.
She looked into his eyes. It was a long, endless road that stretched behind them, and ahead of them, too. Lifetime after lifetime. While others of their kind, the love-charmer and the dead-raiser, spent eternity in endless, hopeless struggles for power, Seth and Jenny had found their way to the very heart of what it was to be human. There was no reason to cling to what they might have been in the ancient past.
Love was all that mattered in the universe, Jenny understood now. Without it, existence was just a game of empty shells.
“We'd better get moving,” Seth said. “The museum closes in an hour, and we've barely seen any of it.”
“There's no hurry, Seth,” Jenny said. “We have forever.”
Jenny took his hand.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.L. Bryan studied English literature at the University of Georgia and at Oxford, with a focus on the English Renaissance and the Romantic period. He also studied screenwriting at UCLA. He enjoys remixing elements of paranormal, supernatural, fantasy, horror and science fiction into new kinds of stories. He is the author of The Paranormals trilogy (Jenny Pox, Tommy Nightmare, and Alexander Death), the biopunk sf novel Helix, and other works. Fairy Metal Thunder, the first book in his new Songs of Magic series, will be available by October 2011. He lives in Atlanta with his wife Christina, his son John, two dogs, two cats, and hopefully some fish pretty soon. His website is http://jlbryanbooks.com. Follow him on Twitter or Facebook.