by L. EE
About an hour later, Nia left Gail to finish getting ready for the day – since trying to do it together cut their effectiveness in half. When she slipped back into her room, wearing the same dress she had worn the night before, Arthur was sitting in an armchair, reading a book. She deliberately didn’t look at him as she walked into the bathroom.
“Have a nice evening?” he called after her.
“I’m ignoring you,” she replied in a sing-song voice as she started the shower.
“I’ll take that as a yes as well as an invitation to pester you later.”
Nia rolled her eyes, though she still couldn’t stop smiling. Later, when she was sitting in a chair, taking care of her hair, Arthur followed through on his threat by pulling his chair up to hers and asking absurdly personal questions that soon had her blushing and swatting at him. Of course, she recognized the strategy he was employing: ask enough inappropriate questions and the victim of your interrogation will eventually slip into answering your less invasive ones. She had employed the same strategy herself multiple times, but it was still annoying to find herself falling for it.
“So you like her?”
“Of course I like her,” Nia replied, pointedly turning up her nose at the question. “If I didn’t like her, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t think I do.” Adjusting her dressing gown, this one far less pretty than the one she had destroyed, she got to her feet and went to the wardrobe. She had no idea what they would be doing today, but her choice of dress still seemed deeply important.
“The pink one looks pretty on you.”
“It’s not pink,” Nia retorted over her shoulder. “It’s rose.”
“Fine, the rose looks pretty on you.”
Nia almost took the pearl-gray instead just to prove that she was not slave to the opinions of others, but Arthur was right, the rose did look pretty on her.
“So what’s the plan?” Arthur asked her as she went into the other room to change.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll need to investigate what we found yesterday before I’ll know for sure.”
“Yeah, I mean, but when we’re done –”
“Considering how long it took for us to find this last piece, I hardly think it’s productive to worry about ‘when we’re done’ just yet.”
“If you say so.”
If I’m right, Nia told herself, things will only get more difficult from here. Still, as she finished dressing, she found herself hoping for the first time that the investigation would take more time rather than less.
49
Gail Lin
The morning seemed like it was going to be a peaceful one. Sure the rain was coming down in thick whips that slashed the glass and the wind was shrieking like some dying thing, but it was snug and warm inside the hotel. Gail didn’t even mind the rain too much – so long as she didn’t have to sit beside the window.
Breakfast was a pleasant if distracting affair. She somehow managed to keep up a friendly conversation with Arthur about his work at the layman hospitals even with Nia casting her warm looks under her appalling long eyelashes and linking fingers with her under the table.
This could end very badly, she thought after returning one of Nia’s flirtatious smiles. Or at least very awkwardly. She liked Nia. She liked her a hell of a lot, but she’d be a damned liar if she said the woman didn’t confuse her too. One minute she was so full of awkward blushing stammers that Gail would have thought she’d never so much as held hands with anyone before, and the next – well, the next proved that first theory so completely wrong that Gail had to struggle to keep up.
She just wasn’t sure what Nia wanted from her – if anything. And if she didn’t know that, she sure as hell couldn’t decide if she wanted the same thing or not. Well, she guessed there was no point worrying about it now. The case might end by this afternoon in which case what happened the night before would be nothing more than a pleasant break in the tension.
The only thing that bothered her about that idea was how much that idea bothered her.
“So,” she said when the talk of hospitals and sutures and incisions had run their course, “what’s our next move?”
“Well, that depends,” said Nia. “I still have to perform another locating spell. I’ll use the legs since they’re the most – freshly found, but I learned from our last adventure and I want to be careful this time around. I certainly don’t want to have us running around in the rain until I’m sure what we’re dealing with. Or at least as sure as I can be.”
Arthur widened his eyes in exaggerated surprise. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Ni? You didn’t hit your head yesterday, did you?”
“No, Arthur, it may surprise you to hear this, but I can learn from my mistakes.”
“I know what you’re about to say, doc,” Gail put in just as Arthur opened his mouth, “but I wouldn’t do it. She’s the only one who can fix you if she hurts you, remember?”
“I am not going to hurt him,” said Nia haughtily. “I am above rising to such foolish taunts – oh, and Arthur, if you say, ‘you are?’ I will take it upon myself to change every single item of clothing in your wardrobe to fluorescent orange.”
Gail smiled in confusion. “That’s an oddly specific threat.”
“Arthur hates orange.”
“It makes me look like a walking carrot.” Brother and sister smiled at each other.
White light flashed beyond the window. Distracted as Gail was, she didn’t have time to prepare for the crash of thunder. She automatically ducked her head and her hand clenched hard on Nia’s, making the other woman wince.
Gail immediately let go. “Sorry, princess.” There was another flash of lightning, giving her a moment to brace herself, but the thunder still made her insides tremble. Worse still, the thunder heralded even heavier rain. She could hear it beating down on to the roof like it wanted to smash its way inside.
Nia touched her hand and looked at her with concern. “Are you all right, detective? You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.” Gail forced a smile, though it twisted into a grimace when the next crack of thunder struck her like a punch in the gut. Her breakfast lay half-eaten in front of her, but the first big storm of the season always stole her appetite. Hell, honestly? It stole her ability to do anything. Hoping to beat the next crash of thunder, she got to her feet. “If we’re not planning on going out today –” and god, I hope we’re not, not in this “ – I’m going to work on my reports for a bit.”
Arthur just nodded, maybe remembering the conversation they’d had in the empty lot, but Nia took Gail’s hand as she looked up at her.
“Are you certain you’re all right?”
Even through the old darkness that always overtook her during heavy storms, Gail was touched by the concern. It actually managed to draw a smile from her, which was no small feat during this sort of weather. She bent and brushed a light kiss across Nia’s knuckles. “I told you, I’m fine, princess. Let me know if you need my help with anything.”
“I will.”
Gail smiled once more then released Nia’s hand to give Arthur a quick salute. “See you later, doc. Maybe today we’ll be able to have lunch without everything going all evil.”
Arthur smiled, though his eyes were still a bit too knowing as they watched her face. “I hope so.”
50
Gail Lin
Of course, Gail didn’t work on her reports. She was beginning to doubt she would ever get the damn things done.
The storm was getting worse. She swore she could feel the hotel shaking with each thunderclap. Thankfully the lights were magical and didn’t flicker. For many years, Gail’s apartment had run on old-fashioned electricity and just about every big storm knocked the lights out, leaving her to sit in the dark, hands wrapped tight around a bottle of clean water.
Things would get better as the rainy season wore on. As the storms became more
frequent she’d get used to the crashing and flashing. She’d never like it and she sure as hell didn’t sleep well with the sky smashing to pieces overhead, but she’d at least be able to breathe properly. There might be thirty major storms during any given rainy season, but she wouldn’t be any more bothered by the second than she was by the thirtieth.
But there was always a first.
Cursing herself, she flopped back on the bed to glare up at the ceiling, trying to slow her heartbeat and stop her breath from hitching. She’d once had a short-term – very short-term – boyfriend ask her how rain could scare her so badly when she ran around hunting murderers and rapists for a living. She’d asked him if he’d ever tried to intimidate rain, handcuff rain, or – as a last resort – shoot rain.
Because the truth was you couldn’t do anything to the rain except try to keep it out.
The wind picked up, wailing as it slapped water against the windowpane.
Her eyes felt heavy despite all the sleep she had gotten the night before, but she didn’t want to sleep. During storms like this, she only had one dream.
Dad fell into a coma a few days before he died. Hour by hour, Gail could only watch as he slipped farther and farther away from her, until she was left alone with the wind and the rain.
Shoving herself up from the bed, she switched on the radio and sat down in the room’s most uncomfortable chair.
“Good morning, New Crossbridge! I hope you’re not planning on taking a walk today because it’s really coming down out there!”
“Thanks for telling me,” Gail muttered, picking up the newspaper before realizing it was yesterday’s.
“This is only the beginning though, folks, so get ready to batten down the hatches and settle in for another rainy season. Don’t worry, though, we’ve got a whole collection of music to see you through these long wet days. To start off, here’s a new song by New Crossbridge’s own songbird Bobbie Wright, who as usual has taken inspiration from the headlines in her new song, ‘Poor Old Connery.’ Let’s give it a listen why don’t we?”
Were they really trying to make Connery a legend already? He’d still been killing people a month ago for crying out loud. Well, anything to make a buck, Gail figured.
“Hey, New Crossbridge, it’s been said, that poor old Connery’s lost his head…”
“It’s not lost,” Gail commented conversationally. “It’s under the bed in the other room.” The absurdity of her own words made her laugh.
The song droned on as she flipped through the paper. Her head was aching again – just a regular ache this time, one brought on by too many days of poor sleep – but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Squinting down at the small text in the newspaper wasn’t helping, especially since it was text she’d already read, damn it.
Crumpling the paper into a ball, she threw it across the room. The distance she got was momentarily satisfying enough to distract her from the light-and-sound show going on outside.
It didn’t last. The next crash jolted her to her feet, heart slamming against her ribs. Damn it, she thought, chafing her suddenly ice cold hands. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Beyond the window, the world was a gray wall of shifting water. Based on what she could see through the glass, the entire city might as well have been underwater. The thought made Gail shudder.
She sat down in the chair again, running her hands across her face. It had been a storm just like this that had taken Dad from her. The well closest to their hovel had been corrupted by a week of heavy rainfall. Dad’s poorly set broken leg had left him too weak to move. Gail had tried to keep him comfortable, wrapping him in the blankets that weren’t blocking the worst leaks in the roof.
But pain and exhaustion can do strange things to a person. Gail had given Dad half a cup of water every two hours from the pots of clean stuff she had managed to hoard in the days before the storm, but thirst had driven him to drink the rainwater that made it through Gail’s imperfect barriers. And even though by the end he had been delirious with pain and bad water sickness, he had still tried to hide the drinking from Gail, as if he were embarrassed. She only realized what was going on when it was far too late.
“I love you, Gail-baby,” he’d said during his last hours of lucidity. “If – if anything happens to me, I want you to go to the children’s home in Arrow Hill.”
She’d refused. She didn’t believe anything could happen to her father and even if the impossible did happen, she would never go to the place Gracetown kids referred to as Arrow Hell.
“I can stay with Simone until you get better,” she had insisted. “She likes me. She says I caught on to reading faster than any kid she’s ever taught.”
But Dad had been adamant. Simone Corbeau did good work, he had said, but she barely had enough money to look after herself. The children’s home would take care of Gail and help her build a life outside of Gracetown.
“Why would I want to leave Gracetown?” she’d asked. “You’re here.”
Dad had shook his head sadly and stroked her hair. “For once in your life, Gail-baby, just do what I tell you.”
An hour later, he’d closed his eyes for the last time. Two days later, he’d been dead. Gail hadn’t wanted to leave him, but then the storm had torn the roof from the hovel, forcing her to run blind with terror and grief into the night. She had taken refuge in a wooden crate that might have been sufficient shelter during a winter drizzle, but this had been a proper spring downpour and within an hour, she’d been soaked to the skin.
But despite the thirst that turned her throat to sandpaper, she’d kept her mouth closed tight. She hadn’t swallowed a drop.
A day and a half later, the rain had stopped. Dizzy with thirst and aching from the burns of long water exposure, she somehow managed to limp out of Gracetown, hiding from the people who had been her father’s friends, until she reached the children’s home.
They had muttered a bit about taking her, saying that they were overfull already and asking Gail if she were sure she didn’t have any relatives she could go to, but then they sent someone to investigate the place Gail had called her home.
They hadn’t made any more fuss after that.
It was only when she was grown that she realized what they must have found: a single water-eaten corpse buried in a pile of garbage that only someone who knew it and loved it would have taken for a home.
Back in the hotel room, miles and years away from that Gracetown hovel, Gail yanked the curtains closed, blocking out the drowned city beyond the glass.
She was trying to drown out the storm by blasting terrible music from the radio when she heard a soft knock on the door. Answering it, she found Nia standing outside, hands clasped in front of her.
“I wanted to give you an update on my progress,” she said. “I thought you would –” She tilted her head to study Gail worriedly. “You look pale, detective.”
“Do I?” Gail rubbed her face. “I’m probably just a little worn out from yesterday.” The thunder boomed, making the windows shudder in their frames. Gail couldn’t help wincing. Damn it, how long can it go on? “What did you find out?”
“Only a little, but it’s worth mentioning. Could I come in?”
“All right.” Gail stepped back to allow Nia into the room.
As she came in, Nia grimaced and covered her ears.
“Sorry about the music.” Gail hurried to switch off the radio. “I didn’t notice how loud it was.”
“That’s all right.” But Nia was still rubbing her ears.
After kicking the balled up newspaper under a table, Gail turned back to say, “So what did you find –” She was interrupted by Nia wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning her head against Gail’s shoulder. After hugging her for a moment, she moved back a step.
“What was that for?”
“You looked sad,” Nia answered seriously. “I’ve been worried about you.”
That drew a small smile from Gail. “I’m fine. I’m just not – St
orms like this get under my skin, I guess.”
Though Nia was obviously curious – actually curious was an understatement; Gail could practically see questions crawling around behind her eyes – she didn’t push the topic. Instead, she explained that she had performed the location spell, but the response was faint and weak, suggesting that Connery was hiding somewhere distant.
“I was thinking that tomorrow morning – if the weather has improved – I’ll do the spell again and if we get the same result, we can take the car out to do some reconnaissance.” She twisted a lock of curly hair around a finger. “Unfortunately, since I can only get the vaguest sense of direction, I’m afraid the investigation might be a little unfocused.”
Gail shrugged. “We’ll do what we have to do.”
“Yes, we will.” Nia’s eyes drifted to the covered window. “But we can wait for the rain to stop.”
“Then we’ll be waiting for a few months,” Gail chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s only the first storm of the season that gets to me. I get used to it after that.” She dropped back into the uncomfortable chair, stretching her shoulders against the rough fabric. “So tomorrow we’ll go for a drive. That’ll be a nice change of pace.”
The thunder roared, but this time Gail kept herself from jumping, mostly by squeezing the arms of the chair until her fingers ached.
Nia watched her knowingly for a moment – which wasn’t as annoying as Gail would have expected – then she said, “Give me a moment. I have an idea.”
“An idea?” Gail watched in confusion as Nia swept to the door. “What?”
Nia smiled over her shoulder, then actually winked. “You’ll see, just wait a moment.” Then she was gone, but not for long. Before the thunderstorm could wear away at Gail’s frayed nerves any more, Nia was back with Arthur and a bellboy in tow.
“Arthur and I spoke and decided it would be nice to make today a day for peaceful relaxation,” Nia said as the bellboy wheeled in a cart laden with what looked like half the kitchen – and half the bar – into the room.