by Alexie Aaron
“No, I’m not playing. You almost got the lot of us killed,” Vince pointed out.
“But you survived, your brother survived, I survived, and Ethan survived.”
“I hardly called Ethan’s incarceration surviving. Lord knows whose bitch he ended up being,” Sean said, making a face.
“That creature survived,” Blair pointed out. “That murdering evil monster is still there…”
“Waiting,” Vince said, pushing the telescope away from him. He looked over at his brother who was cutting coke on Blair’s coffee table. “It’s waiting to finish us off.”
“He gets it,” Blair said. “I really hate to have unfinished business.”
“You, I believe, ran away. Sean and I walked out.”
Blair looked over at Vince and calculated how long it would take for him to hit the ground if Blair blasted him with a twelve gauge through the window of the high-rise. The thought of it seemed to calm him. “I knew when I was being outflanked. But wasn’t it fun?”
“Define fun,” Vince insisted.
“Life and death. You have to be near death to actually understand that you want to live.”
“Skydiving would have been a better idea. Setting that kid up wasn’t smart,” Vince reminded Blair.
“That was my brother’s idea. Keith lacked the genius gene.”
“It really didn’t affect you at all, Keith dying in that horrible way,” Vince said, walking over and smacking Sean’s hand away before he snorted another line. “Stop. Your nose is a wreck.”
Sean sniffed and sat back, letting the coke take hold. It had been awhile since he had felt anything at all. He remembered the woods and smiled. “Jones was a fucking riot. He didn’t make it out alive but, man, did he enjoy running around like a mad man.”
“I heard they found him planted in the ground like a headstone,” Vince said. “Is that how you’d like to go out?” he asked his brother.
“I don’t know?” Sean answered him honestly.
“Look, we were in there with paint guns, markers if you will. They had no firepower against that monster. There’s better stuff out there. A flamethrower comes to mind,” Blair mentioned.
“So you want to go hunting?”
“I think we left unfinished business. There’s Rory for one.”
“You can count me out. I’m not supposed to get within five hundred feet of that kid,” Vince said.
“Didn’t we fuck up his life enough?” Sean asked.
“Do you feel bad for Rory Kline?” Blair asked, outraged. “What about Ethan? Ethan landed in jail. Rory’s still the helpful hardware man. His adventure didn’t teach him a damn thing.”
“Now you’re rewriting history. And you’re proclaiming that you kidnapped him to teach him something,” Vince said, flabbergasted. “My memory is fucked, but I know it was to rile up the beast. Rory was bait, pure and simple.”
“I can still see the hurt look on his face. Poor little bastard. Thought he’d play army with his new friends,” Sean said, drumming his hands on the couch cushions.
“Pathetic little jock,” Blair commented.
“Excuse me, but pathetic is a guy who had to have a little girl save him from the big bad monster. Pathetic is how you left her and her boyfriend to die while you ran home to your daddy’s lawyers. Come on, Sean, two of my brain cells just rubbed together. Blair, you need serious help. Thanks for the ride back to the States. I think Sean and I are going to Sundance. Maybe catch a movie while we’re there.”
Vince hauled Sean to his feet and pushed him towards the door.
“Exit the Smithe brothers, hipster wannabes,” Blair said bored. “I forgot how much imagination you two lack.”
Vince ignored him and pushed Sean through the door and slammed it behind him. He walked down the hall, pushed Sean into an elevator, and pressed down. He watched as the door safely closed before he started down the stairs. He pulled out his second cell phone and pressed the preset number and talked to Braverman. “He’s obsessed with Sentinel Woods. Obsessed enough to fly us from Europe on his daddy’s jet. I’m getting my brother out of here. I suggest someone warn Rory Kline. I think Blair is coming for him, and this time, he’s not going to be using toy guns.”
Vince pounded down the stairs and burst out of the building into the sunlight. He felt as if he narrowly missed death up there in the penthouse. It took him a moment but he located his brother stumbling around. “Come on, loser, let’s get out of town,” he said, hailing a cab.
He didn’t know why but he took a moment to look up. He couldn’t see into the windows of the penthouse, but he knew Blair was looking down at him. Vince felt a chill.
“What’s the matter?” Sean asked from the back of the summoned cab.
“Someone just walked over my crime scene,” Vince said and got into the cab and slammed the door shut.
~
She has a voice
Like a songbird
I haven’t heard it yet
But I could read her lips
Dieter set the book down and looked at Mia. “This is confusing.”
“How?” Mia asked, pulling her legs under her as she sat on the couch.
“Who is she, and what is he talking about?”
“Maybe love at first sight,” Mia offered. “Have you ever seen someone from afar and thought, ‘I bet that is an interesting person. Who else would be carrying a guitar case in a snowstorm?’”
Dieter laughed at her example. “People assume a lot from the physical appearance.”
“We can also read into what we see. For example, by looking around this room, I can tell you are into sports and have younger siblings.”
“That’s a cheat. You already know that.”
“But had I not, your room shows me. The sports posters and the high shelves that hold your jars and other precious items you don’t want Brian’s sticky fingers on, or mine… I’d have to climb on your desk to reach that one.” Mia pointed to the tiny lidded jar with the green ribbon around it. “That must have been special.”
“It was one of my first soul catches. She was a beautiful soul from a tortured child. My mentor assured me that she would be granted a new life, so I took her upon her dying breath.”
“Did she have a name? Did you know her?” Mia asked.
“No, so I gave her one. Her soul was green, like rye grass. I call her New Green.”
“Let’s use the pattern of this poem and write one for New Green.”
Dieter closed his eyes and thought for a moment.
“Remember, you don’t have to be precise,” Mia reminded him.
Dieter stood up and recited:
Her color drew me to her,
I could smell
the return of life
before she had taken a breath.
“That’s wonderful. Quick, write it down,” Mia encouraged. She looked at her watch and frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
“Susan was supposed to call me if she felt well enough to watch the boys this morning.”
“Maybe time has slipped away from her. We could take the little dudes with us.”
“You want to take them to the old county library?” Mia asked.
“We could put them into the double stroller Ralph gave you. I’ll have a talk with Brian before we go into the building. I will explain why his hundred questions will only be welcomed after we leave the place. I will answer them then.”
Mia nodded. “It could work. I will leave the building if one or both act up.”
“Plus, Uncle Mike would be there. Brian loves Uncle Mike.”
“He loves extorting money out of Uncle Mike.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Dieter said wisely. “I appreciate Uncle Mike for going to all this trouble to find some of the raven’s other works. The little pamphlets, evidently, have illustrations in them. Mike thinks that the pictures, along with the poems, may give us a trail to follow. He suspects that there are several men, and possibly women
, signing their work as the raven.”
“He may be right. Your job is to take all this information and form your own opinion. Mike has talked to the head librarian, and she will have the pamphlets available for the two of you to examine.” Mia got up. “I better go and prepare the go bags for the boys. Saturday afternoon at the library, what should I wear?”
Dieter closed the door after Mia left. He drew the jar off the shelf, closed his eyes, and recited once more the poem he had written. “I think I shall write a poem for all my special memories,” he said.
Mike transferred his gear to the van. He was looking forward to it just being the three of them at the library, but he understood Mia’s problem. She couldn’t leave the kids with Ted and Cid because they were deep into testing an invention, and it was Lazar’s afternoon for physical therapy. Brian was dressed in a sharp outfit, he suspected Ralph bought. It was very like what the young prince of England was wearing. Varden was in some of Brian’s less tattered castoffs. Varden grew so fast, by the time an outfit was bagged at the store, it no longer fit. So, Mia and Audrey had gone through Brian’s clothes and, between them, were able to outfit both of their young sons. Varden had already passed Luke in size. Mia hoped that Audrey wouldn’t compare the two babies. Kid’s grew at different rates. Luke’s language was more advanced than Varden’s. Varden was bigger, and his physical dexterity had passed Luke’s weeks ago.
“Rule number one, Varden,” Mia cautioned the amused little boy. “No pulling books off the shelf unless you plan on reading them and writing me a book report.”
This made Brian laughed. “He can’t read, Mom. He can’t write – well, except from those druid symbols…”
“What symbols?” Mia asked, catching too late the twinkle in Brian’s eyes. “Oh, you little teaser, you got me.”
Brian laughed.
“Brian, this trip is important for Dieter. Uncle Mike has gone to a lot of trouble and was very gracious when I told him that you would be joining us. I want you to be on your best behavior. That means, no talking back when you’re shushed and to tell me well in advance that you need to use the toilet. No screaming, ‘Pee pee!’”
“Yes, Mom.”
Mike, who had been listening to the exchange, smiled. He wasn’t bothered by the tots coming along. He’d put up with goats if it meant extra time with Mia.
“Uncle Mike, where are we going?” Brian asked. “I know it’s a library, but where is it?” Brian asked.
“There is this town, called Swanson, that is situated along one of the old canals. They used to move their products on barges through there. The wives of the captains of industry got together and raised money to build a library. The matriarchs of the library brought in more than what would have been bestsellers of the day. Yes, there are plenty of Mark Twains and Capotes, but also some independent works. I dated a woman who went to Swanson when she was doing research for her PhD. Here, she found materials that she would have had to go all the way to England to see in person. I called her, and she put me in touch with the librarian who told me that, yes, there were some Raven poems there. She identified them as love poems.”
“Yuck,” Brian said.
“Yuk yuk yuk,” Varden parroted.
“There are also some copies of the Wright brothers’ earlier plans. If you’re a good boy and be quiet and act like a gentleman, I’ll take you over so you can see them before we leave. Deal?”
“It’s a deal!” Brian said excitedly.
“Da Da eel,” Varden agreed.
Mia smiled.
Dieter slid into the front passenger seat. “Sorry to be late. Dad gave me some study tools at the last minute.”
“Such as?” Mia inquired.
“He wired me for video. He said it would save me taking notes. He doubted that they would let me copy the pamphlets.”
“He’s probably right, but I still think you should take notes,” Mia advised. “Remember, this is your homework, not your Dad’s or Uncle Mike’s.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The mystery of the raven is quite a story,” began the librarian. “We have documents supposedly typed by the creature that go back to 1870. Although, my friend Esther claims she has seen an original typeset booklet that was post-Civil War. I have sent her an email about it. When I have the answer, I will forward it to you,” she said, her eyes locked on Mike’s.
Dieter wasn’t bothered by the woman’s obvious admiration for his handsome uncle. He sensed that Uncle Mike used this to their benefit.
He sat down and waited for Uncle Mike before he opened the first pamphlet.
“We would appreciate that, wouldn’t we, Dieter?”
“Yes, ma’am. I appreciate the trouble you have already gone through.”
The woman smiled and left them, shutting the door quietly behind her.
“I thought she’d never leave,” Dieter said.
“She’s just being helpful,” Mike said, sitting down and opening the first book. He put it between the two of them so they both could see it. Mike read the first poem softly aloud:
Kiss me long
and slow
as if it were
the last kiss
before I go.
“Love poem,” Dieter identified.
“I agree. How about this one?” Mike asked and recited:
She always knew what I was thinking
Just as I could read her thoughts
It wasn’t anything psychic
Just one of the many bonds we shared
But the day I stood in the hushed silence
of the sounds around me
I knew that she was gone
“Tell me about this one?” Mike requested.
“He is speaking in the past tense, so I fear, the woman has left him.”
“Yes, go on,” Mike encouraged.
“I think she has left the earth. She is dead,” Dieter said simply and jotted down the poem along with his observation.
“Look at the poem again. What can you tell me about the poet or his muse?” Mike asked.
“I’m not sure…”
“Why mention psychic?” he asked.
“Um…”
“When I say Mia’s psychic, what do you think I mean by that?”
“That she is a sensitive, she can read minds, she…”
“Just as I could read her thoughts, it wasn’t anything psychic,” Mike recited quickly.
“He can read thoughts or she can.”
“He explains away the psychic connection as if they didn’t need it; their bond was enough.”
“So we are looking for a mind reader.”
Mike thought about Mia and her hearing the poet in her head, the connection that happened when she was reading Burt’s mind. “I think we are looking for a natural mind reader.”
“A birdman perhaps?” Dieter asked. “How do I explain this to my teacher?”
“We’ll word it in such a way that the truth will be there, but not the paranormal truth,” Mike promised.
Chapter Eleven
Mia turned back several times to see if they were still being followed. They had picked up their tail in Children’s Books. The tail had followed them through History to the maritime collection. Mia pulled a book from the shelf, knelt next to Brian’s side of the stroller, and slowly turned the pages of the book so her son could read them.
“Don’t tell me the boy can read already?” the old woman asked.
“He’s advanced,” Mia said, turning the next page.
“He’s abnormal,” the woman insisted.
“I beg your pardon. We are studying here. Please go away,” Mia asked.
“No. You’re the most interesting thing that has happened here in ages,” the old woman claimed.
Varden, who had fallen asleep, opened an eye and looked up first at the old woman and then at Mia. He closed his eye again and started snoring.
“He finds you boring. Go away,” Brian said rudely.
“I never!” t
he woman said, backing away.
“He didn’t mean to be rude. He’s just overly frank,” Mia explained.
“According to my uncle Murphy, I don’t suffer idiots.”
Mia winced.
The warm air disappeared quickly, as did the illumination from the overhead lights. Very little light entered from the basement windows. Mia handed the book to Brian and quickly pulled the stroller out of harm’s way. She pulled a small saltshaker from her purse and drew a circle around the stroller. There was only enough salt for this. Mia would have to take her chances outside of the ring.
“I’m sure we can come to an agreement that my child didn’t mean what he said. He was just repeating what his uncle said. You know kids, they like to mimic.”
Books began leaving their positions on the shelves and floated slowly towards them. Two were hurtled at the stroller, but the protection of the salt kept the ghost’s projectiles from connecting with the children. Mia jumped up and grabbed a few books before they hit the glass cabinets that held the more fragile collections of books and antiques.
“You’re going to damage these priceless books,” Mia warned as she continued to field the flying books. She tossed her phone to Brian. “Press five, and tell Uncle Mike what is happening,” she instructed.
A book bashed into the side of Mia’s head, causing her to see stars for a moment. “Stop it. You’re behaving very undignified.”
“So-oh, I’m an undignified idiot now. I’ll teach you and your brats to insult an elderly lady.”
“You’re no lady,” Mia said, looking around her for ways of weakening this ghost. The sprinklers could be set off, but that would ruin the books. Mia, in good conscience, couldn’t do that. She remembered something in one of the cases as they entered the history section. She reached out with her mind and encouraged it to come to her.
Mike flew down the stairs with Dieter on his heels. They split up once they had made the basement. The ceiling was low and the book stacks high. Mike felt like a rat in a maze as he began his search. He heard a tapping and followed it to a display case. Inside, a railroad spike was suspended in mid-air, moving against the glass. Mike pulled on the door of the case and found it locked. He pulled out his penknife and gritted his teeth as he levered it between the lock and the side to get the case open. He knew he left scratch marks. He would offer compensation later to the library. Right now, he had to help Mia.