She slammed her stapler onto her desk and stood up, ready to whine at Troy. He wasn’t in his cubicle.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Danielle considered going to the break room to load up on coffee, but it was two minutes before nine and there was no way she could get back to her desk in time. Instead, she closed her eyes and meditated, the knots in her lower abdomen increasing their aggressive attack on her uterus. A long day lay ahead.
Much to her relief, the noise in the workroom died down by five-after-nine, allowing her to concentrate on her work while trying to ignore her physical ailments. She was so lethargic that she could barely type on her keyboard.
A string of words over the intercom were sure to further ruin her morning.
“Lieutenant Cromwell, please report to the captain’s office.”
Shelley’s voice was like knives stabbing into Danielle’s temple, their serrated edges wiggling their way between muscle and sinew before leaving a bloody trail of gore behind. Danielle checked out of her headset, logged out of her computer, and cursed her way down the aisle of cubicles.
Not until Shelley came into her line of sight did Danielle remember what happened the night before.
She froze, attracting the attention of two of her coworkers who tried to fix a blue screen on a computer. What if Miranda called her in to accuse her of breaking into her house? Danielle’s throat went dry. There was no other explanation.
“Hey, Cromwell,” one of the onlookers called. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Danielle shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just, you know, way too early to be going into the boss’s office.” She forced a smile to alleviate any suspicion and continued her way.
She stopped before Shelley’s desk and waited until the busy secretary got off the phone. “Hang on, I better page you in.” The secretary picked up the phone again and shoved it beneath her chin, her manicured finger pressing a call button. From the way her fair eyebrows flinched, their commander was in less than a good mood. “Yes, ma’am, you told me to tell you when Lieutenant Cromwell arrived, and she has. Should I send her in? All right… will do.” She hung up. “You can go in, but be warned that’s she’s… in a mood…”
Danielle mumbled her thanks and knocked on the office door – she also looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody watched her.
A gruff word of admittance welcomed her. Danielle’s face was blasted with warm air as she stepped into Miranda’s house of humidity. Normally, she had the windows opened, or the air conditioner on, but that would have made sense. Instead, Miranda surrounded herself in muggy heat, her long-sleeved arms crossed over her chest as not a drop of sweat crowned her head. Moisture claimed most of Danielle’s body the moment she closed the door behind her. Fear? The temperature? Both, probably.
“You wanted me?” She was too cautious to remember formalities.
Miranda’s piercing gaze finished the job in Danielle’s temple. The captain picked up a folder and plopped it onto the bare part of her desk. “Sit.”
Danielle did not want to sit in that empty seat again, but she also did not want to incur any further wrath. She soon found herself in the same seat she was in at least once a week.
How quickly Miranda’s demeanor had turned from flirtatious to downright threatening in that month.
The hungover captain slapped a pen on top of the folder and gestured for Danielle to open it. As Miranda leaned her chin on her hand and stared at the far wall, Danielle flipped open the manila folder to see a small stack of survey photocopies.
“What’s this?”
Miranda dragged her hand across her desk and looked at what Danielle held. “It’s a survey. I’m supposed to watch you fill it out.”
“For what?”
Miranda lowered cupped her hands together as if she spoke to someone half her age. “You were randomly selected to fill out a survey…. about me.” She flicked one wrist toward her chest. “Normally, I would try to be a little perkier for such an occasion, but today I really can’t give a shit.” She scratched her nose.
“Really.” Danielle scanned the questions. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? You look half dead.”
She knew she treaded deep water because it was her commanding officer she was so blunt with, but Danielle hoped there was still some of Miranda’s old self lurking in there.
“Bad night,” she said. “I came home to find my house… well, my bedroom, specifically… totally trashed.”
“Oh.” Danielle’s breath left her chest again, and she squeezed the pen so tightly in her hand that her nails dug into her skin. “Were you… robbed?”
Miranda was the most apathetic creature to ever sit at that desk. “Luckily, they only made off with some jewelry.”
“Oh, God, that’s horrible. At least you weren’t home, right?” Danielle swallowed. Every time her brain screamed That woman was Miranda, idiot!, she second-guessed herself. Miranda wouldn’t be playing games with her right now, right? Even after flaunting the Third Piece in front of Danielle two days ago…
“Uh huh,” Miranda continued. “Whoever it was, though, fought with somebody in my hallway. It’s wrecked. All my nice butterfly sketches were broken on the floor.”
This was a trap, right? Miranda turned her attention back to the folder.
“It’s too bad,” she said. “That was my favorite ring.”
“Ring?”
“The jewelry that thief made off with. It’s monetarily worth nothing, but it has a lot of sentimental value to me. How I would love to run them with a knife.”
“That sucks.”
“Thank you for your commiseration.”
Miranda cleared messages on her phone while Danielle was left to fill out her brief survey. She refocused on the paper, presented with multiple dots to fill in and lines to mark. Questions about length of command, personality type, possible recommendations, a string of “agree” and “disagree,” and the quintessential “Other Comments.” Danielle wanted to fill this out about as much as she wanted to converse with her boss.
She marked things while Miranda contemplated the window. She opened a drawer next to her leg and pulled out a small bottle of over-the-counter pain medication.
“Are you done yet?” Miranda popped a pill into her mouth and followed it with coffee.
“Not quite.”
“Great. I’ve got four others after you, you know.”
“Sorry.” Danielle tried to focus on the paper again. Other comments? All Danielle could think of was, “I’m also pretty sure she’s acting as an agent for a man bent on destroying the entire planet.” She caught Miranda rubbing her nose again.
They continued to sit in silence as Danielle neared completion of her survey. Such a revered silence, however, was destroyed when Miranda sneezed so hard that it made Danielle jump in her seat.
When Miranda revealed a palm covered in blood, Danielle lost the last of her tact.
“Good God!” she cried, holding the folder up to her face as if it would protect her. “What is wrong with you?”
Miranda searched for any tissues she could find. “Just a nosebleed.”
“A nosebleed? That’s not a nosebleed, that’s a nosedeath!”
“It’s fine.” Miranda found her box of tissues. “I’m just hung over, damnit.” She continued to dab her nose, splotches of dark red covering each tissue as if the spray would never let up. “I need to wash this off. Don’t move.” She stood, tissues covering her nose, and hurried out of her office.
Danielle couldn’t finish the survey. She remembered a neighbor in college who regularly had nosebleeds – until they were kicked out for the possession of illegal drugs. Danielle could not believe what she considered. She looked back at the unfinished short essay and was tempted to write, “Also does cocaine. You should test her.”
“Gross,” she uttered. “Gross, gross, gross.” First cigarettes, now cocaine? Did Miranda want to die a horrible death?
Danielle mustered up the energy to complete the survey. She tossed the folder back onto the desk. Miranda did not return.
Under heavy instruction to not move, Danielle stayed in the chair and waited for her captain. When another minute passed and there was still no sign of Miranda, she looked around until she found a small pool of blood behind the military-commissioned pencil holder. Danielle glanced over her shoulder before pulling a tissue from her pocket and dabbing the blood.
She shoved the tissue back into her pocket.
“I’m so sorry,” Miranda returned, the door slamming shut behind her. “I don’t know what happened. Did you finish?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah.”
“Good.” Miranda slid the folder into her drawer. “You’re dismissed, then.”
“Sorry again about your house.”
A quick scratch to her nose prompted Miranda to look up and say, “Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone about what happened here.”
“Of course.” Danielle did not look at her as she stepped back out into the main office.“This day is only going to get more insane.” Miranda picked up the phone so she could tell Shelley who to send in next.
***
After a grueling night on Danielle’s couch, Devon stepped into his shower with a groan.
The hot water was sparse and erratic from the spout, but not unwelcoming. Devon pointed the shower head toward the far wall and leaned beneath it, the water dripping off his face and washing away the stench of sweat and fear from the night’s encounter with death. Each drop falling into his mouth was one more reminder he had not brushed his teeth in nearly two days – no wonder Danielle did not want to kiss him since they last made fools of themselves in her bed.
His relaxing reverie was interrupted when his cell phone rang in the bedroom. Devon waited for the voicemail to pick it up. The shower water continued to run down his bare skin. The phone kept ringing.
“Fuck!” Devon turned off the shower. He stepped out naked, dripping, and fuming over faulty technology. He marched into the bedroom and yanked his phone off the bed. The text said UNKNOWN CALLER but his mind said “Shut up before I throw you out the window.”
“Yes?” he growled. “What do you want?”
“Is this Devon?” A woman’s voice.
“Yes, my name is Devon.” He still dripped all over the bedroom carpet. “Who is this?”
“That does not concern you. What does, however, is a matter of great importance I must speak with you about.”
“And what’s that?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Meet me at the southern end of the Baywalk at six tonight. I’ll be wearing a sweatshirt. Don’t tell Danielle, or else.”
“Who is this?”
The line went dead.
Devon shut his phone off. He was so tired of playing mind games that he could not bother with a strange woman calling him up and demanding to meet him in eight hours. Don’t tell Danielle, too? What kind of game was this, anyway?
He stepped back into the bathroom and resumed his shower before the water droplets on his skin turned cold.
FORTY-FOUR
Danielle headed straight to Marlow’s office after work. She found both old man and canine sitting at the desk, ignoring her until she was in earshot.
“What is it? Are you still ill?” Marlow craned his neck over his shoulder.
Danielle stopped. “I was wondering if you could investigate something for me.”
“Investigate what?”
She pulled out the tissue soaked in Miranda’s blood. “Can you scan this for me? I want to know something about it.”
Marlow recoiled from the blood-stained tissue. “What am I doing with blood?”
“I don’t know. Analyze it for me? I want to know if it’s human.”
“What’s the basis for this? If it’s that criminal, then I can already tell you she’s not all human, she’s a huling.”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks.” Danielle could never remember that word, nor did she think it mattered. “This isn’t her blood. It’s my boss’s blood.”
“What about your boss?”
“How many times do I have to go over this? I’m pretty sure that my boss is working for Dunsman. She has ties to that disgusting criminal, and was the one who possessed the Third Piece. Doesn’t that mean something?”
“She was the one who possessed the Third Piece? Hang on a second,” Marlow called up Evan and demanded his attention. Now.
“Hey, Boss! What’s wrong? Need me to check something?”
“I need you to come in. Bring a bio-scanner. Is Lanelle there with you?”
“Nope. Just me and the government geeks.”
“Where is she?”
“Boss, it’s the morning here. She doesn’t come in until after lunch. I’m the earlier shift, remember?”
“Fine. Get in here quickly, then.”
Marlow looked back at Danielle. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s practically illegal.”
“Doing what?”
Before Marlow could answer, the door at the end of the hall swung open, Evan’s swagger recognizable even before he came into full view. His grin suggested he was the best thing in the whole damned cosmos.
“Hey, Boss, I – whoa!” Evan’s eyes locked onto Danielle. “Fancy seeing you here! I’ve been practicing my west coast American accent.” He cleared his throat. “Like, so how are you, dog? It’s a hella rad day, like, right? I am so stoked to be making some ballin’ love with you!”
Danielle leaned back and looked to Marlow for help. “That’s not my dialect. That’s some hippie-surfer-valley guy trying to come on to me.”
“I apologize for him. Truly.”
“Eh? Is my dialect off?” Evan frowned.
“Pro-tip, dude…” Danielle kept her distance from him. “Don’t ever, ever, say hella. Nobody has said that since I was in college, and it needs to stay that way.”
“Hella is no good? But my research into your language…”
“No. No hella. Let that word die.”
“Oh.”
“Evan,” Marlow interrupted, his breath short and his patience even shorter, “did you bring a scanner?”
“Yes, Boss.” He held up a small black instrument reminiscent of a handheld video game. “What do we need it for?”
Marlow gestured for Danielle to pass him the tissue. She did, prompting Marlow to dangle it in front of Evan. “Scan this for us, will you? Do a cross species and race scan. All registered types.”
“Oh, ew.” Evan took the tissue by the corner. “Ewwww.”
“Just do it, Evan.”
With a frown that could eclipse the sun, Evan pointed the scanner at the tissue and held down a button. A beep, a buzz, and a tiny laser beaming out, its tip sprawling into an array of blue upon a sea of burnt red. Once the scanner began searching its databases, Marlow tossed the tissue into the garbage next to his desk.
“So, what is this thing doing, exactly?” Danielle asked.
“It will check to see what species your esteemed boss is.”
“Good.” Danielle glared at the beeping scanner from the corner of her eye. “She ain’t human.”
Evan grunted when the scanner reported its result. He stuck his hand on his hip as he analyzed the words stringing across the small screen. “Hey, Boss…”
“Let me see it.”
The scanner passed between hands. “Well? What does it say?” Danielle asked. “Is there an error?”
Marlow held up his hand to shush her. “No. No error.”
“What? But that thing says… what’s going on, Boss?”
“It says she’s human, right, Evan?”
“Uh…yeah. It sure did, Boss.”
“Yes, human.” Marlow’s eyes turned to Danielle. “You see this?” He pointed to some words next to a green line on the black screen. “It indicates human DNA. Your boss is human.”
Danielle bit the inside of her cheek as she deliberated this news.
“My advice to you would be to forget this nonsense,” Marlow said. “There is no conspiracy with that woman. Please, stick to your original mission. There is not much time left, and you should be concentrating on what you were reborn to do.”
“That’s what I’m doing! I’ve been watching this woman become more and more suspicious over this past month, and you want me to ignore it? Fuck that!”
“Danielle, please…”
“If you’re not going to help me at all, then I won’t ask for your help.” Danielle turned a feisty heel and stomped out of the office.
Evan took the scanner back from Marlow’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell her what the rest of this thing said? This is huge!”
“I know. but I don’t need to be polluting her head with extraneous thoughts.”
“Well, you could at least explain it to me. I have to put this information into the current file. Lanelle is going to die when she hears this.”
“I know, Evan.” Marlow pried his eyes away from the scanner, his worst fears reconfirmed. He knew from the moment he saw Evan’s eyes widen at the scan results that nobody would like the answer.
Marlow reassured himself that he did not lie to Danielle – she wanted to know if Miranda was human and, indeed, the line he pointed to did say “Human Matriarch.” But what he conveniently forgot to mention was the blue line mentioning Miranda’s biological father. Evan saw it as well, and Marlow knew he would have to come out with the truth to both him and Lanelle.
The line said “Julah Patriarch,” confirming that what Syrfila said was not a lie. Nerilis Dunsman did have a daughter. A surge of bile filled Marlow’s throat. Once, one or two millennia before, Marlow knew a man who was like a brother – and occasionally more – to him. He saw his weaknesses, his love for natural beauty and his desire to protect the happy lives in the universe. Once, Marlow knew a man who fell in love and fought for their friend Joiya’s hand in marriage.
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