The Severed Thread

by Dione C. Suto

  “I thought you knew when it was a person’s time?” I couldn’t seem to keep the accusation out of my voice. “Did you know it was Jason’s time and keep it from me?”

  “No,” he said while shaking his head sadly. “The hour of his death was written far into the future. Something changed….” He let the words trail off. Either he did not know why or was unwilling to say.

  I turned away from Naris to look over at Jason’s still form. “You should go now.”

  “I am sorry Abigail. But you must remember, I am your Guardian, I was never Jason’s. As such, my ability to intervene on his behalf was… limited.”

  I did not acknowledge his words even though I knew it wasn’t fair of me to lay blame at his feet. The reasonable part of me whispered that I should feel fortunate to have a Guardian at all. But today I did not feel lucky, nor did I feel like being fair. I let out a relieved breath when I felt the slight disturbance in the room’s overwhelming stillness that signaled Naris’ departure.

  I approached the bed and reached out to touch what was once a vital man. My hands were shaking and the overhead light glinted off the pinky ring Jason had given me for my twenty-first birthday. That little flash of reflected light was my undoing. The tears started, and I never thought they would stop. I knelt on the floor with Jason’s hand grasped in mine.

  “Who did this to you?” I moaned, knowing I would never get an answer. I was floating in an ocean of tears, a veritable deluge of sorrow and loss and not a small amount of fear. The fear I knew was rational and healthy. Something Jason had been involved in had changed The Plan, and that was a truly frightening thought.

  Chapter 2

  “Ms. Lassiter?” I looked up to find Sally standing near the door. I don’t know how long I had been there kneeling on the floor crying. I felt worn and thin, like my nerves were too close to the surface of my skin. Not a good state for someone like me. I rubbed my eyes with my hands, trying to wipe away some of the salty moisture. Sally quickly walked to a counter on the far wall and came back with a box of tissues.

  “Thank you,” I said as I took several from the box before wiping my face and blowing my nose. My eyes and sinuses ached from all the crying.

  “I hate to bother you but there are two agents from the Interspecies Bureau out in the waiting area that want to speak with you.” She frowned apologetically. “I put them off as long as possible, but they finally insisted that I come get you.”

  I grimaced. I knew this was coming but had hoped to put it off for as long as possible. Before I dealt with them though, I desperately needed to splash some water on my face. My eyes ached and I needed a moment to shore up my tattered defenses.

  “Is there someplace I can go wash my face before I have to see them?”

  “Absolutely,” she said sympathetically. “Follow me.”

  I turned back for one final look at the shell where my brother once resided. “Goodbye little brother,” I whispered.

  Sally led me to a different restroom than the one where I had washed my hands earlier. Going there would have required me to walk past the agents on the way. Sally had kindly taken me to one further down the hall away from the waiting room.

  I barely recognized the haunted woman with the swollen, red rimmed grey eyes staring back at me from the mirror. My skin was blotchy and wispy clumps of silvery blond hair hung about my face, having long ago escaped the confines of this morning’s simple French twist. I untangled the barrette from my sagging hair and finger combed the long, knotted strands before twisting and clipping the hair back upon my head. Better.

  I turned on the cold water, filling my palms and tried holding the icy cups up to my eyes. I hoped the water would act like a cold compress and reduce the swelling. It seemed to help with the soreness a bit but I still looked blotchy, red and swollen. Not exactly Miss America but it would have to do.

  I was not surprised that my brother’s death warranted a visit from the Interspecies Bureau. Our father worked for the government, and our family owned Lassiter Shipping. It was one of the largest shipping companies with the US as its flag state. It also happened to be the only one not held by a human conglomerate because we Lassiters are definitely not human. We are elves.

  The global supernatural community first came out of the closet in 1987; three years after Sir Alec Jeffreys came forward with his research on human DNA profiling. When the first commercial DNA blood testing facility opened its doors in the UK, it was clear that widespread genetic testing capability was just around the corner. Once that happened, the supernatural community realized that it would be nearly impossible to hide their existence.

  So in 1987, on a historic morning in May, PR firms around the world sent simultaneous press releases to all major media outlets. The announcement proclaimed the existence of Weres, shifters, vampires and all manner of supernatural creatures living peacefully within the larger human community. It also unveiled the newly created Coalition for Assimilation and Relationship Establishment, CARE for short. CARE proclaimed the desire to peacefully begin talks with government officials globally about integrating members of the preternatural community openly into society.

  Over the ensuing months all manner of non-humans came out of the proverbial closet at every professional level and in all areas of government worldwide. This period in world history became known as The Revelation. The Revelation went better in some countries than in others. Western Europe and Australia had the least difficulty embracing the news, while countries in the Middle East as well as large regions in Africa and Asia had the worst. Hate groups popped up everywhere.

  The ensuing global dilemma of equal rights and citizenship made it apparent to local and national officials in the US that the then current governmental structure needed an overhaul. In 1993 the five regional senates were created; Northeast, Southeast, Midwest, Midsouth and West. The senates did not replace the existing government; they were just another layer in the process. They were responsible for oversight of the states in their region so that peace and equality could be maintained for all the races. At least that was the idea. It was a rocky road to achieving that goal, but for the most part, the governmental restructure was effective.

  Jason and I were born into an influential elven family firmly entrenched in the new political machine in the US. Our father was a member of the Northeast Regional Senate, aptly dubbed the NRS. The region encompassed all the New England states as well as New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

  When our father took his senate seat it became apparent that he couldn’t be effective in both running the company and managing his responsibilities to the NRS. Since I was already working as his assistant, he moved me into the Managing Director position. I became responsible for daily business operations and most of the mundane decisions. Anything big still had to go through him.

  Jason worked with me; at least that is how I always looked at it. He became the Operations Director. Unfortunately, he saw it as working for me. My position definitely chafed him a bit at first, but he finally seemed to settle into his role. And really, it was a much better fit for him than reviewing spreadsheets and talking to accountants.

  He had a more hands on job that involved making sure all of the cargo was moved into and out of the shipyards without mishap. To make sure the customs paperwork provided by our clients was filed correctly and to contact customs officials if anything unusual appeared in any transaction. It was perfect for him. He had the type of charm that worked well with the ship captains, port authority officials and crewman. He had a charisma that made people like him.

  The down side of his position was it also brought him into contact with less than savory characters wanting to transport things that would never make it onto manifests; primarily, controlled substances and illegal weaponry. I was worried because I couldn’t think of any reason that someone would want to kill Jason – unless he had somehow gotten involved in the darker side of the international shipping business.

  As I approached the wait
ing area, I immediately spotted the two agents. Their dark suits were a dead giveaway. The agent on the left was tall; maybe six-two with a shock of russet toned brown hair and the appearance of someone in his late thirties. I say appeared because I was fairly certain he was a Were, and that could mean he was really anywhere from sixty to one hundred thirty years old. Weres aged slowly, like elves, and had an average lifespan in the low two hundreds.

  The second agent was definitely not a Were. I wasn’t really sure what he was, to be honest. He was maybe five ten, with dirty blonde hair and a lanky, almost emaciated build. It was still daylight so that eliminated vampire as an option. I would have to wait until I was closer to know for sure.

  The tall agent turned towards me as I approached. I was right, definitely a Were. “Ms. Lassiter?”

  “Yes,” I replied, extending my hand towards him. “I hope I did not keep you waiting too long, I really needed to splash some water on my face.” Not that I really cared about keeping them waiting, but there was no reason to be rude.

  “I’m Agent McCabe,” he introduced himself as he shook my hand.

  “And this is agent Smathon,” he said, indicating the other man. I shook agent Smathon’s clammy, limp hand. I had to fight the impulse to wipe my hand on my pants after the brief contact with his skin. What was he, anyway? There was a musky scent in the air that was hanging over him like a cloak.

  “I would say it was nice to meet you,” I said, shrugging. “But under the circumstances….”

  “We just want to ask you a few questions about what happened this morning,” McCabe assured me. “Would you be willing to come down to our office to make your statement?”

  “Ms. Lassiter will be happy to come to your office later today after she has had some rest,” a voice from behind me announced. I turned to see my father’s attorney, Joshua Levy standing a few feet away. “She has had a harrowing morning.”

  “Every minute wasted getting her statement makes finding the killer more difficult,” Agent McCabe replied in frustration. “We really need to speak with her as soon as possible.”

  “The Senator,” Joshua intoned, “sent me to make sure his daughter’s interests were protected, and that is what I intend to do.” I saw Agent McCabe stiffen at the implication that a senator’s daughter should get preferential treatment in a murder investigation. I sometimes wondered if my father realized that he needed a more tactful lawyer. Joshua Levy was anything but subtle. This was probably an asset in some scenarios but not so much when dealing with criminal investigators.

  “Sending her off to the local Interspecies Bureau office in clothes still covered in her brother’s blood while the media swarms to take photos is not protecting her interests,” he said. “As we speak the local police are putting up a barricade just to keep the reporters out of the hospital.”

  Ugh, the media. I had not even considered the media frenzy my brother’s brutal murder was probably causing. I was glad the local police were keeping them at bay for the moment.

  I could see that Joshua was not winning any points for me with the agents from the determined glint in Agent McCabe’s eyes and the barely concealed sneer on Agent Smathon’s face. But to give him credit, he did have a good point. I was going to look like a suspect if I was taken down to the Bureau offices without even being allowed to change out of my bloody clothes. Joshua’s demeanor was the problem, not his argument. He was an expensive attorney, in an expensive suite with an attitude of entitlement. None of which sat well with law enforcement.

  “Just because she is some politician’s daughter doesn’t mean she can avoid being questioned,” Agent Smathon hissed nasally. Oh, that cinched it, he was a snake shifter. And I could see that he was about to get more belligerent about my cooperation. Snakes were not known for patience or tolerance. It was time to take the reins of the situation before it got ugly.

  “Hold up everyone,” I said, raising my hands palms out. “No one wants my brother’s killer brought to justice more than me. I’m more than happy to come down and offer a statement to the bureau.”

  “Ms. Lasssiter,” Joshua started to protest, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

  “Hold on Joshua,” I said with a quelling look. I shifted my gaze back to the agents. “Mr. Levy has a point about me being questioned without even changing my clothes. I still have my brothers dried blood lodged under my fingernails.”

  Everyone’s scrutiny was suddenly fixated on my hands. I splayed my fingers for them so they can see the truth of my statement. I looked too, and what I saw there nearly brought me to tears. Again. I swallowed back my grief with difficulty.

  “I would like to suggest,” I said, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice, “that I meet you at your office in less than two hours to give my statement. That will allow me more than enough time to get home, shower, and change – unless of course I’m a suspect.” I let that hang in the air a moment while looking inquiringly at the agents.

  Agent Smathon and McCabe stared at each other for a moment in silent communication. The two had obviously had been working together for a long time. “You are not currently a suspect,” Agent Smathon conceded grudgingly.

  “Good. Then are we agreed that I’ll meet you at your office in the next two hours?”

  I got a single nod from McCabe.

  “Alright,” I told them before turning towards Joshua. “You want to walk me out?” I did not wait for his answer. Instead I started towards the elevator, assuming he would follow. He finally caught up with me as I was reaching out to press the ‘Down’ button.

  “Miss Lassiter, I really wish you had let me handle the agents.” Yeah, because you were doing such a great job. “Your father entrusted me to protect your best interests.” I decided to ignore his comments. Instead I went on the offensive, despite knowing that once I got started, it would be hard to stop.

  “Where is the Senator anyway?” I asked, mimicking Joshua’s earlier emphasis on my father’s title, except I was not going for respectful.

  “He asked me to come here, and instructed Caleb to take your mother and aunt home.” That was evasion if I ever heard it.

  “Well that tells me where Celeb, my mother, Aunt Gracie and you are,” I replied, ticking the names off on my fingers. “It doesn’t really tell me where he is though, does it?” I was looking at him waiting for another cagey response when the elevator doors opened. I had to raise my arms to cover my eyes as several flashes went off simultaneously. A few clever reporters and photographers must have slipped past the police and hospital security.

  “Ms. Lassiter, do you know who would want to kill your brother?”

  “Was it you that called 911?”

  “Can we assume that is Jason’s blood on your clothes?” The frenzied questions were shouted out while the reporters circled me in the corridor like vultures around carrion. I was really looking forward to the end of this day; I was not sure how much more I could take.

  “Why is your attorney present? Are you a suspect Ms. Lassiter?” It was that last question that finally galvanized Joshua into action. It was about time he earned the exorbitant fee I was certain he was charging us.

  “Ms. Lassiter is not a suspect,” he stepped forward and informed them firmly. “She is cooperating fully with the Interspecies Bureau in their investigation of the tragic murder of her brother. This has been a harrowing day for the Lassiter family, and Ms. Lassiter in particular. Please respect her grief.” With that he pushed me past the reporters and onto the elevator. Well, if that wasn’t an impressive impromptu press conference, I don’t know what was.

  The reporters would have followed us if Agents McCabe and Smathon hadn’t picked that moment to show up. They blocked off the elevator’s doorway, effectively preventing anyone else from entering.

  “Thank you,” I sent silently to Agent McCabe, “I promise I will hurry.” I saw him tense and look over his shoulder at me. The expression on his face contained equal parts surprise and mild censure. It was considered b
ad form to make a mental connection like that without asking first. Not to mention that most with the ability wouldn’t have been able to do so without the recipient explicitly allowing it. And Agent McCabe had definitely not allowed it. Instead I had slipped right through his shields without even trying. I needed to start doing a better job of controlling my impulsive reactions. My gratitude at not being packed like a sardine in the elevator with all those rabid reporters had made me indiscreet. The last glimpse I had through the closing elevator doors was his nod.

  Chapter 3

  We made good time getting home, despite the media in the hospital parking lot and those still camped out in front of my house. Joshua drove. My car was still in my garage, since I had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital earlier – an experience that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

  Joshua was currently on his mobile, conferring with his office while sitting at my kitchen island. Out front in the driveway, crime scene investigators were still going over the place with a fine toothed comb. I could only be thankful that they were not viewing the interior of the house as part of the crime scene, or I wouldn’t have been allowed in to shower and change. Instead, I would have had to go to the Interspecies Bureau offices un-showered and in bloody clothes, despite Joshua’s earlier efforts on my behalf.

  A dour faced female officer had asked me to carefully place my clothes in the large plastic bag she handed to me. Obviously the clothes were part of the evidence and needed to be turned over for examination. Once upstairs in the privacy of my bathroom I dutifully stripped and began placing my clothes in the bag. Did they want my underwear too? Ever the rule follower, I started to include them, when the thought of some geeky lab tech dissecting my blue panties halted my hand at the opening of the bag. I couldn’t do it. Since they were the only thing I was wearing that had somehow miraculously remained un-bloodied, they were not going to provide any useful information since. They went to the hamper instead. The same could not be said for my bra, which I did put in the bag. For some unfathomable reason, the image of the lab tech with my bra was not quite so unsettling.