by D.L. Miles
Chapter 26
Going out with Jared was probably not the best idea I had ever had; in fact, it may have been worse than deciding to break into a crime scene for the second time. I sat in his car and leaned my head on the window, hoping to feel better but finding my headache wasn’t quite going away. It honestly wasn’t that bad, but it was still a hindrance.
“I should have left you there,” Jared said as he turned a corner.
“I would just have followed you,” I laughed, wondering why I would say that out loud. I was surprised nobody had tried harder to stop me. Jared caving and letting me come I had anticipated, but why did Dr. Wineman and Luke let me leave? It wasn’t like either of them. “So where are we going?”
“We’re going to track where Bayani went and hopefully find him.” Straightening in my seat I turned my head to face him.
“How are we going to do that?” I tried to think like Bayani had. He knew the creature was ancient, and the fact that the woman saw a bat fly towards Heather’s house seemed to mean something to him. At least…I thought it mean something.
“I’m thinking,” Jared said, at a loss for ideas.
“Maybe we should talk to the neighbour?” I suggested. If I was Bayani, I would talk to her in hopes of confirming my suspicions. It wasn’t so farfetched; he had broken into Charlie’s apartment to steal her diary after all.
“Neighbour?” Jared questioned. “The crazy woman who saw the giant bat?”
“She might not be crazy,” I said, wondering why everyone said she was. It didn’t make me feel any better about myself for seeing the same thing. Eidolon’s were all over the world now, out in the open, was it really so hard to contemplate one being a bat? I didn’t think so, but it was apparent that others did. “Maybe she did see something, and maybe Bayani went to talk to her about it.”
“What about your theory that the killer is human?” Jared asked, but he seemed to be mulling over the suggestion of talking to the woman.
“It was just a theory,” I sighed, closing my eyes, “I really don’t know what Azazel could have been trying to say.
I was about to suggest trying to summon him again but knew there was no point. There was no way Jared and I could collect all the ingredients again, especially since the siren was dead now and there probably wasn’t another one around. I wondered if there were any other areas nearby that women had killed themselves after an unfaithful lover…did they all become Lorelei’s? Or did there have to be very specific circumstances? Could anyone become an Eidolon so easily? That thought kind of scared me.
“Here,” Jared said reaching into the glove compartment in front of me, “drink this.” He passed me a lukewarm bottle of water. Graciously I took it and clicked off the cap. As I drank it I couldn’t believe how cold it felt going down my throat, nothing had ever tasted as good.
“Thanks,” I said, setting the plastic cap back on it to realize I drank the whole bottle. Jared eyed me and then the bottle before continuing.
“We’ll talk to the woman,” Jared said, making a U-turn, “but just to find Bayani. No talking about bats. Understood?”
“Understood.” Just because I understood he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t mean I wasn’t going to. Jared really needed to be specific with his words.
Jared stopped the Charger across the street from the Shoemaker house, the purring engine filling the street. No one was outside, no kids playing before dinner, nobody walking their dog; it was a ghost town. The sleepy city of Ellengale had become a nightmare since the killings began.
Just as Jared went to open his door I stopped him, grabbing his forearm but quickly released it when he looked back at me.
“What?”
“What are we going to tell her?” I asked, having the thought suddenly occur to me. We couldn’t just knock on her door and start asking questions, not without getting some back at least.
“Just act official,” he said and stepped out of the car. I followed him up to the doorway, watching the windows for any sign of the woman. I caught a glimpse of movement behind the curtains and when Jared lifted his fist to knock the door was already opened, locked with a chain to make sure nobody could get inside.
“Who are you?” an older woman asked as she peeked through the crack.
“We’re with the FBI, ma’am,” Jared said, flashing a small leather wallet, “mind if we come in and ask you some questions?”
“You don’t look like cops,” she said, looking us up and down and then stared at me, “especially you.” I understood why she would be suspicious; Jared was wearing a leather jacket and jeans while I sported a hoodie and moccasins. Not exactly FBI material.
“Yet we are,” Jared said, putting away the wallet. I wondered what he had there; it couldn’t possibly be an actual badge, could it? “We won’t take much of your time.”
“Hm.” The woman closed her door, the chain clanking telling me she was actually going to let us inside. I was amazed that she would, but if she believed Jared’s story then she would feel she had no choice. The door opened with caution, the woman standing in a bath robe eyeing us down. “Hurry or you’ll let them out.”
Jared stepped inside first and I after him. The second we were in she slammed the door, just as two black cats tried to escape. I assumed they were the ‘them’ that weren’t allowed outside.
“Thank you,” Jared said, fake smile in place. With a bony hand the woman motioned us into the closest room, the living room. I peered around her home and wondered if the fever was getting to me because what I saw didn’t seem real.
The walls were coated with clocks, some old, some new, some looked badly hand made even. All of them were set to the same time exactly, right down to the second. The ticking was so loud I didn’t know how I couldn’t have heard it from outside, with the door open or shut.
“Watch your step, girl,” the woman said just as I tripped over a cat rubbing against my shins, “they like new people.”
I could see Jared trying not to say anything, careful to breathe through his mouth. When I finally tore my eyes away from the incessant ticking clocks, I noticed the smell. It was the overpowering, sour stench of cat urine and as I looked around the living room I counted at least twelve of them, sitting all over. They decorated the furniture, dangling over the tables and the fireplace mantle, some were stretched out on the couches as well. I was about to classify this woman as a hoarder, but she didn’t have nearly enough stuff, though she was in the beginning stages. Maybe she was only a cat hoarder right now. Various papers and magazines lay strewn about amongst the cats, a couple of dishes sat on the table between the couches and more clocks beside them.
“We won’t be long,” Jared said, staying standing as the woman sat down, “Miss…?”
“You can call me Mrs. Weston,” she said, “now sit or I don’t say another word.”
Jared gave a wary look to the couch but reluctantly did as he was told. I followed suit and sat next to him, an orange tabby jumping into my lap as I did. It’s fur was soft, and well groomed unlike the couch; that was as solid as a rock. The woman said, “That’s Marmalade.”
“Could you tell us if anyone has been around, asking you about what you saw before Heather Shoemaker’s body was found, Mrs. Weston?” Jared asked, getting right down to business. She huffed and began petting a white-haired cat next to her. I stroked Marmalade, trying to focus on her purring but finding it difficult with the woman’s unkempt appearance.
“Why would you want to know that?” she questioned. “I’m just a crazy old lady living alone.” The more she talked the more I found I stared at her teeth. I just couldn’t look away from her. Mrs. Weston’s teeth were crooked and yellow, some decaying and some not even there. Her grey hair was scraggly atop her head, hanging loosely over her face, matted and unwashed. The blue bathrobe she wore was covered in cat hair, but otherwise clean of stains as it hid her nightgown. If people called her cr
azy, I understood why. Somehow, I tore my gaze from her and looked around the room for photographs, curious to see if there was any of her when she was younger. There was nothing, not a single frame containing a memory, no pictures freezing time in its place. No evidence of family or loved ones whatsoever.
“We’re looking for a man,” Jared explained, ignoring his obvious thoughts of how he agreed with her, “he’s about 5’7”, tan skin and black hair. Narrow eyes, looks exhausted and about as jumpy as a…kitten.” He glanced down at Marmalade, still purring in my lap.
“Hm,” Mrs. Weston looked down her nose at us, possibly debating if we were worth talking to, “I’ve seen him.”
“Did you talk to him about anything? What did he ask you?”
Jared was getting pushy and I could see that the old woman wasn’t about to give him any information. Her stare tightened on us, crow’s feet darkening. How she ever got laugh lines was beyond me.
“He asked you about what you saw, didn’t he?” I asked, playing with Marmalade’s paw, doing anything to avoid looking at Mrs. Weston.
“He did,” she agreed, “he actually made me look sane.” Her laugh came out as a bark, emotion getting the best of her. I felt a little sorry for her, but wondered why she would consider herself insane. Was she going solely on what others said?
“What did he say?” Jared questioned again, leaning his forearms on his knees with anticipation. I thought it was odd for him, but…I thought a lot of things he did were out of character. Whenever I thought he would go one way he ended up going another.
“He wanted to know about the bat I saw,” she said, getting haughty, “he didn’t think I was imagining things or ‘high on cat-nip’.” She huffed again. Had someone actually said that to her?
“Did he say anything else?” Jared was prodding now and I was actually getting impatient with him. I wanted to hear more about the bat. “Mention anything about where he was going?”
Mrs. Weston shrugged and stroked the cat. “He did say something about needing to talk with someone.”
“Did he say who?” Jared asked and Marmalade rolled over onto her back, exposing her stomach. I began poking her paws to tease her and she twitched with each one but never left my lap. Jared seemed disturbed that I was so comfortable around cats but I didn’t understand why. They were just cats…though there were a lot of them.
“No,” she told us, “nothing like that.”
“What can you tell us about the bat?” I asked, trying not to smile as Marmalade meowed at me. “What did it sound like?” I already had a hunch at what she was going to say, but I still wanted to hear her version of it.
“Well,” she started, “I had just put out fresh water for my girls when they started hissing at the window. When I looked outside there was nothing there but then they all ran away and hid! When I went to draw them out they only hissed at me more.”
“And then?” I prodded, waiting with little patience.
“The cops said I was hearing things,” she said, “but I know what I heard.”
“What did you hear?”
“A clicking,” her eyes grew distant with the memory, “like someone was crawling over my roof with their fingernails but it was getting quieter the more I listened. When I looked outside again that was when I saw it; a giant bat flew right over my house and onto the Shoemaker’s property, landed in that big tree out front.” I was curious to know how she heard anything over the clocks. As it was I couldn’t make out the sound of Marmalade purring in my lap with them ticking away.
“Did the wings seem to be about four feet each?” That was what I had guessed I had seen, though it was rather far away. “And did the body not look like the body of a bat?”
Jared stared at me, mouth agape but Mrs. Weston had a big smile. My body felt too hot to care, I needed to know this, even though Jared had instructed me not to ask. He should have expected it anyway.
“Yes,” Mrs. Weston eventually agreed, “exactly like that. You saw it too?” There was so much hope in her eyes, and I realized it was because she was beginning the think she was crazy. I supposed that if enough people told her she was nuts, she would believe it eventually. That was hard though, knowing you couldn’t trust your own senses; at least I thought it would be.
“I think I did,” I admitted, not really wanting to admit anything with Jared staring at me. He looked mad now, and I knew I was going to suffer for keeping a secret from him later. Maybe he would go easy on me though, because of the fever? It was possible. Kind of. “Over the forest.”
“All right,” Jared said standing and pulling me to my feet. Marmalade dropped from my lap and skittered under the couch, scared by the sudden movement. “Thank you for your time Mrs. Weston but we need to be going.”
The bounty hunter dragged me to the front door with Mrs. Weston trailing behind. Did he not have any other questions for her? We didn’t really get any information, at least not any new information. Jared gripped my wrist, it was firm but I could tell he was resisting the urge to hold tighter, not wanting to hurt me.
“Wait,” Mrs. Weston called as we stepped into the cool evening air, “there is one thing.” Jared and I turned to face her but he never let me go; why did he have such a habit of jerking me around everywhere?
“What is it?” I asked, trying to sound polite and professional but I thought it came out sounding exhausted. Although, it actually sounded like I cared; that didn’t usually happen unless Luke was around.
“When he said he was going to meet someone,” she said, stopped at her doorway, “he said he was going to meet ‘her again’. Is that what you wanted to know?” Her eyes gazed into mine, as if asking me not to leave, asking me to confirm her sanity. I listened to the clocks behind her, finding the rhythmic ticking irritating and knowing there was nothing I could say to make her feel better.
“Yes,” Jared answered for me, “thank you very much, that’s helpful. Goodbye now.” He pulled me back to the car but didn’t unlock it, instead we stood beside it. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?” I asked, feeling a little groggy. My mouth felt dry again and seeing a full water bottle on the passenger seat wasn’t making it any better.
“You saw it?” he asked me, I almost thought I heard disgust in his voice. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Would it have mattered if I had?” Honestly, I didn’t think it would have. Not at first anyway. Until Officer Harley mentioned it with Bayani there, I hadn’t given it much thought; most of my focus was on Jared and the spell. I had tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter, but clearly it did.
Jared pointed his finger at me, comeback ready but he stalled. He took his hand out of the air and unlocked my door, even going as far as to open it for me. So maybe the fever did make him hold back, just a bit. I sat down in the Charger and drank a second bottle of water, finding the more I drank the more I wanted. My throat was burning now, but I didn’t want to say anything; it would only get me sent back to bed when we needed to find Bayani. Jared sat down next to me, setting his hands on the steering wheel but he had never started the car.
When he finally turned it on and drove away from the Weston house I asked, “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to talk with the person Bayani went to find,” Jared said, as if I should already know.
“Who’s that?” I knew it was a woman, which he had already spoken to, but my fever was keeping me from thinking easily. I couldn’t think of a person that we would know in connection to Bayani.
“Cindy,” Jared explained, “he was with her at the diner, so she’s our best lead to find him.” I smiled and looked out the window. I wasn’t happy because he wasn’t sending me back home, and I wasn’t happy because he knew where to go next; I was happy because he said “our best lead”. He was finally including me.