"I want to take the fight to it, rather than wait to be attacked again."
"Better plan."
"And then kill it."
"Best plan," she said putting tea leaves into each cup. She got the kettle and poured out the hot water. The aroma of her tea smelled nice.
We ate some cookies and scones. Sipped some tea.
"Is the Shadowed Man a bug or fish? Or reptile?" She bit into a chocolate chip and walnut cookie.
"None of the above," I said. "It's like a two-dimensional shadow coming to three-dimensional life. Like it unfolds into this plane of existence. It feels like just by being here it perverts the world somehow." I struggled to find the right words, "I can't describe it."
She shivered, "Creepy."
"Yeah. If you see it shadows moving around, run. Call me if possible or Alec and Dominick, but run."
"Okay."
"So your beastie is an outsider."
"Not from earth," I asked
Whisper nodded, "Yep. Demonic, divine, human and outsiders."
"Is that what the order says?"
"Mostly the Order follows the whole idea of good versus evil. For them the shades of gray are inconsequential. So, to them part evil is evil. Prior to modern time, they didn't care what you named a creature or its origins. Just if it was tainted or not." Whisper sipped her tea.
"What about demons? They are from hell-" Whisper interrupted me.
"Partial disclosure, Dianna." She shivered, "You meet some tall, handsome or beautiful person. And I mean gorgeous like make Hollywood stars look like us normal-folk, you run.” Her eyes went to her spoon. "They look like us and use outward beauty as a trap."
"So, all demons are beautiful?" Roth’s pale blue eyes and dark locks popped in my head. But he had scars, no matter how pretty he was. Scars were imperfections.
"The fallen look like people." Biting her lip, she said, "You don't always believe in God, Dianna. I do. Our powers are heaven helping us out. Evening out a rigged game. If the light hits them just right," she looked away from me. “I didn't talk about it since you can't remember Halloween. But they have huge wings, like an angel."
I raised an eyebrow. "So, you've seen some?"
She nodded. "We both have. I haven't told anyone else."
I tried to remember, and a headache started. Deciding I had enough trouble, I let it go. "I don't remember.” I asked wiping the blood from my nose, "Have they figured out you can see them?"
Her fluffy hair echoed her head shake. "No way. Or else, I'd be dead."
My stomach tightened, and I grew cold. "You see one again. Call me."
Focusing on her nail polish, she ignored me.
"Promise," I said grabbing her hand.
"No way, Dianna! What if doing that is the whole meeting your destiny by trying to change it?"
"Just fucking tell me," I said.
"Don't know." She said, mad at me.
I blew out a huge sigh. "Okay. I'll drop it for now." I said, "Anyone else trying to peddle drugs at the cafe?"
"No." Her voice was clipped. She was still miffed.
Whisper poured out the leftover tea from my cup into a bowl. Picking up my cup, her eyes became cloudy, "Stay away from the damned. Follow the righteous path." She frowned. “The moving blackness," her voice grew hoarse, "its master-" she screamed dropping the cup and holding her eyes.
The chair banged on the floor as I went to her, "Whisper!"
Holding her in my arms, blood ran down her nose, and her eyes were back to clear amber. "Oh shit, Dianna. That really hurt." Tears fell from her eyes, "I'm so sorry." Her voice broke, "Take me to my room, please."
I held her close and took her to her bedroom. Lying her down on her quilt, I asked, "Are you okay?"
"Of course." Her hand grabbed mine as she set up from the pile of pillows on her bed. Her eyes became unfocused, glowing blue. A deep voice came out of her mouth, not her own. It was rich and deep with a northern sound, "I found you, girl." She sagged, falling back on the pillows.
I knelt beside the bed, "I'm sorry I asked you to do this. I'm here."
Whisper said, "No, go." She looked so petite.
“Whisper?” My throat was too tight. What had she seen? What was using here? “What is doing that?” I squeezed her hand. “Send me to it.” Whatever it was wouldn’t hurt her again.
"I don’t know. It torture. Agony in the shadows. It enjoys the pain, Dianna.” She let go of my hand. “Use the front of the building to exit. They might be watching and follow you, be careful."
As I stood to leave, she said, "Dianna, hang on one moment." She pointed to a gift with newspaper wrap stamped with candy canes and tied with red yarn sitting on her nightstand. "Happy Christmas!"
I picked it up. Unwrapping the newspaper, inside was a hand knitted indigo scarf. My favorite color, it was like the night sky with a hint of violet. It went with black and gray perfectly. I put it around my neck. The wool was velvety and smelled of lavender.
"Thank you! Whisper, did you get the movies in the mail?"
She smiled, her amber eyes warming me. "I did. More barbarian fun. And in Italian. You have to watch all the discs with me!"
I groaned. The scarf felt warm. "Thank you."
She said, "You're welcome."
"Time to head out and," I smiled at her and lifted up one end of the scarf with one arm striking my best barbarian pose, "Crush my enemies, see them driven before me, and hear the lamentation of their women!"
"This is what is good in life," she said closing her eyes. Her face was wan and tired.
Whoever or whatever had used her as a vessel would pay. I shut the bedroom door quietly.
I went out her front door, rather than use the fire escape again. It looked like the winter storm was letting up some, but the building was warm and not covered in snow.
Exiting the front entrance, I looked around. Not seeing anything I walked slowly hoping to lure whoever had hurt Whisper. Nothing jumped out and attacked, so I moved on.
The sun was rising, and my heart felt lighter. Pressing the wool to my face, I breathed in the new day. It was time to get back to work.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I walked home and got into my apartment via the new assistant for our building. He was snippy and seemed stressed. Ah, the stressful joy of the season. Or was that joyful stress? Grabbing my phone, I saw it was lit up showing five missed calls and ten text messages.
One of the texts was from Kian, so much for waiting for me to come to him, I guess. The rest were from Dominick. Trying to not think about either of them, I put my energy towards finding out more about the odd copper disc. I headed to the Rock O' the Ages antique shop to see if the shop was still open. The police had been there just last night, but maybe they'd be open now that it was daytime.
When I got there, the shop was closed. Police tape crisscrossed the front door. I peeked in the window, the shop looked okay. All the items seemed organized, on shelves or on the wall. An older man, who looked like he was pushing a hundred, was inside the shop.
He stood maybe five feet two inches. He wore a brown apron with the store logo on it. He had a broom he had been using and white gloves on his hands. His face was a mass of wrinkles, which turned up as he smiled. He came to the window and pointed at me. He mouthed around back.
Walking around the block to the back of the buildings, I saw the parking lot had been plowed and salted. The man's cheeks and nose were red, as he held the rear door open for me.
I waved as I approached. "Hello," I smiled back at him.
"Hello," he said, but with his accent, it sounded more like ah-lo, it reminded me of the words Dominick was cursing in.
"I'm Dianna. I was hoping to find out information on a strange disc I found."
"Come in, come in," he gestured into the store. It looked like a stock room area.
"Is it okay? I saw the police tape."
He shook a hand, "It is fine. The police say I can take down tape after I finish with the cleaning."
/> Entering the store, the smell of wood and metal polishers hit me. It wasn't a bad smell, just interesting.
"I am Jakob Novak. I own this store."
There was a small hand-carved wooden table about the size of a small folding table. Two folding chairs with cushions were positioned by it on opposite sides. Ledgers lined the wall in a bookshelf next to the table. All sorts of clocks, gears, watches, records, music boxes in disrepair, and other knickknacks lined the shelves and what looked like a woodworking table. Every space was used.
Mr. Novak sat and gestured for me to do the same.
"So, do you mind if I ask what happened? Why the tape?"
His eyes were hard to see, but they clouded over. "My godson was watching the store yesterday." He stopped. "He's a good boy."
Oh no. Something bad had happened.
"He will pull through." His voice grew tired and sad, "Daniel will pull through."
"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
He waved his hand, and said, "They haven't caught the bad men responsible. But they will. Rytíř promised me. Now, what can I do for you, Dianna?"
I frowned, the word had sounded like ra-keesh. It must be the name of the police officer. "Well, I brought the object with me." I took the disk out of my bag.
I had put it in a plastic sealed baggie due to all the wet weather. I handed it over to him across the table. "Do you have any idea? And what the writing is or means?" I pointed to the strange writing.
Mr. Novak nodded. "You see this disc, and you must think, what is this? Why are there holes? This," he said tapping on the disc with a pointer finger, "is a disc that would play a song on the matching music box. It would be much larger than the ones manufactured now." He looked at both sides, "Strange there is no stamp or etching marking its brand. The last time someone brought in a music disc like this was over thirty years ago. A Regina. This one is well preserved. Very thick. And copper. Hmm." He scratched his white stubble, "It was Professor Olson who brought one in last."
He tapped the disc back to me. "The writing looks like Ancient Greek. My Ancient Greek is rusty. Professor Olson can translate. Unless you want to sell this disc? I would give a fair price. Ten dollars?"
I shook my head, "No. It is too interesting. I want to know about it more. I can pay for your time in researching it. Or do you have this Professor Olson's phone number? Maybe I could call him?"
He nodded "You know this has value. I give you a fair price. Fifty dollars is a fair trade."
I held my hand out for the disc. Novak held it close to his chest before handing it back.
Sighing, he said, "Olson, he will help you."
He opened a drawer on his side of the table and pulled out a small white pad and pen. He wrote very small and neatly; his penmanship resembled calligraphy more than modern handwriting. He handed me the paper.
I smiled, "Thank you for your help."
"Those machines that play discs are specific to each maker. Without a logo or stamp, your journey for answers may be long."
"I am used to the path less chosen."
His face lit up. He stood carefully and gestured me to follow through the curtains to the front of the store. Following him, we walked past many music boxes that made the one the disc had been sealed in seem like cheap junk. The items in the store were old, but each one was beautiful. Various types of figures stood atop a section of smaller music boxes. Elephants, tigers, teddy bears, and other animals replaced the stereotypical ballerina. I never knew music boxes had dancers other than the white and pink ballerina sometimes with the tulle tutu.
Mr. Novak kept talking, "The machines that play such discs were made in the late 1800s and early 1900s."
He stopped by a tall but narrow Cherrywood table. The top part was sectioned off from the bottom, making it look like it was a wooden box resting on a table made of the same style and wood. The front of the lower part was hand painted, and a switch was on the top part. It was a brass piece that stuck out, and looked like you could push it to the right.
He lifted the top revealing what seemed like a record player. But instead it held a tin looking disc, much like my copper one, but much thinner and larger in radius. It was more the size of an old LP record, whereas the copper disc was like a CD. The disc had words etched into it, including the U.S. Patent markings, the name Regina across its middle, the title of the tune, and place of manufacture. A metal rod, with black rubber placed at equal distances, seemed to keep the disc in place.
"As you can see, this is what a disc normally looks like." He pushed the lever to the right, and the disk rotated. A waltz came out with the typical music box sounds along with more and deeper tones all playing at once.
"That is pretty incredible."
We listened to the music.
I glanced around the shop. My breath was stolen when I saw the painting.
The painting was done in that not quite realism style, which had more of an illustration quality in oils long ago. It depicted a black and green forest, with the figures of screaming children in the blackest parts, and a teenage girl in peasant dress holding a sword. She faced a creature that was half inside the shadows. Its face was shaped like a man's face, with only a mouth wide open displaying rows of jagged yellowed teeth.
Mr. Novak nodded, "The Story of Deidra."
"What is that?"
"It was a story from my hometown." His voice grew more thickly accented, "The Longman. A long time ago, the Longman came to our world. He hungered for life and lived deep in the woods that closely resembled his home. The beast craved young flesh.”
He scratched at his bulbous nose. “A young noble girl was celebrating her engagement.” He turned to me and said, “Different times. She was engaged while still a child. The Longman wanted to eat all the children that had gathered. Unfortunately, the home of the girl was next to the forest where he dwelled. The Longman tricked the children to enter his den to devour them." He held up a finger, "But a young girl, a peasant named Deidra, said no. She went into the woods to get her friends back."
"Does it have a happy ending?" I asked after he went silent for some time.
"Sadly, like many original fairy tales, it does not. The creature tricked young Deidra, and her friends were lost to her. But I heard a different ending in school. Deidra tricked the Longman. She had found its only weakness and lived. But her friends were still lost to her." He looked at me, "The lesson is the same as with many such tales, children should stay out of the woods."
Nodding, I stared at the Longman inside the painting.
Mr. Novak said, "I call Olson, maybe he can help now. You can wait?"
I shrugged, "Sure."
Novak smiled, "Good, good." He went off to the back room.
Wandering from the painting, the other store items were the kinds of things you'd see in a museum or a movie set. Old, intricate, and highly detailed. I held up a small watch.
It was silver. It had some dings but had been shined. The face was the color of parchment, and the tick from its insides reverberated in my hand. The passage of time marked with each tock. I heard a raised voice and put the watch back on the shelf.
Heading towards the back room, I heard Novak's voice.
"No. I speak with him only. This is about the disc." He grumbled in the same language Dominick swore at me in before switching to English. "Beleth. It is here." I heard him chuckle. "Yes. We wait. Remember what you promised me and Daniel." More chuckles. "Yes. Brought by a female."
My pulse sped up. Whoever Novak was talking to, it didn't sound like Professor Olson. It sounded like he was setting me up. Growling lowly, the world shifted to grays. This piece of crap. Yet another wolf in sheep's clothing. I waited, listening to the conversation.
"No. Wait!" Novak's voice had lost its cheer and brimmed with panic. "Not the beast! Do not send that garbage disposal! No. I do not order you." He sounded like he was on the verge of tears now. What was going on?
Blood rushed through me, as I stepped where Novak
could see me, "Send what?"
Novak dropped the phone. "Dianna." He grabbed the phone. "Yes, Olson. Yes, she can wait while you come here. Yes, you translate the disc." He hung up the phone quickly.
While Novak talked, yelling was clearly audible.
"Your mendacity knows no bounds, Novak."
Novak was shaking, clearly fearful. "Stupid dívka!"
Deciding whoever Novak was dealing with he knew more than he said I asked, "Who did you call?"
Novak took out an embroidered hankie and wiped off his face in a round motion. "You are not the only party interested in this disc."
"Who'd you call," I feel the low growl in my throat.
"You will soon need not worry about that, Little Diedra."He chuckled.
"Diedra?" What was Novak's issue?
As I struggled with the idea of pummeling the information out of a man that looked old enough to have been around for both the turning of the twentieth and twenty-first century, the windows and glass inside the shop rattled.
The hairs on my arm stood up. No!
"Deidra!" I screamed. "Like the little girl who battled the shadow beast?!" I grabbed Novak by his collar and tie, lifting him off the floor. "You can summon it? Or know who can?" Rage was pouring through me, along with adrenaline and terror.
Unfolding from the dark spot created by a work table, the Shadowed Man formed. Its metallic voice screeching in joy as it took shape, "Dead Red Girl and disc!"
I threw Novak at the creature and ran to the front not bothering to look back.
The loud fog horn noise blasted low in my head. A steady boom matching my stride.
Dark tendrils wrapped around my waist and pulled me towards it. "Pretty General be happy now. True king will rise!"
Twisting I grabbed at shelves and anything to try and stop getting closer to the beast. Hitting the tendrils did nothing. As it drew me closer to its maw, I steeled myself and bit the largest of the tendrils on me. The taste reminded me of the smell of roadkill, mixed with metal. Spitting up and gagging, the wind knocked out of me as the tendrils shirked and retreated.
The Shadowed Man shrieked, and the tendrils curled up as if greatly injured dropping me to the ground.
Dead Wrong Page 18