by T R Kohler
Typhon had great strength, and what was believed by many to be the ability to converse with animals.
Valac was considered masterful at finding treasures.
“Now, I don’t have any idea what the item might be at this time,” Typhon said, “but I was wondering if anything unusual had caught your eye recently.”
The words tasted like bile in Typhon’s throat. Even as he asked them, he knew that a straight answer would not be forthcoming, his colleague much too arrogant to allow for that.
Not to mention enterprising, the cost for any information one that Typhon would have to bear for a long time moving forward.
“Not right off,” Valac said. “At least, nothing that rises to the top of the pile. You know how often I get these requests.”
Rolling his eyes, Typhon began to pace again. The bastard was going to make this as difficult as possible on him.
“Which is why I called you. Every person I’ve asked was unanimous that if anybody would know, it would be you.”
Only one other had even mentioned Valac, and that was with a heavy admonishment to be careful of what he wished for.
Still, this was hardly the time for pride to be getting in the way.
“Normally, this works the other way around,” Valac said, reciting the information as if a teacher lecturing a class of children. “People ask me about a specific item, and I put my considerable talents to use tracking it down.”
Raising his right hand, Typhon balled it into a fist. He squeezed so tight, he could see the inner workings of his veins laced just beneath the skin, a crosshatch aching to burst through the surface.
Three times already Valac had made a point of mentioning his greatness.
The man’s special skill was finding treasure. It wasn’t as if he could control all the creatures in the ocean or cause the volcanoes to rain down simultaneously.
“Okay, well, if you’ve got nothing,” Typhon said, already yearning to be off the phone, “thanks for your time.”
“Now wait,” Valac said. “I said normally, not always.”
Pausing, this time to let it be known that he too could control a conversation, Typhon allowed one corner of his mouth to curl up. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Valac said, “give me an hour. Something like this, already up on the other side’s radar? Shouldn’t be hard to find.”
Flicking his gaze to the clock in the corner of his phone, Typhon nodded. He’d been waiting eight hours for Valac to call him back.
One more wouldn’t hurt.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The man’s name was actually Gary Reese, not Ralph. Once Ember had explained to Kaia who she was referring to – earning barely a snort in the process – they had made a call.
Regardless what his name was, he hadn’t been any happier to hear from them, mumbling a few choice words about Ember and her sudden intrusion into his life in the process.
What he could have been doing that was so important, or hadn’t been done a million times before, she didn’t pretend to know.
The phone they had lifted from Carlow was a burner, a cheap plastic model that wasn’t a flip phone, but wasn’t more than a half-step up from it. Containing nothing in the address book, only a trio of numbers existed in the call history.
Of those, one they were able to cross off instantly as Tam.
Leaving the other two with Reese, Ember had cast the phone aside and put her feet on the floor, making it only as far as a standing position before dropping back into place. There she sat for a full two minutes, waiting as the world stopped spinning and the pressure in her head pulled back slightly.
To her surprise, Kaia said not a word throughout, her face pinched in, her focus square on the situation before them.
On the second attempt, Ember had managed to find her feet, the pills she had taken kicking in, allowing her a trace of equilibrium. Padding around to the bathroom, her goal had been making it to the toilet, her progress stopped by the sight of herself in the mirror above the sink.
Pulling up short, any need to urinate vanished, replaced by a feeling bordering on abject terror as she stared back at the glass.
In high school, Ember had played basketball and volleyball. In college, she rowed for Seattle University. In the time in between, she had taken advantage of living in the Pacific Northwest, hiking and camping whenever the opportunity presented itself. After college, she had gone to the police academy, working the beat before moving up as a detective.
She was used to a few scrapes and bruises.
What stared back at her in the mirror was a far, far cry from that.
The entire left half of Ember’s face was stained dark, the colors moving from black in the center to blueberry and violet along the edges. The outer part of her eye was red and bloodshot, a furrowed gash more than two inches long across her forehead.
Gripping either side of the sink, Ember stared in horror at what she saw, her mouth sagging open.
More than once, she had encountered gang violence. She’d seen far more than her share of domestic abuse.
Never had she seen something like this, the colorful display before her looking to far exceed what a body should be able to withstand.
“All this from one punch?” she muttered, her eyes locked wide and fixed as she stared at her reflection.
As if summoned by the sound of her voice, Kaia appeared in the doorway. Leaning a shoulder against it, she folded her arms and said, “Micah’s not mortal, remember? That wasn’t a normal shot to the face.”
Rotating her head slowly to see how far the bruising extended, Ember said, “But still. I mean, he got you too, and all you have is a gash on your head.”
“Yeah, but I’m a demon,” Kaia said. “You’re just a peon.”
Turning at the waist, she glanced back over her shoulder before adding, “Actually, it’s a damn wonder you’re even holding up as well as you are. Last person I knew of to get whacked like that didn’t fare quite so well.”
Her focus still on the mirror, Ember had no idea how anybody could call what she was staring at as faring well.
“Yeah,” she mumbled, turning her neck to look at Kaia, she repeated the same question she’d already asked a handful of times. “So how does all this work?”
“All what?” Kaia asked, her brows rising slightly in question.
Shoving herself away from the sink, Ember turned, resting her hips against the porcelain fixture, it too somehow feeling hot against her skin.
“Being here. I mean, I’m already dead, right?”
“Doornail,” Kaia confirmed.
“But I can get bruises? And I need food and sleep?”
“Ah,” Kaia said, understanding the question. “Those are the rules for operating in the middle realm. We don’t age, and we can’t be killed, but we have to abide by the same things as humans.”
“And that’s supposed to make it fair?” Ember asked.
“Fair?” Kaia asked, again shifting to look over her shoulder. Disappearing into the room, she said, “No, but it’s meant to make us less obvious.”
Returning an instant later, she had Ember’s phone in hand. Vibrating one time after another, she extended it across the bathroom, Reese’s number up on screen.
Accepting it, Ember put it on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, you broads still need these numbers?”
In the doorway, Kaia rolled her eyes.
Opposite her, Ember made a face, mouthing, “Broads?”
“Please,” she managed to get out instead, leaving aside the questions she harbored about how old Reese truly was.
“Alright,” Reese said. “First one was easy peasy. Pizza joint in Del Mar. Fillipi’s Pizza Grotto. Supposed to be the best pie in town, and given what it did to my throat and ass when I tried it, it must be pretty good.”
Pain erupted along the left side of Ember’s face as she winced, forgetting about the bruising as she reacted to the unnecessary visual of Reese
working through his own version of Hell.
“Thanks for that,” Kaia said, not quite able to keep her thoughts to herself.
“You’re welcome,” Reese said, hints of amusement in his tone. “The second number is from a landline in Solana Beach. House sitting right on the water, registered to a Property Management Company known as C.D. Waterman.”
“Clever,” Ember said, the attempt at humor too obvious and juvenile to elicit anything more.
“Yeah, everybody’s a damn comedian,” Reese said, signing off without another word.
It wasn’t that her ex-husband was getting remarried. She had known it wouldn’t take long for him to find another, the man always one that measured himself by his standing in the eyes of others. Thinly veiled insecurity hidden by a veneer of having the biggest home or the shiniest car or the newest phone.
Even Ember herself had at one time been a trophy. Lithe and lean, she was the youngest female to ever attain the rank of detective in the Seattle Police system, a talisman to be boasted about at parties.
Until one day the hours grew longer. And the stress combined with her advancing years. What was once supple and contoured became sharp and peaked.
What was once something for him to put on a pedestal became an impediment, at which point she had to go, making way for Shasta, just as someday she too would be cast aside, ceding the floor to the next in line.
All that, Ember had had months to prepare herself for. Like someone walking through the various stages of self-discovery, she had been past anger and bargaining, had even gotten over any residual grief, making it all the way to a place where she was at peace with things.
The man was who he was. She had known it for years, not one bit of it coming as a surprise.
Even at that, never would she have thought he would stoop so low as to try to replace her, to fill their son’s head with images of another woman sliding into her spot.
Locked on that singular thought, Ember sat behind the wheel, gripping it tight in both hands. Her mouth drawn into a tight line, folds of skin appeared around her eyes as she stared out.
Before her, the world was narrowed to a single cone of light. With the high beams off to keep from blinding them in the face of the driving snow, she resorted only to the low lights, a spread no more than ten feet before them visible. Interspersed by thousands of tiny white needles flying at them, it was as if Ember could feel every last one piercing her skin, the words of her son ringing in her ears.
“Mommy?”
Deep in thought, the word did little more than bounce off the hardened cocoon of thought Ember was wrapped in. With her shoulders hunched toward her ears, she could feel every muscle in her body clenched, wanting nothing more than ten minutes alone in a room with the bastard.
And maybe a set of handcuffs.
Or even the night stick she’d carried when first working the beat.
“Mommy?” Emory asked a second time, this one a bit louder, barely able to penetrate her thoughts.
Blinking twice, Ember drew in a deep breath, puncturing the angry bubble she’d been wrapped in. Leaning back, she pulled in a second one, the warm, stale air blowing through the vents filling her lungs, licking at the sweat lining her brow.
“Yeah, buddy?” she asked, tilting her chin his way, her gaze never leaving the road.
“Are you mad at me?”
The speedometer dipped a few miles slower as Ember eased back on it. Her mouth dropped open as she glanced his way, feeling the heat fleeing from her features.
“What? No. Why would you ask that?”
Both sets of knuckles were buried in his lap, the ends of his fingers laced together. Like eight tiny white heads, they bobbed back and forth as he wiggled them, staring resolutely down, not once lifting his attention her way.
“Because of what I told you,” he said. “About what Daddy said.”
“Of course not,” Ember said. Flicking her gaze to the road, she returned it to the passenger seat. “What have I always said? You can never get in trouble for telling the truth, right?”
Emory’s attention remained straight down as he continued to study his fingers. A small murmur of some sort passed his lips, too faint to be heard.
“Right?” Ember pressed. Releasing her viselike grip on the wheel, she extended a hand. Lacing her fingers through her son’s thick hair, she rubbed her hand back and forth, tousling his floppy locks.
Evoking the same small smile it always did, he turned his attention up to her, a gap-toothed smile on his face. “Right.”
“That’s right. Beside, I could never be mad at you,” Ember said, matching the grin. “Want to listen to some music?”
Seeing the smile on her son’s face grow wider, Ember took that as an answer. Reaching out, she brought the radio to life, the first station well into the throes of “Hotel California.”
Deciding to leave it there, Ember pulled her hand back, lifting her attention to the road ahead.
Where the deer had come from, how long it had been standing there, she had not a clue, her mind processing it just a split second before impact.
She never even had a chance to tap the brakes.
Chapter Thirty-Five
With the Mustang still sitting outside the house in Del Mar, Kaia had swapped out the Jeep for a Dodge Viper. Made in the mid-nineties and originally fire red in color, it had faded a bit with time, the body dotted with dents and rust spots.
When or where she had gotten it, Ember didn’t pretend to have any idea.
Thankful to not have the perpetual wind that came with riding in the Mustang slapping at her face, she reached out, adjusting the vents and thermostat.
“Nice ride.”
“Yeah,” Kaia agreed without looking over, most of her face hidden behind her mirrored sunglasses. Any lasting residue of the blood in her hair had been washed away, the gash hidden from view.
To look at her, one would never know the encounter the day before had taken place.
“Air conditioning is broken,” Ember commented, giving up on it and turning the fan off to keep any further hot air from blowing in on them.
“No, it’s not,” Kaia said. “Hell, remember? Why do you think I had us in a convertible before?”
It being her first day, Ember hadn’t given much thought to what they were riding in, though the reasoning made sense. Offering nothing more than a grunt in response, she turned her focus out the window.
For years, she had heard that San Diego was supposed to be the crown jewel of the country, the closest to paradise that could be found on the mainland. With pristine beaches and perfect weather, folks in Seattle were perpetually talking about flying down for a few days.
Now she was beginning to understand why so few actually did.
And why none ever seemed to make a second trip.
Since leaving the motel, both sides of the freeways had been lined with structures that looked to have been constructed in the seventies. While downtown had the ballpark and a host of skyscrapers, and she imagined the navy base facilities were second to none, the rest of the city seemed to be a snapshot of a different era.
Clapboard houses without proper insulation for the heat of summer or cold of winter. Hotels that hadn’t been updated in decades. Cars that had aged beyond their years because of the elements.
And that was to say nothing of the terrain, everything but the narrow strip along the coast effectively a desert. Steep ravines and poor soil conditions made planting anything almost impossible, shades of brown the predominant color as far as she could see.
Sweat lined her brow, dripping into her left eye, burning the open wound on her forehead. Knowing better than to dare touch either, she laced her fingers in her lap.
For a moment, she allowed herself to think back to home, wanting nothing more than to be standing on the bow of a ferry boat. She could almost feel the wind passing over her, the cool ocean mist on her skin.
So intense was the memory, a thin smile settled on her feature
s. No longer was she stuck in California, barely even noticing as Kaia turned off the freeway and headed toward the coast, covering the last half-mile of the continent before hooking a sharp left and beginning to climb the bluffs looking out over the beach below.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, Ember watched as they wound their way up a steep drive, passing through a gate with a sign for the BBCC on one side, the letters spelled out to stand for the Beach Bluff Condo Complex on the opposite side.
“Original,” Kaia quipped as they rolled forward.
Offering nothing more than a smirk, Ember watched as the world to either side shifted again. Plush grass was mowed short, hedges trimmed to an even height, a series of concrete paths winding through them.
Interspersed along the paths were numerous golf carts and scooters, octogenarians in bright colors out and about, some deep in conversation, others shuffling along, getting in their daily exercise.
“Talk about Hell, huh?” Kaia whispered, pushing them straight ahead.
Offering nothing more than a grunt, Ember watched as they passed a clubhouse and a pool center, most of the chairs already taken, social hour in full swing.
Sitting back farther off the road was a series of condo buildings, teams of gardeners tending to everything.
In every available parking spot sat a high-end car, many gleaming beneath the morning sun.
“Jeezy,” Ember muttered, “how much you think a place like this costs?”
“More than a detective makes,” Kaia replied. “Water bill alone up here must be a fortune.”
Choosing to ignore the barb, Ember returned her gaze to the window. She watched as the numbers on the corners of the buildings grew higher, counting them off as they got closer to their destination.
One by one they slid past, the one they were looking for not revealing itself until they were in the far corner of the complex. More than a mile past the clubhouse, it looked to be a small freestanding structure, nothing but open bluff past it to the south.
In front of it sat a refurbished Volkswagen bus, the sides painted teal with the top and bottom both done in white.