Chapter 10
Day 4
I start the day late, and spend most of the morning busy with an appointment I couldn’t shirk. When I get back a little after noon, I’m surprised to find Ciela waiting in the kitchen with take-out. I’m surprised to find her here because she’s been eating lunch with Mike lately.
She sits in relative silence through the small meal, making idle chatter, but I know something’s wrong by the way she’s looking at me. I can’t help but let my mind wander as she speaks. It’s been a long, stressful week, and it’s only half over.
Ciela may be naive, but she certainly isn't stupid. Sometimes my all-too-jaded opinion of humanity gets the better of me and I forget little details like that. It's one of my flaws, so sue me.
I hope it doesn't become a fatal flaw.
I wonder to myself what it is about her that makes us, me especially, so over-protective of her.
If she were ever to find her full potential she would be almost as powerful as the God she serves. There I go again, avoiding the achingly obvious. I know exactly why we do it. We protect her because of her innocence. After all that she's been through it's still there, shining like a golden nugget or a beacon. You would have to soul-blind not to see it.
I suppose that's why Warren hated her so, why he tried so hard to cripple her spirit rather just kill her when he had the chance. It burned him like acid, just as it warms those of us who still have a modicum of goodness left somewhere inside of us.
That's why I've been avoiding this conversation so religiously. I don't want to infect her with my cynicism. She's my friend. The only real friend I've had in... Forget it. I'm not going to admit how long it's been, even to myself. She's concerned about me, wants to know what's going on, wants to understand. Here she is in the middle of her happily-ever-after dreams and the last thing she needs is to go slumming with me.
"Earth to Jayna..." she touches my arm and I jump back to the here and now sitting in the kitchen, glasses of iced tea sweating on the table between us. "You can't keep avoiding me like this. I know you're in there somewhere."
I think I've stretched her patience with me about as far as I'm going to be able to.
"I'm here, Cie. I was just thinking." I smile at her, a bit weakly I suppose.
"I really should get the basement in order before..." I push back my chair.
"Oh, no you don't." She catches me by the wrist - not too hard, but enough so I have no doubt she means business. She's getting much better at this. "I checked your appointment book. You don't have anybody coming by today, so you can't use that as an excuse. I know something's wrong. Aquarius hasn't been around in weeks, and Kelegar has been dropping by unexpectedly. You've been so… distant."
"You don't need to hear my troubles."
"Yes I do." She sat ramrod straight and put on her most serious face. "You've always been here for me," her steel cracked a bit and a look of sadness crossed her face, "and David." The look passed and she quickly regained her focus.
"You are going to tell me what's going on. Even if I can't do anything to help I can at least listen."
I was right after all. She isn't going to let this slide this time. "All right. Zan's gone. It's over between us. Kelegar has been trying to contact him through me." There. I had said it, but would it be enough?
"What do you mean by gone, and how can it be over just like that?" She isn't going to make this easy for either of us. I really don't want to involve her in this sordid mess and I'm afraid if I start talking about it I won't be able to stop myself, but I can see by the look on her face that I don't have any choice.
"He's just gone. Nobody has seen him or knows where he went. He didn't take his car with him. I don't know if he's on a job or not." That wasn't so bad. Maybe I can get through this with my composure intact after all.
"Why would he just take off and not tell you? I thought you two were...partners." I couldn't help picking up the way she stumbled over her last word. At least she was trying to be tactful.
"There were all sorts of things he didn't bother to tell me about." I hate how coldly that came out, but I can feel myself getting angry and I really don't like where I see this conversation going. I try again to get out of my chair, and again she puts her hand on my arm.
"I am trying to find him, but only because of Ravenstrom. He'd probably come breezing back here in a week or two all on his own thinking everything is going to be just the same. It was a mistake for us to get involved..."
"Involved? Is that what you call it?" Now she was getting upset too. This was what I was afraid of. "I thought you two were in love."
"So did I. I know I was. He was young, handsome, dangerous. My heart went running away with me. All the time my head was screaming that it was a terrible mistake. My head was right." Please, please, please don't make me explain this to you; I'm not going to be able to keep from hurting her too. I can see the confusion in her eyes, the questions forming on her lips. "I went to his apartment hoping to find some clue to where he might be. I found out a lot less and more than I hoped to. He had a whole other life that I knew nothing about.”
She looks at me oddly, and I continue before the questions start.
“He has other lovers. Quite a few, actually, not all of them on J Street. He's some kind of a pornography addict. He has books and magazines all over the place and his computer is loaded with it. He has several different dial-up programs and links to dozens of sickening websites. I don't know what he wants but it's not me, not really."
"But you two looked so happy. I thought..."
"So did I, but sometimes you just don't know. You can love a person with all of you heart and soul and still isn't enough. You can't make another person love you back no matter how hard you try or how much you love them."
By the Gods I don't know where that came from. A little piece of me is dying here and I'm trying to put a happy face on it for her sake. Sometimes I surprise myself. Maybe, just maybe, I needed to hear that myself.Chapter 11
Day Five (I)
All right, so yesterday was a complete bust in the line of tracking down that rat-bastard ex-houseguest of mine. Today, I've decided, is the day I finally get to the bottom of the 'case of the mysterious vanishing slimeball '. I've been dragging this out for far too long. I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of having Kelegar's barely veiled threats hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles.
A quick call to Torres reveals that no, Zan's car had not actually been impounded. The JSPD had dragged it down to the lot and left it for safekeeping, but the car hadn't been searched. It must come in handy to have friends you can count on to break a few rules here and there, I decide, annoyed. This means I have to go back to the dealership and search the car myself, assuming they haven't cleaned it out.
After a few more minutes of idle chatter later, all accompanied by rustling papers, Torres adds that the car was found near an alleyway with a rather large, stationary portal, and lo and behold, we have a location.
I've finally caught a break, maybe, if I'm lucky. I decide to check out the car anyway, just in case.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Back on the lot. The temperature's dropped, there's this thin wind stirring the leaves and the sky's too bright, storm light, hard contrast, an expressionist painting stretched further than the eye can see. I pull my gloves down tighter and push my way into the dealership. The bell over the door chimes, clear and cold. The receptionist looks up (and down and left), smiling faintly in recognition.
"Back again?" she asks. "Oh, dear. What can I do for you?"
("We can offer deals on large number rentals," head two says into the phone. "Would you like to hear about our discount options?")
"I came in two, no three days ago--"
("...order two limos, get the third for half; order four limos, get the fifth free...")
"Oh, yes -- about the repo'd car?"
"That's right, I, uh--" ("...luxury leather interiors...") "--I need to look inside the car. In my friend's car."
"Well--"
"Please, it's-- I need to-- It's important."
Her polite smile makes a lie of my words. I resist the sudden urge to punch her in the faces.
Head two says, "We accept all major credit cards."
"Look," I say, "what if... what if--"
The bell rings again; cold draft.
"I'm sorry," she says, "it's against company policy."
"On a break," says the fat, balding man who has just come in. He lumbers a couple of heavy steps further into the waiting area, comes to a slow, sweat slicked stop, grunting for breath. There's a badge on his grubby too-small shirt. The badge says, "Ask me about our special deals!" His face says, "Not if you value your sanity."
"You said--," this back at the secretary, "There are two payments left on the car, right?"
"That's right." She nods. Head two rearranges the phone with an annoyed frown.
"What if I paid them?"
"Paid them?"
"For my friend."
"Well, I--"
"I'd have to look over the car, though. Check what I'm paying for is what I'm paying for."
Fat guy breathes loud. The secretary is looking at him, not me, when she says "Okay. Yes. Yes, I think that can be arranged. Ohhh, Gerard?"
"On a break," mutters the fat man. Is it possible to be deliberately apathetic?
"Gerard!" squawks the receptionist. Head three jerks, startled. Both heads two and three do their best to glare at head one. There's a bad joke trying to get out of my mouth; I bite down on it. Gerard turns to look at us, gives a long suffering sigh.
"Lot five-thirty-one," says the receptionist to Gerard. "Take the blue key. The blue key, Gerard."
Gerard sighs again.
"Chop chop," says the receptionist. "Take Mrs--"
"Ms," I say. "Ms. Alexander."
"Take Ms. Alexander to see her friend's car." There's a sarcastic weight to 'Ms', a salacious emphasis on friend; I ignore both. The fat man has got the key. He gives me a look that makes me think of sad puppies.
Sad puppies dipped in grease.
Yeuch.
Bell chime; cold start; "Come on," says Gerard. We walk out onto the lot. High metal fence, clanking in the wind. Gotten colder. Sky's slipping down through monotones, grey scaling into rain. And me without an umbrella. Gerard pants across oil marked tarmac. I wonder: if I lit a match, would he gutter like a candle or go up all at once like a petrol pump?
When did I start thinking like this?
Shake my head, hard, trying to clear - well, not cobwebs. Something-- Gerard is speaking. Even his voice is fat. He's saying something about, "This is the car--"
//"--right? It's the car." Zan grins at me as he hunts through his pockets for his keys. "Chicks dig the car."
"What is it with boys and their toys?"
"Hey!" He actually looks offended. "This, I'll have you know, is not a toy, this is a--"//
"--Monte Carlo SS, registration--" Gerard reads it out in a bored, too-fast sing song. "That seems to check out. She's all yours."
He throws the keys towards me and is already halfway across the car yard before I manage to snatch them out of the air. The fat bastard can move when he wants to, it seems. The keys feel warm; I thank something at random for my gloves. Gloves good. I look at the key. Then I look at the car.
It's black. It's got that well polished shine. It's got two doors. It's kinda blocky. It's
//"--studly," says Zan.
"Studly."
"Studly!"
"I'll walk."
"Shut up and get in," Zan grins and turns//
the key in the door. The lock pops up. The air in the car is cool. It smells stale, and of Zan, and slightly of tobacco, and fainter still, something I can't quite identify, unusual but somehow familiar. Wind coming up strong now. Dust in it, and leaves, and the first smatterings of rain. Slide into the car, close the door behind. Quiet, thick and heavy. Leaves against the glass. The seats
//"--were originally maroon, but that pretty much sucked; so Tiny put in the custom trim for me--"//
Rub fingers over grey cloth, black plastic dash, clear over the 120mph speedometer. Fingers closing around the leather
//reins, horse pounding under her, hard riding, the King just behind, plunging into the storm--//
Shake that thought off. An old memory. Before there were cars. Leather wrapped steering wheel cold under my fingers. Kink in the metal, like a hammer hit. Hits on the roof; thick, slow droplets splatter on the glass. Put the key in. Turn her over. Fuel gauge on the three quarter mark. Heater comes on; radio too. Loud static. Behind it, faint, someone singing "not the length of a life, or the depth of a grave; in the end we'll be measured" then nothing. Flick through the presets; snatch of a traffic announcement; crackly rock; more static.
Lightning strikes like a camera flash.
Touch the controls. Close the vents. Turn the heater up. Touch the ashtray cover. Cold metal. Push. Ash in the tray. Lipstick on the cigarette butt. Let the cover fall back. Look around. Hands white knuckle clenched on the wheel. Breathe. In. Small crack in the top left of the dash. Out. Volume control's a little loose on the radio. In. Seat belt buckle is tarnished. Out. Stitching on the passenger seat is ripped, leather bubbled slightly, heat and water damage. Steam. Breath steaming on the windows.
Nothing under the chairs. Nothing behind. A soft cloth in the door pocket. Drips inside the glass. The water's getting in. The door seal isn't quite in place. Rain finds a way. Lights on in the office, reflected in the rear-view mirror. Look down. Glove compartment. Open it. Papers. Take them out. Gas receipts. Papers for the car. One of those car manual things no one ever reads. A photo.
Me. Lounging on the hood of the car. Light flash. Zan is saying
//"--aluminum rims, bucket seats, third brake light, 4-Speed automatic transmission, zero to sixty in seven point eight seconds... am I boring you?"
"Not at all."
"Really?"
"No. You're boring me to death, Zan."
"...you know what else this car has got?"
"Oh, please, do tell me."
Zan leers, "Spacious interior."
Laughter, then//
and now, vision's blurring, but not crying, no, not that; must be the rain, blurring on the windscreen. That's it. The rain. Find the wiper controls. Here? No, headlights. Is that a face out there in the distortion? Just a reflection? Find the control. Flick it down.
The squealing wiper smears a thin film of blood across the windscreen.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Special thanks to Nope for the extensive help on this chapter!)Chapter 12
Day Five (II)
It wasn't actually of course. Why would it still be fresh? Why would it be wet? Whatever it was, with the rain, it was too gone too swiftly to tell exactly. It was definitely one thing - an omen, and omens are almost never good things. Now I'm standing on J Street under some awning, looking across at an alleyway, where Zan's car was found, and beyond that is the heat-shimmer haze of a stable dimensional portal, and beyond that, well... So, I've decided that now would be a good time for some back up. The wet dog smell tells me it's just arrived, so I turn and say:
"Hey, Adam; how are you?"
He's looking rather bedraggled, and there's more than a little whine in his voice. "It's raining and I'm cold and I'm wet and why exactly am I here again, Jayna?"
"I'm sorry--" liar, liar, pants on fire "--did my call interrupt something important?"
"Well, I'd just had sex and was 'bout to get me some more, so--"
"I'll take that as a no."
"Okay, but it was a pretty hefty yes."
I roll my eyes, walk past, waving him on. "Come along, slutpuppy."
"Who you callin'-- hey, where are you going?"
"You mean, where are we going?"
"Where are we going, then?" he asks, as we step into the portal.
There's that brief, odd, flicker, like frames missing from a movie, and we step out the other side. Sadly, it's still raining. Crap weather is apparently a universal annoyance.
"Well?" asks Adam impatiently.
I give him a friendly smile. "You're gonna track down someone for me."
"I am?" He looks wary. "Who?"
"A guy I know."
"A guy-- You took me away from my girl to hunt down your boy?"
"He's not--"
"Does irony mean nothing to you people?"
Instead of hitting him like I want to, I manage to instead say, "Stop talking and start sniffing."
He hands me a bag to put his clothes in, and I toss him an old shirt that a quick stop back at Zan’s apartment provided me with. I shoulder the bag and point away from the portal we just stepped through. “He went thataway.” I’m so nervous I’m cracking dumb jokes. The bloody windshield flashes through my mind. I adjust my glasses nervously, waiting for Adam to get his act together.
I look away, feigning boredom, as Adam transforms fully. I can hear the bones in his arms and legs crack and warp, the stomach-churning sounds audible even over the rain beating on the awning overhead. I can imagine the fur as it juts out at odd angles and is quickly joined by more until his entire body is covered with wild, thick gray hair. The whole transformation takes maybe a minute, and sounds excruciating. Better him than me.
“Better” he growls out as he drops to all fours, his voice deep and raspy. “So what did this asshole do?”
“Let’s not get into that. Can you track him or not?”
“Not a problem,” he replies “Stuff like this is second nature. The rain may slow me down a bit but we’ll find this…whoever it is.”
I nod and we cross the street, following where his nose leads us.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We pass by a café where a few people are huddled, hiding from the heavy rain, and I’m actually glad for it. A few customers do double-takes at the huge, lop-gaited gray ‘dog’ that I’m following, but no screams or shouts follow us as we pass.
Eventually we make our way to a low rent apartment complex so covered with graffiti, the original color could have been pink with purple polka dots and no one would have been the wiser. I shrug inside my coat, looking around cautiously for any witnesses. “Well, is this the place or not, slutpuppy?”
Adam stares up at me, drenched fur making him look pitifully like a drowned rat. “Yup.” He growls. “Can I…?”
“Go ahead. I can’t see anyone in any of the windows.” A don’t ask, don’t tell type of place. Gotta love Zan’s choice of dwellings. My stomach churns. If my neck weren’t on the line with Ravenstrom, I wouldn’t go any further. No matter what he had meant to me it was over, and I would have been more than happy to leave it that way.
Not getting involved in mortal affairs was a major survival rule for my kind, and I had broken that one all to hell with Zan. All the "normal" warning bells and whistles had gone off in my head when I had met. Hell, there were even a few that were more like air-raid sirens, but I had stupidly, humanly ignored them all and allowed myself to fall head-over-heels in love. I should have known better. I did know better. At least he had the decency, if one could call it that, of murdering whatever feelings I had for him. Maybe that's why I fell for him in the first place. Somewhere in the dark, not-quite-human recesses of my brain I knew that he wouldn't grow old and die on me, that it would never last that long. I don't really know, and here and now is not the place or time for such thoughts. I drop the bag and turn away again. Who’d have thought I’d end up knowing a bashful werewolf?
The transformation back to human takes less time but sounds just as nauseating. Clothes rustle behind me. “So, are we going in, or what?”
“Yeah. We are.”
“Great.” He responds, pulling his wet hair back into a ponytail. “Are we going to do this the legal way and see the landlord, or are you up for a little B&E?”
“Legal. C’mon.” I urge, opening the door, pointing out the sign that says ‘no pets allowed’.
“Real funny, Jayna. Real funny.” He ‘hmpfs’ and goes in ahead of me.
I let the door close behind me and enter the dank hallway behind Adam. A bare bulb sways slightly from the breeze that came in with the open door, and I look around, still feeling very strange about this whole situation. I’m not psychic by any means, but I have the worst feeling about this place. Stairs lead off to the upper floors, a few broken boards here and there, stained, threadbare carpet running up the center. The place smells vaguely like an outhouse. Yuck.
We get to the end of the hall and Adam raps on the door. I think of an old nursery rhyme about a wolf and some pigs…and am not surprised when a portly, grease stained man answers the door.
“Ya looking for a place to rent by the hour, go down the street.” He mutters, looking past Adam to me in my ‘shopping garb’, skintight black bodysuit zippered up the front, under a dark jacket.
“Actually, no, we’re looking for a man who, we believe, lives here.” I flash a stolen badge at him not giving him a chance to get a really good look at it, and hand him a photo of Zan. He stiffens, and motions us inside.
“I ain’t done nothing wrong, and I din’ hear nothing. I told da cops that already.”
Guilty conscience? I have no idea what he’s talking about, but let him ramble on.
“Anyways, de cleaning crew done finished with the room. You can check it out but there ain’ nothing left I don’ think.”
“What room is that?” Adam is as curious as I am, and is more impatient.
“De one this guy was rentin’. They found a dead body up there las’ week. I gotta say it was a damn mess. Took almost all week ta clean up, too.”
My blood freezes in my veins, but I say nothing, simply nodding. “My associate here is a psychic. We called him in on the off chance he could get any impressions from the room. As you know, the police are at a dead end in the investigation.”
“Yeh, yeh, I knows. That’s why they jus’ keep showing up.” He hands me the key from a pegboard behind him. “I’d go wit ya but my show’s on. Jus drop the key in the slot when ya leave.” He jerked his thumb towards the exit. “Up da stairs and to da left. Room number’s on de key.”