TANSTAV part 27

Chapter Eight
Calla has some disturbing premonitions, and, at the brink of despair, I suddenly see the light

I sat at my desk, absentmindedly toying with a pencil.  I seemed nowhere closer to the answer than before Greenbriar had brought in her crowd of stool pigeons.   There was something vital missing from this case.  None of Jessup's minions matched the description of the shadow, who they had also mentioned was small and slight; his bully boys had all been tall, muscular brutes, with no talent for strategic thought.  There was always the possibility that Jessup had secretly acquired a smaller, more intelligent minion somehow, but I couldn't see how he'd have managed it after being locked up.  But in that case, how could he have done it afterward?  I mean, the prison guards were bribable, but after his imprisonment all Jessup’s holdings had been confiscated, and distributed amongst different government officials.  I was pretty sure I’d found all his secret caches, and how would he get to them anyway?  Maybe he’d been blackmailing the prison guards somehow?  But with no resources left, and being locked up in a cell, how could he get anything on them?  Gah, how I hated this guy!

I glanced up at Calla, to see how she was doing.  She was seated in her chair in front of my desk, and looking rather peculiar.  Her eyes were staring vacantly downwards, and her head drooped forward, listless.

"Kid?" I asked, "You okay?"

Slowly, very slowly, she looked up in my general direction.  She whispered, "Xen is next.  When the shadow man comes next, it will be for Xen."

I stared at her, aghast, until I remembered her telling me that she had premonitions sometimes.

"When?" I asked, trying to remain calm; however, the main part of my thoughts was planning on doing severe damage to several of Jessup's bodily functions should this vision come to pass.

"I-I don't know," she said.  Her eyes became focused again, and she looked distraught.  "I just saw Xen, sitting and painting, and then the shadow appearing and grabbing at her!  It could happen at any time!  And-"

She stopped herself, looking at me in a perturbed manner.

"What?  What else did you see?"

"You don't want to know," she squeaked.

"Yes, I do, Calla."

"You won't like it."

"That doesn't matter.  It concerns me, doesn't it?"

After some hesitation, she nodded.

"Well, if you're having visions about me, I want to know what happens.  Whatever it is, I promise I won't get mad at you."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Calla said in a rush, as if trying to get the words out as fast as possible, "I saw you lying on the ground, bleeding.  It was in a dark place, and you were hurt really bad in the stomach and shoulders, and I didn't know what to do!"

That was a sobering vision.  For several moments, I was unsure how to react.  From what she was saying, it sounded like she was seeing my death.  But with an effort, I pulled myself together.

"Hey, Calla," I said.  She looked over at me, her pupils dilated, though avoiding eye contact.

"Severe injury is not the same as death.  Besides, nothing in the future is certain.  You might just be seeing a possibility."

Calla looked unconvinced.

"I always see my visions come true.  Always."

"Well," I said, trying to be nonchalant, "no sense worrying about it now.  We've got a case to work on."

I knew that she wouldn't get it out of her mind that easily.  But she was silent.  I took the opportunity to call Xen, just in case.  After three rings, which made my heart palpitate severely, she finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Xen!  You're okay!"

"Yeah...should I not be?"

"...No, not at all.  Just making sure."

"Okay, Tristan, what happened?"  Her tone was that no-nonsense one that means no beating around the bush, or trying to fudge the truth.  I can never hide anything from Xen when she uses that tone of voice, and have already promised never to lie to her anyway.  I told her, tentatively, about Calla's vision of the shadow trying to kidnap her.  However, I neglected to mention her other vision of my possible death.

"Huh.  That's...not good," Xen finally said.

"No.  It's not.  So I was just calling to, y'know, make sure you were still there."

"Yeah, I'm right here.  No evil shadows yet," she said dryly, trying to make it a joke.

"Be careful, please," I said softly.

"I will, Tristan.  Don't worry about me."

"You know I can't do that."

"Come on, you have that bodyguard of yours posted right outside my room.  What could happen?"

"The shadow is a teleporter.  Calla saw him just appearing in your apartment, right next to you."

"Well, in that case, I shall keep my palette knife handy," was the reply.  I managed a weak laugh.

"Bye, Xen."

"I'll see you when you get home."

As I hung up, I tried not to think that those might be the last words I would ever hear from her.

TANSTAV part 18

Chapter 5 part 4

"Nice outfit," I said as I slid the door shut behind me.  "It really brings out your eyes."

The outfit in question was a loose-fitting, unflattering gray jumpsuit, the attire of all prisoners, so my comment could only be described as sarcastic.  Jessup recognized me at once, of course.  For a brief moment, his expression darkened in anger, and his hands clenched, as if they would love to be wrapped around my throat.  But I knew I was safe.  I could see the pale blue lines of the spell holding him in place, gripping his wrists and ankles.  There was no chance of his getting loose.  And even if he did, well, I wouldn't mind a good scrap with him.

However, Jessup was just as quick to regain his composure.  His face relaxed into its typical sardonic expression: eyes drooping lazily, mouth curled upwards into a sideways smirk, one eyebrow half raised.

"Well, if it isn't Detective Wormwood," he murmured in his soft, silky tones.  "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Oh, just thought I'd drop in, see how life is treating you, maybe bring some news of the outside world," I replied.

"I'm honored."

I came closer, looking Jessup over just as closely as he was scrutinizing me.  Prison life had made him a great deal thinner, and he’d lost a bit of muscle, but he was still in comparatively good condition.  I suddenly jabbed him in the leg with one claw.  Flesh and blood, and cloth.  He really was there; no illusion.  So how had he gotten out of the cell and back in?  Had he even left?  It was possible to make molds of feet.  Maybe the tracks had been faked?

Jessup was smirking.

"Trying to see if I'm really here?  You're getting too paranoid, Wormwood."

A sudden impulse led me to ask, "You won't mind, will you, if I have a look at the bottoms of your feet?"

Jessup looked startled by this; however, since he is an expert liar and actor, I took his expression cum grano salis (for you non-Latin speakers, that means "with a grain of salt".  I took a course of that in high school too; it was required in order to graduate).

"What?"

"You heard me."  Without further ado, I crouched down and began to inspect them.  Sure enough, in the cleft of his hoof, I found a blade of grass.  Retrieving my tweezers, I tugged it free, placing it in a ready baggie.  On his claw, I found traces of earth, which I added to the baggie.  Standing up, I waved it under Jessup's aristocratic nose.

"Care to explain these?"

The demon shrugged as best he could with the restraints.

"I'm a criminal, not a horticulturist."

Rolling my eyes, I placed it in my pocket, with the other baggies.  As I looked down, I saw- another piece of black and red magic!  It was lying just below Jessup.  Was the magic coming from him?  That didn't make sense; he didn't have any magic powers, except a small ability to make people do what he wanted, and it wasn’t as effective if they knew about it.  I bagged the magic, and then demanded, "How have you been getting out?"

Jessup smirked again, and said snidely, "You're the detective.  You figure it out."

I flapped my wings, lifting myself into the air until I was eye to eye with the demon.  This took a little effort, since I am only 5'9", and he was about two feet off the ground already.

"I will, Jessup.  And when I do, maybe the higher-ups will reconsider whether or not you deserve the death penalty."  With that, I floated to the floor, turned away, and left.

At least, that was my plan.  I did the floating-down and turning-around part perfectly, but before I could do the leaving part, Jessup's query of "How's your girlfriend doing?" stopped me in my tracks.

TANSTAV part 17

Chapter 5 part 3

The elevator creaked and groaned, moving with all the speed of a giant ground sloth going uphill.

You'd think a high-tech prison could afford a better elevator system.

Aside from all the mechanical grumbling, the ride was silent.  The ogre was disinclined towards conversation (which was good, because he would probably take the opportunity to mooch more money off me), leaving me free to examine the contraption in which we stood. Small, cramped, badly lit-hello, what was this?  A particle of that black and red magic, the same as had been at the Skald residence!  Why on earth was it in the elevator?  I looked at Flavius.  He was picking at the sleeve of his jacket in a bored manner, paying no attention to me.  Nonchalantly, I stepped in the direction of the magic, sliding a spare baggie out of my pocket, and standing at such an angle that the ogre couldn't see what I was doing, if he bothered to look at me.  You can never be too careful in this job, after all.  There seemed to be no security cameras, no observation orbs, no nothing in here.  So with a swipe of my hand, the light was captured and sealed.  I slipped the baggie into my pocket, just in time.  At the speed of a racing snail, the elevator ground to a halt.  The doors creaked open, and we exited.

The prison tower we were in was shaped like a rectangle with no middle.  The cells were placed all next to each other against the wall, with a walkway next to them, and a balcony on the opposite side of it.  I peeked over the balcony, to see a long, long drop down to the lobby.  I could just make out the lamps by the receptionist's desk down below.  When I looked up, it seemed to me that there was still lots of room to spare, even though we had gone up 10 flights.  The prison had to be expandable, like Mr. Jorgensen's pocket.  I turned away from the balcony, and looked to the cells.  The doors were all made of magically enhanced steel, with a small slot where food could be sent through.  On the left side of each cell were a blue button and a green button.  The blue had the word RESTRAIN on it, and the green RELEASE.  On the door to the right of the elevator, I could see the number 10000.  To the left of the elevator was cell 19999.  I sighed.  We were going to have to do quite a bit of walking, it was apparent.

I shall spare the (probably impatient) reader the long walk and checking of numbers, before we finally found 10642.  But rest assured, find it we did.  It looked no different from the others, but to me, the knowledge of what abomination it contained added a touch of sinister feeling to it.  If, that is, he was still there.  Flavius was about to push the RESTRAIN button, but I interceded.

"May I?" I asked.

Flavius looked unsure.  But another hundred assuaged his fears.  I pressed the button with my index claw; it lit up a paler blue, and from within I heard a muffled cry of surprise, followed by several oaths.  Good.  That meant someone was in there, and if it was who I hoped, it gave me great pleasure to inconvenience him.  I unlocked the door, keeping the key with me, and went in.  There, hanging in midair, with arms out and legs shoulder-width apart, completely immobilized, was Desmond Jessup.  In person.

To the eyes of one who doesn't know him, Jessup isn't that bad-looking.  In fact, to certain frames of mind he might even be called handsome (though not as much as yours truly, of course).  He's tall, maybe 6'2", and though thin, also muscular.  His skin is perfectly tanned, and almost flawless.  The only mark is on his left bicep: a red diamond-shaped outline tattoo, with a smaller red diamond inside.  It looks like a rather peculiar eye. He has shoulder-length black hair, which I think looks rather hideous (Don't get me wrong, shoulder-length hair is nice.  On women.  On men, I think it looks kind of icky.).  Jessup also has deceptively clear grey eyes, heavy-lidded, like Paul McCartney's.  The kind of eyes that make girls swoon.  All in all, he looks like an unusually handsome human, except for his feet.  The left one is a cloven hoof, and the right one has the clawed talons of a bird, maybe a hawk.  They are the only visible signs of his demon heritage, and needless to say, make him walk rather awkwardly.  Many an innocent (and many a guilty too) has trembled in fear at the sound of his approach.

TANSTAV part 12

Chapter Four part 2

"Who are you?" the troll lady inquired in Jotun.

"Tristan Wormwood, detective; your brother sent me here to look for your husband." I just barely avoided another vicious jab for my eyes by the flamingo I was holding.

Mrs. Skald's enormous hand flew to her mouth. Then she snapped at the pernicious, plastic birds, "Go back to your places! This is a guest!" I released them, and they reluctantly did as they were told, giving me a few parting hisses. Then, in what seemed to me to be a very hurried manner, she brought me inside, closing and bolting the front door behind her.

"What's the rush?" I asked.

"Nobody outside you and our family knows Gunnar is missing. We would prefer to keep it that way. He hates being in the papers."

I gave the hallway a cursory glance. The house was as large on the inside as on the outside. It was also unnaturally tidy, looking as if it had been swept, mopped, and dusted almost every day since it had first been inhabited. It reminded me of another place, one I would prefer to forget. I shoved the memory away, and ordered myself to concentrate. I looked at the gold-framed pictures on the walls, the fancy glass chandelier on the ceiling, and other such obvious displays of wealth.

"Does your desire for anonymity have anything to do with the fact that your husband is a senator, Mrs. Skald?"

The woman looked surprised.

"How on earth did you know that?"

Managing to keep my eyes from rolling, I said, "His picture is on the wall; I recognize him from the newspapers."

Her eyes strayed to the photograph I meant, and then she rumbled with soft (for a troll) laughter.

"Oh, yes. I should have realized."

I was being expected to find a missing politician. It was all I could do not to express my disgust. Don't get me wrong, I know that not all politicians are bloodsucking, greedy, unscrupulous rats. At least, I’ve heard they aren't. But, as I have mentioned, I have bad experience concerning politicians. I was not overly enthusiastic about having to retrieve one, especially since he was probably just off with another woman, or something. Though why he would leave so early in the morning, and leaving behind one of his slippers, was beyond me, unless it was just an oversight.

Mrs. Skald and I sat down in a pair of fancy armchairs in the living room. The fabric was red velvet, with golden threads woven in so as to create a pretty, swirling pattern over the furniture.

"When was the last time you saw your husband?" I asked as I made myself comfortable.

"Early this morning. We got up at the usual time, and as I fixed breakfast, he went outside to get the paper. I saw him going down the path through that window-" she indicated which one- "-and I remember turning my head to glance at the clock. I was worried that he would miss his appointment with his secretary. When I turned around again- Gunnar was gone."

She choked down a sob, and quickly dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. I got up, and went into the kitchen.

"Where exactly were you standing?" I asked.

"By the stove-right there, I think," she sniffled. I stood where she had indicated. I scanned the area- there was a frying pan still on the stove, with pieces of bacon and eggs on it, burned to ashes. I presumed they had been forgotten due to the sudden disappearance of Senator Skald. That confirmed that she was probably being truthful. I looked up, towards the window she had mentioned. I could see the cement path-and the stupid flamingos-very clearly. I returned to the living room.

"Did-does Senator Skald have any enemies?" I asked, reseating myself.

"He does have some political rivals, but-"

"Anyone who'd want to harm him?"

"Well, you could examine his list."

"What list?"

"He made one of all the people he didn't like, or who didn't like him. It was his enemies list. He kept it in his study; I'll go get it."

Hmm, an enemies list.  I rather liked the sound of that.  I don’t have that many enemies, but there are a few people who hate my guts.  With some of them, the feeling’s mutual.  I decided that I would have to write one for myself.  You never know when it might come in handy.


Just in case, I accompanied Mrs. Skald upstairs. I was taking no chances on her destroying evidence, or something like that. But the troll lady didn't seem to have that intention. Either she was innocent, she had a more sinister plot planned, or she was just stupid. Regardless of which it was, Mrs. Skald gave me the list. It was on ordinary paper, written by numerous utensils, proving he'd added to it at different times of life. And, of course, it was in Jotun. But I can read that, so it was no problem. I sealed it in another baggie, which I stowed in another pocket, bid Mrs. Skald goodbye, and left, being sure to stay on the concrete path, and trying to ignore the flamingos, who glared at me as I passed by. I had two more calls to make before I could go home: Doctor Higgins's place, and Galveston, Texas, home of the most securely guarded prison of the monster world.