Chapter Nine
In which we discover the horrible truth, and then I die
Calla showed Xen next; then we all looked at each other.
"I didn't see this coming," I finally said. "Did you?"
Both girls shook their heads. Though, as I thought about it, it began to make more sense. I remembered that when I had been on the Skald property, I had caught a familiar scent in the air, before Jessup’s footprints distracted me. It was only now that I recalled whose smell it had been: Fleming’s (yes, it was Fleming. I congratulate you if you were able to successfully guess that it was him). There was only one logical explanation for why he had been at the crime scene just as it was being committed, and I was staring it in the face.
“So,” asked Calla, “what do we do now?”
“We confront him,” I replied. “We’re not the official police, but we can still capture him and bring him in.”
"Okay."
However, for several moments, we just sat there in silence. We were all a little...hesitant to make the first move. Not that we were scared or anything. It was just that actually confronting this guy made us a tad nervous. In the end, I was the first to get up. And, leaving the evidence there, we exited the forensics room, and went out into the main lobby.
I saw Morty sitting at his desk, typing on his computer, bobbing his head in time with whatever music was playing through his iPod.
"Hi, Tristan," he said, looking up.
"Hey. How're things going?"
"Not too bad. Only a minimal amount of killings, thefts, etc. this week. Xen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good. How's your missing person investigation going, Tristan?”
"I might have a lead. I just need to get help from-" I glanced around the station. "Where's Fleming?"
"He hasn't been in. Apparently he got in an accident of some kind, had to stay home."
I and Xen both tried not to snort. Oh, he’d gotten in an accident, all right. If you called being stabbed with a palette knife by a young woman trying to defend herself against you an accident.
Unconcerned, and apparently not even curious as to why we wanted Fleming, the Reaper began playing solitaire on the computer.
“Thanks,” I said as we went away. He grunted slightly.
Fleming lived on the southeast side of Styxburg, at 666 Shelley Avenue. It would be easiest to get there by flying, but there was the problem of Calla, who couldn't fly, and also that there seemed to be a storm coming; to fly in that kind of weather would be potentially suicidal. So we took the bus. It was a rather long drive, which gave me time to think that maybe we should have gotten police backup, since this guy was obviously dangerous. Well, Morty knew where we were going...then I remembered that he had been playing solitaire. Once he got absorbed in a card game, he had a tendency to temporarily forget anything that had been said to him in the last twenty minutes. It was a bad habit that Ishida had talked to him about several times, and that might have gotten him kicked out of the police force if he weren't so good at what he did. No, we couldn't expect any help from him.
We got off the bus about a block down the street from our destination, just to be safe. Then I pulled out my phone, and made a quick call. I didn't have long to wait.
"Wormwood, what is it?" asked Ishida grumpily.
"I'm pretty sure I'm about to capture a dangerous criminal who has kidnapped at least two people."
"What?! WHO?!" I heard whooshing noises through the receiver that sounded a lot like two flames spurting from the nostrils of an alarmed police chief.
"Well, you're not going to believe this, but it's-"
My phone flew out of my hand, and smashed itself to pieces on the sidewalk. Dang, that was the second one that had been destroyed on the job! I looked at the others in alarm, when my attention was all at once drawn to a small man who had appeared just in front of us, his arm and shoulder wrapped in bandages, but with a splatter gun in his good hand, pointed at me (Note: a splatter gun is a very nasty weapon invented during our version of the Cold War, designed to produce whatever amount of bullets the shooter wants to hit his [just for argument's sake, let's say it's a him] target[s], and upon impact, does a small explosion from inside the body, causing a very nasty, grisly death if the target is alive. The splatter bullets are able to pierce even gargoyle hide, making them particularly dangerous).
"I presume you know what this is, and what it does," sneered Fleming, in a voice that was very different from his typical whiny, prissy tones. "So I hope none of you will try to be a hero. Even if you had such thoughts, my, shall we say, operative is here as well." He gestured with the gun; we turned to see Jessup, eyes glazed, standing behind us, also wielding a splatter gun.
"Unfortunately, my hypnotism is only effective on demons. So I am forced to deal with you in this unsophisticated manner. Please come with us (as if we had any choice). You are just in time to witness my glory!"
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
TANSTAV part 29
Chapter 8 part 3
At about 11 a.m. I woke up. I groggily opened my eyes, and saw Xen setting the table, her back to me. Quietly, I started to get up, and sneak up on tiptoe. Hey, I can never resist that sort of thing. I was about a foot away, when Xen spun around and demanded, "When were you planning on telling me about Calla's other vision?!"
Needless to say, the query caught me slightly off guard. After a moment of nervous hesitation, I asked, "Why'd she tell you?"
"She didn't mean to," she replied. "It happened to be in her thoughts at the exact moment when I accidentally looked her in the eyes." She sighed. "Tristan, why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid to. I didn't want to upset you. And we already had that thing of you being potentially captured on our hands."
"And you didn't think that I'd be upset when I found out?"
"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't. Find out."
"Oh, I would have, one way or another," she said, smiling grimly for a moment. Then, serious again, she took my face in both hands, and forced me to look at her.
"Tristan, don't do that. Don't try to hide the truth from me. That hurts me even worse than if you'd just come forward with it right away. I love you. If something bad's going to happen to you, I want to know about it."
"But what about if I'm trying to hide your birthday presents or something?" I protested, after a moment. Somehow, I'm never able to keep up the seriousness of situations for long. It's a gift and a curse. However, it did the trick. Xen smiled.
"Okay, in that kind of situation, then I give you permission. But only then!"
Then, staring me in the eyes, she demanded, "Promise?"
"Yes, dear."
"Tristan!"
"Yes, I promise. Cross my heart, liver and kidneys, and hope to be smashed if otherwise."
Satisfied, Xen's hands transferred themselves from my face to the back of my neck, as she hugged me.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"From what I saw, her vision sounds pretty bad. She thinks it means you're going to die."
"Hey, her last vision didn't turn out like she thought. Sure, I don't like the sound of it, but I'm not going to let it affect me too much. I hope. Where is Calla, by the way?"
"Hiding in her room. She's scared that you'll be mad at her for accidentally showing me."
I sighed. You'd think after so many weeks in my company, she'd know she had nothing to fear from me. Then again, her life had been pretty screwed up until now, so maybe she couldn't help having a little paranoia.
I went to her door, bearing some of the French toast Xen had made. I knocked: DUM-dum-dum-DUM-dum! After a small, hesitant second, I heard the reply: dum DUM! I opened the door, and held out the French toast; Calla timidly took the plate.
"You're not mad?"
"Nope. It was inevitable."
"I'm sorry I didn't hide it better. I know you didn't want her to worry. She doesn't want you to die."
"Kid, we'll worry about it when it happens. Now, eat. You're about to shrivel up like a broom straw."
Smiling at the impossibility of my simile, she tucked in.
Upon analysis, we at the station discovered that the blood sample on the palette knife was O negative (which means the person could give some to everyone-how sweet!), belonged to a mage, and whoever it belonged to had no prior records, since we couldn't match it with anyone in the files. In short, a whole lot of nothing. Sure, I didn't expect a name and address, but it would be nice if we could get something to go on! It would also be nice if we could get some better forensics people, and could solve world hunger, but we can’t have everything. I paced the lab, racking my brains for answers. Calla and Xen, who had accompanied me, sat at the table where the evidence was placed and watched me silently, though I could tell they wanted to know the answers just as much as I did.
How does this fit together? I asked myself. If Jessup's not the one who kidnapped those people, who did? And what was he doing there, if not kidnapping the senator? And why would someone who could kidnap a senator want a homeless Fonin, anyway? How-
"Something's not right about this." Calla's voice interrupted my thought process. I looked up, and saw that she was holding the surveillance tape, frowning.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"There's something in here," she replied. "It's blocking out part of the tape. If I can just-"
Placing her hand on top of it, she made a pulling motion, sending in part of a spell at the same time-and something came out of the tape, clinging to her hand! It was a clump of magical aura, red and black! Calla pulled, and tugged, until finally, she had a gigantic handful. She scrutinized the tape, which she held in her other hand, and gave a nod of satisfaction.
"There, that's better."
I was temporarily dumbfounded (no comments from any of you wise guys reading this). Then, regaining my composure, I went forward, and scooped Calla up in a bear hug! At first she went stiff with fright, but upon realizing I meant her no harm, she relaxed. Then, setting her down, I snatched up the tape, and hurriedly put it into the player.
This time, a few minutes before 8:30, something definitely happened. Jessup was lying on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly, who should appear in his cell but our old friend, Mr. Shadow. To my surprise, when Jessup looked up and saw the shrouded mage standing there, there was no delight, or even anticipation, on his face. He looked surprised; maybe even a little frightened.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What-"
The shadow man waved one of his cloak sleeves, presumably his hand as well, and the demon was cut short. His eyes were suddenly glazed over, and he got up from the bunk. He slowly walked over to the shadow man, who grabbed him by the wrist. Then they vanished, soundlessly.
For about five minutes, the tape showed an empty cell. Then, finally, both the demon and his captor rematerialized. Jessup still had that glazed-over expression; the shadow made a gesture with his sleeve, and the demon slowly staggered back to his bunk. He sat down, and stared fixedly at the shadow man.
"You will remember nothing," the shadow hissed at him. "You will think you have done nothing but lie there all morning, napping."
Slowly, Jessup nodded. Then he lay down on the bunk, and shut his eyes. The shadow glanced up, and though he was wearing a hood, I could tell he'd seen the camera. He gestured at it, and then vanished. I presumed that was when he'd put the spell into it concealing part of the tape.
Everything was becoming clear to me. Whoever that was must have taken Jessup, and after hypnotizing him, made him step on the grass, in order to set up a blind! Unless, of course, this was another trick by Jessup, to throw me off the track; I wouldn't put it past him. But as I've said before, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. This time, it hadn't looked like he was faking things. I looked at Xen and Calla, and I could tell they saw the renewed determination in my eyes.
"Calla, can you do something else for me?"
"What?"
"Can you touch this knife, see if you can tell who the person is whose blood is on it?"
"I-I'll try."
Reaching out, she picked up the knife, touching one finger into the by-now dried blood, and began to concentrate. She didn't have to concentrate long. Her eyes widened, and she looked me in the eyes, showing me who it was.
I said, "You have got to be kidding me."
At about 11 a.m. I woke up. I groggily opened my eyes, and saw Xen setting the table, her back to me. Quietly, I started to get up, and sneak up on tiptoe. Hey, I can never resist that sort of thing. I was about a foot away, when Xen spun around and demanded, "When were you planning on telling me about Calla's other vision?!"
Needless to say, the query caught me slightly off guard. After a moment of nervous hesitation, I asked, "Why'd she tell you?"
"She didn't mean to," she replied. "It happened to be in her thoughts at the exact moment when I accidentally looked her in the eyes." She sighed. "Tristan, why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid to. I didn't want to upset you. And we already had that thing of you being potentially captured on our hands."
"And you didn't think that I'd be upset when I found out?"
"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't. Find out."
"Oh, I would have, one way or another," she said, smiling grimly for a moment. Then, serious again, she took my face in both hands, and forced me to look at her.
"Tristan, don't do that. Don't try to hide the truth from me. That hurts me even worse than if you'd just come forward with it right away. I love you. If something bad's going to happen to you, I want to know about it."
"But what about if I'm trying to hide your birthday presents or something?" I protested, after a moment. Somehow, I'm never able to keep up the seriousness of situations for long. It's a gift and a curse. However, it did the trick. Xen smiled.
"Okay, in that kind of situation, then I give you permission. But only then!"
Then, staring me in the eyes, she demanded, "Promise?"
"Yes, dear."
"Tristan!"
"Yes, I promise. Cross my heart, liver and kidneys, and hope to be smashed if otherwise."
Satisfied, Xen's hands transferred themselves from my face to the back of my neck, as she hugged me.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"From what I saw, her vision sounds pretty bad. She thinks it means you're going to die."
"Hey, her last vision didn't turn out like she thought. Sure, I don't like the sound of it, but I'm not going to let it affect me too much. I hope. Where is Calla, by the way?"
"Hiding in her room. She's scared that you'll be mad at her for accidentally showing me."
I sighed. You'd think after so many weeks in my company, she'd know she had nothing to fear from me. Then again, her life had been pretty screwed up until now, so maybe she couldn't help having a little paranoia.
I went to her door, bearing some of the French toast Xen had made. I knocked: DUM-dum-dum-DUM-dum! After a small, hesitant second, I heard the reply: dum DUM! I opened the door, and held out the French toast; Calla timidly took the plate.
"You're not mad?"
"Nope. It was inevitable."
"I'm sorry I didn't hide it better. I know you didn't want her to worry. She doesn't want you to die."
"Kid, we'll worry about it when it happens. Now, eat. You're about to shrivel up like a broom straw."
Smiling at the impossibility of my simile, she tucked in.
Upon analysis, we at the station discovered that the blood sample on the palette knife was O negative (which means the person could give some to everyone-how sweet!), belonged to a mage, and whoever it belonged to had no prior records, since we couldn't match it with anyone in the files. In short, a whole lot of nothing. Sure, I didn't expect a name and address, but it would be nice if we could get something to go on! It would also be nice if we could get some better forensics people, and could solve world hunger, but we can’t have everything. I paced the lab, racking my brains for answers. Calla and Xen, who had accompanied me, sat at the table where the evidence was placed and watched me silently, though I could tell they wanted to know the answers just as much as I did.
How does this fit together? I asked myself. If Jessup's not the one who kidnapped those people, who did? And what was he doing there, if not kidnapping the senator? And why would someone who could kidnap a senator want a homeless Fonin, anyway? How-
"Something's not right about this." Calla's voice interrupted my thought process. I looked up, and saw that she was holding the surveillance tape, frowning.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"There's something in here," she replied. "It's blocking out part of the tape. If I can just-"
Placing her hand on top of it, she made a pulling motion, sending in part of a spell at the same time-and something came out of the tape, clinging to her hand! It was a clump of magical aura, red and black! Calla pulled, and tugged, until finally, she had a gigantic handful. She scrutinized the tape, which she held in her other hand, and gave a nod of satisfaction.
"There, that's better."
I was temporarily dumbfounded (no comments from any of you wise guys reading this). Then, regaining my composure, I went forward, and scooped Calla up in a bear hug! At first she went stiff with fright, but upon realizing I meant her no harm, she relaxed. Then, setting her down, I snatched up the tape, and hurriedly put it into the player.
This time, a few minutes before 8:30, something definitely happened. Jessup was lying on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly, who should appear in his cell but our old friend, Mr. Shadow. To my surprise, when Jessup looked up and saw the shrouded mage standing there, there was no delight, or even anticipation, on his face. He looked surprised; maybe even a little frightened.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What-"
The shadow man waved one of his cloak sleeves, presumably his hand as well, and the demon was cut short. His eyes were suddenly glazed over, and he got up from the bunk. He slowly walked over to the shadow man, who grabbed him by the wrist. Then they vanished, soundlessly.
For about five minutes, the tape showed an empty cell. Then, finally, both the demon and his captor rematerialized. Jessup still had that glazed-over expression; the shadow made a gesture with his sleeve, and the demon slowly staggered back to his bunk. He sat down, and stared fixedly at the shadow man.
"You will remember nothing," the shadow hissed at him. "You will think you have done nothing but lie there all morning, napping."
Slowly, Jessup nodded. Then he lay down on the bunk, and shut his eyes. The shadow glanced up, and though he was wearing a hood, I could tell he'd seen the camera. He gestured at it, and then vanished. I presumed that was when he'd put the spell into it concealing part of the tape.
Everything was becoming clear to me. Whoever that was must have taken Jessup, and after hypnotizing him, made him step on the grass, in order to set up a blind! Unless, of course, this was another trick by Jessup, to throw me off the track; I wouldn't put it past him. But as I've said before, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. This time, it hadn't looked like he was faking things. I looked at Xen and Calla, and I could tell they saw the renewed determination in my eyes.
"Calla, can you do something else for me?"
"What?"
"Can you touch this knife, see if you can tell who the person is whose blood is on it?"
"I-I'll try."
Reaching out, she picked up the knife, touching one finger into the by-now dried blood, and began to concentrate. She didn't have to concentrate long. Her eyes widened, and she looked me in the eyes, showing me who it was.
I said, "You have got to be kidding me."
Thursday, October 4, 2012
TANSTAV part 28
Chapter 8 part 2
As could be expected, I decided to go home from work early. I tried to relax, but my heart felt ready to burst from worry. I leaped out the window of my office, and was flying toward my building-when I realized that I had forgotten Calla. It's hard to do an about-face in midair, but somehow I managed it. I saw Calla standing at the window. Our eyes met, and I heard her thoughts say, Go. I'll catch up. Sending a wave of gratitude in reply, I turned back, and zoomed to Xen's apartment window. The blinds were closed; I couldn't see if she was there or not. I banged frantically on the glass, praying she would come. No answer. Hoping she would forgive me for this, I jumped off the ledge, flew backward a bit, and then went full-speed towards the glass.
Once again, CRASH!!
I was starting to make a habit out of smashing through windows. That part of my brain that thinks really weird things at inopportune moments wondered if someone would start paying me for it. Recovering, and brushing glass out of my hair, I leaped to my feet- and saw Xen, spinning around to face me, something in her hand. As soon as she saw who it was, relief covered her visage, and, dropping whatever it was onto the table, she sagged limply against her easel, which was set up nearby. Before I could go to her, the door to her apartment burst open, and in came Calla, gasping for breath. When she saw Xen was still there, she sighed with the same amount of relief as my technically-not-girlfriend was exhibiting.
"You're still here! We're early enough that maybe-"
"Actually, you're late," said Xen calmly. We gaped at her; finally, she said, "The shadow was here, but he didn't get me."
"Why not?"
She gestured wordlessly to the object on the table, which I finally recognized as her palette knife. It was coated in a red, sticky substance that was definitely not paint.
"I told you I'd have it handy. He got away before I could bite him, but not before I'd dealt a few good blows. I'm not about to let myself get kidnapped again."
I finally crossed the room to Xen, and wrapped my arms tightly around her. Now I knew she was scared, possibly in shock, even though she was trying to put up a brave front for my and Calla’s sakes; I could feel her body trembling as she clung to me, and smell her convulsive sweat (which is not as gross as you might think; it reminds me of aloe vera).
"Good for you," I said softly.
"Was it-fatal?" asked Calla, gingerly examining the knife.
"I doubt it. I think I only got the shadow in the shoulder, and the arm. But I can tell you this. It wasn't Jessup."
I pulled back a little, and looked her in the eyes with a frown.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'd have recognized his smell. This smell...it was of a human being, or at least something mostly human. Male mage, I'd say."
I thought about this. It did not connect with the previous information I had collected. Obviously, there was still a missing piece to this puzzle.
"I don't understand," Calla suddenly said.
"What?"
"One of my visions...it didn't come true. They always come true!"
"And yours did," said Xen with a shaky smile.
Calla turned to her.
"But I saw you get kidnapped!"
"No, what you saw was the shadow appearing and grabbing me while I was painting, correct?" Calla nodded. "Your vision just missed the part where I whirled around, knife in hand, and stabbed him. You then automatically jumped to the conclusion that I would let myself be taken easily."
The kid looked down at the floor, her eyes misting a little, and immediately Xen went to her.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that sounded mean. It was an easy conclusion to make. Besides, maybe the fact that you told us made it possible for me to not be captured."
Calla looked a bit hurt still, but smiled tentatively.
That night, Xen stayed at my place, because we'd had to report the illegal entry to the police, and after the cops had searched the apartment for any information, in the unlikely event that I wouldn't be able to find it, she was feeling a little overwhelmed, and didn't want to have to stay there by herself. Besides, I had no intention of letting her out of my sight, now that the shadow had tried to get her. Maybe he would try to get revenge, and even though she'd proven to be capable of handling herself, I wanted to be able to help protect her should the need arise. It was the second time she'd been up almost all day, so she was exhausted. At the same time, however, she was afraid to go to sleep; I could tell. She was lying on the couch, while I tried to make myself comfortable on the floor. But for a long while, I could see the lavender glow of her eyes in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, I said aloud, "Can't sleep, huh?"
"Not really. The memory of what happened keeps playing over and over every time I close my eyes, and I don't-"
She cut herself off; a quiet sob, which she tried and failed to suppress, resounded in her throat. I got up, and gently lifting her out of the way, sat down on the couch. Xen sat up next to me, and leaned into my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her. She cried for a long, long time. I said nothing, just sat and took my turn to be the one offering emotional support. By the time her last bits of hysteria had subsided, that part of my shirt was thoroughly soaked. Noticing, she whispered, scrubbing at her eyes, "Sorry about your shirt."
"It doesn't matter," I replied. I took her face in my hands, and kissed each tear away. Finally, I kissed her mouth (which had a slight flavor of salt). That definitely seemed to help.
Xen fell asleep with her head in my lap, and soon after, I dozed off too.
As could be expected, I decided to go home from work early. I tried to relax, but my heart felt ready to burst from worry. I leaped out the window of my office, and was flying toward my building-when I realized that I had forgotten Calla. It's hard to do an about-face in midair, but somehow I managed it. I saw Calla standing at the window. Our eyes met, and I heard her thoughts say, Go. I'll catch up. Sending a wave of gratitude in reply, I turned back, and zoomed to Xen's apartment window. The blinds were closed; I couldn't see if she was there or not. I banged frantically on the glass, praying she would come. No answer. Hoping she would forgive me for this, I jumped off the ledge, flew backward a bit, and then went full-speed towards the glass.
Once again, CRASH!!
I was starting to make a habit out of smashing through windows. That part of my brain that thinks really weird things at inopportune moments wondered if someone would start paying me for it. Recovering, and brushing glass out of my hair, I leaped to my feet- and saw Xen, spinning around to face me, something in her hand. As soon as she saw who it was, relief covered her visage, and, dropping whatever it was onto the table, she sagged limply against her easel, which was set up nearby. Before I could go to her, the door to her apartment burst open, and in came Calla, gasping for breath. When she saw Xen was still there, she sighed with the same amount of relief as my technically-not-girlfriend was exhibiting.
"You're still here! We're early enough that maybe-"
"Actually, you're late," said Xen calmly. We gaped at her; finally, she said, "The shadow was here, but he didn't get me."
"Why not?"
She gestured wordlessly to the object on the table, which I finally recognized as her palette knife. It was coated in a red, sticky substance that was definitely not paint.
"I told you I'd have it handy. He got away before I could bite him, but not before I'd dealt a few good blows. I'm not about to let myself get kidnapped again."
I finally crossed the room to Xen, and wrapped my arms tightly around her. Now I knew she was scared, possibly in shock, even though she was trying to put up a brave front for my and Calla’s sakes; I could feel her body trembling as she clung to me, and smell her convulsive sweat (which is not as gross as you might think; it reminds me of aloe vera).
"Good for you," I said softly.
"Was it-fatal?" asked Calla, gingerly examining the knife.
"I doubt it. I think I only got the shadow in the shoulder, and the arm. But I can tell you this. It wasn't Jessup."
I pulled back a little, and looked her in the eyes with a frown.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'd have recognized his smell. This smell...it was of a human being, or at least something mostly human. Male mage, I'd say."
I thought about this. It did not connect with the previous information I had collected. Obviously, there was still a missing piece to this puzzle.
"I don't understand," Calla suddenly said.
"What?"
"One of my visions...it didn't come true. They always come true!"
"And yours did," said Xen with a shaky smile.
Calla turned to her.
"But I saw you get kidnapped!"
"No, what you saw was the shadow appearing and grabbing me while I was painting, correct?" Calla nodded. "Your vision just missed the part where I whirled around, knife in hand, and stabbed him. You then automatically jumped to the conclusion that I would let myself be taken easily."
The kid looked down at the floor, her eyes misting a little, and immediately Xen went to her.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that sounded mean. It was an easy conclusion to make. Besides, maybe the fact that you told us made it possible for me to not be captured."
Calla looked a bit hurt still, but smiled tentatively.
That night, Xen stayed at my place, because we'd had to report the illegal entry to the police, and after the cops had searched the apartment for any information, in the unlikely event that I wouldn't be able to find it, she was feeling a little overwhelmed, and didn't want to have to stay there by herself. Besides, I had no intention of letting her out of my sight, now that the shadow had tried to get her. Maybe he would try to get revenge, and even though she'd proven to be capable of handling herself, I wanted to be able to help protect her should the need arise. It was the second time she'd been up almost all day, so she was exhausted. At the same time, however, she was afraid to go to sleep; I could tell. She was lying on the couch, while I tried to make myself comfortable on the floor. But for a long while, I could see the lavender glow of her eyes in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, I said aloud, "Can't sleep, huh?"
"Not really. The memory of what happened keeps playing over and over every time I close my eyes, and I don't-"
She cut herself off; a quiet sob, which she tried and failed to suppress, resounded in her throat. I got up, and gently lifting her out of the way, sat down on the couch. Xen sat up next to me, and leaned into my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her. She cried for a long, long time. I said nothing, just sat and took my turn to be the one offering emotional support. By the time her last bits of hysteria had subsided, that part of my shirt was thoroughly soaked. Noticing, she whispered, scrubbing at her eyes, "Sorry about your shirt."
"It doesn't matter," I replied. I took her face in my hands, and kissed each tear away. Finally, I kissed her mouth (which had a slight flavor of salt). That definitely seemed to help.
Xen fell asleep with her head in my lap, and soon after, I dozed off too.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
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.
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 26
Chapter Seven part 3
We interrupt this program to bring you a special expose on demons.
Demons are often typecast as some of the scummiest monsters in the world. Mostly they resemble humans, but with some kind of animalistic deformity, such as fangs, scales, animal feet, etc. They are somewhat related to devils, but we're not sure how. Demons have bodies. Devils don't.
Most demons get jobs of power in the monster world, such as becoming politicians, lawyers, soldiers, drug dealers, and other occupations created for the inconvenience of monster and humankind. They seem to get a sadistic pleasure out of torturing others through a plethora of methods, from interrogations to paperwork. Unfortunately, over the years humans have picked up some of their methods (probably thanks to the influence of devils, who can whisper in your ear when you least expect it), and have been using them to plague themselves and others.
Interestingly enough, Asian demons are a lot less inclined towards wickedness than European, North or South American, and Australian demons (there are no demons that we know of at either of the Poles or Canada). They have their own codes of honor, and up until the nineteenth century, some of them would even punish themselves for disgracing their families by disembowelment with their own claws. Some Asian demons have been known to marry humans, and produce half-demon children. The children usually follow the same sort of honor code as their demon parents, and will try to go through life in such a way that they will be able to keep that code, and enforce it on everyone else (such as being a police chief, or similar authority figure).
Imps are a minor form of demon. Less evil, but very bureaucratic and obsessed with literal compliance with rules (though not insusceptible to bribery, thankfully). Typically they are small and black, with beady eyes, warts, fangs, stuff like that. Another name for them is goblins. They love shiny objects, and so will sometimes get jobs as bankers. However, their efficiency and red tape obsession allows them to fit into almost any job.
Not all demons are evil, any more than all fae are good. Regardless, their history and genetic traits have led to that reputation, and many of them follow it to the letter.
And now, back to our program.
We interrupt this program to bring you a special expose on demons.
Demons are often typecast as some of the scummiest monsters in the world. Mostly they resemble humans, but with some kind of animalistic deformity, such as fangs, scales, animal feet, etc. They are somewhat related to devils, but we're not sure how. Demons have bodies. Devils don't.
Most demons get jobs of power in the monster world, such as becoming politicians, lawyers, soldiers, drug dealers, and other occupations created for the inconvenience of monster and humankind. They seem to get a sadistic pleasure out of torturing others through a plethora of methods, from interrogations to paperwork. Unfortunately, over the years humans have picked up some of their methods (probably thanks to the influence of devils, who can whisper in your ear when you least expect it), and have been using them to plague themselves and others.
Interestingly enough, Asian demons are a lot less inclined towards wickedness than European, North or South American, and Australian demons (there are no demons that we know of at either of the Poles or Canada). They have their own codes of honor, and up until the nineteenth century, some of them would even punish themselves for disgracing their families by disembowelment with their own claws. Some Asian demons have been known to marry humans, and produce half-demon children. The children usually follow the same sort of honor code as their demon parents, and will try to go through life in such a way that they will be able to keep that code, and enforce it on everyone else (such as being a police chief, or similar authority figure).
Imps are a minor form of demon. Less evil, but very bureaucratic and obsessed with literal compliance with rules (though not insusceptible to bribery, thankfully). Typically they are small and black, with beady eyes, warts, fangs, stuff like that. Another name for them is goblins. They love shiny objects, and so will sometimes get jobs as bankers. However, their efficiency and red tape obsession allows them to fit into almost any job.
Not all demons are evil, any more than all fae are good. Regardless, their history and genetic traits have led to that reputation, and many of them follow it to the letter.
And now, back to our program.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
TANSTAV part 25
Chapter Seven part 2
Calla's eyes grew to nearly the size of wagon wheels; for a moment, she was speechless.
"You don't have to answer just yet," I assured her. "Think about it for a while."
"What would I need to do?" she squeaked.
"You'd help me in my investigations."
"Like Dr. Watson?"
"Not exactly. I can write my own memoirs. But you could go ask people questions for me, visit crime scenes, pretty much the same stuff I do. People are more likely to talk freely to a harmless-looking girl than a big, scary gargoyle."
Calla half snorted, another large step for her.
"You're not that scary."
Suddenly, I spread out my wings to full length; standing up to my full height, I bared my fangs, exposed my claws, lunged forward slightly, and roared, "OH, YEAH?!"
The girl screamed in fright, and flung her arms up in front of her. Without warning, I felt something slam into me, knocking me backward into the wall!
For a few minutes, all I could do was lie there and try to get my breath back. I managed to lift my head up and look at Calla. She was huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around her chest, rocking back and forth. Finally, she looked over in my direction. Seeing that I was staring back, she uncurled from the fetal position, and crawled forward.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. "Please don't be hurt."
"I'm fine, just a little winded," I replied, managing to pull myself up.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I forgot."
"But I should have had more self-control!"
"Kid, you've been through an incredibly traumatic experience. I'm not surprised that you're a little shell-shocked."
"But Doctor Higgins has been treating me! He was supposed to get me all better!" She looked down helplessly.
"Patience, kid. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."
"What's Rome got to do with it?" Calla muttered. However, she smiled a little, so I knew things were okay for now.
I avoided mentioning the previous conversation for a few days. No sense opening old wounds, and it might be good to let her think it over. So it surprised me when, on April 13, Calla asked, "Do you still want me to be your assistant?"
"Only if you want to," I replied.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind. I mean, you can't be everywhere at once, and it might be nice for you to have an assistant-"
"Calla," I interrupted, "what would you like to do? Quit worrying about what I want."
"I-I'll do it, if you like."
"But what do you, personally, want?"
"...I want to make you happy."
I gave a small sigh of amused exasperation. Blushing, Calla finally stammered, "I think I would enjoy being your assistant."
"Good. That's all you had to say, kid."
The next day, I took Calla with me to the office. In order to get her started, I had her read over the facts of the case, while I sorted through old files, and organized my desk. Occasionally she would ask me questions, but for the most part we both worked in silence. It was nice to have someone with a fresh view of things there; maybe it would help me find some extra clues. Suddenly, in a remarkable display of good timing, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I called, with a feeling of deja vu.
In came Greenbriar, followed by an imp, a Fonin woman, and two mouse men, all of whom looked exceedingly nervous. Greenbriar glanced curiously at Calla, who looked up when they entered, then quickly back at the papers on her desk.
"This is Calla Gardiner, my assistant," I announced. "Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of her. Calla, this is Morgan Greenbriar, head of H.N.M, and..."
"The eyewitnesses. Jared, Grace, Timothy, and Nigel," she said, indicating each of them in turn.
The two of us exchanged pleasantries, while the foursome clustered together in a huddle, eyes darting in all directions. To make them feel better, I got up from my desk, crossed the room and closed the door.
"That won't work," Timothy muttered. "The shadow sees all, knows all. We'll be next, I know it!" His whiskers trembled in fear, and he was absentmindedly tying knots in his tail.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I declared. "Now, I'm going to need statements from all of you about what you saw. Calla, would you mind?"
Nodding in understanding, she touched a spell we’d purchased earlier that would record things other people said. It turned green, indicating that it was on.
They all said pretty much the same thing-during lunchtime at the center, they had been heading for their usual eating corners, when they saw a dark form appear out of nowhere (soundlessly), grab Whitechapel, and disappear just as soundlessly. The only real variation was that Grace had been going to join Mr. Whitechapel; apparently, he was her boyfriend, making her the most distraught out of the whole group.
"You've got to find Clarence, Mr. Wormwood," she pleaded, "You've just got to!"
"I shall certainly do my best," I promised.
"See?" said Greenbriar as they were leaving, "I told you it would be all right!"
"Only now we can expect repercussions from the shadow," moaned Timothy, apparently the self-declared nay-sayer and prophet of doom. I hoped he would be proven wrong.
Calla's eyes grew to nearly the size of wagon wheels; for a moment, she was speechless.
"You don't have to answer just yet," I assured her. "Think about it for a while."
"What would I need to do?" she squeaked.
"You'd help me in my investigations."
"Like Dr. Watson?"
"Not exactly. I can write my own memoirs. But you could go ask people questions for me, visit crime scenes, pretty much the same stuff I do. People are more likely to talk freely to a harmless-looking girl than a big, scary gargoyle."
Calla half snorted, another large step for her.
"You're not that scary."
Suddenly, I spread out my wings to full length; standing up to my full height, I bared my fangs, exposed my claws, lunged forward slightly, and roared, "OH, YEAH?!"
The girl screamed in fright, and flung her arms up in front of her. Without warning, I felt something slam into me, knocking me backward into the wall!
For a few minutes, all I could do was lie there and try to get my breath back. I managed to lift my head up and look at Calla. She was huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around her chest, rocking back and forth. Finally, she looked over in my direction. Seeing that I was staring back, she uncurled from the fetal position, and crawled forward.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. "Please don't be hurt."
"I'm fine, just a little winded," I replied, managing to pull myself up.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I forgot."
"But I should have had more self-control!"
"Kid, you've been through an incredibly traumatic experience. I'm not surprised that you're a little shell-shocked."
"But Doctor Higgins has been treating me! He was supposed to get me all better!" She looked down helplessly.
"Patience, kid. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."
"What's Rome got to do with it?" Calla muttered. However, she smiled a little, so I knew things were okay for now.
I avoided mentioning the previous conversation for a few days. No sense opening old wounds, and it might be good to let her think it over. So it surprised me when, on April 13, Calla asked, "Do you still want me to be your assistant?"
"Only if you want to," I replied.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind. I mean, you can't be everywhere at once, and it might be nice for you to have an assistant-"
"Calla," I interrupted, "what would you like to do? Quit worrying about what I want."
"I-I'll do it, if you like."
"But what do you, personally, want?"
"...I want to make you happy."
I gave a small sigh of amused exasperation. Blushing, Calla finally stammered, "I think I would enjoy being your assistant."
"Good. That's all you had to say, kid."
The next day, I took Calla with me to the office. In order to get her started, I had her read over the facts of the case, while I sorted through old files, and organized my desk. Occasionally she would ask me questions, but for the most part we both worked in silence. It was nice to have someone with a fresh view of things there; maybe it would help me find some extra clues. Suddenly, in a remarkable display of good timing, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I called, with a feeling of deja vu.
In came Greenbriar, followed by an imp, a Fonin woman, and two mouse men, all of whom looked exceedingly nervous. Greenbriar glanced curiously at Calla, who looked up when they entered, then quickly back at the papers on her desk.
"This is Calla Gardiner, my assistant," I announced. "Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of her. Calla, this is Morgan Greenbriar, head of H.N.M, and..."
"The eyewitnesses. Jared, Grace, Timothy, and Nigel," she said, indicating each of them in turn.
The two of us exchanged pleasantries, while the foursome clustered together in a huddle, eyes darting in all directions. To make them feel better, I got up from my desk, crossed the room and closed the door.
"That won't work," Timothy muttered. "The shadow sees all, knows all. We'll be next, I know it!" His whiskers trembled in fear, and he was absentmindedly tying knots in his tail.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I declared. "Now, I'm going to need statements from all of you about what you saw. Calla, would you mind?"
Nodding in understanding, she touched a spell we’d purchased earlier that would record things other people said. It turned green, indicating that it was on.
They all said pretty much the same thing-during lunchtime at the center, they had been heading for their usual eating corners, when they saw a dark form appear out of nowhere (soundlessly), grab Whitechapel, and disappear just as soundlessly. The only real variation was that Grace had been going to join Mr. Whitechapel; apparently, he was her boyfriend, making her the most distraught out of the whole group.
"You've got to find Clarence, Mr. Wormwood," she pleaded, "You've just got to!"
"I shall certainly do my best," I promised.
"See?" said Greenbriar as they were leaving, "I told you it would be all right!"
"Only now we can expect repercussions from the shadow," moaned Timothy, apparently the self-declared nay-sayer and prophet of doom. I hoped he would be proven wrong.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
TANSTAV part 24
Chapter Seven
In the interests of all parties concerned, I make a proposition
The vanished monster in question was a Fonin, by the name of Clarence Whitechapel. Age 23, brunette, 5'6", 125 pounds, with wings like a golden eagle. No prior records, no real status in the world, nothing to distinguish him. Since Senator Skald was 55 years old, rather gray, 8’4", and over 300 pounds, there seemed to be no connection, besides their both having golden-orange eyes, and how much of a connection could that be? I asked, "Did anyone at your center see anything? Any clues?"
"A few people did say they saw something, but it sounds crazy."
"What was it? This could be important."
Greenbriar looked slightly embarrassed, but she said, "They claim that Mr. Whitechapel was sitting in his usual corner, eating lunch, when they saw-saw a black, shadowy figure appear, and grab him by the shoulder. Then they both vanished."
"Huh." That didn't sound too crazy to me. What it sounded like was some kind of teleporter, with a tendency towards clichés.
"What type of shadow? Like a Reaper?"
"No, not exactly. It was wearing a hooded cloak, but they said, in the brief glimpse they caught of it, that it looked more substantial than a Reaper, less billowy."
"May I meet these people, and hear it from them?"
"Well, Mr. Wormwood, the fact is, they're afraid that if they come forward, the shadow will come after them next." Her pale face had chagrin written all over it.
"That's not an unreasonable fear," I said. She looked surprised. "Well, since it obviously has the ability to appear out of nowhere and steal people, whatever it is, I'd say their fear is justified. However, tell these anonymous tippers that if they will tell me exactly what happened, I might be able to capture and subdue it." Greenbriar nodded.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Wormwood. I shall let you know in a week or so if I have made any progress in convincing them." With that, she got up and left, closing the door behind her.
When I returned home, I noticed that the light was on (I quickly slipped on my shaded glasses, in order to protect my corneas), and that Calla was examining the portrait hung over the sofa.
"Is this your-" she began to ask.
"Yes, that's my family," I interrupted. She turned her head in my direction, with a raised eyebrow. I gathered it was due to the fact that my use of the phrase 'that's my family' was in almost the same tone of voice I would use to say 'that's a pile of rotten, maggoty horse flesh.'
I moseyed over, and she turned back to the picture. It showed the drawing room of my house back in Tarascogne, Massachusetts (a monster suburb of Boston). It had two blue velvet curtains hanging from the wall, and a blue-and-gray marbled floor. Standing before the curtains were my parents, my siblings and I.
"What are their names?"
"These two," I jabbed a claw at the two young female gargoyles on the far left, "are my sisters. Jeannette and Florence."
Jeannette was wearing a pale lavender kimono with blue flowers. Her black hair, which she got from Mom, was hanging loosely down over her shoulders. Florence, standing on her left, had on a knee-length black dress with a golden belt. A diamond ring sparkled on her left hand, signifying the fact that she had just become engaged to Dominic Valdez, one of the richest gargoyle diplomats in Spain.
Next to them, as I indicated to Calla, was Mom. She wore a blue gown, and held my youngest brother, Ned, in her arms. By some strange genetic quirk, Ned had acquired small black curls (which neither of my parents had), and they, coupled with his gray fur, fangs, bat-like wings, and tail, gave him the appearance of a very strange demonic cherub. To the left of Mom were my younger brother Elijah, my older brother Arthur, and, behind both of them, with one hand clapped possessively on Arthur's shoulder, was dear old Dad. I involuntarily clenched my jaw at the sight of him. There he stood, looking self-important and in control, with confidence that he was the master, and we merely his puppets, to jump when he pulled the strings. And, of course, on the far right of the picture lurked a rebellious sixteen-year-old, scruffy and unkempt when compared to the others, red eyes set in a fierce glare. That's right, me. In an attempt to shame me for my facial expression, Dad had the painting set up in my room after its completion. And for some reason, when I finally left home, I had taken it with me. I guess it was to make his plan backfire.
"You're the only boy who isn't clean-shaven," Calla remarked.
"I like being a little scruffy," I replied.
"How long ago was this taken?”
"Four years."
"You weren't very tall, then-oh!" As soon as Calla realized what she'd said, she clapped a hand to her mouth, and turned scarlet. Her eyes slid fearfully in my direction. I merely chuckled.
"It's okay, kid. I was a little slow to reach my growth spurt. Good observation."
Taking her hand from her mouth, she smiled shyly. Calla turned her head back to the picture, and said after a moment, "You know, without your goatee, you would probably look a lot like your father."
"Don't remind me," I grumbled.
"Why not?"
"It's... complicated."
"Okay."
I appreciated the fact that she didn't try to grill me for information. However, her curiosity appealed to me.
Suddenly, Calla threw me completely off-guard by asking, in hesitant tones, "Tristan, why don't you and Xen get married?"
"Wha-how-why-" I stumbled, sounding like an idiot, and being fully aware of that fact.
"Well, you love her. And I can tell she loves you." She began to look alarmed. "Have I asked you a question I shouldn't have?"
"No, no, it's fine! I just wasn't used to your being that direct."
"I've been curious for a long time. Sorry, that was too-"
"Calla, there is no harm in asking me questions like that. I'm not going to hurt you for being curious." I sighed. Finally, I said, "We want to. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. But I’m waiting to ask her at least until after October."
"What happens then?"
"She turns 20. That seems a more acceptable age for her to get married at." Granted, it would still be pretty young, but I already knew she was the one for me, so there seemed to be little need to wait.
"Oh."
There was a slightly awkward silence. Then I cleared my throat.
"Calla, how would you like to become my assistant?"
In the interests of all parties concerned, I make a proposition
The vanished monster in question was a Fonin, by the name of Clarence Whitechapel. Age 23, brunette, 5'6", 125 pounds, with wings like a golden eagle. No prior records, no real status in the world, nothing to distinguish him. Since Senator Skald was 55 years old, rather gray, 8’4", and over 300 pounds, there seemed to be no connection, besides their both having golden-orange eyes, and how much of a connection could that be? I asked, "Did anyone at your center see anything? Any clues?"
"A few people did say they saw something, but it sounds crazy."
"What was it? This could be important."
Greenbriar looked slightly embarrassed, but she said, "They claim that Mr. Whitechapel was sitting in his usual corner, eating lunch, when they saw-saw a black, shadowy figure appear, and grab him by the shoulder. Then they both vanished."
"Huh." That didn't sound too crazy to me. What it sounded like was some kind of teleporter, with a tendency towards clichés.
"What type of shadow? Like a Reaper?"
"No, not exactly. It was wearing a hooded cloak, but they said, in the brief glimpse they caught of it, that it looked more substantial than a Reaper, less billowy."
"May I meet these people, and hear it from them?"
"Well, Mr. Wormwood, the fact is, they're afraid that if they come forward, the shadow will come after them next." Her pale face had chagrin written all over it.
"That's not an unreasonable fear," I said. She looked surprised. "Well, since it obviously has the ability to appear out of nowhere and steal people, whatever it is, I'd say their fear is justified. However, tell these anonymous tippers that if they will tell me exactly what happened, I might be able to capture and subdue it." Greenbriar nodded.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Wormwood. I shall let you know in a week or so if I have made any progress in convincing them." With that, she got up and left, closing the door behind her.
When I returned home, I noticed that the light was on (I quickly slipped on my shaded glasses, in order to protect my corneas), and that Calla was examining the portrait hung over the sofa.
"Is this your-" she began to ask.
"Yes, that's my family," I interrupted. She turned her head in my direction, with a raised eyebrow. I gathered it was due to the fact that my use of the phrase 'that's my family' was in almost the same tone of voice I would use to say 'that's a pile of rotten, maggoty horse flesh.'
I moseyed over, and she turned back to the picture. It showed the drawing room of my house back in Tarascogne, Massachusetts (a monster suburb of Boston). It had two blue velvet curtains hanging from the wall, and a blue-and-gray marbled floor. Standing before the curtains were my parents, my siblings and I.
"What are their names?"
"These two," I jabbed a claw at the two young female gargoyles on the far left, "are my sisters. Jeannette and Florence."
Jeannette was wearing a pale lavender kimono with blue flowers. Her black hair, which she got from Mom, was hanging loosely down over her shoulders. Florence, standing on her left, had on a knee-length black dress with a golden belt. A diamond ring sparkled on her left hand, signifying the fact that she had just become engaged to Dominic Valdez, one of the richest gargoyle diplomats in Spain.
Next to them, as I indicated to Calla, was Mom. She wore a blue gown, and held my youngest brother, Ned, in her arms. By some strange genetic quirk, Ned had acquired small black curls (which neither of my parents had), and they, coupled with his gray fur, fangs, bat-like wings, and tail, gave him the appearance of a very strange demonic cherub. To the left of Mom were my younger brother Elijah, my older brother Arthur, and, behind both of them, with one hand clapped possessively on Arthur's shoulder, was dear old Dad. I involuntarily clenched my jaw at the sight of him. There he stood, looking self-important and in control, with confidence that he was the master, and we merely his puppets, to jump when he pulled the strings. And, of course, on the far right of the picture lurked a rebellious sixteen-year-old, scruffy and unkempt when compared to the others, red eyes set in a fierce glare. That's right, me. In an attempt to shame me for my facial expression, Dad had the painting set up in my room after its completion. And for some reason, when I finally left home, I had taken it with me. I guess it was to make his plan backfire.
"You're the only boy who isn't clean-shaven," Calla remarked.
"I like being a little scruffy," I replied.
"How long ago was this taken?”
"Four years."
"You weren't very tall, then-oh!" As soon as Calla realized what she'd said, she clapped a hand to her mouth, and turned scarlet. Her eyes slid fearfully in my direction. I merely chuckled.
"It's okay, kid. I was a little slow to reach my growth spurt. Good observation."
Taking her hand from her mouth, she smiled shyly. Calla turned her head back to the picture, and said after a moment, "You know, without your goatee, you would probably look a lot like your father."
"Don't remind me," I grumbled.
"Why not?"
"It's... complicated."
"Okay."
I appreciated the fact that she didn't try to grill me for information. However, her curiosity appealed to me.
Suddenly, Calla threw me completely off-guard by asking, in hesitant tones, "Tristan, why don't you and Xen get married?"
"Wha-how-why-" I stumbled, sounding like an idiot, and being fully aware of that fact.
"Well, you love her. And I can tell she loves you." She began to look alarmed. "Have I asked you a question I shouldn't have?"
"No, no, it's fine! I just wasn't used to your being that direct."
"I've been curious for a long time. Sorry, that was too-"
"Calla, there is no harm in asking me questions like that. I'm not going to hurt you for being curious." I sighed. Finally, I said, "We want to. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. But I’m waiting to ask her at least until after October."
"What happens then?"
"She turns 20. That seems a more acceptable age for her to get married at." Granted, it would still be pretty young, but I already knew she was the one for me, so there seemed to be little need to wait.
"Oh."
There was a slightly awkward silence. Then I cleared my throat.
"Calla, how would you like to become my assistant?"
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