by R L Delaney
"And you trust the word of an imprisoned criminal?"
Harrison blinked. "Of course not…" He hesitated, and then asked, "If you didn't know him, how did you know he was in prison? I never said he was."
Stana's fingers stiffened. "Are you doubting me?"
"No-no," Harrison answered, while waving his left hand in an apologetic manner. "Of course not. I was just asking."
"But if you want to know," Stana said with a cold undertone, "I read in the Dewsbury Clarion about a Shadow Walker being locked up," Stana explained. "I figured it was the same person."
Harrison nodded. That sounded fair enough.
"You see," Stana continued, "I know very little about my husband's time in the Shadow Walkers. He kept the details far from my bed," she chuckled. "There's a lot I don't know." As she spoke, she let her fingers slide under the collar of Harrison's shirt. The warmth of the direct physical contact caused another wave of excitement in Harrison's body. "You are so tense, Harry," she continued. "Take off your shirt."
"My shirt?"
"Of course," Stana replied with a frustrated sigh as she pulled her fingers out from under Harrison's shirt. "I can't give you a proper massage like this."
"But uh..." Harrison blushed and clearly did not know how to handle the situation. "What about the neighbors?"
Stana broke out laughing, revealing a row of nicely formed teeth. "Come on, Detective… I am just giving you a massage." She pulled out a small flask from her pocket that she dangled coyly in front of Harrison's eyes. "Look, Harry… This is a bit of heaven."
"W-What is it?" Harrison stammered.
Stana laughed some more, clearly enjoying her play with the muscled detective. But then her voice took on a more serious tone, as she apparently understood Harrison's fears. "Don't worry, Harry." She leaned forward and whispered, "It's not Desastrotrax, or whatever you call that stuff the Shadow Walkers were using. This is Jasmine Absolute Oil. This oil possesses a sensual fragrance like no other flower can give. It's not cheap, but I am willing to use some of it on the downcast shoulders of my most favorite detective." She took the little cork off the flask and stuck it under Harrison's nose.
Stana had not exaggerated. The delightful, sweet aroma with a subtle hint of spice pulled on his senses and held the promise of an unknown world of beauty and perfection.
"Lay on the couch, Detective," Stana spoke in a gentle voice, "and let me introduce you to the rapturous world of Jasmine oil."
When Stana left some time later, leaving Harrison refreshed, rejuvenated and enraptured, he was not sure how to tell Justin and Amy, but one thing was absolutely certain: He would go and find that key for Stana Growklowsky. He would help that lovely damsel in distress, and who knows maybe, just maybe, one day Stana would be called Mrs. Growklowsky-Ames. This woman was not only giving him hope and vision, but from the moment she had walked into his office, something had been stirring deep within. It was a feeling he could not properly describe, but it was something he had not felt since his high-school days on that glorious night when he had kissed Donna Heinemann behind the wood shack of her parents’ house.
Of course, nothing had come from that youthful fling. Donna had run off with Jean François Debouilly, a crossed-eyed weirdo whose father was a rich banker in Canada, but Harrison had never forgotten the blissful feelings of love, laughter and hope while dating brown-eyed Donna. But what he now felt for Stana did not even compare. This was so much better. This was the real thing, and he was going to give it his all.
Sure, Justin would not agree and Amy would try to convince him that the key of Cipher Flux was dangerous… but hey, whose life was this anyway? And what did these young people know about love. They had barely graduated from high-school, and Stana had assured him the whole story was a dreadful lie, concocted by paranoid people of the far-flung past. No, Stana Growklowsky was a winner if he ever saw one, and he, Harrison Ames, was hitting the bull's eye.
When the bell to Uncle Harry's office rang, the detective jumped up from his seat and rushed to the door. Justin glanced at Amy, who was just taking a sip of her Blue Sky creamy root beer, and without saying the words, his message to Amy was clear. "Let's see who this Stana Growklowsky is."
Enthusiastic squeals of delight came through the half-closed door and Justin could hear his uncle say in a warm voice, "Let me take your coat, Stana, you look smashing today."
"Thank you, Harry," came the reply. Upon hearing the woman's chirpy warble, Justin already knew he wasn't going to like this person. Seconds later the door the Uncle Harry's office swung open.
"Justin… Amy… Meet Miss Stana Growklowsky." Uncle Harry was beaming from ear to ear as he introduced a slender woman in a red, rather frivolous dress that revealed just enough to make a man stick out his neck, but was still so fashionable that it would not give off the wrong signals.
She smiled, a shallow, plastic smile, but Justin had to admit that this woman was in a class all by herself as far as beauty was concerned. She wasn't too tall, and not too short either, and he realized now, after seeing Miss Growklowsky, he knew what the perfect height of a woman really was. Of all the ridiculous things.
Her blue eyes sparkled, but somehow it wasn't from enthusiasm, warmth or joy. There was something ominous and dark about these eyes, although Justin couldn't explain what it was. Golden hair, neatly stuck up in a classical ballet bun, bright red lips and that fake smile… Justin shuddered. As she approached with a confident stride that told the world she was indeed beautiful, she moved her hips ever so softly, which gave the impression she was gliding into the room, rather than walking.
"Justin Ames… Amy Stenson," she bleated. "I've heard so much about the two of you from your dear Uncle." As she said the word 'uncle,' she turned and patted Uncle Harry with her left hand softly on his cheek.
Justin's eyes widened as he stared at the woman before him. Sure, these shiny eyes were spellbinding, but they were cruel and witchy. Sure, her skin was as soft as the skin of a peach, and the scent that emanated from her tantalizing body would no doubt be able to open doors to visions of flower strewn fields full of galloping lambs and humming honey bees, but underneath Justin could see a staggering darkness. And then, as it had before when he had seen Sternfoot transform before his very eyes, Stana Growklowsky morphed into something else as well.
There before him stood a catlike creature with dripping fangs and claws that were trained to rip and maim its victims. Instantly, Justin knew the Elixir was at work, and as he quickly glanced at Amy, he knew she felt the same way.
Instead of beauty, he saw a stained, diseased and twisted soul that pulsated with evil and radiated the stench of hell. This woman could not be allowed to hang around Uncle Harry. She was as wicked as Sternfoot.
He closed his eyes for a moment and wondered what he should do. The words of Brother Perpetiël came to him. Never do anything rashly. Let the Elixir guide you. Only the Spirit of the King of Heaven knows when to act.
When he opened his eyes again he blinked. Everything was back to normal. He could no longer look into Stana’s spirit. As she stood before him and extended her hand all he could see again was a beautiful woman that wanted to shake his hand. He hesitated. After all he had just seen he did not feel like taking her hand.
"Justin?" Uncle Harry demanded. "Something the matter?"
"No, Uncle." He took her hand in his. “My name is Justin Ames, Ma’am. I am Harry’s nephew.”
She cast Justin a curious stare as she held his hand in hers, lots longer than he wanted. “Harry told me about your heroic deeds when you destroyed those horrible Shadow Walkers.” She turned to Amy and shook her hand as well.
“My… what a beautiful young lady you are, Amy Stenson,” she chirped. “I bet Justin is a happy young man.”
Justin tried to hide his scowl. Only act when you feel the nudge. He felt a lot more than a nudge.
After the greetings, Stana lowered herself into the seat that Uncle Harry had prepared and cleared her throat. “
Justin and Amy… I came to ask you personally if you would be willing to help me." Her demeanor changed somewhat, although she did manage to keep that smile pasted around her red lips. “Harry told me you are afraid to look for the key of Cipher Flux. I heard…” she thought for a moment, looking for the right words, “… you both mistakenly think it’s too dangerous, am I correct?”
Justin glared at her and as he stared into Stana's eyes he could sense her hardened spirits. "Why are we having this conversation? We heard that the key of Cipher Flux should stay right where it is. My Uncle was there too when we discussed the matter with Alfred Rodeo."
"But he is a liar," Stana Growklowsky fired back. "How can you trust a Shadow Walker in prison?"
"A former Shadow Walker, Miss Growklowsky," Amy interjected.
Stana flashed Amy an angry stare.
Justin had seen more than enough. Whatever this woman’s intentions were didn't matter. She was bad news. She seemed to fit right in with Sternfoot, Rigby and the whole miserable bunch. She was a Shadow Walker herself.
At that instant Amy began to speak. Sweet precious Amy felt the same way. The Elixir was at work.
“Are you part of the Shadow Walkers, Miss Growklowsky?” Her clear voice cut through the room as a razor sharp knife dividing a steaming, fresh pizza.
“W-What?” Uncle Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Amy… what has gotten into you? Please speak with a bit more respect to Miss Growklowsky… ”
“It’s all right, Harry,” Stana said as she motioned, with her hand, for Harry to stay calm. “It’s a normal question from a young girl. After all, I was married to Alvaro Ironbark, so it’s not strange she fears the connection.” She turned her gaze back to Amy and said in an icy voice, "I think that just about answers your question, girl. I was married to one. I helped him to get out of that dreadful sect."
Justin clenched his fists. Only act when the Spirit is nudging you to do so. Surely that time was here.
"I am looking for the key…," Stana continued in a patronizing voice, "… so I can pay my bills; something you know nothing about." She shook her head and looked with big, round and pleading eyes at Uncle Harry. "Help me, Harry…" Her words dripped like fresh honey on a delicious pancake.
Justin shuddered. Uncle Harry had fallen for the wrong woman. He could no longer sit by and do nothing. But Uncle Harry interrupted his thoughts and spouted in an angry voice, “Come on, Justin and Amy. What is your problem? You two are acting like you have seen a ghost. I am only asking if you wouldn’t mind helping me to decipher that mysterious poem that Alvaro Ironbark handed to his dear wife.” He placed his hand on Stana’s shoulder and Stana immediately placed her own hand over Harry's and cast him another one of those sickening, grateful smiles.
“We will not help you, Uncle,” Justin said, while gritting his teeth.
“What about your friends at the monastery?” Uncle Harry pushed on.
Justin felt his blood rising. If he could he would jump up right now, and stick his finger in Stana Growklowsky’s direction, while uttering a stern rebuke, she would crumble and fall. He had that power. He could do it, as he had done when he stood face to face with Richard Sternfoot. It would be easy, as this woman was not nearly as powerful as his former chemistry teacher.
This woman would be exposed for being the demon she really was, Uncle Harry's eyes would be opened, and the victory would be achieved. All he had to do was wave his finger in her face.
He glanced at Amy. She seemed lost in a few thoughts of her own. Why was she not rebuking this witch? She had seen through this woman too.
Miss Growklowsky stared at him with a mocking, 'you-are-just-out-of kindergarten' look'. He really, really did not like her.
And there, on the spur of the moment, he made up his mind. If Amy wasn't going to do it, he had to. Startling the others, he licked his lips, jumped up out of his chair, and while he cast an outstretched finger in Stana’s direction he yelled at the top of his voice: “I rebuke you, Stana Growklowsky, you are a horrible spirit. You only seek to feed yourself. You are a cloud without rain, blown along by the wind. You are like a wild wave of the sea, beautiful to behold, but foaming up your shame; a wandering star, for whom the blackest darkness has been reversed, eh… reserved forever.” *
He was getting so excited that he stumbled over his words, but that didn’t matter… as long as he could expose the wickedness that he saw sitting before him. He half expected Stana to transform like Sternfoot had done, that day when the rabbits had streamed in the market square. But nothing happened yet. Not yet.
He cast Amy an annoyed glance. Come on, Amy… help me. Why wasn't she doing anything? But instead of jumping up too, Amy stared at him with startled, round eyes. Justin gritted his teeth. He was alone in this.
As he turned his eyes back to Stana, he forced another rebuke out of his mouth. Maybe he needed to yell louder, and then a great wind would come up out of nowhere. It would carry the wretched woman away upon mighty eagle wings… She would shrink… she would scream and plead for mercy… She would…
Nothing happened.
Instead Stana leaned back on her chair, rearranged her position to a slightly more comfortable pose, and folded her hands in her lap while her face held a smug, pleased expression.
“My oh my,” she spoke in a teasing voice, “that’s quite a vocabulary for a young boy like you. Did you learn that at Sunday school?”
Justin felt his energy streaming out of him as if he were a tire that had been punctured by a sharp, rusty nail. "I-eh…" He cast Amy a helpless glance, but she looked as bewildered as he did himself.
Uncle Harry did not allow them much time to recover and barged in with an angry, booming voice that resonated through the office. “How could you say such things, Justin. I thought you were my friend. How dare you speak such horrible words of insult to my… my… eh client.”
Justin’s mind raced a mile an hour.
The rebuke had not worked… Why not? What was wrong? It had done the trick before, why not now? Was he not the anointed one? A fighter for righteousness? The monks had said so themselves… But, maybe he was mistaken and he had misunderstood the power of the Elixir and the King of Heaven.
A sickening and discouraging feeling of defeat began to wash over him and he fell back on his seat, but Uncle did not allow him time to recover. The detective's harsh words jolted him straight back up. “Get up, Justin. I want you out of this room in the next thirty seconds. And take your girlfriend with you too. You are both no longer welcome, until you will humbly seek forgiveness for your proud and insolent behavior.
Justin cast his uncle a helpless stare. “B-But Uncle… we—“
"—No but Uncle." Uncle Harry cut him off. He did not want to hear anymore and pointed with a stiff finger at the door. “Out you go, both of you.”
He walked into the hall, and with an angry move of his hand he opened the front door. "Out, I said. Now!"
Justin scurried off with his tail between his legs and was followed by Amy. As he stepped out into the hall, he could still hear Stana Growklowsky's voice. She said something about not being too hard on them. "They are barely of age, Harry. They are just kids.”
Even though Justin felt weak, sick and defeated, he could not suppress a new wave of anger, and mumbled under his breath, "We are not done with you Growklowsky. This battle has only just begun."
Chapter Four
After Harrison heard the receding footsteps of Justin and Amy going down the stairs, he let out a deep sigh and leaned his whole weight against the door. What had just happened? What had gotten into Justin to act like that? He rubbed his forehead and stared at the ceiling light in the hallway. Maybe he needed to talk to his brother. Justin was simply out of control. How was it possible that his nephew, usually so soft spoken and kind, had behaved so rudely? He had hurled the most horrible things at Stana's pretty head and no doubt caused scratches on poor Stana's heart.
“Harry...?” Stana’s pleading voice came from somew
here far away and jolted Harrison out of his almost trance-like state of self-pity and anger. “Would you make me a cup of tea? I suppose you still don't have anything a wee bit stronger?” She had gotten up from her seat and was now leaning in the door opening of his office and stared at him with big, curious eyes.
Harrison blinked. "Tea?"
Tea was the last thing on his mind. He needed to process what had just happened. He needed to be by himself, if only for a few minutes, just so he could get his act together. He tried to smile, but what came out was nothing but a distorted, painful grimace that caused Stana to arch her penciled eyebrows. “S-Sorry Stana. I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, and get you your tea.”
Without waiting for her response, he disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door, hoping to deal with his ruffled nerves. Anger, frustration, disappointment, the feeling of betrayal, and even loneliness..., they all battled for the front seat in his mind.
He walked over to the sink and opened the faucet. Splattering cold water over his heated cheeks would help him to calm down. It always helped.
After he had splashed the water over his cheeks and face, he lifted his head, and beheld his dripping face in the mirror. "Are you all right, Harry?" he mumbled to himself while forcing a smile on his face. He gave himself a reassuring nod. "Yeah… all is well. Don't let this get to you." He noticed his hair had gotten ruffled up, and as he tried to flatten it again by dousing it with a bit of water, he tried to encourage himself more. "Justin and Amy are just getting a big head. It's their youthful pride."
Harrison reflected for a moment on his own assessment. He was right. After Justin and Amy had delivered Dewsbury from the Shadow Walkers, they apparently thought they were really hot. They now saw a devil under every stone. But pride comes before a fall, and they had seriously endangered their friendship.
He grabbed a towel and after he dried his face, he winked at himself. “Let them stew in their own juice, Harry. They are just kids, and they have lots to learn."
