by Sky Corbelli
Chapter 35
It Burns Us, Precious
“Mmmm!” Ezra said in alarm from behind Kirsten's hand. Without looking away from the opening door, she pushed him back into the closet they had just come from, pulling up a data terminal and keying the door closed with a deft flick of her wrist.
“Miss O'Donnell,” the man's voice was muffled by the door, but there was something familiar about it. “I thought I heard you talking to someone down here.”
“Oh, no, detective, no-one here but me,” Kirsten replied warmly. “Just letting off some steam while I take stock of the inventory.”
“They get you cleaning up after them even while they're not around, don't they?” the man growled, much closer now. “You're wasted on a place like this.” Ezra knew he'd heard that voice before, but just couldn't quite place it.
“And are you here to take me away from all this?” Kirsten asked voice playful. “Going to topple the Legacies and save all of us helpless maidens?” The door to the hallway shuddered, as if someone had just landed against it.
“I don't know about the maidens, but for you...” A horrible sucking, smacking sound came through the door, and Ezra shuddered in revulsion.
“Oooh, Mr. Jeffries,” Kirsten moaned, “we shouldn't! One of your men could be here any moment.”
Jeffries. That horrible little DOLT... and he was here, touching Kirsten, kissing her while pinning her up against the... Ezra desperately searched for a way to open the hidden passage from his side.
“Relax,” Jeffries chuckled, “we're still looking for a way into that little Legacy punk's lab. I told them to take a long lunch. As far as they're concerned, I'm just too dedicated to the case to let up.”
“No, really, I need to finish up here,” Kirsten pleaded with him, sounding reluctant. “Mr. Hawkins is due back at any time now, and I really don't know what he'll do if everything isn't in order. I can't afford to make him suspicious of me, not now.”
The man sighed in obvious frustration. “You're right, of course,” he grumbled. “We have to put the needs of the people above our personal... needs.” Ezra gagged as he fought not to be sick. “But we'll get him, just you wait. Did I tell you that I had the little weasel, had him practically crying for his mommy when those government types swooped in and pulled him out of there? Makes me sick. They think they can just push us around, just because mommy and daddy did a little science. I knew he was up to something, I just knew it. And when you and I blow this case wide open... oh, I'm going to cherish the look on that pompous little Legacy's face, and then it's straight to the top. And people will say–”
“Shh! Be careful!” Kirsten hushed him mid-speech. “He has spy devices all over, you have to watch yourself here.”
“Oh, uh, right... yeah, spy devices.” Jeffries suddenly sounded nervous. “I mean, of course he needs spy devices! They're all afraid of their own shadows, you know, every one of them. That is, uh,” he continued in a much louder voice, “you just let me know if you have any problems, Miss O'Donnell. The Department of Ordinances and Lawful Temerity is always at your service.”
“Thank you so much for all your help detective. Or should I say, commissioner.” Ezra could hear her smile as her lips caressed the title.
“Mm, I like the sound of that.” There was an awkwardly long pause, and Ezra did everything in his power to keep his mind on math, psychotic water-seer assassins, exploding wind-scarred lunatics, anything more pleasant than whatever Jeffries was doing in that hallway. “I'll see you later, Kirsten.” His stomach demanded that he either kill his imagination or remove his ears immediately. He was considering the best way to tear them off when Kirsten opened the door.
He stepped out with care, watching as Kirsten calmly entered data on her nebulous screen. She didn't look up as she asked, “I trust you understand the gist of what you're up against and will take the necessary steps to control the situation?”
Ezra nodded slowly, still staring at his secretary. They sat in silence for few moments. “Did you–”
“Not. A. Word.” She continued typing for a few moments then stopped, shuddered, and cringed a little. She took a deep breath to regain her composure, then serenely continued, “If you'll excuse me, I have some... cleanliness issues to address. Will that be all, Mr. Hawkins?” She quickly walked into the closet and closed the door. Ezra heard a soft click as the hidden passage opened, followed by the sound of Kirsten O'Donnell being violently ill.
==
The industrial shower near the lab – in case of any chemical spills – must have run for an hour. Ezra was able to sneak in to his testing area and straighten things up fairly easily, since all of the investigators had been dismissed for a long lunch and Jeffries was off doing god only knew what. And god was the only one who needed to know, as far as Ezra was concerned. He suppressed another shudder.
After carefully securing all of his testing equipment and running a fresh encryption algorithm on his research notes, Ezra smuggled the Guild of Sundry data sheet back up to his room, hiding it underneath his personal workspace generator. Need to make some kind of secret compartment for that, he thought to himself.
Satisfied with his preparations, he went downstairs to hunt for dinner when he saw a flickering light coming from the sitting room. Does someone have the fireplace on? Ezra wondered. Curious, he peered into the room to see Kirsten, bundled in a giant fluffy pink bathrobe, curled up on a big armchair facing the fire. Her hair was down, and she held a mug of what looked like hot chocolate with both hands as she sat staring into the cheery fire with haunted eyes.
Ezra felt bad for her. It wasn't her fault that she'd ended up looking after him. And while she was a righteous terror when it came to his schedule, he knew that, deep down, she really only had his best interests at heart. So before his brain could tell him that a swift and silent retreat was in order, he found himself asking, “Is everything all right, Miss O'Donnell?”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, startled, “Ezra, I didn't expect to see you again tonight.” She wiped at her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “You'll have to excuse me, I was just... it's been a trying couple of days.”
“Oh, no, don't worry about it, I understand,” Ezra assured her, smiling. “I'm just sorry that I wasn't able to be more help.”
“I really don't know how you do it,” she said softly, turning back to stare at the fire. “Four days of non-stop subterfuge with a group that you know is out to get you.” She shook her head, cascading red hair swaying gently with the motion. “I could barely manage an hour or two a day with that... that man.” Kirsten shuddered again and took a sip of her chocolate. “I don't know if I'm cut out for all of this intrigue.”
Ezra nearly laughed out loud, but managed to turn it into a minor coughing fit. “Really? Because I can't think of anyone more suited to this kind of thing than you, Miss O'Donnell.” He smirked, thinking of her flirtatious advances on Mat and Mr. Jeffries. “I am honestly amazed at your resolve and professionalism.”
She sniffed loudly and took another sip from her mug. What was it she had said before? Oh, yes... “Honestly Kirsten, I don't know anyone as devious as you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you're just saying that,” she said, then paused thoughtfully. “But I must say, it really shows you what you're capable of. Working hard for a goal. Outwitting your enemies.”
Ezra chuckled as he watched the flames dance. “I know what you mean. Stressful situations, pretending to be someone you're not. Mortal terror on dark and stormy nights.”
“Mortal... what?” Kirsten turned her eyes to him in confusion.
“No, uh, I mean, moral, moral terror.” Ezra stammered out, thinking quickly. “Because you don't want to, you know, compromise your values just for a job because that... that would be with you forever.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Kirsten smiled and got to her feet, displaying far too much long, graceful leg in the process. Ezra studiously kept his eyes focused on the fire. “Well, it's get
ting late, and we have a busy day ahead of us.” And because he was so focused on the fire, he noticed something a little odd. Sitting slightly out of the flames, fluttering weakly, was what looked like a piece of charred cloth. “I really hope we can wrap this up quickly, Mr. Hawkins.” In fact, when he looked closely, it was exactly the same color and pattern as the blouse Kirsten had been wearing earlier that day. “I don't think my wardrobe can survive too many more encounters with Detective Jeffries.”
