by Peter Hartog
She refreshed my mug, wearing a frown so deep you could bury treasure in it.
“Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all,” I sighed, offering Myrna the wrinkle of a smile. “Don’t worry about me.”
Myrna wasn’t convinced.
“I been worrying about you since deh first day Heschel brought you here,” she said. “You were so pale and skinny! Look at you now. Nothing’s changed. Have you slept? All dis running around. Is not healthy. You need to eat.”
Myrna stepped close, and with a familiar gesture, brushed the hair from my eyes.
“I know just deh ting.” Her eyes brightened. “Mortie baked a fresh batch of rugelach. Dey are to die for! I go in deh back and fetch you a plate.”
“How can I refuse?” I replied in weary amusement, suddenly nine years old, and just as awkward.
“Don’t.” She’d already turned away, heading for the kitchen. “And don’t go running off!”
“Where would I go?” I mumbled, but Myrna was gone.
My eyes strayed back to the table, falling between the twisted piece of Marko-metal and the Wrigley-Boes pamphlet. My mug separated the two, filled with the perfect blend of bean and sugar, enticing me with its promise of wholesome goodness.
I wasn’t thirsty.
“What are you?” I asked the metal fragment. “Who made you? And why?”
The alloy stared back at me unimpressed, mystifying me with its silence. The fragment held no voice, yet the secrets it contained spoke volumes. And then there was the pamphlet. I studied the pictures on its glossy surface underneath the blue, white and gold Wrigley-Boes logo.
The young couple in the prime of their lives, smiling and happy.
The older man in the white lab coat off to one side, hard at work surrounded by his lab equipment. I imagined him conjuring alchemical magic to produce the innocuous little white pills Wrigley-Boes foisted on a populace craving prolonged health.
Their catchphrase in big, bold letters promised improved stamina, weight loss, increased sexual prowess, and keeping you that way.
Just take our products, see the results, and stay healthy forever.
What a crock of shit.
I’d ridden in the pod around aimlessly for hours before realizing I was hungry. I had waited beneath the stoop to the backdoor of the deli until Uncle Mortie and Myrna arrived. Thankfully, they always opened shop at five on the nose every Friday to get a jump on the Jewish sabbath crowd. The rain hadn’t let up, and the early morning had plunged to near freezing. After one look at me, Mortie unlocked the door and held it open. Myrna fired up the coffee pots without a word.
I sat in a booth by the long window, while Mortie went about his daily routine doing prep work in the kitchen. Dozens of customers would be coming by to pick up their deli orders in a few hours. Their daughter Shayna wouldn’t be in for another hour, so it was just Mortie, Myrna and me holding down the fort. Outside was dark and dismal, but inside the deli was warm and quiet, and right then, I really needed both.
My mind drifted back to Orpheus. After their disappearing act, I did a quick search of the office. It revealed nothing I didn’t already know. Two holo-projectors were concealed in the upper corners of the ceiling, aimed at the desk and chair.
Had everything been staged?
Your quest for the truth has brought you to my parlor.
The echoes of Orpheus’ voice intruded upon my quest for calm.
Sadly, his works are all flawed. A blessing, perhaps, that her life was taken while she remained vibrant.
Not for the first time, the image of Vanessa lying cold on the metal table of Stentstrom’s examination room came across my mind. It haunted me, her red hair framing a body without scar or blemish, other than the vicious tear by her throat that ended her life. Patricia might have wound up like her, if we hadn’t intervened.
And for what? If Orpheus was to be believed, whatever experimentation that had been performed on Patricia would eventually end her life too.
Your world has changed, doorways have opened, and old things return that have not seen this sun in an age.
My eyes roamed out the window. A low morning fog draped the streets in its clammy embrace. Here and there, people shuffled along wrapped in their own solitude, thin shadows flitting in and out of the mist.
As if they’d been reborn.
I shivered without understanding why.
With your return, the Board is now set.
Orpheus had made the word sound like it was something concrete and tangible, and not some prosaic metaphor. She made no bones about wanting power, or at least something as profound. But what? And why?
Whatever this game was, she’d been playing against her brother for a very long time. Who knew how many others were a part of it? And how did Vanessa and Patricia figure into it all? Or were they just collateral damage, some by-product of the twisted machinations of your not-so-average, garden-variety megalomaniacs?
I had thought we’d stumbled onto some sort of secret corporate war, competing financial giants who had routinely crushed the little guys on a whim to achieve a more profitable balance sheet. The further this investigation went, the more convinced I was that it ran deeper than that, with stakes far more malevolent.
And what was up with that weird emerald on her finger? The way Orpheus had manipulated my mind frightened me, and I still wasn’t sure how she’d done it. She and Julie had been holograms for chrissakes! Could a gemstone really possess uncanny power, a talisman you’d read about in some fantasy story? Or was it all parlor tricks, using light and smell and sound to confuse and disorient me? Regardless of the method, her influence over my mind had been real enough. And I hadn’t imagined the monstrous will hiding behind that pretty smile either.
Who the fuck were these people?
As usual, too many questions and not enough answers. However, I was certain of one thing.
I’d been set up from the start.
Orpheus was both surprised and pleased at my return to her board. That meant someone else wanted me in play, someone who already knew about Orpheus, probably her brother, and a helluva lot more besides, but hadn’t bothered to let me in on any of it.
Someone who had wagered big that I’d shake things up.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the thoughts crowding inside my head. The hum of Mortie’s meat slicer buzzed its soft, steady song, mingling with the drip-drip-drip of the battalion of coffee makers at Myrna’s command. I needed to wash the scent of roses away. The homely smell of the deli was the perfect antidote.
Myrna returned carrying a plate brimming with chocolate-filled pastries sprinkled with diced walnuts. They looked divine, and my mouth watered. I popped one into my mouth, savoring the blend of cinnamon and nut and cocoa. The second and third one went down without much of a fight.
The little bell above the front door jingled, but I didn’t move.
Besim slid into the seat opposite me. She wore the heavy longshoreman coat. Her head was bare, the tattoos prominent and dark. Somehow, Besim managed to look both old and young all at once. Her race was so different from humans, and yet, with far too many similarities I simply couldn’t ignore.
“Get you anything, dear?” Myrna asked.
“No, thank you,” Besim replied.
“Can you give us a minute?” I asked.
Myrna searched my face briefly, then walked back to the kitchen.
I didn’t offer Besim any rugelach. Lifting the mug with both hands, I held it before my lips. I savored the warmth as wisps of flavored heat radiated upward. Besim glanced at the metal fragment and pamphlet, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“You disabled your phone,” Besim stated in a quiet voice, a bit of reproach tainting her tone. “No one knew your whereabouts, not even Leyla. I nearly instructed Mamika to find you. Instead, I waited, trusting in your safe return.”
“What are you, my mother?” I snapped in irritation. “I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Besides, Mahoney could’ve had E
VI track my location.”
I sipped at the scalding coffee, wincing in appreciation.
“Damn, this is good. You sure you don’t want any?”
“I considered contacting William, but the hour was late, and I was aware he had other administrative items of import requiring his attention,” she said. “Instead, I speculated you would return to a place of comfort, somewhere you could gather your thoughts unimpeded by any outside influences. From there, it was not difficult to deduce where you would go. Given the hour, and your predilection toward that particular beverage you enjoy, I chose here.”
“How very logical of you,” I muttered darkly. “You’d make a great profiler for the ECBI.”
I grabbed the sugar and poured some into the mug. Besim observed with her customary detachment as I stirred the contents with a spoon. The white crystals were devoured by the black abyss of java, leaving behind no trace.
Seemed like there was a metaphor there, but I wasn’t in the mood.
“Deacon Kole agreed.”
“The surgery went well?” I asked casually, hiding the sudden concern I felt for the former Protector.
“He is resting,” she replied, tilting her head. “The damage has been repaired. He will have full range of movement after he convalesces for several weeks.”
“Good,” I said, returning to my coffee.
“Leyla also wished to accompany me, but hide it though she might, her injuries suffered at the hands of the golem required observation and rest. In addition, I felt her continued research into the communication signals outweighed any worry she might have for your well-being. How went your investigation into the physician of Vanessa Mallery?”
“Ah yes, that,” I placed the mug down, wiped my lips with a napkin, and leaned across the table so that inches separated us. “Maybe I am in the mood to talk after all.”
Unperturbed, Besim studied me behind her Vellan veil, enigmatic and aloof. Her placid demeanor was really getting on my nerves.
“I met Orpheus, and wouldn’t you know Julie DeGrassi was with her,” I stated, the blood rushing to my face. “Seems Orpheus and Doctor Ettelman are one and the same. At a guess, probably as a way of keeping tabs on Rumpelstiltskin’s experiments. Anyway, we had a nice chat about Vanessa, Patricia, Rumpel, something about a game, a board, and her brother. Seemed damn important, but I couldn’t tell you what any of it meant.”
I paused to let that sink in, but Besim didn’t respond, so I plowed ahead.
“I heard all about how pathetic I am, and that I know nothing about what’s really going on, which is certainly true. Come to think of it, my favorite part was getting mind raped by whatever magical whammy she threw on me. Still haven’t figured out exactly how she did that, but I’m a strong-willed guy, and managed to break her hold all the same.”
“Oh, and she kept calling me ‘Guardian,’” I continued, my voice lowering, every word laced with outrage. “She went on about so many different things, as if we were old gym buddies or something.”
Besim regarded me.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I snapped, then fell back in the booth with a heavy sigh. “It wasn’t coincidence I was chosen for SCU. And all that bullshit Bill fed me about doing good and helping others? Oh sure, it sounded nice, but it was all for show, wasn’t it? Were you ever going to tell me what’s really going on?”
Besim blinked once, then reached out and took the Marko fragment between her forefinger and thumb, rubbing it thoughtfully.
“After the case had been resolved,” she replied. “It was necessary for you to approach the investigation free from any preconceived prejudices. My concern apropos your past record of substance abuse, rehabilitation, and attempted suicide outweighed the critical success you enjoyed as a downtown homicide detective. Further testing was required to ensure you were no longer tainted by your prior transgressions.”
“Wow, I’m not sure whether to thank you or punch you in the face,” I retorted. “You’re telling me this investigation has been some goddamn experiment?”
“A test of your faith and resolve, if you will,” came her mild reply. “As well as confirmation that none of your skills had atrophied since your time in rehabilitation. And thus far, you have performed admirably.”
“Jesus Christ, woman!” I exploded, throwing up my hands in disgust. “What the hell does that even mean?”
She placed the metal piece on the table.
“It means there remains an investigation to conclude.”
I sucked in a deep breath, held it, then let it out slow.
“I’m not interested in being your tool that you can order about like Mamika and the rest of your goddamn puppets. And I’m not doing jack shit until you give me some insight into what’s really going on.”
I picked up the mug again, held it, but didn’t drink.
“Insight,” she said as a smile curved the corners of her lips. “A singular ability you possess, Detective. In my experience, no other on this world sensitive to the mystical energies of the Nexus wields it. Have you ever considered why the Insight chose you? Why you are a part of it?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My heartbeat throbbed loud in my ears, and behind my eyes I felt the Insight stir.
“After the family of William Mahoney was slaughtered by the shade of the serial killer Mark Madsen, he left Empire City and explored the world,” Besim continued before I could answer. “Little did he know a greater purpose had set him on this path. William had been a worthy protector of your enclave, an upright man known for his honesty, a man of the law and the people. The death of his family, however, made him realize more was needed to defend his enclave from threats pedestrian methods could no longer handle.
“Many years before, I left Vellas, wandering the human enclaves of the European Block, learning from your people, their similarities and differences. When William and I found one another, what he considered serendipity, I knew was something greater. Our paths intertwined, destiny called, and we answered.”
I tried not to roll my eyes but didn’t succeed.
“Maybe you should’ve let destiny go to voice mail.”
“I understand your skepticism,” Besim said primly. “But please hear me out.”
“I’m still drinking my coffee,” I said, and nodded toward the window. “And technically I’m not on the clock yet. Fire away.”
“There are many things on which my people and I disagree,” Besim stated with conviction. “My interest in humans and your culture being chief among them. Such a remarkable species, you humans. Full of creativity and pettiness, hatred and love, passion and principle, mired in both altruism and cruelty.”
She paused, and for the first time I witnessed her internal struggle, a tightening of the eyes, a slight quiver of the lips.
“Our own sordid past,” she explained slowly, gazing down and away at something only she could see. “Our rise and fall from our home of Evenir, and the adversary from which we fled, is a guarded secret not to be shared with anyone outside of the Pure Blood.”
She looked up at me, and her gray eyes filled with resolve.
“But I sensed a change here after decades of silence, hints and reminders of things from our past, and I could not sit idly by and watch your world suffer the same fate as ours. I knew something had to be done, and thus began my search.”
“Your search,” I asked. “For what?”
“Why, for you, Thomas Henry Holliday,” she said with a sad smile. “It is why Orpheus called you Guardian, for she recognized you for who and what you are. Only the Guardian may wield the power of the Insight, and truly see the fell, dark forces at play in this world. It is why you were chosen for Special Crimes, and why you are the only one who can bring justice for the fallen, for Vanessa Mallery, and those like her.”
Chapter 35
“Give me a break,” I scoffed. “You expect me to believe this horseshit?”
“The Insight is a gift,” Besim responded calmly. �
�How it is bestowed, and who is deemed worthy, remains a mystery, even to me. Know that you were chosen, and as Guardian, to you falls the task of safeguarding Empire City from fiends such as Orpheus and Rumpelstiltskin.”
I shook my head and said, “Sorry, Besim, but I’m not buying into fate, your Vellan mysticism, or whatever the hell this is.”
“You are the Guardian of Empire City,” she stated. “The Insight is within you. There is no other. That is a matter of indisputable fact. Deny it if you wish, but even you must wonder why you possess it.”
“I refuse to accept that, let alone the notion there’s only one ‘Guardian of Empire City,’” I shook my head at the absurdity of it all. “I’m not some golden child, Besim. I live and work in the real world. I go after criminals, arrest them, then do it again, and hope I don’t get killed in the process. I do it because it’s my job, I’ve got the training and it’s the right fucking thing to do.”
“What I speak is the truth,” she replied firmly. “Whether you accept it is your own decision. I cannot compel you to be the Guardian.”
“I see, so free will and all that, eh?” I said full of scorn. “Well, at least I have that going for me. For a second, I thought I was being railroaded into my new career. I actually get to choose how I get fucked. I mean, it’s not like you’ve manipulated this whole thing from the start. Oh wait, you did.”
“Detective Holliday.” Besim managed a reproachful look, infuriating me further. “I had hoped your decision to join the police force would be sufficient cause to accept my word. Despite a life as tumultuous as yours, your law enforcement career has been a testament to your conviction to the sanctity of protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”
“Oh yeah, pushing paperwork around and being everyone else’s errand boy has been a real dream these last few years,” I said. “Seriously, why are we still talking about this?”
“Because now you are needed,” Besim urged. “Vanessa Mallery, an innocent girl murdered through means both technological and arcane. Her body, and that of Patricia Sullinger, used for unnatural experimentation as part of a nefarious scheme, the purpose of which has yet to be revealed. Diabolical forces engaged in some larger game with human lives used as pawns for their amusement. This, Detective Holliday! This is what you were meant to do! To protect, and to serve. Surely the untimely death of Kathryn Foster would possess sufficient inspiration for you to assume the mantle of Guardian, if nothing else?”
