“But why?” Lylith snapped, almost angrily, mind racing with questions her conscience couldn’t answer.
“His excuse is revenge, but I… I think there was something twisted in him long before he heard of Cedric Baltazar.” He sighed heavily, trying to comfort her with shaking arms as her breath began to calm. “At least now I know for sure which side I’m on.” Hartt mumbled, picking her up and turning her around. “We have to go Lylith, I’m sorry, but they’ll be preparing themselves for their final movement. We have to get to Stone Hall…”
Calling a Superhero
S tone Hall was bristling with life. The room swayed to the sound of music, great gowns swept the floor while their owner’s suited men took them by the arms: their hair uniformly greased aside and their boots suitably gleaming as they danced. The upper classes clumsily pranced their way around a concerto of piercing notes - a rhythm timed by a pianist’s relentless fingertips. Those who didn’t dance stood and gossiped, sipping at bitter champagne with a shaking bottom lip and muttering between themselves the rumors of the hour. Priceless glasses chimed against tables as each one was returned to the woodwork and replaced with another, sweaty hands knotted around the spines of the glasses.
Guests stumbled to the nooks of the adjacent corridors, adjusting their gowns and their suits in a manner that wouldn’t be acceptable before their esteemed friends despite the fact, in time, they too would have to retreat and do the same.
Amongst the swooning dancers and their mock sophistication stood Cedric Baltazar. The appearance of such powerful allies seemed to remove him even further, and so he just perched himself silently beside Picasso’s greatest work, ensuring that nobody could tumble against it and see the frame drift from the wall.
Despite the chiming of the piano’s strings and the chirping of his friends around him, the only voice that the Patriarch could hear now was that of his wife, repeating the same words again and again. He forced her out of his thoughts and was left alone in his contemplation. It was that loneliness he feared most now, yet he couldn’t help but admit to himself that Lucy’s final words were those she seemed most sure of.
He sniffed, shaking his head as if the thoughts would disappear, and reached for his own personal platter of champagne glasses placed on a seat by his side. After all, that was the real reason he was stood there.
Lylith White chased Josiah Hartt up the hill. His boots dug into the dirt while her flimsy heels slipped right off it. Her chest still ached but she fought the urge to wince as she leapt clumsily forward. The cling film had been peeled off long ago, the wrinkled plastic taking most the blood with it and left behind a fresh, pouting wound. It still seeped the darkest red but, thankfully, it was healing slowly. Stone Hall was a beacon on the plateau, its paper thin windows filled with a golden light. Every time a flame flickered inside Lylith couldn’t help but imagine the panes tearing themselves apart, a fiery glow pressing against the blocks of stone and blasting them to rubble too.
She shivered, disobeying her paranoid thoughts as Josiah slowed down and allowed her to join him. The slope began to even out and the couple dragged themselves onto the neatly cut grass which acted as a cushion to their blistered, aching toes.
“Do you think we’re too late?” Lylith panted, walking across the ground to the great pearlescent steps that built to a doorway at the top.
“I shouldn’t think so.” Hartt replied. “Whoever survived Rosin’s Repo Glacialis I left there still has to lug a tonne of dynamite across the mountainside; with that and our head start we should have enough time to get Baltazar out…”
They walked up the steps to the entrance and through the great oak doors. A familiar gaggle of guards once again swarmed towards them. A bald man, a few feet higher than the pair began swaggering across the carpet like a giant on the bottle. Josiah sighed and pointed an accusative finger. “Listen mate, I’ve told you before - we’re catering.” He began to make his way past before sharply turning back and calling to the man. “I’ve got a good mind to report you!”
He’d uttered the phrase sure to send any lazy man running, and sure enough the group of black-clad men retreated, apologizing as they went.
Josiah and Lylith made their way to the closest corridor. It was full of people. A woman in a short black dress just a few meters away tried to fix a broken heel and then further down the passage more men and women clustered around each other, sipping drinks and making uncomfortable small talk.
“The upper classes amaze me.” Hartt muttered as they stared. “There have been four murders in the valley this week, you give them a warning that one of them is next and what do they do? They throw a whopping great party.”
“And not a very good one.” Lylith added.
“Sorry?”
She pointed down the corridor, as if it was the most obvious thing. “Balloons.”
Josiah just shook his head and placed a hand behind her back. He adjusted his bloodstained waistcoat and smiled towards a man dressed in a pristine silk tuxedo. “Me and you Lylith, we fit in perfectly.” Hartt remarked, as they began to walk down the scarlet carpet, pointing towards a pair of jaded wooden doors. “The man of the hour, he’ll be in there somewhere, on top of the world I bet.” He smirked slightly. “Let’s bring him down a notch.”
Lucy Baltazar placed the book down on the table and leant across the bed. Her daughter sat before her, tired eyes blinking in and out of consciousness as she went to kiss her goodnight. A lamp danced with speckles of firelight - illuminating the tiny room and its royal blue walls. A sunflower stood in a pot in the corner, surviving the winter months and still vibrant as ever, the shadow of its leaves swaying to and fro in the light. Lucy positioned herself carefully. Her dress was fanned out around her, great swathes of yellow fabric pooling around her feet. “Night mum.” Jessica croaked, tiny arms peaking over the edge of the crinkled bed sheets that cloaked her.
“Goodnight lovely.” Lucy smiled, taking a breath that she meant to signify her departure, but she couldn’t help turning back one last time and brushing her girl’s hair aside. “Jessica…”
Her daughter’s eyes creased open again, giving her mother her last drop of attention before she drifted off to sleep. “I know you’re tired, but just a couple minutes more.” Lucy began tentatively. “Something’s going to happen soon, it’s not a big thing, you don’t have to worry yourself, and I just wanted to let you know… You do realize I love you don’t you?”
The girl nodded keenly.
“Good.” Lucy smiled. “Because I do you know, all the world. And that will always stay the same. Your Daddy, he loves you too, he finds it hard to show it sometimes but I know he cares just the same.”
Jessica sighed, her eyelids sank and so Lucy spoke a touch faster. “Maybe Mommy and Daddy won’t always be by your side together, but as long as you remember that darling - as long as you remember that will always be the case then no matter how much things change, that never will.”
Lucy Baltazar went to kiss her daughter again, but as she looked for a response she found the girl had drifted away as she spoke. She sighed and stood, positioning her dress and looking back a final time. She leant across and blew out the flame and, as the room went dark, she stepped through the door.
There was no face Patriarch Baltazar expected to see less than Josiah Hartt’s as he stood quietly musing. The intruder raced up to him with a face like thunder, breaking through the crowd in a black blur; his face stained with mud and his eyes like turquoise marbles. The girl was by his side as ever, battered by his coat as it swept through the air.
“What’s happening? You weren’t invited-” Cedric muttered.
“Oh really? And I thought that was because the post men were on strike?” Hartt whispered beneath the clatter of the party around them. “Listen Baltazar, I know you don’t trust me and I know you resent me-”
“Resent you…?”
“Good looks, brains, power, all of that, but for once you’re going to have to put that a
side and pay attention because I have to get you out of this building.” Before Cedric could respond another figure came racing up to them, suited and polished like all the others, but as he closed in on them he began to stand out from the crowd.
“Marcus? What are you doing here?” Josiah quizzed.
“I’m doing my job!” The Chief Detector replied, looking nervously around to see if anyone was paying them too much attention.
“Well, that does make a change, what’s the occasion?” Josiah beamed.
“Oh very good, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Fraun snapped, pointing an arm towards the exit.
“Where’s the Deputy Detector?” Lylith pondered, glancing around the room.
“Yes!” Josiah exclaimed. “Where’s Rosin Ash, I liked Rosin Ash…”
“He’s been deposed I’m afraid.” Marcus replied. “He took some items from evidence, two little creatures in a jar I believe, if only I knew why he took them…”
Josiah stammered, “No, no - you can’t do that Detector; he was helping me and you know it. He was doing your job…”
“He was breaking the law Hartt. All that rule bending was well and good when you were helping us, but then you disappeared off the radar. Heaven knows what you’ve been up to but whatever it is I just can’t believe that it’s going to help solve this.” The Detector mumbled.
“If he had nothing why would he have come here Chief Detector?” Lylith spoke up, leaping to Josiah’s defense.
“Quite. That’s an answer I’d love to hear.” Fraun tutted, turning to Hartt with an accusative smirk. “Why are you here? You’ve been sneaking around with criminals for some time now. I hope you’ve got my answers Josiah before it’s the courts that start asking…”
Hartt sighed. “They’re coming. The men after Cedric are looking for revenge, just like he said. Their leader’s name is Edgar Mulligan. And it’s bad; it’s really not too good at all. Those people have dynamite, tones of it, with one thought in mind – blowing Baltazar to kingdom come, sir, so I suggest you come with me.”
“What?” Baltazar coughed, putting down his drink. “All those threats you said had been made on my life, they were real?”
Josiah turned to the Patriarch. “Of course they’re real, we weren’t playing games when we came here - three people are dead, in the name of scaring you. Now it’s time for their big finale with your head on the chopping board…”
“Prove it.” Marcus stated simply. “Nobody knows who you are, nobody knows if they can trust you, so you prove it Josiah.”
Hartt sighed, beginning to panic at a new problem rising. He glanced sideways at Cedric who was pulling away a nearby picture frame and turning the dial on his safe. He couldn’t worry about that now, and so he returned his glance to Marcus Fraun.
“Look, I know you’re annoyed; I went behind your back,” Josiah began as calmly as he could. “And you’re probably angry that Elisa Smith betrayed you too, I would be, but now is not the time to start trying to impress me, you don’t have to do that Marcus, saving Cedric would be enough for now…”
“Impress you? I don’t have to do anything for you, I am a qualified Detector!” Fraun spluttered. “I passed exams and tests and Christ knows what to get here, so don’t think you mean anything to me – I own you! You think getting the Patriarch out of here would be a challenge? I could do it in my sleep!”
Hartt smiled gently. “Then prove it.”
Marcus paused, ashamed he’d allowed Josiah’s mind games to work on him. But he’d proved Josiah’s point by himself and he was right, as always. Something had to be done.
The Chief Detector nodded in recognition, raised a hand and clicked his fingers. From nowhere a group broke off from the crowd – on the surface indistinguishable from the other guests but suddenly oh-so-obvious as, with their uniform slicked back hair and dull charcoal suits, they tore themselves away from their cover. They placed down their drinks on the ground where they’d stood, every one of them empty, and in an instant they engulfed the Patriarch, like a protective herd of social workers. There six of them, two women and four men, watching the silent Cedric with beady, paranoid eyes.
It was at this exact moment that Baltazar turned back to them, pulling his hand out from behind the swinging painting, nudging the door of his safe shut as he eased out his weapon. His palm clutched the handle of a gun, his finger trembling while resting on the trigger.
“What?” Josiah spluttered with disgust. “Are you mad? You've got a gun?” He turned in search of a similar response only to find Marcus and his men drawing their own pistols from their belts, cocking the guns into place and holding them firmly by their sides. Hartt sighed sadly. “Oh good, you've all got them.”
“Your point being Hartt?” The Chief Detector snarled.
“My point being: those things are lethal at the best of times, but here... They're suicide” He shrugged. “No, no, I can't let you carry those things, there are nigh on a hundred people in this room right now, one misplaced bullet and we all get blown up in the crossfire…”
“You're suggesting we leave a Patriarch unprotected?” The Detector exclaimed as if Hartt was hailing the Devil.
Josiah growled. “I’m suggesting it’s a bad idea bringing a blowtorch to a powder keg-”
“I think you're letting your own spiteful prejudices cloud your judgment.”
“Alright, so let's get out while we can...” Lylith suggested, butting in before Josiah could open his already twisting mouth. She placed a hand on her friends arm. “I know what you mean, but like you said, there's no way Edgar and those other two could be here yet, so we get the Patriarch out of harm’s way, armed, before they even get here.” She grinned. “Besides, I'm not sure the pair of you standing here bickering is all that discrete...”
“Bickering?”
“Yes.” Lylith muttered. “I can smell the estrogen from here.”
“I think you mean testosterone...” Hartt corrected.
“I know what I mean.”
Josiah couldn't but crack a smile. “Okay then Miss White, - watch my moves.” He clapped his hands together as if nothing had happened and faced Marcus Fraun. “Detector, you're wrong but let's save time by saying you’re right and get the heebie-jeebies to safety-” Reluctantly Chief Detector Fraun nodded and Hartt turned away swiftly on his heel. “Detectors, Lylith, Cedric, follow me...”
Josiah sharply faced the crowd, prancing across the ball like a jester on pot, tumbling over himself and toppling shamelessly forward. Lylith couldn't tell if this was intentional or not, but it certainly seemed to be working. The group of guards swamped Cedric as they moved forward, a sphere of black figures swarming across the dance floor, completely conspicuous, with guns pointed out into the crowd. But Josiah Hartt's messy display was creating quite a fuss. A low murmuring was beginning to develop and while the upper classes around him attempted to turn their noses, not a single eye was drawn towards the shuffling Patriarch and his men.
As they reached the other end of the room Josiah fell upon a door, pushing it gently aside and placing a head inside. He pulled it out with a waving hand, gesturing the gaggle of armed guards forward. The path was clear now Hartt had pushed the dancers away, and the attention began at last to fade so they could all slip away to safety unnoticed.
“This hasn't helped anything - we've just walked into a cupboard!” Marcus Fraun snarled, surveying the tiny room as he strolled angrily around it. Jessica Baltazar's drawings were still scattered across the floor, and her father couldn't help but remember the confrontation that had occurred there just a few hours before. It was the last place he wanted to be, but sadly, he couldn't afford to be anywhere else.
“You’re fixated by saving the Patriarch yet you seem to be forgetting there is more than just one life at risk here.” Josiah turned to the Chief Detector; his anger unprohibited now they were safely behind closed doors. “It's really rather disgusting - there are hundreds of innocent men and women in
that room, and we don't know Edgar Mulligan’s plans, he could be looking to blow the whole building to bits, taking every person out there with it - you're just thinking about him!”
“It's our duty, the whole case is for him, the whole valley is run, by him...”
“Then you search the building and make sure it's safe: look inside the cupboards, the bidets. When all is clear and our precious Baltazar is safe and sound we can think about getting everyone else out too.” Josiah Hartt shrugged. “Take your men with you and who knows; maybe you could save some of the little people on the way?”
The armed Detectors looked between Josiah and their Chief helplessly. The newcomer made a good point, but they didn't dare drop their determined stance and leave without their commander’s strict instruction.
Such orders came reluctantly as Fraun sighed and nodded in the direction of the doorway. The men obeyed, following one after the other in a quick march through the doorway, becoming shadows as the final gun swung out of view.
“And you.” Josiah muttered, turning to the last Detector.
“I think I should stay here.” Marcus replied quietly.
Hartt swung back, eyes ablaze with fury. “No! No, you go now.” He snapped, and without a word of protest Fraun was sent slinking shame-faced away.
“Your concern for the people is all rather touching,” Cedric Baltazar began waiting for Marcus to shut the door and seal them off completely. “But I’m the target Josiah; I'm the one who's at risk...”
“Yes, you are aren't you?” Josiah murmured. “You have everyone well fooled I must confess, but you've lied to your people. And the story you told me and Lylith still made you out to be the killer of dozens of people, so that rather puts into perspective the gravity of the reality, and what I think of the man before me now I know the truth.” Hartt sighed, looking up and down Baltazar with mock fascination. “People out there, they feel like they owe you something, they serve underneath you. And now - you invited them to a ball, there's cheap booze and balloons; it's amazing how easily votes can be brought.” He pondered aloud. “I wonder how many would choose to be led by a man like you if they knew the truth.”
Blood & Baltazar Page 26
