I checked my hands and found no injuries, nothing beneath my nails. I knocked myself down on my list of suspects, and forced myself stiffly to my feet.
There were bloody smears on the back of Sumire’s T-shirt, but nothing as convenient as a fingerprint. I rolled her over, feeling unaccountably sad and making a small involuntary noise in the back of my throat.
I guess I liked Sumire better than I ever let on.
There was nothing for it. It would not be long before the early risers stirred, to find me bloody, crouching beside a dead girl. In my tenure in the Nameless City, I had not yet personally encountered a police officer, or even confirmed the existence of such civilized niceties, but this was the sort of situation that might force them to make an appearance.
If I had not been involved in a struggle, then Sumire had. Her hands were a mess of gashes and defensive injuries. If she was taken by surprise, then surprise alone had not been sufficient. Sumire, as I might have expected, fought like a cornered wildcat.
It did not appear to have been an even battle, which was unsettling. Sumire was deceptively strong and tough, and a master of pretty much every fighting style and martial art that can be learned by sincere and regular imitation of online video. Whoever had done this was formidable – and didn’t mind making a mess.
There were contusions on Sumire’s face and lacerations across her chest and abdomen, including several deep wounds around the breastbone. The assailant had been knowledgeable and supernaturally skillful, threading the knife carefully between ribs and around bone, to puncture and maim a laundry list of internal organs – the left lung, both kidneys, the liver (twice), the stomach, and the heart (three times). The blade was big for the work, maybe a folding blade or jackknife. Judging from the cuts on her forearms and hands, Sumire initially had some success warding off the attacks, but the accumulated wounds and loss of blood overwhelmed her.
The killer slit her throat from ear to ear, likely while she was unconscious, because the cut was steady and even. That was the source of some of the blood that soaked my clothes, and likely the injury that killed her. It wasn’t the end of Sumire’s indignities, however.
They must have brought tools, because the knife wouldn’t have cut it. It’s hard to slice through bone, and even more difficult in the dark, probably injured from the struggle. Her assailant needed some sort of saw, and time to employ it.
Sumire’s arm was crudely severed at the elbow, ruptured tendon and exposed cartilage protruding from the joint.
The street was beginning to stir around me, and lights had already come on in a few of the windows. I needed to take some sort of action, but instead I just sat there, next to Sumire’s body, feeling something uncomfortably close to guilt, until it was too late.
The first thing around the corner was Dunwich, hackles raised and yowling. Behind the cat, a girl in a sticker-covered gasmask rounded the corner and then came to a sudden halt. The gas mask was an oddity, somehow simultaneously antiquated and high tech, and I had never seen anything like it. The windbreaker the girl was wearing, however, was quite familiar.
Yael peeled the mask off slowly, her face flushed and aghast beneath. She gave me a wary look, and then crouched beside Sumire, checking her throat for a pulse. When she looked up from the body, there were tears in her eyes, which was somehow unexpected.
“What did you do, Preston?”
“Wait. I know this looks bad, but I didn’t...”
“You have blood on your hands.” Yael pointed at the body with a trembling finger. “What did you do?”
“I’m just as confused as you are. I woke up here and found her this way.”
I was so out of it I didn’t actually notice when Holly Diem arrived, the enormous mangy cat she calls Snowball trotting along beside her. Both gave me a puzzled look before rushing to Sumire’s side.
“Poor Sumire.” Yael slumped to the sidewalk beside the body. “She’s dead.”
Holly put her fingers to Sumire’s lips, and then the color left her face.
“That’s not it,” she said, her voice faltering. “Not exactly.”
3. Separation Anxiety
A bargain made in currencies of contorted possibility and pliable manifestation. A nest of unblinking eyes, the sluggish waters of the abyss. Need is a stark arithmetic; desire abstract and mutable. A shared nightmare, negotiations with private and inscrutable demons.
They sat around me in a half-circle, pinning me against the wall in an uncomfortable plastic chair. It must have looked like they were holding an intervention for someone they didn’t like very much. I was exhausted and in a black mood, but none of my interrogators were sympathetic.
Incidentally, the group included a rather large cat, but neither the staff nor the patients at the aged hospital seemed to care. Traffic flowed through the waiting room and around our little kangaroo court without a glance. At least they had the courtesy to take April elsewhere – though the look Kim Ai gave me before leading her off to the enclosed garden left me with no doubt as to her opinions.
“You say you got lost...”
I nodded in response.
Yael sat as far from me as possible, and I got the distinct feeling that if I were to move too fast, she had something unpleasant planned for me. I resolved to keep my hands visible and my movements slow and reassuring.
“...and then you were attacked.” Yael gave me a very hard look. “You don’t look as if you were beat up.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, and then I closed it. Yael was right – I didn’t have as much as a knot on my head. At the moment, the worst I could claim was a sore throat and a case of the sniffles.
“Preston?” Yael’s demeanor was surprisingly apologetic, as if she regretted her own suspicions. “Are you telling us the truth?”
“I’m trying.” I shook my head tiredly. I had been parrying accusations for the better part of an hour already. “I don’t know how to explain it. I never get lost.”
“What?”
Confusion put a dent in her composure.
“It just doesn’t make sense. I felt like I walked around for hours, but I was just outside the Empty District. I don’t have a clue where I was when I got jumped…”
“Assuming that actually happened…”
“…or who did it, or what happened after. Did they move me, or Sumire?”
“Judging by the blood,” Yael said, turning a little pale, “I would guess that Sumire was in her original position.”
“When you woke,” Holly said, crossing shapely legs and resting her hands on her knee, “it was just you and Sumire, correct?”
I nodded.
“You don’t remember anyone else being there?”
I nodded again.
“Did you notice any sort of evidence as to the killer being there? Footprints, for example, or maybe tire tracks...”
“No. I looked.”
Holly turned her attention to Professor Dawes, who was worrying the handle of his umbrella and looking so distraught that I thought he might be ill. He was devoted to his students, and Sumire was among the old ghoul’s favorites.
“What about you, Professor? You inspected the scene while Sumire was transported. Did you find anything of note?”
The Professor was slow to answer, moving as if only partially roused from sleep. His eyes never left the mundane pattern of the tile floor, and his voice came across as ragged as a transoceanic cellular connection.
“Very little,” he said slowly, rubbing his head as if struggling to recall. “The scene was as Preston described. A great deal of blood, along with abundant signs of struggle, but no weapon, or evidence of another party’s presence. At Lord Snowball’s request, the Cats of Ulthar are hunting the area for spoor, but they are not optimistic.”
Who would be optimistic about using cats as trackers? That was dog work, but there are no dogs in the Nameless City.
Well, okay. There is something that at least looks like a dog. There are, however, strings att
ached to the particular creature. Big ones.
“Professor,” I asked gently, “would you say that Sumire fought with her assailant?”
For a bare moment, Dawes raised his eyes from the floor to glance at me. To his credit, I saw no suspicion, only aggravated sadness.
“Very much so. Sumire’s assailant had great difficult subduing her.”
I held out my hands for inspection. They had allowed me to clean up in the hospital bathroom, and to change clothes, shortly after arrival at the hospital – though Yael did take custody of the bloody clothes – but that was it. I rolled up my sleeves, lifted my shirt to display my stomach and chest. Holly and Yael gasped at the scars, while Dawes shook his head and sighed, but it seemed they got my point.
“I didn’t fight with anyone,” I said firmly, rearranging my clothes. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have a mark on me after doing that to Sumire?”
“He has a point,” Professor Dawes said, with a nod. I figured an appeal to reason would bring him over to my side. “It is extremely unlikely, given Sumire’s abilities.”
“I agree,” Yael said, her eyes lingering thoughtfully. “I would feel better, though, if Preston could explain why he was there.”
“I’d feel better, too,” I said. “If I could.”
“I called Elijah,” Yael said quietly. “He says he talked with you on the roof around seven.”
“It seemed like later, but I’m sure he’s right.”
“That leaves nearly twelve hours unaccounted.”
“I really don’t know.” I shrugged. “I told you what I can remember. I realize it’s not much, but that’s what I’ve got.”
“Let’s consider this from another perspective,” Professor Dawes suggested. “Does anyone have any idea why Sumire might have been there?”
Holly cleared her throat apologetically.
“Actually, I do,” she said, the words trickling out reluctantly. “She was running a bit of an errand for me. Nothing terribly important, though.”
We were interrupted by an exhausted Sikh in blue scrubs and matching turban. He gave us a perfunctory smile and then leaned close to whisper to Holly. She smiled, nodded, and thanked him. He hurried off through one of the hospitals many swinging doors, and we were left to stare at Holly, who was too busy fiddling with a strap on one of her shoes to notice.
“Holly?” Yael prompted, swallowing frustration. “What did the doctor say?”
“Oh, yes,” Holly said brightly, standing up and smoothing wrinkles from her horizontally striped dress. “Sumire is awake. We can go see her now.”
***
“Preston, calm down.”
“I am calm. I am super fucking calm, given the circumstances. I thought you said Sumire was murdered. Hell, I saw her. She was dead!”
“Yes,” Holly said gently, one hand on my sternum. “She was. You have to remember, though, that Sumire is invulnerable.”
Holly smiled beatifically, as if everything were explained. I felt such tremendous pressure behind my forehead that I thought my eyes might protrude. I didn’t shout, but judging from Holly’s face and then stern looks I got from the staff in the hallway, I wasn’t using my inside voice.
“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Sumire was murdered,” Holly explained soothingly, “but it didn’t take.”
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
“How does that make sense? She’s supposed to be immune from harm, not death. Make up your mind – is she invulnerable, or immortal?”
“Oh, invulnerable, definitely. Immortality is a rarer and choicer affliction.”
Holly offered me a chipper smile, while I choked back a howl of frustration.
“Then she didn’t die?”
“She did.” Holly nodded. “A sad situation, though fortunately transient.”
“Wait – is she undead or something now? Like Dawes?”
“No, no, not at all. She’s just as alive as ever.”
“I don’t –”
“She wasn’t resurrected, Preston,” Holly said, with the demeanor of a mother soothing an upset child. “It was more of a reset.”
“That isn’t helpful!”
Glares from passing medical staff. I did my best to calm down.
“What about her arm, though? They cut it off, Holly. How did they do that?”
Holly blinked several times, then frowned and looked away.
“I’m not sure, Preston. With a knife, probably?”
“No,” I said, firmly and quietly, allowing Holly to take me by the arm and led me down the hall. “They probably used a saw, but that isn’t what I mean. If Sumire is invulnerable, how did they injure her at all?”
“Given sufficient time, we are all injured, Preston,” Holly explained, patting my shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, then I am certain that you had nothing to do with it. We both know that your tastes are altogether too…particular. Now, do try and behave, won’t you?”
I followed Holly through the door feeling concussed. The recovery room was crowded, though two of three beds were vacant. Sumire’s bed was surrounded by a small grove of IV stands, in turn surrounded with anonymous medical equipment mounted on rolling casters. At the base of the bed, Professor Dawes, Yael Kaufman, and Kim Ai stood in a tight group, the television mounted so low on the wall that Dawes had to duck his head. Sumire was propped with pillows and punctured by two IVs, wearing a hospital gown and an expression that indicated she thought we were making a big deal of nothing.
A confusion of bandages and medical tape swaddled her right elbow. Her neck and chest were similarly cocooned, and her left hand was swollen and purple. Both eyes sported deep purple haloes, and her lower lip was split wide enough to accommodate traffic.
April lay beside her, curled like a cat beside Sumire’s ribcage. Sumire’s remaining arm wrapped around her possessively, and despite the circumstances, she looked rather pleased with herself.
“Will it get better?”
April pointed gingerly at Sumire’s stump.
“I don’t think so,” Sumire said, waving it about and giggling. “I think it’s a goner.”
“I thought you were invulnerable?” I offered what I hoped was a sardonic grin, but I couldn’t be sure. Seeing Sumire hospitalized shook me, brought back bad memories. “How did all this happen?”
“I don’t make the rules.” Sumire’s smile was straight out of a dental advertisement. April lay her head across Sumire’s thighs, and Sumire stroked her hair affectionately. “I just do my best, every day. How ‘bout you, Preston?”
“Oh, please,” Kim Ai said, with a sigh and a poisonous glare aimed at me. “Let’s cut to the chase. Sumire – Preston did this to you, right?”
“Hey!”
“It is the most likely scenario.” Yael looked as if she wanted to apologize for her suspicions. “There aren’t any other suspects.”
“Not fair!” April shouted, coming up on her knees to confront Yael. “You don’t know Preston. He’s actually okay. I know he doesn’t seem that way, or act that way, but...”
My only defender. Sometimes I’m not sure it helps.
“Guys, guys,” Sumire said, laughing. “Calm down, okay? This is a hospital. Some of these people are really hurt.”
You are really hurt, you monster, I muttered to myself.
“Sorry,” April said, flopping back down beside Sumire. “I’ll be very quiet,” she added, in a stage whisper.
“I still think he did it,” Kim said sullenly. “Come on. Who else would?”
“I don’t mean to upset you, Sumire,” Professor Dawes cut in apologetically, “but I must ask – do you remember anything of the attack, or your assailant?”
Everyone turned toward Sumire, secretly hoping to confirm their pet suspicion. People are morbid that way.
“Sorry!” Sumire chirped, rubbing April’s head as if she was a kitten. “Not much. I remember leaving Carter – I was running an errand – and now t
hat you mention it, I’m pretty sure I got lost on the way…”
Yael’s expression was sharp enough to cut.
“You got lost?” Yael shot me a look. “Where?”
“I’m not really sure,” Sumire said, laughing nervously. “Not far from the Estates. Weird, right?”
“Go on,” Yael encouraged. “Anything else?”
“Total blank.”
“Your arm,” April cut in, running her fingers along the exposed strip of olive skin that constituted the boundary between the bandaged stump and the rest of Sumire’s body. “It really won’t grow back?”
“April!”
I was mortified, or I did a good imitation of it.
“I don’t think so, sweetie...”
Holly was sad all over, her eyes moist and huge.
“It is biologically impossible, so...”
Dawes was mournfully exact.
“Sure!” Sumire appeared perfectly serious. “Don’t know exactly how long that will take, though.”
“Oh,” April said, pausing to glare at us, and then snuggling closer to Battle-Damage Sumire. “Good.”
“Told you I was invulnerable,” Sumire boasted. “I do need someone to figure out who did it, though. I hate to ask, but they are probably going to want me to stay here for a few days.”
There was a lot of non-verbal communication in that hospital room of a sudden. April glanced at me with her face nestled in the side of Sumire’s chest, delivering a message only I understood. Yael’s spine stiffened with self-induced nobility. Professor Dawes studied his students with apprehension, nervous mannerisms making it clear that he would have locked them all up somewhere, for their own safety, were it only possible. Sumire glanced uncertainly at Holly Diem. Holly, as usual, was radiantly and deliberately unaware, wrapping a lock of her blond hair around her forefinger and smiling beneficently at no one in particular.
The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) Page 5
