Oh, and me?
Easy. I was hardly even there. I cleared my mind and waited for the next bomb to drop.
Didn’t need to wait long.
“I’ll do it.” Yael employed the grim and determined demeanor of a soldier volunteering for a suicide mission. The effect was only mildly comedic. “Don’t worry.”
Judging from a brief review of facial expressions, I don’t think anyone liked that idea, except Sumire.
“Thanks, Yael!” Sumire grinned and reached out her intact arm toward Yael, and they clasped hands. It was an earnest display, the kind performed with sincerity by those too young to know better. “I knew I could count you.”
I had a brief vision of digging a hole to hide Yael’s body. It wouldn’t need to be that big.
“Let’s cut to the chase.” Yael put her hands on her hips, flush with newfound authority. “Preston – did you murder Sumire?”
The whole room must have heard my teeth grind.
“No one murdered Sumire. She’s alive. Right there, next to you.”
“That doesn’t change a thing.”
“Seems like it should.”
“I think she’s probably right, Preston,” Sumire chirped. “I think I died there for a minute or two.”
“Still not murder.” I folded my arms defiantly. “Still not my fault.”
“It would probably help,” Yael mused, “if anyone in this room would attest to believing you.”
It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds of silence, but it felt endless.
“Thanks, guys,” I sighed. “I feel like this investigation might be biased.”
“I feel like you lie about everything,” Yael countered. “You woke up covered in Sumire’s blood. Right next to her.”
“Yeah, but...”
“There are no other suspects.”
“You’re asking me to prove that I didn’t attack Sumire. That’s not an investigation.”
“Preston is right,” Dawes agreed gently. “We cannot presuppose conclusions.”
“Okay,” Yael agreed, after a moment of thought. She really was fair. Despite my objections, I had no real doubts that Yael’s inquiries would be honest and thorough. That was a potential problem. “Someone else should join the investigation, then. Someone who doesn’t suspect Preston.”
Crickets chirped. Birds sang. I tried not to meet anyone’s eyes.
“I don’t think he did it.” April piped up hopefully. “Shall I investigate?”
“No,” I said, hurriedly and firmly.
“Not the best solution,” Dawes allowed, wincing. “Perhaps.”
“No,” Holly agreed. “Let’s not.”
“Definitely not,” Sumire said, with a rueful grin.
“Who, then?” Yael demanded. “No offense, Preston, but I can’t really picture anyone else taking your side.”
She wasn’t alone in that.
“Yael is right,” Holly said, with a nod of her pretty head. “No one is going to advocate for Preston...”
“Thanks, Holly.”
“...so I think the best solution is for Preston to join your investigation personally.”
Yael and I staged a competition to see who could make the more outlandish effort to catch Holly’s eye, but she wasn’t having it. She remained deliberately and blissfully ignorant of our objections.
“That is a terrible idea,” I retorted.
“Just terrible,” Yael agreed.
“Yael thinks I did this,” I said, pointing at Sumire (rather rudely, I imagine). “She thinks I’m responsible.”
“I’m not accusing you, Preston.” Yael’s blush was a very quiet apology. “You’re just the most likely suspect.”
“See? Collaborating already!” There was a warning embedded in Holly’s humorous eyes. “I think that’s a rather solid basis for an investigation, don’t you?”
“No, I think this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Don’t make assumptions,” Holly scolded. “You haven’t known me long enough to judge.”
“I agree with Preston,” Yael said, with a dismissive shake of her head. “Regarding the terribleness.”
“See? The two of you are in perfect agreement.” Holly seemed delighted. “I think we should move forward.”
“Holly, forgive me,” Dawes said, tugging anxiously at his collar, “but I’m not sure that this particular pairing...”
“Not you, too, Professor,” I moaned. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am sorry, Preston,” Dawes said, miserable in his sincerity. “I regret this all most profoundly. Nonetheless, when the welfare of a student is concerned...”
“Wait a minute,” Yael snapped, her eyes blazing and her spine straight as a rod. “Is this is about protecting me? From him?”
Everyone exchanged glances, more or less confirming that, yes, that was the general idea.
“You must be kidding,” Yael said, voice cracking in disbelief. “This absolutely must be a joke.”
“They don’t know you, Yael,” Holly said, putting a hand on Yael’s arm. “They have no idea what you’ve been through.”
“I left my home and family behind. I made my own path through the Underworld, and faced the Whistler in the Dark,” Yael said, giving each of us in turn a cold and unequivocal stare. “I crossed the Waste, and took passage on a Black Train. I confronted the Outer Dark, and survived. The Cats of Ulthar count me as an ally.” She studied me closely, long enough to make everyone uncomfortable. “I make my own aerosol-delivered chemical deterrents. I have an excellent cat. What exactly is the issue?”
Yael’s boasts sounded a great deal like one of Elijah’s stories. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“She’s right,” Sumire chimed in brightly. “Yael’s hella tough.”
“I’m not sure,” Yael said, looking concerned. “Was that a swear, or not?”
“Not really,” Sumire assured. “I just mean you kick ass.”
“That definitely was a swear,” Yael said, blushing. “But, thank you.”
“No one doubts your capabilities, Yael,” Dawes said, clearly unaware that his head was already underwater. “We are simply concerned with your personal safety...”
“When you say that, Professor, you insult Preston and myself.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, surprised.
“Not so much,” Sumire countered.
“Yeah, not really,” April agreed reluctantly.
“That’s it. I’ve decided. You don’t have anything to worry about,” Yael said, patting Sumire’s leg tenderly. “We’re going to find the person who did this to you.”
“Yay!” Sumire said. She probably would have clapped, if she still had two hands. “Get ‘em, Yael!”
“Even if Preston did it,” Yael added thoughtfully.
“Not necessary,” I snapped. “Besides, what if I don’t want to play detective?”
“No one asked,” Yael said, with a shrug. “As of now, you’re the prime suspect. Isn’t it in your best interests to prove otherwise?”
Fair enough.
“Fair enough.”
“One thing to remember.”
Yael marched up to stand in front of me, and then craned her neck to look me in the eyes.
“Do. Not. Try. To. Murder. Me.”
She punctuated each word with a poke to my sternum.
“It won’t go well for you.”
Truer words, and all that.
***
I was stuck at the hospital for longer than I liked. April was starting to get weird – stuttering and tripping over words, the muscles around her eyes twitching and tooth marks on her lower lip. She really doesn’t like hospitals.
Fortunately, Kim Ai despises me, and had no desire to spend any extra time in my company, so she took April home, while I escorted Holly and assisted her with the extensive paperwork. The Carter Academy provided students and recent graduates with healthcare, but the school didn’t have an operating room that could
handle the kind of damage Sumire sustained. Dawes and Yael disappeared shortly after the inquisition, leaving us to deal with the logistics. It was a pain in my ass, and the fluorescent lights gave me a headache.
Eventually we finished, and I saw Holly to her door and then hustled back to mine, well past dinnertime. I performed the special knock that theoretically prevented April from murdering me on entry, and then let myself in.
April was working on her protective cocoons of sigils, characters in her private, invented language. She had shed her dress, hat and shoes, each item arranged carefully in the center of the room, and worked in a cream-colored shift stained with ink and sweat. Her hair was in wild disarray, locks hiding her face and spilling over her shoulders, her skin flushed and damp. She was crouched in a corner, intent on modifying one of the papers she had taped to the wall. Her protective barrier required regular refreshment, and the maintenance of linguistic defenses was an ongoing burden absorbing hours of each day. This, however, was another beast entirely. She glanced slyly, gave me an ambiguous smile, and then returned to her labor.
“Hello, Preston. Why don’t you sit down?”
Abandoning argument, I readied myself as best as was possible. A couple of deep breaths, and I felt steady enough to cross the room. April scribbled fantastically ornate characters on the living room wall, having used the last available scrap of paper. She paused occasionally to exhale on the ink, to avoid smudging her work, and the apartment was thick with the fumes of paint pens. Her art supplies and stuffed animal menagerie were heaped in the far corner, and the television was unplugged.
“Is…something wrong?”
She glanced at me and gnawed on her bruised lip. Her tongue darted out of her mouth, bitten and red with blood. Her attention quickly returned to her characters.
Each character was created to the same exacting specifications, though she eschewed use of guides or rulers. The interlocking chains of characters she created had a dramatic effect on the viewer, sort of like a gallery show arranged by an artist in the terminal throes of a nervous breakdown.
The characters she drew tonight were sharp and carnivorous; I found it better not to examine them closely. They invoked simultaneous bouts of anxiety and arousal, as if in response to a dark and transgressive pornography.
Even from the corner of my eyes, the characters troubled me. I realized belatedly how far I was from rescue.
April wasn’t making a barrier. She was making a cage.
I watched her as one watches a wild animal – warily, a little awed. There was no sound in the apartment but the scratching of her pen on the drywall.
“Is everything okay, April?”
She finished a last character, and then laughed shrilly.
“I’m sorry Preston.” She didn’t sound sorry. “I’m afraid that I am myself right now.” She uncoiled, pacing the dimensions of the cage she had created with the nervous energy of a confined tiger. “Sit down.”
The tips of my fingers and my lips tingled. I sat down in the center of the room, and lowered my eyes, oppressed by the lexicon of confinement.
With feigned glee, April flopped into the pile of stuffed animals. She emerged holding a chain of paper dolls cut from thick white construction paper. Most of the dolls had a limb torn from them. The doll at the end of the chain was missing her right arm.
All I could do was wonder how April had gotten hold of a pair of scissors – and where they were now. She has a real talent for concealing contraband, but then again, so did I. That sort of thing was a basic life skill, back at the Institute.
“Remind you of anything?”
April reached hesitantly for me, and I flinched. She smiled at my reaction, stroking my cheek, letting her fingers linger across the stubble. She must have felt me shiver.
“Where did you get the scissors for those dolls, April? Do you still have them?”
One gnawed fingernail slid between the top buttons on my shirt, undoing one and then another, leaving my collar wide open. April circled around me like a shark, dragging her fingers through my hair. After several revolutions, she came to a halt in front of me, standing between my outstretched legs. She grabbed a handful of my hair and used it to force my head back.
“Don’t change the subject, Preston.” My name dripped from her lips like motor oil. “Did you do this?”
I knew the right answer, but perversity runs deep. She walked circles around me, toying with what looked a severed power cord, taken from the toaster in the kitchen.
“Do what?”
She wrapped the cord gently around my neck, fussing over the symmetry like a lover gifting a necklace.
“Someone attacked Sumire,” April said, pulling the cord taut across my throat. “Was it you?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Answer me, Preston.”
The cord tightened. My eyes stung and watered, and my breath was labored.
“Is this my fault? Do you feel neglected? I have been sleeping in Sumire’s bed, after all.” Her eyes sparkled with deceit and cruelty, and I swooned. “Did you get lonely?”
“The last time Sumire was stabbed, you were the responsible party,” I said, downplaying my own role in the incident. I grinned despite the way she twisted my hair. “Did you cut that cord off the toaster? Because there won’t be any more peanut butter toast if…”
The cord cinched tight.
“Be honest with me, Preston.” April pressed her knees against the small of my back, and black spots appeared in my vision. “Did you hurt Sumire?”
She allowed a tiny bit of slack, and my head swam as the blood flooded back in.
“Not possible.” My voice was a croak. “She’s invulnerable.”
She pulled it tight again. I’m not sure if I blacked out for a second, or just thought that I did.
“Tell me the truth.” April demanded the impossible imperiously. “Did you do this?”
I gasped and squirmed. The whole scene was like a fever dream. I couldn’t decide how I wanted it to end.
“Don’t pretend.” April jerked my head back furiously. “I know you, Preston. We know each other. Remember what you did to me?”
I couldn’t forget – and believe me, I wanted to.
“Remember the maid at the motel in the desert, the one you caught listening at the door?” I did, but there were extenuating circumstances. “Or that cute boy at the gas station – the first one, I think, that we came to, after leaving the Institute – the boy with cowlick who made a phone call?”
That one drew a blank.
“You are capable of anything, Preston,” April whispered, rattling my brain in my skull. “That’s why you are so dear to me.”
The world was dim and distant by the time she let up. The words trickled out of my crushed throat.
“Wasn’t me.”
I could not tell whether she laughed, or sighed. April tossed the cord to the carpet, and then helped me to sit up.
“You are always worrying over other girls.” April settled in my lap, putting her arms around my neck and resting her cheek against my chest. “What do I have to do to get your attention?”
“You have all of it,” I whispered, touching my bruised throat. “Don’t tell me you attacked Sumire out of jealousy?”
“Don’t give me such petty motives,” April said, yawning. “If you didn’t touch her, then neither did I.”
We were both liars. This was part of the game. Resting against my chest, April’s breathing slowed gradually.
“Okay. I was wondering...”
April tried to shush me, putting a finger to my lips. I snapped my teeth at her fingertip, earning a giggle.
“...where was Sumire when you woke up? You slept at her place, right?”
April nodded, all wide-eyed innocence.
“Do you remember her getting up in the night?”
If I had to guess, then she actually thought about it.
“I think so.” April rubbed her eyes. “Sumire
doesn’t sleep, you know.”
I grimaced and nodded. Sumire told everybody that one.
“When I stay over, she waits until she thinks I have fallen asleep, and then she usually gets up and goes out to be a hero.”
The disturbing possibility of April faking sleep was a new worry.
“Do you remember when she went out last night?”
April shook her head.
“Try to remember. It could be important. They think I did it, you know.”
“You think I did it.”
“It’s not that unlikely, you know.” I risked bringing up a bad memory. “Remember what you did in to that girl back at the hotel in the desert? This looks a lot like that.”
“I like Sumire.” April shrugged, as if this were all quite simple. “I would never.”
“Do you remember when she got up?”
April chewed her lip and pinched her brow. Her heels kicked randomly against my thigh and the floor.
“I’m not sure. Late, though. After midnight.”
She threw her arms out in an exaggerated yawn, ending it by throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me close.
“I’m tired,” she said, completely unconvincing. “Take me to bed.”
The night devolved into another set of moral difficulties requiring careful navigation. I’m not providing any details, sorry.
You’ll just have to trust me.
4. Some Girls Wander By Mistake
Purple memories, fingerprints on the soft skin of the upper arms and inner thighs. Four days of bleeding, a week and a half picking at scabs. New pink skin and glassy eyes, faded as a photograph abandoned in the sun, fault lines of drought and wandering hands.
“Mr. Tauschen? You look terrible. What happened?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said grumpily. “An accident.”
Yael leaned close, but she did it gingerly, the way one might inspect an injured wild animal.
“It looks as if someone tried to strangle you,” Yael said, scratching her head. “What sort of accident is that?”
“Unfortunate?”
“Keeping secrets?” Yael gave me a critical look. “That is a bad way to begin our endeavor.”
The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) Page 6
