The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2)

by Zachary Rawlins

  “No! You didn’t.” Yael tightened her grip on Jenny. “You never do.”

  “I hate to interrupt the moment,” I said, delighted as a spoiled child on Christmas morning, “but do you ladies know each other from somewhere?”

  ***

  Most restaurants would have asked us to leave and never return. Instead, the friendly waiter and a taciturn waitress helped us to a vacant booth, and then brought cans of salty beer and bowls of puffed shrimp crackers.

  Yael insisted on staying close to Jenny Frost, squeezing into the booth beside her and then discretely blowing her nose. Jenny gave me a ferocious glare and dared me to say anything. I pretended to study the menu.

  “What happened to poor little Sumire?” Jenny smirked. “Preston’s had his eye on her for a while. Finally give into temptation?”

  “Kill yourself,” I suggested. “You’re awful, Jenny.”

  Yael’s glare was ferocious.

  “Sumire was attacked. Murdered, really, but since it was Sumire…”

  “She lived.” Jenny agreed, with a roll of his eyes. “Bitch is invulnerable. I remember.”

  “Jenny!” Yael chided. “Don’t call her that.”

  “You know, I don’t think any of you understand what the word ‘invulnerable’ means.” They watched me as if I were from another planet. “Invulnerable would mean she can’t be hurt, and she can definitely be hurt…”

  “Sometimes I think Kim was right about you, Preston,” Yael said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re a bit of a creep.”

  “A total creep!” Jenny made the correction with smugly, her hand resting on Yael’s knee. “Stay away from him, Princess.”

  “Don’t call me that!” Despite Yael’s complaints, it didn’t seem as if she minded the nickname. “I’m going to talk to the waiter, and make certain that I can get something without meat.”

  “Talk to the one with the forelocks,” Jenny advised, sliding out of Yael’s way. “Jiang. He’ll help.”

  Yael nodded and walked off, calling cheerfully for the waiter.

  “What the fuck, Preston?” Jenny leaned across the table and waved her beer can around sloppily, splashing excess on the table. “What business you got hanging ‘round Yael?”

  “I told you already. I guess Yael told you, actually, but still. Sumire was attacked. We are looking into it.”

  “Trying to clear your name, more likely.”

  Touché.

  “My motives are pure.”

  “No such thing.” Jenny slammed her beer can down on the table, startling nearby diners but earning not even a look from the wait staff. “What brings you to Sarnath?”

  “Well…”

  “Let’s see…Sumire gets her ass beat, Preston gets blamed, and then you show up at my doorstep.”

  “No doorstep. You don’t even have a door, Jenny.”

  “Fuck you! I do, too. I just don’t invite assholes like you over.”

  “Oh, living inside, eh? Fancy.”

  “You were gonna try and pin this shit on me, weren’t you?”

  I summoned up my least genuine smile.

  “What a fucker.” Jenny sighed, shook her empty beer can, and then snagged mine out of my hand. “I warned you, didn’t I? To stay away?”

  A cold feeling between my shoulder blades, an unpleasant squirming in the gut.

  “You might have said something to that effect, but I figured, heat of the moment and all…”

  “Oh, no, Preston,” Jenny said, pausing to drain the remainder of my beer, before tossing the empty can into my lap. “No heat, no moment. We aren’t cool.”

  That wasn’t a surprise. Jenny and I had parted on bad terms. Hell, we existed on bad terms.

  “Okay. I understand.”

  Jenny raised her voice and narrowed her eyes.

  “I haven’t forgotten a damn thing.”

  Nor had I. I had used Jenny, and her apparent need for a particular edition of a book called The King in Yellow, when I needed help retrieving April from enemy hands a couple years back. She figured out that I was lying sooner than I would have liked, wrecking my life for the sheer hell of it and then leaving me in the lurch, after threatening – promising, really – worse to come, for myself and all the other residents of the Estates.

  Looking her up was a bad idea, in other words.

  Unless…

  “Okay. Sure. Calm down.”

  Unless something bad happened to one of my neighbors. Like Sumire, for instance.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The pitch-dark centers of Jenny’s eyes glimmered menacingly.

  “Supposed to mean you talk a big game, but I don’t think you mean it.”

  “Yeah?” Jenny sneered. “How’s your stomach feel?”

  “Forgot all about it,” I lied. “That the worst you can do?”

  Jenny studied me, wearing a strange expression. The waiter made a quick pass by the table, dumping a handful of menus. A quick review revealed I couldn’t read any of the second set, either – but this one had a few small photographs, at least. My hip and stomach throbbed, and my patience was short.

  “No. Give me time,” Jenny promised quietly, “and I will show you the worst.”

  “I’m just kidding, Jenny,” I lied. “You don’t need to…”

  “Shut up.” Jenny frowned. “Tell the truth, for once in your life – why are you involved in this?”

  “Why would I tell you the truth?”

  Yael cleared her throat, and Jenny pushed over to let her in.

  “Maybe you will tell me the truth,” Yael suggested. “Why were you taking me to meet Jenny?”

  “Yeah, Preston,” Jenny crowed. “Why?”

  Two against one. Typical.

  “Jenny butted heads with Sumire. She has issues with Holly.” I tried to make it sound like the most boring thing in the world. “She has threatened nearly every resident of the Estates, including me, with harm or death. So, yeah…Jenny seems like a fair suspect.”

  Yael gave Jenny a confused look, while Jenny glared poisonously in my direction. Taken together, Yael and Jenny were completely different people. It was fascinating.

  “Jenny? Did you threaten my neighbors?”

  “Kinda. Not like Preston is making it out to be, but…”

  “Sumire?” Yael looked a bit dazed, her tone wondering. “You don’t like Sumire?”

  “Ah…I mean, that whole “hero” thing really grates, you know? And she can be so bossy. Kinda like you, Princess.” Jenny said, shaking her head. “I came to this city for a reason. There were things I had to do. Sumire and I didn’t always see eye to eye.”

  “Did the two of you have a fight?”

  “Not really. Just a matter of time, though.”

  Yael sighed and rubbed her eyes.

  “And Holly?”

  “The witch,” Jenny said, with obvious relish, “most of all.”

  Yael looked curious, rather than upset.

  “What’s not to like?”

  “Princess,” Jenny said earnestly, seizing Yael’s hands, “you don’t get it. She’s a witch.”

  Yael tugged her hands free, and then crossed her arms defensively.

  “And?”

  “A witch.” Jenny repeated sincerely. “Even you can’t make friends with a witch, Princess. She may act innocent, but I doubt you’d approve of everything she gets up to.”

  “That is actually fairly easy to believe.”

  Our waiter returned, giving Yael a friendly nod. Yael put in her request in what I assume was the man’s native language, something with an unfamiliar syntax and intonation. He smiled and nodded as she handed her menu over, so I assume she got it right. Jenny ordered several dishes by pointing. I chose a picture of a soup with prawns, doing my best to ignore a resurgent headache, accompanied by occasional shivers.

  “Even so,” Yael said sternly, return her attention to Jenny, “Holly Diem has looked after me since I arrived in the Nameless City.”

  �
�I know.” Jenny’s face was as sour as if she had bitten directly into a lemon. “That’s one thing. Me and her, that’s another. The witch isn’t dumb, you know, or known for acts of charity. You ever think she has her own agenda, helping you out?”

  Yael nodded, clear-eyed and apparently untroubled by the intimation.

  “I met her at the Night Market, Jenny. Holly Diem’s assistance came at a price. A price I have already paid.”

  Jenny’s breath caught and her eyes narrowed.

  “What did she take from you?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  Jenny grabbed Yael and shook her. The girl was going to get whiplash if this kept up.

  “What did she take?”

  Yael shrugged out of Jenny’s grip.

  “Nothing of consequence,” Yael said hurriedly. “Nothing that I miss.”

  “Do you mean…?”

  “Whatever you are thinking, no,” Yael said, with a sigh. “The arrangement was satisfactory for both of us. That’s all I will say about it.”

  “Princess…”

  “Stop calling me that. You don’t get to disappear for two years and then lecture me on my associations. That’s preposterous.”

  “Preposter-what?”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “I don’t. I really don’t.”

  “It means you don’t get to do that,” Yael explained sullenly. “That’s all.”

  The waiter flew past our table, gathering up the empty can in front of me and replacing it with a small dish of deep-fried shrimp and onions that I could not remember ordering. The other side of the table was so consumed by debate that they didn’t even notice. It seemed overly hot in the restaurant, but the sweat creeping down my back was frigid.

  “Listen, Princess…”

  “I told you to stop saying that!”

  “…you gotta stop being so naïve. You should know better than to trust people like Preston, or Holly – not that she even is a person...”

  “People say bad things about you, too, Jenny.”

  “That’s it! That’s it exactly!” Jenny slammed her hand down on the table, rattling the silverware. “You can’t trust people like me, either. Holly, Preston, his pet Lolita – all rotten. Bad fucking juju, you know? Not like you. Not your kind.”

  I crunched on shrimp dipped in hot Chinese mustard, and watched them volley back and forth like a game of tennis. The back of my head ached, and no matter how much water I drank, my throat still felt slightly raw.

  “My kind? What does that mean?”

  “It means…you know. Polite. Not…” Jenny gestured vaguely, searching for words. “…bad. Nice, or whatever.”

  “Is that a criticism? Are you criticizing me for being nice to people? Nice to you?”

  “It’s gonna get you in trouble, that’s all.”

  “Maybe it already has.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why are you being so difficult?” Yael sighed. “I want to be happy to see you, Jenny.”

  “I have a difficult nature, I guess.”

  “Do you really think that the people at Kadath Estates want something from me?”

  “Of course. Everybody wants something, Princess.”

  “What? What do they want from me?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jenny said, with a curt shake of her head. “You can’t trust ‘em. Especially not Preston.”

  Having just run out of fried shrimp, I decided to defend my honor.

  “Jenny just attacked me with no provocation,” I pointed out. “Who’s to say she didn’t attack Sumire the same way?”

  Yael glanced at me wide-eyed, as if she had forgotten that I was there, and did not care for the reminder.

  “You can leave now, Mr. Tauschen.” Yael’s voice was steady and cool, while Jenny leered and sat back. “I’m sorry about your meal, but I’m sure you can find something nearby. Jenny and I have a great deal to discuss.”

  “That’s not fair,” I complained, trying on a pair of puppy dog eyes, “We’re supposed to be investigating this together.”

  “I will pass along any relevant details. We can resume in the morning.”

  I did my best to look martyred.

  “You’ve got to be kidding…at least let me eat, okay? I’ll finish my soup quickly, and I won’t say anything.”

  “You aren’t wanted, Preston,” Jenny hissed, cheeks flush with satisfaction. “Move along.”

  I stood up part way, giving Yael one last mournful look.

  “Tomorrow, Mr. Tauschen. Until then.”

  5. The Principalities of Air

  First and forgotten, consigned to empty rooms and forgotten temples, to the Waste and the barrens. Answers to the cold; a mouthful of smoke and husks of last year’s straw. The logic of hunger and boredom, perennial and vicious.

  A text message confirmed my suspicion that April was watching obscure cable programming with titles that used too many adjectives. Another text established her interest in a late lunch. I attempted to sleep on the train, but my hip and stomach throbbed terribly, despite swallowing a few of the unlabeled pain pills Holly handed out like candy. My lymph glands and sinuses felt swollen, and chills ran down my spine intermittently.

  I slid a finger beneath my undershirt, and it came away bloody. I wiped my finger clean on the seatback in front of me and zipped up my jacket to hide the mess, ignoring glares and worried expressions from commuters. The six-stop ride felt interminable, and I sweated as if the air conditioning had failed. When the door finally slid open at my stop downtown, I shambled from the car and leaned my head against the cool of a concrete support column, until the dizziness subsided.

  Gritting my teeth, I marched numbly out to the street. The overcast sky was pure white static, so bright that I was forced to squint, and the conversations of the pedestrians around me sounded like insects buzzing. I stumbled indifferently toward the Empty District, more concerned with my swelling headache and possible fever than with the thinning crowd. I collided with one of them, crossing the street, and mumbled a half-hearted apology. I made it another half a block before they caught up with me, calling my name.

  “Mr. Tauschen!” Elijah was flushed and out of breath, carrying more books than was reasonable. “Are you well?”

  “Yeah, fine, Eli. Sorry about that.”

  He offered me his hand, and it took it. His palm was surprisingly slick with sweat, giving his perfectly dry brow.

  “You seem unsteady, Mr. Tauschen.”

  “Call me Preston, please. I am feeling a bit off, I’m afraid. Maybe a touch of something.”

  “A pity. Are you on your way to the Estates?”

  My sluggish brain moaned at the thought of his company.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I am.”

  “Excellent,” he said, sounding as if he meant it. “Then I will join you.”

  “Oh.” I shivered and pulled my jacket tightly around me. “Good.”

  Elijah adjusted his glasses, glanced at my face and frowned at whatever he saw there.

  “Are you entirely sure that you are capable of walking, Preston?”

  “Maybe a little under the weather, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Very well.” He looked doubtful. “Busy day?”

  “You could say that.”

  “As was mine.”

  Even running a fever, I could tell he wanted me to ask about whatever had kept him busy. I could hardly summon the energy, but something about the expectant look on his face forced me to ask.

  “Doing what?”

  “Work for the family business,” Elijah explained, smiling fondly. “My responsibilities have increased lately, which has kept things interesting.”

  Elijah seemed a little wired and jumpy. Also weirdly talkative, for a guy who normally slunk out of the room when I arrived.

  “I hope your compensation increased along with your duties.”

  “Oh, yes!” Elijah appeared to be scandalized by the
suggestion. “I have been generously compensated, Preston.”

  “That’s good. Maybe enough to quit the convenience store?”

  He needed to think it over.

  “That could happen,” he allowed, as if the possibility had just occurred to him. “An intriguing idea.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hesitated, and then made another not particularly subtle survey of my face.

  “If I might trouble with you with a question…”

  I sighed loudly, but it was water off a duck’s back.

  “Go ahead, Eli.”

  “I visited Sumire, and she told me of her attack.” Elijah grimaced at the thought. “She told me that Yael and you were investigating.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Tell me, Preston – do you have any suspects?”

  Yeah. Myself. April. The homeless psychopath currently having Chinese with Yael.

  “Nothing damning, but we have some ideas.”

  He gave me a hopeful glance, he face eventually falling when he realized I had no intention of sharing. Not that there was much to share.

  “Perhaps a change of topic is in order?” Elijah Pickman offered me a disconcerting smile, thrilled by his own suggestion. I had neither the time nor the energy to argue. “Are you at all familiar with the architecture of the Nameless City?”

  Another loud sigh. The kid was unfazed.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then allow me to share some of my favorites! I should, perhaps, began with those structures lost to time or cosmic horror, as they often house the most delicious secrets.” He licked his thin lips. “The best known of these would be the Voynich Hotel, originally of Iram, lost during the Cultist Disorder near the turn of the century. Among its intriguing attributes, the Voynich is best known for literally being lost – it does not appear on any maps, even the most ancient, and remaining records are vague and incomplete, even though it was heavily visited for decades. It is widely assumed that the Voynich still exists, and continues to accept reservations. Locating it, however, remains something of an issue.”

  I shivered and sweated, my brain throbbing as if forced into an overly small skull.

  “Fascinating.”