by Gary Starta
The daydream ended when Diggs returned. Decked out in a blue blazer with matching slacks she slapped me back into reality. Her FBI badge hung from a jacket pocket. Her dogged nature comforted me in ways I couldn’t even count. I had lived and breathed work as an FBI agent. The notions of commonality began to comfort me again. We each had work to do. I even managed the courage to flirt despite the fact my waist line would probably never be as toned as Agent Diggs. I waited for the attendant’s attention--despite how Agent Diggs’s deep breath signaled disapproval--waved to him and mouthed a thank you. He smiled briefly, turning his attention back to a potential torture victim faster than my mind could plunge myself back into lust mode.
Outside, the heat of daylight had pushed the temperate to eighty-six degrees. Thankfully, Diggs’s car, a slate gray Saab, had AC.
We had everything to talk about, and nothing to talk about. We both worked as investigators. That made up pretty much ninety-nine percent of our lives. We had a fugitive to chase, but no leads. So in order to make small talk I began asking Diggs if she ever heard of my former colleagues. She said that Agent Deondra Rivers, my last FBI partner, had died in a shootout, freeing hostages from a maniacal cult leader named Connah Hainsworth in Texas.
“My stars,” I said. “In my world, Hainsworth had been the FBI director, a reincarnation of the Twentieth Century occultist, Aleister Crowley. He’d had had my partner Geoffrey killed before attempting to bring about Armageddon with the use of psychotropic drugs.”
She just looked at me, a full second that felt like twenty lifetimes. Maybe this Diggs’s cases hadn’t been as paranormal as mine had. That led to my next question. “Did you ever track a serial killer who branded his victims with a crystal pendant?”
The stare emerged once again. She finally spoke when she braked for a red light.
“If you’re asking if I have paranormal abilities, the answer is no. And I’m also quite human, thank you very much.” She must have been versed on my concerns. Probably by Briana, but I couldn’t discount the judge.
Miffed, she again reminded me of myself. I would have reacted just as harshly if someone had inquired about my personal life in such a roundabout fashion. She probably would have appreciated a more direct approach. We were both compulsive in nature. Just didn’t share the obsessive-compulsive gene when it came to fitness and lifestyle choices.
That became even more abundantly apparent when we arrived at Diggs’s home. She lived in a two-story townhouse in Manassas, Virginia. I had lived there during my FBI tenure as well, but in a high rise, four-room apartment. Diggs’s home resembled more of a palace, superbly furnished with antique red cherry chairs and tables in the kitchen. All appliances were nothing less than stainless steel. The living area sported antique, walnut desks and tables with a buttery soft leather couch. The impressionist works of Renoir, Kandinsky and Monet hung on walls papered in gold. The bedroom competed for my breath just like the Stairmaster had with a canopy style oak bed. Masterly crafted dressers, chests and treasure chests bested my wildest bedroom fantasies along with an entertainment chest surrounded by smaller-but just as enviable-lingerie and jewelry chests. “I’ve never seen so many chests,” I laughed, wondering just how much an FBI agent earned in this reality.
Diggs stood with arms folded across in her chest, a curious smile tugging at her lips every now and then. Finally, she explained.
“I bought most of this with an inheritance. My father passed a few years back. Mother sold our Victorian house in San Francisco and gave me half of the profit as stated in dad’s will. I couldn’t argue with her. She demanded I take the money.”
At that point, I felt my blood pressure weaken. I nearly saw stars dance before my eyes.
“Can I offer you a glass of water?” she asked.
I nodded. A dull stupor overtook me. I hadn’t even asked if Tara, my beloved sibling, lived in this world. I realized, with a dull shock, that she didn’t because her father had split his will between her and her mother. So that left one close relative.
My head still in a fog, I asked. “So your mother is still doing well?”
“Oh yes, Caitlin. She relocated to an apartment, but still resides in San Francisco. When we wrap us this case, we’ll take a trip there, visit her.”
“Uh… no, that’s not what I meant. Does she know a double of you exists?”
“No,” she said, handing me a cup.
“I’ll have to break that to her, somehow.”
“Agent Diggs, don’t worry about that. My interests are selfish. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Nonsense--you’ve been separated from every--”
But she never finished the sentence. A cat, one that looked exactly like my Celeste, a platinum mink Tonkinese in fact, with big almond-shaped baby blue eyes stared at us from the comfort of Diggs’s luxurious king-sized bed. She appeared, seemingly from thin air.
“Oh.” I could only gasp. Diggs rested a hand upon my shoulder.
“That--that’s my cat.” I mumbled.
“You have a Tonk, I see.”
“Yes, her name’s Celeste.” I tear slid from my eye. “I love her so much…”
“Well, this is Bastet. I named her after the Egyptian cat goddess.”
“Well, she’s certainly lives as a goddess. Come here, baby. Come say hello to Mommy. Oops… I’m sorry, Agent Diggs, it’s just that she looks so much like my…” Without a word, she took the glass from my hands. Oh no, had I really miffed Diggs with my childlike reaction?
Diggs proceeded to lift Bastet from her regal throne, gently placing her in my arms.
“Say hello to Caitlin, Bastet. Now you’ve got two mommies.”
I smiled through my tears and hugged her warmth. Home… a link. My past… comfort.
“So where did you get her? I had adopted Celeste from my good friend, Detective Carter.” I wondered if Diggs knew him as well.
She shattered my theory. “I don’t know any Detective Carter. I bought Bastet from some cat breeder in Jersey.”
We whiled away the next hour in polite conversation about our families in the living room, seated on the leather couch; all the time, Bastet lying in my lap, purring.
~ * ~
We exited the comfort zone with screeching tires when Judge Manners ringed Diggs’s iPhone.
Trouble… impending trouble, I gleaned, barely catching every other word from Diggs’s mouth competing with Bastet’s roar like purr.
She disconnected.
I asked. “Mollini?”
She nodded, proceeding to explain how Manners, with the aid of a succubus fortuneteller, had located Mollini’s latest whereabouts.
“He’s headed back to your world,” Diggs said.
“So we’ve got to get the portal.” I stood there just barely conscious of the fact that Bastet had relocated her perch to my shoulder.
“No. We’ll wait for Manners. He’s going to take us there.”
“Why…?” I shook my head. “Agent Diggs, I don’t trust this man, we don’t need to get in a car with him…” I realized I had just volunteered Diggs to be the designated driver for a demon hunting expedition.
She didn’t respond. Something curious nagged me, an intangible feeling that told me we would not be leaving via car.
“Do you have another portal here?” I asked.
“Manners will be here soon. He’ll explain.” I slid Bastet back into my arms and hugged her to calm my thudding heartbeat.
~ * ~
When Manners arrived, he launched into an explanation about how he had tracked Mollini. Fortunately, our demon fugitive had sought out a succubus fortuneteller to locate the whereabouts of an unidentified man. Also, quite fortunately, this succubus fortuneteller shared a friendship with Manners. I shuddered to think of what kind.
I asked. “So why is this man unidentified? Can’t this fortuneteller see him?”
“She can see him,” Manners answered. “But she can’t glean what kind of a relationship this man has with Mollini, nor h
is urgency for finding him. Mollini used his telepathic powers to block this information. Yet, she’s certain he’s some kind of relative, and apparently a relative he shares a strained relationship with.”
“So she knows the skinny about Mollini’s sick urges,” I said. “Did Miss Fortuneteller happen to see anything pertaining to the future?” I asked Manners.
“She did see a future image; one where Mollini is taking this man from your former world into this one, through a portal. So it would seem, my dear investigators, Mollini had no knowledge this man had jumped universes.”
I thought a minute. So whomever this man Mollini chased originated from this world. Only Mollini didn’t know this man or being had crossed worlds or that this being was possibly doing the same exact thing in reverse, chasing him as well. If so, could this being have appeared to me as Agent Grant? And ultimately, had Mollini fled my world over a lousy family reunion? I doubted it.
“I doubt that too,” Diggs said. I swore I had not verbalized my thoughts. But ever since I traveled through the portal, I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure of anything.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” Manners said. “It’s imperative we get a move on if we’ve got any hope of preventing another murder.”
Manners definitely had a point. As an officer of the law, I had sworn an oath to preserve life. And even if this life turned out to be another demon, I had to consider saving it.
Diggs exited the room for a moment. When she returned she handed me a 9 mm Browning. Not my first choice of weapons, but then again it’s the loaner principle… don’t look a gift horse… Only problem, where would I holster it…?
“You’ve got to change,” Diggs said to me, exasperated tone.
For a moment, I stood there, dumbfounded. What did she mean… change?
She escorted me in an arm lock to her bedroom. There, I changed, even transformed you might say, trading casual for formal. I checked myself out in a mirror all duded up in a gray charcoal suit with a sapphire blue shirt accenting my eye color. She even afforded me a shoulder holster. I frowned when she offered me shoes, though. I wasn’t about to leave my favorite sneakers behind.
Back in the living room, my impatience getting the better of me, I asked, “So when do we roll?” I realized in a nanosecond, I should have asked-how.”
Wedging himself between us, Manners took my left hand into his. I instinctively tried to jerk away, but he had a death grip on me. I acquiesced when he repeated the gesture, this time taking Diggs’s right hand into his. Oh my goddess, I thought. Is this some kind of occult ritual? I said, “Sorry guys, but I don’t think we have time to pray to any deities. I suggest we get a move on…”
“That’s exactly what I intend,” Manners said, his smile mocking me.
“Only, I won’t be going with you. I’m going to transport you there, psychically. It will deplete all my energies. I wish you luck.”
“Wait a minute. What kind of mojo are you working? Agent Diggs, we should reconsider.”
“I have, Caitlin. We’ll never make it to the Jersey portal in time.”
I protested. “He’s probably already left this world.”
“Yes, he probably has,” Diggs said, wearing the stern expression of an angry parent to complement her very adult and very expensive designer clothes. “That’s why we need to be there when he returns, with his hostage.”
“But we still don’t have a plan.” I lashed myself with an imaginary whip. I had been making small talk for the past hour when I should have been coming up with a plan-one that didn’t involve guns. “Diggs, we’ve got to consider that conventional weapons may be turned against us. How about we wait for Briana? Maybe she can whip up some magic spell?”
“No time,” she answered. “Besides, Briana will need to stay here to replenish Mr. Manners. He’ll be quite famished from teleporting us.”
Yuck. I tried to shut down a mental image of Briana restoring the judge’s vitality.
“Caitlin, your concerns are noted. But we don’t have time to drive there. I imagine he’ll be taking his hostage back to our world at the first opportunity.”
“Why?” I asked Diggs, but Manners answered instead.
“The fortuneteller said something about taking a being back to this world to stand trial, to face justice.”
“Excuse me, but maybe we should reconsider our Intel. Why would Mollini be concerned about exacting justice? He’s a frickin’ killer for Christ sakes.”
“I don’t know. But I’ve learned never to argue with Sandy’s fortune telling.”
“Sandy the Succubus, great name,” I said.
“She’s the real deal. She foretold my destiny with Briana, Caitlin. You’ve got to trust me.”
“Oh, just like I trusted you when you hauled ass away from my world, with your fugitive son in tow!”
Diggs shouted. “Not the time! Not the place! Mr. Manners, work your mojo. We’ll sort out how we’re going to save the hostage when we get there.”
We also better work out how we’re going to save our collective butts. I thought this, not daring to challenge Diggs further. After all, she outranked me as an active FBI agent. I seriously doubted my PI license had any clout in this reality.
As Manners’s grip on my hand grew clammier by the second, I tried to suppress the need to vomit. At this moment, I would have welcomed a lizard’s hand, well, if lizards had hands…
In the ensuing moments, everything turned liquefied gray. Not quite a fog. Not quite a liquid, but some kind of tether that existed between such states, maybe a link that both joined and separated matter from energy. I felt Manners’s hand slipping from mine. I felt as if I were falling. I seriously began to panic. Despite Briana’s Owl essence, I still doubted Manners’s intentions. I didn’t feel I could really see or read him. I guess I have some trust issues to work out, that’s if I should survive…
Eleven
There are no pretty colors during teleportation. Sort of like a plane ride without an in flight movie. I found this visually challenged travel a stark contrast to the portal jump with its kaleidoscopic array. Blinded by all encompassing grayness, my other senses became more attuned, however. Motion and turbulence reminded me of childhood car sickness--my stomach, quick to remember, protested. Could I throw up during teleportation? Before I could consider the matter further, the gray liquid fog had begun to melt away. By this time, I felt suspended, upside down, in fact. I clenched my hand to resist the urge to hurl and found a hand, not the clammy mitt of demon, but a familiar one. Agent Diggs’s I assumed. A moment later, my body righted to the preferred vertical position. This small nanosecond of comfort faded as weak knees conspired to send me sprawling forward. Still grasping Diggs’s hand, sure I would about to fall into the abyss of Hell, I fell onto soft sand instead. We had made it. The creek lay before me as I panted and dry heaved. When I found my breath, I glanced up to find Agent Diggs calm and collected.
I mumbled the first thought I had. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
She gave me that same smile she wore not more than two hours ago when she had spoken about her inheritance.
“I would have never allowed Manners to transport you if there were any danger,” she finally said.
“Good to know.” She pulled me to my feet. “Ah. The world’s stopped spinning,” I said, employing my hands to take my petrified hair from my eyes. I took another look at Diggs. Amazing! She wore her hair down during the transport and not a strand was out of place.
“So, any thoughts about how we’re going to proceed?” Diggs asked me. I felt my mouth agape, more from the ride than the question.
“You mean about capturing Mollini?”
“Wait, not so fast, Caitlin. I think releasing the hostage is priority one.”
She gave me a stern look.
“You mean we should allow Mollini to elude us?”
“You said it yourself, Caitlin. We really don’t have a plan. So since we’re winging it, let’s concentr
ate on preserving a life for the moment. Besides, this man might know Mollini’s weaknesses. That would be a start.”
I brushed my hair away again, more from frustration than vanity. Weaknesses… I considered it. Mollini had become even more empowered since his prison break. Nevertheless, this hostage might be able to provide some answers, specifically, whether he had posed as Agent Grant to me.
“So we’ll talk when he arrives,” I offered, instantaneously realizing I had included my participation without invitation. I revised it. “I mean, you, Agent Diggs. You’re the lead investigator here. I think you should handle the negotiation.”
“To the contrary, Caitlin. I think we should both speak, that way, perhaps we’ll confuse him enough to slip up, maybe even let his hostage get away without any bloodshed.”
I nodded, staring straight into space--the very same space where the portal last appeared. I could only think that if blood were to be shed, Mollini would be least likely to lose it. It reminded me of my fear of fighting the demon conventionally. I again expressed a warning to refrain from using weapons.
Diggs agreed without a pause.
“Caitlin, I’m sorry I became angered when you asked me about my dealings with the paranormal. I do not share your abilities, but I do know something about battling the paranormal.”
Great! How much did Briana spill about me? I bit down on my lower lip to suppress my anger. But Diggs saw it anyway. Why wouldn’t she? Essentially, she was me, just an altered version.
“Try not to be angry, Caitlin. I want you to know you don’t have to feel uncomfortable about your abilities with me. I have no doubt they are genuine. Briana surmised you had left the FBI, your FBI, because they didn’t, or wouldn’t, believe in your psychic abilities. I think they’re foolish. In fact, if I were them, I would be envious.”
I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “You would?”
“I would and I do.”
“So how will you report this case? Do your superiors know you are chasing a monster?”
“I have leeway to pursue my own cases if that’s what you’re asking. But if I did tell them, let’s just say they wouldn’t bat an eye.”
