by Gary Starta
I had ditched the sedan at a tiered-level parking garage before retiring last night; yet in retrospect, I felt like I had launched a flare anyway. And if I had, Brahms might be in real danger at this moment. Briana had left him alone in her apartment while she staked out Josef Yilosk’s neighborhood. We had promised the minion protection. I couldn’t argue with her plan. We couldn’t request manpower from the Bureau. We had filed a report that the perp had managed to elude us, effectively thwarting any plan to ask for his protection.
Briana also sensibly demanded that I get some rest in my effort to purify myself. She suggested I hit the gym and eat a healthy breakfast. She even left out some essences for me. I took them, not knowing what they were. I did know for certain none of them were for alleviating guilt.
Guilt and its sidekick frustration helped me manage a half decent workout at the gym though. I managed to extract some of the guilt, but not all. How could I? I had essentially taken over Agent Diggs’s life. I knew I would never be able to totally alleviate it all what with driving her car, sleeping in her bed, using her cell phone. And first, and foremost, becoming the FBI agent that Assistant Director Charles Grant lusted after. I had had sex mere hours after assuming my other version’s reality. Not a dream, just a dirty afternoon matinee. And speaking of such, where were my visions? Had they all but abandoned me because of my impure ways in this new world? Don’t even think that word. You know the one: Begins with a “G”.
So, with heavy baggage, I arrived at the dentist Briana had recommended for me. I had to give the doctor kudos for taking me on such short notice, but more so for her designer’s keen fashion sense. I loved the interior architecture. Half walls separated the examination rooms giving the office a trendy and homey feel. Yet, no matter how much I tried to distract myself with gossip magazines, I felt a knot pitting in my stomach. An FBI agent who faced death more times than she could count--one who once had a perp’s decapitated head literally fall in her lap--still fed her childhood fears of the dentist. Or to put it more succinctly, an aversion to needles and drills, with unsubstantiated daydreams. I had never walked away from a dentist covered in blood or been shot. I had at the FBI. So how could I rationalize this silly fear?
As I mindlessly skimmed over an article about this reality’s hottest ‘A’ list star-Britney Pitts-I envisioned the meaty forearms of a dentist prying open my uncooperative jaws with a vice. The voice of the dental assistant spooked away the daydream. I replied with a ‘yes’ telling her I was ready with a feigned confidence I felt she saw through. I walked with her to an examination room, one designed for children I deduced, because it was wallpapered with crocodiles. What a metaphor. I guess I would be the crocodile, the wild beast unwilling to open its mouth for the nice animal trainer. The assistant smiled at me as she robed me, replete with bib. Her smile faded--as did mine--while she draped whatever that heavy padded device is over me, you know the thing that makes you feel like a baseball catcher. She said it would protect me from the X-rays. Goodie. I recalled my gag reflex the last time such a thing was tried.
I kept my eyes focused on the smiling crocodiles on the wall as a distraction. I always knew dentists were masters of mind control. It worked despite my grunting and squirming as the assistant scurried to and fro from the room to click the switch on the X-ray machine and remove and reload another one of those cardboard film devices from my mouth.
Good, half way there. Now I could sit back and wait for the dentist, Alexis Federov, who would gently alleviate my tooth pain while she calmly explained each procedure, all the while, promising me no pain or discomfort. No matter how much my cynical side doubted this, I would demand this be so. Damn it. Briana had promised me. I would hold her to it.
So you could say I was totally thrown for a surprise when Alexis walked in all stern and moody. Where was her comforting smile? Not to mention no effort to initiate pleasant small talk or ask me how I’ve been. As I extended my hand for a shake, she extended hers from her smock pocket. She pointed a Glock at me and asked, “Just who the hell are you?”
I joked that there might be a mix up with the insurance. Didn’t work, however, Still stern, still moody, still had her finger on the trigger.
I raised my hands in surrender and reconfigured my tactics.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m Caitlin Diggs. You’ve treated me.”
She squinted, Dirty Harry style. “I never treated you.”
How could she know? Ah, then it dawned on me: The dental records.
She explained the person she previously treated had a much healthier mouth. “Every tooth in your head has amalgam or silver in it. So, I’m going to ask one last time. Who are you?”
I divulged everything. I had to because I didn’t see any other way out. She knew I wasn’t her Diggs. I had to convince her that I was on the same side--the good side--even though I had come from another reality.
She placed the gun on a table when I told her how her Diggs died, trading herself to save a hostage. A trace of emotion, other than anger began to wash over her face. It felt like regret. I could feel it. My empathic sensitivity had come back to me. Maybe the avocadoes did do the trick. She took a moment of silence then interrupted my self-diagnosis.
“A true hero, I suppose. So have you got any leads on her killer?”
I felt I had to say something. Anger rose in her. I could feel it. And I could picture her retrieving the gun: Dirty Harry style.
I told her an incubus friend is tracking him right now. Not really a stretch
I suddenly felt my heart skip a beat. What if she’s a demon hater?
“Nice,” she said. “Good to have the right tool for the job.”
I concluded she tolerated demons.
“So you trust them.” I said, not asked.
“Why shouldn’t I? More than half my patients are demons and they show up every six months like clockwork, not like some humans I know. Besides, everyone has a right to a healthy smile.” I could mentally feel her reaching for her gun if I dared disagree.
“You don’t value health until it’s gone.” I said, sounding like a dolt.
“So you’re her alternate, huh? You come from some parallel universe?”
“From what I understand...”
I think she had begun to warm to me. She sat on a stool and asked me to say “ah.”
“Let’s take a look. I don’t care that you’re posing as her. I would do the same thing. There’s a war on; a war that’s got to be won.”
“Uh… uh.” I mumbled while her fingers probed me.
“I’ve got to know one thing though. Are you a believer in preventive care?”
I nodded, not sure what she meant. Was she referring to flossing or perhaps using anti-tarter toothpaste? In a moment, things came into focus.
“I have Intel but I only trust Briana and Diggs--well, you… now…”
She removed her hand from my mouth.
“Does someone need protection?”
She nodded with approval. “You’re catching on, Agent.”
She explained how a young girl had become the talk of her demon clients. By singing to them, she had the power to temporarily inhibit any evil inclinations they might have towards humans. This did seem to contrast with the portrait Briana had painted of demons, that they all worked day jobs to stow away money for their offspring’s education. I guess all of us have evil urges, demons more so I suspected.
“So have these demons committed crimes?” I asked.
She shook her head. “This is prevention, that’s all. I have little doubt most of the demons who attend her holi-concerts would ever harm a hair on a human head, but if they can procure a means to keep their urges in check…”
I asked her to explain what she meant by holi-concerts. “Is this some kind of new religion?”
“Some might say that. I don’t. ‘Holi’ is short for holistic, not ‘holy’ as in sainthood. She apparently has a natural gift and can help people without the need of those awful pres
cription drugs.”
I listened with my mouth half open. Demons took prescription drugs to overcome their urge to harm? Briana had also apparently concealed that fact from me. I challenged the doctor with a question. “I thought everyone turned to holistic healing in this world. Am I wrong?”
“No. Most people and ‘beings’ do. Pharmaceuticals always carry the risk of nasty side effects. I never prescribe them to my patients--not when a cure can be found in some herb or essence.”
Her answer soothed me. I leaned back and sighed.
“So you ready to part with that nasty toothache?”
“But you have information for me…”
“I’ll share it with you. I’ll give you a ring when I know when she’ll perform again. I assume you have Diggs’s cell?”
I nodded. “I’d also like the girl’s name”
“In time… in time,” she said. She reached for a needle. Now would be a good time for soothing talk. A little comfort… I squirmed in the chair.
“Now what’s the matter?” she asked. “You bucking me after I let you live and all?”
“It’s just that Briana said you had a kind demeanor.”
“I did put the gun away, Agent Diggs. I’d say that’s kind enough.”
~ * ~
Of course I immediately contacted Briana with the Intel. Funny thing is, she didn’t sound vaguely interested. She paused on the phone. I checked the faceplate to make sure we hadn’t lost our signal. No. The seconds kept clicking, tallying our conversation time for the next cell bill I would now be expected to pay.
She said we had to talk in person. “The news is too big.”
I argued that I should come and take over her watch.
“Not necessary. I caught Josef leaving his home this morning. He’s dropping his wife and kids at his sister’s house. Then he’s headed to work for the day. He refuses to go with them, saying his commute to work is already long enough. He won’t leave his home, despite the danger.”
I digested the news. I could recover from my filling work until nightfall. I demanded Briana let me take over the next watch at sunset.
She agreed. “We still need to talk. I’ll meet you at your house.”
I waited with numbed mouth and a purring cat until the doorbell rang. When it did, I made sure I peeked through the living room window to make sure my guests were wanted.
I had mixed emotions seeing Manners standing there with Briana. On one hand, the need to hear the judge’s report on Mollini was paramount. On the other, the sight of the incubus still raised hairs on the back of my neck. I still didn’t trust him. The first question I asked concerned Brahms.
“Don’t worry,” Briana answered, “We left him sound asleep on the couch.”
Manners added. “I believe he fell asleep watching one of those soap operas. He’ll be fine for a few hours.”
I nodded. For some odd reason, I felt a soap opera was about to play out before me.
My instincts were correct. I felt a little less like a fool. I knew Manners would come back with some kind of horrific news. I could tell the way his brows arched as he began to speak.
“Out with it,” I demanded, arms folded across my chest.
“I have to preface my report with the fact that I unfortunately lost Mollini’s trail. However, I do believe he’s reentered our world.”
“So that’s it? That’s the earthshaking news I had to hear in person?”
“Sit down,” Briana said, guiding me to the couch. Bastet immediately placed herself on my lap, head cocked, apparently waiting for a report on her deceased owner. I ran my fingers through her fur to soothe us both, keeping my eyes away from the messenger--you know the one you’re not supposed to kill.
A moment later, I returned my eyes to my guests. I could actually feel myself glaring.
“What did he do with Caitlin?”
Manners simply shook his head. “He is an evil bastard.”
“Stop muttering, Manners. Damn it. Spit it out.”
“He left Diggs’s body on the doorstep of your Salem home. It’s all over the news. I’m very sorry, Agent Diggs.”
“Oh my goodness, Tara…”
“Wait,” Manners implored hands up, palms facing me. “She did find the body there. However, I took the liberty to contact her. I straightened her out. I told her you were safe in this reality. That the body on her doorstep was not her sister’s.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “She believed you?”
“Not at first. But she had inspected the body and had found some curious differences… the way you dressed differently. Makeup, jewelry, hairstyle… She does believe you are safe and here… now.”
He paused to run a hand through his hair. A strange, almost inappropriate smile came over him. “You’ll be happy to know Tara, her boyfriend and Celeste all live in your home now. Despite the circumstances, they did seem…happy.”
I gauged his body language. I couldn’t read an incubus. He did seem nervous but I suppose it’s never easy to lay such bad news on anybody. I would cut him some slack. His account of Tara’s reaction did sound plausible. Tara--sensitive to fashion--would have inspected the body and realized her older sister never ever dressed to impress. Yet that provided little comfort.
“So, for all intents and purposes, everyone else but Tara thinks I’m dead. I guess that’s why Mollini traded for Brahms. He wanted retaliation for my interference. Now--if I ever do find a way back to my world--how could I ever explain my sudden resurrection?”
“It might not be that hard,” Brahms interjected. “Tara has spoken to your detective friend, Mr. Carter. He also knows you’re here.”
I smiled while tears formed in my eyes. Yes. Carter would believe the story. We shared a great friendship because we both had open minds.
“So what do we do now?”
Both Manners and Briana wore stunned looks.
“Don’t think I’m going to sit around here grieving. That’s what that bastard Mollini wants. At least I have some control over my reactions.” Briana smiled, apparently pleased the essences were starting to work.
But Manners’s furrowed brows demanded explanation.
“Mollini thinks he’s weakened me. Thinks he can control my response. Well I’ll give him a response. But it won’t be what he’s expecting.”
At the moment, I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant. But if Manners were somehow playing both sides of the fence I would rather play it cryptic. Why not? I really didn’t have a clue as to what the hell was really going on anyway. Nevertheless, I did experience hesitation by Mollini to engage me in battle in our previous encounters.
So what did I possess that made Mollini blink?
Sixteen
I had almost fallen asleep when the ring of my cell made me jump. I always hated surveillance because no matter how many cups of coffee I poured into me I still feared nodding off on the job. Another one of my fears had indeed become reality in my new reality. My head rocketed forward in response to the ring tone, confirming I had blacked out for a second or two.
In my defense, I had every right to be sleepy. I had resumed sentry duty of Josef Yilosk’s house immediately after hearing Judge Manners’s latest Intel on Mollini. The way he exploited Agent Diggs’s dead body to terrorize my family had not only enraged me but also taken most of my energy. Additionally, my mouth was just beginning to feel like my own again after the dental work.
I had expected the call to be from Briana. The stern voice of my new dentist Alexis Federov jolted me from standby mode to yellow alert.
“Is everything all right?” I asked. The silence engulfed me.
I shouldn’t have asked that. Federov’s behavior in the office confirmed her no nonsense approach to life left little room for stupid questions. Every fiber of my being told me she was calling in regard to the singer. If it had been an insurance problem, I would be speaking with her secretary right now.
She broke the silence. “Are you all right?” she asked, her mockin
g tone hard to miss.
It sounded too facetious for me to even answer. I’m sure the stoic doctor would find it very comical for me to recount my fear of needles and drills to her. Instead, I said, “My mouth is nearly one hundred percent. Thanks, Doc.”
My optimism apparently threw her.
She managed to add another edge to her voice by annunciating each of her next words in monosyllabic fashion. Very deliberate, very self-assured and very annoying. “I know you are eager to meet the young singer I spoke of. It seems you’re in luck. She is performing tonight and I want you and Briana to attend.” I exhaled. The singer had not been victimized, at least not yet. I made a silent vow to protect her. I would have to iron out the details on that one because the number of people I had to protect was now growing exponentially.
Her offer did quell some of my anger towards her. Key word: some.
I accepted her invitation in a formal, indifferent tone masking my moodiness. She offered to swing by Briana’s house and pick up us. She said we would have to be ushered in. It all sounded so formal. I assured her I would be there in my best designer bling. She hung up. I didn’t think her curt disconnect had anything to do with cattiness however. I suddenly felt great fear. My empathic abilities must have kicked in. I understood her brevity. She apparently kept watch over this singer… screening her audience. I could almost see it. It made me wonder what kind of relationship Federov shared with the singer. Was it a maternal one?
I would have to ponder this later. I had bigger concerns. Attending the concert with Briana, meant I again would have to either abandon surveillance over the Yilosk residence altogether or trust Manners with the detail. I would opt for the latter despite my reservations. I imagined Yilosk to be in greater immediate danger than Brahms who would again be left unattended. No wonder Briana felt so frustrated with the FBI. If Briana and I were effectively the entire Preternatural Crime Division of the Bureau, we were woefully understaffed.
