“Interesting. I wonder about the guy. Could you find any dirt on him?”
“What makes you think I tried to?” But Ari grinned at me. “None, actually. I’ll confess to being disappointed.”
“Is it possible that he was provided with a new identity somewhere along the line?”
“I couldn’t find any trace of that, either. What makes you think it might be the case?”
“I’m not sure.” I paused to focus on my mental processes. “But I’m feeling that I should take an interest in him. I’m just not sure why. Do you have the dossier you put together on him?”
“Somewhere. I don’t remember if it’s on this machine or not. They married some years ago now, and I’ve upgraded since then. I’ll look.”
While he did, I ran a Web search on Lev Flowertree and found that he’d written a book—a self-published book, but a book nonetheless. It contained his research into one of the crazier occult preoccupations, the lost continent of Mu, the supposed Pacific Ocean counterpart of Atlantis. I brought up Flowertree’s web page. It featured a black-and-white portrait photo of the guy, a decent-looking man in his 50s with dark hair, streaked with gray, and a gray beard about a quarter-inch longer than stubble. His grin and crinkly eyes said “outdoorsman” to me. He was wearing an open-throated pullover shirt decorated with a geometric design, possibly handwoven, possibly embroidered, Bohemian in either case.
I read on and learned that unlike so many writers about the imaginary continent, he’d actually gone to the South Pacific to do research. He’d lived in Tonga for two years, Samoa for two more, and visited Easter Island and the Galapagos group as well. He also was an accomplished SCUBA diver, or so he said, and had some formal training in oceanography.
At that point the alarm rang in my brain. I logged off and went to talk with Ari, who was working with his laptop at the kitchen table.
“No dossier, unfortunately.” Ari looked up from the screen. “I must have archived it in offsite storage from another machine.”
“Too bad,” I said. “You told me that Flowertree wormed his way into your mother’s life. For real, or do you just think he’s a worm?”
“Both. He met her at that sodding astrology class, but later he admitted he’d taken the class to get to know her.”
“She doesn’t have money, does she?”
“No, if you mean an independent income. He’s the one with money. When she met him, she was working as an editor for a British occult publisher. She was grossly underpaid, if you ask me. Flowertree wined and dined her. At first, he was trying to sell her his book, as you might expect.”
“Did she buy it?”
“No. She thought he’d go away at that point, but instead, he began to court her, I suppose you’d call it.” Ari paused for a scowl. “He does actually seem to care for her. That had best be the case, or I’ll—” He slammed his right fist into the palm of his left hand.
Flowertree had certainly hit the stepson jackpot. I felt a deep sympathy for Shira, caught in between those two, but I kept that thought to myself. “Did he ever mention Reb Ezekiel?”
“Oh, yes, or so she told me later.” Ari paused for a couple of deep anger-management breaths. When he spoke again, he sounded reasonably calm. “He was quite curious about the kibbutz back then. Odd that he wants her to forget it now.”
The alarm sounded again, louder.
“What?” Ari said. “You’ve got that peculiar expression on your face. It usually means something equally peculiar is going on in your brain.”
I muttered something rude and sat down at the table.
“I’m thinking three things,” I said. “First, Flowertree’s an occult author with contacts in that scene. I bet he’s read Reb Zeke’s books, which means he knows about the visions. Second, he’s spent a fair amount of time underwater. Third, he doesn’t want your mother to talk with me.”
“He’s got one of three right, then.”
I ignored this last remark. “Four things, actually,” I went on. “He’s also a vegan.”
“That last bit—”
“It means the psychic cephalopods from Venus might trust him.”
Ari sat back in his chair and stared at me, just stared with an expression so appalled that I felt sorry for him.
“Well,” I said, “they don’t trust us because our species eats squids and octopi. So if they find someone who doesn’t, they might approach him.”
“I won’t eat them, either. Nasty foreign muck, and tref at that. They’ve never approached me.”
“They probably don’t like being called ‘unclean.’ They’re natural psychics, y’know.”
Ari made a snorting sound.
“What I’m saying,” I finished up, “is that your mother’s husband may be a secret agent for the squid. A kind of underwater mole.”
“Do you honestly think they’d have agents here?”
“Consider the late, unlamented Caleb. He was, for sure, one of their dupes. Reb Zeke mentioned agents, too, before he died. It makes me think their tentacles are everywhere, and we’re the suckers.”
Ari stared at me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just couldn’t resist the joke.”
Ari rubbed his forehead with one hand.
“Headache?” I said.
“Now, yes.” He lowered his hand and looked at me with deep sorrow in his dark eyes.
“The question is, what do the psychic cephalopods have to do with the destruction of Interchange?”
“What makes you think they have one sodding thing to do with it?”
“Proximity of occurrence and karmic gravity.”
He stared again.
“I explained karmic gravity to you months ago,” I said.
“Yes, and I didn’t believe it then, either.”
I sighed. “Both the psychic squid and Interchange came into my life and work at roughly the same time. So did you, and you bring your mother, the kibbutz, and now Flowertree with you. It may look like coincidences, Ari, but it adds up to critical mass.”
Ari crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. I knew I had a hard sell ahead of me. I needed to think up a new metaphor, I figured, and looked away. A large squidlike creature was hovering in the air over the sink. It flapped its mouthful of tentacles at me and darted a few feet forward in an attempt to gain dominance.
“Oh, stop it!” I said. “I am so sick and tired of you!”
“What?” Ari said. “What did I do now?”
“Not you!” I got up so fast that I knocked my chair over. “Go away, you filthy piece of squid shit! I am sick and tired of you guys bothering me!” I strode over to the counter and grabbed my big German steel carving knife. “Do you hear me? Get out!”
The squid-shape retreated back against the wall. I thrust the knife in its direction and screamed. “I said get out! I’ll turn you into calamari salad! Deep-fried! Cut off your tentacles!”
It flapped its tentacles again to reveal its circular mouth, fringed with triangular teeth. I drew a Chaos ward in the air. The ward hovered gleaming on the point of the knife. I flicked it forward like a tennis ball from a racquet. “OUT!”
The squid popped like a balloon and disappeared. One writhing tentacle fell onto the floor near me. When I raised a foot to stomp on it, the slimy thing curled and vanished. I lowered the knife and stood panting for breath.
“I take it,” Ari said calmly, “that you saw one of those Chaos creatures again.”
“A big one, yeah. Squiddish, this time. They’re driving me crazy.”
“Well, it’s only a short drive.”
I spun and glared at him. He stopped grinning.
“Darling,” Ari said, “do put that knife down. Please?”
Because I really did love him, I laid the knife on the counter. Ari sighed in relief.
“I was afraid I might hurt you,” he said, “if I had to take it away from you.”
I nearly picked the knife up again to use on him. Instead, I set m
y chair upright and sat down. I ran my hands through my hair to push it back from my face. My hands, I realized, were shaking.
“You’re really quite nervous tonight,” Ari went on. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? We were nearly killed, that’s what! If that guy had punched the elevator button—” I shuddered.
“Oh. That.”
“Are you putting on an act or something? I can’t believe how macho you’re being about what happened on Six.”
“It’s not macho.” He spoke softly, slowly. “Nola, I’ve spent my entire life ready to die. When I was a boy, we lived in fear of an Arab invasion, to say nothing of the PLO. Then I went into the army, and we were there to fight and die. I was military police, worse yet, a walking target for the terrorists. I could have been killed at any minute. I knew it, I lived with it, I accepted it. Don’t you understand that?”
All at once I did, partly because of my talents, but mostly because of the way he was looking at me—so openly, so seriously, his eyes perhaps a little puzzled at my failure to see what it meant to be a man like him from a place like Israel.
“Okay,” I said. “I do get it now.”
He smiled. I couldn’t.
“I need to call Itzak,” Ari continued as if we’d just been discussing the weather. “These Chaos creatures don’t set off the alarm system when they appear. They should.”
Although he was an American citizen, Itzak Stein was Ari’s long-time buddy and something of a technical genius. He’d been working as an IT expert at one of the big banks when I’d first met him, but as a favor to us, he’d designed and installed the security system that Ari and I relied on. He’d done such a good job that a colleague of mine, LaDonna Williams, had recently recruited him for the Agency. Keeping TranceWeb up and running took a lot of skill and hard work.
I did wonder, now that Ari had pointed it out, why the appearance of Chaos creatures failed to trigger the alarms. When Ari called him, Itzak had a theory ready. Ari asked him to hold on a moment while he relayed the information to me.
“He says that the creatures don’t breach any perimeter. They arrive inside from some other dimension. This means that they’re not crossing any of the boundaries that the security system has set up.”
“Crud,” I said. “Does that mean a fast walker could just plop herself down here?”
Ari returned to his phone and asked.
“He says he doesn’t know,” Ari told me. “It depends on where she came from, I should think.” He paused to listen further. “Itzak wonders if you could ask your father.”
“Sure. I’ll do it right now.”
Ari switched to Hebrew, which he and Itzak tended to speak when they were talking about their shared boyhood on Reb Zeke’s retro kibbutz. I got out my cell phone and called Dad. Although he answered promptly, he sounded vague and distracted. I could hear my mother’s voice in the background, but I couldn’t make out her words. She sounded annoyed, but then, she usually did.
“Are you busy, Dad?” I said. “I can call back later.”
“No, no, you’ve called at a good time. Your mother says she’s got something important to tell me, but we’ve not started discussing whatever it is yet.”
Danger ahead! I sensed a SAWM, an ASTA, and a general uh-oh. Whatever bomb Mother was planning to drop did not concern me—that I could tell—but I knew it was going to cause trouble. I decided that hanging up would be cowardly.
“I just have a quick question about fast walking,” I said. “And alarm systems.”
While I explained the problem, Dad listened carefully.
“It depends,” he said when I finished. “Someone who’s also a world-walker could drop in from elsewhere. They wouldn’t set off the alarm.”
“Okay,” I said, “what about someone who’s only a fast walker?”
“Now they would set it off. It’s not like you’re changing dimensions when you’re fast walking. The process—” He paused to think. “In a way you’re streaming yourself along, but you don’t leave the world you’re on at the time. You’re still physical, just fluid rather than solid. You dissolve and re-form a fair bit. It’s a hard thing to be putting into words.”
“That’s okay. I think I get it. Thanks, Dad! I’ll let you go.”
I caught Ari’s attention and relayed Dad’s information. He switched to English and repeated it all to Itzak, almost word for word. Ari has an amazing memory for language in all its forms. They talked for another couple of minutes before they ended the call. Ari laid his phone down on the table, and I slipped mine back into my shirt pocket.
“Itzak says we should be safe enough on that score,” Ari said. “Judging from what your father said, a fast walker would breach the perimeter and thus set off the alarms.”
“That makes sense. It’s also a relief. Ash can’t be a world-walker. If she was, her gang wouldn’t have needed to kidnap Michael the way they did.”
“True.” Ari stood up. “We should have some dinner. There’s leftover pizza. I could even heat it up.”
“Okay. For you, I could even eat some of it.”
I managed to eat an entire large slice and some chocolate ice cream as well. If you’ve never suffered from borderline anorexia, you won’t understand what a victory this was. On days when I felt happy and relaxed, I could eat more and do it more easily, but that night every bite cost me real effort. Ari had learned by then to say nothing when I was having trouble eating. He occasionally looked my way with an encouraging smile. We’d just finished when my phone chimed in my shirt pocket. I answered it: Aunt Eileen.
“Nola,” she said. “Did you hear the explosion?”
“What?” I came close to panicking. “Where?”
“I’m sorry, darling. Not a real explosion. I was trying to be funny.”
“I guess I’m just on edge tonight.” I decided against explaining why I’d never find jokes about explosions funny again. “What—”
“Your mother’s told him. Your father, I mean. About Sean.”
“Oh, God help us!” I was glad that I was sitting down. “I take it Dad’s views on gay people haven’t changed any.”
“Yes and no,” Aunt Eileen said. “He’s gotten to the point where he can tolerate it in someone else, but not in his son. Your mother’s awfully upset. She actually cried on the phone.”
“Well, Sean’s always been her favorite.”
“I know, which is why she decided to tell your father herself rather than letting Sean do it. I guess Flann went storming out of the apartment. The question is, where are they all going to end up? Here or at your flat?”
Normally, troubles in the family meant a general invasion of Aunt Eileen’s living room. For years, she’d acted as referee, peacemaker, and the psychological equivalent of a traffic cop.
“Why would they come to my place?” I said.
“Well, now that you know, too. I’ve always thought that whoever knows the secret ends up having to take care of a lot of details.” She sighed. “I suppose ‘details’ is the word I want.”
I nearly choked.
“I always wanted a big family,” Aunt Eileen went on, “but I suppose God knew I’d have to help take care of Deirdre’s, so Jim and I only had the three. It’s not the fault of you children, of course.”
“Ah, er.” I managed to spit out a few noises to clear my throat. “I take it you had one of your dreams. About me finding out the family secret, I mean.”
“Of course.” She laughed in a titter of suppressed hysteria. “Are you surprised?”
“I shouldn’t be, no. Okay, so I guess I’ve joined the club. They who know about my mom and dad.”
“It’s just the two of us, I think. Though your Aunt Rose might know in her own weird way. I’m not sure, and I’m afraid to ask her. If she even would understand the question.”
The doorbell rang. Overlap rang in my brain as well.
“He’s here,” I said. “Ari, would you let my father in? And you don’t need to gre
et him with the damned gun.”
“I’ll hang up,” Aunt Eileen said. “I suppose the rest of the family’s going to poke their noses in. I’ll admit to being relieved that someone else knows. Things will be easier now that we share it. Good luck!”
Easier for you, maybe! I thought. But aloud I said, “Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I left my phone on the kitchen table before I went into the living room. Now that I’d been appointed Traffic Cop Number Two, I knew that more family calls lay ahead, and I didn’t need it ringing right under my chin. Dad came marching upstairs lugging two six-packs of dark beer. We were in for a long night of it.
“What’s all this crap, Noodles?” he said. “Why didn’t Sean tell me himself?”
“Because he knew you’d act like you’re acting now,” I said. “Enraged. Irrational.”
Dad snorted. He closed his eyes and hissed from between closed jaws, a sure sign of a tirade coming. Ari walked up behind him and laid a filial hand on his shoulder.
“Do sit down, Flann,” Ari said. “Shall I put the beer in the refrigerator for you?”
The tirade stalled. Dad opened his eyes, set the six-packs on the coffee table, and sat down on the couch. “No,” he said. “Unless you’d like to chill some of these bottles for yourself.”
“I learned to drink beer in Britain. Room temperature’s fine with me.”
“I’ll get you men some glasses.” I managed not to simper.
I ran for the kitchen to compose myself before I screamed. Fortunately, the room had stayed free of giant squid. I brought the four tall glasses I owned and set them down on the coffee table. Dad looked them over.
“Are you joining us, Noodles?” he said.
“No, but someone else will. Probably Sean at least. You can bet on that.”
“And how will he know we’re discussing him?”
“Dad!”
“Oh, very well.” He rolled his eyes. “Your mother doubtless called him the minute I left.”
“After she called Eileen. Eileen told me that Mom was in tears on the phone.”
That gave Dad pause. He and my mother loved each other without reservation, intensely, passionately, and illegally, because even though he’d been born on a different world level, he was genetically her brother. Their parents had been exact doppelgängers. Incest—that was the secret in our family and of our family. Inbreeding had reinforced our tendency to wild talents. He picked up a bottle, twisted off the cap as if he were strangling a small animal, and glowered as he poured the beer into the glass.
Love on the Run Page 10
