Amazon Ink

by Lori Devoti

  Damn them. I was not the enemy. Why couldn’t they see that?

  Over dinner I realized a hole in my thinking. I couldn’t make Zery talk to the police, not of her own free will. But I could bring the police to her. I could tell the police about the Amazons without revealing who and what they truly were.

  Half truths. A new art I seemed to have mastered.

  I went to bed with the knowledge I was going to make use of it tomorrow.

  I called Reynolds first thing the next morning and got voice mail offering a cell-phone number. I called it. He was already in his car and on his way over. It would have been flattering if I hadn’t gotten the distinct feeling he was fingering his handcuffs as we chatted-and not in a let’s-have-some-fun way. When I told him I was ready to talk but wanted to do so on neutral ground, he named a coffee shop not far from campus.

  “I was a member of a cult.”

  Reynolds set his coffee cup down without taking a drink. “A cult?”

  “Well…” I twiddled a plastic stir stick between my fingers. “I wouldn’t call it a cult.”

  “You just did.”

  “I know.” I tapped the stick against the paper cup. “It’s just hard to put a term to it.”

  “Closed group with a charismatic leader who keeps the members cut off from outside society?”

  I bit into the stick, flattening it with my teeth, then dropped it back into my cup. “The point is-I was part of a group that’s a tad shy.”

  “Secretive.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad.

  “They don’t surround themselves with barbed wire or anything.” Wards were a lot more effective. “And members come and go all the time.”

  “So do Hare Krishnas.”

  I snorted. “Believe me, none of these women are selling flowers at the airport.”

  “They sell fortunes instead?” He looked at me without raising his head from the notepad.

  “That’s not illegal.”

  “Depends on how it’s done.”

  “Listen.” I swished the stir stick around a few times, then jerked it out and dropped it on the table, leaving a little snake of coffee in its wake. “Do you want to hear what I have to tell you or not?”

  He leaned back, one arm propped on the back of his chair, and made a circular motion with one hand. “By all means. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I left the group ten years ago.”

  “Any reason?”

  I gave him a glare. He held up his hand in surrender. “Tattoos are…important to the group. Everyone has them. Girls get them sometime during puberty-preferably right at the beginning. When you brought me the pictures…I didn’t recognize the girls, but I recognized the tattoos, the style anyway. I knew they were from the group.”

  “But you didn’t do them?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.

  “Address?”

  “For what?”

  He lowered his pencil. “The whatever you called it…camp.”

  “You don’t need to go there.” I wanted him to talk to Zery, not drop in unannounced on Alcippe and company. My horror must have shown.

  “Why not? What could happen?” He had that tense look again, like the barista behind me had pulled a gun and he was trying not to show he’d noticed.

  “Nothing. I mean, some of the group, the leader, in fact, is at my shop.”

  “I thought you left.”

  “I did, but with the girls…some bonds are hard to break, okay?” I sounded frustrated, guilty, and apologetic all at once. And I was pretty sure all the emotions were targeted not at him, or even the Amazons, but at myself.

  “Why didn’t they come forward before this?”

  I sighed. “They didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know what? That the girls were missing? How do you not know that? One of those girls looked about fourteen.”

  He was showing his age. To me she looked every one of her seventeen years or more; to the bartender who served her downtown, she must have looked older. Even the greediest of bar owners wouldn’t serve a fourteen-year-old, fake ID or not.

  “Or that they were dead?” he continued. “They not watch the news…read a paper? It’s been everywhere. If my teenage daughter went missing, I’d be scouring every inch of ground from here to the borders-of the U.S., not Wisconsin. And if I didn’t find her, I’d keep going. You mean to tell me they saw all the coverage and didn’t even think it might be their girls? What are they hiding?”

  “You have a daughter?” I asked. It was an inappropriate question, cutting off his passionate diatribe, but I was curious. I hadn’t seen him as having kids, or a wife.

  He blinked. “Two. One’s married. One lives with her mother-in Rockford.”

  Divorced. That intrigued me too. Since Amazons never committed to a relationship with a man, the whole marriage thing confounded me. I’d have loved to ask what drove him to commit, then what drove him-or her-to walk away. But I didn’t. I had used my one inappropriate and personal question for the day-maybe forever.

  There was no reason to think Reynolds and I would have any kind of conversation after today. I would introduce him to Zery. He’d understand what a tiny role I’d had (or was pretending to have) in this mess, and he’d back off. Go back to doing whatever he did to solve this crime.

  He rapped his notebook against the table. “So, he must know about the girls now-if he’s staying with you.”

  “She.” The pronoun came out harsher than I’d meant it to, but it annoyed me that he’d assumed Zery, the person with power, was a man. It was an unfair judgment on my part; he was victim to his own society’s norms, not the ones I’d been raised with. And I had my own issues-obviously.

  “She?” The corners of his mouth curved down, in surprise or thought…whatever, it was obvious he hadn’t expected the female bit.

  “The entire group is.”

  Still digesting my previous revelation, it took a minute for him to catch my latest.

  “Is what?”

  “Female. No men.”

  “No men at all?” His expression morphed from surprise to shock. “How do they work that? I mean there are kids, right? Or is it a new group? Only been around a few years?”

  “No, not new.” I really hadn’t foreseen the need to explain the Amazons like this. I was beginning to get a sick feeling in my stomach. “It’s just a group, okay? None of that matters, does it? You just needed to know how I was connected, and I told you. Now you know where the girls came from, maybe it will help you with the case.”

  He raised a brow. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t get to tell me what you want me to know and expect me not to ask anything else. Two girls were murdered.”

  “I know.” I sat against the back of my seat hard. “Listen, I want to stop the killer. I have a daughter too, you know.”

  “Are you worried about her?”

  I almost threw my coffee on him then. Of course I was worried about her-some things didn’t need to be said.

  “When we started, I asked if I gave you something if you could give me something in return. I gave you something-two somethings.” I picked up the printout from the Web site that I’d brought with me.

  He didn’t move, just stared back at me with his eyes shuttered, not giving away any of his thoughts.

  “I want to know who put those pictures out there.” I held out the printout.

  “Why?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it.

  “You’re not involved, right? And even if you were, there’s no reason for you to know that. You or one of your not-a-cult friends wouldn’t go looking for the person, right?”

  I shifted my eyes to the side and took a breath. When I looked back, I was calm, kind of. “I want the killer stopped. We all do. It’s about the only thing me and my ‘group’ have in common anymore. But I don’t want them harassed. They’re private. If I’d thought you were going to dig into every aspect of who they are,
I wouldn’t have told you about them.”

  He smiled, his eyes understanding, but sad. “I get that, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t get to pick and choose what I use. I don’t even get to pick and choose. I just follow whatever lead I can.”

  I stood up and walked out of the shop, leaving him with the dirty cup and my chewed-on stir stick. I was pissed, but nowhere near as pissed as Zery was going to be.

  I needed to get home and prepare her. Little did Reynolds know he might have another murder to investigate-mine.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I beat Reynolds to my shop, but barely. I’d rushed into the gym to grab a few minutes with Zery, but she was being stubborn, ignoring me while she stood huddled with Pisto and a few other warriors. The group sent to scout for new parties, I guessed.

  By the time she had turned to look at me, I knew it was too late. I could feel Reynolds standing behind me. Could see it on Zery’s face too.

  She pulled a knife from her belt as she walked and threw it the length of the room. It slammed into a wooden pillar about four feet to my left. Stuck there. I didn’t turn my head, didn’t drop my gaze from her face.

  Message sent and received.

  Reynolds stepped forward, the entire length of his body pressed against my side. I could feel tension vibrating through him. His hand was on his holster. I don’t know what stopped him from pulling his gun-street smarts? Some sixth sense that told him Zery wasn’t a threat at that moment? Or was it a simple matter of speed? Zery had performed the entire act in only a few seconds. Cop or not, it had to seem surreal to him-she’d moved that fast; maybe he thought it was all an act. It wasn’t, of course. Zery was deadly serious.

  As Zery ground to a halt in front of us, I didn’t bother to further analyze the reason for his lack of overt action. I was just grateful for it.

  “What are you doing?” Zery asked. The question was directed at me. She had yet to let an eyelash flicker in Reynolds’ direction.

  The detective stepped forward, went through his whole “I’m a detective investigating the murders” routine. I’d heard it before, blocked it out. Besides, I was busy soaking in the betrayal in Zery’s eyes and the pure hatred in Pisto and company’s.

  As Reynolds’ introduction wound down, the group of warriors around Zery grew. None of them touched a weapon, but they didn’t have to-the promise was obvious. If Reynolds felt it, he didn’t react, gave no sign that he knew the dozen or so women now surrounding him-they’d come up from behind too-wanted him, us, gone.

  Done with his spiel, Reynolds crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  Zery didn’t move, and none of the warriors would until she did.

  It could be a long wait. Not wanting the detective to get impatient and force an action all of us would regret, I took a step forward, into the gym. “The detective just wants to ask a few questions about the girls…who they were, where anyone saw them last, that kind of thing.” I prayed what I said was true, that he wouldn’t start digging into Amazon life.

  Zery held my stare for a heartbeat. It felt like a lifetime. Then she raised her left hand, told the warriors with that one gesture to back off, scatter. They did, but they didn’t wander far. One twitch from Zery and they’d be back at her side, their weapon of choice pressed to my or Reynolds’ throat within seconds.

  Reynolds unfolded his arms. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “The cafeteria,” I responded and started walking, taking the short route through the main gym. Either way, we had to walk past warriors. Might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

  While we moved ahead, Zery took a minute to speak with Pisto. The Amazon had been staring at me since I’d walked into the gym, eyeing me as if measuring me for a hole-although I doubted she was worried about accuracy of the fit, just depth.

  “Interesting group,” Reynolds said as he held the door open for me. I closed my eyes and walked into the cafeteria. I didn’t want to know if any of the warriors were watching as I let him get away with what to him was probably just a show of good manners, but to them…no telling.

  “We just caught them at a bad time. They’re training for a celebration.”

  “With knives?” His gaze floated over the room, cataloging everything he saw there, I was sure.

  “Celebration’s the wrong word. More of a demonstration,” I replied.

  His eyes focused on me. “You have a hard time hitting the right word, don’t you?”

  I walked over to a table and pulled out a chair. “I’d offer you coffee, but…”

  “You won’t.” He sighed. “I’m doing my job, Mel.”

  I shrugged, then turned so I could look out the window at the walkway between the cafeteria and my shop.

  Zery arrived, saving me from getting completely pissy-at least for a few seconds before they both told me to leave. Even then, I had to swallow my ire. Arguing with either of them in front of the other might reveal more about me and my life than I cared for either to know.

  After an angry stare at each, I strolled out the door. Somehow, as I walked out, a small rock got kicked into the space near the hinges, keeping the door from closing.

  I was leaning against the doorjamb, straining to hear what was being said, when Peter stepped around the corner from the front of the building. He glanced from me to the window.

  It was lighter outside than inside. I didn’t know if he could see Reynolds and Zery sitting at the table, and I didn’t want to step away from the door to find out-didn’t want them to see me, or Peter for that matter.

  Realizing I had no other option, I moved away from the door, toward the basement steps where I was fairly sure we wouldn’t be visible from where Zery and Reynolds sat.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  He raised both brows. “Not with me.” He glanced over my shoulder, back toward the parking lot. “Looks like you have a visitor. Is he in there?” He nodded toward the cafeteria.

  I stared at him, remembering our kiss and his questions about Reynolds. The air around us seemed to thicken, and I was suddenly uncomfortable in my skin, like I needed to move, get away from something. But I held firm. I wanted to know what happened between Reynolds and Zery. I wouldn’t let my conscience drive me away.

  Besides, I had nothing to feel guilty about-at least not regarding Peter.

  “Why’s he here, Mel?” He brushed my hair from my face.

  My body, traitorous hunk of flesh that it was, edged forward. It was cool today, and my fleece wasn’t enough to keep the chill at bay. I suddenly realized how warm he would be, how nice it would feel to lean up against him.

  I took a step back.

  “It doesn’t involve you or the shop,” I replied, keeping my voice firm and businesslike. “Don’t you have a client?”

  “No, actually, I was looking for Dana. Have you seen her?”

  A band tightened around my heart. “No, how long’s she been missing?”

  He frowned, real concern showing in his eyes. “I didn’t say she was missing. Just that I was looking for her.”

  “She isn’t upstairs?” I couldn’t help it; panic was building. Dana had been at the bars. Zery had the other girls who had been there under watch-why hadn’t I thought to do the same for Dana?

  Reynolds and Zery forgotten, I headed down the stairs, skipping as many as I hit. When I jerked open the door, what-make that who-I saw there stopped my heart cold.

  Alcippe.

  The old bat was standing in my basement, dressed in some flowing purple number that seemed to fluff up when she saw me-like a cat expanding its fur. Bubbe stood next to her. I could tell by my grandmother’s iron-stiff back that they’d been arguing.

  That was enough for me. I entered the room ready to battle.

  Bubbe held up one hand. “Stop.”

  I did what she would have done, kept moving. “Get out of my house,” I said, my feet coming to a stop less than a foot away from Alcippe. Her robes billowed again, flapping over my
foot with the whisper-light touch of silk.

  She glanced at me, then away as if I didn’t exist-or was too inconsequential to mess with.

  “Melanippe. You forget yourself and who you bring with you.” Bubbe pointed toward the door I’d entered through. Sauntering down the steps came Peter.

  This Alcippe noticed. She spun to face me. “Men? Have you fallen that far? You look to men for safety?” She made a face like she wanted to spit.

  My hands itched and a space behind my eyes pounded. I wanted to pummel her-with magic and my fists, show her where I looked for safety. As if anything about her brought me fear.

  Peter glanced around; I could see the confusion on his face. Bubbe began to mutter, but it was too late. He wouldn’t forget what he had seen here, but luckily he hadn’t seen anything too strange-yet.

  “Is Dana here?” I forced my arms to relax at my sides, to present a less aggressive image, at least from Peter’s angle. For Alcippe I didn’t bother but let every ounce of aggression I felt pour out of my eyes. “What have you done with her?”

  In answer, the high priestess turned and held up one hand. “Dana, are you ready? We’ll leave now. My business is done, for now.” She angled her face to mine, let her own animosity show-didn’t try to hide it either, not even from Peter.

  The door to Mother’s weight room crawled open and Dana, her eyes red and her shirt covered in paint, crept into view. I spun on one foot, my hands flying up, my only thought to stop the high priestess from doing to Dana what she’d done to me.

  “Melanippe.” Bubbe’s hand shot upward too. Wind smacked into my face; I fell backward onto my butt.

  As I clambered to stand, Peter moved. Within seconds he was beside Dana, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder. He murmured something to her. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could see their effect on Dana. Her shoulder lost the rounding of defeat and her chin rose.

  Glad to have someone on my side, even if it was just a man and a hearth-keeper, I faced Alcippe and my grandmother. “You can’t make her go against her will.”