Joy looked surprised at Gray’s comment, but pressed on. “He was—is—under a geas that did not permit him to discuss this information with anyone who was not already privy to it. I didn’t realize, when we had him sign it, that you and he were involved. Last Saturday, Hector was meeting me at the library because I wanted to talk to him about his security measures at the school. When you asked me about it, I didn’t know how to explain. I was surprised. But I can assure you that Hector and I have no relationship beyond the professional.”
Zelda was remembering all the terrible things she had thought about Joy over the past few days. “I kept thinking you were a horrible slut!” she blurted out. She could feel her ears turning red. “I mean, I thought he might be a horrible slut too, but I never…this never occurred to me. God, I’m so embarrassed. And pissed! I mean…I shouldn’t take it personally, I know, but I feel like an idiot. And—and I have just realized that I’m saying all of this out loud.”
Joy actually laughed. “That’s OK. I’m sorry, so many things are not funny at the moment, but your honesty is refreshing.” She looked over at Agent Gray. “What does truth sound like?” she asked him.
“Like a note perfectly in tune,” he said.
“Agent Gray is a truth-teller,” Joy explained. “I don’t expect you to lie, but it’s bureau policy to have one present at formal interviews.”
“Oh. Well, that’s a little bit insulting. But I can understand why that would be the policy.”
“I’m glad. So can you tell me why you and Hector went to the Mandrake?”
“Hector wanted to put something up to protect the town from the demon. He mentioned an inertia ward. He seemed to think that the roof of the Mandrake was the best place to do this.”
“And Margaret May went with you?”
“Hector wanted her to help him with the spell.”
“OK. Margaret said that you were the one who realized what was in the vat, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve worked with fat before. It’s used in some potions and topical applications, mostly for pain relief. Human fat is the most desirable, but it’s hard to come by, because the liposuction clinics charge a lot for it, and it’s still illegal to harvest it from corpses for commercial use. I used it a couple of times in grad school. It has a distinctive odor.”
Zelda realized that the slight pause Joy made before every new question was her giving Agent Gray the opportunity to say something if Zelda was being less than truthful. Gray just stood against the door with his arms crossed, a faint expression of disgust on his face.
“You didn’t know that about fat?” she asked. “Have you ever used Bengay Magic Rub? It’s thirty-five percent cow fat.”
“Thanks,” said Gray, “but I’d prefer not to think about that.”
“It’s important to know where things come from,” said Zelda. “Your food, your drink, your medicines, your cleaning products—did you know that Tortoise Wax contains real—”
“I think we’re getting off the topic,” said Joy. “Sorry. So you were on the roof, and you saw that Chuck had a vat of human fat. Did he say anything?”
“He told us not to come any closer. He said he had to do it. He said something to Hector, that they were friends, but Hector didn’t understand. Then I said that it was a Heartstopper, and he ran.”
“I understood that he jumped.”
“Well, yes, but he wasn’t right next to the edge, so he ran for it, and Hector ran after him, and…you know what happened then.”
“You ran down to the street?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t touch any of the apparatus that Chuck had set up on the roof?”
“No. God. No.” Zelda couldn’t suppress a shudder of horror at the thought of that cauldron.
“How well did you know Chuck?”
“Not well. I think Hector did some work for him, just basic wards, that sort of thing. Chuck was in the culinary department at Gooseberry Bluff, but they shut that down a couple of years ago and he opened the Mandrake.”
“Did he ever express any political opinions?”
“Not that I recall, no. We didn’t talk that much.”
“Do you know if he ever had students complaining about him?”
“I never heard anything. It’d be better if you asked Edith about that, though.”
“Yes, we will,” said Joy. “Do you know if Chuck and Fredrick Larch were close?”
“Freddie? I don’t think so. Chuck used to make fun of Freddie. Although…”
“Yes?”
“I’m trying to remember.” It had been a faculty development meeting a few years ago; someone had mentioned that Chuck was being very hard on Freddie. “Chuck said something once, about knowing Freddie back in Auckland. I think Chuck went to culinary school there? They have an alchemy/cooking fusion program there. Chuck was trying to start the same kind of thing here, but to be honest, Chuck was really bad with departmental politics. He didn’t have any patience for it.”
“Is Fredrick Larch from Auckland?”
“Well, I guess I thought he was, but that might only be because Chuck said that. If Freddie ever said anything about it, I probably tuned it out along with his weird come-ons.” Zelda shivered. “You think that Chuck and Freddie were both involved in the Heartstoppers?”
“We’re nearly certain of that,” said Joy. “Now that we know about Chuck, we just needed to connect him to Larch. You may have just done that for us.”
“Well. That’s good, I guess. This is all…I had no idea we had any Heartstopper activity here. I just thought Freddie went a little nuts and attacked you.”
“That was the story we put out. The truth is a little more complicated.”
“What do they want?”
“We’re still not sure about that,” said Joy. “I’m sorry; we probably shouldn’t discuss this any further right now. I do want to ask you about someone else, though. How well do you know Ingrid Ingwiersen?”
“Oh my God, is Ingrid involved with the Heartstoppers too?”
Joy hesitated. “Are you friends with Ingrid?”
“No. I hate to say it, but I don’t think Ingrid has any friends. She’s very private; very closed off.”
“Well, we think she may have summoned the demon. Which was originally brought here by the Heartstoppers, we think, but she seems to have been working at cross-purposes with them.”
“Oh God, of course,” Zelda realized. “Because of her sister. No way would she be working with those people.”
“We don’t think so either,” said Joy. “Have you seen her recently?”
“I saw her the other day at the Frog’s Umbrella. The, uh, the vintage dress shop by the town square? She said her roommate had destroyed all of her clothes. I picked out some things I thought might look good on her, just to be nice. She seemed really shell-shocked.”
“Is that the only clothes store in town?”
“It’s the cheapest. There’s a little boutique on the north side that does, what do you call it—bespoke clothes. It’s appointment only. And there are some chains down the interstate, or over in Hudson.”
“All right. I guess that’s probably not much of a lead,” said Joy.
“Actually.” Chills ran up Zelda’s back. “Actually, I just had a horrible thought.”
“What is it?”
“The Frog’s Umbrella. They sort of advertise as having clothes with good psychic residue—supposedly they take off the bad. But I just took some things off the rack and handed them to Ingrid. I didn’t ask what sort of charges were on them, and I don’t think Ingrid did either.”
“OK,” said Joy. “I’m not getting it.”
“My curse,” said Zelda. “My curse just threw the guy I’m in lo—the guy I like off a roof. It’s been building toward this. It always starts small and gets bigger. I wonder—I think one of those dresses I picked probably had the wrong kind of charge on it.”
“You
said they take the bad psychic residue off.”
“Sure, but good can be bad in the wrong context. What if the dress had been worn by a wedding planner who summoned perfect weather for her clients? The dress might have residue that would boost a summoning even if the caster didn’t want it to. The demon might have been stronger than Ingrid expected.”
“As far as we can tell, she destroyed it.”
“Did you find her?”
Joy shook her head.
“I’m telling you, this is my curse. I had a moment of weakness in a dress shop, and I sent someone to hell.”
“OK, Zelda, you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Don’t say that to me!” Zelda slammed her hands down on the table. “No one knows this curse like I do. It’s a killer. Goddammit, I just helped you with your investigation. I wonder how that’s going to backfire.” Zelda was in tears, whether of frustration or rage or fear for Hector she wasn’t sure. “I have to get out of here,” she said. “I’m not going to answer any more questions.”
Joy looked at Agent Gray, who took a sheet of paper from a folder. “This is a standard nondisclosure geas,” he said. “It indem—”
“Fine,” said Zelda. “Whatever.” She scrawled her signature across the bottom of the paper and stood. “Are you going to get out of my way?” she said to Agent Gray.
He glanced at Joy and stepped aside. Zelda brushed past him, out of the room, and ran for the exit.
***
“She certainly believes all of that,” said Gray after Zelda had gone. “About the curse, I mean.” He picked up the paper.
“Yeah.” Joy would have liked to have gone after Zelda, and if everything hadn’t been coming to a head, maybe she would have.
“You OK?”
“I’m tired,” said Joy. “Is that even binding without the legal incantation?”
“No,” said Gray. “But she’s not going to say anything.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Joy.
“I am. So. What are you going to say to Flood?”
Joy stood up and stretched. “What time do you suppose it is in New Zealand?” she asked.
“What?”
“I’m not going to talk to Flood yet. I’m going to make some calls, and then I’m going to ask some questions. I could use your help.”
“Flood said you’d have to talk to him tonight.”
“What he actually said was: ‘You and I are going to have another long talk before you sleep tonight.’ I’m not going to sleep anytime soon.” She considered Gray’s indigo aura. He was a truth-teller, sure, but just how much truth was he really prepared for?
“What are you up to, Wilkins?”
“Are you Flood’s assistant?”
Gray raised an eyebrow. “No. I think he asks me to stick with him sometimes because he thinks everyone lies to him.”
“OK. Here’s the thing. I’m going to get answers, Gray. I’ve got a lot of pieces, but I’m not even sure how many puzzles they belong to. I need your perfect pitch for the truth, and I need you to get me in to talk to someone I’m not supposed to be talking to. Flood’s not going to like it, and I’ll try to take the heat for that, but I can’t promise to keep it all off you. Am I ringing true so far?”
Gray frowned but nodded.
“Good. So…are you in or are you out?”
Episode 11
Chapter 12 — Secrets and Lies
In 2005, the Federal Detention Center in Philadelphia had taken over a neighboring building, torn it down, and built a special holding facility for magic-using prisoners. Salt-infused stone and tiles had been used throughout the building, and wards were put up to make the building impervious to spatial distortion. Its warden was one of the top duelists in the country.
Efforts had been made to create a secure but humane facility, but no one had anticipated Fredrick Larch. He had created such a commotion in the original cell he was assigned to—transforming into his panther form, tearing his mattress to shreds, yowling his protests all night—that he had been moved into a larger makeshift cell that was supposed to have been a transition area for new prisoners.
“He’s not happy in there either,” said the guard who escorted Joy and Gray through the gates. He was a bulky man with a thick Philly accent, his vowels arcing as though his words were being hurled through the air. “I could give a shit, honestly. But he seems more animal than human. Spends most of the time as a cat. They’re talking about building an outdoor facility for him at the Miami detention center.”
“Has he said anything?” Joy asked.
“Very little. When he wants to be, he can be very composed. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘good day’—all that stuff. Of course, he’s naked when he’s saying it, because he won’t wear clothes. That’s not allowed, of course, but we forcibly put him in coveralls a couple of times, and he just transformed. Tore them to shreds.”
“I see.” Joy fought back a yawn. It was after midnight in Philadelphia, and she expected to be up for most of the night. The yellow and gray of the detention center halls were making her sleepy.
“Here he is,” said the guard. They had reached the end of a hall; bars enclosed an area with wooden benches on either side and a toilet in a far corner. A mass of shredded cloth was heaped in one of the near corners. There was a gate in front of them and another at the opposite end of the cell, but the hall beyond that was blocked with crates and curtains.
“We had an incident with some of the prisoners taunting him,” said the guard. “Talking to him like he’s in a zoo. Guess they forgot they were locked up themselves, or they were trying to.”
At first Joy didn’t see the “him” the guard was referring to. Then she spotted the two yellow eyes looking at her from the makeshift bed in the corner.
“Hello, Fredrick,” she said.
“I’ll leave you to it,” said the guard. “We’ve got a camera on you. No way he’s getting out, but don’t go sticking your hands in there.”
“Do you have audio?” Joy asked.
“Nah. Lawyers.” There were volumes of meaning behind that single word, and Joy was sure she only picked up on a fraction of it. “You’ll have your privacy. When you’re done, just head back the way you came and I’ll meet you at the gate.” The guard’s footsteps echoed down the concrete hallway. Joy waited for the clang of the gate behind him.
“Ms. Wilkins.” Larch stood by the gate, his arms thrust casually through. He was, as the guard had warned, as naked as day. His aura was still predominantly indigo, but the orange-red corona was shot through with streaks of bright yellow. He was anxious to the point of desperation.
“Mr. Larch,” said Joy. “I don’t suppose you’d care to put on some pants.”
“Fuck pants,” he said pleasantly. “This place makes me claustrophobic. I want out.”
“That’s not likely to happen,” said Joy.
“Not likely means there’s a chance,” said Larch. “Which means you are here because you want to dangle that chance in front of me in the hope that I will pounce upon it and trade you something. Information, perhaps.”
With an effort, Joy refrained from commenting on his choice of the verb “dangle.” “I see that we understand each other,” she said. “I’ve heard a bit about the difficulties you’ve been having here. But I can only promise to talk to some people about housing you in some more congenial facilities—and only if you cooperate.”
“Who’s your friend?” asked Larch.
“This is Agent Gray,” said Joy. “He’s a truth-teller. He’s going to let me know when you lie.”
“Ah. ‘When,’ not ‘If.’ What makes you think I’m a liar?”
“Well, first of all, your name isn’t Fredrick Larch, is it?”
“Ah.” Larch shifted his posture. “True. An old lie; I’d almost forgotten.”
“Your original name was Pô, is that correct?”
“What kind of a word is that?” he asked.
“Maori,” said Joy. �
�It means ‘night.’ That’s what they named you when you were born, in the Auckland Zoo. Part of their black panther breeding program. You were a success—but there was more to you than they realized, wasn’t there?”
“What a fascinating story you tell,” said Larch. “Shall I tell yours? Rookie agent terrified of her own inadequacy lies to hundreds of people about who she is, then stumbles upon a break in her case due precisely to her inadequacy. You spotted the auras of those demon canisters, didn’t you?”
Joy shrugged. “Does it matter? You’re in here regardless, and you’re not getting out. And now your family is going to pay the price.”
Larch cocked his head at her. “My family?”
“Your father died a few years ago, you may have heard. Leopards in captivity don’t often live more than twenty years or so. Your mother still lives in Auckland, though. And you had two littermates, Midnight and Nimbus. Midnight is in the Kansas City Zoo, while Nimbus is in Singapore. I’ve spoken to the authorities in those cities. We’ve agreed on a course of action.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Larch asked.
“Those are your siblings,” said Joy.
“They are not.”
“There it is,” said Gray. “I was beginning to think you had brought me along for no reason.”
Larch’s aura was swirling confusion and fear. He licked his lips. “They have nothing to do with this.”
“We know that. We have no reason to think they were your accomplices. I mean, they all still live in zoos. None of them have demonstrated the ability to transform into humans, steal the identities of librarians, and aid terrorist groups in stealing the life force of hundreds of people. But now that we know there’s an anomaly in their bloodline, there’s a question as to their value. The entire breeding program is going to be investigated, top to bottom, to see if any more shape-shifters like yourself have manifested. And, well, these are animals, not humans. They don’t have the same rights that you and I…I’m sorry, that I have. You’re sort of a question mark, aren’t you?
“What I’m saying is, your family is the property of various zoological institutions. And all of those institutions have agreed that, if we can’t get your cooperation, that property will have to be destroyed, for safety’s sake. Sort of like a recall on a car with defective brakes. There’s no way of knowing what might manifest in a family that could produce an unrepentant sociopath like yourself.”
Gooseberry Bluff Community College of Magic: The Thirteenth Rib (Kindle Serial) Page 30
