by Carol Roi
"Ms. Eolia... Lee, I believe you." The words don't come from Ventriss, but the detective. The soft voice startles me, upsetting the anger I had building, deflating it completely.
Rubbing my hand, I look up into the pale blue eyes and curtly nod my thanks. The snort issuing forth from Mr. Ventriss draws my attention back to him.
"Figures. You believe a perp, a probable thief, over me, Ellison. You're just about worthless, aren't you?" He spins on his heel and leaves the room.
I glance over at Ellison only to see his jaw is clenched and he's following Ventriss' movements with a granite hard gaze. "Detective?"
Those eyes of steel look at me and I step back a pace, and the gaze softens. "Sorry about that. Old history." He gestures for me to take a seat, which I do, and he leans on the table near me, his long legs stretching out. "Do you have any idea who might have taken the information from QuestScape? Or what it might have been?"
I shake my head. "No, I don't. I'm sorry. The contract called for a dummy prop, but Ventriss insisted it had to be real for his people to take the test seriously. I nearly walked out and nullified the contract when he made that suggestion."
He sighs as he gets back to his feet. "Okay, it was worth asking. Inspector Connor will be back in to talk to you in a little bit, to get your stuff back to you and to expedite your release."
"Thank you, Detective."
The most brilliant smile I've ever seen flashes at me. "Please, call me Jim."
I shiver when the detective-Jim--leaves the room. Not from cold, though the temperature is rather chilly, but from the promise I thought I detected behind those azure orbs. I mentally kick myself for even entertaining the idea anything could happen between this handsome mortal and myself. It's not fair to Azir, to me, or even Ellison. Oh, but the possibilities! I shudder once more, this time from excitement.
The door opens once again and this time it's the Aussie who walks in, carrying my backpack and a handful of papers. My jaw drops as I realize she's no longer limping. What in the hell is going on around here?
"Ms. Eolia, I've been persuaded not to press any charges against you for assault. Detective Ellison explained to me you were acting out of concern for your partner." The Inspector strides over to the table, placing papers and pack on the surface. "I have a few more questions to ask you before I can release you, hope you don't mind?"
Regaining my composure, I motion with my hand for her to continue, not trusting my voice just yet.
"Good. Now, tell me what you can about this thief you ran into at QuestScape?" The woman's questions are pretty much a rehashing of the information I already gave and I absently give the answers as I ponder over the enigma which has presented itself to me in the form of an Australian Inspector. I try to work past the buzz I know are Diandra and Jan-Michel, to ignore the faint one I've tagged as Sandburg, and I feel it. I'll need to find some excuse to touch her to make sure, but, I swear, Megan Connor is like Sandburg, a potential Immortal.
"I hate to ask this of you, but I called Seattle PD and asked them to fax the file on your husband's death..." Her next words are lost to me as the pain of losing Azir comes crashing into my mind, my breath catching in my throat as the tears start to flow. Then she's beside me, rubbing my shoulders, offering condolences and begging forgiveness for having brought up the subject. Even through the pain, the heartache, I sense her potential. But it's more like Sandburg's than what I've come to expect off of a 'preemie.' Weird. I'm losing my mind; I have to be.
"There, there, lass. I'm sorry. Forget I said anything. Let's get your paperwork over and done with and then your friend can take you back to your hotel. Okay?"
She hands me a clean tissue and I dry my tears, nodding meekly. "Thank you, Inspector. I don't know what came over me, I usually don't break down like that."
The melodic, quiet, laughter that spills forth from her is strangely reassuring. "Anyone who has been awake as long as you have been, is allowed to lose it."
"What do you mean? What time is it?"
"Almost six o'clock." The idea I experienced lost time bothers me, but then again, I tend to lose myself in meditation. She slides the stack of papers over to me, along with a black, ballpoint, pen. "You need to sign all of those where I've placed the markers. Press hard, you have to make sure your signature goes all the way through the carbons."
I glance over each paper as I come to it. The first one is an inventory of my backpack, the second one is a statement signed by a Captain Joel Taggart, which states I can pick up the blasting caps from Evidence -- if I can show a federal permit for them. Then there is the transcript of the first interview I had with Inspector Connor and the subsequent ones with Ellison and, finally, the hand written one that she just took. Handing the pen and the papers back to her, I settle back in the chair to wait.
After checking to see that I did, indeed, get through all the carbons, Connor hands me the backpack. "I believe that Sandy put your watch in the front pocket." Sandy? Who in the hell is that? Oh, wait a minute, there were three initials at the bottom of the inventory sheet,'S,BJ' -- probably a secretary or a clerk.
Opening the indicated pocket, I find my watch and slip it over my wrist, glancing at the time. It's now after six in the morning. Slipping the pack over my left shoulder, I hold out my hand to the woman. "Inspector, I'm really sorry I injured you earlier..."
"It's nothing. I've taken worse hits in practice." She cocks her head towards the door. "Let's get you out of here, shall we?"
I allow her to lead the way, and as we pass a door marked 'Ladies,' I realize I won't make it back to the Excelsior without making a pit stop first. "Inspector? May I?" I hook my thumb over my shoulder, indicating the door.
"Of course, I'll just go let Mr. LaFollet know where you've gone and have him meet you here by the elevators." With a swish of hair over cloth, she's gone, and I become aware of the tingle nestled in the base of my skull. Diandra. I slip through the door and face my one time savior.
"D..."
"Not here." She is speaking in the ancient tongue of Greece as she turns on the sink in front of her and begins to wash her hands. "I know you have questions, but we don't have time. Call me once you and Jan-Michel have rested." She dries her hands and, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, hands me a business card. "My home and cell number are on the back."
"Thank you." I answer in the same language. "Dorian, I've been thinking about what you said. For Jan's sake, I think I'll stick around a little longer."
"Good."
"I need to start training him. Is there someplace in this city I can take him without raising too many questions?"
"I'll see if I can find one for you."
"Thanks." I look up into her eyes and brace myself to ask, "Lady Dorian, I hate to ask this... But I left one of my swords outside of QuestScape." Oh, shit. She's looking at me like a pissed off Teacher. "I know, I know. But I didn't have a choice at the time, not with the cops swarming the place."
"Where?"
"Large pine tree, east side of the building, about halfway up."
"I'll think about it." She gets a distant look in her eyes, and her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. "I'd better go. Call me." Reaching back to the sink, she shuts off the tap, and she's gone. I take care of business then walk back out to the hallway to find Jan-Michel LaFollet waiting for me.
"Let's go home, Jan-Michel."
Blair jerked awake as he felt the Wagoneer come to a stop and heard the engine being shut off. "Mmm, sorry I fell asleep, Dee. Are we home yet?" Opening his eyes, he peered out through the rain-spotted windshield. It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to turn gray toward the east. Looked like another typical winter day in Cascade. A flash of lightening illuminated the area, and Blair could see they were in a parking lot, but definitely not at the loft. The crash of thunder that followed made him wince.
"Sorry, we're not home yet. I had to make a stop first." Unbuckling her seatbelt, Dee opened the car door, and Blair did th
e same.
"Where are we?"
"QuestScape," she replied over her shoulder as she slogged through the wet grass toward a slightly wooded area behind the building. "Lee asked me to retrieve her sword."
Blair followed, shivering in the wind and rain. "I wondered about that. I know she didn't have it on her when she was brought in. It wasn't in her stuff."
Reaching the trees, Dee began to gaze up into the branches. "There!" She stopped under a thick pine. "It's in this one."
"Where?"
"About fifteen feet up, embedded in a branch."
Crossing to stand under the tree, Blair looked up and spotted the wink of silver. "Give me a leg up?"
"I can get it, Lobo. I know how you are about heights."
Blair shook his head. "No, no, I'm cool. Jim makes me climb trees all the time."
Sighing, Dee cupped her hands and Blair stepped his foot into them. "One, two, three." On three, she tossed him upwards, and he caught hold of the closest branch, swinging for a moment before using the momentum to pull himself up.
Quickly climbing the rest of the way to the sword, he reached up to grab the hilt, and gave it a tug. It didn't budge. "Shit."
"What?" Dee called up to him.
"It's stuck." Repositioning his hand, he pulled again. Nothing. "Damn it."
"Lobo, be careful. Last thing we need is for you to be falling out of a tree."
"Yeah, yeah. I know what I'm doing." He moved to another branch then reached for the sword again, this time wrapping both hands around the hilt. Blair wiggled the blade back and forth, feeling it loosen. "Almost got it!" he cried, and then the sword pulled free. Overbalanced, Blair lost his footing on his perch and tumbled to the ground, smacking a few branches along the way before landing with a whump on his back on the wet earth, knocking the wind out of him.
"Goddess! Blair! Don't move!" Dee dropped to her knees next to him, taking the sword from him and laying it aside, then running her hands over him as he tried to draw in a breath. Satisfied nothing was broken, she helped him sit up, running her fingers down his spine. He hissed as he felt the burn of her healing gift go through him, repairing damaged tissue even before it had begun to bruise.
"Oh, fuck, that was stupid, wasn't it?"
She gave him a grin, then a kiss on the nose. "Yes, it was. Maybe next time you'll let me climb the tree?" She got to her feet.
"Most definitely." Grasping the hand she extended, he let her pull him to his feet. Picking up the sword, Blair noticed something wrapped around the blade. "Dee, what in the hell is this?"
Taking Lee's blade from him, she examined it. "Looks like some kind of wire, with weights on the ends. Reminds me of a bolo." She reached for one of the metal balls.
"Wait! We might be able to get prints off of that."
She looked at both balls closely then shook her head. "No prints." Unwinding the thin cable, she freed the sword. "Lia's going to be pissed. That wire left a couple nasty nicks in the edge."
Blair took the cable from her and looked it over. "What kind of weapon is this?"
Dee shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to find a chance to ask Lia, or maybe there's something in the police report. But I'm not going to worry about it now. Come on, let's go home, jump in the shower, and then get some sleep."
Nodding his agreement, Blair slid his arm around her waist and they headed back to the car.
Part 11
Any hopes I'd be able to return to the Excelsior, talk privately with Jan-Michel, and go to bed are immediately squashed when my new student and I step off the elevator onto the fifteenth floor. There, standing guard on my room, are Sharee Milton, her husband Clarence, and John David. A gesture from LaFollet silences their questions and I key open the door to my suite. Once the door closes behind young David, the questions fly.
What happened?
How did you get out?
Why were you arrested?
Do you have any idea how worried we were when we couldn't find LaFollet?
Who compromised the security check?
I sigh as I shrug out of my coat, letting my backpack fall heavily to the floor, and sink into the couch. Answering the questions of my operatives takes the better part of an hour, and even then I'm only able to cut the Q ... A session short by reminding everyone just how long I had been awake and that Jan-Michel needs his rest, just like I do.
It's nearly eight in the morning, Saturday, when I finally shoo nearly everyone from my suite; only LaFollet stays behind. I wave him off to his adjoining room, staving off his questions until we both get some sleep, then I start to undress. What I need is a shower, a nice, long, hot one. I sit on the edge of my bed, intending only to relax for a moment...
*Ka-BOOM!*
I sit up so fast my head spins, my heart leaping into my chest and my throat tightening, closing off the scream threatening to spill forth. A blinding, nearly white, flash of light and another loud explosion sends me scrambling to my feet, my hands searching blindly for my weapons as yet a third shock wave rattles the room.
Sheepishly, I start to chuckle, belatedly realizing I'm not reliving the explosion at the World Trade Center. "It's just a damn thunderstorm, Eolia. Get a grip." I struggle to slow my racing heart as I talk to myself. "This isn't New York, it's not 1993, Azir's not trapped on the 28th floor, and you're not trapped in the elevator."
Taking in another deep breath, I realize I fell asleep, half dressed, on the bed without making it to the shower. Which, I now realize, I need more than ever as I feel the sweat of terror drying on my brow and body. Slipping out of my pants and underwear, I pad on bare feet to the bathroom where my tension is pounded away under massive amounts of hot water and sluiced down the drain with my heather scented soap. Wrapping the huge bath sheet around my body, I pad over to the closet and look at the few clothes hanging there.
"Damn, you need to go shopping, Eolia. You don't have enough here to get through Monday if you and Jan-Michel are going to hang around." Reaching into the closet, I pull out a pair of well-worn blue jeans, a light green, long sleeved Oxford shirt and my favorite dark, fatigue-colored sweater. It's just after three PM, and if I hurry, I can get the shopping done before the evening holiday shoppers hit the stores.
Once dressed, I tap lightly on the door connecting my suite to LaFollet's room and wait. He doesn't answer, so he's either still asleep or has stepped out on an errand. Grabbing up my thigh length brown leather jacket and my pocketbook, I head for the door and the elevators.
I shake my head in amused disbelief when I see John David has stationed himself in the lobby of the Excelsior, where he could see all the elevators, and I walk over to him as he rises to his feet. "David. Let me guess, LaFollet put you on Lee-Watch?" I smile as I look up into his light brown eyes that are about a foot above my own.
"Yes, Ma'am. I mean, no ma'am, I just, uh, happened to come down here to, uh, grab a paper and got caught up in the coverage of the incident from last night." I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, or laughing. The kid's a bad liar, and he knows it. He must, he's blushing, from the neckline of his dark gray turtleneck clear to the hair-line of his dark brown hair. "Damn, that didn't come out right."
Okay, now I chuckle. "No, it didn't. But it was a good effort. Where are LaFollet and the others, do you know?"
"Sharee and Clarence slept until about eleven or so, then told me they were heading over to QuestScape to turn in their resignations. Mr. LaFollet woke me up an couple of hours ago, told me I had the watch and he'd be back here by seventeen hundred; but I don't know where he went." I nod and start walking towards the front doors. Once there, I hand the valet my room key and the young woman leaves to retrieve my Lexus from wherever it was parked when Jan-Michel and I returned here this morning.
"Well then, David, it looks like you get to play tag-a-long while I go shopping in this nastiness."
"Shopping, ma'am?"
"You heard me. You and the Miltons will be returning to Rochester on Monday while La
Follet and I stay on here a little while." The valet returns with the black SUV and after parking it under the awning, she holds open the driver's door for me. "Thank you." I shake her hand and slip her a ten-dollar bill as a tip.
John David is clearly uncomfortable as I drag him from Mall to Mall and a few shopping centers before I decide to brave the rain and go searching for the more upscale shops in out of the way places. Oh, the trip hasn't been wasted so far. I managed to find several new outfits and a nice, sturdy, long dagger to add to my collection. David must think I'm nuts for insisting on carrying the bag with that particular purchase in it into every shop I enter, setting off alarms in quite a few, until I show the security people the dagger, the sales receipt and let them hang onto it for me. Well, it was annoying, but it let me get my real blade past them without revealing its presence.
