by Susan Murray
“What kind of new product?”
“It’s a headset accessory for a therapy technique called Dark Tag. The City of Minneapolis will be our playing field for the next few days.” Before Marley could ask The Dark to explain further there was an abrupt squirm of activity under his cape.
A small furry face popped up between The Dark’s turtleneck and cape collar, glaring at Marley with beady red eyes. About the size of a ferret, the creature looked like the offspring of a vampire bat and Alvin the Evil Chipmunk. Involuntarily Marley gasped.
“Don’t be afraid.” The Dark chuckled and reached up a hand to stroke the creature affectionately. “This is just my pet, Kitty.”
The creature’s tongue flickered snakelike as it searched the air between them for a taste of Marley. Its pug nose became even more so as it writhed ecstatically beneath his touch, lips snarling back from lamprey teeth.
“Oh.” Marley nodded weakly, carefully keeping her face blank. The creature didn’t resemble any kind of cat she’d ever seen. Surprisingly, The Dark reached into a vest pocket and produced a single cheetoh, held it out. The creature seized this treat in little clawed hands and scampered back under his cape in a shower of orange crumbs.
Marley took a long sip of iced tea, giving herself time to collect her thoughts. “What an interesting pet,” she finally managed, keeping a wary eye on The Dark’s cape. “How long have you had your um, Kitty?”
The Dark’s eyes went blank as though he’d hit a patch of mental fog. “How long? Since? Oh, I don’t know, really.” He shrugged. “For quite some time, I suppose. I forget exactly.”
Marley reflected that if she were ever to acquire such an intriguing pet the events of that day would be forever seared into her memory. Still, lots of celebrities had strange tastes in animal companions. Take Paris Hilton and her little Chihuahua for example. Ms. Hilton was famous for toting a little doggie around in her purse with her and if she could do so why couldn’t The Dark? Before Marley could ask for further details there was a commotion outside the door.
Shouts. A banging noise.
The door to the room burst open, shuddering violently inward on its hinges. A short, heavyset blonde woman stood in the doorway. Hair disheveled, she was breathing hard and sported a livid bruise across her left cheekbone. She wore a pissed-off look, dirty black jeans and a black sweatshirt on which had been printed the message “Level 3”.
Focusing her red-rimmed brown eyes on The Dark, the woman shouted, “You canNOT just walk away from this!” Before The Dark could say a single word two of the burlier guards from the lobby seized the woman from behind and ruthlessly grappled her to the floor.
The woman shrieked loudly in pain, struggled, kicked and screamed (the kind of things we don’t print here) bit and clawed at both guards viciously while they dragged her from the room.
CHAPTER 3
October 29th – 8:30 p.m.
The silence in the room was deafening after this.
“Sometimes my therapy can have unexpected results,” The Dark explained smoothly, sensing Marley’s unspoken questions. “Now and then one of my disciples will have deeper.. psychological issues which need to be addressed before he or she can make any real progress using my techniques.”
For a moment The Dark looked rueful, perhaps reflecting upon the more troubled individuals who had come to him for help over the years. Indeed, Marley could see how his unique approach to conquering phobias might occasionally backfire.
Then The Dark shrugged, his expression lightening. “But not to worry my dear, it’s all in a day’s work. Now where were we?” Before Marley could think of a suitable reply there was a knock on the door and Benny scurried inside the room, closing the door behind him without even waiting to be invited.
“There’s been a bit of a development.” Benny’s obsequious smile seemed strained. He looked uncomfortable, his shirt was smudged near the collar and his jacket pocket was torn.
The jovial twinkle in The Dark’s eye turned to a steely glint and he regarded his assistant sternly, clearly resenting a second intrusion. “What is it?”
“It’s, um..” Benny’s eyes flicked sideways to Marley. He licked his lips nervously, still smiling. “Well, I need to speak with you privately.”
The Dark smiled thinly back. “As you can see, I’m busy. Can’t it wait?”
“Not really.” Benny stared down at his own feet.
The Dark glared at Benny for a moment silently then blew out his cheeks in a resigned sigh. Turning to Marley contritely he said, “If you will excuse me for a moment? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Of course,” Marley replied. “Take your time. Please don’t hurry on my account.” Benny and The Dark left her alone then and for the next several minutes Marley took advantage of her solitude to jot down notes from the interview, quoting The Dark as accurately as she could while taking the time to commit a solid outline of what he had told her to paper. Marley also sketched a picture of The Dark’s unusual pet but then hastily scribbled it out.
She made a mental note to research the Crossroads Casino in Vegas where The Dark had enjoyed his lucky winning streak. Maybe she could get a telephone interview with someone who’d been present on the night The Dark had won his fortune. A cameo on the Casino would be a nice companion article for her piece on The Dark and Stella might even give her a bonus.
A restless wind howled outside the Marquette towers and rain-spattered windows gave onto a bleak view of the city outside. Paging quickly through her copy of Fear Not The Dark, Marley spent a few minutes studying the chapter titles and reading the author’s notes to further acquaint herself with The Dark’s general philosophy. It was quite some time before The Dark finally rejoined her. He looked none the worse for wear but Marley could tell he had other things on his mind. The interview was no longer his first priority.
Her impression was confirmed when The Dark gave Marley an apologetic smile and said, “I’m so very sorry my dear, but it looks like I’ll have to cut our meeting short.” As if to emphasize his words the brass grandfather clock on the marble mantel behind him chimed the hour. A gust of wind against the picture windows.
Marley took her cue, strangely relieved. “It’s not a problem. We’ve made some great progress tonight and you’ve given me quite a bit of material already.” Gathered her notebook and purse. Got to her feet.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you at the Seminar this weekend.” He took Marley’s attendance over the next few days for granted.
Marley smiled. “I’ll be there.” Even though Stella had initially asked Marley to commit to a single interview, her follow up e-mail had contained a full agenda for Marley’s attendance at the seminar, making it clear that Marley’s job was to cover the entire weekend and report on the same. Right up to and through the special meet-and-greet between The Dark and a few select fans on Sunday afternoon.
The Dark changed the subject somewhat abruptly. “By the way, I understand you’re the owner of a bookstore in Uptown called Sherman’s Rare Bookstore?”
These words took Marley completely by surprise. It had been seven days since Marley’s adopted parent Uncle Max Sherman had died in an explosion aboard his houseboat. Six days since Marley had received news of his death, three days since the police had pronounced the explosion a tragic accident involving a poorly installed propane tank (death by misadventure) and one day since the small, private memorial service held by Max Sherman’s family and friends to commemorate his passing.
According to Uncle Max’s last will and testament, Marley had inherited his worldly goods: what remained of the houseboat (currently stored in an evidence locker at the Minneapolis police station) his business (Sherman’s Rare Bookstore at Hennepin and Lake),
and the house in Uptown. As a matter of fact, Marley had accepted Uncle Max’s accumulated mail and the keys to his house in Uptown pursuant to power of attorney from her Uncle’s lawyers that very morning.
How could The Dark have known all this? Lucky guess?
He was watching Marley closely, his expression unreadable. “I collect rare books myself,” he told her by way of explanation, “and Sherman’s Books is quite well-known. I’d intended to tell you more about my hobby during the interview before we were interrupted. I’d love to stop by the bookstore tomorrow morning and have a look around. Would that work for you at, say, ten?”
Although she hadn’t planned to open her Uncle Max’s store for at least another week Marley found herself replying. “Okay, ten it is then. Tomorrow morning.” Stella would want it that way, right? Keep the customer satisfied. Besides business was business and Uncle Max would want her to carry on. After all, Marley figured it wouldn’t be any trouble to just open the store and let The Dark have a look around. What could be the harm?
CHAPTER 4
October 29th – 9:00 p.m.
Marley took the elevator from The Dark’s penthouse down to the lobby of the Marquette. On the way down the elevator stopped to pick up a man and woman wearing matching all-black khaki outfits with black combat boots. The pair stood side-by-side without speaking and as the elevator resumed its downward progress Marley studied them from the corner of her eye, trying not to openly stare.
It wasn’t hard to guess that they were fans of The Dark. Judging from their attire and that of their counterparts in the lobby earlier Marley thought it safe to say that all-black garments were the uniform of choice among The Dark’s followers. When the couple got off on the second floor Marley impulsively got off right behind them. She pretended to check her cell phone while they got enough of a head start walking away to not notice that she was following them. Then she followed them.
The pair led Marley down a wide hallway generically carpeted in red and gold patterned squares with overly cheerful matching wallpaper past a water fountain and right up to a card table which stood in front of a conference room called the “Morning Glory Room”.
An older man sporting a black spandex shirt and pants with black vest, a thick head of white hair and sharp blue eyes sat at this makeshift checkpoint, guarding the entrance to the conference room.
Marley watched from a distance while the couple approached and flashed some kind of laminated pass hanging on a cord around their necks. The man at the card table squinted at their passes, waved them both inside the conference room and closed the door behind them.
Following this example, Marley walked up, smiled brightly and held out her press pass. “Hi there, I’m Marley McCormick, a reporter with Mississippi Magazine. I’m covering the seminar this weekend. I was wondering if it would be all right if I .. ”
The man was already shaking his head. “It’s Members only.” The bright floral name tag on his vest with the words, “Welcome! I’m Bill. How Can I Help You?” completely contradicted his scowl. “We’re closed to the general public,” he added just in case Marley hadn’t gotten the message.
“But I’m not the general public, I have a press pass.” Marley objected. This was usually enough to persuade even the most stubborn of bouncers.
“The Inner Circle meeting is for Members only. Are you a Member?” Bill let his glasses slide down his nose a bit, the better to peer coldly over them at Marley. When she shook her head no he folded his arms across his chest and let her draw her own conclusions.
Sensing that Bill would be glad to enforce the ‘no general admission rule’ personally, Marley thanked him and left without further argument, heading toward the elevator bay. Marley could feel Bill’s eyes on her back as she walked away and was aware that he didn’t stop watching until after she’d boarded the elevator and the doors had closed behind her.
Taking the elevator up one floor, Marley got off and walked back down the hallway, looking for the stairwell. Just as she’d thought it would be the door was twenty feet down the hall past the water fountain. Marley let herself in, testing the inside door knob to make sure she wouldn’t be trapped.
As she walked one floor down Marley heard a scuffling sound several floors above followed by a shout then a clang. She leaned out over the railing to get a look at the source of this commotion but a black object hurtled down toward her face so she dodged back, narrowly escaping the random smack of a falling shoe.
No further objects fell from above so Marley dared a second peek upwards. There was a blur of movement along the railing many floors up and the sounds of a scuffle. Muffled voices echoed in the stairwell, a door slammed somewhere above, then silence. Maybe someone was moving their furniture and belongings.
Marley continued down. On the floor below, the door was unlocked and Marley opened it a crack to see if the coast was clear. It was. Bill the card table guy was busy checking in another group of Inner Circle members. He never even looked up so he didn’t see Marley open the door twenty feet behind him.
Moving quickly she popped across the hallway and walked through the service entrance of the Morning Glory Room conference room utterly unchallenged. No one inside seemed to have noticed her unofficial entry but even so Marley stayed near the door just in case, ready to leave.
The Morning Glory Conference room was very dark. Not enough candles burning in faux iron wall sconces around the big room gave the place a kind of gothic feel which was amplified by the silent crowd of black-clad people in attendance. This overall feeling of gloom was oddly contradicted by the presence of ordinary beige and white metal folding chairs, aluminum coffee pots and trays of oatmeal cookies on paper-covered buffet tables at the back of the room.
A soft crowd murmur, a kind of sing-song chant uttered in many voices swirled the air around Marley like strange music. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, Marley could see that The Dark stood at a podium on a stage in the front of the conference room, leading the chant. He wore the same outfit he’d worn earlier during their interview along with a weird looking hat wrapped about his head like a turban.
Now and then The Dark waved his arms theatrically like a conductor and called out over the crowd. He was professionally backlit with a deep red spotlight and his shadow loomed and danced across the stage as he moved. Marley couldn’t quite make out the words of what the crowd was chanting and the room felt hot and stuffy.
After spending time watching the Inner Circle at work Marley began to feel a little foolish for having gone to such lengths to gain access to their meeting. There wasn’t much more here she could learn about The Dark and the longer she remained the more uncomfortable Marley felt.
Leaving the Morning Glory Conference room the same way she’d entered it, Marley crossed the hall to the stairwell quickly and undetected. Once she was back inside Marley kept walking downstairs the rest of the way to the first floor.
Outside the Marquette and standing under a streetlight in the hotel roundabout, Marley rummaged in her briefcase for the claim ticket the valet had given her. She finally found it at the very bottom of the inside zip pocket. As she handed her ticket to the valet a distant swarm of sirens drowned out the noisy bustle of traffic, growing ever louder until two police cars and an ambulance pulled up one right after the other directly in front of the hotel.
Without bothering to properly park their squad cars, two policemen jumped out and went inside to speak with the doorman in the lobby of the hotel. After a moment all three left the building and the police officers followed the doorman around the corner and out of sight, while the ambulance driver turned off his flashing lights and pulled the now silent vehicle around the corner as well.
At that point, the valet drove up with Marley’s Jeep so she traded him her keys for t
he claim ticket, added a nice tip for his trouble and drove away.
CHAPTER 5
October 29th – 10:30 p.m.
A heavy autumn fog had arisen during Marley’s interview with The Dark and the night shivered down to chilly temperatures. Marley steered her jeep carefully along Lake Drive, keeping a watchful eye on the thick mist swirling in front of her vehicle as she made her way home.
The trees along the road were broken every hundred yards or so by wrought iron lamp posts featuring antiqued glass globes that gave a mellow glow to the night, glinting wetly on long driveways that led back to private yards. Most of the houses on the lake were discreetly concealed from view but at some points along the road Marley could see them through leafless autumn trees.
From traditional timbered, multi-chimneyed structures with red tiled roofs to geometric glass houses built in steel, both old and new architectures were visible from the road. Marley smiled to herself because Minneapolis was quirky that way. Eclectic. Nature-loving too, as some of the homes even featured pine decks that stretched woodsily out to the water’s edge.
Without warning a black, hulking shape stepped from mist-lined trees out into the middle of the road, blocking the path of the Jeep. Marley stood on the brakes and her tires screamed a ragged protest as she skidded to a halt. Fortunately the Jeep had a killer set of brakes.
Marley squinted through the windshield at the creature in the road. To her surprise she beheld a unicorn standing there, a black unicorn with a flowing mane and a single horn protruding from its forehead. Then the wind subsided, and Marley saw that what she had taken to be a horn was actually the animal’s forelock, standing upright in the wind like a flag.
