"I smelled no one in the area that was not accounted for," Rider said.
Logan looked thoughtful. "Could be natural then."
"According to the file, the gnomes were insistent that it wasn't natural," Hank said.
"It's possible either way. We'll see what the labs say." I looked around the room. The night crew was already settling in. "I'll finish up the report."
"I will take care of that," Rider said. Before I could argue, he added, "This will be good practice since this type of case does not often come along."
My brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
"I am," Rider said.
"I'll be going home shortly," Logan said. "If you leave Rider the truck, I'll give you a ride."
"Sure." I stood and stretched before following Rider to a desk, giving Logan and Hank a chance to finish whatever Rider and I had interrupted.
It didn't take Logan long. After I made sure Rider didn't need anything else from me, Logan and I went home.
Logan had helped Gran and I find the perfect house. It was in a nice neighborhood, but well outside of our bustling town. It was about an hour drive to and from the office, which wasn't terrible. It was also directly behind Logan's house. He and his kids were regulars in our kitchen. I think that had more to do with the amount of baking that Gran did, than with Logan and me being partners.
Logan dropped me off out front.
"Gran, I'm home." I made a beeline to the lit kitchen.
"Evenin'." Gran's voice, like herself, was all southern belle.
"Did you have a good day?" When I entered the kitchen, the microwave chimed. Gran's psychic powers had a direct line to my stomach.
"Quiet today, but Dee Dee and I are going shopping tomorrow. How are things at the office?"
Settling down at the table, I told Gran a little about my day.
"Does that mean you'll be spending a bit more time in the city?" Gran asked.
"It's possible," I said.
"Well, don't work yourself too hard. I've hardly seen you around here."
Instantly, the guilt set in. "I may not have to go too often with MyTH working that end."
"You have to go see the Palm Reader when you go back."
So much from Gran came out of left field, but this was new. "Palm Reader?" I prompted.
"No idea," Gran said, "only that you need to go see her when you’re back in the city."
If Gran said I had to go see a palm reader, I'd go see her. It was always best to follow Gran's advice. When I grew old, I wanted to be like her, a sweet old lady who took in strays and kept the elven neighbors stocked in sweets.
Not that I'd ever call Gran an old lady.
After dinner, I cleaned up and found a piece of cake in the fridge.
I grabbed a fork. "I've got some notes to go over."
"Your mom called today," Gran said.
I almost dropped my plate. Mom never called. Since I quit my normal, safe job as an accountant, and began using my powers on a regular basis, she broke almost all ties with me. She had suppressed her psychic abilities for years and thought I made a mistake by not doing the same. We saw each other at holidays and other special occasions, but mostly, Mom had her world, and I had mine.
"Mom called? Did something happen?"
"No," Gran said, "I think she was checking up on us."
"Is she coming over?" I asked.
"She mentioned this weekend, but I’m pretty sure she isn’t comin’ over." Gran winked at me. "If she ever does, we should keep her out of the back garden. She'd have a fit if she saw that we kept a fairy in the backyard. I don't think she'd like my cat much either, come to think on it."
"It'd be fine. Mom would put up with the fairies, cats, and elves, or she can stay home." I stopped. "We could go visit her, if you want." If Gran wanted to see her daughter, I'd tie Mom up in a bow and hand her over.
"And risk getting stuck talkin' to that dull husband of hers? I had enough of him at Christmas. We'll see her soon enough, though. Go take care of your notes and get a good night's sleep."
With my cake in hand, I went up to my room. There were files waiting for me to review on my tablet, and gnome research had to happen at some point. Tonight, I had other things on my mind, though. I ate the cake while I waited for the laptop to boot up. I could have checked my email through my phone, but I didn't want this email address on AIR equipment. In the past few months, I've been more careful about keeping my work separate from the rest of my life. Not that I had much of another life.
As expected, there was an email waiting for me from my friend, Quin. I didn't know much about her life, and she knew very little about my own. The shared aspect of our relationship was our talent. Quin was a Reader, like me. In fact, she was the only other Reader I had discovered. We had been sparse about personal facts, but I gathered that she was closer to Gran's age than my own. I was also sure she was lying about her name, but I didn't care. I used my middle name when talking to her. To have someone experience things similar to me was like finding a tiny spark of life on Mars. I hadn't known I was looking for the spark, but now that I'd found it, I coveted the shared experiences.
Dear Anala,
It was good to hear from you again. I tried your meditation methods this week. It brought a whole new perspective to my own practices. I'm happy you shared that one with me. Speaking of new perspectives, have you ever read the Path while it was raining? I'm stretching a bit more as a Reader since we've started talking, so I thought I would give it a try. It was amazing, the ripples of colors remained, but each ripple sparked its own rainbow. Words can't describe the sensation. Give it a try the next time it rains.
I saw a shadow of something on the Path while in the woods. Any ideas on what would cause a shadow?
I hope to hear from you soon,
Quin.
I replied immediately.
Dear Quin,
I haven't watched the Path in the rain, but now I'm looking forward to trying! It also makes me want to try going swimming and checking the Path underwater. Once summer hits, I will be adding that to my list of things to do.
I've seen a couple of shadows on the Path. The ones that I saw came from different things. Once it was where an old building had been torn down. The building stood for over one hundred years, so it left an odd shadow on the Path, even though it was long since gone. The other time, I was in the woods. It's hard to explain. There was an old tree by me. The tree was there, but when I entered the Path, I caught a glimpse of its future. At some point, the old tree was going to die and leave a shadow in its wake. Since you were in the woods, maybe something like that caused the shadow.
Speaking of seeing new things on the Path, have you ever seen a hole in the Path? Almost like a tiny blank spot where the Path didn't touch. It was an odd thing to see, but I have no idea what caused it.
I hope to hear from you soon. Can't wait for it to rain!
Sincerely,
Anala
Chapter 4
"You remember when we used to saunter into the Farm at nine o'clock? I miss those days," Logan said.
"There's no line of cars at the gates at seven,” I replied. "Besides, I have a report to check over and we need to spend time at the gun range today."
That perked Logan up. "I've got my six-shooter loaded and ready to go."
Rewards should be given out for the amount of effort it took not to roll my eyes. Elves get bored easy and jump from subject to subject. Every now and again, they wander into an area that doesn't bore them. It quickly invaded their lives. Logan's latest obsession was with Westerns. It had taken almost a year, but now I was beginning to see why Logan's old partner had shot him over show tunes.
"First, you need to look over the report," I said, pulling up to the first gate of the Farm.
When we made it to the office, Logan and I went straight down the middle of the control room.
"Anything new?" Logan asked Hank.
"Everything is clear. Is she starting to drag you in
early too?" Hank asked. "I'm beginning to think she lives here."
"It's a busy time." I purposefully avoided looking at the empty desks. "I better get to it."
Logan stuck around, talked with Hank while I claimed my usual desk and opened yesterday's report. It didn't take long to add a few comments and close it up again. After that, I poured myself into gnome research. Specifically, instances of death.
"We've got a case," Logan said.
I looked up from my computer and discovered that the day was passing me by. More desks were filled, and Kyrian, our boss, had arrived and was more or less looking over Hank's shoulder.
"Anything new on the monitors?" I asked.
"No portal build up anywhere in the Mid-West, nothing suspicious on thermals and Farm security is tight," Logan said. "We didn't watch a satellite sweep, but I think Kyrian is having Hank pull that up now."
"Do we have a relocation?" I asked. Usually, we relocate people when they've been spotted. When rumors fly around about mythological creatures, we're called in to take care of the issue.
"Criminal case," Kyrian said walking over, "suspicious deaths overnight."
Kyrian handed a tablet over to Logan, who immediately passed it over to me. We used to use actual files, but Kyrian was upgrading everywhere. Files or computer screen, it was all the same to Logan, and he always passed it to me. I didn't mind, though. Elves were curiously strong for being so tall and thin, so he did all the heavy lifting and I took on the paperwork.
I signed into the tablet and opened the only file it contained.
"Three deaths overnight," Kyrian said. "One was the victim of a hit and run, one fell down the stairs and broke his neck, and the other died of natural causes, an aneurysm."
"Are they Lost?" I asked.
"Human," she said, "they all lived together, and there's a fourth roommate. The police have him in interrogation. He's one of ours, and we need to take care of him."
Kyrian turned and left without a glance back. I grabbed my bag on my way out.
"Have you seen Rider today?" I asked without looking up from the file.
"He dropped the keys off earlier. He's in training for the day."
"Driver's Ed?" I asked.
Logan let out a whoop of laughter. We poke fun at Rider’s driving, but for good reason. When we reached the truck, we did a thorough check. No new dings or paint scrapes and the tires held air, so we were good.
"There's nothing much beyond what Kyrian already told us," I said as Logan drove us to the station. "Four college kids, all roommates. Three of the four died overnight. The fourth one swears he didn't do anything, and didn't know his friends had died until the police showed up this morning. He hasn't been arrested, but he has been detained for questioning."
"They know we're coming?" Logan asked.
"Excellent question." I called Hank. He said he'd take care of the details before we made it to the station.
"What type of Lost are we working with?" Logan asked, after my call.
"He's a lar, named Bill. What do we know about lares? I've never heard of them."
"Hard to say really. I've only read reports on them. They were once believed to be protectors."
"Like what?" I asked.
"An area, a river, a family. You name it. The Romans thought they were heroes."
"The Romans? They go that far back?"
"Almost everything goes that far back," Logan said dismissively, "further even."
"Why did they think they were heroes?"
"See if there's a picture of him in the file."
I swiped through pages on the tablet. "Here's one. He's...oh." His hair was blond and a tiny bit longer than most men could get away with. His striking features drew your eyes to his face. Handsome wasn't enough to cover it. "He's beautiful."
Logan laughed. "They all are. It's in their genes."
"He looks like, if he smiled, you would hear a 'ting' when the light bounced off his teeth and glimmered through his hair."
If anything, Logan laughed louder. "I imagine in the times of the Romans, they were a bit overwhelming."
"Maybe." Dragging my eyes away from the picture, I swiped to other pages. "Are they warriors or do they protect people?"
"Not especially. I'm sure some of them were. They're usually pretty smart, but they can manipulate people to get what they want. Not on purpose mind you. They assume it's the way things are done."
"They expect people to do things for them?"
"Yeah, but in their defense, it's because people usually do what the lares want."
"You know, I've never worked with the local police. How does this work?"
"They're going to see us as feds. We go in, ask our questions, and get our Lost out of there if possible."
AIR was a government agency. The Department of the Treasury paid us, and the job came with a clearance level high enough to make your nose bleed, but it had never felt like a government agency.
"How do they feel about working with the federal government?" I asked.
"Usually, they don't care much. We're all on the same side. They don't always like that they don't know which agency we work for. They're not thrilled when we can't give them details either. But, it's not like we're the IRS."
There was a little anxiety on my part when we arrived. Our reception wasn't as congenial as Logan made it sound. We walked into a small waiting area and talked to a man behind bulletproof glass. He inspected our IDs with a great deal of scrutiny, and I received a sneer or two before he let us know someone would be with us shortly.
While we waited to be buzzed back to the inner areas of the station and the interrogation rooms, Logan rocked back and forth on his heels whistling, Home On the Range. I almost stopped him, he was whistling in a way that I've never heard a human whistle before, with two tones seemingly sounding out together in harmony, but I decided to let it go. The sound was enchanting, who cared what these people might think.
Time crawled by while we waited. Logan appeared unconcerned and waited patiently. I, on the other hand, checked the clock a few times every minute.
Ten minutes later, we heard a loud chink of metal against metal and then the door opened.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, I'm Lieutenant Lieutenant Parker." He caught Logan's infectious smile and shook his hand, while Logan introduced us.
Lieutenant Parker was maybe a few years older than me, and he was cute enough that he made my toes want to curl up. It's too bad his face fell when he looked in my direction. He stiffened and didn't offer me his hand.
The curse of a damaged soul. Since my soul had been ripped out last fall, and then shoved, broken, back into my body, there was no way I could ever make a good first impression.
"Follow me this way," Lieutenant Parker said, leading us through a small maze of hallways.
"We're going to need to speak with the gentleman alone," I said when Lieutenant Parker stopped outside an ugly green door.
"That's what we were told over the phone." His voice had an edge to it. "Cameras are off, and the room behind the glass is empty."
"Would you show us?" Logan asked.
Lieutenant Parker shrugged and led us to the next door and opened it. Sure enough, it was empty.
"He's all yours," Lieutenant Parker said.
Logan stopped for a minute when we entered the room. "Yep, sounds empty."
We turned our attention to the lar in front of us. He was less beautiful in person. Mostly, he looked like a kid that had a hard night.
I introduced Logan and myself. "Tell me about last night, Bill."
"I've told you all again and again," Bill said.
"We're with AIR," I said.
This didn't make Bill any happier. Looking uncomfortable, he went into his story. "It was a normal night, or at least I thought it was. I went over to my girlfriend’s house, and we hung out for a while. Met up with some friends at a bar—"
"Were any of these friends your roommates?" I asked.
"Nah," Bill s
aid, eying Logan who was leaning against a wall.
It looked like Logan was watching, but I couldn't tell if he was actually paying attention. His head was bouncing slightly up and down as if he had a song stuck on replay.
"They had other plans for the night," Bill said.
"Any idea what those plans were?" I asked.
"Oliver had a date, and Zeek and Raj were going to a club."
"Did Oliver go home with his date?" I asked.
"He wasn't home when I came back and crashed out. Zeek and Raj never made it home either."
I casually tapped a finger against my temple, and Logan came forward. Our partnership was like a well-oiled machine. One of us would indicate for me to read and Logan would slide in and take over. I closed my eyes while Logan asked questions.
"Tell me a little about you," Logan said. The elf was so genuine in his interest that Bill didn't hesitate.
While they talked, I concentrated on opening my mind to the smallest bit of the Path I could manage. When I opened my eyes, the room took on a new texture. The room contained layered scars of past emotions. It took longer than I expected to sort through them.
"I'm majoring in English," Bill said. "Moved here about three years ago from Chicago. Got the apartment with the guys last year."
"Do you believe in ghosts?" Logan asked.
"Um, I— Ghosts?" Bill asked.
"Do you think they're real?"
"I guess so. I mean, I'm here, so I guess there are things that can't be explained," Bill said.
I watched the conversation unfold through the rolling imprint of the Path. The old influences in the room stopped becoming an issue when I concentrated on Bill. He was scared and nervous, which was to be expected. I would be, too, if I were on his side of the table.
"Tell me about the unexplained," Logan said.
"Um, it's, well, things happen. Bumps in the night, lights in the sky. You see all sorts of things on the Internet. I'm not like some crazy guy who hunts things down. I don't think Bigfoot is hiding out in the woods of the North West or anything. We talk about things from time to time, that's all."
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