The Green Memory of Fear

by B. A. Chepaitis

  Diana looked a little shocked at this, but Clara loosened up enough to grin. “You’d think so, right? The voxchip’s our ace in the hole. I don’t know if we’d make the case without that. But there’ll be expert testimony about whether or not it’s been tampered with. I want the witness to look as good as the recording.”

  “Won’t there be testimony from other patients? The families of the boys who killed themselves?”

  “Can’t do it. Prejudicial.”

  Jaguar tapped a finger against the table. “Okay. So why am I here? Is there something you want me to do? Or maybe something you want me not to do?”

  The two women avoided exchanging meaningful glances, but only just. “Dr. Addams,” Diana said, “Your interest in this—is it other than preliminary research?”

  “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re a little different than the other researchers we’ve had in the past,” Clara noted.

  Jaguar looked across the table at her, at Diana.

  “You haven’t used any of the standard questionnaires for Senci or Daro and his family,” Diana said, “And you’ve spent more time with Daro than researchers usually do. We didn’t know if that was connected to—well, to other Planetoid interests, maybe about his nightmares, which we don’t want to focus on.”

  She frowned. She was distinctly not getting it.

  “In—psi capacities and so on,” Diana added.

  The light went on. “What? You think I’m here vampire hunting?”

  Diana made mild protest and Clara bit her lip against a grin. Jaguar lifted a hand, palm up. “I’m here to do a job, counselors,” she said. “Gather information for our files and, if I can, help a boy who’s had a bad break. That’s all.”

  The chief prosecutor cleared her throat. “Of course. Just—we wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page. And we wondered about your incomplete interview with Dr. Senci.”

  That. They were right. It wasn’t much of an interview. “I was getting a sense of him. I’ll do a more complete work-up on the next go around.”

  Diana’s sensor went off. She pressed it, and stood. “Excuse me,” she said. “I wouldn’t take this, except I’m waiting on a bit of news about a drug lord. Clara, you’ll carry on?”

  “Of course. Go on ahead, Diana.”

  She exited, and Jaguar waited for what was next.

  Clara considered her. “My work day’s about over. Let’s get out of here and go find a beer.”

  * * * *

  The bar they went to was old, dark, and occupied by regulars who knew the bartender by name. Jaguar approved. She stayed with small talk until they were settled with beers in hand.

  “So,” Clara said, going straight to the heart of the matter, “What is it about you?”

  Jaguar gave her a slow smile. “I assume you mean that differently than the last man I dated.”

  “Way different. Especially since I got to watch your interview with Senci. We record them, you knew that?”

  “No. If I did—”

  “You were told, and if you had objections, they wouldn’t have got you anywhere. So I’ve seen the tape, and I want to know why you didn’t talk to the guy.”

  “What?”

  “You enter the interview room and sit down. Dr. Senci smiles at you. Some time passes. You leave. The only thing you do is get your pupils dilated, though I don’t know if anyone besides me noticed that.”

  “I did better than that,” she said. “Apparently it didn’t record. You guys check your equipment?

  “All the time. It’s working fine.”

  Jaguar sipped her beer meditatively. That was interesting. “What do you make of that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Clara said pointedly. “You’ve never done a prelim, right?”

  “This is my first,” she admitted.

  “Your job on the Planetoid—you’re called a Teacher, correct? Work directly with prisoners, take ’em through the hoops.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’d like to know why you took this on.”

  “Maybe,” Jaguar said, “I wanted the experience.”

  Clara shook her head. “My mother didn’t raise no fool. There’s something else going on. And maybe it’s okay, but whatever it is, I want in.”

  In the mirror hanging behind the bar, Jaguar saw a flick of motion. A small shadow. She turned. The little girl stood near a booth, her shoulder braced against a post. The people in the booth drank beer, ate peanuts, unaware of her presence.

  Clara swiveled her seat around and looked where Jaguar was looking. “Someone you know?” she asked.

  The girl brought her hand up to her mouth and giggled behind it. Her image shimmered, and disappeared.

  “No,” Jaguar said. “I thought so, but no. Listen, about Daro’s vampire obsession—do you think he’s delusional?” she asked. Fishing. Fishing for Clara’s real side.

  Clara ran a finger along the frost at the edge of her beer mug. “I think he’s using the most apt metaphor he has. Vampires prey on the young. So does Dr. Senci. So do all pedophiles.”

  “I know,” Jaguar said. “I work with them. On the Planetoids.”

  “Yeah. I read your files. It’s a specialty.”

  Jaguar shrugged. “I specialize in the highly vexed. Pedophiles fit that bill. And you’re right about them. They choose children as victims because they’re afraid to die, afraid of anything more powerful than they are. Then, their victims often either ruin their own lives and die, or go on to become pedophiles themselves. You’re right. It’s like vampires.”

  She sipped her beer while Clara watched her and said nothing. Jaguar looked at her face in the mirror. She was intelligent and attentive. She wanted to hear what Jaguar had to say, but she had some theory of her own going, Jaguar thought. She was here, as Jaguar was, trying to confirm what she already thought was true.

  “Have you spent time with Senci?” Jaguar asked.

  “His lawyer won’t let me anywhere near. But I had a long talk with the cop who did his initial questioning.”

  Something there, Jaguar thought. Something Clara didn’t like. “And?” she asked.

  “He came to talk to me about it privately, because it creeped him out. Said he wanted to give me the heads up, since I’m Daro’s lawyer. He’s from Manhattan, right? Refugee from the Killing Times, and he saw—well, he saw enough to give him good instincts about bad shit. And he was scared of Senci. Thought he was some kind of monster. Said he used words he remembered from the Killing Times and hadn’t heard since.”

  “Like what?”

  “He talked about sexing children. About feeding. About using them to—to—”

  “Stay green?” Jaguar suggested.

  Clara blinked in surprise. “Yeah. Those were the words. How did you know that?”

  “I’m from Manhattan, too,” she said, reminding herself to stay calm. It was more evidence, but not yet proof. Senci clearly liked to play with people, and that’s all it might be. If he knew the stories about Greenkeepers he’d use the right words to scare a child, a cop. On the other hand, Clara was telling her she had more than ample proof of his legal guilt.

  “But if he said that to a cop, doesn’t that constitute a confession? And you record the interviews.”

  “Yeah. The disc got warped.”

  “Warped?”

  “Well, really, it sort of melted down. Nobody knows why. And the transcript somehow got itself lost.”

  Jaguar frowned. “Can’t the cop testify?”

  “Not in his current condition. He’s—existentially challenged.”

  “What?”

  “He was hit by a cab the day after I talked to him. He’s brain dead. On machines. The doctors don’t know if he’ll ever come out of it. I can’t testify, because it’s hearsay, and from checking around, he didn’t tell anyone else the same things he told me.”

  Jaguar let the pieces fall into their proper place. None of this was in the file. Of cours
e, it wasn’t, because they couldn’t use it. No valid evidence remained.

  “Didn’t the cops re-interview?” she asked.

  “Sure, and Senci sang a whole different song. He denied everything, with a big long explanation of why Daro thought he was a vampire, and how that related to his general delusional neuroses and so on. The words got bigger as he went along. Said he suspected one of Daro’s parents molested him. Shit like that. I’ll say this for our Dr. Senci, he talks a good game.”

  Hell, Jaguar thought. He’s not only playing with us, he’s winning.

  “I’ll tell you what, though,” Clara continued, “what that cop said—I’m not sure where to go with it. I mean, he was a real down-to-earth guy, no nonsense about him, and he said Senci was the scariest guy he ever met. That when he talked, the room went cold, and—and he smelled like death. That it was hard to breathe just sitting there with him. He said a lot of things. Then, he walked out in front of a cab and got brain dead. I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t.”

  “And no one else listened to the recording?”

  “Nobody. He sealed it up and had the messenger take it to the Provincial Attorney’s office. When they took it out, it looked like someone set fire to it.”

  “Like my interview?”

  “Your disc was good, and at least with you we got a picture. Makes you look a little crazy, sister,” she noted. “My boss—she’s not sure she wants to be alone with you on a crowded city street.”

  “And you?” Jaguar asked.

  Clara narrowed her dark eyes, squint lines appearing at the corners. “You might be crazy,” she said. “But I don’t think you’re a liar. That’s just my gut reaction.”

  Jaguar drained her beer and put the glass on the bar. Clara, floundering in water that ran too deep for her, was seeking help. Jaguar called the bartender over.

  “I want tequila,” she said to him, “but I’d like it to be good tequila. What’s in stock?” He gave her the list, and she picked one. When he brought it, with lime and a shaker of salt, Jaguar set herself up properly and raised the shotglass to Clara.

  “Gut reactions,” she said, and threw it back.

  Clara waited for the tequila shiver to run through her and settle down before she spoke. “Okay,” she said. “So tell me who you are, and what’s going on here, because I think you know.”

  Jaguar ran a finger around the bottom of her shotglass and licked it. She leaned forward and touched Clara on the forehead, spoke into her.

  This is who I am.

  One word appeared in Clara’s mind.

  Brujah. Witch.

  Claro, Jaguar replied. Yo Brujah.

  Clara pulled back, broke the connection. “Jesus. What the—”

  “C’mon, Clara,” Jaguar said out loud. “You read my files, you and your boss. I saw the looks. Bad enough having Planetoid researchers hanging around a case but for fuck’s sake an empath, too.”

  “Yeah,” Clara said, eyeing her. “Empaths who blow up shuttles and have a rep for coloring way outside the lines. At least, that’s the rumors, and your board guy Paul Dinardo ain’t denying them.”

  “Christ,” Jaguar groaned. “You talked to him?”

  “Well, your supervisor’s good looking, but he’s not giving anything away. Even Dinardo didn’t say you’re an empath. He just implied it. With a hammer.”

  “He’s correct,” Jaguar said. “I’m an empath. With a hammer.”

  “Right,” Clara said. “And I’m not. Not that I have anything against it, mind you. I mean, my grandmother used to consult, and she always learned what she needed to know. But I don’t want Daro used for anyone’s game.”

  “Too late for that,” Jaguar said. “Senci’s already using him. But I’m not. I’m here to help.”

  “Then what do you know?”

  “I know,” Jaguar said carefully, “That Dr. Senci isn’t—” how to finish that sentence. Isn’t human. Isn’t the regular run of the mill pedophile. “Isn’t normal,” she concluded lamely.

  “Well, I could’ve told you that,” Clara said. “I mean, really.”

  Jaguar sighed. No way out of this except right through the middle. “I think Daro’s vision of Senci is accurate. Not that he’s Dracula,” she added hastily when she saw Clara’s look, “But he’s got psi capacities, some very powerful ones, and he’s using them. We see that a lot on the Planetoids, so I recognize it when it comes up. That’s what I know, and that’s why I’m here. Senci’s using psi capacities, and Daro needs an empath to protect him.”

  Clara frowned into her beer. “You’re not saying Dr. Senci—he doesn’t—” She paused, reconsidered her sentence. “He doesn’t go around sucking blood or anything, right?”

  “Well,” Jaguar said, “maybe. I’m still not entirely sure.”

  Clara eyed her hard. Jaguar lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “There’s some darker empathic practitioners who drink blood or use sex to access regenerative biochemicals. They prefer to get it from children, where it’s still really fresh. I thought Senci was just your garden variety hypnopath, but apparently he’s got some Telekine in him, too. The rest—it’s not looking good.”

  Clara put her beer down hard. “I’ll go for the psi capacity thing but if you think you can convince me—”

  “Clara, you’ve got a warped disc, a missing transcript, and a brain-dead cop, not to mention my interview. You don’t need to be convinced of anything. You just need help explaining what you already know. So you’ve come to the witch for a consult. At least,” she added, grinning, “I don’t charge.”

  Clara cleared her throat and poured some beer into herself. “I feel so weird about all this,” she said. “I mean, I’m a regular sort of person. I don’t even watch Mysteries and History.”

  “I know,” Jaguar sympathized. “But does it matter what Senci is as long as we get Daro through this? Once Senci’s convicted he’s on the Planetoid, and we aren’t regular so it won’t bother us.”

  “Okay,” she said. “You’re right. Eye on the Prize. So what’ll Senci do next?”

  Jaguar picked up her empty shot glass and held it to the light. Her instincts led her to places she wasn’t sure Clara would follow, places she wasn’t sure she was ready to go herself. She waved her glass at the bartender and got another.

  “One thing we can count on,” she said. “If there’s already been one disc meltdown, we should assume Daro’s voxchip is at risk.”

  “I got it locked up tight in the safe.”

  “And how’d that work last time? Does the safe have laser fencing? That interferes with psi capacities sometimes.”

  “Yeah. We don’t always use it because it’s a pain in the butt to turn on and off.”

  “You’ll use it now. And I’ll finish the interview with Senci tomorrow. See what I can get from him.”

  “You do that. Let me know how it goes.” She lifted her beer and raised it to Jaguar. “And watch your back,” she added. “Look out for runaway cabs.”

  Jaguar raised her tequila. “You, too.”

  * * * *

  High on Jaguar’s list of priorities when she left the bar was a shower, and a call to Alex. Someone she wouldn’t have to explain the terms to. She walked down the street toward the hotel, the close heat comforting to her after the stale air of the artificially cooled bar. At least it was real, and she could feel it.

  She stopped at a corner, waited for the traffic light to change. Overhead, wings buzzed. On the road, cars whizzed by. The night air had a softness, as of light diffused through mist. High humidity, and in the distance a rumbling of thunder. Across the street, a group of people stood waiting to go where she was now. They looked like sheep, she thought. A herd of sheep, all waiting for permission to move.

  No. Not all of them.

  A little girl pushed her way through a variety of legs and stepped onto the road, ready to dash out into traffic.

  “No,” Jaguar yelled, and ran out to grab her, stop her.

  Cars slamme
d on brakes and laid on horns as Jaguar, unheeding, ran across the street.

  The little girl stood still, her eyes huge with watching. She shook all over, as if she’d been hit with electric current, and then she turned around and ran away. Jaguar, ignoring the onlookers, went after her.

  Wait, she said, reaching out to her. I just want to talk. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.

  The girl, almost half a block ahead, stopped running and turned to face her. Jaguar slowed her steps, not wanting to frighten her.

  Who are you? she asked.

  The little girl stared at her. You ran into the cars. Why?

  I thought you’d hurt yourself. I wanted to help you.

  She moved closer, and the little girl let her. She had to reach her, though. At least get close enough to know what she was. A ghost? Something from her own psyche? Her own past? What?

  Help me? The girl questioned.

  Help you. Jaguar confirmed. Do you need help? Are you—safe?

  Almost there, moving slowly as if through thick water, taking her time. People passed her, passed the girl who watched with wide eyes. Wide and wondering, as if Jaguar was something never seen before, something she couldn’t quite understand.

  My name is Maya, she whispered into Jaguar’s thoughts.

  Then, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  Chapter 7

  Jaguar sat in the gray room, staring at Dr. Senci’s dense gray energy field. She could hardly see his face, except to know that a face was there. It smiled at her. At her back, she heard the hum of the camera, in all likelihood not recording the interaction.

  She’d asked to have the laser fence turned off for this interview, thinking that might give her better access, but now she regretted it. Dr. Senci’s presence made her breath go slow and thick, as if she breathed through sand. She caught the scent of something toxic in him.

  Dr. Senci smiled and she felt him speaking into her mind, but she was better prepared for that today. She blocked it, quickly and thoroughly. No voice in her head today. She wouldn’t allow it. His smile stayed, but grew tense at the edges.