by C. S. Poe
“I heard you were one of the bidders for the estate sale that I won.”
Greg was quiet for a beat, and I wish I had been closer so I could better read his expression. “I bet you heard that from your detective buddy, huh?”
“I’m not sure why you think I have a friend among the police on this case.”
“I know you do. Max was telling us,” Greg said.
Note to self: kill Max.
“I’m sure he’s mistaken.”
“What do you really want? I know you don’t like me, Sebastian, so I highly doubt it was to invite me to Beth’s event if I hadn’t already heard about it.”
“How did you know that it was Detective Winter who found me when I was attacked?” I asked. The fact that he had that knowledge had been bothering me.
“The newspapers say a detective on the case arrived before uniformed officers. I’m assuming it was him since he’s appeared to be the lead on the investigation,” Greg replied.
“I know why you did it,” I stated abruptly.
Greg slowly stood from the stool behind the counter. “Did what?”
“Reported the bogus phone call. No one had figured out this was regarding Tamerlane, so you showed your hand to see who would scare first. Whoever did would be the one with the book, right?”
Greg took a step around the counter.
“Except that didn’t work either. It just made you suspicious.”
“You think I reported a fake threat?” Greg asked slowly.
“I know you did. You’re hard up for cash and a good reputation.”
“Excuse me?”
“How often does your store have no customers in it?” I asked. “Having that book would give you prestige, not to mention half a million dollars.”
“What are you fucking talking about?” Greg asked defensively. “I don’t even know what the hell Tamerlane is, just that some psycho called me screaming about it!”
“Tamerlane and Other Poems, by Edgar Allan Poe. His first publication—one of the most priceless books in American literature today!”
My customers had said Greg wasn’t as knowledgeable.
I don’t even know what the hell Tamerlane is.
“Shit,” I whispered.
How many revelations were considered too many in the course of two days? I felt sick to my stomach.
Greg must have noticed. “Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.
“What? Yes. No. Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Don’t go to Beth’s tonight,” I said firmly, taking a step back.
“Fuck you,” Greg retorted.
“I’m goddamn serious, Greg!” I snapped. “If you want to live to see the new year, don’t go.” I turned and walked out of the shop, flagging down the nearest taxi.
I HAD gone back to Calvin’s apartment and let myself in with the key he’d given me. The place was quiet. Still. A silence that I didn’t think could exist in a place like New York. I sat on the edge of his bed, listening to that high-pitched hum that fills an empty space.
I don’t know for how long. Twenty minutes. An hour. Two?
Eventually I stood and started searching for a notepad. I ended up rummaging under Calvin’s bed and finding a box that had some discarded office supplies. I took one of the legal pads and a pen, then paused when I unveiled a small black box. Calvin had trusted me not to go digging about his private things when he gave me his key, but I was about to do something very stupid, and if something happened to me… I wanted to know just a bit more about him.
Inside the box were his medals from his military service. There was a photo of Calvin in his police cadet uniform, smile so big and, daresay, a little dorky. He looked innocent. I turned it over to see the date on the back. So he’d been in the police academy before he went off to war.
Innocent indeed.
There were a few more photos buried at the bottom. In one, Calvin posed beside several other men in uniform, the backdrop of some far-off desert in the Middle East. The back had a few names scribbled on it. Some more photos showed the same men, a face or two missing this time, and smiles more drawn and worn. At the bottom of the pile was a photo of Calvin that someone must have taken without his knowledge and given to him later. He was crouched on one knee, face dirty and helmet missing. A young girl was in his arms and appeared to be crying while holding on to Calvin tightly.
My throat tightened as I looked through the box. Small snapshots of Calvin’s past, moments he was unable to let go of but that tore at his mind day in and day out. Among the military photos was one of a family in front of a home, including Calvin in dress uniform with a somber expression. An older man and woman posed with him, along with another young man and woman. Brother and sister? Calvin’s family? I wondered what their reason was for being locked away in this box.
Maybe Calvin would tell me about them one day.
Assuming I lived through the night.
I put the memories away and pushed the box back in its place under the bed. I sat once again and started writing. I wrote down everything I knew about the victims and the events that had led up to this moment. I put down all of my suspicions and evidence that Duncan Andrews was the man who had killed two people, assaulted me, and broken into numerous establishments in his search for Tamerlane. I did it so that if I wasn’t here to explain it myself, Calvin would still have my notes. Maybe he’d be able to catch that bastard in my name.
I couldn’t get the cops involved now. Duncan knew who Calvin was, and he’d be looking for him. If I was at Beth’s without backup, Duncan would feel safe. It’d be my only chance to stop him in a place I knew to expect him.
I turned the page and wrote another quick note to my dad. I kept it simple, because to think much more into it would be like admitting I was going to be killed.
I love you, Pop.
Thank you for being there for me, always.
I quickly turned the page again, biting back the urge to cry.
Calvin—
Please visit a VA hospital. Don’t do this alone.
I love you.
I pulled the pages back to the beginning and let out a breath. I left the notebook on the pillow before standing and going to the clock on the wall to check the time.
Six o’clock.
Showtime.
GOOD BOOKS was packed by the time I arrived at quarter to seven. People drank champagne from plastic flutes and chatted happily in groups throughout the store. The shop was bright with twinkling Christmas lights and electric candles among the front window displays and bookshelves. Fake snow and garland decorated end tables, and holiday cookies were being served alongside the bubbly alcohol. Festive music played overhead.
The aesthetic didn’t really fit Poe, but then again, what would Beth have done to decorate for the Master of Macabre? Play recordings of a beating heart and splatter fake blood across the floors and tables?
Christmas was a safer theme. And cleaner.
Ella Fitzgerald came up next on the mix. Next year all of my troubles would be out of sight, if I was inclined to believe her.
I smiled and shook my head. I hope so, Ella. I really do.
I had to keep my sunglasses on because of all of the extra lighting, despite it being dark outside. Scanning the faces for a few moments, I did see Greg, who briefly met my eyes and probably scowled, though it was hard to tell at this distance, before turning back to his conversation. Yeah, well, he could screw himself. I was looking for Beth, anyway.
“Sebastian!”
I turned quickly to see Max coming over with two glasses and offering me one. “Max? What are you doing here?”
“Beth invited me. Here. You look like you need a drink.”
“Max, you need to leave.”
“What? Why? I just got here.”
“It’s not safe to be here,” I replied.
“Safe? Sebastian, are you drunk already?”
“No, God, I wish I was. Max, please just—” I paused when I saw Be
th over Max’s shoulder. She was hanging up the phone behind the counter before waving at me.
Beth rushed into the storage room before coming back pushing a display on wheels, the top covered in a heavy cloth. “Ladies and gentlemen!” she called, clapping her hands after stopping in the middle of the room. “Thank you everyone for bearing these frigid temperatures and coming out tonight. I’ve invited you all here to take part in the unveiling of a magnificent piece of history thought not to exist to the literary world.”
I left Max and started looking around for Duncan. He was here; he had to be. This was what he was waiting for. Tamerlane was here. His Tamerlane was within grasp.
“Edgar Allan Poe’s first publication was in 1827 and was a small collection of poetry entitled Tamerlane and Other Poems. The simple, forty-page pamphlet was released in July, when Poe was just eighteen years old. It was published under the pseudonym, a Bostonian, and received little acclaim from the literary world,” Beth explained to her enraptured audience. “In fact, it is such a rare piece of work that after Poe’s death, it was thought to never exist at all! Only twelve copies were thought to survive of the original fifty. Until today.”
A hushed whisper moved throughout the crowd.
I wove in between people, searching for Duncan.
“Today, my dear friends,” Beth said, “I give to you the long lost thirteenth copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s priceless first publication.” She removed the cloth on the glass display.
Inside was a copy of Tamerlane that looked much like the one I’d seen at the library earlier. It was in remarkable condition, with an intact cover and little discoloration. I was sidetracked for a moment, moving closer to get a look at the history Beth was sharing. I had a hundred questions about the condition on the inside, and more importantly, how Beth had found it, but those thoughts were all brought to a screeching halt when all of the lights in the shop went out.
Candles and Christmas strings too. Someone had flipped the switches.
A second of silence, then murmuring voices. I could hear Beth cursing and moving away from the display, most likely to the back room.
“B-Beth!” I shouted. Not back there. Don’t go back there.
Then there was a gunshot, and people screamed.
I ducked and covered my ears, the ringing making my head spin. I raised my head and looked around. Thank you for the darkness, Duncan, you little fuck. I moved toward Beth now that I could see better. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I asked loudly, speaking over the buzz in my ears.
Beth was lying on the floor but lifted her head and looked at me. Terrified, but alive. She nodded.
There was another shot and then shouting. “Don’t fucking move!”
Duncan.
I was crouched in front of the display, and he was still deeper in the shop, having come out of the back after turning off the lights. I knew he’d come after I had mentioned Beth’s book event. I had realized that by mentioning it, he’d know immediately which book it would be in regards to. I also knew he had fixated on me and felt I’d betrayed some relationship he thought we were in. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else once he knew I was here.
He’d follow me. He’d follow the book.
My plan seemed really, really stupid now.
Get the book out of the store. He’d follow after me. I hadn’t thought about what would happen after that.
Maybe the shots fired would alert someone to call the police. Maybe I’d be able to outrun Duncan long enough until cops arrived.
Don’t second-guess yourself.
I stood up among the people crouching and trying to hide. “Duncan! Stop it!” I could see him waving a gun around frantically before pausing at the sound of my voice.
“Sebastian?”
“I said I was coming, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t come with me!” he shouted. “You—you’re a whore! You’re a slut! You betrayed me!”
“Duncan, I don’t know what you thought was going on between the two of us, but—”
“Shut up!” he screamed, waving the gun again. “I knew you wouldn’t steal my book! I knew you were better than all those other greedy pigs! I apologized! I brought you fucking roses!”
I hoped to God someone was recording this on a phone.
“But you’re worse than all the others! You and that cop! Did you laugh about me while you fucked him?”
“Duncan—”
“Did you!” he screamed again.
“Let’s talk about this outside,” I said calmly, despite my heart racing so hard that I felt sick. “Let’s get away from these people.”
“No! You’ll call the police and blame it all on me! They’ll believe you because of your pig boyfriend!”
“How about I leave my phone here?” I slowly reached into my pocket to take my cell out and set it on the nearest table. “See? Come outside with me.”
Then I heard the shop door open behind me, and Duncan screamed before firing another round. It missed me, but I swear to God I felt the breeze of the bullet as it whizzed by and hit the door, shattering the glass window. Among the sudden chaos and renewed screams of terrified patrons, I grabbed the hefty metal tray the Christmas cookies were sitting on and slammed it down onto the glass display Tamerlane sat inside.
I reached inside through the shards, cutting myself as I grabbed the book and tucked it into my coat.
“No!” Duncan cried, and I could hear him running toward me.
I dodged the closest people as I made for the door.
Don’t stop, I told myself. Just run. Get him away from Max. Away from Beth. Away from everyone.
I had just opened the shop door, barely stepped into the freezing night, when a hand grabbed mine. I startled but didn’t break free.
I knew that hand.
“Run,” Calvin said sternly. He took off into the dark, hand tight around mine, never letting go.
I slipped and skidded on the frozen sidewalk, but Calvin’s footing never wavered. He held on, keeping me on my feet as we ran down the block and crossed the street. The air froze my lungs as we ran, the wind burning my face with its freezing temperature.
But we kept running.
Calvin’s coat billowed open around him, like dark wings that would lift us off the ground and bring us to safety. The wind tore down the street, and Calvin’s scarf was tugged free from his neck.
Everything happened so quickly, it seemed to actually slow down. The minute details I remember seem almost silly now. The strange glow of freshly falling snow in the streetlamps. The echoing pound of our steps, as if the city were completely empty, save for the two of us. The strides Calvin took, too powerful for me to keep up, and he had to yank me forward.
A gun fired behind us, and Calvin skidded to a stop. He spun around, pulling me to stand behind him as if he were a shield, while reaching into his coat to pull his pistol free. Calvin raised his gun, not even managing to take aim at the figure standing in the middle of the street between the blocks before another crack echoed into the frozen night.
And then Calvin fell.
He crashed backward onto the pavement, gun sliding free from his hand. He was staring up at the clouded sky as if in surprise. And then pain.
He took a breath that sounded so scary.
Duncan was laughing. Screeching and bellowing as if he’d finally lost his fucking mind.
I dropped to my knees beside Calvin and reached over his chest. His right side was wet and warm, and he made another pained sound at my touch.
“Oh God,” I whispered when my hands came up covered in blood. I was shaking so badly, I could barely control my limbs. “Cal? Oh God, oh God.” I yanked my jacket off and pressed it down against the bullet wound.
Stop the bleeding. Put as much pressure on it as you could.
“That’s what you deserve, you son of a bitch, disgusting pig!” Duncan was screaming. “Sebastian! Don’t touch Sebastian! Don’t touch Tamerlane! It’s mine, mine, mine!”
He waved his gun at us.
I looked down at Calvin. “Please,” I whispered. I needed to call for help. He wasn’t going to make it. I reached down and gripped his hand tight.
“Sebastian!” Duncan shouted.
I looked up.
“Get away from him!”
“Duncan, put the fucking gun down!” I cried. “You shot him—aren’t you happy now? Put it down!”
“Get away from him!” he shouted again. “Bring Tamerlane!”
I glanced at my coat, which was soaking up Calvin’s blood, before digging inside to remove the pamphlet. It was covered in blood. Priceless to worthless. “Is this what you fucking want?” I raised it up and tore it in two.
“No!” Duncan screamed. “No, no, no! Sebastian! What have you done!”
He was going to kill us both.
When Duncan raised his gun again, I dropped the book and grabbed Calvin’s fallen pistol. I’d never touched a gun before, and the weight was cold and deadly. All I knew was aim and pull the trigger.
So I did.
The kickback was strong, and I dropped the pistol out of fright. The crack was so loud, like thunder had struck my brain. While my ears hummed and buzzed, I watched Duncan drop to the ground.
I had no idea where I’d struck him. Didn’t even realize I would be able to hit him. But what if he were okay? He still had his gun.
I stumbled to my feet, tripping over myself as my legs refused to function. I moved closer to Duncan and looked at him warily. He had blood running from his mouth, but his lips were still moving, saying something I didn’t care to hear.
I picked up his gun and ran back to Calvin.
“Cal! Cal! Don’t you fucking die, do you hear me?” I begged when I got back on my knees beside him. “Cal?” I shook him hard. “Calvin!”
I reached into his coat, took out his cell, and called 911. I told the dispatcher a policeman had been shot and gave the cross streets.
The wait for the ambulance was the longest five minutes of my life.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Chapter Fifteen
