by Tom Keller
"Hmm… I don’t know," I replied, trying to think of something that would be the same in both worlds. "It's hard to say. Things are different here. I mean, I remember you telling me things that happened over the years, but I'm not sure that's what you're looking for."
"Surely there must be something, " she asked, coyly.
"There is one thing," I replied, grinning. "I've seen you die and come back to life. Your skin rejuvenates. Any marks or scars you may have received disappear."
"Please," she said, interrupting me. "That is no secret. I have been through that several times in front of witnesses over the years."
"I wasn't done yet," I replied, smiling. I think it was time to let her know how close we really were. "That wasn’t entirely correct, there is one thing that always comes back. You have a birthmark. Shaped like a leaf on the inside of your thigh. It's right next to your… Well, you know where I mean. It's very sensitive. As a matter of fact, when I kiss it, you…"
"Enough," she said with a laugh. "There is no man alive that would know that. I am convinced."
"I don't know if that information should make me happy or sad," I replied, chuckling. "So you believe me."
"You weave a strange tale, Robert Hoskins," she said, thumping her hands on the table as she stood up. She scooped up the derringer and put it in her purse. "But I have seen many unusual things over the years. Yes. I believe you. Although what this all means is still a mystery to me. I will tell you this. Whatever Gaea is up to, there is more to the story than just teaching you a lesson. That you can be assured of."
"You'll get no argument from me there," I replied. "So will you help me?"
"I will do what I can," she agreed, picking up her purse. "I wish to reflect on what you have told me. Several old visions tug at my memory. Perhaps there is something there that will explain what has happened. But it would be best if we kept this between us. It would not be above many of the Fae here to use this to their advantage if they could."
"You mean Meredith?" I replied, getting up from my chair.
"I do not know what your world is like," she said, nodding her head. "But here, power is everything. You have quite the reputation already and Meredith is but one of many that would see such a thing as worth exploiting."
"I agree," I replied, not unaware that she might be after the same thing. She was, after all, still Diantha. "When will I see you again?"
"Soon," she said as I walked her to the door. "Unfortunately, my free time is limited and the showroom is only dark on Mondays. I will contact you when I can." She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. "This is a private line. If I do not answer, leave any message. I will get back to you when we can talk in private."
"Thank you," I replied.
"Well then lover from beyond the veil," she said, grinning. "We will talk again soon." She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek before stepping through the doorway and turning back to me. "Remember, trust no one, and please, do not forget to set the wards next time." She gave me an overview of what they protected me from, and then she was gone.
Chapter 10
"Hello," I said, picking up the phone. I looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was barely 7:00 a.m. A little early for me, but then I'd been up late, going through Robert's library again, looking for anything that might lend a clue as to why I was here.
"Good morning, sir. This is the front gate," a female voice said. "You have a visitor here that's not on the list. Michelle Brickey is her name. She says you're expecting her."
"Oh, right," I replied, swinging my legs over the bed. "My apologies. I should have let you know. Yeah. Let her through." I threw on a pair of pants and a shirt. I had to chuckle. I guess knowing my phone number wasn't enough for her to make an impression. I headed downstairs and started the coffee, then paused to review the scroll Diantha had left on the counter so I could turn off the wards.
"A little early, isn’t it?" I asked, meeting her at the door. "I'm not sure if you're trying to make a point or just throw me off guard."
"A little of both," she replied, chuckling as she handed me the newspaper she'd picked up from the driveway. She took a seat at the table and started going through the leather valise she was carrying.
"Coffee?" I asked as I walked over to the pot. I pulled some cups from the cupboard and held one up as I spoke.
"Sure," she said, removing a file folder from the bag. "Cream and sugar if you have it."
"Not a problem," I replied, fixing both cups before sitting down across from her. I leaned over and set her cup down as she pushed the files across the table toward me. "So, what'd you bring me?"
"What you asked for," she said as I opened the first folder. "Stuff from the last 50 plus years or so. To be honest, there may be more in the archives, but this is what I had available. I brought the cop stories too, but I got the impression that wasn't what you were looking for."
"You'd be right," I replied, perusing the file. Most of the information was familiar. There were obits of my mom and dad, as well as articles outlining the plane crash. My father had been a pilot stationed in Germany. He'd met my mother there and eventually, they'd married and moved to Las Vegas where he continued to fly. Just like in my universe, the cause of the crash was never determined, although pilot error was the most common explanation. But then again, Vegas lacked the amenities of modern airports and follow up investigations weren't always timely back then.
Other than my birth announcement, the stories about me were mostly academic or the like. I'd won a local spelling bee in the third grade and played football in high school. Apparently, I was a good student. In college, I graduated with honors from what was here still called Nevada Southern University.
Then there were the stories about the poor boy whose parents died. Not much to go on really. But there were also quite a few about my grandmother, mostly pictures, but a couple stories as well. Not being Fae in this world, she'd married into an aristocratic family. Unfortunately, her husband, my grandfather, had passed away before she'd come to America. Most of the rest involved her moving here from Germany after the crash to raise me. But there were also several that mentioned she was a community benefactor, although what that meant wasn't explained. But there were a number of pictures of her at several local grand openings. There was even one where she was tipping a shovel at the start of construction of a new casino. Then there was her obituary, which simply said she'd died of natural causes at a ripe old age. There were a few other pics as well. The plane crash, of course, and one that was interesting because I'd never seen it before. It was a photo of me and my grandmother. Taken in a front yard, there was a light colored house behind the picture that I didn’t recognize. Along with that, were more pictures of a house, most from the outside, showing mostly wall. The older ones, however, had been taken from inside the property, showing it to have been built in the style of a Roman villa, with lots of trees and an open porch with a wall of arches that surrounded the house proper.
"Any idea when and where this was taken?" I asked, holding the picture up.
"Don’t you know?" she asked, taking the black and white photo from me.
"Humor me."
"It doesn't say the year, but that's your grandmother's place," she replied, reaching over and pointing to one of the other pictures. "You should remember that. You lived there growing up. She built it at the top of Ann Road right after she moved here. Some of these pics are from a story on old Vegas homes we ran a few years ago. Don’t you remember? We had to stand on the roof of the truck to get that picture. You wouldn't give me permission to get into the yard."
"I guess I really am an asshole, aren’t I?" I said as she pulled her hand back. My grandmother had certainly never owned a house in that part of town when I'd grown up. In my world, she'd moved into my parents' house. That had been a nice home in a middle-class neighborhood on the southeast side of town.
"Your words, not mine," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "You gonna tell me what this
is about now?"
"A little research to jog my memory," I said, keeping it simple. I gathered up the papers and stacked them neatly on the table. There was nothing earth-shattering here. Except for the house, and I could follow up on that later. But I wasn’t done with her yet. If she was anything like the reporter back in my world, she had a ton of stuff locked up in her head that even she didn’t know about. She would make a valuable ally. I just had to get her on my side. I picked up the newspaper and started looking for the article I was sure she'd written about yesterday's attack.
"B section," she said, then reached over and took the paper and opened it to the local section before handing it back. "Second page."
It was short. Just a blurb about how I'd been attacked as I left the hospital. It didn't mention that she'd been there or even the Mage or the type of animal that had attacked us. In some ways that was good. If it'd been too interesting, they might have been prompted to back off. It wasn't her normal style and I wondered why she hadn’t written a more in-depth piece.
"Not much to it," I said, looking up from the paper. "Why not?"
"Consider it returning the favor for the interview you gave my reporter," she replied. "There was no reason to be too specific. Besides, I didn't feel like seeing my name in the paper. But I would like to know who attacked us. Off the record, of course."
"The Mage?" I said, smirking as I put the paper down. "We haven't identified him yet but he was one of Marissa's. I think we hurt their feelings when we took down her operation and arrested her. Like I said last night, he was after me, not you. We're working on bringing him in."
"Okay," she replied. "But you owe me a story when you do arrest him. Now, back to my earlier question. What’s this all about? It's not like we have any positive history between us. Last I checked, you don’t even like me, and to be honest, I don’t like you that much either."
"Be that as it may, the truth is, we both have something the other one needs."
"What would that be, Lieutenant?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Information, Michelle. What else?" I replied in a serious tone. "Now, I'm not saying either one of us should give up the farm. That's never going to happen. You're not going to reveal your sources and you know I won’t provide you with an open conduit to the Department. But what I will propose is a mutually agreeable relationship where we agree to answer each other's calls and consider whatever is asked. I'll even promise to never throw you out of the office again."
"You have my attention," she replied, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. "I can’t believe I'm saying this but I'll admit it's worth considering." There was a long pause before she spoke up again. "But I'll want something in return."
"Okay, what would that be?"
"I need to speak to a Lilin," she replied.
"Excuse me?" I said, almost spitting out the coffee as I moved the cup away from my mouth to avoid spilling it on my shirt. "I should probably mention that I'm not on the best of terms with them."
"I thought you just rescued a group of them the night of the Keres incident."
"That's true," I agreed. "But in return, all I got was my ass chewed out by them."
"They chewed you out for rescuing them?" she asked, looking confused. "Why?"
"I don’t know. Past transgressions, I guess," I said with a shrug. "I'm not exactly their favorite person. Apparently, they think we're all in the employ of the major Fae houses."
"Aren't you?"
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "Although I can see why they would think so. But under the circumstances, there's not much we can do for them, other than try and keep them out of the hands of folks trying to exploit them."
"Which is exactly why I want to talk to them," she said. "Find out what their life is really like. You have to know somebody. What about Bjartr at Danu's? Can you get me a meeting with him?"
"You wish. The Elf's too protective. I can barely get him to talk to me. We'll have to figure out another way. Let me think on it a bit. I can't make you any promises but I'll see what I can do."
"Fair enough," she replied, then got up out of her seat. "I'll trust you to think of something." She stood up and walked over to the sink and put her cup down. "Very well, then, I've got other appointments. The files are yours to keep. I look forward to our new… relationship."
"Oh, one more thing," I said as I got up and walked her down the hall.
"What's that?" she replied, suspiciously.
"My friends call me Robert," I said, opening the door for her.
I filled my cup and sat back down at the table, perusing the pictures that had my grandmother in them. There were more than I had originally thought. What I found most interesting is that most of them were photos of her in a group, almost all with prominent local figures. Shots at grand openings and charity events for the most part. Back in my world, my grandmother had kept a low profile, here that obviously wasn't the case. I wasn't sure what her relationship with the elites of Vegas had been, but I knew she'd had money. Of course, she'd left it all to Robert. I'd found several accounts and even a large amount of cash in the safe. What I hadn’t found was any references, beyond the bank statements, to anything else about her life. O'Malley had mentioned that she'd given Robert the religious dagger when he graduated from the academy, but beyond that, I knew very little about what she'd been like in this world.
Oh, well. It was time to move on. I had enough people thinking I was crazy. Besides, I'd done all the digging I could for now. I'd talked to the few folks I felt might lead me to any information as to why Gaea sent me here. That could still be a dead end. Just because I thought she was up to something else didn’t mean she was. If I was chasing ghosts, I might as well prepare myself for a long stay in this world. Don’t get me wrong. If I was stuck here I was gonna do it my way. Well, at least for the most part. But I still had to fit in. Which meant I needed to know more about Robert's life here. Since O'Malley's meeting with the Church wasn't until tomorrow morning, that gave me the rest of the day to find out what I could.
This house had very few personal items from Robert's childhood that would give me a clue as to what his life had been like. There were no old family portraits on the walls or even knick-knacks lying around. Nothing that would speak to what he'd been like when he was younger or his relationship with her. Same with magic. Except for the dagger and the wards that protected the house, there was little of it to speak of here. But now that I knew Robert owned the place he grew up in, maybe I could learn something more. Remembering having seen a ring of old keys in the safe, I took a quick shower and got dressed, grabbing them as I headed out the door.
I drove out of the neighborhood and turned right on Rancho, heading north toward where my, or should I say this Robert's grandmother's house stood. Like the days before they built the expressways in my own Vegas, Rancho Drive, also known as Highway 95, was the main artery toward the cities up north. Not that I was going quite that far. Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia as I took the old route toward the northwest side of town. The airport was a hoot. It was like looking back in time to when I was a kid. Just a tower and a landing strip with a small lot for parked propeller-driven aircraft. But it was the motel adjacent to the field that waxed nostalgic. The sign boasted an airplane-shaped swimming pool just like the one the Sky Rider back in my world had been famous for in the '60s.
Shaking my head, I came back to reality, continuing up Rancho until eventually making the left onto Ann Road, which looked to be the last turn off, at least until you hit the one that led to Mt. Charleston a few more miles down the road. The two-lane street with a few ranches scattered across the desert was paved until I got to about where El Capitan would have been back home. There it turned into gravel. I slowed down and continued up the hill for a few miles until I saw what had to be the property on the south side of the street. I made a left onto a nameless road and drove toward the driveway where a mailbox marked the entrance. Wow! I'd never had anything like this i
n my world. The property the two-story house sat in the center and front of what had to be a good 40-acre parcel was bordered by a rustic split rail fence made of old wood.
The house itself was set back from the street and surrounded by a tall stone wall. There was a driveway and a large gate on the north side. The wall itself was about 10 feet high and had a thin ornamental cross-shaped block pattern every few feet near the top that struck me as strange. Could there be a religious significance to them? I put the question away as I turned onto the gravel driveway and stopped at the gate. I grabbed the ring of keys as I parked and then stepped out of the car to look around before going inside.
Crazy, I thought to myself as I walked the 50 feet or so back to the mailbox. This property was huge! My own grandmother had never even considered something like this. But then again, she'd been Fae. Here, Robert's lineage was human, or at least I think it was. I checked the mailbox, which was empty, and then knelt down next to the fence that surrounded the rest of the property. Noticing an odd color near a fence post, I put my hand down to examine it further. I picked up a handful of dirt and let it fall between my fingers. Had I still been the God of Hades, I'd have been able to identify everything in the ground around me. Here, I was reduced to rubbing it with my fingers and guessing at what it contained. Yeah, I know, it's just dirt... only it wasn't. I knew what I was looking at because I'd seen it before. Back when I'd first met Diantha she'd lived off the grid in a trailer outside of Pahrump, Nevada. I'd seen similar substances in the dirt around the perimeter there as well. It was some kind of spell, designed to keep certain magical beings out.
The substances here were much finer. As if extra care had been taken to make sure that whatever they used was well mixed into the dirt around the fence. I was guessing it was like this around the entire perimeter. I stood and looked back at the wall. I now saw that what I had first thought were crosses were more than just ornamental, they were like arrow slits in an old castle or keep. A place to shoot at your enemy using the tall wall as cover. Considering the location in this Vegas, even with the few ranches that dotted the desert below, there was a clear line of sight around the property toward the city and to the mountains behind. Nothing was going to sneak up on anyone that lived here. I pulled out the keyring and looked at the iron key that I assumed fit the front gate. The damn thing was over twice the size of a normal key. This place had been built like a fortress. But why? It had to have been built before Robert even finished elementary school. Which begged the question; what did she feel the need to protect herself from?
