Hannah Green and Her Unfeasibly Mundane Existence

by Michael Marshall Smith

  Finally he looked down at Hannah’s dad. ‘So, you’ve been found,’ he said. ‘How marvellous.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am who I am. And you are an idiot.’

  Hannah’s dad blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard the guy,’ Aunt Zo said cheerfully. ‘Though I can repeat it, if you’d like.’

  ‘I am weary of this place,’ the Devil muttered. ‘I shall be in the car. Do not keep me waiting.’

  Dad got his stuff from his room. Granddad, Aunt Zo and the Devil set off in Zo’s car (Vaneclaw once more secreting himself in the trunk, for convenience, and also because he’d discovered it was actually pretty comfortable and smelled interestingly of gasoline) and Hannah rode in the back seat of her father’s. After a few days in unfamiliar vehicles, it was nice to be back in one she knew.

  Her dad didn’t say much as they drove north, heading back towards Bixby Bridge and the gateway to the rest of California, the bits that didn’t buzz. Hannah didn’t mind. She knew he liked to concentrate when driving, so she sat quietly. She was pretty sleepy (and enormously full of burger) and thought it likely she might be able to pull off that trick where you travel home in an instant, by falling asleep.

  Halfway across the bridge there was a long series of faint bonging noises, however.

  ‘Phone’s picked up data signal again,’ her father said without enthusiasm. ‘That will be emails, flooding once more through the breach in the fence. Welcome back, Steve. We’ve been waiting. Got a bunch of crap we’d like to bug you about. That stuff I said earlier about work? Emails don’t count.’

  Then there was a series of other sounds, pings this time. ‘Voicemail.’ Her dad sighed. ‘Would you mind seeing who they’re from? Ten will be from Zo, calling me rude words, but your mom may have called too. She’s also likely to be …’

  ‘Really unbelievably mad at you?’

  ‘… eager to communicate.’

  ‘We need to make her come home, Dad. We should tell her to come home.’

  ‘It’s not quite that … Look, would you mind just seeing who called?’

  Hannah fished her dad’s iPhone out of his jacket and read down the notifications.

  ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Five voicemails from Mom.’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘One two days ago, then another one, two yesterday, and – oh: one only half an hour ago. Can we listen?’

  ‘I guess,’ her dad said, with the air of a man who knew he might as well take his lumps sooner rather than later. ‘Put it on speaker. Hang on – half an hour ago?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Hannah said as she navigated to the relevant screen on the phone. It was her strident belief that she was more than ready to own a phone (the schism with her friend Ellie at school had started through Ellie’s excessive tendency to show off hers), and took any opportunity to demonstrate her skills.

  ‘That’s weird. It’s the middle of the night there. Or, what is it … almost nine here: plus three, so it’s five in the morning. OK, but she’s still up very early, even for her.’

  ‘Probably really worried about you,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Hannah pressed the on-screen button. ‘Hey,’ Kristen’s voice said out of the speaker. ‘It’s me. Obviously. Uh, been trying to get hold of you, dude. Which presumably you know. But.’

  There was a pause. Hannah waited, struck by how different her mother sounded. People evidently had different voices depending whom they’re talking to, which begged the question of which was their real voice. Though Mom sounded tired, too.

  ‘Anyway. I … shit, Steve. Look. I would like us to talk, soon. The first message I left was because Hannah called me. She sounded … I don’t know.’

  ‘You called Mom?’ Hannah’s father said.

  ‘Um,’ Hannah said.

  ‘She sounded very not-happy,’ her mom continued. ‘Which is why I wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t there, and have continued to not be there, and … It’s been a while, and lately there’s been this voice of … something or other, in my head, ranting on, and I couldn’t sleep, and so I’ve done something a little out of left field. Basically, I’m here. In Santa Cruz.’

  Hannah’s heart leaped. ‘Mom’s home?’

  ‘Shh,’ her dad said quietly.

  ‘In fact, I’m in the actual house. Though neither of you are. I guess you’re out. Well, duh. Clearly you are. So I just wanted to warn you that I’d be here when you get back because … I felt I should. Warn you. Or something. In case that’s weird. Me being in the house. Because I let myself in.’

  Hannah looked at her father. He was watching the road ahead and his face looked very still. Hannah wondered if he was thinking the same as her, which was that Mom didn’t usually sound this uncertain.

  ‘So, uh, that’s what it is,’ her mom’s message went on. ‘I hope it’s OK. It’s, what is it? – OK, it’s half past eight, so I assume you won’t be too long now. I’ll be here. In the kitchen, probably, though right now the idea of the couch is … ’

  Her mom went silent for a moment. When she spoke again her voice sounded very different.

  ‘What the hell—’

  Then the line went dead.

  Chapter 32

  Hannah’s dad drove fast. Not crazy fast, but still fast, looping round Carmel on Highway 1 and then shooting north.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked when they were on the home straight.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m sure everything’s fine.’

  ‘But why didn’t she answer when I tried?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe she just dropped her phone? And … it broke. Which is why she isn’t answering now?’

  ‘Could be. Or she fell asleep on the couch in mid-sentence and is lying there snoring her head off.’

  ‘Mom doesn’t snore.’

  ‘Oh, she really does.’

  He was calm and sounded as if everything was almost certainly OK. But he didn’t sound like he believed it.

  Hannah sat clutching his phone in her hands, staring at the screen, willing the car home.

  It was quarter to eleven when they pulled into the drive, providing the first sign that her dad was as anxious as she was. Usually he took this turn carefully because the slope over the kerb was a little steep and so otherwise it—

  Crunch.

  —banged the underneath of the car. He didn’t swear this time, though. They walked quickly together to the front door.

  It was unlocked, but that made sense. Mom would have unlocked on the way in. Dad opened the door, letting it swing away from him into the hallway, holding his hand to the side to stop Hannah running straight in.

  ‘Wait,’ he said.

  The house was silent. Oddly, noticeably, ostentatiously silent, in the way houses are when you catch them unawares, as if they’ve recently stopped doing something secretive and weird, and the furniture has only just got back into its usual positions.

  The hallway lights were on. So were those in the living room. That was also to be expected. Dad had them on a timer system that he worked from his computer to ward off intruders, a bit like Granddad’s sculptures, Hannah realized. It only worked about a third of the time and had driven her mom a tiny bit nuts.

  Dad took a cautious step into the house. ‘Kristen?’

  ‘Dad—’

  ‘Shh. Stay here, OK?’

  He walked carefully down the hallway until he could see into the living room. She saw him moving his head around to look on all sides. Then he went farther along the hall, towards the door to the kitchen. ‘Kristen?’

  His voice sounded tight. Hannah decided she had had enough of standing out on the mat and ran in to him. He looked angry for a moment but then rolled his eyes. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But stay close. I’m sure it’s all fine, but let’s … do this properly.’

  The kitchen. All the lights were on there too, blazing in the way Mom liked, and which had driven Dad a tiny bit
nuts. Everything looked normal. The counters were clean. The spatulas were all in the right place. A piece of luggage that Hannah recognized stood on the floor near the table. Mom’s carry-on. There was a coffee cup on the counter too. Hannah touched her hand to it. It was not quite cold.

  The house was still not saying anything.

  They went to the den, which was dark. Dad turned on the lights. It was empty. They checked the bathroom, and the room where they had dinner once in a great while, if there were guests. Both were empty.

  Then they were back in the hall, her dad looking up the stairs. ‘What are the chances of you staying down here?’

  ‘Not good,’ Hannah said. ‘Really quite poor, in fact.’

  He sighed. ‘OK. But two things first.’

  He leaned on the banister and peered up the stairs. The upper hallway light was on. ‘She evidently flew in today,’ he said. ‘Which case, it’s somewhat credible that she went upstairs and crashed out in the spare room. After she … dropped her phone. She could be asleep up there now, and when your mom’s asleep, she’s asleep. So I’m going to call louder, OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Kristen?’

  Nothing.

  Her father’s face was pinched, as each attempt to prove this was a normal, explicable situation came up short. ‘OK then. Second thing: try phoning her again. Just in case.’

  Hannah held up her dad’s phone, which she had ready and waiting. She pushed the button that would place a call to ‘Kriz’, Dad’s shorthand for Mom.

  They waited. There was no ringing sound from above.

  ‘Stay three stairs behind me,’ her dad said. ‘And if anything happens, run.’

  ‘What kind of thing?’

  ‘Anything … unusual. Run next door, OK? Tell Mr Golson to call the police. Promise?’

  ‘But Mr Golson’s weird.’

  ‘I know he is. But just do it, OK? Promise me.’

  Hannah knew that a lot of very unusual things had happened to her in the last couple of days, and she hadn’t run once. But she nodded.

  They went carefully up the stairs, her dad craning his neck to get a better view. He held her back when he reached the top, then motioned for her to follow.

  The upstairs hallway looked as it always did.

  Dad pushed the door to his study first, reaching round to turn on the light as it swung open. Empty.

  Next was her parents’ bedroom. That was empty too. Dad held a finger to his lips before opening the door to the guest room, in case Mom was asleep in there. But she was not.

  Her dad seemed less tense with each room that was proved empty. Hannah was too, though also confused. Where was her mom?

  Only two rooms left. First he opened the small one where Mom had worked sometimes when she was home. Had been at home. It was empty in an extremely empty way, Mom having taken most of her stuff when she left. A couple of books wilted on the shelf, looking lost and left-behind.

  Which only left Hannah’s bedroom.

  ‘Did you shut that?’

  He meant her door, which wasn’t normally ever closed. Granddad had shut it that afternoon, however, after they’d stowed the Sacrifice Machine under her bed.

  ‘Yes,’ Hannah said. ‘I did it this morning. I just thought it looked … tidier.’

  ‘Huh,’ he said. He sounded pretty relaxed now. ‘Maybe she decided to go check into a hotel or something.’

  ‘But why would she do that? She lives here.’

  ‘Your mom likes hotels.’

  He turned the handle of Hannah’s door, barely paying attention, checking this last room merely for the sake of completeness. But when he pushed, nothing happened.

  ‘Oh. Did you lock it?’

  ‘It doesn’t have a lock. A key, I mean.’

  ‘Right. Of course.’

  There had been a phase in Hannah’s life when she’d taken to locking her door while she did Important Things. The timing of these Important Things had a very high correlation with periods when she was supposed to be doing something else, like getting dressed or brushing her teeth or doing homework. After a few pretty major arguments on the subject the key to her room had mysteriously gone missing, never to be found.

  Her dad shoved at the door again, then bent to peer at a point near the handle. ‘Weird,’ he said. ‘It’s definitely not locked. Something’s blocking it on the other side.’

  ‘Mom?’ Hannah called. ‘Are you in there?’

  ‘Steve?’

  They both jumped out of their skins, but it wasn’t Hannah’s mom. The voice had come from downstairs.

  Aunt Zo. They heard her hurrying into the hallway below. ‘You realize you left the front door wide open?’

  Hannah and her dad ran downstairs. ‘Yes, Zo, I do,’ her dad said. He explained about the phone message and the strange way it ended and how they’d searched the house.

  Granddad stood in the doorway. His face was serious in a way that Hannah didn’t like. ‘You can’t open Hannah’s room?’

  ‘No,’ Hannah said, suddenly hopeful. Of course – he must have done something to the door. Locked it in a special way to protect the machine – or maybe he’d accidentally turned the sculpture’s power up so high that nobody could get in.

  ‘Let’s take a look.’

  He led them back up the stairs. He twisted Hannah’s door handle experimentally, and even in that small, everyday motion Hannah could tell a difference from when her dad had done it. When Granddad grasped and turned, listening while he did so, you could tell he understood the mechanics in a higher way. He was, she supposed, the Engineer – and in that moment she fully accepted, for the first time, the story of Erik Gruen.

  ‘It’s not locked,’ he said. ‘Something’s blocking it.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ her dad said drily. ‘We’d figured that out.’

  ‘Have you called out to her?’

  ‘Yes, obviously.’

  Her dad suddenly shouted Hannah’s mother’s name again, very loudly. Everyone jumped, then listened. There was no answering sound from the other side.

  Granddad reached up and pressed his fingers on the top of the door, near the frame. He did the same on the left side, the right, and then pushed along the bottom with the toe of one foot.

  ‘Curious,’ he said. He took a step back, still looking around the doorframe. ‘Nice cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘That’s a long drive for old bones, and it’ll take me a few minutes to work out how best to tackle this. Always think much better with a coffee, I find.’

  ‘I’ll help make it,’ Aunt Zo said in a way that made Hannah wonder whether some of her aunt’s questions might indeed have been answered during the period she’d just spent with Granddad in the car. Either answered or at least dealt with in a way that made her willing to go along with what he said – for now.

  Hannah’s dad looked baffled. ‘Whatever you say. You’re not going to have to damage the door, are you?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Granddad said. ‘Probably not.’

  He waited until they’d gone downstairs and then half turned to Hannah, mind still on the problem at hand. ‘Would you do something for me?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Please go fetch Vaneclaw.’

  Hannah slipped downstairs, past the kitchen and out of the front door. The Devil was sitting in the back of Aunt Zo’s car, staring straight ahead.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Trying to call in a favour,’ he said eventually. ‘On the back of old friendship. Time will tell. And the paths of destiny, as that’s how he’s always liked to style the way he operates in the world of the mundus.’

  Hannah had no idea what that was supposed to mean and so she left him to it and went round the back to open the trunk. Vaneclaw was stretched out there, eyes shut.

  Hannah coughed. The imp did not move. She coughed again, more loudly.

  ‘I’m not asleep,’ Vaneclaw said blearily, eyes still closed. ‘Like a nin
ja, I am. Ready for action at a nanosecond’s notice. Or sooner.’

  ‘You were asleep.’

  ‘Yeah, I was a bit, to be fair. So – what’s occurring?’

  He stretched his little limbs, hopped out of the trunk and followed Hannah up the path. Hannah was about to tell him to be careful, but realized Aunt Zo and her dad wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.

  Her dad spotted her passing the kitchen, however. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Um, checking if Granddad’s friend wanted a coffee.’

  ‘That was kind.’ Hannah realized just how much she loved him, and that she didn’t want to have to lie to him many times in her life. ‘Does he?’

  ‘He’s good,’ she said, and then realized this was, strictly speaking, if not a lie then certainly a very inaccurate statement. ‘I mean, he doesn’t.’

  She ran up the stairs, the imp scampering after. When they got to her room Granddad was still examining the door. He looked more serious. ‘Getting this frame off would take me quite a while,’ he said. ‘Imp – how dextrous are you?’

  ‘Dextrous?’ the imp said. ‘Dextrous? Ha. You have no idea, mate. I’m thinking of getting a second name, just so I can put Dextrous in between them. I’d go as far as to say that if you was to ask any given imp or demon about my finest qualities, possibly even the big man himself, dextrous would be the first word that sprang to their minds. Some would probably go as far as to say I am super-dextrous. Or ultra-dextrous. The Dextrous One, they call me.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘No. To be absolutely honest, I’m not a hundred per cent sure what it means. Bit like “treacherous”, is it?’

  ‘I need to get this door off.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the imp. ‘Why didn’t you say? Stand back.’

  The imp stuck out his short arms, waggled his fingers, and breathed in deeply, eyes bulging.

  There was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.

  ‘Don’t,’ said a voice. It was the Devil. His face was stern.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Hannah’s dad had come to see what was happening. Aunt Zo hurried up behind him, making the hallway rather crowded.

  The Devil stood in front of Hannah’s door. He took in the frame at a glance. ‘Stand back, if you would.’