by T R Kohler
Being meek was not something she was particularly good at, especially in the presence of other women, even more so those that were younger and looked the way Kaia did. It was a character trait that had helped immensely in her career as a detective. Had been equally as destructive to her marriage.
Keeping it in check in the coming days was going to be a battle for every inch.
“Besides,” Kaia said, “Ember is pretty fitting for what we do. You know, the whole Hell-fire-burning thing.”
Ember had gotten it the first moment it was mentioned, though she hadn’t felt the need to comment. It seemed the exact sort of thing she would expect someone like Kaia to come up with.
“If at any point you want to change it,” Kaia added, “feel free. It’s not like this was what I started out of the gates with.”
Having not expected to be given anything, even something as minute and trivial as choosing a new name, Ember felt her eyes widen in surprise. “I can pick a new name?”
The smile broadened on Kaia’s face, a smirk rocking her head back slightly. “Believe me when I tell you, eternity is a really long-ass time.”
Seeing the crack as nothing more than bait, Ember turned her attention back to the pool. She watched a tiny smudge appear on the far side of it, trying in vain to scramble up the sloped sides. Focusing on it for a second, she could make out the translucent outline of its body, the curled tail of a stinger rising from its back end.
A scorpion.
Not the first living thing she would have preferred to see, but a start nonetheless.
“What’s rule three?”
“Rule three,” Kaia said, her voice a touch detached, as if she was reading off the information for the hundredth time, “is you cannot kill any living thing.”
Repeating the words silently back to herself, Ember felt her lips move slightly. The previous two rules, she would have expected. Being reminded constantly of the predicament she was in would be routine moving forward. Having to give up her old life was the most basic of things.
But being told this rule in particular surprised her.
“Why would I-” she began, the question cut off by a single upraised palm from Kaia.
“Which brings us to rule four, and pretty much everything you need to know right now. The rest we’ll fill in as we go.”
Confusion, angst, irritation, all passed through Ember. Less than an hour into her new life, already she despised the girl she was sitting next to, was fast discovering just how bad the foreseeable future was going to be.
“The reason we took you up on your call that night was because we needed a woman with your skills,” Kaia said. Her voice was laced with derision, as if the decision was made by someone else, her opinion clearly not the same. “And the reason we dropped your ass here instead of straight into the non-cupcake version of Hell is because you are going to use those skills for us.”
Keeping her gaze fixed on the scorpion still trying in vain to work its way up the opposite side of the pool, Ember felt the air slide from her lungs. Her eyes fixed themselves into place, her vision blurring as she stared at the insect, processing what she’d just been told.
“Skills?”
Again, Kaia smirked beside her. “All evidence to the contrary, yes. You are now a detective in direct employ of the devil himself. Congratulations.”
Of everything that Kaia could have said, Ember couldn’t readily think of a single thing that would have surprised her more. When the offer had first been made, she had willingly jumped at it. No matter how bad Hell could be, it still beat the alternative.
Not once throughout the negotiation, though, had mention of going to work ever been mentioned.
“Detecting what?” she managed.
“Whatever we want,” Kaia said. “Remember rule one? You are in Hell. You do what we say without complaint.”
Curling her fingers, Ember clamped onto the side of the plank she was sitting on. Squeezing tight, she could feel every tendon and muscle synapse in her upper body pull taut, her molars clenching down hard.
Leaning forward, Kaia rested her elbows on her knees. She slid her gaze over Ember, looking for any sort of reaction, before asking, “Got all that, Sherlock?”
Keeping her own attention aimed straight ahead another moment, Ember turned to focus on the girl beside her. “Got it.”
“Good,” Kaia said. “Because orientation just ended. We have work to do.”
Ember had the address programmed into her phone, the GPS system up on screen directing her where to go. Powered by an automated voice that grated on her nerves each time it spoke, one instruction after another was piped into the car, the only sound save the squeal of rubber as the windshield wipers passed by in five-second intervals.
Outside, the cause of their use was plain, precipitation falling from the sky in equal parts snow and slush. Typical of late spring in the Pacific Northwest, the icy crystals hit thick and hard, thudding against the glass and the roof of Ember’s sedan.
“In one hundred feet, turn right,” the mechanized woman inside her phone commanded.
Feeling her molars come together, Ember glanced down to the phone before returning her gaze to the road. Running later than expected, she pushed the gas as hard as she could, going the requisite distance before making a right.
Turning into a community that seemed like a different world from where she lived, Ember aimed her car down the center of the street. To either side, palatial two-story homes stood just back from the road, their yards dotted with mature pine trees and hardwoods bowing beneath the elements.
In their windows could be seen bright lights or the flickering glow of televisions, the sorts of things that most people should be doing on a night such as this.
Not out driving around, grasping for the last remnants they had of normality, clinging to those final precious threads of human interaction.
“In fifty feet, your destination will be on the left.”
In no mood to hear another order from the phone, Ember thumbed it silent, the screen going dark. Tossing the phone into the middle console, she alternated her glance between the street and the houses, before finally turning in as directed.
Easing her way down the driveway, the combination of trees and driving snow kept her from seeing the place from the road. Not until she’d pulled more than thirty yards ahead did the home come into view, a monolith of brick and glass, resembling something that belonged in an architectural magazine.
Arranged with matching wings spread wide from a center expanse with tall columns, it looked like a cross between a New York mansion and a southern plantation, Ember’s breath leaving her chest as she stared up at it.
Just as fast, the moment of awe passed, replaced by a bitter taste rising along the back of her throat.
Yet another overcompensation, a trophy for her ex-husband to wave in front of the world.
Pulling forward, Ember circled off the main driveway. Hooking a right onto the turnabout along the front, she looped around until she was parked parallel to the steps before killing the engine and climbing out.
As she did, the icy wind whipped across her body, tugging at her hair and the tail of her coat. Slush smacked against her exposed neck and cheek, dribbling down her collar, dropping her body temperature more than a dozen degrees on contact.
Clamping her jaw against the bitter chill, she tramped in silence around the back of her car, leaving clear tracks across the ground as she went. Stomping up the trio of short steps, the wind fell away as she passed onto the porch, going straight for the front door and ringing the bell.
On the other side of the door, she could hear the chime echo through the home, a pair of voices sounding out in response. Unable to decipher what was being said, Ember retreated a step, her own reflection staring back at her in the frosted glass comprising the top half of the door.
After the week - the month - she’d had, exhaustion was plain on her features. Bags underscored her eyes, fine lines seeming to arrive
almost daily. In the last six months, she’d lost considerable weight, her clothes seemingly draped across her figure.
Her hair, soaked from the walk to the door, hung limp to either side of her face.
A perfect encapsulation of everything she was thinking and feeling at the moment.
Inside, the sound of footsteps drew closer, pulling Ember’s gaze away from the window. Taking another step back, she drew herself up straight, steeling herself for the interaction that was about to begin.
Hearing a pair of locks twist open, she drew in a breath as the door swung wide, a woman she had never seen standing before her. Dressed in slacks and a cashmere sweater, a colorful scarf was wrapped around her neck. Thick dark hair that looked fresh from the salon framed a porcelain face. Full red lips were peeled back to reveal a neon smile.
“Oh, hello,” the woman said, her voice thick with an accent. If Ember were forced to guess, she would place it as Russian, or maybe Balkan. “You must be Ember.”
Her eyebrows rising slightly, Ember said, “I must. And you are...?”
“I am Shasta,” the woman replied, extending a manicured hand before her.
It wasn’t the interaction Ember had anticipated upon arrival, though already she could feel herself wondering if the other would have been preferable.
At least when facing her ex-husband, she knew up front what to expect.
“Nice to meet you,” Ember replied, accepting the shake, the woman’s hands rougher than her appearance would indicate.
“And you,” Shasta replied. “Emory has been so excited. All he’s talked about.”
Offering no more than a slight smile, Ember looked past Shasta into the house. From where she stood, she could see a chandelier hanging down from the ceiling, a wide staircase rising directly beneath it.
On the floor was a rug that probably cost what she made in a week.
On the walls, art that would chew up a month’s salary.
“Would you like to come in?” Shasta asked. Stepping to the side, she extended a hand. “He’ll be ready in just a minute.”
For an instant, Ember considered it, before dismissing it out of hand.
No way would she give her ex-husband the satisfaction of stepping foot in that house, regardless how cold it was outside.
Chapter Six
What was handed over to Ember wasn’t so much a file as it was a single piece of paper folded into a larger brown envelope. On it was a photo that resembled a mug shot and a few pieces of information, the whole thing containing less than a hundred words.
Easily the skimpiest briefing she had ever received, the sort of thing that in her previous life wouldn’t have been enough to even warrant opening a case.
“John Lee Tam,” Ember read aloud, her voice elevated to be heard over the wind whipping around them.
“Yup,” Kaia said from behind the wheel, her blond hair blowing in a swirl around her head, held back from her face only by the oversized pair of Ray-Bans she wore.
With one hand resting atop the steering wheel, she kept her arm straight from the shoulder to her wrist, fingers draped on the opposite side. Every few moments she would jerk it from one side to the other, the car lurching under her command, swinging from one lane to another.
In their wake was a cacophony of horns and middle fingers, fellow drivers not appreciating their blatant disregard for the rules of the road.
So much for not harming any living person.
“Says here he is an antiquities dealer,” Ember added. “Has a house in La Jolla.”
She was hoping that the comments would be enough to prompt additional information from Kaia, though no response came.
“That’s it?” she asked.
Performing another unnecessary lane change, this one approaching triple digits on the speedometer, Kaia glanced over. “Is that all it says?”
“That, and the picture,” Ember replied.
“Then that’s all there is.”
Making a face, Ember looked over to her driver. She fought to keep her features at least somewhat close to neutral. Tried even harder to bite back the additional comments she wanted to lob across the middle console.
Like the fact that this entire thing was bullshit. That there wasn’t enough information here to even warrant a visit to the guy’s house, let alone a full investigation. That while she wasn’t familiar with Hell, she knew plenty about being a detective, and this was not how it was done.
“What did he do?” Ember asked.
Raising her right hand, Kaia waved off the question in a flurry of bright fingernails.
Again, Ember felt her animosity grow. Being talked down to was the number-one thing guaranteed to piss her off. Being dismissed out of turn was a close second.
“Why are we after him?”
“What’s it say?” Kaia asked.
“That he’s gone, but that’s all,” Ember replied. Gone from where, and a hundred other questions just like it, all sprang to mind. None so much as made it to the surface.
“That’s all it says?” Kaia repeated in response, glancing to the piece of paper in Ember’s hands, the corners flapping in the wind. “Then that’s all there is.”
Blood rushed to Ember’s cheeks, her face growing hotter, this time having nothing to do with the bright California sun beating down atop her head. Keeping her lips pressed into a tight line, she could feel her nostrils flaring as she focused on the image before her, not trusting herself to so much as look at Kaia.
Doing so would only end badly.
For her, and more importantly, for others.
The picture before her was a front shot of a man who looked to be somewhere in the bottom half of his forties. His name suggested he was of Korean ancestry, the photo bearing that out as well. Smooth skin and sharp cheekbones were accentuated by a pointed chin. Thick dark hair crowded in tight around his forehead. His pasty complexion was made even more so by a total lack of facial hair.
His expression was solemn, one bordering on resignation. His eyes appeared flat as he stared back at the camera, the wall behind him bare.
Focusing on him, Ember tried to will herself into the photo. She wanted to get a good look at the man, to see beyond the shades of gray on the paper before her. To get a feel for how he presented himself, how he carried his body, the attitude he exuded when he spoke.
More than anything, she wanted to gain a grasp of his character, his makeup.
To have some idea about what he did to land himself in the devil’s crosshairs in the first place.
Tucking the paper back into the folder, Ember wedged it into the slot between her seat and the middle console. She raised her attention back to the outside world, things having filled in along the sides of the road. Gone were open swaths of desert scrubland, replaced by the typical suburban sprawl that seemed to accompany every city of any size in the country.
Gas stations. Mini-marts. Fast food restaurants.
Shitloads of people, all in a hurry to get somewhere, and quite angry about having to do so.
“So how does this work?” Ember asked.
Jerking her head over, Kaia said, “I push the gas pedal, the engine revs, we go forward. Really a pretty good little system.”
A single muscle in Ember’s jaw twitched as she stared straight ahead. She could feel the assorted tendons along her neck bulge as she clenched tight, tamping down the urge to lash out.
“Cute.”
“Thanks,” Kaia said, a slight chuckle sliding out. “I do try.”
“Try harder,” Ember replied. “I meant the case. How do we go about this?”
Without looking over, Kaia weaved through a pair of semi-trailers, both with full loads on the back, more than twenty feet in length. She pushed the Mustang through a narrow opening before spurting forward, twin horn blasts sounding out in their wake.
Glancing to the rearview mirror, Kaia laughed again. Raising a hand above the top ledge of the windshield, she wagged her fingers at them, waving as if they were
all old friends.
“You’re a detective, right?” she said. “Well, on our side of the line, we refer to people like you as Hunters. People that hunt down whatever we need them to.”
Again, she checked the mirrors, her head constantly moving, looking everywhere but the road before them. “So, you go hunting. I drive and ride shotgun to make sure you don’t try anything stupid.”
“No,” Ember replied, “I was a detective, meaning I had access to case files and databases and crime scenes. I was able to talk to people, to carry a gun when it was needed.”
Again, she pulled up short, hoping her statement would be enough to prompt a response.
And just like before, any supposition of accepted social interaction norms on the part of her driver were misplaced.
“Does any of that apply here?” she asked.
Slowing just slightly, Kaia turned and regarded her. She kept her gaze locked, continuing to weave through traffic, not so much as bothering to glance through the windshield as she went.
Matching the look, Ember stared back at her own reflection in the Ray-Bans, content this time to wait it out as long as necessary.
After more than a minute, a hint of a smile cracked Kaia’s face. “Maybe this won’t actually be a complete waste of my time after all.”
Offering nothing more than an arched eyebrow, Ember said nothing.
“Takes most of the newbies at least a day or four before they get their head out of their ass.”
There was no shift in Ember’s expression as she stared back, waiting for a response to her original question. Rising to the bait of Kaia’s banter would do no good, likely only emboldening the girl to keep dishing it out.
And it wasn’t like she had any interest in debating the last part of Kaia’s statement.
“No,” Kaia said, turning to look back at the road, “you won’t have full access to those things. You’re not a cop anymore. You’re not even alive anymore.
“Think of yourself more like a private investigator. You can talk to the living, but they don’t actually have to answer you. If they do, it doesn’t have to be the truth.”
