by T. R. Hamby
Then she frowned. “You’re shrewd.”
Mel shrugged. “How many?”
She gave him a look, and his lips twitched. “That’s confidential. I think we have all we need. We’ll be in contact with you again. And your friend.”
Mel showed them out, and the six of them--Roone not included--watched the cruisers disappear down the drive.
Michael looked at him. “It went all right?”
Mel felt a wave of guilt, and everyone turned to him, wary.
“Mel?” Nora asked suspiciously.
He sighed, his guilt surging. “I had some trouble keeping my anger in,” he said.
“What does that mean?” Michael demanded.
Mel swore under his breath. “She could tell I don’t like him.”
They glanced collectively at the door to Roone’s bedroom.
“And?” Gabriel asked, frowning.
“She pointed it out,” Mel said, sighing again, “and I had to….explain.”
“What did you say?” Nora asked, horrified.
He looked at her, feeling a pang at the circles under her eyes, the colorlessness of her face.
He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I said he made a pass at you.”
There was a silence. Nora looked sick, and Mel felt a horrible pang. Now he was making things worse for her.
“It’s not just that,” he managed to say, as Gilla put an arm around Nora, “she didn’t say for sure, but there’s others. Our body isn’t the only one. It sounds like they’re hitchhikers.”
“Christ,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “This is just what we need.”
“Has Them said anything lately?” Nora suddenly asked, looking over her shoulder at Barry.
Barry waited. He frowned, and shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything from her, and she’s not saying anything now.”
“That’s odd,” Gabriel said, “usually she’s chatty.”
“Maybe she’s abandoned us,” Mel said, glowering.
He still didn’t trust Them. He just couldn’t….not after what Father had done to him. He wouldn’t trust any god, or goddess, ever again.
“Try Calling her,” Nora said firmly. “Maybe she’ll answer.”
Barry frowned, but nodded. He shifted on his feet, awkward, and whispered, “Them?”
Mel could tell Them had made contact when Barry shifted again. He said “hello,” and then explained their situation. It was rather like listening to one side of a phone conversation, only stranger.
“She says she’s been busy,” he finally said, frowning. “She hasn’t been watching us as much, so she didn’t know about the body….she says she’s sorry,” he added, “she thought we would be safe for a few days….she’s trying to….say again?….she’s trying to bring someone down to us.”
The group looked around at each other, stunned.
“Who?” Nora exclaimed. “And how--and--why?”
Barry listened. Slowly his face darkened, and he nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
“Right. Okay,” he said quietly, and Mel was suspicious.
“What is it?” he asked, and Barry looked at him.
“You’ll have to trust me,” he said, and everyone made frustrated noises. “Just trust me, all right? It’s nothing bad, not really….”
“Then why not tell us?” Michael growled.
Barry was firm. “Not the right time,” he replied. “She’s trying to convince someone to come down and help us. They….kind of got issues, sounds like.”
“And she thinks someone with issues is going to be able to help us?” Mel said.
Barry raised an eyebrow. “We all have issues, don’t we?”
Nora let out a bitter chuckle. “But she doesn’t even know if they’ll come.”
“She’s working on it. She thinks they’ll say yes.”
“And then what?” Gilla asked, gentle curiosity in her voice. “Do they….Travel?”
“That’ll be the hard part,” Barry said. “She’s never done it before. She’s sure she can, but she’s not quite sure how it’ll work.”
“Is there anything she knows for sure?” Mel grumbled.
Nora shushed him and turned back to Barry. “But what can this person do for us?”
Barry listened, and looked a little embarrassed. “Not much at first,” he said slowly, “he’ll need to train--”
“It’s a he?”
“Shh!”
“--she’s giving him a Talent, and he’ll need to train. That way he’ll be able to help us.”
Everyone was quiet.
Mel was immensely annoyed. First they had Demons, then they had Roone, then a dead body in their backyard, and now Them was being mysterious again. For a moment he longed for the days when it had just been him and Nora in her apartment in Rome, cozy on the couch, with only rehearsals and jewelry sales to worry about.
Nora finally spoke, looking around at everyone’s frustrated faces.
“Okay,” she said, “everyone take a deep breath.”
Then she looked at Barry. “Is there anything else she can tell us?”
Barry was quiet for a moment. Then, “She’s sorry….she doesn’t know anything about the body. She wouldn’t have anyway; she only watches us….but she says….”
He frowned, and lowered his voice, glancing at the door to Roone’s bedroom. “She says he’s….not doing well in there. Might want….might want to check on him.”
Nora went white. “Did he get hold of a Blade? Is he hurting himself?”
She turned to go check, and Mel and Barry stopped her.
“He’s not, he’s not,” Barry said quickly, looking worried. “He’s only crying. Mel will check on him.”
And he looked at Mel, who looked back at him, incensed.
But Nora seemed soothed, and Mel took some deep breaths, letting his anger drain away. He didn’t need his anger affecting her too, in her weakened state.
She and Gilla went upstairs, and Barry and Gabriel wandered to the study.
Michael stayed behind, and the two looked at each other.
He shrugged and sighed. “Let’s get it over with.”
So they went to the door and, without knocking, let themselves in.
Roone was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, staring blankly at his knees with tears running down his face. He looked up as they came in, and watched them as they stood over him.
“What?” he finally asked, contemptuously, and Mel was tempted to walk right out of there.
“He’s good,” Michael growled, and turned on his heel.
“Michael,” Mel sighed, and he halted, his jaw working. “Think of Nora.”
At the mention of Nora, Roone looked up, desperate. “She mentioned me?”
Now it seemed that Michael couldn’t control his anger. He whirled around, his dark eyes blazing. “Why are you crying? Do you need us to hold your hand for you?”
Roone deflated, and stared at his knees again. “I didn’t ask you to come in here.”
Mel could see what was going on, though he barely dared to believe it.
“You’re believing it now,” he said quietly, and Roone looked up at him. “That Nora doesn’t love you. That I’m not hurting her.”
Roone stared at him for a long moment. Then he looked away, anguished. “Yes.”
Mel wasn’t sure what to say. He had never thought he’d find himself facing Nora’s attacker, convincing him that he had been delusional all this time. He hadn’t expected to feel pity.
Michael didn’t seem to know what to say either. They stood there a while, uncomfortable, until Roone finally spoke.
“Just leave me alone.”
So they did, closing the door behind them. Michael and Mel looked at each other, bewildered.
“What did you say to him?” Michael whispered as they moved away from the door.
Mel shrugged. “What do you think? That I’m not abusing Nora, that Nora doesn’t love him. I don’t know why it worked.”
“But this means that if he can get past this delusion, he can leave,” Michael said slowly. “Once he’s not a mess anymore.”
But Mel wasn’t sure. “He has no one,” he replied. “He might want to stay.”
Michael glowered, and Mel shrugged, exhausted.
He trudged upstairs and slipped into his bedroom. Nora was lying under the covers, and he went to her, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.
He brushed at her hair, and she stirred, opening her eyes. “Hey.”
“Hey, love.”
“How was he?”
Mel hesitated. “He’s realizing that he’s been wrong.”
She looked stunned, but also too tired to make a fuss. “Oh.”
“Can I lie down?”
She gave him a look, and he chuckled, heartened by her sass. He undressed and got into bed, wrapping his arms around her.
She sighed, touching his hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too, diletta.”
“Remember when you used to call me Angela?”
Mel chuckled at the memory. “Yes. You hated it.”
“I did. It was dumb.”
“I did a lot of dumb things then.”
Nora squeezed his hand. “No you didn’t. You’re perfect.”
Mel squeezed her, and nipped at her neck, making her giggle. “I think you’re confusing me with your other boyfriend.”
They were quiet a moment, lying content in bed. Nora’s breathing was slowing, her eyes closed.
“I do feel better today,” she murmured.
Mel was so relieved he was dizzy. “Good. You’re on the mend.”
“I hope so. I need to get back to bossing everyone around.”
Mel smiled. She was incredible, even when she was low. Everything going on right now was fucked, but as long as Nora was okay, Mel had hope.
Soon, somehow, they would figure it out.
Nora
About a week passed, and slowly Nora’s mood began to, finally, balance out. She was eating again, and that dark cloud that had been hanging over her was dissipating. She felt lighter--not quite happy, but she supposed it was difficult to be happy in this situation.
With her depression waning, Nora was able to focus her attention on her family. Mel was troubled, brooding, and she often caught him and Michael murmuring to each other gravely. Michael was much the same. Gilla was quiet, mulling over her thoughts privately. Gabriel and Barry confided in each other, both serious, and Roone….
Roone. For the past seven days he had barely left his room. Sometimes he went for walks, or went to feed the horses, but otherwise he stayed confined to his bedroom. When Nora saw him he avoided her gaze, though he often looked as if he had been crying.
Mel had said that his delusions had finally been broken, like some sort of terrible spell. Would it last? And what was it doing to him?
Nora could only guess. Roone now had to face what he had done to her. If she had done those things, she would have been overwhelmed with guilt.
She had half a mind to speak with him, but she knew it wasn’t a wise idea. It would give him hope again, maybe renew his belief that she loved him, that Mel was controlling her. She couldn’t risk that.
Kara Hudson arrived at the house again, unannounced, and asked to speak with them one by one again, with Mel acting as “interpreter” for Gilla and Roone.
“Do you recognize this picture?” she asked Nora, alone with her in the study.
Nora examined it. It was a selfie of a young man, blonde-haired, with bright blue eyes. He was smiling, off to the side, with a shot of a mountain of felled trees behind him.
Nora shook her head, and Hudson took the picture back. “Who is he?”
“Samuel Gene, thirty-one,” Hudson replied soberly, tucking the picture back into a folder.
Her face was pulled into a frown, and Nora deduced she was naturally a serious person. “This is him at the logging site in Ashland--about two hours’ drive from here. Had some drug and alcohol problems, moved around a lot. His family lives in town.”
Nora’s heart sank. “Do they know?”
Hudson nodded, picking at the edge of her folder. “We informed them last night. I wanted to be sure none of you have seen him before.”
“You sound like a human lie detector.”
She finally looked at her, her hazel eyes sharp. “Your partner said that Mr. Johansson made a move on you.”
Nora had a sudden image of Roone, hovering over and rocking into her, and she tried desperately not to shiver.
“So things haven’t been resolved,” Hudson said keenly.
Nora flushed. “It’s not a big deal. He was just being a dick. He’s a bit of a player.”
Hudson raised an eyebrow. “Really. He seems to lack social skills, if you ask me.”
Nora refrained from pointing out that Hudson rather seemed to lack social skills herself.
“I’m not holding it against him,” she replied, which was somewhat true. “Like you said….he lacks social skills. He thought I felt the same way, that there was a mutual attraction.”
Hudson didn’t seem satisfied. She asked boldly, “Do you think he’s involved?”
Nora shook her head quickly. “No. Absolutely not. He’s not a murderer. He hasn’t killed a single person in his life.”
Hudson frowned, confused. “That’s a strange way to put it. Have you come across people who have?”
“No,” Nora said firmly, trying her best to sound believable.
Outside, two of the best killers in the universe were waiting anxiously for her interview to be over.
Hudson eyed her, her mouth slanted, clearly thinking hard.
“You have a very strange family,” she said quietly.
Nora snorted, impatient now. “Thanks for the compliment.”
Hudson’s lips twitched. “You seem like you don’t put up with a lot of shit. But you also seem slowed down.”
Nora gave her a dangerous look. “I have major depression. But I don’t see why that matters. My illness didn’t kill that man, and neither did anyone else in my family. Maybe look at the logging site.”
Hudson shrugged. “We’re looking from every angle. I’m sure you would, if he was your brother.”
Nora deflated. She was right, of course, but it didn’t make their situation any less frustrating.
“One more question,” Hudson said, as if reciting from memory, “tell me again how Mr. Barrett got that laceration to his cheek.”
Nora hesitated. The cut on Barry’s face was slowly mending, having been produced by an Immortal Blade instead of one forged on Earth. It was deep, and still had its stitches. Mel said it would leave a thick scar behind, which Barry didn’t seem to mind.
But of course, with a murder victim recently found on their property, it made him look suspicious.
But the group had come up with an explanation, and Nora gave it, as she had the last time the question had been asked.
“He was playing with a knife,” she replied. “He’s young, you know. Being stupid.”
“And when was this?”
“The day before we left.”
“And he was seen at--?”
“Chelsea and Westminster Hospital.”
Hudson studied her, and Nora could tell she had asked this question to everyone in the group today.
She suddenly stood. “I want to see it.”
Nora stood too, bewildered. “See what?”
“See him do a trick with a knife. He was practicing, wasn’t he?”
“Um….”
“Come on,” Hudson said, jerking her head to the door, and together they went out into the living area.
Everyone was there, sitting on the sofas, except for Roone, who had returned to his bedroom.
“Mr. Barrett,” Hudson said, looking at Barry, “I’d like you to perform a trick for me.”
Barry looked startled. “What--with a knife?”
“Yes. Didn’t you tell me that’s how yo
u got that cut? Trick gone wrong?”
“Yeah,” Barry said slowly, “I’m not good at it, obviously. Shouldn’t do it, don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Hudson simply stared, and Nora knew she wasn’t going to leave until she was satisfied. Behind her Michael and Mel looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
Nora tried not to sigh, and went to the kitchen to retrieve a knife. If this got Hudson off their backs, then they might as well get it over with.
She returned to the room, and handed Barry the knife. Barry held it, his jaw working, the stitched laceration on his cheek making him look rather like a handsome Frakenstein’s monster. Nora could tell he was nervous.
He shifted, readying himself, and began to twirl the knife in his hand, this way and that, while Hudson watched, surprised.
After a few tricks he dropped it. Nora knew, in the split second the knife began to fall, that he had done it to look clumsy, and knew intuitively that it wouldn’t work; Hudson was too sharp.
Nora made it worse. Out of reflex she stooped down, caught the knife by the blade, and flipped it, catching it by the handle.
Hudson stared at her, suspicion written all over her face. “You’re not bad with a knife yourself.”
Nora cast around for a reply. “He taught me a few things,” she said lamely.
“Something you could have mentioned.”
“Not exactly relevant,” Mel said darkly, “considering the victim was strangled.”
Nora felt the temperature drop. Hudson shivered, and turned to look at him. He seemed to scramble to control his temper, and the room warmed.
For a moment they were quiet. Hudson looked around at them, looking very confused, and very intrigued.
“A family of seven travels all the way from London to a podunk town,” she said quietly, “no friends, no family, just an old estate. You have all your supplies delivered. You don’t venture out. Almost all of you have never lived outside of a city. Now a dead man is found on your property, and you have answers to everything.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Michael said quietly, a slight scowl on his face.
“We’re a strange family, so what?” Gabriel said. “It doesn’t make us killers.”
Hudson studied him, the expression on her face indecipherable. She looked around again, before grabbing her folder off the end table.
