Chapter
Two
Cameron, Louisiana
February 2nd,
1999
Ezekial Cross stood in front of a mirror on
the wall before him. Its outside edges hand carved gold and patterned with
floral loops and fleur-de-lis made for a striking amenity. His hands were
methodically affixing a red tie to his collar. He wasn’t using the mirror to
help guide the process, he was staring at a photograph in a sense. The mirror
didn’t work like a traditional reflective surface. Instead this mirror showed
him where he had to go next. The problem was that it was always cryptic, using
a fixed snapshot. Everything after discerning the initial location was
guesswork.
“I hate this bloody thing…” He grumbled as
the last loop of his tie fell into place.
“Tie giving you troubles?” Came a soft purr
from below. It was Asheara Caliban, his resident Sorceress. Her long golden and
ruby red robes flowed lavishly behind her and draped casually over her red and
black flats. This all gave her the regal appearance of a queen. Asheara had
pulled her dark, curly hair into a tight bun atop her head. Streaks of grey swirled
around her curls showcasing her true age. She was not a young woman, but aside
from the grey, she didn’t look it.
She was now fixing a pair of hooped earrings
in place. The stone runes on her charm bracelet clamored against each other
sending a wind chime-like sound upwards toward Ezekial’s ears. The bracelet
wasn’t just jewelry; each rune was required for performing certain spells. She
had learned a long time ago to stock up on a wide array of magical sources when
going out into the world with Ezekial.
“No, the mirror. It’s been transfixed on
Canal Street for three days now.”
“It is a tool Ezekial. It is meant to guide
you, not lead you by the hand.”
“Fine tool this accursed thing turned out to
be…” He tossed on his ankle-length tan trench coat and continued to stare at
the image in the mirror, perhaps hoping it would change, maybe even hoping it
would give him more information, but he knew that was uselessly wishful thinking.
The magic that created the mirror in the first place didn’t work like that. He
would know, he had created it. “Have you prepared my bags?”
“I am not your maid Ezekial, nor your butler.
Gather your belongings yourself.”
He huffed crabbily and quickly made his way
down the winding staircase that separated the upstairs library from the study
below. Ezekial grabbed his zippered leather medical bag and set about tracking
down his tools. To a layman the long oak table in the center of the study would
have looked as though it were covered in junk. To Ezekial and his Sorceress
Asheara however it was a veritable arsenal of magical weapons and tools.
Artifacts, icons, and focuses as they typically referred to them.
Ezekial stood there holding his chin with his
fist and lost in thought. What would he need? What could he leave? This was
always the hardest part for him, deciding what toys needed to stay and what
needed to go. Asheara stared at him thinking to herself how he looked so intelligent
and wise as he pondered how to handle the situation in front of him.
Too bad he’s a
man-child…
She thought. Which reminds me…
“Ezekial…why are you messing with that poor
woman’s mind?”
His train of thought derailed and he now
stared at her, a quizzical expression spanning his scruffy face. “What woman?
The detective?” He let out a bemused
chuckle. “I’m hardly messing with her, Ash. I’m merely testing her wits.”
“Stop acting coy, Mr. Cross. She is a mortal.
You shouldn’t toy with the minds of mortals, you never know what kind of
ramifications it could have.”
“What’s got your wizardly knickers in a twist
Ms. Caliban? I’m only having but a bitta fun with the lass.” His smile was
devious. Sometimes Asheara thought he was more like the creatures they fought
then the heroes they were supposed to be. “Besides, she’s a Hart.”
Asheara’s eyes grew wide. “You mean…as
in…Joshua?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.
“I mean exactly
like Joshua. His very blood pumps through her veins. Seems the good detective
is Joshua’s kin. Daughter, or so at least she claims. I haven’t the foggiest as
to why she would lie but I’ve been played a fool before, so for now let’s play
into the hands of doubt.” He returned his eyes to the table in front of him, “So
what do you think? The Knob, Chalk, Lockpick, and Röntgen’s ring?”
She nodded approvingly. “Take Kant’s watch as
well. Never know if we’ll have to make a hasty retreat. But back to the girl
Ezekial, how do you know she’s Joshua’s daughter? And why would she be lying
about something like that?”
“She said it herself while I was reviewing
the bodies.” He spoke as he loaded the various artifacts into his leather bag.
“And as for why she would lie,” he now looked up to meet his friend’s eyes,
“who wouldn’t want to be the daughter of one of the most powerful mages to walk
the mortal realm.”
“How would she even know of him if it weren’t
true?”
Ezekial shrugged, “the enemy has eyes all
around us, Ash.” His voice was quiet and serious, two things Ezekial Cross
rarely was. “In all likelihood she could be the very threat we’re heading to
Orleans to wean out.”
“Is that the feeling you have from her aura?”
“I don’t do auras Ms. Caliban. You know that
hoodoo is your area of expertise.” He tossed a brass doorknob, a thick, white piece
of chalk, a small leather pouch, and a ring attached to a long silver chain
into the bag. “But why don’t you ask her yourself when we get there. Now be a
dear and fetch my sword would you?”
“Not. Your. Butler.” Her tone was stern and
scornful as she paused after each word to let the full effect sink in. She
hated when Ezekial acted like this.
“Right fine help you are…” He zipped the bag
shut snappishly and briskly moved around the table to where Asheara stood. “Do
you know at least where you left it?”
“Where I
left it? I’ve no use for archaic cutlery Mr. Cross. The question is, where did you leave it?” He was always
absentmindedly setting things down all over the estate and then forgetting
where he left them. Sometimes she wished there were an artifact that worked
like a GPS chip, or a Lo-Jack for his equipment. Ezekial tore about the study
like a madman searching for something that wasn’t even there. “What about your
office?”
“Why would it be in my bloody office? Did you take it in there?”
“You know I don’t go in your office Ezekial.”
She looked at the clock hanging above his head on the underside of the upstairs
banister. They were running late already, Bartelby was expecting them at the Emporium
an hour ago.
He groaned loudly, like a little boy who was
being refused a new toy. “This house is uselessly large for two people.”
“You’re the one who selected a plantation
home, Ezekial. Not me.” The majority of the rooms in the house weren’t even in
use. She had wanted to live in the Emporium, as was their duty. Ezekial was the
one who had chosen lodgings a hundred miles away. “Check your office.”
“I have a better idea.” He held up his hand.
“Charlemagne! Come!” He stood there; hand rose, looking like an idiot for about
thirty seconds before trying another command. “Sword of Charlemagne! Come to me!
Now!” Still nothing. Asheara couldn’t help but laugh.
Ezekial knew what she was laughing at, he
could hear it too. The sword was ramming itself against a door upstairs. It was
trying to obey Ezekial’s command but it was trapped.
“Good boy, Charlemagne.” Giggled Asheara.
He sighed and mumbled. “Fine…I’ll check the
bloody office.” He made his way back up the spiral staircase to the library
above. Books were shoved into shelves stacked floor to ceiling some thirty feet
high. Several ladders on roller tracks were scattered around the library. He
made his way past the bookcases and down an aisle toward his office on the far
end of the archives. As soon as he opened the door a floating silver sabre with
a golden hilt rocketed past his head.
“Aw, the door wasn’t open. No wonder he
couldn’t get to us.”
From below Asheara rolled her eyes.
He held out his hand, palm up, and called to
the sword again. “Charlemagne, come here boy.” It was as if he were calling to
a pet, not a sword. But then again, Ezekial and Asheara didn’t exactly lead
normal lives, so a sword pet wasn’t really all that strange in the grand scheme
of things.
The sword floated gently down into Ezekial’s
hand. He then slid it into his sheath under his trench coat with a loud scrape
of metal. He now walked to the edge of the banister and looked down at Asheara.
“How late are we?”
“Over an hour.”
Ezekial made his way back downstairs and
scooped his bag up by the handles. With a smile he turned to the sorceress and
said, “alright love. Shall we?”
“And you’re sure you have everything this
time?”
“Only thing I’m ever sure of is that I’m
never sure of anything.”
She shook her head annoyed and brought both
of her hands together in front of her chest. They were pressed together as if
she were about to utter a prayer. Then she began chanting in a language that
had been dead to most ears for millennia. “I’cht
ven ashguëten. Ohmn varsek shiktalleh.”
“God I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He
said with a smirk. A vibrant blue light surrounded them, growing until it was
touching everything on the ground floor of the study. Then it pulled back in,
grabbing hold of them and towing Ezekial and Asheara with it. Ezekial grew a
little dizzy and felt the familiar nausea that always accompanied
teleportation. They didn’t use it very often as it drained Asheara’s strength
every time temporarily. If they hadn’t been traveling to the Emporium where
they would be protected he wouldn’t have let her use the spell.
In a flash of bright blue light and tendrils
of snaking electricity they were now standing in the Emporium. The structure
had a rustic cabin feel to it. Every inch of space was decorated with trinkets,
pictures, books, and other various bric-a-bracs. To a hoarder this place would
feel like home, to an antiques collector this would be the Holy Grail, but to a
malevolent entity this place was a weapon’s locker of infernal demonic power.
Each trinket possessed a property which a mortal human could never comprehend
and a demon could use to take over the planet.
“The Devil’s Emporium. Home sweet home.”
Ezekial did nothing to hide his cynical tone. He had been asked dozens of
times, practically begged by Bartelby, to take over this place as its new
Curator. Ezekial didn’t want that kind of power though. His trust issues extended
well beyond the people he surrounded himself with. He didn’t even trust himself
anymore.
“You’re late.” Came the labored and wheezing
voice of Bartelby Singher behind them. Asheara turned a warm smile to her
colleague.
“Bartelby my dearest friend. How are you?”
She said wrapping her arms softly around his frail shoulders. His long white
beard scratched against her cheek causing her soft skin to itch but she still
held the embrace. Bartelby smiled at her touch, he looked to Asheara like a
daughter and Ezekial like a rowdy stepchild.
“Given the circumstances I am well Ms.
Caliban.” He said with a huge smile spread across his wrinkled lips. He fixed
his large gray eyes on Ezekial now. “I assume you have good reason for your
tardiness?”
“Couldn’t very well leave without my sword
now could I, old man?” Asheara shot a disapproving glare in Ezekial’s
direction. “What’s the big rush about anyway? The mirror has been dead-set on
Canal Street for days now, and we know what we’re looking for.”
“Do we now?” Said Bartelby taking a labored
step forward and leaning on his black cane.
“Yes. The Eye of Ammako Tatsoe.” He said
confidently.
Bartelby shook his head back and forth. “Oh
Ezekial. You couldn’t be more wrong…”
“When have I ever been wrong?”
“Shall we go back to the beginning of time?
Or perhaps just last week?” Scolded Asheara.
“Oh, whose side are you on?” Snapped Ezekial.
“Ours. But Ezekial, more often than not
you’re wrong.”
“I’m afraid I’ll need an example love.”
“Egypt, ’98? How about the Viking boat in
Iceland in ’96?” Began Asheara.
“Okay…two examples…”
The oak and glass door to the living-quarters
swung open and another man in the white Alb of a priest came out of an open
door on the far side of the cabin. “How about last week like Ms. Caliban just
said. When you were convinced the Lycan community had unleashed a plague in
Florida and it turned out to be an antique dealer who accidently released a
genie?”
“Oh shut it Abel. You weren’t even there.”
“You almost started a clan war! Between werewolves!”
“Lycans Abel. Come now, this is the 20th
century, let’s try and be politically correct. Werewolf is an offensive term.
They actually share no common ancestry with the wolf.” He smiled as he
corrected the young Priest.
“Regardless! Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to Florida? How many people you’d have been responsible for the
deaths of? We’re not saying you always
screw up, but your track record is a little less than sterling.”
Ezekial balked at the accusations. “What is
this? The Spanish Inquisition? Come on people, we have a job to do. The Eye is
out there and it’s wreaking havoc across New Orleans.”
“We’re just saying, Ezekial.” Said Asheara
quietly, in a voice one would use with a small child. “Perhaps we should do a
little more research on these events before just slapping a name on the problem
and running around like chickens with our heads cut off.” Bartelby nodded at
Asheara’s words, his beard scraping against his dark grey wool robes.
“She’s right. All we know is that whatever
has been released has caused several people to succumb to Leprosy. We don’t
even know that it’s an artifact involved yet.” Said Bartelby in his low and
quiet voice.
Father Abel Martin moved to join the three of
them in the center of the room now. “They’re right, Ezekial. There are at least
a dozen artifacts unaccounted for that can cause these kinds of reactions in
the mortal world. What did you learn during your reconnaissance?” His blue eyes
were full of annoyance. It was no secret that Abel and Ezekial were not exactly
the best of friends. Ezekial didn’t like men who prayed to fictional Gods and
Abel didn’t like men who called his God fictional. Blessed or cursed however as
they may be, they did have to work together.
“And what would you know Holy boy? I thought
you didn’t even believe in any of this Hui?” Ezekial had a tendency to
exacerbate tensions in any environment and today he was in rare form,
exercising his unique skillset for raising people’s blood pressure in spades.
“Two years ago you’d be right; I’d have
thought you people were insane. But…I’ve seen
things now. I know the truth. And the truth I know is that you’re usually
wrong. I’m not a betting man Cross, but believe me, if I were, I would never
put a dollar on your first guess.” Abel thrust a small red leather-bound book
toward Ezekial. “Last page. I made a list of various artifacts that cause
disease. At least take a look.”
Ezekial took the book and promptly tossed it
over his shoulder behind him. “I don’t need your book, Holy boy. And I don’t
need the bloody help of you or your imaginary friend in the clouds.” He was
jabbing Abel in the chest with his forefinger hard enough it made the Father
wince. “I know what I’m looking for.”
“The Eye of Ammako Tatsoe has been lost for
centuries, Ezekial. What makes you so certain that’s what we’re dealing with?
You’ve never even witnessed its power for yourself.” Bartelby’s voice was
practically pleading with Ezekial to listen but he was far too obstinate to
heed.
“Ammako Tatsoe, the famous 13th
century Japanese physician. He used his amulet to trap the illnesses plaguing
the world around him. He traveled the globe collecting sickness into that
infernal talisman. Leprosy was one of the first diseases captured within it. It
makes sense it’d be the first one released.”
“Ibn Sina dealt with sickness as well but his
journal doesn’t unleash the plagues.” Yelled Abel. “By your logic we could be
dealing with hundreds of different
artifacts. Why do you insist on not listening to anyone?”
“I make it a habit to ignore those that are
wrong.”
Red-faced angry and fed up with Ezekial, Abel
walked behind him and picked up the diary on the floor before storming out. The
door to his chambers slammed shut behind him, echoing his anger throughout the
cabin and causing the decorative glass in the door to shudder violently.
Bartelby shook his head side to side and
looked down at his feet. “Ezekial, why must you taunt him so? Abel is a good
man.”
“He’s a delusional man. Anyone who believes
in a God above is.”
“Even we don’t have all the answers.” Added
Asheara.
“Oh this is perfect! Just what I needed! A
gang-up. Why don’t you three love birds sod off to a tree and sing somewhere? I
have work to do.”
Ignoring his abrasive attitude Bartelby
spoke, “Enough!” He boomed. It was out of character for him to yell, but he was
fed up with all of them now. “This childish squabbling ceases now! You are the
Curator of this Emporium and you will conduct yourself in a respectable
manner.”
“No, old man, you are the Curator. I’m the collector.”
His eyes welling up with anger Bartelby
almost yelled again but instead he took a moment, pulled in a deep breath, and
released it slowly. “I will not argue this with you further Ezekial. My time
here is almost up. You are not the collector you are the caretaker. You must
start seeing yourself in your proper role.”
“My role is out there, keeping demonic
knick-knacks from annihilating humanity. As far as I’m concerned select another
stuffy old man to run the place. Abel seems ready and willing to look after the
grounds. Why not him?”
“It is not his destiny.”
“You and that destiny bollocks again.”
“You call it bollocks I call it reality. I
will not be here forever.”
It was true, and they all knew it, but no one
ever talked about it. Bartelby had been alive for thousands of years, one of
the oldest Mages in existence. It was impossible for Ezekial to imagine a world
without him. However scathingly he may speak to the man he had always looked to
Bartelby like a father figure.
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we’re
there Bart. But for now, my role is the Collector.”
“Then at least treat your position with the
respectability and propriety becoming of the title.” He paused, allowing his
words to sink into Ezekial’s mind. “Now, you said the mirror has been affixed
on Canal Street for the past three days?”
Ezekial nodded.
“What can you tell me about the deceased?”
“They fell apart, like a snowman in July.
Rotted and pockmarked by lesions. It was certainly Leprosy, of that I’m one
hundred percent convinced. The tongues and eyes were removed and one of the
girls was missing her digits.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers in
front of him. “Lopped at the wrist, clean cuts. No way some mortal bloke
clipped her up like that. Whatever did it wasn’t human, and it wasn’t purely
pathogenically related.”
Bartelby nodded with each word Ezekial spoke,
his eyes unfocused on anything in particular as he thought. “It certainly
sounds like it could be the Eye. It is a focus, and a focus does require
sacrifice.”
“Which would explain the lack of hands, eyes,
and tongues.” Said Ezekial, proud of himself.
“But only one of the victims was missing
hands. Why?” Questioned Asheara.
Ezekial shrugged. “Perhaps she was the one
holding the focus.”
“This is what they mean Ezekial. When hunting
for these ancient weapons, one cannot postulate on the perhaps and the maybes.
One must be completely certain.”
“Well this one’s certain we won’t figure it
out standing around in this dusty dinge of an old cellar.” Said Ezekial
pointing both his thumbs at his own chest. “And the longer we stand here
grasping at straws and theorizing the more likely it is more people are going
to die.”
“Know thine enemy, Ezekial. Know thine
enemy.”
Ezekial rolled his eyes.
“I know my enemy Bartelby. It’s the Eye, and
you’re either with me on this one, or you’re against me.”
Bartelby sighed and shook his head,
disappointed in his young pupil. He crossed the room slowly, balancing himself
on Asheara’s robed arm. She helped him to a stout wooden chair against the far
wall. He placed his cane between his knees and crossed both hands together on
the gold ball at its top. Leaning forward he spoke, “Nobody is against you
Ezekial. I wish you could see that…”
Bartelby sat there silently and watched
Ezekial and Asheara exit. Ezekial had been betrayed by so many over the years.
He seemed so lost these days and Bartelby could do nothing to help. Ezekial
would have to learn himself in time that the entire world wasn’t actually
against him.
And it would perhaps be the hardest lesson
he’d ever learn.
* *
* * *
*
New Orleans,
Louisiana
February 2nd,
1999
Asheara and Ezekial stepped out into the
bright sunlight of the New Orleans mid-evening. He swung his bag of artifacts
to and fro at his side. Once again he acted like a small child, full of energy
and mirth, even when confronted with the dark task that lay ahead of them. “So
what first my dear? Shall we take in some sights? Get some good ol’ fashioned
Cajun cuisine?” Chirped Ezekial with a smirk.
“I would much rather find the demonic
artifact, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Alright. Your plan sounds much more exciting anyway.”
The French Quarter had a very vintage feel to
it. The brick sidewalks and antique buildings, though renovated into modern
business locales, made him nostalgic for days gone by. He could remember an age
where the roads had been dirt and the cars had been whinnying horses. Where
people made eye contact before trying to mug you. But when you had been alive
for four hundred and eight years you sometimes had an overwhelming amount of
nostalgia to comb through.
You also develop an uncanny sense to know
when you were being watched, and every light and siren in Ezekial’s head was
going off. He didn’t say anything but he knew someone was watching them. It was
likely whoever was watching was the one using the Eye. Maybe they were trying
to draw them out. He did have a lot
of enemies. Either way he was on high alert.
They came to a stop at the crosswalk and
Ezekial looked down to see a bullfrog leap across his black wingtips. He was
followed by another, then another, before the red hand on the pedestrian
crossing changed to tell them it was safe to go forward half a dozen had leapt
past him.
Odd… He thought.
Bullfrogs weren’t usually that active this time of year; let alone inside the
city. There wasn’t even a large body of water near to where they were, the
Mississippi River was miles East of them. Perhaps the rogue magic flooding the
city was driving the animals mad.
They cut through a park and found a bench in
the sun for Asheara to sit. She was still weak from teleporting earlier. Ezekial
pulled a granola bar from his trench coat and handed it to her. She took it
gratefully but then hesitated after she unwrapped it before taking a bite. “How
long has this been in your pocket?”
Ezekial shrugged. “It’s still in the wrapper
at least. You know those nasty preservatives mortals use in everything these
days. I’ll bet that oat bar could outlast Bartelby.” That pulled a chuckle from
Asheara who now bit into the bar. It crunched loudly but it filled that hole in
her stomach eating through the lining. He took up perch next to her on the
bench. There was an elegent stone and metal sculpture fountain in the center of
this park. The sculpture looked like someone had built a steel box, placed C4
inside said box, detonated the box; put it in the middle of a park with some
water hoses running through it and voila! Art. The stones however had been
methodically placed, intersecting one another in bold patterns with contrasting
colors. The masonry work on the art piece was top notch, which begged the
question to Asheara, why the shrapnel sculpture in the center?
“Tell me Ash, what do you think that thing’s
supposed to be?”
She followed his finger to the fountain and
stifled another laugh, “an abhorrent abomination. However, I do admire the
stone-work.” She smiled as the rest of the granola bar disappeared.
“I think they call it art these days.”
“What’s that thing your friend said that one
time? Something like, ‘you can put lipstick on a pig—“
“But you can’t make me kiss it.” Ezekial
laughed. “Yeah. That was Vilson. He’s a good time.”
“Funny. He doesn’t feel the same about you.”
“He’s just bitter. Get a bloke shot a couple
of times—“
“Lest we forget poisoned.”
“Oh one
bloody time and the kid never lets it go. I swear, he acts like we didn’t care
about him. I mean we saved him.” Huffed Ezekial.
Asheara chuckled lightly. “Yes, but we
endangered him. He is mortal Ezekial, not like you and Bartelby. Death is
something more frightening to him.”
They sat there silently for a bit. Asheara
closed her eyes and leaned back against the table, taking in the sun. Ezekial
just stared forward at the fountain Asheara had called an abomination. It was
beautiful in a terrifying way. Then he noticed something even stranger than the
frogs.
“Ash…are you seeing what I’m seeing…”
She opened her eyes and looked forward at the
fountain. The clear blue water that had been firing from the spout since they
had arrived had changed. It was now a dark red. “That…what?”
“The fountainhead bleeds.”
“What?”
Ezekial stood up and walked toward the edge
of the fountain. He dipped his fingers into the water. When he retracted them a
viscous crimson liquid had replaced the water. “It’s blood.”
Asheara had moved beside him now, staring
down at the water. Her eyes were fully capable of confirming what he had just
said. “What’s with the Ayn Rand reference is what I was asking, Ezekial.”
A voice came from behind them, one Ezekial
recognized all too well, and confirmed his suspicion of being watched.
“Ezekial? As in Ezekial Cross?” It was Detective Jessica Hart. Her navy blue
suit was much more attractive in this lighting then the harsh fluorescence of a
crime lab and an addicts meeting. Her blonde hair looked almost white in this
light but not elderly. The ponytail bounced back and forth sending periodic
glares of light into Ezekial’s eyes. That’s when he realized he had forgotten
his sunglasses.
“Well, well. Detective Hart.” Ezekial was
smiling but inside his internal organs were doing backflips. He hadn’t intended
to run into the Detective like this. He had intended to control the meeting,
time and place. Not the other way
around. He didn’t like being ambushed. But he suspected he at least knew how
she had felt. “My in this light one can hardly tell you’re quickly climbing the
hill to middle-age.”
Her eyes narrowed. One of them may have even
twitched in rage. She was followed by an athletic looking African-American with
long, heavy dreadlocks. He looked even less amused by his comment. His voice
confirmed that feeling as he said, “you better watch it buddy. You realize
we’re both cops right?”
“You can see him?” Said Jessica wide eyed and
stunned as she turned to her partner and grabbed him by the lapels of his
unbuttoned jacket.
“Uh…yeah. You okay, Jess?” He asked genuinely
concerned.
“Oh I’m better than okay.” She sounded like
it too, which Ezekial knew didn’t bode well for him as she turned her attention
back to them. “Because if he can see you then I know I’m not insane. And if I’m
not insane then you’ve been interfering with a police investigation. And that’s
a new suit.” With that she reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. He felt
the familiar pinch of handcuffs. “I thought so. Looks like you’re here and not not here this time.” She cinched the
other cuff to his right wrist. “And you Mr. Cross have some serious explaining
to do.”
“Detective, I admire your tenacity, I do. But
tell me. Do you notice anything odd about the fountain behind us?”
Xavier answered it first. He had already
noticed it as Jessica was cuffing Ezekial but she had been too focused on him
to see it earlier. “The fountains freakin’ bleeding! What the hell?”
Jessica looked down into what had been water
just hours earlier. Her eyes grew wide in confusion and apprehension. She had
so many conflicting emotions coursing through her in that moment she didn’t
know which one she should allow herself to feel. All that stumbled out of her
mouth was, “What did you do…?” As she trailed off.
“I’ve done nothing detective, but it looks
like disease isn’t the only thing we have to worry about. There’s rogue magic
running rampant throughout the city. We have to stop it.”
“Did he just say magic?” Xavier was trying to
process everything to no avail.
“Yeah,” said Jessica just as skeptical this
time as the first. “He did. And he knows something too because he’s been
screwing with me since the church earlier today.” She spun him around and began
patting him down. She didn’t feel any weapons in his pockets but when her hand
brushed the sword and she pulled back the trench coat she added, “Why am I not
surprised?”
“I have a permit for that.” He joked.
“Oh of course
you do, move it…” She pulled the sword from his belt and handed it to Xavier.
Spinning him toward the road she gave him a small shove, not hard enough to
knock him down, just to get him motivated.
She was leading him by the elbow back to Xavier’s
car. The detective was also glad that he hadn’t turned out to be a figment of
her imagination. Looks like I won’t need
that psyche evaluation after all. Thanks stained glass picture of Jesus!
“He was at the crime scene?” Xavier shook his
head, his dreadlocks swinging side to side. They hit his shoulders with a dull
thwack each time. “Okay, why didn’t you mention this guy before?”
Jessica sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I
thought I was crazy. He was using some kind of projector to…I dunno, hologram
himself?” She knew hologram wasn’t a verb but she couldn’t think of anything
that better fit to describe it. “Either way, he’s coming with us. We’ll send
city works down here to check out the fountain. I doubt its blood, probably
just sediment buildup or something stupid.”
Ezekial laughed. “It isn’t ruddy love, it’s
bloody, trust me.”
She twisted his arms hard, straining his
wrists against the cuffs until they felt as if they would break. He winced in
agony as she said, “call me love one.
More. Time. And I will shoot you in a very uncomfortable place.”
“Uh, Jess,” laughed Xavier nervously, “let’s
not threaten the suspect okay?”
“It’s fine lad. I like it rough.” He said
with a wink.
Xavier was just about the respond disgustedly
when Jessica barked, “not another word.” The door to Xavier’s Sedan popped open
and she callously shoved him in by the head. Slamming it shut she turned back
to Xavier only to be staring directly into the eyes of Asheara. She was
clutching his brown leather medical bag in front of her with all ten fingers on
the handles.
“Exactly what are his charges?” She demanded.
“We’ll start with obstruction of justice and
go from there. You’re welcome to follow us to the precinct.” Said Jessica
pointing her thumb back to the cruiser.
“No thank you. I’ll accompany Ezekial.” She
brusquely moved to the street-side of the Sedan and climbed inside, the door
slamming shut behind her. Xavier and Jessica just stared in amazement. Finally
Xavier said, “I’ll be damned…”
“I know. Not every day they arrest their
self.”
* *
* * *
*
At first she had been nervous about the bag
sitting back there with them but after the woman had let her go through it and
she discovered it was just a pile of junk she handed it back. How much harm were
they really going to do with chalk, a doorknob and a pile of yarn?
“So what is he schizophrenic or something?”
“Maybe. I think he believes what he’s saying
though.”
“Seriously? Magic? This guy listened to the
Beatles too much and watched too many cartoons.”
“I can’t stand the Beatles, and cartoons are
utterly detestable. Cinema, in general. As for the magic, yes. Am I
schizophrenic? No. And you do realize this partition is simply steel meshing
and plastic right. I can hear everything you two are saying.” Ezekial was growing
more and more irritated with each passing mile as they moved up Canal Street.
“I don’t care.” Said Jessica. She turned her
steely green eyes back to him. “Start talking. What were you doing in that
church?”
“I’ll answer that for him detective. On one
condition.” Said Asheara boldly.
“Look ma’am,” said Jessica, “I don’t know
what you’re doing hanging around with this lunatic and I don’t care. But
neither of you are in any position to set conditions for anything. Is that
clear?”
“If you want an answer you must take us to
the River’s edge.”
“The—what?” Jessica blinked and abruptly
shook her head in confusion.
“The River’s edge.”
“She means the Mississippi River, mate. Dead
up ahead.” Ezekial clarified. “It’s hardly out of your way. And I did ask the
lass if she wanted to take in some of the sights.” His devious grin was back.
Jessica hated that smile. It made him look evil. Like a sinister comic book
villain.
“He’s right Jess. It ain’t that far away. And
if it means some answers…?” Said Xavier turning his brown puppy dog eyes to
her. She looked at him, then back to Asheara and Ezekial. Ezekial she wasn’t
willing to accommodate, but this woman seemed like a nice lady, whatever
reasons she had for her present company.
“And you’ll tell me everything, truthfully
and honestly? None of this magic voodoo nonsense?” Her eyes were searching
Asheara’s. The woman nodded. “What’s your name?” Just as she was about to
answer Ezekial cut her off.
“Ashley.” He turned a stern eye to his
compatriot as he repeated, “Ashley.”
Jessica was confused as to why he wouldn’t
let her answer, but she just added that to her growing list of grievances she
had against him. “Oka-a-ay…” Trailed the detective not bothering to mask her
suspicions. “Alright…Ashley. So the truth if we take you down to the river?”
Her eyes were pleading but kind. Asheara liked this detective, and knowing who
her father was she was even more confused as to why Ezekial would hide her true
identity. But she played along as she always did with her companion.
“Yes. But I warn you detective. If my fears
are realized by the River’s edge then you will have no choice but to believe
the truth. It will seem unfathomable at first, but you will just have to accept
it.”
Jessica didn’t like the direction this
conversation was heading. Was she just as insane as Ezekial? Birds of a feather
did have a tendency to flock together. There’s a reason those expressions exist
after all, and the origin of that one seemed to be staring directly back at her
from the rear seat of the police car. Finally she closed her eyes, rubbed her
temples with her middle and forefingers and relented. “Alright…” She sighed
exasperated. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but alright. If you
agree to talk we’ll go see the Mississippi River. Garcia you know the way.”
It seemed as if Xavier had already
anticipated her giving in to the woman’s request because he hadn’t turned off
Canal yet. They were now close enough to see the river in the sightline. She
frowned at him with disapproval but he flashed that goofy smile she liked so
much and she already forgave him. They just knew each other too well it seemed.
As soon as Xavier and Jessica came to a stop
in a parking lot overlooking the beach her jaw dropped. They both slowly
stepped out of the car, not believing what they were seeing at first. Xavier
rubbed his eyes feverishly, trying to erase what was before him. But there was
no getting rid of it, it was real, it was there.
The entire river had turned to blood.
“What in the f—“
“Yeah…I’m with you…”
Ezekial and Asheara had already stepped out
of the vehicle. Ezekial sidled up next to Detective Hart and held up a shiny
pair of handcuffs. One of the loops hung lazily from his index finger and a
cockeyed smile adorned his lips. This one wasn’t nearly as nefarious in its
appearance as his other smile. But while the smile was more appropriate, she
could do with the escape artist routine.
“Thank you detective. It’s been awhile since
I had to break out of a pair of those.” He rubbed his wrists gingerly. “Even
longer since I’ve done it in something more formal than a birthday suit.” He
said with a quick nudge of the elbow. Now the devious smile was back. He was
handsome in a bad boy/sort of creep kind of way.
She took the cuffs and replaced them on her
belt. She couldn’t take her eyes off the River. Asheara was already down by the
riverbank, bending low and skimming the surface with her palms. It looked as if
she were crying. “I think we should join her detectives.” He started off toward
the River but Jessica reached out and yanked him back by the arm. She pulled
him in nose to nose and jabbed a finger into his chest.
“You’re still under arrest Houdini. And since
you like breaking out of handcuffs so much—“ She pulled a zip-tie from her back
pocket and crossed his arms behind his back again. She fastened it to him and
cinched it down, much tighter than the handcuffs. “—then we’ll have to get
creative.”
“Smart detective. Never leave home without
them?” He mused.
“You’re not the only one with something up
their sleeve, jackass. Speaking of which…” She pulled up the sleeve of his trench
coat and rolled it back discovering several bobby pins stashed there. She
removed them from both sleeves of his coat and his shirt and slipped them into
her pocket.
Detective Hart gave him a shove, this time
with much more force, in the direction of the river. In a few moments they were
standing beside Asheara, who was indeed crying. Her hands trembled over the
surface of the water. Her fingers stained the dark red of the River.
“There’s so much pain Ezekial. These
creatures are dying underneath. It’s…it’s horrible.”
“It’s worse than that Ash. The Eye doesn’t
turn water to blood. We’re dealing with someone who has a magical arsenal.
There’s more than one of these damned things at play here.” Jessica hadn’t
known Ezekial long but every time he had spoken before there had been great
confidence in his words. This time his voice wavered. Jessica grew anxious.
“Okay. Magic or no magic. Someone explain
this to me. Right goddamn now!”
Jessica was practically screaming.
“Calm down, it’s not the end of the world.”
He paused, then added, “at least…not yet love.”
Ezekial collapsed from a swift kick to the
groin.
At least she refrained from shooting him.
“Well… played… Ms. Hart. Well played.” He
choked out from a semi-fetal position in the dirt. Over his coughing she could
still hear Asheara choking back tears. This was disconcerting.
“Xavier. We need to call public works, DNR,
DEQ. This has to be some kind of environmental spill or something.”
“It’s not…” choked out Asheara. She could
hear all the fish in the River. All of the guppies and the tadpoles.
Alligators, crayfish, Turtles, Frogs, everything, every living thing that had
called this River home. They were crying out in agony, in pain. Screaming for
Asheara to save them but she couldn’t. This wasn’t an environmental spill, no
matter how much these mortals wanted to believe that. “This is magic. This is
what it does. I don’t know what’s causing it but every living creature in this
River is dying or dead. Thousands of souls lost for no reason but a madman’s
gain.” She choked back another tear as she wiped the blood off her hands on a
patch of grass.
Jessica and Xavier stood there for a moment.
Neither of them knew what to do. They had never encountered anything like this,
and schizophrenics weren’t usually this lucid when they were babbling about
wizards and magic. Jessica pointed to her cuffs and Xavier nodded. He reached
down and gently helped Asheara to her feet. “I’m sorry ma’am,” he said as he
cuffed her wrists. At least she was handcuffed in the front, unlike Ezekial who
could no longer feel his fingers. “This is for your own safety.” His voice was
calm and soothing.
The detectives escorted the two of them back
to the police car and put them in the backseat. Jessica double-checked to make
sure the toggle was switched so that the backseat could only be opened from the
outside before closing the door. In the front seat she opened the glove box and
pulled out a small, black plastic container. It was a little larger than
something one would use for eyeglasses. The doctor part of her mind was always
at work and she never knew when she would need to take a sample of something.
Turns out that today, it had paid off.
She closed the door and walked back down to
the river where Jessica opened it up. Inside were several sealed containers.
She took two of them and removed the top from the glass phial and dipped it
into the River. If the Mississippi had
really turned to blood then Dr. Laselle could easily confirm that at the lab.
If something else had happened she had several colleagues that had specialized
in pathogens. She could send it away to one of them for an analysis if she had
to. Jessica closed the containers and returned them to the case.
The next stop along the way was the fountain
where they had initially picked up Ezekial and “Ashley”. Jessica wasn’t even
convinced that was this woman’s real name but they’d have a Psychologist speak
to them both when they got back to the precinct. Jessica called in what she had
seen at the River and checked in with dispatch before pulling up to the
fountain. The whole way there Asheara and Ezekial had been absolutely silent.
Perhaps they had figured out that their absurd claims were falling upon deaf
ears.
Xavier parked along the curb again and
Jessica got out, filling the last of the two containers with the red water from
the fountain. She pulled out a Sharpie and scribbled on the outside of the jar:
Meyers Park Sample.
She lightly blew on the labels to dry out the
marker before replacing them in the black container. When she got back in the
cruiser Ezekial finally spoke. It wasn’t with enlightenment, it was actually a
question. “And just what are you hoping to find in those samples you took
Detective Hart?”
“Confirmation that what you’re telling me is
true. If this really is blood my ME
can confirm it. Believe me, if it is, I’ll have a lot more questions,” she
spoke as she replaced the container into the glove box. “But at least if it’s
confirmed, I’ll be more inclined to believe what you’re telling me. Maybe not
entirely, but at least a little.”
“There’s no shallow section of this pool
detective. It’s deep-end only. And trust me when I say. This particular pool? It’s
deep.” He was serious. She had
already learned how to tell the difference. The problem was his honesty was so
intensely chilling it scared her to the core. She had seen plenty of blood, so
had Xavier. There was no mistaking what she had in that black case in the glove
box.
“We’ll figure this out back at the station.”
Said Jessica turning back around.
“Oh. Detective.” Said Ezekial but she didn’t
bother looking back again when she replied.
“What? Ezekial…” her jaw clenched tightly
The zip-tie slid through one of the holes in
the meshing of the partition.
“I believe this belongs to you.”
I’m going to shoot
him…
* *
* * *
*
By the time they arrived back at the station
it was almost six o’clock. Daylight had dwindled down to a few orange beams on
the skyline. The station was mostly empty except for the people coming in for
the midnight shifts. Like a hospital, police work was 24/7. It wasn’t always
fully staffed, but it was around the clock. They took both of them into one of
the interrogation rooms and sat them down behind a heavy hardwood table. There
was a metal basin in the center of the table with a bar running through it. She
was about to cuff Ezekial to the table but then decided it was just going to be
a waste of her time and locked the door instead on her way out.
With his leather bag and sword in hand she
and Xavier made their way to her desk. Jessica plopped down heavily in the
chair and stared at the huge green monitor in front of her. She still wasn’t
the greatest at using these computers, let alone understanding what a web-page
was, but her Captain and colleagues insisted they were the future. She wasn’t
completely convinced and still preferred the feel of paper and pen. So instead
of turning it on she picked up her pen and began rapping it repeatedly against
the yellow notebook in front of her.
“Y’know,” chirped Xaiver, “you’re gonna have
to learn to use one of those things someday. Trust me. They’re awesome.” He said smiling.
She snorted, “Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on
that. Hey by the way, why if these are the future is Y2K about to wipe them all
out?”
“You don’t believe that crap do you?”
“You don’t?”
Xavier laughed, his big hearty smile. “Boss
you crazy. It’s all a hoax. Trust me. I’m surprised you believe in Y2K and not
magic.”
That forced Jessica to laugh as well.
Xavier had taken to rifling through the
contents of the bag. His brow would furrow, rise in surprise, and he’d
occasionally chuckle. Finally Jessica asked, “okay, what’s in the bag?”
Xavier pulled out a ball of yarn with two
knitting needles jabbed into it with a look of amusement on his face. “Think
our perp’s into crocheting when he’s not cursing the village?” That roused a
good laugh from Jessica. It felt good and she was almost surprised at how badly
it felt like she had needed that. Xavier continued his checklist of the
bizarre, “and seriously? Chalk? Who uses that anymore? And what’s this?” He
pulled out the leather pouch and opened it. Inside was a pristine set of
lockpicks. He had never seen anything like them.
“What is it?” Asked Jessica.
“I dunno? Dental equipment?” Theorized
Xavier. He tossed the pouch to Jessica who immediately recognized them.
“They’re lockpicks you goofball. You live in
New Orleans, how have you never seen a pair of these before?”
He shrugged. “Guess I’m just used to the
‘kick in the door’ types. Not James Bond or international art thieves.”
Jessica pulled the open bag toward her and
peered inside. “I highly doubt art thieves carry around doorknobs.” She brushed
the contents aside. There was a ring, a pocket-watch, yarn, chalk, even red
candles, a bible and a wide-mouthed silver bowl. The one thing missing was the
one thing she had thought seemed highly irregular earlier.
“Crap. He’s got the doorknob.” She said her
lip curling at the side in confusion. “What does he want with that?”
Once again Xavier shrugged. “Maybe it’s a
security blanket doorknob?”
“Doubtful.” She tossed the lockpicks back
inside the bag and zipped it shut. “Either way he can use it as a weapon.” But
she had frisked him down before coming into the building along with Ashley. How
in the world did he sneak that doorknob in there? She ignored that line of
query and stood up. “I’ll go get it from him. Get an address for Donovan Willis
and we’ll run him down and then go tell Harper’s sister about her brother. I’ll
question these two and we’ll hold ‘em till morning.”
She was about to enter the interrogation room
when she paused. Before she listened to two crazies tell her about their
magical adventures in crazy-land she might as well get a cup of coffee. She
made her way down the hall and into the break room. Jessica located her mug
amongst all the ones in the drying rack. It seems one of the officers had done
the dishes. She assumed it had been Grant, the guy clearly had OCD issues.
Either way, she was thankful for it.
She hated the fact there was never any
flavored creamer in the office. They always used the non-dairy powdered junk.
Once it was heavily diluted with sugar it didn’t matter anymore but still, one
carton of creamer would be nice. Especially since the last time she had bought
one and brought it to work it had been consumed before she’d even gotten a
drop. She just chalked it up to the same luck she had when it came to fast food
meals.
Stirring in six spoonful’s of sugar she made
her way back down toward the interrogation room where Ezekial and Ashley were
awaiting her patiently. Not by choice mind you, at least, not Ezekial. She took
a swig of her coffee and opened the door…
…to find both of them not there.
She spun around, splashing coffee across her
wrist as she did so. It made her jump which caused more of the hot liquid to
slosh back and forth. Flicking her hand to get the coffee off she set the mug
down on the interrogation table and immediately called out, “Everyone! We have
an escapee! Lock down the building and seal the exits. He is a white Caucasian
male, approximately five foot ten with brown hair. He’s traveling with a woman,
red and gold dress. He has facial hair and an English accent—“
“Oh! Detective!” She recognized his voice
immediately and her blood nearly exploded out of every pore of her body as she
boiled over with fury. When she turned her ireful gaze she saw him standing
right outside of the Captain’s office wearing that same smug smile that she
hated ever so much.
She realized everyone was staring at her
funny so she had to say something. She looked at the nearest officer to where Ezekial
was standing and pointed, barking: “Hank! There he is! Arrest him.” Hank
immediately obliged and before Ezekial could say anything else he was spear
tackled by a young police officer fresh out of the academy. It had to have felt
like getting hit by a linebacker. He flipped him on his back and cuffed him as
Jessica walked up casually alongside the fiasco.
“Oh for the love of—Seriously? Is this
necessary Ms. Hart.”
“Detective
Hart. And it’s more satisfying than anything.” She now looked at the officer.
“Take him down to holding.” Then reached out and stuffed her hand in both front
pockets of Ezekial’s trench coat. She found it stashed in the inner breast
pocket. Jessica pulled the doorknob out and held it in front of his face. “And
I have no idea what your infatuation is with this thing, but you’re not getting
your toys back until your learn to play nice.”
“Spoken like the Gestapo.” He must’ve thought
he was hilarious because no one else sure did. Officer Hank politely escorted
Ezekial away who drug his feet every inch. She turned to see Captain Hayes
staring directly at her. She closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath she let it out
slowly trying to collect her thoughts and said, “Sorry about that sir. It won’t
happen again.”
“Actually Detective. I have some questions
for you regarding your current case, and that man Officer McCoy just took
away.” Captain Hayes tone was always welcoming, even when what he was saying
sounded like a scolding. Jessica stepped into his office and turned to see
Ashley sitting in one of the chairs facing the Captain’s desk.
This just keeps
getting better and better…
She took a seat next to Ashley and stared
straight forward at the Captain. It was weird not seeing her dad sitting there,
even after a year, but at least Shawn Hayes knew that. He often took it into
account, he was after all her father’s closest friend when Joshua had been
alive. He ran his fingers through his salty brown hair and said, “So I’ve been
informed we have Leprosy sitting in our morgue?”
“That’s correct sir.”
He nodded. “I’ve contacted the Center for Disease
Control. They’re sending some people up from Atlanta to examine the remains.
They should be here by morning. Any leads on the case yet?”
Jessica shook her head. “Not really. The
Priest who called it in confirmed it was an AA meeting. Xavier’s running the
address of Donovan Willis, one of the people who wasn’t there, in the hopes he
can tell us who the other mystery addict was. Other than that we only have one
identity on the bodies so far. Harper Quinn. After we’re done with Donovan
we’re going to run down his next of kin.”
Captain Hayes was still nodding, listening
intently to every word she said. “And this young lady here?” He said motioning
to Ashley. “She tells me the Mississippi has turned to blood. Is there any
merit to that?”
Jessica was astounded the Captain had even
listened to her claims, but Ashley had clearly told him that Jessica had
witnessed it too so there was no point in lying. “Y-yes.” She stammered. “I
took some samples, but I forgot them in the cruiser. I was going to have Corey
run them…”
“See that you do. And take Ms. Caliban here
with you. And her compatriot…
What’s
his name again?” Inquired the Captain with his soft grey eyes.
“Ezekial.” Chirped Ashley.
“Yes. Ezekial. Take him with you as well.
They seem to have knowledge about what’s happening that could prove useful.”
Jessica was taken aback by this order. Her
mouth open aghast she spoke with anger creeping into her voice. “With all due
respect sir, Ezekial is being held for Obstruction and both of them are
verifiably insane.”
“Y’know Detective Hart. I remember a few insane people your father and I kept
around to help us with investigations. Sometimes you find help in the most
unlikely of places.” He managed a smile and folded his hands across the desk.
“Sir! That is hardly the same.”
He frowned.
They sat there silently for a moment, Ashley
looking obviously uncomfortable before Jessica finally mumbled, “Is that an
order?”
“Yes.” He answered instantly. “It is.”
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