FOUR
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Zed came down the staircase slowly, her hand flowing over the rail, to land at the bottom and find the house empty. A stroll took her past the bookshelves and odd accoutrements to the door at the end. She noticed it was slightly ajar and pulled it open another inch until she was looking down the long corridor. She leant on the doorjamb.
"John!" she called. "Chas!"
Nothing replied. She closed the door to the corridor and went back to the table, before noticing a piece of paper folded in half to sit up on top. She went over and picked it up, finding spidery writing in the middle of it.
"Sorry love, we popped out for milk, if milk is locating someone who could have conjured up a six legged demon called Irrucaynya," she read, failing not to smile. "Do yourself a favour and let the house look after you. Put your feet up. Don't draw. We'll be back soon. JC." She noticed more words at the bottom. "Not Jesus Christ. The other JC."
She grinned and carried the paper with her to the mirror over the fireplace. She stared into it for a moment, then looked back down at the paper in her hand. When she looked up, Chas was packing a bag behind her, talking silently at someone.
She whirled but the room was empty, save herself. "Right," she said cautiously, looking back into the mirror. "So… you're the mirror that shows what was. John's talked about you." Chas moved out of shot, and the glass showed nothing but the front room. "Well. If I can't draw that leaves TV. Wait - does this place even have a TV?"
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ooOoo
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Chas stopped the cab opposite the shiny skyscraper entitled 'Moors Incorporated'. "Here we are. What's the plan?"
John pulled the notebook from the dashboard and read back through the top few pages. "Well from the looks of all this you found on them workers in there, only three would have had a point to getting something like Irrucaynya to do their dirty work."
"So you're just going to go in there and ask?"
"Pretty much, yeah," John nodded cheerfully.
Chas rolled his eyes. "You want me to come with you?"
John looked across the front seat at him. "Nah. I can handle this one."
"So I just go back to the Motel 6 and babysit Nayda the white witch, while you go in there and interrogate people?"
John offered him a wry smile. "Something tells me that woman doesn't need babysitting." He paused. "Although… you could check on Zed. Knowing her she's using her 'recovery' time to do something very relaxing - like arm-wrestle alligators."
Chas smiled. "Probably." He paused. "What time do you want picking up?"
"I'll make my own way back," John said. "Could do with a walk and a think."
"Suit yourself. I know you'll walk two blocks, get out of breath, and call me for a ride anyway."
"Alright, Sassy Bollocks," John grumbled. He slid out of the car, reaching back to heave his large bag with him. He shut the door before checking the traffic and scooting across two lanes of idly moving cars. Chas watched until he had made it safely to the other side, and then started up the cab. He waited for a gap in the traffic and pulled away to head back to the mill house.
John reached the front doors to Moors Incorporated and pulled one open, striding inside. As he caught sight of the security guard on the desk, he felt in his trouser pocket, fishing around. He stopped in front of him. "Morning," he said cheerfully.
The man behind the desk, shorter and darker than Bradley, looked up. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?"
John smiled and produced a playing card, the nine of diamonds, from his pocket. "John Constantine. I'm here to see a few people about their future." He flourished the playing card with a graceful twitch of his fingers.
The guard looked at it. "Vertigo Communications Limited," he read out. "Whoa. Yeah, sure. Do you have appointments?"
"Not at all. Kind of a surprise visit, you know. Catch 'em in the act, so to speak," John smiled. "Could you tell me where I could find…" He pulled Chas' notebook from his coat pocket to read the top page, "uh… Elena Ashmore, Heather Cremello, and… Dianne Tell?"
"Oh sure. They're all on the same floor - the top. They should all be in Ms Moors' - oh… uh… I mean Miss Ashmore's team."
John perched an elbow on the counter top. "So Miss Ashmore's the acting replacement head, right?"
"Yes sir. I hear there's a formal vote by the partners next week, then they'll decide if she's in the chair permanently. Oh - unless you give her a better offer."
John smiled. "You never know, eh. Top floor?"
"Top floor, sir."
"Cheers, mate." John tapped the counter and walked off toward the lifts.
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ooOoo
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Chas walked in the front door, pocketing his cab keys. He went along the landing to the iron steps. "Zed?" he called. He whisked down them to find her sprawled out on a sofa, her head and toes bopping along to some silent beat. He came around the side of the couch and waved a hand at her. "Zed?"
She gasped and sat up, pulling earbuds from somewhere under her hair. "Hey. That was fast. So who's our bad guy?"
He threw his hands out. "I don't know. We dropped Nayda off at a Motel 6, and then I left John at the Moors office building. Now we wait."
"What?" she asked, her face going dark. "I thought we agreed, Chas - we keep an eye on him."
"Zed, it's an office, and it's the middle of the day," he said. "What trouble could he get into in there?"
"Don't ask things like that." She got up slowly. "I thought Nayda was staying here with us."
"She wanted some privacy. I think she's lived alone for a while."
"You mean you left her at a motel and John on his own?" she said clearly.
"Yeah, why?"
"You didn't get that whole 'let's forget breakfast and make out' vibe she was broadcasting John at the table earlier?" she said sarcastically.
"Must be a psychic thing - I didn't notice," he shrugged. "But earlier when I found John making up some powder or something…"
"What?" she asked, worried.
"Nothing," he said.
"So what's John supposed to be doing at the office, anyway?"
"Somehow he's going to question all three suspects and see if any of them had reason or resources to summon this demon."
She folded her arms. "We shouldn't have left him alone."
"Hey, if he's gone there to interview three women then it's them I feel sorry for."
She thought it over, then shook her head. "What can we do while we wait?"
He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. "I noted down the names of the women he's gone to see," he said. "If I show you a picture of them, is there any way you can get an impression of them?"
"I can try," she shrugged.
"You know… John said not to ask you - not after what happened earlier."
"Yeah? Well John's going to need our help. We just won't tell him," she said, taking the paper from him. "Find me the photos. I need to touch them."
He went round her and walked off, heading deeper into the house.
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ooOoo
.
John pushed on the smoked glass door, poking his head round the edge. He found the open plan office a hive of activity, with cubicles buzzing away, heads moving to and fro, voices carrying from headsets. He noticed a man sitting not ten feet from him, in the nearest cubicle. "Oh, hello, mate," he said with his best smile. "I'm looking for Elena Ashmore."
The man looked up from his desk. His eyes ran down and then up him before his nose wrinkled ever so slightly. "She doesn't talk to salesmen," he said, then went back to his computer keyboard.
John hefted the handle of the bag in his hand. He walked into the office, letting the door shut behind him, and held his nine of diamonds up at him. "Neither do I."
His eyes widened slightly. "Vertigo Communications? —Sorry, Mr… Constantine." Hhe looked at John. "I'll show you to her desk. It's a bit muddled in here right now."
"I can understand that," he said, pocketing the card.
They wended their way through desks arranged in fours, partitioned from each other. People stopped to look at John, who started out nodding but ended up giving little cheery waves to the nosy staff they passed.
The man stopped in front of the large wooden desk at the top of the room. John looked round him and down at the blonde woman currently attempting to juggle a phone on one shoulder and a pen and sheets of paper in her hands.
"Well I don't give a rat's ass for your haulage problems - you assured me it would be there today. You charged me for delivery today, so you better goddamn get it there today." She put the phone down rather firmly.
"Steady love," John said with winning smile. "You've got a bit of smoke coming out of your ears."
She looked up at him. She took a deep breath, let it all stream out slowly, and then set down the pen from her right hand. "Good morning," she said, forcing a smile. "How can I help you?" She nodded to the man, who turned and disappeared back into the hubbub of work blanketing the room.
John dropped his bag to the carpet and let his hand slide into his pocket. "I'm here to talk about your future."
"I already own a Chevrolet," she sighed. "It's two years old, and no, I'm not looking to upgrade."
He grinned. "You misunderstand me, love." He pulled the card from his trousers and held it out for her to read.
She blinked. "Oh. I'm sorry. It's just—. Well. How rude of me. Please, take a seat." She watched him retrieve the wooden chair off to one side and lift it to be right in front of her desk. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Tea, if you've got it - and do us a favour and take the bag out," he said, plonking himself on the seat.
"Oh-kay," she said, about as lost as a koala at a hotdog-eating contest. She reached forward and picked up the phone again, pressing the lower key on the speed-dial.
John watched as she spoke, his eyes running over her blonde hair, the new suit, the anger that covered nerves, the nails that were a bit too short for comfort - and the name plate that read 'Elena Ashmore, Acting Director'.
She put the phone down. "Tea is on its way, Mr…?"
"Constantine," he beamed. "There's been a bit of change around here this week, then."
"Oh, yes," she said. Her eyes went to the desk guiltily. "My boss - uh - Ms Moors. She passed away. I was asked to fill in for her until they appoint the new boss."
"From what I hear, that might be you."
She flicked her gaze up to him. "Possibly," she said, with some listlessness.
John's eyes narrowed. "How long did you work under Ms Moors?"
"Five years. I was with her at her old place, in New York. She moved out here and a year later, she asked me to come too. She created a role for me here."
"That was nice of her."
"Well… yes, I suppose."
John leant back in the chair, lifting his left shoe to balance on his knee. "Are you sure?"
She smiled slightly. "It's just that… we worked at the same place in New York - I was actually slightly higher than her, and I have more Masters degrees."
"Oooh, love. Don't tell me you were passed over, and she took your promotion?"
Elena opened her mouth but then paused as a man approached. He nodded to John, setting down a very nice cup and saucer on the table by him. "Sugar, sir?" he asked.
"No, you're alright," he nodded. "Thanks."
The man nodded and retreated. John looked back at Elena. "So. You're better qualified."
Elena eyed him, then waited as he picked the cup out of the saucer. "It was all her father's work," she said. "Ms Moors didn't really… do much. To get all this," she said quietly. "Don't get me wrong - I loved working with her and I really appreciated the change. I like Atlanta. It's certainly not New York." She paused. "Sorry - what's the purpose of your visit today?"
"Well my crew are looking around for a few people," he shrugged. "We've seen how your company's doin' - sorry to hear about Ms Moors, though." He sipped the tea and found it surprisingly good.
"You're head-hunters? And you came to talk to me?" she asked, straightening up slightly.
"Yes I did. I do have two more people to talk to," he said, his hand going inside his coat to pull the notebook out. "Uh… Heather Cremello and Dianne Tell."
"Ah. Heather Cremello works in the next office, now. She's been made head of HR. Dianne Tell is on sabbatical," she said. "Brazil, would you believe."
"Oh really," John said. "Shame. We're working on something connected to South America right now. How long has she been gone?"
"She has six months, Mr Constantine. She went straight after Christmas - won't be back until the end of May."
"Ah, well. That's her off the list, then," he said, pushing the book back into his trenchcoat. "Tell the truth," he said, "this is just a preliminary round. If I could use your phone I could get my office to set up a proper appointment with you. One of my colleagues could come by and have a proper chat."
"Of course, yes," she said, pushing her chair back from the desk. "Please, help yourself."
"Ta, love." He got up and went to the black phone on the corner. He picked it up and she reached over and pressed a key. He smiled his thanks and dialled, making sure he got a good mouthful of tea as he listened to the line connect.
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ooOoo
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Zed opened the newspaper article and spread it out on the table. She sat down and brought over the three names, as Chas stood over her from the opposite side.
"No funny business," he warned. "At the first sign of trouble I'm pulling you out."
"I'll be ok," she said. She placed one hand on the newspaper picture of Roberta Moors.
"I know - because I'll be here to pull you out," he said firmly. He folded his arms and watched.
She smiled before she shook her head and reached for the list of names. "I can see why John likes having you around."
"Yeah well. That's a debt we won't go into."
She closed her eyes and put her hand on the list. She waited.
Chas let his weight shift from one foot to the other. He waited completely impatiently, glaring, hanging on her every muscle twitch. The memory of her tortured face kept clouding his vision, but he concentrated on the here and now.
Zed lifted her chin slowly. Her eyes didn't open but she smiled. "I see… a field. Clean." Her head tilted. "There's a … horse. A white one. It's so beautiful…"
Chas relaxed somewhat. "Horses are good. What does it mean?"
"It's just walking with… there are more. There are more horses - brown ones, a black one… lots of horses," she smiled. Her face began to drop. "Oh."
"What?"
"The white one - taller. It's not… It's - oh!" she chirped, shocked.
He raced round the table to her side. "What, Zed?"
"It kicked the other horse! It kicked it!" She gasped in fear. "No! No! It's biting—"
Chas grasped her wrists and yanked them both from the pictures. "Stop."
Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him, still reaching across her, both hands on her forearms. "Thank you," she said quietly.
He let her go. "No problem." He paused to assess how shaken she was, but she tossed her hair over her shoulder and shuffled all the papers into one neat pile on the table. "So… it has something to do with horses?" he asked.
"Yeah," she nodded. She got up. "I need some water, and you should probably call John."
An old fashioned long telephone bell filled the air. She folded her arms and looked at him. He felt the vibration in his pocket. He got his phone out and opened it up. "John," he grinned. "We were just talking about you." He ran a hand through his hair. "What? Oh, I get it… Yes, Mr Constantine," he said sarcastically. "Elena Ashmore?" He looked at Zed. She picked up the list and gave it to him. Chas read down slowly. "Uh… no connections to South America. No family outside of New York… uh… No. What did you get from her? Did you ask for her number, and did she punch you in the face? Please tell me there's actual damage I can see."
Zed raised her eyebrows, but she heard a voice buzzing from the phone and decided to wait them out.
.
ooOoo
.
John smiled as his eyes roamed Elena's desk. "No, Mr Chandler, she did not and no there isn't," he said clearly. Elena began to close folders and files on the desk in front of him. "Right," he said into the phone, his gaze landing on picture frames standing to one side, with a man with her arm round Elena, next to a tall sandy coloured horse. "Anything else I should know?" he asked. "You let her do what?"
Elena looked up, spooked.
He turned to smile at her quickly, then swayed round to put his back to her. "What did I tell you, Mr Chandler, about not letting her - work - till I got back?" He huffed. "I don't care if she's got the bastard's address and phone number, you shouldn't have let her—." Another huff. "You daft sod. Just you wait till I get back. You want your heads examined, the pair of you." He moved the phone to his other ear. "Go on then. Might as well - don't want all her hard and unnecessary work to go to waste, now do we?" he grumbled. "She saw what? A white one?" He turned and his eyes went casually across Elena's desk again - to the photos. "Right, yeah. Got it. I'll get back to work. You make sure she does not until I'm in the room, or you're both sacked." He put the receiver back on the phone, then sank the rest of his tea. He realised she was watching him and turned a smile on her. "Sorry about that, love. Office politics, you know how it is."
"Of course," she said.
"So, uh… I should be off." He went around the desk and set the cup back down in its saucer.
"Oh, so soon?"
"Yeah. I'll have my people sort an appointment for them to come down and see you. Just to see how much you like it here, and whether you want to leave all this and be a part of something bigger."
She smiled, but there was no excitement in it. "Ok, yes."
He picked up his bag. "Nice to meet you, love."
"And you, Mr Constantine," she said, rising from her chair.
"Oh, quick question," he said suddenly. "You wouldn't know where to go riding round here, would you? A friend of mine - she likes horses. She's always asking if there's a school or something nearby."
"Oh, ah… Well, I do enjoy a ride every now and again," she said.
"I'll bet," he said, his eyes struggling not to laugh but the rest of his face suspiciously innocent.
"Oh yes - an ex-boyfriend and I used to go once a month, back in New York. We hit a bad patch and that was a day out that was all about us. When we split up, I just… carried on going. Once I moved out here, Ms Moors put me in touch with a local place." She looked at her desk. "I have a card for the school, somewhere."
"Well, there's no rush, love. I'm sure we'll be seeing you again at some point."
"Ok then."
He put his hand out. She looked at it and they shook firmly, across the desk.
"I'll see meself out. Ta-ra now," he said cheerfully. He put his hand straight in his pocket and turned on his heel, disappearing into the throng of noise and desks like sugar in hot tea.
Elena blinked, shook her head, and sat down again.
John emerged from the office door, going to the lifts and pressing the button. He took his hand out and looked at the palm for a long moment, his face pinched into an expression of worry.
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. He got in and was whisked down.
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ooOoo
.
"One more channel and then I give up," Nayda sighed, pressing the button on the TV remote. It duly flicked over to yet another late afternoon crapfest and she sighed. She muted it and tossed the remote to the bed next to her. Her eyes went around the motel room, until she got up and went to her bag on the chair by the window. She rooted around inside. Her hand connected with a book and she smiled, about to pull on it.
Something rapped on the window right by her face. She jumped back and stared. A large blur was waving at her. Pulling back the thin curtain, she found John looking back at her, a bag in one hand and his trenchcoat in the other. "What are you doing out there?" she asked. She unlatched the window and hauled it right up.
"Getting in," he said, lifting a foot to the window sill.
She stood back, appalled, as he climbed in through the window. His boots hit the carpet and she was just about to open her mouth to protest when he turned and leant back out to grab at something. Her eyes wandered the seat of his trousers and something made her smile.
He straightened up again to pull his bag and his coat inside. He dropped them to the floor and closed the window carefully. "Right," he said, peering at his right hand.
She waited, her arms folded. "And what's wrong with the front entrance?"
"CCTV, love. They might remember me here."
"What for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"There was this… thing. With a banshee and a ghoul - I was the ghoul." He waved a hand suddenly. "It was a while ago. But then I've been recognised by staff before. Didn't want to take the chance you'd get kicked out."
"And why are you here?"
He picked up his coat to lay it over the back of the chair. "Little experiment first, then we get to it."
She raised her eyebrows but couldn't help a small smile playing across her lips. "What kind of experiment?"
He put his left hand to his bag and lifted it to the table, before opening it up and delving inside. He pulled out a wide, stunted feather. She came forward to see, smiling wider at the beautiful colours of such fine, delicate bird-down.
Until John crushed it in his right palm. He squeezed, frowning at it.
Nayda cleared her throat. "Hand-strengthening exercises?" she asked drily.
John watched his fingers as they opened up again slowly. He lifted his wrist to his eye-line, studying the crumpled feather as if it could give him the football results. "Give it a minute," he muttered, pre-occupied.
She realised she was standing quite close to him. Her eyes flicked from the feather to his profile, before they tore themselves away again.
"Ha!" he said suddenly, making her jump. "Gotcha!"
"Me?" she asked.
"No - the bird in the office who shook my hand." He beamed at her in victory. "She has a secret - a bloody big, dangerous one if it's turning the feather this colour."
"So… what does that mean?" she asked.
John picked up the feather by its shaft to twist it round steadily. He nodded and then dropped it back in the bag, wiping his hands together. "Your ex-missus," he said. "Did she mention a woman on her staff at Moors Incorporated who worked with her back in New York?"
"Now you mention it… I think she did, yes." She paused. "Why?"
John was smiling. "I think we might be able to wrap this up tonight."
She looked at her watch. "It's gone four in the afternoon."
"We need the suspect at home where she thinks she's safe - we can't go for her in the office."
"You think it was someone at Roberta's office?" she gasped. "Why?"
"Sounds like a classic case of jealousy." His hands found their way into his pockets. "There's this bird who worked with your missus back in New York - more qualified, slightly senior, I reckon. She was up to be on the promotion ladder. Then your missus gets news her father has died - she goes to inherit the massive business out in Atlanta, and calls this bird to be her subordinate. That's got to hurt, right?"
"You mean…" Nayda put her hands to her mouth, then backed up to turn and look at the dormant TV. "Someone killed Roberta because of her job?"
"Would you rather they hated her personally?"
She made her hands drop. "Sorry, John, I just…"
He looked at the carpet, then his eyes stole to her back. His head tilted and he scratched at the back of his head for a moment. He walked up behind her. "Sorry. I just open my mouth and… Thing is, you get kinda blasé about all this after a while. I've seen all kinds of horrors; the mild stuff doesn't even make me blink any more."
She turned and found herself rather close to him. He took a step back, but her hand raised to his tie. It slid up until it had a firm hold just a few inches under the lazy half-Windsor.
He looked down at it. "Look, uhm…" His words ran out on him.
She pulled on his tie. He had to take a step forward to balance. She lifted her chin deliberately and kissed him. Surprised, unsure, it took him a moment to retaliate. But only a moment.
His hands went to her face; her hands went to his tie. She wrenched it off before yanking his shirt open. He guided her white top up and over her head. The moment he dropped it to the carpet she grabbed his trouser belt and swung him toward the bed. His hand connected with her arm; he pulled her with him.
Thanks for sticking with it so far!