A/N: The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy who is first rate and fabulous. Thank you to both.
Chapter 10 - Useful as Vampires to a Dead Bird
I performed a mental check of all my faculties; a fairly typical response, I felt, to whatever the heck had just happened to my body. I'd never teleported before. It was very strange. I was satisfied to find my fingers and toes still numbering ten each. My pulse was racing a bit, and my head was buzzing, partially from the jump, and partially still from Eric's blood, I was sure. My thoughts were perfectly clear, so that was good.
Mintah stormed through the door a moment later and strode over to me clasping both of my arms and demanding to know what had just happened, if I was injured, and if I had known what would happen when I put the glove on. I had to admit to myself that it hadn't made much sense, but in the moment I just felt it was the right thing to do. I'd even stopped before obeying the impulse to be certain it was my own. I'd also been having it for days. Crap, what if I could have put the glove on the moment I got it and prevented the whole robbery? I tamped down on that immediately.
Ghellert brought me a cup of water and I sat down on my stool and collected myself. I felt fine, really, but it seemed sensible to allay any shock that might yet settle in. My mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out how it had all worked.
"There's a fork missing," I said, looking to the workbench.
"There are a number of things missing." Mintah answered, but it wasn't a quip. He was serious as a heart attack.
"There are," I agreed. "But some are found. I am still working," I explained, standing up. "What should I do now? Finish here, or come back upstairs?"
"Finish your work. Come and find me when you are through. I will send you Hob when he arrives."
"I understand," I nodded docilely.
"Ghellert," Mintah said, and the guard stepped to his side. "Send for two more from the convocation. They should arrive immediately to replace the humans on duty. Have Rudas see Ms. Cleary home. The business day is complete."
Where did that leave Brenda? I suppose she had tasks to do. It was evidently not my concern. The business day might be over, but there was certainly a lot of business left to tend to here this evening, and perhaps tonight. It was just near four.
I worked, and once Mr. Hob arrived, after Holly had departed, my work was easier. For a small creature he had a great carrying capacity. Everything from the vault was brought across into the lab for inspection. I watched with amazement the first time that Mr. Hob ran a bare finger across a mahogany serving tray and it transformed into a vase. I assumed what he was doing was stripping the look change-y magic from the objects. Between the fae magic, vampire mind control, and the contents of human fashion magazines, there were already too many and varied things in my mental index referred to as "glamour." I'd have to find another name for it.
"What exactly do you do for Mintah?" I asked Mr. Hob, I hoped politely. Goblins are not known for their amiable or garrulous natures, and our conversation throughout the evening had been stilted to say the most.
It was worth trying, though. I just couldn't stand the tension and the chilly silence. Ghellert was bad enough out there lurking in the hall. He hadn't said another word since remarking on the stink of Eric about me, and that had been hours ago. None of Mintah's people seemed to say very much. I suppose they don't have to.
"I was brought to test the security of the strongroom," he snarled. I had to remind myself that this was just how he talked; angry defiance being his default as much as bubbly courteousness was mine.
"How did they get past the wards?" I asked. I knew without being told that he hadn't meant, or at least hadn't fully meant, just the physical security.
I watched as wordlessly Hob ran a finger down one of the odd forks I'd set aside, revealing a thin leaden rod inscribed with runes. Even I could feel the magic coming off it once the illusion was stripped.
"A tether," Hob said, grasping the rod and holding it up to examine it and managing to exceed his usual expression of disdain. "Created within the protection of the wards, to bypass in the future," he shrugged. "In is in."
"And we are not warded against that," I said carefully, not meaning to imply that this head of supe security had made an oversight of any kind.
"It has not been seen before. The wards keep out. Entry still had to be forced initially. Why return to the scene of the crime?"
"Why indeed?" I murmured softly.
He continued to work side by side with me for a time, stripping the illusions from various items and causing me to have to backtrack and recheck them. I never really got a handle on how he knew to recognize them. Some things were easy for me to spot, where there was a great disparity of weight or size. An urn disguised as a letter opener was one that I was able to identify on my own. There was more heft to it than there ought to have been of course, but beyond that, I could feel the space around it was somehow more dense. I knew even before Hob did his work that it would be a vase of some kind. I could tell this just by the shape of the feel of its silhouette.
It was certainly easier for me to differentiate out here in the lab than it had been inside the vault, where other protective magics were heavy in the atmosphere. Perhaps I could have improved my ability to detect the alterity, but it was not really the appropriate moment for learning or experimenting.
"What is this called? The illusions?"
Hob shrugged again with a little grunt. "Illusion is as good a word as any. Glamour, transfiguration. The demons would say the things have been transmogrified, but this word is used only because it feels more familiar on their tongues. The meaning is all the same."
"You can't tell the origin then?" I prompted.
"Not human."
I nodded my agreement.
Human magic is not this subtle or this refined. It's no insult to humans to say that. For humans to be able to do magic at all is a really amazing feat, considering they are not magical creatures inherently. It's a lot like airplanes. I've been to an air show (at a distance anyway, I couldn't sit in the stands) and seen the amazing tricks and stunts that pilots can do. Even beyond loop-de-loops and crazy aerobatics, the mere capacity for humans to travel at such speed, height, or distance is mind-bogglingly impressive when you stop to think of it. Yet humans in airplanes have got nothing on birds.
Witches can wield great power, as evidenced by Jack Mason's coven, but they don't hold a candle to beings that are truly magical; their work is pale imitation. It's the reason why all this warding and protection really doesn't seem like overkill. The possibilities are limited only to the imagination, really.
On the surface that might sound terrifying, but it isn't. Supernatural creatures do not think like humans. They adhere pretty strictly to their own logics and rationales. Imagination is not a strong point in supes. I won't say for a moment that they're not clever and smart, and downright devious at times.
There's a wonderful human proverb, "Necessity is the mother of invention."
Supernatural attributes and strengths are sort of anathema to free thought. Why invent the wheel when you can just fly, right? Humans have always feared the monsters, for a lot of good reasons, but one thing I've found very comforting is the fact that the monsters can be kind of dumb at times. They're blind to things which are obvious to humans because the thoughts just wouldn't occur to them. It's not a total sense of security, but it helps me sleep at night, at least.
I continued with work until it was all complete, feeling the creeping dread of my foregone conclusion. When every single item in the vault had been evaluated, I could say with unfortunate confidence that everything supernatural in origin was missing. Even the vampire pieces I'd been so relieved to find had been revealed as totally innocuous candlesticks. I felt that loss personally. Beyond that regret, there was dread.
The theft as it had appeared at first would have been costly to Splendide and its insurers, but ultimately none too damaging. The human objects might have been rare, but little was truly irreplaceable, whether directly or comparably. The thing that allows a business like this to even be insured is that we do not tend to deal in things where there is sentimental value attached. Our business is in appraising and selling. While there's some wiggle room, there's no such thing as punitive damages here. There would be no weeping women crying the loss of a beloved grandmother's this-or-that, demanding more than its worth in compensation for her grief. Had she been unwilling to accept its value as stated in cash, she would never have left it with us.
The supe stuff would be different. It's not like we have competition in the field, first of all. A shake in confidence puts this whole venture in to jeopardy. Even more pertinently, it's not some snooty rich lady and her pricey lawyer throwing a tantrum because her things went missing. It's a range of creatures not known for their impulse control getting very angry because someone stole from them. It would be wishful thinking to say that people could die. The more realistic view was that they would, and we at Splendide were right in the middle of it. This needed to be sorted out immediately.
I believed that we had stopped the figurative leak. By recovering the glove and the travel pegs, which seemed to have been used like one-way tickets into the vault's interior, we had most likely stopped the entry into the vault. As for who was to blame and how they'd gotten out, that was still undetermined.
I found Mintah upstairs in Brenda's office again.
"How's Kenneth?" I asked, sinking into a chair in front of the desk.
"He is well. He will be held for safekeeping."
I found Kenneth's brain, across the hallway, still in the conference room. He was tired and a little hungry, but otherwise seemed to be in fine condition.
"Do we know what happened?"
"He has no memory of coming here on Thursday."
"It was him," I insisted. "Or a remarkable facsimile. The looks, the manner, the voice, even his mind felt the same, definitely human."
"It was him," Mintah agreed.
"How does that work then? He was glamoured?"
"This is a possibility," Mintah said enigmatically, but I knew the answer had to be no. "There are other manipulations. I am curious to speak to Herbahz."
"Has he been informed that his stuff is missing?"
"I will have Brenda make those calls tomorrow morning. You and Hob together have verified everything now, correct?"
"Yes," I nodded with emphasis. "Thoroughly."
"What have you done with the glove?"
"The one Mr. Glassport brought today has been checked over and is with the rest of the inventory. Mr. Hob locked the other one along with the pegs in his strongbox."
It was a rectangular thing, about the size of a shoe box, lined with silver and iron and heavily warded. As Hob had explained, it seemed kind of like a biohazard container, but for magic stuff. In appearance it resembled one those three-toggle money boxes that the old ladies might store the change in at a church bake sale.
I stifled a yawn and looked over to realize that it was well after ten o'clock.
"I should probably get something to eat if you need me much longer tonight," I offered.
Mintah glanced over at me the way I've seen people regard pets who follow them into the kitchen expecting food. I smiled wanly in response.
"You may go for tonight. I will summon you tomorrow when you are needed."
"Don't come in the morning then?" I asked curiously.
"No. There will be work conducted in the vault overnight and tomorrow. The first order of business is to secure this location, after that, we will discover the thieves." He sounded a lot more confident than I felt about that, but I nodded.
"Let me know how I can be of help then," I said.
"Yes."
"Okay if I take some food in to Kenneth before I leave?"
"That will be fine," he said, waving me away.
I went back to the break room and grabbed one of Holly's frozen lunches from the freezer and popped it in the microwave. I also took one of my cereal bars, a bag of chips, a yogurt, and a bottle of juice. We weren't well stocked, these were just things that people brought in for themselves. I wrote a little note on the white board stating what I'd taken, and that it was me. I felt a little guilty about taking other people's food, but hopefully no one would mind too much.
Kenneth was sitting in the same spot I'd left him earlier that afternoon, and Rudas was still with him in the room standing guard near the door. I knocked so he could open the door for me, as my hands were quite full.
"Hey," I smiled weakly at Kenneth. "I brought some dinner, just what we had here I'm afraid, but hopefully it's okay."
"Thank you Miss Stackhouse. Do you know if my uncle has been informed that I am still here?"
"I'm not sure," I said honestly. "I don't think Mintah has spoken to him personally yet. Are you holding up alright?"
"Yes. I wish I could be of more assistance. I'm still not sure what is happening," he frowned.
This was an odd sort of detainment. I knew from listening to him that Kenneth was simply resigned to wait here until he was dismissed. He had not been threatened nor mistreated. After everything had been explained to him, Kenneth figured that if someone else was walking around wearing his face, or had manipulated both his mind and body in some fashion, that he was probably safest sitting right here in this secure building with a guard in the room and several more in close proximity. He was intimidated and confused, but not agitated. I couldn't decide if he was too calm, or just very rational.
"I don't think anyone is, at this point, but we'll get to the bottom of it. You'll be fine," I assured him. Not that I was completely certain of that, but I knew nothing to the contrary and there was no reason to worry the man. He could probably draw the same conclusions on his own.
With a nod to both Kenneth Glassport and his guard I excused myself. Ghellert was standing out in the hallway and he followed me silently out to my car, waiting as I got in and drove off in the direction of home. I'd thought about offering him a ride, mostly to determine if I was going to be watched over again tonight. Putting it that way sounded less dire than "guarded" and less invasive than "spied upon." I lost my nerve when I glanced back at his stern expression before departing. I suppose that's what you want in a security guard. There had been a couple of others like Ghellert and Rudas guarding the doors outside and I figured they were the two that had been sent for.
It was definitely high security at Splendide tonight. It couldn't be like that every night, it would just call too much attention to the place, both human and other. Since the robbery was no secret from anyone, it would probably be understandable to any passersby.
Once home, I changed into pajamas and made my dinner. It was late, but I needed to unwind, and apparently I was not needed early in the morning. I took my plate into the living room and ate in front of the television, switching on a program about the Vikings on the History Channel. I almost choked when Eric Northman popped up on screen, both the vampire and the requisite caption displaying his name, along with Vampire, ca 1000 ACE where they normally print someone's field of expertise. He smiled benignly as he discussed navigation and seafaring. It was actually pretty interesting.
History as a field has gotten a whole lot more exciting since the Great Revelation, and the History Channel in particular has been capitalizing on this. To some extent, it was still very theatrical. Before they cut to the commercial break, they showed a clip from the next segment where Eric was talking about battle, and he flashed his fangs and winked right at the camera. I rolled my eyes. On the whole though, the network's programming had successfully recovered from its downward-spiraling obsession with aliens and doom prophecies and was back on track with mostly factual stuff.
I ended up watching the whole program. I wouldn't be surprised if they asked Eric back to do another of these. He's enjoyable to listen to and he's certainly photogenic. I could just picture women of all ages becoming inexplicably fascinated with the Viking Era all of a sudden. I chuckled to myself until the knock at the door came. I carried my plate back to the sink before answering it.
Pam was dressed in another snug corset, this one in blood red satin. It did wonders for her bust line. She had on long black gloves and a short skirt slit up the thigh with fishnet stockings.
"Headed to work?" I smirked.
She made an unnecessary adjustment to the sleeve of one of her gloves before smoothing a satin sheathed hand down her front.
"Yes. And I see you are dressed in your jammies," she observed, giving me a once over in kind.
"Don't be jealous now. What did you need? I assume Eric sent you."
"He did. I am to check in on you, though I note you are already well guarded here." She quirked her eyebrow and I assumed that Ghellert was indeed lurking somewhere outside.
"Come in then," I said, stepping back.
She followed me into the kitchen while I heated a bottle of blood for her. I made some cocoa for me and sat down with her.
"I don't know if he relayed the message, but thank you for... keeping your cool, and getting me help the other night."
She stared at me blankly to the point where I felt uncomfortable, so I shrugged.
"Eric tells me he has already managed to be banished from your good graces," she informed me.
I yawned, not deliberately, but as I caught myself I couldn't help but smirk at my own timing.
"Yes, well. I'm sure he can't help it, which is the problem of course."
"You'll come around."
"Is that how it usually works?" I let amusement color my tone but I think a part of me was genuinely curious.
"We are already well beyond 'usual' here, are we not? He is good to those who serve him."
"I'm thinking you might have a bit of a biased opinion there. Anyway, I have no desire to 'serve him,'" I said. I noticed her fussing with her glove again. "Who picks out that stuff anyway?"
"We get catalogs." She was glancing around my kitchen in a momentary lull. "I like your tea service," she informed, nodding to where a painted china pot, creamer, and sugar bowl it sat on the counter.
"Thanks. I've got the cups to match, but I don't serve it often. I am more of a coffee person, but it's just so pretty. You're English, right?" I asked, referring to her accent. It was an easy segue from the subject of tea. I got up then and decided to rinse my mug and my plate, continuing to chat with her over my shoulder.
"I was born in London, yes. I am an American citizen now."
"Did you have to go through the citizenship course?" I asked. I'd wondered about this a few times but had never taken the time to investigate it. The normal citizenship process, for immigrants, takes years and years. The Undead Americans (Vampire Americans, formally) had seemed to get streamlined naturalization.
"No. Those of us who were able to provide proof of residence in this country for more than seventy-five years were grandfathered in, as they so humorously put it." Pam sounded exactly like she had been informed something was a joke without finding a shred of humor in it herself.
"There were other allowances for those who have been here less time, and the new refugees are undergoing the normal process. It is usually quite easy though, since we all possess special skills which expedite matters, unlike your unskilled immigrants. We simply had to travel to Baton Rouge to register. They have bi-weekly night hours at the government offices there, now."
"Do you guys have to help with that? Or, I guess Eric, since he is the Sheriff?"
"He ensures that those vampires residing in his Area are doing so legally, yes."
That sounded vaguely rehearsed, but I didn't feel like probing any further at it.
"Oh, I never got a chance to tell you either, you have a lovely home. Did you decorate it yourself?"
"Yes," she said, sounding more genuinely pleased than I'd yet heard her. "Some of it is things I have had for years, and some are new acquisitions for the space. It is a hobby of mine."
"And you live there with Clancy and Longshadow?" I asked. She narrowed her heavily lined eyes at me and I hurried on. "Eric mentioned that you three shared a nest. I didn't mean to fish for information or anything; it's just that you'd never know that two men lived there also."
She seemed to relax slightly for my rushed explanation. "They do live there, but technically the house is owned by me. As such, the public spaces are mine to decorate. They are not there often anyway. The bar and their respective social lives keep either quite busy most evenings."
I snickered.
"What?" she asked.
"Their social lives, that's a pretty way of putting it," I grinned. She flashed a fangy smile in return, which made me laugh all the harder.
She finished the last swallow of her blood, pulling a face as the dregs had obviously run cold. I reached out and she handed over her bottle so I could rinse it and put it in with the recycling. My neighbors were going to have some things to say about me when they see my bin on the street. Maybe I'll hide the bottles under some soup cans before I put it out.
"Well then. I have confirmed that you are indeed well, and still uninterested in servicing Eric. I should be getting back to Fangtasia."
I stood up to walk her to the door.
"I'm afraid I will have to mention that you were watching his program though," she told me.
"What do you do, peek in the windows before you knock?" I asked.
"Yes."
"That's a little rude. Anyway, it just happened to be on, and it was interesting. And he said I could ask him questions about his life if I helped with you, but now I won't need to."
"Of course."
I gave an exasperated sigh. "Thanks for visiting Pam," I said, holding the door open for her. "It was nice to see you again."
"Goodnight Sookie."
"Goodnight," I said in kind. She stepped out on to the porch and breathed in the cool night air before zooming off in a blur and a rush of wind. I closed and locked the door after her.
The following morning I awoke feeling a lot more normal. That peppy, energetic feel that Eric's blood had given me had waned enough as I slept that the call of the kitchen for nourishment was a tangible one. I was startled to see that it was nearly eleven, and I checked my phone for messages but had none. Before putting it down again, I called Niall.
"Hello?" the voice of a fairy who was not my great grandfather answered.
"Hi. It's Sookie Stackhouse calling." Announcing myself was redundant, they would know it was me. Early on I had asked Niall how he always knew, thinking it was some mystical thing. Turns out the fairies in this world just have caller ID.
"Good day to you, Miss Stackhouse. How may I help you?"
"Um, I guess he's not available?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Well, I called a few days ago. I guess I just need to leave another message for him then."
"Go ahead," the voice prompted.
"Um, please just let him know that I hope he can visit me soon, and there's been another development that I really need to fill him in on. Still not a dire emergency, but pressing."
"I'll be sure he receives your message."
"I appreciate that. Have a good day."
"And you," the voice said, before disconnecting.
Traipsing out to the kitchen, I paused to turn up the heat in the house. The cold snap from a couple of days ago had returned again overnight, and now that I wasn't snuggled down under my covers I realized it was pretty chilly in here. The one feature this house didn't have which I'd have dearly wished for, was a fireplace. Most newer houses don't have them. It's usually warm enough that they're not needed, but on days like today, it would have been nice. Maybe I could see about getting a wood-burning stove put in. I think that is less of a project than a fire place and you still get the warmth and that pleasant smell. I decided to look into it after I'd had breakfast.
I made a couple of pieces of French toast and sliced up a pear to go with my coffee then got in the shower and dressed for the day. I was back at my kitchen table browsing a fireplace website when another knock came at the door. There were two human brains and I recognized Detective Coughlin and Officer Marks at the door.
"Good morning Miss Stackhouse," said the detective. "We tried to find you at Splendide but we were told that you'd be home. May we come in?"
"Sure, please. Come in out of the cold." I lead them down the short hall and around the corner to the kitchen. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I haven't been up for very long, it's still fresh."
Detective Coughlin refused, but Officer Marks was more than willing. He had friendly smiles for me as I filled my creamer up with milk for him and pushed the sugar bowl over. I let him serve himself and sat down next to Coughlin who had helped himself to a place at my table.
"Putting in a new fireplace?" he asked, gesturing to my laptop. He was mentally measuring what he presumed to be my salary range with against the cost of a home improvement project. He had no reason to suspect I couldn't afford it, despite what Eric had implied about my humble home.
"Thinking about it," I agreed. "We had one growing up. They're sure nice on days like this," I said, folding my arms around myself for emphasis.
He nodded, happy to let me continue my chatter for a short while. It would help him get a better read on me, so I indulged him.
"Is Chip Young awake yet?" I asked.
"I believe he woke up last night," Coughlin said.
"Oh that's good. Hopefully as soon as he's up to it we can find out more about who attacked him."
"Hopefully," Coughlin agreed. "So, Splendide has been closed for business since last Friday?"
I nodded. "Pretty much. Friday I worked from home, then Sunday I got called in to meet with the owner. Yesterday I was in to help move things out of the vault again. We did a strict inventory, and I was there until late last night, so they're letting me have the morning."
"What are they doing?"
"I think some of the security guys are working in the vault room? I don't really have the details on that sir, I'm sorry. I was just told I wouldn't be needed until they called me in."
There was another knock on the door and I frowned and excused myself for a moment. I gave a sigh as I realized who the caller was. I've never been so popular as I have this week, I swear. I paused at my coat rack to pull on a long wrap sweater and forced a smile on to my face as I opened the door.
"Good morning Mr. Burnham, so nice to see you again."
He was holding a package. I could see the puffs of steam billowing up from the exhaust where his car idled in front of my house, next to the patrol car.
"I can see you have company," he sneered. He was now estimating me as a low-life who gets visits from the police.
"Did you need something Mr. Burnham?" I asked brightly, and he thrust the package out to me. I took it, and without another word, he turned on his heel and jogged back to his car. I put the box under my arm as I closed the door. I set it down on the kitchen counter as I reentered the room.
"Special delivery?" Marks asked genially. It was wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a gold ribbon.
"Delivery anyway," I murmured.
Coughlin was naturally curious about the contents, but I dared not open it in front of them, having no notion of what it might contain. Marks was making the connection between the gift and Christmas, and wondering if I was Jewish since I didn't have any holiday stuff on display. Then he wondered if he should wish me a Happy Chanukah, without being completely certain if Chanukah had started yet or not. Finally, he dismissed the entire notion because I'm blond and blue-eyed, and probably not Jewish anyway. I went ahead and took down my tin of butter cookies with Santa on top and set them out for him. It was the best I could do to ease his worried mind.
I sat back down again asking the detective, "So, what can I do for you?"
"I was hoping you could take me back through the last week or two. We're talking to everyone, but maybe if you just go back through it, something might jump out as noteworthy."
I could see then that there had been no breaks in the case now that Chip Young was awake. That didn't dissuade me from wanting to talk to him though, and I knew Mintah probably would too. At the moment, Coughlin had no more than Detective Ambroselli had yesterday; a whole lot of nothing. I did my best to oblige him, talking through my days. I found myself having to be a lying liar when I got to some of my evenings last week. The detective assumed, and I didn't bother correcting him because it really was the simplest explanation, that Eric had taken me on dates three nights in a row.
"So you said last Tuesday the vampire picked you up from work after closing hours?"
"Yes sir."
"And, did you notice anything suspicious about his behavior that evening?"
I didn't even crack a smile, and that was my gold star for the day.
"No sir, he came straight down to meet me since I wasn't done with work, and we left pretty quickly, and then we went out for a little while, stopped by his club, and then he took me home."
"And he was at Splendide again with you on Thursday evening."
"Right. We were at our friend Pam's house, and I didn't have my car and Brenda said it was urgent I come down, so he brought me straight over. I think he was just curious and there were so many people milling around outside, which is why he didn't just drop me off. I'm sorry if he was in the way."
I tried to sound contrite. The detective was clearly fishing for anything, any finger to point, any loose thread to pull. I felt bad for him, knowing that it was extremely unlikely that he'd be able to make any progress on this case. To everyone's disappointment, the power surge had conveniently shorted out the security cameras, so the best hint of the culprits was a couple of shadows moving around before the feed stopped.
"No, he wasn't in the way," Coughlin mumbled. "Tell me about the clients you saw that week, any big items come in?"
I told him the highlights; Herbahz, the lot from Biloxi, and then I told him the lowlights, the furniture, the jewelry, the real run of the mill stuff. He asked me about our security procedures again, and he wanted to know if anyone had shown any interest. I said truthfully that there'd been nothing beyond the normal inquiries that come from people that were leaving valuable items in our care. Marks had finished a second cup of coffee and devoured about a quarter of the cookie tin before Coughlin finally resigned to the fact that I had nothing for him.
His frustration was coming through loud and clear and I regretted that I had nothing to offer him. The clues we did have were all supernatural in nature, and that just wasn't a situation that the Shreveport Police Department could help with.
I said goodbye to the officers and bumped up the heat again. All the door opening had really not helped to keep the house warm. Instead of going back to browsing for fireplaces I decided to take a different but equally relaxing approach to warmth and drew myself a nice hot bath.
As the tub was filling, I went and opened my present. I'm not a paper-ripper. Gran always taught us to save the paper so it could be reused. As an adult I haven't kept to that, mainly because I don't have a wrapping paper box or anywhere to put the saved paper, but I still hate to tear it. This paper was shiny and nice. I assumed it had just been gift-wrapped at the store. I couldn't picture Eric trying to manage Scotch-Tape. He probably considered it another fad that would go out of fashion any day now. Plus, he has giant hands.
Another piece of his heavy stationery was folded inside.
For your viewing pleasure.
-E
It was a DVD box set of the Viking documentaries from the History Channel; evidently what I'd caught last night was just one in a series. He'd also autographed the box. I smirked, but it fell into a genuine smile as I set the gift down again and went back to take my bath.
I was neck deep in lavender scented bliss when my phone rang, and I gave myself a grudging pat on the back for remembering to bring it into the bathroom with me. I leaned out of the tub and grabbed for a towel first and then my phone.
The hoarse voice of Mintah informed me that the next visiting hours for Shreveport General Hospital were from three to four-fifteen this afternoon, and he asked if I would join him there to speak to Chip. I agreed readily. I found it considerate that he'd asked, rather than ordered (take note, Viking), and besides, I was eager on my own to help get to the bottom of this robbery. I asked about Kenneth and was informed that he'd been taken to a hotel to stay overnight under guard, and I was glad he wasn't still sitting in the conference room. Mintah in turn asked me about my visit from Pam and I'd explained that it was just a visit, and also filled him in on the Detective Coughlin's having nothing to go on.
"Yes. The human authorities are almost a nuisance at this point, but we must allow them to try to do their jobs," he agreed.
I didn't have all that much time to dress and get ready to go so once we hung up I cut my bath short and made to get ready, dressing warmly and wishing a winter that technically hadn't even begun yet was already over.
I left my house a little early and stopped at a book shop to pick up some magazines and a puzzle book for my coworker. I hoped he'd enjoy them a little more than the standard flowers and balloons. I arrived on Chip's floor a good half hour early, my errands and the parking having taken me less time than I'd given myself. Since visiting hours hadn't technically started, I made my way over to the nurses' station and asked if it would be okay to pop in a little early. Maybe I could chat with him a bit before Mintah arrived; a little friendliness to breakup all the business, since I knew he'd spent his morning with the police.
I was about to speak when that thought pulled me up short. Surely as a material witness to a crime, he should still be under guard? There were no officers in sight though.
"Can I help you dear?" a kind woman with dark hair and clear bright eyes had come up to my side. She was wearing maroon colored hospital scrubs. She did not look too much older than I, so the endearment came across a little strangely. I assumed she was a nurse, only because she seemed friendly.
"I'm here to see Chip Young," I said hesitantly. "Is this his floor? I checked at the main desk downstairs."
"Oh that poor man involved in the robbery. He just woke up very early this morning."
"I work with him," I explained. "And our boss is coming down at the start of visitors' hours, but I hoped I could spend a few minutes beforehand? I've brought him some things," I said, holding out the parcel in my hands.
She checked her watch and looked me over and decided that for pretty, innocuous me, with my armful of goodwill, she could make a twenty minute exception on the rules.
"Come on then," she said, offering me a conspiratorial smile and beckoning me to follow her down the hall. "It'll be nice for him to see a friend, he's got no family here."
I nodded. I had known that. I don't know Chip well at all outside of work, but I did remember he'd taken almost three weeks off last year when his brother died. Brenda had confided she'd been happy to allow that much time because that had been all the family he had.
Chip's room was down at the very end of the long hallway. I suppose that made sense from the standpoint of guarding him, but seriously, where were the police?
"Shouldn't there be an officer watching him?"
"Oh, they've been in and out all day since he woke up, the poor man," she murmured. "Excuse me, who are you?" she asked more sharply, and I looked up in confusion.
We'd reached the end of the hallway and it took me half a moment to realize that the nurse wasn't speaking to me, but rather she was glaring into the room to our left. She charged right in and I moved to follow her. There was an orderly standing over Chip's bed tinkering with some of the equipment, or maybe it was a doctor? He had one one of those little do-rags covering his hair, like a surgeon wears. He ignored the nurse until she closed in.
"I said who are you? What are you doing in here?"
The man looked up at her then and she moved in to put herself between him and her patient. The man made a final tweak and suddenly the machines went haywire. He shoved past the nurse and I scrambled back against the wall out of his way. I locked on his mind, which was my only clear impulse in the midst of the manic beeping and sudden sound of rushing air. Demon! And he felt my mental clasping at him too, because his glance darted to me as he tore past. His face was obscured but he had bright green eyes, and though I couldn't see his mouth curl up I knew that he was sneering viscously.
My eyes shot down to his hands, covered in latex and wrong. The wrong shape; gnarled. I tried to lunge for him but he pulled away from me.
"Stop him!" I heard the nurse shout.
I forced myself up and out into the hallway. He was moving too fast now. Inhumanly fast.
"Stop him!" I echoed.
A/N: My geekery in my last note brought about unfounded accusations of erudition. Since we can't have that, I'll simply say: reviews/alerts - thanks, please, good, yay.
;)