Existentially Challenged, page 20
She was so occupied by updating her brick count for the third time that she barely noticed the arm clamp around her chest or the hand grab one of her wrists. She was pulled back with a strength that lifted her off her feet. Her senses overwhelmed, she went limp, and her assailant dragged her unresponsive form into the nearby side chamber.
A moment later, the fire arrived, tearing unfeelingly through the air like a swarm of locusts, and Alison was surrounded by what might as well have been orange-tinted television static. Every muscle in her body tensed. After several seconds of her body very conspicuously not being lashed with agonizing tongues of searing heat, she opened one eye.
The fire was still raging mere feet away but couldn’t seem to encroach any closer. It was splattering uselessly against an invisible wall that surrounded her.
She looked down. She had been pulled inside a very familiar circle of white tape, adorned with a very familiar sequence of runes. By her side, a very familiar cell phone was chanting the circle’s associated sequence of syllables in a disinterested computerized voice.
Alison looked up.
“Ah, girl,” said Doctor Diablerie, still holding her wrist and raising his voice to be heard over the roar. “I assume you are here to return my car.”
33
A few minutes later, the fire stopped. The fire person would have made the obvious assumption that everything in the tunnels was now dead, but just in case they were the incredulous sort, Alison opted not to head to the tunnel entrance straightaway. Instead, she hurried to the innermost part of the tunnel, as she had the horrible feeling that everything she had found would be . . .
“Gone,” she said aloud, tottering into the mass of ash-blackened matter that had been the El-Yetch chapel and the body of the vampire’s latest victim.
“How unsporting,” said Doctor Diablerie, just behind her. “This accursed vampire must have had the bizarre notion that a vampire-stricken corpse might act as evidence against them.”
He was wearing the exact same clothing he’d had on the night Alison had abandoned him in Worcester. Alison knew for a fact that he had several identical copies of the same outfit—dinner suit, cape, and top hat—but these were definitely the same specific garments. He was also sporting several days’ growth of beard.
“But you know there was a body down here, right?” said Alison, growing flustered. “You could tell everyone about the vampire too!”
Diablerie drew himself up with a sneer. “Do not think to dictate what Diablerie knows, girl. Diablerie’s knowledge is to your understanding what the deepest oceanic abyss is to the understanding of a fruit bat.”
Alison frowned. “Wait, you didn’t know?”
He broke eye contact and appeared to be addressing the blackened ceiling. “When Diablerie chooses a temporary lair, he concerns himself not with the antics of his next-door neighbors.”
“How can you say . . .” Alison bit the end off her protest. Whether Diablerie was lying to obfuscate his real agenda, or lying to provoke her, or lying because he’d somehow derangedly convinced himself it was the truth, it didn’t matter. Diablerie was lying. There was very little point in pressing the matter. “So you’ve been here since we drove down here together?”
“Few other options remained.” He glared hard enough that Alison thought his closer eye was going to pop out. “I was relieved of my transportation by a ridiculous chit with devilry on her mind.”
Alison was far too tired and overwhelmed to dredge her guilty feelings back up. She sighed. “I thought you caught a train. You sent a text saying you caught a train.”
“As was Diablerie’s intention when that missive was sent!” said Diablerie, twirling on the spot and raising an index finger in time with the exclamation mark. “But destiny had another path in store. As I was repairing to the station to flee this land, a sign fell upon my path. Two sticks, arranged in an arrow, pointing in the direction where the fates would have me go.”
“So . . .”
“Pointing to the station,” continued Diablerie. “And so, I turned on my heel and went in a completely different direction. For Diablerie is no plaything of the cosmos. And behold! You return. The correctness of Diablerie’s arcane instincts need go unstated. Now, shall we leave this fetid place?”
“I have to pick up Adam,” admitted Alison, anticipating Diablerie’s reaction but unable to summon the effort to try to avoid it.
“Ah?” He flashed an intrigued look. “So, after stealing my car, you proceeded to use it to entertain boys. As much to be expected of your generation, I fear, but know this, girl: Diablerie checks his upholstery most diligently, and every sticky patch I find shall be visited upon you tenfold.”
Alison blinked a few times. “Okay.”
“Come, then. Let us find your paramour and tarry no longer. Diablerie will tolerate a carload of sexual tension if it means I can finally escape this tawdry little suburb.”
“Adam’s . . . at the Modern Miracle service,” said Alison, dread making itself comfortable in her stomach yet again as she realized aloud. She glanced back down the blackened tunnel. “The vampire was going back there too. We’ve got to make sure Adam’s all right.”
“Very well,” spat Diablerie. “Clearly Diablerie’s abandonment is less important than an inamorato of yours being drained any further of their virility.” By the end of his statement, he was attempting to maintain his dignity while holding his top hat in place and jogging to keep up.
Beatrice and Roger were nowhere to be seen in the forest at the tunnel entrance, nor did Alison see the LAXA van at any point on her way along the walking trail back to the road. She had to assume they had gotten away or massively improved the van’s camouflage, either of which implied they were at least alive.
Alison left Diablerie at his car, grumblingly sniffing the passenger seats, and continued on foot to the Modern Miracle house. Her concerns about Miracle Mum enacting horrors there gradually faded as she ascended the road and passed numerous satisfied servicegoers chatting amiably on the way back to their cars. It wasn’t the kind of atmosphere one associated with the aftermath of a vampiric death orgy. Not one that knew anything about projecting the right image anyway.
She saw Adam sitting in a little cloud of gloom on the edge of the pavement just outside Modern Miracle’s front garden, laboriously working his feet into his boots. Behind him, a few stragglers from the congregation were still hanging around, watching a red-faced young boy in hospital pajamas delightedly sprint around the front lawn, making airplane noises.
“Hey,” said Adam, when he saw Alison trotting up. “How’d things go on your end?”
“Um, it turned into kind of a mess actually,” said Alison urgently. “Another vampire victim turned up and we got attacked by—”
“Yeah, things didn’t go well here either,” said Adam spitefully, worrying at his boots and not really listening. “But I’m pretty certain that girl’s got to be a conduit now. Why else would they have put all that pink light up?”
“Pink?” asked Alison, confused.
“Because there’s something about Miracle Meg they didn’t want me to see,” continued Adam, holding up an index finger while making a knowing look he’d been rehearsing for the last ten minutes. “What I want to know is how they knew exactly what shade of pink to use. There aren’t very many people who know that. Me, Archibald, Victor—”
“Victor!” Alison found her opportunity to get a word in edgeways. “Adam, we just got attacked by a pyrokinetic. Like, a Victor-level pyrokinetic.”
That seemed to break Adam out of his prepared statement. He looked up as his foot came down, devastating the back of his left boot. “Victor attacked you?”
“Um. Someone did.” Alison could only say with certainty that the fire person had been humanoid, wore a motorcycle helmet, and spewed fireballs like some kind of theoretical opposite of a sprinkler system. “I don’t know if it was Victor. I mean, I haven’t known him as long as you, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t just kill me without warning.” She fiddled with her earlobe, thinking about her own words. “Not on purpose anyway.”
“I think we’re all learning that maybe we didn’t know Victor as well as we thought we did,” said Adam bitterly. He met her gaze. “Did you know he’s been hanging around on the Modern Miracle forum?”
Alison looked up at the Modern Miracle house. With the moonlight behind it, it loomed over her with a dangerous omen, and the effect was only slightly lessened by the young boy in the front garden, who was now running back and forth blowing raspberries with a coat over his head to the delight of the remaining adults. “You don’t seriously think Victor . . .”
“Can’t overlook the facts,” said Adam gravely, sitting up straight. “That’s something you need to learn when you’re an investigator. This fits together a bit too well. Modern Miracle suddenly knows things only Victor knows, and then there’s a mysterious pyrokinetic trying to stop you from . . .” He frowned. “What did you find again?”
“Er, the vampire killed someone else,” said Alison, before remembering that this was probably important and repeating the statement in a more urgent voice.
“What?” Adam stood awkwardly, nearly fell over again because his left foot was hanging out of his boot, and straightened up. “Who?”
“I don’t know, but there was a dried-up body, back there, in some, like, old tunnels.” She pointed vaguely toward the hills.
Adam frowned in the direction she was pointing. “I think you’d better show me.”
“Oh. It all got burned actually.” She caught his incredulous look and instinctively added, “Sorry. But I saw it. It was in this whole creepy shrine to El-Yetch and Miracle Meg. Like the vampire was worshiping them or something.”
“That’s . . . a theory,” said Adam. “Was there any sign that Miracle Meg had been there? Maybe sucked their life out a short time before the sermon tonight?”
Alison’s eyes widened as Adam’s question raised another pertinent detail in her mind. “Oh! Miracle Mum was there. I think she’s the vampire.”
“You actually saw Miracle Mum draining the victim?”
“Well . . . no,” admitted Alison. “But I didn’t see anyone else and the body was pretty new, so . . .” Her gaze flicked over to the Modern Miracle house again. “Has she come back here? Could you use your thing on her?”
“I don’t see her,” said Adam, scrutinizing the collection of joyful faces in the front garden watching Jamie express his newfound lust for life. He took on the slightly fish-eyed look he always had when he was using his magic senses. “There is someone with pink magic just over th—oh, never mind, it’s Rana.”
A single short yelp blasted from Alison’s lungs, and she dropped into a crouch. Adam looked down at her, baffled, as she attempted to insert her entire head into a spherical section of hedge that was close to the ground.
“Hey, Mr. Hesketh!” said Rana, jogging up. “I was able to talk with Miracle Dad, and he’s agreed to let me have some one-on-one time with Miracle Meg to ask about how her powers work, so . . . is that Alison?”
The quivering hedge froze. Adam winced. “Er. I’m not sure she wants me to say.”
“Oh,” said Rana, stirring the grass with one foot. “Okay. I’ll . . . go back over there now.” She turned and slowly walked the five or six feet back to the thinning circle of onlookers, glancing back several times as she went.
“Alison,” said Adam, crouching beside the bush. “Miracle Mum probably isn’t the conduit. Everyone here saw Miracle Meg doing a big heal tonight. There was nobody else in the room. Nobody touched the patient but her.” He nodded to the patient, who was by now loudly commanding his audience to keep watching while he worked on pulling off a cartwheel properly. “And it was a very big heal. Probably enough to drain a person to death. The only explanation is Miracle Meg must have somehow drained the body you found before the sermon.”
The part of hedge containing Alison’s head tilted quizzically. “So what now? Call in the body?”
“Er, no,” said Adam quickly. “I should take a look at where you found it. I might, er, notice something you missed. And then, I suppose I’d better have a little talk with Victor.”
“Right,” agreed the hedge. “Do you need anything else from me?”
“Just to . . . show me where this body was,” said Adam patiently.
“Ah. Yeah. I assumed.” The hedge quivered again. “ ’Cos in that case, would you mind helping me pull my head out of this hedge?”
Call between Sean Anderson and Adam Hesketh beginning at 9:56 p.m.:
sean anderson: This is Anderson.
adam hesketh: Hello—
sean anderson: What’ve you got, Hesketh?
adam hesketh: Oh. Uh. I only just got back. I mean. I literally just closed my front door.
sean anderson: What’ve you got?
adam hesketh: Actually I thought I would send you an email. Do you mind waiting? I’m not good with phones.
sean anderson: Funny, I could’ve sworn I asked you a question twice, and I’m pretty sure you’re saying things in reply, but all I’m hearing is a load of useless drivel. Maybe it’s the phone. [Three loud bangs of phone being knocked on something hard.] what. have. you. got.
adam hesketh: Okay. Um. About Modern Miracle?
sean anderson: No, about the other faith healing outfit I sent you to get dirt on tonight. yes, about modern miracle. And quickly, they’re doing another interview tomorrow and I’m calling the producer in ten. Did you figure out how they’re pulling the scam?
adam hesketh: Um. No. I-I think they might’ve known I was coming. They had a whole bunch of pink lights set up.
[Long pause.]
sean anderson: Pink lights.
adam hesketh: It’s, er, the thing is, when I use my senses that detect magic, healing magic shows up as pink. So I couldn’t see if they were using any. Because the whole room was pink.
[Long pause.]
adam hesketh: Because, I have these senses—
sean anderson: Yes, yes, I understand. I’m just suddenly remembering why Extradimensional Affairs is my least favorite department. So you still don’t know how the scam works.
adam hesketh: No. Ooh! But Alison says she found a corpse.
sean anderson: Okay. For future reference, you should’ve led with that. Tell me about this corpse.
adam hesketh: Apparently it was in a cave not far from their house.
sean anderson: But it was definitely killed by someone in the cult, yeah?
adam hesketh: Apparently.
sean anderson: I’ll tell you what’s worrying me, Hesketh, it’s this word “apparently” that keeps dropping out of your mouth like a greasy nipple. Did you see this corpse yourself?
adam hesketh: Uh. I didn’t. Appa—er, Alison says there was a pyro-
kinetic on the scene as well, and by the time I got there, they’d basically totally carbonized it. Nothing left but dust.
sean anderson: Right.
adam hesketh: I got her to draw a picture of it though.
sean anderson: So if I could just summarize this ammunition you’re loading me up with here: you’ve got pink lights, you’ve got some dust that might have been a corpse that might have been killed vaguely near the subject, and you’ve got Alison’s crayon drawing. Would that be about right?
adam hesketh: I think she used colored pencils actually . . .
[Rustling sound, continuous sound of clipping scissors.]
sean anderson: Hey, can you hear that?
adam hesketh: What?
sean anderson: That cutting sound. Are you hearing that too?
adam hesketh: Um. The thing that sounds like scissors?
sean anderson: It is scissors. It’s my scissors. Because I’m officially cutting you loose.
adam hesketh: Mr. Anderson, I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault—
sean anderson: Snip!
adam hesketh: They knew we were coming, and—
sean anderson: Snip!
adam hesketh: I think someone on the inside—
[Clipping noise intensifies.]
sean anderson: Can’t hear you over the sound of me cutting you loose! Stick to going cross-eyed at bullshit, kid, ’cos investigation isn’t working out.
adam hesketh: But—
sean anderson: Cutting you loose now! Cutting you loose like this cord!
adam hesketh: What cord?
[Clipping noise.]
Call ends 9:59 p.m.
Call between Victor Casin and Adam Hesketh beginning at 10:09 p.m.:
victor: Yeah?
adam: What did you do, Victor?
victor: Adam? Why are you calling me?
adam: W-what did you do?
victor: You hate talking on the phone. You can’t even call in a pizza ’cos you’re afraid they’ll judge you if you order pineapple.
adam: I’ve, I’ve asked a question two times now, Victor, and all I’m hearing is words coming out of you, and—
victor: Yes, there are words coming out of me, Adam. It’s this amazing new fashion trend called “talking.”
adam: Were you in Worcester tonight?
victor: Why would I be in Worcester? Why do you care?
adam: The pyrokinetic that was trying to kill Alison! Was that you?
victor: Why would I kill Alison? On purpose, I mean. You know there are other pyrokinetics in the world, right?
adam: She says this one was at your power level.
