The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) (11 page)

“Sometimes I think Kim was right about you, Preston,”
Yael said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re a bit of a creep.”

“A total creep!” Jenny made the correction with smugly,
her hand resting on Yael’s knee. “Stay away from him, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that!” Despite Yael’s complaints, it
didn’t seem as if she minded the nickname. “I’m going to talk to the waiter,
and make certain that I can get something without meat.”

“Talk to the one with the forelocks,” Jenny advised,
sliding out of Yael’s way. “Jiang. He’ll help.”

Yael nodded and walked off, calling cheerfully for the
waiter.

“What the fuck, Preston?” Jenny leaned across the
table and waved her beer can around sloppily, splashing excess on the table.
“What business you got hanging ‘round Yael?”

“I told you already. I guess Yael told you, actually,
but still. Sumire was attacked. We are looking into it.”

“Trying to clear your name, more likely.”

Touché.

“My motives are pure.”

“No such thing.” Jenny slammed her beer can down on
the table, startling nearby diners but earning not even a look from the wait
staff. “What brings you to Sarnath?”

“Well…”

“Let’s see…Sumire gets her ass beat, Preston gets
blamed, and then you show up at my doorstep.”

“No doorstep. You don’t even have a door, Jenny.”

“Fuck you! I do, too. I just don’t invite assholes
like you over.”

“Oh, living inside, eh? Fancy.”

“You were gonna try and pin this shit on me, weren’t
you?”

I summoned up my least genuine smile.

“What a fucker.” Jenny sighed, shook her empty beer
can, and then snagged mine out of my hand. “I warned you, didn’t I? To stay
away?”

A cold feeling between my shoulder blades, an
unpleasant squirming in the gut.

“You might have said something to that effect, but I
figured, heat of the moment and all…”

“Oh, no, Preston,” Jenny said, pausing to drain the
remainder of my beer, before tossing the empty can into my lap. “No heat, no
moment. We aren’t cool.”

That wasn’t a surprise. Jenny and I had parted on bad
terms. Hell, we
existed
on bad terms.

“Okay. I understand.”

Jenny raised her voice and narrowed her eyes.

“I haven’t forgotten a damn thing.”

Nor had I. I had used Jenny, and her apparent need for
a particular edition of a book called
The King in Yellow
, when I needed
help retrieving April from enemy hands a couple years back. She figured out
that I was lying sooner than I would have liked, wrecking my life for the sheer
hell of it and then leaving me in the lurch, after threatening – promising,
really – worse to come, for myself and all the other residents of the Estates.

Looking her up was a bad idea, in other words.

Unless…

“Okay. Sure. Calm down.”

Unless something bad happened to one of my neighbors.
Like Sumire, for instance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The pitch-dark centers of Jenny’s eyes glimmered menacingly.

“Supposed to mean you talk a big game, but I don’t
think you mean it.”

“Yeah?” Jenny sneered. “How’s your stomach feel?”

“Forgot all about it,” I lied. “That the worst you can
do?”

Jenny studied me, wearing a strange expression. The
waiter made a quick pass by the table, dumping a handful of menus. A quick
review revealed I couldn’t read any of the second set, either – but this one
had a few small photographs, at least. My hip and stomach throbbed, and my
patience was short.

“No. Give me time,” Jenny promised quietly, “and I
will show you the worst.”

“I’m just kidding, Jenny,” I lied. “You don’t need
to…”

“Shut up.” Jenny frowned. “Tell the truth, for once in
your life – why are you involved in this?”

“Why would I tell you the truth?”

Yael cleared her throat, and Jenny pushed over to let
her in.

“Maybe you will tell
me
the truth,” Yael
suggested. “Why were you taking me to meet Jenny?”

“Yeah, Preston,” Jenny crowed. “Why?”

Two against one. Typical.

“Jenny butted heads with Sumire. She has issues with
Holly.” I tried to make it sound like the most boring thing in the world. “She has
threatened nearly every resident of the Estates, including me, with harm or
death. So, yeah…Jenny seems like a fair suspect.”

Yael gave Jenny a confused look, while Jenny glared
poisonously in my direction. Taken together, Yael and Jenny were completely
different people. It was fascinating.

“Jenny? Did you threaten my neighbors?”

“Kinda. Not like Preston is making it out to be, but…”

“Sumire?” Yael looked a bit dazed, her tone wondering.
“You don’t like Sumire?”

“Ah…I mean, that whole “hero” thing really grates, you
know? And she can be so bossy. Kinda like you, Princess.” Jenny said, shaking
her head. “I came to this city for a reason. There were things I had to do.
Sumire and I didn’t always see eye to eye.”

“Did the two of you have a fight?”

“Not really. Just a matter of time, though.”

Yael sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“And Holly?”

“The witch,” Jenny said, with obvious relish, “most of
all.”

Yael looked curious, rather than upset.

“What’s not to like?”

“Princess,” Jenny said earnestly, seizing Yael’s
hands, “you don’t get it. She’s a witch.”

Yael tugged her hands free, and then crossed her arms
defensively.

“And?”

“A witch.” Jenny repeated sincerely. “Even you can’t
make friends with a witch, Princess. She may act innocent, but I doubt you’d
approve of everything she gets up to.”

“That is actually fairly easy to believe.”

Our waiter returned, giving Yael a friendly nod. Yael
put in her request in what I assume was the man’s native language, something
with an unfamiliar syntax and intonation. He smiled and nodded as she handed
her menu over, so I assume she got it right. Jenny ordered several dishes by
pointing. I chose a picture of a soup with prawns, doing my best to ignore a
resurgent headache, accompanied by occasional shivers.

“Even so,” Yael said sternly, return her attention to
Jenny, “Holly Diem has looked after me since I arrived in the Nameless City.”

“I know.” Jenny’s face was as sour as if she had
bitten directly into a lemon. “That’s one thing. Me and her, that’s another. The
witch isn’t dumb, you know, or known for acts of charity. You ever think she
has her own agenda, helping you out?”

Yael nodded, clear-eyed and apparently untroubled by
the intimation.

“I met her at the Night Market, Jenny. Holly Diem’s
assistance came at a price. A price I have already paid.”

Jenny’s breath caught and her eyes narrowed.

“What did she take from you?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Jenny grabbed Yael and shook her. The girl was going
to get whiplash if this kept up.

“What did she
take
?”

Yael shrugged out of Jenny’s grip.

“Nothing of consequence,” Yael said hurriedly.
“Nothing that I miss.”

“Do you mean…?”

“Whatever you are thinking, no,” Yael said, with a
sigh. “The arrangement was satisfactory for both of us. That’s all I will say
about it.”

“Princess…”

“Stop calling me that. You don’t get to disappear for
two years and then lecture me on my associations. That’s preposterous.”

“Preposter-what?”

“You know what I mean!”

“I don’t. I really don’t.”

“It means you don’t get to do that,” Yael explained
sullenly. “That’s all.”

The waiter flew past our table, gathering up the empty
can in front of me and replacing it with a small dish of deep-fried shrimp and
onions that I could not remember ordering. The other side of the table was so
consumed by debate that they didn’t even notice. It seemed overly hot in the
restaurant, but the sweat creeping down my back was frigid.

“Listen, Princess…”

“I told you to stop saying that!”

“…you gotta stop being so naïve. You should know
better than to trust people like Preston, or Holly – not that she even
is
a person...”

“People say bad things about you, too, Jenny.”

“That’s it! That’s it exactly!” Jenny slammed her hand
down on the table, rattling the silverware. “You can’t trust people like me,
either. Holly, Preston, his pet Lolita – all rotten. Bad fucking juju, you
know? Not like you. Not your kind.”

I crunched on shrimp dipped in hot Chinese mustard,
and watched them volley back and forth like a game of tennis. The back of my
head ached, and no matter how much water I drank, my throat still felt slightly
raw.

“My kind? What does that mean?”

“It means…you know. Polite. Not…” Jenny gestured
vaguely, searching for words. “…bad. Nice, or whatever.”

“Is that a criticism? Are you criticizing me for being
nice to people? Nice to you?”

“It’s gonna get you in trouble, that’s all.”

“Maybe it already has.”

“Maybe.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Yael sighed. “I want
to be happy to see you, Jenny.”

“I have a difficult nature, I guess.”

“Do you really think that the people at Kadath Estates
want something from me?”

“Of course. Everybody wants something, Princess.”

“What? What do they want from me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jenny said, with a curt shake of her
head. “You can’t trust ‘em. Especially not Preston.”

Having just run out of fried shrimp, I decided to
defend my honor.

“Jenny just attacked me with no provocation,” I pointed
out. “Who’s to say she didn’t attack Sumire the same way?”

Yael glanced at me wide-eyed, as if she had forgotten
that I was there, and did not care for the reminder.

“You can leave now, Mr. Tauschen.” Yael’s voice was
steady and cool, while Jenny leered and sat back. “I’m sorry about your meal,
but I’m sure you can find something nearby. Jenny and I have a great deal to
discuss.”

“That’s not fair,” I complained, trying on a pair of
puppy dog eyes, “We’re supposed to be investigating this together.”

“I will pass along any relevant details. We can resume
in the morning.”

I did my best to look martyred.

“You’ve got to be kidding…at least let me eat, okay?
I’ll finish my soup quickly, and I won’t say anything.”

“You aren’t wanted, Preston,” Jenny hissed, cheeks
flush with satisfaction. “Move along.”

I stood up part way, giving Yael one last mournful
look.

“Tomorrow, Mr. Tauschen. Until then.”

First and forgotten, consigned to empty rooms and
forgotten temples, to the Waste and the barrens. Answers to the cold; a
mouthful of smoke and husks of last year’s straw. The logic of hunger and
boredom, perennial and vicious.  

A text message confirmed my suspicion that April was watching obscure
cable programming with titles that used too many adjectives. Another text
established her interest in a late lunch. I attempted to sleep on the train,
but my hip and stomach throbbed terribly, despite swallowing a few of the
unlabeled pain pills Holly handed out like candy. My lymph glands and sinuses
felt swollen, and chills ran down my spine intermittently.

I slid a finger beneath my undershirt, and it came
away bloody. I wiped my finger clean on the seatback in front of me and zipped
up my jacket to hide the mess, ignoring glares and worried expressions from
commuters. The six-stop ride felt interminable, and I sweated as if the air
conditioning had failed. When the door finally slid open at my stop downtown, I
shambled from the car and leaned my head against the cool of a concrete support
column, until the dizziness subsided.

Gritting my teeth, I marched numbly out to the street.
The overcast sky was pure white static, so bright that I was forced to squint,
and the conversations of the pedestrians around me sounded like insects
buzzing. I stumbled indifferently toward the Empty District, more concerned
with my swelling headache and possible fever than with the thinning crowd. I
collided with one of them, crossing the street, and mumbled a half-hearted
apology. I made it another half a block before they caught up with me, calling
my name.

“Mr. Tauschen!” Elijah was flushed and out of breath,
carrying more books than was reasonable. “Are you well?”

“Yeah, fine, Eli. Sorry about that.”

He offered me his hand, and it took it. His palm was
surprisingly slick with sweat, giving his perfectly dry brow.

“You seem unsteady, Mr. Tauschen.”

“Call me Preston, please. I am feeling a bit off, I’m
afraid. Maybe a touch of something.”

“A pity. Are you on your way to the Estates?”

My sluggish brain moaned at the thought of his
company.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I am.”

“Excellent,” he said, sounding as if he meant it.
“Then I will join you.”

“Oh.” I shivered and pulled my jacket tightly around
me. “Good.”

Elijah adjusted his glasses, glanced at my face and
frowned at whatever he saw there.

“Are you entirely sure that you are capable of
walking, Preston?”

“Maybe a little under the weather, but it’s nothing to
worry about.”

“Very well.” He looked doubtful. “Busy day?”

“You could say that.”

“As was mine.”

Even running a fever, I could tell he wanted me to ask
about whatever had kept him busy. I could hardly summon the energy, but
something about the expectant look on his face forced me to ask.

“Doing what?”

“Work for the family business,” Elijah explained,
smiling fondly. “My responsibilities have increased lately, which has kept
things interesting.”

Elijah seemed a little wired and jumpy. Also weirdly
talkative, for a guy who normally slunk out of the room when I arrived.

“I hope your compensation increased along with your
duties.”

“Oh, yes!” Elijah appeared to be scandalized by the
suggestion. “I have been generously compensated, Preston.”

“That’s good. Maybe enough to quit the convenience store?”

He needed to think it over.

“That could happen,” he allowed, as if the possibility
had just occurred to him. “An intriguing idea.”

“Thanks.”

He hesitated, and then made another not particularly
subtle survey of my face.

“If I might trouble with you with a question…”

I sighed loudly, but it was water off a duck’s back.

“Go ahead, Eli.”

“I visited Sumire, and she told me of her attack.”
Elijah grimaced at the thought. “She told me that Yael and you were
investigating.”

“That’s true.”

“Tell me, Preston – do you have any suspects?”

Yeah. Myself. April. The homeless psychopath currently
having Chinese with Yael.

“Nothing damning, but we have some ideas.”

He gave me a hopeful glance, he face eventually
falling when he realized I had no intention of sharing. Not that there was much
to share.

“Perhaps a change of topic is in order?” Elijah
Pickman offered me a disconcerting smile, thrilled by his own suggestion. I had
neither the time nor the energy to argue. “Are you at all familiar with the
architecture of the Nameless City?”

Another loud sigh. The kid was unfazed.

“No, not at all.”

“Then allow me to share some of my favorites! I
should, perhaps, began with those structures lost to time or cosmic horror, as
they often house the most delicious secrets.” He licked his thin lips. “The
best known of these would be the Voynich Hotel, originally of Iram, lost during
the Cultist Disorder near the turn of the century. Among its intriguing
attributes, the Voynich is best known for literally being lost – it does not appear
on any maps, even the most ancient, and remaining records are vague and
incomplete, even though it was heavily visited for decades. It is widely
assumed that the Voynich still exists, and continues to accept reservations.
Locating it, however, remains something of an issue.”

I shivered and sweated, my brain throbbing as if
forced into an overly small skull.

“Fascinating.”

“Isn’t it? Of course, the Voynich is hardly the only
structure to become obscure in this particular manner. There are a number of
other examples – the Tidal Chamber beneath the docks of Innsmouth, where the Drowned
Empress once maintained an embassy, before she appointed a regent and undertook
the Long Sleep; the Skai Playhouse, lost during the inaugural performance of
Marlowe’s translation of
The King in Yellow
, before the end of the
second act; and The Uncertain Library, constantly lost and rediscovered as the Pillars
of Iram relocate themselves across the district. One could, I suppose, include
the Night Market on that list, due to its constantly evolving location, but as
it was designed to be temporary and mobile from the start, it is best
considered separately. This, in of itself, poses interesting questions
regarding the mutability of the Nameless City’s geography…”

“Elijah,” I interrupted, struck by feverish
inspiration. “What do you know about the Kadath Estates?”

“Aha!” He grinned triumphantly at having gained my
interest. Elijah was so hyped up that he practically bounced along beside me.
“A fascinating structure in its own right. I would call it
obscured
,
rather than lost…or perhaps unknown.”

I had to watch my feet to avoid tripping. They seemed
unusually distant.

“I know where it is, kid. I live there.”

“Of course,” he agreed, completely unruffled. “Perhaps
you already aware, then, the Kadath Estates is the oldest building in the Empty
District?”

“Not aware,” I acknowledged, wiping sweat from my
brow. “Not surprised, either.”

“I’m sure. The building is in an atypical style, with
elements of First Period and Georgian Colonial interspersed with architectural
styles and techniques not yet developed when the Estates were built…”

“Wait, what?”

“…and is the only multi-unit structure of such age,
and also the only one to employ an air shaft to provide light and ventilation.
Despite legends to the contrary, the stone was not quarried from the city in
the sea…”

“That’s a relief.”

“…but rather from the quarries of the Mnar Mountains,
where the stone for the city in the sea was also cut. Statuary and embellishments
were added over time, generally the work of architecture and art students from
Carter who roomed there. The silver gate, on the other hand, predates the
Estates – and the Empty District – by millennia. Rumor attaches it to the lost
city of Carcosa, and a diary stored at the Main Library at Carter claims that
it was salvaged, along with several other notable artifacts, from an expedition
that never returned from Lake Hali…”

“Then how…?”

“The Silver Keys are assumed to have arrived together
with it, as it is no longer possible to mine or work that peculiar ore.”
Through slightly blurry vision, I noticed that Elijah was staring at me
curiously. “Do you happen to have your key handy, Preston? I would love to give
it a closer look…”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Some other time.”

“As you say.” His turn to sigh. “The Estates has
operated as a rental property, as well as a residence for the owner, for the
whole of its recorded existence.”

“Some things never change.”

“Indeed.”

“Who built the damn thing?”

“An enigma,” he explained, with a smile. “The name of
the architect is lost to time. Whoever they may have been, however, they were
responsible for many of the iconic structures in the Nameless City; Dunsany
Park, the Chambers Museum of Antiquities, the Tidal Chamber, the Prospect Hill
Observatory, and the Carter Academy, to mention a few.”

“Weren’t those all built decades apart?”

“Yes! One of the many secrets of the builder. The
assumption is that the Unknown Architect – a popular nickname for the figure, among
architecture students, and a possibly source for the “Unknown” often attached
to the Kadath Estates – produced the designs during their lifetime, but the
buildings themselves were built from plans at a later date. That, however, is
merely conjecture.”

“You are
really
into architecture.”

“The passion runs in the Pickman family,” he said,
with such sincerity that I wanted to throttle him. “My ancestors were all
artists or architects. My great grandmother always considered design something
of a hobby, though she prefers an organic media. She actually endowed the Architecture
program at Carter, among others.”

“Huh. You know, Eli, I think you’re the first person
I’ve met who’s actually
from
the Nameless City.”

“Is that so? It isn’t so rare. It is true, however,
that my family has deep roots here. You could even say,” he said, turning onto
the dark of Leng Street, “that my family is an integral part of the Nameless
City’s history.”

He might have said more. He probably said more,
knowing Elijah. It washed over me with a tide of feverish disconnect, however,
and was lost to the night.

***

I stood in the shower until the water ran clear, letting warm water pummel
my head and thinking about nothing in particular. The wound above my hip was
shallow but jagged, and continued to leak pink fluid, while the one next my
belly button was uglier. I would need April to look at that, eventually. As a
concession to basic first aid, I grabbed the antiseptic below the sink and
dumped the contents on the two knife wounds, grunting loudly in lieu of a
scream. I also needed to talk to Holly this evening – which honestly sounded
less pleasant that a session with April’s needle and thread.

One thing I can absolutely say in the Estate’s favor –
hot water is plentiful. I lingered until my fingers looked like pale and
shrunken prunes.

After I was dried and presentable, I microwaved a
chicken breast, and put it on a stale tortilla with a slice of Swiss, and it
was delicious all out of proportion. I drank water out of the sink and swallowed
a couple more pain pills.

Dressing in the dark, I listened carefully for any
change in April’s breathing. I located my boots and jacket after a brief
search, and then tiptoed to the front door. I only relaxed when I had shut and
locked the door behind me. Stepping into my boots, I headed upstairs to Holly’s
apartment.

It took Holly a while, which wasn’t unusual. My guess
is she just liked making me wait.

Then she opened the door, barefoot, in a black dress
and a suggestive smile, and I forgave all.

That phenomenon was the basis for April’s dislike of
Holly, incidentally.

She led me inside. It was a mess, like always, as if
she had purchased the contents of several antique stores, and then arranged it
all with no particular attention paid to organization or aesthetics. A stuffed
raptor with shiny black marbles for eyes sat beside a bronze icon of a
fertility cult with grossly engorged belly and breasts. Lovecraft lounged, chin
between his paws, on the top level of a teetering bookshelf, tail waving lazily
in greeting. I gave the old cat a scratch beneath his chin and followed Holly
to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table wedged in the breakfast nook.

Lovecraft wandered in on old bones and tired hips, and
I rubbed his back sympathetically. I felt as if we were old comrades in arms,
survivors of a war that everyone else had forgotten.