Dead Waters (11 page)

“Now, Grandpa. . .” I said, starting after him.

Connor looked over his shoulder at me, shooting me with a look of pure hatred as he pushed out onto the streets of New York City once more. “I’m meeting up with Aidan over at Eccentric Circles,” he continued. “Having a day job and spending time with my brother on a vampiric schedule is leaving me sorely lacking in the sleep department. You’re welcome to come with.”

Part of me was instantly jonesing for the decadent disco fries they served at our Departmental hang out, but I shook my head.

“I should probably head home,” I said. “I think there’s a few things I need to iron out with Jane still.”

Connor shrugged. “Your funeral. Suit yourself.”

“You know,” I said, turning to head off toward my apartment, “you used to be a lot less sassy about things when you thought Aidan was dead.”

Connor smiled. “Sorry, kid.”

9

Jane was out cold when I got home, and rather than risk waking her by trying to slip silently into bed, I crashed out on my couch in the living room. I had fallen asleep there plenty of times when I was single and I convinced myself it would just be easier, but when I woke in the morning, I just felt lame for doing it. I scribbled a quick note telling Jane that I loved her, left it on the pillow next to her in my bedroom, and hurried out of my apartment as I slipped my satchel over my shoulder before she could wake. If I was lucky, I could catch the early-morning rush of students bustling around New York University.

I hit up Bagels on the Square for one with everything and enough coffee to wake the dead before skulking around the empty fountain in the center of Washington Square Park. I hoped to find someone who could tell me more about Professor Redfield, but other than a few students calling him a whack job or a lovable eccentric, I spent more time fending off the weed dealers than getting anything accomplished. Frustrated, I moved out of the park and made my way up University Place a few blocks in search of a more productive venue.

Stuck somewhere between my guilt from avoiding Jane this morning and still asking around campus about the professor, I found that I had wandered into one of the antiques stores around Tenth Street. The store was long and narrow, but packed with an eclectic mix of furniture, none of it looking more than sixty or seventy years old. Just seeing the type of stuff I was used to picking through as a psychometrist helped take away some of my stress, and as I worked my way back through the mostly deserted store, I thought maybe I could unstress myself a little more by contending with some of my Jane issues, too. The recent developments with my powers left me unsure about the whole Jane situation, but I was willing to try to push myself past all the angry flare-ups that had been happening. Maybe if I baby-stepped my way into pricing out some dressers with her in mind, it would at least be a step in the right direction.

Near the back of the store was a mixed collection of bedroom pieces, almost all of it having seen better days. Still, a few bits of furniture showed some promise. One was a dark brown art deco–looking unit with brushed brass pulls on the front of it. I went over to it, stripping off my gloves. If I was going to find something special enough for Jane to have after all my ridiculousness, it had to be the right piece but also one that wasn’t too psychometrically charged that I might trigger off it once it was in my home. I lay my hands down on top of the polished-smooth top of it and pressed my power into it.

My mind’s eye pushed back through the history of the object, searching its past. The image forming in my mind resolved into that of an empty and unfamiliar bedroom. The whole place was tastefully done up in the same mid-Century style of the dresser with the focus of the room being a king-sized bed, which I sat upon, that took up a large portion of the space. I pressed myself into the mind of whoever I was, trying to gather what information I could about the dresser’s previous owners.

Nothing.
The mind was a complete blank. I fished around in the emptiness for the thoughts of another, but still nothing.

“What the hell . . . ?” I asked, out loud. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, but something odd struck me when I spoke.
My voice.
What usually happened in one of my visions was that I always sounded like someone else, but not this time. I sounded like me.

I looked down at the person’s hands in his lap. They were my own, settled on top of my satchel. How I was myself in this vision, I didn’t know, but before I could give it much more thought, I noticed movement in the sheets of the bed I was sitting on.

I bolted up and spun around. Something was rising up in the middle of the bed, as if a line was drawing up the bedspread from its center point. I backed away from it, feeling for my bat at my side and relaxing a little when my hand found it in my holster. I pulled it free, extended it, and waited.

The sheet fell away, revealing a haunting and familiar face—Cassie, the ghost tattooist from the antiques store at the Gibson-Case Center. Her dead eyes were covered by her dark, giant hipster sunglasses, with a hint of a blood trickling out from behind them. Her tattoo gun was in her hand and she revved its motor. The dangling cord of the device dissolved off into a swirl of mist trailing behind her as she stepped through the bed toward me.

“No,” I said to myself, as firm as I could to control my panic. I swung my bat at her, but it passed right through, her solid form twirling into a cloud of mist before re-forming in my bat’s wake. She revved the needle gun again and kept advancing. I couldn’t hit her, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out if she could attack me, not with that needle gun in her hand.

The backs of my legs hit the dresser behind me. I had every plan to dash left, then forward toward a closed door that hopefully led out of the room, but before I could run, the sound of sliding drawers hit my ears.

The dresser drawers on either side of my legs fell to the floor and a pair of human arms reached out from within, wrapping around my body. I recognized the tweed sleeves of the jacket; Mason Redfield’s arms wrapped tight around my legs, immobilizing me.

Trapped. Screw this, I thought. Time to pull myself out of the vision. I closed my mind’s eye, only to have it slam back open on me. I willed it closed again, but again, it came flying open. All the while the tattooist kept advancing on me. I had never personally taken a beating as myself in a vision before, and I didn’t plan on starting now.

The tattooist crept closer, which meant only one thing: I had to free myself from the professor’s arms.
Now.
I slammed my bat down along the side of my left leg as the two arms wrapped around me. The blow stung my leg, but it hurt the professor’s arm more than it did me.

The arms let go of my legs, and I ran for the door across the room. The blind tattooist cocked her head, listening for my steps, correcting her course. I pulled at the doorknob.

Locked.

I spun and pressed my back against the door. Across the room, the younger Mason Redfield I had seen in my psychometric vision pulled himself out of the dresser, shattering it apart into a pile of wreckage. My brain filled with their raw emotional states from when I had first experienced both of them—the woman’s jealous rage and Mason Redfield’s fear from the night I had seen him fighting ghouls with the Inspectre. I started to sweat, slamming my head back against the door as all the emotions took over.

I hefted up my bat as the two of them closed with me. Maybe my bat would affect them or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, I’d find out, going down swinging as best I could.

The pain in my leg still throbbed from where I had hit it with the bat. No, that wasn’t quite right . . . not where I had hit it. This was something else, a strange pulsing sensation on my
other
leg, higher and closer to my hip—my phone on vibrate. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open.

“Hello?”

Static came through on the line, but I could hear the faint sound of a voice behind it all.

“Hello?” I shouted into it.

It crackled again, and then through it all, “. . . kid?”

“Connor!” I shouted.

The psychometric vision rushed away from me and the real world snapped back to the inside of the store on University Place, where I fell face-first into the dresser I had been reading. My head slammed down onto it, and I fell to the floor, dropping my phone. The cool tile pressed against me and I scrabbled for my cell, my hand closing over it.

“I’m here,” I shouted. The sound of footsteps came toward me from the front of the store. I held my phone back up to my ear.

“You okay, kid?” Connor asked. “Took you long enough to answer.”

“Yeah,” I said, using the dresser to steady myself as I helped myself up. “I was just dealing with something.” I didn’t dare tell him about the episode for fear that he might take me off active. For now, I simply had to resist using my powers.

The owner of the shop I had heard coming in came around the end of the aisle, a look of concern on her face. I smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. She gave me a nervous smile back and retreated.

“Any luck tracking down leads on the professor?” Connor asked.

“Not much. Got a bunch of people saying he was a bit eccentric, as you might imagine, but I could have told you that before wandering around down here. Seemed mostly positive from what I was able to gather so far.”

“You think maybe you could head on up to the offices?” he asked. “Things are backing up here and I’m afraid for our partners desk under this level of paperwork.”

“Yeah,” I said without hesitation, starting off east through the Village. “Not a problem.” The thought of sitting down at my desk and not using an ounce of psychometry for a little while felt like the best idea in the world right now.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and pulled my gloves back on. To double ensure I didn’t trigger a blessed thing, I jammed my hands down into my jacket pockets. My brain and emotions needed to settle. It saddened me that sometimes shopping was far more perilous that dealing with zombies and vampires.

10

Hours of paperwork back at the office kept me nice and distracted from the mental confusion of earlier in the day. When Jane texted me hours later saying she was at Mason Redfield’s apartment working, I felt settled enough that I headed out into the dark and the rain to meet up with her.

I opened the door to Professor Redfield’s high-rise apartment before ducking underneath the police tape and stepping in. Outside the patio doors rain poured down, giving the low light of the apartment a creepy look. Jane was sitting in one of the professor’s giant wing chairs with a bunch of books on her lap and a satchel lying at her feet. A variety of candles, charms, and chalk bits were scattered on the floor in front of her. She was engrossed in one of the books and looked up only when I closed the door behind me. She let out a tiny yelp.

“Sorry,” I said. I craned my head, looking around the quiet, empty apartment. “You said they had you working. . . Did they leave you alone here?”

Jane nodded. I went over to her and started picking up the bits and pieces scattered by her feet.

“Unbelievable,” I said.

“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing my wrist to stop me. “I haven’t seen any sign of Aqua-Woman. I’m just wrapping up warding the place. Sorry I screamed. When you came through the door, I thought you might have been the ghost of the professor.”

“Do I look like I’m a ghost in my late fifties?” I said. “I know working for the Department is probably aging me prematurely, but come on.”

Jane stood, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed me. After a moment she stepped back and looked up at me. “Better?”

“Much,” I said, smiling. “How’s it going?”

“I
think
it’s going good,” she said.

“Think?”

Jane let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’ve never done this before.” She grabbed up the book she had been reading. “Director Wesker came through here and spent about seven seconds instructing me on how to properly ward a place before he had to run off on another case. This skeleton-staff work schedule is killing me. I think I’ve protected the place with the symbols on the walls and even laid down a few traps if anything paranormal returns to the scene.”

I walked around the main living room area looking at the variety of symbols drawn on the wall in Jane’s handwriting. There were all kinds that looked vaguely runic to my eye, but what did I know? I was out of my element.

“So what do you think?” I asked. “You think this woman in green was bound to the professor somehow?”

“I don’t know,” Jane said. She started packing up her stuff, handing me a small pile of books. “Here. I thought these looked promising for you.”

“I already tried to get a read on the stuff in here,” I said.

“I figured maybe with all the distractions your powers have been giving you lately, you might want to chance it again.”

“Sure,” I said. I stuffed the books into the messenger bag hanging at my side, not even getting into why I had zero plans to read anything with my powers right now. “But getting back to my question . . . what do you think? Was that woman bound to the professor?”

Jane shrugged as she filled up her own bag with the materials on the floor. “Maybe,” she said. “Part of me wonders if she lived here. If she did, I bet she had more than a drawer.”

Although Jane sounded playful enough when she said it, the angry twinge rose up in my heart unbidden and I couldn’t hide it in my voice. “Jane . . .”

“I’m fine,” she said. By the tone in her voice, it didn’t sound like it.

“About the other night,” I said, swallowing it down. “I’m sorry I hesitated when you asked about me about the set of drawers. These emotional flairs from the tattooist have really been messing with me. Connor had to remind me you were asking for more space, not anything big like moving in.”

“Exactly,” she said. “I wasn’t asking that. I just wanted somewhere to put my things.” The look on her face faded, replaced with one of shy concern. “But since you went there, would it be so horrible?”

The tattooist’s emotions tried to press themselves forward, but I tried to be rational. “I just don’t want to mess this up,” I said. “I don’t want to rush anything. I’ve rushed things before, and you
know
my history. I’ve a lot to think about. . .”

“Like what?” Jane asked, snapping a little. “Seems pretty simple to me. Either you want to be with me or you don’t, right?”

I sighed. “Let’s not fight,” I said. “It’s late. We’re both exhausted and touchy. I just came to pick you up, maybe take you to dinner.”

Jane softened a little and nodded. “That, I can get behind.”

The half-built driveway loop in front of the high-rise was half-flooded from the downpour of rain, but thankfully one fully built sidewalk was in place and led down to First Avenue. Once my arm was around Jane under the protection of my umbrella, we huddled under it and I finally felt myself relaxing. I didn’t want to worry about our domestic problems all night, and in that regard, I needn’t have worried.

As we came off of First Avenue onto the side street, we were met by a lack of late-night traffic and a now-familiar figure. The green woman Jane had been warding the apartment against was standing out in the downpour in the middle of the empty street.

“Holy hell,” I said. “Guess that answers the question of if we finished her off when Connor dropped the statue on her.”

Jane looked uneasy. “Should we call in the troops?” she asked.

“We
are
the troops,” I said, taking out my bat. “Budget cuts, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Jane looked disappointed. “Crap.”

“You okay with this?”

Jane nodded. “I just hate fighting in the rain,” she said. “More so when it’s some aquatic bitch who tried to drown my boyfriend.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “Feel free to work with that. A little vengeful thinking can go a long way when it comes to a fight.”

I collapsed my umbrella, pulled my bat out of its holster, and slid the umbrella into it.

“Gotcha,” Jane said and the two of us headed off for the green woman. When the woman saw us in motion, she strode toward us in great, deliberate strides, Terminatorstyle. She stopped thirty feet away in the middle of the deserted street, and I hesitated. Jane kept moving forward, but the woman raised her arms out to her sides and turned her head up to the heavens. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but I had a bad feeling about it. I reached for Jane, catching her arm.

“Wait,” I said, tugging her back.

The words were barely out of my mouth when I heard the sound of rushing water explode somewhere off to my right. I turned, and water was shooting toward me from the remains of a fire hydrant along the curb. It slammed into me full force, causing me to fling Jane off in the opposite direction as its pressure catapulted me into a row of parked cars. I landed hard on one of the roofs of a gypsy cab, leaving one hell of a body print in it and absorbing a ton of pain that screamed across my back.

Jane was luckier. My spin had sent her stumbling across the street, but now she was running in the direction of her momentum, diving for the cover of a van parked on the opposite side of the street.

I rolled off the top of the cab toward the safety of the sidewalk area. Water was now filling the street at a rapid flow. The direct approach wasn’t going to work with this creature. As I tried to come up with a next move, the sound of crumbling stone rose up behind me. I looked down. I was standing next to another fire hydrant. . . and it was shaking violently, crumbling the sidewalk beneath it.

Pained as my back was, I found the strength to scrabble back over the crumpled roof of the car and fell off it onto the flooding street. I came down with a splash in ankledeep water and took cover against the side of the car. The hydrant erupted, shoving the entire car toward me. It slammed into me, knocking me face-first into the water. I held my breath until I got my hands under me, then pushed myself back up. I looked at my enemy, and all her focus was on me, her arms still outstretched. I had no idea where the hell all the hydrants were on this street, but I had a feeling I was about to find out the extremely hard way.

A familiar sound rose over the rush of water. The crackle and hiss of electronic connection. I knew it well. It was easy since it was the telltale sign of Jane ramping up her powers. I looked off to my right. Jane was still hidden by the van, but her hands were laid out on its hood. Her eyes were lit with energy as she chanted her technomancy into the vehicle and it started up with a roar, the engine revving up to a near-impossible whine. Its lights flashed on, burning bright. Seconds later the glass exploded out of the headlights themselves. Arcs of electric blue fire shot out of the empty sockets and crackled over the distance before shooting into the green woman. Her body crumpled as she doubled over in pain, but Jane didn’t let up with her attack.

I stood up, running over to Jane, taking a wide arc to make sure I was well behind her as she electrocuted the woman. As power poured out of the van, the vehicle shook, smoke rising from it in thick, noxious clouds. The pop of something at the front of it rang out, and the hood flapped up with the explosion. The battery was on fire, covered in flame, and the last of its power shot from Jane’s hand into the green woman in a final tail of energy.

I grabbed Jane and pulled her away from the vehicle. She looked spent, like she had pulled an all-nighter, but I had to make sure she didn’t take any damage from the rapidly burning van. I dragged her into the street with me to see the results of her handiwork.

The green woman was down on one knee now, but she pushed off of the ground and stood back up. The dark serenity was gone from her face, replace by uncertainty and fear.

“I think you hurt her.”

The news seemed to put a little wind back in my girlfriend’s sails and she smiled. “Good,” she said.

The green woman turned and ran. Cars were coming up the street now and she ran over the tops of them as they came, always landing on her feet and keeping her brisk pace. The falling rain drew into her as she ran, reconstructing bits and pieces of her that the passing cars tore away when she failed to dodge one completely.

Jane and I weren’t as pliable against the oncoming traffic and took to the sidewalks, avoiding the steady flood of water filling the streets from the broken hydrants.

“What do we do if we catch her?” Jane shouted over the sound of rushing water.

“Hell if I know,” I said. “Improvise.”

The farther we chased the woman, the more destruction seemed to rise up all around us. Fire hydrants erupted left and right as the woman passed them. They lacked the aim of the ones she had taken her time to direct at us, but they were just as harmful, water shooting every which way into the air. Several shop windows either cracked or completely shattered under their concussive force. Glass rained down into our hair as Jane and I covered our eyes, still giving chase.

The woman looked back to assess her situation. Hate was in her eyes now. Despite all her attempts and distractions that she was throwing at us, Jane and I were still gaining on her. Desperate, she changed direction and darted off to her right and into an alley.

Jane and I ran down into its darkness after her. The staccato beat of the rain was louder, drumming off the rows of trash cans and Dumpsters lining both sides of the narrow space. The splash of our footfalls added to the eeriness among the cold, wet shadows here. The woman was in a full-on run, but I saw a glimmer of hope up ahead. The alley dead-ended a couple of hundred feet ahead of us.

The green woman hadn’t noticed it yet and kept on trucking at full speed. Her attention was turned on us as she ran, and only at the last second did she notice the wall in front of her. She hit it at a full run, a large wash of water spreading out and up the wall, yet she remained solid. She was dazed and it took her a second to regain her focus, but by that time we had stopped a few feet behind her. She spun around to confront us, a look of panic on her face.

“All right, lady,” I said, raising my bat, winded. “I don’t know
what
you are, but I know this—you’re coming with us.”

The look of panic on her face dissolved and in its place rose an unexpected look of calm that unnerved me. I stepped forward using caution, but the woman just shook her head at me in slow motion. A dark smile crossed her lips.

“No?” I asked, tightening the grip on my bat. I let uncertainty get the better of me and stopped advancing on her.

The woman shook her head again, and then cocked her eyes over to Jane on my right. I wasn’t sure what the woman was up to, but I didn’t like that she was shifting her focus to Jane now. From the uncomfortable look on Jane’s face, she wasn’t too keen on the attention, either.

“Hey!” I shouted, slapping the bat down in my gloved hand with a wet smack that sent up a small splash of water. “Eyes over here!”

My words had no effect on her and she just continued staring at Jane. I had to do something. I stepped forward, closing the gap.

The woman pressed herself back against the bricks of the wall behind her. Her hands spread out along it, her fingers digging into the wall while her eyes remained on my girlfriend.