Dead Waters (15 page)

I waved to the group of them, nodding as I looked them over. “I’m Simon,” I said.

Darryl was clacking away on his netbook in front of him on the table. “Do you have a last name?” he asked.

“Why? Are you taking notes?”

The big guy stopped typing and lowered the screen until it closed shut against the keyboard. “No,” he said, folding his hands over it.

“I thought maybe you were the party stenographer,” I said.

“Don’t mind Darryl,” Elyse said. “He’s our resident tech geek–slash–editing maven. A bit OCD, but otherwise socially functional.”

“Barely,” Mike said.

Darryl flipped him the bird in retaliation, and then turned to me. “I just wondered what your full name was, to see if I could recall you.”

“Oh, right,” I said, not really ready for the question. My brain froze and I went with the first thing that came to mind. “It’s Vanderous. Simon Vanderous.”

“Is that Dutch?” George asked, running one hand through his blond shock of punked-out hair.

“Only half,” I said, wondering if I was turning red. “Don’t ask me what the other half is. I’m a bit of a mutt.”

“Could you say that again for the camera?” Mike asked, and I looked over at him. Sure enough, his enormous hands were cradling a digital video camera.

“Are you. . . taping me?”

Mike looked at me from behind the camera like I was stupid. “We
are
film students,” he said, “and what better way to pay tribute to our recently deceased prof than by taping our mourning?”

“So, you’re here for the memorial?” I asked, wondering how they had gotten wind of it.

Elyse scrunched her face up. “Huh?” she asked. “What, now?”

“Never mind,” I said as the beer arrived. I set to pouring their five glasses before filling one of my own. “I just meant we’re all in mourning for Professor Redfield, aren’t we? I was wondering: why
are
you here, though?”

“Eccentric Circles?” Elyse asked. I nodded. “The professor used to wax nostalgic about this place, when he wasn’t waxing nostalgic about the gory glory days of monster movies and the film industry, that is. Said this bar used to remind him of his misspent youth, so I dunno. Seemed like an appropriate place for a send-off.”

Maybe Professor Redfield had been just as nostalgic for the old days as the Inspectre was. For a man who had supposedly turned his back on the Fraternal Order of Goodness and the D.E.A., he certainly spent enough time hitting their favorite watering hole. And for what?

A glimpse of the world usually unseen by the average New Yorker? A world he knew existed, but had turned away from when his own life had almost been cut short at the edge of a ghoul-filled fissure? The temptation of the paranormal must have been too great to turn away from it completely. That which had been seen could not be unseen and all that.

Mike panned his camera around the bar, taking it in. “I dunno,” he said. “I think the place is kind of creepy.”

“True,” I said.

“Well,” Darryl said with a chuckle, “that’s Professor Redfield for you.”

“I have to ask,” I said. “Do you think the university is going to throw any kind of memorial service?”

“Doubtful,” Elyse said. “I don’t think a lot of the other professors really understood Redfield, you know?”

“How do you mean?”

She gave a dark smile. “He’s an acquired taste, now, isn’t he?” she said. “Not everyone got his fascination with his particular brand of cinema. Most people look down on the horror genre with elitist disdain. It doesn’t usually win awards; the
Times
won’t touch them with reviews. . . If you ask me, it’s snobbery in its basest form.”

The entire table nodded in agreement and took a few angry swigs of their drinks. I joined them, admiring their passion for the professor’s type of films and his enthusiasm for them. He had already won high regard in my mind due to the Inspectre’s memories of their long-past friendship, but to see these young people so jacked up about his field of study was doubly encouraging.

“Does anyone know how he died?” I asked, doing my best to seem like I had no idea about it.

The group fell silent, either looking down at their drinks in discomfort or looking to Elyse for an answer.

“I read somewhere he was found in his new apartment,” Elyse said. “I hadn’t even known he was moving.”

I leaned in, pressing the issue a bit. “But, like, was it natural causes?”

Elyse looked at me. Her face flashed with a moment of concern, and then she went back to her somber look. “Don’t know,” she said. “Don’t really care. I mean, the man’s
dead
. Dead’s dead, Simon.”

Although her face didn’t show it, Elyse sounded a little pissed off by the bluntness of her statement.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean anything by it . . .”

“What does that even mean?” George asked, speaking up from Darryl’s left. He sounded agitated, too. “Natural causes. . . as opposed to what?
Unnatural
causes. . . ?”

“Georgey,” Elyse said. “Shush. Freshman are better seen than heard. . . although with that punk blond hair of yours, maybe you shouldn’t be seen, either.”

“Hey!” George said, running his hands up into his wild tangle of bleached blond again. He looked genuinely hurt. “Watch it,
chica
. . .”

I needed to calm them and quick. “I just meant that I hadn’t heard what happened,” I said. “If he had died in his sleep or maybe it was a mugging gone wrong . . .”

Elyse threw back her glass and drained it before slamming it down on the table. “Wrap it up, boys,” she said.

“You’re leaving?” I asked. Elyse nodded. “But I just joined you . . .”

“We’d love to chat,” she said, short, “but unlike you, we’ve still got class stuff to attend to, Mr. Already Graduated.”

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, gathered up their things, and started sliding their way out of the booth one by one.

“Maybe we could get together and swap stories about the professor sometime,” I said.

Elyse gave me a smile, but her eyes were dead to me. “Thanks for the beer,” she said, “but something tells me you didn’t know the professor in quite the same way we did.”

Mike slid out of the booth next, his camera pointing at me still. “Say good-bye to the camera, Vanderous.”

I gave a wave before standing up myself and walking after Elyse, wanting to keep them here. “Wait,” I said, reaching for her.

Darryl’s hand came down on my shoulder, hard. He pulled me aside.

“I think my girl said all she’s going to be saying to you,” he said. “Maybe the beer’s making you a little braver than usual, but trust me when I say you don’t want to press your luck with her.”

“Right,” I said, not wanting to start anything in the middle of Eccentric Circles. I had the feeling it might go against the subtlety the Inspectre had asked me to go for.

“And I
know
you don’t want to press your luck with me,” Darryl added.

I stayed still, and after a moment, Darryl slapped me hard on the shoulder, and then turned with his computer bag over his shoulder and headed up to the front of the bar toward the doors. I waited until all of them were gone before I headed back across the bar toward the Inspectre, Aidan, and Connor.

Aidan grinned at me from where he sat. “How’d it go, boy detective?”

“Shush,” I said, sitting back down.

“Well, kid?” Connor asked. “What did you find out?”

“They loved Mason Redfield,” I said. “They were gaga over him.”

The Inspectre smiled. “That is of some comfort to hear.”

“Great,” Connor said, perturbed. “So he was well loved. That really doesn’t help narrow or expand our field of investigation into his murder, now, does it? At least if he had made some enemies . . .”

“The only enemies he seems to have had outside of the water woman are all those fake movie monsters in his office,” I said, “and I doubt they could do anything other than fetch a nice price on eBay. We’ll keep on it, Inspectre, but that group was a creepy little Mason Redfield cheer squad. Still, I think they may not be giving me the whole picture yet.”

“Really?” the Inspectre asked. “Why not, my boy?”

“When I tried to head the conversation into the paranormal, they didn’t pick up on any of my cues. Then when the guy with the blond punk hair made a joke that might have suggested something paranormal, Elyse clammed him up. . .
fast
. They left before I could press them any further, but I bet they know something about the professor and the water woman who killed him.”

“Maybe we should work on that kid, then,” Connor suggested. “The punk one. I’m sure if we press hard enough, we can find the weak link in their chain.”

“Carefully,” the Inspectre added. “We don’t want them to bolt.”

“Understood,” I said, nodding. “I’ll track them down on campus tomorrow. Maybe they’ll feel less threatened there during the daytime. If I’m lucky, I can single one of them out.”

“Daytime,” Aidan said, drawing it out like it was a dirty word. “Well, that leaves me out, then.”

“It’ll leave
all
of you out,” I said. “I’ll handle this myself.”

“Excellent,” the Inspectre said, raising his glass with a bit of drunken unsteadiness, “but for now, we drink.”

“Fine by me,” I said, reaching for my glass. “As long as the Department lets me expense it.”

The Inspectre cleared his throat. “Actually, about that . . .”

I held my hand up to stop him. I raised my glass to my lips and pounded it. “Don’t tell me,” I said. “Save it for the office tomorrow. Tonight, like you said, we drink.”

15

There was nothing I hated more than the sound of construction in New York City, but it was even worse when it was happening in my own damned head thanks to a hangover the next morning. Somehow I managed to get myself up to the Department, but made sure I loaded up on four cups of high-octane caffeine in the Lovecraft Café first.

My blurriness began to fade about two cups in, but even then, I found myself just staring at piles of paperwork for at least the first forty minutes I was in without having actually done anything with them. As I rallied my brain back to functionality, the sneaking suspicion I was forgetting something important began to creep over me. I almost had it when a shadow at the entrance to my cube reminded me what it was.

“Jane,” I muttered. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” she said, and by the tone of her voice, she wasn’t pleased. A bunch of books and papers were cradled in her arms.

“Honestly?” I asked. “No. My ass is dragging. The ‘memorial’ got a little more indulgent as the night went on.”

“I’ve seen the results already,” she said. “Connor and the Inspectre both look a little rough around the edges.”

“Were you awake when I came in last night?”

“You aren’t sure?” Jane asked, setting down the pile of books and papers in her arms.

I shook my head. “I don’t recall much of anything once I got home. Where were you?”

“I stayed at my place,” she said. “I figured it might be best. . . between you going out and with you having issue with all this emotion tied to using your powers.”

“Sure,” I said, feeling a weird energy between the two of us. “I can understand that.” I patted her pile of books. “What do we have here?”

Jane looked like she was about to say something more regarding us, but turned to the books instead. “I pulled some more materials. Books on water and water-based spells and mythos. I figured they might do some double duty, helping the Inspectre out and maybe me at the same time.”

“Any new developments?” I asked. “With the mark, I mean.”

“My showers are getting longer,” she said, and then gave me a weak smile. “I find myself craving them. I took two last night while you were out, then another one once I went home, and then I got up earlier than I usually do feeling the need to take one more. The longer I go without one, the more lethargic I feel.”

“I think you should come back over to my place tonight,” I said. “I don’t like the idea of you being home alone in this condition.”

Jane stiffened. “You didn’t seem to mind last night,” she said.

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I was mourning with the Inspectre and, well. . . things got out of hand. I’m sorry for that. I guess with all the pressure and my powers acting up, I just needed to cut loose with the guys.”

“I get that,” she said, putting her hand on my head and stroking my hair. “I really do, but it really seemed to freak you out with this whole drawer thing and I don’t want to crowd you while you’re working through your issues. Besides, I can feel this mark making me irritable.”

“Don’t worry about my strange flares,” I said. “I’m working to repress them. I’m more concerned about keeping an eye on you until Allorah Daniels can get us some answers on that mark. I want you over.”

“If you’re sure. . .” Jane reached into her bag and pulled out a package covered in Spider-Man wrapping paper. She laid it down in front of me on my desk.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” she said.

I grabbed the lunch-box-sized package, unwrapped it, and to my surprise it actually
was
a lunch box. The sides of it were adorned with familiar faces: Egon, Ray, Winston, Peter, and Slimer.

“Vintage Ghostbusters,” I said. “Keen. But why?”

“I thought I could start making us lunch,” she said. “Bringing it instead of buying it right now.”

Something about the look on her face made me wary. “Okay,” I said. “Sure, but what brought this on?”

“I just thought that with all the budget cuts at the Department, it might be a good idea.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I can just sell off some of my psychometric finds piling up at home. I’ve been meaning to make the time for it somehow.”

“No, really, that’s okay. Just let me do lunch for now.”

“Why are you being so insistent?” I asked. I grabbed both of her hands and made her look at me. “What’s this really about, Jane?”

“It’s just that maybe it might be better if you didn’t read anything with your psychometry right now. Especially if it’s going to cause another emotional flare-up.”

“I have to use it,” I said. “It’s my
job
. Just give me some time with this. I’m working through it.”

Jane looked crestfallen. “That’s the thing, Simon. I don’t mean to rush you, but I don’t
know
how much time I have with this mark on me, do I? I’m sorry if that comes off as pushy.”

“I know.” I hugged her close to me. “You need to give us time to figure that out, too,” I said.

Jane nodded against my chest, staying pressed up against me.

A few moments later, a cough at the edge of my cube space had us pulling apart.

Aidan stood there, looking a little paler and more gaunt than usual with a pile of folders in his hands. It was odd seeing him in our offices, especially since I had just been woken up from sunlight pouring into my bedroom not more than an hour ago.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be in your coffin or something?”

“I wanted to make sure Connor and Argyle got back to the office safely from the bar,” he said. “By the time I took care of that, the sun was coming up so I ended up trapped here for the day. Thought I’d get some vampire liaison paperwork done on behalf of Brandon while I’m here. Luckily, your secret offices have no windows.”

“So, it’s totally a myth you need to sleep during the day,” Jane said.

Aidan nodded. “I think it’s more of an attitude thing for most of the vampires,” he said. “The brain needs to turn off every so often, you know? I just think a lot of my people take comfort in a bit of mental downtime.”

“You look a little run-down, too,” Jane said. “No offense. Hangover? Can you even get one?”

“Not really,” he said. “Although I did drink enough to start feeling it before my body kicked in and metabolized it right out of me. I think I’m more run-down because of all the protective runes you guys have carved into the walls around here. I feel. . . practically human.”

He said the word “human” with such distaste that I felt my blood rising at it.

“Poor you,” I said. “How you must suffer feeling for a second like the rest of us mortals.” Irrational anger flared up in me, the tattooist’s visions still lingering in me. I even felt a twinge of jealousy that Aidan was standing too close to Jane right now, and although it tore me apart, I told myself it was all unreal, merely a figment of the residual vision.

“Don’t get
too
agitated,” Aidan said with a wicked grin. “I’m famished on top of it and the more you get worked up, the more I can sense your blood working its way through your body.”

I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not but it helped to focus me on reality, and I calmed myself.

“You don’t look too bad, Simon,” Aidan continued. “I thought for sure you’d be in worse shape after all that drinking.”

“He is,” Jane said.

“I’ll have you know that I was actually
working
for part of that night,” I said.

“Yeah, he was,” Aidan said. “What was the name of that hot blonde with the bob haircut again? Elaine?”

“Elyse,” I corrected, cringing at Aidan’s mention of her. The last thing a guy wants in front of his girlfriend is any story involving a bar that intersects with one involving another woman.

Jane looked at me sideways.

“What?” I asked. “It was for a case. They were Professor Redfield’s students. I had to talk to them.”

“Oh, there was more than one?” she asked with doubt in her voice.

“Not more women,” I said. “Mostly guys.”

“But apparently she was the only one Aidan found interesting enough to mention.”

“It’s not like that,” I said. “She was clearly the leader of the pack among the film students. I had to soften them up, so I bought everyone a round.”

Jane gathered up her pile of research. Aidan walked past her and over to Connor’s side of the desks, sitting down.

“So let me get this straight,” Jane said, a little of her lethargy shaking off and giving way to anger. “While I was sitting at home worrying over this mark and whatever the hell it’s doing to me, you were out drinking and chatting up this blonde?”

“Technically that’s true, but—”

Jane stepped out of my office area. “I don’t have time to be sitting around here, then,” she said. “If you can’t be bothered to help me get through this, I’m going back to Enchancellor Daniels. . . or maybe even Director Wesker.”

Jane stormed off before I could even process all of it. I looked over to Aidan, who was still sitting at Connor’s desk. “What the hell just happened?” I asked.

“Looks like you and your girlfriend just had a fight.”

“No thanks to you,” I said, anger building up in me. “Did you really think it was smart to bring Elyse up in front of her? You had to go there, didn’t you?”

“Hey, I didn’t know she’d go off like that,” he said. “I just like to make humans sweat a little. It gives the smell in the air such a pleasant hint of blood and fear, but I didn’t think it would get
that
much of a rise out of her. You must be doing something wrong at home.”

“Okay, genius, then why don’t you enlighten me? I mean, eternal youth has got to count for something after all, right?”

Aidan shrugged. “Don’t ask me for love advice,” he said. “I was the one dating the great vampire betrayer, remember?”

I was ready to jump on that given the trouble he had just stirred up for me, but the sad look on his face killed the words in my mouth.

Aidan set down the pile of papers and began rummaging through his brother’s desk.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m good.”

“What I mean is, what are you doing?” I asked. “Not cool to be rifling through Connor’s stuff. I know you are brothers and all, but I believe even the undead consider privacy something of import, yes?”

Aidan stopped and laid his hands on the desk. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but Connor said I could use his desk while he’s in a This Week in Haunts meeting.”

I checked my watch. “Running long, I see. Or maybe it’s taking longer with fewer agents out there in the field.”

“I guess,” Aidan said. “He looked a bit frantic and pissed off when he was heading in, but that kind of seems to be his thing, you know?”

I laughed at that. “That, I do know,” I said. “That I do.” I grabbed a pen off my desk and tossed it to him. He caught it in perfect position for writing like it was nothing. “Use his desk, then. Just try to make human sounds and all that while you’re working. When you’re all silent and moving about, it creeps me out.”

“I’ll try,” he said, “but sometimes I forget.” He paused. “Sorry about earlier. With getting Jane all riled up on you.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “By the way, if HR comes through and asks why we have a teenage boy filling in at Connor’s desk, good luck explaining it to them.”

Aidan leaned forward and popped his fangs. “Think this will be explanation enough?”

“Doubtful,” I said. “If anything, it’ll just lead to more paperwork for you.”

Aidan retracted his fangs, looking a bit crestfallen. “More?”

I nodded. “For as much hitting squishy things with bats that I get to do, I end up stuck at this desk, writing out the details, an awful lot.”

“Exciting,” Aidan said and resumed looking through his pile of papers. He flew through them with lightning speed.

“That’s one thing I envy about you vampires,” I said.

“Just one thing?” Aidan asked, with a surprised laugh.

“Just one,” I said. “Sorry. Not really keen on the rest of your deal.”

“Fine,” he said. “What is it?”

“Your kind strike me as minimalists,” I said.

Aidan cocked his head. “How so?”

“You dispense with paperwork for the most part,” I said. “I mean, look at the Gibson-Case Center. It’s a city unto itself and yet there wasn’t much of a paper trail when your people built it. Even your history. . . You’ve got some of it written down in that Vampinomicon or whatever it’s called, but let’s face it: if that thing burned up tomorrow, you’d be able to re-create it from an oral tradition because some of you who actually lived that history are still alive. I envy your lack of bureaucracy.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Aidan said, “but you’re forgetting something.”

“I am?” I asked. “What’s that?”

He patted the pile of papers before him. “Time bends for us differently . . .”