God's Eye (24 page)

Her voice was lower than a whisper. “Was it like the old steam trick? So you see the words when you get out of the shower?”

A quick nod, and her own lowered voice responded. “Just like that.”

“Do you know who’s doing it?”

“Only in a roundabout way.” Katharine shook her head, trying to get her thoughts to fall into place, trying to double-check everything she said before she said it. “Look, if I go to the police, they’ll write me off as crazy. My house has been locked from the inside the last two times this has happened, and I don’t have any proof. The notes are long gone.”

Her frown had grown worse while Katharine spoke. Margot’s hand had migrated to the middle of her chest as though she had to hold her heart in. “You got the locks changed, right?”

“Wouldn’t help.”

“But if they had the key–”

Katharine was already shaking her head. “There are three locks on the front door, one of which is a deadbolt that throws from the inside only.” She shrugged. “It’s L.A.”

Taking advantage of Margot’s confused silence, Katharine stood and finally took control of the conversation. “I have to go. Will you tell me when you get that one translated?”

She was shaking her head at her own rudeness–acting as if Margot were here just to translate for her–when the woman nodded that she would.

Feeling truly grateful for the first time she could remember, Katharine simply said “thank you” and walked away from the library not having told Margot anything other than the two pitiful words.

•  •  •

Katharine had skipped work entirely that day, not quite able to bring herself to go in after she left Margot at the library. She just couldn’t convince herself it was worth it to go home and climb back into the hot long sleeves and fake smile that covered her cuts and bruises.

The writing on the mirror had disappeared by the time she got back to her condo after sitting in the coffee shop, nursing an iced coffee and reading through a fashion magazine she had picked up. Her afternoon was a couch marathon of TV show after TV show, a good remedy for keeping her mind off anything important. Katharine was amazed by what she saw. Did people really live like this? Surely the soaps were a blatant exaggeration, but the people on the talk shows seemed to believe what they were saying.

She fed herself the food that had magically appeared in her freezer the previous Thursday, thankful that none of the people who came through her place had encountered anything while they were here. But that thought, too, quickly passed out of her brain as Katharine purposefully fed it more empty television. By the time she rolled off the couch and into bed, she had wrapped herself in a cocoon that was comfortingly empty of real thought. Insulated from reality, Katharine quickly fell deeply asleep.

And instantly came sharply awake, sitting up to inhale a great gulp of air as if she had nearly suffocated in her sleep.

Her head spun as the oxygen rushed through her system, restoring her blood flow and slowly centering her thoughts. It was there. In the room.

With her.

Tired of being afraid, and more afraid of not knowing what it was, Katharine turned to see the beast. Again it sat in the corner, shadows pulled tight around it to conceal the truth. Deep eyes blinked slowly, as though the creature studied her the same way she studied it. Silvery skin moved with a grace unknown in this world.

But this time, it only watched her.

Long, clawed fingers beckoned her to come closer, but Katharine didn’t move. She didn’t know whether that was because she had decided not to or because she was unable to move at all. For a long time, they stayed that way, merely staring at each other. This time she didn’t feel afraid–she wasn’t certain she could move, but it didn’t seem to be due to the paralyzing fear she had felt the last time she had seen the beast. Maybe, finally, she had simply run out of fear.

Her brain didn’t work, her body didn’t work, yet she was awake, held in some kind of trance, likely caused by the beast itself. She wanted to laugh at it. It wanted her to come, beckoned her closer, but she was unable to do what it wanted because of it.

They stared at each other for an eternity and eventually Katharine blinked, noting the sudden bright light coming in around her blinds. Her head rested against her pillow and the ceiling filled most of her field of vision. Quickly enough to make a small cracking noise in her spine, Katharine whipped her head around to see her empty bedroom. The corner was as vacant as the rest of it. No soot, no shadow, nothing but the lingering memory of what must have been another bad dream early in the night.

As she pushed back the covers, Katharine realized that her body felt well rested for the first time in a long time, adding credence to her theory that, for once, the night visitor had truly only been a dream.

Walking barefoot to the bathroom, Katharine stretched the way she used to, before she had become afraid of the mirror and the soot. Though she had braced herself for something–told herself she was ready for anything–the bathroom mirror was blessedly blank. She turned, checking one last thing. Her clock said she was on time.

Her bruises had faded to the point that no one would see them unless they were looking for them. She had to shake her head. It all seemed … normal.

And she hadn’t had “normal” in what seemed a very long time.

But Katharine embraced the almost lost memory of life as she used to know it. She ate a yogurt with some granola mixed in, her body thanking her for the familiar food, or maybe just thanking her for not shoving fast food down her throat or skipping breakfast entirely. Pulling a slip from her closet, she chose a suit based on what she wanted to wear, not what would cover her marks or make her look less tired. She hoped a T-shirt, instead of her usual blouse, made her look like a woman who owned at least some casual clothing.

She made it in to the office without incident and was smiling behind her desk, working on a request that had shown up in her absence, when Allistair came in. Aside from a fast hello and an even faster smile, she ignored him. Her research was more important. There was a machinery company in Japan whose stock was mirroring another company’s that had taken a meteoric rise the previous year and had created a huge windfall for Light & Geryon. But aside from the money–the getting in and getting out at the right times–it didn’t appear that anyone had checked the company’s holdings. This time Light & Geryon would know. Katharine checked the employee pay records, matched them with the posted budgets, then cross-referenced that with the strength of the Japanese yen.

She was back-checking the company’s average annual salary by the payroll budget and the number of employees they claimed to have when she realized Allistair had been standing beside her for some time.

Trying to hide the fact that his presence annoyed her, Katharine looked up at him. She knew she had no right to be annoyed with him. After all, he had been doing his job–which was actually her job–yesterday while she had been mysteriously absent. Still, she felt irritated, and if it showed on her face, Allistair graciously ignored it. “Your father spoke to me yesterday.”

What?
Had she been turned in? Was Allistair in league with her father? Was he now watchdogging over her?

“And?” The word came out as hard and rude as she intended it.

“He asked if I would accompany you to see Mary Wayne. He was aware you have been ill recently”–somehow he managed to deliver the line without a trace of irony, without smirking that he had thrown the bosslady off her game by laying her over her own desk–“but he still wanted you to go. He also thought we would be safer and more likely to get her to just turn the money back in if we showed up in greater numbers.”

Now she felt chastised. She always did when she was thinking the worst of someone who was only doing what they had been told or, worse, had her best interests at heart. Still, she couldn’t muster an apology. “So the two of us are supposed to be enough to make her roll over and give us all the codes to her offshore accounts? Will she escort herself to jail, too?”

Allistair moved his head side to side, neither a yes nor a no. “Well, yesterday your father made it clear to me that recovering the money was more important than punishing her.”

“What?” That didn’t sound like her father at all. For a brief moment, a thought flashed through her head that not only were there strange creatures in her condo, but the people around her were getting possessed as well.

“He said we should offer not to prosecute her criminally if she agreed to give us the money today. He suggested we already have the paperwork drawn up before we go. I did it yesterday.” Allistair rocked back on his heels, his hands tucked behind his back as if he had nothing better in the world to do than wait for her reply.

“Did my father seem completely insane when he suggested we not prosecute her?” She tried to keep her jaw from scraping the nice plush carpet. She tried not to show her disbelief, or how mad she was that her nice normal day was getting all fucked up. And she tried to be indignant at the situation for making her think in swear words.

“No, he seemed completely rational. He said he was going to sue her into the ground in civil court and that he had enough control in the business world to make certain that she had real difficulty finding another job.”

Katharine let out her breath. That, at least, sounded like her father. Though the thought was comforting, her voice was still wry. “Did he suggest a time for us to visit her?”

Looking chagrined, Allistair nodded. “If she wasn’t at work today, then ASAP.” He didn’t have to be asked. He simply tacked on, “And she’s not at work today.”

“Did he lay out our wardrobe? Write us a script?” She knew her voice sounded snotty, but she didn’t care.

And she was glad that Allistair had the sense to only shake his head no and press his lips together to hide the smirk that threatened to break free.

Katharine tried to shake the feeling of having her day interrupted. She stood and swept up her jacket from where she’d hung it on the back of her desk. So much for looking casual; what she needed to look like was a real ball-buster.

Allistair trailed her down the corridor, not saying anything when she told Lisa they’d be out for a while. His feet matched the rhythm of her steps as they walked the long hallway. He stood sentinel-like in the elevator, his hand brushing hers accidentally a few times at first, but then he pulled away and stood still. When they reached her car, he slid into the passenger seat and waited quietly while she put in the address for Mary’s beyond-her-means home in Brentwood.

He said nothing, made no knowing facial expressions all the way there.
Smart man,
Katharine thought to herself. But when she opened her door and began to climb out, he put his hand on her arm. She was about to rescind her opinion when he asked, "How are we playing this?

Do you speak while I just nod and try to look menacing? Are we doing good cop, bad cop?"

Katharine sighed. He was right, they needed a plan before they went in. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘bad cop, worse cop.’ She took our money. I don’t want to be nice. Maybe I talk and whenever you feel you can, you jump in with something even worse than what I’m suggesting.”

He nodded. “Works for me. Can I take just a minute to put on my menacing face?”

She bit her lip, but ultimately couldn’t help herself. She had to look away as she busted out laughing. As she giggled, her eyes darted back and forth across the street. She didn’t think any of the windows at Mary Wayne’s big house would let her see this far down the street. With a physical shake and a quick breath in, Katharine got herself under control, but as she turned to nod at Allistair she saw he was fighting to keep his own mouth from quirking.

Slamming the car doors shut, they headed down the sidewalk under the cover of old-growth trees that had risen up higher than the houses and in most places touched over the center of the street. The whole street was its own little enclave. It was as though they were no longer in Los Angeles. This was half the reason this neighborhood was so expensive.

Katharine found herself blinking as they got closer. The sight of the house emerging from the shadows of the trees was beautiful. Old, deep-red brick served as both walkway and small retaining wall. It led through trimmed bushes and lush grass, right up to the clear, and surely bulletproof, safety door. Behind that, displayed for all the world, was a hand-pieced stained-glass panel with just enough wood trim to hold a knob and be called a “door.” Katharine stared at it, admiring the artistry until Allistair must have gotten tired of waiting and raised his hand to knock.

The sound was a dull, hollow thud from the plexiglass safety shield. Looking frustrated, he pushed the doorbell. The sound of actual chimes being hit rang out from behind the brick façade.

Katharine waited. Nothing happened.

She looked at Allistair. He looked back at her.

There had been no contingency plan in case Mary wasn’t home. Katharine hadn’t really thought about it. To her, work and home were really the only two places to be. Aside from the occasional evening out, they were where she always was.