Napier's Bones (16 page)

Dom nodded, and
explained the strange, alien numbers he’d seen. Billy shook his head in
response. “Very strange. And nothing I’ve ever heard of before. But no, it was
nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

His teeth
clenched together. After a few seconds, Billy finally said, “I suppose I’m just
a little nervous about returning to anywhere close to my homeland. Will I find
something that helps me remember who I am? Will I even live to have that
chance?”

“We’ll keep an
eye out for those numbers,” said Dom.

Billy shrugged
Dom’s shoulders. “I know. I also worry that he knows more than he’s telling
about Jenna’s mother. Maybe he’s even lying about it, and it’s a perfect
stranger who’s hosting Napier, although don’t ask me why I might think that.
Although he’d have to be pretty damn good to get those numbers to slip by all
three of us.” He paused, making a face into the mirror.

Dom pulled a
t-shirt over his head, then started combing his hair. “So maybe he’s just so
used to lying that it comes naturally, no matter what happens. If that’s the
case, then we have to go real careful here.”

“We have to be
careful no matter what, Dom,” replied his adjunct. “But the other side of what
I’m thinking is, why would he lie? He’s a priest. Shouldn’t it be in him to
tell the truth?”

“He’s an
ex-priest, Billy. Which this day and age, probably means he was diddling young
altar boys or something similar.” He buckled his belt, then sat on the toilet
to pull on his socks and shoes. “Fucker scares me.”

“Napier and
Archimedes and Jenna’s mother scare me even more.”

Dom picked up
the package from the countertop and looked at it for a second, then pocketed it
in his jacket. “Point taken.”

There was a
knock on the door, and then in walked Father Thomas. “Ready to go catch a
plane?”

The ride was
quiet, a big dark blue Crown Victoria that sealed itself from the outside world
very nicely. Jenna and Dom sat in the back seat, Father Thomas and a driver up
front. Jenna reached over and held Dom’s hand on the way out, and the two of
them turned and watched the city disappear behind them. The rooms they had used
had been in the basement of a church, one of the nondescript Catholic churches
of the sixties that inhabited the suburbs of so many North American cities. As
soon as the car had turned its first corner, taking the church from his view,
Dom had forgotten exactly what it had looked like. Which, he was willing to
concede, might have been the point in his case. So instead he concentrated on
watching houses and apartments and strip malls go by, followed by large
quantities of big box retailers as they threaded their way along busy roads
leading to the airport. The numbers of commerce were thick in the air here,
enough that sometimes Dom had to fight the urge to jump out of the car and go
track down some easy money.

“It occurs to me
that you might have some questions remaining while we drive out to the
airport,” said Father Thomas, turning around and hanging his left arm over the
back of the seat. He had rolled his window—on a warm night thankfully—but even
so the cigarette smoke was ever present.

“How did Billy’s
host and Dom know to look in the desert?” asked Jenna. “How did they know where
they were supposed to be going?”

“It called for
them,” was the reply. “The artefact that held Napier and Archimedes, or perhaps
even their shadows, tucked inside but still able to affect things. Over time,
numbers redesigned themselves or were redesigned and went out, placing hints in
various locations that are known to be frequented by numerates: libraries,
museums, on the web. Probably even movie theatres and ballparks. I’m sure both
Dom and Billy could tell you about the subtle trail of clues they were able to
follow, but likely a lot of them looked like they’d been in place for a long
time. Decades, at least, maybe even more.”

Dom nodded. “The
trail I found made me think the artefact had gone to Utah with the Mormons when
Brigham Young had taken them out there, back in the mid-1800s.” He leaned his
head back and closed his eyes. “The provenance sure felt right.”

“My host—
our
host
—” clarified Billy, “had found hints in documents about John Wesley
Powell’s journey through the Grand Canyon. There were three men who left his
party, somehow scaled the walls of the canyon and then went missing, perhaps
killed by Shivwit Indians.” He turned Dom’s head and looked at Jenna. “Or else
by Mormons who were feeling a bit touchy about what they call Gentiles
encroaching on their nation. The papers we found showed that the artefact had
been carried by them when they left the canyon.”

“These were
original
documents?” asked Jenna. “Not, like, photocopies or anything?”

Dom nodded, and
Billy said, “Yes. We never thought that we were being led down the garden path.
For our own research, it looked as if Powell’s team had brought the artefact
with them, but that the only numerate was one of the three who left.” He
stroked his chin. “Thinking about it now, it never occurred to us to question
why the numerate might have disappeared like that.”

“Why did the
artefact have to fake a trail at all?” asked Jenna. “Why not just make a lot of
noise and get itself found right away?”

“Because then
any joker with a tiny whiff of numeracy would have been able to find it,”
replied Dom. “But anyone able to track down the clues it left lying around
would be a skilled enough numerate to make the effort worthwhile. If your
shadow becomes the adjunct of someone who knows what she’s doing, you’re much
better off than if you slide into the body and mind of some punk who can’t keep
his formulae straight.” Dom looked out the window now, watched the farmland and
light industrial parks go by. He’d forgotten how far the airport was from the
city here. “Jesus,” he said. “That’s quite the trick, numbers coming up from
shadows buried for ages in an artefact. I knew they were strong, but . . .” He
left the rest hanging, fingering the package inside his coat pocket. Suddenly,
Scotland looked better than ever, provided this little piece of mysterious mojo
got them over there and in one piece.

They pulled off
the highway, drove down the long lane to the airport terminal. More farmland
occupied either side of the road, yellow canola flowers marching off into the
distance, and some distance to the south a farmer was out on an ATV, driving
along the fence line, two big golden retrievers running along behind. Cars,
trucks and vans were all lined up alongside the sidewalk on the departures
level, so their driver double parked and popped the trunk. Father Thomas
stubbed out his latest smoke and jumped out with the two of them, leaned back
in and told the driver, “Circle. I’ll be about thirty minutes.” Then they
pulled out their bags and the three of them walked into the terminal.

“No smoking
allowed in here,” said Father Thomas, pulling Jenna’s big wheeled suitcase
along by its handle, letting her deal with her own carry-on baggage. “It’s
surprising how easy it is to not smoke. I figure by now I’ve probably gone
through fifty thousand cigarettes.” He looked at Dom. “You’d think nicotine
addiction would have taken hold something fierce by now, wouldn’t you?
Especially when the smoker has already proven to be an addictive personality.”

“You’re staying
away from children now, I hope,” said Dom.

Father Thomas
laughed, short and sharp to Dom’s ears. “Right ballpark, wrong batter. No, Dom,
my crime was to help cover it up when one of my brethren diddled several
children. He was my best friend, and I thought I could help him deal with it
outside the law.” He put one hand behind his head and looked down at the floor.
“Instead, he got to four more children before adding another sin to his list,
nice and quiet with a running car and a garage.”

“Fuck,”
whispered Dom. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, me
too. I ended up being the fall guy in all this, drummed out of the church and
addicted to a lot worse than just a few packs of smokes a day. But the
numerates who also have the Calling, they’ve been good to me. I get a good room
in the basement of the church where I can smoke myself to death without fear of
sin by suicide, and I even get a part-time nurse,” here he gestured back to
their driver, following fifteen paces behind, “to give me a regular dose of
methadone, to keep the pain from the cancer from bringing me down too fast.”

“This would be
where we’re supposed to line up,” said Jenna, a deep look of agony in her eyes.

Father Thomas
pulled her suitcase into place beside her. “You’re not rid of me so easy,” he
said. “Until you’re up in the air, I’m kicking around, making sure nothing
happens to you.”

“Like not
getting on the plane?” asked Dom.

He shrugged,
then nodded. “Among other things. This is an important job you’re doing. I’ve
screwed up enough in my life. God—and that’s something I’ve had questions about
for a few good years, now—has blessed me with the opportunity to make good. You
came to the city where I was sent, to the artefact that I was sent to watch,
and at this moment I choose to believe that maybe Fate does exist, the hand of
God rather than the serendipity of numbers.”

The line went
down quite quickly, and soon Jenna and Dom had their baggage checked in and
were standing in the security line. Here, Father Thomas shook both their hands
and stepped back. “I wish the two of you God’s blessings,” he said, “but I
won’t perform the sign of the cross, in case that gets unwanted attention. What
you’ll find over there is as much an unknown to me as it is to you. I hope that
you are successful, and that your actions make life easier for the both of you.
For the three of you.” He stepped back, and when Dom last looked back, having
walked through the metal detector and collected his shoulder bag, Father Thomas
was still standing there, head down, fingers twitching as if he did indeed
crave a cigarette.

Dom turned and
he and Jenna headed for their gate, hoping without any firm belief that all
their troubles were now behind them. The flight departed on time, the takeoff a
little more exciting than Dom would have expected because Jenna had never flown
before and squeezed his hand so tightly that he lost all feeling in his
fingers. Soon enough they were high above the prairie, watching the towns light
up in answer to the night sky, and the stars overhead responding with their own
lights.

After watching
out the window for awhile, the two of them leaned their seats back. Jenna
turned around, lifted the arm rest between them, and snuggled up against Dom.
He put his arm around her shoulder and nuzzled the top of her head, enjoying
the sensation of having her so close. She smelled soft and a little fruity, he
imagined from the shampoo she’d used; he closed his eyes and inhaled more
deeply.

They sat like
that for almost half an hour, eyes closed, and Dom was sure by the feel of her
steady breathing that Jenna was asleep. But then she spoke. “Dom?”

He opened his
eyes, looked down. She hadn’t moved. “Mm?”

“I’ve been
thinking a lot about this the past day or two, and I figured I’d better tell
you now.”

He grinned.
“Yeah?” A day or two ago he would’ve been unable to follow through with where
he thought this conversation was going, unwilling to deal with having Billy in
his head and listening in. But having held Jenna in his arms for this past
little while, he suddenly found that any concern had evaporated. She extricated
herself, sat up and looked him in the eye. “I really like you,” she said. “Even
though what you do and what you are seem to equate with being a thief, you seem
to be a good guy. And you’ve been there for me.But . . .”

Dom
felt his grin fall from his mouth. He didn’t want to hear the rest of this, he
was pretty sure.

“I’m pretty
freaked out by Billy being inside you,” she continued, after a brief pause,
looking like she was collecting her thoughts. “I thought maybe I could get over
it, but right now there are too many other things happening for me to even
consider it.”

Realization
struck Dom like an ice cold hammer and he could feel his face turn into a mask
of distant acceptance, whether his own or Billy’s, he wasn’t sure. “I see.”
Where the hell could he slink away and hide when he was stuck here on this
goddamn flight with her?

She made a face.
“I’m sorry. ‘Just friends’ is a lousy line to hear. But right now, friends is
all I can do, all right? Even more now with the news about my mother.”

Dom scared up a
smile, but his heart was pounding. And yet all his extremities were numb, as
was his brain. “All right. Better than just sensei and grasshopper after
everything we’ve been through, I guess.” She looked confused. “Teacher and
student,” he clarified.

Jenna nodded,
then leaned into him again. “I’m glad that’s taken care of,” she said,
snuggling in close. “Now I can sleep.”

Dom stroked her
hair, head leaned back, looking at the ceiling. On the screen on the seat rest
in front of him a particularly bad movie played out in silence, punctuated by
the occasional chuckles of those who were still awake and willing to be amused
by such things. When her breathing turned to the steady rhythm of sleep, Billy
said, “Not exactly what you were hoping for.”

Dom grunted.
He’d been feeling sleep coming on as well, but obviously his physical state did
not necessarily equate with the adjunct’s. “Does that mean you weren’t hoping?”

His shoulders
shrugged, a movement which caused Jenna to stir and mumble. They waited, but
she remained asleep. “I guess the best answer is that you have to remember that
I’m a shadow, not the real thing. Yes, I—we—exist, partaking of the things that
your body does, but that’s only because we are a part of you. Not a whole. An
adjunct’s single goal is to find the artefact that will enable it, me, us, to
return to a physical state. Back to life, where we can enjoy the discomfort of
an erection that must go unattended.” Dom definitely heard a note of dry humour
there.