The Eternal Ones (28 page)

“So what kind of name is Haven, anyway?” Marta rasped.

“Hillbilly,” said Haven, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Marta’s laugh sounded life-threatening. “I’m fine. I just don’t sleep much anymore. Sorry about all the security. Did you see them?”

“Who?”

“The gray men. They’ve been watching the house since early this morning. Not a good sign.”

“I didn’t see anyone.” Haven wondered if Marta was already high.

“You need to look harder,” Marta insisted, sounding quite lucid. “They blend in. That’s their job.”

Haven pushed the door closed. The bathroom may have looked dingy and smelled worse, but it suddenly felt cozy and safe. At least you could be certain that no one was watching.

“Is that why you’ve been living in your bathroom?” Haven asked. “Because you think people are spying on you?”

“No,” Marta said with a defeated shrug. “I don’t really give a damn if they get me. I’ve been living in this room since Jeremy died. It hurts too much to look at all of his stuff out there.”

“I’m sorry,” Haven said. “I know they just found his body. It must have been a horrible shock for you.”

“It was only a body,” Marta replied. “And it wasn’t a shock. I knew he was dead the night he disappeared.”

“How did you know?” Haven probed carefully.

“Jeremy and I hadn’t spent a day apart since we met. He would never have left me. We didn’t work without each other. You’ll know what it’s like when
you
meet the right person.”

The last sentence hit Haven like a punch. “How long were you two together?” she followed up quickly. She didn’t want Marta to see she’d been rattled.

“Since we were thirteen years old.”

“
Thirteen
? Wow. So young.”

“It’s not really that young if you’ve known each other for as long as we have. Then when we were seventeen we moved to New York together to join the Society.”

“The Ouroboros Society?”

“That’s the one.” Marta’s spine stiffened. “You know about it?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Haven told her. “When did you and Jeremy become members?”

“A few years ago. We got the call right after the Omaha paper interviewed us for a story they did on child prodigies. The OS paid for us to come to New York, helped us divorce our parents, and loaned us the money for this apartment.”

“That must have been a pretty big loan.”

Marta pulled her legs even closer to her chest. “Yeah. It took us forever to pay it back. Good thing Jeremy’s skills were in such high demand. I have expensive habits to maintain, remember?” She showed Haven one of her track mark-covered arms, and then quickly pulled it inside her filthy undershirt. “So who are you, anyway? What were you doing at the gallery last night?”

“Like I said, my name is Haven Moore. And I was pretty sure I was Iain Morrow’s girlfriend until I saw you two together last night.”

“Oh my God!” Marta managed to exclaim before she burst into maniacal laughter. “I can’t imagine what you must have thought.”

Haven couldn’t force herself to laugh along. “Actually, I think you can.”

“No, no, no,” Marta’s wheezing was beginning to make Haven nervous. She tried to remember the CPR training she’d gotten in gym class freshman year. “There’s nothing going on between us. Iain just likes to put on a show. He’s
way
too goody-goody for my taste.”

“We are talking about Iain
Morrow
, aren’t we?” Haven asked with a raised eyebrow. “The guy who makes the gossip columns three times a week?”

“Iain’s not as wild as he pretends to be. Jeremy used to say that the stick up his butt had a stick up
its
butt. Wouldn’t touch drugs. Never really dated anyone. Spent all his time sucking up to Padma.”

The statement chilled Haven before she understood what it meant. “Wait. Padma Singh? The president of the OS?”

“Didn’t Iain tell you he’s one of the favorites over there? Padma doesn’t deal with the drones. She only has time for the special ones. Or the rich ones like Iain. You know, if he really is your boyfriend, you guys should probably spend some time getting to know each other a little better.”

Haven couldn’t have agreed more. “Do you know the guy that Padma was with at the gallery last night? Adam Rosier?”

Marta shook her head. “Don’t think so, and I’m usually pretty good at remembering names. But there are a lot of people at the top I don’t know. Anyway, I thought Padma came alone. I doubt she’d bring a date if she knew she was going to see Iain. She’s always hitting on him. Jeremy used to give Iain shit about it all the time. Actually, he gave Iain shit about almost everything. He was always jealous that we were friends.”

“So they didn’t get along?”

“They
hated
each other.”

“Did Iain hate Jeremy enough to kill him?” Haven asked, relieved to get the big question out of the way.

Marta scowled. “Those rumors are bullshit. Iain couldn’t kill anyone. Look, I’ll be totally honest with you. Jeremy had a pretty serious drug problem. He’d try
anything
you put in front of him. The OS wasn’t too happy with him, so they probably had somebody put the wrong thing in front of him. Hopefully, I’ll be with Jeremy again soon. The way things are going, I doubt I have more than a few months left in me.”

“Wait,” Haven said. “Back up a second. You think the
Ouroboros Society
had something to do with Jeremy’s death?”

“People connected to the OS disappear all the time.”

Haven thought of all the innocent children she’d seen waiting in the Society’s lobby. “Can you prove it?” she asked Marta. “Do you know where Jeremy could have gotten the drugs that killed him?”

Marta shook her head. “They could have come from anywhere. Half the people in the Society deal drugs.”

“The OS allows drug dealing, too!”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” Marta shifted her weight nervously. “You remember the Greek myth with Hades and Persephone? The one where the lord of the underworld kidnaps a girl and drags her down to hell?” Haven nodded. “While she’s down there, he puts this amazing feast in front of her. Every delicious thing you could possibly imagine. She knows she shouldn’t touch anything, but the girl’s starving, and after a while she can’t resist. So when nobody’s looking, she takes a few measly pomegranate seeds and pops them in her mouth. And that one little weakness dooms her. She’s stuck in Hades.”

Marta paused, as if exhausted from talking. She swept her bangs away with the back of her hand, revealing eyelids as purple as plums.

“That’s what the Ouroboros Society does. They put everything in front of you, but if you show an ounce of weakness, you’re hooked for good. You start asking for things you can’t afford. And when the bill comes, you find out that they own you.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Marta turned her gaze to the light slipping under the bathroom curtain. “Why am I telling you all of this? I’m really not supposed to talk about these things. Society secrets, you know. I’m in enough trouble already.”

“I’m just trying to find out what my boyfriend’s been up to,” Haven reminded Marta, choosing her words carefully, as if defusing a bomb. “Besides, who’s going to listen to any gossip
I’ve
got? You and Iain are the only people I’ve met in New York,” Haven said, though that wasn’t strictly true.

“All right. I guess I don’t have much to lose at this point. I’ll tell you how the Society works. But if anyone asks—including Iain—you didn’t hear it from me.” Marta began arranging the hypodermic needles on the side of the sink. “The OS accepts three kinds of members. People who’ve brought talents from previous lives. They’re kind of like gods. Then there are the people who just remember things. They’re the rank and file. And then there are the gray men.”

“Gray men?”

Marta looked up. “People call them that because they’re so bland. They’re the drones—the lowliest members of the OS—the wannabes. They weren’t born with any memories or talents. They’re just willing to do the Society’s bidding. Keep everyone else in line.”

“Why do they need to keep people in line?”

“Because of the system. Padma likes to say that the OS is the greatest networking organization in the world. The members are supposed to help each other. They’ll get you into the right schools or loan you money or get you a gorgeous girlfriend. But then you have to pay the favor back.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Haven asked. “It all sounds pretty good to me.”

“Sure. It sounds good to everyone at first. But paying favors back can be tough for members like Iain who don’t have skills to trade. At least
he’s
got money. He can buy his way up the ranks. But a lot of members have to do whatever they can to keep their accounts in good standing. Some sell drugs. Some sell other things, if you know what I mean. And if you can’t—or won’t—take care of your debts, well, that’s when the gray men show up.”

The corner of a magazine was poking out from under the mildew-covered bathmat. Using the toe of her shoe, Haven slid the bath mat to one side. Beneath it was a music magazine with Jeremy Johns on the cover. “Is that what happened to Jeremy?” she asked. “Did the gray men take him?”

“No, Jeremy’s debts were paid a long time ago. All he had to do was perform at some big-shot member’s fortieth birthday party, and he’d make a fortune in points. Jeremy just wanted out. He thought the whole system was sick. But my account is low. That’s why the gray men are outside right now. I needed to sell some paintings last night, but there weren’t any takers. And I’m not going to sleep with some nasty old guy for a few lousy points.”

“So why don’t you just leave?”

“You don’t
quit
the OS.” Marta started to fidget. “Hey, Haven. Do you mind if we talk about something else now?”

“Can we talk about your visions?” Haven asked, hoping they could return to the subject of the Society once Marta felt comfortable again.

“Sure. I guess. What do you want to know?”

“How did they start? What sort of things do you see?”

“I’ve had them for years,” Marta said. “But they started to get really disturbing just after I moved to New York. I pass out for a few minutes and see something terrible happen. The same guy is always there, but I’ve never gotten a good look at his face. Afterward, I have to paint what I saw just to get it out of my head. I never thought a gallery would show the work. It’s not exactly something most people would want to hang on their walls. But when Iain saw the paintings, he insisted. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Do you have any idea what the visions mean?” Haven asked.

Marta stole a peek at the unfinished painting that was propped up on an easel in the corner of the bathroom. All Haven could see was a chaos of colors. “I think they’re things that have already happened. Some people get to look into the future. I’m only able to see the past. Just my luck.”

“Maybe they’re trying to tell you something,” Haven suggested.

“Well, if they are, I sure as hell haven’t been able to figure it out. You want to take a look at the rest of my work? Maybe you can solve the puzzle.”

“You have more paintings here? They’re not all at the gallery?”

Marta grinned. “Come on,” she said.

The girl rose from the toilet seat and padded barefoot across the apartment, leaving a trail of footprints in the dust. She opened a door and motioned to Haven to follow her. Inside a storeroom, painted canvases were piled three feet high. A narrow path wound around multiple stacks.

Haven gasped. “How many are there?”

“All together? Around three hundred. Sometimes I do three or four a week. I can’t seem to stop.”

“And they’re all different?”

“Yep.”

Haven pulled a canvas from the top of one of the stacks. It showed a group of ruffians gathered around a large hole in the ground. Inside the pit, a single snarling dog faced a fearsome army of rats. It was clear that real beasts in the painting weren’t the animals about to fight for their lives but the men eager to witness the bloodshed. At the far edge of the crowd a faceless man was enjoying the spectacle.

“You said Iain talked you into displaying your work?” Haven asked, wondering why anyone would want to exhibit Marta’s terrifying tributes to the dark side of humanity.

“Yeah, he dropped by to see me a few weeks before Jeremy died to give me shit about using drugs. Then he saw a painting I was working on, and I swear, I thought he was going to pass out. After that he wouldn’t stop pestering me to show at his gallery. Jeremy was totally against the idea. He said the paintings were dangerous. If he were still alive, there would never have been a show at all.”

“Where’s the painting that Iain liked?”

“Here,” said Marta. “Funny thing is, Iain didn’t even want it at the gallery.” She disappeared behind one of the stacks and returned moments later holding a poster-size painting in front of her. In the center of the work was a voluptuous, dark-haired girl. A fox stole clung to her shoulders, the poor creature’s mouth clamped around its own lifeless tail. The girl’s hands pressed against the chest of a young man with auburn hair, and her eyes pleaded silently. Beyond them, halfway down a hall that led to the room, a petite blonde watched the scene, her face contorted in horror. Constance. Behind her, at the end of the hall, stood the now familiar dark figure.

Just as Haven’s knees began to buckle, she was brought to her senses by the sound of the door buzzer.

“How about that. Two visitors in one day. I haven’t been this popular in months,” Marta deadpanned. “Have a look around. I’ll be right back.”

“Hello?” Haven heard her shout into the intercom.

“It’s me,” came the answer. It was Iain.

Haven rushed to Marta’s side. “Don’t let him in!” she whispered.

“I can’t talk now,” Marta told Iain, an unmistakable note of anxiety in her voice. “I’m busy. Come back later.”