The Thief (26 page)

“
You forgot certifiable,”
Destin says.

“
There were three people
there at the time, doing inventory or something, and one of them
died, a guy named Omen Taft. One of the other two was your
grandmother, Jul. I mean, it has to be - how many Beatrix Grahams
could there be in Havenwood?”

Confusion crosses her face. “What does that
mean?”

“
No idea. That’s why we’re
checking the place out. That, and look for signs of the imp. Wow, I
cannot tell you how nice it is to have an actual name for the
stupid thing.”

“
Who was the other?” Camille
asks.

“
Huh?”

“
The third? At the
fire?”

“
Oh,” I say. “Some woman
named Wilde. Zelda or Xena or something else crazy. I couldn’t find
anything else on her, or the guy Taft. Not even a death certificate
for him. It’s like that police report is the only proof either of
them existed.”

I look up, seeing tumbled-down brick and
rotten wood planks rising out of the undergrowth.

“
Behold,” I say. “We’re
here.”

Camille raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Jul
is more tactful.

“
It looks...spooky?” she
offers.

“
It does at night,” I say
defensively.

But it’s the middle of the day - so the old
abandoned lumbermill almost looks picturesque. The woods have grown
back in around it, and vines climb in and out the busted
windows.

“
It’s condemned.” I say the
word as menacingly as I can. “So that’s pretty hardcore. They keep
talking about tearing it down, but nobody’s gotten around to it.
Plus they’d have to re-clear a road to get in here.”

Jul skirts around an empty bottle. “Nobody
uh...lives here, right?”

I shrug. “Sometimes people come out here on
Halloween. That’s about it. I mean it’s wedged between three
private properties - somebody would notice.”

Camille stalks forward, pushing an
overzealous hydrangea aside.

“
Just watch out for
spiders,” I tell her.

“
Spiders?” Jul
squeaks.

“
And poison ivy. Other than
that it’s fine. Probably.”

Camille shrugs and steps through the open
door.

“
Is she afraid of anything?”
I ask, but no one is listening.

Inside the mill, the rusted remains of the
sawing machines still rest in the wide loading bay, the
garage-style door wide open to the sun. The small sections of the
roof that aren’t totally burnt away are caved in around the metal
rafters. Only the parts of the building that are metal or brick
have held up in any capacity. The brick walls still hold a black
char, and some of the metal railings show warping from the fire.
Decades of pine needles and oak leaves carpet the concrete floor.
There’s an office recessed from the main mill floor, with what used
to be a wide observation window - but it’s cobwebs and shards now.
There’s another door further back that interests me.

I move past the corroded saw blades,
glancing at the melted chains still hanging from one wall.

Destin is pointing out the poison ivy
trailing through one window to Jul, explaining how to spot it by
its glossy leaves.

Camille turns around, head raised, nostrils
flared. “Do you smell it?”

Jul looks over at her, stepping towards the
center of the mill floor, frowning in concentration. “Just pine and
rust,” she says.

Destin wanders into the office area, ducking
clear of cobwebs. The floorboards creaks.

“
What is it?” I ask
her.

Frustration crosses her
face. “
Shimetta. Tsumetai.
Water.”

“
Water doesn’t have a
smell,” I say.

“
Yes it does,” Jul backs her
up. “You know how things kind of smell different when they’re
damp?”

Camille points at Jul. “That. Yes, thank
you.”

“
What, like there’s some
leaky pipes around here or something?” I say. “There shouldn’t
even
be
pipes.
What would that mean?”

“
I don’t know,” Camille
snaps.

“
I think Mac’s just jealous
he doesn’t have a superpower,” Jul tells her.

“
I’d pick something other
than super smell, that’s all,” I grumble.

“
Yeah, I picked this,”
Camille returns.

“
Guys, cut it out,” Jul
entreats us.

“
How about,” I say, trying
to employ diplomacy, “you go track down the mystery of the old
leaky pipes, and me and Jul will go check out the
storeroom.”

Camille gives me a look that
all but says,
Try anything funny and I’ll
throw you into next week.
She wanders over
to the machinery and the open bay, looking out at the forest
beyond.

As if I’m ever not a total gentleman. Who
does she take me for? Kei?

Jul follows me to the windowed metal door -
though this glass, like all the others, is broken too. “You could
have a little more faith in her abilities,” she says. “She’s here
to help too. She notices things no one else does.”

“
Hence letting her do her
thing without me getting in the way making jokes about it,” I say,
opening the door.

This room still has most of its ceiling
intact, with the exception of one gaping hole. There’s a moldy old
mattress in one corner, and some boxes and old furniture piled up
against one wall. Empty liquor bottles line a shelf, but they’re
covered in a thick layer of dust so they’re probably leftovers from
Halloween parties. The floor here is wood, not concrete like the
rest of the place. Still no signs of the imp - but then again, I’m
not entirely sure what to look for. A nest made out of my stolen
comics?

I step inside. Glass crunches under my
feet.

“
The glass is all on this
side,” I muse. “You think something from the floor was thrown
through it? If it had popped from heat it would have been on both
sides.”

The floor creaks as Jul crosses the room
gingerly. “That is not something that would have occurred to me,”
she says, sounding impressed. There’s a pressed wood desk to one
side that catches her interest and she works at tugging one of the
drawers open.

“
Physics, my dear Watson,” I
say, grinning. “Although I don’t know how useful that tidbit is.” I
look up at the molding wallpaper. There’s some pictures and things
hung up in this room that survived the fire, it seems. A tall,
plain glass mirror, surface clouded with age. A company photo under
cracked glass shows a couple dozen people lined up in front of the
factory. The focus is too far out to pick out anyone’s face, but
it’s interesting to see what the lumbermill looked like at its
prime, without the forest looking like it’s trying to eat it
alive.

There’s a crash as the
drawer suddenly comes unstuck and Jul loses her balance. She falls
in a tangle of limbs, bits of notepads and paperclips raining down
on her. She jumps up just as fast, brushing herself off
frantically. “Oh my god are there spiders on me? Do you see any
spiders?” she asks, voice pitched way too high. “Are they in
my
hair?
”

“
Whoa, whoa, calm down,” I
tell her. “Here, lean down, I’ll check.”

“
I keep forgetting I’m way
taller than you,” she laughs nervously.

Her hair is softer than it looks. This
shouldn’t be as big a deal as my heartbeat seems to think it is. I
run my fingers lightly over the ebony strands, briefly wondering if
there’s a legitimate way I could extend the inspection, but I can’t
think of it fast enough.

“
Mac?” she
prompts.

“
You’re clear,” I say,
backing up and hoping I’m not blushing.

“
Oh good,” she sighs,
standing straight and giving the web in the rafters a wary look.
“This place just creeps me out. I don’t think I’ve ever been around
this many crawly things in my life.”

“
New York doesn’t have
bugs?”

“
Mac, this place is like a
setting for a horror movie. All that’s missing is the saw blades
coming to life. We’ve already fallen victim to the first major
horror mistake.”

“
Not having a strongly
defined villain?” I offer, kneeling to sift through the fallen
notepads.

“
Never go off
alone,
” she states ominously.

“
We’re not alone,” I point
out.

“
Or split up! You know what
I mean!”

“
I do. Sorry,” I grin. “I
didn’t realize you were that into horror movies.”

“
I’m not, I’m interested in
never being
in
one!”

My fingers close around something solid
under the flakes of paper. “Too late, Daphne, Fred’s found a clue,”
I say, standing with a box in hand.

“
I thought I was
Velma?”

The box is made of faded blue velvet,
shallow and rectangular. About the size that would hold a fancy
necklace or a tiara, I’d guess. I take off the lid, but there’s
nothing inside. The cushion is shaped to fit the form of an
old-style hand mirror.

“
I was hoping for something
a little more dramatic,” I admit.

“
Look, there’s a note,” Jul
says, plucking out a piece of paper folded between the cushion and
the rim. She unfolds it, and we read the cramped, meandering
handwriting.

Beatrix,

I have fixed it, you see. You said I could,
and I did. I gift you this creation, my debt to you repaid. The
design has been improved. Not just for conversation, this mirror
now offers protection, and possesses the singular ability of being
able to locate anyone, anywhere.

After all you have seen, you may not wish to
see me.

But if you do...

~ Soren

“
Okay,” I say, “is it just
me, or is this guy totally hitting on your grandma?”

I glance at Jul, expecting her to be
embarrassed or something, but she’s gone pale, staring at the
page.

“
I mean, if it’s creepy or
whatever, I understand - ”

A shadow looms from the doorframe, and I
look up, expecting Destin. “Dude, where have you - ”

But this is not my best friend. This is
Meredith, the so-called Ender.

The lanky tattooed woman leans lazily
against the doorframe, a bottle swinging loose in her other hand.
She blinks at us, as if not entirely sure we’re there, and upends
the last of whatever’s in the bottle. Apparently satisfied we’re
real, she gives us an unsteady, suspicious glare.

This time I really take a good look at her.
The red tattoos I’d thought were blocky look more like flames on
second inspection, covering one side of her throat and down one
arm. Bits also seem to peek from around her hairline, though her
dark, tangled hair obscures it. She has a wide, small-featured face
with grey eyes that seem over-large by comparison. About Jul’s
height, but not quite as thin. She wears a sleeveless shirt and
pants made of weathered, scorched brown leather.

Pointing a finger at us, the woman says,
“You shouldn’t be here.” She tosses the bottle into a corner where
it shatters against the wall, and advances on Jul and I. We both
take steps back, hearing the floor crack loudly. The timber beneath
us buckles and collapses. My stomach sinks as we fall; then, a hard
yank on my arm as it nearly comes out of the socket. The woman has
a firm grip on my wrist, and on Jul’s, who’s dangling next to me,
staring up in shock. The arsonist saved us?

“
That’s why you shouldn’t be
here,” she says, chuckling. “You know this rat pit is condemned,
don’t you?”

I feel my wrist start to scorch. “Ow, ow,
ow!” I yelp, almost wishing she’d just drop me, even though I can’t
see what’s in the darkness below.

“
Minor burns or rocky death,
your choice. Don’t be a pansy, reach up and help yourself,”
Meredith says, slurring. “My hands are full and I don’t have super
strength, you know.”

Wincing, I reach up with my free hand and
lever myself back onto the floor. I start to get up to help Jul,
but Meredith is already pulling her over.

“
Are you okay?” I demand, as
Jul gets to her feet, but she’s looking in confusion at the
hand-shaped burn around my wrist. Her arms are unmarked.

Meredith is intrigued, eyes roving over Jul.
“Well now,” she says, running a finger under Jul’s chin. “That is a
new development.”

I take Jul’s hand and pull her away. There’s
a fine tremor in her fingers and I grip tighter. We edge toward the
wall.

Meredith is still scrutinizing her every
feature. “You seem familiar. Is it you? Several shades too pretty
for the Wolf, if you ask me, but what do I know?” She laughs, as if
at a private joke. She reaches a hand out for Jul, grinning
widely.

I hear a shriek and a tailed shadow falls
from the rafters, tangling up in Meredith’s hair. The imp scratches
at her face, leaving smoking red lines. Weaving as she tries to
pull it off her, she bellows curses at the thing; long, impressive
strings of profanity, some in languages I’d never heard. She
stumbles, losing her footing, and falls over the edge. The imp
leaps free, gliding to land on the edge of the sinkhole. It blinks
its wide, yellow eyes at me, posture smug.

Still in shock, I edge closer to peer into
the hole. There’s a faint glow coming from what must be two stories
down. Is there some sort of cave underneath this place? No wonder
it’s condemned.