World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Bumps in the Night [Complete]

[z021]

Sunday Evening, August 3rd, 2008

She slipped down the cold stairs, wondering for the hundredth time why Peter insisted on silly theatrics like stone basements and gothic I-could-have-bought-two- houses-with-this-chair furniture. But hey, it was his money, mostly his books, and certainly his house; he got to make the decorating rules. She pushed back the black velvet curtains at the foot of the stairs that functioned as the ‘door’ into the Dark Flame’s chantry. Like the décor, Peter got to make the rules on the names as well.

Several apprentices to the chantry were seated around the front room, including the petite blond – Oneca blinked, surprised –boy that was acting as doorman for the day. He looked up as she came in, a sparse, pale beard marking him at least six years older than she’d given him, and smiled shyly. Oneca was one of the founding members of the group; she didn’t have to prove she belonged here. “Welcome home, Adept. Is there anything I can get for you?”

She nodded, gesturing to the book he was reading, “When you’re done with the chapter, bring me some tea, please? The raspberry ginseng. You should try it, if you haven’t yet; does wonders for your memory. I’ll be in my work room.” He bobbed his head in a nod and went back to the book. The whole room was deafeningly silent with the sounds of reading and desperately wanting to belong. Oneca remembered when she’d felt that alone, that freakish even with Saja around, and it was mostly that memory that kept her coming back here.

“That is the point, η σκοτεινή φλόγα μου.” The Greek flowed from Peter as easily as the English, and given that he’d grown up in Athens (Greece, not Georgia) it was more surprising how little an accent his English had. Oneca flushed at the endearment as he stepped through one of the drapery-covered doorways at the back of the entrance room. So he’d named the chantry for her, so what? He didn’t even like women.

“Where the body is reluctant, the mind and heart are well engaged,” he murmured low enough that only she heard. The apprentices might be near literally buried in books, but the first lesson was always to pay attention to everything. Most especially to those that had progressed beyond being apprentices.

She followed the dark man into the labyrinthine passages that led to the studies, work rooms, and occasional odd bedroom that made up the heart of the chantry, to his personal study. The room, surprisingly un-gothic in it’s warm wood paneling and brown leather couches, was lined with built-in bookshelves and Oneca’s favorite coffee table ever: the base was a marble statue of a woman in a starry cloak-of-night that held the glass top in her arms like a dance partner. *Or a lover.*

The thought might nearly have been her own, except that she caught the tug of laughter in Peter’s smile as well as the languid form of Remy sprawled on the nearest couch. Both men blended into the dark hues of the room, but where they shared dark hair and certain lithe build, Remy’s skin was creole to Peter’s olive and the younger man's eyes a warm chocolate to his lover’s Mediterranean blues. She shut the door behind them and folded her arms over her chest, anger warring with the deep fondness she held for both of these men. “I don’t remember giving you permission to play about in my mind, Peter. We have rules.”

The Grecian gave her a playfully wounded look and shrugged powerlessly as he slid into the loveseat next to the couch, “I cannot help what you are yelling at the top of your mind, dear.” His tone took on a more serious note as he studied her face. “You are louder than usual, though. What happened?”

She shook her head and let her arms fall, “Nothing, really.” Both men fixed her with a look. They knew her, and more importantly, she trusted them. It didn’t take long for her to break. “The party, there was…,” she glanced over at Remy, who disentangled himself from the couch long enough to pull her back down with him, arranging her so that they could both still see Peter. Her head cradled against his shoulder, she felt better, safer. “I saw one of them. She even looked kind of like Saja – all wooden, though, like some Pinocchioette.” Remy tightened his arms around her as she shivered.

“I should have stayed,” he murmured as he stroked her hair. Oneca knew this wasn’t fair, letting him be here for her like this. The first time Peter had introduced Remy to her she’d just assumed that he didn’t like women, either. Remy had thought that adorable and asked Peter’s permission to ‘educate’ her on his sexuality; there was a week of missed classes on her college record that had nothing to do with illness. She’d fallen in love with him, and with Peter’s mind and dry humor, that week. They spent as much time in bed as they did strung across Peter's living room, learning one another and sharing secrets hidden away from the 'normal' world.

When she went home that weekend, Saja had known without a word passing between the two of them. The minaret of her long lost sister had simply told her that she was not allowed to love anyone but her, and that had been that. Oneca had cried and pleaded with her, of course, but Saja had her heart and the creature just turned it off. Oneca was not allowed to love anyone human, not while Saja and Saja’s maker had use for her. When her parents finally noticed that something was wrong, Saja surreptitiously let slip that Oneca’s boyfriend had broken up her. A broken heart, she’d said. It would mend in time.

She tried to tell them what Saja had done to her, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d tried to show Peter, but any time he tried to touch those memories in her they’d both pass out from the pain. In the end she’d just told them that she didn’t want to either be a third wheel or end up coming between them. Remy called bullshit on that and Peter had just looked at her with such a sad, hurt expression. They’d never given up on her, and so long as she kept from thinking or feeling anything dangerous, Saja seemed content to let it be.

“You wandered away.” Peter’s soft voice pulled her back out of her dark reverie. She opened her eyes, “Sorry.”

“What happened at the party?” Peter prompted gently again. He loved Oneca as much as he loved Remy, if in different ways, but the entire point of the Chantry was to learn as much about the real world as possible. Oneca’s ability to see these ‘puppet-people’, these not-quite-people, was a precious and seemingly unique gift. Remy could sometimes sense them, and sense things that Oneca could not see, but beyond on the tickling of his skin Remy could tell little more than that they were different.

“It was at the end. They must have been there the whole time, but I only saw them when they were leaving.” She shivered again and Remy made more noises about having abandoned her. “And what were you going to do? Let the cops arrest you? I should have left with you instead of trying to bait other girls with Hunt.”

“Hunt?” Peter’s brow knitted in confusion.

“Lucien Hunt, the millionaire underwear model. He was at the party, flirting with some creepy little red head. We were dancing when the cops showed up.”

“Ah.”

Remy stroked her hair down to her collarbone, teasing the fingertips over the sensitive skin there. “Should I be jealous, Ona?” His tone was teasing, but the liberties with his touch and his lips brushing over her neck spoke undertones of danger to the blonde undergarments god.

She stood up. She couldn’t handle that, not from him; not with the memory of that thing that was so like Saja still fresh in her mind. “Don’t be ridiculous, Remy. He’s hot, sure, but he lit off with Little Red the moment she made it clear that he’d get laid if he did,” she snapped, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “It’s not like he was there looking for anything past the morning. And besides, we’re not dating.”

“For the moment,” he retorted, undaunted by her declaration. Peter shot him a warning look and the room fell into an uneasy quiet.

After a few tense beats they were rescued by a knock on the door. “Pardon, but is Adept Bahaar there?”

Oneca opened the door herself, wiping the scowl off her face when the blond apprentice that had greeted her moved smoothly into the room to deposit the Japanese tea set on the on the coffee table. He bowed and spoke to no one in particular, “My apologies for taking so long to find you. I brought extra glasses and tea bags, as well.”

“Thank you, Alex.” Remy pulled himself on the couch and poured a cup of hot water. He set the tea bag to stew. “You’re not a servant here, though. Remember that. You can always say no when someone asks you to do something, and you don’t have to apologize when people aren’t where you expected them. Thank you for the extra cups; tea does sound nice.”

Alex-who-is-not-a-servant nodded but didn’t seem to take the words to heart. He wanted to be accepted, and that had always meant pleasing everyone around him. He moved quietly out of the room, never quite meeting any of the Adept’s eyes.

Oneca watched the boy leave, “What’s his story, anyways?” No one made it into the Chantry without a story. Remy shrugged, “He doesn’t have any powers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She gave him a scathing look, “If that was a requirement, then it’d probably still be just the three of us.”

Remy leaned back and set his still-brewing tea to his lips to avoid answering that. Peter stepped into the breach and began preparing Oneca’s cup. The Japanese were definitely on to something with their ceremonies and tea, he thought. Aloud he said, “Alex is very bright. Genius or near so at least. He skipped several grades in school, but his mother couldn’t afford a private school for her gifted young boy. She was a housekeeper for the DuBois family, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of if you haven’t met any of their children yourself.” He paused in his narrative, pouring out a final cup for himself and stirring in only a bit lemon and honey. “Apparently Lidia shared some of the same intellect our Alex possesses and was, hem, assisting the Dubois' in creative book keeping and tax filing, acting as an unofficial accountant that was paid under the table. She kept their actual books as both security and as one of the few people connected to the family that simply wouldn’t be suspected of having such evidence. The stipulation was that she wasn’t allowed to use the money herself, and it was direct-deposited to a trust account in Alex’s name. “

Remy had relinquished his cup and cajoled Oneca back onto the couch with repentant looks and a backrub that was pure bribery. Peter continued on, his cadence and warm voice almost hypnotic in their effect, “The arrangement went perfectly and might have continued so well past Alex’s need for a college fund had his mother not disappeared unexpectedly. The DuBois family suspected either the feds or blackmail and took Alex on the official word that they ‘could hardly leave the boy on his own in such a trying time’. Alex was able to suss out most of his mother’s dealings with the DuBois in this time. They waited for a subpoena or a note, but neither came. One week stretched into two and three, finally nearly a month after her disappearance Lidia resurfaced at the DuBois house. She came for him in the early evening and wouldn’t explain where she’d disappeared to or why she’d abandoned him. She gave him the account number for his trust and the papers needed to release the money earlier, told him both that she loved him and that he needed to get as far away from LA as possible, and kissed him good-bye.”

Peter stopped here, contemplating his half-empty cup and the swirls of honey he could see coalescing in the cooling water. Oneca picked up her own cup, adding a bit more water from the kettle to warm it back up, then asked, “Why? I mean, it obviously wasn’t the FBI or they’d have taken him too. Was she double-crossing the DuBois with someone else?”

Remy had settled back and was idly running his fingers up and down her side. She let him, she didn’t want to fight anymore tonight. Peter shook his head, “I don’t think so. I said Alex was a genius. He already knows how to pay attention. When he saw his mother again he wanted to know that she was okay, that no one had hurt her. She didn’t have any bruises or cuts that he could see, but she was pale and cold to the touch. When he’d gone to stop her from leaving again he also noticed her reflection in the mirror that hung off his closet door. She wasn’t quite there. He said that there was something there, but it wasn’t his mother. He couldn’t make it out before she caught him looking. She told him to go stand at the window until he saw he leaving the house. He did. He still doesn’t know why. “

“How'd he end up here, though?”

Remy’s voice cut in, smooth enough to match the chocolate of his eyes, “He found us, sort of. He refuses to leave LA until he knows what happened to his mom, or until he has proof that she’s moved somewhere else. He started hanging out around campus, sitting in on med class lectures and sneaking around the library at all hours. Yolanda found him there a couple of weeks ago when she pulled an overnight to rearrange the reference section before the new term. He looked liked a squatter without a penny to his name, so she did what Yolanda always does: she got a blanket and pillow from her car, tucked him in until she was done, then woke him up and offered him a place to crash. It took her about an hour to get the whole story out of him, and she brought him here.”

Oneca nodded. Yolanda’s kindness might as well be a superpower, even if it was partly because she was an empath. She and Oneca didn’t get along, most of the time. Somewhat sleepily she asked, “Any idea what happened to his mother?”

Peter shook his head, “No, it’s too soon and no one else had heard of anything like that before. Alex is determined, though, and he’s got the talent to go with that determination. If there’s any account of something similar, if there’s something to be found, he’ll find it eventually.”

Oneca finished her tea, the heat and soothing herbal extracts working their magic on her. She’d been up since the party, unable to sleep with Saja and that other one on her mind, and now she found the couch and Remy’s arms and Peter’s voice too much to resist. Peter deftly caught the cup as it tumbled out of her slackening hands as Remy shifted her to be easier to pick up. The younger man regarded his first love, softly asking, “Did you….?”

“No, she’s just exhausted.” A deep sigh. “As usual.”

They took her to one of the guest rooms in the Chantry, laying her gently on the bed and divesting her of any restrictive clothing. Peter tucked her in, sighing again at the shadows and lines that seemed deeper on her face every time he saw her.

“We have to get her out of that house, Remy. It’s killing her.”

**********************************************

Half a city away the creature that was called Saja Bahaar was sitting in the kitchen of the Bahaar sisters’ house. It had felt it again, that strange humanness coming from the organ woven into its chest. It despised this feeling. It confused it, since such emotions were only for the Maker, but they were never as strong from it for the Maker as from Oneca for these other humans. Disgusting lesser creatures, it hated them but it would not exist if the Maker had not decided to take a liking to them. So it obeyed and lived as one and would continue to find others that would please the Maker. It had found three so far, but had not been allowed to keep contact with the others like it that the Maker had made. The Maker had given it Oneca and it would have to be content with that.

And now Oneca was being unreasonable again, feeling these feelings only meant for the Maker and feeling them for others. It had been clear before. It had handled this before with some of the power that the Maker had given it. Yet the feelings kept returning and kept getting stronger. Oneca was harder to control now it had to admit to the empty house. It should have known better than to let Oneca make friends. Friends led to lovers and beloveds and the Maker did not allow that from the Maker’s servants. Love was only for the Maker, only the Maker could own lovers and beloveds.

Punishing Oneca had not worked and the Maker had made it a simple and direct creature. Now it must punish the others. Oneca would learn, even if it must kill someone. That was acceptable to the Maker.

[z021]

Monday Afternoon, August 4th, 2008

Remy finished buttoning his shirt and slipped silently out of the bedroom. The house was quiet, with most of the apprentices and residents either off to classes or keeping as nocturnal a schedule as Peter. Remy made his way on cat’s feet down the basement steps and to one of the occupied bedrooms in the chantry. He knocked softly.

“Alex?” he called out a little louder.

A muffled sound came from the other side of the door and a bleary-eyed face peered into the hallway. “Huh?”

“Sorry to wake you up, mate, but I need a favor. Can you get up and throw some clothes on?”

The face nodded and retreated back into the room. A few moments later Alex opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, a rumpled t-shirt and jeans having obviously been what was closest at hand. “What is it, Adept –”

“I really wish you’d just call me Remy. I’m only an Adept ‘cause I was here first,” Remy cut in.

Alex nodded and sighed, running a hand through his hair. I need a haircut, he mused sleepily.

“You need a haircut,” Remy echoed his thoughts, “and I need breakfast.”

The Panera nearest the chantry had learned over the past three years to avoid noticing the string of strangers Remy and Peter brought through their doors. The manager had looked over the numbers once and determined that Remy alone counted for about three percent of their profit in a given week. That same manager was also pretty sure that the two of them were either running a cult or pimping out the kids they saw with them (probably both), but it wasn’t his problem and so long as they didn’t start dealing the café, he couldn’t care less.

Remy knew this and didn’t care, since half the staff bought their weed and other ‘recreationals’ from him; Alex was blissfully unaware of anything sinister beyond the café’s insistence on ruining a perfectly good banana muffin with walnuts. He bit carefully around the offending nuts and watched Remy pick at a cherry danish.

“So, are you going to tell me why I’ve been pulled out of bed and plied with muffins and hot chocolate? Or are you going to just stare at your danish all afternoon?”

Remy sighed and pushed his tray away from him. He caught Alex’s eyes, his unaccustomed seriousness pulling the young genius up in his chair. “I need your help.”

Alex shrugged, looking confused. “What for? I mean, other than being a fast reader, I’m nothing special to the chantry.”

Remy looked down, fidgeting with a napkin while he figured out how to say this. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean or rude or anything, so if it comes out that way, please don’t take it like that.” He looked up again, crumpling the napkin in his hands. “What I need is your ability to be normal, to not be noticed as anything other than just a guy.”

Alex shook his head, “Remy, I won’t make runs for you. I told you that.”

Remy’s bark of laughter cut across the din of the afternoon crowd, startling the business chic and causing a momentary lull in the conversation. The manager popped his head out from behind the sandwich counter just long enough to make sure the little creole drug dealer wasn’t knifing someone inside the restaurant, then retreated back to the blind security of his office.

“Jesus, ‘Lex. If that’s all I was going to ask you, I’d just offer you a cut, not take you out to lunch.” He lowered his voice, letting the rest of the world get back to their lattes and designer sandwiches. “It’s about Oneca.”

“Adept Bahaar?” Remy winced and Alex corrected himself, “Miss Bahaar?”

Remy nodded, “ Y’know she has a sister, right? The one that wants to be a pediatrician.”

“No, but I do now.” Alex finished off the muffin, dropping the last walnut onto his tray. “What about her? She’s not part of the chantry, obviously. Do you want me to find out if she has talent?”

The darker man leaned in, speaking very softly but intently under the sounds of the café. “She doesn’t have talent, ‘Lex. She’s…well, apparently she’s not human. Ona says she’s some kind of construct; that whatever kidnapped the real Saja fifteen years ago made the Saja everyone knows today out of sticks and vines and stuff.”

Alex arched a brow at his companion, “And no one’s noticed?”

“Everyone else sees her like a real person.” Remy grabbed Alex’s hand, squeezing it to keep the boy’s attention. “It sounds crazy, right? Kinda like people setting things on fire without a match, or reading other people’s minds. Or-“

Alex waved his hand, “Okay, okay, I get the point. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Get to know her. Saja, I mean. She’s got some sort of hold on Ona, something she can’t tell us. If either of us gets around Saja and she does have some sort of weird construct powers, we’ll be easier to spot as off. You’re mostly normal,” Remy grinned at that last bit and Alex rolled his eyes.

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. You’re normal enough to be overlooked and smart enough to know what to do with that. Look, her sister goes to UCLA now. She’s a sophomore in the pre-med program. I know some of the professors over there, I can get you into a class or two of hers as an auditor. All I’m asking is that you keep an eye on her. See who she hangs out with, what she does with her spare time, that sort of thing. Maybe make friends with her?” The man looked almost desperate.

Alex let a long, slow breath out. “So, you want me to play spy on the stick thing from beyond and find out what she has on Adep- on Miss Bahaar?”

Remy nodded.

“Not to be callous, but what’s in it for me for running after one the things that goes bump in the night? And the UCLA pre-med program, as well, apparently. I don’t need money and I don’t do drugs.”

Remy picked up the plastic fork they’d given him with his untouched cherry danish and tapped on the table nervously. “I know a guy. Strange, twitchy, ugly little man that’s definitely off, though I’ve never seen him really do anything. I didn’t think about him until Peter was talking about you and your mom last night.” Remy kept fidgeting with the fork, twirling it in his hands. “He deals in the heavier stuff, mostly to the high end clubs and private parties for the rich and terminally stupid. ‘Tried to get me to carry for him, but at least he was cool about it when I said I didn’t want to go that far down the rabbit hole. He comes to me for some of my specials, when he’s got a big event or something going on. Thing was…well, he had these rules about mirrors anytime he was doing a party. All of them ‘cept the bathroom had to be covered, or better yet, moved. Everyone just chalks it up to some weird fetish of his and since he’s got some of the best high enders in the city, he can be a little weird.” He put the fork down and looked over at Alex. “It may be nothing, but it may also be the first real lead on your mom. His name’s Issak and you could probably find him on his own if you took enough time. What I’m offering is to set up a meeting with him, someplace you won’t get a bullet in the back if you say the wrong thing. Deal?”

“Deal.”

[z021]

Sunday Afternoon, August 23rd

"Ecchymosis."

Saja thought for a moment. "Ecchymosis. The skin discoloration caused by the escape of blood into the tissues from ruptured blood vessels. Ecchymoses can similarly occur in mucous membranes as, for example, in the mouth."

Alex scanned down the test prep packet for another word. "Vascular dementia."

"Vascular dementia." Again the slight pause, then, "A common form of dementia in older persons that is due to cerebrovascular disease, usually with stepwise deterioration from a series of small strokes and a patchy distribution of neurologic deficits affecting some functions and not others. Risk factors include high blood pressure, an unsteady way of walking, and advanced age. Symptoms include confusion, problems with recent memory, wandering or getting lost in familiar places, loss of bladder or bowel control (incontinence), emotional problems such as laughing or crying inappropriately, difficulty following instructions, and problems handling money. The damage is typically so slight that the change is noticeable only as a series of small steps. However, over time, as more small blood vessels in the brain are blocked, there is noticeable gradual mental decline. Vascular dementia commonly begins between the ages of 60 and 75 and affects men more often than women. Also known as multi-infarct dementia."

Alex suppressed a shiver at Saja's mechanical tone. He'd learned over the last few weeks the only way to get close to they younger Bahaar sister was either by being under the age of twelve and terminally ill (and on her volunteer roster), or by being the only person in most of her classes willing to be her study partner. "Schadenfreude."

"Schadenfreude. Pleasure from the misfortune of others. The word entered English in 1895 from the German "Schade", harm, plus "Freude," joy = joy (over) harm (suffered by another). That is not one of out vocabulary words for this test, Alex."

Shit. Shit...shit. He smiled, trying to look abashed. "Sorry, I was...I wasn't paying attention. It's from one of my psych classes."

Saja frowned and tapped the papers between them. "If you cannot stay focused on the class we share, perhaps we should not study together. I am not in your psych class."

Alex sighed. You've got two more days, Remy. This chick is nuts and creepy. He stood up and scooped the papers into his backpack, putting on his best smile. "You're absolutely right, Saja. If we can't concentrate, then we shouldn't be studying. Look, we've been here for three hours and you haven't missed a question yet. Why don't we take a break, grab something to eat and do something fun for a bit?" He held out a hand to her, hoping the last few weeks of coddling and ingratiating himself might have some effect.

Saja's frown deepened as she regarded his hand. "The test is tomorrow-"

"And you're more than ready for it," Alex cut in smoothly. "C'mon, there's a carnival set up in Irvine and tonight's their last night. It'll be crowded, but hey, it'll be fun and it's my treat. A study date for real."

She hesitated, almost reaching out for his hand. "A carnival?" She thought this over for a minute more, then, "A date? I don't want to have sex with you, Alex."

Alex blinked, caught his dignity, and gamely tried again. "Duly noted. I was mostly thinking about cotton candy, mostly fixed games, and ducking the thousand or so kids that'll be running around on sugar and soda highs. It's just a night out, Saja. I don't expect you to do anything but have fun."

She perked up as he spoke, then stood and took his hand, now all smiles and emotions. "I would love to go with you to the carnival, Alex. Thank you for inviting me. We should go now."

***********************************************

Remy was trying to keep a straight face as Alex spoke, but the powder blue, glittered, smiling moon done in face paint over most of Alex's face was too much. He waved at Alex to keep going as he fought through a fit of the giggles.

Alex glowered, "Seriously, man. She was like a completely different person once we got there. At school she's like...well, she reminds me of a barracuda. Or an android. She's always so focused. Everyone knows who she is and that she gets good grades and is so much more a good girl than her sister, but she doesn't actually have any friends. She has this reputation, and it's almost more real than she is."

He sighed and nabbed a town from the bathroom down the hall, wiping off the evidence of the night's activities while still catching his partner in spying up. "Then we get to the carnival, and she's just so....social. I mean, she talked to everyone, blended in like she worked there or something. The kids loved her. They'd come up to her and ask her if she had any candy or balloons or if she could do tricks. She started buying balloons just to give out. And she can do tricks. Nothing big, just like the quarter out of your ear stuff that little kids go crazy over."

The last of the blue was picked up by the towel and Alex returned to Remy's room. Remy was balanced on the two back legs of his chair looking thoughtful. "Oneca hates that she's going into pediatrics," he murmured.

Alex shrugged. "Maybe she's just uncomfortable around adults or something. I mean, she wasn't mean to the kids and she didn't try to kidnap them or something." Alex sunk onto the permanently unused twin bed in the room. "I mean, she's weird, and definitely needs some social pointers, but other than that I haven't seen anything too unusual about her. She's just a girl."

The other two legs hit the floor with a clunk as Remy made his way out of the room. "Thanks, Alex."

Alex sat up. "Remy, hold up! You still owe me that meeting. It's been three weeks, almost four."

Remy nodded from the doorway. "He's agreed. You, me, him, and one of his guys. Daytime only, someday next week. I'll get a call."

He seemed about to say something more, then shook his head. "Get some sleep, kid."

,,

[z021]

Wednesday Morning, August 27

"...Amber Alert has been put into effect for Joshua Kensing, age 6, Rachel Dowes, age 9, Alicia Cerns, age 4, and Frederick Bothan, age 6. All four children have been missing since Monday evening, though at this point investigators do not believe their disappearances are connected. Please call the Amber Alert hotline if you have any information regarding the disappearances or have seen one of these children. That number is..."

Alex sat nervously in the back of the posh limo, tuning out the small color tv that was built into small bar that ran the length of the passenger area.

Remy put a hand on his shoulder, "We can pull out, 'Lex. You don't have to do this."

Alex stopped fidgeting, pulling himself together and shaking his head. "Yes I do, Remy. My mom's still out there. I have to know what happened to her. Why she-"

The car slowed down, pulling up to a random LA sidewalk and admitting two passengers: one a tall, well-built young man with enough confidence in himself that he didn't feel the need to be menacing, and a stout, froggy looking man that immediately poured himself a drink after wedging himself into the car. The limo glided back into traffic, headed no where in particular.

Remy flicked a look at Mr. Confidence but spoke to Mr. Froggy, "Y'know, the chauffeur is yours too."

Froggy shrugged and downed half his drink. "So sue me. The limo doesn't drive itself very well, and I don't want two to one odds back here. Get over it or get out." He paused at this, murky eyes on Remy.

Remy shrugged. "Hey, just trying to keep us all honest."

Froggy laughed loudly and with the rasp of emphezema. "Honest! Remy, you do tell the best jokes." He wiped his eyes and refilled his drink again, gesturing over to Alex. "So, he good enough in the sack for a favor from me? If so, I might have a few jobs for him m'self."

Alex turned bright red and Remy put a restraining hand on him, hissing a, "Ignore him, he's just rude" before simply shrugging at Froggy. "Well, if he were that good, I wouldn't be sharing." He smiled at the vile little man, all teeth and masculinity.

Froggy grunted, "Selfish little bugger, ain't ya? Well then, if it isn't going to be pleasure, what's our business today? You said you were looking for information." His dark eyes were cold black beads now.

Remy motioned Alex to start. "I'm looking for someone."

There was a pause, then Froggy grunted. "Ain't we all, kid. You looking for someone in particular, or should I just grab at random?"

Alex flushed again. "No..I mean yes. I mean...it's my mother. I'm looking for my mother. She disappeared almost a year ago. A year ago this September. September 5th."

Again the pause and again the grunt. "Kid, call the police or do some tricks to afford a PI. I'm not the neighborhood wa-"

"She's not just missing. She came back, once. She...something was done to her. And...and she looks strange in mirrors now." Alex had cut in with something between indignation and fear, and now he held his breath, waiting.

Froggy did pause, but he didn't grunt. He leaned in towards Alex, getting close enough for Alex to catch a most unpleasant mix of alcohol, medications, and decay off his breath. The car became a tomb as the seconds ticked off. Finally Froggy settled back into his seat, watching the dredges of his drink swirl as he fiddle with the glass. "Remy, you haven't pr'perly introduced me to your friend."

Remy glanced from Froggy to Alex, clearly startled. "Proper introductions aren't usually our thing, Issak."

Froggy grunted again, but without the pause. "Well, boy, you want me to look for your mamma, I'm gonna need names. Yours and hers. No bullshitting, or this is a waste a time. And time is money and pain for me." His eyes pinned Alex's, "You get that?"

Alex nodded, glanced at Remy, then replied, "Alex Kenston. Th-that's my name. Hers is Lidia, Lidia Kenston. Lidia Victoria -"

Froggy rapped sharply twice on the divider between the driver and passenger compartments. The car nearly jerked to stop and Mr. Confidence opened the door onto an unknown section of LA sidewalk. Froggy leaned forward again, "I'm gonna do both o' you a favor: I'm gonna forget today. I'm gonna forget that you asked me to meet with you, and I'm gonna forget talking to you. Remy, we're done. You don't much like my business anyways, so take it an' run." He studied Alex for one more long moment before shaking his head and muttering to himself, "Nah. 'More trouble than it's worth."

He nodded to Mr. Confidence, who flashed a small hand pistol so that Remy and Alex and no one on the street could see it. "Get out and forget about yourselves if you can. Kid, your mamma's dead and that's the most you want to know about it. Cry, get mad, and then get out of town. You got a life ahead o' you. Don't trash it."

Remy half pushed Alex out of the car and kept a tight hold on him until the limo slid out of sight.

"He knows where she is. He knows!" Alex was near screaming and trying to follow the path the limo had taken.

Remy put himself directly in Alex's line of sight. "Alex. Alex! Look at me. If he doesn't want to touch this, what ever it is, then it's a lot bigger than just bad taxes or your mum skipping out on you. Okay?"

He waited for Alex to calm down enough to nod at him, then continued, "That doesn't mean we can't still look for her but we're going to have to be more careful. People know her name, your name. He recognized you, kid; he was thinking of keeping you. Who knows exactly why, but it does mean that your mom is important somehow, to someone, and that makes you a target, too."

Alex nodded again, calming down enough to be coherent. Remy started walking them towards home, never lost or out of place so long as he was in the confines of the LA streets. He chatted idly about friends and the price of gas, and the election coming up, trying to keep Alex on the level until they were out of public. Mostly Alex just nodded or shrugged, but as they neared the chantry a thought struck the blond.

"Hey Remy, did you see that alert on the news? While we were in the limo, I mean." Remy nodded and Alex continued, "I think I remember some of those kids." He shrugged, "They were at the carnival."

[z021]

Tuesday Morning, January 6th, 2009

Remy pulled his tie through the last loop of the knot, tightening it down as he looked over at Alex. “You’ll wear a hole in the floor, y’know.”

The young blond looked up, startled as if he’d forgotten Remy was in the room with him. They both looked uncomfortable in their suits and shiny dress shoes and sleepless eyes. “Remy, what if, I mean…what if-”

Remy jerked his suit coat off the chair and shrugged it on. “It wasn’t you, Alex. It wasn’t us. Those kids disappeared before Steve knew who you were. You want to feel guilty about something then feel guilty about the Nebuchadnezzar burning down. That probably was us and Joey’s still on crutches.” He sighed and leaned on the chair. “Two different buckets o’ shit, Alex, that’s what we’ve got. If it were ‘cause of your mum, they’d’ve gone after you, not Peter.”

Alex watched Remy with haunted eyes and took a breath. “Can they really convict him, Remy? He hadn’t even been to the warehouse in months. He just kept some junk and stuff there.”

Remy stood up and ushered them both out of the bedroom and towards the waiting car outside the Chantry. “It doesn’t matter when he was or wasn’t there. He owns the warehouse, the cops don’t even have other suspects to go on, and the parents want someone to blame, someone they can take their pain and loss out on. Peter’s rich, eccentric, foreign, and unabashedly gay. And he’s know to hang out with all sorts of disreputables and social outcasts.” He slid into the driver’s seat as Alex did the same with the passenger side, pulling into the traffic with a worried sigh. “The best case scenario is that the cops and DA will drag this out as long as possible just to give themselves some breathing room to find the real murderer, and hopefully the other kids, too. As long as they’re missing, there’s hope that they’re still alive.”

The county courthouse was an impressive build built to impose on the landscape. Remy took the familiar path into the public parking lot across the street. Alex ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair as they made their way into the courthouse. He leaned into Remy, speaking softly enough that the strangers and court officials wandering the halls wouldn’t overhear them. “You really think they burned down the club because of us – because of my mother?”

Remy stopped in front of courtroom C, hand on the door handle, and gave Alex a long, serious stare. “Alex, any time we get close to something, someone who’s seen her, someone who’s got something to say about the mirrors, something bad happens to them. Christie got fired and had to move back home to New Mexico, Landry was in the car accident, China’s just flat out disappeared, and now Joey’s lost his club and is being sued for criminal negligence of the fire codes or some bullshit like that. Whoever is hiding her, whatever she’d gotten into, it’s deadly business. I keep my promises, my friend, but you should start thinking about whether finding her is worth the risk. To yourself and to anyone helping you.” He pulled the doors open and stepped in, Alex following a heartbeat later and not quite looking up.

A county clerk was just standing to announce the next case. “The people versus Peter Erastes in regards to the murders of Rachel Dowes and Frederick Bothan, continued from December 29th.”

A thin man in a grey suit stood and motioned to the two young men dithering in the back of the courtroom. “The defense calls Jeremiah DeSeine to the stand as a character witness.”

Remy clapped Alex on the shoulder and walked him over to where Oneca was sitting nervously in the front row behind the defense attorney. He adjusted his tie one last time and nodded to grey suit. “I’m ready.”