In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
by Al Bruno III
rev 1.0
Copyright Al Bruno III 2011
Smashwords Edition License Notes:
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In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
by
Al Bruno III
Book One
Exiles From The Ordinary World
Chapter One
Thursday November 7th 1996
Sane women, Isobel thought, don't behave like this.
She scrunched down in the driver's seat of her Honda Civic and rolled cautiously through the night-shrouded suburb.
This is real trust here, She mused. The foundation of a truly stable relationship.
At the intersection she turned right onto Marriner Boulevard. The dashboard clock read One-Fifteen AM. She slowed to a crawl and switched off the Civic's headlights. The Bitch's house was half a block away. Darkness sprawled in the gulf between the streetlights.
Don't let him be there. She prayed over and over again. Please don't let him be there. Please let me be wrong.
She slowed to a stop in front of the Bitch’s house. Isobel groaned and banged her head lightly against the steering wheel.
There was Nick’s black Camaro parked in the driveway.
The two-timing bastard loved that car, he’d restored every inch of it. Isobel had a tire iron in the Civic’s trunk. It would be so easy to just retrieve it and go to town- and if Nick and the Bitch came running out to stop her?
Her only question would be who to brain first.
For a moment Isobel actually had the car door open, but in the end she just shifted into first and drove away. When she was sure she was far enough away she switched the headlights back on.
The radio cheerfully informed her that the National Weather Service was promising another week of Indian Summer for all of Albany and it’s surrounding counties. A single sob escaped from Isobel's lips, the road blurred and slipped back into focus as she fought back tears. The thought occurred to her that she could just drive away; leave this whole stinking mess of a life behind her. Just drive until her Civic or her ATM card gave out. There had to be something more out there than this.
She passed a sign but didn't bother to read the words. It didn't matter, she knew it was just telling her that the entrance ramp to the Northway was coming up.
Again and again the question surfaced- why did Nick keep going back to that bitch?
Was she smarter? Dumber? Was she wild in bed? Was she a screamer? Did she do it with the lights on?
Isobel swerved on to the entrance ramp. The Northway was more empty and dark than she'd ever remembered it. The tears finally overcame her, they rolled down her cheeks and over her lips. Isobel scowled at the taste, so much like blood. Over the last few years she’d seen her dreams fall away one by one. What would replace them? Would anything?
A figure ran out into the road in front of her, his arms flailing wildly.
OhmyGOD!
Isobel slammed both feet onto the brakes and swerved for the middle lane. There was a flash of images and sounds; tires squealing, the song on the radio, her own breathless cry, the sickening feeling of her Honda Civic going up on two wheels and then settling back down again.
Fear soured the taste of her spit, she forced herself to relax her grip on the wheel and put the car in park. Another moment passed before Isobel realized she'd been holding her breath. She let the bad air out in a long nasal sigh only to have it catch in her throat again.
He staggered up to her car, the headlights underlit his features. At first all she could focus on was the whites of his eyes. “Please help me!” he looked crazed, his clothes were caked with mud and sweat.
What do I do now? With a flick of a switch she locked the car's automatic doors- just in case. Then Isobel put on her hazard lights, for her safety and his. She cursed herself for leaving her cell phone at home. Hadn’t she gotten it for emergencies? Wasn't this an emergency?
What do I do now?
Stay in your car. Drive away. That's what you do.
"Please!" He was hammering on her window now, each blow leaving dark handprints that she prayed were just mud.
I can see the headlines now- PROMISING YOUNG ARTIST DISAPPEARS, NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN.
Actually, I was never all that promising.
She scanned the blackness behind her for any signs of oncoming traffic. It was all clear, unnervingly so in fact.
What am I going to do?
Isobel looked back to him, really looking at him. This was no escaped lunatic, or fugitive in prison orange. He was her height with ruddy features and ragged looking red hair. He didn't look the least bit threatening, only desperate and afraid.
"Where is your car?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"
"I need to get out of here. Please! I'm in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"There's no time! We have to go now before they find us."
Us?
The voice of reason started howling as she unlocked the passenger side door. He got in, locked the door and shuddered with relief. "Thank you."
"Where are you going?"
"Anywhere. Just anywhere."
Shrugging Isobel put the car in drive and glanced into the rearview mirror.
Two pale figures stared back at her. One of them smashed a hand through the back windshield with impossible ease.
The stranger was screaming in her ear "Go! Go now!"
The speedometer flew up to seventy. The Honda Civic sped away with a squeal of its tires.
Chapter Two
Thursday November 7th 1996
"Damn." The two figures watched the car disappear in the distance. The taller, more masculine figure brushed chips of glass from his otherwise impeccable suit. His shoes would have been impeccable as well if not for the grime and blood streaking them. "Are you all right?"
The other shape stood back up, her suit was equally expensive but it was ruined. Her hair had come undone and it hung around her face in loose curls. "While you were getting physical I got the license plate number."
"Superb." He said as they made their way back to the roadside. "Perhaps this evening won't be a total loss after all."
"What about the other one? Surely he might be of use to us?" She said as they walked past the trees and road signs to lose themselves in the murk. They moved at a steady pace, never blundering in spite of the dark, not caring if low hanging branches struck them.
"He killed himself rather than face processing. Standard bullet to the head."
"How very brave and wasteful." They paused at the slumped body before them. She sighed with disappointment, "If they understood death do you think they would give themselves up to it so easily?”
“I stopped wondering years ago.” He started walking again, “Come on, nothing worthwhile here.”
“We should get the owner of that car tracked down as soon as possible."
"That information should take little time to obtain but I still would like to wait a few hours before we act. I want to know if this is another one of the Hanged Man's agents or just simple coincidence." He smiled a perfect smile, "Plenty of time to stop for waffles first."
She grinned back, "You and your waffles…"
Chapter Three
Thursday November 7th 1996
Galen. His name was Galen. He sat quietly on the side of the tub while she rummaged through the medicine cabinet in search of Band-Aids and peroxide. Of course she couldn't find either now. If she had been searching for Q-tips or eyeliner she would have found bandages aplenty.
"Who did this to you?" she said as a bottle of aspirin went clattering into the sink. "Damn it!"
"No idea," He said. "I was just… I never saw their faces."
Isobel wasn't sure if she believed him. She believed he'd been beaten pretty badly. His face was bruised and scraped and his hands were cut up pretty badly too. It looked to her like he'd tried to play tug of war with a coil of barbed wire.
But would someone really go to the trouble to do something like that at random?
There was more to this Galen then met the eye.
Then just bandage him up, give him cab fare home and get him the fuck out!
"Maybe we should call the police then."
His ice blue eyes flashed with panic, "No police."
"Why?"
He smiled sheepishly, "I have a history with the police."
"Really?" She flashed him a smile of her own, "Am I in the presence of a dangerous man?"
Oh God, he's blushing. That's so cute.
What am I doing?
She gave up all hope on the medicine cabinet and started looking under the bathroom sink. "Ah ha!" There it all was- bandages, peroxide and... cotton swabs! She'd forgotten she had cotton swabs.
"Look." Galen stood and put his hand on Isobel's shoulder with a surprising gentleness. "I really should go. You've been very kind but I really don't need any first aid.”
"What are you talking about?" Isobel turned to look at him. She had always thought this bathroom was too damn small but now it felt positively cozy. There was something about the smell of his sweat, something primal. "Look at you."
"I heal fast."
She took hold of his right hand; the flesh of the palm was all in tatters. "At least let me get at the worst of it."
His hand grasped at hers in a movement that was as pleading as it was sudden. "I’m not…"
Before she could think about it, Isobel kissed him.
When the kiss broke. They were both gasping. They were both looking at each other with surprise.
Then they were kissing again. Isobel deftly undid the buttons of Galen's shirt. His chest was covered with fine red hair. Her jeans slid down her legs. He lifted her up, planting her bottom on the cold porcelain sink.
Goosebumps worked their way down her back. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and nuzzled at his throat.
He lifted her up again. “Bedroom…” he gasped.
“To the right” Isobel murmured, tightening her thighs around him.
Galen blundered to the right, their entwined bodies bumping and slipping along the wall until they found their way to her bed. They fell back onto the mattress sending folded laundry scattering this way and that. His fingertips were cool and insistent. He undressed her, his touch leaving her bare skin streaked with blood.
When she was naked he took a step back from the bed. Isobel started to grab after him, then she realized he was looking at her. Looking at all of her.
And he liked what he saw.
Then he was pushing his jeans down to the floor, kicking free of them as he knelt and kissed his way up from her navel to her breasts then up to her chin and mouth. She could feel his errection brushing against her leg, throbbing in time with his heart.
The room seemed to have become unbearably warm. She ran her nails gently over his back. “Fuck me.” She whispered, “Just fuck me.”
Galen practically growled with anticipation, his powerful arms turned her over onto her belly.
What is he… Ohhhhh…
He kissed his way from her bottom to the back of her neck. When he took her he wasn’t gentle. Isobel shuddered and gasped his name like she'd known him forever.
Chapter Four
Thursday November 7th 1996
Isobel opened her eyes to see it was almost noon. The alarm on her clock radio had never been set and there were five messages waiting for her on the answering machine. Isobel couldn’t care less about any of it, work and Nick could both go to Hell.
All the covers had been kicked off the bed save for a single sheet, one bare leg lolled out in the cool air. Memories of the making love as the dawn rose made her blush. She'd never been so unreserved before. It was as if the nearness of him had made her into a different person. Isobel reached across the bed wanting to pull him close again, eager for some snoozy spooning or perhaps for something more.
But he was gone.
Stumbling to her feet she retrieved her robe from the floor and checked the bathroom only to find it empty. So was the kitchen. And the parlor.
Oh no no no no…
She found her purse lying upended in front of the TV, the contents had been spilled out onto the rug. Isobel was feeling weak in the knees anyway so she fell to them right there and started going through the pile of makeup, mismatched napkins and old receipts. Her wallet was still there, but all the cash was gone- seventy-five dollars in all. He had left her credit cards and checkbook behind.
You’re a real fucking gentleman Galen.
What had she expected? She had literally picked him up on the side of the road and then gone to bed with him before even learning his last name.
I still don’t know his last name.
There was something rising in her throat. Was it a sob or a scream? Either way it tasted of bile and she choked it back. Why did this keep happening? Was she too needy? Too wide around the hips? Why did men always do this to her? Why was she never anything more to them than a place holder until something better came along?
Crossing the room she looked out the glass door that led to the balcony. There was a ratty looking lawn chair and round table with an ancient bird dropping in the center. When she had first moved here she had thought it would be cool to have her own balcony, she had imagined herself drinking wine and reading a book on a warm Sunday afternoon but from her third floor all she could see was the local high school, a cemetery and a shopping mall.
Did any other city have a layout so strange? Or depressing?
From school to the grave with a shopping trip along the way.
Isobel searched the parking lot for some sign of him but all she saw was her car; slightly crooked in its parking space and sporting a huge hole in the rear windshield. That and some stained sheets was all she had to remember her night with Galen by.
I hope. She thought queasily. Nick had always been the one to take care of protection because no matter what kind of birth control pill she tried it ended up making her sick and miserable. The doctors had told her to stick it out for a few months but she hadn't been able to stand it. After that she left it as the man's responsibility.
What was the old saying? No glove no love?
All her cautions had crumbled when she stood close to Galen. Thoughts of safety had never even occurred to her, all she had wanted was Galen close. All she had wanted was skin on skin.
And what had it gotten her? Another heartbreak, another betrayal.
She had a quick, hot shower; just enough to scrub the scent of him off her. The clothes she chose to wear were her most comfortable and unflattering, the kind Nick hated to see her in. The rest of the day was hers now and she wasn’t going to spend it moping around the house not when there was no shortage of things to keep her busy. She could visit her best friend Cheryl, or look in on her brother Warren and make sure he hadn't accidentally burned their parents' house down. Then of course there was her car window, she needed to do something about that before it rained.
More than enough to keep me occupied, she thought. More than enough to keep me from crying over a stranger.
For a while anyway.
Chapter Five
Thursday November 7th 1996
It was the best room in the best 5 star hotel Albany had to offer and it was absolutely quiet. A man and a woman sat on an expensive couch; their posture perfect, their bodies naked and their expressions empty. They were so still that if anyone had ignored the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door and blundered into the room they might have thought they were looking in on a pair of mannequins.
Shortly after 9 AM the telephone rang. The man stood smoothly and crossed the room to answer it. "Hello?" his voice was crisp and businesslike.
The woman stood and moved to stand beside him.
There was no lethargy in their movements, no stretching or yawns. "No… no." The man’s expression was blank, "I understand you had to double check. Security is important and we're not the usual type of people you're used to dealing with. I just appreciate you getting back to us. Now about that address… Could you repeat that? An APB? Oh no thank you. I'm sure you'll understand the need for discretion. Thank you again for your time Police Chief Costello. I assure you my superiors will be informed how helpful and thorough you were."
The man hung up the phone. The woman spoke, "That took long enough.”
There was a pair of suitcases on the room's wide bed. The man walked over to one and opened it. He began to change into fresh clothes, "He was suspicious of our credentials, such things are to be expected."
The woman did the same, as she dressed her movements mirrored his "These databases should all be interconnected and fluid, we shouldn’t even need to make requests."
"In time, it will all come in time,” He said. “You would have hated it in the old days. We all worked alone and barely kept in contact."
She pulled on an elegant gray skirt and then shouldered into a crisp white blouse, “Are you sure we shouldn’t make use of the local authorities?”
“I think it is best we don’t,” he paused to explain, “It’s too soon after the last incident here. I think we had best act with an economy of force. I won’t lose another Torweg to the Hanged Man and his cause.”
“How many more mistakes will we be allowed?” She slipped into a jacket and put on her sensible shoes.
“Don’t think like that,” he had his pants and shirt on and was adjusting his tie, “we’ve done our best under difficult circumstances. Our time is coming.”
"Do you think Galen has already passed on what he knows? Perhaps to his rescuer?”
"No. She seems perfectly ordinary-"
When they were both fully dressed they shared a nod of approval and headed out into the hallway. They left their luggage behind and didn’t bother to lock the door.
“Perfectly ordinary?” The woman smiled, "You mean like us?"
The man chuckled as they waited for the elevator, "Point taken, but Isobel J. Talbot, age twenty-one, seems perfectly mundane. No arrests or record of any kind. Not even a speeding ticket."
"A Good Samaritan?" The elevator door opened and they stepped inside, “I think I feel sorry for her.”
The man raised a single eyebrow, “Heart as big as the world eh?”
Chapter Six
Thursday November 7th 1996
“I said do you have any duct tape?” Isobel stood in the doorway of the Beautiful You hair salon watching her best friend Cheryl McGlade sweep up wisps of hair.
Cheryl was dour-looking with freckles and a severe hairdo, a look of suspicion came easily to her face, “What do you need it for? What’s wrong?”
“For my car window.”
“Car window?” Cheryl approached her, “Jesus girl, you look like Hell."
“You don’t know the half of it.” Isobel said, “In fact I may never tell you the half of it, but I really need that tape.”
“Oh sure sure.”
Once the duct tape was in her hand Isobel headed outside and Cheryl followed her. Isobel grimly went about the task of taping a clear plastic garbage bag in place over the broken window. “Can you keep the other end down?” she asked.
“What happened?” Cheryl held down one end of the fluttering plastic, “And aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“It’s just been…” Isobel trailed off, unsure what to say. A tractor trailer thundered past filling the silence with noise and acrid exhaust.
The trash bag was taped and re-taped until it was stretched and taut; when it was done Isobel handed the remaining roll back to her friend. Cheryl caught her wrist, her tone pleading, “What’s the matter? What could have happened?”
Friendship with Cheryl was the only thing of value Isobel had gained from a disastrous semester of beautician school. That was over two years ago, during what Isobel now thought of as her To-Hell-With-Art-I'm-Gonna-Be-A-Hairdresser phase.
From day one Isobel had been the worst student, and Cheryl the shyest; their friendship began with a pair of borrowed clippers and expanded from between-class bull sessions to bar hopping. They compensated for each other perfectly, Cheryl tried to tutor Isobel on hairdressing and Isobel tried to teach the other woman how to loosen up and have some fun.
By the beginning of the second semester Isobel came to her senses. She forsook hair design and cosmetology returning to her paints and pens. Cheryl had been a bit miffed at first; even going so far as to accuse her newfound friend of abandoning her, but in a month's time she appeared on Isobel's doorstep with an apology.
“Come inside and we can talk about it.” Cheryl said, “I don’t have any customers for an hour and Debbie called out sick.”
“I don’t think…” Isobel sat down on the bumper of her car, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. She glanced at the hair salon, Cheryl's hair salon. Somehow she had gotten an entire business together all on her own. It made Isobel wonder what the Hell she was doing with her life. "I don't know where to begin."
“Is it Nick?” Cheryl asked.
A bitter laugh ringed her reply, "No, it's another guy."
“Another guy?” Cheryl shook her head, “Come inside. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“All right.” Isobel allowed herself to be led back inside the empty beauty parlor.
Sitting on the cigarette-stained old couch in the waiting room and nursing a weak coffee Isobel told the whole bizarre story from beginning to end. Cheryl's jaw dropped a little further with each twist in the tale until finally she said, "You're either crazy or stupid, I don't know which."
Isobel’s head found its way into her hands again, "I know how it sounds."
"Oh, you know how it sounds but I don't think you know how it is!" Cheryl was livid, "Women like you are getting raped and killed every minute by men they know! And you're letting strangers into your bed?"
"It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?"
Isobel’s voice softened, "He was very... different…"
"You're on the rebound. Nick's got you emotionally screwed up- you'd throw yourself at anybody if it would take the hurt away!"
She knotted and unknotted her fingers in her hair, “Couldn’t it be something else? Just this once?”
Cheryl snorted, “Listen to yourself Isobel.”
“People find love all the time.” Her voice broke, “Why not me?”
Cheryl administered one of her patented comforting hugs. "It's all right." she soothed, her chin resting on Isobel's shoulder, "There's nothing wrong with us. It's them. They come out of the womb ungrateful monsters."
"You don't really think…” Isobel’s had her eyes closed tight, “You don’t think I let a lunatic into my apartment do you?"
"No, I sure he was just your garden variety asshole.” Cheryl said, "But for my own piece of mind I want you to borrow my gun for a few days."
“I don’t know how to-”
“I’ll show you.”
Chapter Seven
Thursday November 7th 1996
The curtains of the house on Pine Stump Road were drawn against the afternoon sun. A cat paced on the doorstep, meowing plaintively. The trash cans were overfilled with bags stacked around them in an ugly pile, the cans were overfilled, the bags split and torn.
"Oh my God…" Isobel breathed as she parked her car in the driveway of the house she had occupied for the first eighteen years of her life. She walked up to the front door, surveying the damage, collecting the neglected, weather-worn newspapers as she went. A cat purred with excitement at the sight of her and rubbed against her legs. "Hey Princess." Isobel, scratched the underside of the Siamese 's neck. She wondered if she should ring the doorbell or just let herself in.
A jet roared through the sky as Isobel dug the almost forgotten house keys from the bottom of her purse. How long had it been since she'd used them last?
The key in place, she clicked the lock back and entered, the cat brushing between her legs. The parlor was in bad shape. The couch and love seat cushions were dented crushed and out of place. Half-empty beer cans irregularly dotted the carpet floor, the contents of a bag of Cheetos were strewn across the coffee table and the air was cloying with cigarette smoke. A figure lay sprawled on the floor in front of the television, his bleating snore drowning out the tearful confrontation taking place on the soap opera in progress. Isobel watched his mammoth, bare stomach rise and fall with each wheezing breath. It was Collin, one of her brother's no-account friends. She was glad to encounter him in this state, because whenever he was awake she could feel herself being mentally undressed and covered with oils.
A trio of rented video tapes lay atop their boxes, she had only to read the titles to know what kind of tapes they were. She tip-toed into the kitchen and glanced at the list of things to do that Mom and Dad had left on the refrigerator; its dates stretched from Labor Day to the first week of January. None of the things on the list had been checked off; Isobel had to wonder if it had even been noticed.
The cat sniffed for a moment at her empty food dish and scanned the room. Isobel opened the refrigerator and winced at the contents, rancid leftovers and beer cans.
There was a crash and a clatter; she turned to find the cat standing atop the pile of dirty dishes that filled the sink. "Princess!" Isobel scolded.
The cat regarded her for a moment and then went back to licking duck sauce off the plates. Isobel left the kitchen and walked upstairs. The familiar blue clothes hamper was on the landing, it had long since been filled to capacity, piles of socks and dirty underwear lay bunched on and around it.
Her parents’ room was the door on the right, she opened the it and peered inside. Everything was OK, not an object out of place. She took a moment to gather up a head of steam before she threw open the door to her brother’s room, "I can't believe what you did to this place! You're supposed to be taking care of the house while they're away. For God's sake, when was the last time you fed the cat?"
The room contained a small bed and a huge stereo system. The stereo's red power light shone dully, in spite of the fact not a single sound was emanating from it. Her brother Warren stirred from somewhere beneath the amorphous tangle of sheets and blankets that covered his bed, "Hunh?"
Isobel stepped forward, voice poised for a shout and slipped on the mound of compact disks piled in front of the stereo. She fell to the floor with a squawk.
Now fully conscious, Warren blinked and looked at her; he was gentle featured and painfully thin, "What are you doing here? What time is it?"
She struggled to her feet, "It's almost three in the afternoon, and I'm here because I knew something like this would happen if they left you in charge of the house!"
He cried out like a sun-scalded vampire when she pulled the drapes open "What day is it?"
"It's Friday. Normal people have been up for hours, normal people are at work!"
"I'm unemployed!”
Unemployed was the least of it when it came to Warren. Something had happened to him in high school, something beyond the standard taunting and cruelties a fat kid with nerdy inclinations had to endure. In the matter of a few weeks he had lost four of his friends and not a one of them to circumstances that could be called normal. The worst of the lot had been Tristam Bloom.
Isobel shuddered at the thought of how such a normal looking boy could have turned out to be such a monster.
Was that why Warren had developed anorexia during his senior year? Well that was the theory floated around the Talbot family reunions. After graduation Warren had lost contact with his remaining friends and instead he’d found himself the two mooches that always seemed to be at his heels these days. Were they the reason her brother didn’t seem all that interested in getting a higher education or a job or well anything really?
“Warren…” she tried to take a more diplomatic tone.
A tall naked man shambled into the room, his thick hands clasping a head that was all but shaved. The sight of him made Isobel's stomach go sour. She turned her back, a familiar blush working its way up her neck and face.
"Tim." Isobel was relieved to see her brother was equally uncomfortable, "Go put on some clothes, you've got company."
"Why?" he crossed the room, purposely placing himself back in Isobel's line of sight, "I'm not the one who's all repressed."
Tim's body was all muscles, even his face seemed taut and angular; a tattoo of an American flag filled one bicep, the letters U.S.M.C. beneath it. He crouched down, casually picking through the mound of CD's.
"What are you doing here?" Isobel turned away again, resisting the urge to kick the butt being so proudly displayed before her.
"I'm on leave." Tim said, loading the Doors' Greatest Hits into the stereo.
"Oh." Isobel crossed and uncrossed her arms as Jim Morrison's spooky voice threatened to drown her out, "Where are you staying?"
"Here."
"Oh really?" Isobel ignored Tim's nudity long enough to give her brother an acid stare.
"Yeah. I'm sleeping in your old room."
"Is that so?"
"It's a good bed. A nice strong mattress." The young marine commented as he left the room, "I guess it must have never seen much action."
"Fuck you too!"
"Have to loose a few pounds there first baby."
All I have to do is go out to my car and get the gun. The gene pool would thank me!
"And as for you-" Isobel rounded on her brother.
"You haven't told me why you're not at work yet."
"Don't change the Goddamn subject on me!" Isobel shouted defensively, "This house is a shambles and I want to know what you're going to do about it."
Warren sat up, his voice surly, "Mom and Dad won't be back for another two months, lighten up."
"What if they come home early?"
"Why would they do that?"
She poked him with her finger, "What if someone tells them how bad the house is?"
His face reddened, "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh really?"
"All right," Warren stood and scanned the room for his pants, "maybe you would. I'll get around to straightening the house today."
"You and those two knuckleheads will get around to it, now." Isobel noticed his undershorts were on backwards. "And your dear sister will be right here to supervise you."
Warren glared at her, she glared back. "What's got you in such a bitchy mood today? Is Nick up to his old tricks again?"
"I'm pissed off because I've got a brother who's twenty going on twelve!"
He pulled on a pair of crumpled, stained pants, "So, where do you think we should start?"
Isobel shrugged, "When was the last time you fed Princess?"
"I thought they brought Princess with them."
"Please tell me that was a joke."
Chapter Eight
Thursday November 7th 1996
At seven minutes of five, Nick Schlegel turned off of Sand Creek Road into the Colonie Towers parking lot. He parked his black Camero and walked towards building A; his hair was hastily wet down and combed back, he was wearing a white shirt and tie with his leather jacket. He had come straight over from work without stopping for flowers or candy; he knew he wouldn't need either. For all she might insist otherwise, Nick knew that after just a few minutes of his puppy-dog eyes and expert charm that sweet, ever-forgiving Isobel would be cooing on her back. The thought of her legs wrapped around him made him start to grow pleasantly hard, Isobel might not be much to look at but like most plain girls she was a tiger in the sack. Nick always assumed it was because they never knew when they were going to get lucky again. He pushed the button for Isobel's apartment and waited.
And waited.
Finally the door buzzed, he pushed it open and walked through the lobby. Nick hummed to himself as he pressed the button for the elevator. Isobel hadn't returned his calls today but he wasn't worried. Where else would she be? Her parents were off on some kind of world cruise and he knew for a fact that her bitch friend Cheryl worked late on Thursday nights.
There was no doubt about it- she was in her apartment, waiting for him. Even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, even if she was doing housework or watching television, that's what she was really doing- waiting for him. It never failed, Nick thought, the worse you treated a woman, the crazier she was about you.
A soft bell sounded to announce the elevator's arrival, the doors opened and a trio of women with baby carriages trundled out. Nick watched them pass, a look of discomfort crossing his features. The air of the elevator reeked of baby powder and department store perfume. Nick pressed the 4th floor button and felt his stomach lurch as the car began its ascent.
When the doors re-opened, his view of the lobby was replaced with the main hallway of the fourth floor. Nick got out and walked quickly down the quiet, gently lit corridor to apartment 430. He paused, Isobel's door was open a crack. Had someone broken in? Nick didn't think so, the Colonie Towers was pretty safety conscious, any visitors would have to be buzzed in.
Maybe, he mused, she was in there waiting for him. Grinning Nick pushed the door open; it creaked slightly, underscoring his voice as he called her name.
Walking into the parlor, he felt a cold slap of surprise as he saw the slender too-handsome man sitting on the couch. Right off the bat Nick knew he was a cop, his suit and posture made it so damn obvious.
What the Hell is that little bitch up to? Nick wondered as he readied an all-purpose excuse.
The too-handsome cop flashed a jovial grin, "Well hello. Didn't expect to see you here."
"Then again…" A woman stepped out of the kitchen, her hair was an elegant tangle of loose curls, her suit was finely tailored. The sight of her made Nick's palms sweat. "We didn't expect not to see you here. I mean the girl’s got pictures of you all over the place."
"But those pictures were face down." The man chuckled, "My partner is such a romantic."
Nick shook his head, "Uh, what is this? Who are you people?"
The woman with the killer bod slipped behind him, for a brief moment Nick felt her press against him. As she closed the door she said, "But those messages on the answering machine, so pleading."
"But not too pleading." The man stood, "And look he's here empty handed. I think romance is the furthest thing from his mind. Am I right Mr.…?"
"Nick." He jumped again as the woman slid past him again to stand beside her partner. There was something predatory about her that Nick found unnerving, there was something predatory about both of them.
"Mr. Nick?" Her laugh was like his, just softer.
"You to have five seconds to stop dicking me around and tell me what the frig is going on here before I leave."
"See?" The too handsome man said, "He didn’t even ask about Miss Talbot once."
"Which means our Good Samaritan soiled her bedsheets last night with Galen." The woman shook her head with bemusement, "Trampy."
"Fuck this." Nick turned to leave, "And fuck you."
The too-handsome man lunged at Nick. His grip as like iron, with one hand he pulled Nick's arms behind his back and forced him to his knees. Nick started to cry out.
"Hush." the woman silenced him by pinching his lips together. The force of her grip drove the ends of her long red-painted fingernails through his flesh.
Chapter 9
Thursday November 7th 1996
Reclaiming her parent's house from weeks of neglect had left Isobel feeling tired and dirty; but at least it had taken her mind off other things. It wasn't until the drive home, when she was alone with her thoughts that it all came back to her. The whistle and flap of the garbage bag she had taped over the window seemed to mock her leaving her feeling like she was still nothing more than the clueless, helpless girl she had been in high school.
NO! Isobel squelched the thought as she parked her car and headed into her apartment building. You’re not that girl anymore! Her skin cleared up, she lost some weight, she went to college and she got a real job.
And, the thought was so sweet that it left her smiling to herself as she rode the elevator up to her floor, she got her own place.
Moving out, it was a minor rite of passage for some but for her it was a great shining victory. She had moved out in the middle of a family confrontation. Isobel remembered her mother's voice, "How do you think you'll survive out on your own? You don’t know anything! You don't know how to budget yourself-you blow half your paycheck the day you get it! You don't know how to do your own laundry! You barely know how to keep house! You'll be broke and back in a month!"
The going had been rough at first, mostly because she didn't know anything about budgeting, laundry or keeping house, but she learned. The one month deadline's passing was marked by a phone call from her father. Isobel had been proud to tell him she was doing fine.
Isobel's smile fell as she unlocked the door of her apartment and stepped inside. She didn't remember leaving the TV on. Her nose wrinkled at the smell hanging in the air, an odor she associated with meat gone bad. The door swung to a close behind her.
Her tongue went dry at the sight of the dead body. Disbelief made her vision blur and snap back into focus. Blood pooled and streaked the fabric of the couch, congealing in the gaps between the cushions.
Isobel blinked trying to make the vision disappear but it remained. The eyes were wide and glassy. The lips bloody and grimacing. The top of the skull was gone, leaving nothing but jagged bone and tatters of skin.
Finally she recognized the remains of the half-peeled face.
Her legs failed her and she slumped against the wall. Who had done this? Nick must have come by to try and make up, as he always did. He knew her weakness for surprise visits all too well. What had he found waiting for him?
Galen? Could Galen have done this?
"For what its worth," a woman stepped out of the kitchen. She was simply gorgeous; it was the kind of easy attractiveness that made Isobel self-conscious. The woman wore a white blouse, it was unbuttoned to the waist and a single bloody thumbprint marred the crisp silk. "His dying thoughts had nothing to do with you. You meant nothing to him."
"What?"
She sat down on the recliner and ran her hands through her long hair, "He thought of his mother, typical really."
A man stepped out of the kitchen, he and the woman made perfect bookends with their cool beauty. "You'll have to pardon her." He said, "She ate too fast."
The woman began to button her blouse with shaky fingers, "Color me chastised."
"You did this?" Isobel said. "Who are you?"
"Ah." The man smiled, his teeth were perfect, "My companion is known as Ms. Ginnmett and I am called Mr. Sauno."
“So formal.” The woman said, “I’m Helen, this is Peirs.”
Their names barely even managed to register, Isobel was too busy wondering what they had planned for her. Again and again her gaze returned to what was left of Nick, "Why did you- How-"
"You shouldn't concern yourself with such things." Peirs Sauno said.
"If- if you don't get out of here I'll scream."
"You don't think he tried screaming?" Helen Ginnmett picked idly at her fingernails, "Where did it get him?"
Where… where is his brain?
Then she remembered Piers Sauno's words, "You'll have to pardon her… She ate too fast."
Isobel began to shake, "What do you want? I'll give you money, I'll give you anything you want."
Mr. Sauno stepped towards Isobel, when she tried to back up he only moved closer showing her there was no way she could make a break for the door, "All we desire is information. Answer one simple question and we will leave. Where is Galen?"
The shivering stopped, Isobel's mind became reptile calm, "W-who?"
Helen Ginnmett laughed, Mr. Sauno silenced her with a gesture.
Isobel's hand snaked into her coat pocket, the .22 caliber pistol Cheryl had insisted she take. Where was the safety again?
Piers Sauno frowned, "We know you rescued Galen last night. I'll give you one more chance. One final chance, tell us where he is."
"But I don't know anything. I just gave him a ride."
"There are rides." Ms. Ginnmett stood with a wink, "And then there are rides."
"He's not here. He left after… he left in the morning."
Mr. Sauno's frown deepened, "That sounds like him all right. He got what he wanted and then left."
Ms. Ginnmett agreed, "You don't owe him anything. If he said anything, anything at all about where he might be going…"
Isobel played up the edge of panic in her voice, "I'll do anything you want. Just please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. I don't want to die."
"Then just tell us."
"Just don't hurt me. I won't go to the police, I swear I don’t know anything."
Mr. Sauno spoke like a parent trying to calm a hysterical child, "No one else has to get hurt, just tell us where he is."
A familiar voice interrupted them "Leave her alone."
Galen stood in the open doorway, looking like a movie hero come to rescue his damsel in distress.
Mr. Sauno nodded, "There you are. I thought we'd lost you to the Hanged Man and his sycophants."
Both intruders were moving towards Galen now, Isobel suddenly beneath their concern.
"Just let her go." Galen said, "She has nothing to do with this."
Ms. Ginnmett laughed "If she has nothing to do with this then why did you come back?"
"You're tensing up there Galen." Piers Sauno said, " We can't have that."
Galen raised his hands, "Let's all calm down here. The Monarchs need me."
"That does explain why you're still alive doesn’t it?"
His hands. Isobel realized, What happened to the cuts on his hands? They're gone.
A pair of synchronized snaps drew Isobel's attention from Galen back to the intruders. Slender lengths of white metal had emerged from beneath the flesh at the back of their wrists. They looked sharp as knives.
Ms. Ginnmett said "Time to pay the piper our little Dauphin."
"Dauphin!" Mr. Sauno smiled thinly, “You are a treasure Helen.”
Galen said, "Get out of here Isobel."
“Yes.” Mr. Sauno nodded towards her, "Run if you want. We'll catch up to you later."
"May as well." Ms. Ginnmett frowned thoughtfully, "You’re never going to get that safety deposit back. "
"You going to come quietly Galen? The Monarchs are anxious." Mr. Sauno drew back his arm, the edge of the blade shimmered.
What am I going to do? Isobel thought. How could she every truly escape this? Who could protect her from the likes of Helen Ginnmett and Piers Sauno. If nothing else she was most likely going to find herself a murder suspect by the morning. Isobel was cornered and she knew it.
Besides, Galen was here, she couldn't lose him again. She wouldn't.
"Listen-" Galen began again, "We're all on the same side here-"
"Stay away from him!" Isobel tore out the inside of her pocket as she drew the gun. She let her aim waver between Nick’s murderers.
“Oh heavens.” Ms. Ginnmett’s voice was deadpan "She's got a gun."
A look of annoyance creased Mr. Sauno's face, "What's one more body then?"
He lunged for her. Galen tried to get between them but only managed to knock Mr. Sauno's first slash wide of the mark. Isobel stumbled backwards and fired. The first bullet grazed his shoulder, the second missed him completely.
The stinging sensation seemed distant at first. Isobel was too preoccupied with the ringing of her ears. Then she looked down at the back of her forearm. A deep diagonal wound had been cut into the meat of it. Already her sleeve was soaked with blood. The pain reached her then and it flowered. Isobel tightened her grip on the gun and sat up, trying to get her bearings.
Ms. Ginnmett was at tussling on the floor with Galen, her breathing was even, her expression full of detached determination. There was a sour chemical smell in the air like cleaning products and burnt plastic. Mr. Sauno grabbed hold of her gun hand. Isobel saw the wound she had given him but it was all wrong. The blood was watery and the color of mustard, the bone was dull and blue gray.
What are they?
"No gun license but I should have suspected.” Mr. Sauno said, “Now why don’t you-”
“Get away from me!” Isobel fired three shots into Mr. Sauno’s leg. There was a hissing sound and his knee buckled. He slashed at her again as he went down cutting deep into her side. Pain swallowed her senses.
A cracking sound filled the air as Galen had bent both of Ms. Ginnmett’s arms back at an impossible angle.
“Oh damnit.” She said.
Isobel wondered how many of her neighbors were dialing 911.
Mr. Sauno dove at her, catching her in a clumsy tackle. The chemical smell was overpowering up close, it left her eyes watering.
What are they?
Then Galen was on Mr. Sauno’s back, straddling him. “Enough!” He pulled at the man’s head and twisted his until there was a metallic snap.
Ms. Ginmett got to her feet again and Isobel fired the last few bullets in a blind panic. The first bullet did nothing more than punch a hole in the wall, the remaining caught Ms. Ginmett in the chest and face. Globs of orange fluid and clumps of rubbery flesh spattered the walls, revealing sinews of copper and bones the color of a hospital floor.
Somehow Mr. Sauno was still talking, still grabbing at Galen, “Ungrateful-”
It was all too much now, Galen or no Galen. Isobel ran from the apartment shoving her way past the neighbors gathering in the hallway. She ran down the stairs taking the steps two and three at a time until she was out of the building.
Chapter Ten
Thursday November 7th 1996
"TIM! PUT THAT GOD-DAMNED CAT DOWN!" Warren Talbot shouted to be heard above the Cream CD thundering from the stereo.
"I'm just playin' with her!" Tim replied, pitching Princess from his rough grip, "Hey! I thought cats always landed on their feet."
Collin held his sides, quaking with laugher. Isobel had only been gone for an hour and a half but already the house was degenerating into chaos; two empty six packs worth of beer cans were stacked on top of the television, empty Burger Clown wrappers lay on the floor and the Lazy-Boy had been upended in Tim's attempts to 'pet' Princess.
"Guys." Warren said, "We just got done cleaning the place."
"So?" Tim asked as he went to the refrigerator for his eighth beer.
"So? I think one surprise inspection from my sister is enough!"
"She can inspect me anytime." Collin said.
"Shut up. I don't need her coming here and finding the place a mess again."
Tim sat back down on the couch, "Do you have a point?"
"No!" Warren shook his head, "I mean yes! Yes I do have a point. She could fink on me to my parents."
"So?"
"So? So, they'll rag my ass out from here to kingdom come!"
"Don't mean nothin' to me."
Warren gave up and got himself a beer. Tim and Collin were his best buddies and thankfully old enough to buy alcohol but it seemed like all they wanted to do was get on his nerves at every opportunity.
"Why don't you guys sit down and watch the movie?" Collin said over the stereo's blare "It's fuckin' awesome and you're missin' it."
Tim squinted at the bodies writhing on the screen, "What one is this?"
"The Pink Lagoon."
Warren sipped his beer carefully, "Why don't we go out someplace?"
"Like where?"
"I dunno. A nightclub maybe."
Collin rolled his eyes, “Oh please."
"What's the problem?" Warren asked.
"Even if we could get you in, we can’t have a good time with you along. You just sit at the bar and sulk."
Tim laughed evilly.
"I do not sulk!"
"Oh yes you do." Tim cackled.
"I just like to check out the ladies."
"Too bad none of 'em ever wanna check you out."
"You'll see, one of these nights the right one will come along."
Collin put the video on pause, "Warren, you can't go to a bar loaded with college girls getting drunk on their parents' money and expect to find love. It's like going to Burger Clown in search of a nutritious meal."
"Maybe I'm not as cynical as you are."
"Maybe you just haven't gotten burned enough times." Tim tossed the now empty beer at the pile on the TV, toppling them.
"I still believe in love." Warren said.
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"You're just not looking."
"Yeah. Right. Give me one example."
"Okay." Warren stared into space for a few moments and then turned his attention back to his two best friends, "There was this guy, I guess it was back around World War One, he was a lawyer, he had a girl waiting for him back home- the standard American dream stuff. He got hit with that poison gas the Germans were using, and somehow it gave him something like the Elephant Man's disease."
"Oh really?" Collin said, "And what color are the clouds on your world?"
"Shut up. So he comes back from the war and starts getting all deformed. Not gross like the real Elephant Man, he just turns all big and ugly. So his life falls apart, nobody wants to go to some freak lawyer and his girl dumps him for somebody normal."
"Translation," Tim snickered, "Nobody in the Talbot family."
Princess poked her head out from behind the couch, her whiskers quivering, her body low to the ground.
"So do you know what this guy does? He goes to Hollywood and becomes an actor. He does monster movies as 'the Creeper'. They bill him as the only actor in horror movies that doesn't need make-up. So while he's doin' these movies he meets this gorgeous actress and she falls for him. They end up getting married, the end."
"That's it?" Collin asked.
"Yeah."
"What a stupid story!" Tim buried his face in his hands, "Of course this Creeper guy got a girl, he was a movie star!"
"Oh come on!"
"You said it yourself she was an actress. The bitch probably thought it was a good career move, maybe she wanted a part in his next movie."
Warren shook his finger, "You know you have a serious mental problem."
"Hey, I'm not the one who can't face reality."
"And what reality is that?"
Collin unpaused the video.
Tim spoke slowly, using the tone he reserved for slow witted children and officers, "The reality is that all this women's liberation stuff is crap. Women are only interested in one thing when it comes to long term relationships- money. They'll go for the best provider every time, just like they did in caveman days. And believe me that's the first thing they look for, they can sniff out cash like bloodhounds."
"Do you know how paranoid you sound?"
"That's why you can't get any! You gotta pretend you're rich, you gotta have rich attitude. They way you slouch and sulk, the chicks just know you're living with your parents."
Warren found himself trying not to slouch, "After hearing this I'm not in the least bit surprised that you've never been in a long term relationship."
"Maybe so." Tim stood and made his way back to the refrigerator, "But I've seen more pussy than you've dreamed about."
Ever on the lookout for unwanted hands, Princess crept beneath the endtable and laid down.
"Look, there was this lady who had the Elephant Man's disease too-"
"What the fuck is it with you and the Elephant Man? I think you've got Michael Jackson's disease." Tim pulled another beer from the last six pack.
"I'm just tryin' to prove a point here." Warren no longer knew how this argument had gotten started but he was determined to win it, "This lady, one whole side of her face had swollen up, she looked like some kind of giant deformed tomato."
"Where did you see this?"
"On Real People back when it was still on the air. Anyway she married this normal looking guy, he was her high school sweetheart and they had a bunch of normal looking kids. Now, that's gotta be love."
Tim popped the beer can and glared at him.
"I mean," Warren shrugged, "you know he didn't marry her for her looks."
"Guys are dogs, they'll screw anything, anytime, anyplace."
"Oh stop."
"You should see the beasts some of my fellow jarheads take home when its five minutes 'till closing."
Warren threw up his arms in resignation, "OK, you're right, all women are moneygrubbing slime, all men are dogs. I guess I'm just different, and maybe someday I'll find a girl who's different."
"You say that now but after a few more years of teasing the weasel you'll go for anything that moves."
The Pink Lagoon had reached its sticky conclusion, Collin turned to them, "OK, I say we go a nightclub but Warren has to ask a girl to dance."
Warren blanched slightly, "What?"
"Yeah." Tim said poking him with a meaty finger, "And if ya don't I'll beat the shit out of you."
"Fine!" Warren snapped back, "And if you don't ask a girl to dance I'll..."
"You'll what cheesedog?" Tim raised a fist.
"Never mind." Warren backed down, "Let's just go. I’ll get my coat."
Tim downed the last half of the beer and issued a belch that startled Princess and drove her back into hiding, "Since you're the only one sober Warren, you get to drive. Hey we should take that bitchin’ Continental your folks got parked in the garage."
"I told you already they took the keys with them.” Warren called from upstairs.
"Damn. Even his parents don’t want him get laid.”
Collin hit the power button on the stereo, the music died, "Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"You think we'll actually get him to ask a girl to dance?"
"Hope so. We got to make a man of him somehow."
Warren re-entered the room, jingling his car keys, "Let's go!"
Tim checked the Smith & Wesson 9mm automatic holstered to his ankle, "All aboard the crapbox express!"
"What's with the gun?" Collin asked as he turned the TV off and grabbed his own coat from behind the love seat, "You're on furlough."
"The world’s a dangerous place. Even here in Smallbany "
"Yeah but you're kinda drunk."
Tim clapped his friend on the back, "Shit! I do some of my best shooting when I'm blitzed.”
Chapter Eleven
Thursday November 8th 1996
Sunlight glistened through the streaked windshield of the Honda Civic; somewhere a car horn bleated a long ugly note. Isobel stirred groggily, peeling her face from the drool-sticky passenger seat. The cuts on her arm had dried and scabbed, her blouse had become stuck to it. The wound in her side was still sore and weeping blood but at least it was less than before. She had fallen asleep worrying about stitches and blood loss but afraid to go to a hospital.
"Run if you want. We'll catch up to you later."
"Oh my God." she whispered. Her car was a park that only really got used by high school kids and that was just for partying and making out. "Oh God." Isobel cupped a hand across her mouth. She could still smell the odor of gunpowder on her fingers. Her gag reflex twitched and her mind rebelled.
Isobel put a hand on the cold steering wheel, pumped the gas pedal twice and turned the key. The engine coughed miserably.
What am I going to do? She wondered
"Run if you want. We'll catch up to you later."
Isobel put her car into drive. Why hadn’t she waited for Galen? Or tried to rescue him? Was she that much of a coward? Was it because she had glimpsed his world and wanted no part of it? She drove slowly towards the exit of the park and when she got to the main street, she merged with traffic. She asked herself what the intruders in her apartment had been.
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