It was shortly after dinner, around 7pm when Harlan Branscombe arrived at Christine’s home.   Harlan was six feet tall, and squarely built with an air of strength and capability around himself.  He had graying brown hair, and a grizzled salt-and-pepper beard, a long tan trenchcoat and a brown fedora.   He looked to be in his fifties - but still hale and quick.

 

Christ, he looks sort of like my uncle Ray, Christine thought.  “C’mon inside.  Mr. Branscombe, I presume?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.  I understand you’re Christine Vallan, a friend of Angela’s.  I’m here to talk to you and Eric... I mean Erica, and help you with your story for the police.”   Harlan said.   “If it’s any help, I’m glad you survived the massacres - the one that spilled out here from the Neilson Clinic.”

 

“Right - Al Qaeda.”  Christine said.  “Thanks.  Just hang your coat up here,” she said, motioning to the closet.  “We’re in the kitchen.”  Christine waited for Harlan to remove his shoes and jacket, and led him to the kitchen, where Kai, Maeve, Andred and Erica were polishing off the KFC and Pizza.   They liked it so much yesterday, I knew they wouldn’t mind it again.  Hell, it might be the last time any of them ever eat pizza from Earth.  Let them enjoy it.

 

“Harlan is here to help me with my story, guys.  We’ll need the kitchen - could you clean up when you’re finished, and head down stairs?”

 

“No problem,” said Sir Andred.  “I would like for us to continue watching the movie about the enchanted ring and the broken fellowship.  I would not want the fair hobbit’s to suffer at the hands of those beastmen.”

 

“Me too,” said Kai.  “Would you come set it up Erica - you know we don’t know how to operate that DVD device.”

 

“Sure - I just have to talk to Harlan first, okay.  I’ll be down in a minute.”  Erica said.

 

“I take it, miss that you’re Erica van Helstrome?”  Harlan asked Erica.  It was obvious he was astonished at her changes...  He knew too well the limits of plastic surgery, and the changes Eric had gone through seemed more than extreme... they seemed miraculous - or impossible, depending on your choice of adverbs.  I wonder if that’s really Eric, or someone else.  It boggles the mind to believe it, but damn!

 

“Yes.”  She said.  “I used to be Eric, but I changed my name.”  Erica continued on, pointing at each of her friends.  “This is Maeve Varda, Kyrodin - he goes by Kai - Gellere, and Andred Duchesne.  They’re my good friends, and each of them has worked hard to keep Christine and I alive for the last six weeks.  We’d both be dead without their help.”

 

Interesting, Harlan thought.  So Maeve is the woman the police think was part of the massacre at the clinic.  It seems she was part of the solution, and not part of the problem.  Good.  “You know, miss, the police are looking for you - they think you might be involved with the attack on the Clinic.”

 

Maeve just looked confused - and Erica realized that Sir Andred still had her translation amulet.  Gah!  “Sorry Harlan - she’s got a rough time with English.  I’ll translate for her.”  She continued in Valdan.  “Maeve, this is Angie’s helper. My Uncle Harlan - he says the police think you’re responsible for the massacre at the clinic - the asylum - where you found me, with the demon.  He’s warning you.”

 

Maeve nodded.  “Thanks Erica.  Maybe I’d better head downstairs before our strange lack of being able to talk the language becomes an issue.  I should have tried to requisition a third translation amulet from the church before we left, but the paperwork is a nightmare.  I figured we could make do - maybe I was wrong.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.  I’ll meet you guys downstairs.  Maybe you’d all better vamoose... I mean head out.  I’ll talk with Harlan.”  Erica sighed...  This language barrier is a giant pain in the ass.

 

Harlan waited patiently as Erica talked to Maeve in something that sounded similar to Gaelic or Welsh, but was obviously quite different.  Harlan had Welsh grandparents, and he didn’t recognize a single word Erica spoke - although the language was smooth and lyrical in its sound, and seemed oddly similar, like he SHOULD have understood it. 

 

Kai stood up, and helped Andred and Maeve clear the table.  “Well get out of your way, Ser Harlan.”  Kai said.  “It’ll probably be easier that way.”  They cleaned up, and headed downstairs.

 

“I’ll be down shortly.”  Erica said.

 

Harlan couldn’t help notice Erica and Christine wince at the whole situation - obviously there was more going on here than they were comfortable telling, which was fine with him.   In fact, the only ones looking largely unconcerned were Maeve, Kai and Andred.  They looked like they were ready to kill him if he stepped out of place - and he realized that perhaps they were.  These three are trained killers, he thought.  They would have no trouble killing anyone who brought trouble to this house, for sure, and they sure as hell wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.  And Erica looks like she might be heading that way too.  Who have you fallen in with, kid?

 

“I take it they’re from somewhere where they don’t have DVD players?”  Harlan asked.

 

“Yeah - they grew up in a commune from far away.  No technology at all.”  Erica lied.  “They like TV but they’re a bit scared of cars.”

 

“Whatever, Erica.  I don’t care about where they came from - I just came to help get Christine’s story straight and to see if you’re all right.  The rest isn’t my business.”  Like hell it isn’t.  If I don’t have a dossier on those three by dawn, I’ll have to talk seriously to my team of researchers.  Seriously, no one gets the training those three have had, and gets to the age that Andred apparently is, without leaving some sort of records somewhere.  Commune my ass.  If these friends of Erica are a risk to Angela, I need to know.

 

“Okay.” Erica said, obviously not fully believing him.  “What did you want to ask me?  I’d like to sort this out so I can go get the movie set up for my friends - and that way you and Christine can have privacy... I think she wouldn’t mind a break from them for a while either.”

 

“You’re not kidding.”  Christine said.  “One more question and I’d explode.”

 

“I take it they aren’t familiar with our country?”  Harlan asked.

 

“Not really.”  Christine said.  “Like Erica said, they grew up in some sort of technology free commune.”

 

Sure they did, he thought.  What game are you two playing at?   “If you don’t mind I’d like to take Erica to another room, and chat with her in private.  Do you mind?”

 

“Nope.”  Christine said.  “Not if Erica is fine with it.”

 

“I’m okay.”  Erica said.  “Let’s go.”  Erica led Harlan into the living room on the ground floor, where she sat in a comfy chair.  “I guess you have some questions - and some information about the gang that killed my friends, Norm and Dave.  I’d like to hear both.”  Erica was friendly, and polite - but also trying to take charge of the situation and lead it - not just follow.

 

Harlan nodded, a bit surprised.  This was not like the Eric he knew... the Eric who ate from dumpsters and cried about spiders while sleeping in trash piles on the streets.  The Eric who heard voices, and who was barely able to talk to people without looking erratic and crazy.   Who is this person?   It’s obvious Angela believes she is who she says she is...  “I take it the events of the last six weeks changed you?  I mean besides the obvious... you look calmer, more in control.  I take it you’re on medication, and it’s working?”

 

“Yeah.”  Erica said.  “I feel like the voices are gone.  It’s pretty amazing actually.”  She smiled.  “You’re wondering if I’m really Eric, aren’t you?  Or if I’m some imposter after dad’s money?”

 

She’s more perceptive too.  Hrmmm.  “Actually yes - it’s my job to worry about these things.  Angela doesn’t realize that there are a large number of people who would try to assume your identity to get what she has... and I intend to protect her from that.”

 

“That’s great, Harlan, cause I don’t want any of her money.  I’m going to do a short trip with some of my friends - the ones downstairs - and then I’m leaving with them to go back to their commune.  I don’t want Angela’s money - and if it would make you happier, I’ll sign something to that effect.  I actually came back to say goodbye.”

 

That I didn’t expect.  But it’s not like it’s a tack that others haven’t taken before - pretend to not want the money, then go for it when it’s offered.  I need to know more.  “Well then, would it surprise you to know I’ve been having people watch you, keep an eye on you, for the last six years or so while you’ve been on the street?   Without your fathers permission, mind you - but because I’d gotten used to taking care of the family, and because I was worried for you.”

 

“It would surprise me a bit.”  Erica said.  “I never knew you were so close to dad - but then, I didn’t spend much time with him after I got Schizophrenia.  I liked you used to bring Angie and I candy.”  Erica looked down, still sad from before.  “I can’t talk about dad much more - I’m too upset from finding out he died while I was gone.”

 

“Upset how?  You miss him that much?  You didn’t get to say goodbye?”   I wonder if she’ll say yes - the easy answer - and the wrong one...  Harlan felt like he was playing a game of cat and mouse with Erica - and with the old Eric the winner would be a foregone conclusion - Harlan.  Now, he wasn’t so certain.

 

“Hardly.  He hated my guts - blamed me for moms death after her suicide - and blamed me for that suicide note mom sent me.  I’m upset because I can’t hit him for making my life hell, or do anything more than spit on his grave.  I’m upset I’ll never get closure, and get the bastard to apologize for making my life a living hell.  I’m upset because of so many reasons I can’t explain... Mostly I just hate his guts and I’m glad he’s gone.”  Erica looked drained after relaying it - like it took a lot out of her to say it.   “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.  Ask me something else, please.”

 

Hrmmm.  She’s holding up better than Eric should under stress, and she didn’t fall into that trap.   There’s one way I know I can find out if he’s telling the truth.  “Are you aware that Anders and Angela never made the contents of the suicide note public, nor told anyone outside of the immediate family.  Outside your sister and Anders, you and I are the only people alive who have seen that note.”  Harlan smiled.  If you can’t answer this, I’ve got you!   He didn’t expect her to answer.

 

Erica looked puzzled - and then mad.  “You want to hear the note?  Fine - fuck you.  I’ll recite it from memory.  And then, when I’m done, you’ll tell me where the Deadpool gang can be found and stay the hell away from me and my friends.  I’m done with your questions.”  Erica was mad - and her face showed it...  What she didn’t realize is the sheer force of presence that radiated from her when she tried to show it... she’d had no other experience with it - and it took Harlan by surprise.  It struck Harlan with almost palpable force.

 

Holy shit!   This is not the Eric who nearly died in the alleys six weeks ago!   The old Eric would never have called me out like that, or subtly threatened me like that.   She’s different - but no one other than Eric would know the contents of the letter.  If she can tell me... maybe she is Eric?   It would be fucking strange, but I’d have to admit it could be possible.  Damn.  “Go ahead.”

 

Erica steeled herself.   I don’t want to do this, she thought.  That damn letter ruined me...  It ruined our family - made dad hate me.  It’s probably the only thing that I can tell him that would have to prove I am who I say I am.   Fuck it.   “Dear Eric - by the time you read this I will be gone.  I want you to know, I did what I did to keep you safe from them Eric - the things in the dark, the things that hunt you.  I tried to protect you, growing up - but they kept looking for you...  It got so much worse once you started hearing the voices - they wouldn’t stop, no matter what I did.  I tried telling your father, but he wouldn’t believe me - he sent me out west to the clinic to get better - but he didn’t understand I was just protecting you.  I love you so much, I couldn’t bear to see them take you - take you to their cold dark place, so I offered them myself, to save you - and they accepted.  You have to understand baby, I love you very much and I don’t want to go away - but they said they’ll leave you alone if I go with them...  I love you, Eric - please believe that.  I did what I thought was best for you.  Never forget that.  Love Mom.”

 

Harlan gaped at Erica - it had to be Eric... Erica.   She had recited the letter word for word, even down to the inflection he imagined Laura van Helstrome speaking it in.  Aside from the difference in appearance, Erica seemed like a version of her mother reciting the letter, even down to the speech and mannerisms.   This person had known Laura van Helstrome - she was Eric.  There could be no question.

 

“My apologies, Erica.”  He said.  “It seems my mistrust was misplaced.  I’m convinced you are who you say you are - and if you say you want no claim on Angela’s fortune, I believe you.  I don’t understand it, but I believe you.  You have to understand, though, that even if you ask for nothing, Angela won’t let you leave without giving you something.”

 

“That’s up to Angie, not me.  If she does give me something, I’ll probably accept it.   Now it’s your turn.  What do you know about that gang, the Deadpool?  If you have names, I’ll take them - and I want addresses as well if you have them.”  Erica’s face had a feral look, like someone who wanted bloody vengeance.  She looked like she’d enjoy it, too.

 

Harlan nodded.  She’s like the others - like the ones downstairs.  She’s just the newbie - she hasn’t had the training or practice they’ve had - but inside, you can tell.  She’s like them - or like me.  Take your pick.   In a few years shell either be dead - or very, very dangerous.    He opened a briefcase, and took out a dossier wrapped in an elastic band, containing a thick sheaf of papers.  “You got lucky, Erica.  Your friends were the fifth group of homeless people they torched that week - and the last.  After they killed your friends, they laid low for a while.  My investigators dug up what we could on them - in case Angela wanted me to deal with them.  You know, I could ask her if she wants me to, if you want.  It would be my pleasure.”

 

Erica considered his offer a moment.  “No, thank you.  I’m sure you could deal with them, but I want to see it done personally.  They need to suffer - badly.  They took the only people in this world that I cared about other than Angie and Christine away from me, in a cruel and inhumane way - and I intend to see justice done.  True justice.”

 

She and her friends are gonna kill them all.  He thought.  Damn.  “Then take precautions and don’t get caught.  If you need help cleaning up afterwards, call me.”  He said, giving her a card with his cell number.  “If it comes down to it, Angela would want me to make sure her sister didn’t get life in prison for murder, so cleaning up a crime scene is the least I can offer.  I mean it - call me.  I know what the police look for.”

 

“Okay.”  Erica said.  “I’ll call.  Thanks for the files, Harlan - I’m sure they’re good.  They look pretty thorough from the size of the files.”

 

“They are.  I had three private detectives run down backgrounds on the entire gang, highlighting the ones that killed your friends.  Credit histories, criminal records, hell - some of the files even have the foods they like and if they’re right or left handed.  Names and addresses are obvious.   You should be able to find them without problem.”

 

“I’ll leave you to deal with Christine then.”  Erica said, standing up.  She held out her hand to shake Harlans - it was firm, but not particularly strong.  Erica didn’t look emaciated anymore, but she still looked skinny.  

 

As Erica turned to leave, she paused.  “Uncle Harlan?”  she asked.

 

God, I haven’t heard that in over a decade, he thought.  “Yeah, what is it, Erica?”

 

“Why did you stop bringing candy for Angie and I?”  Erica wondered.

 

Harlan paused a moment.  Why does she care?  How does she even remember that?  “Your father told me to stop spoiling the two of you – he thought you would begin to expect handouts.  He thought it would make you weak.”

 

“Hrmph.  I’m not surprised.  Thanks.”

 

Harlan nodded, and went back to the kitchen to talk to Christine, thoughtful.  I wonder who did the operation on her?  Whoever it was, they did an amazing fucking job...  She must be at least three or four inches shorter, if not more, and a hundred pounds lighter at least - maybe a hundred and fifty.   In the kitchen, Christine was halfway through a beer, and was reading the local paper, the Toronto Star, catching up on local and provincial news shed missed while she was gone.

 

“I’m done with Erica, Christine.  Shall we go over your story?”  He asked.

 

“Sure.  You know, I have talked to cops before.  I know how to talk to cops.” Christine said.  “You want a beer before we get started?”

 

“Actually, I would love a beer, thank you.”  Harlan sat, and let out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.   “Erica has changed from a few weeks ago.  I’ve been keeping tabs on him for his dad and sister for a while - but this Erica is quite different from the Eric I knew.”

 

Christine laughed.  “Oh my god, you have no idea how different.”  She sat, opened the beer, and handed it to Harlan.  “It’s Bud Light - it’s the only beer I have at the moment.”

 

“Hey, no worries.”  He said.  “I know you know how to talk to the cops - but you might not know how they follow down a train of thought to pick apart a story you tell them.  You can’t lie to them, ever - if they catch you in a lie, you’ll be a prime suspect.   You can let them assume or fill in the details so you don’t have to do it, if you like, but you have to be careful what aspects of the truth you feed them, and what elements of what happened you want them to know.”  Harlan took a swig of his light beer.  It was nice and cold, and tasted pleasantly bitter and only lightly of yeast - like beer should, in his opinion.

 

“What I suggest is you tell me your story of what happened, and I’ll pick it apart the way a detective would do, until we get it to the point you can tell it and not incriminate yourself or anyone else you don’t want to.  Sound good?”  Harlan asked.

 

“Yep.  Let’s get to work - something tells me this is going to take a while.”  Christine answered. 

 

*           *           *

 

Erica arrived downstairs to find Maeve, Sir Andred, and Kai sitting down, with Maeve playing the Playstation again.   She had beaten the dungeon on Skyrim and was beginning the long walk back to town to sell her treasure.   Sir Andred helpfully informed her it had only taken 22 attempts.

 

“Good job, Maeve.  I hear the shouting warrior at the end makes for a hard boss fight.  You know there’s like 100 more hours or so of stuff to do in the game, right - you literally can’t finish it before we head back.”

 

“It is sufficient that I defeated this lair.  It was fun too - but don’t get me started on how bad their spellcasting is.  Do you know you can’t even get Kissed by the Void?  And there’s no Call of Hrask?  Weird.   What’s a boss fight?”  Maeve asked.

 

Erica sighed.  “A boss fight is a term that came from these video games - it represents when a group of heroes - like us - is faced with an ever increasing set of challenges that get harder and harder as time progresses - and like us, eventually end with us finishing off all his minions and servants, and then us facing off against the biggest, baddest bad guy around.  The fight with the final bad guy - which is sometimes called the big bad is called a boss fight.   Our boss fight will be with Vargas, if we can find him in time.”

 

“Hmm.”  Maeve said.  “Thanks.  What are you carrying?” she asked, motioning to the file folder Erica had tucked under her arm.

 

“Information on who killed my friends.  I’ll be reading it later - I’ll tell you when I’ve read it what it says, okay?”  Erica asked.

 

“Sure Erica.”  Kai said, tapping the couch beside him as if to say ‘sit down here’.  “We said well help when you’re ready.  We meant it.”

 

“Thanks.”  Erica got the next movie queued up - The Two Towers - and saved Maeve’s game in case she wanted to play it again.  “I assume everyone has been to the bathroom?”   After they all answered yes she hit play, and sat down next to Kai, tucking the file folder under the couch to save room.   She cuddled up to him, and leaned into his shoulder, and Kai tucked his left arm around her.   This never gets old, she thought, thinking about Kai’s arms, and his warmth.  I could get used to this.

 

As the movie started up, she saw how surprised her friends were to see that the wizard Gandalf had not died at the tragic climax of the first movie - and marveled at his epic battle with the Balrog, cheering when he vanquished it in fire and darkness.   They were tense in their seats as the remainder of the fellowship pursued Merry and Pippin - and Sir Andred muttered more than one oath upon seeing Gollum pursue the two hobbit’s, Sam and Frodo.   Kai particularly enjoyed the scenes with the Rohirrim, as did Sir Andred - but surprisingly, Maeve enjoyed the part where the Ents went to war and destroyed Isengard and captured the evil wizard Saruman the most.  They all thought the battle at Helms Deep was incredible - although none of them thought Legolas’s acrobatic tricks would have saved him had it been a real battle.  To say they were gripped was an understatement... and terrified when the movie ended with Frodo and Sam entering the monstrous lair of Shelob, the spider queen.  Erica shivered more than once too, due to her dislike of arachnids - which was far more pleasant when being cuddled with Kai, than it was when she was by herself.  

 

“Thank the goddess we haven’t seen any spiders that big in a while, eh Kai?”  Maeve commented.  “I hate those things.”

 

“Aye.”  Kai said.  “I’m just glad they don’t live near human settlements much.  Disgusting things, and dangerous too.”

 

Erica shivered.  “You mean Mercia has giant spiders?  Ewwww!  Oh my god...”

 

“Calm down, Erica.”  Maeve said.  “They’re rare, and they usually live in dank caves feeding off of unusually large insects.  They don’t often come out into the open - so they’re not a threat, unless like me - and thus Kai, you often have a very good reason to go into dank caves looking for something.”

 

“Ewww.  Just ewww.”  Erica shivered in fear, her skin crawling.  As the credit’s rolled, Erica realized it was well past 11pm, and Christine still had not come downstairs to watch the movie.  Either she’s gone to bed without telling us, or she’s still talking to Harlan.  Wow.  Giant spiders... yuck.    

 

“It seems our Erica is squeamish about such things.”  Sir Andred said, getting up from his seat to stretch.  ‘And if her mother’s apparition is any indicator, it seems with good reason.  Have no fear, Erica.  Such creatures are rare even on our world.”

 

“Thanks, Sir Andred.”  Erica replied.  “I appreciate it.  And you too Maeve.  Thanks.”   She disentangled herself from Kai and stood too, pulling Kai to his feet.  “We should all get ready for bed - we probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”  She said.  

 

Maeve turned to Sir Andred, and gave a questioning glance.  “Sir Andred - did you want your bed back?”

 

“No, Maeve.  This recliner is sufficient, I think.  Thank you.”

 

“Very well.”  Maeve nodded.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  She headed upstairs, followed by Kai and Erica.  

 

In the kitchen, things were winding up with Harlan and Christine, who looked exhausted and more than a bit frustrated.   Harlan looked tired too, but pleased with his nights work.   “I think you’ll do fine, Christine.  Just keep to what we’ve practiced and don’t embellish it even a little bit, and you’ll be fine.”

 

“Thanks Harlan.  I appreciate the help.”  Christine said.

 

“And I appreciate knowing the story, so Angela and I can plug any holes on our end first, so thanks for that.  I’ll be back between 9am and 10am with your car, travel documents, and money.”

 

Erica couldn’t help but interrupt.  “Any chance you could get us some weapons - maybe some knives or a sword or two - or a hatchet for each of us at the least?”

 

Harlan didn’t bat an eye.  “No problem, Erica.  They’ll be in the trunk of the car, with whatever else I can find to toss in for you.”

 

Erica looked a bit surprised.  “Thanks, Uncle Harlan.”

 

“It’s what I do, kid.”  Harlan sighed, and turned back to Christine.  “You or Erica will be here to get the stuff?”

 

“Yeah, one of us will be - probably both of us.”  Christine answered.  

 

“Good.  Goodnight then.”  Harlan turned and left the kitchen, moving past Maeve, Erica and Kai to get his shoes and jacket.  “There’s a lot still to do tonight and not a lot of time to do it in.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Bye.”  Christine locked the door as he left, sighing in exhaustion.  “That is one focused man.”  She said, tiredly.  “I take it the movie went well?”

 

“It was wonderful.” said Maeve.  “I enjoyed it a great deal.  I think if it was real life the heroes must have been very, very lucky or they would have died several times already.  The story was wonderful.”

 

“I’m glad.  I’m also off to bed - my head feels like Swiss cheese - full of holes.  See you all in the morning.”  Christine said, stumbling off towards her bedroom.  “Sleep tight.”

 

The others wished Christine a good night, and headed upstairs themselves.  Kai and Erica retired to their room, and like last night, gave each other a moment of privacy to change into their sleep clothes.  

 

I could get used to this, Erica thought with some anticipation.  Even though she was exhausted, and didn’t sleep that great last night next to Kai, she felt relieved they were finally going to bed, together.   It was like a shared refuge - a shared haven where they could recover from the day together.   She couldn’t wait - even though she expected to sleep poorly again, for at least a few more nights until they got used to each other. 

 

Kai seemed to have similar thoughts, and when they crawled into bed, they looked at each other and cuddled together.   Kai seemed to read Erica - and she seemed to read him.   Kai looked into Erica’s eyes as they lay on the bed together.  “Not going to read that file tonight?” 

 

Erica shook her head.  “No - I’m too tired.  I’ll do it tomorrow, when I’ll remember what I’m reading.  I won’t forget.”

 

“Okay - just reminding you.  You know in that movie, where the princess was not allowed to fight?   In Valris you’d be hard pressed to keep women from kicking your ass if you tried to tell them they couldn’t fight if they wanted to.   I think women have more choices in my home, than they do in that movie...”

 

“I wouldn’t doubt it, Kai.  Not at all.”  Erica said, kissing his nose.  “And I can’t wait to find out all the little differences between my old home and my new one once we go back.   You’ll have to show me all of Wethom, not just that little part of it, and the church.”

 

“I’ll show you the whole damn town if you want me to, hon.  Plus the woods and nearby lakes and streams.  I’ll show you whatever you want.”  Kai said, smiling.  He looked happy.

 

“Thanks hon.” She said.  “I appreciate that - I mean it.  Thank you.”

 

He kissed her, and pulled her close - and they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

 

*           *           *

 

            I wonder how long it will take to get the information we seek, Vargas wondered.  Jeremy had made the appointment for noon at something called “The Mandarin” - which to Vargas, meant it was meant for royalty - but if the way words meant something different here held true, he wasn’t sure what to expect.   Jeremy had dutifully driven Vargas, Gaius and Flavius in his carriage artifice to the restaurant - a drive that took more than a half hour, and which left all three of the Mercians a little sick to their stomachs and pale about the speeds they had been travelling.

 

            Jeremy’s car – a 2010 Cadillac SRX – was pretty comfortable, and drove so quietly all you could hear of the engine was the hum of the tires on the pavement.   Jeremy had bragged about how he had got a great deal on it a few years ago – but Vargas had a hard time understanding their odd paper money and exactly what a ‘dollar’ would buy.   Money is no object, really.  He thought.  And it doesn’t matter how much I give Jeremy – I’ll have treasure beyond counting when I succeed.   “Are we almost at the restaurant yet?”  He asked.

 

            “Yeah – we’re almost there Vargas.  You okay back there?  You look a little pale.”  Jeremy took a quick glance behind him and saw the three men – or reptoids – looking a little I’ll.  “Not used to driving in a car?”   Ha!  Might as well ask them if their usual ride is a spaceship, dummy!

 

            “These conveyances are amazing, but they do leave one a little bit ill.” Vargas conceded.  “I’ll be pleased when we get what we need and are on our way.”

 

            “Well it won’t be long.”  Jeremy laughed.  “We’re here.”  He turned the silver Cadillac into the restaurants parking lot and found a spot.  The place looked busy, but not packed.  Not bad for Sunday at lunch time... we must have beat the lunch rush, or come just after it.  Good – I don’t want too many people around Vargas and his pals...  I don’t know what they’ll do.

 

            Jeremy grabbed the printout of Ms. Joyce Collin’s picture from her U of T webpage, so he’d know her when he saw her, and climbed out of the car.  “Let’s go inside – she’ll either be waiting for us, or we’ll have to wait for her.”  

 

            Vargas and the others nodded, and followed Jeremy.  Inside, the restaurant looked elegant and fancy – with nice tile floors, and small pools full of koi next to a tiny bridge that allowed access to the restaurant.  Several greeters were waiting to escort them to tables, and the place looked busy.  Even to Vargas, it looked classy in the strange way Jeremy’s world looked – with many subdued electric lights and nice pleasant music being piped in from gods knew where.  

 

            Jeremy approached the greeters.  “Hiya.  We’re the reservation for Pierce, table for five – we’re waiting on a Ms. Joyce Collins.  Has she arrived?”

 

            “She just arrived, sir.”  The young Asian lady who worked as a greeter answered, in very good English.  Her nametag said “Sally”.  “Would you like me to take you to your table?”

 

            “Yes please.”  Jeremy said, waiting patiently.  How can Vargas be so calm?  He wondered.  Vargas, Flavius and Gaius look as calm as daisies – while I’m sweating bullets!   I wonder what he’s going to want me to do next, once he finds out whatever Professor Collins has to say?

 

            As Sally led Jeremy, Vargas and his men through the restaurant, the three Mercians were able to catch a glimpse of the several buffet tables.  One held hot food, like a roast and shellfish, while another held many dishes in smaller hot trays.  One table held nothing but what appeared to be salad fixings of all kinds, and another nothing but dessert-like tidbit’s.  Truly food fit for a Mandarin.  That’s one thing I admire about Jeremy’s world.  They know how to treat themselves – they live a life of luxury only a few can maintain back home. Too bad that will soon come to an end.   Vargas smiled.  If nothing else, we will devour our fill at this unearthly buffet. 

 

            Their table was set back from the center of the dining room – one of two being used at the time.  The other two dining rooms in the restaurant seemed unused – probably being saved for the dinner crowd or as ‘overflow’ if things got busy.   The tables were of fine black wood covered with nice quality white table cloths, and Vargas and the others were clearly impressed at the level of service the staff was providing the other diners.

 

            A woman in her mid forties was sitting at their table.  Presumably Professor Joyce Collins, she was shorter than average – only about five feet and a bit – with long brown hair tied in an attractive but easy to manage pony-tail.   Her styled pattern dress showed she dressed ‘casual-fancy’ for the occasion, and had a touch of light makeup and jewelry – enough to look stylish, but not enough to look like she was on the prowl.   “Mr. Vargas, I presume?”  she said, rising and holding out her hand to shake.

 

            Vargas looked at the proffered hand.  Am I supposed to do something with that?  He wondered.   “In the flesh, madam.”  He said, holding out his hand in a similar way – and flinched a bit when she took his hand and shook it.  “I greatly wish to discuss many things with you.”

 

            “Wonderful!”  she said.  “I rarely get a chance to meet such distinguished and elegant guests.  I understand you’ve travelled very far to speak with me, and you’re quite well respected in your country?”

 

            “I have, and I am.  I’m a Saudi Sheik – adopted, as Mr. Pierce can attest to.”  Vargas said.

 

            “Uh... yes.  We spoke on the phone, Ms. Collins – I arranged this lunch meeting.”  Jeremy added.  “Did you bring your materials on the subject matter we discussed?”  

 

            “Well, yes – but not all of it.  I didn’t know which deity you wished to discuss, so I brought information relevant to many in the various pantheons of the time and place.   Why don’t we sit down, and allow Mr. Vargas to get settled first, and we can talk business after lunch?”

 

            “That would suit me, fine.”  Vargas said, “As long as we don’t forget the purpose I retained your services for.  This quest is extremely important to me.”

 

            “I understand, completely, Mr. Vargas.  It’s just that I’m famished.  Could we eat first?”

 

            “Of course.”  Vargas replied.  Oh you’ll understand all too soon, professor.  All too soon.

 

            For the next forty minutes, Vargas, Jeremy and Professor Collins chatted over inconsequentials, while Gaius and Flavius watched warily, while still enjoying the sumptuous and luxurious buffet.   None of the Mercians save Vargas had ever seen such opulence and excess, and the three of them thoroughly enjoyed the experience.  Soon however, their lunch was complete – and the table talk turned once more to business.

 

            “I understand you’re interested in Mesopotamian religion, Mr. Vargas.”  Joyce began.  “Is there a deity or culture you are specifically interested in?”  

 

            Vargas wiped his fingers with the warm moist napkin the waiters had just handed out and nodded.  “Yes, Ms. Collins.  I seek information on the deity known as Tiamat.  Unlike many Saudi’s, I am not Muslim and seek to raise a shrine in North America to her ancient glory, in remembrance of her deeds and past.  I know it sounds odd – but I need to know what she was linked with, mythologically, so that I know where best to raise the shrine to her.  For example, a god of the air would need a high mountain top, to be close to his seat of power, while a goddess of the forests would need a strong and ancient wood.  The symbolical relevance is extremely important to me – and I’d like to concentrate on that aspect of her ‘myth’.   I want my gift to her to be perfect – and odd as it is, I intend to spare no expense on finishing what I begin.”

 

            Vargas paused.  “Speaking of which, Jeremy has your retainer.  Jeremy?”

 

            Jeremy nodded, and pulled out a wrapped stack of $100 bills.  “Mr. Vargas has allowed me to offer you $10,000 for your information, if it proves useful and appropriate, Ms. Collins.  Will that be sufficient?”   Jeremy tried to pull of his best ‘lawyer/aide’ act – and it seemed to work.  Professor Collins was staring at the money so hard he thought she was going to snatch it from his open palm.

 

            Joyce pulled her gaze away from the stack of cash with some difficulty, and nodded, coughing.  “That would be wonderful.  Let’s begin then.”   Joyce reached for a leather briefcase at the side of her chair and pulled out some Xerox copies and a hardbound book – it was well used, with a cloth cover and faded printing.   She gathered her thoughts and began.

 

            “Tiamat was an ancient goddess, at the dawn of human’s recorded history, supposedly predating almost all the other deities of the time.   She was a goddess of salt water, a chthonic being of chaos, and in some myths, called ‘the mother of monsters’.   She predates the Sumerian and Babylonian myths – she’s an old goddess when their tales begin – and is slain in a war between herself and her husband Apsu, and a number of their children – notably Enlil, or Marduk, depending on which myth or legend you use as source material.  Both were gods of man, as opposed to primal forces – Enlil was a god of the air and sky, but also a god of agriculture.  Marduk was very similar – his myth and Enlil’s overlap and they’re sometimes considered different aspects of the same deity.   Enlil or Marduk slew Tiamat in a war of the gods, and divided her body into the heavens and the earth – which makes her body the fundament on which we walk.” 

 

Joyce paused, and took a sip of water.  “I’ll try and narrow it down though – that’s not close enough for you to pick a sacred site.  She was a goddess of salt water – and her tears were the source of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers – the region called them ‘The waters of life’ – and they were literally the most important source of water in the entire region.  She mated with Apsu – a god of fresh water, and equally primal a being – and where their waters mixed, the other gods were born.  I would suggest that perhaps a salt-water lake, such as the Dead sea in the middle east, would be a very appropriate place to erect such a shrine, especially near a source of fresh water, like the mouth of a river that fed into such a lake.”

 

“We cannot go to the middle east.”  Vargas said, thinking carefully.  “My brethren would never allow such a shrine to exist – they follow their god too closely.  That is why I came to North America to build my shrine – is there a site in America that might fit these criteria?”

 

Joyce paused a moment.  “I’m aware of two large salty areas in the United states that might fit your criteria, Mr. Vargas.  There is Salt Lake City, in the state of Utah, which has three freshwater rivers flowing into it.   There are the Bonneville salt flats, also in Utah, west of Great Salt Lake – and I believe there is another salt lake in California – but I can’t recall the name of it.  I believe that either the Salt flats or Salt Lake City would suit your purposes fairly well – but Salt Lake City has access to a work force and the infrastructure you would need to connect your shrine to the power grid and sewer system.  It might be your best bet.”

 

It would also have a suitable number of sacrifices for the ritual to succeed – and for Gaius, Flavius and I to return home.  It sounds suitable, Vargas thought.  “Then is there anything I need to know about Salt Lake City that might hinder or assist my quest to build such a shrine?  Any geological hindrance, or the presence of other religions?”

 

“Well, it is the seat of power for the Mormon faith in North America.  Although some of them might object to your raising a shrine, unless there’s a really remarkable legal effort to prevent you from building it, you should have no problem.  It will take time and money – both of which I’m sure you’re willing to devote to the problem, Mr. Vargas, but it should be do-able.”

 

“Excellent.”  Vargas nodded.  “Jeremy, please pay Ms. Collins her retainer.”

 

“Sure thing, Mr. Vargas.”  Jeremy handed the stack of money to the professor, who quickly put the cash in her briefcase.  “We’d also like any books and documents you have detailing Tiamat and her myths.  Just what you brought with you would be acceptable.”

 

“You want my notes?”  Professor Collins looked somewhat confused.  “I suppose that would be fine – but I would like to keep my briefcase.  It’s a gift from my boyfriend.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Collins.”  Vargas said, smiling.  “Then it would seem we’ve concluded our business.  Thank you.”  He stood and offered his hand to the woman, who once again, shook it.  “My aides Gaius and Flavius will accompany me to your vehicle, where we can collect your notes, if that suffices – while my assistant Jeremy fetches our car.”

 

“Of course, Mr. Vargas.  And thank you for your generosity.  Am I to understand you don’t wish for a receipt?”  

 

Ms. Collins eyes were saying ‘please no, please no, please no’, and Vargas couldn’t help but smile.  Greed.  My favorite vice.  You are closer to Hrask than you suspect, Ms. Collins.   “No thank you, professor.  I think a receipt is un-necessary.  Please enjoy your pay – you’ve more than earned it.”

 

            Ms. Collins smiled a mile wide as she tucked the stack of money in her purse, and grabbed her briefcase to help carry her notes and books out to her car.  Vargas and his bodyguards followed, and Jeremy went off to get his Cadillac, which was in a different part of the parking lot.   The group of them ignored the smiling faces of the staff, many of which waved in thanks as their group left the restaurant.

 

            “Which way is your car, Ms. Collins?”  Vargas asked politely.  “We’ll come with you so your notes don’t blow around in the parking lot – it would be easier to give them to us if you could put your briefcase down, am I correct?”

 

            “Yes you are.  That’s a good idea.  My car is just over here.”  Joyce pulled out a set of car keys, and touched the fob – and the car in question, a Kia Sport in light purple flashed its lights, beeped, and unlocked its doors.   She opened the back door, and put her briefcase down, bending over to withdraw the notes for Vargas and his people.

 

            Vargas looked at Gaius, who nodded, already realizing what his master wished done.  He pulled a wicked looking knife from under his coat, and reached over to slit Joyce Collin’s throat.  Vargas grinned as Gaius’ blade slashed her throat, and as Flavius pushed her dying body onto the back seat of the little Kia Sport.   “She looks cold, Flavius.  Cover her with a blanket, would you?”

 

            “As you wish, master.”  Flavius took a blanket folded on the back seat – speckled with some blood – and covered the body of Joyce Collins with it.   The body mostly concealed, Gaius retrieved the briefcase, and Vargas the keys.  Joyce’s purse – along with her pay of $10,000, was left beside her corpse on the back seat.

 

            As they left, Vargas pressed the ‘lock’ button on the key fob, and tossed it into a sewer grate as they returned to Jeremy’s vehicle.  “Thank you, Flavius, Gaius.  Most efficient, as always.”  

 

*           *           *

 

            Jeremy drummed his fingers worriedly on the steering wheel.   Utah?  Ten bucks says Vargas wants me to take him to Utah next.   I’m going to lose my job – but if I don’t go I’ll probably get myself killed – Gaius and Flavius look like stone cold killers.   Maybe I can turn this to my advantage and get some more gold out of Vargas – if I’m going to lose my job anyway, I might as well build up whatever nest egg I can before I’m done.

 

            He worried about that too.  What if I am done?  The best I can hope for is he cuts me loose with the money I already have.  Not gonna happen – he needs me to navigate the normal world.  So, I either go with him – or get killed.  “Fuck this job looks stupid in hindsight.”  Jeremy muttered to no one in particular.  “This is right were some asshole says ‘what’s the worst that could happen’?”   I’ll tell you the worst – taking a job with three murderous space reptoids – that’s what!  If I survive this I’ll bless my lucky stars forever.  “I’m screwed.”

 

            Suddenly, Vargas and his bodyguards came around the side of the restaurant, carrying Ms. Collin’s briefcase.  I guess they convinced her to part with it after all?   He shuddered, and trembled a bit in fear.  Or maybe they just took it – and if she resisted...  Oh god!  What do I do?   Jeremy contemplated gunning the engine and attempting to run Vargas and his men down, but he knew he only had one chance – and if he didn’t kill all three of them instantly, he was most certainly a dead man.

 

            “Not yet.”  He muttered.  He would have a time to try and run – to try and separate himself from Vargas – but it wasn’t now.  Not yet.  

 

            Vargas and the others came over to the car, and climbed in.  Flavius tossed the briefcase in the back with himself and Gaius.   “We convinced her to part with it after all.”  He said.  “I think she won’t miss it much.”

 

            Jeremy gulped.  That could be taken so many ways, he thought.  Most of them not funny.  “Great. Where to?”

 

            “Back to your home, Jeremy – I want you to consult with your internet about this Salt Lake City before we leave your country and head south to America – to Utah.  I want to see what it says about Mormons as well – if they are the dominant faith of the region, we need to know more about them.”

 

            “Sure, Vargas.  I assume you’ll be needing me for the trip to Utah?”  Jeremy asked.

 

            “You assume correctly.”  Vargas answered.  “Why – will you be requiring more gold?”

 

            “Actually yes.”  Jeremy said.  “If I go with you, I’ll lose my job and my livelihood.  I need at least another 80 of those gold coins.”

 

            “Jeremy, if you come with us and help us in this, I will see that you get 100 of those coins – the last we carry on us.  Help us, and they are yours.”

 

            Jeremy gulped in fear.   I’m dead.  I’m sooooo dead.  As he drove, he tried to concentrate on how the extra gold might compensate him for his trouble, instead of thinking about how he probably wouldn’t survive to spend it.