Mackie

I strongly considered just running out of this insanity but maybe I could learn something more if I stayed put.  Sighing, I flipped open the files.  And closed them right back.  Horrible!  Pictures of women so mangled I thought they had to be fake.  But, of course, they weren’t.  I opened the folder again and flipped through them.  They disgusted me but I managed to hold my inflight meal down.  What could have done this?  These women were torn limb from limb.

I smelt the cigar smoke before I heard the voice.

“What the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing with my files?” a man asked—actually, he virtually coughed out the words.  If sandpaper could speak it would sound like this man.  Short, pudgy, he had a face that made you happy he partially concealed it with the smoke of a Cuban cigar.  Weren’t those illegal?  “Wait a minute, I know you, you’re that actress, Mackie what’s-her-name.  I saw you on Leno.”

“Yes, I am,” I said, carefully.  Had I somehow usurped this man’s life, too?

“What are you doing here?” 

“Apparently I’m a cop in my spare time.”

“What kind of cop?” he asked.  He grabbed the file from me and paged through them.  “Huh.  Leave for a long weekend and this is what I get.”

“What kind of animal could have done that,” I asked.

“One’s a prostitute, the other a Chinese girl,” he said.  “So this is a couple of muggings gone wrong.”

“Muggings?  Something tore them limb from limb.”

“So what?” he asked. 

“Who are you?”
“Krueger.  Yah, like the Elm-Street-guy but without the cool claws.”

“And do you really believe that a mugger did this?”

“What I believe don’t matter,” he said, taking a long, long puff of his cigar.  “What matters is what I can sell.  No one cares about a prostitute and the Chinese never raise a stink, not about this kind of thing anyway.”

“That’s what the Captain wants you to do?  Sweep it under the carpet.”

“The Captain?”  He looked at me as if I were mad.  “Who gives a fuck about him?  He’s unWary.  I’m Wary.  Like you.  And it’s my job to see that everything—unusual—stays off the front page.”  Wary? 

“I’m guessing with your looks you’re from out of plane?” 

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.  “I woke up today and found myself a Hollywood star and now I’m a cop and none of it makes any sense whatsoever.”

“Well, you are a movie star,” he said.  “There’s no spell strong that would make me believe I’ve seen you in three different movies.  As for being a cop, shit, you look like a cop.  Or at least a Crusader.”

“A Crusader?” I asked.

“Someone who hunts monsters.  Course you look like a playmate of the year, too.  Hey, maybe you’re a possessor.  You were killed in your usual cop form and ended up taking over a movie star’s body.  Never heard of a possessor who was a Crusader, though.  Huh.  Don’t know who you were before, do you?”

I shook my head.  “No.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” he said.  “So, Crusader, you gonna solve these crimes, hunt down the monster?  Think you can take care of it before your next blockbuster?”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re going to do anything about them.”

“Sure, I will,” he said.  “I’ll keep it out of the papers.  Most Wary don’t give a fuck what monster does what so long as it stays out of the papers and doesn’t fracture the boundary.”

“The boundary between the supernatural and the mundane,” I said.  Where that came from, I don’t know, just add it to the list of mysteries.

“Bingo.  You’re quick.”

“What do you think about Sholty?”

“Sholty?  A good cop.  Not like me.  Why do you ask?” 

“No reason.  You won’t help me find out what’s doing this?”

“What are you stupid?” he said.  “I don’t have your physical package.  I’d be torn to pieces.  I’m a sense guy and I’m sensing that whatever did this is pretty fucking dangerous.”

“Who could help me?”

He shrugged.  “Got no clue.”

“You mean you won’t tell me.” He shrugged again.

“What do you think about what happened behind Murray’s the other night.”

“Guy had a heart attack,” he said. 

“He had mob connections,” I said.

“Is the mob who you’re from?” he asked. 

“I told you who I was,” I said.

“No, you really didn’t,” he said.  “Which is terrific, because it’s none of my business and I mind my business professionally.  And as a hobby.  And in any spare-time I fucking have left.  You want to play cop, go ahead, do what you want.  Track down monsters.  But keep it quiet.  I can’t stop you any which way.  But I know people who can.  Got it?”

“Not really,” I said.  “I’ve only understood every three words in this conversation.”

“You got it,” he said getting up.  The cloud of cigar smoke followed him as he left.  I was sort of sorry to see him leave.  He understood more of the mystery than anyone else seemed to.  The idea he presented—that there was some sort of mystical underground where monsters lurked and ordinary people couldn’t and mustn’t perceive it—made a kind of sense.  Somehow, I had crossed over into this underground world.

I flipped through the file.  This creature, whatever it was, fueled a great fury in me.  I wanted to kill it whatever it was.  But why did I want to kill it?  And how could I kill something capable of doing this?  What did Krueger mean by “physical package”?  He wasn’t talking about my sex appeal—he barely looked at me.  None of this made any sense but I did know one place where I might find a few answers. 

“Hey Eden!” A uniformed cop said.

I said “Hi” back and he winked.  He was so handsome that I invented new reds so I could blush them.  But he was dragging along a perp and couldn’t stop.  This, I hasten to say, was becoming quite normal for me.  Handsome men noticing me, that is.  Well, I was rich and this was hardly the first time I’d had the experience.  What was odd was how exiting I suddenly found them.  My frigidity really had vanished with my old body and I wish I knew why.    But by now I had so many mysteries that it seemed the least important of my problems.  Still, my mind ran over a couple of sexual fantasies and I was titillated…

Wishing I’d time for a cold shower, I rose from my chair and slid the file aside.  I put my holster on.  Only when I finished did I realize that I wasn’t wearing a jacket—and so the gun was visible which was never good—and also that I now knew exactly how to put on a gun holster.  What was more, it felt right. 

Could I shoot the gun?  I felt certain that I could.  In any case, I should buy some clothing more suitable for a cop.  Or should I?  Me?  A cop?  But of the two choices, movie star or cop, cop felt the most natural.  I certainly wasn’t movie star material however beautiful I had suddenly become.  To reach the door, I had to pass by Sholty’s desk.  So, I heard her voice before I saw her.

“…I’m only asking that you share information with Mr. Poe, here,” said the smoothest and most stately voice I have ever known.  “If you won’t take her disappearance seriously, I assure you he will.” 

Mom!  I turned the corner and there she was.  My father, I had decided as a child, had been a very plain man.  Because I had been an ugly duckling while my mother was the world’s most beautiful swan.  My mother was angular cliff, with the worlds most beautiful view:  high, tall, straight, and oh, so severe.  She had the motion of a fashion modle coupled with the manners and grace of a queen.  Her silky auburn hair, the only feature we really shared, was tied into a bun.   As usual, her beauty filled me with love and stole my breath.  Only after standing stupidly for perhaps a minute did I realize something completely shocking: I was now more beautiful than my mother.

“…Not my case,” Sholty said.  “It’s missing persons if you report her missing in,” he looked at his watch, “ten hours and fifty minutes from now.”

“That time limit is a myth,” Mother said.

“Really, I saw it on TV,” said Sholty.  “Then maybe missing persons will help you now.  You should go there.”

“As I keep saying,  when I speak with missing persons, the detective in charge linked my daughter with your case.”

“I can’t be sure of that,” he said.

“But you think that,” said Poe, the man standing next to my mother.  Wilson Poe had been a friend—and I assumed lover—of my mother for as long as I can remember.  For a time, I thought he was my father since he would, when I was growing up, bring me candy and toys from all over the world.  Poe’s body was cast of stainless steel; he had the build of all-star linebacker and the strength of a lineman.  I’d seen him fold nickles between his thumb and forefinger.   His black hair had always been peppered with white but he never got any older.  I had always been curious about that—but not too curious.  An old friend of the family, mother called him; good old Wilson Poe, who had helped me solve dozens of personal problems over the years.

I hated him.  I mean, I loved him.  Poe had always been kind to me, always good, supportive, and watchful… 

Yet I hated him.   Something about Poe boiled my blood, brought out a living hatred that I never knew I possessed.  His throat looked ripe for throttling even though that would never work because my now diminutive hands couldn’t quite fit around the thick muscles that protected his neck.

“Believe what you want,” Sholty said.  He was stonewalling my mother.  Not a bright strategy.  His face already showed beads of sweat.  I suddenly liked him very much though I’d be damned if I can tell you why.  It occurred to me that he was a very good man.

“I have a right to know what happened to my daughter,” Mother said. 

“Couldn’t agree more,” Sholty said.  “Try missing persons.”

“She was at this place the night of the accident, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Sholty said.  “And she left shortly after it.  That’s all I know.”

“Sholty,” I said, moving forward.  “The Captain wants you.”

He stood up, visibly relieved.  “Excuse me,” he said.

Now my Mother’s attention and Poe’s focused on me.  When I’d first heard her voice, I wanted to run into her arms and embrace her.  But now… 

“Guess you folks will be heading out,” I said.

“Who are you?” Poe said. 

“Name’s Eden,” I said. 

Well, that name slapped their faces.  Poe’s eyes narrowed into pencil points and my Mother shielded herself with her arms. 

“I don’t recognize you,” Poe said.  “What’s your first name?”

“If you’re an Eden then you are a woman of honor,” Mother said.  “All I want is to find my daughter.  Help me do so.”

“Your daughter is safe,” I said. 

Well, my mother’s face turned a sick color of green.  Maybe using the Eden name hadn’t been such a good idea.  Of course, I’d just said it—it wasn’t a conscious choice.  “She’s safe?  With Eden.”

“Yes,” I said.  “I know where she is.”

“What— What possible interest could she have for your House?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I can’t imagine a thing, not a thing.  Listen, a very, very long time ago I was friends with Adam.  He would want you to help me.”

“We don’t need the help of Eden!” Poe said.  He practically spat it.  He’d once seemed handsome but now his features looked distrustful and spiteful.  My blood was hot enough to boil an egg. 

“Please, Wilson, you’re not helping.”

“How long ago?” I asked.  Forty-years, mother? 

“A thousand or so,” she said.

I could only stare ahead blankly.  “A thousand.”

“Yes,” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  “In Normandy, on this plane.  Adam and I were…close.  Contact him and tell him I want my daughter back.  She’s nothing to Eden, nothing at all, how could she be?  Ask him as a favor to me, Princess Elaine of Normandy.”

“I’ll remember that,” I said.  “How can I get in touch with you.”

“Call this number,” she said, handing me a business card. 

“I will,” I said. 

I stood my ground and Poe took a step closer to me.  Talk about a mismatch.  He had to be three times my size.  But Mother pushed gently on him more which was more effective than a bulldozer in moving the man.  He followed her lead and I watched after them as they left the building.  I was half-tempted to run after her but I sensed that would be very dangerous with Poe about.

Eden!  What was Eden?  Who was Adam?  It couldn’t be that Adam and that Eden could it?  A thousand years?  It was all so crazy. 

But mother had always seemed so unchanging.  And for that matter, so was Poe, once a friend, now surely a foe, for I’d never seen evil drip so freely from anyone.  He’d recognized me, too, as an enemy.  How could I fight a man like him?  How could I fight anyone?

“Are they gone?” Sholty asked, peeping around the corner.  I nodded.  He came close and patted me on the shoulder.  “Thanks, Eden.  That bitch was squeezing my balls.”

“She has that effect on people,” I said. 

“You known her long?”

“All my life,” I said.  “Leave her to me.”

“Happily,” he said.