Broken

Time-Out

CLAY MADE SURE I SLEPT IN THE NEXT DAY BY KEEPING THE curtains drawn and the room cool and quiet. He even unplugged the bedside clock, so when I groggily awoke and glanced over to see what time it was, there was no glowing LED display chastising me.

When I did wake, probably midmorning, I found a food court breakfast buffet within arm’s reach. Muffins, croissants, bagels, fruit and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Enough variety to guarantee I’d find something tempting.

Even as we ate in bed, Clay was quiet, stretched out beside me, reading and drinking orange juice as I munched my banana-nut muffin. When my stomach was full, there was nothing to stop me from lying back down and drifting off, so that’s what I did.

When I awoke again, Clay was still reading. I reached out and touched his arm below his bandage. I expected the bare skin to be cool from the air-conditioning. Instead it was warm, almost hot.

“Morning, darling.”

He rolled onto his side and let his book slide to the floor. I moved my fingers to his chest…which was cool.

“Your arm’s hot. Where she scratched you. Jeremy should-”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll have him check it when he gets back.” He flexed his arm and made a face. “Who knows what crud that thing had under her nails?”

“You think it’s infected?”

“Maybe a bit.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face and frowned. “I’ll have him check you too. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had enough sleep.” I stretched and shuddered, trying to throw off the numbness. “Too much sleep. What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

“In the afternoon?” I sat up. “Where is everyone?”

“Out looking for Shanahan. Nick just called.”

“I didn’t hear-”

He lifted my cell phone from the bed. “Vibrate. Nick set it up before he left. They’re stopping back before the meeting with Hull.”

I jumped up. “That’s right. I have to get ready.”

“We’re not going.”

“Don’t start this again.”

He pushed himself out of bed, snarling a yawn. “It’s not me. Jeremy’s orders. It’s a daytime meeting in a public place, so he’s taking Antonio and Nick. We’re supposed to stay here and rest up for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

He shrugged. “No idea, but I’m sure Jeremy will think of something.”

When Jeremy got back, he checked me over and declared I needed more rest. Clay’s arm was the bigger concern. It was showing signs of infection, despite Jeremy’s thorough cleaning the day before. Being scratched by a rotting corpse isn’t exactly sanitary.

Once he cleaned the wound, dosed Clay with antibiotics and rebandaged him, Jeremy had to leave for his meeting with Hull.

“Is there anything we can do here?” I asked as he put away his medical supplies. “Phone calls to make? New questions to research?”

“I believe we’ve exhausted all those avenues. Just take it easy and rest for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

I could tell by Jeremy’s expression that he didn’t know.

“Well,” he said finally. “Jaime did suggest a séance-”

“Great. With whom?”

“She wants to attempt to contact the people from Cabbagetown who went through that portal, to make sure they’re still there and are all right.”

“Oh. I guess that would be something…”

“Yeah,” Clay said, pitching our muffin wrappers into the trash across the room. “A waste of time.”

“I think her real goal is to see whether there’s anyone else in there,” Jeremy said.

“Now that’s a good idea.”

Jeremy looked at me. “Asking Jaime to conduct a difficult séance so she can make the acquaintance of a notorious serial killer?”

I crossed the room and grabbed my half-finished orange juice from Clay before he dumped it. “But it would tell us how true Matthew Hull’s story is.”

“Perhaps, but I’m hoping to get a better sense of that this afternoon.”

For lunch, we met up with Jaime and walked over to the mall. Just through the doors was a newsstand. The headline on one paper caught my eye: KILLER CHOLERA? RAM-PAGING RATS?

“Killer?” I said, veering toward the papers. “Has it killed-?”

“No,” Clay said, snagging my arm. “Someone in a nursing home died yesterday, but the other papers say it wasn’t related.”

“What about the rampaging rats? Have they-?”

“Attacked someone and torn them to shreds?” Clay gave me a look. “I told you we watch too many horror movies. But if you want to go home…”

“No. Jeremy’s right. Avoid tap water and rats. I can handle that.”

We headed down to the food court. The mall was so quiet you could hear Jaime’s heels clicking as we walked down the corridor.

We bought lunch at the little market where Jeremy had bought my breakfast earlier. I suggested we take it outside to Trinity Square, but Clay headed for a forlorn patch of empty tables. I shook my head to Jaime, and followed.

“What’s that?” I said, seeing Clay pick up a leaflet from a table.

When he didn’t answer, I grabbed one from another table. On the poorly printed leaflet, someone had listed the recent problems plaguing the city, and likened them to the signs of the Apocalypse, entreating the reader to make his peace with God, because the end was near.

“What bullshit,” Clay said, snatching my leaflet and balling it up. “Did they even bother to read Revelations? Killer rats as one of the signs?”

He waved us to the mall corridor, apparently having changed his mind about eating indoors. We walked down the other side of the mall, cruelly raising the hopes of a fresh batch of bored sales clerks. As we passed one kiosk, I noticed a hastily hand-drawn sign.

“Home filtration systems,” I read. “Guaranteed to kill cholera, E. coli and all other waterborne pests. Oh, and they have animal repellent spray for rats. Figures. Start an apocalypse, someone else cashes in.”

“You should ask for your share,” Jaime said.

“No kidding. You know what I really feel like doing, though? Climbing to the top of the CN Tower, busting out a window and shouting ‘I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I apologize unreservedly.’ ”

Jaime laughed. “And you hereby undertake not to repeat any such apocalyptic actions at any time in the future?”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Clay said. “I squashed the mosquito.”

“Kill a bug, launch the apocalypse,” Jaime said. “Now that’s serious karma.”

“I had a backlog,” Clay said. “Now let’s move. We’re starting to attract attention.”

“Let’s sit over there in the shade,” Jaime said. “By the waterfall.”

To call the water flowing into the concrete pond to our right a “waterfall” was being generous. It was a spout coming out of a wall, with a constant high-pressurized rush of water. It was supposed to be an industrial-style fountain, but every time I saw it, I couldn’t help but suspect that the building’s owners had found an ingenious way to dispose of waste water and call it art.

We sat on a bench overlooking a vast empty patch of weeds and dead grass, a solitary squirrel cavorting through it.

“What the hell is that?” Clay said.

I squinted at the sign, which showed barefooted people happily wending their way through a large maze of green grass.

“A labyrinth,” I said. “Looks like they forgot to water it. And weed it. And…pretty much do anything at all with it.”

“Where’s the labyrinth part?”

“See those dark paths, where the grass is browner than the rest?”

Clay shook his head. “And I thought our yard maintenance was bad.”

“That squirrel’s having a blast, though,” Jaime said, laughing through her veggie wrap. She chewed, then swallowed and said, “So about tonight…I talked to Jeremy about a séance-”

My cell phone rang.

“Nick?” Clay asked as I checked the call display.

“Anita Barrington.”

He snorted. “Probably got another story for us. Tell her-”

I motioned him to silence as I answered.

Yes, Anita had more information for us. When I tried to get her to relate over the phone, though, she insisted it wasn’t safe.

“I’ll call back from a landline,” I said. “Just give me five min-”

“No, dear. You don’t understand. This is-I really must see you.”

Clay shook his head emphatically.

“Actually, I’m sticking close to the hotel today. Doctor’s orders-”

“Then I’ll come there. Erin ’s gone to my sister’s. Getting her out of the city during all this seemed wise. I’ll close the shop early and head over. Oh, and I can take a look at that letter while I’m there. You still have that, don’t you?”

Clay frowned and shifted closer to hear better.

I told her I had the letter, and she was welcome to examine it.

“Excellent. Now where are you staying?”

I glanced at Clay. “The same hotel we gave you the phone number for.”

“Oh? You’re still there? Yes, of course you are-”

“No, I’m sorry. Completely forgot. We moved last night. We’re at the Marriott over by the Eaton Centre. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“The letter’s right there on the table,” I said as we brought Anita into our hotel room. “There are gloves beside it.”

She headed straight for it. I collapsed onto the bed.

“Tired, darling?” Clay asked.

“Too hot,” I said, then looked at the nightstand. “Where’s the bottled water?”

“Finished it. I’ll run down and grab some more.”

“No, get juice. Do they have cranberry?” I pushed up from the bed. “Here, I’ll go with you. Anita-”

“I’m fine, dear,” she said, head still down as she examined the letter.

Two minutes later, Anita Barrington opened our hotel room door, slipped out and nearly barreled into Clay, planted in the hallway. She spun and saw me blocking the other side.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said. “That was quick. I was just-”

“Leaving…” I waved at the tube in her hand. “With our letter.”

A small laugh. “Oh, dear, this doesn’t look good, does it? But I wasn’t leaving. I was coming down to see you, and it didn’t seem safe to leave this in the room.”

As she spoke, Clay opened the room door. I waved Anita in. She hesitated, looking across our faces, then went inside.

“Now,” she said as the door closed. “About that story I brought-”

“Don’t bother unless it’s the real one,” Clay said.

I grasped the end of the letter tube. She clung to it for a second before letting go.

“She’s right, though,” I said to Clay. “We need to be more careful about this. Someone could break in and ransack our room looking for it.”

He nodded. “Someone who knew where we were staying.”

“Because that person specifically asked for our hotel phone number. Someone who must have figured out what we are, so she knew she needed a potion to cover her scent when she broke in.”

“Someone who can cast blur spells, knockback spells, probably cover spells too…which is why we didn’t see her in the bathroom.”

Anita looked from Clay to me. “I don’t think I follow. Did someone break in-”

“Earlier, you asked me where we were staying. You knew we had a reason to move last night.”

She laughed. “No, dear, I have a very poor memory. I completely forgot that you told me which hotel-”

She lunged for the letter, slamming Clay with a knockback spell. I dove to cut her off, but her fingers wrapped around the tube as she cast another spell. Her form blurred and, for a second, she seemed to disappear.

“Elena!”

Clay sprang to his feet. A blur appeared at my shoulder. I spun out of the way as fingers grazed my side. The blur faltered, thrown off balance. She hit the nightstand, sending the lamp crashing to the floor. I lashed out, but missed. The blurred form raced for the door. Clay ran at her and threw himself down in her path. Anita tripped over him, reappearing as she struck the floor. I raced past her and grabbed the dropped letter.

“Elena!”

I wheeled as Anita’s hands flew up in a knockback spell. Our eyes met and she faltered, giving Clay time to roll up from the carpet. He charged, grabbed her by the back of her blouse and threw her over his shoulder. She hit the floor lamp, taking it down with her. Clay stalked over. She tried to scramble backward, out of his range, but he kept coming. Finally he was above her. Her lips parted in a spell, but she was shaking too badly to get the words out.

“Clay,” I murmured.

He hesitated, then backed off. I stepped into his place.

“Playing games doesn’t go over well with us,” I said. “We take them seriously.”

I reached down and helped her up.

“Sit there,” I said, gesturing at the chair. “Then tell us the real story behind the letter-the one that has something to do with immortality.”

She still tried to protest and sidetrack us, but finally told us the letter’s history, the one she’d known before she’d approached Shanahan to see it.

The story went that a sorcerer had created the portal. He’d been finishing work on an experiment, one that promised a form of immortality. A common enough type of experimentation, but something about this one made other supernaturals think he may have actually hit on a way to do it. Some wanted to steal his research. Some wanted to stop it. So he created the portal to hide, and put the trigger in the paper used to make the From Hell letter.

When Anita was done, I told her Hull ’s version of the tale.

She frowned. “That seems like a blending of the two stories-the half-demon one and the immortality experiment one. Perhaps that campfire tale bears more truth than one would imagine.”

I said nothing. After a moment, she continued.

“The demon’s boon may be immortality. Or the secret to it. The sorcerer only created the portal-it was the half-demon Jack the Ripper who hid inside.”

“And will be unleashed to wreak unholy terror on an unsuspecting world,” Clay drawled. “He’s doing a half-assed job of it so far.”

“Maybe he’s just warming up.”

Two hours later, Jeremy walked into our room, looked around and sighed.

“So much for resting,” he said as he righted the broken floor lamp.

“It wasn’t us,” I said. “Anita Barrington stopped by and all hell broke loose.”

Another sigh.

“You think I’m kidding? Seems Shanahan wasn’t the spellcaster who broke into our room last night.”

We told him what had happened.

“And after all that-plus nearly giving me a concussion last night-she had the gall to ask again if she can speak with Matthew Hull.”

“Probably hoping he knows more than he’s saying, which, after speaking to him today, I doubt. But as for the letter, I can’t imagine what she hopes to learn from that.”

“Our theory? She’s hoping to use it as leverage with Shanahan. If the zombies seem to want it back, what better offering to the man she believes may hold the secret to immortality.”

“Did you confront her on that?”

I shook my head. “It seemed better not to. Not yet.”

“Good. She may still prove useful.”

Our lunch having been interrupted, we ate a delayed one with Jaime, Nick and Antonio in the hotel restaurant. The restaurant was bright and open, with huge windows and market umbrellas-the feel of eating on a patio without the bugs, heat and smog.

According to Jeremy, Hull had scored about 80 percent when he’d quizzed him on the geography and minor current events of 1888 London-the kind of things it would be hard for a nonresident to answer, but equally hard for a resident to get perfect.

Jeremy had even mentioned that we had a source who might attempt to contact Jack the Ripper through the portal tonight, to see how Hull reacted, but he’d been all for it, and even offered to help, making no attempt to retract or change his story.

The server appeared with our plates before he could continue.

“So,” Clay said after the server left. “He seems legit. But besides winning the sympathy vote, can he do anything for us?”

Antonio opened his mouth to answer, but Nick cut in. “He thinks he can lead us to Shanahan. He says he can feel a pull or something, like Shanahan is trying to control him. He’s offered to try following that pull tonight.”

Antonio swirled a french fry through his ketchup puddle, gaze down.

“You aren’t buying it,” I said.

“It felt like when a middle manager books a meeting with me, shows up and swears he can get some big industry name on board for a joint project because his third cousin married the guy’s niece. He might have convinced himself he has an in, but all he’s really doing is trying to find an in with me, to get the attention of the guy whose name is on the sign outside. Hull might think he feels some connection to Shanahan, and he’ll probably try his damnedest to make it work, but what he really wants is some connection to us, to make himself seem useful so we’ll help and protect him.”

“Parasite,” Clay said.

Antonio nodded. “A harsh way of putting it, but yes. Still, can you blame the guy? He’s lost and alone in a strange world. All he wants is a little of our time.”

I glanced over at Jeremy. “So are we going to give it to him tonight?”

“Yes, but only because it’s a lead, and we don’t have many else to follow.”

“You do have one more,” Jaime said, then looked up from her salad and met his gaze. “Dimensional portal fishing, courtesy of your very underworked necromancer.”

After eating, we switched hotels…again. Dealing with Anita Barrington was a complication we really didn’t need.