Abithica (32 page)

“Marge, why don’t you have a dishwasher?” I asked, even though it wasn’t any of my business. “Most busy professionals don’t live this way, you know!”

“It’s a useless piece of machinery, that’s why.” She bit into a slice of toast slathered in butter. “Why spend money on something you can do yourself for free?”

“But you’re so busy,” I argued. “Wouldn’t it save you time so you could do the other things you like? Five minutes once a day and you’re done.”

“There were times I considered putting one in. Even went down and bought one. It sat in my garage for months until I finally donated it to the shelter.”

“Ah, now the truth comes out,” I said, chuckling. “You were too cheap to have it installed.”

I ducked the dish towel she hurled my way. “Couldn’t let it go, could you?” She came back, pretending to be offended.

“Cheap or not, you saved my life Marge, in more ways than I can tell you. Can I at least call you Saint Marge, or does your rule apply to boarders, same as the kids at the shelter?”

“Just mumble it so I won’t hear you. Maybe one day I’ll actually break even, good things versus bad. I have a lot of ground to make up, you know. Actually, you’re
not
gonna know, because I’m not gonna talk about it.”

I was about to continue the bantering when she cleared her throat in that special way that often signaled a change of topic, or something important. Toast gone, she wiped her hands on a paper napkin, then looked away.

“Someone came to the hospital yesterday, asking questions about you. In fact, we had two visitors, one in the morning and another later. Both were men.”

The Legnas’ Lair

Raphael visualized ocean waves crashing on an imagined beach somewhere, a trick he’d learned long ago to mask his thoughts. Oakland’s top Legnas could read minds, and the three forms facing him now were probably no different. They certainly looked like the ones he knew so well—nothing but inky blackness hidden beneath those robes. It was like looking into a bag of charcoal in a very dark room, except for the shiny black dots that passed as eyes. He’d learned soon enough never to look directly at those dots, never! He’d also learned to protect himself in other ways. It wasn’t smart to let these Seattle types dig into his head. The less they knew, the better his chances of collecting the promised rewards when the assignment was finished.

Samyaza, their leader, had taken his sweet old time getting there, arriving minutes after his two deputies had seated themselves on their makeshift thrones. He now sat between them, saying nothing for several more minutes.

Time for more ocean waves.

“Your mind blocking tricks do not work here, Raphael,” the central figure said, finally breaking his silence. “You were given two days to inquire into the disappearance and whereabouts of Sarah Cummings. Tell us what you have discovered.”

Oh, oh. Here comes trouble! Better bow.
“Sir, a Jane Doe who fit your description of the candidate was taken to Harborview. She later left the hospital on foot and has not been seen since. While she was a patient she had three nurses and two doctors. One of the doctors spent more time with her than the other, but nothing I’d consider unusual.”

“How many days was she there?”

“Two.”

“Just
two?
” The question had a sharp ring to it, as if Samyaza was surprised or possibly irritated. “They could not have rehabilitated her in less than twice or three times that interval, and even then she would need continuing care.”

“Yes, sir. You are right, sir, but the hospital records showed two days. The hospital’s social service director informed me that the girl had turned away all offers of assistance, and as they had no proof of her being a juvenile, they were obligated to let her leave. Nowhere did I see or hear her true name, that is, Sarah… or Cummings… nor did anyone mention a name other than Jane Doe. Perhaps she—”

“You are
quite certain
she did not return to her father, perhaps under another name? You have monitored all those who have contacted him?”

“No. I mean yes, I’m absolutely certain. Perhaps she—”

“If the girl had been homeless, taken from the streets, she would have returned to the streets,” Samyaza interrupted. “Since that is
not
the case, she has gone to someone she knows, a close friend or friends. You will be given the names of her friends. It is also possible that one of the hospital workers may have befriended her, perhaps one of the volunteers. Continue your search, and when you find Sarah Cummings, kill her and those who have been sheltering her. There will be a bonus when you succeed.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

Raphael knew when he was dismissed. He rose, and with a deep bow, made his way from the room.

* * *

Samyaza, more disturbed than he wished to appear, addressed his cohorts. “Our methods have been proven flawless thousands of times, several hundred times in this city alone. Our drug mixtures, in combination with our own special viruses, duplicate drug dependencies seen only after weeks of heavy opiate use in ordinary humans. After just one experience, our victims can no longer survive without daily fixes unless
we
decide otherwise. The Cummings girl left here totally indoctrinated, inoculated, and completely hooked. There is no way she could have freed herself of
her
drug dependency or our mental controls in two days, do you agree?”

Uvall’s hood dipped slightly. “That was my feeling as well, but we all thought she was a normal human, Samyaza, not one of… well—”

“Not of a higher order? Is that what you are trying to say?”

“That’s absurd, Uvall!” Crocell interjected. “Each of us sampled her soul, and there was nothing unusual we needed to concern ourselves about. One of us would certainly have sensed anything amiss.”

“Still,” Samyaza said, “no mere human should have been able to withdraw from her dependency so quickly, nor could she function normally without help. Something is very wrong.”

The Williams’ Residence

I tried to sound casual. “Questions about me? Was it the… what was it about? I mean, you know, how would anyone know to ask about me? What name would they use? I was Jane Doe, now I’m Annie Smith, and I still have no idea who I really am.”

“I wasn’t on duty when the first one came in,” Marge answered, “but I’m told he was
particularly
interested in any female patients who were brought in early on the same day you were. Now our policy is not to discuss anyone without knowing who we are talking to, or having a name we can check, so I don’t think he found out what he wanted. He
did
manage to talk to a few of us, though, so I’m sure he found out we had a Jane Doe that day. We don’t often get them.”

“How about the other one asking about me?”

“Older, quite good looking, wore a clerical collar under a plain old sweater. Sandals instead of shoes. Could’ve been anyone pretending to be some sort of home-grown pastor, but I didn’t think so. Something about him, I guess. He’d apparently heard a rumor about a young woman with a Legnas tattoo spending time in one of the Seattle hospitals a couple months ago. I have no idea how the tattoo thing slipped out, but it apparently did and he heard about it. He claimed he had lots of feelers out among street people everywhere and mentioned Colorado, Nevada, and California. I got the feeling he was studying the Legnas, maybe doing research. Anyway, he asked me a lot of detailed questions and then wanted to know where he could find you. Never mentioned a name, never even asked who you were. I told him you came in and left as a Jane Doe, and that I knew nothing about you other than what I learned from your chart.”

“What kinds of detailed questions?” I suddenly felt faint.

“Like did this girl have a memory issue of any kind? Did I feel there was something special about her? Had I or anyone else seen her around children and, if so, how did they behave?”

“What in the world?”

She threw up her hands. “I know, I know. If he hadn’t been wearing that collar I’d have thought he was off his rocker. Might even have been rude.”

“What did he look like?” I whispered.

“Get this! He looked like… well… like an ‘old west’ Indian, complete with hair he’d braided all the way down to his butt. A Native American if you prefer that term. Loved his hair.”

I tried to keep my voice even. “Did he tell you his name?”

“Why? Would you know him?”

“I don’t know. I sense something strange here, but I don’t know anyone in Seattle, other than you. I… I’ve never even
been
in Seattle before, as far as I can remember.”

Marge stared. Then she reached for her purse, drew out a wallet, and extracted a business card. “He begged me to have you call this man if I ever ran into you again. I denied knowing anyone who fit his questions, but that didn’t seem to matter. It was obviously you he was talking about.”

She held out the card, but I was trembling too much to take it. I’d thought myself ready to move on. I’d convinced myself I was happy for Lane and Sydney, but I hadn’t healed as much as I’d imagined. The ache was back; my need to see Lane was back. A voice in my head warned me not to look at the card, to have her throw it away. I didn’t need to be tempted, not now, not when so much pain might come with that temptation. The voice wasn’t quick enough. There was the card, in my hand, and with it Father Gabe’s name and phone number.

Marge had been watching me. “You’re as white as those dish suds, Annie, and you’re shaking. Do you happen to know him?”

“You didn’t tell me he came here from Arizona.”

“No, you’re confused. There were two priests from Arizona. The one I met in person, who handed me the business card of the other one I was supposed to contact if… oh no! Are you saying the business card was
his
, the man I was actually talking to? That there was only one priest?”

I was barely able to nod. I knew then that I would have to tell her more. There was no way out, not this time. “Why would he come all the way up here?” she asked the wall, before turning back. “Is this good or bad, Annie? He seemed genuinely nice, and I’m better than most at reading that sort of thing.”

“You’d love him if you really knew him,” I said. “He’s a lot like you.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? Is this some sort of answer to your memory lapse? You were involved with someone in Arizona, right? That’s what was behind you wanting those newspapers. Mind you, I did think it a bit odd that, with all the other things you’d just faced, they were the first thing you asked for.”

“Marge, have you ever wanted something you could never have, so bad that you prayed about it every day?”

She nodded. “Amen to that!”

“This priest is friends with people I thought I’d never see again.”

“Good people?” She leaned forward with the question. “Or bad?”

Suddenly everything was a blur. “The best ever,” I blubbered, picturing Lane’s smile. “It’s me who’s bad for them.”

“Did they say that, or is this something you came up with all by yourself?”

Bitterness flavored my laugh. She sounded just like Lane. “They never saw me for what I was.”

“And what is that, Annie? What
are
you?” She waited. “You want to talk about it, so talk about it.”

“I… can’t. I don’t know what I am.”

“You were there in Arizona, and now you’re here. How? Did you fly here? Drive?”

“You could say I flew, I suppose. That’s close enough.”

“But not the truth. Annie, are you a spirit?” She watched my reaction, so I was sure she saw me stiffen. “They exist, so let’s not pretend they don’t. Are you? You are, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what I am, Marge, or who.”

“But you inhabit people, right? You inhabited someone in Arizona, and now it’s someone here in Seattle. How close am I?” This time she smiled.

“I’m just a damned
parasite
!” I blubbered. “There’s no other word for it. I haven’t got a name, haven’t got a body, no memory, no purpose, no future.” I reached for a tissue.

Marge let out a long breath while I composed myself, but the tears kept coming anyway.

“I knew it, Annie,” she said, “so help me, I knew it. In my opinion, there was no way the girl they took out of that EMS van could have emerged as a normal person without some sort of divine intervention. She was gone, Annie. She was either brain dead or on her way. We’re never supposed to give up on any patient until it’s way past the point of no return, and we didn’t in your case… her case. That point of no return had passed in the ambulance as far as the EMS crew was concerned. The girl stopped breathing. Then her heart stopped. The crew reacted within seconds… they always do… but then something happened right there on the gurney inside the van. You took over at that point. You supplied the life force that Jane Doe gave up. Am I right? Well?”

“I remember feeling very cold and hearing the siren, and then I woke up and you were there looking down at me. Nothing before that. But Marge, this can’t—”