Hadn’t this exact sinister act, reading someone else’s journal, been the very thing Tamara had accused me of? The guilt was consuming. Was I really going to learn enough about Jane from what she might have written to help the investigation? Was I in a state of mind to deal with what I read? And why was I reading it here? Was I hiding away from the office environment as well as avoiding my apartment now?
I knew why I brought Jane’s notebook to the office, though. If Irene suddenly reappeared in my apartment, I feared how she would react to seeing me nose deep in another woman’s personal thoughts in her newly unstable state. I told myself I was doing the heroic thing.
I took a tentative sip of my newly arrived drink, and opened the book. I flipped through it, starting at the back and watching the blank pages slip on by until I caught the first sign of words, and I sought out her entry from last night.
Dear Diary,
Subject: Simon Canderous-Surveillance
Next time, definitely no thong on a stakeout. Stakeouts require prolonged periods of squatting. Had Faisal not sent me out in such haste, I totally would have worn something more sensible…or at least something that didn’t feel like it was trying to cut me in half lengthwise!
It is a lonely dance I do here among the secrecy of the rooftops.
Manhattan is simply breathtaking at night, the sparkle of a million light flicking on and off across the cityscape like the fireflies back home.
Fireflies? Did I just compare Manhattan to fireflies??? Geesh. A bit of the smalltown girl coming through, I suppose. Up here, I can see the individual lives carrying on around me. Here are all the stories of the city, tucked snugly into skyscraper-shaped containers. Through one window I can see a man playing joyfully with a child who can’t be any more than three years old. I can’t make out if it is a boy or a girl, just that the child seemed to be giggling madly as the father bounces him or her up and down…
Incoming call vibrating away. BRB, Dear Diary!!
Faisal AGAIN! I’m a little tired of his grumpiness. I hope that I didn’t come off sounding too eager to please. I’ve been working on my professional tone lately, aiming for what the Sectarians call “sinister amiability.” Don’t think I’ve got it down yet. Practice, practice, practice!
He sounded agitated, especially when I told him I just got here. What can I say? I got a little lost! Up here, everything looks the same without storefronts or street numbers. Thanks to resourceful me, Dear Diary, I used the lit-up spire of the Empire State Building as a guide to get back on track. Yay me!
I am now settled in across from Simon Canderous’s place to write to you, my Dearest Diary.
The curtains are drawn but I can see in through the cracks here and there. It’s two stories down and only allows for a partial view into Simon’s apartment. I looked over the edge just now, and a slight bout of vertigo hit me. Ick! A sudden gust of wind and I could imagine myself going over. Bad news, Dear Diary!
OMG! From what little I can see, Simon’s place is absolutely GORGEOUS. It looks totally swank and fabulous in an old-world way. It sure beats my tiny Chelsea place. Does the Department of Extraordinary Affairs pay their underlings well enough to live like this? Maybe I need to trade up!
Diary, what am I to make of this Simon fellow? He was a defensive meanie the other night over the departmental dinner we had.
I know I mustn’t rush to judgment on assessing him or this situation, even though Faisal and the Sectarians have convinced me how dangerous these D.E.A. members are. But how can someone that cute be dangerous? I can make up my own mind. I’m a City Girl now. Girl Power!
I hope first impressions don’t mean anything. When we first met, I think I came off as a bitch, but he was the one brandishing a bat at me! Back to work…BRB, Dear Diary!
I checked the safety on my gun just now and released it. Push aside the feelings, Janey. Don’t think. That’s not what the Sectarians pay you for. Just obedience.
I sure hope I don’t have to shoot anyone. I’d feel bad about that. Just like I feel bad about you-my truest of friends-that I’m already going to have to edit you down for Faisal’s report. Sorry!
Dear Diary, damn this thong! Something this invasive usually buys me a drink first!
Be right back…
I closed the book. I knew what happened next, of course. Director Wesker would answer for cutting her lifeline.
This was not the journal of someone committed to evil and the dark arts. A wave of optimism washed over me. This was the journal of a small-town girl transported to the Big City, a girl who seemed to be crushing on me. She could be turned to our side, a hot, perky version of Darth Vader.
I felt more ashamed than ever for having read the diary, but at least I hadn’t taken off my gloves and “read” it. I suddenly realized that I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to do that-and thatmeant something. Maybe I didn’t want to know Jane on a psychometric level because…she was someone I was actually interested in, and I didn’t want to fuck things up preemptively.
I didn’t recall my walk home from the Lovecraft Cafй that night. I was far too wrapped up in what I had read to think of much else. But why was that old nervous feeling at the pit of my stomach working its way to the top again?
24
When I got home, there was no sign of Irene. It seemed odd not to have her there, but I couldn’t imagine where to look. Connor hadn’t given me any ideas either. I hit the White Room to center myself and it seemed to do the trick. I thought about calling Jane at her hotel to see how she was doing, but decided against it. I could be under surveillance if Jason Charles was really out to get me. Just after midnight I had decided that my only possible course of action was sleep when my cell went off. It was Connor.
“You awake?”
“Does it really matter?” I muttered sleepily.
“Good point,” Connor conceded. “Can you get out to Williamsburg?”
“Now?” The other night, when Connor called me to help him with that feral spirit in the alley, I had been looking for a distraction, but tonight I was exhausted.
“Trust me, kid, you’ll wanna be here. I’ve tracked Cyrus down.”
I sat up and started dressing immediately, sliding on jeans and a tee. “What? How?”
“Well, interrogating those junkies was no use. They’re all still totally out of it. But you know how there have been more and more of those disoriented spirits showing up? I did a few therapy sessions with some of them. One of them knew of Cyrus, even had an address where he said Cyrus hangs out a lot. Make sure you bring your bat. He’s got a lot to account for. Plus, it’s payback for making us look like assholes in the paranormal community.”
Connor gave me the address and I took a car service over the Williamsburg Bridge to River Street and North Sixth. River Street, aptly named for its location by the East River, had a spectacular nighttime view of the New York skyline. I stood marveling at it when I stepped out of the car until Connorpsst ed at me from the shadows nearby. I walked across the deserted stretch of Sixth and joined him. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed to an old wooden industrial warehouse at the water’s edge.
“You think maybe we should have brought a task force or something?” I whispered.
Connor shook his head. “The Department already blew their budget using emergency funds just to get all those people out of Cyrus’s bookstore and take it over. Besides, I think the two of us can easily exact a little vengeance on a book nerd, even an occult one. Hope you brought your lock picks.”
I nodded. We crossed the street in silence, headed for the building. When we got to the door, there were three locks to work my way through. My biggest concern was busting one of the thin metal slides I was using, but after ten minutes I had successfully opened all the locks. Connor gave me a silent golf clap and I felt a swell of pride. It was disgraceful how much I craved his approval at times.