“That’s comforting,” I muttered.
Connor grabbed my arm across the table. “Don’t discount what the Inspectre has to say, kid. It has a lot of bearing on what you’re going through. If what Faisal said is true-that Irene was a freelancing thief for the Sectarians in life-that part of her is gone now. Those actions are dead and the evil gone on with them. It’s not a part of who she is anymore, and you have to judge her soul based on the person you’ve come to know.”
It was a blow to find out that someone I held affection for-my dark-haired beauty gone wild-was in league with the Sectarians. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to believe it even though I had seen it. Had my powers failed me, distorted what I was seeing? The woman I knew was not an agent of Darkness.
In truth, I was no better than her, was I? I had once been a criminal in the not so far away past, yet I had always felt that at my core I remained a good person. That was long behind me anyway. I had given up those actions, my petty crimes, and turned away from that path.
It made my relationship to Jane seem even more important than ever. She was choosing the right path now, and I wanted to be there for her.
“Fat lot of good all this talk does us,” I said. “The only lead we had-the manifest on that wooden fish and who it was going to-is back in Bane’s hands. We had it in our possession, and thanks to Davidson, we lost it again.”
“Yes,” the Inspectre said. “About that…”
“We kinda brought you here to get you away from the Department so you could recharge a bit, kid,” Connor said. He rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out the clipboard from the interrogation. “Remember this?”
He tossed it across the table and it slid to rest in front of me. I looked at the empty clipboard.
“Yep,” I said. “Looks great without the manifest on it, too.”
Connor pulled a notebook and a pen from his satchel and slid them over to me.
“I don’t know how it looks with the manifest on it,” he said. “You tell me.”
“Stop tormenting me, all right?” I said. “Just let me drink in peace.”
“I’m not tormenting you,” Connor said. “I’m telling you to read the clipboard…psychometrically.”
It was a brilliant idea on his part, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it. “With my luck, I’ll probably get stuck in a mental documentary on the exciting world of clipboard making.”
“Just try,” Connor said.
I avoided the pen and paper for now. I didn’t want it conflicting with anything I might get off the clipboard. I laid my hands on it like it was a Ouija board and envisioned the Inspectre as I had seen him before, placing the copy of the manifest on it. I flipped into the vision and threw my concentration into that exact moment, freeze framing my mind like pressing a pause button. I could actually make out the words on the form. A delivery address.
I felt the pull of hypoglycemia when I came out of the vision but not as badly as I’d expected. Somehow I had managed not to throw too much of my energy into the reading. Maybe it was the booze…I quickly wrote down the address on the piece of paper.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this back at the office?” I said.
The Inspectre laughed with all the force that his size held and clapped his arm around me. “What? And have you miss out on the departmental tradition of drowning your sorrows?”
“We’ve got to move on this,” I said as I stumbled my way out from behind the table and attempted to stand. I was drunker than I thought, and I reached for my chair to steady myself, missing it completely. Connor and the Inspectre caught me and eased me back into my seat.
“Haven’t you listened to your Inspectre?” Connor said with a laugh. “Evil is lazy. It likes to sleep in, kid. I think this can wait until morning. Besides, we need to strategize.”
I wasn’t sure if strategize was a euphemism for drink till I couldn’t see straight, but with my mood improved, I was willing to give it a try. I had the feeling that the next few days were going to be a bitch, and I hoped I could store up my liquid courage like a camel getting ready to head out into the desert.
34
I found Jane waiting for me at the Lovecraft Cafй the next morning, and I felt instant relief. The smell of coffee mingled with the sandalwood scent that came off her. After proving herself with last night’s kidnapping of her old boss, my wariness of her was worn down, and I could embrace the idea of liking her more than I should. Sitting in the coffee shop in the crushed velvet splendor of a wing chair with her knees curled under her, Jane looked so comfortable, soright in my environment. Still, there was the old maximOnce a cultist, always a cultist to think about.
Across from Jane was Mrs. Teasley, cat in lap, doing what she did best-swirling her fingers in gentle circles through a pile of soggy coffee grounds. Jane’s eyes sparkled like the chandeliers in the Lovecraft’s theater as she watched the old seer in action. Jane was in a tight-fitting powder blue T-shirt that readI CAN’T WAIT FOR TOMORROW CUZ I GET BETTER LOOKING EVERDAY.
“Nice shirt,” I said, rolling my eyes. Jane looked up, startled.
“I’m shopping at dollar stores now,” she said sheepishly. “I take what I can get.” Then she surprised me by standing up and throwing her arms around my neck. Being this close to my day job, I felt a little awkward and was about to pull away, but it felt like such a sincere gesture I stopped myself.
Through the hazy remnants of my hangover, I felt less than chivalrous for running out to Eccentric Circles with the Inspectre and Connor under the guise of business/drinking rather than finding out where she’d got to and protecting her.
“I’m sorry, Jane,” I said. “I didn’t mean to leave you in the lurch like that, especially with Jason Charles headhunting you…”
“Don’t worry,” she said, surprisingly optimistic. “I survived my first twenty-six years without you to watch over me. The concern’s cute, though.” Having gotten out of the Sectarian Defense League’s offices alive had put her in a good mood. She ruffled my hair like I was her dog.
“Well, sorry anyway,” I repeated lamely.
“Younever have to apologize for being too kind, Simon,” she said and hugged me again.
I was on the verge of apologizing for my apology, but just then Mrs. Teasley cleared her throat. I turned, but as usual she wasn’t even looking up from her table.
“Janey, dearie,” she said with a flourish through the wet coffee grounds.
Janey, dearie?Since when had they become best pals? While I might still be wary of Jane, it was clear that she had already gotten Mrs. Teasley’s seal of approval in the Department. “I see you getting kissed by a dark-haired young man in the near future.”
“You mean like this?” she said and grabbed me, once again taking me by surprise.
Jane wrapped her hands into my hair and kissed me out of nowhere. Nothing like this had happened since the time I dragged her back to my apartment after finding her in the alley, and this time I took a moment to actually enjoy the non-painkiller-induced oddity of it all. But then I pulled away gently, embarrassed to see that this time Mrs. Teasley was staring up at us, smiling.
“Yes,” the old woman said as she plopped her hands deep into the coffee. “Exactlylike that!”
Her cat swished its bushy gray tail in approval. Or what I imagined was catlike approval anyway.
I turned to Jane and looked at her with as much seriousness as I could. “Jane-” I started, but she cut me off.
“Yes, Iknow,” she said. “You don’t tongue kiss with evil. I get it. You’re like a broken record. What’s it going to take for you to believe I’m on your side now?”