The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) (10 page)

Yael took it badly. I left her to it.

The restaurant I remembered was two blocks away. I
glanced back to check on her as we approached the newspaper-covered windows and
dead neon sign, to find Yael with her gas mask pulled over her head and hands
buried in her pockets.

No one seemed to find this unusual. Her admirers had
largely disappeared.

“Nice neighborhood,” she remarked, her voice slightly
tinny from inside the mask. “I can’t wait to try the food.”

I held the door for her.

“Don’t worry. It’s actually really good.”

The little anteroom contained only Yael, myself, and
an ominously tentacled altar, and was too small for it.

“Huh.” Yael sounded dubious. “Do you come here often?”

A thick veneer of grease discolored the wallpaper.
Along the hallway at roughly eye level were a series of frames; behind several
were photographs, mainly antiquated portraits, while the remainder held
yellowing newspaper clippings, in a language that was frustratingly reminiscent
of Mandarin. All appeared to have been undisturbed for years.

“Just once.”

The wizened owner peaked his grey head through the
beaded curtain at the end of the hallway, and I held up two fingers. He
hesitated just long enough for me to suspect that his milky right eye was
artificial before nodding and disappearing.

“That’s a ringing endorsement.”

“It was a complicated day. I guess I just forgot. I
really did like it, though.”

“Hmm. I’m a vegetarian, you know. Do you think they’ll
have something for me?”

“I think so,” I said, following the owner as he
motioned for us and held the bead curtain open. “It’s funny you should say
that.”

I followed the owner around the dimly lit dining room,
past several occupied booths and tables of very subdued drinkers, many sporting
matching tattoos on their necks and the backs of their hands. In one booth, I
caught a glimpse of a ginger tabby eating from a silver dish, across from a
prim, elderly woman clutching a bulb of white wine. The bulk and voluminous
robes of the sailors who arrived via the black sailed ships in the harbor filed
the adjoining booth, veils discretely adjusted to allow for lunch. Their table
was crowded with beer cans and the stripped, fine skeletons of fish, an incense
brazier suspended overhead disguising their odor for the benefit of the other
patrons.

“Why is that funny?”

The owner led us to a booth adjacent to the sunken
dining area fronting the bar, gestured at the empty table, tossed menus and a
handful of silverware on it, and then hurried away.

“It’s nothing,” I explained, shrugging my jacket off
my shoulders. “The last time I was here, I had this conversation...”

“Preston, you asshole!”

The voice came from behind me, from the direction of
the bar. My skin went cold and clammy at the sound. I spun around and got my
hands up fast, where I could use them.

“Hey! Just who I was looking for...”

“What’s up, Preston?” She sneered at me, glassy eyes
and a trickle of bright red blood from her left nostril, matching her hooded
sweatshirt. Dirty blond hair and heavily patched jeans, a curled lip that
revealed sharp teeth. She brushed past me, smelling like bug spray and chewing
gum. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you’d learned your lesson. Who’s the
new...?”

Jenny froze in place, her expression comically
horrified.

Yael paused in the act of hanging her windbreaker beside
her mask on a convenient peg on the side of the booth. At the sight of Jenny,
she dropped her jacket and made a surprised noise in the back of her throat.

Jenny shivered and clenched her fists.

“
Motherfucker.
”

Jenny’s voice rang out like breaking glass in the
middle of the night. I had the good sense to retreat, but the execution was a
little late.

There were three steps between us, and Jenny crossed
them in a skipping bound, snarling and red-faced. My hands settled uselessly on
her bony shoulders, trying to keep her at a distance. I saw the flash before I
felt the shock, a searing point of heat below my sternum that radiated out as
if it were in my blood; convulsive pain sent me stumbling, clinging to the
greasy wall with an outstretched arm. I moaned inarticulately, drool leaking
from the corners of my mouth. My limbs tangled and the world spun off-axis.

“I should have killed you!”

Jenny face was close to mine, her face contorted with
anger, her proximity weirdly intimate. I panted and fought nausea. The shock
prod she used on me was in her left hand, a green LED indicating readiness.

I missed the knife in her other hand until it was
already dyed Kool-Aid red.

Flaring pain from the left of my belly button. I
grabbed her wrist clumsily while the knife bounced off my belt and sunk in just
inside my right hip, sending an icy jolt of pain down my leg. I hollered and
shoved her away, almost falling over in the process.

“You fucking bastard!”

I held out one arm to keep Jenny at a distance, and
she grabbed me by the wrist and then jabbed her knife into my exposed forearm. I
yelped with pain as she pulled the knife back out, dropping to my knees and
clutching my arm. From the elbow down, everything was numb, but I felt a great
deal of pain in my shoulder, for whatever reason.

“Jenny...”

“Asshole!” Jenny roared, lunging for my eyes. I just
managed to catch her wrist with my good arm. I wrenched her arm to the side,
forcing her to drop the blade, but she stepped through, delivering a tremendous
kick to my ribs that knocked the wind out of me. “You’re fucking sick!”

The cattle prod flashed again, the sharp crack of the
discharge ringing in my ears, and I collapsed to the floor in a jumble of
non-functional limbs, my nervous system pulsing madly with pain, while Jenny
scrambled for the knife on the floor nearby.

“Jenny Frost! Stop this instant!”

Yael shouted the command, punctuating it with a stomp
of her rain boot. We all froze in the face of her unexpected anger. The
expression on Jenny’s face was one of pure panic, while the elderly owner
looked mildly amused.

Jenny made the knife disappear into the sleeve of her
hoodie with a quick gesture. It was the best magic trick I had ever seen.

“Princess?”

Jenny’s tone was hesitant and wondering, at odds with...everything
I knew about Jenny Frost. Even in the midst of agony, I was befuddled and
captivated.

“No way.” Yael folded her arms across her chest and
glared furiously. “You don’t get to call me that.”

Jenny walked slowly toward Yael with the clumsy,
distracted gate of a dreamer.

“I don’t?”

Her voice was muddy, she sounded bemused.

“No, you don’t,” Yael confirmed sternly. “I haven’t
seen you in almost two years.”

A sympathetic waiter helped me into a nearby chair,
and then prevented from falling out of it.

“Aha.” Jenny hesitated. “I – uh – didn’t want you
around for some of the stuff I had to do, Princess.”

“I would have helped you, if you asked.”

“You would have tried to help. That’s the problem.”
Jenny shook her head, and then seized Yael by the shoulders. “That’s beside the
point! What are you doing with this asshole?”

Jenny pointed an accusatory finger in my direction.

“Language! Do you mean Preston?” Yael blinked several
times, shook her head uncertainly. Apparently, the implications had not
filtered down to her, yet. “He’s my neighbor.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re living at the Estates?”

“Yes.”

“Preston is just your neighbor? Why are you getting
lunch with him?”

At this point, Jenny and Yael were standing toe to
toe, like two boxers waiting for the bell. From my precarious seat in the chair
in the corner, I bled and anticipated further violence.

“We are working on a thing.” Yael pushed Jenny away,
biting her lip in anger. “Why does it matter?”

“Working on a thing? Working on what, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that!”

Jenny and Yael stood nearly forehead to forehead.
Despite their proximity, they continued to scream at each other. Yael’s sudden
lack of composure stunned me. That and the residual effects of Jenny’s cattle
prod, I suppose.

“Working on
what
?”

“Sumire was…attacked.” Yael nodded, as if to confirm
her own story. “We are investigating.”

Jenny glancing at me hesitantly, as if my face would
give anything away. The waiter returned with a damp cloth for my face and a
glass of water that I had no plans to drink, and I gave him a grateful nod. The
remainder of the diners watched with polite interest while finishing lunch, not
at all put off by the earlier violence, the staff working casually around Jenny
and Yael’s confrontation.

“For real?” The anger in Jenny’s voice was losing a
slow battle against uncertainty. “He didn’t...uh...try anything, did he?”

“What? No!” Yael shook her head. “I can take care of
myself, Jenny.”

“Doubt it,” Jenny muttered, with a wry grin. “You have
terrible taste in enemies.”

“That must not worry you very much. Considering I
haven’t seen you in two years.” Yael’s stern façade cracked briefly, exposing
hurt and worry beneath. “I looked for you, you know. For months.”

To my utter surprise, Jenny bashfully shoved her hands
in her pockets and scuffed her damp sneakers against the floor, a little dance
of chagrin and contrition.

“Nothing for it, Princess. Didn’t want to drag you
into my sh...stuff. I had to do some things you wouldn’t have liked much.”

“I would have helped you with
anything
.” Yael sniffled.
“You abandoned me! I thought you hated me!”

“No way,” Jenny said, with an urgent shake of her
head. “No, I…I was gonna come back, okay? I knew you were gonna be fine. Holly
Diem may be a witch, but she’s a
reliable
witch. I knew she’d look after
you, and then I heard you got into Carter…”

“You could’ve called!” Yael wailed, giving Jenny a
little push. Instead of cutting her hands off, Jenny grimaced and mumbled
something conciliatory. “You could have at least let me know that you were
okay! You could have been
dead
!”

Jenny tried to pat Yael on the shoulder, and was
rebuffed aggressively. When I called Yael Kaufman formidable, that was clearly
an underestimation on my part.

“You would’ve come after me. The things I had to do,”
Jenny hesitated, and maybe even snuck a look in my direction, “I couldn’t
involve you, Princess.”

“Stop calling me that!” Yael roared, pushing Jenny
again. “Why would you just go away and not say anything? How could you?”

Jenny took hold of Yael’s shoulders, steadying her as
much as restraining her from further ineffectual violence.

“How could you?” Yael buried her face in Jenny’s
sweatshirt, wrapping her arms tightly around her. “I was worried! Worried
sick!”

Yael’s voice was muffled, her face wedged into the
hollow of Jenny’ shoulder. Jenny’s expression reflected a complex mix of
emotions – embarrassment, humorous indulgence, and satisfaction. She petted
Yael’s head firmly, as if she were a good dog.

“Didn’t mean to worry you, Princess,” Jenny said,
running a hand through Yael’s hair and giving me a possessive, threatening
look. “I didn’t think…”

“No! You didn’t.” Yael tightened her grip on Jenny.
“You never do.”

“I hate to interrupt the moment,” I said, delighted as
a spoiled child on Christmas morning, “but do you ladies know each other from
somewhere?”

***

Most restaurants would have asked us to leave and never return. Instead,
the friendly waiter and a taciturn waitress helped us to a vacant booth, and
then brought cans of salty beer and bowls of puffed shrimp crackers.

Yael insisted on staying close to Jenny Frost, squeezing
into the booth beside her and then discretely blowing her nose. Jenny gave me a
ferocious glare and dared me to say anything. I pretended to study the menu.

“What happened to poor little Sumire?” Jenny smirked. “Preston’s
had his eye on her for a while. Finally give into temptation?”

“Kill yourself,” I suggested. “You’re awful, Jenny.”

Yael’s glare was ferocious.

“Sumire was attacked. Murdered, really, but since it
was Sumire…”

“She lived.” Jenny agreed, with a roll of his eyes.
“Bitch is invulnerable. I remember.”

“Jenny!” Yael chided. “Don’t call her that.”

“You know, I don’t think any of you understand what
the word ‘invulnerable’ means.” They watched me as if I were from another
planet. “Invulnerable would mean she can’t be hurt, and she can
definitely
be hurt…”