Ash settled back down into his organic vessel, the compact leather seat seeming to rise up and cradle his body weight. Gravity felt like a friend for once. Not for long, he supposed—it never did—but that didn’t seem to matter at all right now.
Waves of calm subtly rocked him, rinsing through every cell of his body. Freed, for now, from those restless shadows in the dark, Ash’s mind drifted, reviewing, musing over recent events. Recalling in particular, for some reason, the random guy he’d run into at the last of the crime scenes that morning—in the woods off the Schuylkill Expressway, down by the river.
The mundane gestured toward the flowers and teddy bear Ash was holding, like so many other similar items that littered the site outside the police barrier. Asked gently, “Did you know someone who passed away here Thursday night?”
“Yeah.” Ash blinked watery eyes. After a lifetime of appeasing Dad, he was an expert at crying on command. “My Aunt Cynthia.” Cousin, he quickly reminded himself. He kept forgetting the cover story he’d prepared in case mundane law enforcement—or civilians, apparently—asked why he was snooping around the crime scenes. Whatever.
“Oh.” The young man looked so genuinely concerned that Ash almost felt guilty for lying to him. “Man. I’m so sorry for your loss. Family is so special.”
“Yes,” said Ash. “I’m very close with my family.”
“Me and my family are hella tight. We run a restaurant, so we’re together all the time. Mom, Dad, Grandma, sister. I love my aunts too. I’m so sad for you that you lost your aunt. Aunts are very special people.”
“Mmhmm.” This is irrelevant. Ash started looking for a way to disengage.
“Name’s Young, by the way.” The mundane extended a hand. “He/him.”
Ash stopped; surveyed Young, from his soft cloud of brownish hair to his unassuming sneakers. Took the man’s hand and shook it. First Des, now this guy—maybe it was more common for people outside Arcanus society to exchange pronouns than he’d realized. “Ash. He/him.”
“Nice to meet you, Ash.” Like his smile, Young’s grip was warm, and solid. “I’m here because I lost someone too.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. I mean, she’s not dead. Just missing. The whole thing that happened was so weird, the police seem overwhelmed, her family hasn’t been able to get any answers…so I thought I’d come look into it myself.”
“Was she your girlfriend?”
Young chuckled as if the idea was silly. “No, just a friend. Older lady named Wanda. Regular at the restaurant. She always stays past closing time every Tuesday shooting the shit with my grandma about Sidney Poitier.”
Ash joined in Young’s laughter, acting like he knew who Sidney Poitier was. Squinted at the mundane. “That’s…impressive, you going out of your way for someone you don’t know that well.”
“Wanda’s such a sweet lady. I just want her to be okay. And I have to admit I’m also curious. The whole thing’s just so weird. Isn’t it just weird? Seems like there’s gotta be more to all this than meets the eye.”
“What do you mean?”
Young ran his tongue over his lip, looked thoughtful. “I dunno. I mean, it’s like, obviously weird, isn’t it? Like, no one can say the shit that went down here wasn’t weird. But also…” He frowned. “It feels like it means something.”
Ash studied him. “Like it means something?”
“Yeah. I can’t really explain it. And now that I’m here…” Young turned, strolled a few paces toward the riverbank, gazed out over the Wissahickon. “It feels like…something’s about to happen. And that something…” He trailed off, chuckled. “Well, this is gonna sound pretty fuckin’ weird.”
“Go on.”
Young sobered. “It’s like…something’s about to happen…that’s also already happened.”
Ash frowned.
“Like déjà vu,” Young went on. “Except…bigger?”
“So you mean some big thing that happened once before is about to happen again?”
“No. Like…the same thing.”
Ash blinked at him.
“Like…just one thing,” Young went on, “that both already happened…and still hasn’t happened yet.”
He fell silent.
For several long seconds, the two of them stood staring at the water. An eerie feeling settled into Ash, deep.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah,” Young agreed softly. “But sometimes you just know a thing. You know?”
“Things always happen in order.” Ash pulled his coat tighter around him against the river breeze. “Cause and effect is the law of the universe. Nothing that will happen in the future has already happened in the past, except in the sense that the events of the past have already set it in motion.”
“Yeah, but how do we really know that?” Young glanced at Ash, shrugged. “I mean, whatever. Past, present—doesn’t matter I guess, don’t mean anything. It just…I guess it feels like something big is going on. And like I ought to be paying attention.” Young seemed to become aware of himself, dropped his gaze, chuckled. “I mean, yeah, no, you’re right. My sister—she’s my best friend in the whole world—she’s always telling me the shit I say don’t make any sense. But just…my gut’s never steered me wrong, not once. You know?”
Ash eyed Young sidelong. “Mmm. And how’s your investigation going so far?”
Young chuckled wryly. “Nothing yet. But I guess I’ll just keep snooping around till something turns up.”
Mundanes, Ash had concluded, were truly weird.
It had been with the tiniest twinge of regret, though, that he’d put in the call to HQ after parting ways with Young:
“Need to report a mundane needing memory alteration. Name’s Young Seung, works at a restaurant called Danbam. He’s a little too curious about the solstice murders.”
It was Ash’s job to report it. The Occultation Protocols required it. Anyway, being mindwiped wouldn’t do Young any harm, Ash was pretty sure. Really, it was the safest thing for him. No mundane should be getting tangled up in this Lex business.
Eventually, Betancourt pulled off the street. It got darker behind Ash’s blindfold; the city traffic sounds died down; the car kept moving at a crawl, making lots of turns. Ash could only guess they were now in a parking garage. Arriving at their destination—for better or worse.
The car rolled to a halt, engine turned off, doors swung open. The seat in front of Ash flipped forward. Zhao’s hand wrapped around his upper arm—which made every muscle in Ash’s body clench, the serenity he’d felt only minutes ago a distant memory.
Ash could feel the maleficer’s breath on his ear as the larger man half-hauled, half-lifted him out of the car. “Thought up a new nickname for ya, sport,” Zhao giggled: “Lil’ Pigeon.”
Ash kept quiet. Held still. Tried his best to disappear.
“Now, you need to be on your bestest behavior, and show proper respect to the bossman, Lil’ Pidgie,” Zhao went on sweetly. “’Cause if he’s a baaad lil’ pidgie, well…Uncle Vernon might just have to make the little birdie go SPLAT!”
Zhao clapped his hands really loudly next to Ash’s ear. Ash flinched.
Zhao let out a whooping peal of simian laughter as he again grabbed Ash by the arm and dragged him toward their unknown destination.
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