Splintered Path (Shattered World Book 4), page 9
It gave Viv very great pleasure to be able to say, “No. It’s my personal phone.”
“Should you be looking at it while at work?” The agent sounded very faintly annoyed.
Viv was quite certain that if she had admitted that it was a company phone, the agent would have demanded to see it—would have, she was just as sure, asserted his right to do so.
“I don’t start work until 9am,” she told him pleasantly. “It’s only eight o’clock and we haven’t even had breakfast.”
“You were frowning.”
“Yes, I was concentrating on what I was reading,” said Viv, saving for later the knowledge that the agent must have seen her through the doorway before Seffy alerted her to the man’s presence. The agents were far softer of foot than she’d expected.
“Troubles shared are a problem shared,” said the agent solemnly. He sounded as though he were speaking in quote marks.
Was he trying to be subtle? Or was he simply trying to bulldoze through to her exactly how closely Forex was watching her?
“Thanks,” she said. “But it’s not anything I need to share. It’s a human, family issue that doesn’t impact my work.”
The agent didn’t reply for a full minute. He simply stared at her without expression, as though silently communing with others of his kind to crowd-source the correct answer that would get him what he wanted to get. Viv turned her eyes back toward her phone, flicking out of her photos app with her thumb and then into her social media, which was very nearly defunct but still served the purpose of allowing Viv to keep up vicariously with the lives of her old school and work mates. She preferred not to acknowledge the staring while she waited to see what he came out with eventually.
What he came out with was: “Personal problems can often spill over from private life into work life. Forex believes that staff are family; we encourage sharing.”
Viv almost laughed. Instead, she looked away from her phone again and said to him, “I just realised that no one ever explained to me how the voluntary donation works for you lot.”
The agent seemed to glitch again, but this time replied within a few moments. “It’s voluntary.”
“Yeah, I heard that,” Viv said. “But what I don’t understand is how someone volunteers their skin to be used. They’d usually need it to keep on living.”
“They’re not living,” the agent said, as though perplexed. “Not after their skin is off.”
“Yep. That’s the bit I don’t understand,” she said. “The bit about volunteering meaning that you have to die.”
“We have contracts in place that are solid and defendable in court,” said the agent, his eyes growing icy. “Anyone who says otherwise should expect to hear from our legal representative.”
Just one legal representative? That didn’t sound anything like enough. But then, if someone had told Viv that someone had sent just one man into a fight against a group of Otherworldly and superhumanly strong people, she would have thought it wasn’t anything like enough, either. And Luca was certainly Enough.
“Which court are you defending in?” she asked the agent. There had to be behindkind courts. She knew there were human courts. Were there Between courts?
“Our contracts will hold in both Behind and Human courts,” the agent told her, with the faintest edge of pride to his voice. In Viv’s ears, it sounded far too smug. “It is simply one of the reasons why Forex is held in great esteem in both worlds.”
“I was told there were three worlds,” Viv remarked.
This made the agent twitch with what looked like irritation, so perhaps it was for the best that both the other agent and Gorman then made their appearance to signal that it was time for breakfast.
Breakfast wasn’t a great deal more pleasant; the agents took turns firing questions across her at the table as though it was a national sport, and they weren’t even slightly interested in answering any of her questions—though they did sometimes stop to ask her why she had asked her question.
Nor could Viv discern any specific tenor to the questions.
One asked her where she went to school as a child. The other asked her if she had ever dyed her hair. One asked how many hours she worked at the Tea House and what she did on her weekends. The other asked if she could swim backstroke, and if so, what her best time was.
The questions never seemed to end. They came with almost dizzying speed and no chance to answer the questions either fully or well. Viv wondered why they asked in such a manner, when they couldn’t possibly hope to get full and decent answers out of it.
She began to answer more at random than truthfully, her mind occupied with trying to figure out exactly what it was about the agents that was different this morning, and even further back with the heavy, new knowledge that she had been with Mum on the day that she died.
Breakfast was a lingering, irritating, long-winded series of hurdles to jump until Viv could stop and think about it all. And then, once she’d thought about it, figure out what she was going to do about remembering that day.
Did she want to remember that day? Viv wondered suddenly. Mum had died, and nothing was going to change that. Viv also now knew that her mother had been a selkie, even if her own voice wasn’t exactly like a selkie Voice, by all accounts. Was there any reason to try and remember something that couldn’t help anyone?
But then, how had Mum drowned, when she was a selkie? There was something not right about it all, not just the way Viv had apparently forgotten it.
She would find out what that was, and why Mum had died. And to do that, she had to remember. And to start figuring out how to remember, she had to get through this breakfast with two agents wearing skin-suits.
Jasper arrived just as Gorman was beginning to clear away the breakfast dishes—much to Viv’s relief. He interrupted Agent One’s increasingly invasive personal questions to tell Viv that she could go on to their previously decided plans, which roundabout way of telling her she could go off and do whatever she wanted piqued her interest.
Jasper preferred the agents to think that she was still on the clock and going about Tea House business. Why?
“Make sure you drop into the station to speak with Madeleine Steen about the toxicology report on your way,” he called after her, as she passed through the doorway. “She doesn’t like to use the phone when she’s passing on information.”
Just like Tony, thought Viv in some amusement. She said, “Got it,” and thankfully left the manor, waving at Gilbert on the way out. Today he was in the wide, subtly curving hallway a few metres beyond the door to the dining room she had just emerged from, sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor and throwing what seemed to be imaginary balls, or perhaps darts, at the opposite wall.
“Good morning!” she said as she passed, because he seemed downcast. Perhaps his imaginary ball wasn’t bouncing as well as he’d hoped.
“Something is missing,” he said gloomily, ceasing in his throwing motions.
Viv hesitated, then turned back to face him properly. She had the feeling that it was a good idea to listen to the meanderings of the master of the house, even if they didn’t seem to make much sense. Neither did Luca, until you got to know him—and then he made a terrifying amount of sense.
“Yeah?” she prompted gently. “What something? How do you know?”
“I just know it,” he said, waving a hand. “Are you leaving me here with all these long-faced old men in suits? I don’t want to be alone.”
Viv caught a flutter of movement behind him and saw that Gorman, emerging from the dining room beyond Gilbert with a tray full of dishes, had become very stiff.
“Gorman is not a long-faced old man,” she told Gilbert.
He glanced to his right and caught sight of Gorman. “I didn’t mean you!” he said to Gorman, causing the old man’s face to relax into a smile. “You’re not old; you’re just a bit creaky. Your eyebrows look like caterpillars, though.”
Gorman pinched his lips together for a moment, and then managed to say in a perfectly expressionless voice, “Thank you, Master Gilbert. I have prepared a breakfast tray for you: I trust you do not mean to take it in the hallway?”
Viv, laughing, left them alone to sort it out and headed down the hallway as Gilbert said hopefully, “What about in the treehouse?”
“I do not think that will be possible, Master Gilbert,” Gorman said austerely, as she passed out of the hallway. Their voices faded behind her, and Viv was left alone to exit the manor and step into her “free time”. She wondered suddenly if Jasper had suggested she was on Tea House business in front of the Agents because he had been afraid they would have her followed if they thought she was on her own time. That was troubling—and the more so because of how much of an interest the Forex men had been showing towards her since they arrived at the manor.
No, she had to admit to herself; since she had made sure they couldn’t get their hands on Kyma’s old sponsor in order to rescue her from the consequences of her own crimes simply because she was human and useful to them.
That meant, Viv supposed, that she should go and see Dad. There was no better time than when she was most likely to be unobserved. And perhaps she would have a chance to sneak into Dad’s fireplace safe again, too.
Still, the thought left her feeling weary until she remembered that she would also be able to see Tony and Kyma—the very small and spiky selkie to whom Tony was now guardian—at the same time. She had already had a great many questions for Tony before today, and she was quite sure Kyma would have questions for her. Since he had been with Tony, the selkie had blossomed from a quiet, irritated little boy into a voraciously curious one, and every time Viv had happened to see him, he had had more questions about humans and human customs for her.
Her brain was still buzzing. There was so much to ask Tony about now that she knew she had been present on the day of Mum’s death. She didn’t know how much he would be able to tell her about Mum—he had said that he wasn’t allowed to speak of it—but he should be able to tell her something about herself, shouldn’t he?
At any rate, she would try to find out what she could. She’d been kept so busy with Jasper the last couple weeks that she hadn’t had more than a few brief moments to speak with Tony, and of those moments, Kyma had taken his own share, childlike. Today, she would make sure that she took the time to ask Tony at least a few questions, even if she had to put off answering some questions that Kyma undoubtedly had.
Viv would have preferred to have packed up her meagre supply of items and taken them with her, but she was quite certain that she would be back at the manor tomorrow, and nothing that she had would be at all helpful to the agents if they chose to go through them. Besides, Viv didn’t think she could carry that much weight with her. The chair this morning must have been threaded through with magic, but that would do her hips and back no good if she threw out her balance with a heavy bag.
Still, it was good to escape the manor, despite the fact that it was a strange, dull day outside. Viv hadn’t spent much time on the top floor of the Tea House since Luca had been gone, where the light from other days and other places brightened the floor and glanced softly off wooden beams, and the recent likewise unnatural but warming light from the manor had left her prepared for sunny days.
This was not a sunny day. There was the threat of Weather heavy in each breath that Viv took—maybe a storm, maybe hail; perhaps both—and a kind of soupy, clinging feeling to the air. It left her feeling as though her teeth were set on edge, and Viv took a tram to the Grid rather than try to walk too far.
Someone was waiting for her when she got to the remand centre; she didn’t notice them at first because they were leaning against the wall outside and smoking a cigarette, and Viv always hurried past smokers to avoid the smell and smoke.
She was just about to enter when an apologetic touch on her arm stopped her.
“You’re from the Tea House?” said a very tall, very thin young man, towering over her. Viv nodded, and he added, “I’ll walk you to the office. You have to wear this, though.”
He gave her a badge on a clip, and waited until she’d clipped it to her collar before he led the way inside.
“I’m here to see Madeleine Steen?” she said. She didn’t think this boy could be called Madeleine.
“Yes; she’s one of our forensic scientists,” he said. “She’s only in for the day. Don’t—don’t talk to anyone else, all right?”
“All right,” said Viv, and followed him through the station. This time around, she felt as though she was being smuggled in surreptitiously rather than being an honoured guest, which was interesting.
Was the difference being with Jasper, or was the difference about who she was going to see?
She didn’t have much time to wonder; the tall young man stopped outside a door, knocked, then said nervously, “I’ll be off, then,” and vanished.
Startled, Viv opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it—just in time to look back at the door as it opened. A very small woman with coal black hair, coal black eyes, and roughly the same intensity of a black hole was standing in front of her, a hawk-like gaze already on Viv.
“’Morning,” Viv said. “Jasper sent me.”
Madeleine Steen gave vent to a short, exasperated breath. “You’d better come in,” she said.
Viv followed her into the office, shivering involuntarily as a wall of cold air met her. This tiny woman must also have the molten core of a volcano, because she not only had her air-conditioning on, but set at seventeen degrees.
“You don’t need to sit down; we won’t be long,” said the other woman crisply. “I have a report here that Jasper asked for.”
“Fantastic,” Viv said, relieved. No wonder Jasper had sent her instead of coming himself! This woman was terrifying.
Madeleine was still, Viv realised uneasily, almost glaring at her. Was she supposed to reach out to take the report? But Madeleine was tapping the edges of the report against the table-top; she didn’t look as though she had been preparing to give the report.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” she said bluntly. “But the young man Jasper just got out of here tried to bribe at least two guards to free him or destroy evidence, not to mention attempting to use magic on them.”
“Oh,” said Viv. “That doesn’t sound great.”
“He also tried to bribe me not to give you the report I’m going to give you, and to doctor it for the team here.”
“What did he want you to doctor?”
“He didn’t tell me, because I had him taken straight back to lockup with a little something extra in his pockets to stop him being able to talk the officers into doing something like this again.”
“That’s a shame,” Viv said.
“I’m not very much interested in what he wanted of me,” said the woman. “I am interested in what he does now that he’s free. If he’s just going to kill someone and get away with it—”
“He’s not,” Viv said. “He’s dead.”
“Oh,” said Madeleine. “That’s very surprising.”
“I was very surprised, too,” Viv said, with feeling. “I think you’ll get the body later this week.”
“Wonderful,” the other woman said briskly. “Then there’s no reason not to give you the report.”
“Thanks,” said Viv, rather relieved. She had been afraid for the last few minutes that Madeleine Steen just might not give her what she had come for. She accepted the couple pieces of printed paper that had been stapled together before Madeleine could take it back.
“This is a copy,” the woman said severely, as though Viv had told her it wasn’t. “We’ll retain the original; it’s property of the people of the city, not any organisation.”
“All right,” Viv said meekly, much amused. Jasper had apparently not struck this particular source of information in a positive light. “Thank you. It really will help us.”
“That’s the only reason I’m giving it to you,” snapped Madeleine. “I know there are some things that the police force can’t deal with. You’d better shred it when you’re done. If it’s still floating around at a later point in time and things get nasty, I’ll tell them you stole it. I’m not losing my job.”
“I’ll make Jasper eat it when he’s read it,” Viv said, and caught a gleam of fellow-feeling and, unexpectedly, amusement in the woman’s steel-grey eyes.
“I’d give good money to see that,” she said, and shooed Viv out of her office.
Chapter 6
Live And Let Live
It felt odd to be sneaking out of the police station with a document belonging to the people of Melbourne folded up in her pocket. If she had had the forethought to bring a handbag, she would have been able to sneak out the interest of the people of Melbourne in a much more seemly manner.
Since she was already unseemly, Viv took another tram instead of giving her document and herself the dignity of a taxi, and stepped out just before the tram trundled over the Yarra. This time, she walked slowly along the river-front until it seemed convenient to cross one of the many bridges.
This brought her directly to Royal Botanic Park, which pleased her. Viv stepped through the gates into the shadowy, grassy landscape where she had met Jasper for the first time not so long ago, and made a likewise slow, thoughtful way along the outskirts of the garden toward Anderson Street and, eventually, Stratton Heights.
She was not far from the end of the park when the day began to darken, as though for a storm. Moving more slowly now, Viv looked around, frowning, and tried to figure out what exactly was darker about it.
“Hey miss. ’Scuse me, miss?”
Viv turned her head, surprised, and found herself looking at a very uncomfortable young man with a skateboard tucked under his arm.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah, sorry,” he said, shifting under her eyes. He didn’t quite manage to meet her eyes, but he tried. He shuffled around until he was beside instead of behind her, and gestured toward the end of the park, where she would normally have exited through the open gates to cross Anderson Street. “I wouldn’t go down there if I were you. There’s…a bit of trouble.”
