It began with a song, as it always did.

 

            Her voice was both sultry and angelic, an ethereal, harmonious blend of notes that wove its spell around every man within hearing distance.  She was as smooth as Elven wine, and infinitely more intoxicating.  The doors and windows remained open, letting her dulcet melodies waft through the streets and back alleys, serenading passers-by and calling to the unfettered souls of Magdalene's would-be customers.

 

            She knew many of them by name.  The ones who came every night: to see her, to hear her, perhaps even to touch her.  They formed a diverse congregation of patrons.  Humans, goblins, elves, vampires.  Politicians, businessmen, hoods from the street.  Standing room only.  She was an equal opportunity whore.

 

            This was her venue.  This was her stage.  This was her fabled Mhalasia.  Far above any low rent watering pit or smoke-ridden hole in the wall, Magdalene's was as high-class as any in her profession could hope to find.  From the outside, it was no more impressive than any other building this side of Goblin Hill.  It was a four-story brownstone that looked almost respectable in the midst of Big City's red-light district.  The first floor was divided into five main rooms, but she didn't worry about the others.   After all, she never lacked for company.  Indeed, it was always the other girls who would begin to trickle into her domain, laying their charms -- and their claims -- on those they considered to be the pick of the litter.

 

            She didn't mind.  There was always one or two prime specimens left for her choosing.  A few of her favorites stalwartly refused the others' advances.  For such shows of loyalty, she rewarded them greatly.

 

            He had made just such a show earlier in the evening.  After her performance ended, she'd led him up the velvet-clad formal staircase, down a darkened hallway, their procession marked only by a few stolen kisses and passion-inspired declarations of love.  It was a journey they'd taken together many times, she and the reserved doctor.  If only his patients and colleagues knew just how unreserved he could be, behind closed doors.  He'd shock them right out of their skins.

 

            But he would never get the chance.  This she knew with an utter certainty.  As she opened the door for him to leave, her kiss lingered longer than it ever had before.

 

            "I'll see you tomorrow night, doll."

 

            But he wouldn't.  The door clicked shut with a sense of finality, and Kalista Danae -- Kali, to her clients and friends -- fished her cell phone out of her dresser drawer and dialed the number she knew she was meant to call.  After all, the good doctor hadn't been the only one she'd seen in her premonition.

 

            The other end of the line was answered after the third ring, and a harried female voice told her she'd reached the right place.

 

            "Sergeant Forray," Kali requested without preamble.  "I need to report a murder."

 

Big City

Ambsace

by TooWickedToLove

 

            "This is bullshit!"

 

            Stack Fury regarded his partner steadily, his fingers moving with a mind of their own as he absently toyed with the objects that littered his desk.  A chain of paperclips hung from the tip of a box of staples that hinged precariously on an upside-down Java Jalopy cup which was balanced on the axles of three black pens.

 

            "Don't tell me you actually put stock in this premonition business.  You want a prediction?  I'll give you one.  At seven o'clock tomorrow morning, when we're tagging and bagging another one, I'll be telling you, 'I told you so.'  So what we need to be doing is tracking down your so-called source and arresting her ass before this murder can happen."  Needless Action hadn't garnered his moniker by sitting around on his laurels and waiting for the stuff to hit the fan.  Unfortunately, that seemed to be Stack's big plan of action.

 

            "I've got the boys downstairs working on a trace.  Besides, we've got a deadline - "

 

            "Yeah.  Just about eight hours.  Who's to say the lucky bastard isn't dead already?  We haven't been able to locate him."

 

            "I don't think she's involved," Stack told him, recalling the woman's lilting words as she described, in detail, the murder that would go down tomorrow morning.

 

            "Not involved.  The woman calls up, asks for you specifically, gives you the who, what, when and where…and you don't think she's involved?"

 

            "There was just something…in her voice."

 

            "Her voice," Needless echoed, expecting his partner to crack a smile at any moment and admit that he was only pulling his leg.  But he didn't.  Stack simply stared up at him with the same glazed-over look he'd had since the call had come.  "Her voice," he said again, as if that would make it make any more sense.  "Guess she gives good aural."

 

            The joke was lost on Stack.  He simply remained seated, his gaze focused on his creation before him.  Even as his hands moved with steady assurance, the gears in his mind turned at an alarming rate.  He knew he should be doing something.  He knew Needless was right.  They should be following a lead, whatever it was.  They should be checking out Dr. Hahn's office, his home.  They should be interrogating the people he worked with, his friends, his family.  They should be doing something, anything but sitting around and waiting.

 

            But he couldn't bring himself to do it.  There was something about the woman's words, despite their graphic nature, that reassured him even in hindsight.  She spoke with a calm certainty, an acceptance, as if no matter what they did, they could not change the outcome.  The man's fate had been sealed.  So why, then, had she called?  What was it she expected to accomplish by sharing her predictions?  And why had she asked for him specifically?

 

            "What if it's Pasketti?" Needless asked, reading Stack's secret train of thought.  "Come on, it wouldn't be the first time he had someone do his dirty work for him."

 

            "If he has anything to do with this then it's a set-up anyway.  There's no hope for that doctor."

 

            "Maybe not, but it's not our job to give up hope.  It's our job to find him before someone else has the chance to snuff him out."

 

            "I thought you didn't believe in this prediction business."

 

            "I believe in murder."

 

            Stack nodded, the mention of Manzetti breaking through the haze that had seemed to infiltrate his mind.  "Let's roll."

 

Seven hours, thirty-two minutes and counting….

 

*

            When the call came, Smiles Johnson was halfway through the Flats with a pack of rabid wolves snapping at his heels.  He was breathless, felt like he'd been running the Big City marathon, but there was both rhyme and reason to his actions.

 

            He had to catch her.

 

            Who?  Now, that he didn't know.  The clarity only came now and then.  He had to catch her, find her.  Every now and then, there was a shimmering flash, the light bouncing off of her hair, showing him in which direction to turn next.  But she was elusive, always just beyond his grasp.

 

            The wolves were gaining on him, and there was a heaviness in his limbs that told him he couldn't go on for much longer.  Already he was beginning to slow down, and he could feel the angry, hot snorts of breath scalding the skin on the backs of his legs.

 

            The ringing called to him, causing him to stumble, and he woke with a start as the first wolf jumped onto his back, its claws ripping deep into his flesh.

 

            Smiles gulped down a calming breath, reaching with a shaky hand to turn on his bedside lamp.  He peered at the alarm clock on his nightstand and groaned, rubbing his free hand over his face.  The shrill, incessant sound stopped as he lifted the receiver from its cradle.  "This better be good."

 

            The only sound on the other end of the line was the thick, snarling sound of an animal's panting -- much too reminiscent of his dream for his liking.  "Hello?"

 

            There was a click, then another, and for a second, Smiles thought the line had gone dead.  And then he heard her, a voice that was vaguely familiar despite the fact that it seemed a million miles away.

 

            "In the darkness, no one can hear you scream."

 

*

 

            Charlie couldn't immediately say what it was that caused his eyes to fly open and his heart to race within his chest.  One moment he'd been sound asleep and the next, he was suddenly, apprehensively, wide-awake.  Then it came again, increasing in volume.  A shuffling of sorts, barely above a whisper.  In the haze of his sleep-ridden mind, he could almost have written it off as his imagination, or perhaps the breeze from his ceiling fan blowing a few wayward papers from his desk.  But he knew that wasn't it.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, signaling danger.  Like a silent alarm, one thought repeated itself over and over inside his head, to the exclusion of all others: Intruder!

 

            "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."

 

            The lights in his bedroom flickered on, and Charlie instinctively flung an arm over his eyes.  He wasn't fast enough, their images burned into his mind's eye, but even if he hadn't seen them, the voice was unmistakable.

 

            Needless and Stack stood in the doorway of Charlie's bedroom, watching as his arm lowered and he hurled his pillow in their direction.  Needless chuckled, easily sidestepping the down-filled missile.  "Not a morning person, I'm guessing."

 

            Charlie hazarded a look at the watch he'd laid on his bedside table.  "It's one-thirty in the morning.  What the hell are you doing here?"  For once, he was glad Laura hadn't stayed the night, although she'd probably regret not being in the thick of things.  And from Needless's and Stack's appearances, this was going to be pretty thick.

 

            "Need your help," Stack said, unceremoniously brushing aside a pile of clothes as he sat down in an armchair to the left of the bed.  "Tried to reach Smiles, but his line was busy."

 

            "What's up?"

 

            "Murder."  The word hung in the air as Needless tossed the pillow back onto the bed, followed by a discarded pair of pants.  He flung them towards Charlie and motioned for him to get dressed.

 

            "Who?"

 

            "No one," Stack told him, a glance from Needless pushing him to add a terse, "yet."

 

            "I don't get it," Charlie said, pulling on his pants and lifting a shirt from the pile.  He gave it a sniff, shrugged and pulled it on over his head.  "If no one's dead, how can there be a murder?"

 

            "There's going to be a murder, if we can't find our victim."

 

            Charlie shook his head, his gaze traveling back and forth between the cops.  "Okay.  So are we searching for a particular victim, or will just anyone do?"

 

            "Do you wanna take this, or should I?" Needless asked Stack.

 

            "Got a call about two and a half hours ago.  It was a woman.  Seemed to know a lot about a murder going down at seven this morning."

 

            "And when he says a lot, he means a lot," Needless clarified.  "As in who, where, and how."

 

            "They're really making it easy for you guys these days, huh?" Charlie laughed.  But it wasn't a laughing matter.  "How about a why?" he asked, leading the detectives out of his bedroom and into the living room.  "And have you found this woman for questioning?"

 

            "That's what we need you and Smiles for.  While we're trying to track down our dead man walking, we were thinking maybe you two could get a trace on the canary.  Tried to track her down by her call, but she made it from a cell.  A burn-out.  No digits.  The best the boys were able to come up with was the vicinity in which the call was made.  Thought you might be able to put out some feelers, maybe see if our vic was making the rounds last evening."

 

            "Shouldn't be too hard.  I'll call Smiles on my way out and tell him to meet me.  So where am I headed?"

 

            "You're gonna love this one," Needless grinned, pulling out the map he'd stuffed in his back pocket.  There, circled in bright neon yellow, was the target area.  "Looks like you'll be enjoying a little red light special."

 

 

*

 

            "What have you done?"

 

            Kalista lifted her gaze to the reflection in her vanity mirror, not surprised by Magdalene's appearance.  She was an imposing woman of about middling height, hinting at an Elven lineage somewhere down her line.  But the delicate features and pointed beauty of the race were lost beneath massive folds of flesh.  Magdalene was just about as wide as she was tall, and while tales around the bordello told that she'd once been the most sought after of women, the tides of time had certainly changed.

 

            She stood in the doorway of Kalista's boudoir, her green eyes snapping furiously and her red hair standing out straight, as if she'd been hit with a jolt of electricity.  "You silly girl.  Do you think you can change destiny?  Do you think you have that much power?  If that was the case, you wouldn't need to lie flat on your back every night, now would you?"

 

            "I'm not trying to change anything," Kalista denied, lifting a silver handled brush and running it through her hair.  She watched the way the strands fell gracefully back into place, the dim light of the room casting a glimmering halo around her heart-shaped face.

 

            Magdalene stalked across the room, flinging open a dresser drawer and pulling out the cell phone hidden within.  "Then what do you call this?"  She twisted it in her large, meaty hands, the plastic and electronics crumpling beneath her tight grasp.  Walking forward, she dropped it into the wastebasket at the corner of Kalista's vanity and settled her hands on the girl's shoulders with an infinitely more gentle touch.  There was no use in marring her best girl.  "I'm watching you, Kali.  Always watching you.  What did you think you were doing?  Did you think one of those detectives was gonna come down here and sweep you off your feet?  That all you'd have to do is open your pretty little mouth, and he'd be your ticket out of here?  Well, I've got news for you."  Her grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough to emphasize her words.  "This is where you belong, Kali.  This is your destiny.  Besides.  You enjoy it too much to walk away now.  You have dozens of men at your feet every night.  You can't tell me that doesn't feel good."

 

            "You know nothing about my destiny.  If I wanted to leave, I'd walk out of the door.  And you couldn't stop me."

 

            Magdalene's fingers tangled in her siren's hair, pulling until she thought she saw tears in Kalista's eyes.  And then she laughed.  To Kalista's sensitive ears it was an ugly sound, a cacophony of whistling wheezes and harsh, jagged guffaws.  "Stop you?" Magdalene echoed, her voice suddenly silky smooth.  "Why, I would never harm a pretty little hair on your pretty little head."  That seemed to amuse her even more, but she at least loosened her hold and extracted her fingers from the shimmering mass of strands.

 

            "You want to know about destiny?" Kalista spat, whirling around in her chair, her eyes a blazing myriad of colors.  "I see nothing but death and destruction around you.  Would you like to know how it ends?  I could tell you.  How you scream in agony.  How it eats your flesh.  How - "  Her words were halted as one of Magdalene's huge hands struck the side of her face with a cracking blow.

 

            "You little bitch," Magdalene hissed.  "If even one of Big City's finest comes sniffing around here, you'll be the one to pay for it."

 

            The slamming of the door reverberated through the room and Kalista held the throbbing side of her face in her palm.  Mere minutes after Magdalene's exit, there was a soft knock on the door.  Unbidden, Laianna, the Elven girl who inhabited the room adjoining her own, entered the room with a cool compress and a mug of steaming liquid that reeked of herbs and spices.  Before Kalista could offer thanks, she was gone again, and Kalista turned back to her mirror.  No doubt she'd be "paying for it" for a while, because there was no way those detectives weren't going to show up.  Not after what they were about to witness.

 

 

*

 

            Needless shook off the drowsiness that seeped into his body, rolling his shoulders back to release the tension.  Their search had proved fruitless, and it had been damned hard trying to explain to the doctor's wife why her husband wasn't working his shift at the hospital and why they were searching for him in the first place.  He tossed a coffee cup -- his sixth -- into the backseat of the car and stifled a yawn and a stretch.

           

The clock on the dash read 6:49.  Eleven minutes.  Not a wink of sleep in the last twenty-six hours, and it all came down to these ten minutes.  Needless could already feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins.  It was like a high, and after it was over, he knew he'd suffer the withdrawal.  He glanced at Stack from the corner of his eye, but his partner seemed deep in thought.  How could he tell?  The first clue would probably have been the tower of coffee cups and cassette tapes piled precariously atop the thermos from which they'd been drinking.  From the looks of things, it would soon rival Big City's tallest building.

 

            6:50.  His gaze scanned the street in front of them.  They were parked unobtrusively in the alley between Big City First National Bank and T'yal's Flora and Fauna.  Across the street rose the hulking gothic-revival structure known as the Grand Mhalasia -- a twenty-story hotel and resort that catered to the rich and famous residing within the Big City city limits.  That was their target.

 

            At 6:55 the radio crackled to life and the wavering voice of the dispatch operator gurgled through the static.  "We have a B-and-E in progress at Fifth and Gardenia.  Shots fired.  Backup requested."

 

            Stack and Needless exchanged a glance.  The intersection was a mere six blocks from where they were staked out.  A quick flash of headlights from across the street caught Stack's attention and he lifted the radio, switching the frequency.  "You get that, Marcos?"

 

            The line was overcome by static before they heard the reply.  "Yeah.  Want we should take it?"

 

            Stack looked to Needless.  Breen had only allowed them two other squad cars, figuring that if anything actually did happen they'd be able to take care of the situation.  But now it looked like they were about to lose their own backup.  "Go.  Noraith and Pearson, you back out and follow down Fourth.  No use raising suspicions with a bunch of cop cars rolling out of the woodwork."

 

            "Copy."

 

            6:57.  Needless tapped his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel.  It came as a bit of a surprise how much he wanted this.  Wanted it so badly he could taste it.  In the days following Autumn and the resurfacing of Manzetti, he'd tried to forget.  He'd tried to put it behind him, to focus on something else.  Something other than the job and the tortures he'd suffered because of it.  If he'd been a lesser man, he might have thrown in the towel.  But he wasn't a lesser man.  A few days off, a cruise, and a woman he could lose himself in…that's what it took to bring the fire back.  And right now, that fire was blazing, hungry for action, for a target.

 

            6:58.  He glanced at Stack who sat watching the street with an intensity that seemed to test whether or not he could prevent a murder through the sheer power of his will.  The cups had long since toppled with the first buzz of the radio, and Stack had reverted to the simple shuffling of the coins in his pocket.  The air inside the car was thick with anticipation.  So thick, it was almost hard to breathe.

 

            At 6:59, the sharp squeal of speeding tires broke through the silence they hadn't known inhabited their cramped space.  Time seemed to span on forever as the front end of a shiny black van broke through their peripheral.  Instinct told Needless to turn the key in the ignition and the squad car's engine revved to life.  At exactly seven o'clock, the black van screeched to a halt in front of the Grand Mhalasia.  Whereas time had seemed to stand still a few seconds ago, it seemed to fly once the back doors of the van were flung open and a man was pushed out into the street.  Even as Needless's foot slammed on the accelerator, the man landed on his knees and was instantly shot execution-style: once in the back of his head -- exactly as the woman had described.

 

            Almost before the deed was done, the black van was speeding away.  Needless was torn between wanting to follow immediately and knowing he had to stop.  Stack solved the dilemma.  "Let me out and you follow that guy.  Don't let him get away.  He may be our only lead."

 

            Needless barely slowed as Stack jumped out, his hand jerking the radio from its holster as he wove through the lanes of traffic, speeding to catch up to the van.  He called in the shooting and tossed the unnecessary equipment from his hand, rummaging through the stack of tapes still scattered on the passenger seat.  He found the one he wanted, popped it into the tape deck and twisted the volume to max as the rough-and-tumble edgy beats blasted from his car speakers.  Despite the cold-blooded murder he'd just witnessed, he had to give a giddy laugh, the adrenaline exhilarating his senses.  Now this was the action he'd been waiting for.  "That's right!" he shouted to no one in particular, "Run, you damned bastard.  Run as fast as you can.  'Cause when I catch you, I'm gonna enjoy a truly impressive kicking of your ass!"

 

            The driver of the van obviously knew he was being followed.  He swerved left and right, trying to shake Needless, but the detective persisted.  They ran through red lights, past stop signs, veering sharply down a garbage-infested alley.  Needless recognized the scenery.  They were circling the heart of Big City.

 

            The van broke through the end of the alley and over his ear-numbing music, Needless heard the screams before he ever saw anything.  Slamming on the breaks, he was thrown forward, his momentum stopped only by his seatbelt.  Once again, time seemed to slow as the car came to a shuddering halt.  And even when he was certain that the world had stopped spinning, he was slow to look up.

 

            When he did, he was met by the stunned, doe-eyed gazes of a dozen school children.  He was fairly certain one or two of them had pissed in their pants.  Hell, he wasn't so sure he hadn't.

 

            Needless sucked down a calming breath, his adrenaline rush gone.  All he was left with was a deadened, empty feeling, blaring music…and no arrest.  He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, bellowing a frustrated curse.  Pushing open the driver's side door, he unbuckled his seatbelt, feeling the soreness across his torso.  When he glanced over his shoulder, he was surprised to see Charlie leaning against the hood of his own car.

 

            "Been following you for the past four blocks.  Wondered if you might be self-imploding in there."

 

            "I'd suggest you carefully consider your next words, because if they're not good news, you should probably get back in that car and leave.  Now."

 

            "As luck would have it, I do happen to have some good news.  A possible lead on your prophet."  Charlie stepped forward and handed over a piece of paper with an address and a name printed neatly on it.  "Seems the doctor in question had a fondness for the nightlife.  One woman in particular."

 

            "Magdalene's, huh?"  Needless folded the slip of paper and stuffed it into his back pocket.  "Thanks."

 

            "Don't mention it.  You guys get a positive I.D. on the victim?"

 

            "Not yet.  But I'm sure Stack is working on it.  For now, I have a woman to see about a murder."

 

 

*

 

            "Dr. Joseph Hahn, age: forty-two, height: five feet-eleven inches, weight: one hundred and eighty-five pounds."  Sioux looked across the gurney to Stack.  "The cause of death seems self-explanatory.  A shot to the back of the head, standard semiautomatic nine millimeter.  Premium load for the caliber, although at the range the shot was fired, it seems like an unnecessary precaution.  Someone really wanted the man dead."

 

            "Nothing unusual?  Any marks to suggest he was beaten or that he fought with his captors?" Stack asked.

 

            Sioux shook her head, the move slow and almost hypnotic.  "None.  Other than a fatal wound, Dr. Hahn was in perfect condition."  She pulled the sheet up and over the doctor's face.  After the detective left, she would continue the autopsy.

 

            "It doesn't make any sense.  If you were kidnapped and knew your death to be imminent, wouldn't you try to escape, to stall, to do…something?"

 

            "Dr. Hahn was a pacifist."

 

            Stack's sudden interest was almost comical.  "You knew him?"

 

            "I knew of him," Sioux corrected.  "He was a highly respected member of his field.  His colleagues spoke very well of him."

 

            "And his field was?"

 

            "Oncology.  He was the director of one of the foremost cancer research labs in the world.  They've been making new discoveries with leaps and bounds.  No cures yet, but if anyone had a chance of developing one, it was Joseph Hahn."

 

            "On the surface, no enemies.  A beloved doctor and humanitarian."  Stack slipped his hands into his pockets, his fingers sifting through the coins within.  "But just one jealous colleague or relative of a person Dr. Hahn wasn't able to save…."  He rocked back on his heels, falling silent as he continued to consider the possibilities.

 

            "I assume no ransom was demanded?"

 

            "None.  No contact at all."

 

            "Perhaps you'll get more insight from Forensics.  In the mean time, I'll let you know if there are any new developments after I finish with the doctor."

 

            "Thank you, Sioux."  As he turned to leave, Stack paused and looked back over his shoulder to where the Medical Examiner was already neatly divesting the body of its shroud.  "I hear you and Needless had a good time on your cruise?"

 

            She merely smiled, waving him away with a delicate gesture.  At least one of them was finally finding some happiness, Stack figured.

 

 

*

 

            The pounding at the door interrupted breakfast.

 

            Lowering her glass of orange juice to the gleaming top of the polished oak dining table, Magdalene rose stiffly from her chair and pulled her robe tightly around her wide middle.  The girls were asleep upstairs after a long night of carousing, and she didn't expect them to bless her with their presences until at least the middle of the afternoon.

 

            If the troublemaker raising all that racket didn't wake them, that was.  Wrenching open the front door of the club, she stared imperiously up at the man on the other side of the threshold.   "May I help you?"

 

            "I'm Detective John D'yen - "  Before he could even finish the introduction, Magdalene was closing the door in his face.  However, a well-muscled arm halted her actions.  "As I was saying," Needless continued, "I'm Detective John D'yen.  I'm here - "

 

            "I know why you're here," Magdalene growled.  "That silly girl.  You have no business here."

 

            "I'm afraid I do," Needless contradicted.

 

            Magdalene's eyes narrowed, practically disappearing within the wrinkles on her face.  "In that case, Detective, I'll need to see a warrant."  The scant hesitation in his face was all she needed and she cackled gleefully.  "Ah, no warrant?  Then I'm afraid you have no business after all."

 

            "I just need to talk to one of your girls."

 

            "Come back after dusk.  I'm sure we can arrange…something…then," she assured him with a lascivious grin.

 

            Needless clenched his jaw.  "I'm not leaving until I speak with this girl.  She has information about a murder."

 

            Magdalene's expression clouded, darkened, then shuttered.  "Allow me to introduce you to security."  With a snap of her fingers, two tall, excessively muscled men appeared at her sides.

 

            "Allow me to introduce you to Penny," Needless ground out between clenched teeth, reaching for his Really Big Gun.

 

"I'll speak to him."

 

            The softly spoken words instantly drew attention from all four people crowded in the doorway.  "Get upstairs!" Magdalene ordered, but the slim girl didn't move an inch.  "He's not going to leave, so the sooner I speak with him, the sooner he'll go," the girl pointed out to the madam.  Magdalene practically stomped her foot with impotent fury.  "Fifteen minutes!"

 

            The goons followed their mistress back towards her dining room, leaving Needless staring up at the girl still hovering on the stairs.  She was young, but he couldn't readily pinpoint her age, and the diaphanous white dressing gown she wore did everything to emphasize her more womanly assets.  Her skin was flawless -- a smooth, tawny golden that looked as if every inch had been kissed by the sun.  Her hair fell around her dainty heart-shaped face in wild disarray that looked as if hours had been spent to achieve the perfect mix of careless beauty and wanton disregard.  And after all of it, it wasn't the style that was so intriguing, but the color.  The wild mass was dark, nearly black, but interwoven with vivid copper and gold strands that created a fiery halo around her as the light shone from behind her.

 

            "We're not alone," she told him as she took the last few steps down.  As she got closer, Needless found himself drawn to her eyes.  They were blue, but that seemed too simple a description.  Her irises were a bright aquamarine, ringed in navy, and when she moved, her eyes seemed to subtly shift in color, deepening, darkening, like the boundless depths of the sea that washed Big City's shores.

 

            It wasn't until her hand grasped his and she pulled him inside that Needless snapped out of his haze.  Closing the door behind himself, he looked down at her questioningly.  There was an innocence about her, as if she was above her surroundings and the business in which she worked.  He could not imagine her plotting out a detailed murder, but stranger things had happened.  He'd learned not to underestimate anyone.  "Kalista Danae?"

 

            She nodded and led him into her showroom.  It was empty now, the windows shut and cloaked, refusing the sunlight entrance.  The stage was darkened and the velvet lined chairs stood stacked against the walls.  "Detective D'yen, I presume.  I've been expecting you."

 

            "What?  Did you predict that I would come?" he snorted.

 

            She leveled her transient gaze at him.  "Actually, I thought it was a logical deduction.  There was a murder.  I had information.  I figured the police would want to speak to me.  And you sound nothing like your partner."

 

            That seemed to throw him for a momentary spin.  But Needless recovered quickly.  "Let's get right to the point, Miss Danae.  How did you know about the murder?"

 

            "I saw it," Kalista told him simply.

 

            "You…saw it.  Okay.  I have to be honest, I don't believe in these psychic premonitions and fortune-telling deals.  I'm into hard facts.  Evidence.  I find it hard to believe that this information just fell out of the sky and into your lap.  And if you knew it was going to happen, why didn't you try harder to stop it?"

 

            "It doesn't work like that."  Kalista moved away from him to sit on the edge of the stage platform.  "The process relies on intimacy.  Sometimes what I see is…cloudy.  And sometimes it's as clear as if I'm experiencing it myself."

 

            "You still haven't explained anything, Miss Danae," Needless informed her, coming to stand directly in front of her.  "And you still haven't answered my question.  If you had the information, why didn't you try to save Dr. Hahn?"

 

            She had to tilt her head back in order to look up at him.  "Please, call me Kali.  Everyone does.  And I did try to save him.  I called the police, didn't I?"

 

            "If you really could see the future, wouldn't you have known that the police wouldn't be able to change anything?  Why didn't you let us know where he was being held until seven o'clock this morning?  Why don't you tell me, now, who killed him."

 

            Kalista licked her lips, letting her eyes wander from his.  "Because I didn't know," she said softly.  "I don't just see the future.  I can't look at you and tell you exactly what your life will hold."

 

            Needless didn't bother to feign a surprised look.

 

            She continued, despite his obvious skepticism.

 

            "Like I said before, what I see comes from a sense of…closeness.  There has to be some kind of bond forged before I can see anything.  It's why I'm here, in this place.  And it's why people come to me."  It was apparent he still didn't understand, so she stood up and crossed the distance between them.  She reached out to him and he flinched momentarily, but her hand merely closed around his, her fingertips holding him loosely.  "Simple intimacy," Kalista explained to him, raising their hands to his view.

 

            A warmth seemed to radiate through his skin from her touch, but it wasn't uncomfortable, so Needless wrote it off.  "So what do you see?"

 

            Her eyes took on a far away glaze and the pressure on his wrist increased minimally.  Her dark, sooty lashes fluttered valiantly before giving in and falling to fan against her flawless skin.  Her mouth opened, her lips working to make words, but no sound came forth.

 

            In the next instant, the moment seemed to pass.  Her eyes opened and the flushed tint in her cheeks had gone.  Her fingers released him and she crossed her arms across her chest.

 

            There was a tickling sensation along the back of Needless' neck, as if he was being watched, but when he hazarded a glance over his shoulder, Needless saw nothing.  "What did you see?" he repeated, turning back to Kalista.

 

            Her tongue darted out to wet her lips again.  "You're afraid," she said simply.

 

            "Afraid?" Needless coughed, his skepticism rising.  "Could you be any more vague?"

 

            "No."  His tone failed to get a rise out of her.  "Part of you wonders if you really do have a beast inside of you.  It was a bit too easy to believe the lie, wasn't it?  It used to be fun to be the hot-headed one, but now…you're not so sure you know your limits."  She paused, almost for effect.  "You're also afraid of what Manzetti has up his sleeve next for you and your partner."

 

            For a second, his mouth went dry.  His rational, logical mind fought to make sense of her words.  And the harder he fought, the calmer he became.  "So this is your show?  Spouting psychoanalysis based on stories you could have heard on TV or read in the newspaper?"

 

            Kalista accepted his logic with a delicately arched brow and a slow smile.  "You want more?  I would almost think you want me to convince you, Detective."

 

            "I'd think you'd want to convince me, Miss Danae," Needless returned.  "It's the only way to prove to me that you weren't involved in a murder."

 

            She regarded him silently before closing the distance between them once again.  Her eyes shifted colors in the dim light of the room, rolling like the waves of the ocean.  When her fingertips grazed Needless's nape, he didn't pull away.  Kalista kept her gaze trained on him until the moment when her lips brushed against his.  Her breath was a lyrical sigh, its sweet warmth invading his senses.  When she made a move to deepen the contact, Needless didn’t stop her, but submitted himself to her skillful caress.

 

            There was no telling how long they stood there like that.  Just as he consciously began to realize his desire to bury his hands in the silken strands of her hair, Kalista wrenched her body away from his, leaving him gasping for more, his head filled with a thick cloud of fog where once reason and rationale had resided.

 

            "What did you do to me?" Needless growled, shaking his head like a wild dog, as if that would help to clear his head.

 

            "What can I say?" Kalista murmured huskily, her eyes bright as she watched him.  Her tongue darted out yet again, tasting the last remnants of their kiss.  "Sometimes everyone needs a little Needless Action."

 

            His head snapped up, but his comment was cut off by Magdalene's shrill voice telling them that time was up.  He looked from one woman to the other, knowing he needed to do something, arrest someone, but it seemed more imperative at the moment that he get away from the siren.

 

            Kalista seemed to sense his haste and she called out to him as he reached the door.  "Detective D'yen?"  Needless's hand stilled on the doorknob.  He didn't want to look, but he was unable to ignore her voice.  He cast her a glance over his shoulder and was struck by her appearance.  As she stood atop the stage, the last vestiges of innocence and youth were shed, leaving in their place a powerful vision of a temptress every bit as beautiful and dangerous as an Amazon.  "Don't you want to know what I saw?"

 

            When he didn't readily answer, she shrugged casually.  "You're right to be afraid.  When your partner needs you most, you will betray him."

 

            "I would never do that," Needless told her, his anger growing in leaps and bounds.  But still, he couldn't escape the sound of her voice.

           

Kalista shook her head, almost sadly.  "How do you know that for sure, John?  You haven't even begun to realize your true potential."

 

            "You're wrong," he told her.  "This is who I am.  Maybe I do question my limits.  Maybe sometimes I want to snap.  But I would never betray Stack."  Needless waited for her to say something else.  To agree or to disagree.  But she didn't say anything.  He turned the knob and left, the slamming of the door resounding through the bordello's foyer.

 

            Kalista's shoulders slumped forward and she let down her guard as the detective left.  Tired eyes raised to warily watch Magdalene's approach.

 

            "What did I tell you would happen if those meddling cops showed up here…?"

 

 

*

 

Smiles passed a hand over his face as he pulled into the Gobblin' Goblin's parking lot.  He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, even after he and Charlie had tracked down Needless and Stack's mystery caller.  His dreams were still vivid in his mind and when Stack had called to arrange this meeting, he'd been more than a little wary of answering the phone.

 

            He wasn't a superstitious man by nature.  After being a cop on the Big City force, there wasn't much left that got under his skin.  So why this -- a dream, of all things -- was bothering him, he wasn't sure.  But he could still feel the heat of the wolf's breath on his skin and he could still feel the pressure of its claws digging into his back.

 

            Pushing it from his mind, Smiles got out of his car and pushed his way into the diner, Stack's familiar profile standing out in the corner booth nearest the door.  There were two cups of coffee steaming atop the table, and he slid into the booth across from his old partner.  Already Stack had created some kind of homage to dairy creamer and processed sweetener.  Smiles swiped a few integral pieces of the sculpture and stirred them into the black liquid sitting in front of him.

 

            "Rough night," Stack nodded, garnering a sharp look from his old friend.

 

            "You could say that again," Smiles muttered.  "So, any leads on your perp?"  The less he thought about his own problems, the safer he'd be.

 

            "Not exactly.  Well, nothing we've narrowed down.  Needless is interviewing the woman as we speak.  I just got out of the morgue.  Turns out the deceased was some kind of hot-shot doctor.  One of the foremost cancer researchers in the world.  Sioux was able to tell me a bit about him."

 

            "Thinking maybe someone held a grudge against him?  Or wanted him out of the way?"

 

            "That seems to be the most obvious motive.  I thought you could check in with his coworkers and colleagues at Big City General while I try to dig into his patient records."

 

            "Yeah, I could do that," Smiles replied.  "Charlie's with Laura going through the archives at the paper.  Said he thought he could get you the dirt on your little prophet. Something about the girls in the district extorting money from their clients in return for services not of a sexual nature."

 

            "I remember hearing about that a few years back.  It was psychic blackmail, I believe."

 

            "Charlie seems to think your girl may have been the mastermind behind the little racketeering group.  He's going to see what he can dig up and get in touch with us later."

 

            Stack nodded, his eyes glued to the sculpture now returned to its former glory.  "You okay, Smiles?  You seem a little…preoccupied."

 

            "This coming from the man whose mind is constantly turning in the opposite direction?"

 

            "Hey, at least it's still turning.  Can't stop.  Not while I know Manzetti's still out there."

 

            Smiles nodded once, pushing himself up out of the booth with a groan.  "We're getting too old for this."

 

 

*

 

            "I really wish I knew what we're looking for," Laura Medrano complained, raising her arms above her head as she stretched, watching the images whir by from the microfiche.

           

"You and me both," Charlie told her, rubbing his eyes tiredly.  Three hours in a small room and absolutely nothing to show for it.  This had seemed like a very good idea at nine o'clock in the morning.  Now, his stomach was rumbling and his eyes were drooping, and the only thing he knew for certain was that he'd seen Kalista Danae before.  Her picture.  Her name.  Somewhere.

 

            He'd first jumped to the conclusion that he'd probably seen her in the papers after the psychic racketeering ring went down in the red-light district.  But her name hadn't been mentioned once and finding a picture of her seemed hopeless.  How many fortune-telling sirens were there in Big City?  How many chose to make their living in a whorehouse?  Why couldn't he find one shred of evidence that she existed?

 

            "If we just had some idea," she sighed, raking her fingers back through her hair.  "This is like looking for a needle in a haystack.  Except we don't even know what size or type of needle it is."

 

            Charlie grinned her way, reaching over to knock a few strands of hair out of her eyes.  "I owe you one, okay?"

 

            "Oh, you owe me more than one, Charlie Pickens.  And I will be collecting pretty soon."

 

            "Lookin' forward to it," he laughed.

 

            Laura glanced at her watch, tilting it towards the dim light of the screen.  "Aren't you ready to take a break yet?  We can always come back.  I, for one, am starving."

 

            He shook his head, his fingers going back to the controls as he rolled through a sheet of the microfiche.  "No, not yet.  I can't shake the feeling that I'm on the edge of finding what I need."  A moment of silence passed and Charlie glanced over his shoulder to see Laura gazing at him with her "I'm-not-playing-around-anymore" look.  Mustering a smile, he motioned to the door.  "Tell you what.  Why don't you go pick up lunch and by the time you get back, I promise, I'll be ready for that break."

 

            She arched a dubious brow, but relented.  "Fine.  I'll be back in about twenty."

 

            Charlie nodded as she kissed his cheek, already re-immersed in the world of grainy photographs and endless screens of text.  The slamming of the door did nothing to interrupt his concentration.  He simply couldn't shake the feeling that something about this was important.

 

            He checked the dates of the publication and rubbed his eyes again.  Maybe they hadn't been looking in the right time frame.  He hadn't checked out anything beyond ten years ago.  The strength of his certainty had led him to believe that his notice of the woman had been relatively recent.  But the fact that he couldn't recall how he knew her made him wonder if maybe….

 

            Standing, Charlie moved to the filing cabinets against the far left wall and perused the dates listed on the front of the drawers.  As if guided by his subconscious, he let his fingers glide across the cold metal, stopping every now and then to smooth a worn, yellowed label.  The years rolled backwards as he continued to search the file drawers.  Something made him pause when he reached the drawer containing all of the archives of the paper from fifteen years earlier.  Fifteen years ago his entire world had consisted of the orphanage and the people within it.  So why did his intuition tell him this was the right place to start looking?

 

            Pulling out sheet after sheet of information, Charlie sat down with his new pile and began to scan the images.  He sat hunched over in front of the monitor, his eyes glued to the passing pictures and stories.  Laura was right.  It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.  But he had a very good idea of what type of needle he was searching for.

 

            The door creaked open and Charlie didn't bother to look up.  "I come bearing food," Laura chirped, the short break having rejuvenated her spirit.  But seeing Charlie's profile cast in the pale light of the monitor screen made her frown.  "Sustenance, anyone?"

 

            "In a sec," he murmured absently, his fingers rolling quickly through one sheet after the other.

 

            "Charlie, you're gonna go blind doing that.  Why don't you just relax for a little while and maybe it'll come to you - "

 

            "Found it!" he yelled triumphantly.  At least, he thought he had.  "Manzetti Holds Local Orphanage in Check" the headline read in bold, black letters.  It was tucked away in the Metro/Society pages.  Underneath the headline was a picture of Manzetti standing outside of the orphanage where Charlie had grown up.  He and the Director of the orphanage both held up a corner of one of those massive checks like the ones presented to the winners of the lottery.  They were surrounded by happy looking children.  It was a fluff piece about Manzetti's generosity, his humanitarian spirit, and it made Charlie want to laugh.  Humanitarian spirit, now that was a crock.  But now it was all coming back to him.  He remembered, quite clearly, the day the picture had been taken.  Manzetti had signed over quite a hefty sum to the orphanage.  "For the children," the article quoted him as saying.

 

            The children.  He'd been one of "the children."  He'd never seen a penny of the money.  But that wasn't the point.  That wasn't what he'd remembered through the years.  That wasn't what had nagged the back of his mind until this very moment.

 

            Standing to the left of Manzetti, his hand protectively resting upon her shoulder, was a very young Kalista Danae, smiling back at the camera.

 

*

 

            Stack Fury glanced at his watch as the sun dipped beneath the Big City horizon.  The neon lights were already glowing brightly on this side of town and the sound of laughter and music filtered into the streets.

 

            Big City's red-light district was a five block square area just beyond Goblin Hill.  Some considered it to be an all-night block party, and no university rave could hold a candle to the iniquitous revelry found in the heart of the district.  And located at the heart was Magdalene's.

 

            A liveried servant stood at the entrance of the wrought iron gate, not fooling anyone into thinking he wasn't just what his hulking frame appeared to be -- paid security.  Stack allowed himself to be searched and when nothing suspicious was found on his person, he was allowed entrance.

 

The bordello was an incongruous accumulation of styles.  Classic lines, neo-gothic pillars, abstract frescos.  It assaulted his senses, confusing and titillating at the same time.  He moved through the crowd of patrons purposefully, following the flow of men and women into a large front parlor.  Rows and rows of chairs had already been filled, and the audience stared at the stage expectantly.

 

Taking a spot along the back wall, Stack crossed his arms over his chest as the lights in the room dimmed and a rather large woman waddled up the front steps of the platform.  A few catcalls could be heard traveling through the room.  Stack couldn't wrap his mind around the possibility that this was the woman whose voice had held him spellbound not even twenty-four hours ago.  Thankfully, when she opened her mouth, any possibility was washed away.

 

"Thank you all for coming out tonight.  I just love to see a familiar face, but those new pusses aren't too bad either."  Her gaze swept the room, and for a moment Stack felt as if she was staring straight at him.  "Mama Magdalene always has room for more," she winked.  The crowd cheered and whistled until she calmed them down with a flap of one massive arm.  "Now, now.  Save that for the performance.  Without further ado, I give you the incomparable Miss Kalista Danae!"

 

Sea-blue curtains pulled aside to reveal the slender form of the woman Stack knew, without a doubt, owned the voice that still echoed in his head.  As she stepped out of the shadows of the stage, she was as transient and as incandescent as the flickering flame of a candle.  Despite her willowy stature, there was a voluptuous essence to her figure that was barely concealed beneath a shimmery satin shift of the palest silver-blue.  Her skin was golden beneath the hot lights of the stage, and although he wasn't prone to bouts of fancy, Stack could almost imagine her lounging languidly beneath the sun atop an isolated crop of rocks in the middle of the sea.

 

As she opened her mouth, her voice carried through the room like the quiet before a storm.  He was absolutely certain he had never heard anything quite as beautiful, and although he did not understand the words of her song, he understood all too well the emotions with which she sang.

 

 She captivated the entire audience, men and women alike.  For the first time in a long time, his mind wasn't working overtime.  He wasn't thinking about his next move.  He wasn't looking for an explanation.  His mind was calm and everything seemed right with the world.

 

Her voice was like a drug, Stack decided in his haze-ridden mind.  He could feel it seeping in through his skin, mixing with his blood and swirling in the pit of his stomach.  He ached to hear more, to know more, to feel more.  The minutes flew by unnoticed, turning into hours, and suddenly, it was gone.

 

Stack blinked rapidly as the sound of her voice receded.  Receded, but it was still very present inside his head.  He glanced around, surprised to notice he was one of but a few remaining listeners.  Everyone else had been picked off by Magdalene's other girls.  He watched as Kalista stepped off of the stage, assisted by yet another bouncer.  He whispered something in her ear, but she shook her head.  Her footsteps carried her down the aisle, straight towards Stack.

 

"You came to see me," Kalista said by way of greeting.  Noting Magdalene's hawk-like gaze, she looped her arm around his and guided him out of the room and towards the staircase.  "After your partner's visit this morning, I didn't think you'd come."

 

"I haven't spoken to Need-…to Sgt. D'yen…as of yet."

 

            "No, you wouldn't have, would you?  I'm sure he's needed some time to himself."

 

            Stack cast her a sideways look.  "Why?  What happened?"

 

            Kalista tilted her head back to look at him and she smiled slightly.  "He had questions he wasn't prepared for me to answer."

 

            Stack absorbed her enigmatic response and let her lead him into her room.  The room itself was classy, but it had the masculine feel of leather and whiskey.  It was full of oversized, polished furniture, dark colors and heavy fabrics.  It didn't fit her at all, he thought.  She needed a light, airy space.  Something liberating, whereas this was domineering and confining.  He watched as she moved to a large oaken vanity, her fingers pulling the pins from her hair and letting the curls tumble down around her shoulders.

 

            What was he doing here, Stack wondered?  He was in the bedroom of a professional, and at the moment, he didn't feel out of place.  He observed the way her fingers combed through her hair before she tilted her head, first to the left and then to the right, as she removed her earrings.  Then she seated herself at the vanity and lifted a silver handled brush.  She dragged it over and over again through the multicolored silky strands, leaving soft waves in the brush's wake.  The dim light from the wall sconces cast a fiery halo around her head that gave her an even more ethereal aura than she already possessed.

 

            How many times had he watched Gina go through this exact same ritual?  How many nights had they returned home, exhausted but completely in tune with one another?  How had he forgotten this?

 

            Kalista stood and moved to the silk screen in the corner of the room.  A lone lamp provided the backlighting, and Stack couldn't pull his gaze away as her shadow played across the thin fabric.  She undressed slowly, deliberately, as if fully aware that his eyes followed her every graceful movement.  He felt a stirring in his blood, the kind he hadn't felt since his experiment with Anticipation had brought Gina back to him.  But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would not act on it.

 

            When she re-emerged, she was dressed simply in a white gown that was too innocent to be enticing.  She seemed to know exactly how he was feeling, and she conducted herself accordingly.

 

            Again he had to wonder what exactly he was doing here.  He watched as she once more closed the distance between them.  Her touch was exceedingly gentle when she placed her hand atop his, and when he looked down, he wasn't surprised to see the small shrine he'd managed to piece together precariously atop her nightstand.

 

            "You know why you're here," Kalista told him, seemingly reading his mind.  When he returned his gaze to hers, she smiled again.  Stack shook his head, denying her words despite the echo of truth he felt inside.  "I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear.  I'm not even going to tell you want you don't want to hear.  Because you don't really want to know, Adam.  Not from me."

 

            He gave a start at her use of his name, but her touch and her words continued to hold him prisoner.  "It's all about balance with you, isn't it?"  She lifted his sculpture of odds and ends into her hands and examined it as she spoke.  "Trying to balance your life and your job, your grief and your determination, your darkness and your hope.  But you're trying too hard."  Kalista picked up a crystal from her nightstand and held it over the top of his creation.  The highest peak was the tip of a ballpoint pen, and he knew there was no way she could balance the crystal atop it.  Nevertheless, when she took her hand away, the crystal remained in place, teetering ever so slightly.

 

            "Some people only believe in that which they can see.  But you don't see because you don't know.  And you don't know…because you're afraid.  Afraid of the unknown.  Afraid of what you don't want to know."  She lifted her eyes to his, breaking her concentration, and the sculpture tumbled.  "There are things that you just don't want to admit, Adam.  My giving you the answers wouldn't make any difference.  First, you have to find balance here."  Kalista let her fingertips brush against his temple.  "And here," she added, her free hand resting over his heart.  "Whatever he does, you can't lose control.  If you lose control, you're going to lose it all.  And that's exactly what he wants you to do."

 

 

*

 

           

            Shrugging out of his jacket, Needless fell into his desk chair and rolled backwards a few inches.  His desk was stacked with papers and reports that needed to be filed, but he had absolutely no desire to do so. His mind was consumed with Kali, her words and her involvement in the murder of Joseph Hahn.

 

            He looked over to Stack's immaculate desk and wondered where his partner was.  Last time they'd talked, he'd been on his way to meet Smiles at the Gobblin' Goblin, but that had been hours ago.  A few messages had been speared onto his message holder and Needless stood to retrieve them.  He flipped through them quickly, only one holding his attention for any determinable amount of time.

 

            Lifting Stack's phone from its base, Needless dialed the number left on the pink slip of paper and waited for the familiar voice to sound on the line. 

 

            "Big City Morgue."

 

            "Sioux.  It's John."

 

            "Oh, hi."  Her slow, graceful smile was apparent in her voice.  For a moment, he returned it.  But then he remembered the way Kali's voice, her kiss, had eclipsed every nuance of reality in his world and his guilt and anger flared once more.  "Got your message for Stack.  What's up?"

 

            She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but proceeded to coolly relay all of the previous information she'd given Adam.  "There are still no signs that Dr. Hahn put up any kind of a struggle," Sioux concluded, "but there was one thing I discovered.  I don't know if it's worth anything to the investigation, but the doctor wasn't a healthy man."

 

            "What do you mean?"

 

            "While I was extracting the bullet, it became lodged inside an abnormal mass.  I had to cut him open to investigate and what I found was a rather large tumor inside of the frontal lobe.  I examined the cells, but it's fairly obvious Dr. Hahn was suffering from an oligodendroglioma."

 

            "A what?"

 

            "It's a tumor that affects the oligodendrocyte cells inside the brain -- the cells which produce the myelin that covers the nerves and helps information to travel quickly between the brain and other parts of the body. Usually a tumor the size I found in Dr. Hahn would substantially begin to show its symptoms through headaches, mood changes and/or changes in his personality."

 

            Needless soaked up her information with all of the success of a child just learning a new language.  "So you're telling me he was sick."

 

            "I'm telling you he was dying," Sioux clarified.  "Your cancer doctor was suffering from cancer."

 

 

*

 

            Pinching the bridge of his nose, Smiles wandered through the sterile halls of Big City General.  His investigation thus far had proved uneventful.  All of Joseph Hahn's colleagues considered him to be the epitome of the dedicated doctor.  He was beloved by the nurses in the Oncology unit, and not an unkind word was to be spoken by his fellow researchers.  Stack's hunch that the green-eyed monster had attacked seemed empty.  But of course, appearances could be deceiving.

 

            There were still the families to consider.  But after a thorough search through the doctor's patient files, he'd found nothing but good references and ongoing correspondence with the patients and the relatives of those who had not survived.  The man had been some kind of saint.  So who'd wanted him dead?

 

            Smiles collapsed into one of the chairs outside Joseph Hahn's research lab.  What was he doing here?  Really doing here?  Why did he continue to hold on to this, day in and day out?  What was the link?  Here he was, running around in useless circles, trying to find the missing link in a murder case.  Why did his life always seem to boil down to the same scenario?  Only, this wasn't the case that invaded his most vulnerable moments.  This wasn't the thing that visited unbidden during the quiet moments when everything else seemed positively tranquil.

 

            Gina.  Her name popped into his head without warning.  With Manzetti's return, it seemed her name had been foremost in his mind more often than not.  His sister.  It had been his job to protect her, to keep her safe.  That was what brothers were for.

 

            But she was gone.  And the pain still hadn't subsided.  Not really.  It was as ever-present as the subtle throbbing behind his eyes -- easy to forget for a while, until there was nothing else left to focus on.  And then, out of the blue, it became the pounding of a steel-drum -- impossible to ignore.

 

            He looked up, the flash of a familiar reflection catching his attention.  It passed swiftly, gliding smoothly across the panes of glass that overlooked the lab.  And then it was gone.

 

            Pushing himself up, Smiles found himself rushing towards the end of the hall.  He jerked his head in both directions, barely spotting her mane of hair as she turned into a corridor to his left.

 

            "Wait!" he called out, his voice bouncing through the otherwise deserted hallway.  He could hear the tapping of her heels along the linoleum tiled floors, but her footsteps did not seem to be slowing.

 

            Smiles turned the corner exactly where she had and saw her just as she rounded another bend.  His strides became a slow jog as he hurried to catch up to her.

 

            At each turn she seemed to mock him, eluding him with her slow saunter.  The faster he ran, the farther away she seemed.  With her last turn, he called out for her to stop.  To his surprise, the tapping of her heels ceased.  Breathless, Smiles made the turn, but came to a sudden halt.  It was a dead end.  There was nothing but a door in front of him.  And the woman was nowhere to be seen.

 

            Slowly reaching forward, Smiles wrapped his hand around the doorknob, twisting it until he heard an audible click, as if the door was unlocking itself for him.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as he swung the door open, revealing nothing but a gaping maw of darkness….

 

            "Mr. Johnson?"

 

            Smiles awoke with a start at the sound of his name.  Standing before him was the same pretty nurse he'd interrogated only moments -- had it been only moments? -- before.

 

            "Mr. Johnson, are you feeling okay?"

 

            He nodded, standing slowly as he took stock of his surroundings.  "Yeah.  Just a little sleep deprived."

 

            She smiled and held out a folder towards him.  "You forgot this at the nurses' station," she told him.

 

            "That's not mine."

 

            "Oh."  She frowned slightly and double-checked the tab.  "It has your name on it."

 

            "May I see it?"  She handed over the folder and he opened it with a sense of trepidation.

 

            Inside was a single black-and-white photograph.  Gina Johnson smiled up at her older brother, looking exactly as he remembered her.

 

 

*

 

            The sounds of merriment were crystal clear even from a block away.  The musical notes and lyrical laughter were loud, especially for the late hour, but it didn't dissuade Charlie.  He wanted answers and this seemed to be the right time to find them.

 

            He rolled his shoulders back, his thoughts wandering to those of Laura, home alone and in bed.  They were welcoming thoughts, and he wished more than anything that he could be there with her right now.  After the long day he'd had, the idea of being curled up beside her seemed like a dream come true.

 

            But here he was, still on the job.  And he had the feeling he wouldn't rest until this whole thing was over.

 

            There was a group of men lounging in front of the bordello, two women scantily clad entertaining the onlookers with a rather explicit dance.  He sidestepped them, ignoring their catcalls, and strode towards the front door of Magdalene's.

 

            It was open, letting the rowdy revelers come and go as they pleased.  One step into the main lobby and Charlie knew he'd never been in a place like this before.  More than ever, he wondered what had become of Kalista Danae.  Oh, the answer was obvious.  But her journey to this place, that was what made him wonder.  How could two people who'd had much the same upbringing find such different paths in life?

 

            "What's your pleasure?" a sultry-toned vixen asked as he passed, her lithe body draped across the banister that lined the grand staircase.  He ignored her, his mind firmly on business.  And Laura.

 

            "May I help you?"

 

            A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and Charlie spun around in surprise.  That surprise was compounded by the appearance of the short, rotund woman now in front of him.  "You look like you're searching for something.  Or could it be...someone?"

 

            "Someone," Charlie answered after he recovered from his shock.  "I'm looking for Kalista Danae."

 

            The old woman's eyes narrowed as she seemed assess him more closely.  "You're not a cop, are you?"

 

            "No, I'm not."

 

            She nodded, satisfied, until his next words.

            "I just have a few questions I need to ask her."

 

            "I thought you said you're not a cop."

 

            "I'm not.  But I am an investigator.  And I'm helping the Big City Police Department with a murder case."

 

            "Just what the world needs," the woman muttered, "more wannnabe heroes."  She crossed her arms over her ample, sagging chest.  "I'm sorry.  Kali's otherwise engaged at the moment.  And even if she wasn't, I've given away enough freebies with her today.  You'll have to come back tomorrow night if it's so important.  And be prepared to pay the price."

 

            "You don't seem to understand - "

 

            "Oh, I understand all too well.  The girl's gone and got herself in trouble.  Always knew she would, way she sticks her nose in other people's business.  Ain't no way to make a living down here."

 

            "Can you at least tell her I stopped by?  Here's my card."  Charlie pulled one out from his wallet and slipped it into the old woman's hand.

 

            "Well, I'm sure I could do that.  But I won't."  She crushed the paper in her tight, swollen fist.  "You tell your buddies their business here is done.  And if they come sniffin' around again, I'm not liable to be quite as hospitable as I have been today."  She dropped the card and nodded to the two burly men who suddenly appeared behind Charlie.  "Show this boy the way out."

 

 

*

 

            "Tell me you've got a lead," Stack said as he passed Needless's desk, setting down two cups of coffee from the Java Jalopy.  It had been exactly twenty-four hours since Kali's initial call, and his visit with her had done everything but soothe his frazzled nerves.  "We've still got a murderer at large and, thus far, no motives.  I just talked to Smiles.  He says Hahn had no visible enemies of any sort.  So where does that leave us?"

 

            "Don't know.  I called Sioux and all she had to tell me was that Hahn was suffering from cancer himself.  How's that for irony?  Talk about 'physician heal thyself.'"

 

            Stack shook his head and sat down, his hands immediately drawn to the comfort of his absent architecture.  "Let's look at the pieces.  A self-anointed psychic calls to tell us there's going to be a murder.  It happens, just as she's described.  The man has no known enemies.  All we know is that he's suffering from the same disease he's worked all of his life to cure."

 

            "I'm still of the mind that the girl's involved.  What if it's all a hoax?  A publicity stunt on her part to achieve recognition for her quote-unquote gifts?"

 

            "I take it you weren't impressed with her…abilities," Stack commented wryly.

 

            "Physical or metaphysical?" Needless countered, only to be rewarded with a questioning look from his partner.  "Nevermind.  Look, we bring her in where we can properly interrogate her.  Without everyone else around, she may crumble."

 

            "No.  There's something else here.  Who else knew Hahn was sick?"

 

            Needless shrugged.  His answer was cut off by Captain Breen.

 

            "Forray!  D'yen!" he barked as the door of his office flew open.  "In here."

 

            The detectives exchanged a surreptitious glance before standing and filing into Breen's office.

 

            "I just got a call in from a patrol car down in The Bunker," Breen said without preamble.  "They've found the van used in this morning's shooting in front of the Grand M'halasia."

 

            "I want to check it out," Needless said immediately.

 

            Breen nodded, but waved him back down into his seat.  "You'll get your chance.  But I had Forensics run the tags.  Turns out the van's registered to an Ogden Gamble."

 

            Needless looked to Stack and then back to the captain.  "Didn't we bust him for running Anticipation?  Put him away for a few months?"

 

            Stack nodded, though his expression was more grim.  "He's also one of Manzetti's known flunkies."

 

            Breen leaned back against the edge of his desk.  "You know what that means."

 

            "It means Manzetti's involved.  And he doesn't care if we know it or not."

 

            "Right.  John, I want you on the van.  But be careful.  I've left explicit orders for you to be the first inside.  Who knows what gifts Manzetti's left behind.  Adam, I also received a call from Joseph Hahn's wife.  She asked to speak with you specifically."

 

            "You're turning out to be a pretty popular guy, Stack."

 

            "Jealous?"

 

            "Since it's late," Breen continued, ignoring their banter, "I told her you'd be over first thing in the morning to talk to her.  Think you can handle that?"

 

            "I think I can manage."

 

            "Good.  I'd like to have a handle on this case within the next twenty-four hours.  If it really is a message from Manzetti, I want it deciphered A.S.A.P."

 

 

*

 

 

            Kalista held up the crumpled card to the sunlight, checking to make sure she had the right address.  In the early morning light, it was hard to tell.  The deep creases in the paper left a few of the numbers unrecognizable, but the vibe she got was that this was it.

 

            Charlie Pickens.  The name had sounded familiar at first.  It had come to her eventually.  He'd also spent time in the same orphanage where she'd grown up.  That he wanted to see her came as a bit of a surprise, but what she could feel told her it had to do with Joseph.

 

            Opening the door to the building, Kali let her instincts guide her to the right group of suites that formed the offices for Charlie and his partner, Robert Johnson.  In what could be called the waiting area, but was really a modified smaller office, a woman sat with her back to the door as she filed a few papers in a tall metal filing cabinet.

 

            "Excuse me," Kalista said, clearing her throat.  "I’m here to see Charlie Pickens."

 

            The woman looked up and took stock of the visitor with one long look.  "Charlie's not in," she announced, "But you could speak to Mr. Johnson."

 

            It was on the tip of Kalista's tongue to pass, but instead she nodded her assent.  She let the young woman lead her down a short hall, where she paused to knock lightly on a closed door before opening it.  "Mr. Johnson?  There's a woman here to see you."  There was a gruff, mumbled response and the woman nodded, closing the door behind herself and standing in the hallway for a moment.  "He just needs a moment," she explained.

 

            The door opened a moment later, and Smiles motioned for Kalista to enter.  "Coffee," he told his secretary before closing the door again.  "I'm Robert Johnson.  What can I do for you?"

 

            Kalista took in the man's appearance -- his rumpled clothes and a day's growth of beard -- and figured he'd spent the night in his office.  "Actually, I'm here to see Charlie," she told him.  "I’m Kalista Danae."

 

            It took a second for Smiles to place the name, but his eyes widened once it clicked.  "You're the woman Stack and Needless have been investigating."

 

            "I suppose," she nodded.  "But I didn't have anything to do with the murder."

 

            "So why are you here then?  What business do you have with Charlie?"

 

            "To be honest, I'm not sure.  He came to see me last night, but…we didn't get a chance to talk.  I found his card this morning.  I suppose he left it."

 

            "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful," Smiles apologized.  To his surprise, he found he meant it.  There was something about the woman that was…enchanting.  "I'm sure Charlie will be here soon.  If you'd like to stay - ?"

 

            "I can't," Kali told him.  "If you could just tell him I stopped by?"

 

            Smiles nodded, rising to shake her hand.  "I'll be certain to do that, Miss Danae."

 

            At the touch of his hand, Kali's body went rigid.  She closed her eyes, her breaths suddenly coming in short, wild gasps.  Her heart pounded inside her chest as if she'd been running a marathon and with a small moan, she tugged her hand away and broke the contact.

 

            "Miss Danae?" Smiles asked in concern.  "Are you - "

 

            The look in Kali's eyes when she opened them cut off his inquiry.  They were a blazing myriad of colors and her pupils were tiny pinpoints in the center of her irises.  "In the darkness, no one can hear you scream."

 

            Smiles recoiled.  Before his eyes, she seemed to deflate, her appearance slowly going back to normal.  Soon, the only sign that anything had happened was the pink flush in her cheeks.  "W-what did you say?" he asked finally.

 

            "You're chasing after a dream.  It's dangerous.  If you keep running after it, it'll trap you in the darkness.  In the darkness, no one can hear you scream."

 

            Shaking off the visions still playing inside her mind, Kali backed up towards the door, almost hitting the young secretary as she opened it to bring in the coffee.  "I have to go."

 

            Practically running from the offices, she took the stairs two at a time, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat by the time she reached the lobby of the building.  Not looking where she was going, she ran right into the very person she'd meant to see.

 

            Charlie muttered a frustrated curse as his papers flew in every direction.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't see you," he apologized automatically.  Reaching a hand down, he helped the woman up, caught by her wary gaze.  She looked scared, downright frightened, and his sudden concern blinded him to the sudden appearance of the man with the green eyes.

 

            "You're not like the rest of them," Kalista murmured as she stared up at Charlie.  "You're different."

 

            "Not like the rest of who?"

 

            "I…I'm sorry.  I have to go."  She looked over her shoulder, as if she expected someone -- or something -- to be following her.

 

            "Wait!" Charlie called after her.  She stopped and turned and he pointed at her purse still strewn across the floor.  "Aren't you forgetting something?"

 

            Like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, Kali seemed to weigh her options, waiting until the last minute to choose.  With a sigh, she moved forward and started gathering her belongings.  When everything had been shoved back into the tight confines of her bag, she looked up at Charlie.  Raising a hand to his head, she touched him gently.  "I'm sorry.  For what's going to happen."

 

            He regarded her oddly, as if wondering what loony bin she'd escaped from.  Then it dawned on him.  "You're her.  You're Kalista Danae.  I really have to talk to you - "

 

            "I can't.  Not right now."

 

            "But it's important."  Leaning down, Charlie retrieved the copy of the newspaper article about the orphanage.  "I need to know how you're connected to this man."

 

            "What man?" she asked, glancing down at the paper.  "I don't know who that is."

 

            "His name's Manzetti.  Perhaps you've heard of him before?"

 

            Kalista shrugged.  "It sounds familiar.  If he's in the papers often, I'm sure I've read about him before."

 

            "Take a closer look," Charlie pressed.  He placed the article in her hands and waited.

 

            Kali stared at the photograph.  Of course she recognized the orphanage.  She even recognized herself.  But nothing else held any meaning for her.  "I'm sorry…."

 

            Her thumb passed over the image of the man Charlie pointed to, and a cold chill ran down her spine.  As if an invisible hand was closing around her throat, she found it hard to breathe.  Manzetti.  Manzetti.

 

            "I have to go," she repeated, absently stuffing the paper into her purse.  "I'm sorry."

 

            Charlie watched as the woman fled from the building, her skin as white as a ghost's.  He'd been positive she was working with Manzetti.  But her reaction to the article left him doubting his instincts. Whatever she said, there was one thing for certain.  There was a link between Kalista and Manzetti.  Now he just had to figure it out.

 

 

*

 

            "So I got your message.  What's the news?  Hope it's better than mine.  The van was a bust."

 

            Stack showed Needless the way inside the house and led him through the living room and into Dr. Hahn's study.  "Mrs. Hahn says she was cleaning out her husband's personal effects when she found something tucked away inside his favorite book."

 

            "Cleaning his things out already?  Talk about a grieving widow."

 

            "If you ask me, Mrs. Hahn doesn't strike me as the sentimental type.  My bet is she's gonna be a lot more emotional after she realizes what she's done."

 

            "So what has she done?" Needless asked.

 

            Leading his partner over to the study desk, Stack turned the desk lamp on and let Needless read it for himself.

 

            It took a moment for the doctor's handwritten words to sink in.  "So you're telling me this entire thing was just…an elaborate set-up?  That this was his plan for suicide?  He couldn't take the changes happening in his brain, couldn't stand that he couldn't cure himself, so he just decided to end it all?"

 

            "Ah, but he wanted to make sure his family was well-provided for.  If he just killed himself, they wouldn't reap the benefits of his multi-million-dollar life insurance policy."

 

            Needless remained dubious.  It seemed too cut and dry.  "Are we sure it's not a fake?"

 

            "I'm going to have Forensics go over it with a fine-tooth comb before we have the specialists analyze the handwriting.  But I'm betting it's the real deal."

 

            "So why leave a note at all?  Surely he'd know that if it was found, his family wouldn't be getting the money."

 

            "Peace of mind?" Stack offered.  "Maybe he needed to let his family know that this was his parting gift.  They wouldn't have to watch him suffer.  They wouldn't have to take care of him.  Maybe…it was important to him that he let his family know what really happened and why."

 

            Needless was quiet, understanding that part of Stack's speech was more than a little personal.  "You know what this means, right?" he asked after a moment.

 

            "What?"

 

            "If this letter's for real, it means the fortune-teller didn't get it right.  She referred to it as a murder.  Not a suicide."

 

            "And?"

 

            "And it means…."  He hesitated.  "It means maybe she's not always right."

 

            Stack shoved his hands in his pockets, his fingers twirling the contents within.  "What did she tell you?"

 

            Needless shook his head.  "Nothing.  Nothing important, anyway."  He looked away from his partner. Despite the flood of relief, Kali's words still stuck with him.  "I've gotta go.  I'll meet you back at the station for the final report."

 

            Stack watched as Needless left, wondering at his partner's mood.  Things hadn't been right between them since Autumn, and it seemed Needless's visit with Kalista had only caused him to withdraw more.  He needed Needless completely on board if they were going to take down Manzetti for good this time.

 

            He looked down at the note again.  "Is it what I think it is?" a feminine voice asked from the doorway.  Stack looked up to see Mrs. Hahn's pale, drawn features as she watched him gaze at the note.

 

            Stack nodded and motioned to the study sofa.  "I think we should have a talk."

 

 

*

 

            Kalista was too busy throwing all of her earthly belongings into one small suitcase to hear the door open.

 

            "And where do you think you're going?"

 

            Kali stiffened, but she didn't stop.  "I'm leaving," she told Magdalene.  "I can't stay here any longer."

 

            "And why not, child?  Have I not provided for you?"

 

            Pulling at the zipper, Kali glanced over her shoulder.  "Have I not provided for you?"

 

            "You've done your job and you've done it well.  Perhaps too well."  Magdalene regarded her protégé for a long, silent moment.  "I can't let you leave, Kali.  You are the star of my show.  If you go, I'll lose half of my clientele."

 

            "Then I suggest you start holding auditions.  Because you can't keep me here."

 

            "Can't I?  Did you really think it would be so easy to turn your back on me?"

 

            "Watch me."

 

            "I will not lose two girls in one week!" Magdalene wheezed.  "You will not leave me, Kali.  You need me as much as I need you.  Who picked you up out of the gutters you were living in?  Who gave you a place to live?  A place to make a name for yourself?"

 

            "Who made me into the whore I am?" Kali returned snidely.  "I'm tired of this.  I'm tired of selling myself to every man you deem worthy.  I'm tired of being your bait.  I didn't want this life."

 

            "Who do you think you're kidding?  You love the spotlight.  You love the way they all look at you.  The way they want you."

 

            "No," Kali denied.  "That's what you love.  And since you don't have it anymore, you want to live through me.  But no more, Maggie.  No more."  She tossed her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave, only to find the older woman blocking her path. 

 

            "You're not leaving."

 

            "I am."

 

            Without warning, Magdalene threw herself at Kali, tackling her to the floor and smothering the younger woman with her larger body.  "You will not ruin me, you ungrateful bitch.  You think you're so much better than the rest of us because you see things.  Well, where has that gotten you?  Hmm?  Flat on your back, just like everyone else.  You think those cops want you?  That you can help them?  All they want to do is lock you up.  You're nothing to them.  Just like you're nothing but a good time for everyone else.  No one remembers you when they're not here.  No.  One.  Cares."

 

            Kali gasped for air, Magdalene's thick fingers cutting off her air.  And she knew.  One look in the old woman's crazy eyes and she knew.  Somehow, she was a part of it all.  She'd been here for a reason.  All along, this had been where she was meant to be.  Because he wanted it.  Because he wanted her.

 

            A single gunshot pierced the air and Magdalene's fingers jerked free of their claw-like hold.  With a grunt of exertion, Kali rolled the madam's massive body to the side and scooted away, her gaze rising to see Needless standing in the threshold of her bedroom with a Really Big Gun.

 

            "Call it in," he told her, watching as Magdalene curled into the fetal position, her eyes wild as she held her wounded shoulder.

 

            "You could have hit me," Kali said after she'd called the police.  Twice in two days.  It was a record for her.

 

            "But I didn't," Needless pointed out.

 

            "Thank you."

 

            The soft-spoken words drew his attention.  She looked vulnerable, almost childlike, and he found himself wondering her true age.  Reaching out, he tilted her chin up, the now familiar warmth of the connection twirling around his finger.  "You're bruising.  You should probably get that checked out," he told her gruffly.

 

            "I'll be fine," she replied, moving to pick up her bag.

 

            "Where are you going?"

 

            "I don't know," Kali shrugged.  "Away."

 

            "You were wrong."

 

            She arched her brows expectantly.

 

            "About Joseph Hahn.  He wasn't murdered.  It was a suicide."

 

            Kalista stood so still, not even the air around her moved.  "That's impossible."

 

            "No, it's the truth."

 

            "No.  No, I heard it.  I saw it.  I felt it.  Murder…."

 

            "We found the suicide note.  He was dying already.  From cancer."

 

            Her mind rebelled at the idea, but inside it felt right.  It explained all of the mixed emotions she'd been feeling from him in the days before his death.  Joseph had known he was dying.  That he would orchestrate his own "murder" seemed…oddly apropos.

 

            But it didn't negate the fact that something in her mind had screamed, "Murder!"  If it wasn't Joseph's, then whose?

 

            "So you think that I was wrong.  That maybe I'm wrong about you too.  Don't tell me you're starting to believe in these psychic premonitions and fortune-telling deals."

 

            "Hardly.  I'm just here to tell you that your game is up."

 

            "It's not a game.  I sometimes wish it were."  The emergency medical team suddenly swarmed the room and Kali hazarded one last look at Magdalene.  "You weren't just here to prove me a fraud.  You saved my life."

 

            "Didn't see that one coming, I bet."

 

            "No."  Kali half-heartedly returned his smile.  "I didn't."  She considered her next words thoughtfully.  "I don't know what happened with Joseph.  But you can't deny I gave you some pretty solid evidence.  How else would I have known every detail?"

 

            "Maybe he told you beforehand.  Maybe you helped him plan it."

 

            "Or maybe I'm telling the truth."  She fidgeted with the strap on her bag.  "If it's worth anything to you, I hope I am wrong.  For your sake."  Kalista walked to the door and looked around her bedroom.  It had been both her haven and her hell.  She raised her gaze to Needless's and lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug.  "But I'm not."

 

 

*

            Daniel Noraith wrinkled his nose as he crouched down next to the trash covered body.  His partner, Mekhan Pearson, folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.  The girl was young, her features once beautiful.  Now she was gray, her delicate Elven face lacerated almost beyond recognition.

 

            Both officers stepped aside as the Assistant Medical Examiner entered the perimeter.  "What do you think did this to her?" Noraith asked.

 

            The M.E. checked the body and shook his head.  "Good old-fashioned murder," he proclaimed.  His gloved fingers smoothed over a small tattoo on the inside of her right wrist.  Laianna.

 

THE END

Go To: Episode 8 - "Apheresis"

© 2004 Amy Manabat

Let us know what you thought by leaving us a quick comment:

Name:
Email:
Url:
Comments:

View Comments or visit our messageboard

Join the Big City email list for news and updates Enter your name and email address: Name: Email: Subscribe Unsubscribe