Tales of Maora

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Hannah massaged her temples. She feared she was looking at a full-blown migraine. Pain pounded her head like a hammer on an anvil. She rested against the wall, grateful for the support. McClelland and Lang were standing a few feet away, recapping the night’s events. Silas was staring at her. It was uncomfortable, given he was only inches away.

     “What?” Hannah asked.

     “What do you think you were doing?” he said.

     “‘Hey, Hannah, are you okay? Sorry, a man tried to kill you.’ That’s what a normal person would say right now.”

     Silas waved a finger at her. “You did something in the bathroom. You drew that guy to the diner.”

     She did her best shocked face. “How the heck did you know that?”

     “I’ve been doing this a long time, sister,” Silas said.

     “I thought I could, you know, use the link like before. Find out where that bar is.”

     “It’s not like the Internet,” he said. “You can’t search for anything you want.”

     “I realize that now,” Hannah said.

     “Even in the best conditions tugging on the link is dangerous,” he said. “I’m surprised something worse didn’t happen.”

     “You didn’t see the bathroom.”

     He crossed his arms. “So, did you get anything?”

     “No.”

     “Okay.” He walked over to the police. “If we’re going after this guy, we gotta do it now.”

     Lang looked at him; her face was not encouraging. “Nobody said anything about going into the sewer. We have a crime scene back at the diner. Possible injured.”

     “Every minute we waste up here, that freak is getting further away,” Silas said. “Catching him is necessary, you know, if you want to solve this case.”

     “What makes you think this has anything to do with the case?” Lang asked.

     “Isn’t it obvious?” Silas said.

     “No, it is not.”

     He turned to McClelland. “Yo, Louie Anderson. You didn’t bother to tell her what we discussed?”

     Lang looked at McClelland expectantly. He raised a hand. “I was just getting to that.”

     “Whatever. You guys can chit-chat; I’m going in.” Silas was already bent over the manhole.

     “Black, you’ll do no such thing,” Lang said.

     “Watch me.”

     “You’re not working with us,” she said.

     “It’s a free country,” he said. “Climbing down manholes ain’t against the law.”

     “Actually, it is,” she said.

     “Well, you’ll have to come down here and arrest me.” He shot a look at Hannah. “Coming?”

[Read more…] about Black Days, Chapter 15 “Underworld”

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McClelland licked his spoon before putting it back on the plate. He leaned back, the vinyl booth squeaking beneath him. Silas was still thumbing what was left of his meal, a dried piece of bread saturated with ketchup. He had no intention of finishing it. Hannah was beside him, cradling a cup of coffee. She didn’t eat. At the moment, she was watching the liquid swirl in her mug.

     They were at a diner somewhere in the outer boroughs. The dinner rush had yet to start, but it was emptier than a New York restaurant ever should be. It may have had something to do with the inclement weather. Darkness came early and traces of rain started to appear on the windows. The only noise above the radio was the clanging of dishes.

     “As much as I love a free meal, Rick,” Silas said. “Why did you bring us here?”

     “Who said it was free?”

     “I’m not paying,” Silas said.

[Read more…] about Black Days, Chapter 14: “Reaching Too Far”

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“I think the cops are following me,” Hannah said.

     “Paranoia,” Silas said.

     “It’s not paranoia if it’s true.”

     “That’s what every paranoid person says.

     “Seriously,” she said. “Liz and Tom called the cops and now they got a tail on me. I keep seeing the same black car everywhere.”

     “Oh, that proves it,” Silas said. “Relax. The cops have better things to do. And so do we.”

     They were walking down an unexceptional Manhattan street. Pre-War buildings were sandwiched between skyscrapers. At the end of the street was a heavily renovated building. There was something professorial about it, with the red brick and ivy. Contrasting were the art deco tapestries in the windows. Hedgerow lined the sidewalk, leading to the door. Silas grabbed it by its massive handle and pulled.

     “What is this place?” Hannah asked as she stepped inside the lobby.

     “Neo New York,” Silas said.

     It was more art gallery than lobby. There were marble floors, white-washed walls, and abstract sculptures. Misshapen wolves reared up on either side of a Lucite receptionist’s desk. A waifish creature with jet hair mindlessly tapped away on a keyboard. Silas walked up to him. The man ignored him. The detective rapped on the desk to get his attention.

     “Please don’t tap on the glass,” he said without turning from his computer screen.

     “I thought that was just for fish tanks,” Silas said.

     The receptionist looked at him deliberately. His heavy-lidded eyes were almost closed.

     “Can I help you?”

     “Moirai Enterprises?” Silas asked.

     Slowly, the man pointed to something besides his desk. A plaque on the wall listed the building’s tenants. At the very top, on the sixth floor, was a company called “Moirai Enterprises.” Silas looked back at the receptionist.

     “Do you know if Abernathy’s in?” he asked.

     The man glared at Silas, but he picked up the phone. Pushing a button, he immediately spoke. “Is Peter Abernathy in today?” He hung up once he got his answer. “Yes, but he’s not taking any visitors.”

     “That won’t be a problem,” Silas said.

     “Whatever, elevator’s to your right.” The receptionist returned to his computer and immediately forgot anyone else was there.

     Silas gestured for Hannah to follow him into the elevator bank. One opened, letting off a man in a frock coat and fedora. They waited for him to pass and got on. Silas hit floor six and the doors closed.

[Read more…] about Black Days, Chapter 13: “An Enterprising Old Gentleman”

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Tom Redding sat up in his bed. He looked over at his alarm clock. It was two in the morning and his doorbell was ringing. He got up and crossed the bedroom, leaving the light off. Somehow, he made his way to the front door. His head was a ball of anger and grogginess. His hand went to the hall light switch. He stopped when his wife appeared.

     “It might be a burglar,” Liz said, peeking around the corner.

     “Ringing the doorbell?” Tom said.

     “You should get the gun.”

     “Woman, you know we don’t own a gun,” he said.

     “Wait! The baseball bat.” She disappeared into the bedroom.

     Tom rolled his eyes. Turning on the light, he opened the front door. The ringing finally stopped. Standing before him was a lanky man in a long, dirty coat. It looked as if he had been running through the woods all night. He had a wild look in his eyes that made Tom nervous. Most upsetting, though, was the unconscious woman in his arms.

     “What the hell?” Tom was having a hard time registering what he saw.

     “Wow, you’re huge,” Silas said, looking over the man in t-shirt and pajama pants. “Like a buff Sidney Poitier.”

     “Who are you?” Tom asked. “Is that Hannah Rhodes?”

     “Hannah?” Liz reemerged. She couldn’t find the baseball bat, ultimately deciding on an umbrella. Dropping her weapon, she ran to the door. “Oh my God. Tom, let them in.”

     Tom put an arm across the doorway. “First, tell me who you are and what happened to her.”

     Silas sighed, shuffling his bundle. Taking a deep breath, he quickly blurted out: “I’m Silas Black. Hannah’s working for me. We were on a case. She got hurt. You’re doctors. She’s getting heavy. Let me in.”

[Read more…] about Black Days, Chapter 12: “Meet the Parents”

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Silas took Hannah by the hand and together they found a way out of the barrows. They climbed back up the mountain and picked up the path they lost at the gorge. The night grew darker, the moon giving up and finally disappearing from the sky. Their flashlights only gave enough to see their next few steps. When they reached an open clearing flooded with starlight, it was like a sudden splash of cold water.

     Trees ringed the grassless patch of earth. They groveled before the old house like minions. It was a grotesque structure, grown only worse with age. The black facade sucked up the light. Silas assumed it had been three stories tall, before considerable sagging. There was no glass in the windows and all the shingles had blown away. The detective let out a whistle as he took a step towards it.

     “I already hate it.”

     Hannah was silent as she looked over Crow’s Peak.

     “This is it,” she said. “This is the house from my dream.” She cast her light over the upper levels. “There’s a balcony–used to be–where I saw him.”

     Silas looked at the place where she was shining her light. “Probably blew away. Place has seen better days.”

     Silas put a foot on the porch. The wood groaned like an ornery cat. Jumping the rest of the way, he landed in front of the door. Hannah decided to try the steps. Her foot broke through the first one. She pulled it free through a string of curses and clambered up the rest.

[Read more…] about Black Days, Chapter 11: “Crow’s Peak”