Winter's Blade (Draft)
Em lived across the bay. The gentle humm-tap humm-tap of the bridge suddenly gave way to the intrusive hisshh of old asphalt-covered concrete.
The change in the road's timbre broke Alex out of his stunned silence.
"Damn, Em, that was, like, serious."
"I'm just a beacon of joy, aren't I?"
"But your grandfather said it was a one-time thing, right?"
Em raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't mean I believe him."
"Are you afraid he'll ask, or are you afraid you'll say yes?"
Em's eyes flashed, but she quickly affected disinterest and looked out the side window. "What are you, my shrink?"
Alex tried to make light. "Well, you were on my couch."
Her tone was sarcastic. "Ha. Some therapy."
But he played it straight. "I'll say."
She punched him in the arm.
Alex kept quiet. Was she mad? Or was that a smirk?
"Take 23rd," she said, pointing at the road sign ahead.
The road noise changed again, the buzz of grooved concrete turning to the percolation of cracked and potholed asphalt.
"I just don't want to be in the high-end logistics business," she said unprompted.
"Yeah, handling important and valuable items, solving complex problems, visiting exotic locales in your private jet, directing a small army, that would really suck."
"Filling out forms, arguing with bureacrats, getting screamed at by angry customers, working with crazy people... you're right, how could I not love it? --Go straight."
"Well, anyway, if your Granddad has a private jet, I'm sure he can afford to hire somebody qualified."
"Then why is there an axe in the back of your car? --Left up here."
"Are all of their customers like that? You know, has to be a family member?"
"No, just the one, as far as I know."
"So it's just a one-time thing," Alex assurred. "Next year your dad can do it. Your uncle's death just kind of caught them by surprise."
"I guess. --Keep going, about another mile."
"Okay."
Alex wasn't going to say anything more. He just busied himself with driving.
"It's the Smiths," Em blurted out. "They creep me out."
Alex took a deep breath as his brain picked through what he remembered. "Well, I'll admit it's a little strange, but a lot of religious ceremonies seem strange to outsiders. Have you looked into it?"
"That's just it. Google and Wikipedia have nothing."
"Well, 'Smith' isn't exactly an unusual name. You ever axe your grandfather?" He grinned at his pun.
"Dude, did you just say 'axe'?"
"Sorry."
"About a man with one hand?"
Alex cringed. "Oh, right."
"Besides, I didn't know it was an axe until tonight."
"I meant in general, about the Smiths. --Is it a family name?"
"I don't know, I always assumed so."
"Because, you know, the axe..."
"Hmm? Oh, you mean like a blacksmith."
"Yeah."
"Could be."
"So... did you? *Ask* your grandfather?"
"You mean the Storyteller?"
"Oh."
"Well I used to ask him, when I was little, but if he told me anything specific I don't remember it. Anything real, I mean. Mostly he just repeated the family motto, or launched into another adventure story, or..." Em trailed off.
"What?"
"Just stuff about star charts and calculations to find the location for the next package."
"Your grandfather could write a series of children's books."
"Don't give him any ideas. I don't wanna be Harry Potter."
"Don't you mean Hermione?"
"Why does the hero always have to be a guy?"
Whatever. "So the Smiths are a little mysterious," Alex said with a shrug. "So are a lot of religions."
"What if it's not a religion?"
"Like what, a business?"
"Illegal business."
"What, like drugs?"
"Yeah. Or stolen goods. What if the axe is some priceless artifact?"
"It looked new to me."
"What if the axe isn't the merchandise? What if it's the packaging?"
"Like what, the crate itself? Or maybe the shavings it was packed in?" Some of which blew away when the crate broke open...
"I don't know. Maybe."
"I doubt it. I mean, if the axe isn't the important part, why an axe? Why an axe like that? Heck, it's probably illegal on its own, or at least regulated in some way." Oh yeah, that helped. "Besides, do you think your grandfather would involve you in something like that without telling you?"
"What if he didn't have a choice?" Em looked at Alex; she looked a little freaked. "It was a closed casket."
"Huh?"
"My uncle."
"So?"
"He supposedly died of a heart attack."
"Well... maybe... maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe it was in his will."
"That's a weird thing to specify."
"Some people think corpses look creepy."
"You think?"
"I mean, the way they make them up in a casket. The makeup isn't always convincing. Or flattering."
"Or maybe it wasn't a heart attack. And maybe my dad isn't... 'busy.'"
"And maybe I'm an undercover cop who's using you to get to the Smiths." Alex felt Em's burning stare, and braced for another punch in the arm. "I'm kidding." Whack! "Ow, that one hurt."
"Don't make fun of me, then."
"I'm not making fun of you. Look, if you really think your family is working for criminals, why not ask--"
"--my Granddad? If he wanted me to know he would have told me."
"I was going to say your grandmother."
"Oh." Em looked around, then started waving excitedly. "Go back, go back, we missed it!"
"What? Where?"
"Just... um, turn right here, we'll go around the back."
They were in an old neighborhood on the other side of the bay, a mix of retail, apartments, and mostly-abandoned industrial buildings. The main drag had seen a pretty recent urban renewal effort, with a freshly-planted median and angled street parking and fashionably-faux-bricked crosswalks, but just one block away now saw broken cars and barred windows and every architectural fad that could be squeezed into ten units or less.
"That's my building on the corner." It was better-looking than the rest, probably even modern when it was built, all concrete and glass, with low-slung cantilevered balconies and big windows. "Go around, you can park on the side."
Alex was surprised. "You want me to come up?"
Em rolled her eyes. "I need you to help me with the axe, silly."
"Oh." When they'd left his boss' house, he hadn't expected her to invite him up, but on the drive over as she shared more about herself, he'd started hoping...
Wait, did she mean she needed him to help her bring the axe up to her apartment, or she needed him to help her deliver it? Surely with all the angst and all the questions she'd just raised, she wasn't going to do it alone -- heck, she didn't have transportation anyway. But... maybe she wasn't going to do it at all. But if it *was* something... non-trivial, the recipients would be "upset" and what would they do then?
Alex parked. When he shut off the engine, the silence was intensely uncomfortable.
Em put her hand on his arm before he opened his door. "Listen, Alex, that idea about calling my Grams is a good one. I don't know if she'll tell me anything, but... it really doesn't really matter. I mean, maybe it is just a prop for some harmless ceremony. Maybe it's a message from one druglord to another, or the murder weapon from some hit. Maybe it's just a really weird gift. Maybe the Smiths are gonna use it to sacrifice a virgin. I don't know. You're probably right -- it's probably nothing and I'll feel really stupid. But whatever it is, I have to do it, because Granddad asked me to, and that's who I am."
Probably nothing? Alex wondered if he'd really said that; he wasn't as sure as that made him sound. But it was probably best if she thought he thought that, so he wasn't going to correct her.
Wait... if she was going to deliver the axe -- back on the other side of the bay... She had to be assuming he'd go with her, right? She'd say something if she had other transportation plans. Unless with all the stress she just forgot that her car was wrecked -- that was possible, wasn't it?
He wanted to ask her... what was next, but he didn't know how to put it without possibly sounding like an idiot, so he decided he'd just follow her lead. At least defer awkwardness and humiliation until they were inside...
It had stopped raining somewhere along the way. Alex followed Em up the side stairs and past the elevator to #214, one before the end of the other hallway.
She turned around and leaned on the still-locked door.
That wasn't good, was it?
"So, Alex, listen..." Here it comes: the brush-off. He'd heard enough of them to know how they started. "You've really really helped me on a really really bad night, and I'm really really grateful, but right now I'm just tired, and I need to fill the tub and light some candles and pour some wine and put on some Norah Jones and veg out, okay?"
Yep, that was Goodbye all right. "I get it. Girl stuff."
"Yeah."
So should he ask about the axe? Why? She would have said something if she'd wanted him to know -- she'd been super-sharing all night long, when she stopped, that was a sign, a big END sign...
"And I'm sure you wanna go home or wherever and recharge, maybe shower, eat something and stuff..."
"Yeah..." Did she have to point out that he had no life, too?
"You don't mind, do you?" Mind? Of course not, kick him while he's down, why mind? --Wait, mind what? "Taking off and coming back."
Coming back? The words couldn't leave his mouth fast enough. "No, of course not."
"I'll pay you for gas and tolls and stuff."
"Yeah." He wondered if it was obvious that he was trying not to jump up and down cheering. "Um, what time?"
"Well, if I don't call you before, like, 11:30? Is that enough time?"
"Here at 11:30? Sure." It's a date! It's a date! It's a date!
"Okay then."
She just stood there looking at him.
He just stood there, grinning like an idiot.
"So..." she prompted.
"So..." what? Was she going to go inside?
"Are you gonna give me your number or what?"
"Oh!" He started fishing in his coat pockets -- he knew he had a pen, but he didn't think he had any paper...
She held out a marker between two fingers of her flattened palm. "Write it here."
Alex tried not to tremble as he wrote it.
She made sure she could read it, then smiled. "Cool."
"Cool," Alex nodded, and turned to go.
"Waitasecond!"
"What?"
"The axe?"
"Oh." He supposed they could have left it in his car. But then he wouldn't have had to come up here. Was that on purpose? Did she not want him to go, was it one of those indirect girl-communication things, where he was supposed to know what she wanted, as some kind of test? Was he going to blow it right here?
"I guess we could have left it in your car, but... well, in case anything happens, it's probably better if I keep it with me."
"Okay."
"You can just set it down, I'll drag it inside."
"No I don't mind," he said without really thinking.
"Alex, I don't remember what condition my apartment's in, but it's probably not the best, and even if it was, a girl needs a little mystery, and in your case, this is about all I've got left."
"Oh. Sure." Alex put the case down, and turned to go.
He heard her fish out her key. And he had a sudden thought.
"Wait!"
"What?" she said, spinning around and leaning back against the door.
"If you were already broken up with James, who didn't stand a chance?"
"Huh?"
"Who were you all dressed up for?"
She groaned. "Just some guy at work. Actually, a friend of my boss. I totally had a crush on him before I met James, and after the whole thing with him, I guess I thought I had something to prove, or... I don't know. Why?" A grin spread over her face. "You worried about the competition?"
"No, I just..." Busted. "I was just curious. He must be some guy."
"He is. He was a Tomcat RIO in the Navy. Daddy would love him." She gave him a conspirational look. "So clearly he's out."
Alex grinned so wide it hurt. "Clearly."
She didn't turn around this time. "Okay, see ya."
He took a step back, then:
"Wait."
"Yes, Alex?"
He erased the step he'd taken. "Do you want me to pick up something to eat on the way over?"
Her raised eyebrow said she knew the question was a bit contrived. "No, I'm gonna scavenge something out of the fridge to tide me over. But I tell you what, after, I'll buy you dinner."
"Okay." That probably meant they wouldn't be... *sharing* after. But he was totally okay with that.
"All right then," she said with a nod, turning halfway toward the door as a signal.
"Wait."
"I know you're just trying to keep me here, but I reall--"
Em couldn't finish because Alex was kissing her.
She melted against the door, and the kiss got stronger.
Alex broke off when he felt her sigh. "Okay," he said, "now I can go." He spun quickly on his heel and began sauntering back down the hallway.
"Oooh, you're *so* bad," she said after him.
Alex drove with unusual restraint, signaling his way back onto the main drag, observing the speed limit. The truth was he felt so good he wanted to smoke the tires and smack the rev limiter all the way to the freeway -- but now was not the time to get pulled over or have something break.
He didn't know what was going to happen after tonight, but he wasn't going to spoil the evening by thinking about that. His thoughts turned to what he needed to do to be ready to go tonight...
Eat: there was still the Chinese up at Tony's, but...
Change: if he was going to change, he didn't have anything clean left up there. Did he need to change? What did you wear to deliver an axe to a mysterious party? What he had on was actually probably fine, but...
Shower: she'd said "maybe shower" -- did he stink? He did a pit check... not *really*, but he wasn't going to chance it. He had time, didn't he? What did he have at the apartment that was still clean? He'd just done a load of darks two days ago. The black bowling shirt, maybe. Did he need some color? What about slacks? He wondered what she'd meant by "dinner" -- nice place, burger joint? What was she gonna wear? He didn't want to look like a college student, but he didn't want to overdress and make her feel underdressed... maybe he should call her. But he didn't know her number. Oh well. If she called he could ask her, and if not, maybe he could bring a change of clothes in case he guessed wrong. He hoped she'd call...
Shit.
Alex started rifling through his pockets as quickly as he could while driving. She still had his phone, didn't she? He checked the center console -- not there. Yeah, he'd given it to her at the accident, and... nope... nope, she'd never given it back to him, so it was still in her coat.
Well, she'd figure it out if she called him and her coat rang. Unless he'd left it on vibrate. Probably not, though. Well, he'd just see her at 11:30 then. Unless she needed him sooner for some reason. Why would she? He couldn't think of anything, but... maybe he should go back for his phone. No, she was probably getting in the tub already. (Part of him thought that was a good thing.) He knew her name, he could call Information when he got home. But who was listed anymore? And what if it was her cell, which was broken? He should go back. It'd only been... five minutes? It took longer than that to fill a tub, didn't it? And she was going to call her grandmother; if they were in Wisconsin, she'd probably do that first. Sure, go back.
But it might seem... desperate. Right? Maybe not.
But what if her grandmother told her something that changed plans?
But wait... her grandfather had said not to involve her grandmother. So maybe she wouldn't call, or she'd talk to him instead. But she didn't think he'd give her the straight story. But maybe she didn't remember about not telling her grandmother. Maybe he should go back so he could remind her. But--
"Dude, just decide one way or the other," he said out loud.
Em started to kick off her shoes before the door was closed, but then stopped. These were expensive stockings, and she didn't want to run them. If they weren't already run -- she hadn't exactly been gentle with Alex. The thought made her blush. Well, she'd find out in a minute; her feet could last that long.
But first, candles. And Grams -- it was already late back there, she shouldn't wait any longer. She grabbed her safety lighter wand out of the junk drawer and the cordless off the cradle. She'd lit two candles in the kitchen and three on the coffee table before someone picked up.
Not someone, something. Stupid machine. One more candle, then off to the bath. "Hi, Grams, it's Em. I know it's late, but I kinda need to ask you something. If you're there, pick up. If you're not, and I guess you're not, call me." She'd nearly hung up when she remembered: "Oh! Call me at home, not the cell."
No towels? Oh, right, she'd just done them, they were on the bed -- no, the couch, she'd just walked past them. Good thing she hadn't let Alex in, the place was a bit... un-tidy.
Walking past the bedroom she felt an icy draft. Had she left the drapes open again?
Wait, she should start the tub first, it took forever.
Her phone rang. She was still holding it; it made her jump. "H-Hello, Grams?"
"No, it's Tad. Where the hell are you? I've been calling your cell all night."
Damn. The party. The centerpiece. The pain-in-the-ass. "I'm at home." Em blinked. Of course she was at home, that's where he'd called her; why'd he ask where she was? And, "I told you this morning my cell's busted." The office really would be lost without her.
"So what happened? We're all here, they already served dinner... there's no centerpiece..." Not actually saying you screwed up, but...
"Yeah, about that," Em said, her dander up, "it would be there if you hadn't cancelled my order, because they would have delivered it."
"They cost too much. What happened to the one you were getting? And why aren't you here? People are asking about you."
Yeah, of course she was an afterthought. "The one I was getting at the place with no power and thus no people? That one?"
"Oh. Well be sure to get a refund -- I put the deposit on the AmEx."
"Yeah, I'll get right on that."
"So how come you're not here? I heard a rumor you were actually dressing up for this one."
Because some homicidal maniacs tried to paste me to a telephone pole. "I had car trouble."
"Well why don't you take a cab?"
Because that would cost a small fortune? And it wasn't like he'd actually reimburse--
"I'll reimbur--"
No freaking way -- he must be really desperate to see Emmeline Winter in a dress...
"Scratch that. Steven says he'll come pick you up." Steven the fighter jock? Not happening. "What's your address?"
"Tad, listen -- I just got home, I'm cold and tired... I think I'm just gonna skip the party."
"Naw, come on Em! We're all dying to see you all dolled up!"
Tad wasn't a bad guy, but sometimes he really let the inner Neanderthal off the leash. "Sorry, Tad. Maybe next year. If I don't have to chase anything at the last minute."
"Aww, honey, you're not sore at me are ya?" Honey? Sore? How much did Tad have to drink?
Well, if he was sauced, he probably wouldn't remember this conversation anyway. Or at least she had plausible deniability.
No point in holding back.
"No, Tad, I'm not 'sore.' I'm *pissed*. Because of your stupid penny-pinching interference, which by the way *cost* you because you have to pay me *mileage*, I got stuck out in the middle of *fucking* nowhere, in the *dark*, in a *rainstorm*, in a *dress* and *heels*, and my car is *wrecked* -- so not only will you and your pervy back-seater not get to see me looking hotter than a Zone 5 Tomcat, but I'll be using your car until I get mine replaced -- the Bimmer, not the Mazda. And by the way, pick up your own damn dry cleaning!"
Now about that tub... Wait, towel...
Em thought she heard a thump in the bedroom. No, probably the people downstairs. She dug through the laundry piled on the couch, looking for her favorite towel.
"I hope she's not mad." Alex slowed up in the front of the apartment complex, but there was no street parking. He'd have to go around the back. Could he turn here? Woah, just an alley. Did it go through? No, there was a delivery truck parked at the other end.
Along the top of the truck's doors, a familiar pattern of bright-colored stripes.
Alex felt the chill slide up his spine like a katana unsheathed.
Em held the towel up to her nose and took a deep breath. Mmmm, nothing like fresh towels. They smelled...
...sweet.
She sniffed again. No, it wasn't the towel. She sniffed the air. Candles? Too sweet. She knew that smell. What was... mmm, DrPepper. But how...?
A cold breeze blew over her stockinged legs. That draft was really bad; was the bedroom window open?
The front doorknob rattled; she jumped. Her eyes fell to the axe, still in its crate, propped up against the little table by the door.
Something banged against the door. And again, louder. And again; the door bulged with the impact.
The door crashed open, exploding splinters of wood skittering across the floor into the kitchen...
Em turned to run...
...and a short dark figure stood in the bedroom doorway.