Chapter Eleven
About twenty minutes after I’d called, Katon showed up with Michael Li, the head of DRAC’s cleanup division. A powerful telepath with an analytical mind, Michael had the raw power to read minds and the wit to make sense of it all.
I hoped he could help.
“Morning.”
Katon looked me over, eyeing my dirty and disheveled appearance, the zombie head cradled in my arms. He wrinkled his nose when he got a whiff of me. “Do I even want to ask?”
I shrugged. “Probably not.” Can’t say I was all that excited to explain how I’d pissed on myself. Some things should just stay private. “I followed a lead and got shanghaied and put in time out. Though the lead didn’t do anything but add to the general confusion, I did manage to procure us a possible informant.” I held up Chatterbox.
Through glassy, squirming eyes, the head stared at them, his focus lighting upon Katon. “Haaaaiilll…aaaa… lll.”
Michael took a step back. However used to the weird world he inhabited, there’s apparently no way to be human and take a talking severed head in stride. Katon, on the other hand, had no problem with it.
“I see your taste in dates has gotten better.”
“You’re just jealous.”
He chuckled, peering at Chatterbox. “I assume this is why you had me bring Michael along.”
“Yup. He wasn’t interested in ratting out Reven, but he does do an amazing a capella version of “Run to the Hills.” I figured Mike might have better luck getting something of substance from him.” After talking to Karra, I wasn’t certain Reven was who I should be looking for, but I didn’t have any way to contact Lilith and I sure as Hell wasn’t gonna go anywhere near Baalth, if I could help it. Chatterbox was all we had. Hopefully Karra’s patience with me lasted a little longer.
Shaking off his jitters, Michael made a sour face and examined Chatterbox, staying at a distance. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure I’ll get much, if I get anything at all. Even though he’s been reanimated, his mind is still dead. This could prevent me from forming a link, or it could distort any of the thoughts I manage to pick up. There’s no telling what I’ll find.”
“While I’m not sure how long he’s been dead, though I’m guessing a while based on stench alone, he’s clearly pretty functional. He quoted a ton of song lyrics, even ones I’d forgotten, and he seemed pretty connected to the living world, however irrationally.” I turned Chatterbox toward Michael. “Give it a shot.”
Katon encouraged him. “It can’t be any worse than digging around inside Frank’s head.”
I shrugged, not arguing with the statement.
Michael nodded as he dropped down, his legs crossed beneath him. “I guess it can’t hurt anything to try.”
He looked up at Chatterbox, his lips quivering, and took a deep breath, letting it out slow. He closed his eyes and sat there regulating his breathing for a few minutes before his eyelids popped open. His eyes, normally a shade of dark brown, had become glistening silver, which flowed in dizzying circles like loose mercury. He stared at Chatterbox as though he was looking through him, his lips moving soundlessly.
Michael’s face lined with concentration. His cheeks looked sunken and his hands fidgeted at his lap. For several long moments, he muttered to himself and stared forward, his eyes twitching in their sockets. His body sat rigid, his veins pulsing against his skin.
“Commmmppaaaaaannneeeeee…aaaaaa…neeeeee,” Chatterbox muttered, his own eyes rolling back to look inside his head.
At last, the shimmer faded and Michael blinked twice, looking up at us through his natural browns.
“Wow. I’m not sure what kind of damage dying had on your boy’s sanity, but reading his mind is like looking through a shattered carnival mirror. He’s got some serious issues.”
And The Understatement of the Year award goes to…
“Ya think? I doubt the least of which is the fact I’m holding his talking head, sans body. Just tell me what you saw.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Not much, actually. It looks like his long term memory is surprisingly functional, but his short term is a chaotic blur, everything short-circuited.”
“Anything useful in there?” Katon asked.
Michael shrugged. “I don’t understand any of it, but you might. Forefront in his thoughts is an image of a sarcophagus. It’s an old one, carved out of a dark stone and covered in indistinct runes and symbols. It looked like it was surrounded by a sea of blood.”
I turned to look at Katon. He didn’t seem to know any more than I did about the coffin.
“What else?”
“I saw the English letter ‘B’ flashing in his mind, capitalized. It seemed to pulse in threes. One, two, three, pause then repeat.”
So far…nothing. Mike went on.
“There were also a large number of shadows which seemed to take almost humanoid form, only they weren’t really shadows.”
“So, non-shadow shadows and a Sesame Street routine?”
Michael and Katon gave me the same irritated look.
“I’m looking for clarification, that’s all.”
“And I’m just telling you what I saw. Mind reading isn’t an exact science, especially when it’s a corpse’s mind,” Michael replied, frustration in his voice. “They moved fluidly, like shadows, their shape stretched and pliant, but they weren’t dark. They were white, luminescent almost.” He threw up his arms, no doubt unable to describe what he saw in more detail. “The last two images, which were blurry, were of a figure hidden behind a dark cloak, no discernable features to be seen, and a giant crucifix set upon a hill, a mountain perhaps, looking down over a field of fresh graves.”
“What did the crucifix look like?” I asked. “I mean besides the obvious, Christ on a piece of wood.”
Michael took a second to think about it, dredging his absorbed memories. “It appeared to be made out of brass, or some other coppery-like substance. It stood high upon a scrub-covered hill, a white marble dais surrounding it. There were wide steps carved into the earth at its feet.” He slowed at the end and his eyes lit up as he recognized it.
“Mount Calvary,” we all said at the same time.
Set upon the highest point of the nearby Franklin Mountains, Mount Calvary overlooked El Paseo and the surrounding desert. A religious monument, it served as a place of worship for the dedicated disciples who braved the difficult climb to its summit each year around Easter.
Out of the way, hard to get to, and out of season so to speak, the monument was largely abandoned this time of year. It would make a perfect staging place for Reven.
“How reliable is the head’s information?” Katon asked.
“It’s only as reliable as our translation of the images.” He shrugged. “But if you’re asking if he’s capable of being deceitful, then the answer is not really, not to me. His master could order him to lie or keep quiet about something, but there’s nothing that can be done to thwart my scans.”
Katon nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “Then we’re off to visit Calvary.”
I sighed, wondering if I should let Katon in on what Karra had told me. While I might regret it later, I decided not to. Ultimately, I didn’t know if anything she’d said was true or just some effort to manipulate me into backing off. Either way, it probably didn’t matter much. We weren’t spoiled with choice.
With a nod to Katon, I handed Chatterbox over to a reluctant Michael to return him to DRAC. I couldn’t see leaving him behind, and if for no other reason, Michael could spend more time probing his mind.
As we headed off toward Mount Calvary, I waved to Chatterbox and turned away, sad to leave my singing companion behind.
It was the best head I’d ever had.
