Box Office Poison

“No!” A single word and quite explosive. “No matter how improbable, it’s clear what happened, and I’m confident that Charles will be found to have a rap sheet as long as my leg.”

“What about Qwendar?” I asked as we stepped outside. It was a relief to escape the odor of stale coffee, microwave burritos, and the inchoate smell of sweat and desperation. In the east a pale line of gray and pink road appeared, outriders for the coming sun.

“You know the answer to that,” David said.

“They can’t touch him,” I said leadenly. “But he can still reach out and touch me.”

“I don’t think he’ll dare. If something untoward happened to you now, people would remember your accusations. And he would have me to contend with.” I looked up. There was something grim in his brown eyes, and his jaw was set in a tight line. “Let’s get in the car before the sun comes up. I forgot my umbrella,” he snapped.

I scrambled into the car. It was a short drive to the Oakwood. As we headed down Riverside David suddenly said, “Are you hungry? You always seem to get hungry after one of these episodes.”

“I could eat, but I don’t want to sit in a restaurant. I can’t face noise or people right now. There’s a donut shop on Pass Avenue,” I offered.

David turned left at Pass and pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall that contained a bank, a grocery store, a tiny Japanese restaurant, a French bakery, and the donut shop. He parked in front of the donut shop, which was doing a rousing business. He nosed the Sebring in between a pickup truck festooned with a ladder and paint cans and a truck sporting lawn mowers, rakes, and leaf blowers.

“What do you want?”

“Why don’t you let me go in? The sun’s almost up.”

“If you hurry and tell me I can make it.”

“Glazed raised, chocolate raised.”

“Ah, comfort food,” he said, and throwing open the door he sprinted into the shop.

He came back out a few minutes later clutching a paper sack that was already starting to show grease stains from the decadent, sinful goodness inside. By the time we reached the Oakwood the sun was up.

“Wait here. I have an umbrella in the apartment,” I ordered.

I took the donuts with me and trudged up the stairs and through the door into the hall, then unlocked the door of my apartment. I then headed back down with the large umbrella. Climbing hurt my ribs, and I noticed that my legs felt rubbery by the time I reached the parking lot. I opened the umbrella and held it for David as he got out of the car. It seemed that California was, at last, going to live up to its reputation as sunny.

We got inside and I set the coffee maker to work. David pulled the blinds across the windows and sat on the sofa. As the coffee brewed he gave a deep, lung-filling sniff. “It’s the one thing I really miss. I loved coffee, and the smell is so powerful and unforgettable that I can almost remember how it tasted.”

I arranged my donuts on a plate. The coffee machine finished its job with a hiss, a sigh, and a gurgle. I poured out a cup and settled in the armchair. The taste and texture of donut was pure bliss. And then I started shaking so hard I shook coffee over my hand. I quickly set down the cup and the plate and clasped my hands tightly in my lap. David stared at me with concern.

“I just realized how close I came to dying last night. So everything seems extra special, from this donut to the coffee to sitting in a chair.” I sat silent for a moment. “I know it’s happened to me before, but those other times I was in the middle of a situation, I could run, I could try to do something. This one was worse because I was utterly helpless.” I gave myself a shake and picked up my breakfast, then set it down again. “And it goes deeper than that. I’m scared, David. I’m not even twenty-eight. If things like this keep happening, will I live to see thirty? What is going on?”

He crossed to me, knelt at the side of my chair, and laid a cold hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know, Linnet, but if I can help, you know I will.”

I shook off the doubt, pushed back the fear, and stiffened my spine. “Well, that’s good, because I’m going to hold you to that. I think there is a way for us to prove what’s been happening and expose Qwendar for the murderer he is.”

He pulled back a bit and gave me a wary look. “And just how are we going to do that?”

So I told him. When I’d finished he just stared at me. If he hadn’t been an elegant vampire his mouth probably would have been hanging open.

“Do you see any other option?” I pushed.

“No,” he admitted.

“And even if we go to the authorities no one will believe us.”

“You’re sure of the venue?” David asked, and he sounded desperate for me to say no.

“As sure as I’ve ever been of anything in my life. Think about it. It’s not the Super Bowl or World Cup Soccer, and anyway, there aren’t a lot of Alfar playing either of those sports, but it’s televised worldwide, and gets close to fifty million viewers.”

“We’d be taking an awful risk,” David said.

“I know. Which is why we need help.”

22

The next morning I found both Merlin and Maslin in the office sucking down coffee and sharing a box of donuts. I quickly outlined everything that happened, which left Merlin goggling at me and opening and closing his mouth like a guppy in pursuit of fish food.

“You nearly got killed.” He gulped hard. “Again.”

“Amazingly enough, I had noticed,” I said, the words freighted with enough irony to penetrate.

It didn’t penetrate. “I mean, first Jondin and now this. How do you find the guts to step out of the house? I’d be hiding under the bed.”

“Yep, you would,” said Maslin.

He glared at his twin. “Not everybody’s like you. Trouble follows you. Hell, sometimes I think you go out and look for it.” Maslin just shrugged.

“Well, I don’t go looking for it,” I said. “It finds me.” I dug a donut out of the box.

“Maybe you should find a new line of work? Or hire bodyguards? Or change your identity? Or enter a convent?”

“Or punch you in the nose so you’ll stop babbling and snap out of it,” Maslin retorted. That penetrated. Merlin closed his mouth with an audible snap.

“This is serious and I don’t have a ton of time,” I said. “I need evidence, so maybe you could help me prove that Qwendar is one of the major backers of Human First.”

“Already done,” Maslin said. “I tried to call you with the info, but you never answered.

“Yeah, I was busy nearly getting killed.” I bit viciously into the donut, and jelly squirted across my tongue.

“You told me to keep digging while you were gone so I sicced Merl on them.”

“You’ve got a degree in accounting too?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s probably why I never get a date. I’m staid and boring.” He looked up at his brother. “Not exotic and exciting.”

“I still don’t totally get why Qwendar was secretly backing Human First,” Maslin said. “If he’s all about how Alfar are superior, why let them get demonized by a bunch of house monkeys?”

“Qwendar’s goal is a total retreat by the Alfar back into their own reality,” I said. “He was hoping Human First would help light the fuse. I want to make sure he can’t, so I want you to expose it in the most public way possible.” Exhaustion had the room spinning briefly. I shook my head, fighting off the fog that seemed to be closing in on the edges of my mind. “These kind of people hate to find out they’ve been duped and made to look foolish. Actually, everyone hates to look foolish, but people who are fueled by righteous indignation really hate to look like pawns,” I concluded.

Maslin tugged at his lower lip. “Forgive me, Linnet, but I don’t think that’s the best idea, and here’s why.