Chapter Twenty-Nine
Clarice drops a used cotton handkerchief on the table with a deep scowl. “I know, it’s disgusting. Sorry. It’s all I could get, and I knew we needed something after he refused that cup of tea.”
We all stare at the crumpled kerchief as if it could explode. Wow. Clarice is clever. I was dazed, dizzy with the sensation of spiders crawling across every inch of my skin, so I didn’t see her lift his handkerchief.
We don’t celebrate. There is too much anger and bile and disgust in the air to celebrate, too much wrath in our hearts.
Clarice insists she must leave, now, and that Pax absolutely must accompany her home: “Why, a woman cannot travel across the city unaccompanied!” Did Pax’s gaze flitter to me when she said that? I agree through gritted teeth that there is much for them to discuss, in terms of Blanck’s party.
Pax’s gaze lands on Nirav. “Please don’t do anything with it until I return? I want to be here to… help. Should help be needed.” He averts his eyes. “I’m afraid I wasn’t much help when Blanck was here.”
Together, Pax and Clarice depart, Clarice’s hand tucked in the crook of Pax’s arm, laughing too loudly.
“This is going to work,” Kiyoko says after a few silent moments of us staring at Blanck’s handkerchief, the ticks from the clocks next door sneaking their way into our consciousness.
“It is,” I agree, though my words feel hollow. Spirit is silent.
We host a few clients in Pax’s absence: Legal troubles. A lost pet. Gambling addiction. A woman whose husband is cheating on her. A man whose wife is cheating on him. Greed and lust and hatred; why are there so many ways we fail as humans?
Pax rejoins us, and I try to ignore the clench in my lower belly when I see those silvery green eyes, that dimple, the cut of that jaw. I cannot trust my feelings; my loneliness is a liar, telling me I want someone like Pax in my life.
We shuffle the last customer out the door and lock it behind her.
“Clarice won’t be joining us for the planning,” Pax announces. He wriggles out of his tight suspenders, allowing them to droop at his sides. It’s a small, casual move that somehow makes my heart speed.
“That’s good because we didn’t invite her,” Kiyoko mutters.
Nirav snorts a laugh.
Pax cuts a glare at her. “Clarice is playing a vital role here.” He sounds weary, though, like he’s convincing himself of this fact as well. “We’d be smart to be grateful.”
Our attention turns back to the handkerchief, still crumpled where Clarice left it. I lay a gentle hand on Nirav’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper.
“You don’t,” William echoes me.
Nirav’s eyes are hard, dark. His lips pinch and he nods once. Yes, I do.
Kiyoko looks uncharacteristically jittery. “Can you… choose what you see?”
Nirav’s jaw shifts and he shakes his head.
“So you have to sort through everything—all of it—to get the information we need,” I say.
Nirav shrugs. Nods. He lowers his chin, glaring at the handkerchief through the tops of his eyes, narrowing his focus to this object.
“This is absurd,” I say. “We can’t ask him to do this.”
Nirav ignores me and picks up Blanck’s handkerchief. He clutches it with both hands to his heart. His eyes roll back in his head. He trembles. A small froth of drool forms in one corner of his mouth.
“Nirav?” I say. “Nirav!”
Nirav’s face contorts through an array of emotions as he cycles through the memories Blanck has embedded in this kerchief. He laughs. He scowls. He grimaces. He cries out in agony.
“Nirav!” I try to pry the cloth out of his hands, but he’s clutching it so tightly. It’s almost like it’s not him holding it.
His fingers simply will not pry open. Nirav pants, his body spasms.
A cold, metallic shadow closes in on me, the tunnel vision that occurs before the sensation of a free fall. No! I shout at the Darkness. You cannot approach him! Stay away from Nirav. Do you hear me? NO!
And just like that, Nirav releases Blanck’s handkerchief.
The silly little scrap of cloth floats to the floor. Innocuous. I never would’ve thought a physical object could be capable of holding so much energy.
Nirav slumps into a chair. He blinks, runs a hand through his sweaty hair.
We’re silent.
Kiyoko approaches him with a cup of tea, but he shakes his head.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
His face lifts in half a grin. Then, a full grin. Then, incredibly, he chuckles. Nods.
Pax smiles like a sunbeam. “You found it?”
Nirav lifts his hand and tilts it to and fro, Kinda.
William says, “So you know he has one but you’re not certain where it is.”
Nirav nods enthusiastically, Yes!
Pax beams. “Good work, Nirav.” He gently lays a hand on Nirav’s shoulder.
Nirav, surprisingly, lets him do this. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, absorbing all the energy from that monster.
But please know this plan wouldn’t work without your Sight.
Without you. You and your vision—they are very important. A gift. Please remember that.”
I forget sometimes what a true believer Pax is. A Spiritualist, through and through. The opposite of my jaded point of view.
Nirav’s eyes glass over at Pax’s words. He looks like he received praise from a big brother.
Dammit, Pax.
Just when we’re ready to let him simply be the playboy friend to Stella.
Pax claps his hands and rubs his palms. “Excellent! Okay, so now we definitely know: Max Blanck has a personal home safe.
“We need the combination,” he says, stroking his chin. There is a faint line of stubble there. “We can’t exactly blast it or drill it in the midst of a swanky soiree. Who would know the combination besides Blanck?” Pax thinks aloud. “His wife?”
Kiyoko and I both snort a laugh, and Pax looks positively quizzical.
“No way that ass is telling his wife the combination to his safe,” Kiyoko says.
“Okay… who? Who would have the combination to Blanck’s safe, if not his wife?”
William has been sitting quietly, eyes closed, fingertips steepled. He does that often, when the world assaults him and his emotions. He doesn’t open his eyes, but says, clear as ice:
“His attorney.”