From the hit count it seems there are at least some readers...but I would very much appreciate comments or constructive criticism so I know whether it's worthwhile continuing to post the story.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2
Elena was much too busy in the next few weeks to spend time concocting a reason to call her new neighbor, much less get up the nerve to actually do it. So she was pleasantly surprised one morning when she left for work and saw him walking rapidly down the street just ahead of her.
He could clearly walk much faster than she could in her heels, so rather than run to catch up to him, she gathered her courage and called his name. “Mr. Halstrom—Walter!” He turned immediately and stopped, giving her what seemed to be a genuine smile of welcome as she hurried to meet him.
He was wearing another expensive-looking suit, the lines of which he was callously ruining by standing with both hands in his pockets while waiting for her. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Elena,” he said warmly, offering her his hand. “It seems there is some benefit to being up and about at this gods forsaken hour of the morning.”
“It’s only 7:30!” she laughed, trying not to blush at his compliment, “that doesn’t seem very early to me. Sometimes I have to be at work by now.”
“Gah!” he gave a mock shudder. “I am not by nature an early riser, nor does my work require it, fortunately.”
She gave him a wry smile, “Magical artifacts not an early morning business, I take it?”
“No, of course not,” he replied with an amused glint in his eye, “the stroke of midnight is much more appropriate, wouldn’t you say?”
“Undoubtedly,” Elena agreed, thinking that for once her second impression of someone matched the first—he was just as handsome as she remembered, and even more charming. “Are you walking to the tram, Walter? I’m on my way to work.”
He shook his head, “No, I’m meeting a client a few blocks south of here—one of the rare occasions I do have business this early. But I would be happy to accompany you to the station; it is not out of my way.”
Elena knew she should probably make sure it was on his way, but if he really wanted to walk her to the station, who was she to argue? So she simply smiled and said, “Thank you, I’d like that.”
“Mrs. Goodfield said that you work in King’s Row?” Walter asked politely as they made their way toward the station.
“At the Cyrus Thompson Community Center. I’m a social worker—you know, one of those overworked, underpaid do-gooders,” she added dryly.
Walter snorted, “It seems fundamentally wrong, somehow, that doing good for others should be so poorly compensated. Do you enjoy it?” Then he rolled his eyes and said, “Ah, what a foolish question—of course you must, why would you do it otherwise?”
“Well, I do enjoy it—except for the overworked and underpaid part, not surprisingly.” She cast a sidelong glance at her companion, “So how does one decide on a career in ‘Antiquities and Magical Artifacts,’ Walter? Don’t tell me you can get in a degree in that!”
“Alas, no, Elena. My degrees are in Art History and Historic Preservation,” he shrugged, “the rest came through a combination of avocation and happenstance.”
“So did your parents want you to be a doctor or lawyer like everyone else?” she asked, secretly hoping for a bit of information on his background.
None was forthcoming. His smile faded a bit and he said lightly, “That was never an issue, Elena.”
They reached the station and Walter walked her up the ramp before offering her his hand and saying, “I enjoyed our conversation, Elena, I hope we can continue it sometime. Since it seems we rarely keep the same schedule during the week, perhaps on the weekend?”
If this was angling for a date, she had no hesitation about taking the bait. Elena met his eyes and smiled, “Oh yes,” Yes! “I’d enjoy that.” Very much!
Walter hurried down the ramp from the tram station and started up the street near it. Just then Elena remembered that in the next block there was a corner—right in Walter’s path—where a large group of trolls regularly congregated.
She glanced toward the corner, which he was rapidly approaching, ready to call out and warn him. But to her surprise, the corner was empty.
At that moment Walter looked back, saw her still standing on the platform and offered a friendly wave. She was a little embarrassed to be caught watching him, but returned his wave nonetheless. He passed the corner in question and walked quickly on.
Elena was debating on whether she should drop a hint to Mrs. Goodfield suggesting that she give Walter her phone number when she heard the tram rumble into the station. As she hurried to catch it, she happened to glance down the street where Walter had gone one last time. He was out of sight, but the trolls had reappeared, gathering once more on their accustomed corner.
Walter Halstrom scanned the side of the warehouse looking for something that would confirm it as his destination, at the same time keeping a wary eye on a group of men lounging around a fire in the vacant lot across the street. They appeared to be the homeless unfortunates that can be found in any city, but he recognized them as much more than that. They were Lost; and although he was fairly certain that he was far enough away not to alarm them with his presence, he also knew from experience that they were dangerous, unpredictable and not entirely sane.
There—a small rusty sign with the company name and street address that matched the instructions he had been given. He found a door propped open with a stray brick and cautiously entered. As he had suspected, the warehouse was long abandoned, the floor stained and littered with debris too worthless to pilfer, the only light coming from the long windows in the main room. The person he had come to meet was not in evidence, but he could easily be concealed behind the banks of twisted shelving. “Terry!” he called softly; keenly aware that he had no idea who or what else might be lurking in the building.
“Over here, Doc!” a familiar voice responded, and he followed the voice to see his contact step out from behind some broken machinery.
“Nice place you have here, Terry,” he commented dryly as he walked over to meet him, offering his hand.
Terry Burke was thin, sandy-haired man of medium height wearing a habitual expression suggesting surprise at the fact his life wasn’t worse than it was. “Hey,” he chuckled as he shook Halstrom’s hand, “not the kind of ambeeance you’re used to, Doc?”
“You could say that,” he agreed, folding his arms across his chest. “I presume there’s a reason why you wanted to meet here and not at the shop. Do you have something for me?”
“Yeah, shop’s too public, this is a nice private place to do business,” Terry said with a lopsided smile. “I’ve got something special for you this time.”
Walter sighed, “Such a need for privacy does not inspire confidence, Terry. Do I have to ask you where and how you obtained this ‘something special’?”
“Nah,” Terry assured him, “don’t worry about that.” He grinned, “I promise this beauty won’t show up on any police reports. Here, let me show you,” he said, and reached into the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.
Walter snorted skeptically, in other words, Terry had ‘acquired’ it from someone who had no wish for it be known that the item had been in their possession. “Terry…” he began, and stopped short when he saw what the other man pulled from the bag.
It was a bronze statue, about a foot high, of a bat-winged woman holding her arms above her head. The figure was robed, but in a way designed to reveal as much as conceal, the robe clinging to her curves. Between her outstretched hands was a fine red crystal; the five-sided based was inscribed with runes of some kind that Walter didn’t immediately recognize. The workmanship was excellent, doubtless what had caught Terry’s eye.
Walter felt a strong urge to swear, but instead forced himself to keep his expression bland. The other man could not see, since he knew Terry was magically ‘blind,’ as were most people not magically gifted, that the statue radiated a very powerful magic aura which was perfectly and alarmingly visible to Walter. Not just powerful, but dangerous; he knew instinctively that whatever its purpose was, it was most assuredly not benign.
Terry held up his prize proudly, “Nice, huh? Interested? I’ll let you have it if the price is right.”
“I’m…interested,” Walter told him, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“Here, you want to look at it? It’s the real deal, not some cheap knock-off; see for yourself,” Terry told him, putting the statue in his hands.
Walter realized he’d almost made a misstep; normally he would examine any item offered to him for sale, but in this case he felt a real reluctance to touch the statue any longer than absolutely necessary. His cursory inspection confirmed what he had suspected; it was a one of a kind item, with no maker’s marks or other indications of its provenance. He urgently needed to get it back to his workroom to examine it further.
He handed the statue back to Terry. “How much are you asking?”
He knew from experience that Terry’s initial asking price would be several times what he actually expected to get and he was not disappointed. Terry grinned, “For you, Doc, five large.”
Walter’s snort of surprise was unfeigned, though he hoped to conceal from Terry that he would pay that much or more if necessary. Fortunately however, he was certain he could get it for much less, and indeed Terry would be shocked and suspicious if he failed to haggle. “Terry,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “how long have we known each other? Are you suggesting that this is the sort of item I could put out in my shop window or list on my website?”
Terry looked uneasy, “I wouldn’t recommend that, Doc. I’d save it for your special customers, I’m sure you have some of those.”
Walter frowned thoughtfully, “Hmm, more trouble means less profit, Terry. I’ll give you one.”
“You won’t find one of these again, Doc! I need four large at least,” Terry retorted.
Eventually he was able to bargain Terry down to two thousand, and the deal was struck. But instead of his usual excitement at a new purchase, Walter traded a stack of bills for the messenger bag with a heavy heart. He had the statue, which was a marked improvement over Terry having it, but what the hell was he going to do with it?
Three days later, PPD headquarters, Atlas Park
Lieutenant Robbins made his way to the door marked “Special Property Investigations” noting with some surprise that it had been at least a year since he had last done so. Still, little had changed, and he easily found the desk he was looking for, occupied by an attractive, dark-haired woman in her thirties who was staring morosely at her computer screen. The name plaque on her desk read ‘R. Menendez’.
She looked up when he slapped the file he was carrying down on her desk, and raised an eyebrow in surprise, “Lieutenant Robbins, to what do we owe this honor? It’s not often that high and mighty homicide detectives grace us with their presence.”
“Just some information, Menendez,” he said, sliding the folder to within her reach.
“Terrence Burke,” she read from the ID tab. She looked up and shrugged, “Yeah, I know him. Buys and sells stuff, sometimes with the permission of the previous owners, sometimes not. Strictly small-time; threat-level on a scale of one to Reichsman, I’d say he rates about a point five.”
Robbins snorted, “Someone didn’t like him.” He opened the folder to reveal what were obviously crime-scene photos of a body lying in a pool of blood. A large pool of blood. “And they decided to let him know—with a sword.”
Menendez gestured to a chair near her desk, inviting him to sit. “That’s…surprising,” she murmured, looking up to meet his eyes, “any leads?”
He sighed, “Bupkis. No witnesses, no useful forensic evidence, and we’ve checked out everything we could in his file. Can’t find any reason why someone would want him dead. Could be a random crazy, but that hardly narrows the field much in this town.”
“Sorry to hear that, Lieutenant, he wasn’t a bad guy. Anything I can help with?”
“There’s just one possible lead we haven’t checked yet. The day before he was murdered he made a cell phone call to a Walter Halstrom. The same name appears listed as a “known associate” in Burke’s file, but there’s nothing in the system on him. I’m going to call him, but I wondered if you could tell me anything about him first.”
Menendez’s face brightened and she nodded, “Yeah, I know Halstrom. There’s nothing in the system on him because he’s clean.”
Robbins snorted, “One of those, huh? What is he then, Family? Crey?”
She rolled her eyes, “No, he’s clean. You know, one of the fine, upstanding citizens we’re here to protect and serve? There are a few of those left.”
“I see damn few of them,” Robbins grumbled. “What’s his story, then? Why is his name in Burke’s file?”
“He has a shop in Founder’s Falls that sells antiques and magical stuff. Burke sells him—sold him—items sometimes.” Robbins opened his mouth to speak but Menendez interrupted, “I know what you’re thinking, but as far as we can tell Halstrom’s business is strictly above board. He files his paperwork on time, pays attention to the property reports, and he’s even helped us with stings a couple of times. My gut tells me he’s an okay guy.”
Robbins eyed her, “Hmm, that’s good to know I suppose, but it would be more useful if you liked him for Burke’s murder.”
She snorted, “Sorry. I just don’t see it.” Menendez hesitated for a moment then offered, “You know, Lieutenant, I could go talk to him if you like, see if he knows anything.”
He eyed her suspiciously, “Since when does the Pawn Shop Detail offer to do leg work for Homicide?”
Menendez shrugged, “It’d save you some trouble, since I know him already…”
A voice from the next desk snickered, “Think he’ll ask you out this time, Rosa?”
An expertly aimed pencil struck the would-be comedian on the side of the head. “Shut up, Collins,” Menendez growled.
Robbins watched the exchange with amusement before standing and heading for the door, “Thanks, Menendez, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll go speak to him myself.”
Robbins approached the storefront in Founder’s Falls and pressed the buzzer next to the tastefully lettered sign that told him it was Walter Halstrom’s place of business. While he waited for an answer, he mentally reviewed what little he had been able to learn about the man. Thirty-five years old, born somewhere in Germany, green card for six years. Doctorate in Art History from some European university he couldn’t pronounce, Master’s in Historic Preservation—whatever the hell that was—from Columbia. No photo—the RMV database was down again so he couldn’t even pull up a crappy driver’s license picture. He’d considered sending an inquiry to Interpol, but that could take weeks, and probably wouldn’t tell him what he really needed to know; was this guy really on the up-and-up, or was he hiding something behind a law-abiding exterior?
The door opened and the hopeful picture that had been forming in his mind of a sinister criminal mastermind was immediately dispelled. He’d pictured a weedy guy in glasses or even one of those creepy European types that wear a lot of black. Instead, the man who opened the door to him was…big. At least I got the glasses right, he thought ruefully.
The man smiled at him and offered his hand, “Lieutenant Robbins? I’m Walter Halstrom; please come in.” Halstrom was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing suit pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up; a glance told Robbins that the guy definitely worked out. No paunch, either, which made Robbins sigh inwardly, contemplating his own. To Robbins’ eyes, he looked more like a cop than a criminal mastermind, and he definitely didn’t look like what he’d expected for someone with a prissy occupation like selling ‘antiquities’.
Halstrom led him through the shop front and into the back, where there was what seemed to be a combination office and workroom. He motioned Robbins to a chair near the desk and offered him coffee. Robbins accepted and got a ceramic mug of coffee that was surprisingly good—definitely a step up from the vending machine coffee at his office.
Once they were settled, Halstrom broke the ice, “What is this about, Lieutenant? I’m always happy to assist the police if I can, but I am curious why I am talking to you and not the charming Officer Menendez.”
“I’ll tell her you asked about her,” Robbins commented dryly, now understanding the byplay between Menendez and her partner. He was as clueless as the next guy about what women find attractive, but he did recognize ‘ruggedly handsome’ when he saw it. “I’m looking for information on a Terrence Burke, Menendez told me that he’s a regular supplier of yours,” Robbins explained.
“Terry? I know him, but I would describe our transactions as ‘occasional’ rather than ‘regular’,” Halstrom amended cautiously.
“Have you seen or spoken to him recently?” Robbins continued, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.
He nodded, “Yes, I saw him Tuesday morning; that was the first contact I’d had with him in several months.” Halstrom leaned forward over the desk, his eyes narrowed, “If you don’t mind me asking you a question, Lieutenant, what department are you from? I’m beginning to suspect it is not Special Property.”
So much for the advantage of surprise; there was no point in lying to the man, especially since he’d already admitted having seen Burke. “Homicide,” Robbins said flatly.
Halstrom paled and sat back in his chair, “Terry?”
Robbins sighed, “Yeah, he was found dead in an alley in southwest Steel Canyon late Tuesday night.”
The other man looked faintly sick, and shook his head, “Damn.”
“You two were close?”
“Not really.” Halstrom snorted, “Terry wasn’t an evil man by any means, and even honorable in his own way. I liked him. But I’m afraid that my concern is in part for myself since my life has just become much more complicated.”
“How so?”
He met Robbins’ eyes, “Because I bought something from Terry on Tuesday morning, Lieutenant, and I’d be very much surprised if it is not the reason why he was killed.”
Chapter 2
Elena was much too busy in the next few weeks to spend time concocting a reason to call her new neighbor, much less get up the nerve to actually do it. So she was pleasantly surprised one morning when she left for work and saw him walking rapidly down the street just ahead of her.
He could clearly walk much faster than she could in her heels, so rather than run to catch up to him, she gathered her courage and called his name. “Mr. Halstrom—Walter!” He turned immediately and stopped, giving her what seemed to be a genuine smile of welcome as she hurried to meet him.
He was wearing another expensive-looking suit, the lines of which he was callously ruining by standing with both hands in his pockets while waiting for her. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Elena,” he said warmly, offering her his hand. “It seems there is some benefit to being up and about at this gods forsaken hour of the morning.”
“It’s only 7:30!” she laughed, trying not to blush at his compliment, “that doesn’t seem very early to me. Sometimes I have to be at work by now.”
“Gah!” he gave a mock shudder. “I am not by nature an early riser, nor does my work require it, fortunately.”
She gave him a wry smile, “Magical artifacts not an early morning business, I take it?”
“No, of course not,” he replied with an amused glint in his eye, “the stroke of midnight is much more appropriate, wouldn’t you say?”
“Undoubtedly,” Elena agreed, thinking that for once her second impression of someone matched the first—he was just as handsome as she remembered, and even more charming. “Are you walking to the tram, Walter? I’m on my way to work.”
He shook his head, “No, I’m meeting a client a few blocks south of here—one of the rare occasions I do have business this early. But I would be happy to accompany you to the station; it is not out of my way.”
Elena knew she should probably make sure it was on his way, but if he really wanted to walk her to the station, who was she to argue? So she simply smiled and said, “Thank you, I’d like that.”
“Mrs. Goodfield said that you work in King’s Row?” Walter asked politely as they made their way toward the station.
“At the Cyrus Thompson Community Center. I’m a social worker—you know, one of those overworked, underpaid do-gooders,” she added dryly.
Walter snorted, “It seems fundamentally wrong, somehow, that doing good for others should be so poorly compensated. Do you enjoy it?” Then he rolled his eyes and said, “Ah, what a foolish question—of course you must, why would you do it otherwise?”
“Well, I do enjoy it—except for the overworked and underpaid part, not surprisingly.” She cast a sidelong glance at her companion, “So how does one decide on a career in ‘Antiquities and Magical Artifacts,’ Walter? Don’t tell me you can get in a degree in that!”
“Alas, no, Elena. My degrees are in Art History and Historic Preservation,” he shrugged, “the rest came through a combination of avocation and happenstance.”
“So did your parents want you to be a doctor or lawyer like everyone else?” she asked, secretly hoping for a bit of information on his background.
None was forthcoming. His smile faded a bit and he said lightly, “That was never an issue, Elena.”
They reached the station and Walter walked her up the ramp before offering her his hand and saying, “I enjoyed our conversation, Elena, I hope we can continue it sometime. Since it seems we rarely keep the same schedule during the week, perhaps on the weekend?”
If this was angling for a date, she had no hesitation about taking the bait. Elena met his eyes and smiled, “Oh yes,” Yes! “I’d enjoy that.” Very much!
Walter hurried down the ramp from the tram station and started up the street near it. Just then Elena remembered that in the next block there was a corner—right in Walter’s path—where a large group of trolls regularly congregated.
She glanced toward the corner, which he was rapidly approaching, ready to call out and warn him. But to her surprise, the corner was empty.
At that moment Walter looked back, saw her still standing on the platform and offered a friendly wave. She was a little embarrassed to be caught watching him, but returned his wave nonetheless. He passed the corner in question and walked quickly on.
Elena was debating on whether she should drop a hint to Mrs. Goodfield suggesting that she give Walter her phone number when she heard the tram rumble into the station. As she hurried to catch it, she happened to glance down the street where Walter had gone one last time. He was out of sight, but the trolls had reappeared, gathering once more on their accustomed corner.
-ooo-
Walter Halstrom scanned the side of the warehouse looking for something that would confirm it as his destination, at the same time keeping a wary eye on a group of men lounging around a fire in the vacant lot across the street. They appeared to be the homeless unfortunates that can be found in any city, but he recognized them as much more than that. They were Lost; and although he was fairly certain that he was far enough away not to alarm them with his presence, he also knew from experience that they were dangerous, unpredictable and not entirely sane.
There—a small rusty sign with the company name and street address that matched the instructions he had been given. He found a door propped open with a stray brick and cautiously entered. As he had suspected, the warehouse was long abandoned, the floor stained and littered with debris too worthless to pilfer, the only light coming from the long windows in the main room. The person he had come to meet was not in evidence, but he could easily be concealed behind the banks of twisted shelving. “Terry!” he called softly; keenly aware that he had no idea who or what else might be lurking in the building.
“Over here, Doc!” a familiar voice responded, and he followed the voice to see his contact step out from behind some broken machinery.
“Nice place you have here, Terry,” he commented dryly as he walked over to meet him, offering his hand.
Terry Burke was thin, sandy-haired man of medium height wearing a habitual expression suggesting surprise at the fact his life wasn’t worse than it was. “Hey,” he chuckled as he shook Halstrom’s hand, “not the kind of ambeeance you’re used to, Doc?”
“You could say that,” he agreed, folding his arms across his chest. “I presume there’s a reason why you wanted to meet here and not at the shop. Do you have something for me?”
“Yeah, shop’s too public, this is a nice private place to do business,” Terry said with a lopsided smile. “I’ve got something special for you this time.”
Walter sighed, “Such a need for privacy does not inspire confidence, Terry. Do I have to ask you where and how you obtained this ‘something special’?”
“Nah,” Terry assured him, “don’t worry about that.” He grinned, “I promise this beauty won’t show up on any police reports. Here, let me show you,” he said, and reached into the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.
Walter snorted skeptically, in other words, Terry had ‘acquired’ it from someone who had no wish for it be known that the item had been in their possession. “Terry…” he began, and stopped short when he saw what the other man pulled from the bag.
It was a bronze statue, about a foot high, of a bat-winged woman holding her arms above her head. The figure was robed, but in a way designed to reveal as much as conceal, the robe clinging to her curves. Between her outstretched hands was a fine red crystal; the five-sided based was inscribed with runes of some kind that Walter didn’t immediately recognize. The workmanship was excellent, doubtless what had caught Terry’s eye.
Walter felt a strong urge to swear, but instead forced himself to keep his expression bland. The other man could not see, since he knew Terry was magically ‘blind,’ as were most people not magically gifted, that the statue radiated a very powerful magic aura which was perfectly and alarmingly visible to Walter. Not just powerful, but dangerous; he knew instinctively that whatever its purpose was, it was most assuredly not benign.
Terry held up his prize proudly, “Nice, huh? Interested? I’ll let you have it if the price is right.”
“I’m…interested,” Walter told him, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“Here, you want to look at it? It’s the real deal, not some cheap knock-off; see for yourself,” Terry told him, putting the statue in his hands.
Walter realized he’d almost made a misstep; normally he would examine any item offered to him for sale, but in this case he felt a real reluctance to touch the statue any longer than absolutely necessary. His cursory inspection confirmed what he had suspected; it was a one of a kind item, with no maker’s marks or other indications of its provenance. He urgently needed to get it back to his workroom to examine it further.
He handed the statue back to Terry. “How much are you asking?”
He knew from experience that Terry’s initial asking price would be several times what he actually expected to get and he was not disappointed. Terry grinned, “For you, Doc, five large.”
Walter’s snort of surprise was unfeigned, though he hoped to conceal from Terry that he would pay that much or more if necessary. Fortunately however, he was certain he could get it for much less, and indeed Terry would be shocked and suspicious if he failed to haggle. “Terry,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “how long have we known each other? Are you suggesting that this is the sort of item I could put out in my shop window or list on my website?”
Terry looked uneasy, “I wouldn’t recommend that, Doc. I’d save it for your special customers, I’m sure you have some of those.”
Walter frowned thoughtfully, “Hmm, more trouble means less profit, Terry. I’ll give you one.”
“You won’t find one of these again, Doc! I need four large at least,” Terry retorted.
Eventually he was able to bargain Terry down to two thousand, and the deal was struck. But instead of his usual excitement at a new purchase, Walter traded a stack of bills for the messenger bag with a heavy heart. He had the statue, which was a marked improvement over Terry having it, but what the hell was he going to do with it?
-ooo-
Three days later, PPD headquarters, Atlas Park
Lieutenant Robbins made his way to the door marked “Special Property Investigations” noting with some surprise that it had been at least a year since he had last done so. Still, little had changed, and he easily found the desk he was looking for, occupied by an attractive, dark-haired woman in her thirties who was staring morosely at her computer screen. The name plaque on her desk read ‘R. Menendez’.
She looked up when he slapped the file he was carrying down on her desk, and raised an eyebrow in surprise, “Lieutenant Robbins, to what do we owe this honor? It’s not often that high and mighty homicide detectives grace us with their presence.”
“Just some information, Menendez,” he said, sliding the folder to within her reach.
“Terrence Burke,” she read from the ID tab. She looked up and shrugged, “Yeah, I know him. Buys and sells stuff, sometimes with the permission of the previous owners, sometimes not. Strictly small-time; threat-level on a scale of one to Reichsman, I’d say he rates about a point five.”
Robbins snorted, “Someone didn’t like him.” He opened the folder to reveal what were obviously crime-scene photos of a body lying in a pool of blood. A large pool of blood. “And they decided to let him know—with a sword.”
Menendez gestured to a chair near her desk, inviting him to sit. “That’s…surprising,” she murmured, looking up to meet his eyes, “any leads?”
He sighed, “Bupkis. No witnesses, no useful forensic evidence, and we’ve checked out everything we could in his file. Can’t find any reason why someone would want him dead. Could be a random crazy, but that hardly narrows the field much in this town.”
“Sorry to hear that, Lieutenant, he wasn’t a bad guy. Anything I can help with?”
“There’s just one possible lead we haven’t checked yet. The day before he was murdered he made a cell phone call to a Walter Halstrom. The same name appears listed as a “known associate” in Burke’s file, but there’s nothing in the system on him. I’m going to call him, but I wondered if you could tell me anything about him first.”
Menendez’s face brightened and she nodded, “Yeah, I know Halstrom. There’s nothing in the system on him because he’s clean.”
Robbins snorted, “One of those, huh? What is he then, Family? Crey?”
She rolled her eyes, “No, he’s clean. You know, one of the fine, upstanding citizens we’re here to protect and serve? There are a few of those left.”
“I see damn few of them,” Robbins grumbled. “What’s his story, then? Why is his name in Burke’s file?”
“He has a shop in Founder’s Falls that sells antiques and magical stuff. Burke sells him—sold him—items sometimes.” Robbins opened his mouth to speak but Menendez interrupted, “I know what you’re thinking, but as far as we can tell Halstrom’s business is strictly above board. He files his paperwork on time, pays attention to the property reports, and he’s even helped us with stings a couple of times. My gut tells me he’s an okay guy.”
Robbins eyed her, “Hmm, that’s good to know I suppose, but it would be more useful if you liked him for Burke’s murder.”
She snorted, “Sorry. I just don’t see it.” Menendez hesitated for a moment then offered, “You know, Lieutenant, I could go talk to him if you like, see if he knows anything.”
He eyed her suspiciously, “Since when does the Pawn Shop Detail offer to do leg work for Homicide?”
Menendez shrugged, “It’d save you some trouble, since I know him already…”
A voice from the next desk snickered, “Think he’ll ask you out this time, Rosa?”
An expertly aimed pencil struck the would-be comedian on the side of the head. “Shut up, Collins,” Menendez growled.
Robbins watched the exchange with amusement before standing and heading for the door, “Thanks, Menendez, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll go speak to him myself.”
-ooo-
Robbins approached the storefront in Founder’s Falls and pressed the buzzer next to the tastefully lettered sign that told him it was Walter Halstrom’s place of business. While he waited for an answer, he mentally reviewed what little he had been able to learn about the man. Thirty-five years old, born somewhere in Germany, green card for six years. Doctorate in Art History from some European university he couldn’t pronounce, Master’s in Historic Preservation—whatever the hell that was—from Columbia. No photo—the RMV database was down again so he couldn’t even pull up a crappy driver’s license picture. He’d considered sending an inquiry to Interpol, but that could take weeks, and probably wouldn’t tell him what he really needed to know; was this guy really on the up-and-up, or was he hiding something behind a law-abiding exterior?
The door opened and the hopeful picture that had been forming in his mind of a sinister criminal mastermind was immediately dispelled. He’d pictured a weedy guy in glasses or even one of those creepy European types that wear a lot of black. Instead, the man who opened the door to him was…big. At least I got the glasses right, he thought ruefully.
The man smiled at him and offered his hand, “Lieutenant Robbins? I’m Walter Halstrom; please come in.” Halstrom was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing suit pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up; a glance told Robbins that the guy definitely worked out. No paunch, either, which made Robbins sigh inwardly, contemplating his own. To Robbins’ eyes, he looked more like a cop than a criminal mastermind, and he definitely didn’t look like what he’d expected for someone with a prissy occupation like selling ‘antiquities’.
Halstrom led him through the shop front and into the back, where there was what seemed to be a combination office and workroom. He motioned Robbins to a chair near the desk and offered him coffee. Robbins accepted and got a ceramic mug of coffee that was surprisingly good—definitely a step up from the vending machine coffee at his office.
Once they were settled, Halstrom broke the ice, “What is this about, Lieutenant? I’m always happy to assist the police if I can, but I am curious why I am talking to you and not the charming Officer Menendez.”
“I’ll tell her you asked about her,” Robbins commented dryly, now understanding the byplay between Menendez and her partner. He was as clueless as the next guy about what women find attractive, but he did recognize ‘ruggedly handsome’ when he saw it. “I’m looking for information on a Terrence Burke, Menendez told me that he’s a regular supplier of yours,” Robbins explained.
“Terry? I know him, but I would describe our transactions as ‘occasional’ rather than ‘regular’,” Halstrom amended cautiously.
“Have you seen or spoken to him recently?” Robbins continued, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.
He nodded, “Yes, I saw him Tuesday morning; that was the first contact I’d had with him in several months.” Halstrom leaned forward over the desk, his eyes narrowed, “If you don’t mind me asking you a question, Lieutenant, what department are you from? I’m beginning to suspect it is not Special Property.”
So much for the advantage of surprise; there was no point in lying to the man, especially since he’d already admitted having seen Burke. “Homicide,” Robbins said flatly.
Halstrom paled and sat back in his chair, “Terry?”
Robbins sighed, “Yeah, he was found dead in an alley in southwest Steel Canyon late Tuesday night.”
The other man looked faintly sick, and shook his head, “Damn.”
“You two were close?”
“Not really.” Halstrom snorted, “Terry wasn’t an evil man by any means, and even honorable in his own way. I liked him. But I’m afraid that my concern is in part for myself since my life has just become much more complicated.”
“How so?”
He met Robbins’ eyes, “Because I bought something from Terry on Tuesday morning, Lieutenant, and I’d be very much surprised if it is not the reason why he was killed.”
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
Well then, in that case allow me to be the first to aid you in this predicament of yours.
The answer is yes.
While I obviously can't speak for anyone else, I'm very much enjoying this thing and would like to see it continue. I really like how you paint the setting and characters into the mind's eye (something that seems to be becoming more and more uncommon these days), not to mention the wonderfully intricate portrayals of each point of view involved.
I don't really have any criticism, though. You might add how things appear to the characters' other senses from time to time. Things like "...that the statue radiated a very powerful magic aura that leaped alarmingly into Walter's eyes as a chill in the night. Not just powerful, but dangerous..." and the sort. Maybe swap passive voice to ascribed action more. But I'm not entirely sure if or how much that would improve things. It's already an enjoyable read, so I say just keep on truckin'. 
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Thanks so much for the words of encouragement--I very much appreciate it! I've always been most comfortable writing stories from different characters' PoV--even minor characters like Lt. Robbins--so I'm glad you're enjoying that aspect of it.
And thanks for the suggestion--I think I bring in other senses occasionally later in the story, but I'll see what I can do to ramp it up a bit.
Thanks again!
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
This story is getting quite a few hits, so presumably people are still reading. Again, comments would be greatly appreciated.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 3
“Huh,” Robbins responded, not sure what to make of this revelation. “What did you buy from Burke?”
Halstrom stood and picked up some photos that had been scattered on a long worktable near the desk. “This; I was doing some research on it before you came,” he answered as he handed the photos to Robbins. They showed a small statue of a winged woman holding a crystal in her hands above her head; some of them were close ups of the details of the base and other features.
All of which meant precisely nothing to the detective. “Okay,” he replied, “now tell me what it is, where he got it, and why it’s worth killing him for.”
The other man sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, “I’ll tell you what I can, Lieutenant. First, I don’t know what it is, that is what I have been trying to determine. Terry didn’t say where or how he obtained it, but it was clear from the hints he dropped that it was not from someone who would want to admit that he had it or that it had been stolen from him. Normally, I’d stay away from something of that sort, but in this case…”
He paused for so long that Robbins raised an eyebrow and prompted, “Yes?”
“This item,” Halstrom replied, “gives off a surprising amount of magical energy, and energy of type that is not associated with a…wholesome purpose.”
The second eyebrow joined the first, and Robbins coughed to cover a chuckle; Halstrom looked deadly serious for all the absurdity of his claim. “So you’re saying that this statue has bad mojo?” He peered at the photos again, “Looks pretty ordinary to me.”
“You couldn’t see it in a normal photograph in any case, but it is quite visible to me when I look at the object itself.” Halstrom shook his head, “I know it is hard to believe, but this is what I do for a living. When you look at a crime scene you would see things that others would not, and I can read the energy signature of this piece. I don’t know what its purpose is, but this item is powerful and it’s dangerous. There are many others in the city who could confirm that if you would rather not trust my word.”
Against his better judgment Robbins was beginning to be swayed by Halstrom’s earnestness. Besides, he’d lived in Paragon long enough to know better than to lightly dismiss such claims. “Let’s say I believe you. If it’s so bad, why did you buy it? Is it valuable?”
Halstrom glanced down pensively for a moment before meeting the detective’s eyes, “I bought it because I thought it would be better for me to have it than Terry, or whomever might buy it or take it from him. That’s probably the only comforting aspect of this; if I hadn’t bought it I suspect Terry would still be dead, and the statue would now be in the hands of his killers. And although its intrinsic value is not insignificant, it is literally irreplaceable for anyone who wishes to use it for its original purpose, whatever that might be.”
“What are you planning to do with it?” Robbins asked. He met his eyes and added, “You know, I could impound it as evidence in Burke’s murder.”
Halstrom nodded, “I am well aware of that, Lieutenant, and if you think that is the wisest choice, I will give it to you willingly. However, bear in mind that it is currently in my safe and that both the safe and the shop itself are heavily warded against magical attacks. I doubt you can say the same about your property room, secure though it might be against more mundane threats.
“As for what I plan to do, I have an appointment to meet with Azuria at M.A.G.I. tomorrow. I was going to take the statue with me to show it to her, but now I’m reluctant to move it from the shop unless there is a compelling need. Photos won’t be as helpful to her as seeing the actual item, but perhaps she can tell me something.”
Robbins thought it over; having a dangerous magical doohickey sitting in the property room that people were willing to kill for was not an appealing prospect. After a moment he asked, “Have you turned in the paperwork on it yet?”
“No, I have a week from the purchase date as you know,” Halstrom answered, looking a little uncomfortable. “But I am concerned that doing so will confirm to anyone interested that I do indeed have the piece.”
“Hmm, yeah, I see what you mean,” Robbins said thoughtfully. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do: you fill out the report as usual, and give it to me. I think I can justify keeping the report out of the system for a while since it is evidence in a murder investigation. But you’ll have to cough up that statue if a case ever comes to trial or if we need it for some other reason. Understood?”
“Understood,” Halstrom nodded. “By the way, Lieutenant, how did Terry die? If you are permitted to tell me, of course.”
Robbins pursed his lips and considered the situation for a moment, usually some details of a homicide were not revealed to the public, but Halstrom was probably as close to an expert witness as Robbins was likely to get, and he had been extremely cooperative so far. “He was cut with a long-bladed weapon of some sort and bled out. Not pretty,” he added, shaking his head.
“Really?” Halstrom’s eyebrows rose, “Curved blade or straight?”
The detective smiled to himself, guessing where this was going, “Curved.”
“Ah.” Halstrom met his eyes, “Well, as you know, southwest Steel Canyon suggests either Circle of Thorns or Tsoo—they are the magic users that claim the area as their territory. A curved blade points to the Tsoo since many of the upper-echelon leaders use katanas. Unless of course, he was killed elsewhere and placed in the area later.”
“Yeah, the Tsoo are on the short list. Especially since we know he was killed in that spot,” Robbins added, “all the blood was there.” He picked up a photo of the statue, “Does this tell you anything?”
“Hmm, well the Circle are more likely to use magical objects than the Tsoo, since the Tsoo primarily draw power from their tattoos. But in my experience these groups are remarkably hidebound about the weapons they use; it seems more likely that one of the Tsoo acquired this,” he said, tapping a photo of the statue, “than one of the Circle suddenly decided to adopt the katana.”
“Makes sense,” Robbins replied, “thanks, Halstrom.”
“One more question for you, Lieutenant,” Halstrom asked, “Did Terry have any money on him when you found him? I gave him two thousand for the statue.”
Robbins choked, “Two grand? For that?” He shook his head, “No, sorry, Halstrom, it wasn’t on him. But I’m afraid you probably wouldn’t have gotten your money back anyway.”
Halstrom waved dismissively, “I didn’t expect to. I just wonder whether his killers or someone else could have taken it.”
“His body wasn’t moved after he was killed so it was either the perps or he stashed it somewhere before they caught him. Think it means something?”
He shrugged, “Possibly. It’s worth noting if they did take it, some of these groups like to think of themselves as being above mundane concerns like money.”
“We’ll see what we can find out,” Robbins replied, scribbling a reminder in his notebook. He looked up to meet Halstrom’s eyes, “You know that Burke probably gave up your name before he died.”
The other man snorted, “I’m absolutely certain he did, who could blame him? And before you ask, yes, I know they may very well come after me.”
“You don’t seem too worried about it,” Robbins commented, closing his notebook and preparing to depart.
“I’m not at all pleased about it, but I have some advantages that Terry did not. I know to expect it and can be prepared, and I believe I am better able to defend myself than Terry could.”
“Don’t get too cocky, Halstrom,” Robbins said acerbically, “you may be big, but I don’t think you’re sword proof.”
“Noted, Lieutenant, I’ll be careful,” Halstrom remarked dryly. “One thing that might help if there is anyone watching the shop—which seems likely—is that we not give the impression that I’ve been overly cooperative with your investigation.”
Robbins nodded, “Okay with me, I can be as hostile as the next guy.”
Halstrom walked the detective to the door and let him out. Robbins turned to him in the doorway and said in his best bad-cop voice, “This isn’t over, Halstrom; you’d better wise up and start cooperating or you’ll find your butt in jail!” He prodded Halstrom’s chest for emphasis, which was not unlike poking the side of a building.
“Yes, yes, Lieutenant,” Halstrom replied, managing to sound bored and dismissive at the same time, “very impressive.” His eyes narrowed and he glared down at the detective, “Don’t bother me again. If you wish any more information from me, contact my lawyer.” He closed the shop door in Robbins' face with a bang.
Robbins chuckled to himself as he walked away. All in all, not a bad day; he had a lot more information than he had when he arrived, and a number of new leads to follow. He’d just have to avoid running into Menendez, he’d hate to admit that he thought she was right about Halstrom.
Walter exited the tram at Atlas Park and walked the short distance to his destination. As he started up the front steps of City Hall he noted with amusement that fledgling heroes still congregated under the enormous status of Atlas in front of the building, just as they had when he first came to Paragon City five years before.
He made his way to the M.A.G.I. offices on the lower level of City Hall, asked for Azuria, the director of the Atlas Park M.A.G.I. branch, and was shown into her office. Azuria, a young woman with brown eyes and long brown hair, looked ordinary enough. Walter understood that she was one of the most powerful of the magically gifted citizens of Paragon City, and therefore suspected that she was actually much older than she appeared.
“Thank you, madame,” he said, offering her his hand, “for agreeing to meet with you today. I would not have bothered you if it were not urgent.”
She invited him to sit, and smiled, “I am glad to finally meet you, Mr. Halstrom, I’ve heard good things about your work. What is it I can help you with?”
He took a deep breath and pulled a packet of photos from his pocket, passing them to her across the desk, “I need your expertise in identifying this object. I bought it from a small-time dealer and sometime petty thief named Terry Burke earlier in the week. I know it would be more useful for you to see the actual statue, but I was told yesterday that Terry was found murdered the evening after he sold it to me. It seems highly unlikely that those two events are coincidental, so I’m reluctant to carry it around on my person unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
She frowned at the photos, “Understandable. I take it this object is powerful?”
“Extremely so. To say I was surprised when Terry showed it to me would be an understatement. And evil,” he said with a wry smile, “if you don’t mind if I use such old-fashioned language for an object.”
“Sometimes nothing else is appropriate,” she murmured, “I’ve certainly seen enough objects that could be best described that way.” She picked up one photo and examined it closely, “The writing on the base looks similar to Sumerian, but I can’t read it, I’m sorry to say. It’s clearly a ritual object; the base is an unusual shape, I wouldn’t be surprised if the base fit somewhere specific, and that the crystal was used to focus energy in some way.”
Halstrom nodded, “Yes, I thought that was a possibility.”
She dropped the photo, “Where are you keeping it now? Is it secure?”
He sighed, “It’s in the safe in my shop. Both the safe and the shop are well warded, but someone tested the wards last night, and I’d be surprised if it doesn’t happen again.” He met her eyes, “That’s one reason I wanted to speak to you, to ask whether it might be better to store it here. However, I do have someplace I could move it where I believe it would be more secure, so that’s also an option.”
Azuria shook her head ruefully, “One disadvantage of being a high-profile agency for magic users is that this is the first place that magic users of evil intent would look for such an object. If you have someplace to put it that is secret as well as safe, I think that would be the better choice.”
She found a notepad on her desk and quickly wrote on it, “I also think you should speak to someone from the Midnight Squad to see if they have any information on the statue. Percy Winkley would be the best bet, he’s trustworthy and he loves mysteries of this sort,” she added dryly.
“Thank you, I’ll do that,” Halstrom replied, taking the note from her, “and thank you for your time.”
“I am glad to help; I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.” She got up to escort him to the door, eyeing him curiously, “By the way, you seem familiar to me, are you sure we haven’t met before?”
Walter smiled slightly, “Perhaps at another time, in another context, ma’am. Thank you again.”
Over the next few days Halstrom contacted Percy Winkley and invited him to the shop to examine the statue. Winkley was not able to give him any information immediately, but as Azuria predicted he was enthusiastic about solving the mystery of the statue’s origin and purpose. Walter also updated Lieutenant Robbins on the progress made—or lack thereof—toward identifying the object. After that, unfortunately all that could be done was exercise caution and wait for more information.
Elena opened the door to her apartment and just made it to the couch before collapsing in weariness. It had been a long, long day, with a last-minute crisis that kept her in the office well past seven pm—a single mother with three kids had been evicted from her home and desperately needed a place to stay for the night. Ultimately Elena had been successful, but she couldn’t remember a time when she longed for her bed more.
While summoning the will to rise from the couch she noticed that the message light on her phone was blinking malevolently. Tempted to ignore it, she nonetheless reached over and tapped the “play” button.
An unfamiliar man’s voice, clipped and officious, filled the room, “I’m calling for an Elena Samuelson, this is Dr. Rao from the Emergency Room at the Lagrange Medical Center. A patient that was brought in earlier today, Mrs. Rachel Goodfield, listed your name as her emergency contact. Please contact me at 555-7364 or come by the hospital as soon as possible.”
Stunned, Elena was at a loss to know what to do for a moment. What could have happened to Mrs. Goodfield? Should she call and find out? No, she decided; best to just go there right away. The message had been left at 6:30 and it was now 8:30—so much could have occurred in those two hours! She struggled out of the couch, slid her protesting feet back into her shoes and grabbed for her purse only to be stopped short. How to get there? Her car had stopped running a week ago and she’d had neither the time nor the money to get it repaired. She could walk—it was only about a half mile to the medical center from her apartment—but walking alone this time of night wasn’t particularly safe.
Elena had just about resigned herself to ordering a cab when her eyes fell on the business card that a few weeks before she had stuck in the frame of the Cary Grant poster that held pride of place above her desk. If this wasn’t a darn good reason to call Walter and ask for help, she didn’t know what was! She punched in the cell number he’d given her and prayed he would be available and willing to assist.
He answered on the second ring with a businesslike “Halstrom.”
“Walter?” to her chagrin her voice was shaking slightly, “It’s Elena, Elena Samuelson.”
“Elena,” he said warmly, now sounding encouragingly less businesslike. “I would say it is a pleasure to hear from you, but you sound upset. Is there anything I can do for you?”
She sagged with relief, “Yes, thanks, I do need your help. It’s Mrs. Goodfield—when I got home there was a message from the Emergency Room at Lagrange Medical Center saying that she’d been brought in earlier tonight. I was wondering whether you’d be able to walk over with me since I wouldn’t feel safe going alone at this time of night.”
“There’s no need to walk, Elena, I have a car. Can you be ready in five minutes? I will meet you in front of the building.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to…” she realized that he’d already hung up and did the same. She shook her head, although she felt a little uncomfortable asking for a ride from him, between her tiredness and worry about Mrs. Goodfield, she was quite happy not to have to walk or waste time waiting for a cab.
He pulled up just as she left the building in a car much newer and more luxurious than her own. As she slid into the front seat next to him, he asked, “Do you know what happened?”
“No, the doctor didn’t say. I could have called, but I’m so worried I just want to get there as soon as possible,” Elena told him anxiously.
They pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance and Walter waited for her to get out. A little surprised, she turned to him and said, “Thanks for the ride, Walter. I’ll…I’ll let you know tomorrow how she is.”
Walter quirked a smile in her direction, “Elena, I’ll join you right after I park.”
Elena blushed and got out of the car, feeling like an idiot, “I’ll see you in a minute, then.”
She told the nurse at the desk about the message she had received; Walter appearing just as the doctor did. The doctor looked as tired and harried as she felt, and after verifying Elena’s identity explained what had happened to her friend.
“I’m sorry to say your friend was mugged, Ms. Samuelson. From what she’s said, it sounds like a group of trolls went after her purse and got rough when she wouldn’t give it to them. The police have been here already but they’ll probably be back to question her again once she’s up to talking to them.”
Elena knees almost buckled; she extremely grateful for Walter’s supportive arm. She gasped in dismay, “Oh, no! Is she badly hurt? Can I see her?”
The doctor sighed and shook his head, “She had a bad fall, and broke her arm and her hip. I’m afraid you can’t see her right now; she’s being prepped for surgery. Mrs. Goodfield said she has no relatives in town, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Elena told him, fighting to hold back tears, “she has a son, Lawrence, but he lives in Atlanta.”
“He’ll need to be called; his mother has a long recovery in front of her. You wouldn’t happen to have his phone number, would you? Mrs. Goodfield didn’t have it with her.”
“It’s on my cell phone, I think,” Elena told him, fumbling for her purse, “I take care of her cat when she goes to visit him,” she explained.
“Good. Come with me and I’ll write it in her chart.” Elena followed the doctor to give him the number. When she returned she found Walter sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, his head in his hands.
“Are you all right, Walter?” she asked, taking the seat next to him.
He turned to her, a rueful smile on his face, “I think I’m supposed to be asking you that, Elena.” He sighed, “It’s just that…this is not supposed to happen, Elena! A sweet woman like Mrs. Goodfield brutalized by those thugs—it makes me very angry, but the same time I feel so...helpless.”
Elena snorted, but softened it with a smile and a squeeze of his hand. “Welcome to my world, Walter. As someone who’s not big, male or muscular, I can assure you that is a completely normal feeling, especially in this town.”
“I know,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face, “but I can’t help thinking that I could have…should have done something to prevent this.”
“I don’t know what you think you could have done to prevent it, Walter, but I’m sure Rachel understands that you would have if it was in your power.” Elena stood and held out a hand to him. “C’mon, hero,” she said warmly, “the doctor says we should go to the surgical waiting room—they’ll have periodic updates for us on how she’s doing.” Her smile faltered, “That is, of course, unless there’s something else you have to do.”
He took her hand and stood, his smile having a rather alarming affect on her heart rate. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do, Elena.”
Chapter 3
“Huh,” Robbins responded, not sure what to make of this revelation. “What did you buy from Burke?”
Halstrom stood and picked up some photos that had been scattered on a long worktable near the desk. “This; I was doing some research on it before you came,” he answered as he handed the photos to Robbins. They showed a small statue of a winged woman holding a crystal in her hands above her head; some of them were close ups of the details of the base and other features.
All of which meant precisely nothing to the detective. “Okay,” he replied, “now tell me what it is, where he got it, and why it’s worth killing him for.”
The other man sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, “I’ll tell you what I can, Lieutenant. First, I don’t know what it is, that is what I have been trying to determine. Terry didn’t say where or how he obtained it, but it was clear from the hints he dropped that it was not from someone who would want to admit that he had it or that it had been stolen from him. Normally, I’d stay away from something of that sort, but in this case…”
He paused for so long that Robbins raised an eyebrow and prompted, “Yes?”
“This item,” Halstrom replied, “gives off a surprising amount of magical energy, and energy of type that is not associated with a…wholesome purpose.”
The second eyebrow joined the first, and Robbins coughed to cover a chuckle; Halstrom looked deadly serious for all the absurdity of his claim. “So you’re saying that this statue has bad mojo?” He peered at the photos again, “Looks pretty ordinary to me.”
“You couldn’t see it in a normal photograph in any case, but it is quite visible to me when I look at the object itself.” Halstrom shook his head, “I know it is hard to believe, but this is what I do for a living. When you look at a crime scene you would see things that others would not, and I can read the energy signature of this piece. I don’t know what its purpose is, but this item is powerful and it’s dangerous. There are many others in the city who could confirm that if you would rather not trust my word.”
Against his better judgment Robbins was beginning to be swayed by Halstrom’s earnestness. Besides, he’d lived in Paragon long enough to know better than to lightly dismiss such claims. “Let’s say I believe you. If it’s so bad, why did you buy it? Is it valuable?”
Halstrom glanced down pensively for a moment before meeting the detective’s eyes, “I bought it because I thought it would be better for me to have it than Terry, or whomever might buy it or take it from him. That’s probably the only comforting aspect of this; if I hadn’t bought it I suspect Terry would still be dead, and the statue would now be in the hands of his killers. And although its intrinsic value is not insignificant, it is literally irreplaceable for anyone who wishes to use it for its original purpose, whatever that might be.”
“What are you planning to do with it?” Robbins asked. He met his eyes and added, “You know, I could impound it as evidence in Burke’s murder.”
Halstrom nodded, “I am well aware of that, Lieutenant, and if you think that is the wisest choice, I will give it to you willingly. However, bear in mind that it is currently in my safe and that both the safe and the shop itself are heavily warded against magical attacks. I doubt you can say the same about your property room, secure though it might be against more mundane threats.
“As for what I plan to do, I have an appointment to meet with Azuria at M.A.G.I. tomorrow. I was going to take the statue with me to show it to her, but now I’m reluctant to move it from the shop unless there is a compelling need. Photos won’t be as helpful to her as seeing the actual item, but perhaps she can tell me something.”
Robbins thought it over; having a dangerous magical doohickey sitting in the property room that people were willing to kill for was not an appealing prospect. After a moment he asked, “Have you turned in the paperwork on it yet?”
“No, I have a week from the purchase date as you know,” Halstrom answered, looking a little uncomfortable. “But I am concerned that doing so will confirm to anyone interested that I do indeed have the piece.”
“Hmm, yeah, I see what you mean,” Robbins said thoughtfully. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do: you fill out the report as usual, and give it to me. I think I can justify keeping the report out of the system for a while since it is evidence in a murder investigation. But you’ll have to cough up that statue if a case ever comes to trial or if we need it for some other reason. Understood?”
“Understood,” Halstrom nodded. “By the way, Lieutenant, how did Terry die? If you are permitted to tell me, of course.”
Robbins pursed his lips and considered the situation for a moment, usually some details of a homicide were not revealed to the public, but Halstrom was probably as close to an expert witness as Robbins was likely to get, and he had been extremely cooperative so far. “He was cut with a long-bladed weapon of some sort and bled out. Not pretty,” he added, shaking his head.
“Really?” Halstrom’s eyebrows rose, “Curved blade or straight?”
The detective smiled to himself, guessing where this was going, “Curved.”
“Ah.” Halstrom met his eyes, “Well, as you know, southwest Steel Canyon suggests either Circle of Thorns or Tsoo—they are the magic users that claim the area as their territory. A curved blade points to the Tsoo since many of the upper-echelon leaders use katanas. Unless of course, he was killed elsewhere and placed in the area later.”
“Yeah, the Tsoo are on the short list. Especially since we know he was killed in that spot,” Robbins added, “all the blood was there.” He picked up a photo of the statue, “Does this tell you anything?”
“Hmm, well the Circle are more likely to use magical objects than the Tsoo, since the Tsoo primarily draw power from their tattoos. But in my experience these groups are remarkably hidebound about the weapons they use; it seems more likely that one of the Tsoo acquired this,” he said, tapping a photo of the statue, “than one of the Circle suddenly decided to adopt the katana.”
“Makes sense,” Robbins replied, “thanks, Halstrom.”
“One more question for you, Lieutenant,” Halstrom asked, “Did Terry have any money on him when you found him? I gave him two thousand for the statue.”
Robbins choked, “Two grand? For that?” He shook his head, “No, sorry, Halstrom, it wasn’t on him. But I’m afraid you probably wouldn’t have gotten your money back anyway.”
Halstrom waved dismissively, “I didn’t expect to. I just wonder whether his killers or someone else could have taken it.”
“His body wasn’t moved after he was killed so it was either the perps or he stashed it somewhere before they caught him. Think it means something?”
He shrugged, “Possibly. It’s worth noting if they did take it, some of these groups like to think of themselves as being above mundane concerns like money.”
“We’ll see what we can find out,” Robbins replied, scribbling a reminder in his notebook. He looked up to meet Halstrom’s eyes, “You know that Burke probably gave up your name before he died.”
The other man snorted, “I’m absolutely certain he did, who could blame him? And before you ask, yes, I know they may very well come after me.”
“You don’t seem too worried about it,” Robbins commented, closing his notebook and preparing to depart.
“I’m not at all pleased about it, but I have some advantages that Terry did not. I know to expect it and can be prepared, and I believe I am better able to defend myself than Terry could.”
“Don’t get too cocky, Halstrom,” Robbins said acerbically, “you may be big, but I don’t think you’re sword proof.”
“Noted, Lieutenant, I’ll be careful,” Halstrom remarked dryly. “One thing that might help if there is anyone watching the shop—which seems likely—is that we not give the impression that I’ve been overly cooperative with your investigation.”
Robbins nodded, “Okay with me, I can be as hostile as the next guy.”
Halstrom walked the detective to the door and let him out. Robbins turned to him in the doorway and said in his best bad-cop voice, “This isn’t over, Halstrom; you’d better wise up and start cooperating or you’ll find your butt in jail!” He prodded Halstrom’s chest for emphasis, which was not unlike poking the side of a building.
“Yes, yes, Lieutenant,” Halstrom replied, managing to sound bored and dismissive at the same time, “very impressive.” His eyes narrowed and he glared down at the detective, “Don’t bother me again. If you wish any more information from me, contact my lawyer.” He closed the shop door in Robbins' face with a bang.
Robbins chuckled to himself as he walked away. All in all, not a bad day; he had a lot more information than he had when he arrived, and a number of new leads to follow. He’d just have to avoid running into Menendez, he’d hate to admit that he thought she was right about Halstrom.
--ooo--
Walter exited the tram at Atlas Park and walked the short distance to his destination. As he started up the front steps of City Hall he noted with amusement that fledgling heroes still congregated under the enormous status of Atlas in front of the building, just as they had when he first came to Paragon City five years before.
He made his way to the M.A.G.I. offices on the lower level of City Hall, asked for Azuria, the director of the Atlas Park M.A.G.I. branch, and was shown into her office. Azuria, a young woman with brown eyes and long brown hair, looked ordinary enough. Walter understood that she was one of the most powerful of the magically gifted citizens of Paragon City, and therefore suspected that she was actually much older than she appeared.
“Thank you, madame,” he said, offering her his hand, “for agreeing to meet with you today. I would not have bothered you if it were not urgent.”
She invited him to sit, and smiled, “I am glad to finally meet you, Mr. Halstrom, I’ve heard good things about your work. What is it I can help you with?”
He took a deep breath and pulled a packet of photos from his pocket, passing them to her across the desk, “I need your expertise in identifying this object. I bought it from a small-time dealer and sometime petty thief named Terry Burke earlier in the week. I know it would be more useful for you to see the actual statue, but I was told yesterday that Terry was found murdered the evening after he sold it to me. It seems highly unlikely that those two events are coincidental, so I’m reluctant to carry it around on my person unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
She frowned at the photos, “Understandable. I take it this object is powerful?”
“Extremely so. To say I was surprised when Terry showed it to me would be an understatement. And evil,” he said with a wry smile, “if you don’t mind if I use such old-fashioned language for an object.”
“Sometimes nothing else is appropriate,” she murmured, “I’ve certainly seen enough objects that could be best described that way.” She picked up one photo and examined it closely, “The writing on the base looks similar to Sumerian, but I can’t read it, I’m sorry to say. It’s clearly a ritual object; the base is an unusual shape, I wouldn’t be surprised if the base fit somewhere specific, and that the crystal was used to focus energy in some way.”
Halstrom nodded, “Yes, I thought that was a possibility.”
She dropped the photo, “Where are you keeping it now? Is it secure?”
He sighed, “It’s in the safe in my shop. Both the safe and the shop are well warded, but someone tested the wards last night, and I’d be surprised if it doesn’t happen again.” He met her eyes, “That’s one reason I wanted to speak to you, to ask whether it might be better to store it here. However, I do have someplace I could move it where I believe it would be more secure, so that’s also an option.”
Azuria shook her head ruefully, “One disadvantage of being a high-profile agency for magic users is that this is the first place that magic users of evil intent would look for such an object. If you have someplace to put it that is secret as well as safe, I think that would be the better choice.”
She found a notepad on her desk and quickly wrote on it, “I also think you should speak to someone from the Midnight Squad to see if they have any information on the statue. Percy Winkley would be the best bet, he’s trustworthy and he loves mysteries of this sort,” she added dryly.
“Thank you, I’ll do that,” Halstrom replied, taking the note from her, “and thank you for your time.”
“I am glad to help; I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.” She got up to escort him to the door, eyeing him curiously, “By the way, you seem familiar to me, are you sure we haven’t met before?”
Walter smiled slightly, “Perhaps at another time, in another context, ma’am. Thank you again.”
Over the next few days Halstrom contacted Percy Winkley and invited him to the shop to examine the statue. Winkley was not able to give him any information immediately, but as Azuria predicted he was enthusiastic about solving the mystery of the statue’s origin and purpose. Walter also updated Lieutenant Robbins on the progress made—or lack thereof—toward identifying the object. After that, unfortunately all that could be done was exercise caution and wait for more information.
--ooo--
Elena opened the door to her apartment and just made it to the couch before collapsing in weariness. It had been a long, long day, with a last-minute crisis that kept her in the office well past seven pm—a single mother with three kids had been evicted from her home and desperately needed a place to stay for the night. Ultimately Elena had been successful, but she couldn’t remember a time when she longed for her bed more.
While summoning the will to rise from the couch she noticed that the message light on her phone was blinking malevolently. Tempted to ignore it, she nonetheless reached over and tapped the “play” button.
An unfamiliar man’s voice, clipped and officious, filled the room, “I’m calling for an Elena Samuelson, this is Dr. Rao from the Emergency Room at the Lagrange Medical Center. A patient that was brought in earlier today, Mrs. Rachel Goodfield, listed your name as her emergency contact. Please contact me at 555-7364 or come by the hospital as soon as possible.”
Stunned, Elena was at a loss to know what to do for a moment. What could have happened to Mrs. Goodfield? Should she call and find out? No, she decided; best to just go there right away. The message had been left at 6:30 and it was now 8:30—so much could have occurred in those two hours! She struggled out of the couch, slid her protesting feet back into her shoes and grabbed for her purse only to be stopped short. How to get there? Her car had stopped running a week ago and she’d had neither the time nor the money to get it repaired. She could walk—it was only about a half mile to the medical center from her apartment—but walking alone this time of night wasn’t particularly safe.
Elena had just about resigned herself to ordering a cab when her eyes fell on the business card that a few weeks before she had stuck in the frame of the Cary Grant poster that held pride of place above her desk. If this wasn’t a darn good reason to call Walter and ask for help, she didn’t know what was! She punched in the cell number he’d given her and prayed he would be available and willing to assist.
He answered on the second ring with a businesslike “Halstrom.”
“Walter?” to her chagrin her voice was shaking slightly, “It’s Elena, Elena Samuelson.”
“Elena,” he said warmly, now sounding encouragingly less businesslike. “I would say it is a pleasure to hear from you, but you sound upset. Is there anything I can do for you?”
She sagged with relief, “Yes, thanks, I do need your help. It’s Mrs. Goodfield—when I got home there was a message from the Emergency Room at Lagrange Medical Center saying that she’d been brought in earlier tonight. I was wondering whether you’d be able to walk over with me since I wouldn’t feel safe going alone at this time of night.”
“There’s no need to walk, Elena, I have a car. Can you be ready in five minutes? I will meet you in front of the building.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to…” she realized that he’d already hung up and did the same. She shook her head, although she felt a little uncomfortable asking for a ride from him, between her tiredness and worry about Mrs. Goodfield, she was quite happy not to have to walk or waste time waiting for a cab.
He pulled up just as she left the building in a car much newer and more luxurious than her own. As she slid into the front seat next to him, he asked, “Do you know what happened?”
“No, the doctor didn’t say. I could have called, but I’m so worried I just want to get there as soon as possible,” Elena told him anxiously.
They pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance and Walter waited for her to get out. A little surprised, she turned to him and said, “Thanks for the ride, Walter. I’ll…I’ll let you know tomorrow how she is.”
Walter quirked a smile in her direction, “Elena, I’ll join you right after I park.”
Elena blushed and got out of the car, feeling like an idiot, “I’ll see you in a minute, then.”
She told the nurse at the desk about the message she had received; Walter appearing just as the doctor did. The doctor looked as tired and harried as she felt, and after verifying Elena’s identity explained what had happened to her friend.
“I’m sorry to say your friend was mugged, Ms. Samuelson. From what she’s said, it sounds like a group of trolls went after her purse and got rough when she wouldn’t give it to them. The police have been here already but they’ll probably be back to question her again once she’s up to talking to them.”
Elena knees almost buckled; she extremely grateful for Walter’s supportive arm. She gasped in dismay, “Oh, no! Is she badly hurt? Can I see her?”
The doctor sighed and shook his head, “She had a bad fall, and broke her arm and her hip. I’m afraid you can’t see her right now; she’s being prepped for surgery. Mrs. Goodfield said she has no relatives in town, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Elena told him, fighting to hold back tears, “she has a son, Lawrence, but he lives in Atlanta.”
“He’ll need to be called; his mother has a long recovery in front of her. You wouldn’t happen to have his phone number, would you? Mrs. Goodfield didn’t have it with her.”
“It’s on my cell phone, I think,” Elena told him, fumbling for her purse, “I take care of her cat when she goes to visit him,” she explained.
“Good. Come with me and I’ll write it in her chart.” Elena followed the doctor to give him the number. When she returned she found Walter sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, his head in his hands.
“Are you all right, Walter?” she asked, taking the seat next to him.
He turned to her, a rueful smile on his face, “I think I’m supposed to be asking you that, Elena.” He sighed, “It’s just that…this is not supposed to happen, Elena! A sweet woman like Mrs. Goodfield brutalized by those thugs—it makes me very angry, but the same time I feel so...helpless.”
Elena snorted, but softened it with a smile and a squeeze of his hand. “Welcome to my world, Walter. As someone who’s not big, male or muscular, I can assure you that is a completely normal feeling, especially in this town.”
“I know,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face, “but I can’t help thinking that I could have…should have done something to prevent this.”
“I don’t know what you think you could have done to prevent it, Walter, but I’m sure Rachel understands that you would have if it was in your power.” Elena stood and held out a hand to him. “C’mon, hero,” she said warmly, “the doctor says we should go to the surgical waiting room—they’ll have periodic updates for us on how she’s doing.” Her smile faltered, “That is, of course, unless there’s something else you have to do.”
He took her hand and stood, his smile having a rather alarming affect on her heart rate. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do, Elena.”
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
I am tremendously enjoying your story! You add lots of little details that really make it come alive.
Quote:
Thanks very much! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!
|
Originally Posted by Hopeling
I am tremendously enjoying your story! You add lots of little details that really make it come alive.
|
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
Chapter 4 Ho! Remember, if you're enjoying the story--or even if you have some constructive criticism--I'd love to hear from you!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 4
Elena woke with a start, disoriented as to time and place, unfamiliar fabric under her cheek. She sat up and realized she had been sleeping against Walter’s shoulder with his suit jacket draped over her like a blanket. He turned and at smiled at her; he had been reading a magazine with his glasses halfway down his nose, his long legs stretched well out into the empty waiting room. He looked…incredibly cute, and she prayed she hadn’t drooled on his shirt or done something else unattractive while she was asleep.
She stifled a yawn to cover her discomfiture, “Oh, what time is it?” she asked him. “Has there been any news?”
“It’s 11:30, Elena. The nurse came by about forty-five minutes ago to say that they were almost finished with the surgery and that they’d let us know when she was out of anesthesia. I thought you might as well sleep until then.”
“Thanks. I suppose I couldn’t have done anything but worry anyway if I’d been awake.” Elena yawned again, “I’m so tired; I’ve usually been in bed for hours at this time of night.”
“Hah!” he gloated, his eyes alight, “now you see the advantage of being a night owl.”
“Hah yourself!” Elena retorted, spurred to rashness, “Just see how you’d like it if I came in and woke you up at five am when I usually…” Realizing too late that she had just invited herself into his bedroom, her voice trailed off and she felt her face heat. She looked up to find his blue eyes fixed on her with thinly veiled amusement.
“You are welcome at any time of course, Elena,” Walter said blandly, “should I leave the door unlocked in case the urge strikes you?”
“That…won’t be necessary,” she said in a small voice. He went back to reading his magazine without comment, smirking slightly. It was so infuriating—he had lured her into embarrassing herself, the rat!
While she was contemplating this perfidy, Walter cleared his throat and murmured, “In the meantime, my shoulder is still available if you’re interested.”
She shook her head and chuckled, “If you are going to be so charming, I can see that it will be absolutely impossible to stay angry with you.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided smile, “Which is of course the point, my dear.” Then he looked at her intently and said, “Elena…”
At that moment the nurse bustled up to tell them that Rachel was in recovery and could have visitors, so whatever Walter had planned to say went unsaid.
“Just one at a time,” the nurse cautioned, “and a short visit. She’s on pain medication and won’t be able to stay awake for long.”
“Go on, Elena,” Walter urged her with a smile, “I’ll wait here for you.”
Elena quietly let herself into the room; her friend’s eyes were closed and she was afraid she was asleep. “Mrs. Goodfield? Rachel?” she called softly.
The woman in the bed stirred, “Elena, is that you, dear?”
“Yes, it’s me; do you feel up to a visit?” Elena asked her.
“Of course I do, Elena, when have I not wanted to have a chat with you?” she asked, sounding more like her old self.
“That would be never,” Elena laughed, sitting in the chair next the bed and taking Mrs. Goodfield’s hand. “How are you? Not in too much pain, I hope.”
“It’s not too bad; they have me on all sorts of painkillers. I have a hip full of metal now, they tell me.”
“You’ll be up on your feet in no time, Rachel,” Elena told her cheerfully. “Was the doctor able to reach Lawrence?”
“Yes, he’s flying in tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it, as much as I love him. He won’t be able to resist saying ‘I told you so’,” she sighed, “he’s always had dire predictions of what would happen to me living here alone. But enough of that,” she said pointedly, “you know what I want to hear about.”
Elena suspected she did know, but feigned ignorance. “What’s that, Rachel?” she asked as casually as possible.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Elena, how long have we known each other? The nurse told me that you were waiting with a tall dark-haired man with a beard. Who could that be, hmm?”
“Oh, all right, it’s Walter Halstrom, are you satisfied?” She snorted in exasperation, “I swear the need to say ‘I told you so’ must run in your family. My car isn’t working, and I didn’t want to walk here by myself, so I asked him to come with me. That’s all that happened!” Elena added defensively.
Mrs. Goodfield smiled knowingly, “But is that all you want to have happen, I wonder?”
Elena gave her a wry smile in return, ‘I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I’ll never hear the end of it if I do.”
“I thought as much,” she answered smugly. She met Elena’s eyes, her face serious. “I know you haven’t always liked me meddling in your love life, but take it from an old lady who’s seen a lot of men come and go.” She patted Elena’s hand, “That one is special, so hang on to him. Why, if I were thirty years younger I’d give you a run for your money!”
“I bet you would!” Elena laughed. “But you know there’s only so much control I have over whether he stays or goes—he hasn’t even asked me out yet!”
“Give him time, Elena. I don’t think Walter is the kind of man who does things lightly, and that’s a good sign.”
“I suppose,” Elena sighed. “He’s so sweet and charming, and very attractive, I just wish I knew…” She smiled and shrugged, “I can be patient,” she added under her breath, “I think.” She turned her attention back to her friend, “Is there anything you’d like me to bring you from your apartment when I go to feed Horatio?”
“Oh yes, Elena, that would be very kind,” Rachel replied, and their discussion of what Elena should bring lasted until the nurse came in to say that she had stayed long enough. So Elena kissed her friend and promised to visit her the next day.
She made her way back to the waiting room and found that Walter had given up reading and was now pacing restlessly. His face lightened when she entered, “Elena, how is she?”
“In good spirits,” Elena smiled. “Are you planning to go in to see her?”
“I’m getting the distinct feeling that they want us to leave and allow her to rest. I’ll stop by tomorrow to visit instead.” He glanced at Elena, his eyes narrowing, “Besides, I think it is time to get you home. I’ll bring the car around.”
“That’s not necessary Walter. I’ll walk with you to the car; I’d like some fresh air anyway.”
“As you wish,” he replied as they walked out together.
She sank gratefully into the car seat, “Oh Walter, I am not looking forward to getting up for work in the morning!”
He stared at her in surprise, “Surely you’re not planning to work your usual hours tomorrow!”
“Well, I should…” she began.
“Hmph,” he snorted derisively, “speaking as a citizen of Paragon City, I think it is perfectly reasonable for a city employee to take a part day off—or even a full day—after staying up to take care of a friend who’s been seriously injured.”
“I have sick time, but I feel funny about using it for something like this,” she told him, making a face.
“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Even underpaid do-gooders deserve some time off now and then. Promise me that you’ll call in—and sleep in—tomorrow.”
“Well, if you’re going to be pushy about it,” she said with a wry smile, “I suppose I can do that.”
“Good.” After a moment he cleared his throat, seeming a little nervous, “Elena, there’s something else I wanted to ask you. A client of mine had two tickets to a play that it happens he cannot use and he gave them to me. It’s a week from Saturday, and I wondered whether you might like to accompany me.”
Elena later claimed that surprise and fatigue caused her to respond as she did; she stared at him in shock for a moment, and then squeaked, “You’re asking me out? On a date?”
She realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say and blushed scarlet, wishing she could disappear into the seat cushions.
Walter’s face fell and he replied, “Well, that is what I had in mind, Elena, but if you’re categorically opposed to the idea…”
Hoping she could salvage the situation, she hastened to assure him, “No, Walter, no, I’m not opposed to the idea at all! Really not opposed.”
Sensing his bewilderment, she sighed and said, “Could I please start over?”
His good humor returned, “Of course, Elena.”
She took a deep breath, laid a hand on his arm and smiled at him, “Walter, I would love to go to the play with you.”
He smiled warmly at her in return, “Then I am looking forward to it.” They pulled up in front of their apartment building and stopped.
She glared at him in mock exasperation, “Walter, I know it’s your personal mission to prove that chivalry is not dead, but this door-to-door service is really unnecessary. I can walk from a parking place to the building.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. “However, this time I’m dropping you off because I have something to do.”
“At this hour?” she asked in surprise. “What do you need to do at one a.m.?”
“Just something that can’t be delayed.” He smiled and said, “I’m the night owl, remember? This isn’t so late for me.”
“If you say so,” she replied skeptically. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, saying, “Thank you for coming with me tonight, Walter. It really did help, and not just the ride.”
He squeezed her hand and smiled, “It was my pleasure. I will be in touch about the play. Goodnight Elena.”
Elena climbed the stairs to her apartment in a much better frame of mind than when she had left a few hours before. Mrs. Goodfield had a long recovery in front of her, but they had every reason to believe she would recover. As for Walter, well, she hadn’t been this excited about a date—or a man—in a very long time, and she thought of little else as she emailed her supervisor and resolutely turned off her alarm clock as he had insisted.
Elena woke up the next morning at nine o’clock, feeling completely decadent for having slept in so late. She was rested, but she dimly recalled having been awoken several times during the night by noises outside the apartment—police sirens and the like. When she walked to the tram on the way to work she noticed with astonishment that the trolls on the entire north side of Skyway were just—gone. Not just fewer than there were, but from the vantage point of the tram platform there were none as far as the eye could see. Very strange. I suppose it’s too much to ask that it stay this way!
Work was uneventful; no one seemed unduly shocked or astonished that she had taken a few hours off. Encouraged by this, she left work at the usual time and after a brief stop at Mrs. Goodfield’s apartment, made her way to the hospital to see her friend.
She found Rachel sitting up in bed and glad to have company. “Oh Elena, it is so good to see you,” she said happily. “And you brought my things—thank you so much! How is my sweet Horatio?”
“Hungry. And happy to see me, which I doubt is a coincidence,” Elena chuckled. “However, since it sounds like you’ll be in the hospital for a while yet, I was wondering whether I should just move him down to my apartment for now. At least then he wouldn’t be alone in the evening as well as during the day.”
A pained look crossed Rachel’s face briefly and was gone; she said brightly, “That would be wonderful, dear; you two can keep each other company.” She glanced up at Elena and smiled knowingly, “Though I hear you may not be spending all your evenings at home for much longer.”
“How on earth did you find that out, Rachel? Walter only asked me out last night!” she exclaimed.
“Walter came to visit me earlier, and brought some beautiful flowers,” her friend told her, indicating a lavish bouquet on the bedside table.
“He told you that he asked me out? I…I’m a little surprised, Rachel, that doesn’t sound like something he would do.”
“Oh no, I had to worm it out of him. I asked about you and he didn’t say very much, but it was the way he didn’t say it…you know how it is,” she said, waving her hand airily. “I had to press him a tiny bit, but he finally admitted that he asked you to that play.”
“A tiny bit?” Elena laughed, “I know you; your persistence could put police interrogators and investigative journalists to shame. The poor man never had a chance.”
She gave her friend a questioning look, “Setting aside my love life for now, what is happening with you? You seem to be recovering well, but the doctor made it sound like it’ll be a while before you’re on your feet again. How much longer will you be here?”
“I’ll only be here a few more days, if everything goes as they hope. But after this I’ll need to be in a rehabilitation hospital for some time to learn to walk with my new hip.” Rachel explained.
“Oh! I should have thought of that. Where will you be going? I think the hospital in Talos has a rehab wing—or maybe that’s Peregrine.”
Mrs. Goodfield was silent for a moment, looking down at her hands and seemingly unwilling to meet Elena’s glance. When she glanced up, there were tears starting in her eyes, “Elena, Lawrence came in this morning, and he and the doctors think I should go to a hospital in Atlanta so I’ll be near family. Lawrence wants me to go live with him afterward, and give up my apartment here.”
“Oh no!” Elena cried in dismay, “I thought you hated Atlanta!”
“I do!” she sniffed, “I’ve lived in New England all my life and never wanted to live anywhere else. We have real seasons here, not like the hot or not-hot weather down there,” she said scathingly. “And I hate air conditioning!”
“Are you sure you have to go?” Elena asked imploringly. “I’d be happy to help in any way I could and I’m sure Walter would as well.”
“Bless you for offering, Elena, but I can’t ask that of you, you have your own life to live.” She patted her friend’s hand, “It’s not all bad, at least I’ll get to see the grandchildren much more often than I could living here. But I was hoping you might be able to take Horatio.” She snorted, “Lawrence has two big ugly dogs and I think my sweet boy would be happier here with you than there being terrorized by those beasts.”
“Of course I will, Rachel, you know I love him. But we’re going to miss you so much,” Elena said, her voice breaking. “Who’s going to pester me about my love life if you’re not here?”
“I’m quite capable of pestering you by phone or mail, Elena,” Rachel said tartly. “I may even try that Facebook thing that everyone talks about. Besides, once I get back on my feet I can come for a visit. You know I won’t miss dancing at your wedding!”
Elena rolled her eyes, “Rachel!”
Walter thumbed his phone on, “Halstrom.”
A familiar cheerful voice greeted him, “Hey, Walter, how ya doing? It’s Percy Winkley. Listen, I finally found something out about that statue of yours. Let me tell you, it took some digging!”
“I appreciate your diligence, Percy,” Walter assured him, “what did you find out?”
“No problem, I like a challenge. Well, Azuria was correct about the writing on the base, it is Sumerian, but a very obscure dialect that it took me a while to track down. It seems that the statue is a depiction of Ereshkigal, their goddess of the dead.”
“Ah, I’ve heard of that one,” Walter remarked, “not a kind and gentle goddess as I recall.”
Percy snorted, “You could say that. Identifying the figure didn’t take too long; it’s consistent with most depictions of Ereshkigal…the bat wings and so forth. The rest of the inscription was more difficult, but here’s what it says as close as anyone can tell: ‘Break the bonds of the grave and let the dead come forth, bound to my command. Let the dead harry the living to the ends of the earth’.” Percy chuckled, “It’s probably even more dramatic in the original Sumerian.”
Walter let out a low whistle, “It’ll do as it is. There’s little doubt what that means, and why someone might want it—at least if they don’t mind using murder and chaos to achieve their ends.”
“Yeah, presuming it works as we suppose, if someone had the statue and could recreate the ritual that activates it, that would…not be good. It’s lucky you have it and not one of the bad guys.”
“Yes, and I can’t tell you how much it thrills me to have it in my possession,” Walter said sardonically.
“Consider it ‘taking one for the team’,” Percy chuckled. “Funny thing, though, you said that the Tsoo and the Circle of Thorns are your prime suspects as the original owners and killers of your friend. Both groups already call spirits back from the dead, so why would they need the statue?”
“Maybe they think it would be faster and easier, maybe the spirits called this way would be more powerful…” He sighed, “I don’t know, I’ll give it some thought. Thanks again, Percy, you’ve been a big help.”
“Glad to help. Let me know if you run into anything else weird and scary,” Percy told him.
“Will do, Percy, take care,” Walter said as he hung up. A short while later, he was making a call of his own to Lieutenant Robbins.
Robbins grew more and more morose as Walter filled him in on what Percy had told him. “Well, that would be just great, an invasion of evil spirits on top of the Ritki and Praetorians and whatever the hell else we get around here. Does this get us any closer to who might have killed Burke?”
“It might,” Walter said cautiously. “Both the Circle and the Tsoo can already command spirits, though in relatively small numbers, and I’m not sure their leaders would want to cause as much havoc as this would produce. It’s possible that we have a small-time operator in one of these groups that’s trying to make a name for himself. Whoever originally acquired this might not know—or care—how potentially dangerous this is as long as it impresses his higher ups. That’s pure speculation on my part, of course.”
“Well, it’s something,” Robbins admitted. “It won’t hurt to do some checking for ambitious underlings.”
“I’d look at the Tsoo first,” Walter advised him. “I’ve heard recently that some have been seen in Skyway City.”
“Skyway? That’s not their usual turf—what’s in Skyway that would interest them?”
“I am,” Walter told him grimly, “that’s where I live.”
.
Chapter 4
Elena woke with a start, disoriented as to time and place, unfamiliar fabric under her cheek. She sat up and realized she had been sleeping against Walter’s shoulder with his suit jacket draped over her like a blanket. He turned and at smiled at her; he had been reading a magazine with his glasses halfway down his nose, his long legs stretched well out into the empty waiting room. He looked…incredibly cute, and she prayed she hadn’t drooled on his shirt or done something else unattractive while she was asleep.
She stifled a yawn to cover her discomfiture, “Oh, what time is it?” she asked him. “Has there been any news?”
“It’s 11:30, Elena. The nurse came by about forty-five minutes ago to say that they were almost finished with the surgery and that they’d let us know when she was out of anesthesia. I thought you might as well sleep until then.”
“Thanks. I suppose I couldn’t have done anything but worry anyway if I’d been awake.” Elena yawned again, “I’m so tired; I’ve usually been in bed for hours at this time of night.”
“Hah!” he gloated, his eyes alight, “now you see the advantage of being a night owl.”
“Hah yourself!” Elena retorted, spurred to rashness, “Just see how you’d like it if I came in and woke you up at five am when I usually…” Realizing too late that she had just invited herself into his bedroom, her voice trailed off and she felt her face heat. She looked up to find his blue eyes fixed on her with thinly veiled amusement.
“You are welcome at any time of course, Elena,” Walter said blandly, “should I leave the door unlocked in case the urge strikes you?”
“That…won’t be necessary,” she said in a small voice. He went back to reading his magazine without comment, smirking slightly. It was so infuriating—he had lured her into embarrassing herself, the rat!
While she was contemplating this perfidy, Walter cleared his throat and murmured, “In the meantime, my shoulder is still available if you’re interested.”
She shook her head and chuckled, “If you are going to be so charming, I can see that it will be absolutely impossible to stay angry with you.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided smile, “Which is of course the point, my dear.” Then he looked at her intently and said, “Elena…”
At that moment the nurse bustled up to tell them that Rachel was in recovery and could have visitors, so whatever Walter had planned to say went unsaid.
“Just one at a time,” the nurse cautioned, “and a short visit. She’s on pain medication and won’t be able to stay awake for long.”
“Go on, Elena,” Walter urged her with a smile, “I’ll wait here for you.”
Elena quietly let herself into the room; her friend’s eyes were closed and she was afraid she was asleep. “Mrs. Goodfield? Rachel?” she called softly.
The woman in the bed stirred, “Elena, is that you, dear?”
“Yes, it’s me; do you feel up to a visit?” Elena asked her.
“Of course I do, Elena, when have I not wanted to have a chat with you?” she asked, sounding more like her old self.
“That would be never,” Elena laughed, sitting in the chair next the bed and taking Mrs. Goodfield’s hand. “How are you? Not in too much pain, I hope.”
“It’s not too bad; they have me on all sorts of painkillers. I have a hip full of metal now, they tell me.”
“You’ll be up on your feet in no time, Rachel,” Elena told her cheerfully. “Was the doctor able to reach Lawrence?”
“Yes, he’s flying in tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it, as much as I love him. He won’t be able to resist saying ‘I told you so’,” she sighed, “he’s always had dire predictions of what would happen to me living here alone. But enough of that,” she said pointedly, “you know what I want to hear about.”
Elena suspected she did know, but feigned ignorance. “What’s that, Rachel?” she asked as casually as possible.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Elena, how long have we known each other? The nurse told me that you were waiting with a tall dark-haired man with a beard. Who could that be, hmm?”
“Oh, all right, it’s Walter Halstrom, are you satisfied?” She snorted in exasperation, “I swear the need to say ‘I told you so’ must run in your family. My car isn’t working, and I didn’t want to walk here by myself, so I asked him to come with me. That’s all that happened!” Elena added defensively.
Mrs. Goodfield smiled knowingly, “But is that all you want to have happen, I wonder?”
Elena gave her a wry smile in return, ‘I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I’ll never hear the end of it if I do.”
“I thought as much,” she answered smugly. She met Elena’s eyes, her face serious. “I know you haven’t always liked me meddling in your love life, but take it from an old lady who’s seen a lot of men come and go.” She patted Elena’s hand, “That one is special, so hang on to him. Why, if I were thirty years younger I’d give you a run for your money!”
“I bet you would!” Elena laughed. “But you know there’s only so much control I have over whether he stays or goes—he hasn’t even asked me out yet!”
“Give him time, Elena. I don’t think Walter is the kind of man who does things lightly, and that’s a good sign.”
“I suppose,” Elena sighed. “He’s so sweet and charming, and very attractive, I just wish I knew…” She smiled and shrugged, “I can be patient,” she added under her breath, “I think.” She turned her attention back to her friend, “Is there anything you’d like me to bring you from your apartment when I go to feed Horatio?”
“Oh yes, Elena, that would be very kind,” Rachel replied, and their discussion of what Elena should bring lasted until the nurse came in to say that she had stayed long enough. So Elena kissed her friend and promised to visit her the next day.
She made her way back to the waiting room and found that Walter had given up reading and was now pacing restlessly. His face lightened when she entered, “Elena, how is she?”
“In good spirits,” Elena smiled. “Are you planning to go in to see her?”
“I’m getting the distinct feeling that they want us to leave and allow her to rest. I’ll stop by tomorrow to visit instead.” He glanced at Elena, his eyes narrowing, “Besides, I think it is time to get you home. I’ll bring the car around.”
“That’s not necessary Walter. I’ll walk with you to the car; I’d like some fresh air anyway.”
“As you wish,” he replied as they walked out together.
She sank gratefully into the car seat, “Oh Walter, I am not looking forward to getting up for work in the morning!”
He stared at her in surprise, “Surely you’re not planning to work your usual hours tomorrow!”
“Well, I should…” she began.
“Hmph,” he snorted derisively, “speaking as a citizen of Paragon City, I think it is perfectly reasonable for a city employee to take a part day off—or even a full day—after staying up to take care of a friend who’s been seriously injured.”
“I have sick time, but I feel funny about using it for something like this,” she told him, making a face.
“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Even underpaid do-gooders deserve some time off now and then. Promise me that you’ll call in—and sleep in—tomorrow.”
“Well, if you’re going to be pushy about it,” she said with a wry smile, “I suppose I can do that.”
“Good.” After a moment he cleared his throat, seeming a little nervous, “Elena, there’s something else I wanted to ask you. A client of mine had two tickets to a play that it happens he cannot use and he gave them to me. It’s a week from Saturday, and I wondered whether you might like to accompany me.”
Elena later claimed that surprise and fatigue caused her to respond as she did; she stared at him in shock for a moment, and then squeaked, “You’re asking me out? On a date?”
She realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say and blushed scarlet, wishing she could disappear into the seat cushions.
Walter’s face fell and he replied, “Well, that is what I had in mind, Elena, but if you’re categorically opposed to the idea…”
Hoping she could salvage the situation, she hastened to assure him, “No, Walter, no, I’m not opposed to the idea at all! Really not opposed.”
Sensing his bewilderment, she sighed and said, “Could I please start over?”
His good humor returned, “Of course, Elena.”
She took a deep breath, laid a hand on his arm and smiled at him, “Walter, I would love to go to the play with you.”
He smiled warmly at her in return, “Then I am looking forward to it.” They pulled up in front of their apartment building and stopped.
She glared at him in mock exasperation, “Walter, I know it’s your personal mission to prove that chivalry is not dead, but this door-to-door service is really unnecessary. I can walk from a parking place to the building.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. “However, this time I’m dropping you off because I have something to do.”
“At this hour?” she asked in surprise. “What do you need to do at one a.m.?”
“Just something that can’t be delayed.” He smiled and said, “I’m the night owl, remember? This isn’t so late for me.”
“If you say so,” she replied skeptically. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, saying, “Thank you for coming with me tonight, Walter. It really did help, and not just the ride.”
He squeezed her hand and smiled, “It was my pleasure. I will be in touch about the play. Goodnight Elena.”
Elena climbed the stairs to her apartment in a much better frame of mind than when she had left a few hours before. Mrs. Goodfield had a long recovery in front of her, but they had every reason to believe she would recover. As for Walter, well, she hadn’t been this excited about a date—or a man—in a very long time, and she thought of little else as she emailed her supervisor and resolutely turned off her alarm clock as he had insisted.
-ooo-
Elena woke up the next morning at nine o’clock, feeling completely decadent for having slept in so late. She was rested, but she dimly recalled having been awoken several times during the night by noises outside the apartment—police sirens and the like. When she walked to the tram on the way to work she noticed with astonishment that the trolls on the entire north side of Skyway were just—gone. Not just fewer than there were, but from the vantage point of the tram platform there were none as far as the eye could see. Very strange. I suppose it’s too much to ask that it stay this way!
Work was uneventful; no one seemed unduly shocked or astonished that she had taken a few hours off. Encouraged by this, she left work at the usual time and after a brief stop at Mrs. Goodfield’s apartment, made her way to the hospital to see her friend.
She found Rachel sitting up in bed and glad to have company. “Oh Elena, it is so good to see you,” she said happily. “And you brought my things—thank you so much! How is my sweet Horatio?”
“Hungry. And happy to see me, which I doubt is a coincidence,” Elena chuckled. “However, since it sounds like you’ll be in the hospital for a while yet, I was wondering whether I should just move him down to my apartment for now. At least then he wouldn’t be alone in the evening as well as during the day.”
A pained look crossed Rachel’s face briefly and was gone; she said brightly, “That would be wonderful, dear; you two can keep each other company.” She glanced up at Elena and smiled knowingly, “Though I hear you may not be spending all your evenings at home for much longer.”
“How on earth did you find that out, Rachel? Walter only asked me out last night!” she exclaimed.
“Walter came to visit me earlier, and brought some beautiful flowers,” her friend told her, indicating a lavish bouquet on the bedside table.
“He told you that he asked me out? I…I’m a little surprised, Rachel, that doesn’t sound like something he would do.”
“Oh no, I had to worm it out of him. I asked about you and he didn’t say very much, but it was the way he didn’t say it…you know how it is,” she said, waving her hand airily. “I had to press him a tiny bit, but he finally admitted that he asked you to that play.”
“A tiny bit?” Elena laughed, “I know you; your persistence could put police interrogators and investigative journalists to shame. The poor man never had a chance.”
She gave her friend a questioning look, “Setting aside my love life for now, what is happening with you? You seem to be recovering well, but the doctor made it sound like it’ll be a while before you’re on your feet again. How much longer will you be here?”
“I’ll only be here a few more days, if everything goes as they hope. But after this I’ll need to be in a rehabilitation hospital for some time to learn to walk with my new hip.” Rachel explained.
“Oh! I should have thought of that. Where will you be going? I think the hospital in Talos has a rehab wing—or maybe that’s Peregrine.”
Mrs. Goodfield was silent for a moment, looking down at her hands and seemingly unwilling to meet Elena’s glance. When she glanced up, there were tears starting in her eyes, “Elena, Lawrence came in this morning, and he and the doctors think I should go to a hospital in Atlanta so I’ll be near family. Lawrence wants me to go live with him afterward, and give up my apartment here.”
“Oh no!” Elena cried in dismay, “I thought you hated Atlanta!”
“I do!” she sniffed, “I’ve lived in New England all my life and never wanted to live anywhere else. We have real seasons here, not like the hot or not-hot weather down there,” she said scathingly. “And I hate air conditioning!”
“Are you sure you have to go?” Elena asked imploringly. “I’d be happy to help in any way I could and I’m sure Walter would as well.”
“Bless you for offering, Elena, but I can’t ask that of you, you have your own life to live.” She patted her friend’s hand, “It’s not all bad, at least I’ll get to see the grandchildren much more often than I could living here. But I was hoping you might be able to take Horatio.” She snorted, “Lawrence has two big ugly dogs and I think my sweet boy would be happier here with you than there being terrorized by those beasts.”
“Of course I will, Rachel, you know I love him. But we’re going to miss you so much,” Elena said, her voice breaking. “Who’s going to pester me about my love life if you’re not here?”
“I’m quite capable of pestering you by phone or mail, Elena,” Rachel said tartly. “I may even try that Facebook thing that everyone talks about. Besides, once I get back on my feet I can come for a visit. You know I won’t miss dancing at your wedding!”
Elena rolled her eyes, “Rachel!”
-ooo-
Walter thumbed his phone on, “Halstrom.”
A familiar cheerful voice greeted him, “Hey, Walter, how ya doing? It’s Percy Winkley. Listen, I finally found something out about that statue of yours. Let me tell you, it took some digging!”
“I appreciate your diligence, Percy,” Walter assured him, “what did you find out?”
“No problem, I like a challenge. Well, Azuria was correct about the writing on the base, it is Sumerian, but a very obscure dialect that it took me a while to track down. It seems that the statue is a depiction of Ereshkigal, their goddess of the dead.”
“Ah, I’ve heard of that one,” Walter remarked, “not a kind and gentle goddess as I recall.”
Percy snorted, “You could say that. Identifying the figure didn’t take too long; it’s consistent with most depictions of Ereshkigal…the bat wings and so forth. The rest of the inscription was more difficult, but here’s what it says as close as anyone can tell: ‘Break the bonds of the grave and let the dead come forth, bound to my command. Let the dead harry the living to the ends of the earth’.” Percy chuckled, “It’s probably even more dramatic in the original Sumerian.”
Walter let out a low whistle, “It’ll do as it is. There’s little doubt what that means, and why someone might want it—at least if they don’t mind using murder and chaos to achieve their ends.”
“Yeah, presuming it works as we suppose, if someone had the statue and could recreate the ritual that activates it, that would…not be good. It’s lucky you have it and not one of the bad guys.”
“Yes, and I can’t tell you how much it thrills me to have it in my possession,” Walter said sardonically.
“Consider it ‘taking one for the team’,” Percy chuckled. “Funny thing, though, you said that the Tsoo and the Circle of Thorns are your prime suspects as the original owners and killers of your friend. Both groups already call spirits back from the dead, so why would they need the statue?”
“Maybe they think it would be faster and easier, maybe the spirits called this way would be more powerful…” He sighed, “I don’t know, I’ll give it some thought. Thanks again, Percy, you’ve been a big help.”
“Glad to help. Let me know if you run into anything else weird and scary,” Percy told him.
“Will do, Percy, take care,” Walter said as he hung up. A short while later, he was making a call of his own to Lieutenant Robbins.
Robbins grew more and more morose as Walter filled him in on what Percy had told him. “Well, that would be just great, an invasion of evil spirits on top of the Ritki and Praetorians and whatever the hell else we get around here. Does this get us any closer to who might have killed Burke?”
“It might,” Walter said cautiously. “Both the Circle and the Tsoo can already command spirits, though in relatively small numbers, and I’m not sure their leaders would want to cause as much havoc as this would produce. It’s possible that we have a small-time operator in one of these groups that’s trying to make a name for himself. Whoever originally acquired this might not know—or care—how potentially dangerous this is as long as it impresses his higher ups. That’s pure speculation on my part, of course.”
“Well, it’s something,” Robbins admitted. “It won’t hurt to do some checking for ambitious underlings.”
“I’d look at the Tsoo first,” Walter advised him. “I’ve heard recently that some have been seen in Skyway City.”
“Skyway? That’s not their usual turf—what’s in Skyway that would interest them?”
“I am,” Walter told him grimly, “that’s where I live.”
.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
Outstanding story. I thoroughly enjoy the characters and the situation to this point. I look forward to more. 
Thanks so much, Mind Phobia--there's more coming!
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
Pure romance this time; we get to go along on Walter and Elena's date. For those of you who aren't romance enthusiasts, take heart, there will be more Paragon City stuff in the next chapter.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 5
The next week was hectic for Elena. In addition to her usual workday, she spent time at the hospital with Mrs. Goodfield, and also assisting her friend’s son sort through her belongings. Some would travel to Atlanta with Rachel, the rest shipped or sold and Walter had been quite obliging in finding a reputable consignment shop for a few of the larger items. She was happy to help but she knew she would miss her friend very much, and it was with a heavy heart that she saw her off to the airport.
Elena was so busy that the days preceding her date with Walter passed quickly, and before she knew it she found herself in front of the mirror preparing for his arrival. She had made the time to buy a new dress for the occasion, ands she surveyed herself in it critically. It was midnight blue, an elegant choice, she thought, without being the more usual black. It clung to her curves just right, accentuating them but not giving too much emphasis to the stubborn last ten pounds that seemed totally impervious to any amount of diet or exercise.
“Not bad, if I say so myself,” she murmured aloud to the empty apartment. “What do you think, Cary:” she asked with a glance at Cary Grant’s handsome profile. “Would you be proud to be seen with me?”
He did not respond, but Horatio, who had been watching her from his favorite perch on the back of the couch, let out a plaintive ‘meow’. “Was that agreement or a complaint, pal?” she asked, scooping him into her arms for a hug and remembering too late that her dark dress would now be decorated with gray fur. She gave him an affectionate squeeze anyway. Horatio was settling in well, and she had to admit that it was a good feeling to come home to someone who was always glad to see her, even if it was because he knew his bowl would be filled soon.
The doorbell rang, and she hurriedly put the cat down and brushed the clinging fur from her dress before crossing the room to answer it.
-ooo-
Walter anxiously checked his tie and his hair for neatness one last time before pocketing his car keys and heading upstairs to Elena’s door. Not normally a nervous man, his experience with dating was rather limited, and in the back of his mind he worried that his inexperience might lead him to make some gaffe that would alienate his date. By and large his previous relationships with women had been while he was at university, and all had been fleeting and inconsequential. At the time he had been so focused on completing his degrees that a more lasting relationship seemed a low priority. Now that he had both the time and desire to find someone special he fervently hoped he had not missed the opportunity to do so.
That Elena was the other party involved on this occasion made the stakes all the higher; he found her fun and easy to talk to, but he did very much want her to think well of him. From their first encounter he had been drawn to her; her expressive green eyes lent her a guileless look that brought out all his protective instincts, but he had soon learned that behind them lay a sharp mind and a ready wit. Her kind heart and generous nature only added to her appeal for him.
He rang the bell and after some thumping and what sounded like muffled swearing Elena answered the door, a bit breathless and flushed. She was wearing a low-cut dark blue dress that was a sharp contrast to her normal work wear. She always looked well-dressed and attractive, but now she looked…stunning. Her long dark hair was pulled up in a loose style that emphasized her shapely neck and shoulders, and he had to remind himself not to stare. As a tall man, small women always made Walter feel oversized and clumsy, but Elena was precisely the size—and shape—that he found most desirable.
“You look lovely, Elena,” he murmured, a response that had the advantage of being both completely true and even in his limited experience he reasoned couldn’t possibly be the wrong thing to say.
Evidently it wasn’t. Elena reddened and said, “Thank you Walter, you look nice too. But then you always do.” She asked with a smile, “Do you even own a pair of jeans?”
Walter chuckled, “Well, Elena, my tailor deserves all the credit for my appearance, and since you ask, yes I do. Perhaps you’ll see them one day.” Her scent was doing something alarming to his brain; he so much wanted to touch her! Impulsively he reached down and gently caught her chin in his hand as he leaned close to kiss her cheek, asking softly, “Are you ready to go?”
Elena’s eyes widened and she caught her breath in surprise but didn’t look at all displeased. She nodded and collected her wrap and purse before they made their way downstairs to the car. Walter had considered his options carefully before deciding to drive. If he had been alone he would have taken the tram, but given the possibility that someone might come after him because of the statue he decided it wasn’t worth the risk of putting Elena in danger.
He had chosen a Mediterranean restaurant that he liked that was also near the theatre, and when they arrived he sensed that Elena was surprised at his choice. “We can go somewhere else if you prefer,” he said under his breath as they waited to be seated.
“No, no, this is fine,” she assured him. “It’s just that most men I know aren’t very adventurous when it comes to restaurants. It’s usually steak or Italian,” she chuckled. “Not that those are bad, of course, but I like trying something new.”
Emboldened by his success so far, Walter gave her a wry smile and remarked, “Is that my cue to say that you need to meet a better class of men, Elena?”
Elena raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in her eyes, “And here I thought I had, Walter.”
An hour later, Walter felt that the dinner had been an unqualified success; he had even been able to answer the inevitable questions about his family without too much difficulty. He had found that one advantage of being an orphan is the announcement of that fact generally forestalled further probing questions on the topic. Instead, Elena happily filled him in on her own family and the colorful cast of characters she encountered at work.
They finished their meal in plenty of time to reach the theatre before the curtain went up, and that’s where the troubles began. Walter had known nothing about the play other than the fact it was critically acclaimed and the tickets were hard to come by; to his chagrin it was not to his taste at all. It was one of those moody, modern tragedies that relied on—at least to his mind—a lot of brooding, morose people not speaking to each other, inevitably leading to entirely preventable tragic misunderstanding. He couldn’t tell for certain whether Elena was enjoying it any more than he was, though she did seem to be stirring restlessly as the end of the second act approached.
When the intermission came they filed into the lobby with the rest of the crowd, and Walter, feeling the need for a fortifying drink, acquired wine for the both of them at the bar. They found a corner of the lobby to themselves and after a sip of wine Elena remarked, “Well that was interesting.”
“Indeed,” Walter responded, searching his mind for a way to either find something intelligent to say about the play, or preferably, determine whether Elena was enjoying it herself. “So, Elena, I was just wondering” he began, hoping his motives weren’t too transparent, “whether this is the sort of thing you would choose for yourself if you were to go to a movie or play?”
She looked at him over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes widening in surprise, “As a matter of fact, no, Walter, it isn’t. Why do you ask?”
While Walter was attempting to think a polite circumlocution for his true opinion, he glanced back at Elena to see that she was trying not to laugh.
He sighed and said under his breath, “All right, Elena, how did you know?”
“It wasn’t that difficult to figure out, Walter, you were practically grinding your teeth during the second act,” she told him, her eyes merry.
He chuckled despite himself, “And I thought I was hiding it so well.” He met her eyes, “Do you wish to stay for the third act?”
“Well, we should,” Elena said virtuously.
“Don’t concern yourself with ‘should’, Elena, do you wish to see the rest? I think it highly unlikely that it will end happily.”
She sighed, “I know. And no, I really don’t want to stay. But what will we do instead?” Elena asked uncertainly.
“No doubt something will come to mind,” Walter told her.
Before he could suggest that they leave, Elena clutched his arm and said urgently, “Wait, Walter, I just remembered something!” She started to dig through her purse, and hissed, “Cover me, Walter!”
Guessing what she meant, he moved so his body blocked her from the sight of the other patrons. “Cover you?” he asked with a snort of amusement, “What are you planning to do, call in a black ops team for an emergency extraction?”
“Very funny,” Elena said sardonically, though the set of her lips told him that she did indeed think it was funny. “I need to check something on my email, but I’m sure everyone here would think it was rude that I’m doing that instead of saying erudite things about the play.”
She had her phone out and was rapidly scanning her email messages. She glanced up at him and said, “You could move in a little bit closer, they might think that you’re trying to get cozy. People always understand that motive,” she added dryly.
Walter was all too happy to oblige, sliding closer and resting an arm on the wall next to her. The heady scent of her hair and the warmth of her body were giving him definite ideas about how he’d like to spend the rest of the evening. He bent close to her ear and murmured, “Should I seem to be enjoying myself, Elena?”
She caught her breath and looked up at him, her eyes dark, “If…if you think you can make it realistic, Walter,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, I think I can manage that,” he said confidently.
Before he was too tempted to show her exactly just how much he was enjoying it, she exclaimed, “Got it! I was right, it is tonight!”
“What is tonight?’ he asked.
“I’ll explain in a minute.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright, “Can we leave now?”
“Of course, Elena.” He disposed of their wineglasses and a moment later they were on the sidewalk in front of the theatre.
Elena turned to him immediately and said, “I have a very important question to ask you, Walter.”
More than a little puzzled, Walter responded warily, “Yes, Elena?”
“Do you like old movies? I mean really old movies?” she asked, sounding a little nervous. “Because some people I know wouldn’t even consider watching a black-and-white movie.”
He stared at her for a moment before responding—this was her ‘very important question’? “I…I’m afraid I have not given it a great deal of thought, Elena, though I have no a priori objection to doing so.”
“I wondered because I do like old movies, and there’s a Preston Sturges film festival going on tonight at the Paramount, and although we missed Miracle at Morgan’s Creek, we can still make it in time for The Lady Eve if we hurry,” she added, smiling at him entreatingly.
As always, he found her enthusiasm infectious. Besides, the look on her face would have prompted him to agree even without the additional incentive of a chance to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with her in a dark theater. “I would love to go, Elena, though I must confess I know nothing about those movies or Preston...”
“Preston Sturges, he’s the director and he made very funny, very clever screwball comedies in the 30s and 40s,” she explained eagerly, taking his hand and walking quickly down the street toward the garage where the car was parked. “I think you’ll like the movie since you hated that horrible play. Everyone does stupid things, but they do them in a funny way and everything turns out all right in the end.”
He increased his speed to keep pace with her, his hand tightening on hers. “I think I will like it very much, Elena. Especially the part about everything turning out all right in the end.”
-ooo-
True to their predictions, Walter did enjoy himself, laughing along with Elena and the rest of the audience. And when he slid an arm around her shoulders, it felt wonderful to lean against his solid warmth.
As she had expected from his previous behavior, he was not a grabby date, but neither did her make her feel like ‘one of the guys’. The way he flirted with her and looked at her, though never overly suggestive, made it very clear that he found her attractive.
They stopped for a nightcap after the movie, so it was quite late when they returned to the apartment building. Walter offered to drop her off at the front door, but she refused, which he accepted without demur. He did seem a little wary and on edge during the several block walk from the parking space to the front door, but they arrived without incident.
He escorted her up the stairs to her door and for a moment they were silent, both feeling a little uncertain and shy. Finally Elena stepped close and clasped his hands, saying, “Thank you so much, Walter, I had a wonderful time.”
“As did I, Elena,” he replied, his voice caressing her name and sending a shiver up her spine. “Might I hope that we could do it again sometime soon?” he continued, the look in his eyes making her heart beat faster.
“Oh, yes Walter, I’d love to.” Feeling a little reckless, she moved closer and laid a hand on his cheek, then trailed it down his neck until it rested on his chest. He responded immediately, his breath quickening as his hands encircled her waist and he pulled her against him. It felt very, very good, and she found herself breathing hard in anticipation of what was to come.
“I was going to answer yes anyway,” she added breathlessly, “but how could I possibly say ‘no’ when you say my name in that sexy way? And I don’t even know how you do it,” she went on, all too aware that she was babbling nervously, “after all you pronounce my name like everyone else does…”
Walter chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest against hers. Before she could finish, he bent to brush his lips against hers and all thought fled. He kissed her lightly at first, but when she responded enthusiastically he pulled her close and kissed her more deeply. Elena was unsure whether it was because Walter was a very accomplished kisser or it was merely the effect of kissing someone she genuinely liked and was extremely attracted to; regardless, even though she had spent a fair amount of the evening wondering what it would be like to kiss him, actually doing so was…amazing.
Walter pulled away and it took a few seconds for Elena to gather her wits. She met his eyes and smiled, “Wow. That was…wow.”
“Indeed,” he chuckled, looking almost as dazed as she felt. “And it bears repeating,” he murmured, needing no prompting to gather her in his arms again. If anything, it felt even better this time than the first; her whole body felt as if it were melting and his hands sliding down her back to wrap around her waist made her tremble with desire. As she curled her fingers into his hair to urge him closer she knew she should be sensible and stop before things went too far. But another part of her was feeling not at all sensible, and wanted nothing more than to invite him in to her apartment and let whatever happened, happen.
Before she had a chance to decide what to do Walter released her, sighing softly in her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. “I know I must leave you to your rest, but by God it’s difficult!” he said, shaking his head regretfully. She realized this was the opportunity to ask him to stay if she wished, but he continued speaking and the moment passed. He cupped her chin in his hand and said decisively, “We will do this again soon, Elena.”
Happiness welled up inside Elena, making her giddy. Her arms still around his neck, she giggled, “A date, or this?” kissing him lightly on the lips.
Walter laughed and briefly embraced her again, “Both, definitely both.” He caught her eyes, holding her gaze intently, “I doubt I will be able to call tomorrow, I expect to be busy all day. But next week you will hear from me, hmm?”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Elena told him, still feeling quite reluctant to leave.
“And I would not find it amiss if you were to call me on occasion for something other than an emergency,” he told her with a smile.
“You do know, Walter, don’t you, that no one says ‘amiss’ anymore.” Elena leaned close and whispered, “But I love it when you do.” She sighed and gently touched his face, “Goodnight Walter.” Elena turned toward her door but before she could open it he caught her in his arms for one more breathless kiss.
“Goodnight Elena my dear,” he said softly as he released her. She hurried through the door before her lingering urge to invite him in got the best of her.
Horatio was waiting by the door and she gleefully caught him in her arms. Once she heard Walter striding down the stairs to his own apartment she spun around with the surprised cat, crying, “Best date ever!” before collapsing contentedly on the couch.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
Okay that was great. I know most of us wish our dates went that well. Still, it was nice to see not everything was perfect. And that Walter can make a mistake now and again. Well written elegant date and another thoroughly enjoyable read.
And yeah, incurable romantic at heart, so shoot me. 
Quote:
Thanks so much! Believe me, I wish I had ever had a date that went anything close to that well. And yes, Walter is definitely not perfect--don't be surprised if you see him make another mistake or two before the story is finished.|
Originally Posted by Mind Phobia
Okay that was great. I know most of us wish our dates went that well. Still, it was nice to see not everything was perfect. And that Walter can make a mistake now and again. Well written elegant date and another thoroughly enjoyable read.
|
Quote:
|
And yeah, incurable romantic at heart, so shoot me.
|
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
As promised, there’s some actual superhero action in this chapter, hope you enjoy it!
Also, a disclaimer: the sentiments expressed by the characters in this chapter do not necessarily reflect the views of the author, especially regarding the name ‘Walter’.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 6
Walter frowned at the computer screen; when his cell phone rang he answered it distractedly without noting the number of the person calling. “Halstrom.”
“Is this Walter Halstrom?” Elena’s voice purred; Walter’s attention was now completely focused on the phone call. “The oh-so-thoughtful man who sent me the beautiful flowers yesterday?”
“The very same, Elena,” he replied, grinning to himself.
“Well, I’m coming to Founder’s Falls for an errand, and since I’ve never seen your shop, I thought I might stop by to thank you in person for the flowers.”
The tone of her voice suggested a kind of ‘thanking’ that he knew he would enjoy, so his response was enthusiastic. ‘I would like that very much Elena,” he said eagerly, “when will you be here?”
“I’m just getting on the tram now, so about fifteen or twenty minutes if that works for you.”
He scanned the room to ascertain whether there was anything visible that would be undesirable or dangerous for her to know about, but saw nothing. “That would be fine; I look forward to seeing you, Elena.”
“See you soon, Walter,” Elena said and rung off.
Twenty minutes later the bell rang and he let Elena in. He was having trouble resisting grinning like a fool, and she looked shy and excited in equal parts at seeing him again after their memorable goodnight kiss a few days before. Deciding that doing what he’d most like to do—kiss her again—was probably not the best initial approach, he took her hand and gave her a brief tour of the shop.
“I’m afraid there’s not much to see,” he said apologetically, “just the front room, the workroom and a couple of storage areas. But it’s enough for my needs.”
They were in the workroom; Walter leaning against the edge of the desk, Elena taking in all the strange objects on the shelves against the walls.
“So some of these things are magical?” she asked curiously. “Are any dangerous?”
“Some of the items here are magical,” he told her with a shrug, “but none are dangerous. I have a few items that could be, but they’re all in secure storage. You can look at anything you like here.”
“I may do that later,” she told him with a smile. She sidled closer to him, “But first, Walter, about those flowers…”
“Did you like them?” he asked a little shyly, reaching up to touch her face.
“I loved them,” she breathed, “but do you have any idea what you’ve set in motion?”
“Evidently not,” he replied with a nervous chuckle, his eyes widening in consternation.
Elena’s eyes glinted with amusement, “Most of the employees at the community center are women, and saying that one of us unexpectedly getting two dozen red roses tends to incite comment is a huge understatement. I’m sure every single person there knew I had the flowers before the deliveryman made it back to the parking lot.”
“Is that a problem, Elena?” Walter asked anxiously, “I am sorry if I should not have sent them to you at work, I thought you would get more of a chance to enjoy them there than at home. It’s just that I…I was thinking of you and wanted you to know it.”
She put her arms around his neck, “Oh, Walter, there’s no need to apologize! It was just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, and I love them, truly. And I’ve been thinking about you since Saturday…constantly.”
The invitation in her eyes was clear; Walter put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, “So you’ve no need of a…reminder?”
She appeared to ponder this question for a moment, “Need? No, but want?” One finger traced the skin visible in the open collar of his shirt and she smiled, “Definitely yes.”
He grinned in reply, “That can certainly be arranged.” Their lips met and she melted against him with a sigh of pleasure.
When he released her she leaned against him contentedly and said, “The only real problem is that now everyone is simply burning with curiosity about you.”
“So what do you suggest I do, Elena?” he asked. “Avoid them assiduously or brave their scrutiny and boldly show up one day to take you to lunch?”
Elena chuckled, “I’d only recommend the lunch thing if you don’t mind setting off a riot.” She dimpled, “When do you think you could come?”
“Name the day, Elena, and I’ll be there.”
Suddenly, Elena cried, “I can’t believe I almost forgot, but I was going to ask you something else, Walter. I…I know it’s short notice, but my friend Melissa from work—I think I mentioned her—” at Walter’s nod, she continued, “she has some free tickets from a new comedy club that’s opening in Peregrine Island tonight and she wants me to go with her. She says she can get another ticket if you want to go.”
Walter’s heart sank, the last thing he wanted was to have her feel that he was unwilling to spend time with her or meet her friends. He took her hand, “I’m truly sorry, Elena, I would love to go with you—and meet Melissa—but I have a previous commitment tonight that I cannot miss.”
Her face fell, but she smiled, “That’s all right Walter, I understand. Maybe some other time.”
She had looked away so he lifted her chin until their eyes met, “When I said we would get together again soon, I meant it, Elena. As a matter of fact, I was wondering whether you’d like to come over to my apartment on Saturday night, and I’ll make dinner for us. I had originally thought it would be just the two of us, but if you’d like to invite Melissa also…”
Elena’s face lit, “Oh, no, just the two of us sounds perfect,” she assured him, “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet Melissa another time.” Suddenly her eyes narrowed, “Wait a minute! Walter, are you telling me that you cook?”
“Umm, yes?” he answered hesitantly, a little taken aback, “I’m no master chef, but I do well enough. Why do you ask?”
She rolled her eyes, “It just figures. Do you iron, too?”
Walter stared at her, aghast. “You mean, clothes?” At her nod, he exclaimed, “Good Lord, no. My dry cleaner deserves as much credit for my appearance as my tailor. And since I suspect you’re going to ask about it as well, I have a cleaning service for my apartment.”
Elena laughed, “Well that’s a relief, I’d hate to have to turn you in to some women’s magazine as a paragon of manly virtue.”
Walter quirked a smile at her, “Please don’t, Elena, that sounds quite painful as well as embarrassing.” At that moment a low chime resounded through the shop and Walter cursed to himself. What terrible timing! Elena could not hear the chime since it was attuned to his ears alone, but it meant that someone had used the portal hidden in a back corner of one of the storage rooms. He was not worried that they were in any danger; if his wards had been breached there would have been a far different and more urgent sound. However, he hoped whichever of his associates had arrived would have the sense to stay out of sight until Elena left.
“So Saturday around 7:00, Elena?” Walter asked.
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll bring some wine.” She sighed and leaned against him. “I suppose I should go and do the errand I’m supposed to be doing instead of canoodling with you.”
“Canoodling?” Walter repeated, his brow furrowed, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that word.”
“Oh, it just means…” she made a vague hand gesture, “what we’ve been doing.”
“Talking?” he asked, eyes wide in feigned innocence.
“Very funny,” she snorted. “No, everything else, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.” She pulled away from him and made ready to leave, glancing at him severely, “I’d better leave before you lure me into more canoodling.”
He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll restrain myself, I promise.”
Elena took his hand and they walked together to the front door. “That’s enough restraint for now,” she said with a smile, sliding her arms around his neck. He took his cue readily enough; he was a little uncomfortable knowing they weren’t alone, but Elena would certainly think it odd if he refused to kiss her goodbye!
A few minutes later he closed the door behind her, and made his way into the workroom to see who had arrived. Walter found a slender woman with short brown hair sitting in his chair with her feet on the desk. She was wearing a skintight outfit of what looked to be metal. It covered her from neck to ankles, but was revealing nonetheless since it clung to her curves as if it had been painted on.
She smirked when he walked in, “Well, well. You are interested in women after all. We were beginning to wonder.”
Walter snorted, “When have I given you cause to think any different?
“Never, admittedly, but we’ve had damn little to go on lately. She doesn’t look familiar in civvies, is she anyone I know?”
‘No, there is no reason you would know her. Not that it’s any of your business, of course, but since I’m certain you will hound me until I tell you, her name is Elena Samuelson and she is a social worker. She lives in my apartment building in Skyway. And Silver,” he added, glaring at her, “get out of my chair.”
“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, vacating the chair, “you’re a little snappy for a guy who’s finally getting some.”
He rolled his eyes and reclaimed the chair before saying, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Is there anything in particular you want?”
“Just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight,” Silver responded, perching on the edge of the desk. "And what’s with that note you left about the storage in the generator room?”
“Yes, we’re still on, why wouldn’t we be? I gave up an opportunity to go out with Elena because of it,” he grumbled. “I thought the note was clear enough, I put something in the storage area in the generator room that should not be touched. It’s warded and dangerous, so leave it alone.”
“Anything we should know about?” Silver asked curiously.
He shook his head, “No, just something I picked up that has proved to be much more trouble than it’s worth. So no visitors for now, understood?”
“Yes sir, understood, sir!” she said giving him a mocking salute. She leaned across the desk in front of him, “So this Elena is a civilian, huh? I take it she doesn’t know about...” she made a circling motion with her hand, “us?”
He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, “No, though I want to tell her soon.”
Silver started, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Watch? I mean, you can’t have been dating her for very long. Are you sure you can trust her?”
Walter looked away for a moment and then met her eyes, “She…means something to me, Silver, though only time will tell how much. I would not have this secret between us. She is a good person; she will not reveal what she knows even if things don’t work out for us.” He snorted and sat back in his chair, “Besides, even if I’m wrong I’m the only one at risk. I’ll make certain you and the others are safe.”
Silver blew out her breath, “Okay, it’s your neck.” Then she closed her eyes for a moment and exclaimed, “Damn it, I’d forgotten about that!” Walter raised an inquiring eyebrow at her and she said sheepishly, “Tabby and I had a bet; I said ‘gay’ and she said ‘straight’. Now I owe her fifty bucks,” she added glumly. “I don’t suppose you’d back me if I tell her I found you kissing a guy…”
Walter gave her a level look of extreme unamusement.
Silver sighed, “Didn’t think so.”
“But Walter?” Melissa asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “If this guy is so gorgeous and wonderful, why is he named Walter?”
Elena and her friend were on their way to the club and congenially squabbling about what was by far the most interesting topic of the moment: Elena’s new man.
Elena rolled her eyes, “Melissa, don’t be an idiot! I admit that his name is…not great, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a terrific guy in other ways. Besides, he was born in Europe—Germany I think—so maybe ‘Walter’ isn’t so nerdy-sounding there.”
Her friend looked skeptical. “I suppose. You must admit, though, that’s it’s definitely on the ‘minus’ side of the ledger. Okay then, let’s look at the ‘plus’ side: you say he’s tall, handsome, and buff…”
She looked over at Elena for confirmation, but she was staring at nothing with a small smile on her face. Melissa elbowed her to get her attention and she started, “What? Oh yes, very buff.”
Melissa looked at her friend severely, “Elena, you need to focus here, we’re doing pluses and minuses. Where were we? Oh yes, pluses; you say he owns his own business and seems to have plenty of money that he doesn’t mind spending on you—a very big plus in my book—” she added parenthetically, “dresses well, gentlemanly with good manners…anything else?”
“He has a good sense of humor,” Elena added, “and a kind heart, he was very helpful and considerate when Mrs. Goodfield was hurt.”
“Okay, I’ll allow them,” Melissa said airily. “Any more minuses?”
“Hmm, let me think,” Elena answered. “Well, he has glasses and a beard; I suppose some people might think those are minuses, but I think he looks great anyway. Oh, yes, one other thing, he’s an orphan.”
Melissa stared at her in surprise, “Elena, what are you talking about? Being an orphan is definitely a plus!”
“It is?”
“Oh yes! It means no bitchy mother or trashy relatives that want to borrow money. And no fighting about whose relatives to visit at holidays,” Melissa assured her. Then she shook her head, “You know, you’re right, Elena. Even if you include the glasses and beard, which I agree are marginal, this guy’s pluses far outweigh his minuses.”
Elena smiled triumphantly, “See, I told you!”
Melissa looked at her friend pityingly, “Elena, haven’t you heard the expression, ‘too good to be true’?”
“Of course I have,” Elena retorted, “what does that have to do with Walter?”
Her friend made a face, “Well, let’s just say it seems unlikely that any guy would be so great and his only negative is a nerdy name. And you really don’t know much about him, after all—I mean, he could have a wife and five kids in the Rogue Isles or be the undercover agent of an evil, super-secret organization.”
Elena glared at her, “Melissa, now you are just making things up to irritate me. Why couldn’t he be exactly what he seems to be? And don’t you dare mention that Arachnos agent; I only went out with him once and I didn’t like him nearly as much as I do Walter!”
Melissa raised her eyebrows, eloquently expressing her skepticism, “Whatever you say, Elena. Just be glad you didn’t sleep with him, that would be really awkward if you find out he has some horrible secret.”
She glanced at her friend, who had fallen silent with a pensive look on her face. “Elena, you didn’t sleep with him, did you?” she asked apprehensively.
“No, no, of course not,” Elena said hurriedly. “But I was…tempted. Very tempted,” she added, reddening. She sighed, recognizing the expression on her friend’s face, “He’s a really good kisser, Melissa, really good. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone I like so much, and then with my insteps and all…”
“Your what?” Melissa asked in confusion.
Elena paused for a moment and waggled one foot, “You know, my insteps.”
Melissa stared at her as if she had gone mad, “Elena, what on earth do your feet have to do with it?”
Elena sighed, “Do you remember The Philadelphia Story?”
Still baffled, Melissa nodded, “The movie? Sure. You’ve only made me watch it five times,” she added, rolling her eyes.
Warming to her subject, Elena explained, “There’s a scene during the party—you know, when Katharine Hepburn is wearing the gorgeous dress with the sequined panels down the front—and she kisses Jimmy Stewart. Do you remember that part?”
“I think so. Unlike you, I don’t have the entire movie memorized,” Melissa noted sarcastically.
Elena ignored the barb, “Anyway, it must have been a really great kiss, because after he kisses her she says, ‘my insteps are melting’. And that’s what it was like when Walter kissed me after our date,” she noted happily.
“Okay, I guess that explains it. Sort of,” Melissa responded, still looking unconvinced. Then she started and glanced back at Elena. “Wait a minute, Katharine Hepburn doesn’t even end up with Jimmy Stewart—she marries Cary Grant!”
Elena scowled at her, “Trust you to remember that!”
Her friend snorted derisively, “It’s kind of the main point of the movie, Elena!”
The two women were so engrossed in their argument that they forgot one of the primary rules for residents of Paragon City, which was to always scan the street ahead for potential hazards in the form of villains, super-powered or otherwise. They rounded a corner without looking, and were stopped short by a half dozen low, barrel-shaped robots just a few yards ahead. Elena gasped, and her hope that they had not noticed the women was immediately dashed when the robots began hissing steam and clanking, advancing on them with their stubby legs. The robots’ intentions were clear as well; each of them extended several lethal-looking arms from the round bodies and pointed them at the women.
Elena froze for a moment, grasping her friend’s arm, then said in a nervous undertone, “Back up, Melissa, maybe they won’t follow.”
Before they could put their plan into action, a body literally fell from the skies and landed lightly between them and the robots. It was a young woman in blue, with, of all things, cat ears and a tail. Oh my God, I think we’ve been rescued by a cat girl, was Elena’s first coherent thought.
The young woman smiled at them from behind her mask, saying, “You might want to back up a bit, ladies, Jaegers explode if they take enough damage.” She extended claws from her hands and began slashing at the robots. Elena fought the urge to giggle hysterically, Of course, what else would she do?
They backed up as she suggested, and since it seemed the immediate danger was over, Elena took the opportunity to get a better look at their rescuer. She was tall with blond hair in a wedge cut and enviably long legs that were accentuated by her costume, a very short blue skirt and a matching corset top. It was a revealing ensemble for street wear, but not at all outrageous for a superhero costume. Elena sighed, the young woman was quite pretty and looked barely old enough to drink; she would have cheerfully hated her if it weren’t for the fact that she was methodically dismantling the Jaegers with no obvious concern for her own safety.
A man’s voice, slightly accented, called out—evidently to the young superhero, “Tabby, do you require any assistance?”
Elena’s heart clenched. A man’s voice, a very familiar voice, and one she was sure had heard just a few hours earlier. Telling herself she was imagining things, she looked up to see two figures hovering above them; a brown-haired woman wearing a costume of gleaming silver, and a man; tall, broad-shouldered with dark wavy hair and close-cropped beard. His costume was metal as well; but also clearly armor and it had a symbol that appeared to be a stylized eye across the chest. He was also carrying a large, wicked-looking mace, a very appropriate accompaniment to the armor. Her heart in her throat, Elena looked away.
The young woman—Tabby—answered him, “Nah, I got it, Watch. Almost done.”
Meanwhile, well over her fright, Melissa was talking excitedly, “Oooh, I recognize them now; they were mentioned a couple of years ago in the “New Capes in Town” feature on Heroes. Remember, I told you to watch that show.” She nodded to Tabby, who was finishing off the last Jaeger, “That’s Blue Tabby, and the other woman is Silver…something, and the man is…Watcher’s Hand!” She nudged her friend, “Now, he’s cute, if you ask me.” The remaining Jaeger had exploded, so Melissa rushed over to thank Blue Tabby personally and get her moment of reflected glory.
Elena finally gathered the courage to raise her eyes to examine the man again. He was wearing a mask and far enough away that she couldn’t be certain that what she suspected was correct, despite the similarities in voice and appearance. She had almost convinced herself that it couldn’t possibly be him when he happened to glance her way and their eyes met and held. The shock of recognition on his part was immediate and unmistakable; his eyes widened and he gasped in surprise—there was no question that he knew who she was and was not happy to see her.
Tears stung her eyes, though in truth she didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. Her great, perfect guy, that she had defended to her friend just a few minutes before as being nothing more than he seemed… Her sweet, wonderful Walter, who she had to admit she was already more than half in love with, was keeping a big, fat secret from her. Elena glanced up again to see that he was gone, and with him, her remaining composure. She choked back a sob and staggered over to sit on a nearby bench, struggling to regain control over her emotions.
She dimly heard Blue Tabby say, “Ma’am, your friend looks kind of upset; maybe you should make sure she’s all right.”
Melissa hurried back to her side, full of assurances that the danger was over. Elena almost laughed; the incident with those stupid robots seemed so trivial now in comparison to the revelation about Walter. “Its okay, Melissa,” she told her friend, “I’m just a little shaken up. Let’s get to the club—a stiff drink and I’ll be fine.”
Her friend helped her stand and they continued their interrupted journey to the comedy club, Melissa burbling happily, “That was so cool! The robots were scary, of course, but it was great meeting a real superhero, and she was so nice.” After a moment, she added, “I wonder which one that good-looking Watcher’s Hand is involved with—you know superheroes always date other superheroes.”
Chapter 6
Walter frowned at the computer screen; when his cell phone rang he answered it distractedly without noting the number of the person calling. “Halstrom.”
“Is this Walter Halstrom?” Elena’s voice purred; Walter’s attention was now completely focused on the phone call. “The oh-so-thoughtful man who sent me the beautiful flowers yesterday?”
“The very same, Elena,” he replied, grinning to himself.
“Well, I’m coming to Founder’s Falls for an errand, and since I’ve never seen your shop, I thought I might stop by to thank you in person for the flowers.”
The tone of her voice suggested a kind of ‘thanking’ that he knew he would enjoy, so his response was enthusiastic. ‘I would like that very much Elena,” he said eagerly, “when will you be here?”
“I’m just getting on the tram now, so about fifteen or twenty minutes if that works for you.”
He scanned the room to ascertain whether there was anything visible that would be undesirable or dangerous for her to know about, but saw nothing. “That would be fine; I look forward to seeing you, Elena.”
“See you soon, Walter,” Elena said and rung off.
Twenty minutes later the bell rang and he let Elena in. He was having trouble resisting grinning like a fool, and she looked shy and excited in equal parts at seeing him again after their memorable goodnight kiss a few days before. Deciding that doing what he’d most like to do—kiss her again—was probably not the best initial approach, he took her hand and gave her a brief tour of the shop.
“I’m afraid there’s not much to see,” he said apologetically, “just the front room, the workroom and a couple of storage areas. But it’s enough for my needs.”
They were in the workroom; Walter leaning against the edge of the desk, Elena taking in all the strange objects on the shelves against the walls.
“So some of these things are magical?” she asked curiously. “Are any dangerous?”
“Some of the items here are magical,” he told her with a shrug, “but none are dangerous. I have a few items that could be, but they’re all in secure storage. You can look at anything you like here.”
“I may do that later,” she told him with a smile. She sidled closer to him, “But first, Walter, about those flowers…”
“Did you like them?” he asked a little shyly, reaching up to touch her face.
“I loved them,” she breathed, “but do you have any idea what you’ve set in motion?”
“Evidently not,” he replied with a nervous chuckle, his eyes widening in consternation.
Elena’s eyes glinted with amusement, “Most of the employees at the community center are women, and saying that one of us unexpectedly getting two dozen red roses tends to incite comment is a huge understatement. I’m sure every single person there knew I had the flowers before the deliveryman made it back to the parking lot.”
“Is that a problem, Elena?” Walter asked anxiously, “I am sorry if I should not have sent them to you at work, I thought you would get more of a chance to enjoy them there than at home. It’s just that I…I was thinking of you and wanted you to know it.”
She put her arms around his neck, “Oh, Walter, there’s no need to apologize! It was just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, and I love them, truly. And I’ve been thinking about you since Saturday…constantly.”
The invitation in her eyes was clear; Walter put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, “So you’ve no need of a…reminder?”
She appeared to ponder this question for a moment, “Need? No, but want?” One finger traced the skin visible in the open collar of his shirt and she smiled, “Definitely yes.”
He grinned in reply, “That can certainly be arranged.” Their lips met and she melted against him with a sigh of pleasure.
When he released her she leaned against him contentedly and said, “The only real problem is that now everyone is simply burning with curiosity about you.”
“So what do you suggest I do, Elena?” he asked. “Avoid them assiduously or brave their scrutiny and boldly show up one day to take you to lunch?”
Elena chuckled, “I’d only recommend the lunch thing if you don’t mind setting off a riot.” She dimpled, “When do you think you could come?”
“Name the day, Elena, and I’ll be there.”
Suddenly, Elena cried, “I can’t believe I almost forgot, but I was going to ask you something else, Walter. I…I know it’s short notice, but my friend Melissa from work—I think I mentioned her—” at Walter’s nod, she continued, “she has some free tickets from a new comedy club that’s opening in Peregrine Island tonight and she wants me to go with her. She says she can get another ticket if you want to go.”
Walter’s heart sank, the last thing he wanted was to have her feel that he was unwilling to spend time with her or meet her friends. He took her hand, “I’m truly sorry, Elena, I would love to go with you—and meet Melissa—but I have a previous commitment tonight that I cannot miss.”
Her face fell, but she smiled, “That’s all right Walter, I understand. Maybe some other time.”
She had looked away so he lifted her chin until their eyes met, “When I said we would get together again soon, I meant it, Elena. As a matter of fact, I was wondering whether you’d like to come over to my apartment on Saturday night, and I’ll make dinner for us. I had originally thought it would be just the two of us, but if you’d like to invite Melissa also…”
Elena’s face lit, “Oh, no, just the two of us sounds perfect,” she assured him, “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet Melissa another time.” Suddenly her eyes narrowed, “Wait a minute! Walter, are you telling me that you cook?”
“Umm, yes?” he answered hesitantly, a little taken aback, “I’m no master chef, but I do well enough. Why do you ask?”
She rolled her eyes, “It just figures. Do you iron, too?”
Walter stared at her, aghast. “You mean, clothes?” At her nod, he exclaimed, “Good Lord, no. My dry cleaner deserves as much credit for my appearance as my tailor. And since I suspect you’re going to ask about it as well, I have a cleaning service for my apartment.”
Elena laughed, “Well that’s a relief, I’d hate to have to turn you in to some women’s magazine as a paragon of manly virtue.”
Walter quirked a smile at her, “Please don’t, Elena, that sounds quite painful as well as embarrassing.” At that moment a low chime resounded through the shop and Walter cursed to himself. What terrible timing! Elena could not hear the chime since it was attuned to his ears alone, but it meant that someone had used the portal hidden in a back corner of one of the storage rooms. He was not worried that they were in any danger; if his wards had been breached there would have been a far different and more urgent sound. However, he hoped whichever of his associates had arrived would have the sense to stay out of sight until Elena left.
“So Saturday around 7:00, Elena?” Walter asked.
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll bring some wine.” She sighed and leaned against him. “I suppose I should go and do the errand I’m supposed to be doing instead of canoodling with you.”
“Canoodling?” Walter repeated, his brow furrowed, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that word.”
“Oh, it just means…” she made a vague hand gesture, “what we’ve been doing.”
“Talking?” he asked, eyes wide in feigned innocence.
“Very funny,” she snorted. “No, everything else, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.” She pulled away from him and made ready to leave, glancing at him severely, “I’d better leave before you lure me into more canoodling.”
He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll restrain myself, I promise.”
Elena took his hand and they walked together to the front door. “That’s enough restraint for now,” she said with a smile, sliding her arms around his neck. He took his cue readily enough; he was a little uncomfortable knowing they weren’t alone, but Elena would certainly think it odd if he refused to kiss her goodbye!
A few minutes later he closed the door behind her, and made his way into the workroom to see who had arrived. Walter found a slender woman with short brown hair sitting in his chair with her feet on the desk. She was wearing a skintight outfit of what looked to be metal. It covered her from neck to ankles, but was revealing nonetheless since it clung to her curves as if it had been painted on.
She smirked when he walked in, “Well, well. You are interested in women after all. We were beginning to wonder.”
Walter snorted, “When have I given you cause to think any different?
“Never, admittedly, but we’ve had damn little to go on lately. She doesn’t look familiar in civvies, is she anyone I know?”
‘No, there is no reason you would know her. Not that it’s any of your business, of course, but since I’m certain you will hound me until I tell you, her name is Elena Samuelson and she is a social worker. She lives in my apartment building in Skyway. And Silver,” he added, glaring at her, “get out of my chair.”
“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, vacating the chair, “you’re a little snappy for a guy who’s finally getting some.”
He rolled his eyes and reclaimed the chair before saying, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Is there anything in particular you want?”
“Just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight,” Silver responded, perching on the edge of the desk. "And what’s with that note you left about the storage in the generator room?”
“Yes, we’re still on, why wouldn’t we be? I gave up an opportunity to go out with Elena because of it,” he grumbled. “I thought the note was clear enough, I put something in the storage area in the generator room that should not be touched. It’s warded and dangerous, so leave it alone.”
“Anything we should know about?” Silver asked curiously.
He shook his head, “No, just something I picked up that has proved to be much more trouble than it’s worth. So no visitors for now, understood?”
“Yes sir, understood, sir!” she said giving him a mocking salute. She leaned across the desk in front of him, “So this Elena is a civilian, huh? I take it she doesn’t know about...” she made a circling motion with her hand, “us?”
He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, “No, though I want to tell her soon.”
Silver started, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Watch? I mean, you can’t have been dating her for very long. Are you sure you can trust her?”
Walter looked away for a moment and then met her eyes, “She…means something to me, Silver, though only time will tell how much. I would not have this secret between us. She is a good person; she will not reveal what she knows even if things don’t work out for us.” He snorted and sat back in his chair, “Besides, even if I’m wrong I’m the only one at risk. I’ll make certain you and the others are safe.”
Silver blew out her breath, “Okay, it’s your neck.” Then she closed her eyes for a moment and exclaimed, “Damn it, I’d forgotten about that!” Walter raised an inquiring eyebrow at her and she said sheepishly, “Tabby and I had a bet; I said ‘gay’ and she said ‘straight’. Now I owe her fifty bucks,” she added glumly. “I don’t suppose you’d back me if I tell her I found you kissing a guy…”
Walter gave her a level look of extreme unamusement.
Silver sighed, “Didn’t think so.”
-ooo-
“But Walter?” Melissa asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “If this guy is so gorgeous and wonderful, why is he named Walter?”
Elena and her friend were on their way to the club and congenially squabbling about what was by far the most interesting topic of the moment: Elena’s new man.
Elena rolled her eyes, “Melissa, don’t be an idiot! I admit that his name is…not great, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a terrific guy in other ways. Besides, he was born in Europe—Germany I think—so maybe ‘Walter’ isn’t so nerdy-sounding there.”
Her friend looked skeptical. “I suppose. You must admit, though, that’s it’s definitely on the ‘minus’ side of the ledger. Okay then, let’s look at the ‘plus’ side: you say he’s tall, handsome, and buff…”
She looked over at Elena for confirmation, but she was staring at nothing with a small smile on her face. Melissa elbowed her to get her attention and she started, “What? Oh yes, very buff.”
Melissa looked at her friend severely, “Elena, you need to focus here, we’re doing pluses and minuses. Where were we? Oh yes, pluses; you say he owns his own business and seems to have plenty of money that he doesn’t mind spending on you—a very big plus in my book—” she added parenthetically, “dresses well, gentlemanly with good manners…anything else?”
“He has a good sense of humor,” Elena added, “and a kind heart, he was very helpful and considerate when Mrs. Goodfield was hurt.”
“Okay, I’ll allow them,” Melissa said airily. “Any more minuses?”
“Hmm, let me think,” Elena answered. “Well, he has glasses and a beard; I suppose some people might think those are minuses, but I think he looks great anyway. Oh, yes, one other thing, he’s an orphan.”
Melissa stared at her in surprise, “Elena, what are you talking about? Being an orphan is definitely a plus!”
“It is?”
“Oh yes! It means no bitchy mother or trashy relatives that want to borrow money. And no fighting about whose relatives to visit at holidays,” Melissa assured her. Then she shook her head, “You know, you’re right, Elena. Even if you include the glasses and beard, which I agree are marginal, this guy’s pluses far outweigh his minuses.”
Elena smiled triumphantly, “See, I told you!”
Melissa looked at her friend pityingly, “Elena, haven’t you heard the expression, ‘too good to be true’?”
“Of course I have,” Elena retorted, “what does that have to do with Walter?”
Her friend made a face, “Well, let’s just say it seems unlikely that any guy would be so great and his only negative is a nerdy name. And you really don’t know much about him, after all—I mean, he could have a wife and five kids in the Rogue Isles or be the undercover agent of an evil, super-secret organization.”
Elena glared at her, “Melissa, now you are just making things up to irritate me. Why couldn’t he be exactly what he seems to be? And don’t you dare mention that Arachnos agent; I only went out with him once and I didn’t like him nearly as much as I do Walter!”
Melissa raised her eyebrows, eloquently expressing her skepticism, “Whatever you say, Elena. Just be glad you didn’t sleep with him, that would be really awkward if you find out he has some horrible secret.”
She glanced at her friend, who had fallen silent with a pensive look on her face. “Elena, you didn’t sleep with him, did you?” she asked apprehensively.
“No, no, of course not,” Elena said hurriedly. “But I was…tempted. Very tempted,” she added, reddening. She sighed, recognizing the expression on her friend’s face, “He’s a really good kisser, Melissa, really good. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone I like so much, and then with my insteps and all…”
“Your what?” Melissa asked in confusion.
Elena paused for a moment and waggled one foot, “You know, my insteps.”
Melissa stared at her as if she had gone mad, “Elena, what on earth do your feet have to do with it?”
Elena sighed, “Do you remember The Philadelphia Story?”
Still baffled, Melissa nodded, “The movie? Sure. You’ve only made me watch it five times,” she added, rolling her eyes.
Warming to her subject, Elena explained, “There’s a scene during the party—you know, when Katharine Hepburn is wearing the gorgeous dress with the sequined panels down the front—and she kisses Jimmy Stewart. Do you remember that part?”
“I think so. Unlike you, I don’t have the entire movie memorized,” Melissa noted sarcastically.
Elena ignored the barb, “Anyway, it must have been a really great kiss, because after he kisses her she says, ‘my insteps are melting’. And that’s what it was like when Walter kissed me after our date,” she noted happily.
“Okay, I guess that explains it. Sort of,” Melissa responded, still looking unconvinced. Then she started and glanced back at Elena. “Wait a minute, Katharine Hepburn doesn’t even end up with Jimmy Stewart—she marries Cary Grant!”
Elena scowled at her, “Trust you to remember that!”
Her friend snorted derisively, “It’s kind of the main point of the movie, Elena!”
The two women were so engrossed in their argument that they forgot one of the primary rules for residents of Paragon City, which was to always scan the street ahead for potential hazards in the form of villains, super-powered or otherwise. They rounded a corner without looking, and were stopped short by a half dozen low, barrel-shaped robots just a few yards ahead. Elena gasped, and her hope that they had not noticed the women was immediately dashed when the robots began hissing steam and clanking, advancing on them with their stubby legs. The robots’ intentions were clear as well; each of them extended several lethal-looking arms from the round bodies and pointed them at the women.
Elena froze for a moment, grasping her friend’s arm, then said in a nervous undertone, “Back up, Melissa, maybe they won’t follow.”
Before they could put their plan into action, a body literally fell from the skies and landed lightly between them and the robots. It was a young woman in blue, with, of all things, cat ears and a tail. Oh my God, I think we’ve been rescued by a cat girl, was Elena’s first coherent thought.
The young woman smiled at them from behind her mask, saying, “You might want to back up a bit, ladies, Jaegers explode if they take enough damage.” She extended claws from her hands and began slashing at the robots. Elena fought the urge to giggle hysterically, Of course, what else would she do?
They backed up as she suggested, and since it seemed the immediate danger was over, Elena took the opportunity to get a better look at their rescuer. She was tall with blond hair in a wedge cut and enviably long legs that were accentuated by her costume, a very short blue skirt and a matching corset top. It was a revealing ensemble for street wear, but not at all outrageous for a superhero costume. Elena sighed, the young woman was quite pretty and looked barely old enough to drink; she would have cheerfully hated her if it weren’t for the fact that she was methodically dismantling the Jaegers with no obvious concern for her own safety.
A man’s voice, slightly accented, called out—evidently to the young superhero, “Tabby, do you require any assistance?”
Elena’s heart clenched. A man’s voice, a very familiar voice, and one she was sure had heard just a few hours earlier. Telling herself she was imagining things, she looked up to see two figures hovering above them; a brown-haired woman wearing a costume of gleaming silver, and a man; tall, broad-shouldered with dark wavy hair and close-cropped beard. His costume was metal as well; but also clearly armor and it had a symbol that appeared to be a stylized eye across the chest. He was also carrying a large, wicked-looking mace, a very appropriate accompaniment to the armor. Her heart in her throat, Elena looked away.
The young woman—Tabby—answered him, “Nah, I got it, Watch. Almost done.”
Meanwhile, well over her fright, Melissa was talking excitedly, “Oooh, I recognize them now; they were mentioned a couple of years ago in the “New Capes in Town” feature on Heroes. Remember, I told you to watch that show.” She nodded to Tabby, who was finishing off the last Jaeger, “That’s Blue Tabby, and the other woman is Silver…something, and the man is…Watcher’s Hand!” She nudged her friend, “Now, he’s cute, if you ask me.” The remaining Jaeger had exploded, so Melissa rushed over to thank Blue Tabby personally and get her moment of reflected glory.
Elena finally gathered the courage to raise her eyes to examine the man again. He was wearing a mask and far enough away that she couldn’t be certain that what she suspected was correct, despite the similarities in voice and appearance. She had almost convinced herself that it couldn’t possibly be him when he happened to glance her way and their eyes met and held. The shock of recognition on his part was immediate and unmistakable; his eyes widened and he gasped in surprise—there was no question that he knew who she was and was not happy to see her.
Tears stung her eyes, though in truth she didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. Her great, perfect guy, that she had defended to her friend just a few minutes before as being nothing more than he seemed… Her sweet, wonderful Walter, who she had to admit she was already more than half in love with, was keeping a big, fat secret from her. Elena glanced up again to see that he was gone, and with him, her remaining composure. She choked back a sob and staggered over to sit on a nearby bench, struggling to regain control over her emotions.
She dimly heard Blue Tabby say, “Ma’am, your friend looks kind of upset; maybe you should make sure she’s all right.”
Melissa hurried back to her side, full of assurances that the danger was over. Elena almost laughed; the incident with those stupid robots seemed so trivial now in comparison to the revelation about Walter. “Its okay, Melissa,” she told her friend, “I’m just a little shaken up. Let’s get to the club—a stiff drink and I’ll be fine.”
Her friend helped her stand and they continued their interrupted journey to the comedy club, Melissa burbling happily, “That was so cool! The robots were scary, of course, but it was great meeting a real superhero, and she was so nice.” After a moment, she added, “I wonder which one that good-looking Watcher’s Hand is involved with—you know superheroes always date other superheroes.”
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
No comments? Not even a "Ha! I knew it all along!"?
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
HA! I knew it all along.
Seriously, yeah kinda did, since the hints about the Trolls in Skyway. I didn't realize it was billed as a "surprise". However, it was another great read. Thank you and keep up the good work.
Well, it wasn't really meant to be a surprise to anyone but Elena, but I kinda expected someone to gloat a bit!
Thanks for commenting, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
A bit of the aftermath of the big revelation. (Big to Elena, anyway, though probably not to anyone else.) Comments would be greatly appreciated, of course!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 7
After seeing the women on their way, Blue Tabby flew up to join her friends and found only Silverslash waiting for her on the roof of a nearby building. Surprised, she asked, “Silver, where’s Watch? He was here just a minute ago.”
Silver gestured to a spot a short distance away from where they were standing, a parking lot near the middle of Peregrine Island where members of the Nemesis Army regularly congregated. They were clearly visible from the street, and although their presence was an irritant to superheroes passing by—and no doubt to the owner of the parking lot—residents and visitors were rarely at risk since the area could be easily avoided. From where she stood she could see Watcher’s Hand taking on a large group of Nems, including two massive Warhulks.
She turned to Silver, one eyebrow raised, “Okay, he doesn’t usually go in for random mayhem, what’s going on? Does he need our help?”
“Oh, I don’t expect so,” Silver snorted, “I think he’s venting.” Before Tabby could inquire further, she went on, “You know those two women you just saved? Well, one of them—the taller, dark-haired one—is his girlfriend. Or maybe I should say Walter’s girlfriend.”
“What?” Tabby choked out in surprise, “Since when does he have a girlfriend?”
Silver shrugged, “I think it’s fairly recent, but she was there today when I stopped by the shop. He seems pretty serious about her.”
“Does she know about this?” she asked, nodding toward the spot where Watcher’s Hand was finishing off the remaining Nems.
“Well, she didn’t know,” Silver told her with a grimace, “it sure looked like she recognized him, that’s why he’s so upset.”
“Oh hell!” Tabby exclaimed, “She looked pretty shaken up when I left, even though she seemed to be okay earlier. I put it down to some sort of delayed reaction to the Jaegers, but I bet it was finding out about Watch.” She shook her head, “That really sucks for both of them.” Tabby glanced over to see her friend’s progress against the hapless Nemesis, “He’s almost done; we still have a few minutes to get to the mission, so let’s go make sure he’s all right.”
She turned as she was about to fly off, saying with a grin, “Oh, and Silver, you so owe me fifty bucks.”
“Damn it, I’d hoped you’d forgotten,” Silver grumbled.
They found him on the roof of another building not too far away. He was standing at the parapet, his arms crossed and face set, looking out over the neighborhood. He undoubtedly heard them arrive, but he did not acknowledge their presence.
Tabby exchanged a nervous glance with Silver before speaking, “Watch, Silver told me what happened. I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to blow it for you.”
He sighed heavily in response, and leaned against the parapet, “You are surely not to blame, Tabby. You didn’t know and besides, without your intervention the Jaegers would certainly have terrorized them and could have caused them serious injury.” One armored fist struck the edge of the parapet with a loud crunch. “I am such a fool! I knew they were going to be here in PI, but I never considered that we might meet.” Watch left the parapet and began pacing restlessly, “If only I hadn’t reacted when I saw her, she might not have realized…” He shook his head, “No, that would have made it worse when I finally told her the truth.” He sighed again, his face bleak, “What she must think of me!”
“Well offhand, I’d guess she thinks you’re a superhero,” Silver noted dryly.
Her attempt at humor was not appreciated, Watch growled and stalked away to the other side of the roof.
Tabby rolled her eyes and muttered, “Good going, genius!” in an undertone before approaching and addressing him again. “Silver might not have said it in the most diplomatic way, but she’s right, Watch. I’m sure it was hard for her to find out about it like that, but after all, being a superhero is a good thing! I bet she’ll forgive you once the shock wears off.”
“Yeah, unless she’s one of those civilians that hates heroes,” Silver added, “I’ve run into a few of them.”
“She is…not, as far as I can tell,” Watch admitted grudgingly. “We didn’t discuss it in any detail, but she’s shown no particular antipathy toward superheroes.”
“There you go then!” Silver grinned. “And if it’s just that you hadn’t told her, let me talk to her—I can prove that you were planning to since you told me yourself.”
Watch and Tabby exchanged an alarmed look—Silver was well known for her bluntness and questionable social skills. “Thank you for offering, Silver,” Watch said hurriedly, “I’ll try talking to her myself first. I’ll let you know if your…intervention is needed.”
Silver shrugged, “Even If she doesn’t forgive you, it’s not like you have to sleep alone every night. God knows you’ve gotten enough offers over the years—I’ve never understood why you didn’t take advantage of at least some of them.” She chortled, “There was that demon chick just the other night, she was practically fogging up your armor…ow!” Tabby’s elbow impacted heavily against Silver’s ribs and she turned to see the other woman glaring at her.
Silver’s advice received a similar reception from Watch; “I don’t want ‘that demon chick’,” he said fiercely. “I don’t want a woman who insists on giving me her phone number because I’ve rescued her from a purse snatcher, and I absolutely do not want to date another superhero!”
Realizing too late how his statement could be taken, Watch rubbed his eyes and sighed, “My apologies, ladies, I meant no insult. You know I respect you both and greatly value your friendship. It’s just that…being a hero and preparing to be a hero has consumed most of my life. Even my education was never seen as an end in itself but as a means to construct a plausible cover identity.” He shook his head, his eyes bleak, “I’ve found I need more than this—I need a life outside being a hero, and I would very much like Elena to be a part of it.”
He fell silent and turned away. After a moment he said, “Excuse me, I would like to be alone for a time. I will meet you at the mission.” He flew away without another word.
Tabby turned to Silver, hands on her hips, “Could you be any more insensitive? He obviously really cares for this woman and is worried she might not forgive him—you actually think meaningless sex is going to make him feel better?”
“It works for me!” Silver replied defensively.
The other woman snorted derisively, “Yeah, well that’s you. You’ve known him even longer than I have, surely you’ve realized by now that the whole ‘honor and chivalry’ thing isn’t just an image with him—he actually thinks that way! Hell, even my parents trust him, and you know how paranoid they were when I first started the hero gig.”
“It wouldn’t hurt him to loosen up a bit,” Silver grumbled.
Tabby shrugged, “Maybe not, but I don’t think it’s in his nature to act that way, so it’s probably not going to happen at this point.” She glanced sidelong at her friend, “Umm, Silver, are you sure you don’t have a personal reason for wanting him to ‘loosen up a bit’? After all, you guys have been working together for a long time.”
Silver scoffed, “Please, Tabby, I don’t do Boy Scouts.”
“Yeah, I’m sure what’s-her-name the demon tells herself that, too,” Tabby smirked. “Haven’t you noticed that it’s usually the ones who consider themselves bad girls who find our ‘knight in shining armor’ so irresistible?”
Whatever derring-do Walter and his friends had been up to that night couldn’t have taken very long, for when Elena approached her building she noticed that the light in his apartment was on. Her hand shook a little as she unlocked her door and her stomach hurt at the thought of seeing him again…what would he say? What should she say? But as nervous as she was at the prospect of meeting him, it would be even worse if he pretended nothing had happened and waited for her to bring it up.
After giving Horatio his long-delayed dinner, Elena kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch. She was very tempted to go to bed, pull the covers over her head and wait until the world reordered itself in a less confusing way, as unlikely as that was. Just how was one supposed to react to finding out your boyfriend was a superhero? Throw a party? Cry yourself to sleep? Both seemed…inappropriate, somehow.
There was a brisk knock on the door and Elena’s heart twisted. It had to be Walter, and he had to have been waiting for her to return. Despite her anxiety about seeing him again, she was heartened by the fact that he had obviously not chosen the ‘pretend nothing had happened’ option. It would have been the coward’s way out, and whatever else he was she just couldn’t believe that of him. She opened the door and chuckled ruefully to herself on seeing him. Great, I finally get to see him in jeans. And of course he looks terrific. Besides the jeans, Walter was wearing a Columbia University sweatshirt and a mournful expression.
He nodded, “Elena. I would like to speak to you if it’s not too late.”
She raised one eyebrow, “Too late in what way? Too late at night, or the ‘never darken my doorstep again’ kind of too late?”
He let out a pained chuckle, “I hope neither is true, but as long as you will give me a chance to explain, I can come back tomorrow if that’s more convenient. I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you or my responsibility in this matter.”
Elena sighed, “Come on in, Walter. I suppose you deserve a hearing.”
“Thank you Elena.” He took a chair across from the couch where Elena had been sitting, and to her surprise Horatio came up to him immediately, rubbing Walter’s legs and jumping on his lap to be petted.
“You…traitor!” Elena exclaimed indignantly, glaring at the cat.
“I’m not sure he deserves to be in the doghouse with me for such a minor infraction,” Walter said mildly, though Elena thought she could detect a hint of humor in his voice.
“I’ll give it some thought,” she answered noncommittally. “So I guess you’re not going to deny that it was you I saw flying around Peregrine with armor and a mace.”
“Ah, no,” he said shortly. “Even if you believed such a denial—and I suspect you would not—I did want you to know about it and I was planning to tell you, Elena.” He met her eyes, his face earnest. “That is why I invited you to my apartment on Saturday, I felt it would be easier to discuss there rather than in some public place.”
Although Elena had assumed that Walter had invited her to his place for another reason—a very common one for why a man would want to be alone with a woman—she had to admit that his explanation was at least plausible. Announcing that he moonlighted as a mace-wielding superhero in a crowded restaurant would be very awkward, to put it mildly.
“Needless to say, Elena,” Walter continued, “it was never my intention that you find out in the way that you did, and I am very sorry for any distress that it caused you. I can understand why you would find it hard to trust me under the circumstances.”
Stop being so bloody understanding, you’re making this harder! she thought in exasperation. In truth she was already struggling against the tug of her heart—to forgive him, to tell him everything was all right—even though she still had deep reservations about the situation and whether she should trust him.
“It…it would be helpful for me to know how you feel about it—my being a superhero. My regard for you has not changed and I hope that you would at least consider continuing our relationship despite it.”
“Oh Walter, I just don’t know how I feel about it, that’s the problem!” Elena exclaimed. “As secrets go, I can certainly think of worse ones, and it makes sense with what I know about you, but I’ve never even thought about what it would be like to date a superhero.”
“Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” he inquired gently. “I will tell you whatever you wish, as long as it doesn’t compromise the identity of another hero.”
“Who are those two women you were with?” Elena asked immediately, the words out of her mouth before she consciously thought about what she wanted to ask.
“Silverslash and Blue Tabby?” He shrugged, “Colleagues…and friends. We’ve been working together for several years. There are a number of other heroes that I collaborate with occasionally, but I work most often with those two.”
Elena couldn’t meet his eyes; Melissa’s offhand comment about the dating habits of superheroes had been eating at her all night. “Is…is that all? Just friends?” she pressed, hating her insecurity even as she did so.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Walter, then silence. He moved to sit next to her on the couch; not too close, but close enough that he could take her hand. “Elena, Tabby is nineteen years old, and I’ve known her since she was fifteen. Silver is a friend—a good friend—but nothing more. Do you really think so little of me that you believe I would pursue you while involved with someone else, or take advantage of someone so much younger than myself?”
The hurt in his voice was unmistakable; ashamed, she murmured, “I didn’t want to think that of you, but Melissa said that superheroes always date other superheroes.”
“Did she?” he sounded amused. “I would suggest then that perhaps that she’s not quite the expert she thinks she is on this subject.” Their eyes met and he added, “But on my honor, Elena, there is no one else.”
She believed him, and not only because it would be so painful to think that he had deceived her. Every instinct in her screamed that he was sincere, and truthful, and honorable, and that she should trust him, and she had felt that way since the first day they met. It was…weird.
She stared at him for a moment before asking, “Walter, why are you the way you are? You’re…different; the way you speak, the way you act and think. At first I assumed it was because you were from Europe and that English isn’t your first language, but it’s not that—or not just that. You blend in well enough most of the time, but sometimes I swear you’re this close to kissing my hand and calling me ‘milady’. It’s almost like you were transported from another time or place…” She stopped suddenly at looked at him in alarm, “Oh my God, were you?”
Walter chuckled, “I don’t believe so.” He hesitated briefly before continuing, “I think the simplest explanation is that I am what I was raised to be, though I’m sure from your perspective my upbringing—and how I came to be Watcher’s Hand—will seem very odd.”
Elena snorted, “Oh, don’t worry about that, Melissa is always telling me a wild story she’s heard about how some superhero got his powers. As long as it doesn’t involve radiation and you’re not from another planet, I should be okay.”
Walter nodded, and after a moment to compose his thoughts, he began his explanation, “I was born somewhere in East Germany and was taken into an orphanage there as an infant. No one seems to know anything of my birth parents, not even their names. When I was a young boy I was adopted by a group of…mystics, I suppose you would call them, the Brotherhood of the Watchful Eye. They worship a little-known but benevolent deity they call ‘The Watcher’.”
Elena’s eyes widened, “Okay, that does qualify as odd, and kind of creepy, too. I’m surprised the orphanage let them take you.”
“Considering the time and the place, it was not so unusual. For the orphanage, it was one less mouth to feed. But in many ways I was fortunate, the Brothers were kindly and never mistreated me, and I’m not certain that the other children at the orphanage could say the same.
“In any case, the Brothers had a very specific purpose in mind for me. They had followed the rise of superpowered villains like Reichsman and Nemesis, and were understandably concerned. So they decided they would create their own warrior for good to help combat them in The Watcher’s name.”
“You?” At Walter’s nod, she asked, “That explains how you became Watcher’s Hand, but why are you so…knightly?”
He snorted in amusement, “The Brothers were well intentioned, but not terribly worldly. They envisioned their warrior as a knight, and that is what I was trained to be. It was only after I left the Brotherhood to attend school that I found that my worldview—and my English—were more than a little out-of-date.”
“You don’t seem very upset by it,” Elena commented.
“There would be little purpose in it,” he responded matter-of-factly. “My speech and patterns of thinking are somewhat…archaic by present day standards, but as you said, I do well enough. What I’ve gained in exchange seems more than worth it to me.”
“Oooh, now we’re getting to the good stuff!” Elena exclaimed, “What kind of cool superhero things can you do? Or do you just fly around and hit things with your mace?”
“I think I should be insulted that you describe my heroic deeds in that way,” Walter said stiffly, though a glance at his face told her he was trying not to laugh. He quirked a smile at her, “Truthfully, that is close to the mark, but the…gifts they bestowed on me enable me to be more effective and do my work in greater safety. Walter cleared his throat, seeming a little nervous, “They chose me in part for my size—they had reason to hope I would be large and strong when I was grown—but also because they recognized that I have some magical ability and that was necessary if I was to make good use of what they could teach me.”
“You…you can do magic?” Elena stared at him in surprise. “I…I suppose I should have guessed that since you work with magical artifacts, but I honestly never considered it. What kind of magic?”
He shrugged, “A few things. I noticed you rubbing your foot earlier. May I see it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. My shoes are new and they pinch a bit,” Elena told him, but obligingly—and somewhat self-consciously—gave him her foot.
He touched it lightly and a green glow briefly surrounded his hand and then her foot. When the glow disappeared, the blister that was starting to form was gone, and her foot no longer ached. Walter smiled shyly at her while she gaped in astonishment, “I can heal injuries in myself and others, as long as they are not too serious.”
“That’s very…handy,” she replied, knowing even as she said it to be marvel of understatement.
“My armor allows me to fly and is enchanted to provide me with additional strength and endurance as well as protection against most damage,” he added. “There are also concealment spells on my armor and mace. The Brothers developed all of those enchantments, but it now my responsibility to maintain them.”
“Concealment spells?” she asked, eyes widening, “So you can walk around with your armor on?”
“Essentially, yes, Elena,” Walter told her. “Would you like to see?”
“You’re wearing it now?” she asked, starting to feel a little boggled. “Do you wear it all the time?”
“I do try not to sleep in it,” he said dryly, “but most of the time, yes. The spells render it weightless and intangible as well as invisible, so it’s not uncomfortable, and I prefer to be prepared in case of an emergency.”
Walter stood and after taking a moment to assure himself that the curtains were closed, brought his hands together in front of his chest. There was no sound, or smoke, or light, or anything else Elena would have expected when magic was being used, but suddenly the armor was there where it wasn’t before.
Elena got up and touched his arm to convince herself it was no illusion; it felt like…metal. “I have to admit, Walter, that’s pretty impressive,” she told him. “But honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that fact you were wearing it all the time we were together.” She shivered a little thinking about the times he had held her and she had no idea what was concealed there.
Walter gestured again and the armor disappeared, leaving him attired as he was before. He sat beside her again, saying, “It is important to me that I should be able to protect you if necessary.” He met her eyes, his face pensive, “But I am the same man with or without it, and I am the same man I was this morning when you knew nothing of this.”
There was a lump in Elena’s throat that made it hard to speak, she whispered, “Why did you show me all this, Walter? Aren’t you worried that you’re giving your secrets away?”
He shrugged and said simply, “I trust you Elena. I also hope that being candid about my abilities will make you more comfortable with them.”
Elena chuckled uneasily, “With magic? I don’t know, Walter, I’m pretty far out of my comfort zone here.”
Walter smiled and nodded, “Aye, I am also well accustomed to that feeling.” He sighed and took her hand, her heart beating faster at the warmth of his touch. “I will not press you for an answer tonight, but I trust I have made my feelings clear.” Whether it was because he no longer felt the need to sound ‘normal’, or because he was speaking from the heart, Elena noticed that if anything his speech was becoming more formal and less modern as the night went on.
After a pause he continued, “However, I would be grateful if you would bear two things in mind before you make your decision. This…” he gestured to encompass the two of them and their surroundings, “what you would call normal life, is out of my comfort zone. Being a hero is all I have known; it has been my life, and Walter Halstrom nothing more than a convenient cover identity.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously and said, “But I have found I enjoy being Walter Halstrom, and having a life outside Watcher’s Hand. I…I would very much like you to be part of that life, if you’re willing.”
He stood abruptly and said, “I should go.”
Taken by surprise, Elena murmured “Oh, okay,” and walked him to the door. She put a hand on his arm before he could leave and said, “You mentioned two things I should keep in mind, what was the second?”
He chuckled ruefully, “I am unsure whether it will help my case or not…but you said earlier that that you were not certain how you felt about dating a superhero.” Walter placed his hands on her shoulders and continued, “However, please remember that it would not be just any superhero; it would be me.” He kissed her brow and said softly, “Goodnight, my dear.”
After the door closed behind him, Elena sighed, “Oh, but it does, Walter, you have no idea how much.”
.
Chapter 7
After seeing the women on their way, Blue Tabby flew up to join her friends and found only Silverslash waiting for her on the roof of a nearby building. Surprised, she asked, “Silver, where’s Watch? He was here just a minute ago.”
Silver gestured to a spot a short distance away from where they were standing, a parking lot near the middle of Peregrine Island where members of the Nemesis Army regularly congregated. They were clearly visible from the street, and although their presence was an irritant to superheroes passing by—and no doubt to the owner of the parking lot—residents and visitors were rarely at risk since the area could be easily avoided. From where she stood she could see Watcher’s Hand taking on a large group of Nems, including two massive Warhulks.
She turned to Silver, one eyebrow raised, “Okay, he doesn’t usually go in for random mayhem, what’s going on? Does he need our help?”
“Oh, I don’t expect so,” Silver snorted, “I think he’s venting.” Before Tabby could inquire further, she went on, “You know those two women you just saved? Well, one of them—the taller, dark-haired one—is his girlfriend. Or maybe I should say Walter’s girlfriend.”
“What?” Tabby choked out in surprise, “Since when does he have a girlfriend?”
Silver shrugged, “I think it’s fairly recent, but she was there today when I stopped by the shop. He seems pretty serious about her.”
“Does she know about this?” she asked, nodding toward the spot where Watcher’s Hand was finishing off the remaining Nems.
“Well, she didn’t know,” Silver told her with a grimace, “it sure looked like she recognized him, that’s why he’s so upset.”
“Oh hell!” Tabby exclaimed, “She looked pretty shaken up when I left, even though she seemed to be okay earlier. I put it down to some sort of delayed reaction to the Jaegers, but I bet it was finding out about Watch.” She shook her head, “That really sucks for both of them.” Tabby glanced over to see her friend’s progress against the hapless Nemesis, “He’s almost done; we still have a few minutes to get to the mission, so let’s go make sure he’s all right.”
She turned as she was about to fly off, saying with a grin, “Oh, and Silver, you so owe me fifty bucks.”
“Damn it, I’d hoped you’d forgotten,” Silver grumbled.
They found him on the roof of another building not too far away. He was standing at the parapet, his arms crossed and face set, looking out over the neighborhood. He undoubtedly heard them arrive, but he did not acknowledge their presence.
Tabby exchanged a nervous glance with Silver before speaking, “Watch, Silver told me what happened. I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to blow it for you.”
He sighed heavily in response, and leaned against the parapet, “You are surely not to blame, Tabby. You didn’t know and besides, without your intervention the Jaegers would certainly have terrorized them and could have caused them serious injury.” One armored fist struck the edge of the parapet with a loud crunch. “I am such a fool! I knew they were going to be here in PI, but I never considered that we might meet.” Watch left the parapet and began pacing restlessly, “If only I hadn’t reacted when I saw her, she might not have realized…” He shook his head, “No, that would have made it worse when I finally told her the truth.” He sighed again, his face bleak, “What she must think of me!”
“Well offhand, I’d guess she thinks you’re a superhero,” Silver noted dryly.
Her attempt at humor was not appreciated, Watch growled and stalked away to the other side of the roof.
Tabby rolled her eyes and muttered, “Good going, genius!” in an undertone before approaching and addressing him again. “Silver might not have said it in the most diplomatic way, but she’s right, Watch. I’m sure it was hard for her to find out about it like that, but after all, being a superhero is a good thing! I bet she’ll forgive you once the shock wears off.”
“Yeah, unless she’s one of those civilians that hates heroes,” Silver added, “I’ve run into a few of them.”
“She is…not, as far as I can tell,” Watch admitted grudgingly. “We didn’t discuss it in any detail, but she’s shown no particular antipathy toward superheroes.”
“There you go then!” Silver grinned. “And if it’s just that you hadn’t told her, let me talk to her—I can prove that you were planning to since you told me yourself.”
Watch and Tabby exchanged an alarmed look—Silver was well known for her bluntness and questionable social skills. “Thank you for offering, Silver,” Watch said hurriedly, “I’ll try talking to her myself first. I’ll let you know if your…intervention is needed.”
Silver shrugged, “Even If she doesn’t forgive you, it’s not like you have to sleep alone every night. God knows you’ve gotten enough offers over the years—I’ve never understood why you didn’t take advantage of at least some of them.” She chortled, “There was that demon chick just the other night, she was practically fogging up your armor…ow!” Tabby’s elbow impacted heavily against Silver’s ribs and she turned to see the other woman glaring at her.
Silver’s advice received a similar reception from Watch; “I don’t want ‘that demon chick’,” he said fiercely. “I don’t want a woman who insists on giving me her phone number because I’ve rescued her from a purse snatcher, and I absolutely do not want to date another superhero!”
Realizing too late how his statement could be taken, Watch rubbed his eyes and sighed, “My apologies, ladies, I meant no insult. You know I respect you both and greatly value your friendship. It’s just that…being a hero and preparing to be a hero has consumed most of my life. Even my education was never seen as an end in itself but as a means to construct a plausible cover identity.” He shook his head, his eyes bleak, “I’ve found I need more than this—I need a life outside being a hero, and I would very much like Elena to be a part of it.”
He fell silent and turned away. After a moment he said, “Excuse me, I would like to be alone for a time. I will meet you at the mission.” He flew away without another word.
Tabby turned to Silver, hands on her hips, “Could you be any more insensitive? He obviously really cares for this woman and is worried she might not forgive him—you actually think meaningless sex is going to make him feel better?”
“It works for me!” Silver replied defensively.
The other woman snorted derisively, “Yeah, well that’s you. You’ve known him even longer than I have, surely you’ve realized by now that the whole ‘honor and chivalry’ thing isn’t just an image with him—he actually thinks that way! Hell, even my parents trust him, and you know how paranoid they were when I first started the hero gig.”
“It wouldn’t hurt him to loosen up a bit,” Silver grumbled.
Tabby shrugged, “Maybe not, but I don’t think it’s in his nature to act that way, so it’s probably not going to happen at this point.” She glanced sidelong at her friend, “Umm, Silver, are you sure you don’t have a personal reason for wanting him to ‘loosen up a bit’? After all, you guys have been working together for a long time.”
Silver scoffed, “Please, Tabby, I don’t do Boy Scouts.”
“Yeah, I’m sure what’s-her-name the demon tells herself that, too,” Tabby smirked. “Haven’t you noticed that it’s usually the ones who consider themselves bad girls who find our ‘knight in shining armor’ so irresistible?”
-ooo-
Whatever derring-do Walter and his friends had been up to that night couldn’t have taken very long, for when Elena approached her building she noticed that the light in his apartment was on. Her hand shook a little as she unlocked her door and her stomach hurt at the thought of seeing him again…what would he say? What should she say? But as nervous as she was at the prospect of meeting him, it would be even worse if he pretended nothing had happened and waited for her to bring it up.
After giving Horatio his long-delayed dinner, Elena kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch. She was very tempted to go to bed, pull the covers over her head and wait until the world reordered itself in a less confusing way, as unlikely as that was. Just how was one supposed to react to finding out your boyfriend was a superhero? Throw a party? Cry yourself to sleep? Both seemed…inappropriate, somehow.
There was a brisk knock on the door and Elena’s heart twisted. It had to be Walter, and he had to have been waiting for her to return. Despite her anxiety about seeing him again, she was heartened by the fact that he had obviously not chosen the ‘pretend nothing had happened’ option. It would have been the coward’s way out, and whatever else he was she just couldn’t believe that of him. She opened the door and chuckled ruefully to herself on seeing him. Great, I finally get to see him in jeans. And of course he looks terrific. Besides the jeans, Walter was wearing a Columbia University sweatshirt and a mournful expression.
He nodded, “Elena. I would like to speak to you if it’s not too late.”
She raised one eyebrow, “Too late in what way? Too late at night, or the ‘never darken my doorstep again’ kind of too late?”
He let out a pained chuckle, “I hope neither is true, but as long as you will give me a chance to explain, I can come back tomorrow if that’s more convenient. I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you or my responsibility in this matter.”
Elena sighed, “Come on in, Walter. I suppose you deserve a hearing.”
“Thank you Elena.” He took a chair across from the couch where Elena had been sitting, and to her surprise Horatio came up to him immediately, rubbing Walter’s legs and jumping on his lap to be petted.
“You…traitor!” Elena exclaimed indignantly, glaring at the cat.
“I’m not sure he deserves to be in the doghouse with me for such a minor infraction,” Walter said mildly, though Elena thought she could detect a hint of humor in his voice.
“I’ll give it some thought,” she answered noncommittally. “So I guess you’re not going to deny that it was you I saw flying around Peregrine with armor and a mace.”
“Ah, no,” he said shortly. “Even if you believed such a denial—and I suspect you would not—I did want you to know about it and I was planning to tell you, Elena.” He met her eyes, his face earnest. “That is why I invited you to my apartment on Saturday, I felt it would be easier to discuss there rather than in some public place.”
Although Elena had assumed that Walter had invited her to his place for another reason—a very common one for why a man would want to be alone with a woman—she had to admit that his explanation was at least plausible. Announcing that he moonlighted as a mace-wielding superhero in a crowded restaurant would be very awkward, to put it mildly.
“Needless to say, Elena,” Walter continued, “it was never my intention that you find out in the way that you did, and I am very sorry for any distress that it caused you. I can understand why you would find it hard to trust me under the circumstances.”
Stop being so bloody understanding, you’re making this harder! she thought in exasperation. In truth she was already struggling against the tug of her heart—to forgive him, to tell him everything was all right—even though she still had deep reservations about the situation and whether she should trust him.
“It…it would be helpful for me to know how you feel about it—my being a superhero. My regard for you has not changed and I hope that you would at least consider continuing our relationship despite it.”
“Oh Walter, I just don’t know how I feel about it, that’s the problem!” Elena exclaimed. “As secrets go, I can certainly think of worse ones, and it makes sense with what I know about you, but I’ve never even thought about what it would be like to date a superhero.”
“Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” he inquired gently. “I will tell you whatever you wish, as long as it doesn’t compromise the identity of another hero.”
“Who are those two women you were with?” Elena asked immediately, the words out of her mouth before she consciously thought about what she wanted to ask.
“Silverslash and Blue Tabby?” He shrugged, “Colleagues…and friends. We’ve been working together for several years. There are a number of other heroes that I collaborate with occasionally, but I work most often with those two.”
Elena couldn’t meet his eyes; Melissa’s offhand comment about the dating habits of superheroes had been eating at her all night. “Is…is that all? Just friends?” she pressed, hating her insecurity even as she did so.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Walter, then silence. He moved to sit next to her on the couch; not too close, but close enough that he could take her hand. “Elena, Tabby is nineteen years old, and I’ve known her since she was fifteen. Silver is a friend—a good friend—but nothing more. Do you really think so little of me that you believe I would pursue you while involved with someone else, or take advantage of someone so much younger than myself?”
The hurt in his voice was unmistakable; ashamed, she murmured, “I didn’t want to think that of you, but Melissa said that superheroes always date other superheroes.”
“Did she?” he sounded amused. “I would suggest then that perhaps that she’s not quite the expert she thinks she is on this subject.” Their eyes met and he added, “But on my honor, Elena, there is no one else.”
She believed him, and not only because it would be so painful to think that he had deceived her. Every instinct in her screamed that he was sincere, and truthful, and honorable, and that she should trust him, and she had felt that way since the first day they met. It was…weird.
She stared at him for a moment before asking, “Walter, why are you the way you are? You’re…different; the way you speak, the way you act and think. At first I assumed it was because you were from Europe and that English isn’t your first language, but it’s not that—or not just that. You blend in well enough most of the time, but sometimes I swear you’re this close to kissing my hand and calling me ‘milady’. It’s almost like you were transported from another time or place…” She stopped suddenly at looked at him in alarm, “Oh my God, were you?”
Walter chuckled, “I don’t believe so.” He hesitated briefly before continuing, “I think the simplest explanation is that I am what I was raised to be, though I’m sure from your perspective my upbringing—and how I came to be Watcher’s Hand—will seem very odd.”
Elena snorted, “Oh, don’t worry about that, Melissa is always telling me a wild story she’s heard about how some superhero got his powers. As long as it doesn’t involve radiation and you’re not from another planet, I should be okay.”
Walter nodded, and after a moment to compose his thoughts, he began his explanation, “I was born somewhere in East Germany and was taken into an orphanage there as an infant. No one seems to know anything of my birth parents, not even their names. When I was a young boy I was adopted by a group of…mystics, I suppose you would call them, the Brotherhood of the Watchful Eye. They worship a little-known but benevolent deity they call ‘The Watcher’.”
Elena’s eyes widened, “Okay, that does qualify as odd, and kind of creepy, too. I’m surprised the orphanage let them take you.”
“Considering the time and the place, it was not so unusual. For the orphanage, it was one less mouth to feed. But in many ways I was fortunate, the Brothers were kindly and never mistreated me, and I’m not certain that the other children at the orphanage could say the same.
“In any case, the Brothers had a very specific purpose in mind for me. They had followed the rise of superpowered villains like Reichsman and Nemesis, and were understandably concerned. So they decided they would create their own warrior for good to help combat them in The Watcher’s name.”
“You?” At Walter’s nod, she asked, “That explains how you became Watcher’s Hand, but why are you so…knightly?”
He snorted in amusement, “The Brothers were well intentioned, but not terribly worldly. They envisioned their warrior as a knight, and that is what I was trained to be. It was only after I left the Brotherhood to attend school that I found that my worldview—and my English—were more than a little out-of-date.”
“You don’t seem very upset by it,” Elena commented.
“There would be little purpose in it,” he responded matter-of-factly. “My speech and patterns of thinking are somewhat…archaic by present day standards, but as you said, I do well enough. What I’ve gained in exchange seems more than worth it to me.”
“Oooh, now we’re getting to the good stuff!” Elena exclaimed, “What kind of cool superhero things can you do? Or do you just fly around and hit things with your mace?”
“I think I should be insulted that you describe my heroic deeds in that way,” Walter said stiffly, though a glance at his face told her he was trying not to laugh. He quirked a smile at her, “Truthfully, that is close to the mark, but the…gifts they bestowed on me enable me to be more effective and do my work in greater safety. Walter cleared his throat, seeming a little nervous, “They chose me in part for my size—they had reason to hope I would be large and strong when I was grown—but also because they recognized that I have some magical ability and that was necessary if I was to make good use of what they could teach me.”
“You…you can do magic?” Elena stared at him in surprise. “I…I suppose I should have guessed that since you work with magical artifacts, but I honestly never considered it. What kind of magic?”
He shrugged, “A few things. I noticed you rubbing your foot earlier. May I see it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. My shoes are new and they pinch a bit,” Elena told him, but obligingly—and somewhat self-consciously—gave him her foot.
He touched it lightly and a green glow briefly surrounded his hand and then her foot. When the glow disappeared, the blister that was starting to form was gone, and her foot no longer ached. Walter smiled shyly at her while she gaped in astonishment, “I can heal injuries in myself and others, as long as they are not too serious.”
“That’s very…handy,” she replied, knowing even as she said it to be marvel of understatement.
“My armor allows me to fly and is enchanted to provide me with additional strength and endurance as well as protection against most damage,” he added. “There are also concealment spells on my armor and mace. The Brothers developed all of those enchantments, but it now my responsibility to maintain them.”
“Concealment spells?” she asked, eyes widening, “So you can walk around with your armor on?”
“Essentially, yes, Elena,” Walter told her. “Would you like to see?”
“You’re wearing it now?” she asked, starting to feel a little boggled. “Do you wear it all the time?”
“I do try not to sleep in it,” he said dryly, “but most of the time, yes. The spells render it weightless and intangible as well as invisible, so it’s not uncomfortable, and I prefer to be prepared in case of an emergency.”
Walter stood and after taking a moment to assure himself that the curtains were closed, brought his hands together in front of his chest. There was no sound, or smoke, or light, or anything else Elena would have expected when magic was being used, but suddenly the armor was there where it wasn’t before.
Elena got up and touched his arm to convince herself it was no illusion; it felt like…metal. “I have to admit, Walter, that’s pretty impressive,” she told him. “But honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that fact you were wearing it all the time we were together.” She shivered a little thinking about the times he had held her and she had no idea what was concealed there.
Walter gestured again and the armor disappeared, leaving him attired as he was before. He sat beside her again, saying, “It is important to me that I should be able to protect you if necessary.” He met her eyes, his face pensive, “But I am the same man with or without it, and I am the same man I was this morning when you knew nothing of this.”
There was a lump in Elena’s throat that made it hard to speak, she whispered, “Why did you show me all this, Walter? Aren’t you worried that you’re giving your secrets away?”
He shrugged and said simply, “I trust you Elena. I also hope that being candid about my abilities will make you more comfortable with them.”
Elena chuckled uneasily, “With magic? I don’t know, Walter, I’m pretty far out of my comfort zone here.”
Walter smiled and nodded, “Aye, I am also well accustomed to that feeling.” He sighed and took her hand, her heart beating faster at the warmth of his touch. “I will not press you for an answer tonight, but I trust I have made my feelings clear.” Whether it was because he no longer felt the need to sound ‘normal’, or because he was speaking from the heart, Elena noticed that if anything his speech was becoming more formal and less modern as the night went on.
After a pause he continued, “However, I would be grateful if you would bear two things in mind before you make your decision. This…” he gestured to encompass the two of them and their surroundings, “what you would call normal life, is out of my comfort zone. Being a hero is all I have known; it has been my life, and Walter Halstrom nothing more than a convenient cover identity.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously and said, “But I have found I enjoy being Walter Halstrom, and having a life outside Watcher’s Hand. I…I would very much like you to be part of that life, if you’re willing.”
He stood abruptly and said, “I should go.”
Taken by surprise, Elena murmured “Oh, okay,” and walked him to the door. She put a hand on his arm before he could leave and said, “You mentioned two things I should keep in mind, what was the second?”
He chuckled ruefully, “I am unsure whether it will help my case or not…but you said earlier that that you were not certain how you felt about dating a superhero.” Walter placed his hands on her shoulders and continued, “However, please remember that it would not be just any superhero; it would be me.” He kissed her brow and said softly, “Goodnight, my dear.”
After the door closed behind him, Elena sighed, “Oh, but it does, Walter, you have no idea how much.”
.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
Okay another good read. I know, because somewhere in reading it I was silently saying “come on Elena give him a chance”. I knew it awhile ago, but that reinforced it. I am officially hooked.
Its easy to tell a story of a hero, or even a story of a hero struggling for a normal life. This one though, started with Elena. You made us care about her, know her and the story is stronger for it. Keep up the excellent work, as I feel Walter and Elena's relationship is not resolved as of yet.
Also, I even like the side characters, from Ms. Goodfield to Blue Tabby and Silverslash. Each has their own personality and contribute well to the story.
Thanks so much for the lovely comments, Mind Phobia! I'm so glad you like Elena, Walter, and the rest of the gang; they are very fun to write.
And as you've guessed, Elena & Walter still do have a bit of a rocky road ahead of them before the story is done.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
OMG I read the whole thing in one sitting! What a great read! I can't wait to see more! The quality of your writing is as impeccable as the contents of the story itself.
Quote:
Thanks so much for the wonderful comment!|
Originally Posted by LadyPhoenix
OMG I read the whole thing in one sitting! What a great read! I can't wait to see more! The quality of your writing is as impeccable as the contents of the story itself.
|
And as a reward, ta-da! the next chapter.
Okay, it was totally a coincidence, but I truly do appreciate your comment and am very glad you're enjoying the story.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
And just when it seems that things might be looking up… 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8
Elena paced restlessly for a few minutes after Walter left, both her mind and her heart too confused and uncertain to allow anything else. She finally desisted when Horatio meowed plaintively and butted her leg, forcefully reminding her that he wanted attention. She picked him up and dropped on the couch with a sigh. She found that it did help to have someone warm to hold, but she had to turn her mind firmly away from the thought that there was ‘someone warm’ she could have if she wished.
She pondered Walter’s last words to her; what would it be like to be involved with him now that she knew that he was a superhero? Could she stand waiting and worrying about him when he was off beating up bad guys? Would the peace of mind she might gain from not giving her heart to someone who put himself in danger be worth the pain of losing what they had?
One thing was certain; she still wanted him, and a large part of her was absolutely thrilled that he was so unambiguous about wanting to continue their relationship. She also had a sneaking suspicion that at least some of the reason she found the revelation about him upsetting was that she had been so adamant with Melissa that he was nothing more than he seemed. But when all was said and done, could she trust that he was the man he seemed to be, and trust herself to judge the situation honestly? Elena rubbed her throbbing temples—if only there was a way to be certain; certain of him, certain of herself…
She sat up so suddenly that Horatio jumped down with an indignant ‘meow’. Maybe there was a way…something she had wondered about but hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask Walter earlier. Elena glanced around, looking for something to put on her feet, discarding the idea of her new shoes in favor of some comfortable slippers she had left nearby earlier. She grabbed her keys and in the next moment was downstairs in front of Walter’s door.
Her initial resolution had gotten her this far, but it took a deep breath to settle the butterflies in her stomach enough for her to actually knock on the door. There was no response at first, and she was trying to decide whether to knock again when she heard Walter’s voice indicating that he had heard her.
He opened the door, and she had the not inconsiderable pleasure of seeing Walter bare-chested, sweatshirt in hand. “My pardon, Elena,” he said, as he let her in and pulled the sweatshirt over his head, “I’m afraid you caught me removing my armor for the night.”
Elena blushed and looked away, her heart beating fast. “That’s…that’s okay,” she told him, her voice coming out more squeaky and breathless than she would have wished. She had suspected as much from the way his clothes fit and how it felt when he held her, but ye gods, the man was built. His chest was muscular and toned; his arms and shoulders heavily muscled, most likely from years of fighting in armor with a heavy mace. She realized she was breathing hard and glanced around the apartment to cover her embarrassment. Besides the living room there was a side room that was obviously his bedroom and the second bedroom which seemed to be filled with exercise equipment. She found that oddly comforting—evidently it required more than magic to stay in such good shape.
He offered her a place to sit down, and from the look on his face she could tell he was very curious about her unexpected visit. She declined the seat, telling him, “I’m just going to stay for a minute, there’s something I forgot to ask you.”
His face fell, but he hid his disappointment quickly, saying brightly, “Of course, Elena, what is it you wish to know?”
“Walter,” she began, “one of the first things Mrs. Goodfield told me about you was that she thought you were responsible for scaring the trolls away from around the tram station. At the time, I thought she was imaging things, but was it you? And when you dropped me here after Rachel was hurt I remember you had some mysterious late-night errand to attend to. The next morning the trolls in the whole northern half of the neighborhood were gone. Did you have something to do with that?”
Walter smiled a little sheepishly and nodded, “Yes, Elena, you are correct on both counts. I could not act openly as Watcher’s Hand for fear of revealing my identity, but I felt that I should do something for the neighborhood and the people who live here. So I visited the local troll leaders as Watcher’s Hand and…persuaded them to stay away from the area around the tram station. I seemed the least I could do.”
He sighed, “After Mrs. Goodfield was attacked by the trolls I was very angry, both because they had injured her so badly and because I felt they had violated our agreement.” He leaned against the back of the couch and folded his arms over his chest, his face somber, “I know it does not reflect well on me that I acted as I did, out of a need for revenge rather than simply seeking out the culprits in the attack as I should have.”
He looked so dejected that Elena couldn’t help herself; she moved closer and squeezed his arm, saying consolingly, “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself, Walter, I’m certainly not going to waste any sympathy on the trolls you sent to jail.” She glanced at him curiously, “But wasn’t it dangerous, taking on all those trolls by yourself?”
Walter flushed, “Not really, Elena. I have been a hero for five years, and trolls present no particular challenge to a hero of my experience. I’ve also found that the villains here have a keen sense of self-preservation and seem to know almost instinctively when they are overmatched. That made it simple to convince the troll leaders to cooperate; they knew I could make life very difficult for them if they did not.”
“Then what happened with Mrs. Goodfield?” Elena asked.
He looked away, “From what I could determine, members of a villain group from another neighborhood had been seen here in Skyway; the trolls saw it as encroachment on their territory and became even more aggressive than usual as a result.” Walter paused for a moment and met her eyes, his face troubled. “Elena…” he began.
He hesitated for so long that Elena prompted, “Yes, Walter?”
“I…I just wondered whether you wished to ask anything else of me,” he said hurriedly, leading Elena to wonder whether that was what he had originally intended to say.
It was Elena’s turn to flush; she had been curious about the trolls, but that was not the most important thing she wanted to ask him. It was now or never, she realized; if she didn’t do it now she might never get up the courage again. “Yes, Walter, I…” she stumbled to a halt and forced herself to start speaking again. “After our date, when you kissed me...you must have known—or guessed—that you could have pushed for more from me, and it might have worked.” She was certain her cheeks were flaming red at this point, but she forged ahead, determined to finish. Elena met Walter’s eyes, “But you didn’t, and I wondered why.”
He had been watching her intently, at her final words he frowned and said, “I…sensed that might be the case, and I must confess I was quite tempted.” He shook his head and laughed ruefully, “I’m sure you’ll think me hopelessly old-fashioned, but it didn’t seem to be right or honorable to press you for such intimacy so soon, especially when I was keeping an important part of my life a secret from you.”
Elena felt a little bubble of happiness growing inside her; she suppressed an urge to giggle. Maybe she was being impetuous, but his answer confirmed something for her and gave her the answer she was seeking. She laid her hands on his chest, leaned close to him and said with a smile, “But Walter, I like hopelessly old-fashioned.”
He stared at her in surprise and growing hope, “Elena, do you mean…”
“I still have mixed feelings about Watcher’s Hand; unlike Melissa I’ve never dreamed of meeting or dating a superhero,” she told him. “But I’ve been waiting a long time to meet someone like you, Walter Halstrom, and I’m damned if I’m going to let Watcher’s Hand scare me away.”
Walter gave a whoop of joy and pulled her close, his eyes alight, “Elena, my dear, do you know how happy you’ve made me?”
“Why, no Walter, I don’t,” she said giving him a wide-eyed look, “perhaps you can show me.”
He chuckled, “It would be my pleasure, Elena.” Their lips met for a lingering kiss, which Elena did indeed feel all the way to her insteps.
A few minutes later she pulled away with a sigh of satisfaction, “Now that’s much better than being mad at you.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that point,” he said wryly. He held her out at arms length, “By the way, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you seem shorter now than you did before.”
“Oh, it’s the slippers,” she told him, holding up a foot for him to inspect, “the other times we were together I was wearing heels.”
The slippers in question were hot pink and fuzzy. One of Walter’s eyebrows rose and he murmured, “I see, how…fetching.”
She glared at him through narrowed eyes, “Are you making fun of my slippers?”
“It’s just that they are rather…bright,” he said pursing his lips on a smile. “But I assure you that I find you beautiful at all times and in all ways, my lady.”
She stared at him, open-mouthed in astonishment, “You…you called me ‘my lady’. You actually called me ‘my lady’! I knew it was just a matter of time!” she said excitedly, her eyes sparkling.
Walter laughed and rolled his eyes, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or amused, “Aye, I suppose it was.”
The man on the roof of the building across from Walter and Elena’s building smiled to himself as he stowed his gear and prepared to depart. Finally, after weeks of keeping Halstrom under surveillance, they had something useful.
It had been a frustrating few weeks; his master was determined to retrieve the item that had been stolen from him, and had caught and punished the thief, but that had gotten them no closer to reclaiming it. They had found the shopkeeper who they were certain had the item in his possession to be surprisingly cautious and difficult to intimidate. The idea of assaulting him in the street was considered and discarded; it would be of little use unless he was carrying the item on his person.
Surveillance had also been challenging, both his shop and his home were strongly warded against all forms of magical scrying. They had been reduced to watching him on the street and through a small gap in the curtains in his apartment that allowed a very limited view of Halstrom’s living room and apartment door. But that had unexpectedly yielded tonight’s results, evidently there was a woman of whom the man was…fond.
The master would be pleased.
Walter sighed in contentment and smiled to himself as he unlocked the front door of his shop. He’d being doing so frequently since Elena had left his apartment last night—he honestly couldn’t remember when he’d been so happy. She had liked the flowers he’d sent last time, perhaps it was time to send some more… He grinned to himself; no, better yet, he could take them to her office since her co-workers seemed so interested in meeting him.
He opened the door, juggling his keys and the mail he had collected on his way in. He was so lost in his thoughts of where he might take Elena out to lunch that it was only when he had reached the workroom that he realized he was not alone.
“Finally!” a voice said in an exasperated tone. “Is this when you always get to work, Watch? It’s ten o’clock!” It was Silver, who was once again occupying his desk chair with her feet on his desk. Tabby smiled and waved in greeting from her perch on a corner of the workroom table.
“Yes, it is,” he growled. “Not that my work schedule should be of concern to you in any case. What are you two even doing here? And Silver…” he added, raising a censorious eyebrow at her booted feet.
She got the message, rolling her eyes as she vacated his chair.
“You were so down last night when you left, Watch,” Tabby explained. “We were worried and wanted to make sure you are all right.”
His voice softened, “Thank you for your concern, Tabby, but I am fine.”
“Fine?” Silver interjected, “That’s not very helpful! What kind of ‘fine’ are you anyway? ‘My girlfriend never wants to see me again’ fine? Or ‘Woo hoo! I got laid last night!’ fine?”
Walter shook his head and appealed to Tabby, “Can’t you do something with her?”
Tabby chuckled and gave him a lopsided smile, “Sorry Watch, I’m kind of curious myself.”
As exasperating as Silver could be, Walter’s mood was such that he found it very difficult to be truly angry at her inquisitiveness. He also knew they both genuinely cared for him and wanted him to be happy.
“If you must know,” Walter said gruffly, “I spoke to Elena last night after she returned home, explained all that I could about being a superhero and apologized for the way in which she learned of it.” Try as he might, he was unable to keep a smile off his face when he added, “In the end, she decided that the fact I am a superhero need not imperil our relationship.”
“Oh, that’s great, Watch!” Tabby cried, coming around the desk to give him a hug while Silver pounded him on the back.
Silver grinned at him, “So, did you…” she asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Tabby rolled her eyes, “Leave the man some privacy, Silver!”
Walter snorted, “If you are asking what I think you’re asking, you are truly deluded if you think I am going to discuss it with you.”
“I guess that means, ‘no’,” Silver responded snidely.
“It means, ‘no comment’, and that is the only answer you will be getting from me,” he said firmly. During this conversation, Walter had been idly leafing through the mail he had picked up at the front door without really seeing any of it. Suddenly, a faint but familiar scent caught his attention as he handled the envelopes; curious, he began examining them more closely.
Most were what he would have expected; circulars, bills, letter from clients. One envelope was different, and his blood ran cold upon seeing it. It was a plain white envelope with no return address, or stamp, or postmark; evidently it had been dropped into the mail box by someone other than the mail carrier. The only writing on it was ‘Walter Halstrom’ in block letters. Also notable was the fact that it was slightly thicker than one would expect for an envelope containing only paper.
He began tearing the envelope open with shaking hands, “No…it cannot be!” he whispered imploringly. Walter dimly heard one of the women asking what was wrong, but he had eyes only for the contents of the envelope. It was a plain sheet of paper with a lock of Elena’s hair, her scent still clinging to it, taped roughly to the paper. Under it was written:
THE STATUE FOR THE GIRL
OR SHE DIES
NO COPS OR SHE DIES
CALL 555-7346 AT 2:00 PM TODAY FOR INSTRUCTIONS
Walter slumped back in his chair, fear like a vise around his heart. Someone pulled the paper from his limp fingers while he struggled to come to grips with what had happened. He heard the women exclaiming, then Tabby’s anxious face appeared close to his.
“Watch, what is this about? Who did this? What statue are they talking about?” When he didn’t respond, she said pleadingly, “Don’t check out on us, pal, you have to tell us what’s going on!”
Pulling himself out of the fog he was in, he sat up and put his head in hands. “It’s…it’s the statue I told you both about, the one hidden among the base salvage. I thought it would be more secure there than here in the shop. I…I bought it a few weeks ago from a small-time dealer who turned up dead the next day. Whoever killed him has been after the statue ever since.”
“Why is it so important, Watch? Is it really valuable?” Tabby asked him.
He looked up and met her eyes, “It’s a magical ritual object and extremely powerful. We think that it was originally used to raise the dead. Whoever wants it probably plans to use it for that again.”
“Well, crap,” Silver commented succinctly. “Who are these creeps, anyway, do you know?”
Walter drew in a ragged breath, explaining the situation to his friends was actually helping him regain some semblance of control. “Not for certain, though I suspect it’s the Tsoo.”
“The Tsoo?” Silver asked in surprise. “Those wimps? They must be nuts to kidnap your girlfriend, they’ve gotta know you could take them out without breathing hard.”
Walter scrubbed a hand over his face, “Silver, they’re after Walter Halstrom, not Watcher’s Hand. And even though they’re no real danger to me, they could still kill Elena.”
“Damn, I forgot about that. Sorry, Watch,” she said contritely.
“We’ll get her back, don’t worry,” Tabby said confidently.
“You’ll assist me?” Walter asked, relief flooding through him. “I…I did not like to ask, since it is a personal matter.”
Both women stared at him in astonishment and Tabby snorted indignantly, “So what if it’s personal? That’s all the more reason to help! And besides,” she said with a smile, “you’re not asking us, we’re telling you—we’re helping.”
“Damn straight.” Silver growled.
“Thank you both, I would be exceedingly grateful for your assistance.” Walter pushed his chair away from the desk and began pacing restlessly, “I’m sure we can get her away from those villains, but how do we find her? I would give them the statue in an instant if that was the best way to ensure that she is unharmed, but we dare not trust them to fulfill their end of the bargain. Besides, I want Elena well out of the way before any fighting starts.”
“You have no idea where they might have her?” Silver asked.
“They’re probably somewhere in southwest Steel Canyon,” Walter snorted, “but we can hardly go knocking on doors to inquire.”
“Can’t you, you know,” Silver wiggled her fingers, “just use magic to find her?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his face drawn, “It’s not that simple, Silver. I…I know it can be done, but I have absolutely no experience with that type of magic. I wouldn’t know how to begin.” Suddenly, Walter stopped mid-pace, his eyes widening. He returned to the desk and began frantically leafing through the papers on the desk and in the drawers.
The two women exchanged a glance, and Silver said, “What is it, Watch??”
“There was a woman,” he said breathlessly, without pausing in his search, “a hero, who bought some items from me a few weeks ago. She was a very experienced practitioner, and we had quite an interesting conversation; I recall she said she has made an extensive study of sympathetic magic.”
Silver gave Tabby a baffled look, and just as Tabby was about to explain, Walter cried, “Here, yes!” in a triumphant voice as he held up a single sheet of paper. “She left me her phone number in case I came across any more artifacts that might interest her. Here it is—Charlotte Castere.”
Walter immediately punched in the number and resumed pacing anxiously until it was answered. After a few minutes conversation Walter sagged against the desk, his shoulders slumped with relief as he hung up. “She thinks she can help; she’ll be here in an hour.”
Both women cheered, Silver adding, “That’s great, Watch! But what the hell is sympathetic magic?”
Tabby rolled her eyes, “I’ll explain later, Silver.” Then she tapped one finger on her chin and said thoughtfully, “You know, I think this mission will also call for…Rash. I’m sure a diversion will be in order, and diversions don’t come any bigger than Rash.”
Walter snorted in amusement despite his fear; Tabby was right, their friend Rashemaar Ranger would be a perfect choice to assist them. In addition, he would be extremely eager to help when he learned who was at risk. His confidence bolstered, Walter said, “Thank you, my friends. I know that together we can succeed.”
Tabby took Walter’s arm, “All right Watch; the plan is that we find Elena, get her out safely…”
“And then we make ‘em pay,” Silver said fiercely. She added with a grin, “We’ll work out the details later.”
.
Chapter 8
Elena paced restlessly for a few minutes after Walter left, both her mind and her heart too confused and uncertain to allow anything else. She finally desisted when Horatio meowed plaintively and butted her leg, forcefully reminding her that he wanted attention. She picked him up and dropped on the couch with a sigh. She found that it did help to have someone warm to hold, but she had to turn her mind firmly away from the thought that there was ‘someone warm’ she could have if she wished.
She pondered Walter’s last words to her; what would it be like to be involved with him now that she knew that he was a superhero? Could she stand waiting and worrying about him when he was off beating up bad guys? Would the peace of mind she might gain from not giving her heart to someone who put himself in danger be worth the pain of losing what they had?
One thing was certain; she still wanted him, and a large part of her was absolutely thrilled that he was so unambiguous about wanting to continue their relationship. She also had a sneaking suspicion that at least some of the reason she found the revelation about him upsetting was that she had been so adamant with Melissa that he was nothing more than he seemed. But when all was said and done, could she trust that he was the man he seemed to be, and trust herself to judge the situation honestly? Elena rubbed her throbbing temples—if only there was a way to be certain; certain of him, certain of herself…
She sat up so suddenly that Horatio jumped down with an indignant ‘meow’. Maybe there was a way…something she had wondered about but hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask Walter earlier. Elena glanced around, looking for something to put on her feet, discarding the idea of her new shoes in favor of some comfortable slippers she had left nearby earlier. She grabbed her keys and in the next moment was downstairs in front of Walter’s door.
Her initial resolution had gotten her this far, but it took a deep breath to settle the butterflies in her stomach enough for her to actually knock on the door. There was no response at first, and she was trying to decide whether to knock again when she heard Walter’s voice indicating that he had heard her.
He opened the door, and she had the not inconsiderable pleasure of seeing Walter bare-chested, sweatshirt in hand. “My pardon, Elena,” he said, as he let her in and pulled the sweatshirt over his head, “I’m afraid you caught me removing my armor for the night.”
Elena blushed and looked away, her heart beating fast. “That’s…that’s okay,” she told him, her voice coming out more squeaky and breathless than she would have wished. She had suspected as much from the way his clothes fit and how it felt when he held her, but ye gods, the man was built. His chest was muscular and toned; his arms and shoulders heavily muscled, most likely from years of fighting in armor with a heavy mace. She realized she was breathing hard and glanced around the apartment to cover her embarrassment. Besides the living room there was a side room that was obviously his bedroom and the second bedroom which seemed to be filled with exercise equipment. She found that oddly comforting—evidently it required more than magic to stay in such good shape.
He offered her a place to sit down, and from the look on his face she could tell he was very curious about her unexpected visit. She declined the seat, telling him, “I’m just going to stay for a minute, there’s something I forgot to ask you.”
His face fell, but he hid his disappointment quickly, saying brightly, “Of course, Elena, what is it you wish to know?”
“Walter,” she began, “one of the first things Mrs. Goodfield told me about you was that she thought you were responsible for scaring the trolls away from around the tram station. At the time, I thought she was imaging things, but was it you? And when you dropped me here after Rachel was hurt I remember you had some mysterious late-night errand to attend to. The next morning the trolls in the whole northern half of the neighborhood were gone. Did you have something to do with that?”
Walter smiled a little sheepishly and nodded, “Yes, Elena, you are correct on both counts. I could not act openly as Watcher’s Hand for fear of revealing my identity, but I felt that I should do something for the neighborhood and the people who live here. So I visited the local troll leaders as Watcher’s Hand and…persuaded them to stay away from the area around the tram station. I seemed the least I could do.”
He sighed, “After Mrs. Goodfield was attacked by the trolls I was very angry, both because they had injured her so badly and because I felt they had violated our agreement.” He leaned against the back of the couch and folded his arms over his chest, his face somber, “I know it does not reflect well on me that I acted as I did, out of a need for revenge rather than simply seeking out the culprits in the attack as I should have.”
He looked so dejected that Elena couldn’t help herself; she moved closer and squeezed his arm, saying consolingly, “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself, Walter, I’m certainly not going to waste any sympathy on the trolls you sent to jail.” She glanced at him curiously, “But wasn’t it dangerous, taking on all those trolls by yourself?”
Walter flushed, “Not really, Elena. I have been a hero for five years, and trolls present no particular challenge to a hero of my experience. I’ve also found that the villains here have a keen sense of self-preservation and seem to know almost instinctively when they are overmatched. That made it simple to convince the troll leaders to cooperate; they knew I could make life very difficult for them if they did not.”
“Then what happened with Mrs. Goodfield?” Elena asked.
He looked away, “From what I could determine, members of a villain group from another neighborhood had been seen here in Skyway; the trolls saw it as encroachment on their territory and became even more aggressive than usual as a result.” Walter paused for a moment and met her eyes, his face troubled. “Elena…” he began.
He hesitated for so long that Elena prompted, “Yes, Walter?”
“I…I just wondered whether you wished to ask anything else of me,” he said hurriedly, leading Elena to wonder whether that was what he had originally intended to say.
It was Elena’s turn to flush; she had been curious about the trolls, but that was not the most important thing she wanted to ask him. It was now or never, she realized; if she didn’t do it now she might never get up the courage again. “Yes, Walter, I…” she stumbled to a halt and forced herself to start speaking again. “After our date, when you kissed me...you must have known—or guessed—that you could have pushed for more from me, and it might have worked.” She was certain her cheeks were flaming red at this point, but she forged ahead, determined to finish. Elena met Walter’s eyes, “But you didn’t, and I wondered why.”
He had been watching her intently, at her final words he frowned and said, “I…sensed that might be the case, and I must confess I was quite tempted.” He shook his head and laughed ruefully, “I’m sure you’ll think me hopelessly old-fashioned, but it didn’t seem to be right or honorable to press you for such intimacy so soon, especially when I was keeping an important part of my life a secret from you.”
Elena felt a little bubble of happiness growing inside her; she suppressed an urge to giggle. Maybe she was being impetuous, but his answer confirmed something for her and gave her the answer she was seeking. She laid her hands on his chest, leaned close to him and said with a smile, “But Walter, I like hopelessly old-fashioned.”
He stared at her in surprise and growing hope, “Elena, do you mean…”
“I still have mixed feelings about Watcher’s Hand; unlike Melissa I’ve never dreamed of meeting or dating a superhero,” she told him. “But I’ve been waiting a long time to meet someone like you, Walter Halstrom, and I’m damned if I’m going to let Watcher’s Hand scare me away.”
Walter gave a whoop of joy and pulled her close, his eyes alight, “Elena, my dear, do you know how happy you’ve made me?”
“Why, no Walter, I don’t,” she said giving him a wide-eyed look, “perhaps you can show me.”
He chuckled, “It would be my pleasure, Elena.” Their lips met for a lingering kiss, which Elena did indeed feel all the way to her insteps.
A few minutes later she pulled away with a sigh of satisfaction, “Now that’s much better than being mad at you.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that point,” he said wryly. He held her out at arms length, “By the way, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you seem shorter now than you did before.”
“Oh, it’s the slippers,” she told him, holding up a foot for him to inspect, “the other times we were together I was wearing heels.”
The slippers in question were hot pink and fuzzy. One of Walter’s eyebrows rose and he murmured, “I see, how…fetching.”
She glared at him through narrowed eyes, “Are you making fun of my slippers?”
“It’s just that they are rather…bright,” he said pursing his lips on a smile. “But I assure you that I find you beautiful at all times and in all ways, my lady.”
She stared at him, open-mouthed in astonishment, “You…you called me ‘my lady’. You actually called me ‘my lady’! I knew it was just a matter of time!” she said excitedly, her eyes sparkling.
Walter laughed and rolled his eyes, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or amused, “Aye, I suppose it was.”
-ooo-
The man on the roof of the building across from Walter and Elena’s building smiled to himself as he stowed his gear and prepared to depart. Finally, after weeks of keeping Halstrom under surveillance, they had something useful.
It had been a frustrating few weeks; his master was determined to retrieve the item that had been stolen from him, and had caught and punished the thief, but that had gotten them no closer to reclaiming it. They had found the shopkeeper who they were certain had the item in his possession to be surprisingly cautious and difficult to intimidate. The idea of assaulting him in the street was considered and discarded; it would be of little use unless he was carrying the item on his person.
Surveillance had also been challenging, both his shop and his home were strongly warded against all forms of magical scrying. They had been reduced to watching him on the street and through a small gap in the curtains in his apartment that allowed a very limited view of Halstrom’s living room and apartment door. But that had unexpectedly yielded tonight’s results, evidently there was a woman of whom the man was…fond.
The master would be pleased.
-ooo-
Walter sighed in contentment and smiled to himself as he unlocked the front door of his shop. He’d being doing so frequently since Elena had left his apartment last night—he honestly couldn’t remember when he’d been so happy. She had liked the flowers he’d sent last time, perhaps it was time to send some more… He grinned to himself; no, better yet, he could take them to her office since her co-workers seemed so interested in meeting him.
He opened the door, juggling his keys and the mail he had collected on his way in. He was so lost in his thoughts of where he might take Elena out to lunch that it was only when he had reached the workroom that he realized he was not alone.
“Finally!” a voice said in an exasperated tone. “Is this when you always get to work, Watch? It’s ten o’clock!” It was Silver, who was once again occupying his desk chair with her feet on his desk. Tabby smiled and waved in greeting from her perch on a corner of the workroom table.
“Yes, it is,” he growled. “Not that my work schedule should be of concern to you in any case. What are you two even doing here? And Silver…” he added, raising a censorious eyebrow at her booted feet.
She got the message, rolling her eyes as she vacated his chair.
“You were so down last night when you left, Watch,” Tabby explained. “We were worried and wanted to make sure you are all right.”
His voice softened, “Thank you for your concern, Tabby, but I am fine.”
“Fine?” Silver interjected, “That’s not very helpful! What kind of ‘fine’ are you anyway? ‘My girlfriend never wants to see me again’ fine? Or ‘Woo hoo! I got laid last night!’ fine?”
Walter shook his head and appealed to Tabby, “Can’t you do something with her?”
Tabby chuckled and gave him a lopsided smile, “Sorry Watch, I’m kind of curious myself.”
As exasperating as Silver could be, Walter’s mood was such that he found it very difficult to be truly angry at her inquisitiveness. He also knew they both genuinely cared for him and wanted him to be happy.
“If you must know,” Walter said gruffly, “I spoke to Elena last night after she returned home, explained all that I could about being a superhero and apologized for the way in which she learned of it.” Try as he might, he was unable to keep a smile off his face when he added, “In the end, she decided that the fact I am a superhero need not imperil our relationship.”
“Oh, that’s great, Watch!” Tabby cried, coming around the desk to give him a hug while Silver pounded him on the back.
Silver grinned at him, “So, did you…” she asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Tabby rolled her eyes, “Leave the man some privacy, Silver!”
Walter snorted, “If you are asking what I think you’re asking, you are truly deluded if you think I am going to discuss it with you.”
“I guess that means, ‘no’,” Silver responded snidely.
“It means, ‘no comment’, and that is the only answer you will be getting from me,” he said firmly. During this conversation, Walter had been idly leafing through the mail he had picked up at the front door without really seeing any of it. Suddenly, a faint but familiar scent caught his attention as he handled the envelopes; curious, he began examining them more closely.
Most were what he would have expected; circulars, bills, letter from clients. One envelope was different, and his blood ran cold upon seeing it. It was a plain white envelope with no return address, or stamp, or postmark; evidently it had been dropped into the mail box by someone other than the mail carrier. The only writing on it was ‘Walter Halstrom’ in block letters. Also notable was the fact that it was slightly thicker than one would expect for an envelope containing only paper.
He began tearing the envelope open with shaking hands, “No…it cannot be!” he whispered imploringly. Walter dimly heard one of the women asking what was wrong, but he had eyes only for the contents of the envelope. It was a plain sheet of paper with a lock of Elena’s hair, her scent still clinging to it, taped roughly to the paper. Under it was written:
THE STATUE FOR THE GIRL
OR SHE DIES
NO COPS OR SHE DIES
CALL 555-7346 AT 2:00 PM TODAY FOR INSTRUCTIONS
Walter slumped back in his chair, fear like a vise around his heart. Someone pulled the paper from his limp fingers while he struggled to come to grips with what had happened. He heard the women exclaiming, then Tabby’s anxious face appeared close to his.
“Watch, what is this about? Who did this? What statue are they talking about?” When he didn’t respond, she said pleadingly, “Don’t check out on us, pal, you have to tell us what’s going on!”
Pulling himself out of the fog he was in, he sat up and put his head in hands. “It’s…it’s the statue I told you both about, the one hidden among the base salvage. I thought it would be more secure there than here in the shop. I…I bought it a few weeks ago from a small-time dealer who turned up dead the next day. Whoever killed him has been after the statue ever since.”
“Why is it so important, Watch? Is it really valuable?” Tabby asked him.
He looked up and met her eyes, “It’s a magical ritual object and extremely powerful. We think that it was originally used to raise the dead. Whoever wants it probably plans to use it for that again.”
“Well, crap,” Silver commented succinctly. “Who are these creeps, anyway, do you know?”
Walter drew in a ragged breath, explaining the situation to his friends was actually helping him regain some semblance of control. “Not for certain, though I suspect it’s the Tsoo.”
“The Tsoo?” Silver asked in surprise. “Those wimps? They must be nuts to kidnap your girlfriend, they’ve gotta know you could take them out without breathing hard.”
Walter scrubbed a hand over his face, “Silver, they’re after Walter Halstrom, not Watcher’s Hand. And even though they’re no real danger to me, they could still kill Elena.”
“Damn, I forgot about that. Sorry, Watch,” she said contritely.
“We’ll get her back, don’t worry,” Tabby said confidently.
“You’ll assist me?” Walter asked, relief flooding through him. “I…I did not like to ask, since it is a personal matter.”
Both women stared at him in astonishment and Tabby snorted indignantly, “So what if it’s personal? That’s all the more reason to help! And besides,” she said with a smile, “you’re not asking us, we’re telling you—we’re helping.”
“Damn straight.” Silver growled.
“Thank you both, I would be exceedingly grateful for your assistance.” Walter pushed his chair away from the desk and began pacing restlessly, “I’m sure we can get her away from those villains, but how do we find her? I would give them the statue in an instant if that was the best way to ensure that she is unharmed, but we dare not trust them to fulfill their end of the bargain. Besides, I want Elena well out of the way before any fighting starts.”
“You have no idea where they might have her?” Silver asked.
“They’re probably somewhere in southwest Steel Canyon,” Walter snorted, “but we can hardly go knocking on doors to inquire.”
“Can’t you, you know,” Silver wiggled her fingers, “just use magic to find her?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his face drawn, “It’s not that simple, Silver. I…I know it can be done, but I have absolutely no experience with that type of magic. I wouldn’t know how to begin.” Suddenly, Walter stopped mid-pace, his eyes widening. He returned to the desk and began frantically leafing through the papers on the desk and in the drawers.
The two women exchanged a glance, and Silver said, “What is it, Watch??”
“There was a woman,” he said breathlessly, without pausing in his search, “a hero, who bought some items from me a few weeks ago. She was a very experienced practitioner, and we had quite an interesting conversation; I recall she said she has made an extensive study of sympathetic magic.”
Silver gave Tabby a baffled look, and just as Tabby was about to explain, Walter cried, “Here, yes!” in a triumphant voice as he held up a single sheet of paper. “She left me her phone number in case I came across any more artifacts that might interest her. Here it is—Charlotte Castere.”
Walter immediately punched in the number and resumed pacing anxiously until it was answered. After a few minutes conversation Walter sagged against the desk, his shoulders slumped with relief as he hung up. “She thinks she can help; she’ll be here in an hour.”
Both women cheered, Silver adding, “That’s great, Watch! But what the hell is sympathetic magic?”
Tabby rolled her eyes, “I’ll explain later, Silver.” Then she tapped one finger on her chin and said thoughtfully, “You know, I think this mission will also call for…Rash. I’m sure a diversion will be in order, and diversions don’t come any bigger than Rash.”
Walter snorted in amusement despite his fear; Tabby was right, their friend Rashemaar Ranger would be a perfect choice to assist them. In addition, he would be extremely eager to help when he learned who was at risk. His confidence bolstered, Walter said, “Thank you, my friends. I know that together we can succeed.”
Tabby took Walter’s arm, “All right Watch; the plan is that we find Elena, get her out safely…”
“And then we make ‘em pay,” Silver said fiercely. She added with a grin, “We’ll work out the details later.”
.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012
I knew it was only a matter of time! I'm honestly surprised that they didn't discover her sooner, like when they were out on their date.
Again, a very good read
I am actively enjoying this story.
Prophecy & Dreams | Prophecy & Dreams Discussion
Nerd Flirting | More Nerd Flirting | Nerds Talking About Flirting
Unbidden | Star Patrol | Real World Hero
Though not much of a roleplayer in-game, I do enjoy writing fanfiction in various fandoms. (My pen name is Finduilas88 on fanfiction.net if anyone would like to check out my other stories.)
I've had this story idea rattling around in my head for some time and finally decided to make it into a real fanfiction. It involves several of my and my daughter's characters, but I also wanted to write a story that would explore life in Paragon City for the non-super residents as well as the heroes.
One caveat: there will be romance, so to anyone who is allergic to such things, consider yourself warned!
Hope you enjoy it--comments welcome, of course.
Chapter 1
Elena learned that a new tenant had taken the vacant apartment when she noticed a neatly printed label reading “W. Halstrom” on the mailbox below hers. She sighed in frustration. She had really wanted that apartment; it was a two bedroom where hers was one, and since it was on the ground floor it also had a small, fenced-in garden. But unless she got a promotion, or found a better paying job, Elena knew she just couldn’t afford it on her salary. Maybe after this tenant leaves, she thought wistfully, and then chuckled ruefully at her own optimism. With her luck, “W. Halstrom” would turn out to be another Mrs. Goodfield, her elderly—and inquisitive—neighbor who had lived in the building for over twenty years.
Whatever else W. Halstrom might have been, over the next few weeks he or she proved to be a quiet and elusive neighbor, with far different hours than Elena’s, for she never laid eyes on the new tenant. Typically, it was Mrs. Goodfield who finally provided more information.
One day a few weeks later, when Elena was helping Mrs. Goodfield bring her groceries in from the hall, she remarked on something that had piqued her curiosity, “Mrs. G, maybe I’m imagining things, but there seem to be a lot fewer trolls in the neighborhood lately. I think it’s been over a week since I had to take the long way to the tram station. Did you see any on your way back from the market?”
“Oh yes, Elena, dear, I’ve noticed the same thing; I didn’t see even one between here and the store,” Mrs. Goodfield responded. Her voice dropped and she glanced around dramatically. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think I know who’s responsible.”
Elena, after making sure that her friend’s cat, Horatio, didn’t make good on his usual escape attempt through the open front door, turned to her in surprise. “Who’s responsible? You think someone scared them away?”
Mrs. Goodfield nodded gravely. “Mr. Halstrom.”
Halstrom. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Finally, Elena remembered. “You mean the person who rented the apartment on the first floor? Is he a policeman?”
“Oh, no,” the older women responded, “he owns a store of some kind in Founder’s Falls; it sells antiques, I think. Lovely man, I’m surprised you haven’t met him yet. But then,” she amended, “you’d have already gone to work by the time he leaves.”
Elena looked at Mrs. Goodfield in amusement. “You seem to know a lot about him already. Why do you think…” She stopped, alarmed that her friend might have fallen in with a charlatan. “Wait a minute, did he tell you that he was responsible for getting rid of the trolls?”
Mrs. Goodfield snorted derisively, “Elena, of course not! He’s far too well behaved to go bragging about something like that. As a matter of fact, I’m sure he would deny it if you asked him. Such nice manners,” she added approvingly, “and always so well dressed, unlike these young men you see nowadays with their pants half off.”
Feeling thoroughly baffled by this point—an all-too-familiar experience when dealing with her friend—Elena asked, “But then, why…”
Obviously pleased to be given an opportunity to tell her story, Mrs. Goodfield began, “Walter—Mr. Halstrom—sometimes walks me to tram station if we’re leaving at the same time. The first time he did, I was telling him about the neighborhood and all the different routes you can take to avoid the trolls—just in case he needed it. Well, let me tell you, he was quite shocked and distressed that we have to worry about such things, and said someone should do something about it. Of course, I told him that we were used to it, and not to mention other neighborhoods in Paragon City have much worse than the trolls here in Skyway.
“But then the very next day I noticed that none of the trolls were at their usual spots, and there have been almost none between here and the tram station since then. So he must have had something to do with it—it’s too much of a coincidence otherwise!”
Trying not to let her skepticism show on her face, Elena responded neutrally, “Hmm, maybe so.” Then, trying to change the subject, she added, “But I’m glad you’ve found a friend you can spend time with.”
Mrs. Goodfield rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, dear; he’s not that kind of friend! He’s far too young for me, even if I was looking.” She eyed Elena appraisingly. “But he’s just about the right age for you, though. And he’s plenty tall.”
Elena groaned inwardly, easily recognizing the warning signs that her friend was in ‘matchmaker mode’ again. She had been looking for a tall man for the younger woman ever since Elena had begged off being set up with Mrs. Goodfield’s nephew because he was too short. (Which was truthfully one reason she didn’t want to date him, though not by any means the only one.)
“Mrs. G., I thought you’d agreed that to let me find my own dates, especially after the last time.”
“Elena, how was I to know that man I met in the grocery store was an Arachnos agent?” Mrs. Goodfield asked indignantly. “I was as surprised as you were when they showed his arrest on the news!” She sighed, “He seemed like such a nice man.”
Elena gave Mrs. Goodfield a meaningful look. The older woman must have seen the resolution in her eyes, for she said. “All right, all right, Elena, no matchmaking. But it’s your loss—I’m sure you’d like Mr. Halstrom!”
One evening a few days later, Elena struggled with her mailbox in growing frustration. Over the past few weeks the lock had become increasingly more difficult to open—she had to put the key just far enough but not too far—and she kept forgetting to ask the custodian to fix it. Even worse, in a burst of optimism she had decided to tackle the lock while holding the bags of groceries she had just purchased; a choice she was now deeply regretting.
She swore under her breath and had reluctantly concluded that she’d have divest herself of the grocery bags, when she sensed rather than saw that someone—or something—large was standing behind her. Instantly, Elena’s mind flashed back to a morning a few months before when she had come downstairs to discover an extremely unwelcome surprise in this very place; a huge, angry “Supa-Troll” had somehow wandered into the foyer and was stuck, like a fly in a bottle, between the inner and outer doors, too drug-addled to find its way out. In her rush to get to work she had her hand on the door to the foyer before realizing the troll was there. She had stopped in time, but she still had nightmares about what might have happened if she had not.
With a shriek of fear, she dropped the groceries and recoiled against the bank of mailboxes, her heart racing. It was only then she realized that whoever she had felt standing next to her had retreated to the opposite side of the foyer and was addressing her in perfectly understandable—if slightly accented—English.
“Miss, I am so sorry!” the voice was saying earnestly, “I assure you I meant no harm; I only intended to offer my assistance. Please accept my profound apologies for startling you.”
Elena groaned to herself, what a ridiculous overreaction! With her cheeks blazing, after her heartbeat and breathing had slowed to something approaching their normal rate, she forced herself to glance up to see the would-be Good Samaritan who had unwittingly frightened her. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties wearing an elegant and well-tailored suit that she would have bet money was custom-made. And despite currently looking worried and dismayed—for which she could hardly blame him—he was quite handsome, with wavy dark hair and a matching beard, both short and neatly trimmed.
He had blue eyes behind wire-framed glasses and watched her with some consternation. “Are you well, Miss Samuelson?” he asked after a moment of hesitation, “Is there someone I should call?”
Elena’s fear, which had been subsiding, surged back in that moment, “How…how do you know my name?” she stammered.
Alarmed by her distress, he hastened to reassure her, “I don’t know it, I merely guessed.” The man gestured to the mailboxes behind her, where her keys were still dangling from the one labeled ‘Samuelson’.
Not certain whether she was more relieved or chagrined to have misjudged the situation again, she explained, “Oh, you must think me a complete idiot! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed like that. It’s just that a few months ago something happened here that frightened me—I ran into a Supa-Troll that had gotten into the foyer…or rather, I almost ran into it…” Elena shook her head and smiled in apology, “Good lord, now I’m just babbling.”
“A Supa-Troll? Those huge, deranged creatures that appear sometimes in the neighborhood? I can certainly understand why meeting one in close quarters—or even almost meeting one—would be terrifying. Again, I am very sorry I startled you…you were struggling with your groceries and I wanted to help.”
Reminded of her possessions which were now distributed across a wide swath of the floor, she heaved a sigh and knelt down to begin collecting them.
“Please, let me assist,” the man said, approaching cautiously—obviously concerned that he might set her off again. “It’s the least I can do after frightening you.”
“Well, that’s no excuse for shrieking like a banshee when you were trying to help.” She gave him a wry smile, “You must have thought I was the one deranged.”
He returned her smile, a glint of humor in his eyes, “I must admit that it was not the typical reaction I receive when I meet someone.”
I just bet not, especially if that someone is a woman, she thought to herself as he knelt beside her to help gather the scattered groceries.
“I’m Walter Halstrom, by the way,” he said, offering her his hand, “your downstairs neighbor.”
“Oh, of course, I should have guessed!” Elena exclaimed as she shook his hand, “Mrs. Goodfield told me about you.”
“And she has mentioned you to me on a number of occasions,” Mr. Halstrom replied.
“Has she? What did she say?” Elena was accustomed to hearing the latest news on the other tenants, but she had never considered that information might flow both ways, mostly because she had never thought of her activities as particularly newsworthy.
“It was all highly complimentary. She told me how kind and helpful you are to her, and how hard you work, among other things. She also mentioned that you are unmarried—” he added in a voice of dry amusement, “several times.”
Elena felt her cheeks redden, “I’m sorry about that. She really does mean well.”
He smiled reassuringly, “I know, and she obviously cares for you very much.”
They had finished gathering her groceries, and both moved to stand. Mr. Halstrom offered her a hand to assist her, even though he had also somehow managed to collect all the grocery bags. Now that he was standing closer to her she realized that Mrs. Goodfield was right—he was quite tall, at least a half-foot taller than her own five foot eight.
“You are in 2C, is that correct? If you will unlock the inner door I will take these to your apartment,” he said briskly.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” Elena protested, making an ineffectual grab at the bags which he avoided easily.
“Yes, I do” he said firmly, “I insist.”
Realizing he had no intention of yielding the point—or the bags—she unlocked the door to the stairs and followed him through. “I’ll just leave these in front of your door, Miss,” he said as he strode energetically up the stairs.
She watched his retreating back and blew out a long breath. Besides the fact that her new neighbor was very handsome and obviously in excellent shape, there was something about him… His accent, though still present, wasn’t as pronounced now as it was when she had first heard him speak, probably because he was no longer stressed by having to placate a hysterical female. It sounded vaguely Eastern European, though it was too faint for her to place more specifically than that. But in addition to the accent and his extremely formal English, everything about him said very clearly, ‘not from around here.’ But in a good way. A very good way, she thought as she watched him return from his errand.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Halstrom, that was very kind of you,” she said when he rejoined her.
“I am pleased I could be of assistance, Miss Samuelson,” he responded with a smile, ducking his head in what could only be considered a bow in her direction. “Oh, and in case you ever need anything else, please take my card.” He pulled a card case from the inner breast pocket of his coat and removed one, commenting, “The printed phone number is my shop, but I’ll give you my cell number too.” He quickly wrote a number on the face of the card and handed it to her with a flourish.
Elena noticed that he didn’t specify what that ‘anything else’ might be, but she didn’t feel the least bit inclined to question him on that point. She considered whether she should offer him her phone number, but didn’t want to make her interest too obvious, and besides she was certain that Mrs. Goodfield would take care of that detail, if she hadn’t already. So instead, she met his eyes and returned his smile, “Thank you, Mr. Halstrom; but please, call me Elena.”
His eyes widened in surprise and his smile broadened, “I am honored…Elena. A lovely name, and it suits you,” he added. “Mine is less lovely, but I would be pleased if you would call me Walter, or Walt, if you prefer. I am less fond of Wally.”
Elena could understand why; she had never met anyone less like a ‘Wally’. “Of course…Walter,” she replied, trying not to blush, “I…I should go put my groceries away.”
“Then I won’t keep you any longer, Elena,” he said, “but I hope we meet again soon.” He reached for her hand, and given his courtly manners she wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he had kissed it. But he merely clasped her hand briefly in a firm grip before releasing it.
She turned toward the stairs and replied, “I would like that, Walter, and I promise not to shriek at you next time.” He gave her a warm smile and waved farewell, but stayed where he was and watched her go up the stairs. She snorted in amusement; no doubt he would wait until he was sure she was safe in her apartment before returning to his own.
Elena dragged the groceries from the hall into the kitchen, and only after putting them away she collapsed on the couch to think over the events of the evening. She pulled the card Mr. Halstrom had given her out of her jacket pocket and examined it for the first time. There was an address and phone number in the Founder’s Falls neighborhood, and as well, it said:
Walter Halstrom
Specializing in Fine Antiquities and Magical Artifacts
By Appointment Only
Her eyes widened, Magical Artifacts? Oh my. Then the neatly hand-printed number on the card caught her attention; she smiled to herself and thought, now all I need is a good excuse to call him.
My Characters
Knight Court--A CoH Story Complete 2/3/2012