Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (6 page)

Kirsten went to the elevator door, fumbling to keep her shoes under her arm as she hit the call button. The faint pat-pat-pat of her impatient foot drew the attention of a brown-furred dog from a back hallway. Lime green numbers ticked down in front of her. A handful of people trickled in from the street: commuters arriving home from work. The curious animal darted out of sight at the arrivals. She sent a pout at the vomit-colored tiles, feeling extra stupid for wasting a day off on Brian/Armando. The crowd distributed itself among the six elevators. When the doors at last opened, an older Chinese man, a woman who appeared to be his wife, and a young black man joined her in the cab.

The Asian couple offered her a pleasant nod, and continued talking about their daughter’s impending wedding. The young man checked Kirsten out with chivalrous subtlety, but she still noticed. She smiled at him, for a moment considering giving up on her intended destination to split the food with him instead.

The door chimed and closed, the cab shuddered into motion.

“Hi.”

“Hello yourself.” A slight bow. “Lawrence.” He made a humorous gesture of an impossible handshake, noticing her arms were full.

Hmm. Surface thoughts check out, thinks I’m cute in a barefoot-waif kind of way.
“Kirsten.”

Lawrence leaned against the railing. “You live here?”

“No, visiting someone.”

“You’re gonna break my heart, aren’t you?” He winked. “A guy?”

“No, my partner’s ex-partner.”

His face froze in a look of confusion for a moment. She couldn’t help herself, still eavesdropping. “No, partner as in cops, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Shit. Play it off his face.
“Couldn’t help but notice that look on your face.” She loosed an impish giggle.
Dammit, don’t lie.

His cologne wrapped around as he leaned in. “Heh, so you’re a cop? You don’t look like one.”

“I’m more of an investigator.”
Get it over with.
“Division 0.”

“You one of those psionics?”

“Uh-huh.”

Lawrence edged to the corner; a wary look stiffening his features. She closed her eyes into a sigh. The older couple glanced at him, at her, back to him, and then started chuckling. The cab stopped, the older couple got out. He eyed the hallway, debating.

“Just because I’m psionic doesn’t mean I’m going to attack you.” She looked up at him.

He cleared his throat and tried to act casual. Lawrence needed acting lessons.

Kirsten got off on the thirty-ninth floor, scowling at the sigh of relief behind her that fell short of being silent.
Not worth it to make a scene, just let it go.
When she reached apartment 3918, she had almost stopped grumbling.

A tiny speck of chromatic light appeared at the center of the door, at head level, a moment after she toed the doorbell.

“Umm… I think you have the wrong door.”

“Nila Assad?”

A transparent holographic bust with coffee-colored skin faded in above the speck. “Yes, do I know you?”

“I’m Kirsten Wren, umm. Agent Kirsten Wren, Div 0 I-Ops.”

The ethereal eyes looked down then up. “Did they alter the uniform since I’ve been on leave?”

“No.” She grinned. “I just had a bad date. Can we talk?”

Darkness washed over the door in the absence of the projected face; a second later, it opened with a puff of air. Nila was taller than Kirsten expected, forcing a bit of an upward tilt in her neck to maintain eye contact. Tank top with no bra, sweat pants, barefoot on thick carpeting―just looking at her made Kirsten jealous of the comfort. The apartment was full of the smell of child, a presence in the air she had come to find soothing. On the way to a plain white table, they shared complaints of high heels and wished ill fortune upon whoever had invented them.

Kirsten offered a plastic carton, the mass of red sauce, pasta, and squid sloshed to the side. “Do you like seafood? The idiot got this, he left before it ever showed up.”

“Never had it before… Is it any good?” She sat and flipped the lid open, sniffing at it. “I could ̓sem something for Shani; she’ll probably be mad at me, but this smells wonderful. Wow, there’s so much of it, I’ll split it with her.”

“It should be. It was a hundred and thirty nine credits.”

Nila coughed. “Jerk.”

Kirsten leaned on the table, propping her head on her arm. “Yeah. I’m getting used to it.”

“So what brings you here with expensive charity seafood?” Nila chuckled, and retrieved a couple of plates and some forks from the kitchen.

“It’s about Dorian.”

Smash.

One plate dead, one clamped in an awkward stance to her thigh. Forks bounced onto the rug. A little girl of about seven ran out from a back hallway, gaping at the broken plate. Silver sensgoggles clung to a thick mass of dark brown hair; cheeks flickered in light cast off from a paused video.

“I’m sorry.” Kirsten fell to her knees, gathering bits of broken flatware.

“No, please… I’ll get it. You’re a guest.”

Shaking, Nila set the remaining plates on the table, cleaned up the mess, and returned with new forks. The girl clung to the corner of the hallway, trying to bore a hole in Kirsten’s chest with her eyes.

Nila sat. “What about him?”

“I’m an astral sensate and―”

“Oh, God. Is he still here? Has he come to see me?”

Kirsten leaned against the chair. “Uhh. Okay, that was easier than I expected. Usually people don’t believe me.”

“I’m not a civilian.” She tasted the food, curiosity became confusion, and then her eyes narrowed as she chewed.

She must like it.
“Yeah, but even a lot of Zeroes seem to draw the line at ghosts.” She stabbed a forkful of pasta. “I don’t know if he’s come
here
; I’m pretty sure he hasn’t, he doesn’t want to bother you.”
This is pretty good.
Kirsten nibbled. “I don’t want to upset you, but he’s beating himself up because of guilt. He’s taken the blame for messing you up.”

The child squinted at Kirsten, darting out of sight as soon as she tried to look at her. Nila pulled one foot underneath her on the chair and nudged closer to the table.

“Shani’s afraid they will send someone to make me go back to work and get killed.” Nila doled some food onto a plate for her daughter. “Are you here to talk me into going back?”

“No, I just wanted to see how you were doing. Dorian’s kind of become my partner now… in an odd sort of way. He’s attached himself to the car.”

“Shani, come, eat.” Nila held the second plate out. In a moment, a little face peered around the corner once again, locked in a terrified stare at Kirsten.

Kirsten averted her eyes; she could not handle a child looking at her
that
way. Afraid. She poked at her pasta. Shadows crept across the floor as Shani risked getting close only long enough to grab the plate and run into the back hallway.

“She’s not afraid of you. She knows you’re with the department.” Nila’s fork poked into the food twice, twirled, and then rose an inch. A tiny C’thulu balanced atop linguini for an instant before slipping back to the plate. She impaled it. “I cheated death, I know. I don’t want to get killed. I know it’ll happen if I go back.” The fork twisted, tiny tentacles mesmerizing. “I should have died with him.”

“He thinks it’s his fault for pulling into the front lot so fast, as if it was just another warrant run on some low-grade suggestive con man.”

“Neither one of us expected laser rifles. He had a handful of former ACC mercenaries from Mexico. Rene was up to his neck in some crap for them, working for some heavy equipment corp. He turned his bodyguards into fanatic servants.”

Kirsten held a hand up, trying to chew faster. “Mmf. No, it was organized. Exotech was a front. Rene had syndicate connections… I should say he was using them, too.”

Nila blinked. “Do they know that?”

“Not as far as I could find out, but it probably wouldn’t be too healthy for Rene if they did.”

“D-Nine should already be looking for him; he killed a cop,” said Nila.

“You sure you’re okay? He’s worried about you, even though he won’t admit it.”

Nila leaned her head back and stretched to exhale. “I don’t want to die. I’m happy here at home with Shani, where we are safe.”

Kirsten studied the remnants of her food.
Don’t tell her he had feelings for her, that will hurt more.
“He thinks your nerve broke.”

“I’m fine. I’m still on psych leave, still getting paid. I could do some consulting I guess, but I can’t go back out there…” Nila gazed through the vertical blinds at a stream of hovercars; bands of light crawled across her face.

The thousand-mile stare.

Kirsten sulked at her lap. “I shouldn’t have come here, this was a bad idea. I’m sorry if I got you upset.”

Nila shook it off, flashing a nervous smile. “I’m not angry at Dorian. Like I said, we had no idea Rene had laser rifles, or soldiers. The armored windscreen didn’t do a damn thing. All I remember was orange light, smoke, flying bits of glass… Then I woke up in a gel tube.”

“I’m not fond of those tubes. So embarrassing.” Kirsten reached across the table to grab Nila’s hand. “Even if they are doctors.”

“It’s not too bad after a while. Compared to the academy, it was no big deal.” Sensing Kirsten’s confusion, Nila laughed. “Tactical goes through military boot camp. Co-ed showers, co-ed bathrooms.”

Kirsten blushed at the thought.

“Trust me, hon. No one is thinking about sex for thirteen weeks. Even if they are, they’d be too tired to do a damn thing about it.”

Kirsten offered an uneasy laugh and finished the pasta, pondering the unusual fear in Nila’s face.

“My mother used to rip my dress off and spank me in front of her friends. They all found it hilarious. I don’t know if it’s that or not knowing how many pervy ghosts stare at me when I sleep.”
Give a little, maybe I’ll get a little.
“I’m really uncomfortable with the whole lack of clothing thing.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. She was a psychotic bitch, thought I was the spawn of the Devil. Do you really think there’s a grim reaper waiting for you at the squad room, checking his watch?”

Nila shifted in the chair and put her leg down, fidgeted, flashed a false smile, and then broke out in a cold sweat.

“Mommy…” The little girl ran over and clamped onto her mother’s arm, glaring at Kirsten.

“It’s okay sweetie, she isn’t going to make me go back. She’s just a friend of a friend.”

The girl continued her glare, standing in front of Nila as if to guard her from death. The best disarming smile Kirsten could muster did little to dent the overt hostility in the tiny dark eyes pointed at her.

“Look, Nila, forget I even brought it up. I was just trying to help Dorian feel better and get over some of his guilt. I didn’t want to hurt you or your daughter. If you ever need
any
help at all from me, here.” She swiped at her NetMini, sharing her PID. Across the room, Nila’s device chimed. “Just call, okay?”

As she went to stand, the girl bolted, running away as if about to be hit. Kirsten frowned, offering an apologetic look.

“Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with anyone from the department, thinks they’re going to drag me out of here to my death.” Nila walked her to the door. “Thanks for the food. Tell Dorian it’s not his fault, and I’m fine.”

isps of steam carried the beautiful fragrance of coffee through the car and around Kirsten’s face. She adored it; at the same time, she hated it for overpowering the scent of Evan’s just-washed hair. Dorian shot her a longing glance as she sipped it, shifting to gaze with boredom at the pedestrians outside. Whenever someone noticed the black patrol craft and aborted jaywalking, he laughed.