What She Doesn't Know (29 page)

The fireplace was warm and toasty now, a healthy flame that devoured the clothing, the cup of coffee, the brown curly wig, and the plastic part of the hypodermic needle. He walked into the room where Sira waited for him. “I took care of Brian,” he told her.

“Yes, I know. I know everything you do.”

“You’re not pleased,” he said. “You wanted to do it.”

“I thought you didn’t like killing people. You were too squeamish.”

“Let me be the man once in a while and do the dirty work.”

Her upper lip twisted in a sneer. “You’re not a man. You’re just a wanna-be. I’m in control.”

Sometimes he hated her. She had given him strength these past two years, but she could just as easily take it away.

“I saved your life,” she said. “Never forget that. ‘From this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, as if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing…’”

She
had
saved him from the ceaseless turmoil, when his isolation and loneliness had gotten to be too much to live with. When death seemed the only escape.
 

Death…it was her weapon. Now it had become his, too. He didn’t have to like killing. But he would do it again if he had to.

Christopher felt as empty and numb as he had when he’d made arrangements for Sherry’s burial. Her parents had been in too much shock to be of help. He had owed them that much, and though they never blamed him outright, he had failed them, too.

The ‘ifs’ haunted him now. If he’d believed Rita sooner, if he’d looked harder. Watching her wipe away her tears and hearing Tammy sobbing on the phone reminded him that he had the feelings of a door knob. All he could dredge up was guilt, just like he had with Sherry.

After making the necessary calls, he sat at Brian’s home desk and logged into his hidden inbox. His jaw was working hard on the piece of gum he’d popped in earlier, and he wondered if it would disintegrate if he chewed it long enough.
 

He felt Rita walk into the room before she made a sound. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something in the air changed when she came in.

Without turning to her, he said, “The funeral is scheduled for Wednesday, day after Mardi Gras. After everyone has cleansed their souls of their sins and promised to give them up for lent.”

She came up behind him. “What are you doing?”
 

“Checking his e-mail.”

She pulled one of the chairs beside his and sat down. Vitar had answered.
 

King Alta:

Have attached Sira’s declaration. Am relieved you are still here. I wish to discuss Sira. I believe she is dangerous, that she is taking Xanadu too seriously. Forgive my references to the real world, but I have traced her to New Orleans. She has hidden her identity quite well, though, so I have no more information. Will keep working on it. I advise you to be careful, since you are probably there preparing for the Gathering. There is more, but I must speak with you in person. I will not be online again until we meet at the Gathering. You must reassert your authority in Xanadu and attend as our king, your majesty.

“She lives here,” Rita said. “Which still includes Tammy, Sasha, and Emmagee.”

“Or it might not be anyone in Brian’s world. Sira’s just as likely to be someone on the fringes…in the shadows.”
 

He clicked on the attached file. A document that looked like a scroll opened. It proclaimed that Alta had become ill and rescinded his position as King of Xanadu. Sira would now reign. Xanadu’s website had been moved, and the new “doorway” address was listed. All passwords would remain the same.

He looked over at Rita. “So we pay a visit to Xanadu.”

“Definitely. But we’ll need a passport…er, password.”

The Web page was a patterned gold screen with no visible place to enter the site.
 

“This can’t be right,” she said. “There’s nothing here.”

“There’s probably a hidden door somewhere. It’s a trick I’ve seen before.”
 

He moved the cursor all around. Way up in the right corner, part of the background disappeared and became the log-on. He typed in
Alta
and
Prince Caspian
, which melted the background away to reveal a purple screen. New age music poured from the speakers. A man appeared, dressed in what looked like the costume they’d found in the warehouse.

“It’s Brian,” Rita said. “Or at least it’s supposed to look like him.”

Christopher clicked on the gold
X
just below Brian’s image. It came to life, opening its arms to them. His mouth moved along with his words:

Welcome to Xanadu. I am King Alta, creator of this amazing and diverse place. If you are a current participant, pull on your cloak and enter by clicking the golden X again. If you are new, you have been invited by a participant and must read the following to acquaint yourself with our world.

I wished to create a special place where prejudice, hatred, crime, and disease did not exist. Where emotions are celebrated. Where the meek can inherit the earth. Every player sheds a flaw or weakness when they join. Each player is sworn to secrecy, must abide by the code of Xanadu, and must stay in their persona at all times. Anyone who breaks the rules, introduces an outsider without permission, or acts out of character will be banished from Xanadu forever.

Of course, Xanadu has its hazards as well. It wouldn’t be exciting otherwise. You may choose from many places in which to travel, all filled with fascinating creatures and people, beauty, and danger. You will be challenged, tempted, and given many choices, all depending on how the other players act.

 
As a new player, you will first meet the Tailor, who will help design your persona. You have many choices from which to choose, many creatures or types and races of people. These are only outlines. From there, use your imagination to make your persona whatever you want to be. Read the backstory and get acquainted with the residents of Xanadu. I encourage you to click on the link to “Kubla Khan,” Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem that inspired my vision of Xanadu. Then your sponsor will introduce you into the current story, to which you will contribute.

“Wow.” She sat back and absorbed the implications.

“Like the stories Brian wrote for those magazines. Since he couldn’t be the king of the Krewe of Xanadu, he created his own version.” Fatigue washed through him, and he slumped back in the chair. “He was king, all right. The king of nothing.”
 

Sadder yet, he wondered if he weren’t much different. Brian had been living in his role of the good prince, just like when they were kids. And Christopher still lived in his role of the bad prince. Both he and Brian ruled worlds they thought were real: Xanadu and that lonely place where Christopher lived with virtual iron gates to keep out anyone who cared to come close enough. Not many did. He rubbed his hands down his face, then sat up and poised his hand over the mouse.

A detailed map filled the screen. Xanadu was the civilized part of a land called HeavenX, all overseen by Alta. A few small communities dotted a vast landscape of wilderness that included the Plains of Evil, Mountains of Change, and Lake Illusion. The city of Xanadu had a tight, neat layout.
 

“It looks like the warehouse,” Rita said.

“You’re right. There’s the king’s castle, the dining room, the gathering room. Way in the back is Sira’s house.”
 

“He asked me if I liked video games.”

“Maybe he wanted to test the waters, see if you’d be interested in playing.” He looked at her. “Would you have?”

She considered it. “Some of it would have appealed to me, like shedding your identity and hang-ups and becoming someone else. I feel more comfortable doing that by reading a book, though.”

They found a chart of the current citizens. When they clicked on Citar, his animated character, draped in blue robes, introduced himself as the prince of thieves and shared what weakness he had shed. Appropriately enough, it was being too honest. A troll named Cragmar had shed his vanity. Sira’s flaw had been her complicity where others were concerned. She did not want to fit others’ parameters. Brian’s flaw had been his need for approval.
 

“That poetic way he speaks,” Rita said, a trace of wistfulness in her voice. “That’s the Brian I became infatuated with. Which means I was actually infatuated with Alta. I still can’t believe he’s gone. I keep thinking he’s at the hospital and I’ll get to see him soon.”

He didn’t want to think about it, so he continued and found the area that Alta participated in the most. They could scroll through the story over the last several months, watching the action or reading the text messages between the players.
 

“Sira and Alta were on here the most, though he seems to have tapered off about a month before his fall,” Rita said.
 

“When did you and he start your thing?”

“It wasn’t a
thing
. We started e-mailing…well, about that same time.”

“Apparently he was infatuated with you, too.” He clicked on the next archive. “Alta and Sira seemed to be having some kind of power struggle. Here she wants to preside over the banishment ceremony.”

They referred back to a page of codes, finding that the ceremony entailed a character be put into a cage until the hearing. King Alta had the final word on whether someone would be banished or merely warned. He had denied Sira’s request. Just like their father, loathe to part with any of his power.

“There are parallels between this place and some krewes. You have to be invited in by another member, and the captain has the final say on who is let in and who isn’t.” He remembered how much Brian had looked forward to being invited into Xanadu after Mardi Gras that last year. “They don’t put people in cages, though. That would be illegal, not to mention creepy as hell. Krewes can banish members. They have codes and rituals, and they have gatherings, which are all linked to Mardi Gras.”

She wrapped her fingers over the arm of his chair as she leaned forward. As they read on, they found that Sira and Alta had become lovers several months ago, going off into the private “rooms.”

“Another thing some people do,” he explained as he used the
Prince Caspian
password to get into Alta’s private room, “is use the same password for everything. At least change one thing about it, just to keep a hacker off track.”

“I’ll remember that.” She met his eyes for a moment and let him know in some unspoken language that she no longer considered him a hacker. But he was sure she considered him a bastard.

The private rooms used text messaging rather than graphics. Three entries in, he looked over at her.
 

She had a tint to her cheeks as she read. “He did have a
thing
with Sira. This is like phone sex, only written out. We shouldn’t read any more.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t tell me it’s getting you hot.”

“It isn’t!” The tint deepened to a becoming pink. “It’s just…private. Very private.” She leaned closer to the screen. “Oh, my. Is that physically possible?” She shook her head. “Don’t give me that snarky grin of yours,” she said. “Your face is flushed, too.”

“Snarky?” He wasn’t commenting on the flush.

“Yeah, like a shark’s smile, mixed with a smirk. That’s my definition, anyway.” She nodded toward the screen. “Can we leave this room now?”

“All right, so it’s apparent that they were hot and heavy. No wonder he didn’t have a social life. He had more right here than he could handle. It tapers off around the time he met you. Here, he’s trying to let her down easy.”

“I wonder if she knew he was going to make her queen. She sure hinted about it a lot. It seemed to matter as much as being king mattered to Brian.”

“Obviously he changed his mind before he mentioned it to anyone.” He went back to the main story, and they continued reading. “Brian did intend to invite you in. You were being considered by the high council,” he said when they got to the end.

“I can see why Sira wanted me dead, at least from her warped point of view. I was her competition. From what I can tell, she hates to be left out of anything. Or left behind. I’ll bet she’s been an outcast her whole life. Xanadu is probably the only place she ever fit in. To her, this isn’t an imaginary world; this
is
her world.”
 

He kept clicking on the various links. “It looks like this gathering that everyone’s talking about is when they all come here, dress in their costumes, and act out their particular fantasies. And interestingly enough, it’s held on Mardi Gras day.”

“Interesting because of the krewe parallel?”

“And because it’s the one day a lot of people dress up in costumes. Men dress like women, women dress like men, there are clowns, cowboys, nuns, you name it, it’s out there. Anyone going to the Gathering would fit right in. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of these people live in New Orleans…the city of masquerade.”

“That’s why Brian couldn’t work on Mardi Gras night.” She touched his arm. “Look, Sira is already changing the codes. If someone doesn’t participate at least once a week, they’ll be banished.”

“Find a notepad, and we’ll take notes on the key players, particularly those who were banished. Maybe someone who’s not involved anymore can shed some light on this.”

When they were done, he wrote down the website information. “I’ll track the IP address and find out where this is being hosted. I can PING and get an IP address. Once the traceroute measures the hops, I can use geopositioning to find out the general vicinity of the server.”

“You do realize I have no idea what you just said, other than you can find out where the thing is?”

He shrugged. “That’s the important part.”

He did several things she didn’t understand, then sat back in his chair with a sigh. “It’s registered as a private domain.”
 

“That sounds like we’re out of luck.”

“Just for that avenue. We’ll have to play the game.”