Excerpt: Untitled

Tara ran around to the handful of people in the shop, advising them that she was closing for lunch and would reopen in about an hour if they wanted to come back. She rang up the last purchases, and waved goodbye to them as they filed out. Then she grabbed her coat and we walked up the street a little bit to a nearby deli. Tara chatted happily about how the store was doing – business was booming, a trade show was coming up, and she was trying to persuade a local author to do a book signing. I told her I was pretty sure I hadn’t worked at a copy shop in my old life.

“So you’re going to try something else?” Tara asked as we stood in line with the lunchtime crowd. “What next?”

“Actually, the job offers seem to be pouring in at the moment,” I said dryly. “The trouble is, I think I’m way over my head. What do you want?”

“Um, the turkey chili, I guess.”

I scanned the choices and ordered a Reuben, in case I liked sauerkraut, and a big bag of potato chips, in case I didn’t. I am a total potato chip fiend, which I know can’t be good for me, but the way my life was going, salty snacks were the least of my worries. Since I was indulging one vice already, I just got a bottled water instead of milk. The food came quickly, and we had just turned around with our trays, looking for a free table, when I felt Tara tense up. I looked at her in alarm. “Tara, are you…” I trailed off, realizing what was happening. “Oh, no.” Tara was staring directly at an elderly woman who had just entered the deli.

And then she screamed. It wasn’t a panicky scream, not a call for help or out of fear. It was a scream of sorrow, and anguish. A scream that seemed horribly out of place coming from such a small, cheerful woman. It echoed in the room, and it froze everyone in their tracks as, just for a moment, they felt that place inside themselves where sadness lives touched. I wasn’t immune, either. While I heard the scream I remembered those first horrible moments when I realized I didn’t even know my own name. I blinked away sudden tears.

And as I opened my eyes again, Tara’s scream died away. And the world around us came to life again. People near us were scowling at Tara, people farther away were shaking their heads, as if clearing away sleep. Tara herself was turning crimson. “I’m…I’m so sorry,” she apologized to the people looking at her. “I, um, thought I saw a mouse. I’m really sorry if I startled anybody.”

But already people were turning back to their sandwiches and salads, as if nothing important had really happened. That’s the one nice thing about Tara’s ability. As embarrassing as it is to her, her scream doesn’t seem to stick in people’s minds. A lot of the Touched have that effect on people. I guess you could call it a survival trait – if people really remembered half the things that went on around them, the Touched would never be able to keep their secrets.

The one person who still seemed affected was the elderly lady who had set the whole thing off. She would remember, even if only dimly, that she had heard the scream of the banshee. And that death would come for her soon. That sounded tragic and horrible, but Tara had explained to me that actually it did the hearers a lot of good. The old lady would go home, feeling a need to put her affairs in order and share her last moments with those close to her. It was in part because of Tara and her kind that so many elderly seemed to be so accepting of death.

But if her talent brought some small measure of happiness to others, it did her little good. Being Touched in such a way made it very difficult for Tara to get out and socialize. Who wanted to spend time with a harbinger of death?

What if she screamed at you?

“Come on,” I nudged her. “Let’s sit down and eat. I’m starving.”

We picked out a table and sat down. I nibbled at my sandwich while Tara just stared at her chili. Sauerkraut, I decided, was okay, but I was glad I had gone for the chips, too. Finally she heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Fi. I’m such a wet blanket. It’s just kind of depressing sometimes, being a banshee. When I see someone about to die I just get that…that feeling, and the closer they get the worse it gets until I just have to scream to let it out.”

“It’s not your fault, Tara,” I reminded her. “You just feel their death approaching. It’s not like you cause it. And I’d scream too if I felt that kind of stuff.”

She gave me a warm smile. “Thanks. You’re such a good friend.” She lifted her spoon, looking better already. “Umm. That’s good. So tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I told her, “but this is probably at the top of the problems list.” I explained about my run-in with al-Khemri’s men and my meeting with the man himself. “So he wants me to check out the murder scene this afternoon. I guess I’m supposed to see if I can sense something – I don’t know.”

“Wow,” Tara said. “I thought it would be something big, but this… Fi, I thought you said you just wanted a normal life.”

“I did! I do!” I protested. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to have more supernatural bad guys breathing down my neck. I’ve got enough on my plate.”

“But you said yes anyway. Don’t get me wrong,” Tara said, holding up her hands as I gave her a dirty look. “I know you meant what you said to the dominar. But…I think you have fun being right in the middle of things.”

“Hah!” I said, around a mouthful of potato chips.

“I’m serious. You get really intense when you’re involved with stuff like this. You take charge, figure things out, and you don’t let anybody put you off – when you’re under pressure, that’s when you really come to life.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said, hurriedly taking a drink. Coming to life under pressure. Tara really was a romantic. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you knew anything about any of this. What do you know about al-Khemri?”

“I’ve never ridden around in his limo before,” Tara teased, “but yes, he is the dominar for the area where you live. That territory’s kind of a mixed bag when it comes to the Touched, so it’s not surprising a character like him would wind up on top.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve probably noticed that people who have been Touched in the same way tend to live in the same area,” Tara explained. “Mostly it’s just because they have similar needs. Ghouls live around cemetaries, shifters like being near green spaces, trolls prefer living around bridges, brownies like the commercial districts...”

“I get it,” I said. Brownies? Apparently, I’d only met a few of the different kinds of Touched out there. “So my area is a mixed bag? No one particular type of Touched?”

Tara nodded. “Right. So it’s particularly tough for a dominar to keep an eye on things. I’ve heard there wasn’t a lot of competition when al-Khemri took over. But I’ve also heard he could have had any territory in the city if he wanted it. Supposedly he’s very old, and powerful. And he’s influential in the mortal world, too. That isn’t always the case with dominars.”

“Is he the kind of person that would kill out of revenge?”

Tara lifted her shoulders. “I can believe he has the power. Liches are scary people. And he’s certainly ruthless. Maybe he figured he was sending a message.”

I shook my head. “It’s hard for me to believe that he wouldn’t understand killing another dominar’s son just makes things worse. I guess anyone can act impulsively at times, but…he didn’t seem like the kind of man who lets his feelings get the best of him.” I munched another chip thoughtfully. “I guess the best thing to do is to keep him on the suspect list for the time being, and keep an open mind about other possibilities.”

“Suspect list?” Tara chuckled. “Sounds like Fiona West, private eye, is on the case!”

We finished our lunch while discussing some lighter topics. I felt a lot better just having talked to Tara about things. But after mentally waffling back and forth, I decided not to mention Greg to her. I was probably making a big deal out of one chance meeting, and there was no need for Tara to get all excited if it didn’t pan out. I didn’t have much time for dating, anyway, with a night job and now a day job, too. The more I thought about it, well, the more I realized I was thinking too much about it.

I walked Tara back to the shop and said goodbye, then took a cab back to my place. I checked my watch. Just enough time to get cleaned up and make my appointment…my appointment with murder.

All right. Maybe I was having a little fun.