(Untitled)

[leto_reficio]

A woman in her thirties, in a house that's an Aladdin's cave of whorls and sprays and statuettes, gleaming confections apparently left to the uncertain mercies of a mad glassblower with hiccups. Glass manipulation. Something even Chandra has been able only to guess at, never to expand on

Comments

[avengingshanti]

Chandra, indeed, does not even begin to suspect until several hours after he and Gabriel have parted ways at the door to his apartment. And even then, it comes gradually, creeping in without his notice, so that when he finally realises with a shock what his uneasy feeling means it's gotten its claws in and will refuse all attempts to turf it out.

But Chandra knows him. He just wouldn't do that! All right, so the evidence doesn't seem to be stacked in his favour, but it's surely just circumstantial... inconclusive...

Right?

A sometimes-inexplicable temper does not a murderer make. If Gabriel vanishes sometimes, well, that's his perogative as an adult who needs his personal space; Chandra's worried sometimes that he scares the man off by being too damn enthusiastic. If other people vanish -- well, they could have simply decided not to talk to Chandra after all, disappointing but perfectly reasonable, and an explanation which right now he would much prefer to the alternative. If Chandra says that they can't continue unless Gabriel has

[avengingshanti]

Later, he hurries to the library, coat collar pulled up and expression hunted. The one he heads for keeps copies of newspapers going back a few months; he scours the locals, starting weeks before he met Gabriel -- just in case -- but nothing, nothing. It's with his heart in his mouth that he turns the pages of the day they had that first great argument, expecting, perhaps, any moment to find a banner headline screaming GRAY KILLS MAN or WATCHMAKER SLAYS. Even in the sports pages.

But-- nothing.

He could be wrong. Please, let him be wrong.

He keeps reading.

Other dates, other papers from other states. In the Chicago Tribune he is assaulted by GRISLY MURDER WENT UNSEEN, in which a public sidewalk, only empty thanks to luck and the early hour of the morning, was the scene of a vicious murder. It's been made into a lurid double-page spread, flanked by the story of a police chase which ended in the death of a civilian, and an article detailing how items of the suspect's clothing were seized by police only to be mysteriously stolen.

[avengingshanti]

He has his cell phone. But how would that conversation go?

Of course it wasn't me, Chandra -- how could you think it was? If you won't trust me then I'm afraid we can't talk any more.

Or, worse:

Of course it was me. I did it. I meant to do it. And I'll enjoy doing it again.

Chandra shudders.

If he calls the police -- well, if he's lucky they'll laugh in his face at the mention of superpowers (not telling the whole story doesn't even occur to him). If he's unlucky, they'll see him as an accessory -- which he is, oh God, and that knowledge is growing in him like a strangling fungus. If he's really unlucky, they'll arrest Gabriel. And yes, he's angry, and yes, he's frightened, he's betrayed -- but they've been friends for what feels sometimes like years, and he doesn't want to be the kind of person who'd stab a man in the back like that. He could still be -- there's the tiniest, obscurest sliver of hope that he's -- wrong. If he calls the police, it will be after he's spoken to Gabriel and after he's certainBut who does that leave?

[dear_carbon]

Darla Wood has to sit down, too.

But for a very different reason.

Unexpectedly, remembering the Kirsh has her remembering a few other things she wishes she didn't.

Exploding squirrels, which sound a lot funnier than they are.

Exploding schoolyard bullies, which are even less humorous than the squirrels.

How many people, she wonders miserably, committed murder before they turned thirteen?

Damn few.

Damn fucking excuse me few.

It rings six times before she gets up and answers.

Softly, much softer than she's known for: "Hello?"