Tabula Rasa: Chapter 9
I have to give my plot bunny major props for helping me out with a snag in this fic, and can't take all the credit for this chapter. Your "brain farts" are much appreciated. I thank you!
Also, I wanna wish the following people a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY:
shadowrider (Aug. 9)
virginia0908 (Aug. 10)
spikedluv (Aug. 10)
HAVE A GOOD ONE, GUYS!
* I do not own the BT series characters. They belong to a much-more talented individual. I am however, more than happy to take credit for characters/scenarios not featured in the books or television series. Not making any money. No copyright infringement intended*
“Any luck on the research front?” Coreen glanced up from her laptop as her boss stumbled into view blinking her eyes rapidly to clear them of sleep, and then sat down heavily in the chair nearest the desk. Coreen shook her head, the gilt butterfly pins scattered throughout her hair mimicking the gesture. “That would have to be a negative.”
Vicki stared at her levelly, and Coreen found herself shifting uncomfortably. “There’s nothing on the web about how to steal someone’s memory? Surely, there has to be something that we can use….” She tapped her fingernails impatiently on the armrest and then the toes of her boots picked up the rhythm.
Coreen cleared her throat. “I meant that there was no luck finding anything useful on the web,” she corrected, and Vicki stopped her tapping. “I just spent the last six hours wading through everything from wannabe warlocks, self-proclaimed Voodoo queens, to middle aged housewives selling charms and potions out of their homes. Aside from all the nutballs, there was a lot of useless info designed to swindle people out of their money. Either that or recruit them into a cult.”
She closed the laptop and stared at her boss. “I think it’s time to switch gears and give Dr. Sagara a call; if anyone would know what is capable of wiping someone’s memory, it would be her.”
Vicki had to agree that that made a certain amount of sense, and mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. Apparently her emotional involvement in this case was taking a serious toll on her mental faculties. She glanced at the clock mounted above the front desk. Twelve minutes to sunset. Twelve minutes till she would have to face for the second time in as many days, Henry-the man that she loved-staring back at her like she was a stranger. She looked up again. Eleven minutes. She braced herself for the inevitable confrontation between her worst nightmare and her dreams for a happy future.
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“Are you sure that she will be here tonight?” Sid, the shaggy-haired blond kid, smiled reassuringly and placed a camaraderie-like arm around Mike’s shoulders. Mike bristled at the gesture but let it slide. He probably doesn’t know that I’m armed.
Josh, the kid with the eyebrow ring, nodded his head in a manner that was just a little too gleeful for Mike to be comfortable with. Apparently this Emily had alienated more than her fair share of the local bar flies, and they were looking to even out the score.
“It’s like I told you earlier, bro,” Josh smiled goofily at Mike, who suddenly wished he had the ability to teleport himself out of awkward situations. “She’s in here like, every night going on and on about that guy and what she has planned for him. I’d bet money on it.”
Mike sighed and sat back in his chair. If these guys had been booked at Metro for a crime other than being a few sandwiches short of a picnic, I wouldn’t have to resort to playing Your Friendly Neighborhood Detective, and could just get on with my Good Cop/Bad Cop routine with Dave. Preferably with me playing the role of the Bad Cop.
“Well, speak of the devil. Here she is, live and in person.” Mike turned towards the sound of Sid’s voice just in time to see a willowy young woman enter the bar, a blue plaid satchel slung over one shoulder. She glanced around to either side before making her way to one of the booths stationed at the rear of the bar, and proceeded to flag down a waitress. Several of the waitresses leaning against the bar turned to one another and began making gagging gestures, and after a brief discussion of whose turn it was-a discussion punctuated now and again by wild gesticulating and fervent head shaking-one left to attend to the girl.
Mike couldn’t help but feel mildly sorry for her. Sure, her style of dress was decidedly conservative among the standard black leather and red vinyl uniforms of the local clientele, but that hardly seemed like a valid reason to openly dislike her. It was obvious by the way that the waitress was attempting to roll her eyes without being noticed, that the girl was quote “going on and on” about “that guy.” Mike decided to get a little closer to listen in on the specifics of the conversation, and after reassuring his newfound friends that he had the situation under control, and that they were to remain uninvolved, he made his way across the room.
“…..and then that P.I. woman ruined everything!” She banged her fist down on the table top, and the red glass votive rattled and threatened to topple over. “I had him right there, and she took him away from me! I swear if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get that…….” Her tirade was interrupted by the waitress trying to get a word in edgewise.
“Wow, total buzz kill there, Em. Can I get ya anything?” The lack of sincerity was apparent even to Mike, who was still a good few feet away. The girl turned to stare at the waitress, and she seemed to get a hold of herself. “Yeah, the usual.”
The waitress beat a hasty retreat and quickly rejoined her friends back at the bar. A loud burst of laughter erupted from there a moment later, and the girl’s attention turned towards the commotion, and seeing nothing that she could obviously connect with herself, turned back towards the tabletop. Mike held his breath. He had been seconds away from reaching for his cuffs and arresting her for making threats right then and there, and would have succeeded, had his attention not also been distracted by the noise. She would have seen him approaching if she had inclined her head slightly more to the right, but so far, he remained unnoticed.
Just remain cool, calm, and collected. You already know she’s involved and she hasn’t seen you, so there’s no reason to………..
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of the bartender’s voice booming out across the room. “Hey, detective! Can I get you another round?” Mike’s heart froze in mid-beat and he stopped dead in his tracks.
Oh, of all the lousy luck!
The girl’s head whipped around and her gray eyes fixed him with an icy stare. Conservative dress and lack of physical intimidation aside, there was no mistaking the power that blazed within her. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face, and he before he could react, the girl rose from her seat.
The words seemed suddenly impossible for his mouth to form. “Stay right there, and don’t come any closer!” His right arm instinctively reached for his service revolver, and for the briefest of moments, he considered how he was going to explain shooting an unarmed woman to his superiors.
The girl smiled at him and kept advancing. “What are you going to do, detective? Shoot me?” The words were spoken barely above a whisper, but the danger lurking beneath such a calm exterior spoke volumes. She raised both arms up above her head in mock surrender. Mike withdrew his gun and pointed it at her. “Don’t….no closer….” His hands were shaking so badly it was a miracle he didn’t drop it on the floor. Why was it so hard to breathe? His lungs burned as he tried to force air into his body, and when he glanced up again, she was standing right in front of him.
As his brain attempted to make sense of what was happening, the girl lowered her right arm. Mike’s eyes sluggishly followed her movements, and it was then that he noticed a small, round object in the palm of her hand. It looked like it was made of glass or something very like it, but he couldn’t be sure. The girl realized that he was looking at the object and her smile grew wider. More sinister.
“Take a good look, detective. It will be the last thing you will ever remember.”
In a blur of movement, her arm darted upwards and she placed her palm firmly on his chest. White-hot pain radiated out from the point of contact and sizzled with agonizing slowness along every nerve ending. His mouth opened in a silent scream, and as he crashed heavily to his knees, she moved her palm to lay flat against his forehead. The object felt cool against his slick and sweaty skin, and then the feeling changed with frightening swiftness. It felt like his skull was being slowly crushed in a vice, and as his vision gradually faded to black, memories from a few minutes ago flickered past the point of perception and vanished in the abyss.
He stared up at her helplessly as he realized that he was about to share in Henry’s fate, but then it seemed that Fate herself intervened. From behind him came the sound of charging footsteps accompanied by some rather creative profanity. A blur of movement which he attributed to several bodies slamming the girl to the floor, flashed into view, and she let out a scream that raised the hair on the back of his neck. The object flew out of her hands as she toppled forward, with Josh, Sid, and the bartender in tow. It skittered across the floor and came to rest under the nearby bar stools, and Mike found himself instinctively tracking its trajectory.
Just like I thought. Glass.
A sharp yelp of pain and the sounds of fists making contact with soft tissue tore his attention away from the object, as the girl managed to kick free of one of her restrainers. Josh, cradling his ribs, crawled after her and grabbed a hold of her ankle. Snarling viciously, she turned and landed a punishing blow across his right temple and he let go of her.
The bartender was apparently made of sterner stuff, and just as her hands closed around the object, he wrapped both of his arms around her waist and hauled her to her feet. Kicking furiously, she struggled with him before going limp and appeared to surrender. Panting, the bartender turned to the frightened waitresses cowering behind the bar, and ordered them to call the police.
Oh, what luck. They’re already here! Mike felt himself toppling sideways and decided to go with the flow.
The distraction proved to be just what the girl was waiting for. The heel of her right foot slammed down onto his right foot, and turning slightly, her right fist connected squarely with his crotch.
That’s gonna ruin his weekend. Mike didn’t seem to have the energy to smile, which was a moot point, considering he was rapidly losing consciousness.
The bartender’s reaction was explicit and to the point. “Fu…CK!!!” The girl wriggled free just as he collapsed and joined Mike on the floor. Several customers shouted and hastily moved out of her way as she ran out of the bar, and in the distance, Mike could barely make out the sounds of the approaching ambulance.
As the technicians were securing him on the gurney, Josh and Sid, looking a little worse for wear, accompanied him in the back of the ambulance. Mike groaned audibly as he realized that he was going to have to hang out with his new buddies for just a little longer, but it occurred to him that he owed them for what they had done. They couldn’t have known the extent of the danger they were in getting directly involved, and it seemed that in this instance, it was both a blessing and a curse. Both could have been seriously injured or worse.
“Nelson…..” Mike wet his lips and tried to speak up as the technician looked at him in confusion. “Call…Victoria Nelson. She’s a P.I.” The technician nodded his head. “Is it an important call?”
Don’t question me, Junior, just fucking do it! Mike’s temples throbbed as he considered how incredibly stupid the question was. He was lying on a gurney, in an ambulance, with some sort of trauma to his brain, requesting that someone be alerted of his condition. It couldn’t get anymore important than that!
“Yes,” he whispered as the ambulance roared into life and sped off down the street. “For both of us. She’ll kill you for not telling her where I was, and then kill me for putting myself in danger.”