Out of the Black - Lee Doty [75]
Here, in the deepest subbasement of his New York estate, the earth helped channel the energies he accumulated. The earth's darkness surrounded the firestorm of his work. If this worked, this would be a quantum leap for his craft. If it worked, he would be able to see the very fabric of the Loom, the fabric of all creation.
Boring yoga indeed.
He rechecked his rechecks, retuned his retuning.
***
Anne sat in the nurses' lounge under the watchful gaze of two uniformed officers and the accusing stare of her destroyed locker. The officers had asked Anne every question in the book twice, but no one had told her what she was supposed to do now.
She was afraid. More than fear though, she felt completely uncertain. No one had yet acted like they were going to imminently arrest her, so what? You just killed- very killed- someone, and then what? You go home? You go to prison? They give you a medal and an honorary police doughnut? You go to witness protection? If anyone knew, they weren't telling her.
She sat in a plastic chair, watching the officers pace around her, waiting in terror for one of them to ask her about the destroyed locker with the king-sized jacket in it- her name was even on the bent locker door leaning against the wall- but time dragged by and no one else seemed to notice.
The cops were polite, but she repeatedly caught them staring at her. This, she understood- she didn't know what to think of herself either. The Detectives had been in to interview her several times. She'd done a lot of crying, had said "I don't know" a lot, but she couldn't bring herself to mention the fallen... behickeyer. That would only be an invitation to more questions she couldn't answer, and perhaps increase her chances of ending up in a padded cell. She had mentioned the dry leaves voice, but had downplayed it when she realized that she was the only one who heard it. Maybe just someone panicking as the melee began... right.
Anne had no sooner managed to convince herself that she was done answering questions when the Feds arrived. The lounge door opened to reveal a man and woman, both in dark, well-cut suits. Both had the air of confidence and easy authority of the actors on her third-favorite show, FBI Files. This was definitely going down on her permanent record. She rested her face in her hands, wondering how much longer until someone brought out a desk lamp and the questioning started in earnest.
The woman, obviously the leader, waved the uniformed cops out of the room. She had an open, efficient-looking face that could be called pretty by the charitable. "Miss Kelley?"
Anne nodded.
"May I call you Bethany?" She asked, pulling up a chair.
"Call me Anne, I go by my middle name." She said without looking up.
The woman settled into the chair across from Anne while her partner leaned on the counter by the mini sink behind her. "I'm agent Hawthorne, this is agent Mendez." Mendez nodded, completing the introductions. "The officers downstairs told us some... interesting things." She raised an eyebrow, examining Anne.
Anne nodded, face still in her hands.
"I know this must be difficult for you. I'll try to be brief, but there are some questions I need to ask." She gave Anne a smile that was half support, half apology. Anne straightened in her chair, pulled her hair back, put her palms together with her index fingers to her lips, nodded again.
"Ok, first question: What was that downstairs?" Hawthorne exclaimed casually, shaking her head. "I mean, wow! I watched the surveillance logs... I've never seen anything remotely like that! I thought that doctor was a gonner, then pow! You blur across the room like Supergirl and backhoe a whole mound of karate on that Harm. You actually had him upside down in the air..." she paused, hands still gesticulating in the air, seemingly looking for words big enough to contain her wonder, "How?" she finally asked with a bemused smile and a small shake of her head.
"Spinach."