Even a gift can be poison.
—Daniel Vik
Ben was waiting when Kendi arrived at his and Ara’s house. “Well?” he asked without preamble.
“I found a clue,” Kendi said eagerly, and told him what had gone on. Even though Inspector Tan had told him not to talk about the investigation, he didn’t think the prohibition included Ben. Ben’s blue eyes went wider and wider as Kendi spoke, and he found himself embellishing on some of the details. His chest swelled and he felt like a hero, as if he had caught the murderer instead of just finding a potential clue.
They were on the living room sofa. Kendi had pulled his long legs up and he felt rather like a grasshopper. Ben sat cross-legged next to him. He wore black sweats and white socks. The weather had grown heavy and moist, and there was a faint electric charge in the air. Black-bottomed clouds were visible through the windows. Kendi was glad of an excuse to stay indoors. It wouldn’t be much fun changing classes in the rain. Although water falling from the sky had been a rarity for him in Australia, it had been all too common on Giselle Blanc’s frog farm, and most of the time he and the other slaves had been forced to continue working in it. Rain was no longer fun or a novelty.
“It must’ve been creepy,” Ben said. “I wish I could have gone.”
Kendi laughed. “I got creeped out a couple times,” he admitted. “I kept expecting to find a dead body or something.” He scratched his nose and gave Ben a sidelong glance. His red hair gleamed softly in the lamplight and a light scattering of freckles gave his face a boyish look. He was shorter than Kendi, and stockier. It made him come across as solid and immovable, unlike the ever-shifting, always-changing Dream.
Kendi shifted position to sit cross-legged like Ben. Their knees almost touched, and Kendi could feel Ben’s body heat. A coppery taste filled his mouth. Pup and Pitr, he thought. Remember Pup and Pitr. He made himself lean casually back against the rear of the couch.
“So what have you been doing while I was gone?” Kendi asked.
“Working out.” Ben pantomimed lifting weights.
“Getting some definition?”
Ben flushed slightly. “A little. See?” He rolled up his sleeve, displaying a solid arm just as a heavy sheet of rain crashed against the window. Ben dropped his arm and looked nervously at the ceiling. It sounded like someone had dropped thousands of marbles on the roof.
“Don’t like storms?” Kendi said.
“No,” Ben said shortly. “It’s stupid, I guess, but—”
Thunder smashed through the room loud as a cannon. Ben jumped sideways and ended up half-tangled with Kendi. They struggled for a moment, and Kendi was intensely aware of Ben’s warm body against his own. After a moment, they separated.
“Sorry,” Ben said sheepishly. His eyes, bluer than deep pools of water, didn’t leave Kendi’s face. “Thunder always does that to me.”
“Yeah.” Kendi’s voice was thick. “That was a big one.”
Ben’s eyes stayed on Kendi’s, and Kendi didn’t want to look away. His heart beat fast as the raindrops. Was he reading this right? Or was he wrong again, like he had been with Pitr and with Pup? He wanted to know, yet he didn’t. Slowly, Kendi’s hand crept toward Ben’s.
Someone pounded on the front door. Ben jerked back and jumped to his feet. “Who the hell?”
Kendi sat up. Ben hurried to the foyer as the pounding continued. Kendi sighed. It was for the best. So far Kendi had fallen twice for someone who wasn’t interested. This was probably a third time. He should put Ben out of his mind. He should—
Ben came back into the living room leading a dripping Dorna, Jeren, Willa, and Kite. They were laughing, even Willa, and Dorna’s eyes sparkled with merriment.
“You got any towels?” Jeren asked.
Ben nodded and trotted out of the room. Kendi got up. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
Kite shook himself like a dog. His shaggy, dark hair flung water droplets in all directions. “We’re looking for you. You haven’t been in your room lately, and we thought you might be here.”
“Why didn’t you just call instead of running out in the rain?”
“It wasn’t raining when we left,” Dorna said. “Where have you been?”
Kendi opened his mouth to tell them about the investigation, then remembered Inspector Tan’s warning. “Studying with Mother Ara,” he said instead. “Tutoring. You know.”
Ben came back with an armload of towels and distributed them about the room. Jeren made brrrrrrrr noises as he dried his hair, and it stood out in brown spikes. The scar around his left eye stood out sharply against his skin. Willa dried herself with quiet efficiency and handed the towel back to Ben with a soft “Thank you.” Dorna wrapped hers around her hair like a turban and Kite dropped his around his neck.
“We wanted to know if you wanted to play Hide and Seek,” Dorna said.
Kendi shot a look at the window. Water sheeted down the pane in a solid gray mass. “Uh—”
“Not outside, dummy,” Kite said. “In the Dream.”
“Oh.” Kendi looked at Ben. “I—”
“It’ll be great!” Jeren enthused, stepping forward and blocking Ben from Kendi’s view. “Dorna said it’s great practice, and we all need the damn hours. Whoever’s It gets to choose the landscape.”
“And we’re going to play for money,” Kite said. “Whoever’s It has to pay five freemarks to the first person to touch home base, and anyone who gets tagged has to pay It five freemarks.”
It sounded like fun and Kendi found himself caught up in the enthusiasm. It would also take his mind off the fact that Ara and Tan were out there investigating Vera Cheel’s house and he wasn’t.
“Sounds great!” he said. “Let’s—” Then he noticed Ben again. He was standing in the doorway to the hall, several wet towels in his hand. Ben wasn’t Silent, which meant he couldn’t play. Kendi hesitated. “Hey, maybe we should do something else. I mean, you know, something we can all do.”
“No,” Ben said in a neutral voice. “Go ahead. I should finish my workout anyway. You can use the living room.”
“Hey, thanks Ben,” Jeren said before Kendi could respond. He turned his back on Ben and brandished a red dermospray. “Everyone got theirs?”
Kendi produced his own from his pocket, then shot a guilty glance at the doorway. Maybe he should back out, go do something with Ben. But Ben was already gone. Kendi stood there, torn.
“Just got mine refilled before I hooked up with you guys,” Dorna said. “I’ve been out of drugs for two days now, and I kept forgetting to go back.”
“Drat it,” Willa muttered. “I’ve only got one dose left after this one. I’ll have to go to the dispensary in the morning. I hope it stops raining by then.”
Jeren thumped his dermospray, then turned to Kendi. “Here, let me.” He snatched Kendi’s spray and pressed it against Kendi’s arm before he could say anything. The familiar thump sounded as it shoved the drug under Kendi’s skin. Willa and Kite followed suit.
“Uh, thanks,” Kendi said. “I guess we better get into position.”
Dorna and Kite took easy chairs. Willa sat on the floor in the lotus position and Jeren stretched out on the couch. Kendi positioned himself on his spear.
“You are one weird Aussie,” Jeren said. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll slip and that thing’ll get you in the balls?”
“No,” Kendi said shortly, suddenly annoyed at Jeren. “You better be quiet. It’s easier to get there without a lot of noise.”
Jeren shrugged and lapsed into silence as Kendi closed his eyes.
A few moments later, the five of them were standing on the flat, featureless plain that marked neutral territory in the Dream. Kendi was the last to arrive, since he had to leave his cave and walk to the edge of the Outback before he could join the others, who had already learned to transport themselves. Whispers hissed around them.
“Who’s It?” Willa asked. In the Dream, Kendi noticed, she seemed taller, more sure of herself.
“My mother and your mother were hanging out the clothes,” Kite chanted, pointing to each person at each word. “My mother socked your mother in the nose. What color was the blood?” His finger landed on Jeren.
“Green,” Jeren said. “Like snot.”
“G-R-E-E-N and you are It.” Kite’s finger pointed at himself. “My turf, then. Here goes.”
He spread his arms wide. The ground rumbled and the air swirled. Green shoots speared up from the ground, thickened, and widened into solid, leafy walls. New-mown grass sprouted beneath Kendi’s bare feet. The air coalesced into fluffy clouds and bright sunlight. In a few moments the group was standing in the center of a garden maze. White marble statues gleamed above granite benches, and a fountain sprayed cool water high into the air.
“There are lots of entrances to the center,” Kite announced, and Kendi counted eight. “It isn’t a real maze—there are also lots of pathways and openings.”
“Lots of places to hide, in other words,” Dorna said. “Let’s go.”
Kite plucked a blindfold out of thin air and tied it around his eyes. Kendi marveled at the other boy’s control. So far conjuring objects had proven difficult for him, though he was becoming adept at molding landscapes. Kite started counting.
“Why the fuck are we standing here?” Jeren said. “Run!”
They scattered. Kendi dodged into the twisting hedge-lined paths until he was alone. Whispers murmured sibilants all around him. He could sense other people moving about in the maze like a swimmer senses ripples in a pond, but it was hard to figure out exactly where they were. He closed his eyes and tried to sense who was where. Jeren was off that way. Willa was two pathways over. Dorna was...was...Kendi furrowed his forehead in concentration. He had a hard time fixing on her. And where was—
Kite barreled around the corner. Kendi felt him coming and his eyes popped open. With a whoop and a yell, Kite pounced. Kendi dodged and fled, trying to remember which way home base was. Kite stayed right behind him. Kendi concentrated as he ran. He needed an obstacle, something to slow Kite down. The earth rumbled, and a boulder burst out of the ground between the two of them, blocking the pathway. The smell of damp earth filled the air. Kendi continued to run down the leafy corridor. An opening to home base was just ahead of him.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Kite said from the other side of the rock. Tendrils of plants and vines shot inward from the two hedges, weaving themselves into a thick barrier just ahead of Kendi, who screeched to a halt. Kite started to clamber over the boulder, but it was too smooth for good purchase and he slid back to the ground. Kendi tried to push through the vegetation. It was too thick. He needed something to cut through it, or a way to go over it.
Kendi felt Kite’s mind pressing on his own. The boulder started to crack. Kendi wanted the rock to exist, big and solid, while Kite wanted it to crumble into rubble. Whichever one of them could force his own perception on the other would win. They were on Kite’s turf, which gave him an advantage, but Kendi’s Silence was strong. Dozens of cracks raced over the boulder’s surface, and Kendi could feel it weakening. Kendi narrowed his eyes. He wanted a solid boulder. He wanted the cracks to disappear. They would disappear now. There was a moment of resistance, then the cracks smoothed over and vanished.
“Home free!” yelled Jeren from the center of the maze.
“Dammit!” Kite said from the other side.
“Mom, Kite’s swearing,” Kendi yelled back in a child’s singsong. “Can’t catch me!”
There was a clank, and the final rung of a metal ladder appeared at the top of the boulder. Uh oh. Kite’s ability to conjure objects was more advanced than Kendi had thought. Kendi cast about for a way out. He could try to make the ladder disappear, but Kite had created it and they were on his turf. Kendi doubted he could overcome both those advantages at the same time. He needed to get through the hedge wall.
“Home free!” Willa shouted from the center.
Now’s the time to get it right, Kendi thought. He held out his hands. He needed a machete, sleek and sharp. It would appear in his hands, and it would appear in his hands—
“Gotcha!” Kite said behind him in glee. “You’re It! And you owe me five freemarks.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kendi grumbled. “At least I get to dictate territory.”
Kite grinned and the maze vanished, leaving the flat plain behind. Jeren and Willa stood next to each other, Dorna off to one side.
“Round two,” Kendi said, and without further explanation he spread his arms wide and called for the Outback. Scrubby plants sprouted from nothing. Sandy soil and piles of rock sprang into being, and the sky rippled and shifted into a pure, hot blue.
“Shit,” Jeren said, wiping his brow. “It’s fucking hot!”
“What a mouth,” Dorna observed dryly.
“Hey, Sis, you take me as I am.”
“I’m not a—oh, never mind.”
“Home base is this pile of rocks,” Kendi said. “And watch out for drop bears.”
“Drop bears?” Willa said.
“According to legend, they hide in the tops of trees,” Kendi told her with an absolutely straight face. “Especially around the billabongs. When you pass underneath them, they drop on you. They aren’t very big by themselves, but if ten or eleven land on you all at once, it gets pretty nasty. Smelly, too.”
“You liar,” Jeren said.
“Can’t lie in the Dream,” Kendi replied.
“Right,” Dorna said. “Of course, that ‘according to legend’ bit sort of lets you off the hook, doesn’t it?”
With an injured air, Kendi covered his eyes and started counting. Around him, he felt the ripples in the Dream as the others scattered. This time he kept a mental eye on Dorna.
“Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.”
Kendi felt Dorna retreat quite a ways and dodge into the brush around a small billabong. Then he lost her. Puzzled, he tried to find her again.
“Seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four.”
Where had she gone? Kendi gnawed his lip. Maybe she had the ability to hide herself in the Dream just as Kendi had a talent for finding people. Or maybe she—
There! She was right there. Right at the edge of the Outback.
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!”
Kendi made a beeline for Dorna’s hiding place. He skirted a clump of scree, then flung himself around a boulder, knowing full well she was on the other side.
“Gotcha!” he shouted, and lunged.
“What the hell?” sputtered the man on the other side.
Kendi leaped back as if he’d been bitten. It was a man, blond, dressed in overalls with a tool belt. Kendi had never seen him before, hadn’t sensed him either.
“Who are you?” Kendi demanded. “What are you doing on my turf?”
“Your turf?” the man said. “Kid, you better have a look.”
That was when Kendi noticed he had crossed some kind of boundary. The Outback was directly behind him, but at the moment he was actually standing in some kind of workshop or garage.
The man crossed arms that bulged with muscle. “This is my territory, yeah?”
“Oops,” Kendi said, backing away. “My mistake. Sorry!” He fled, face burning with embarrassment. The moment he re-entered the Outback, he felt Kite making a run for home base. Kendi raced across the hot plain but didn’t make it time. Kite touched the rock pile and thumbed his nose at Kendi.
“ImadeitImadeit!” he said, lapsing into his old speech patterns in the excitement. “Fivemarks!”
Kendi ground his teeth and cast out his mind to track the others. Jeren was creeping closer, crawling on his belly like a snake. Willa was some ways off, and Dorna was...was...He narrowed his eyes. It felt like she was in more than one place. Abruptly, the sensation vanished and he could feel her again in only one place. Before he could try to figure out what was happening there, Jeren leaped from his hiding place behind a tree and made a break for it. Kendi spun and tackled him at the last moment.
“You’re It,” he grinned. “And you owe me five.”
The game continued. Kendi did well when he was It, and not so well when he was hiding. The more he played, the more he became certain that Dorna was able to interfere with his talent of finding people. When he confronted her on it between rounds, however, she only smiled and called to restart the game.
After a time, Kendi began to feel the tickle that told him his drugs were about to wear off. The distraction was enough to slow him down, and Willa slapped his shoulder.
“You’re It,” she announced.
“I think I’ve only got time for one more round,” Dorna announced, and the others concurred. “Kendi, you owe me ten freemarks. Double or nothing?”
Kendi didn’t even hesitate. “Done!” He called up the Outback one last time and counted as the others fled in all directions. Kendi kept his concentration full on Dorna as the numbers rolled automatically across his tongue. And then he felt it again. She was in two places at once. But how? Never mind—right now he had to concentrate on not losing her. Ferociously he tried to keep his mind on both her images.
“Eighty-three, eighty-four...”
It wasn’t easy. Both Dornas were dodging, staying in continual motion. A bead of sweat trickled down Kendi’s temple. Dorna ran, leaped, darted. The distance between her two images grew, making it even harder. And then there were three of her. Kendi gasped in amazement. It felt like he was being pulled in three different directions, but he was determined to keep his mental eye on her.
“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight...”
He was being pulled apart, yanked in too many directions. But he had to keep track of her. He would keep track of her. The Dornas moved again. There was a strange wrench.
When Kendi opened his eyes, he was flying.
oOo
There were thirteen roses. Ara counted them twice.
A few red petals had scattered themselves across the coffee table in Vera Cheel’s bright, airy house. The windows were closed against the rain that battered the windows and Ara smelled the chemicals spread by the technicians in their search for only they knew what. She remembered the roses being on the table the first time she had visited Cheel’s house so she could recreate the murder in the Dream, but she hadn’t thought anything of them.
Thirteen roses. Fourteen minus one?
There was no card. Tan was examining a delivery box she had found in the kitchen wastebasket. It was white with red lettering. “Fran’s Flowers,” Tan read. “Let’s see what they have to say.”
A quick call, however, revealed that Fran’s Flowers had no record of a delivery to Vera Cheel’s house, nor had she bought flowers from them recently.
“Let’s see what else,” Tan said in her harsh voice. “Betting on the bedroom.”
It took less than a minute to find the pile of underwear beneath the bed. Tan, her hands protected with close-fitting gloves, fished them out and counted them.
“Thirteen pairs of panties,” she said, settling back on her heels.
“You think there were fourteen and the killer took one?” Ara said.
“Under the bed’s an unlikely place to store clean underwear, so I’d say probably.” Tan produced a large evidence bag and carefully placed the panties in it for lab analysis. “Have to figure out what it all means. How we can use this to catch the bastard.”
Ara sat on the bed feeling uncertain and a bit queasy. Watching Tan shove Vera Cheel’s underwear into a bag felt like a gross invasion of privacy. The woman’s body was already lying naked on an autopsy table at Guardian headquarters, and now two strangers were going through her most private possessions. Would a stranger sort through Ara’s underwear the day after she died?
“It’s a sequence,” Tan muttered. She sealed the bag. “A delivery, a murder, a removal of three things. One of the delivered items, a private item of the victim, a finger. The delivery is—what? A gift? A warning? Then things are taken away.”
“Including the victim’s life,” Ara said.
“Hmmm...yes.” Tan crossed her legs on the floor. “Control measure? Serial killers murder their victims as a way to control them. Because they feel they have no control themselves.”
A flash of insight struck Ara. “He isn’t a strong person in the real world,” she said. “He’s weak there—or he thinks he is—which is why he kills in the Dream. Since the women die in the Dream, he needs to show some control over her solid body as well. He uses intimate objects to gain it.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Tan said. “So why does he cut off their fingers and sew them onto the next victim?”
Ara shuddered. “I don’t know. It seems related to the addition/subtraction idea, though.”
“Each victim gets a present,” Tan rasped. “Then the killer takes part of that present and a piece of the corpse. He also takes an item of clothing—”
“Which the victim no longer needs,” Ara pointed out.
“—and he keeps it as a souvenir.” Tan brought her braid over her shoulder and toyed with it. “Serial killers usually become obsessed with their victims. I wonder if he sends them anything else. Something the woman doesn’t keep?”
“Flowers and chocolates are traditional tokens of love,” Ara said.
Tan straightened. “You’re right! I’m stupid! He delivers a love token. When his victim—she doesn’t even realize what’s going on—doesn’t melt into his arms, he feels spurned. Rejected. So he comes back. Kills her.”
“And taking back part of the love token is only ‘fair,’ since she scorned him.”
Tan nodded. “Need to check the rest of this house. Then the other ones.”
They searched the rest of Cheel’s house, but found no more sets of thirteen. By this time, the rain had slacked off to a few breezy droplets and Ara was getting hungry. The two of them retired to the restaurant they had eaten lunch in. When Tan gave her order, her voice had become so harsh, it was barely more than a whisper. After the server left, Tan reached for her water glass.
“Why does that happen?” Ara asked abruptly.
Tan peered at her over the rim of her glass. “Why does what happen?”
“Your voice,” Ara explained. “It’s beautiful in the Dream, but in the solid world it’s...different.”
“Euphemism for nasty,” Tan said blandly.
“No, just—”
“I know what I sound like, Mother,” Tan interrupted. “It isn’t pretty.”
“If you don’t like talking about it,” Ara said, getting embarrassed, “you don’t have to—”
“No secret,” Tan said. “My voice in the Dream is what I used to sound like in the solid world. Then that changed.”
“An injury?”
Tan nodded. “Took an elbow in the throat breaking up a bar fight. Kid not much older than Kendi. Crushed my vocal cords. Took two operations to give me my voice back. I’m lucky to talk at all, though that depends on your point of view. Kid who elbowed me is a Father at the monastery these days. Teaches math or something.”
“I’m sorry,” Ara said.
Tan shrugged. “Nothing you did. I adjusted. Let’s talk about the guy who collects fingers.” She brought out her computer pad and Ara followed suit. Two screens popped into view over the table.
“We can’t search the houses of the other victims,” Tan rasped. “Their houses were all sold a long time ago. But we have holograms, photographs, inventories. Let’s skim the reports. See if the on-sight Guardians mentioned finding anything.”
This work went quite a lot faster. They got through the scenes and inventories of Wren Hamil’s house before the food arrived. It was an easier job for Ara to stomach. Photos, holograms, and lists of words were a lot less personal than handling clothes once worn by a woman now lying beaten and bloody on an examination table.
They continued to work as they ate, pouring over the information from Prinna Meg’s house.
“There!” Tan said, stabbing at a holographic list with her fork. “That’s it!”
“What?” Ara asked, leaning forward. “I don’t see—”
“The book. I remember it now. Prinna Meg wasn’t an antiquarian. Weren’t any hardcopy books in her house, in fact, except this one. I didn’t think much of it because I wasn’t looking for it. See the title?”
“Ten Love Sonnets by William Shakespeare,” Ara read.
“Except,” Tan said, “there were only nine. The last one had been torn out.”