Chapter #109A Passing Grade by: imaj   “It was part of my disguise to get through the airport back in London,” you explain, watching Joe lead Rosalie inside the house. Rick grunts noncommittally. “I travelled as Hélène because I thought she would give me more options,” you explain circumspectly. Rick nods, indicating he gets your meaning. “And this little pink suitcase was perfect for her.”
“Good attention to detail,” replies Rick. “Come inside, we’ll talk about it.” He leads you into the house, taking you through the small living room, past the tired looking artificial Christmas tree, and into a poky kitchen at the back.
Charles Brennan stands there, bent over the cooker, working away at the grill. “Sir,” you say respectfully.
He straightens up and turns round. The ruddy face breaks out into a grin. “Easy there son,” he says warmly. “Welcome to Olympia. It isn’t much, but it’s home. I’d offer you something, but you have the look of a man with his mind on business.”
Your mouth gapes a little at the informality of it all. “Thank you sir,” you reply once you regain your composure. “I was going to report to Rick about the assignment he gave me. That is, if it’s ok with you.”
“You do that Will son,” replies Charles with a twinkling smile. “There’ll be plenty of time to get down to our business tomorrow. Besides, I imagine Kali will be tired from her trip too.”
“Kali’s here,” you ask enthusiastically.
“Came up with Rick,” explains Charles.
“I dropped her off earlier,” interrupts Rick. “Had an errand to run myself.”
“Must have been a dry trip up from Los Angeles. You’ll find a bottle of bourbon in the last cupboard in the row Rick,” says Charles. “Help yourself.”
Rick licks his chapped looking lips and opens the cupboard. He fishes out a bottle and glass tumbler quickly. “Thank you Mr Brennan,” he says with uncharacteristic respect. “Come on squirt,” he says to you, flipping back into his more normal way of speaking.
He leads you back through the house to a small study. A small and heavily worn wooden desk is pushed against a window that looks out onto the street. A single bookcase leans precarious by one wall, crammed full of old looking leather bound books with faded titles. Rick takes one cramped looking wooden seat and gesture you into the other.
“So spill it squirt,” says Rick as he pours himself a generous measure from the bottle he took from the kitchen. The label says it’s cheap stuff, barely a step above household cleaners but Rick savours the smell of it long and hard. “How’d you get through security at Heathrow?”
You explain your progress through the airport carefully, making sure to describe the choices you made. He nods as you talk and such is your level of detail, he only has to press for clarification on a couple of occasions. As you progress, your attention fixes less on what you are saying – you know it already – and more onto Rick’s reactions. He’s not impressed, but you don’t think impressed is a word anyone would use to describe Rick. Satisfied is a better word – as if a difficult and troublesome task has been put to bed and no longer needs attention.
“That was a solid effort squirt,” he says, draining the last of his glass as you finish. “You planned it out well, paid attention to the detail – hell that suitcase really was a nice touch, whatever anyone says – and you didn’t make a mess of anybody’s life this time.” He puts the glass down on the desk and leans forward, fixing you with a stare. “Might have been interesting if something had gone wrong with it, just to see how you’d have handled that.” You squirm uncomfortably. “Relax squirt, I’m happy enough with how you did.” Happy isn’t a word you’d use to describe Rick either. “Now, you gonna tell me how you pulled a fast one on the kid?”
“Well, he worked out who I was pretty quickly,” you explain. “I’d tried to get close to him as Hélène, but I’d forgotten he’d read that story of Kali’s about her. Between that and you telling him to watch out for pretty Arab girls with green eyes he spotted me easily.”
“Kid always was good at making deductions,” murmurs Rick to himself.
“But Rosalie offered to help me,” you explain. “I used her imago to get close to Joe and once I’d knocked him out we switched back round. I walked in the door just as he woke up so he wouldn’t think I was Rosalie. We even put his clock back five minutes just so he wouldn’t realise he’d lost any time.”
“Clever,” mutters Rick scratching at his stubble. “I’d say getting someone to help you was cheating but given the look on the kid’s face when he realised you played him, I’m gonna let it slide.” He pours himself another drink. “You still got her imago?”
You look at Rick. It’s an innocent enough question, but that’s what worries you. Although his face betrays nothing, you wonder angles he’s working out inside his mind. “I deleted it,” you answer. “I didn’t need it anymore. That’s what I said I’d do, remember”
“Pity,” he murmurs, sniffing at his drink. “What’d you think of her?”
“She seems really kind,” you say with a shrug. “Generous.” Should you tell him about her betrothal to your cousin? It dredges up memories you’d rather forget about.
“That’s Glundandra for you,” say Rick before you get a chance to continue. “And speaking of being generous, since you managed to get Frank and Joe’s imagos with them both none the wiser, I’ll forget about the money you owe me. My little present for you making the apprentice grade.”
“Thanks Rick,” you grin. “Wait, making the apprentice grade, what does that mean?”
“It means we get you out of the classroom,” says Rick with a rare grin. “Congrats squirt, you’re going to be working with one of us directly now.”
“Is it gonna be you Rick,” you ask enthusiastically.
“Could be squirt, could be,” answers Rick, rubbing his chin. “Truth is me and Kali ain’t the only ones invited to this little get together. Nash Cairns is about somewhere, garage probably. The Jesuit too, but I think he’s here for the kid. Maria Cardozo should get here sometime this evening, you met her at Margaret’s funeral. Miko’s due in a couple of days. She had to fly back to Japan to deal with something called a kuchisake-onna, which she tells me is some kind of incredibly polite demon.” Rick shrugs as if confused. “Could be you end up apprenticed to any one of them.”
“Why,” you ask. “Most of what I’ve learned is with you and Kali.”
“Charles will want to see what your other ousiarch is,” explains Rick. “He’ll make a decision that’s right for both you and whoever you end up with.” He shrugs again. “May even be he’ll let you make the decision yourself. That’s his style.”
The door to the office bursts open and Joe sticks his head. “There you are,” he grins before taking a bite out of some grilled cheese. “I’ll show you round.”
You look to Rick. “We’re done here,” he nods. “You’re gonna have a busy few days ahead if yourself so you’d best get settled in. I gotta speak to your Dad anyway Joe.”
“Thanks,” you say, hoisting your suitcase and following Joe. He darts ahead of you, excited to be back home. You follow him back through the living room and down a short hall.
“That’s my room there,” says Joe. Out of sheer nosiness you poke your head round the door to take a look at where Joe grew up. It’s small but crowded, with a bunk bed, another small desk and a bookshelf crammed with books and model airplanes. You permit yourself a small smile – most of the titles on the shelves are Hardy Boys books. Through the window you can see the shed at the bottom of the modestly sized garden
“Rosalie not staying here,” you ask, closing the door to Frank and Joe’s childhood room behind you.
“It wouldn’t be right,” shivers Joe. “And Dad’s a little old fashioned that way.” He looks around the hall for a few seconds before opening a linen closet. The oddly pentagonal shape of the closet walls makes your eyes water. That’s when you realise there’s actually a flight of stairs set in one wall of the closet. “Guest rooms are this way,” he says, pointing up the stairs.
“Attic space,” you ask unhappily. You’re tall enough and clumsy enough that the heavily sloped roof of an attic bedroom is going to cause to you to bump your head a lot. For a moment you wonder if Rosalie will have the same problem – she’s the same height as you after all.
“Something like that,” grins Joe. You follow him up the stairs, which improbably end in another linen closet. Joe opens the door at the top and steps out…
…into another hall.
There’s no way this could fit in the roof space. Now you think about it, those stairs should have cut Joe’s room in half. Half a dozen doors lead to different rooms and there’s another linen closet opposite the one you’ve just come out by. “Great isn’t it,” says Joe, seeing your confusion. “Dad only uses it when we have lots of guests over. That’s your room there, just try not to think too much about the view from the window.” he explains pointing at an open door. “Rosalie’s just opposite you.”
You enter your room while Joe heads to Rosalie’s. The guest room is simply furnished - a plain looking bed, a small writing desk and an old fashioned looking wardrobe. There are a couple of empty shelves on the wall. Almost empty, you notice that someone, probably Kali, has placed the leather bound notebook that served as your dream journal in L.A. on one of the shelves.
With a sigh you lift the little pink suitcase onto the bed and open it. There are two sets of clothes inside, a ‘Will’ set and a ‘Hélène’ set. You travelled to Olympia as Will to avoid Frank realising who you really were. Now that you are here, there’s nothing to stop you being Hélène, save that it might upset Kali.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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