A Dark Trail - Chapter 5

One floor up, Calvin and Cassanee continued searching offices. They didn't find anything living, but every office had at least some furniture and supplies. Nothing useful had turned up yet, but Calvin kept stopping to scan any documents left lying around.

Flipping through a spiral notebook, he paused on one page, eyebrows raised. Cass noticed, but waited for him to explain.

"It says, 'let this end' over and over again. The tiny handwriting looks familiar. . ."

Calvin folded and stuffed the papers into his pack and joined her in the hallway. They'd checked everywhere, except for whatever lay behind the double doors that stood at the opposite end of the room from the stairs. They moved towards them, checking the offices they passed again, just in case.

They leaned up against the walls on either side, each taking hold of one doorknob. The knobs turned easily and the doors swung open from a gentle push. Peering in, they saw another office, notable mostly for being larger than the others. Some executive's, probably. A more impressive, sturdier looking desk, with two low chairs on their side, and a taller, much nicer chair on the other side, its back to the window. A walnut bookshelf in one corner, a circular tray with dusty glasses and a bottle of Scotch on a low cabinet along the opposite wall.

Stepping further into the room, Cassanee paused and sniffed the air, picking up the ozone scent you smell after a thunderstorm, but couldn't find a source. Calvin tapped her shoulder and pointed to their right. There was a faint outline, like the one he'd seen reflected in the window earlier. It resolved itself into a person. A thin, almost skeletal gentleman, wispy white hair standing out from the sides of his head. He wore a tuxedo that hung loosely on his frame, a fiddle in his left hand. He tilted his head and regarded them with an unreadable expression.

The lights in the room flickered to life, followed by the ones in the hall, the light rising in intensity until it was almost painful. Calvin felt the hair on his scalp and arms rise, his hands clenching the bat even more tightly, all the while his mind was telling him to go. Cass' eyes were narrowed and he could tell she was tense, ready for any sign of danger, but the man did nothing. Calvin decided to try talking.

"Um, hi. You wouldn't be able to tell us anything about this place, would you?"

The man said nothing. Merely placed the fiddle beneath his chin, and raised the bow. Calvin wasn't sure what that meant - he bet nothing good - but Cassanee darted forward and ripped the instrument from the bony hands.

That, at least, produced a change in expression. The man's eyes and mouth drooped in dismay. He extended his now empty hand, trying to reclaim the fiddle. Cass easily stepped out of reach, holding it behind her.

"Just tell us what you'r - " Her statement was cut off as lightning arced from long fingers and coursed through her. Her head snapped back with enough force the hood of the her cloak - the one Pollock thought must be glued to her head - actually fell back. Her mouth moved soundlessly, unable to draw a breath to exclaim.

For the first few moments, Calvin stood rooted in place, too surprised to move. By the time he broke out of it, rushing forward in what still felt like slow-motion, the man had ceased his attack. Cass was falling to the ground and he was reaching for his fiddle again, expression almost back to what it was before.

Calvin slammed into his side, bat held in front of him like a bar. He drove the man into the wall with all the force he could muster, hoping to hear some sound of pain. A cry of pain or a grunt, a bone snapping, something showing this wasn't futile. Instead the man looked at him curiously. As though he couldn't understand what was going on. He raised one hand again.

Calvin rolled to his left, towards the windows, electricity just missing as it surged forth, scorching the carpet in its path. Calvin stumbled back, grabbing the cabinet to avoid falling on his ass. The tray with the alcohol and glasses sat next to his left arm. He swept it forward, flinging the items at the man, who raised his arms to shield his face. The bottle shattered, dousing him in what Calvin hoped was high proof booze, while Calvin got to his feet and darted by, grabbing the tray as he went.

He scooped the fiddle from where the man dropped it when he shielded himself, tossed it and the tray in his pack, then gathered Cass' unconscious body. She was still breathing, at least. Calvin scrambled for the doorway, but glancing over his shoulder, saw the man had cleared his vision and was raising his left arm again. Calvin was so focused on that he almost ran into one of the doors before he started looking where he was going, but managed to avoid with a spin and dive sideways out the door. He twisted to land on his back and not let Cass' head hit the floor. The bat slipped from his sweaty fingers and made a muffled clatter as it landed on the carpet.

He heard two sounds as he landed. One, the crunch of the fiddle under him. The other, the "fwoosh" of a flame being ignited. The lights in the hall dimmed, though they didn't go out entirely, and there was a bright orange glow from the office. Calvin rose to a seated position and double-checked Cass' heart and breathing hadn't stopped in the last five seconds (fifteen? thirty? how long since he checked last?). They hadn't. His own breath was coming in short, rapid inhales.

Thump. He raised his head back to the open double doors.

Thump. A footstep. Thump. Another, the interval between them shortening. Thump.

Cass groaned softly as Calvin slid backwards on his butt. He couldn't seem to get his feet under him, but they could at least push him down the hall. He scuttled past an open office and quickly rolled his cargo onto the floor. He closed the door quietly and used his grip on the doorknob to pull himself to his feet. His legs couldn't decide between running in any direction as fast as they could and giving way again. The odd gentleman stepped into view.

His sleeves were burned away, and the hair on the right side of his head was singed to nothing. The stench from that was just delightful. Otherwise, he seemed unharmed. His eyes locked onto Calvin, who made a show of rattling the knob as if trying to open a locked door. He released it and stepped back, hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

"OK, so good news/bad news. Good news, I have your fiddle - "

Then he was diving for another corner as the stranger raised both hands and unleashed a charge that surged down the hall like a wave of writhing snakes. Calvin's left foot spasmed and an unpleasant tingle ran up the entire leg, leaving it numb. He rose and hobbled to the end of the hall, to the window where the raven had been earlier. Turning, he saw the Electric Man at the corner, watching him.

"You know," Calvin gasped out, "I was going to say this next bit was bad news, but to hell with that. I crushed your stupid fiddle the second time you tried to electrocute me. He pulled it from his pack by its broken neck, and held it out as proof.

Then he tossed it out the window.

"Ooops."