Grimalkin Returns

[skybright]

"It's George. The Boss has a job for you. Come to headquarters--'e'll be expecting you."

Daws couldn't help but grimace at the message on the office answering machine. Part of the case it might be, but she definitely wasn't relishing the thought of another meeting with Tiernan.

I believe 'Suck it up, Ace' is the phrase Jack would've chosen. She sighed, relocked the office, and headed uptown for the offices of Tiernan Enterprises.

***
Daws managed to keep her gaping at the lavish lobby of the Tiernan offices to a minimum, this time around -- Just because it's a pretty rock, She thought grimly, Doesn't mean there isn't something nasty living underneath.

She stepped up to the reception desk and nodded cordially at the pretty blonde receptionist. "Regina Dawson. I was told Mr. Tiernan's expecting me."

[Jordanna]

The receptionist did her job, paging Tiernan, and relayed that someone would be down to receive Daws in a few moments.

About a minute later, Joey Falco bounded out of the elevator. "Hi, Miss Dawson!"

[skybright]

Well, that improved her mood some. Daws grinned broadly and slapped Joey on the back in greeting -- noting with some amusement that her hand literally bounced back.

"Good to see you, kid! How've you been -- staying out of trouble?"

[Jordanna]

Joey grinned and ducked his head. "Yeah. Just doing my usual work. The Spooks haven't even acted up again." Then his expression grew serious, and he said, "But the Boss wants to see you in his office. C'mon, I'll take you up."

With a beckoning gesture, he headed for the elevator.

[skybright]

Daws glaced around in caution before she followed Joey into the elevator; there didn't seem to be any sort of an ambush planned. Besides, she reasoned, Tiernan seems to be the sort who likes doing his own killing. He wouldn't have lackeys doing it, this close to home.

Daws wondered briefly if she was doing herself any favors, thinking about her encounter with Tiernan in terms of ambushes and killings. Shrugging the whole train of thought off -- with some effort -- she turned her attention to the line of slowly-lighting numbers above the elevator door.

[Jordanna]

When the elevator reached the top floor, Joey led Daws down a short hallway--to a door from behind which faint piano music was drifting. There was no pause in the music when Joey knocked, but Nick Tiernan's rather languid voice replied, "Come."

Shrugging to Daws, Joey opened the door and stepped in.

The corner office was a sterile, colorless environment, with a strangely impersonal quality about it. The floor was covered with unremarkable white tiles rather than carpeting. The vast windows that made up the outer walls were heavily tinted, leaving discreet skylights to provide most of the illumination. The artwork on the inner walls was limited to a few almost abstract black-and-white lithographs of winter landscapes. The sleek furnishings were made of gunmetal-colored steel--with the exception of an antique Steinway piano, which stood on a low dais in the corner between the windows.

Tiernan was sitting at that piano, his hands gliding over the keys. The song was Chopin's Nocturne in F Major.

"Ah. Good day, Miss Dawson." Tiernan allowed the notes of the piano to die away, and rose from the bench to bow slightly. Glancing at Joey, he added, "You may go now."

With a wan smile at Daws, Joey bobbed his head and retreated from the office.

"Thank you for coming," Tiernan continued with airy politeness, once the door had closed. "To be quite honest, I wasn't sure you would. I suspect you're well aware that I caused you a certain... inconvenience... in the matter of one Sidney Rosenstein. A friend of one of your clients, I believe?"

[skybright]

Nicholas Tiernan was reminding her more and more powerfully of Dracula all the time. Daws fought down that familiar cold prickle along her spine and shrugged as she removed her fedora.

"We're both businesspeople, Mister Tiernan. My business is snooping around and carrying people through tough spots. Your business is . . . well." She shrugged again and half-chuckled, "It's your business.

"In answer to the question you're hedging around," She added, fixing Tiernan's odd, dark eyes with her gray ones, "Yeah, Sidney Rosenstein's my client's boss, and his friend. But he isn't my client, and he's not my friend. He's a human, and his wife was human." Daws steeled herself, fought back a wave of self-loathing, and added, "One human more or less isn't any fur off my back. So long as my clients don't end up dead, I don't take it personal."

[Jordanna]

"Evidently you share my own sentiments." Tiernan smiled at Daws' expression. "You needn't pretend surprise. I know you've suspected my nature--and your instincts happen to be correct."

He paused thoughtfully for a moment, gazing at Daws speculatively. Then he continued.

"I believe you can be of great value to me, Miss Dawson. That's why I want you to understand the exact reason I took up my cause." He smiled grimly. "Allow me to show you something that very few have survived seeing."

With that, Nick Tiernan threw off his cape, and turned away from Daws... revealing the cause of his presumed deformity.

Protruding through two perfectly tailored openings in the back of his suit, there stretched the scarred and twisted stumps of what had once been pale, bat-like wings. Tiernan extended the nerveless, crippled ruins as well as he could, showing the ragged remains of the skin membranes that still hung on the truncated limbs.

His back remained turned to Daws as he stepped to the window and gazed out, pressing his palm against the tinted glass.

"Once upon a time, Miss Dawson... I had the gift of flight. It was my one escape from the world down there. From the stares and whispers and names; from a stepfather who blamed me for my mother's suicide." He turned, his expression cold and empty.

"I was barely seventeen years old when he and a gang of his drunken friends did what I've just shown you. It took them... quite some time." He closed his eyes, and a visible shudder passed through him. "They first tried to cut them out at the roots, but they couldn't sever the humerus. They had to settle for breaking the smaller bones--and I was conscious through it all."

He opened his eyes. Their black irises had expanded slightly... and a strange, chilling shadow had dimmed the sunlight that filtered into the room from above.

"Not one of them is left to hurt our kind now," he concluded, with an ominous finality in his tone. He shuddered again, and for an instant, that unnatural shadow in the room threatened to grow darker--but then it abruptly lifted, mirroring the sudden clearing of his eyes.

This seemed to mark the recovery of his composure. He turned to pick up his cape from the piano bench where it had fallen, drew it over his shoulders, and took his time fastening the gold clasp. Then, his mutilated burden once more concealed, he met Daws' gaze with a semblance of his usual cool demeanor.

"I swore to put an end to things like them, because nature isn't doing the job fast enough."

[skybright]

A thousand emotions and responses raced through Daw's brain, ranging roughly from Poor kid to God help me, the man's a psychopath to And there, but for the grace of Heaven, go I to This is the part where we win or lose this whole thing, Ace. She wasn't fully sure if the sudden drop in light and temperature was her imagination, or something Tiernan was causing -- but it certainly gave her the creepy spooks.

What she finally said, as Tiernan recovered his calm and all the fur on her back slowly lay back down, was "I'm sorry."

And she was sorry -- for the long-dead tortured boy Tiernan had been in another life, for a frightened thirteen-year-old girl in the Central Park undergrowth, for the hundreds and thousands of people whose stories were that same story . . . .

For Wilhelm Schultz and Carolyn Rosenstein and a nameless woman who had died in a river, and for everyone Tiernan would gladly send to join them.

It was that last part that drew the line between herself and Tiernan; and Daws dug her mental heels in at that line with all her might. They were not the same, even if their stories were.

But she had, for the time being, to make Tiernan believe that they were. She cleared her throat, and -- dreading the outcome, hating part of herself with every word -- she said firmly

"What is it you want from me, Mister Tiernan?"

[Jordanna]

Tiernan gave a small, crooked smile and inclined his head. "Yes, of course. Your only interest is business. Fair enough."

He crossed the room to his desk, picked up a folded newspaper, and returned to face Daws.

"I want you to find this woman," he said, and held out the newspaper--which bore an all-too-familiar photograph and headline.

Medical Examiner Sought In Morgue Slaying.

[skybright]

Daws took the now-familiar newspaper from Tiernan and took her time studying the photograph and reading the entire article. Then, keeping her voice carefully neutral, she said "Y'mind if I ask what you want with this . . . Doctor Van Linden?" She glanced up at Tiernan and raised an eyebrow, "And what makes you think she hasn't skipped town?"

[Jordanna]

Tiernan arched an eyebrow. "Curiosity about my 'business', as you refer to it, is rather unlike you." Then he made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "For one thing, I've reason to believe she may have learned something in the Rosenstein matter. For another, the man she killed was one of mine. To put it in terms you may appreciate, he was... investigating her at the time."

He spread his hands. "As for her leaving town, it's entirely possible--and if that's the case, I have all the more reason to employ your independent services in finding her. No matter how far she may go, I want her located." He smiled grimly. "You see, Miss Dawson, I never let the death of one of my people go unanswered."

[skybright]

And neither do I. Daws thought grimly. But outwardly she merely nodded and said "I'll see what I can do. It might take a while if Van Linden's gone to ground -- especially if's she's got help. But if she's out there, I'll find her."

And I'll make real sure that you never do.

Daws grinned lopsidedly, savoring the irony of the whole situation -- Van Linden had hired her to spy on Tiernan who was hiring her to find Van Linden. Oh, what a tangled web we weave . . . She put her hat back on and said "I can appreciate someone lookin' out for his people -- especially when they're people like us."

[Jordanna]

"Quite." With a benign smile, Tiernan inclined his head. "And of course, it goes without saying that your reward for finding the doctor will be substantial. When you do, you need only report her location to me. I shan't involve you in any... messy details."

With that, he seated himself again at the piano. "Joey will be waiting to escort you down to the lobby. Good day, Miss Dawson."

[skybright]

Daws nodded and settled her fedora more firmly on her head. "It's a pleasure working with you, Mister Tiernan."

She didn't expect a reply, and didn't recieve one; instead, she let herself out as the strains of Chopin's Nocturne floated through the room once again.

Joey, as promised, was waiting in the hall. He bounced up from his position leaning against the wall, and Daws grinned at him.

"All in a day's work, huh kid?"

[Jordanna]

"I guess so," Joey shrugged. He didn't know what went on in Tiernan's office, and he didn't want to know; he was more than happy to enter the elevator with Daws and press the down button.

"So how've you been?" he asked, as they waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. "And how's your shoulder?"

[skybright]

"Oh, I've been stayin' busy -- I'd say 'out of trouble', but that'd give you the wrong impression." She chuckled. "The shoulder's all right now, but it was sure reminding me of that fight for a couple of days there." She scratched behind her ear and glanced at Joey. "What about you?"

[Jordanna]

"Like I said, just the usual work. Office-boy errands." Joey grinned. "I'm not complaining. I got to take my mom to dinner last night, and that was really nice."

[skybright]

Daws grinned. "Your mom's lucky to have ya. Most kids your age wanna stay as far away from their parents as possible."

She wondered, briefly, if the kid realized exactly how his boss felt about Joey's human mother -- and everyone else's human relatives. But she shrugged the thought off for the moment and added "By the way -- do you still play basketball?"

[Jordanna]

Joey grinned. "You bet I do--if I can find anybody to play with. Nobody else around here is really into sports."