Eddie chuckled. “Bastet is in a league all her own. She helps, or doesn’t, as the whim takes her. Who can understand the inner workings of the cat mind?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Sure. Good point.” I so wasn’t gonna go there.
“As for Cordelia Nightwing, well,” he shrugged. “She’s clairvoyant. Things are never very clear when one is communing with the Otherside. They’re a bit strange over there.” They were strange?
“It’s all about impressions and pictures,” he continued. “Poor Cordy has to translate everything she sees into something that we can maybe comprehend. Just imagine … ” He waved his hands in the air as if grasping for inspiration.
“Imagine you were shown a trailer for a pirate movie. Of course, you don’t know it’s a pirate movie because the sound is off and the picture’s blurry and the screen jumps around a bit. Then imagine trying to describe, not the trailer, but the movie itself, to someone who hasn’t seen it. That’s what being a clairvoyant is like.”
I could imagine. They could make a whole TV game show out of something like that. “That’s why I came to you. I need facts, not impressions or guesses or weird, blurry images with no sound. I need to know what exactly is happening to me.” I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him about the whole Sunwalker thing, but the Darkness was another matter, not to mention whatever was going on with Inigo.
“Well,” he said as a big smile stretched across his face, “you’ve come to the right place. Facts are what I deal in. Lots and lots of facts.” He leaned back into his chair and gave me a wave. “Proceed.” He looked very much like a color blind Santa Claus. All he needed was the hat.
So I told him about the Darkness. I told him about the strangeness of Inigo. I told him all about the Sunwalker, the amulet and all the weirdness that had become my life.
The only thing I held back was Jack’s claim that I had become a Sunwalker. I wasn’t ready to believe it myself, let alone share it with anyone else. Half of me hoped Jack was wrong and the other half was kind of excited by the prospect. I wasn’t sure yet which half I wanted to win.
Eddie studied the ceiling for long enough I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. Then he spoke. “Tell me about the night that changed your life. Three years ago, I believe you said.”
I blinked. Nobody knew the full story of that except for Kabita and Inigo. Not even my mother. She thought I’d been attacked by hoodies and I wanted to keep it that way. I’d only given Jack the quick overview. It wasn’t something I liked to think about, let alone talk about. Eddie just sat there, gazing at me with complete and utter calm. So, I told him about the night I died.
I loved London with a passion that only those who have lived there could ever understand. My family certainly couldn’t. My grandmother had been sure I’d be raped and murdered by bandits and Redcoats. She wasn’t terribly up on the modern world. I tried to explain that the UK and the US were on friendly terms and had been for a number of years now, but I don’t think it sunk in.
My mother was just worried I’d end up married and having babies with a Brit which was, as far as she was concerned, a fate worse than rape and murder at the hands of Redcoats. I was supposed to get married and have babies and move into a house next door to her so she could see her grandbabies anytime she wanted. My moving halfway around the world hadn’t exactly been factored into her plan.
But despite their reservations, I’d done it. I’d moved to London and there I’d stayed. I’d made friends, built a life, and enjoyed every minute of every day I lived in that most magical of cities.
It was such an unbelievably ordinary night, that night. It was a Thursday and I’d just gotten off the bus after a long day at work for an energy company in the City. It was nearly dark out and the late October evening held a distinct chill. Home sounded really good and I hurried down the dark street toward my flat.
Leaves crunched softly underfoot and the faint scent of wood smoke tickled my nose as I headed home, enjoying the crisp night air. I could hear the steady hum of traffic up on the main street, but my street was quiet, all my neighbors shut up in their homes for warm dinners and an evening in front of the telly. I snugged my scarf a little higher around my throat and tucked my hands deep into the pockets of my wool coat. Maybe I should buy a hat? One of those knit things you could pull down over your ears. My ears always got so cold this time of year.
As I neared my own flat on the upper floor of an old Edwardian house, I did a quick review of my pantry in my head. What to have for dinner? Soup? Pasta? Maybe a curry? Something warm and comforting, that was for sure. And I had a couple episodes of NCIS saved up. Wouldn’t mind a bit of Leroy Jethro Gibbs tonight. Then maybe some Stargate Universe.