~*~*~
Bridget was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee. She'd changed into jeans and a black zip up hoodie. She swore she'd be able to get the key from Sean. I didn't even want to ask.
I used Bridget's bedroom to change after convincing Sean to come over. She had a queen size mattress and box spring without a frame. It just lay on the floor. She had a trunk, much like the one in the bar, which was open. Casual clothes like jeans and t-shirts spilled out of it. She had a bookshelf that came up to about my waist. Most of her books were autobiographies of sports and music stars. Though she did have a white, leather bible, and a large, black leather book with Latin inscribed along the binding. It was old and worn, probably a spell book.
I changed from my shorts and underwear first. I found a clean pair of underwear and shimmied into them. I pulled my jeans on next, straight legged so I could tuck them into my boots. I sat on the floor and slipped my knee high, riding boots over my jeans. I zipped the boots up. I felt more confident when I wore them. I looked damn good in them in whatever I wore them with.
I pulled my hair out of the ponytail, and then pulled my jersey off. I removed my sports bra and rifled through my bag to put on a clean bra. I slipped a plain white t-shirt over it. My black leather jacket topped off the ensemble. I grabbed my brush and purse and went into the bathroom to check how I looked.
My hair curled a little, but a few brush strokes tamed my fly aways. The spot Angie had punched was already changing colors from red to purple. At least it wasn't swollen shut. From my purse my phone rang. I swayed my hips a little to David Bowie's “Golden Years”.
I grabbed my phone. My mom's number flashed across the screen. She was probably headed to church. She'd want an explanation of my middle of the night visit, and then she could more effectively pray for me.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I thought you'd stay the night. Sasha misses you.” I heard the sound of dishes being put into the sink. She hadn't left for church yet.
“I was up late helping a friend at her bar. I was wide awake and thought I'd just come out for an hour or so to see Sasha. I had plans this morning, so I didn't want to stay.”
“Oh well. Next time then. How's that little issue with your client?”
My dad would never keep something like that from my mom. It was a good thing I didn't give details. “It's being worked on. The BSB is investigating.”
“Well, if you make a big enough fuss they'll move the paperwork faster.”
Downstairs the doorbell rang. “I need to go, Mom. My friend is here.”
“Everything will work out, sweetie. Have a fun day.”
Ha. That's a laugh. I hung up on my mom and went downstairs. Bridget poured coffee into three mugs. Sean had his back to me when I came into the kitchen. I braced myself for his reaction to my face.
“Thank you for helping us get her familiar back,” I said to get his attention.
“It's not a huge deal, but did you report the attack on Bridget to-” he stopped short when he saw my face.
My outfit was meant to give me confidence. Sean's mouth opened, deer in a headlights style, and his stunned look drained all my confidence away. I dropped my eyes to focus on my boots.
“It's not what you think,” Bridget said quickly. “Angie punched her in the face.”
“Oh yeah, that's so much better.” Sean lifted my chin. His eyes took in the shiner. “Care to explain further?”
“Not really.” I pulled my chin from his hands.
When I first called him I told him about the attack at my place the night before and us needing to rescue Fernando. The attack on my home was enough to get him to agree to play chauffeur.
I took the offered coffee cup from Bridget. Sean did the same. He took a big gulp. I was shocked his body could take the heat. Bridget watched him drink a little too intently.
“Angie was pretty mad. We kind of made a fake deal with Simon for the Tears of Christ.” Bridget cracked her knuckles.
Sean's face blanched. “You did what?”
“Only to get him to leave Bridget alone.” I jumped in. “We gave him her familiar as collateral. We have a safe house for the night. Angie's going to help us catch Simon.” I thought. She just said she'd handle it. Sean didn't need to know that.
“You need to go to the BSB with this. You're both insane if you think stealing your familiar back is a good idea. You...” he put a hand to his head. “You...you...”
Sean's eyelids drooped. His body swayed. He started to fall forward. “Trust Exercise!” Bridget screamed.
Sean fell forward. He didn't have to worry about chipping any teeth on the floor because I broke his fall. All his weight pinned me to the floor.
“Get him off me!” I shrieked. “You killed him!”
From upstairs hurried feet ran from a bedroom to the stairs.
“I spelled his coffee. He'll sleep until I take it off.”
Jenna bounded into the kitchen. She wore pink bikini underwear and a blue chemise. My shriek had dragged her out of sleep. Her red hair flew all over the place, her eyes barely open. “What's going on down here?”
“We're stealing his car. Help me roll him off Samantha.”
Jenna blinked. “Why?!”
Sean snored. His head was on my shoulder. I could barely breathe. I tried to push him off. Jenna scoffed and hooked her hands under Sean's armpits. Bridget grabbed his feet. I pushed up on him. We managed to get him off me, but moving him somewhere other than the kitchen floor wasn't going to happen.
“I'm going back to bed.” Jenna grumbled and went back upstairs.
“Get his keys,” Bridget instructed. “We'll go to the BSB first. Then we'll go to Jessica's apartment.”
Fourteen
The parking lot at the BSB was deserted. I knew better than to complain. “Maybe we should park somewhere else,” Bridget commented. I couldn't agree more. It was good no one was at the office, but that also meant Sean's Range Rover would stick out.
We sat at a stop sign. Going straight would take us into the parking lot. Left took us to street parking in front of some apartment complexes. Right took us to parking lots for the other office buildings in the area. All equally deserted. I hooked a left, eventually settling on a spot about two blocks down.
Being a Sunday morning most people weren't up or still sat in church. If we hurried we could be in and out before the street started to bustle with traffic. I checked for traffic before getting out. Bridget hopped out onto the sidewalk. I hit the lock button on his keys and was rewarded with a honk from the Rover.
“Ready?” Bridget circled the car to stand next to me. She wore a messenger bag. She assured me it only carried harmless charms. They were just in case we ran into trouble.
We strode forward. Just two ladies out for a Sunday morning walk on a fine overcast day. Two ladies who hadn't pickpocketed a Were for his keys and stolen his car. Two ladies who definitely weren't breaking into a federally owned building to alter some documents. Nope. Nothing out of the norm here.
The BSB building loomed before us. There were security cameras at each entrance. This didn't bother me as much as it should have. No one watched the security footage unless vandals were about. I told myself this at least.
I walked up to the door like I belonged. There was a little censor that blinked red. I found the key and fitted it into the lock. The door beeped at me. I dug around in my purse for my BSB badge, flashing it over the censor. The little light flicked green and I heard another lock unlock itself. I pushed the door open.
“Ta-dah!” I held the door open for Bridget.
The inside was dark. I screwed up my courage and followed Bridget in. “Let's take the stairs.”
Bridget opened the door to the stairwell. Blackness poured out. I fumbled with my cellphone. The light of the screen cast an eerie glow up into the darkness.
Carefully we took to the stairs. I didn't know what terrified me about them. Probably an overarching
sense of guilt at what I was doing. I could lose my job and go to prison. The upside was if I did go to prison I'd at least be alive.
I flashed my badge again at the third floor. The telltale click indicated I could get on the floor. I pushed the door open on the third floor. I made a beeline for my office.
“Maybe I should apply here,” Bridget whistled as she took in my office.
“I used to share this office,” I said. I dropped my purse on my desk. I produced my keys and unlocked my filing cabinet. “My office mate was mauled.” I surprised myself at how matter-of-fact I delivered it. My life was so screwed up being mauled by a werewolf seemed so every day.
I opened the filing cabinet drawer labeled “T-Z”. My hand stopped over Angie's file. I wasn't ready to risk my career.
“Can't anyone just look those donor names up?” Bridget asked.
I grabbed the file and flung it on the desk. “We only track to make sure no one is being forced into giving blood. We hold the notaries for six months and then shred them. We only enter the ages of donors and dates of the notary. The BSB cares about protecting humans more than the interests of Others, I guess.”
She picked up the manila folder and scanned through some blank consent forms. “Must piss a lot of Others off. Making them account for every little thing, but humans get away with a signature that's shredded in six months.” Frustration edged her voice.
Others had to be entirely accounted for to “protect” the human population. Now that we knew about them, we couldn't live in the same blissful ignorance as we had. In many ways I supported the BSB. They saw to it Others didn't lose their jobs and had the same rights as any other citizens. I liked that. But at the same time separate but equal didn't work and it sometimes made my own blood boil to see a sweet woman like Leslie having to detail her nights to me while someone like me never had to.
“I'm sorry,” I mumbled.
The frustration passed. “Eh, you don't make the rules.”
“But I am about to break them.” I chewed on my thumb.
If I was just caught in the building I could just say I left my wallet in my desk. What could I say if anyone found out I knowingly destroyed a file? Saying I did it to protect innocents wouldn't go a long way. The comeback would be why I hadn’t reported it. I didn't have an answer to that. Angie had asked me not to. Her beautiful eyes, devoid of irises at the time, had held mine when she asked.
I slapped my palm into my forehead. “Oh brother.”
“What's up?”
“Angie spelled me.” She had been so subtle about it. I never realized, but each time she held my eyes, she had persuaded me. “She didn't want me to tell the BSB she had helped me against Jessica and Simon.”
“Sounds like Angie.”
“She didn't do it when she asked me to destroy her file. Think that means anything?”
“No,” Bridget said after a considerable pause. “Are we doing this?” Her tension slowly filled the room. She wanted her familiar back. I stalled.
I grabbed the file. I'd tell Balicki and Hill the whole story. I shoved the file back into the filing cabinet.
“We're not doing this?”
“I can't. We'll go get Fernando and figure something else out. I'll explain the whole situation. Those people,” I pointed to the now closed drawer, “Will be safe.”
Skepticism crossed over Bridget. She shifted, crossed her arms, and bit her lip. “If you say so.”
“Let's go.” I refused to lose my job over Angie. I fumed inwardly as I picked up my purse.
I'd been stupid not to realize Angie had pulled the same crap Jessica tried. Spelling me with her eyes to get me to do what she wanted. She had let me make the decision about the file alone, but she'd kept me in danger not letting me report her interference to Balicki and Hill. I'd almost ruined everything for her.
I stomped out of the office towards the stairs. Bridget followed a few feet behind. My anger overrode everything. My hand was on the doorknob to let us back onto the stairs.
“Samantha,” Bridget started suddenly. “Do you hear that?”
I stopped to listen to my surroundings. Someone else trudged up the stairs. Bridget pulled me away from the stairwell door.
Without a way of knowing who walked upstairs I didn't know where to hide us. I knew who it wouldn't be. Any of the cubicle owners. None of them would have a key to get into the building.
“Under a desk.”
Bridget and I picked two cubicles across from each other. If the mystery person didn't turn on the light we stood a chance of not being caught. I crawled under the desk that had a view of the door. A divider wall blocked most of the view, but I could see enough to identify whoever came in. Bridget huddled under a desk, facing out toward the windows. All she saw was me.
The stairwell door opened. I saw a man come in. He wore jeans, with beat-up sneakers. He had on a long sleeved, coral, t-shirt. In the shadows I couldn't make out his face well, but he did have a darker complexion. Without the lights on I really couldn't pick him out of a line up though.
He had a key to get in; otherwise the alarms would have sounded. He moved with purpose away from the door toward the offices. I dared to move enough to see where he went. He stopped at Patrice's office first, checking out the nameplate. Then he moved on. Searching.
The sounds of Michael Jackson's “Thriller” blared. I looked at Bridget in horror. She returned my look.
“Hello?” I eased a little realizing it was the man's phone. “No, no, I was just having some tea and readying my things for tomorrow.” His voice rumbled. Deep and melodic, almost soothing.
I crawled from my hiding spot to see where he was now. My office. I returned to my hiding place. I couldn't hear much of his conversation anymore. Just bits and pieces, general chatter. Bridget had her phone out. She flashed it to me to show me it was safely off. My phone beeps when I switch it off, but I checked it to make sure it had been turned to silent.
The sound of metal being scraped against metal grated my ears. The man made an ungodly racket. “Son of a bitch.” He snarled. “Oh no, sorry. My stupid drawer is jammed again. Probably got a spoon caught in it. Can I call you later? I'm going to need both hands for this.”
There was the sound again, like he shook something that wouldn't budge. Metal scraped against metal and even from outside my office my ears hurt. Bridget shifted across from me. Hurried footsteps crossed the office floor to the stairwell. A door closed and then there was no more noise on the floor.
I crawled out first, dashing into my office.
“He's getting something out of his car.” Bridget called from a window facing the parking lot. “We should probably hide somewhere we can better escape from. A bathroom perhaps?”
I agreed, but I was worried. I couldn't be sure what he used, but he'd tried to jimmy open my filing cabinet. If I had to take a guess he was probably looking for a certain W file. I quickly unlocked the drawer. I pulled everything out of Angie's folder and shoved the notaries into a random V file.
“I think he's working with Simon,” I said when Bridget joined me.
She took in the damage to the filing cabinet. I slammed the drawer closed and locked it up. Bridget took my hand, pulling me out of the office. We booked it down the stairs. On the first floor I peeked out the main door. The man had his back to us. His tan Chevy Malibu was parked in a handicapped spot near the door and he was half in the front seat looking for something.
I motioned to the bathroom. We went inside and the motion censored lights flicked on. I didn't want to risk him seeing light from under the door so I pushed the censor off. I put my hand on the door so I had some sense of direction. The bathroom was now pitch black and my eyes adjusted slowly. Bridget's hand, clammy from sweat, reached for my free one. We stood in the darkness, holding hands like little girls, listening intently for footsteps.
Our patience was eventually rewarded. Someone walked by the bathroom. The door to the stairwell opened and
closed. There was no more sound. Giving Bridget's hand a squeeze, I pushed the door open. I surveyed the area. No mystery men hanging out, waiting to trap us.
My hand dropped away from Bridget's. We walked slowly at first. Once we reached the main door I pushed it open and ran like hell.
Bridget was close behind me when we reached the Rover. I unlocked the doors and slid in. Bridget was in and buckled in the blink of an eye.
“You honestly think he wanted Angie's file?”
I shrugged. I turned the car on. “I don't know. Why else would anyone try to break into my stuff?”
“There's always that. Maybe it was a surprise cursory inspection? Don't audits start tomorrow?”
I couldn't believe the BSB would do that. Not without a memo stating a surprise inspection would eventually be happening. Even BSB surprises were scheduled.
I pulled the Rover away from the curb. “Let's just get Fernando and go to Angie's safe house.”