Nautilus Than Perfect by K.L. Hiers

Chapter 9.

THE DRIVEover to Ollie’s house was quiet except for Chase’s munching. After leaving Mr. Martin’s house, they had stopped at a fast-food restaurant for some greasy breakfast. Merrick had declined, but Chase ordered two different value meals.

“You sure you don’t want something?” Chase offered a deep-fried hash brown.

“I’m very sure.” Merrick gave Chase a small smile before quickly looking back to the road.

Chase finished eating, tucked the trash inside the bag, and wiped his hands off on his pants. He paused, choosing to use the neglected napkins at the bottom of the bag instead before balling everything up.

He could do with being a little cleaner. He was dating a god now, after all.

“What kind of stuff do you like to eat?” Chase asked suddenly. “Like, what’s your favorite thing?”

“Favorite?”

“I wanna know what to make you for dinner,” Chase explained. “I know you have a heck of a sweet tooth, but what about savory stuff? Steak? Pasta?”

“My tooth is not sweet.”

“You don’t drink coffee unless it’s obliterated with sugar and creamer, and you always eat cake icing first.”

Merrick pouted indignantly.

“So?” Chase prompted.

“I will be pleased by whatever you want to make me,” Merrick said shortly. “Now, we should focus on the case. At this time, we must assume the cultists have all of the available paintings.”

Chase tried to ignore how much Merrick’s brisk attitude stung, but it still hurt. “You know there’s no one listening in right now, yeah?”

“We are still on duty,” Merrick reminded him. “It would not be appropriate to discuss anything that involves our personal relationship.”

“Yeah, right. I got it.” Chase did his best not to be upset, and he turned his attention to watching the buildings pass by as they continued to drive. He frowned when Merrick took a right when he should have made a left. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Merrick didn’t say anything, making another right into a parking garage.

“Did I fuck up?” Chase asked with a nervous laugh. “Uh, seriously, did I piss you off or something?”

“No,” Merrick replied curtly as he parked in an isolated corner. “Take your coat off and put it over your lap.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Merrick’s eyes were dark when he looked at Chase. “You require some kind of reassurance, yes? You are obviously not happy with me.”

“Hey!” Chase gasped when Merrick’s tentacles slipped out from his jacket sleeves and went right for his pants. “It’s not a big deal! I just wanted to talk about dinner is all! It doesn’t mean you gotta do all this!”

“Physical affection is a very powerful way to express our devotion to each other,” Merrick said, his tentacles pulling at Chase’s zipper. “We will have to be quick because we are on duty, but I wish to ease your worries.”

“Words! Talking! Also good ways to express devotion!” Chase managed to pull Merrick’s stubborn tentacles away. “Listen, you don’t have to suddenly put out just because I got a little upset!”

“No?”

“No!” Chase said earnestly. “Look, you wanted to keep work time professional, and I’m the one who was being pushy about dinner. If I gotta wait to clock out for you to tell me what you wanna eat, well, then that’s what I gotta do.”

“You will not be angry with me?” Merrick’s tentacle squeezed Chase’s hand.

“Because you set some boundaries that I plowed right through?” Chase shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy, Merr. Yeah, it’s gonna bug me because I don’t wanna have to wait to talk to you about that kinda stuff, but what you want matters too.”

“I want to make you happy,” Merrick said, his jaw tightening. “I do not want you to think that I don’t care about your needs. You are very important to me.”

“And you’re important to me,” Chase soothed. “Right now, what’s important is doing our jobs and getting over to Ollie’s to see if he can help us catch some bad guys.”

“You are truly not upset I didn’t wish to discuss dinner plans?”

“I’m totally fine,” Chase promised. “We can talk about it after work.” He nudged Merrick’s leg, teasing, “If you really feel that bad about it, I’m sure we can think up some ways for you to make it up to me later.”

“Later? So you do not desire sex right now?”

“Nope.” Chase could feel his face getting hot, and he willed his body to behave. “I’m good.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Yeah, well, you can not-believe me the whole way over to Ollie’s. World to save, all that. We can figure out what I’m gonna feed you after we clock out for the day.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Merrick said as he backed up and exited the parking garage. “I have heard very promising things about frozen breadsticks.”

“Not gonna lie, they’re pretty damn good.”

They arrived at Ollie’s apartment without any other unexpected detours, and Chase knocked on the door.

Nothing.

Chase knocked again, waiting a few moments before knocking some more. There was still no answer, and he shouted, “Hey, Ollie! It’s me! Open up, kiddo!”

Merrick glanced at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock. Should he not be awake by now?”

“If he’s drinking as hard as I think he is, he might still be passed the hell out,” Chase muttered, banging his fist against the door.

“For fuck’s sake!” Ollie’s voice groaned from inside. The locks clicked and the door opened, revealing Ollie in nothing but a pair of shorts. His face was red and blotchy, and he looked like hell. “Uncle Elwood, what? It’s so early. Like, way too early.”

“Need your help again.” Chase held up the letters. “Can you work that starsight voodoo on these for us?”

“Fine.” Ollie rubbed at his eyes. “Just leave ’em here.”

“I am afraid we must insist on expediting the translation,” Merrick said. “Although your work on the paintings was very much appreciated, it did not give us enough information to find our suspect.”

“Well, that sucks.” Ollie yawned.

“Come on, Ollie,” Chase urged. “This is serious.”

“More world-saving type shit?” Ollie’s shoulders sagged. “Fine.” He waved them inside, holding out his hand for the letters. “What are these?”

“From a homicide victim’s house,” Chase explained. “He and our suspect were both in prison, and the same person was writing them. We’re really hoping there’s something useful in there.”

Ollie shut the door behind them, and he flipped through the letters. “Where’s the rest? These are all addressed to someone named ‘Slappy.’”

Chase noticed there were new empty bottles of alcohol by the trash, and a half-empty one was beside the couch with a cluster of used tissues. There was a small photo album on the coffee table, but it was closed.

“We are waiting for forensics to deliver copies of them electronically to us,” Merrick replied. “Can you please read those for now? This man has already killed once, and we suspect his involvement in another death.”

“Kinda weird. A murderer named Slappy.”

“Slappy is the victim,” Chase corrected. He glanced over at the mess by the couch and casually asked, “You doing okay, kiddo?”

“I’m super.” Ollie plopped down in the wicker chair. He pulled out the first letter. “Okay, blah blah blah, I miss you, it sucks you’re in prison, can’t wait to see you….” He paused. “And all hail our Lord Salgumel. It will be glorious when he is finally risen.”

“And we have a winner,” Chase declared. “Slappy and Martin were both in on the cult!”

“But if that is true, why did Slappy withhold the real painting?” Merrick pointed out. “Logically, he would have given it willingly if his goals were aligned with our cultists.”

“Okay, so maybe he had a change of heart when he got out of prison,” Chase suggested, taking a seat on the sofa. “Once he was a free man, he decided that he wasn’t down with helping them wake up ol’ Sally boy.”

“And the mysterious pen pal recruited him to the cause using their womanly or manly wiles? What about them?”

“Womanly,” Ollie piped up. “Based on the, uh, more neurotic sections of these letters, I would definitely say our writer is a lady.”

“Do you mean ‘erotic’?” Chase asked kindly.

“Yeah, that too.”

Chase’s phone beeped, and he glanced down to see Milo had sent him a bunch of photos. “Just got the rest of our letters. Milo got ’em all scanned in. Can I text them to you, Ollie?”

“Yeah,” Ollie replied, grunting as he got up. “I’ve just gotta get my phone. Left it charging in my room.”

“No problem.” Chase began to forward the images, waiting until Ollie was away in his bedroom before he opened the photo album on the coffee table.

The first page was two men kissing, and Chase recognized them as Ollie and that giant guy, Ted, that he used to date. He flipped through a few more pages, and he grimaced when he realized it was an old album of their relationship together.

“What are you doing?” Merrick asked suspiciously.

“Detecting.” Chase paused when he found a folded-up piece of paper. There were several statements written out, strange things like “Ted is dead,” “Ted moved away,” “Ted is still in love with me.”

They were all crossed out except the very last one, and it read, “Ted is getting married.”

“Hey!” Ollie suddenly shouted as he came back out. He stormed over and snatched up the album, scowling. “That’s private shit, you jerk!”

“I’m sorry!” Chase held up his hands. “I was just lookin’.”

Ollie sniffed defiantly, cradling the photo album against his chest. “Look, I know it’s, like, super lame, but I’m working on it, okay? Moving on. I’m… I’m trying. I found out he’s getting married, and he’s all super happy… and I’m trying to get over it.”

“The paper,” Merrick said quietly. “You wrote out sentences and were able to recognize them as false or true because of your starsight?”

“Yeah.” Ollie frowned. “I mean, sometimes. Uh. Sometimes what’s hidden is a lie, and I can see it. But it kinda only works when… well, when I’m upset. And, like, really hammered.”

“Could you just write down where these cultists are and, like, find them through process of elimination?” Chase suggested hopefully.

“Well, I’m not very upset at them right now, so no.”

“Ending the world isn’t upsetting enough?”

Ollie stalked back to his bedroom without a word with the photo album.

“It makes sense,” Merrick said as he sat beside Chase. “The power of magic can often be fueled by emotion. For Oleander to attempt this kind of divination without formal training, he has to use his most raw feelings to power the spell.”

“So he can only use his starsight to check up on his ex that he’s very clearly still hot for?”

“It is a complicated gift,” Merrick scolded. “To see all that is hidden has limitless possibilities, and Ollie has not had anyone helping him seek his full potential.”

“First of all,” Ollie said as he walked back in, “I can totally hear both of you talking about me. Rude. Thin walls in here. So thin. And uh, I got something after looking through Je-fahfah’s letters, but you’re probably not gonna like it.”

“What is it?” Chase asked.

“It’s this poem about talking to Salgumel that the flower girl wrote to Slappy. It’s also in the letters you texted me that she sent to Je-fahfah, and in one of the paintings.”

“Wait, why are you saying his name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Je-fahfah.”

“There’s two f’s. Obviously.”

“What did you find, Oleander?” Merrick asked politely, nudging Chase’s leg to keep him quiet.

“To enter his dreams, you must cross land at the seams, where the rivers run dry, the souls fly, and men don’t speak,” Ollie recited. “They’re talking about killing someone. A human sacrifice.”

“The land at the seams! It must be referring to the veil between Aeon, Xenon, and Zebulon!” Merrick exclaimed, his eyes wide. “And the rivers run dry—”

“Xenon might have a bridge, but there’s no water under it.” Ollie looked quite proud of himself. “Souls flying are the souls flying through the bridge, and men ain’t speakin’.” He paused, then added, “You know, ’cause they’re dead.”

“Got it.” Chase tried to think. “Well, that explains why Jeff has been chopping people up. This ritual needs some human flesh mojo to get going.”

“There must be something wrong,” Merrick said. “They must have some part of the ritual wrong, or perhaps the specifics of the sacrifice itself are not correct.”

“That really doesn’t make me feel better. We dunno how many paintings they have and how many of ’em were porn or what.” Chase took off his hat to smooth his hands through his hair.

“I could… I could try to find out.” Ollie returned to his wicker chair. “If you wanted me to try.”

“How?”

“Text me something, like the bad guys have five paintings. And then the bad guys have seven of them. A whole list like that.” Ollie grabbed the bottle by the sofa and turned it up. “Shit. Mm, okay. Come on, do it.”

“And what, you’ll be able to pick out which one is the lie?” Chase didn’t understand. “But I wouldn’t be lying because I honestly don’t know how many they have!”

“No more than I knew about whether or not Ted was getting hitched,” Ollie pointed out. “If I see it, fuckin’ great. If not, I’ll go back to reading more prison smut. Okay?”

“It’s worth a try.” Merrick shrugged. “Go on.”

“Fine.” Chase typed out a full text of the bad guys having X number of paintings from one to eight and sent them over.

Turning the bottle up again, Ollie chugged a few more gulps before turning his attention to his phone. “Okay. Here we go.” He narrowed his eyes as he read, pausing before he said, “Okay, more than four but less than eight.”

“That’s… marginally helpful.” Chase grimaced.

“Look, I can tell they have more than four, but them having five is a lie. Like they lost one or something. They definitely don’t have all eight, but they don’t have seven either.”

“Which would be true,” Merrick said. “They abandoned some of the paintings when we first confronted them. Technically, physically, no, they cannot possess all eight.”

“Is that good?” Chase asked hopefully.

“Hopefully they got all porn,” Ollie said with a cheerful grin. His cheeks were rosy from the booze, and he sank down into his chair. He seemed sleepy, and his eyes were closing.

“Thanks for trying, kiddo,” Chase said. “Anything else in the letters that you saw?”

“Hang on,” Ollie complained, peeking open one eye and thumbing through his phone. “I mean, it’s mostly this chick telling these dudes how they’re gonna get all down and dirty when they get out of prison. And cult crap. Like, how much she wants to meet the gods.”

“Anything about locations? Meeting places?”

“Only, like, body and butt places.” Ollie yawned. “Sorry. There isn’t much here.”

Chase’s phone beeped again, signaling another group of photographs from Milo. “Ah, maybe this will be more inspiring.” He sent them to Ollie. “So, one of the other paintings we recovered was fake. This is a photo of a legit one that we found at Slappy’s.”

“We believe our suspect murdered Mr. Romero for the painting itself, but perhaps you will be able to discern something from the photo,” Merrick said, studying Ollie’s face. “That is, if you are feeling all right?”

“Oh, mm, I’m fine.” Ollie tried to sit up a little straighter. “Just makes me sleepy, trying to do some of that crap.”

“You should have ’em all now,” Chase said after the last one had sent. “Check your messages, kiddo.”

After sipping from his bottle, Ollie yawned again and leaned his head back as he scrolled through his phone. “Mm, I hope translating this crap helps. I mean, like, the world ending would be majorly bad.”

“Very bad,” Merrick agreed. “My brother is not well.”

“What happened to you guys?” Chase asked suddenly. “I mean, you all just decided to take a nap, and then your brother goes nuts?”

“It is more complicated than that,” Merrick said, tugging at his tie. “We went into the dreaming because mortals gave up our worship for others, like the Lord of Light and the Tauri deities in the far east. Year after year, bit by bit, we were all being forgotten. Great Azaethoth told us to fall into the dreaming and promised someday we would wake up to find a world that would love us again.

“It broke Salgumel’s heart to leave all the mortals behind, no matter how we had been abandoned by them. He loved you all very much. He was angry with Great Azaethoth for forcing him to leave the kingdom of Aeon, and that anger twisted him. It turned his dreaming into a nightmare.”

“A nightmare where the only possible solution is destroying it all and starting over from fuckin’ scratch?” Chase concluded gravely.

“More or less.” Merrick seemed troubled, and he bowed his head. “The best thing any of us can hope to do is ensure Salgumel remains in his slumber.”

“Whatever happened to the Asra?” Ollie asked, his voice a little slurred. He blinked over at Merrick. “Does Beltara still have a whole bunch of them pulling her chariot?”

“Yes,” Merrick replied with a soft smile. “Her Asra were loyal and followed her into the dreaming. Should she wake to ride the night skies, they rise with her.”

Chase cleared his throat. “She’s… who again?”

“Beltara, daughter of Zunnerath and Abigail the Starkiller,” Merrick explained. “My father’s half sister and my aunt. She’s the goddess of insomnia, lost things, and falling stars. When you wish upon one, you’re wishing to her.”

“Her twin sister, Abeth, is the goddess of the written word, libraries, and wrote the first poem ever in godstongue,” Ollie piped up cheerfully. “It was about her cat.”

“They’re the ones who ride around on the aurora borealis, right? Isn’t there another sister?” Chase scratched his head, marveling at the weirdness of discussing a godly family tree with one of its members present.

“Common mistake,” Merrick said. “Chandraleth is usually with them, yes, but she is actually Salgumel’s spawn. She is my niece, therefore their grand-niece.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Very common.”

“Hey,” Ollie hiccupped. “So, okay, zooming in on this picture of a picture really blows nuts, but I think I got something.”

“What is it?” Chase asked quickly.

“A sacrifice of blessed blood in which many bright stars run rampant,” Ollie read out loud. “Dressed upon a blade will break the veil, but only through death will he rise triumphant.”

“Bright stars in the blood,” Merrick mused. “It might be referring to someone who has starsight or someone who has starlight magic.”

Chase grimaced. “Well, we now know why they’re chopping out people’s hearts.”

“And why they have not been able to succeed,” Merrick added. “The false painting must not have given them the correct specifications for the sacrifice. The passage suggests blood on a blade of some kind, not a heart. Also, neither Slappy nor the man killed at Mr. Martin’s house were blessed with starsight.”

“Sucks for anybody who has it,” Ollie snorted. He made a face, scowling as he said, “You know, like me.”

“You’re safe,” Chase promised. “We ain’t said a word, okay? You don’t have anything to worry about.” He looked at Merrick. “Ol’ Benjamin Merrick here is registered as divine, but uh, pity the fool who tries to come after him.”

“Indeed.” Merrick cracked a small smile.

“Okay, so,” Ollie said briskly, his head bobbing forward, “if you guys don’t need anything else, I’m so ready to pass out again. Sorry I didn’t find the secret to saving the world or whatever.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Chase got up, and he hesitated on whether or not he should go in for a hug. He decided against it, settling for a firm pat on Ollie’s shoulder instead. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Ollie lifted his head to smile wearily up at Chase. “I’m okay. I’m so okay.”

Chase didn’t believe him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his nephew this drained before, and he didn’t know if it was from using his unique magic or the burden of carrying around so much heartache.

Whatever it was, Ollie was too damn young to look so old.

“Take care, kiddo,” Chase said, heading to the door.

“Be kind to your body, young mortal,” Merrick said politely as he followed after. “We are here if you need us.”

“You got it, Wiggles.” Ollie lifted himself up from the chair enough to provide the needed leverage to pivot face-first down into the couch.

Making sure the door was locked, Chase shut it behind them once they were out in the hall and sighed. “Huh. Fuck.”

“What is the matter?” Merrick asked. “Worried about him?”

“Yeah, him and, like, a million other things,” Chase replied. “Him translating everything hasn’t gotten us jack shit, and there’s still no sign of our boy Jeff. It’s like they’ve all just disappeared. It’s bullshit.”

“Well, we know now they are interested in Class S magic users,” Merrick said. “There are only a few registered in the entire state and maybe one or two in the whole city, so we can easily track down who the next potential target could be.”

“I hate feeling like this. Like there’s nothing we can do.” Chase scrubbed his forehead. “It sucks.”

“Well,” Merrick mused, “if a certain someone had allowed me the proper time to track Mr. Martin’s portal at the factory instead of interrogating me, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Is that you making a joke?” Chase scoffed, laughing in spite of himself. “Because it’s not funny.”

“Made you smile,” Merrick said with a pleased little grin. “I believe it was successful.”

Chase felt his heart flutter, and he knew Merrick was doing his best to cheer him up. Before he could comment on how he appreciated those efforts, his phone rang. “It’s forensics. Milo. Hold that thought.”

“Hold it with what?”

“Hey, Detective Chase here,” Chase said as he answered. “What’s up, Milo?”

“Hey, listen. We got a big problem,” Milo said hurriedly. “Daisy never looked into that damn prison letter thing, and now she’s fucking disappeared on me, and it’s her! It’s fucking her!

“What?” Chase scowled. “Slow down, Milo! Her what?”

“The flower person on the letters is our flower! Daisy! She’s the pen pal! She’s totally in the cult!”

“Well, shit.”