Anton Strout - Dead Matter

My momentary swell of pride disappeared in an instant. “Rumors of my football prowess in the workplace are greatly exaggerated,” I said.

Allorah smiled again, this time looking a bit less gentle than before. “I wasn’t talking about rumors here, Mr. Canderous. I was there.”

“You saw the actual incident?” I repeated. A realization hit me. “Then that means you’re…”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m one of the Enchancellors.”

I looked to the Inspectre, but he was shaking his head and trying to suppress a laugh.

“You’re so… young,” I said, fumbling, “To be fair, it wasn’t so much of a tackle… More of a man hug, really.”

“And why on earth did you do that?” she asked. All of a sudden I felt like I was on the spot, giving testimonial in front of the Enchancellorship again.

“I’m psychometric,” I said, “and Faisal Bane wasn’t willing to share his knowledge, but there were just some things I needed to know.”

“Fascinating,” she said, but I couldn’t read anything in her tone this time.

I turned to the Inspectre, feeling a little jumpy and still a bit slaphappy from earlier. “I’m not in some kind of trouble, am I? Because if I am, you’d better just set fire to all that paperwork I still have to do and light the rest of the place ablaze if you expect me to…”

Inspectre Quimbley put his hand on my arm, giving me a sense of instant reassurance. “Relax, my boy,” he said. “You’re not in any kind of trouble. This is about the report you turned in last night before heading out.”

I relaxed a little. “About the incident at the grocery store,” I said.

“Yes.” The Inspectre nodded. “I was just consulting with Enchancellor Daniels on it.”

Allorah looked back down at the file in her hands and flipped through it. “When going over case files, I like to keep my eyes out for certain watchwords. I especially take an interest when I see words like ‘garlic’ and ‘fangs’ popping up in an incident report.”

“Vampires?” I asked. I shook my head. “Look, I know I’ve never seen or encountered one before, but if you’re thinking this thing is a vampire, let me stop you. By no definition was this thing that attacked us remotely the living dead. I get that vampires don’t run around wearing capes and making quips about not drinking wine at dinner parties, but this thing wasn’t even close to human like they are.”

Allorah looked up from the file. “I can read, you know. I see your description of the creature here.”

“Look,” I said, frustrated. “No offense, but I’m a bit hesitant to call something vampiric these days. I was the guy who called ‘vampires’ a few months back, remember? If I seem a bit wary, it’s because I haven’t really finished wiping the egg off my face over that yet. And while it was my bad call, the Enchancellors took their sweet time trying to ramp themselves up to action. You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical about them making a good call on this.”

“Mr. Canderous,” Allorah said, sharpness thick in her tone this time. “I’m not here as an Enchancellor.”

“Oh, no?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Not at this time, anyway. I’m here because Argyle asked me to look at this. I’m here because I’m the resident vampire-hunting expert.”

I went to speak, but realized I had nothing to actually say. I was taken aback. After a moment, by way of apology, I said, “I didn’t even know we had one of those. Sorry.”

Allorah gave me a thin-lipped smile. “I’d thank you to leave any deducing about what is and isn’t a vampire up to me, then,” she said. “Or would you rather I rely on the judgment of a man who can’t tell the difference between a chupacabra and the living dead?”

I held up my hands. “Hey, all yours,” I said. “Contrary to what you may have heard, I’m not interested in hogging all the fame and glory around here. I just want to get that thing that attacked me and my fellow agent off the street.”

Allorah softened when she heard that. “Good,” she said, going back to the file once again. “Now, you saw only one?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Only the one. Do you think there’s more? Do you really think it’s vampires?”

“I won’t rule out the possibility until I know more,” she said. “I trust you still have your clothes from last night?”

I nodded. “What’s left of them,” I said. “Yes.”

“What’s left of them?” she said.

I reached over to the folder she held and flipped a few pages forward. “I believe it’s on page four or five. The ‘battery acid’ incident.”

Allorah scanned the page. “Ah,” she said. “So I see.” She read in silence for a moment. “I’ll need you to hand those over. You know, it is customary to bring in evidence when it pertains to a case.”

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow,” I said, feeling a bit nervous now. “You know, if they haven’t dissolved.”

“See that you do,” she said, closing the folder and sliding it under her arm. “If you gentleman will excuse me, I believe I shall take my leave of you before Mr. Canderous here says anything that might cause me to report to the Enchancellors. I’ll be off in my lab if you need me, Argyle.”

The Inspectre nodded. I didn’t dare speak for the strange lump of fear that was forming in my throat. Also, not speaking might ensure that I got to keep my job.

Allorah headed out of the Inspectre’s office, leaving the two of us alone.

“You’ll have to forgive Allorah,” he said once she had headed off down the stairs. “She can be a bit abrasive when it comes to the V word.” The Inspectre pointed at the file I had slid under his door when I had first arrived. “I take it this is about the call I sent you on last night?”

I nodded, then turned and picked up the file. The Inspectre moved to sit down at his desk and I crossed to it, putting the file there before him. He pulled out a pair of reading glasses from the inside pocket of his coat and slid them on before reading the report. When he was done, he flipped the folder closed.

“Connor, eh?” he said, grave. “I knew he was having a tough time after not finding his brother, but little did I imagine the old pro would go so off the deep end.”

“Jane and I have him sleeping it off,” I said, “but I think we need to get him some help.”

Inspectre Quimbley looked hesitant. “Well, that’s a bit of a sticky wicket.”

“What is?”

He pushed the folder off to one side of his desk. “Technically, Connor is on leave from the Department,” he said. “He’s earned that time and he’s taking it. In that regard, there’s nothing we can do in an official capacity. Once he’s back here at Other Division, well, then, then we can take action.”

“And how long does he have left?” I asked.

The Inspectre went to an old wooden filing cabinet off to one side of the room. He pulled it open and flipped through the files within it for several seconds before finding what he was looking for.

“Connor’s service records,” he said. He sat back down at his desk and looked through the folder. “Ah, here we go. He’s accumulated quite a bit of rollover time in Other Division.”

“How much longer does he have off?”

“If he so chooses to take it all at once,” the Inspectre said, “another month.”

“Another month?” I repeated. “He’ll be ready for Bellevue by then!”

“Hold on, my boy,” the Inspectre said. “I said there was nothing we could do in an official capacity. I didn’t say we were going to ignore him.”

I sat down in the chair across from him, leaning in. “So what, then?”

“Since you’re part of the Fraternal Order of Goodness, I think it’s well within your job description to keep an eye on him.”