Chapter 12

It took us almost half an hour to get back to the van.

Gard collected Pierce for us, managing to lift his slight form with ease and drape him over one shoulder. Q handled the box, which Gard wouldn't touch as long as it contained the torch. I was left to gather up anything of ours that had survived the inferno.

There wasn't much. The remnants of the burned brass knuckle made it into one of my pockets. Q retrieved the knives that he'd dropped, but had to wait until they'd cooled enough to touch. There was no trace of my baton.

Once we got to the van, Q strapped the box to the back of the bike and then took Pierce from Gard. She and I watched as he draped the unconscious man across the pyromaniac paraphernalia in the back, carefully making sure to leave Pierce's fingerprint smudges and DNA on everything without leaving his own.

The Nordic woman left while he was working, assuring us that she'd be in touch. When my partner finally deemed it ready, he put Pierce in the front and drove the van off. I was left with the bike to follow after him, all the while ignoring the urge to open the chest sitting behind me.

When I caught up with Q a minute later, he was walking away from the wrecked van. I could see where he'd run it into a electrical pole, and Pierce was now situated behind the driver's wheel. After Q hopped behind me on the bike, we left the scene of the unfortunate accident.

That was where the police would find him, with a plethora of fire starting equipment and one freshly cleaned sock.

I got a call from Robbins the next morning.

"They caught Myron Pierce last night," he said when I answered the phone.

"Who?" I asked. I was lounging on the couch and eating a bowl of cereal. Sal was continuing his ministrations on my neck, the natural properties of his saliva doing a miraculous job of healing the burns. He'd already worked on my arm and side, and Q had even allowed the little guy to do what he could for him.

"The pyromaniac," the Deputy Chief Inspector explained. "Civilians found him on the South-side. Apparently he crashed a stolen van into a post. When the cops arrived, they found all sorts of fire-starting equipment in the back."

"Oh yeah?" I said with feigned surprise. "That's a relief."

"Indeed," Robbins replied. "Seems your guess work was spot on, although he'd thought of some things you hadn't."

"Well, you can't win them all," I said humbly. "He confess?"

"Sort of," he said. "He's not right in the head. Keeps going on about magic fire and needing to burn everything."

"Sounds like the right guy, at least."

"They're going to put him in the psych ward for now," Robbins said with a sigh. "He's suffering from malnutrition from his time on the run, but they expect him to make a full recovery. At least physically."

"Good to hear," I said as I put my cereal bowl down. Sal jumped down onto the coffee table and started lapping at the remnants.

"Still, it makes one wonder what would drive a normal guy to such extremes," Robbins mused.

Fo̱tísei to drómo.

"We'll probably never know," I said dismissively.

"Well, S.I. has some leg work to do, but this one is probably going to be a wrap," he said. "Why don't you swing by some day this week and provide your final notes on the case?"

Which was code for 'give me a file on what really happened'. But he couldn't say as much. Not over the phone, when the police had already taken too much interest in yours truly.

"Will do." I informed him. Which I would. It wouldn't contain everything; Robbins didn't want to know that much. He just wanted assurances that there wouldn't be repeat issue a few months down the line.

After that, I hung up, and gave Sal a little high five.

Later that day, I found myself at Q's lab door. It was standing open, and he was scowling at me.

"Woody," he said, his wispy voice agitated. I jumped at the sound of it.

"Uh, what?" I asked, confused.

"You came down again," the goblin said tiredly.

"Oh," I said, looking around in embarrassment.

"Go back upstairs," he said as he closed the door.

Fo̱tísei to drómo.

I turned and headed away.

I ended up getting a call from Penny the very next day. It seemed that my report couldn't wait, and Robbins wanted it on his desk ASAP. Which was fine, since I'd basically had it wrapped up before we even caught the guy.

When I arrived in the office Monday afternoon, Penny didn't have much to offer in the way of banter, and I found out why when she admitted me into the Deputy Chief Inspector's office.

As I entered, Lieutenant Karrin Murphy was leaving.

She nodded as she passed by, her eyes not quite as cold as they'd been the last time we'd seen each other. A cold chill still ended up shaking me as I wondered at her unexpected presence.

"Get in here, Hayes," Robbins said tiredly. I did so, closing the door behind me once Murphy had walked out of sight.

"What's she doing here?" I asked as I sat down. My hand twitched nervously as I held my bag in my lap.

"The police had some concerns," he explained. His voice was resigned, and he looked somewhat apologetic as he leaned back in his leather chair. "Specifically, that the man they arrested had neither the mental capacity to plan out his actions, nor the chemistry training to pull it off."

"Oh," I said lamely, as one of my legs started spasming. It was hard enough to rattle the pen jar on his desk, and I stopped when he glared at me.

"Not to mention the fact that their focus on him was based on another suspects identification; a suspect that just so happens to have the training and capability of doing what the man was accused of."

"Well shit," I said eloquently. "Are they investigating me?" I didn't add 'again', but I could have. Something told me that with S.I. behind it, I wouldn't get off as easily as I had when Crewe first came at me.

"No," he said, and his eyes glanced toward two piles of reports. They looked familiar. "When she implied that they would, barring an explanation into your involvement, I decided to let her see some of your previous case files."

"Oh," I said, my mind struggling to keep up. The first pile of reports were the filtered set; the second consisted of the secret files that no-one save Robbins and a select few of the upper brass knew about. The files that spelled out just what happened on those cases that couldn't be explained by mundane means. Files that would make me sound like a raving madman.

Fo̱tísei to drómo.

"So what did she say?" I asked, trying to ignore the voice in my head. As I spoke, I was startled to find a cigarette between my lips. I hastily removed it, and put it back in the box I didn't recall pulling out.

"Basically?" he said, pausing dramatically. I waited, fearing the words that would sound as the death knell for my career. But he surprised me. "Basically, they plan on keeping your number on file."

"What?" I asked, bewildered. "Seriously?"

The Deputy Chief Inspector nodded. "It seems that they deal with quite a bit of… 'detail adjustment' in their duties as well. Sometimes they submit what really happened, but other times they have no choice but to take liberties with the truth. The brass doesn't like their annual reports to sound like campfire stories."

"Huh," I said, beginning to relax.

"You have my reports?" he asked pointedly. I nodded, and withdrew the two folders from my bag. He didn't bother looking at either at the moment.

"Are you going to show her that one as well?" I asked, suddenly glad that I'd hedged the truth more than usual.

"We'll see," he said simply. As he did, he pulled another envelop. "In the meantime, I've got something else for you."

Fo̱tísei to drómo.

"I'm all ears," I told him, forcing a smile as I pretended to be my normal self. As I pretended I wasn't going mad. And at the rate it seemed, a lot faster than it had taken Pierce.

That night, Q found me trying to start a fire in the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone bewildered.

"Starting a fire," I told him as I looked up.

"In the entertainment center?" he asked with a thin eyebrow raised.

"No, in the firepla—" I began, until I looked again.

I was kneeling in front of the flat screen, with the cabinet doors opened beneath it. I'd laid some wooden kitchen utensils across the cable box, and several spent matches lay smoking atop them.

"Fuck!" I shouted, shooting back in alarm. My body was shaking, and I quickly rose and paced back and forth. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's alright," the goblin muttered.

"Sorry," I repeated. "I don't know why… must have zoned out." I nodded to myself. "I'll go start the fire in the fireplace."

I started to turn, but Q's crimson eyes caught mine. His head rotated slowly to look me over, as if studying me carefully. I stared back, my hand shaking beside me.

"Woody," he said softly, as gently as a goblin can manage. "We don't have a fireplace."

Fo̱tísei to drómo.

"Right," I said, nodding too quickly as my stomach lurched into my throat. "I'm going to bed."

I made my hasty retreat as my roommate watched me go, no doubt wondering when I'd finally burn the place down around his head.

It was the third night after we took the torch from Myron Pierce that the doorbell finally rang.

I was a bit jittery. Q had confiscated my cigarettes when he found me burning them without smoking. I chewed on some cinnamon sticks to try and take the edge off, but it wasn't working. I tried watching television, but somehow ended up watching the Christmas DVD with the crackling fireplace video. When I turned to ask Q when we'd put that on, I saw him in the kitchen with the fire extinguisher.

Apparently someone had left all the kitchen towels in the oven when they were baking their phone-book.

The doorbell shook me from my reverie, and I uncurled myself from the couch. I tried to stand, but found my shoelaces tied together.

"Just trying to slow you down," Q grumbled irritably as he stood and headed for the front door. I untied my shoes while he checked on who was calling.

He was on his way back when I made it to the front hall. "She's here," he said as he headed toward the stairs. "Just wait for me."

I went to the door and peeked out the peephole.

It was well after dark, but the light outside our door illuminated the figure waiting. They cut a slight figure, cloaked in a robe of the darkest purple I'd ever seen. The material was so dark it was almost black, but subtle shades of plum and mulberry were visible as the wind shifted it. The person had their head down, and their face was shrouded in shadow.

I opened the door, and the figure lifted its head. "Hello…" I began, before trailing off.

The woman was old. Old as in ancient. Ancient as in epochs. Her face was lined with so many wrinkles that I wasn't sure there was a smooth millimeter in sight. Her lips were broken and chapped, and her breath was that of a corpse. I could see slightly into her mouth where her jaw hung limply, and saw that her teeth were long rotted. There was a shriveled black thing where her tongue should be.

But that wasn't the alarming part of her appearance.

The alarming part was her eyes. Or lack there of.

It's not that her eyes were missing. I mean, they were. But so were her eye sockets. The sunken hollows were there, but only wrinkled skin spanned the indents where her eyes should have been. There was no trace of them ever having existed.

"Uh," I said, as words failed me. "Hi."

A rattling wind escaped her lips, and I realized she was replying. What she tried to say, I couldn't begin to guess.

"You're hear about the, uh…" I began, but trailed off as her head tilted upward to look at me. Well, look at me if she had eyes. Instead, I just stared at those blank spaces.

Thankfully Q arrived with the box in hand, and I felt a chill in the air as he cracked the lid open. My eyes fell to the torch within.

Fo̱tísei to drómo!

It took everything I had not to reach out. My hand twitched at my side, so I stuck it in a pocket. My vision seemed to narrow, as if the torch were the whole of my universe. I knew that if I took it up, I could do anything. There was power there for the taking, and if I could just—

And then an old, wrinkled hand entered my vision, as the Lampad reached for what was rightfully hers. When her fingers closed on the torch, it seemed to twitch. It's hard to imagine an emotion to an inanimate object, but if I had to, I would have said the torch was… excited.

Those ancient fingers wrapped around the handle, and I watched as she took it up. But as she drew it from the box, the folds in her skin seemed to smooth out. The flesh, loose and spotted, began to tighten around the wrist as she lifted it before her. Purple flames burst forth from the basin atop it, but they weren't the angry and bitter flames I'd grown to expect.

These flames were happy and joyous. They danced with unadulterated glee as they were reunited with their other half. The lilac and lavender shades cast upon Q and I were full of mirth.

As my gaze followed the torch, the old woman faded from view. The cloaked figure remained, but no longer was she an ancient hag warring with Father Time over who was the senior of the two; the lines on her face faded as those on her hand and arm had, leaving a youthful visage of beauty.

The light played across the unrecognizable figure before me, and I was startled to see a pair of dazzling amaranthine eyes fix upon me. They were wide and gorgeous, their hues flickering like the flames she held. The cloak around her head slipped back, revealing a silky mane of mulberry tresses.

"Ef̱charistó̱," the stunningly beautiful Lampad whispered. My breath caught in my throat as she inclined her head toward me, and then Q.

"You're welcome," the goblin said, his coarse voice rough in my ears compared to the musical tones of the young girl. At his comment, she slowly reached out a hand toward the goblin. He rocked back slightly, but after a moment, allowed her to touch him. The light from the torch flared as she did, and I saw the still raw burns on his face slowly fade away.

Once he was whole, the Lampad turned her gaze back to me, and slowly shifted her hand to me. Her slender fingers grazed across the burns on my neck, and a pleasant cooling sensation rippled across my skin at her touch. It spread across me, and I felt it tingle as it restored my arm and back as well. I reached for my neck once she'd removed her hand, and felt nothing but smooth skin.

"Thank you," I whispered, awestruck by the surreal beauty and grace of the creature before me.

At my words, the Lampad inclined her head, deeper than she had before. When her opalescent eyes rose to meet mine, I thought my heart might stop.

Instead, I watched as she raised her hand again, her fingers curled. When she slowly opened them, I saw a small violet made of sparkling crystal sitting in her palm. Its colors shifted like the Lampad's eyes.

She gestured toward me, and I tentatively plucked it from her grasp. The crystal was cool to the touch, unnaturally so, but the heft of it left an impression of value.

Q sucked in a breath beside me as he saw the exchange. The Lampad turned to him, and after closing her hand again, opened it to reveal another crystalline flower.

"No," he rasped out, his tone as respectful as he ever managed. "I was his agent in this; nothing more," he added, nodding toward me.

The Lampad nodded slightly in understanding, and turned back to me, the second flower extended.

"What is this?" I whispered, shooting a glance at Q.

"It's… a symbol of her gratitude," he explained softly. "She feels indebted to you. You can claim a favor from her in return for your service."

"You don't want it?" I asked, surprised.

"We've got our arrangement," he insisted with a frown. "I can't claim a favor for a deed done in debt."

"And I'm supposed to take two?" I said in mild disbelief. I kept an eye on the beautiful girl, who's luminous eyes were hypnotizing. Q shrugged in my peripheral vision, and I was left wondering what to do. It seemed wrong to make two claims for one favor, but I didn't want to insult her offer.

Looking at the flower, I realized what it would be good for. "Can I… claim this favor now?" I asked, struggling to meet her gaze without blushing.

She tilted her head slightly, and I swallowed. "There's a man. He… came across your torch. It left him…" I said, trailing off. "He's not quite right. I was wondering if you could…"

Before I finished, the Lampad broke into a smile that would light my soul for the rest of my days. She inclined her head in consent, and the flower in her palm dissolved into a million motes of bluish red light. They drifted through the air, swirling about, before disappearing into the night.

Several motes remained hovering over the Lampad's palm, and she gently reached out and touched my chest. Rather than lighting upon my shirt, the magic embers passed through it, and flooded my body with a sudden and overwhelming warmth and comfort.

"Thank you," I choked out, as the winter night's air lost some of its bitter cold, and whatever hold the torch had over me was released.

The Lampad inclined her head again, her bearing regal. With her prize claimed and her debts satisfied for the moment, she began to depart. But as she started to turn away, her joy at being reunited with her torch bubbled over, and she quickly turned back and lighted a gentle kiss upon my cheek before disappearing in a swirl of violaceous light.

I stood on the sidewalk, my pulse as quick as silver and as light as my spirit.

Q simply rolled his eyes and headed back into the firehouse, leaving me alone to stare out into the not so dark night.