Keeper: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jamie watched as Del tied the unconscious man to one of the red striped chairs.



“The one without the key,” Jamie thought absently to himself. He was sort of in a daze as Del worked. Things like tying people to chairs after having knocked them out were not something he had ever contemplated as part of his life. Del stepped back and Jamie seated himself in the other chair, the one with the key and waited for the man to wake up. Since his head hadn’t been hit that hard, it was not a long wait. With a moan he stirred and as soon as he realized he was bound, he started to struggle.



“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jamie cautioned. “You might upset the chair and knock yourself out again.” The man stopped struggling. He stared at Jamie through narrowed eyes.



“Release me now,” he said. The words came out with a slight reptilian hiss and Jamie lifted an eyebrow.



“You aren’t human are you?” Jamie asked, his tone more curious than anything. He received only a glare in response. Jamie shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, I suppose all things being equal. What do you know about rocks? Specifically the kind that magically appear to crush unwary sleepers?” The man started to open his mouth and then clamped it shut in a thin line, as if he thought better of his response. Del poked him in the back with the rolling pin.



“Silence isn’t going to help you,” Del said, his tone dark.



“We could just wait until the High Talbot gets here,” Jamie said. “It shouldn’t be too long.” He watched panic skitter across the man’s face. Jamie leaned in as if speaking confidentially. “He doesn’t really like people using his name improperly does he?”



“I heard he takes a dim view of it,” Del said. “A very dim view.” The man swallowed hard but kept his mouth shut. Jamie was starting to think they would have to actually call the High Talbot. He hadn’t because he didn’t know if the High Talbot was in on this plot.



“Of course,” he thought. “I’m still not sure what the High Talbot does other than act as a work reference.” From the man’s fear he bet the High Talbot was a little higher on the food chain than your typical temp agency supervisor. He stared at the man in the chair. Interrogation was not exactly something he was trained for. Odd scenes from bad movies flashed through his mind.



“You know if he won’t talk on his own,” Jamie said. “We’ll just have to take matters into our own hands. After all I have questions and it would be a shame to let the High Talbot have all of the fun getting them. Watch him while I go get my tools.” Del looked somewhat surprised but nodded. Jamie got up and left the parlor. Behind him he could hear Del talking to the bound man, telling him it would be better if he talked before Jamie returned.



Jamie shook his head not sure how far his impromptu bluff would get them. He went out to the small studio Albe had created for him in the enclosed back porch. He picked up anything he thought might be useful and returned to the parlor. Del was still making low threats and the man in the chair had begun to shake. Jamie felt bad for him but reminded himself that the man was part of a plot to kill him and summoned his inner terrorist such as it was. He resisted the bad German accent as it seemed to go more with mad scientists than the role he was attempting.



“Has he decided to be smart yet?” Jamie asked. The man swiveled his head around at the sound of Jamie’s voice but Del blocked him from seeing Jamie’s ‘tools’. Jamie took his time arranging them on the sideboard. He made sure the glass clinked and the wood and metal implement snapped harshly against the surface.



“No,” Del told him. “He has decided to be very, very stupid.”



“Pity,” Jamie said, trying to keep his tone dispassionate. “I rather liked this carpet.”



“We can always have it cleaned,” Del said.



“True,” Jamie agreed. “But it is never the same. And the maids do complain so frightfully.” Jamie walked away from his tools and into the man’s line of sight. He could see the man swallowing hard, his eyes wide as he watched Jamie. Jamie felt like a snake mesmerizing a rabbit. Jamie kneeled in front of the man until he could look him in the eye. He stared into his eyes for a moment then sighed.



“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said truthfully. “But you are leaving me no choice. Are you sure there is nothing you wish to tell me? Nothing you wish to share?” The man’s eyes were wide and he was breathing so hard and fast that Jamie feared he would hyperventilate but he didn’t say a word. Jamie sighed again and stood up.



“Very well then. I suppose we could always get new carpet.” Jamie walked back over to the sideboard and picked up an empty mason jar.



“It has been years since I had to mix this particular concoction,” Jamie said addressing his words to the room at large. “Most people aren’t stupid enough for me to have to use it. But some things you never forget.”



He placed the Mason jar down with a click and picked up a bottle of de-natured alcohol. He clinked the glass bottle against the other containers and slowly unscrewed the cap.



“In their separate components,” he said conversationally, “The elements are harmless. That is what makes them so wonderful. Even under the closest inspection no one would think their being here even slightly odd.” Jamie poured the alcohol into the Mason jar. “Unless one knew the recipe.”



Jamie picked up a jar of red paint and slowly poured enough into the alcohol to tint it. He then exchanged the red paint for the blank and mixed it until it was a darkly evil looking red. As he mixed he wondered how long he could keep this bluff going. Jamie picked up the Mason jar and a long handled wooden paint brush. He also grabbed a rag. He moved to stand in front of the man again.



Jamie carefully placed the Mason jar on the small decorative table between the two chairs. He made his movements very careful and precise as if afraid of spilling anything on himself. The man’s eyes followed the jar and then darted back to Jamie.



“Don’t touch that,” Jamie told Del. “I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”



“Of course, Keeper,” Del said, his tone respectful. “Is that what I think it is?”



“Yes,” Jamie said. “Unfortunately it is.” Dell let out a low whistle.



“I didn’t know there was still a man alive who knew how to mix it.” Del said in awe. Jamie was thankful for the brownie’s acting ability.



“I always hoped I’d never halve to. But unfortunately someone is trying to kill me.”



“Understandable during these circumstances Keeper. No one would fault you.” Jamie took the rag and slowly wound it around the base of the paintbrush.



“I wouldn’t want to burn my hand,” Jamie told the watching man. “You understand.” Jamie indicated the jar. “You know what that is and what it does don’t you?” The man shook his head. “Really?” Jamie continued. “The name is of course unimportant as it changes from time to time. But what it does is very important. Do you think I should tell him what it does or keep it a surprise?” Jamie asked Del.



“Seems like it would be up to you.” Came the reply. Jamie looked thoughtful for a moment.



“I suppose there is no harm as he seems determined to find out for himself.” Jamie smiled. “This is a very special concoction. When brushed lightly on your skin it will slightly tingle. So light you might even begin to enjoy the cooling sensation. But once it dries. If a second layer is applied a lovely chemical reaction takes place and the skin begins to burn and blister.”



“Very nasty stuff,” Del said.



“It is,” Jamie agreed. “That is why this is so rarely used. Of course that is nothing to what happens should any of it get into your eyes or mouth.”



Del clucked his tongue. “Now that is the stuff of horrors.”



“Once in your eyes it doesn’t need a second layer to start the burning and every blink, every shift of your eye will spread the burning fire is it eats its way through.” Jamie thought of the sting rubbing alcohol would have in the eyes and magnified the pain. “In your throat it would burn out your vocal cords, searing your throat with every swallow. And once started it can’t be stopped.” Jamie paused. “That is why we always start on the mouth last. It would be hard for you to talk without those.”



“And out here there is no one to hear you scream,” Del added. Jamie made sure his hand was shielded from drips by the rag and moved the paint brush towards the Mason jar.



“Are you sure you have nothing to say?” The man shook his head. Resigned Jamie dipped the brush in the Jar. He looked over at Del. “House?” Jamie said. “You had best call the High Talbot and tell him to hurry here.”



“Of course Keeper,” House said. No one else blinked and Jamie realized no one else could hear the house.



“Thank you,” Jamie turned back to the seated man. “People have been known to go mad with the pain.” Jamie lifted the dripping paint brush from the jar and slowly moved it towards the man’s face. He knew as the alcohol started to evaporate it would produce a cool tingling sensation. He knew he would have to be careful and go slow. With luck someone would arrive before he had to start on the second layer. “Hold still,” Jamie said. The man flinched as the paintbrush came into contact with his cheek. Jamie traced a line down the side of the man’s face and then pulled the brush away as if awaiting a reaction. The man’s mouth opened and closed as he felt the tingle of the evaporation.



“We can stop any time,” Jamie told him. “The permanent damage only occurs after the first layer is complete.” Jamie traced a line across the man’s forehead and again waited. The third line went across the man’s upper lip and Jamie nearly smiled, breaking the illusion. The line above his lips dripped down a little on the side making it look like an odd mustache. The smell of the paint and alcohol made the man’s eyes water.



“I can’t tell you,” he gasped out. Jamie paused, his brush close to the man’s cheek.



“Tell me.” He said.



“He will kill me.”



“So will we,” Del told him. The man paused, torn between the thought of which death would be worse.



“Who will kill you?” Jamie asked.



“Stedovan,” the main whispered the name, his voice barely audible.



“Stedovan?” Jamie repeated. “And who exactly is Stedovan?” The man’s eyes went wider than Jamie had seen them, the whites gleaming.



“He’ll kill me,” the man said, his voice panicky. Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie caught movement in the hallway. He stood and looked. Del turned to see what had caught Jamie’s attention. Green smoke was sliding through the cracks around the door. It wasn’t billowing as though something had caught fire and was edging in but like a solid gaseous being. Once through the cracks instead of dissipating like smoke it came together as though it were one long snake. The green smoke snake began slithering into the parlor. Del backed away. He started pulling Jamie with him.



“We can’t just leave him here,” Jamie said pointing to the man in the chair. If the smoke snake was dangerous, and all of Jamie’s natural instincts said it would be, then abandoning a bound man to it would add some of the blame for his death to Jamie’s score. Jamie started forward. With a groan, Del shoved him back and took a step forward. A small knife glinted in his hand. The man squeaked but Del simply cut the ropes binding him.



The ropes fell away and the man sprang to his feet. Del grabbed him by his shirt collar and hauled him towards the front window. The snake flowed towards them as they stepped away from Jamie. Del reached the window and tugged it open with one hand. When it was open, Del heaved the man through the open window and stepped quickly away. Seeing its prey escape, the snake darted towards the open window and in a moment was gone. Jamie looked through the glass as Del slammed the window shut. The man was running as fast as his legs would carry him, the snake following in pursuit.



“Well that was certainly interesting,” Del said as they both watched the man disappear beyond a stand of trees. “I wonder what the High Talbot will make of that.