Chapter 4: The Forgotten Past (2)

The gathering was held in the backyard of Sanchez’s house. Just as Pester had said, it was a private get-together with only a few people. They sat around a long table, eating, drinking, and chatting amiably.

Roche cut at the lamb chop on his plate without paying much attention. So Pester could smile after all. She even smiled warmly at the former Deputy Director’s wife, Rachel Escher, a petite blonde woman of a certain age.

“I drank some of the butterfly pea tea you gave me, and I brought a few packets for my mother, too. She liked it very much. You know, she’s always suffered from severe insomnia. She sleeps much better now, and the nightmares have almost stopped.”

Escher and Sanchez were discussing something else. No matter how the conversation wandered, it always circled back to Escher’s sudden reassignment. After Fiennes died, Escher hadn’t advanced to the Deputy Director’s position. Instead, he’d been transferred sideways to a job in Records Management, a position with nothing to do with his old one.

Roche was growing more and more bored. Even the perfectly cooked lamb chop in front of him tasted like sawdust. The smile he’d been forcing onto his face vanished like the fitful evening breeze, only to return in a rush whenever he noticed it was gone.

Then one word drifted into his ears. It should have floated away without a trace, but to him it hit like a thunderclap.

“Because of Cosmo Fiennes?” Pester rested her cheek on the back of one hand and poured more wine into Escher’s glass. Her eyes, reflected in its sides, were almost—but not quite—smiling.

“You’re climbing the ladder fast. Don’t tease someone stuck in a dead-end job.” Escher forced a bitter smile. “That car accident really was sudden. Life is unpredictable. None of us knows what fate the Lord has in store for us.”

“That’s why we have to live in the present, isn’t it?” Sanchez raised his glass at just the right moment. “I’m sure everyone here values life in this world.”

“Of course.” Escher clinked his glass against Sanchez’s and drained it. “I have no intention of getting mixed up in those matters anymore. I just want to live quietly. Actually, I’ve been thinking about moving. Our current house is too old. It’s been passed down through the family for generations, but it isn’t convenient anymore. Newer homes like the ones you’ve bought are much more comfortable. It’s always been cold in winter and hot in summer, and now the heating pipes have started acting up. They make a racket in the middle of the night. We’ve had all sorts of workers in to look for the problem, but no one can find it. That noise is what’s keeping Rachel up, too.”

He put particular emphasis on the words “newer homes.”

“Actually, I know of a few plots of land that are going to be developed—”

“Roche? Are you all right?” Pester asked with concern.

Roche jolted so hard he nearly knocked over his glass. Only then did he seem to notice that he was covered in cold sweat and his mind was wandering. “I don’t feel very well… Sorry. I need to use the bathroom.”

He hurried away. Sanchez turned to Pester. “Shouldn’t you check on your brother?”

“No,” Pester replied lightly. “It’s better to let him collect himself. Let’s keep talking.”

“What happened to him all of a sudden?” Rachel looked concerned. “Has he not recovered yet? Or is Fiennes’s death such a blow to him? Everyone knows how much Director Fiennes valued Roche. Didn’t he visit him a few times when he was recovering? For someone as busy as he was to make the trip especially to see him—well, my husband could hardly get a meeting with him back then.”

“You’re joking, Mrs. Escher. Fiennes was at most a friend of my father’s. A friend’s son was badly injured and taking a long time to recover. My father was unable to get around after his stroke, so Fiennes made a few visits in his place. He was looking out for his old friend’s child.”

“True.” Rachel smiled. “Roche was the Linvanx family’s only son. Of course you’d treasure him. And I almost forgot—you were mentored by Fiennes when you first joined PAA, weren’t you? Now Roche, too. He really was devoted to your family.”

Pester only smiled. Sanchez suddenly changed the subject. “Mrs. Escher, hasn’t your daughter been gone for quite a while? I haven’t seen her come back.”

The faucet must have been broken. Roche tried for a long time, but no matter how he turned it, warm water was all that came out.

Never mind. Warm water would do. He cupped some in his hands and splashed it onto his face. It washed away the cold sweat and helped clear his head a little.

Bracing himself against the sink, Roche examined his reflection. He looked all right now, nothing like the ghost he’d seen in the mirror moments ago, pale and with unfocused eyes.

The only thing he could be sure of was that something had happened between him and a man called Cosmo. The death of a stranger shouldn’t have affected him that way.

As for Drake, the man who apparently used to be close to him, Roche felt sympathy for what he’d been through, but nothing more. To put it bluntly, his reaction would probably have been much the same if Drake had been any stranger.

A light, soft, weightless kind of sympathy. Something that never quite touched the ground.

For now, Roche only wanted to understand what had happened between him and the dead Cosmo. He wiped the water from his face and turned to head back to the yard. But he’d barely taken a few steps when he heard a rustle.

The sound came from behind a hedge.

Someone clearly looked after Sanchez’s garden. Even in the hot, rainy summer, the plants hadn’t been allowed to grow wild. The hedge was still neat and evenly trimmed. Through its light brown branches and deep green, round leaves, Roche saw the Eschers’ daughter.

She looked like a younger version of Rachel: the same slender build, the same listless way of speaking, the same dull blond hair. She wore an apple-green chiffon dress. The skirt rustled as she moved, though she herself seemed gray and lifeless by comparison.

But now she looked very much alive.

The girl lay behind the hedge with her eyes closed, her lashes trembling. Her lips were flushed, her face slick with sweat. One hand was beneath her skirt, her forearm moving in a steady rhythm. She had the chain of her necklace between her teeth.

In a breathless moment, something inside her seemed to break open. Her small white teeth clenched hard on the chain, making the green gemstone pendant swing wildly. She arched her neck. A horrible vein rose beneath the delicate white skin, writhing like an earthworm beneath the flesh. She made no sound, but her breathing grew faster and faster—

Roche spun around. Pester stood behind him, relaxed, even listening to a phone call, her eyes fixed on him without blinking.

“Did you see the Eschers’ daughter?”

Roche didn’t answer. The girl’s ragged breathing washed over them from behind the hedge like a rising tide. He didn’t believe Pester hadn’t heard it. She was only asking because she already knew.

“Come back. Don’t keep everyone waiting. It’s funny. No matter where you go, people do the same things behind each other’s backs.”

She left him with that ambiguous remark. A satisfied smile touched her face.

Roche had barely returned to his seat when the Eschers’ daughter came back to the table, too. She looked much healthier now. As she pulled out her chair, she even flashed Roche a playful smile. He returned a strained, awkward one. Fortunately, the others seemed not to notice their little exchange and went on talking about other things.

“…So there’s probably something in that house,” Rachel was saying to her husband. “Sanchez just said the Rifts are appearing far more often than they used to. You used to work in this field. How did you not think of that?”

“It’s certainly possible that an Anomalous Entity is responsible,” Sanchez agreed. Escher, however, looked troubled.

“Didn’t Roche study medicine?” he suddenly asked. “Rachel, why don’t you ask him whether it’s normal to have trouble sleeping at a certain age?”

A drop in estrogen could indeed cause autonomic nervous system problems in menopausal women, leading to anxiety, irritability, and insomnia. But how could Roche say that? It would be like telling Rachel she was getting old.

“Why would I ask him? Haven’t I seen enough doctors already?” Fortunately, Rachel didn’t take the bait. Instead, she asked Sanchez for more details about different Anomaly cases.

Pester had returned, too. She seemed to have made a phone call. As soon as she heard Rachel’s question, she picked up the thread.

“It’s not uncommon. Sometimes, the more familiar something is, the more easily you let your guard down. If I hadn’t been so careless, my father wouldn’t have ended up like that.”

“You mean…?”

“Mm. His stroke wasn’t just a stroke.”

Rachel looked badly shaken by the implication. She began urging her husband even more insistently to have someone inspect the house.

“There’s no need to make such a fuss. Pester’s right here. Why not have her send over a few experienced employees to take a look? If there’s nothing wrong, great. If there is, they can deal with it on the spot.” Sanchez turned to Pester. She nodded.

“If it’s convenient for you, I can send a team to inspect your house thoroughly tomorrow.”

Escher seemed fed up with his wife’s pestering. He was obviously unhappy about it, but he agreed to Pester’s offer in the end.

The dinner ended on a pleasant note, with everyone getting what they wanted.