The Watchtower Affair: Enemies Are Made

Part 6
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't
 

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925 (cont...)

Meanwhile, back in the lobby, most of the group headed to the elevator following the mobsters who had just arrived. Mr. Smith and Mr. Long remained behind, having decided to take the stairs up to see “The Man”.

I met with Mr. Smith and Mr. Long just as I put my hand on the door to open it. They looked just as surprised to see me standing there as I was to see them. I’m sure I appeared a bit disheveled, just to make it even more interesting.
            “Oh,” I said. “What are the two of you doing?”

Mr. Smith brushed past and started for the first step. “We’re heading up to the top floor to confront whatever the fuck is there. The others are taking the elevator with those mob boys who showed up.” (As an aside, Mr. Smith certainly has some colorful vocabulary and doesn’t seem to pay any mind as to who’s within listening distance of him.)

“I wouldn’t take the stairs if I were you. I’m not sure you would be able to make it to the top.” That had his attention.

“What happened?” He turned those penetrating eyes on me and I glimpsed the intelligence behind the tough guy image. For some reason, this was a comfort. I no longer found him as frightening before, maybe because he reminded me a bit of my late father. He was intense, yes, and definitely focused, but not terrifying Of course, I had just been in the company of a metal vampire, which perhaps but things in a different perspective. This was a bit of a relief, letting me relax around him.

I filled them in on my misadventures since entering the stairwell, including my two encounters with Pathos and how he had saved me on the upper floor. I gave them most of the pertinent details, except for the bite on the back of my hand. I had no idea what it meant, but I was keeping that little occurrence to myself for now.

Mr. Smith’s face darkened at the mention of the vampire’s name and he started to ask me more questions about what had happened, especially questions concerning Pathos, when I once more heard that whirring sound and the man in question descended through the opening between the flights of stairs. He perched upside down to one side of where we stood and looked at the two men with me. Mr. Smith and Pathos begin conversing tersely. Mr. Smith was quite aggressive in talking to Pathos, almost like he was so angry at him that he couldn’t help but try to goad him into some sort of action. They aren’t very far into their conversation before Pathos learned of Labana’s death in Boston.

            Up until now, the exchange between the two had been angry and tense, but only verbal. As Pathos reeled slightly from the news of the female vampire’s death, Mr. Long stepped up and threw in his face the fact that he had killed her. It was as if Mr. Long had physically punched Pathos, such was his reaction. He reached out and slapped Mr. Long across the face, leaving a bright red hand-shaped print upon Mr. Long’s left cheek. Mr. Long retaliated by punching Pathos in the head as well, landing a blow strong enough to knock his head back slightly. Things became insane for the next few minutes. I have no idea what Mr. Long was thinking by provoking a fight with the vampire in such close quarters. Not only had he done nothing to really start the aggression in the first place, but the last vampire that Mr. Long had taken out exploded. We had nowhere to go if that were to happen here.

            Trying the door, I found it locked. Sighing deeply, I sank down in the corner and tried to stay out of the way. And for some silly reason, I decided to activate my “other sight” for a different perspective on what was happening. I’d hoped to learn something new about the energies interacting in the stairs and perhaps I could detect something interesting about the door and why it seemed locked. I mean, it had only been used mere minutes ago. Of course, it was no doubt whatever lived on the top floor that was behind it all, but I felt the desperate need to try something.

By the way, did I say silly? Actually it was more along the lines of stupid. When I looked at Mr. Hand and Pathos going at it hand to hand, what I saw was two cranes standing in the middle of a field fighting with their long legs. The whole image was overlaid onto stairwell.  When I looked anywhere in the stair well, that’s all I saw, this placid field with a breeze gently blowing the tops of the prairie grasses about. Mr. Long and Pathos were both funny looking, long legged cranes and Mr. Smith resembled an odd fox and behind it all the faint, fuzzy image of the actual reality.

            Just as I closed my eyes to block out the disorientation of the two images superimposed over one another, Mr. Smith pulled his big gun from wherever he keeps it. A shoulder holster perhaps? Clamping my eyelids tightly shut, I prayed that in the chaos someone would miss my small corner, because there was very little else I could do to protect myself. Getting around any of them probably would have precipitated my getting hurt.

            Since I couldn’t see anything, the sound of Mr. Smith’s gun going off made my entire body jump. I heard a grunt from Mr. Long and opened my eyes. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit my relief upon seeing Pathos unscathed. He had done very little to precipitate this fight. Mr. Long however… And it was indeed Mr. Long who was wounded. Somehow the bullet had ricocheted off Pathos and struck Mr. Long in the ankle.

            With a look of anger blazing in his eyes, Pathos took off once more up the stair well. It was quite obvious that things were far from over between Mr. Long and the vampire.