Episode Eight: Bloodlines: Scene 21

I got away with it. And I had the entire weekend to think and plan.

Which means I had the entire weekend to get horribly frustrated and hate my life. Well, hate my life was probably too strong a reaction. I didn’t hate my entire life. Just the fact that I needed something to do or I’d go round and round on the stupid bombing.

Which the cops could handle.

Which the cops could definitely handle. Unless the kids behind it did something worse, and I could be ready for that. I almost missed the job at the sub place. It would have been something to do.

Maybe I needed a hobby. Or a motorbike. Or something. Instead, I decided I had to find something to do for the weekend. And it was Thanksgiving weekend.

Nobody was around except Kanesha, and she had disappeared, claiming she had something important to do that had to be done now. Which was probably schoolwork. Or a surprise for somebody. Given how evasive she was, maybe it was a surprise for me.

Maybe. I elected not to bother her about it, and just headed out. I wandered over to the mall and into the Native American museum. Now there was a place I tended to feel unwelcome. Things were set up in an odd way that grated on me. Culture clash. Maybe it was intentional.

Remind the white people we’re different, and you didn’t get much whiter than me. But it did have one thing.

Delicious food. I wandered into the cafe and ordered an Indian taco, then sat by the waterfall that flowed outside the windows. It was pretty busy, but not packed. Thanksgiving.

White stupidity. But I shook my head. The past was the past and the only thing I could change was the future. And I had an odd insight that that wasn’t exactly my job.

Maybe it was Kanesha’s, and I imagined her in a white coat, but a sense of foreboding drifted across me at the thought.

I had put her in so much danger. If that future never happened, it would be in part my fault. But only in part.

I knew I wasn’t responsible for the actions of my enemies. None of us are. None of us can be. Mike would understand that.

I really wanted to talk to him about the bombing. Then I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye. Well, well. One trickster fairy. I had thought he’d lost interest.

Or maybe he was bugging somebody else who happened to be in the room and my presence was pure coincidence. I lifted a hand in a salute to it and it scurried away. I heard a bell-like giggle.

I tried not to laugh in response, but it was hard. I had to hide it behind my hand. But I was in rather better spirits when I left.

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