Lazarus was standing in front of the window, scanning the articles on the front page of The Sovereign Gazette. He was in the expansive room that spanned the entire second floor of his headquarters and the sun that shone in through the glass left a tiny rainbow across his cheek. It was just a few minutes past nine in the morning and it was expected to be another wet day in the city. It had rained off and on for nearly six days in a row and the weathermen were predicting a lot more of the wet stuff before the city could dry itself off.
Lazarus was reading about a series of brutal slayings that took place in the downtown area, several of which had been attributed to men working in the service to The Monster. The so-called Monster was someone that had yet to cross paths with Lazarus but from all that he’d heard, The Monster was an increasingly powerful figure in the Sovereign underworld.
"Good morning, Samantha. Is there trouble?" Lazarus said these things without looking up from his paper and he stopped the pretty young Miss Grace in her tracks.
Regaining her composure, Samantha smoothed out her skirt and stepped up close to her employer. "It always throws me for a loop how you do that. I was trying to be quiet that time."
"You would have successfully snuck up on almost anyone on earth," Lazarus said, folding up the newspaper and tossing it onto a nearby tabletop.
"But not you."
A faint ghost of a smile appeared on Gray’s lips but it vanished so quickly that Samantha wasn’t sure it had really been there at all. "You were coming to tell me about the gentleman in the rain slicker."
Samantha crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. "How in the world did you know that?"
"The window. I was standing in front of it and saw a man approaching our building before I started reading the paper. He looked appropriately dressed for the weather."
"His name is Peter Scanlon and he says it’s urgent. Something about a missing girl."
"Has he tried the police?"
"Yes. But they think he should be sent to the loony bin, apparently."
"And why is that?"
"The girl he’s looking for — she has glowing eyes."
Peter Scanlon was on the first floor, in a small room set aside for potential clients. Its walls were painted a soothing shade of blue and a fresh arrangement of flowers was in a vase by the door. Morgan Watts was keeping Scanlon company, leaning against one of the walls and watching the little man fidget nervously. Scanlon had refused to give up his rain slicker upon entering, preferring to keep it on. He was slightly paunchy in the way that middle-aged men tend to get and his head was covered by a few thin wisps of hair, combed over in a vain attempt at maintaining the semblance of youth. He wore thick glasses and was constantly pushing them up the bridge of his nose.
"Sure you don’t want some coffee, buddy?"
Scanlon frowned and shook his head. "I told you I didn’t. Why do you keep asking me that?"
"You’re acting more nervous than a bride on her wedding night. If the coffee won’t settle you, I have some stronger stuff in the back."
Scanlon seemed to be considering the offer when the door opened and Gray stepped in. Samantha was right behind him and she glanced quickly at Morgan, shaking her head. Morgan smirked, knowing what it meant: she’d bet him three dollars that she’d be able to sneak up on Gray this time.
Gray pulled up a chair and sat down across from Scanlon, ignoring the slightly fearful look that he received. Gray’s eyes were mismatched: one was emerald green, the other dusky brown. They seemed to burn with some sort of awful inner fire, as if there was a bottomless well of fury lurking within his placid expression. "Tell me why you’re here, Mr. Scanlon."
"Didn’t the girl tell you?"
"Miss Grace told me some of it but I’d like to hear it from you, in your own words."
"I have money," Scanlon began but he stopped when Gray’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"We can discuss my fee at a later time. Right now, I’m concerned only with the reasons behind your visit."
Scanlon nodded, looking away. Without having the full force of Gray’s stare on him, he seemed to relax. After taking a deep breath, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and began speaking in low and somewhat embarrassed tones. "I don’t have a particularly glamorous life, Mr. Gray. Nothing like yours, to be sure. I repair typewriters for a living. I work for a Mr. Steinberg, down on 42nd street. He’s a good man and he pays well for the work. I like it but it’s awful lonely sometimes. It’s just me at home, you see. I’ve never married and haven’t really come very close." Scanlon looked up quickly and his cheeks reddened when he realized that Samantha was still in the room. She gave him a reassuring smile that seemed to say that she wasn’t judging him, nor did she pity his state. "A week ago I stopped by O’Malley’s Pub for a drink after work. It was a Tuesday night and the place was mostly empty, except for a few regulars."
"Are you a regular, Mr. Scanlon?" Morgan asked, taking a pipe out from the inside of his jacket. He lit it with a match and had just begun puffing away when Scanlon answered in the affirmative.
"I don’t go every night but often enough, I suppose. Well, there was one person there who most definitely wasn’t a regular. It was a girl, about twenty-five I’d say and so lovely that my heart broke just looking at her. She was wearing a white dress that ended just above her knees, white high-heeled pumps and she had a flower in her raven-black hair." Scanlon’s voice had acquired a dreamy air to it and Morgan was barely able to stifle a snort. Samantha motioned for him to stop, but it was obvious that she was amused as well. "Anyway, I took my usual seat and didn’t approach her. She was out of my league and I knew it. So you can imagine my surprise when I heard her angel’s voice from next to my shoulder, asking if she could sit with me. I stammered a yes and tried not to look too eager. She sat down next to me and I could smell her perfume. It was like fresh rose petals."
Morgan cleared his throat. "I think I can sense where this might be going. This dame of yours… was she a working girl?"
Scanlon’s mouth fell open and he looked like he might rise up and walk out. "Heavens no! Where on Earth did you get that idea? She wasn’t like that. Not at all, sir!"
"Please continue." Gray spoke softly but the tone was so commanding that Scanlon at once gave a nod and resumed his story.
"I could tell right away that she was sad about something. She looked like she’d been crying. I tried to make small talk with her but she was obviously too upset. She said she just wanted to be near me, that I made her feel safe. I bought her a couple of drinks but she barely touched either one. When I realized it was getting late, I told her I had to go and she asked me if I’d walk with her to get a cab."
"And she never told you her name?" Samantha asked.
"No. I didn’t ask, though. I didn’t even realize I hadn’t until… well, later." Scanlon cleared his throat and brushed his glasses back up over the bridge of his nose. "It was raining outside so I took off my jacket and held it over her head. She said it was gallant of me and I felt her touch my chest, kind of pulling me to her. I was just a little taller than her and so I was looking down at her. It was obvious she wanted me to kiss her. I was going to do it, too, but that’s when I saw her eyes." He reached out suddenly and gripped Lazarus by the sleeve. "They were glowing. It was kind of an ice blue color and her pupils seemed to vanish as I was looking at them. Her eyes were just empty, with that strange glow. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Is that possible? To be attracted and repulsed by something simultaneously?"
"I see it all the time," Morgan whispered.