— Posted in Code Dead, Vampire Noir

Code Dead – The intermission between “Glenda” and “I, The Jury” [Chapter 3, Part 8]

“Beegie Leslee Thomas-Adair. My dog girlfriend. Or is it, my girl dog friend? Who’s to know? Ricky had such an inconsistent use of grammar.”

“You can read the note!!!” Exclaims Dwayne, before he realizes what he’s let slip. He quickly regains his normally stoic composure and he closes his yap, chiding himself harshly for his reveal in response to her reveal. Even a fish can’t get caught if it doesn’t open its mouth.

“Of course I can read the note, same as you can, same as any Were can. I’ve always had this uncanny facility with language, any language, even someone’s or something’s made-up language. A talent which obviously followed me into Undeath. And since I could savvy Goon when I was mundane, obviously a facility which far exceeds that of any Were.”

Of course Goon believe that Mondo was Goon in a past life and that explains why she can savvy Goon in this incarnation. It also might explain why none of them [Goon] has eaten her for the grievous transgress of being able to savvy Goon and not be Goon.

It is very likely that Were can savvy Goon, but for their race’s own well-being and continued existence, they know better than to admit to being able to do so in mixed company. There are rules about such things and they must be obeyed, else there are dire consequences. Such is ROE.

There’s nothing about Mondo’s voice or manner from which Dwayne can remotely infer that she knows elsewise about Were being unable to savvy Goon. And he wisely decides not to take that bait and broach the subject any further with her. She freely admits that she can savvy Goon and contends that in doing so she can savvy what no Were can, and he’ll leave it at that. Although he has this sense that something is trying to compel him to say more about the subject or any subject for that matter. He’s being worked and more than just her working him is afoot, he decides.

Dwayne is able to push back that which is pushing him. Although he’s unable to push it aside. Having created some space, metaphysically speaking, between him and it he exercises his options.

His vision momentary shifts. Mondo is no rat, but he needs to confirm her integrity [of purpose] nonetheless. Now, he sees it. A glamor is in place, likely of her doing. Nothing of this matter of a most personal nature is being revealed to the humans in earshot. They have no need to know.

Every supernatural race has its “special” talent, for which they have [supposedly] no equal, and normally they do not. For example, Were and their facility with languages—universal translation, so to speak. Of course even Were are not supposed to be able to savvy Goon. Then again, as aforementioned, except for Goon reincarnation, no non-Goon is supposed to be able to [savvy Goon].

“The indigenous humans have no knowledge of our special …”

“And they will not learn of it from me.”

“I’ve confirmed that you’ve taken the proper precautions.”

“I noticed.” Mondo smiles coyly, and nimbly changes back to the current talking points. “I assume from Ricky’s references to her, that this Beegie Leslee Thomas-Adair is a dog.”

“Yes, she is Were.”

“She is known to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you are close?”

“Yes.”

“Hence your outburst when I recited passages, fragments from Ricky’s tome which indicate that he was somehow involved with her, a connection that if known to the humans would implicate a Were that you obviously care deeply for in Ricky’s death.”

“She is my …”

“For now, I have no need to know what her relation is to you.”

“She did not kill him.”

“She swears to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. The glamor I’ve worked has many other uses besides mere deception.”

“I’d figured as much. You’ve loosened my tongue.”

“Crudely put. Yes.”

“And not so crudely put?”

“Before he realizes what he’s let slip, let his tongue be loose.”

“Deceitful bitch.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Why haven’t you told the humans?”

“I’ve haven’t yet determined if it’s germane to the case that Ricky and your Beegie knew each other.”

“Even now you’re working me with complete disregard. And me … Guarded. Warned. I’m still trusting you way too much with my speech.”

“If you’re weren’t so forthcoming under duress, I would assume …”

“Guilt, conspiracy, cover-up? Some aspect of culpability on my part? Jealous, possessive lover lashes out and murders …”

“Something like that.” Then she drops the bombshell. “I wonder why the authorities believe that he died elsewhere and was unceremoniously dumped in that field after the fact? I bet you dogs have sniffed it out better. You just can’t sniff it out well enough to cipher whodunit.”

Dwayne feints, but it takes all of his muster to keep his poker face and, figuratively speaking, not let his jaw drop and hit the table.

“I like being your dog. I like fucking you. I like you.”

“Now, who’s working whom?” With a slight gesture she dispels the glamor. “You’d gut me in a heartbeat if you thought that you could get away with it. You’re convinced that I’m guilty and, since my reveal, you’re sure that I intend to pin this on your girl Beegie when it best suits me.”