Chapter Sixteen - We're Going to Need a Bigger Vacuum
Curled on his bed, reading an article about carbon nano tubes, Hugo had almost dozed off when the vibration of his phone jarred him awake. After fumbling with the covers for a moment, he retrieved the phone from his nightstand, surprised to find that Clem was the caller, “Hey Clem, what’s up?”
“Did I wake you?” Clem responded, sounding incredibly amused for some reason.
“No, I was just…ok, yeah, I was falling asleep,” Hugo admitted with a sigh.
Clem laughed, “It’s almost four. Have a strenuous New Year's Day party yesterday?”
Hugo grumbled,. “No Clem, just been busy lately. What did you need?”
“Have you seen CJ since the holiday party?” Clem asked, his voice suspiciously airy and casual.
“No, why? I thought she was probably just obsessively playing Rock Band still. Did something happen?” Hugo started gnawing on his thumb.
“Oh, relax, I’m sure you’re right. I was just curious. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Want to grab dinner?”
Hugo concentrated for a moment, confirming that he’d forgotten to eat lunch and was indeed hungry, “Yeah sure. Where do you want to go?”
Clem made a thoughtful noise, “How about the Musiquariam at the Triple Door? Their happy hour lasts till six, it’s delicious, and the bartender is a friend of mine.”
Hugo blinked, suddenly struck by the idea that he had no idea what Clem did outside of work. He knew the jazz guitarist had officially gone on hiatus soon after Canada, so he wasn’t doing any shows, so what was he doing in his spare time? What was CJ doing? Dr. McFadden? How could he not know anything about these people he spent so much time with? Hugo started chewing on his thumb again, “Sure. I can be there in about 20 minutes, is that ok?”
“Perfect!” Clem responded, full of cheer, “See you then!”
Hugo stretched, untangling from the comforter before walking into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. In the mirror he had dark spots under his eyes and his brown hair was beginning to show through the bleach. Should he bleach it again? The thought embarrassed him; things were slowly falling apart and he was worried about his hair. Besides, the cliché of a wind manipulator having white hair was also embarrassing. He could just dye it brown until it grew out. That thought made him feel uncomfortable for reasons he didn’t wish to examine, so Hugo left the bathroom, got ready, and headed towards the bus to go downtown.
It took almost exactly twenty minutes to get to the dimly lit lounge offshoot of the Triple Door, but Clem was already there with a pink drink, and Hugo wondered if he’d been there the whole time. The telepath waved him over, so Hugo wove through the tables, sliding into one of the tall chairs, “Hi Clem. Have you been…”
“Hmmm?” Clem questioned innocently when Hugo didn’t finish his sentence, before taking a sip from his tall glass.
“Never mind. What did you want to talk about?”
The waitress, wearing all black, appeared, cutting short whatever had been about to come out of Clem’s mouth.
“Can I get you anything?” She asked Hugo with a smile.
He finally glanced down at the happy hour menu, quickly scanning the contents, “A Manny’s?”
She nodded, “Sure thing. Can I see your ID? Do you boys want anything to eat?”
Clem ordered several things from the menu while Hugo fished his generally useless driver’s license from his wallet and handed it to the woman; she had calluses on her hands that marked her as an aspiring guitar player. Hugo wondered if she could sing too; she was pretty and it wouldn’t hurt to have a female lead in the Skyshank Puppets, if they really planned on going anywhere. He couldn’t manage to think of a way to broche the subject by the time she’d handed the license back and disappeared to place their orders.
“What did you want to say to her?” Clem asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow.
Hugo could feel his cheeks heating up, and he started to focus on the dark table, “Nothing really. What’s good here?”
Clem chuckled and Hugo resisted the urge to start chewing on his thumb again, “Don’t worry about it, I ordered a bunch of stuff; we can share.”
“Ok. So what did you want to talk about?”
“Several things, but let’s start with what happened in Japan.”
Hugo scrunched up his nose, confused, but then grumbled, “Where you almost got us killed?”
Clem shrugged, “I didn’t, and as I recall, you didn’t seem to care if you died anyway, so I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” The taller man’s voice was casual, but it carried a strange undercurrent of anger. Clem didn’t get angry.
The waitress chose that moment to bring them their drinks, which Hugo quickly took a sip from, giving him plenty of time to think of something clever to say. He didn’t. “What are you talking about?” He immediately reached for his glass again, avoiding eye contact with the musician.
“Look,” Clem began. His demeanor changed drastically, and suddenly Hugo understood that despite the smiles, the casual attitude, Clem was not a man to be crossed, “You can do your emo, suicidal bullshit on your own time, but you’ve got two girls who, for some reason I cannot fathom, have latched onto you, so don’t lead them, or me for that matter, to our deaths just because you don’t care about preventing your own." Clem shook his head, "Didn’t you learn anything from what happened in Canada?”
Hugo’s eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth several times, but his mind was blank, so his only response could be silence.
Startlingly, Clem grinned at that, and it was a genuine smile, completely without malice or the anger that had been there a moment before, “Good, now that we’ve got that covered, let’s move on to more entertaining conversation.”
As if on cue the waitress returned with a platter, setting down several small white dishes piled with a variety of foods. Hugo reached for a cracker on the cheese and fruit plate, which seemed to be Clem’s first stop too, because his hand ran into the other man’s. And then his view shifted.
Clem was doubled over in the cafeteria at Gideon Enterprises, his hands wrapped around his waist as he vomited up blood. It splashed onto the ground with a wet noise that suggested there was more than just blood in there. He was not alone. It had clearly been lunch when the disaster struck, and the white linoleum floor was splatter-painted red. Hugo watched himself enter the room, eyes instantly widening, his face turning white.
Clem’s voice exploded in his head, Don’t touch anything! Akemi, the Dragon’s bitch daughter is here, she did this! The telepath’s thoughts were threaded through with a pain so intense Hugo almost blacked out at the suddenness of it. And then abruptly the agony ended, Clem’s body crumpled. Hugo screamed.
And then he was blinking at Clem, his breath short and stuttered, his heart hammering in his chest. Clem was staring back at him, wide-eyed, the color drained from his face; the telepath must have listened to his thoughts when he’d spaced out and had shared at least the tail-end of the vision.
“Oh…god…” Hugo gasped out as he tried to get his erratic breathing under control, “It…it’s never hurt before.”
That seemed to snap Clem out of his sudden fear, because he took several deep breaths, then leaned back in his chair, casually throwing his arm over the back of it. “Well that was unfortunate,” Clem said, his voice mild, but this time he couldn't hide the thread of nervousness in the words he wove, “I’d like to try and prevent that if you wouldn’t mind.” He punctuated the statement with a wry smile.
Clem’s calm was infectious (which could have been a product of his abilities) and Hugo’s breathing slowed, the panicky lightheadedness fading away, “Yes, of course. I…” Hugo chewed on his thumb for a moment, and then straightened, “I’ll call Maggie. I don’t know exactly when that takes place, but she can tell me where Akemi is now and we can…deal with it somehow.” Clem smiled his consent, so Hugo pulled out hi
s cell phone to dial clairvoyant’s number.
She sounded tired when she answered, “Hello Hugo, what can I do for you?”
He chewed on his lip, suddenly nervous about asking the woman for anything further, but he was also looking at Clem's slight hesitation before he shoved a pot sticker in his mouth. Some things were more important than politeness. “I need your help. I’m looking for someone,” Hugo paused a moment but Maggie didn’t interject, “I don’t know her last name, but it’s Akemi, the daughter of The Dragon. You know him right? Akemi can poison people and I have a…feeling…she’s going to attack Gideon Enterprises soon.”
There was an uncomfortable delay before Maggie finally answered, “Yes, I know of The Dragon. Akemi is at the Four Seasons hotel downtown, fairly close to your building.” Hugo’s hands went icy and he almost dropped the phone because of the numbness in his fingers. “Be careful, Hugo.”
“I-I will. Thank you Maggie, I’ll…talk to you later. Bye.”
“Of course. Later.” The line disconnected with finality.
Clem’s smile almost turned into a frown, “Let me guess, she’s already here.” Hugo nodded. The jazz guitarist picked up a wedge of cheddar with long fingers, taking an almost dainty bite, “You’re not panicking enough for her to be at Gideon Enterprises already, so how close is she to the building?”
Hugo gnawed on his thumb for a moment, “At the Four Seasons.”
The man chuckled, but the sound was dry, “I guess it’s good to have a relaxing night in one of the best and most expensive hotels in the area before you go murder a building full of people.” Hugo continued chewing his finger. “Perhaps we should call Christian?”
Somehow that statement broke Hugo’s paralysis and he started to plan.