Spacer Binding Lines 21
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    "What is it with you guys?" I demanded indignantly. "What did I ever do to you?"
    He was too busy trying to get his armor to work to give me any answers, and managed to maneuver a flame-thrower into position. That set off the sprinkler system and added to the general mess. I brought him gently down into near-unconsciousness. Then Phoenix stuck his damn bokken into the pack's power supply. It wasn't until we got the armor off that we realized that hadn't been what killed him; metal plates in the helmet and the costume's chest had seared the skin all around them with a high-voltage electric charge, a suicide device of some sort.
    I called the police. They sent a forensics team and a pair of jokers from Homicide, who asked me questions I didn't know the answers to. Do I have any enemies? Looks as if I do, but who they are I have no idea. I've had them put a guard on my apartment building, just in case someone makes a try there. Phoenix went out and talked to the TV cameras, which had gotten some great footage of his battle.
    Lucky hasn't checked in in a while; I think I'll call Chandler.

    No one there; I left a message. If she's not back by dark I'll get worried, but I'm still kind of pissed about the way she behaved today. Also, I have to admit, I'm a little scared. I'd really like to know what's going on.

    I called Ellis, too, and told him what had happened, although not that it had probably been aimed at me. I can't decide if I should tell him what we've found out about me; for the moment, I think it's going to stay need-to-know. He says it'll be a couple of days before we can get the roof fixed, so I spent a while getting equipment moved and covered up, cleaned up a little. Not much was actually damaged, although the photo I had been looking at, of Susan, was destroyed. I don't even know if I actually saw it, have no way of knowing—hopefully that will change soon. Chandler called a little while ago. Lucky's at his place, everything is fine. While I was talking to him I had an idea.
    "Maybe this is something you could help with," I thought out loud.
    "What's that?"
    "My so-called memory."
    "What about it?"
    "I'm worried. There might be other things in there I don't know about. I don't like not knowing from one minute to the next what's real and what isn't." That's what scares me the most about all of this. I would have staked my life that those phone calls took place. What else might happen that I'm unaware of? What if I look over at Phoenix one day, or Ellis, and see a daemon instead?
    "I don't blame you. I can help."
    "Sure. Not a proble—oops, gotta go." He hung up. Heaven only knows what he's got going on. I finished cleaning up.

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© 1999 Rebecca J. Stevenson