Jeffrey Dean
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'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Part 2, Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 22:00:10 +0000 UTCFor previous chapters all in one place, visit the collections tab. New chapters on Mondays!
The first thing Qui did upon returning to the police station in the evening was to place several phone calls. There were more items on his to-do list than there were hours in the night, but one priority rose above all others–Cranston. Somehow the meddlesome commissioner had learned about his indiscretions with Sam, and he had no idea how much she was aware of. He'd managed to cover his anger when Sam informed him of the phone call she received shortly after sunrise, but he was unable to contain himself once he had Cranston herself on the other end of the line.
"It's completely unacceptable!" he nearly spat, gripping the phone tightly in his hand. "When you hired me to do this job we agreed that I would be given the latitude I needed to complete the job properly. The last thing I need is to have your cronies raising red flags by calling my subordinates and questioning my whereabouts."
"Your subordinates?" Cranston replied. She sounded mildly amused. "Samantha Lyle is my subordinate, Qui, or do I need to remind you that your operation is temporary in nature? Have you grown too accustomed to your life as a mortal bureaucrat moonlighting as a detective? Perhaps you've been so effective at your job that I no longer require those particular services from you."
"You still need me to deal with the target."
"Yes, I do," she said. "But my police station is now in perfect working order. You've accomplished your task in half the allotted time, and better than I could have hoped. They're well prepared for their part in my plan and they will follow your orders when that direction is necessary. That is the extent of my needs."
He could have sworn. Of all the times for an employer to acknowledge his efficiency… Any other time he'd have savored the praise, but he was in this far deeper than she knew. Perhaps some information sharing was in order. "There's been a wrinkle," he said. "The job may have complicating external factors."
"Oh?" Cranston asked. "Does it have anything to do with the dead bodies that you sent in last night?"
Qui was stunned. How could she possibly have learned about that so quickly? One thing was certain–he wouldn't be able to get away with denying the fact that he'd been involved. He was the one who had authorized the dead mens' removal from Sam's apartment complex last night, after all. Still, though, he hadn't survived this long by volunteering more information than was strictly necessary simply because he'd been prompted to do so by a suggestion. He'd keep to the basics for now and suss out what Cranston actually knew. If his employer discovered that Sam was aware of her true nature, she'd more than likely simply dispose of her, and Qui wasn't prepared to throw away such a valuable resource. That was how he justified it to himself, anyway–in truth he was growing fond of her. The woman was smart and quick on her feet; she was adapting to the hidden world much quicker than anyone he'd ever taught, and that was invaluable in a mortal ally.
"Yes," Qui confirmed. "The bodies are related to the complication."
"I suspected as much," Cranston said. She sounded considerably less pleased than she had been a moment ago. "I've been aware of the vagrant for some time now. His death presents me with a minor setback."
The vagrant…if the commissioner was focused on the homeless mortal rather than the dead Tzimisce, then he had greatly overestimated the breadth of her knowledge.
Cranston sighed. "If the details of your story illuminate what I suspect, then we'd be better off not discussing the particulars on the phone. I will send Arundel to meet with you. You can explain the matter to him and he will report directly to me."
Qui had to bite his lip to keep from swearing. "Why speak through intermediaries?"
"Arundel has a keen eye for the truth," Cranston said. "Which you well know by now. As for me, I have other matters to attend to at present. Yours is but a small part in my plans; a pivotal role for which you've been well compensated, but merely a part nonetheless. If Arundel deems your…complication to be of sufficient importance, I trust him to resolve it. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."
"One last thing," Qui said, catching the commissioner before she could hang up. "You never explained why you had your man call up Ms. Lyle."
Cranston snorted. "As a guest in my domain, you would do best to assume that I am always watching. Your dalliances with the mortal are your own affair, but I simply won't allow you to get yourself killed due to a childish infatuation. Sleep in your own Haven, Qui. Am I being perfectly clear?"
The line went dead and finally Qui had a moment to himself. He took some time to think. There were a few things he could take away from the conversation: Cranston hadn't somehow learned that Sam knew about her true nature, nor did she know that Qui had brought her on as a prospective thrall. The commissioner knew about the bodies, but she'd focused on the homeless man, not the remains of the Tzimisce. That meant she was most likely aware that the mortal had been spying on Sam. Had he been one of her creatures? He very much doubted it. Cranston, it seemed, had other ways of tracking his movements throughout the city which she had yet to divulge.
Eventually, he'd need to explain the existence of the vampire Sam destroyed, but he could afford to wait on that for the moment. Cranston had been informed that the complication was related to the bodies he'd sent in for processing, he'd merely neglected to say which one.
He placed a quick phone call down to the morgue, wanting to be sure there were no further leaks. The mortician confirmed what he already knew–that the commissioner had requested information about the bodies with a particular interest in the mortal vagrant-turned-spy. They'd both been cremated shortly afterwards.
A sudden knock at his office door startled Qui out of his thoughts. He stepped around the desk and sat down in his chair, sweeping back his long hair in an attempt to look at ease. "Come in!"
The door opened and Sam stepped through, a brilliant smile on her face as she closed it behind her. "I almost bought you coffee again tonight, then I realized why you never drink it."
"I can't say I ever minded the gesture," Qui said. "I still enjoy the smell, but the last time I gave in to temptation and drank a few sips I regretted it almost immediately. Sometimes I really miss normal food and drink, but I can't stomach it anymore."
"So you don't think it was silly, me bringing it anyway?"
He shook his head. "I appreciate it. Really." He gestured at the chair opposite his desk. "Sit. We have a few things to go over before your shift begins."
