Page 2 of Farkas: Gothika

Graves turned on his heel and marched out of the office, leaving behind the slight scents of alcohol and old age.

Chapter Two

Lee had an apartment not far from the office, in a building that catered to young professionals on the rise. It had seemed very glamorous when he first moved in, at least in comparison to the creaky old family house in Beatrice and the places he’d rented as an impoverished student. But then he’d been invited to cocktail parties at the homes of some of the firm’s partners, and he’d realized how mean his three rooms truly were. No matter, though; he spent little time there, and soon enough he’d make partner and buy himself a house.

He spent the next day rattling around in those three rooms, unused to having free time. He usually worked even on weekends. Today he held the newspaper without really reading it, made himself a lunch from the few items he found in the kitchen, and stared out the windows at the building across the street.

Packing his bags took some time; he had no idea where he was going or what events he’d be dressing for. He settled on the same suits, shirts, and ties that he wore to the office. They were all very good quality—better than he could comfortably afford, in fact. But making a good impression on the partners and clients was critical. It wouldn’t do to show up for meetings looking like some random Joe off the street.

As the sunset blazed, Lee caught a cab to the office, where most of the lights in the building still shone. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who worked late. A steady stream of people, casting curious glances his way, exited through the front doors as he waited in the lobby with his luggage.

At precisely six, a long black Cadillac came to a stop in front of the building. Nobody got out, and after a moment, Lee realized that it was probably waiting for him. He hefted his bags, took a deep breath, and exited the lobby with more than a little trepidation. At this point the driver got out and, without any greeting, opened the car’s rear door. He was a small man, perhaps in his sixties, pale and thin, wearing a dark suit and chauffeur’s cap. His eyes seemed excessively bright, but maybe that was a reflection from the streetlamps.

Lee paused without getting in, still not sure the ride was for him. “I’m Lee Harker.”

“Of course, sir. May I take your luggage?”

Lee slid inside, startling a bit when the chauffeur shut the door with a solid thunk. Lee had never been in a limousine before. The upholstery felt thick and expensive, the seat was wide, and he had plenty of room for his long legs. In fact, footrests were built into the floor.

“Please make yourself comfortable, sir,” said the driver as he pulled away from the curb. “Is the temperature to your liking?”

“Uh, yes. Sure.”

“There are some light refreshments in the cabinet, sir. Please help yourself.”

It took Lee a few moments to find the cabinet—he was too embarrassed to ask—but there it was, cleverly built into the back of the driver’s seat. It swung open smoothly, revealing a bottle a Glenlivet and one of Chivas Regal, a pair of lowball glasses, a pack of cigarettes, and three jars. The jars proved to contain olives, shelled nuts, and crackers. There was even a crockery container of sliced salami and cheese.

Lee realized that he was ravenous. He poured himself a glass of scotch, an easy task due to the Cadillac’s smooth ride, and sat back to eat. Only after he’d finished off the meat and cheese did he notice that it was difficult to see through the windows. They were tinted, perhaps, and all he could make out were blurry lights and a few vague shapes. The windshield seemed similarly opaque, but the driver obviously had no problem seeing through it, so maybe the problem was Lee’s distance from the glass. In any case, the lack of visibility made him uneasy and gave an odd sensation of traveling outside of normal space and time, as if he were a character in one of the science fiction stories one of his brothers had loved so much.

“Where are we going?” Lee demanded.

“To the master’s estate.”

Master? Lee decided to ignore the odd phrasing. “Who’s the master?”

“Mr. Laszlo Farkas, of course.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Lee. “And what does he—”

“My task is to get you there safely, sir. The master will explain after we arrive.”

Lee frowned. “And when will that be?”

“As soon as possible, sir.”

A wild impulse hit Lee: to fling the door open and leap out of the limousine, to run away as fast and as far as he could. His hand even reached toward the handle of its own accord. But realizing that this was entirely foolish in every regard, Lee growled softly and poured another glass of scotch.

The next time Lee glanced at the clock inset behind the front seat, the hands read 9:13, but surely that wasn’t possible. He hadn’t been in the car anywhere near that long. His watch, however, said the same thing. He saw nothing through the windows now, not even lights. It was as if someone had covered the glass in black velvet. Claustrophobia threatened to overtake him, and he steeled himself against it, reminded of how important this journey was; Mr. Graves had made that very clear. And wasn’t it significant that he’d sent Lee and not one of the junior partners, not even one of the other associates? Lee needed to comport himself in accord with the trust that had been placed in him.

He distracted himself by falling into a familiar daydream of what his life would be like once he made partner. A house, yes, perhaps in Pasadena, with a lush backyard and a kitchen containing all the latest appliances. It wouldn’t be his ultimate home—that would wait until he made senior partner and could afford a mansion—but it would be luxurious nonetheless. He would buy a car, a sleek little sports model fresh off the assembly line, and new clothes, and he’d spend weekends by the beach and go on vacations and learn how to ski. He would host parties for the city’s movers and shakers; even some movie stars would attend. His name would be mentioned with respect and maybe even a bit of envy. He would—

The car jolted slightly, bringing him back to awareness. Now the clock said it was nearly midnight. Where the hell could they be going? He opened his mouth to demand an explanation from the driver just as the limo came to a halt.

Without a word, the driver hopped out of his seat—leaving the engine running but the headlights off—opened Lee’s door, and disappeared around the back, presumably to get the luggage. Lee exited with considerably more hesitancy than the driver had and peered around cautiously.

There was very little to see. In the nearly utter darkness, he had a sense of things looming on all sides. The ground beneath his shoes was soft earth rather than pavement, and the air smelled sharply of herby plants. Before he could comment, an eerie howling began to his right, followed immediately by more to his left. Within seconds the sound was all around him, making his hairs lift and his heart beat faster. Coyotes, he thought. It must be coyotes. It sounded as if there were dozens of them, and although their yowls could have meant anything, he had the distinct impression that they were sounds of hunger.

“This way, sir,” said the chauffeur, making Lee jump.

---