Page 27 of Farkas: Gothika

The senior partner with the eligible daughter invited him out to dinner, so one Friday night Lee sat in a Beverly Hills steak house with the partner, his wife, and the daughter. The prime rib was excellent. The partner spent a good part of the meal praising Lee’s work. The wife was witty. The daughter was intelligent and friendly but didn’t seem to have any more romantic interest in Lee than he did in her. Sometimes she gave him a private wink as if to say she knew what her parents were up to and didn’t mind humoring them.

It was nearly Christmas. He had no plans for the holiday aside from attending the obligatory party for the firm. A few of the partners had dropped hints, however, that he should expect big news along with his annual bonus. He knew what that meant, but when he thought about making partner, he felt… nothing.

And then one Tuesday afternoon, Lee looked up from his desk and out the window. The sky was gray—he couldn’t tell whether from smog or winter clouds—and the pedestrians down near Pershing Square were bundled up and colorless. Lee’s image, reflected in the window, was colorless, too, in its white shirt and gray suit.

Without consciously reaching a decision, he stood and put on his coat and hat. He took the elevator down to the lobby and exited the building, wondering whether anyone was watching dispassionately from their office high above. Lee took the Angels Flight to the top of the hill and strolled among the decaying boarding houses and cheap apartments. It was gray here too, with a palpable sense of impending doom. A few passersby glared at Lee, as if they knew he was partly responsible for their fate.

Lee descended the hill to his office building at a trot.

Once inside, he took the elevator to the top floor and marched straight to Graves’s office. It was rumored that his secretary, a stout gray-haired woman, knew every secret in the firm. “I need to speak with him, please,” Lee said. “Just for a minute.”

She peered at him and then, without saying anything, picked up her phone. “Mr. Harker is here to see you, sir.” She paused, hung up the receiver, and waved Lee toward the door.

Graves again sat behind an almost empty desk, the only new additions being a packet of tobacco and a box of matches. His expression was neutral as he greeted Lee, who decided to skip formalities.

“I’d like to get in touch with Mr. Farkas, please. He said you could contact him.”

Graves stared silently for a long time before nodding. “Very well.”

Lee stood there, waiting for Graves to say more, but Graves simply huffed and made a shooing motion. “Get back to work.”

Lee took the stairs down to his office and made a genuine effort to follow Graves’s order, but his eyes wouldn’t focus and his mind kept straying. If he stared at a blank wall, he saw that painting from Vincent’s drawing room and knew that the bare leg on the bed in the background was his own.

He startled wildly when his phone rang.

“Six o’clock,” Mr. Graves said. “Outside the lobby.” Then he hung up.

Maybe Lee could have gone home and packed a bag, but when he tried to imagine doing so, he couldn’t think of what he’d put in it. He didn’t own anything valuable, none of his possessions held an emotional attachment, and suddenly even his clothing didn’t appeal. He’d prefer Vincent’s tunics and hose. He did have the chest and items Vincent gave him, but those could be fetched later.

He paced his small office, like a caged beast.

At exactly six, a Cadillac limo pulled to a stop in front of the building. Lee got into the backseat without waiting for the chauffeur to get out. The driver didn’t turn to look at him before pulling away. “There are refreshments, sir.”

And there were. The cabinet held cold meat sandwiches and pickled vegetables. Lee was a little disappointed that there was none of Vincent’s wine, but he drank a single scotch instead. As before, he couldn’t see out the windows and time slipped by in an impossible way.

For this arrival, however, Vincent was waiting outside the entrance to his house. He greeted Lee with a fraternal embrace and then led him into the vestibule. “Will you be comfortable in your previous rooms, my love?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Yes. We can speak here, but perhaps we will be more comfortable in front of a fire.”

The route through the house seemed much shorter this time. Lee couldn’t imagine getting lost, although he clearly remembered doing so.

The fire made the large drawing room look welcoming and homey. Vincent, who wore a long embroidered tunic and short vest, took Lee’s overcoat and hat and ushered him to a paired set of armchairs. “May I offer you a drink?”

“Wine.”

“Ah. I am sorry, but I think a clear head is needed right now.”

Lee had to admit the wisdom of that. “Are you… influencing me somehow? Making me want things?”

“No.” Vincent sat in the nearby chair and turned to face him. “I am capable of doing so. But eventually your mind would clear, and…. What we have done together has been entirely of your free will.”

Lee had no guarantee that Vincent was telling the truth. But after a few moments of silent reflection, he decided that regardless of the source of his desires, he felt them keenly. Which made them real.

“That kid,” he said at last. “The one in the alley….”

“I have killed hundreds of people. As I explained, I generally prefer to avoid it, but I will undoubtedly kill many more. If you make this decision, so will you.”

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