The Demon's Thief - Chapter 2

The Bill Show

Izabella

Several Weeks Earlier

After crawling through ducts and grime to set up surveillance and tracking devices around one Professor William “Bill” Tennesson, I sat comfortably in my rented apartment listening to his conversations and mapping his routines.

Bill, as his coworker Regina Shelby often called him, wasn’t overly prompt, nor did he miss classes. He often ate lunch at his desk, except on Wednesdays, helped students with questions, graded essays and quizzes with the patience of a saint, then would pack up and walk home to a small apartment not far from campus.

Shelby and Tennesson would often converse about meetings between the university faculty and the History and Cultural Studies department. They both seemed to attend a lot of meetings along with their busy class schedules. How they ever accomplished lectures, mentoring, grading, and generally living their lives was short of a miracle. I chalked it up to some personal magic teachers seemed to have.

They worked in a four story building with several sub basements shared with the International Studies, Philosophy, Public Relations, and Communications departments. There was also a small art and history museum that open to the public on the first floor.

Tennesson had visited a sub basement once while I had him under surveillance and it had revealed a fairly sophisticated set up that required me to have an accurate copy of his biometrics along with a key card to access the floor. Key cards were pretty old school, but not a problem. Knowing where he kept his prized treasures and what was involved mean I could plan more than improvise which made Dawn happy.

Most days I found myself listening in on his conversations and even his voicemail.

Monday 7:30 PM: “William, I only want to talk. Please call me.” — Call ended. Call deleted.

Wednesday 9 PM: “William, please pick up. I’m sorry you’re upset with me. I want to talk. Please.” — Call ended. Call deleted.

Friday 9:30 AM: “I’m not sure what I can do to make this better. I know I left quickly. We should have talked. Please, William, call me.” — Call ended. Call deleted.

For two weeks, Bill would let calls from the same number go to voicemail, where he’d listen to it, then delete it. This individual never said who they were, though they sounded like they knew Tennesson. They also knew his schedule and would wait until he was at home or leaving his office.

One time they called while his coworker was in the office. I had a prime view of the whole conversation.

“Don’t you dare answer that phone, Tennesson.”

“I haven’t the other dozen times he’s called. What makes you think I would answer it now?” Bill stated. His tone was light, but there was small amount of tension in his voice.

“You haven’t blocked his number and let him continue to think he has some hope of speaking with you after he was silent for two years and never answered your calls,” Regina said. “That’s why I know you are tempted.”

“Hells, Shelby. Show some mercy. He sounds miserable if that helps any,” said Bill.

“Good. He deserves it after what he did to you.”

“Shelby, please.”

“Must I remind you that you bared your soul to that man and less than a week later, he not only stops speaking with you, he tendered his resignation and moved out of state, and took a post at another university, likely with a raise. All because you told him you loved him.”

Bill frowned. I zoomed in on his face. There was something he hadn’t told his coworker-friend. Something about the face he made. He winced slightly when Shelby mentioned ‘love’. It wasn’t the whole story, but I didn’t need the whole story, only his movements, facial ticks, the color of his eyes, which were hazel. He had dark brown hair, with a nicely trimmed beard. For a professor he was well put together.

Dawn would sometimes watch “The Bill Show” with me. It was our usual shared meal night, even though she was back in New York and I was in Austin.

“Did he ever call this heart-breaker back?” Dawn asked. Her thoughtful face was framed by adjacent holo as she worked on something at her desk. She had the same feed I did, but it was fun to watch things in real-time together. Talk about them like we were in the same room.

“No, not yet. The guy’s voice always sounds sad, as if he’s repenting when he leaves a message.”

“His voice is like nails on a chalkboard if you ask me.” Not that anyone used chalkboards anymore. I wondered if Bill would even get that reference. He seemed old enough that he might.

She didn’t look up from her work, but paused a moment to push her long, braided black natural hair over her shoulder and tie them back with some flexible wiring. I admired her arms as they framed her face, her tongue sticking out until she managed to twist the wire in place, keeping her beautiful braids out of whatever she was working on.

“Must be your dragon hearing. But I’ll admit, Bill’s is better. I’m glad he’s not answering his phone, though. The way his ex treated him wasn’t right.”

“Maybe he had a good reason. Maybe this Professor Tennesson is cursed. Tennesson fesses up, and the other bloke split for his own safety.” That was an odd take given that a moment ago, Dawn thought the ex-lover’s voice was annoying.

“Over a curse? That seems pretty trivial in this day and age. Most witches won’t even do permanent curses any more. Half of them are for show or so their supposed true love can make some grand gesture.” Dawn agreed with an amused hum.

“Maybe it’s one of those true-love’s-kiss curses and instead of being the one, the mysterious caller kissed Bill and it didn’t work, but now he’s having second thoughts.”

“You read too many fairy tales, Dawn.”

“Gavin says,” her brother and apparently the family historian, “there are truths in old tales. I think he’s right.” She paused a moment in thought. “Plus, he knows someone that was cursed like that. Couldn’t see colors or some shite until his true love kissed his eyes.”

“Seriously? Temporary color blindness?”

“Well, something like that, or a mole, or half an eyebrow. Maybe random loss of sexual performance.”

I gave her an odd look through the holo chat and we both laughed.

Everything the professor did was pretty innocuous. Bill graded his mid-week quizzes on Wednesdays and essays on Friday night. He never used magic and got some thrill using his stylus to make digital red marks on their files. It was definitely old school. It spoke of someone that had been a teacher for some time, back when paper was more popular.

He certainly didn’t look that old, but individuals could fool ya. Dawn was over two hundred years old, but probably didn’t appear to most to be over thirty. I was at least over fifty myself, not that I knew my real age. If I was to guess what someone thought my age was, I’d say late twenties. My pale skin didn’t have wrinkles unless I wanted them. Either Bill was in his mid-forties, or he wasn’t human and much older. Problem was, besides being anachronistic about his grading, there wasn’t anything else about him that said he wasn’t human.

It was often a debate Dawn and I had on our shared dinner nights. American Chinese was Dawn’s go-to takeaway. She had her usual Triple Kung Pow from a restaurant not too far from her shop while I found a decent one that delivered and left it at my door. I preferred Lo Mien because noodles were fun.

We returned to watching the surveillance feed as I slurped some noodles. One noodle had the audacity to smack my chin on the way into my mouth. I made an audible hiss as I wiped the sauce from my face.

“You should put some of the cream I made for you on it before it leaves a mark.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” Unlike our friend Bill, I was definitely not human, though I could easily hold a human shape. Other shapes weren’t that hard either. Being a polymorphic being had its up sides. The downside was having a sensitivity to moisture. If something was water-based, it left marks, or burned. Dawn made various creams and protective makeup to keep my dermal layer from being damaged, but more often than not, something always left its mark.

“I swear you’re a masochist.”

“In all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever said I was into pain?”

“Well, you’ve never said it, but you do tend to ignore your wellbeing.”

“Like when?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“You’re not going to let that one go are you?”

“You’re the one that pissed off a lich near his source of power. I just happened to run interference.”

“Seducing an undead-soul-sucking-mage is not running interference.”

“Says you.”

“We wouldn’t have made it out of Cairo otherwise . . .” we said at the same time.

“Yeah yeah, I remember. You won’t let me forget.”

Dawn laughed, but it was cut short by Bill’s phone. The system registered the call. It was late for mister heart-breaker. Shelby had left for the night and the rest of the department offices were dark, except Bill’s.

We watched as he picked up his phone and stared at it for a long moment before he answered.

“Will wonders never cease . . .” Dawn said. I shushed her and turned up the sound on the call.

“Tennesson speaking.”

“William?”

“Nate.” Bill had a tone in his voice I rarely heard. He was polite, but there was a minor twinge of regret and anger in the way he said the name. “What can I do for you?” The question was flat, polite, and void of all the emotion that Bill had placed in the caller’s name. I wondered if this ‘Nate’ heard what I had. Bill was tired and wanted to be left alone in his sadness. I could understand that.

“The TU Science Symposium is in a few weeks. I’ve been invited to speak.”

“Congratulations, though if memory serves, they’ve invited you to speak every year since before you were a professor here,” Bill said.

“I’d like your permission . . .”

Bill’s hand squeezed the phone. There was a screech that went through the headset and came across the call as if the phone was on the verge of breaking. He took a breath, then another and finally answered. “You don’t need my permission to speak at a conference you regularly attend. You didn’t ask my permission last year. It’s not like I’ll show up out of the blue.”

“What if I wanted you to?” Nate’s voice was half plea and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe a change of heart?

“Well that nixes the curse theory,” I said.

“Bold move,” Dawn replied as she munched on an egg roll. “I admire that.”

“You said you didn’t like his voice!”

“I can admire his actions and still think his voice is annoying.”

Bill interrupted our commentary, raising his voice. It was a first during the whole time we’d observed him. His anger had slipped out coloring his words.

“Why? You were quite clear that you didn’t want to see me again after I tried to talk with you. You couldn’t even tell me yourself. You left a fucking voice message, and a terse one at that. Why now? Why the change of heart?” Bill said, his hurt feelings evident to anyone listening.

“You were right. We should have talked. I’d like us to talk, if it’s not too late,” Nate said.

“Is he for real?” Dawn scoffed. “Say no, Bill! You don’t need that arsehole!”

Quiet ruled for nearly a minute before Bill answered. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

“Bye, Nate.”

“Goodbye, William.”

The call ended and the transcript I’d been running saved itself to a file along with the recorded audio.

“Whew, those two are a mess. I wonder what broke them up? It’s not like they were in competing departments. It makes me wonder how they met in the first place.” Dawn had a point.

How did a history professor meet a scientist? The world was a funny place. “Maybe it was one of those faculty mixers Shelby’s always trying to get Tennesson to attend.”

“Maybe,” Dawn replied.

I finished my container of noodles and fished out an eggroll from another. While I was eating, Dawn returned her focus back to the job at hand.

“You think you have enough to mimic the professor yet?” she asked.

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll only need a DNA sample and a copy of his badge to cover the security system interfaces. I know where all the imagers are so I can put them on a loop once I’m in.” To obtain those, I only needed an opening that would give me access. He left his badge and a used coffee cup on his desk during his classes. It would be easy enough to get into the building, then his office, and grab what I needed.

“You should definitely plan on getting in and out of there before his ex shows up. Your mimic breaks down pretty quick if someone really knows the target.”

I gave the holo screen a nod. “Agreed.” Whatever happened, it wasn’t an average breakup. Nate the scientist was definitely an arsehole, and I agreed with Shelby that Bill deserved better. “No need to get in the middle of their ongoing breakup.”

Dawn grinned. “You could say it was more of a breakdown.”

I groaned. “That was horrible.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“It was and you know it.”

“Come on, you liked it.”

“Good night, Dawn.”

“Later, Iz.”

I closed out our holo chat and watched Bill as he finish grading quizzes, feeling the slightest guilt about adding more trouble to his life once I acquired the artifact he was keeping locked away in the sub-basement storage.