Different (a Manon Maxim Novel) by Mel Hartman - HTML preview

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2.

 

We land on a little, unknown runway and Tony taxis the plane towards the indicated place. I’m getting my stuff that is still on the chair. I put on my green leather jacket and cram my wallet with the travel papers and dollars in one of the inside pockets, my cell phone in the other one. I put on my sunglasses, in a retro design form the eighties, immediately. I’m ready for it. Well, at least I think I am.

When we finally pass the security fuss and stand outside, the hot and oppressive weather takes me by surprise. I’m wrapped up too well, that’s for sure, but I can’t take off my jacket. First, I don’t have a purse with me and second, I have to keep my pistol, which I’ll receive immediately, out of sight.

The air smells like petrol and sweat. Only a few meters further on, a woman is standing with a lifted sign. She leans nonchalantly against a yellow cab. The sign reads my name in curly letters.

‘See ya later, Tony. Be kind to New York’s women.’ I kiss him rapidly on the cheek and head towards the woman.

‘Like they can’t deal with me!’ Tony yells after me.

I chuckle. Angels are such incredible lady-killers and womanizers.

The woman sees me coming and lowers the sign. I can’t immediately see what otherkind she is. She isn’t an angel, because angels are the only kind that always has white hair. Unless she has dyed her hair of course. She’s extremely attractive. Her face looks perfectly symmetric and her body voluptuous in all the right places. She has dark brown, curly hair at a shoulder length and a sensuality that’s even perceptible from a distance. She sure could be a vampire. Luckily she isn’t that much bigger than me, so my self-image isn’t totally severely damaged.

‘Manon Maxim?’ Her American sounds melodiously pleasant. I suspect she grew up in Louisiana. She probably speaks Dutch and a bunch of other languages as well. That’s typical for otherkinds that move a lot to other countries.

‘Yes, that’s me.’

We shake each other’s hand. Her hands are perfectly manicured with red nail polish. That in sharp contrast to my own bitten fingernails. I’ve tried it several times, but long, beautiful nails are only granted a short life and nail polish doesn’t stay on intact for one day. 

‘You can get in,’ she says it with a gesture towards the yellow cab.

‘Your cab?’ I ask while I get in.

The car’s air-conditioning immediately freshens me up mildly and it smells like coconut oil.

She takes a seat on the driver’s chair. ‘Yes, indeed.’

She starts the car and joins up the traffic that leaves the airport. From my own experience I know that it is at least a one-hour drive to the centre of New York.

‘Being a woman, isn’t it dangerous to ride a cab?’

I can only just see her eyes through the sunglasses she’s wearing. She looks at me confidently in the rearview mirror. ‘Not really, I’m a vampire.’

That explains a lot. Vampires are much stronger than the average human being.

‘And I’ve got my protection with me.’ She taps on the glove compartment.

I suspect she has at least one pistol lying in there, some extra sunglasses and tubes of suntan oil.

‘Oh, feel under the seat for a second,’ she then says.

I lean down and my fingers bump against a hard object, packed in a plastic bag. I can already guess what’s inside of it and I immediately feel much better. In the bag is my favorite pistol, the Glock 17 and hooray, a blackjack. I check the magazine: inside are fifteen 9 mm bullets, instead of seventeen. Terrific, because a full magazine runs the risk of breaking down more easily. I put on the shoulder holster that’s also in the bag and put the blackjack and the spare munitions in my inside pocket. There, now I’m invincible. As long as I say it often enough to myself, it may be the case.

‘My name is Selena,’ the woman says.

‘Nice to meet you. I honestly thought Ben would come and pick me up. Isn’t he the contact person in New York anymore?’

‘No, he retired. I’m the new one.’

I find it strange Jabar forgot to tell me about that.

‘Did he train you?’ I ask.

‘Who? Ben?’

I nod.

‘Yes, all of his computers are in my flat right now. I bumped almost immediately on that strange incident of those robberies. At first it didn’t attract attention between all the newspaper reports. At least it didn’t for someone who doesn’t pay attention to it.’

‘I thought Ben discovered it, but either way great job.’

‘Devil, isn’t it?’ The look with which she looks at me in the mirror stays unmoved.

‘Probably.’

‘Just what I thought.’

I startle when Selena hoots loudly.

‘Asshole,’ she screams at a driver. Immediately afterwards, as if she switches it off, she says in a gentle tone: ‘It was already too peculiar. The staff doesn’t remember a thing. One moment the stuff is still there and ten minutes later almost the entire store is robbed. Nobody knows how it happened or can remember who came into the store. And the cameras all of a sudden didn’t function anymore.’

‘A vampire could do that too.’

‘Our hypnosis techniques serve to seduce, not to steal.’

I can’t read off her reaction through her sunglasses, but she sounds fierce.

‘I’m sorry, bur fair is fair,’ I say while shrugging my shoulders. ‘The chance that it is a devil is indeed bigger. They’re telepathically enormously strong and can more easily influence people through thought manipulation. But still…’

‘It’s a devil. For sure,’ she interrupts me.

I find that she soon takes it personal, but I don’t go on about it.

During the remaining drive there’s an icy silence in the car. It seems as if I really can’t keep my big mouth shut! I could have known she would take offence at it. Although there’s solidarity between otherkinds, it is still stronger within each mutual kind. Understandable, of course.

As if she wants to punish me for my suspicions, she drives hard and bumpy. Not surprisingly, I’m relieved when we finally reach the centre.

‘Do you have the address of the company he works for?’ Selena asks in a cool tone.

‘Yes’. I suddenly feel less confident. ‘By the way, how did you get a hold of his home address?’

‘Simple,’ she answers haughtily. ‘The robbed stores are located around the area of his house. On the list of otherkinds of New York he was the only one who lived in the neighborhood, so I considered the chance to be big that he was the culprit. I think they should keep on the list which otherkind is dealt with.’

‘Far too risky,’ I think. ‘If a human being gets to see that list, there’s the devil to pay.’

It becomes time to transform myself and I already decided into what. Before I left this morning, I looked for schools and their uniforms on the internet, so I would look like an innocent girl that goes from door to door to sell ballpoints for the good cause. I have no idea whether that still happens in New York, but I don’t think the devil will be suspicious immediately and that he will give me enough time to force my way into his house.

After the transformation I wear a woolen, grey pleated skirt that already itches like crazy and ends right above my knees, a white blouse, a dark blue jacket, ankle high dark blue stockings and plain black shoes.

The school that makes its students look this ridiculous is the Academy of the Holy Angels of New Jersey. I though it was an appropriate name. The ballpoints, which I supposedly sell, all cleanly have the school’s logo upon them, a matter of taking the details into account. The fact that I need to hold something and I therefore chose for ballpoints is because of the following reason.

I’m a transformer. That means that I can change and transform myself into what I want. Nevertheless, the form must have an equal amount of molecules than my original mass. A school-going girl is smaller, so I put the remaining molecules in ballpoints. As long as something touches my skin, clothes for example, I can freely adapt it with me. The pistol and the blackjack stay the same in the inside pocket of my jacket.

I can just as well transform into fog and sneak into the devil’s house through chinks and keyholes. Nevertheless, a role-play from time to time, gives much more fun and loads of satisfaction.

Selena doesn’t move an itch when she sees me in my new form. ‘I’m going to drop you off at his home address. If he isn’t there, you can go to his working address that was given to you. It’s only a few blocks further on, so you won’t need me for now.’

She takes a sharp turn, which makes me tumble aside and the pistol to bump painfully against my ribs.

Thanks a lot, goat!

‘Call me tomorrow when I have to come and pick you up.’ She doesn’t sound as if she thinks of it as a pleasant prospect. Me neither.

‘Here it is, that yellow house.’ She parks the cab and I step out quickly.

Just as I expected, Selena tears off even before I’ve just closed the door. I take a deep breath and suddenly feel like a damp rag. The heat outside, the annoying conversation, the long flight and the all too early wake up are taking their toll. And now I still have to give a devil hell! Maybe I do need to follow Jabar’s advice to stay a few days in New York and, after some sleep, get to see the devil tomorrow.

Jabar has properties all over the world of which his contact persons inhabit some and I use some when I have an order. But when I don’t have to work in Oded’s pub or in one or another country where an otherkind causes problems, I’d rather be just home.  That’s why I took the stupid decision to take care of everything in one day and turn homewards tomorrow by jet. If it weren’t obliged by law to grant a pilot twenty-four hours of rest in between two trans-Atlantic flights, I would persuade Tony to fly me home again right away.

The environment where Selena dropped me is a pleasant neighborhood with amusing terraced houses and a lovely little park. I’ve got no idea where I am, but that doesn’t interest me. The yellow house is the only thing that matters.

Before I knock at the door, I give Diedie a short call.

As soon as she answers the phone, I say: ‘Diedie, it’s time. Do your mojo.’

‘I will. Listen carefully.’ I listen to the magic words Diedie whispers to me. I don’t understand them, but I don’t need to. ‘It’s done. Be careful, my girl.’

I grin and snap the mobile phone shut. No matter how old I’ll get or how many dangerous orders I’ll bring to a happy conclusion, to Diedie I stay a little girl that needs to be protected. Now, let’s see what I’ll have to deal with.

Showtime.

I ring at the door.