Scion of Atlantis Ch. 02

The doors of the elevator opened, and the stink of blood rolled out of it like a wave. That's what the scent was, Rosalie realized as it finally got strong enough for her to identify what that acrid stench was. Blood, and fresh blood at that. The source of it was one of the strangest people Rosalie had ever seen. A man, easily seven feet tall, with a complexion so sickly that the grey of his skin almost matched the puffy grey winter coat he was still wearing, despite it being early summer. The tall man was completely bald, and wearing a pair of small, round sunglasses. As he stepped off the elevator, Rosalie realized she was staring, and quickly averted her eyes, focusing on the framed ad on the far wall of the elevator, with a brightly coloured ad for some musical being put on at the Kraemer Centre.

The tall man regarded Rosalie quietly as he stepped off the elevator. He didn't say a word, but Rosalie could feel his gaze on her. Her eyes darted to the one thing that the tall man was carrying, a heavy-looking, slightly oversized, dark leather briefcase. Then, the tall man sniffed audibly, seeming almost to scent the air before turning away and hurrying on his way. Rosalie frowned. It struck her as odd for a man who was surrounded by such a strong stench to be able to smell anything else. Was he from the Otherside, too?

"Phaw," the elderly man growled, waving at the air in front of his face, "Goddamn hobos, stinking like a dumpster. Yeah, you heard me, big guy, keep walking! My son in law is a cop and I'll make sure-"

Rosalie didn't stay to listen to the old man's ranting. She stepped onto the elevator, and his the button to send the lift to the basement level, before rapidly pushing the "door close". Anything to get her away from the creepy dude in the winter coat. The elevator doors began to slide closed, accompanied by a squawk of protest from the old man. Rosalie caught the sight of the tall man's back, as he slipped into the crowd, heading for the shopping centre exit.

The elevator hummed as she felt it lower her to the bottom floor. At least the tall man's smell didn't linger, despite the closed space. It was back to the usual mall-interior smells, with the faint additions of engine grease and brushed metal. Rosalie frowned, puzzling over that. It was almost as if the smell of blood wasn't even real, but if it was some kind of illusion, why would a person willingly wrap themselves in such an unpleasant odour?

The ding of the elevator snapped Rosalie out of her train of thought. Shaking her head, she stepped off the elevator, looping around the pair of mothers waiting their turn with their strollers. It wasn't far to where she wanted to go, just around the corner from the elevator hall, really.

The place held the cringe-inducing name of "Carib-Bean Cafe". It was a small, out of the way place- little more than a kiosk in the bottom corner of the mall, framed by pale yellow walls and a cartoonish painting of a pair of goats wearing sunglasses and drinking coffee underneath a warm orange sun. A row of coffee dispensers faced the customer, next to a chilled display case showing off a variety of pastries and meat patties. But it was the woman behind the counter that Rosalie wanted- a tall, pretty, and willowy woman with her hair done up in a scarf.

"Hey, Vivian," she said as she rounded the corner and stopped in front of the counter. Pretending to examine the glass case for a snack, Rosalie murmured, low enough not to be overheard from anyone more than a few paces away, "Harvesters spotted at the Clair Street subway station."

The taller woman raised an eyebrow at her. "You know, the goodwill and money I earn passing on these reports really ought to be yours," she said in a sharp voice tinged by her island accent. As she spoke, Vivian slipped a phone out from under the counter and began tapping away at it, not even making eye contact. "Are you sure that it's worthwhile, just to keep from having a permanent address?"

Rosalie smiled, lifting her eyes from the display to look at the prices. It was a conversation that the two women had many times before. "I just want to help people, Viv," Rosalie said, her eyes a little sad, "You know that."

The black woman gave a brief laugh. "I suppose you're going to be looking for a free meal, then?" she said, putting the phone back away to reach for a paper cup, but Rosalie shook her head empathically.

"Just cash this time," she replied, crossing her arms under her breasts, "Everything you owe me, too, I've got something to do later."

Vivian's expression deepened into a scowl. "You're lucky I had a good morning, then," she said bitterly, frowning, as she hit a button on her till, making the drawer pop open with a rattle of coins, "I am not a bank, you know. Most people, they pay with cards now, and it's a danger holding on to big wads of cash in case you might decide that today you'd like to be paid."

Rosalie had to swallow, her mouth full with saliva, glancing back to the case of pastries. She was a bit hungry, now that she thought of it. "There are muggers you couldn't handle?" She sniffed as she unlimbered her guitar case, trying to decide on a treat, but an underlying sour stench distracted her. "The cream and milk over there are sour," she remarked, as Vivian handed her a rolled-up wad of bills, "Can could I grab a slice of rum cake before I go, too?"

Vivian sighed irritably, and grabbed the metal dairy carafes from their place near the sugar, sweetner and stirsticks. "The cartons are still dated a week away," she said before muttering something in her rapid-fire patois Rosalie couldn't make out. "Well, thank you, better you tell me than give a bad impression to a real customer," Vivian went on as she fetched Rosalie a slice of cake, wrapped in a bit of parchment paper and served on a saucer. "Anything else, or did just come by to shake me down for cake and money?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalie saw the grumpy elder with the cap giving her a hard stare as he passed by, slouching over his walker. His presence brought Rosalie's mind back to the elevator. Pocketing her cash, Rosalie conscientiously picked up the cake with the hand that didn't touch the money, holding it by the paper. "Yeah, there was a weird guy on the elevator down," she said as she brought the slice of cake up to her mouth. At this close, the sweet, heavy fragrance was heavenly. "Tall with sunglasses and a grey coat, did he come by to speak to you?"

"Aye, he came to rattle my tree," Vivian replied as Rosalie's teeth sank into the dense, moist cake. Sweetness flooded her mouth, a strong vanilla flavour with just a hint of rum bitterness. Rosalie made an appreciative noise as the other woman continued. "Wanted to know about a book of some kind. Said someone stole it from him. I didn't like his attitude, so I sent him on his way."

Rosalie devoured the cake is three bites, only grimacing at her lack of manners after she had devoured the heavy dessert. "I'll keep an ear out for a missing book, a guy like that it might be best to just give him what he wants and send him on his way," she told Vivian, shouldering her guitar case once more, finishing with "Thanks again, Viv."

Vivian waved her away. "I cannot keep doing things this way, Rosie," she said, "At least settle down enough to get a bank account I can sent things on to. E-transfer, Paypal, something."

"I'll think about it," Rosalie shot over her shoulder as she walked away, waving one hand over her shoulder, "I've gotta go pick up some shoes."