AnOther Alice: A Novel (Undergoing Editing)

Chapter 26

The hour was closing in on the Otherling's arrival. That post of the fake party on the kid's social media had circulated like wildfire. But that was three hours ago, enough that the absence of the undead latecomer was beginning to worry Kimura. He sat at the marble-stone counter in the middle of the kitchen, waiting for something to happen. Anything. He knew at this point there was no turning back, and finally killing the eldritch incarnation—for his Arisu, for all its victims—was on the top of his to-do list, right next to finally organizing his daughter's funeral, and coming to terms with the actual circumstances of her demise—not to mention a shitload of therapy afterwards.

If he survived the night. No, now's not the time to think like that. The grandfather clock in the living room struck midnight. The sound it made was unnerving, to say the least...very creepy. And almost too fitting for the current predicament.

At the same time, the kettle that was heating suddenly started to whistle. He'd forgotten about it, too focused on his own thoughts, his mind nitpicking every possible hole he'd missed in their plan. Should they have waited? Were the guns all loaded? Could the creature get the drop on them from the sky? They had to consider the impossible. Its very existence was something out of a 70s horror plot. Not anything that was supposed to happen in real life.

Yet, here he was, armed with gun. Not as a policeman, but as a father. Arisu, his only blood relative, literally killed off by a monster.

He poured himself a cup of instant coffee. His fourth one. Drank it straight black. No cream. No sugar. That way, the caffeine would really kick in. Emerging from an adjoined door that led down from the kitchen into the basement where the monitors were kept in a separate room with McCullen.

The junior detective's eyes were looking red and the sweat on her forehead sparkled against the light from the kitchen's overhead lamps. She must have been sweating down there, even with the fan, having long ditched her jacket that hid the gun strapped to her belt. McCullen headed for the fridge, took out a jug of cold water and poured herself a glass which she guzzled down greedily. She made a satisfied noise before eyeing the steaming mug in his hands, then turned to him.

"Aren't you hot?" she asked.

"Not really, are you?" Kimura glanced down at his coffee. Sure, he'd admit that it was a little hot. He looked back at McCullen, who was getting a second helping.

She frowned. "It's it obvious. Gosh, you and the green-haired kid are the same, I mean, he isn't even fazed by the heat down there."

"Jared? He's a gamer, isn't he? That guy wouldn't crack under the change of environment unless it involved not having a computer at his disposal." Kimura took a sip of his drink before leaving it on the counter. "Also, I always drink coffee around this time anyway. I'm not really much early sleeper."

McCullen sucked in her lip and nodded, then put the jug back and washed the cup she'd just used.

"Detective?"

Because of the authoritativeness behind his voice, she turned off the facet and turned back to look at Kimura, while wiping her hands on a paper towel. She looked surprised but quickly made her face into the familiar indifferent mask. It was the voice he normally used during training: a voice that was strong and to the point. One that he rarely used and had acquired through years of being on the force.

"I just wanted to say..." Kimura paused, struggling with the words on his tongue. "That you were right about everything."

"Come again?" she said, tilting her head to the side. A smirk bloomed on her lips. She knew what he was trying to say. It was just funnier to hear him admitting it.