Psychopomp: A Novella Read Online Free

did at the end of every workday. Gathering her supplies, she started for the glass-paned front door.
    It opened before she could reach it. She froze. An owner had never come home while she was still there. And this owner, this man with a cold expression and dark hair stepping in from the aqueous outside light, was disturbingly familiar.
    The murderer lived here.
    “I’ve paid in full for your services,” he said without preamble, removing his gloves and shucking off his coat. He hung it on an old-fashioned coat rack near the door. “You’ll be the only one who cleans for me from now on, and you won’t take any other jobs.”
    Dominique recoiled, her mouth dropping open.
    “Feel free to check with your supervisor,” he continued. He spoke so carelessly and didn’t even look at her. “You’ll find I speak the truth.”
    He walked past her into the house. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with ease and grace. She hadn’t noticed, last night, how sleek and impeccable he appeared with his short hair and tailored clothes. It was almost impossible to believe he’d stabbed a man and cleaned the bloody knife with a handkerchief.
    Grabbing her tote, Dominique fled the mansion. She followed the path out of the metal forest, trembling with rage and curiosity. There was no doubt he spoke the truth; this wouldn’t have been the first time a rich man thought he could just throw credits at the lowly maid who cleaned up after him. Dominique knew exactly what kind of “services” he’d purchased, but she had no intention of rendering them, favor or no favor.
    Bursting through the front doors of the agency, Dominique marched into the back office. Facing Delia, she quickly lost her bluster.
    “Delia,” she said stiffly. “Did a man purchase my services today?”
    Delia was looking through her ledgers. She nodded, distracted as ever. “Yes. Hiram Bartholomew. He was very polite.”
    “Polite?” Dominique cried, distressed. “How can you say that? You know what those men want. You know—”
    “He only wants you to clean,” Delia said calmly, holding out a hand to shush her. “Nothing more. Do you really believe I would offer one of my girls to a strange man in such a manner?” The woman’s eyes flashed as if she were appalled Dominique would think such a thing.
    One of her girls. Dominique gave a small shake of her head at her mother’s casual dismissal before continuing. “I thought— But he— He’s a—”
    Delia’s sharp eyes fixed on her. “Take care of him as you would any client. If he makes advances toward you, let me know immediately. I won’t tolerate such demeaning behavior in my business.”
    “All right,” Dominique said. She hesitated before asking something that had haunted her for a long time. This was as good a time as any to voice all her concerns. “Do you ever worry we’ll become a target? This is an older area, but the terrorists—”
    “Of course not. Who would ever blow up a cleaning agency or any of the other businesses around here?”
    “You’re right, Mother. I’m sorry.” She backed out of the room, adding, “Thank you for this opportunity.”
    And then she ran upstairs to her room, heart pounding.
     

4. el pescador
    All the long summer and well into the fall Anden and Harkin were gone. I continued to get drawn and didn’t see the ambassador again. Eventually I was able to sleep comfortably at night, even with the occasional hunger pang.
    I’d been giving Blanca some of my rations as she grew large and round. Getting rid of a baby was expensive. She complained about the heat and stretch marks.
    “How will I tell Harkin?” she fretted. “He’s going to think it’s not his!”
    Pell stared coolly at her. She thought Blanca was useless.
    The baby came early. Pell and I sat side-by-side in the blue-tinged lights of the clinic waiting room, reading torn magazines from years ago. Distant explosions sounded in the night. Another factory gone, a greenhouse shattered. We