Diamond Eyes (41 page)

The van skidded to a halt, throwing her forward. Her head bumped into the back of his and he yelped.

‘I told you to buckle up!’ He shrugged her off his shoulder. ‘Do I have to do it for you?’

‘I’m not allowed to go anywhere without —’

Someone rapped against the passenger window.

Mira startled, wondering how Duet could reach that far from the driver’s seat.

‘It’s locked,’ Ben shouted through the glass. ‘Let me in.’

Latches clicked and the door opened.

‘Ben!’ Mira slapped Duet’s shoulder and shoved away from him. ‘He tried to drive off without you!’

‘I did not,’ Duet said. ‘I saw you come out of the shop and drove closer.’

She slapped him again. ‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’

‘I did. I said I had it under control.’

‘That’s hardly the same!’

Ben climbed into the passenger seat with a plastic bag that crumpled noisily. ‘Don’t hit him, Mira. No matter how good it feels or how much he might deserve it. It’s inappropriate behaviour, and not something you want to do today.’

‘I know that! Do you think I wanted to?’ Mira pouted and sank back in her seat. ‘He’s lucky that’s all I did. He nearly wrecked our whole day.’

‘You’re not doing so badly yourself,’ Duet replied.

Mira kicked the back of his seat.

‘Hey! I am trained to kill, you know.’

‘I did warn you not to touch her,’ Ben replied.

‘That includes if she strikes me, does it? What took you so long anyway? It’s a pharmacy. They should have had a whole rack of sunglasses.’

‘They did.’

The plastic bag rustled again. ‘I bought three, plus another set for myself.’

‘Three? Okay, that’s it.’ Duet gunned the engine and plunged back into noisy traffic. ‘Is she blind or isn’t she?’

‘I told you, it’s complicated.’

‘Time’s ticking, buddy.’

‘Okay, the nearest that any medical term seems to have for it is “blindsighted". Hold out your hand, Mira. You can try this pair first.’

The new glasses fitted snugly over her ears.

‘That means she’s legally blind,’ Ben went on, ‘but some parts of her brain are generating memories or delusions of being able to see — a bit like having an arm chopped off but still feeling it itch. At least that’s what the docs seem to think.

‘How’s that pair?’ he asked Mira.

She opened her eyes slowly, relieved to find the world the same colour as it had been through the lenses Freddie had broken. To her left, she saw a car speed into a car wash, soon followed by a cop on a motorbike.

‘Hey, look!’ she said, but Duet accelerated and they sped away, under a highway and on past a long row of apartment buildings that were still under construction.

‘Look at what?’ Ben asked.

‘These glasses,’ she said, a little shaken, ‘they’re the same as the ones Freddie broke.’

‘Indeed they are,’ he said. ‘Exactly the same brand, tint and style. Now try these.’

She swapped the plastic frames for a slim-line metal pair. The world turned orange. Roads and buildings vanished, replaced by wild bushland and sand dunes. Kangaroos grazed around her. An Aboriginal hunter sprang from tangerine grass and threw a spear directly at her. Mira screamed and flung the glasses off her face before the weapon could pass through her chest.

‘I don’t like those. Give me back the first ones.’ She clicked her fingers, keeping her eyes closed.

‘Different visions?’ Ben asked.

She nodded and clicked her fingers more urgently. ‘I don’t want to talk about them until I’m hooked up to Dr Zhou’s machine.’

‘Suits me.’

He placed another pair of glasses into her hand, and she tried them on, hoping the world would be a soothing, reliable brown again. It was, but the brown fog had a strong tinge of purple now; much like it had through Duet’s prescription glasses.

‘These are similar to his. Not as dark, though, or as clear, but with the same kind of purplish tinge to the murky brown haze.’

‘They do look very similar in tint,’ Ben said, ‘but they’re a different brand. What do you see?’

‘The city. Same as before, but all the traffic and people have changed, and that scaffolding around the new apartment building is two floors higher. Too blurry at this speed, though. It’s hurting.’

She closed her eyes and shrank back into her invisible seat to wait out the rest of their trip.

‘That proves something,’ Ben said, rustling the bag again. ‘The lenses affect your hallucinations, so, logically, your eyes must be processing some part of the spectrum.’

‘Hold on,’ Duet warned. ‘We’re here.’

The van swerved hard left without slowing down enough for the corner. A car horn blared beside them and Mira braced herself instinctively against the door and the seat in front of her.

‘Oh, great,’ Duet said as he braked to a halt. ‘Now what?’

Mira opened her eyes and saw the Drift Inn, shimmering in its purplish-brown fog like an oasis.

‘There are four buses in our way,’ Ben explained to her, ‘with a crowd of tourists loading and unloading their luggage through the foyer. Drop us off here,’ he told Duet. ‘I know where to take her.’

‘No can do, pal. Late or not, I can’t guarantee your safety in that circus. We’ll use the loading dock.’

The van jolted over a ghostly kerb onto the footpath and veered around the building into a narrow alley.

‘Watch out for the cat!’ Mira cried — too late. The van drove through it and came to a halt right on top of it.

‘The cat’s fine,’ Ben reassured her. ‘It’s sitting up there on the industrial bin.’

Mira looked down and saw the ghostly version of the cat beneath her, undisturbed and still licking its paws. A ghostly kitchen hand emerged from a door to lift the lid on the steel bin and empty a broken pot of prawn shells into it.

‘I hate driving,’ she muttered.

‘Can’t say it’s been a pleasure for me either,’ Duet said. ‘Everyone out.’

M
ira followed the sound of Duet’s footsteps through the hotel’s storeroom to the tiled hall, keeping one arm hooked around Ben’s elbow to steady herself against the ghostly guests who obliviously, yet regularly, walked through her.

Ahead, she saw the foyer and a cluster of impatient guests waiting for an elevator. A small boy stamped his foot and tugged on his mother’s short denim skirt. He pointed at Mira and she could see that he had Down’s syndrome. He pulled a face at her and his mother chided him. Mira read her silent lips.
Pretend you’re a good boy,
she said.

The ghostly boy stamped his foot again and pulled away from the group. He ran straight up to Mira.

She stopped, pulling Ben to a stop too.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

The boy kicked at her — at her shin, she guessed, although she couldn’t see anything of her own body — and his ghostly foot passed painlessly through her. He kicked again and she kicked back at him, causing him to baulk and fall backwards. He stared up at her defiantly with round glassy eyes.
I’m not scared of ghosts!
he shouted silently, then made a fist at her andpulled himself up from the tiles. He scurried back to his mother, who scolded him soundlessly for running away.

‘Mira?’ Ben persisted. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘That kid saw me!’

‘What kid?’

‘That little boy, right there!’ She shivered and pointed towards the elevator.

‘That’s two old men,’ Ben replied. ‘Come on. I’ve got you.’

He tugged her along a little further, but she faltered as she drew nearer to the ghostly boy, who still glared at her. He poked his tongue out at her and she poked hers back at him.

‘Mira?’ Ben chided. ‘What was that for?’

‘He’s a brat. That’s his language.’

‘Which one?’ asked Duet. ‘The one with the walking cane or the one in the wheelchair?’

‘It’s a good thing they didn’t see you,’ Ben warned. ‘Behave yourself now. We’re in public.’

‘Sure; I’ll just pretend I’m good.’

‘You are good,’ Ben insisted. ‘You just haven’t had enough chances to practise. Describe what you see,’ he said, leading her across the broad foyer towards another set of hallways. ‘It’ll keep your mind busy.’

She nodded and increased her pace in time with him. ‘We’re inside the Drift Inn …’ She saw the name of the hotel to her right in large letters above a desk labelled
Reception.
Underneath it was a plaque that said
Established 1891.
The carving was intriguingly intricate; it’d take a whole day to explore with her fingers. ‘I like this place … especially the ceiling. It’s like looking up into the upside-down hull of a timber ship.’

‘It is,’ Ben agreed. ‘Have you been here before?’

She shook her head and pulled away from him to dodge a ghostly timber podium that held the hotel’s guestbook for visitors to sign. ‘I’ve never been into any hotel.’

‘I’ll have to take you away on a holiday one day. You’ll love it — hotel staff at your beck and call day and night.’

‘Ha! Matron Sanchez would tell me I have that already. I still prefer my poet trees. Ghosts don’t hurt me at home, but busy places with ghosts and invisibles living together are downright confusing.’

Ben chuckled grimly. ‘It’s not so long ago,’ he said, patting her hand, ‘that a conversation like that would have me calling for your next batch of medication. I sure hope today’s session can throw more light on what’s really going on.’

‘You said it, Ben — in bold Braille the size of thumbtacks!’

‘Down here,’ Duet called as his shoes padded onto carpet.

Beyond the sound of his shoes, Mira spotted Hawthorn’s ghost in the hall, standing outside a door, as if guarding it. His head turned towards her and she smiled in greeting, but wasn’t surprised when he failed to acknowledge her.

As she drew nearer, she heard voices, muffled and soft, from the closed room behind him. One she recognised as Dr Van Danik’s.

‘… rock-climbing, and seventh in the Tour de France that year,’ he boasted.

‘I prefer hang-gliding,’ said a female voice she didn’t recognise. ‘The last time I raced cross-country was in March, on a camel.’

‘At a zoo or travelling circus?’

‘Through a minefield actually, with a sick child who barely made it to the nearest field hospital.’

‘Finally,’ Duet announced. ‘Here we are.’

A latch creaked; it sounded as if he’d shoulderedopen a piston-hinged door. Mira heard the air compress, but the ghostly door didn’t budge. She gripped tighter onto Ben’s arm and closed her eyes, allowing him to lead her through the illusions of both Hawthorn and the closed door to get inside.

‘Don’t you know how to knock?’ snapped Van Danik. He sounded embarrassed. Mira couldn’t see him. The only ghost in the large room was that of Dr Zhou.

‘What’s going on?’ Duet asked. ‘Why are you hooked up to that thing? And where’s Dr Zhou?’

There was a sound like wires being shuffled and a chair rolled softly over carpet. Mira caught the very faint scent of spring flowers and hairspray.

‘Who’s the lady?’ she whispered to Ben.

‘Duet’s partner. Her name, if I remember correctly, is Karin Sei.’

‘She can see now?’ Van Danik asked.

‘I’m asking the questions,’ Duet insisted. ‘Why is Karin hooked up to that thing?’

‘You game for a go too, meathead? We’re confirming mutual trustworthiness.’

‘Biological compatibility too, no doubt. Where’s Dr Zhou?’

Duet was still near the door. Mira guessed he was holding it open since she hadn’t heard the piston decompress yet.

‘Out,’ Karin replied.

‘You let him go out by himself?’

‘Not
out
out,’ she replied, equally accusatory. ‘He’s next door in the business centre, making phone calls, and he wouldn’t have been there alone if you’d been back on time. What kept you?’

Duet didn’t reply, but Mira guessed that he must have made a signal or face at her or Ben, because the woman muttered something under her breath.

‘This is a hotel not a battlefield,’ Van Danik said. ‘So get off her case. And stay out of my way,’ he added as his tone became more jovial, ‘while I clean off these sexy fingerprints.’

Sexy fingerprints?
Mira wondered what he meant. He hadn’t said anything last time about her fingerprints. She rubbed her fingertips together, wondering what the difference was between her prints and the woman’s who’d been sitting in the char.

‘Does he mean oily?’ she whispered to Ben.

‘No, I think the oil comes later,’ he said with a laugh.

‘That means her fingers are dry now?’

‘It means,’ Ben said, raising his voice, ‘the doc’s got a crush on his bodyguard.’

Van Danik laughed too. ‘Do me a favour and don’t tell Zan.’

‘Don’t tell me what?’

Zhou’s voice came in through the open doorway. Mira hadn’t heard any other door opening or closing nearby, which suggested he’d come from further down the hall instead of the neighbouring business centre.

Unless that room doesn’t have a door?

‘Hello, Mira. Ben.’ Zhou’s sleeve brushed her arm as he walked past her.

‘Never mind,’ Van Danik said. ‘How went your quest?’

‘How do you think? The nearest optometrist’s is an hour away. Sorry, Mira,’ he added more kindly, ‘I was trying to get a pair of cosmetic contact lenses for you. They’ve got colour embedded in them to make your eyes look any colour you want, which will cover over your own pigments. But I can’t get any until Monday, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with your sunglasses until then.’

‘They’re better than nothing,’ she said. ‘I wish I’d had some years ago. Thank you for trying, though.’

Ben’s arm moved but he didn’t let go of her. Plastic rustled on the other side of him and he leaned away for a moment. ‘I think we’re onto something,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ Zhou was beside her now, at the table, shifting a chair. It sounded as if he’d sat in it, but his ghost was already there, seated and playing with screens on his laptop.

‘More glasses,’ Ben explained. ‘Each style seems to have a different effect on her. My old pair, for example, gave her brown-hued hallucinations, while no glasses at all gives the illusion of foggy blue sky. This pair,’ a pause suggested he was showing them around, ‘frightened her so much on the way here that she practically threw them back at me, while Duet’s prescription sunglasses resulted in visions that she said were the clearest yet.’