Harry and Toi – Toi 3

Harry and Toi

Toi

* * *

The sound of steam accompanied Toi’s wait to exit the train. It had taken her three tries to get her bag down from the overhead. Her limbs didn’t want to work properly, for some reason.

Toiliúil felt almost the same as she had in that temple, just shy of eleven weeks, and a lifetime ago. A nervousness that made her hands shake accompanied it.

‘Breathe, woman,’ she chided herself. ‘It’s just Dad. It’s not like anything bad is going to happen.’  That wasn’t her fear, though. Something wonderful; something on which she had pinned all her hopes for the future might not. ‘Stop it! You’re going to give yourself a panic attack.’

Trying not to think beyond seeing him, she took slow deep breaths and managed to get her heart rate down by the time she descended the trio of steps and finally put a foot on the platform.

Pulling out the retractable handle, she got her suitcase rolling, finally looking up to see where the exit was.

There was no sign of Harry. Of course not, he wouldn’t be on the platform. He’d be waiting in the station proper. Toi stifled a nervous giggle. Damn it, she had to get herself under control. Being carried through the station on a stretcher because she had fainted would not be a good way for her father to find out she had arrived.

Walking helped. She followed the line of arrivals to an elevator. After an interminable three-minute wait, she finally got on.

The chime of the elevator announcing its arrival at ground level once again set Toi’s heart hammering. The doors slid open—and there he was, looking dapper in a black trench coat and matching fedora.

Dad was looking to his left and not at her. Didn’t matter. She rushed toward him.

The wheels of her luggage caught on the edge of the elevator floor, pulling the handle out of her hand. Toi almost didn’t notice.

She was on him in a half dozen strides, barreling into him and wrapping her arms around his neck, causing the wide brim of her hat to hit his forehead, pushing it off. His grunt was all the sound he made as he returned the embrace.

Her, “Hi, Daddy,” was mangled by a whimper as joy overwhelmed her and tears flowed. She wondered if he even understood it.

He had. “Good to see you, sweetheart.” His voice seemed a bit huskier than she remembered. She felt it rumbling in his chest. He smelled of cigarettes and, subtly, of cologne.

She could not keep her crying silent anymore. She sobbed into his ear, trembling. He was here. She was actually in his arms.

For a long time, she just held him, reveling in his warm embrace. At one point, she heard someone behind her say something. Her father replied, “Thanks, buddy.”

After a time, calm returned. She pulled far enough away to see his face. He was smiling with his warm grey eyes and that crooked smile.

“I missed you so much.” Toi had command of herself again.

“I missed you too, Toi” Harry reached up cupped her cheeks, stroking her tears away with his thumbs.

“Oh gods, I must look terrible.” She reached into a pocket for a handkerchief.

“You look beautiful. Just like I remember.”

That nearly set her off again, but she wrestled her emotions down. Face cleaned up and nose blown, she felt more like a normal self-assured person.

She finally stepped back, only to nearly trip over something. It was her luggage. Some thoughtful soul had brought it to her. On the ground beside it was her hat.

Harry stooped and grabbed the latter before she thought to. “There you are.” He placed it on her head. “You really were serious about becoming a Hermetist, eh?”

She had to smile. “Yeah.” She was head to toe in the back of a newly minted child of Hermes, bar the highest button, left side, of her peacoat, which was white. “You like?”

“You wear it well.” He held her by her hands at arm’s length. “Very well, indeed. I didn’t expect this. I thought you’d be wearing something else.” Harry let go her hands. She moved to his side and held his arm.

“Like what? What did you picture?”

Her dad took the handle of her luggage and began leading her out of the station.

“Dad?”

He smiled again. “Something sophisticated and feminine, maybe in black.”

Grinning, “I happen to have a lovely black dress packed away. Maybe I’ll wear it for you.”

“When did you find time to shop for clothing? And where? I failed to notice shops the last time I has at the Mother Lodge.”

She grinned, squeezing his bicep. “We don’t buy our uniforms from a shop, you know. Several skilled tailors follow Hermes the Thrice-Great.”

“You had clothing bespoke by a Hermetist. Hmm. I’m impressed on several levels. As to your fashion show proposal, I have plans to take you to dinner tonight. It’s a fancy place, so formal would be perfect.”

“Wonderful. That’s what I’ll wear.” They walked in silence for a while, Toi’s heart singing.

“I know this might sound strange but, if you’re a Hermetist, shouldn’t you be bald?”

She laughed. “Now, why would I be bald?” She knew what he meant, of course. Toiliúil Hermit had learned a lot in the last month, including the solution to the riddle of Hermetic hair styles. It was just one more thing of many that she was sworn to secrecy about. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have a bit of fun with the old man.

Harry gave her a funny look. “Don’t play coy. Every Hermetist female I’ve ever seen is completely bald, yet you still have hair halfway to your butt. What’s the deal? I thought female members of the order had to shave their heads.”

That was completely wrong on several levels, which meant there was no reason not to tell him so. “Nope. The Order has no appearance requirements other than basic hygiene and a tidy uniform while on duty.”

“You wouldn’t lie to your father, would you?”

“Course not. Ask any Herm, they’ll tell you the same.”

Harry let it go. “Wait, you said you had to wear the uniform on duty. You’re on duty now?”

“No. I was expected to wear it on shipboard, but I didn’t feel like changing when I got to Vita. I’ll change when I get settled. Anyway, I’m actually only a probationary member. I have to serve a year before I can be formally initiated.”

“The rules still apply, I take it.”

“Yup.”

As they were talking, Toi and Harry passed from the rail terminal to the local public transport hub.

“Ew.”

“I know. This is why I didn’t want you down here on your own.”

“It’s doesn’t look dangerous, Dad, just…uhm…rundown.”

“It’s a toilet.”

She laughed much too loudly at that.

The elevator ride to the surface was painful. The rickety, piston-driven lift had no roof and squealed like the damned the most of way up.

Finally, father and daughter stepped out into the damp night air of Santo Mortis.

It was a short walk to the nearest taxi stand. Toi had to let her dad go to get into the cab and spent an embarrassing two seconds unable to make herself do that.

Acting all chivalrous, Harry held her hand and helped her into the back seat, following quickly. She snuggled up to him the second he was sitting.

Harry gave the cabbie an address and they were off.

“We headed to your place?”

“Not right away. We’re going to my office in mid-town.” He patted the hand she had wrapped around his upper arm. “It’s a much better neighborhood. I promised you a look at my office, remember.”

She did as soon as he said it. “Oh, right. Yay!” She gave his bicep a squeeze. Toiliúil really wanted a peek at his records. Kryanni, the chief archivist in Azhure’en, had told her Dad actually used a stylus and wrote on paper to record his cases. It was so romantic and so in keeping with his character, she couldn’t stand it.

Toi rested her head against his shoulder for the rest of the taxi ride.

* * *

Dad had been right; it was a better neighborhood than that of the station. The buildings were stone and brick, decorated with a restrained elegance that spoke of age, and were in excellent repair. The street was wide, well-lit, and immaculately clean.

This being a commercial district it must have been near the end of the business day, for few automobiles were parked along the roadside.

Toiliúil waited on the sidewalk while Harry paid the cab driver. She took his arm again as they approached the four-storey building that housed his office.

Up seven steps, a keycard for the front door, a ride in a beautiful elevator of steel and brass to the third floor, and she was looking at frosted glass in the upper half of a hardwood door on which were paint the words, ‘Harry Tranker, Private Investigator.’

An old-fashioned brass key, naturally, and Harry made way for her to enter his office.

As her father turned on the lights, starting a ceiling fan in the process, Toi took a moment to soak it in. Polished hardwood floors, walls painted a dark green and a tin ceiling; these she noticed first. Then a hardwood desk in front of Venetian blinds, angled to expose strips of the building opposite and the streetlight just outside. Three wooden chairs, two in front and one behind the desk, she saw. Against the left wall were two barrister bookcases, mostly full, and a door. Left of the window, two sets of wood filing cabinets. To the right, a wooden hat stand. In the right wall another door, now closed.

Harry walked around her to the stand, doffing his fedora and his trench coat. She followed, likewise removing hat and peacoat.

“Drink?” Harry sat behind the desk, pointing to a decanter half-full of amber liquid and two crystal tumblers.

“Yes, please,” as she took a chair facing the window.

For a moment that Toi should have found awkward, but was anything but, they sat staring at each other, drinks in hand, smiling.

“So,” Toiliúil began, finally, “This is where the magic happens.”

“This is where I ferret out secrets people desperately want to keep,” he corrected her.

“Right. Magic.”

A genuine smile again, from that face so evidently unfamiliar with them.

‘And I’m causing it,’ she told herself, suddenly very happy. “Tell me about your last case.”

So, he laid out the Case of the Disappearance of Darla Merkelsen mentioning, in passing, that he had just finished it the day before and had spent a good part of his day writing it up.

“Wow. With her own half-brother.” The matter-of-fact way Dad had talked of that got her speculating, again, about the two of them and what might happen tonight. For some reason, she wasn’t that worried about it anymore. “What do you think will happen to her?”

“Daddy dearest wasn’t at all pleased but seemed more embarrassed than anything else. I was afraid he’d have the poor bastard hanged, but the bastard is his and someone he obviously looks after, so I don’t think he’s in any real trouble. As for mama,” here his more common cynical grin, “she admitted to me that she was a wild child herself. I didn’t get the details, but I’m sure she understands her daughter’s motives.”

“How did you get her to admit to youthful indiscretions?”

An enigmatic smile, “I have a way with women.”

“You’re good at your job, you mean; getting secrets from the secretive.”

“That, too.”

“So, you think Darla and Blake will…”

“Not be stopped by interfering, crusty old parents who forgot what love is like? Almost certainly.”

“And how do you feel about them? You know, because—”

“They’re blood relatives.” Dad took a long pull from his glass, draining it by half. He looked into the remaining bourbon, holding it in both hands. “It’s not for me to judge. If they’re happy, and from what I saw, they’re deliriously so, they can fornicate all they please as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Dad.” He wouldn’t meet her eye, though. Time for a change of topic. “You promised me a look at your old cases.”

Another real pleasure smile made his eyes twinkle. “You sure you want to? It’s rather dry reading.” But it was clear he wanted to show off for his little girl. Harry Tranker was obviously and justifiably proud of his work.

“If you worked them, they’ll be anything but to this proud daughter.”

He nodded. “Okay, then.” Harry rose and went to the nearest filing cabinet. “What to get? Hmm. Would you like to peruse my greatest hits, or—?”

“I’d really like to read your last big case.” Dad looked over at her. “The one where we met^[1].” She had no idea what her expression must look like to him. Butterflies were doing summersaults in her tummy, suddenly.

His face was unreadable. Closing the drawer, he stooped and pulled open the bottom drawer of the rightmost cabinet, pulling out a ledger.

He walked it over to her and placed it on the desk. Wordlessly, he opened the book at a leather strip placed between the pages.

“I have to use the john. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She looked up.

Her sudden apprehension must have been writ large on her face, for he not only smiled for her, but he also squeezed her shoulder, then let his hand linger, caressing her upper back. “Be back before you know it.”

Taking a deep breath, she began to read.

* * *

Harry’s hand was firm and clear and she was a fast reader. In twenty minutes, she had finished.

Dad had been quite quick in the loo, through the door to the left, and on his return had grabbed another ledger. He spent the time going over and making notes on what appeared to be columns of numbers.

He was still bent over his figures when she finished. She asked the safest question in her thoughts. “Dad?” He looked up. “What do you think of Hyborean women?”

He had a ready answer, it seemed, just not the kind she expected. “Strong, proud, and independent; even the slaves in the North. I don’t pretend to understand that dimorphic culture of theirs, but it seems to work well.”

“No. I meant do you think they’re…beautiful? I mean, you had sex with two of them.” Harry’s graphic descriptions had made her warm and tingly in her nethers. She could still feel the flush in her cheeks, hoping her complexion hid the worst of that from him.

Harry hesitated, seeming slightly ill at ease. But he answered frankly. “I found them stunningly beautiful, yes. Your mother—” he cleared his throat—”would have excited my interest, were she a few years older.”

Toiliúil realized he must see the redness in her cheeks, now, as she replied. “You did enjoy her, didn’t you.” His record clearly showed that.

Oddly, her father suddenly seemed on firmer ground, “I could hardly have done otherwise. That drug they had me on—”

“Of course. The drug.” He had continued to eat the food laced with it, even though he knew what it would do. It was either than or starving, she knew. She could not blame him for wanting what her mother was giving him no choice about getting, anyway. Toi forced her fantasies of being in her mother’s place out of her mind. “How much do I look like her?” She made herself look at him.

That warm smile again, the one that made her knees weak. “You have her jawline and her smile. Your skin is lighter than hers, obviously, but it has that golden underhue that all the women of Hyborea seem to have. You do remind me of your mother, and I wish she were here to see you, now. She would be as proud as I am.”

“Oh, Dad.” And the tears came again. By the time Harry had rounded the desk, she was standing to accept his hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She broke the embrace and looked at him.

He did something then that she had been hoping for since the station. He leaned in for a kiss.

She closed her eyes, waiting.

It landed on her forehead. “We should go. Our reservation is in an hour, and we need to stop home to get you settled, first.”

Despite her disappointment, she felt a thrill when his lips pressed against her. So close. So close, they were. And there were hours of evening left, and all night after that. Her smile had a bit of mischief in it. “Okay, Daddy.”

He actually smiled that time.

---

[1] Recounted, with dramatic flourishes in The Case of The Silvergrey Sea.’

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, November 2026

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