by R S Penney
The man drew a gleaming knife from his belt, holding the blade up in front of his face. “Do you like it?” Arin asked. “I'm going to bury it in your guts; so I sincerely hope the answer is yes.”
Glin snapped himself upright.
The other man came at him, slashing.
Glin hopped back, the tip of the knife slicing his shirt. Falling over backward, Glin caught himself with both hands and kicked out to drive a foot into the other man's belly. Arin went stumbling back to the window.
In a heartbeat, Glin was on his feet and removing his jacket in a flurry. He flung the garment at full force and watched as it draped itself over Arin's head, cutting off both his vision and the spatial awareness of his symbiont.
Glin raced for his opponent.
Arin blurred into a streak of colour that resolidified just a few feet to the right with the jacket suddenly discarded on the ground. The man spun, raised his knife and tried to ram it downward.
Glin brought one hand up to intercept the man's wrist, preventing the blade from finding flesh. He used the other to deliver a mean punch to the face, one that made Arin's head snap backward.
With a growl, Glin whirled for a back-hand strike.
The other man turned, catching Glin's arm in both hands. He applied pressure that forced Glin to bend over. Pain drowned out awareness of everything else, making it so very hard to think.
A knee to the belly sent Glin stumbling sideways along the sidewalk. Air burst from his lungs in a high-pitched wheeze, and he was left disoriented. He had to recover, had to regain his balance before the other man pressed his advantage. With a deep breath, Glin righted himself and rounded on his opponent.
Arin was right in front of him.
The man seized his shirt and delivered a fierce head-butt that darkened Glin's vision and left him feeling dizzy and nauseous. It was hard to focus; his spatial awareness was a mass of information that he couldn't sort through.
Light returned to the world just in time for him to see Arin crouching down and retrieving his knife. The man flung his hand out and Bent Gravity did the rest. The knife sped forward in a blur.
It pierced Glin's chest right up to the hilt. Where was the pain? Shouldn't there be pain? Was he in shock? A wound like that was bound to hurt but…Oh, Companion have mercy! There it was! His lungs were on fire!
Arin strode forward with a ferocious grin, laughing all the way. “Foolish Keeper.” He pulled the knife from Glin's chest, then slammed it hard through Glin's throat, cutting the carotid artery in one fluid motion.
Everything went dark within seconds.
The afternoon wore on with people standing in little clusters among the flowerbeds and on the concrete paths that snaked through the grass. It was still very warm, and Jena had no problem believing that most people were quite ready for the festivities to come to an end. Jack's speech had a sobering effect.
Jena sat at a table with one leg crossed over the other, leaning back and gripping the arms of her chair. A surge of pride went through her when considered Jack's speech. Her protégé was coming into his own, it seemed. That little address had raised eyebrows and ruffled feathers and forced her colleagues to confront uncomfortable truths they would rather not deal with. The kid was going to be all right.
Jena lifted a glass of 7-Up in front of her face, squinting as she studied the fizzing liquid. “So this is what you people drink,” she said, turning to her companion. “Well, the bubbles are nice.”
Harry was seated next to her with his hands folded in his lap, staring vacantly at the other guests. “Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding once. “It's a real hit. People around here kind of love their soft drinks.”
“Something on your mind?”
“You realize there's going to be fallout from this.”
Jena grinned, then lowered her eyes to stare into her lap. “I'm aware,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “You might say that was the whole point of this little exercise. Someone needs to shake these people out of their complacency.”
“At the expense of Jack's career?”
With a heavy sigh, Jena took a sip of her drink. It was very sweet – too sweet, in her opinion – but she made it a point to experience the culture of every world she visited. And she had to give the Earthers some credit: their music was nothing short of fantastic. Jack had introduced her to the collective works of Bruce Springsteen. “The kid isn't going to wreck his career, Harry,” she said. “If anything, he might just be saving it. You were there when those sycophants raked Anna over the coals for trying to protect an innocent kid. Toadyism will be the death of everything good about the Keepers.”
“Perhaps, but-”
He was interrupted by the spectacle of a young woman in a pink dress scrambling out the penthouse door and doubling over with a hand pressed to her stomach. “Glin is dead,” she sputtered. “He's…He's…”
Jena got to her feet.
Striding across the rooftop at a brisk pace, she reached up to rake fingers through her short auburn hair. “What happened?” she asked, approaching the woman. “Do we need to organize an evacuation?”
The woman looked up at her with fierce green eyes that glistened with tears. “It was someone with a symbiont,” she panted. “One of Slade's followers. He killed Glin right there on the sidewalk.”
Jena felt her face crumple, then tossed her head about. “Get yourself together,” she said. “Organize teams of two or three people each who will escort our visiting dignitaries to the SlipGate terminal.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Move!” Jena barked. “I want these people ready to go in five minutes.”
Slade had played his hand; now she had to play hers.
Chapter 4
The sun was an orange ball that slowly sank toward the western horizon, casting golden rays out on the skyscrapers of London, buildings that rose up like a forest of shadows to cut off the light.
Jack stood before the window with his arms crossed, frowning down at himself. “I never really knew the man,” he said softly. “For years, everyone told me that I should get to know Glin Karon. He was one of the best Keepers who ever lived.”
In his mind's eye, he saw Gabi gliding up the hallway with fists balled at her sides, her head bowed in sadness. “Are you okay?” she asked, approaching him. “It's all right if you need to let out your feelings.”
Jack closed his eyes, tossing his head back. He took a slow, ragged breath. “You're the fifth person to ask me that,” he replied. “Like I said, Gabs, I hardly knew the man. I wish that I was devastated.”
Gabi faced the window with hands folded over her stomach, her face a mask of perfect serenity. “I understand,” she said softly. “But Jack, it's all right if you don't feel devastated.”
He had nothing to say to that; so he contented himself to watch the sunset for a few moments. Orange light framed the silhouettes of buildings all around him, like fiery outlines on doors that led straight into an endless abyss. Down below, the street was once again a flurry of activity, cars rushing past in both directions. You wouldn't have even guessed that just a few hours ago, a Keeper had been murdered in broad daylight.
This was a message; he knew that much. Slade wanted the people of Earth to know that no one – not even one of the mighty Justice Keepers – was safe from him. No doubt the media had already started whipping people into a frenzy.
“You're troubled.”
Jack squinted through the window. “I am,” he said, nodding to her. “Leo was just one guy with homemade explosives and some performance enhancing drugs. And look at all the trouble he caused.”
He paced the width of the hallway with his arms crossed, pausing at the opposite wall. “Slade has access to symbionts,” he went on. “Slade has ziarogati and telepaths and God alone knows what else. If Leo nearly tore the alliance between our two peoples apart, imagine what Slade will do.”
His girlfriend stood behind him with her back turned, peering through the window as she mulled it o
ver. “Perhaps you shouldn't have given that speech,” she said. “Now is not the time for division.”
Jack winced, trembling as he drew in a hissing breath. “No,” he growled, spinning around to face her. “We're never going to solve this by pretending that our problems don't exist. We have to be honest.”
Gabi's shoulders slumped, and she hunched over to bury her face in one hand. He could only see the back of her head, but it was obvious that she was upset. “It really is that simple for you,” she whispered.
He approached to stand beside her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see tears glistening on her cheek. Well, that couldn't be anything good! He knew Gabi well enough by now to know that she wouldn't be so upset over a minor philosophical disagreement. “Gabs, what's wrong?”
Gabi sniffled, then covered her face with both hands, trembling as she sobbed. “I'm sorry,” she whimpered. “Now is really the worst time to do this.”
“To do what?”
She didn't answer.
Jack felt his face heat up. He leaned forward, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Ah…That,” he said. “Well, if it's any consolation to you, I've been expecting it for quite some time.”
She looked up at him with tears streaming over her cheeks, blinking several times. “I just…” The words came out as a strangled squeak. “Jack, I want a family of my own. I want to get out of this life.”
“Okay. I understand.”
“What? That's it?”
Jack crossed his arms with a soft sigh, refusing to look up at her. “What else should there be?” he asked with a shrug of his shoulders. “Gabs, you've been hesitant about this relationship from day one.”
“That's unfair.”
With his mouth hanging open, Jack looked up to blink at the ceiling. “Unfair,” he muttered angrily. “Every single time we did something that might have advanced our relationship half a centimeter, you panicked.”
Gabi's face was red, as she fixed him with a stare that could have peeled the hide off a wolf. “I did nothing of the sort!” she snapped. “We've been dating for six months. It's not unreasonable that-”
Jack scrunched up his face, tossing his head about in disgust. “I don't want to argue this point!” he growled. “You want to break up? Fine! I've got no intention of kicking up a fuss over it.”
He strode past her, making his way down the long hallway lined with windows to the stairwell door. In his mind's eye, he saw her standing there, watching him go. A part of him wanted to turn back and say something to her – hell, Summer wanted him to turn back and say something to her – but he thought better of it. There was no use in trying to argue someone out of breaking up with you. If they couldn't find sufficient motivation to stay with you without coaxing, then the relationship simply wasn't worth salvaging. As he approached the stairwell door, she called out, “I'm sorry!”
Jack paused with a hand braced against the wall, hunching over as if he had lost the strength to hold himself upright. “Don't be sorry,” he said. “Some things just aren't meant to be.”
As always, Jena's office was well-lit and painfully spartan. The dark gray walls were completely bare; the desk with its polished SmartGlass surface was free of pictures, knickknacks or anything that might suggest personal attachment.
Anna sat in one chair with her knees together, her hands folded in her lap as she watched her supervising officer vent her frustration. From what little she knew of Jena's personal relationships, she and Glin had never been close. Still, the other woman seemed ready to bite the head off a snake.
Jena was hunched over the desk with her back turned, pressing both hands to its glass surface. “He was one of the best of us,” she growled. “Did you know that during his time as an initiate, Glin won six out of every ten sparring matches?”
Anna winced, shaking her head in disgust. “That's probably the whole point,” she muttered, doubling over in her chair. “Slade wants us to know that no one – not even the most skilled among us – is safe.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Jena glared at her with eyes that could have peeled the paint off a ship's hull. The woman's features softened half a second later. “Yeah…You're probably right.”
“Do we have any leads?”
Jena straightened but kept her back turned, peering over the desk to the slanted window on the wall. “Nothing solid,” she answered. “Witness statements confirm that they fought on the sidewalk, but the guy took off and nobody wanted to follow.”
Anna sank into the chair with her arms folded, turning her face up to the ceiling. “No one wanted to follow,” she said, blinking. “Okay…Traffic cameras. Security footage from the nearest Tube station. There has to be something.”
“We're looking into it.”
The double doors behind her split apart to reveal the silhouette of Jack striding into the room with all the pent-up fury of a thundercloud. He stopped just a few paces behind her chair.
Jena whirled around to face him with hands on her hips, baring her teeth in a nasty snarl. “Where have you been?” she asked, taking a few steps forward. “I called you up here over half an hour ago!”
“I got held up.”
“You got held up!”
Anna twisted in her chair to find Jack standing just a few feet away with his hands shoved into his pants' pockets, his head turned to stare at the wall to his right. Something was not right; she would have to ask about it later.
Jena squeezed her eyes shut, trembling with obvious frustration. “Brilliant!” she hissed. “Am I the only one who remembers that Slade has been one step ahead of us at every single juncture? Could we please start taking this seriously?”
“I'm sorry,” Jack murmured.
No wise crack, Anna noted. That was usually his way of handling situations that made him feel uneasy. For him to simply roll over like that…Something was definitely wrong. Anna was suddenly very worried.
Jena sat on the edge of her desk with hands folded over her pristine white skirt, staring into her lap. “All right then,” she muttered. “Ven has studied the Overseer device and come up with coordinates for a dozen or so Overseer outposts.”
Lifting his chin, Jack studied her with fierce blue eyes. “You want us to check them out,” he said, nodding once. “All right; give me the first. I'll take a shuttle out tomorrow morning.”
“I want Harry to go with you.”
“Is that wise?”
Baring her teeth with a soft hiss, Jena met his gaze with one that could have made the most hardened criminal flinch. “Is there some reason it wouldn't be?” she asked in tones that said she was in no mood to argue.
Jack closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. “Harry's a vital part of this team,” he said, stepping forward. “He's also the only member of this team without any kind of enhancement. If I come up against one of Slade's goons…”
“Don't be too quick to underestimate Harry,” Anna cautioned. “When I fought Isara a few months ago, he was essential.”
“All right, I suppose I could use some backup.”
“And sadly, Harry's the only person I can spare,” Jena said. “Anna, I want you to go over the crime scene with Scotland Yard. Find the man who killed Glin. Then we'll all go have ourselves a nice chat.”
When Jena was done with them, Anna followed her friend out of the office. She'd only seen Jack like this once or twice before, but each time had been during some personal crisis. “You gonna tell me what's up?” she asked.
Jack stopped in the middle of the hallway, keeping his back turned. “Gabi broke up with me,” he said, shoulders slumping. “It really shouldn't have been such a shock. She's been hesitant about moving forward from the very beginning.”
Anna winced and let her head hang. She touched two fingers to a spot right above her nose. “Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry,” she muttered. “Look, I've gotta liaise with the Brits in a few minutes, but why don't we meet up later tonight?”
He sp
un around to face her with a hand pressed to his stomach, head bowed as if he couldn't bear to look her in the eye. “Sure,” Jack whispered. “Give me a call when you're free. I'll be conducting an experiment that involves pouring half a bottle of whiskey into a carton of ice cream and seeing what happens.”
Anna stepped forward, slipping her arms around him. She nuzzled his chest and gave him a squeeze. “It's gonna be okay,” she promised. “We'll talk about it later, when I'm free, okay?”
“Okay.”
Stars were twinkling in the dark night sky, but with the ambient glow of city lights, they were little more than faint pinpricks in the blackness. His apartment building loomed like a shadow; a few windows were still lit but not many.
Jack sat on a swing in the small playground behind the building, his knees together, his hands gripping the chains. The pain in his chest was hard to ignore. This, he realized, was his first real break-up. It felt as if a piece of him had been ripped away, and worst of all, he couldn't even decide if he wanted it back.
His eyes spotted a woman coming down the grassy slope, and spatial awareness told him it was Anna; he would know her silhouette anywhere. She carried something in each hand.
Jack let his head hang, blowing out a deep breath. Here we go, a small voice spoke in the back of his mind. The standard pep talk where people tell you it's for the best, and there are plenty of fish in the sea.
Anna approached with a small paper bowl in each hand, each containing a tiny mountain of frozen yogurt and a spoon that jutted out from the top. “Chocolate mint for you,” she said, offering one to him. “And for me, strawberry…with real strawberries.”
Grinning like a fool, Jack shut his eyes tight. He shook his head in wry amusement. “You remembered,” he said, taking the bowl. “I've gotta say, I'm surprised, An. It's been over four years.”
She took the swing next to him, resting the bowl in her lap, staring down at it with a tight frown. “Of course I remember,” she said. “Come on, Jack, that night's gonna stand out until the day I die.”