by P. S. Newman
We hung up, effectively ending my reprieve from Greyson's questions.
“This David is one of your friends who want my help, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“Who are they? Chairmen of what?”
“There is a minority of people who believe that not all shades should have to be eliminated,” I explained. “They’re the people who’ve had good experiences with shades. The people whose lives you saved, for example, can’t deny that your existence prolonged theirs. SHAID, the Society for a Higher Acceptance and Integration of Dreams, is an organization trying to spread this awareness. They stipulate that the less we fear our dreams, the less dangerous our shades will be. Presenting the doubters and haters with a shade who is an asset to humanity, who saves lives, might change their minds.”
“David believes I could be that shade?”
“You’ve been all over the news these past few days. People are already calling you a hero. If ever there was a shade to change peoples’ minds, it’s you.”
Greyson nodded and settled deeper into his seat, his expression thoughtful as he watched the lights fly by.
I kept shooting sidelong glances at him. Now that my brain had some quiet time, it was trying to come to terms with the fact that he was here. He sitting next to me, existing in the same space, breathing the same air. I wanted to touch him, to make sure he wasn't a figment of my imagination. But just because he was here didn't mean I got to keep him.
Ten minutes later, we reached downtown and I found the open maw of the expansive garage beneath PharmaZeusics, where the company's employees parked their cars. A bright orange bar blocked our way, but I punched in David’s code and it lifted. I drove down into surprising brightness. Underground garages weren't supposed to gleam and shine like this. It reminded me of a fancy ballroom that had been turned into a car park. The only things missing were chandeliers and a few feet of height.
I headed to the back of the garage until I pulled up at a closed gate. I punched the second number into a panel on the wall. The gate slid upwards without so much as a creak. I drove through and it lowered behind us just as silently. The mostly empty parking spaces in this section of the garage were twice as wide as in the previous section. They would have easily fit two pickups but were occupied by single cars that gave new meaning to the word fancy. David's electric blue Porsche was parked in its usual spot on the left side of the elevator. Sean's red Ferrari stood next to it, sandwiched by his green motorcycle on the other side.
Sean, wearing leather biker gear with the jacket half unzipped, was just swinging his leg over the Ninja to ride off when I pulled up in front of the elevators. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, which was odd. Maybe the talk with David had left him flustered enough to forget his usually strict safety precautions.
He looked surprised to see me. “Eden? What are you doing here?” He stayed sitting on his bike, making no move to greet me.
I got out of the car and walked around the hood hesitantly, feeling out of place in his extravagant territory. “Hey Sean.”
I wondered how much David had told him about what he’d asked me to do for SHAID. I didn’t want to introduce Greyson without any warning. Sean might feel ambushed. “David asked me to meet him here.”
When Sean gave me an odd look, I added, “he gave me the code to the garage.”
“Ah.” He peered through the open car door behind me to the passenger seat. “Who’s your friend?”
Greyson exited the car. “My name is Greyson Deynar.”
I suppressed a groan. We should have discussed a code name for him.
Sean's eyes widened. “No kidding?” He seemed surprised rather than mad or slighted, sizing Greyson up from head to toe. Almost challenging.
“Sean isn’t the challenging type,” Aunt Vy said from where I’d left her behind the passenger seat.
“He also isn’t the type to not wear a helmet,” I agreed.
Greyson stepped up next to me, his body tense. He sensed that something was wrong.
“Sean,” I said, cursing myself for leaving Aunt Vy in the car. At least I still had the Walther PPT. Its weight on my hip provided some comfort, light though it was. “What’s the code word?”
He cocked his head, like a curious dog. Opened his mouth to answer.
A ping sounded from the elevator. The doors slid apart, revealing David. He stepped out and saw us. He frowned when he saw his brother on the motorcycle. “How did you get changed so quickly?” he asked.
The man who looked like Sean smiled and reached inside his jacket.
“David, get down!” I drew the Walther, but the doppelgänger was faster. He aimed a small handgun at David. His finger twitched, once, twice. Shots rang out. Greyson moved in front of David in a blur of motion. He staggered back when the bullets hit him square in the chest, knocking him into David. They went down.
The Ninja’s engine roared as it shot out of its parking spot. I sprinted after the doppelgänger, firing at his retreating back. But I wasn’t a good shot on my best day and he was too fast. I forced myself to stop and aimed the Walther at the escaping bike, drew a deep breath, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger. Sparks flew from the bike’s rear-wheel guard. The vehicle wobbled, straightened. With a scream of power, Sean 2.0 gunned the engine and leaned into the corner. He disappeared around it, still seated.
“Fudge!” By the time I got into my van, he would be long gone. I pulled out my phone, praying there’d be reception down here. Four full bars. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I dialed the Order's emergency hotline. "This is private hunter Maybrey requesting the Order's aide in apprehending a shade,” I snapped into the phone as soon as I heard the click of the line being answered. "Case file number six-three-three."
"That shade escaped one of our hunters three days ago," the operator said after a moment. "I'll send a team over. What's your location?"
"He attacked in the underground garage of the PharmaZeusics high-rise," I said. "He's heading for the exit on a green Ninja right now. I’m on foot and unable to follow.”
"I have a team three minutes out," the operator told me. Three minutes weren't long in the grand scheme of things, but when chasing a shade on a motorcycle, they were two-and-a-half too many. Still, they might get lucky.
“Have them call me if they catch him.”
I’d run further than I realized, past the first orange bar. I holstered my gun and headed back, dread weighing me down. The image of Greyson reeling back after being hit replayed over and over in my head. By the time I returned to the scene of the shooting, two security guards had arrived, alerted by the shots. Greyson was wobbling to his feet. The relief I felt almost unmanned me.
The security guards stepped between us when they heard my footsteps.
"She's cool, boys.” David’s voice held no inflection, as if he were dream walking. He pushed between his men to meet me, his movements wooden. He lifted his hand and pointed down the length of the garage at the shade’s escape route. His hand shook. "That was Sean," he said. "My brother tried to kill me."
I took his hand, pulled him into a hug. "No," I told him. "It was his doppelgänger shade.”
He let me hug him. “A shade? It had Sean's face."
"I promise, it wasn't him. Sean was supposed to tell you. I thought that’s why he called you into the office tonight."
David shook his head. "You knew?"
I nodded. "Sean hired me to catch it. I almost did at your house yesterday. It broke one of your windows to make its escape."
“The Neighborhood Watch called me, said there’d been an incident involving a shade and that I needed to change my passcodes but that the hunter was able to clear it all up. That was you?”
“Yes. Sean should have told you by now.”
“He didn’t.”
Damn it, Sean. “He promised to let you know he had an evil twin running around, gunning for people."
“Why would it come here?” David wondered.
I’d been asking myself
the same thing. Why would the doppelgänger risk infiltrating ParmaZeusics? I had an ugly feeling that I knew the reason, but it wouldn’t do to make assumptions. Not anymore. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling Sean does. It's time for him to tell us the whole story."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
David asked his security guards to take care of the mess in the garage without the press getting wind of what had happened. The men looked skeptical about the last part but sprang into action. I grabbed Aunt Vy from behind the passenger seat. It was unlikely that Sean 2.0 would come back anytime soon, but I wasn’t going to take any more chances of facing him without my sword.
“But only if you promise to be quiet and to not interject unless you’ve got something vital to add,” I told her. I had a feeling this was going to be a tough conversation on a lot of fronts, and I didn’t need my sword butting in. “Especially since Greyson mustn’t catch on that we can communicate,” I added.
As expected, that argument convinced her above all others. “Fine,” she said sullenly. “I’ll stay out of it unless absolutely necessary.”
Oh, the enthusiasm. She must still be mad about me threatening to lock her in the basement. “Thank you.”
David, Greyson, and I took the elevator up to the top floor. David used his keycard to ensure it wouldn't stop on its way up. We would avoid any late-working PharmaZeusics employees who might have heard of something happening. No need for anyone to think their beloved CEO had been involved in a shooting.
The men introduced themselves in the elevator.
"I'm David Baptiste, by the way," David said. His voice and hands were steady again. "Thank you for saving my life. Are you really okay?"
Greyson drew a hand across his chest. There were two holes in his shirt, but the skin beneath was smooth and whole. "I guess my creator sees me as invincible,” he said with a smile in my direction. As if trying to make a point.
I was beyond points. David was alive. Greyson was alive. There was only so much relief a person could handle before nothing else mattered.
What was more, Greyson had saved David's life. David would do everything in his power to return the favor. The odds of Greyson and me living a normal life had just gone up considerably.
"What are these plans you have for me?" Greyson asked David.
"To be honest, they’re not specific, yet. It's a general idea, one I have to discuss with the other leaders of SHAID, as I mentioned on the phone."
"We should clear up this doppelgänger issue first," I said. Stopping the doppelgänger from killing David was the more immediate concern. "You guys head to David's office. I'll go get Sean."
"He won't want to come," David said, "or he would have told me about this doppelgänger by now."
"I'll drag him if I have to. His shade is trying to kill you. We both need to know more than he's been telling."
The elevator doors opened into a lavish lobby. The secretaries sitting behind the longest, sleekest, whitest desk ever built jumped to their feet when they caught sight of their boss. I was glad it was late enough that there were only two of them still working rather than the usual four.
"David!" the first exclaimed, "are you alright? We heard there were shots fired in the garage. What happened?"
David and I exchanged dismayed looks. No way would we be able to contain this story if the receptionists already knew about it. The press would be all over this.
"News travels fast around here.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Just don't mention Greyson’s identity, okay?"
David nodded. "Go get Sean. He should be in his office."
I headed left before I was detained by the secretaries. They knew me, but they had eyes only for their boss. I'd gone several paces down the hall when I realized Greyson was following me. I stopped and turned to face him. He looked tense and alert. As if he were steeling himself for another attack.
"Please stay with David," I said. The last thing I needed was Greyson Deynar to be present when I gave Sean a talking to. "Wait for me in his office."
Greyson's eyebrows bunched together. He pulled off disapproval well. "I don't like the sound of this Sean," he said. "He seems shifty. You might need help."
"I can handle Sean," I said. "He's a good guy. You've helped enough for one day; you saved David's life."
He nodded. "I just want to make sure you don't get hurt."
"Believe me, I'll be fine. Please go wait with David. I'll be right back."
"Which one is Sean's office?" he asked.
I pointed down the wide hallway. "Down there, at the opposite end of the hall from David's."
"Okay." Greyson nodded. His hand lifted as if he wanted to touch my cheek. His expression changed; fear, worry, and determination settled on his face until a deep breath of calm erased them all and the stone mask I’d seen in the bell tower returned. He dropped his hand.
I turned before he could read the disappointment in my eyes. I wanted him to touch me, comfort me. I cursed myself. I couldn't allow myself to get used to that feeling. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Be right back.” I headed down the hall towards Sean's office.
My phone rang. I almost ignored it but answered when I saw who was calling. "Hey Lia.” Had she already heard about the shooting, too? "What's up?"
"I have a question regarding my case," she said.
"A question for me?"
"Don't get too excited. I’m not asking for advice on shade matters. Not directly."
"And indirectly?"
"I know you're bound by a confidentiality clause in your contracts, but please hear me out."
That sounded ominous. "Okay."
"I could get a warrant for this particular case, but I don't want to. Not if it can be avoided with a phone call."
Detective Cecelia Perez, stalling? That was new. “I can only help if you ask your question."
“Sí sí.” She huffed out a breath. "Can you tell me what kind of shade you're hunting for Sean?"
I stopped short in front of Sean's office door. "Oh no."
"What?"
"You've connected Sean to the Pit guard’s murder, haven't you?"
"What do you know, Dita?”
"Nothing, except that he lied to me again." Anger bubbled, low and deep. "He flat out told me there was no connection."
"Eden, cara, talk to me," it was Cecelia's turn to insist. "Tell me about this shade."
"It's a doppelgänger," I explained, confidentiality clause be damned. There were lives at stake. "A mirror image of Sean. It's been causing all kinds of trouble." Like trying to assassinate your boyfriend.
Cecelia sighed in relief before I could decide whether to add that tiny detail or not. "Thank God. I thought it was Sean in that security video."
"Didn't the killer fry the cameras?"
"Yes, but there's a fraction of a second where he's partially visible. Do you have an explanation for how the doppelgänger burned them?"
“He’s a pyrokinetic shade.”
A pause. "Come again?"
“A fire-wielder. He can shoot flames from his fingertips."
She whistled. "Must have been one hell of a dream."
"And Sean’s going to tell me the truth about it. Right now.”
"He'll have to tell me in an interrogation room if this doppelgänger isn't found. I have to take this information to my captain. He'll want me to bring Sean in for questioning."
"How much time do I have?"
"I can hold them off for twelve hours with your statement about the existence of this doppelgänger.”
"Can I tell Sean that?" It might motivate him to be straight with me.
"I'd rather you not. Right now, he's still our number one suspect. In the unlikely event that he makes a run for it and I'm the one who tipped him off, even indirectly, I'll be issuing parking tickets for the rest of my life."
"No problem." I'd find other ways to persuade him. Knowing more than he thought I did was a good start.
"It would also be good to have proof of this d
oppelgänger’s existence."
"The Order has a report from the night he manifested."
"That's a start, but it might be better if we can question him once you catch him. Assuming he’s intelligent enough."
"Assume away. He’s intelligent, cunning, and ruthless. Everything you hope a shade will never be. I’m not sure I’ll be able to bring him in alive."
"Just do what you can. And let me know if you need help with the hunt."
"Okay." I hoped that was a vague enough confirmation that she wouldn't get mad if I didn't. No way was I getting Cecelia caught in the crossfire. And I’d make sure to eliminate this doppelgänger the first chance I got.
If she heard the lie in my voice, she didn't let on. "Good luck."
We hung up. I tucked the phone away with deliberate movements. It took all my self-control not to hurl it at the door in front of me. Just find it before it hurts anybody, he'd said. I should have seen it then; he knew that it would try to do just that. Was he too embarrassed to tell me the truth or was there more to his reluctance? I was about to find out. I was done going easy on him just because I was the one to break things off between us.
I took a deep breath to calm my temper and knocked on Sean's door. I strode in without waiting for an answer. The first thing to catch my attention was the wall-to-ceiling window, beyond which the city spread like a glittering blanket. Above it arched the black, starless California sky, the view disrupted only by another lit-up highrise to the right, and a thin pillar of smoke spiraling upwards close to it.
Sean sat behind an enormous ebony desk, the city at his back. He held a bottle of a deep, honey-colored liquid, smiling to himself as if contemplating a private joke.
"Got something to celebrate?" I asked.
"Eden!" Sean held up the bottle for me to see the label. A Glenfiddich 1937. "Only the fact that I managed to get my hands on some of this. It's one of the rarest bottles in the world. Care to join me?" He looked as if he expected me to jump into his arms.
"I don’t feel like celebrating," I said, stepping up to the window to spot the origins of the spiral of smoke. About ten blocks away, the Pit yawned from the ground like the crater of a volcano. It was the first time I saw beyond the Order's barrier. I hadn’t expected the Pit to be so big, nor so deep. Its jagged edges glowed a warm orange, but even from up here I couldn't look down far enough to catch a glimpse of the lava at the bottom. The angle wasn’t steep enough.