Craving

by Kristina Meister

  “He’s not here,” Sam rasped. “His car is gone, but his phone and his briefcase are on the ground.”

  “But it’s the police garage!” I shouted. “How can they let people just wander in and kidnap detectives?”

  Sam chuckled darkly, sounding like a rock polisher over the speaker. “I guess they thought it was safe.”

  “Isn’t there any security?”

  “Cameras.”

  Jinx plopped into the captain chair and began typing furiously. Windows opened and closed, but the words on the screen were gibberish to me.

  “Hang on.” I hit mute. “What?”

  “If they’re up to date at all, then they’ll have digital cameras uploading video footage to a server. If I can access it, then we might see something.”

  While he did battle with the police department’s electronic databases, I went back to Sam.

  “Does Arthur know?”

  “Yes.”

  “About me,” I pushed, “being gone?”

  Sam cleared his perpetually congested throat. “He always knows.”

  “How?”

  “I guess everything means something to him,” he offered. “He’s always putting pieces together.”

  The response chilled me.

  “I’ll meet you at the shop,” I said and hung up.

  “No luck.” Jinx sighed in defeat. “You’d think they’d update as fast as the criminals, but I guess not. It’s all old school.” He stood up and turned to me. “You want me to take you back?”

  I nodded dispassionately. It was time to face the music, time to ask Arthur outright to answer all my questions, time to be “of myself.”

  We rode back, my mind in a considerably different place than it had been on the previous trip. When it had just been my fate to consider, I was fine with giving Moksha and his cronies the finger, but now that Unger was an unwitting victim, I wasn’t sure I had any choice.

  Those crafty bastards. They had waited until the moment I found out about my parents, until I knew the full scope of their malice, before they acted. That told me several things: they were vicious and uncompromising and they had someone working for them who had the similar abilities to mine. Knowing that, should I just walk into AMRTA with my hands in the air? Was there any other option?

  Jinx parked in the lot and ran inside ahead of me; I was in no hurry to confront Arthur and my rental car was a tantalizing sortie. I could run, right then, turn my back and walk away, but it did not escape me that Unger had been the one in my latest vision asking if that was such a good idea. I stared at the immaculate blue paint and chrome of my car and wondered what they were doing to Matthew, if there was torture involved, if they had another Ursula lying around handy when they had to interrogate someone. Would they kill him?

  I turned to the doorway and found Arthur standing there, his handsome face unusually worried. He said nothing, just took the full weight of my angry askance.

  “You should have told me everything,” I whispered unevenly.

  He bowed his head. “I was being careful for very good reasons, Lilith.”

  “What good reason would that be; me liking you enough to sit in the same room as you and eat your spoon-fed bullshit?”

  His eyes fell. “No.”

  “How long before Eva did a nosedive onto a street corner did you know she would be one of Moksha’s experiments?” I spat.

  He looked at me, not in surprise, but in sorrow. His voice was quiet, when usually, he said everything in a tone that denied all skepticism. “I tried to save her.”

  “Why should you be the only one?” I shouted. “Why couldn’t you find me and tell me? Why did it have to get this far?”

  He was silent, looking at the ground between us as if he wanted to walk toward me, but knew that at that moment, I would just push him away. He was right. At that moment, I was keenly aware that whatever attraction made me seek him out in search of comfort, was probably just a product of his craving to be well-liked or something equally selfish.

  “I’m not their cure,” I said shakily, “or yours.”

  He took my accusation without a word.

  “They took Matthew because they knew him. They saw him with me twice, at the AMRTA building, at the club. They’ll think we work together. If I don’t show up, they’ll kill him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Arthur lifted his folded hands as if to begin an argument.

  “Don’t,” I said with a wave. “I’m going. I’ve already decided.”

  He looked at me, but did not seem upset or worried for my safety. Instead the corners of his mouth were turned upward subtly and his skin was smoothed in complete resignation.

  “Take this with you,” he replied and with a toss, had lobbed a tiny object on a lanyard to me. “It contains all of Eva’s work, translated and deciphered. I believe you will need it.”

  It was a flash drive the size of a piece of chalk, coated in a rubbery protective layer. It had to be something Jinx had contributed. I put the lanyard around my neck and took a deep breath.

  “You’re not going to stop me.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You are very stubborn, and the decision was yours to make.”

  “Where . . .” The keys were jingling as my fingers shook. “Where will they take me?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Will they…” I swallowed. “Kill me?”

  He shrugged, almost casually.

  I wanted to be hurt or outraged, but I couldn’t. I knew what he was telling me. He wanted me to walk across the river, know what I was doing and accept the consequences. He wanted me to see my own fate and desire to change it. He wanted me to suffer until I could face death and not be afraid.

  Accept the dharma.

  I blinked. Was it another lesson taught without teaching, or was it part of the plan all along? I couldn’t say anymore. He had never asked me to believe in him, only to have faith. Faith was the belief in absence of fact, and every fact had pointed me away from him, though I still wanted to stay by his side. It was that desire that hurt the most.

  I took another deep, steadying breath and walked to my car.

  “Lilith,” he called after me. When I turned back, he was smiling. “Do you remember the invisible road to nowhere?”

  I think I nodded because my voice wouldn’t function.

  “It doesn’t really exist,” he said, then turned his back and walked into the building.

  I stared after him, hearing her voice again from that phone call so long ago. “It doesn’t exist, Lily, I know.”

  I looked at the USB drive resting in my hand and wondered what I was going to do. There I was again, walking in without a plan, uncertain what to expect, but as bad as that seemed, it had worked once. In a world where the future seemed predetermined and monsters possessed the uncanny ability to know my fears, what point was there in having a plan anyway?

  Chapter 21

  I sat in the AMRTA parking lot as I had before, staring at the building, wondering how much I would never know about the Arhat. How did it happen? A phrase or two, specifically tailored to eat away at a person until the obsession drove them to such intense focus that they somehow managed to cheat death?

  I had asked myself the question before, in moments of idle fancy: what would I do if I was immortal? With enough time, the world would run out of things to show me, surely. With enough time, art and evolution would be tainted by pessimism. Humans were all the same, in every era, they had to be, or history would cease to teach us valuable lessons. So with enough time, no matter how pacifistic the Arhat were, I could see them coming to loathe what they had been, even as they longed to be rid of their condition.

  How much of what they did was forgivable?

  If I walked in oozing hatred, then I would be as much in danger of their wrath as Unger. How had Arthur said it? Ignorance breeds incorrect behavior. Therefore, knowledge should lead to right behavior. Bein
g one of them, I could surely understand their predicament.

  I had never been the forgiving type. I held grudges like baseball bats and, knowing this, had done as much as possible to never involve myself in disputes. Howard had always called me an impossible nag, the kind of wife that could drive a man crazy with bickering, nitpicking, and constant correction. Now I had nothing left. My rage had gotten me nowhere, my cynicism had been useless, and I could see my flaws quite plainly.

  This was the ultimate test of the person I had become. People could change, the mind could go back to an earlier state, the flaws or heights we’d achieved could be abandoned at any time. It had to be true, or I was on a long walk off a short pier.

  I got out of my car and walked into the building where the security guard looked at me in mild shock. A few moments later, I was escorted by several men to Moksha’s office, where he sat in his antique chair with that smug look on his deceitful face.

  “Ms. Blake, wasn’t it?” he said with a chuckle.

  I thought back to the tenets of the Buddhist monks, to the principles of conservation. No matter how right I would be to call the man an unmitigated ass, I couldn’t. In this circumstance, it did absolutely no good and though he may not be diminished by it, I surely would be.

  “It’s Pierce, actually,” I admitted.

  His self-satisfied aura grew a little. “Yes, I know.”

  “And I know what it is you’re doing. I’ll stay with you, go wherever you want, but let Unger go. Drop him off downtown.” He raised an eyebrow, but I ignored it, kept my expressions from going wild in spite of my shaky nerves, and held out my phone. “I want proof. He’ll call me after you release him. Don’t try anything else. I’ll know.”

  The smile turned malicious. “You’re in no position to negotiate.”

  “I’m not negotiating,” I said quietly. “I am asking you to do something kind for me. Put me in your debt. Do it, please.”

  His brow fell and eyes narrowed. He looked at me as if confused and disgusted. While he examined my face, I mimicked Arthur’s calm, copied his benign way of commanding a room. Though I probably failed miserably, Moksha continued to stare.

  “What will you do if I refuse?”

  “Spend more time talking with you about the nature of generosity, I imagine.”

  Something was churning behind his eyes, some kind of outrage or dissatisfaction. The longer I looked into his face, the angrier he seemed.

  “If we let him go, how can we be sure we have your cooperation?”

  A division was growing in me as I looked at him, the little scheming man in his great tower of glass. The two halves of me, old and new, were pulling apart. One side longed to point out, in a snide voice, that if I intended to be uncooperative, I would not be standing there with the flash drive around my neck. The other side of me knew a peculiar enjoyment, as if for the first time, I had stepped back and found the extremes of emotion to be amusing. In my state of assumed calm, I was helpless to hide my feelings.

  “A man cannot conceal joy,” I said, though I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, “because joy undoes deceit. What I have, I will share, because I must. There is no other choice.”

  While he marveled at me, I did the same. The two halves of me were looking at each other, sizing each other up, and the old was not sure what to make of the new. I looked down at my chest and saw the little charm around my neck.

  I held it out. “This is everything I know, all the information Eva stole. I will give it to you. Now let Unger go, please.”

  Moksha shook his head, not in answer to my question, but in disbelief. “I still fail to see how it would be in my best interests.”

  “If you’re not going to let him go, then what was the point of bringing me here?” I asked. “If I am what you think, I would have come eventually. Doing this only pulls you farther from the path and makes you less able to hear what I have to say.”

  He turned in his chair and got to his feet. With slow, contemplative strides, he found his way to me and folded his hands behind his back. His eyes were filled with malice. “What makes you think I care about what you have to say?”

  I understood in that moment. I could see that whatever he had been, he was no longer a good, pacifistic individual. He liked what he had become, but then again, how could a person with no soul or conscience know what they were missing?

  “How old are you?” I inquired, no emotion in my words. “You must be young.”

  He leaned forward, so that his face was only a few inches from mine, trying to threaten me with his proximity, but I was done with being threatened.

  “You don’t want a cure, do you?” I said, closing my eyes. “You like it here, in your castle, mucking about with other peoples’ lives. You’re not even one of the real First Sangha, are you? You’re just an Arhat, an nth level mutation. I bet I can guess what your trishna is, that little hurdle at the end of the race that you just couldn’t quite make it over. It was power, wasn’t it? Once you achieved your liberation, you fell in love with the power. What insight does it give you?” I opened my eyes to find him leaning back on his heels, stunned. “Can you see people’s weaknesses, I wonder? Is that why they chose you to do this?”

  Eva wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t losing her mind because of some irresolvable equation, some unattainable grace. Sometimes when everyone but you was nuts, they were all just nuts.

  The heart of Buddhist doctrine was to erase suffering, but in all their long lifetimes, the Arhat had not been able to do it, because it was impossible. Like Arthur had said, even if you managed to shrug off attachment, you still suffered on behalf of all the others who had not. To live at all, immortal or otherwise, was to suffer, and that was something Eva had loved most about life. It was what reminded her of her flaws, made her work harder, made her fight to stay alive and cherish those few moments of happiness. By embracing misery she had defied them all and, unafraid, crossed the river.

  Moksha had been too good for his own good.

  “You can see weaknesses, Moksha, but can you see mine?”

  I looked him in the eye, completely composed, certain, for no obvious reason, that he would not be able to find a crack in my resolve, that his eyes, however sharp, would never chip away at me. I was an obsidian mirror and he would see only his darkest self.

  He took a step back, his throat working in a swallow, his mouth twisting in an approximation of disgust that his eyes could not support. Eventually, he turned away and walked to his phone. He spoke quietly into the receiver and then hung up. I spent almost twenty minutes in silence, watching him avoid my gaze, make excuses not to look at me, actively pretend I was not standing there, seeing right through him.

  In my hand, my cell vibrated, and the ID was a number I did not recognize.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  The person on the other end coughed and sounded out of breath. “It’s me.”

  I sighed with relief. “Where are you?”

  “The café. They dropped me off in the middle of the park. I ran here in case they followed me.”

  “Prove it,” I said quietly.

  He didn’t ask for a reason. The phone jiggled and I could hear him speaking to someone. Eventually a woman’s voice came on the line. I recognized it as the waitress who always tried to insist I have coffee. I asked her for her name, and though she was confused, she gave the right one. When he came back to the line, I was almost too choked to ask after his health.

  “They hit me over the head, but I’m okay, I think.”

  “You know what to do?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “Lilith, where are you?”

  “I have to go now, Matthew.”

  “What? Tell me where you are!” His voice lifted in anxiety. I wondered what he must be feeling, sworn to protect the peace, but saved by a woman who didn’t even know how to load a pistol. “Tell me what’s going on!”

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “Just stay safe, okay?”

  I could almost feel
his sickened realization. “Lilith . . .”

  “Thanks for being there,” I said. “Thanks for having faith and for questioning the facts that got you here.”

  I hung up before he could protest again and lifted my face to the mastermind of all the tragedies that had plagued my life.

  “I’m satisfied.”

  He had been watching me intently, but when I looked at him, his eyes shied away. He hit the intercom button. “She’s ready.”

  The door opened and some men in dark suits entered. They were almost silent and seemed alert. Nothing was said as they surrounded me and tried to press me from the room, but something in me refused to move. I looked at Moksha, who was staring at my knees in wide-eyed confusion.

  “Boredom will eventually set in,” I said to him, “and one day, you’ll be standing still on an island, with no idea where to go, because all your bridges will have burned.” His eyes flicked to me, and like Anna’s had, unfocused. “The smaller you are, the larger and more terrifying the world. You should not be trying to reduce yourself so thoroughly.”

  One of the men reached out and pushed me with a glance. I left the room, but for some reason, with all the new things I was about to experience, Moksha’s face stayed with me as I walked down the stairs to the side entrance of the lobby. He had seemed so stunned and lost. I almost wanted to reassure him.

  At the doors of the building, the guard asked me very kindly for my belongings. I handed over my phone, my keys, and my driver’s license. The man continued to stare at me, but when I saw his eyes flick to the flash drive, I shook my head.

  “This stays on my body. I’ll release it when the time comes.”

  I thought he might protest, but instead, he nodded to the door. Several black cars waited out front and I was directed into one of them. The door was opened for me, and to my surprise, only one man got in behind me.

  As the cars pulled away and carried me toward the freeway, I locked the man in one of Arthur’s patented faraway, inescapable stares. He looked right back, unbothered, perhaps even curious, and took out the earpiece that connected him to his fellows. What he wanted, I could not guess, but if he was willing to be polite, then so was I.