by Adam Carter
Often he felt guilty afterwards, sometimes even regretful. But he still continued to do it, still revelled in each new death. It was an addiction, he had always thought; something terrible and shameful. But he was not ashamed of who and what he was.
But what was he? It was Baronaire’s eternal, ultimate question. He had considered several possibilities over the years. He may have been a being of supernatural origin, and if he had lived centuries earlier he would have been given several names, and people would have feared him. He would have been called demon, devil, and children would be kept indoors at the turn of the New Year for fear of his approach. It made a certain sense to him, that thousands of beings just like him could ravage the world during the darker months, but it was not very practical. If there were so many beings like him in the world they would have long since taken over. Baronaire himself had powers, abilities and strengths which would make him a formidable adversary today. He could not imagine an army of Baronaires being stopped by ordinary humans in past ages. After all, bows and arrows could do only so much.
If not supernatural, if not a sub-species of the human race, that perhaps left technological means. An experiment in genetics. He had heard many stories of how governments had attempted to make their soldiers better; that they might tire less easily, fight more ferociously, see better on the field of battle. Sportsmen took illegal drugs which heightened their performances, and perhaps something similar had been synthesised for him. He had brought the matter up one time with Jeremiah, who had laughed, telling him to go fight the Red Skull if he thought he was some kind of super soldier, but it was a valid theory nonetheless.
Perhaps he was just the next evolutionary step in the progression of mankind. Maybe the human race had taken a great leap and he and Jeremiah were the result. They were veritably unstoppable; powerhouses in their own right. Surely that was what evolution was all about? But that would mean their destiny would be to replace the current order, the human race, or else be destroyed by it. This was a possibility Baronaire was not eager to explore all too readily. He rather liked humans, had grown fond of several. He wasn’t prepared to believe it was his destiny to exterminate the entire species. Until he learned otherwise, he still considered himself one of them in fact. And even if it was proven he wasn’t, still did he believe he would not accept it entirely.
That left God. Baronaire was not a religious man, had never had that much time for people who were. But Jeremiah certainly believed God had sent him on a mission, which meant Jeremiah believed in God. Baronaire had asked him about it one time, and Jeremiah had smiled that annoying smile which meant he wasn’t going to reveal much, and had said simply, “God created us human, Charles. What happened after that is anyone’s guess.” The problem with taking anything Jeremiah said as gospel, however, was that the man was nuts.
Baronaire was relaxing in the soil, trying to think of other theories which might explain what he was. He could feel the nutrients being absorbed through his pores, much as an ordinary human could taste their food and feel it slide down their gullets. Soil absorption was a private, personal thing for Baronaire. He could not for one moment consider ever sharing anything like this with Lin or the others.
Lin? Why had he thought of her especially? He had only known her six months, yet indeed she had made an impression on him. He was not attracted to her sexually, she was far too strong and independent a woman for that. But she was a good friend and someone he respected deeply. He hoped their relationship would continue for many years to come.
Unless he evolved and killed her along with the rest of the species, he thought wryly.
A shrill sound erupted through Baronaire’s flat and he started. Momentarily he realised it was his phone ringing. Baronaire seldom received phone calls, and could not think who might be calling him, who even had his number. Sanders had provided him with the phone, telling him he might need to contact Baronaire when he was off-duty, so he guessed it was Sanders phoning now. Rising carefully, Baronaire headed across the room to where the phone rested upon a small table. It was an old contraption, with a large dial and a heavy receiver. Baronaire was under the impression Sanders thought he would appreciate it, but Baronaire didn’t much care what it looked like.
He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
Then he was flying across the room.
He lay against the wall, staring with narrowed eyes at the woman in his flat. The woman who was slowly replacing the receiver, cutting off whoever was trying to contact him. Josephine Dalton was no longer wearing her office suit and glasses. She was garbed now in what Baronaire would have considered air. A white cloud roiled about her lithe body, sinuous tendrils snaking about her naked form like serpents snatching out at fleeing rodents. Her blonde hair was set free, flowing in a breeze which did not exist, flying joyously but never daring to interfere with her vision. Her face was rounded, her lips a perfect scarlet slit. Her eyes were intense, large and focused, smiling with their cruel intensity upon him. She glided more so than walked, her hourglass-shaped nakedness swaying sensually as though her body was as much affected by the non-existent breeze as was her hair. Her lips were moving, but Baronaire could hear no words and he tried to focus, but there was a buzzing in his mind he could not work through.
He wanted to tear his eyes away, to examine the strange white clouds coalescing about her, to focus on her pert, naked breasts; anything to avoid staring into those deep and soulful eyes. But he could not. He was transfixed, and all at once terrified. Yet it was with the greatest sense of passion that he realised he did not care. This woman was power, sensuality and beauty rolled into one and Baronaire was in blissful rapture.
The phone blared shrilly again and Dalton swiped her hand back with an angry blow and the thing shattered into fragments.
Her eyes had been taken from Baronaire’s for one single moment, but that was enough for his own mind to snap back into place. He blinked, shook his head, and saw an entirely different woman standing before him. She was dressed in long brown leather boots and dark blue jeans, a white T-shirt worn tight and accentuating her natural curves. Over this she wore a light-brown jacket, stopping at her waist. Her hair was loose, but did not flow in an unnatural breeze, and as she turned back to him it was with an angry scowl upon her brow.
“You’re like me,” Baronaire said, finding his voice at last. He could feel her gazing into his soul again, attempting to re-establish the link she had lost, but he was ready for her this time and fought her control.
“You’re stronger than I suspected,” Dalton said, half anger, half a sensual purr. “I had not thought you would have been able to resist me.”
“Because I don’t know what I am?”
“Because you’re male. And the female of our species is superior. It comes from our origins, dear, I wouldn’t feel wounded about it.”
“Species?” Baronaire was almost hesitant to ask.
Her smile was tight. “You really don’t know anything, do you? I can see why Jeremiah has taken hold of you. You must make a useful puppet for him.”
“What do you want from me?”
Dalton eyed him over very slowly. Baronaire was conscious that he was entirely naked and made a mental note to get dressed before answering the phone next time. Assuming Sanders gave him a new phone to answer. Also assuming there would be a next time. “You’re young,” she replied, “and strong in both body and spirit. You were born in the sixties, that’s … Well, you may be the youngest of us.”
Baronaire could not see that this woman was anywhere over the age of thirty, and even that was a push. Baronaire was thirty-three, so that he was much younger than her was something he could not believe, and he said as much.
“Complimenting ladies is always fashionable,” Dalton replied, “but entirely unnecessary. We have abilities you could not even imagine. Altering our appearances has always been one of my favourites, but then I’m a woman and we excel in vanity.”
“Why would you need to alter your appea
rance?”
“Come, you want to stay thirty forever? Just look at Jeremiah. Under that youthful charm there lurks the body of a very old man, Charles.”
“And how old are you?”
“Tsk, Charles. That’s one question you never ask a lady.”
Baronaire was trying to keep her talking, purely so he could learn as much as he could, so he said, “You’re not in the police, are you?”
“No. I convinced several people in the force that I was though, got myself sent to WetFish, even found out from my new friends where to go to find you people. Sanders will figure it out soon enough, once he makes enough phone calls and receives the exact same, word for word answers from different conversations. But by then it won’t matter, because we’ll be long gone.”
“And what makes you think I’m going anywhere with you, Dalton?”
“Because I’m asking you to.”
“If I go with you, what are your plans?”
“Plans? To put distance between us and Sanders for one thing. He doesn’t like our kind; in fact I can’t for the life of me understand why he’s employed you and Jeremiah. I’ve learned things about him, things he doesn’t want you to know. I know why he hates our kind, and believe me one day he shall turn on you.”
“Why does he hate us? What are we? Are we even natural?”
“That depends on your definition of nature. You were born human, Charles Baronaire. You joined us later. Some of us are born as we are, but does that make us any more or any less natural?”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
“Then take my hand and learn the answers.”
Baronaire looked at the hand literally being offered. He was tempted. This was the answer to everything he had ever wanted to know, standing before him in the form of a beautiful woman who clearly intended to continue their species with him. To have a stable lover was something Baronaire had never considered. The very nature of what he was meant he could never maintain a lasting relationship with a woman, which was why he never allowed himself to become too attached with women to whom he was attracted. But Dalton was offering him a future, a stable future with someone just like him. Someone he could talk to, someone he could perhaps even learn to love. She was beautiful, available and interested. But there was just one problem.
“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I’m just not attracted to strong women.”
He lunged for her, but Dalton was prepared and Baronaire sailed through. She had become incorporeal, the white mist Baronaire had always favoured, and he stumbled as the mist enshrouded him, choked him. He could feel Dalton pressing through his mouth, forcing herself down his throat, and he lashed out with balled fists.
Dalton’s upper half re-formed behind him, her legs still shrouded as though she was some form of ancient Greek snake woman or genie from Aladdin’s lamp. “I’m sure I mentioned this at some point,” she reiterated, “but the female of our species is superior.”
Baronaire did not answer in words. He saw his trench coat hanging over the side of his chair and made his way slowly, laboriously, towards it. Dalton laughed, and as Baronaire reached his coat he pulled something out and threw it at her. Dalton did not even attempt to move as the small shower of metal struck her skin and fell to the floor.
“And that was supposed to do what exactly?” she asked.
Baronaire was still fighting the choking hold of her tendrils, although he managed to gasp, “Look … again.”
Dalton shook her head but looked to the floor and saw the paperclips spilled there. Baronaire watched confusion come across her face as she fought the need to count them, and in that moment Baronaire yanked himself away from her smoky tendrils, lunged for her once more and punched her square in the jaw.
Dalton hissed from where she rose, standing in a crouch. “I offered you the world, Charles Baronaire. There are so few remaining of us, why do you turn it all away?”
“How many are there?”
“Not enough.”
“How many?”
“That I know of? Five in this country. I could create more, but if they’re fools they would run rampant, killing and creating at will. Our species needs to be contained, policed by our own. You are a police officer, you would be the perfect choice as king of our species.”
“Never wanted to be king of anything.”
“There’s still time to change your mind, Charles. Join me. Please.”
There was a pleading to her eyes now. The pleading of a lonely woman who had at last found a man to love. But Baronaire could not agree to her terms. He did not know what he was, but he was certain Dalton did not mean the country well. First and foremost Baronaire was an officer of the law, and he had a duty to his country. If Dalton meant his country ill he would have to arrest her, or take her down by any means necessary. It did not matter that she was of his own ilk; she was a villain. And he was the law.
“Come with me peacefully,” he told her. “I don’t trust Sanders, but once I explain you surrendered he won’t kill you. I promise you.”
Dalton laughed. “Surrender? Our kind does not surrender, Charles. You cavort with the enemy, you’ve gone native. This isn’t what you are, what you were created for. Jeremiah has vision, but lacks the will to put it to use. He is a lazy man, content to sit back and wait for you to do his work for him. I would be your equal, Charles. We could be soul-mates.”
“I thought you were my superior.”
“Only in power, never in ability.”
“Sorry, I have a purpose already. I protect this country from people like you.”
“You’re a fool.”
“Bite me.”
The door suddenly crashed in and DCI Sanders fell into the room. He raised his arm and there was a dull phut as his silencer removed the sound of his revolver’s shot. Dalton reeled as the bullet tore through her shoulder. Blood spattered the wall, far more than Baronaire would ever reveal were he wounded; but he knew with their kind the amount of blood they released was directly proportional to the quantity in their system already. And, judging by Dalton’s ever-moist lips alone, her body contained a whole lot of blood.
Dalton hissed once more, her eye-teeth glistening as she crouched, prowling about both men. “You shall regret this day, Charles Baronaire. It is never wise to make an enemy of our kind.”
“I regret not giving the relationship a go,” he told her, “but only because I’m curious how it would have worked. But I’m still an officer of the law, and always will be.”
“So be it. Until we meet again.” And, still looking directly at him, Dalton faded into oblivion, and a pure white mist drifted slowly through the slightly open window into the street outside.
“Damn,” Sanders said, shoving his gun into his trousers. “Worst aim I’ve ever had.”
Baronaire shrugged. “Maybe she made you miss.”
“Yeah. Maybe. Charles, what did she tell you?”
“About myself? Nothing. Not really. Is it worth asking you to clarify any of it?”
“Maybe one day. When you’re ready.”
“Maybe when she comes back to finish the job. She wants you dead, Ed. She thinks you’re a threat to her. To our kind.”
“That would be true.”
Baronaire accepted that. “Do you intend to kill me one day?”
“Intend to? No. But I’m more than ready to, Charles. Whenever you’re thinking of crossing the line, just remember I’ll be there to put you down for good.” He paused. “Were you tempted?”
“To go with her? Yes.”
“What stopped you?”
“I’m like you, Ed. I love this country too much. Besides, I’m not too sure I’m about ready to settle down quite yet. Who was she? I mean, really?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know she even existed, which is the worrying thing.”
“She said there were five of us. Me, her, Jeremiah. Who are the other two?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“But you do know who
they are?”
Sanders sighed. “Yes. Yes I do.”
“Is one of them Richard?”
Sanders was never a man to show his emotions or to react to external stimuli, and Baronaire was surprised at his palpable shock. “And you heard that name where?”
“Jeremiah mentioned it once. Said he used to know Richard a long time ago, but doesn’t know what happened to him.” He paused. “By your face I’m assuming Richard is alive and well.”
“Depends on your definition. I didn’t know Jeremiah had ever met Richard, so I owe you something for that information.”
“Good. What’s the name of the final member of my people?”
“Catherine. I give you a surname you might be able to find her, so that’s all you get.”
“Another woman?”
“I thought you weren’t ready to settle, Charles?”
“And Greyseed?”
“I told you, never heard of him.”
“You promise that?”
“What would I gain through lying?”
Baronaire did not know, but there was something in the way Sanders spoke and acted that made Baronaire not trust a thing he was saying. Sanders departed shortly after, saying he would send someone to fix the door and provide him with a new phone, but Baronaire was already thinking ahead. Whoever Greyseed was, he would have to wait. That Dalton was looking for him, looking to use him perhaps, was food for thought, but right now Baronaire had another name to investigate.