by G. K. Lund
We waited patiently for the little crowd to move before walking up the stairs. Our best bet was to wait in the library; find a place with a view outside and keep watch for Winter. Stalkers indeed.
“Look, they even splurged on extra security. I’m telling you, this is it.”
I looked at the men Peter indicated, a couple of big guys, not dressed in any uniform like one usually could spot in public places. They were paying close attention to everyone who passed them, as well as talking to a third man inside the archives. I could see the guy on the phone in there, keeping eye contact with one of the men outside.
“I guess they’re not taking any chances since the Grenade-man is still out there,” Peter continued.
I had to concede that such a place as the library was a perfect target if this person with a penchant for grenades decided he was not finished. The mere thought made me look down to avoid any concealed tripwires.
We managed to find an unoccupied table with a couple of chairs on the second floor. The position gave a clear view of the open area in front of the building. If Winter and his team were to show up here, we would see them long before he would notice us.
“So this is what life has become,” Peter said a couple of hours later as he returned from the little café on the ground floor with two cups of hot beverages. He put the one with hot chocolate in front of me, but I could smell the delicious coffee from the other cup even as Peter moved to the other side of the table. I had been good, keeping the habit at bay. Controlling an addiction was not something I had any prior experience with, and as I grabbed the hot chocolate and sipped the too sweet liquid, I had to admit I was glad it was coffee Old Ben had been addicted to and nothing worse.
“By all means,” I told Peter as I took another sip. Not only too sweet but too thick as well. “If you want to do something else – you’re free to go.”
Peter scoffed. “Considering you almost got in trouble at City Hall, I doubt that’s a good idea.”
He had a point. He was, despite his misgivings, better at navigating information and lies than I was. I had also noticed his increasingly negative tone as of late, probably a result of tiring of my plan, as well as the shock of Cury Square; but he was still here, helping me. Too bad he wasn’t helping the person he thought he was.
“Again, thanks for that. And besides, don’t you work when you want to?”
“Yes. And I like my job, which is why I want to work. You should do the same, you know. Get back into it. Your funds will not last forever, and—”
I lost track of what he was saying as a familiar face vanished and reappeared behind a bookshelf close to us. It was the woman from Cury Square, though her face was more relaxed now. From what I could see as books obscured and revealed her face, she was now not as focused as she had been, but there was a sense of alertness there. Still – she didn’t notice us. What had she done to the hand as I had tried to stop her from running straight for one of the grenades? There had been nothing in her hand at that point. No weapon or instrument of any kind to deliver that kind of pain.
I got up to talk to her and then saw a sign prohibiting beverages in that part of the library. I quickly put the cup down on the table, ignoring Peter’s interrupted sentence and questioning eyes, and ran after her.
She hadn’t gotten far, as she was walking with no apparent intent, strolling between the shelves, stroking a finger along the spines of some books here and there. She was dressed in jeans and a short brown jacket over a white shirt. Her thick hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Hey,” I said. “Um, Evy?”
She turned at her name, a frown on her face as she had not expected being talked to by anyone.
“Do you remember me?” I asked despite seeing that she did. That wasn’t really the issue I realized as her eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “You know… from the explosion,” I added helplessly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice low, guarded.
“It’s a library. Books,” I said. Not like I could tell her what I was really doing there.
“What a coincidence,” she said, folding her arms. “Did you follow me?”
“No, I don’t know who you are,” I said with absolute honesty. And besides, one stalker project at a time. “I just saw you. Are you hiding?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re deliberately keeping your voice down, and you keep checking out everyone who comes near.” It was true. She might have looked relaxed, but her eyes never rested. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had everyone locked down by size and proximity. In addition, her eyes kept returning to the large glass window a few feet down from where Peter and I were keeping watch.
“Listen…Ben, was it? I’m grateful for your help when those grenades went off, but please just—”
“Is it because of what you can do?” I asked bluntly. This time I didn’t berate the brain for sending the words from me. Better to be honest with someone so suspicious. Besides – I truly was curious. Except Param, Saphia and myself, and perhaps Sophie, I hadn’t met many who were, shall we say, different? In possession of certain gifts at least.
Evy, however, didn’t like this bluntness. She looked around first, making sure no one could hear her, before saying anything. “I don’t know what you mean. Now—”
That made me laugh, just enough to make it clear I didn’t believe her. But what a wonderful thing the body could do, despite the muscle contraction, it felt good. I couldn’t really remember having done that before. It made the mouth smile despite me.
“Please don’t,” I said as I gathered myself, Evy waiting with an indecipherable look on her face. “You did something to me when you didn’t realize I was trying to help you. Like an electric shock, but not quite, into the hand.” I held up said appendage for emphasis.
“Dude, shut up,” she half whispered between clenched teeth, gesturing with flat palms to stop me from saying more.
I didn’t care, but I did lower my voice. “So what is it you can do?”
Clearly, she didn’t want this broadcast around the library, but she looked more offended than worried – like it was rude to ask.
“Well,” I continued, seeing as I was in a way disarming her. She was not running away, was she? “It’s not an electric shock, is it? Because I’ve experienced that and it was way worse.”
“I…” she began and then remained rooted to the floor, mouth open.
I let the smile linger in encouragement.
“Was that all that happened to you?” she asked, and added, “It’s been a few days.”
I felt the smile falter on its own accord. “What do you mean? What do you do?”
“Damn it, Ben,” Peter broke in behind me. I turned to see him halfway behind one of the bookshelves. “What are you doing? He’s here.”
“I’m just talking to… wait, Winter’s here?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
Peter rolled his eyes in response and disappeared from sight.
“I have to go,” I mumbled to Evy as I headed after him. Her grip on the right arm prevented me from getting far.
“Winter? You mean Ward Winter? He’s arrived?”
“Yeah, were you expecting him?” That would mean she was also waiting for him. For what reason though? I was torn between running after Peter and remaining where I was to ask her more. Fortunately, she solved that by running past me, turning around the bookshelf where Peter had vanished.
“Hey, you’re the woman from Cury Square,” I heard Peter state as I caught up and saw them both by the window.
“Evy,” she said as way of explanation as she pressed her fingers to the glass, looking down.
“Where?” I demanded from Peter as I reached the window. I spotted the man before Peter could say anything. It was the same group of people as earlier, though there were more of them now. Winter had brought people with him from City Hall, as stated by Peter moments later.
“That’s the dep
uty mayor. I was right. They’ll be hosting it here.”
“Thought Painsworth was right,” I said, watching the group. The same easygoing attitude among them, though it was dampened somewhat as they walked past all the candles and flowers outside the building.
“Hey, give me some credit.”
“Fine, you were right.”
“Damn right I was,” Peter said, smiling.
Between us, I heard Evy draw breath as she looked down. Then a decisive look fell over her.
“Why are you looking for him?” I asked, convinced being blunt was the way to go with her. “And why are you waiting here to talk to him?”
“Why are the two of you?” she countered, not turning her attention away from what was happening below us.
“He’s impossible to get a hold of,” Peter said. “And we need his help.”
“You do?” her eyes darted between us now. Something in Peter’s words softened her a bit. Strange – the same thing had happened when I had told Saphia I needed Winter’s help. Like it was a given he could provide help to certain people.
“Because of what you can do, right?” I said before realizing Peter was right there. I saw him frown at the question.
Evy, thankfully, was looking at me, and not him at that point.
“You as well?”
I nodded, though I was not entirely sure I was telling the truth. By the look she gave me, it probably shone through.
“He is impossible to get to,” she said, watching the man ascend the short stairway leading up to the doors. “Closed himself off completely, except for people he knows personally.”
“Yeah,” I said, knowing full well I was the cause of that. Before I could say anything else, Evy inhaled sharply as her eyes widened. “What?” I said as I followed her gaze. The last of Winter’s and the deputy mayor’s group were disappearing below us as they filed into the library, but she was not looking at them. She was looking at the security men we had passed on our way in. They were paying no one outside any attention anymore. They were instead staring after the group of people who were entering the building. The third man, who had been in the archives when Peter and I arrived, pushed through the grieving crowd to reach his colleagues.
Evy looked terrified at the sight.
They were not security.
“Why are they after you?” I asked.
“What?” Peter began, as Evy shook her head and stepped back from the window. The men outside chose that moment to look up, before saying something and then heading into the building.
“What? Isn’t that why you’re trying to get Winter’s help?” she asked, eyes darting around, checking every crevice of the large space we were in. Noting exits.
“No,” I said and realized that was the wrong answer. She glanced at Peter and me again.
“Shit. Are you Yorov?”
“Who?” Peter said.
Evy didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she turned and headed out to the large gallery that snaked around each floor allowing a full view of the lobby downstairs.
I met Peter’s bewildered look before we both managed to move.
“Wait,” I whisper-shouted after Evy as she had a few feet on us already. “What do you mean?”
I caught up with her and grabbed her arm. I should have known better. Should have learned from Cury Square… but no. She whirled around and used her free hand to grab me, and sent the shock into the right arm again. It wasn’t quite a sting of pain, like an electric shock, more a slow sharp sizzle that numbed the hand a few seconds. To me, of course, it hurt badly.
“Mmmf,” I said through tight-pressed lips while trying to keep from shouting out loud. I didn’t want to scare off Winter by alerting him to my presence while he could leave so easily.
“What the hell are you?” Evy said, forgetting to free her arm from my lax grip as she stared at me.
“What’s going on?” Peter said, who, lucky for him, hadn’t been subjected to her treatment.
“Keep quiet,” Evy said, as she stared over the railing, seeing the large group down there with Winter and the deputy mayor talking to some sort of official belonging to this building. The three false security-men were following them at a distance while glancing around.
What the hell was Yorov? I glanced at Evy while trying to make sense of it all. The fading pain in the hand. An unfamiliar name.
“Who is Yorov?” I asked, knowing for certain it was important to me. To the real me. Heat spread from the core of the body into every part, feverish and fast. I longed for the outside to cool down. To manage to control this confused and weak…
After that things became blurry. It seemed I was looking at the ceiling as it moved. Hands bracing my fall?
It suddenly didn’t matter, as I was again standing. Not in the… I glanced around. Where had I been? I heard footsteps. What I saw around me now was only a metal staircase below and a door in front of me. Before I could think, Winter reached the top of the stairs. I jumped aside as he opened the door and went through. It wouldn’t have mattered if I had been in his way. He paid me no attention. No fear. Obviously, I was not there.
Again.
I looked down and realized the stairs were the ones where Olivia and I had fled from Saphia, where she had almost electrocuted us. I saw the thick rubber-edge protection on each step. A vision or memory of sorts had saved us then. I was not here for that now. I followed Winter into his office. It was dark, not easy to see, but the eyes adjusted. A large desk and chairs were to my right. Where Olivia had managed to free us. I shook the head. Without her, I wouldn’t still be in this form. If I had died, who knows what could have happened.
Winter headed straight for the couch placed adjacent to the secret door in the wall. As the door snapped shut the only lights came from the emergency exit sign outside the office. A weak green light not lighting up much more than its own whereabouts. Winter paid no attention to any of this. He was gathering papers that were strewn on the coffee table, stacking them together in a neat pile. The low sound of the papers was all Okanov needed to ascend the stairs unheard. As the door opened I knew it was him. Had only seen him so far on surveillance tapes, but we had spent a cold morning on the same riverbank. He had naturally been more dead than me. At least most of the time. From what I could see now, he was tall and broad-shouldered. I knew his hair was light colored but not much more.
The momentary light before the door shut again alerted Winter. He must have thought it was someone he knew because he finished his task too slowly, and began turning too late. I knew this with certainty as I knew he had been attacked this night. It was what had caused Saphia to make the wrong choice. To have Okanov killed. Despite knowing this, knowing what was about to happen, I realized something was not as Olivia had told me. The tingling began in the neck again, before it spread to the head. The sensation exploded there, the feeling like the brain had fallen asleep and blood was again flowing.
Something was very wrong here.
And it happened fast and with precision.
Whatever defense skills Winter had, and for a moment it looked like he did have some, Okanov was faster and had the momentum of surprise. An underhanded fist connected with Winter’s stomach, a strike that should not have made the man crouch like that. A grunt escaped him, but no other sound. Okanov didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Winter’s neck and struck again, against the man’s shoulders; again and again. Winter’s legs buckled under him and he fell hard to the floor, a thin carpet the only thing breaking his fall. Okanov didn’t relent, and I realized he was using a knife, stabbing Winter with every strike. The man tried getting up, but his hands slipped in his own blood before he collapsed. The last strike of the knife caused no more pain.
Okanov straightened up at this, breathing hard. I could discern nothing from his shaded face, but it seemed he was waiting for something. Whatever it was, he never had time for it. A scream pierced through the multiple glass walls in the office space. I looked in the direction of Saphia’s office a
nd saw a figure over there. I could see no details, but I knew it was her. This was what had caused her inevitable fall.
Okanov didn’t hesitate no matter what he was waiting for. He retreated to the door, the flash of light revealing a crimson shroud around the lifeless Winter on the floor.
Then the door closed behind the attacker, and I saw Saphia running the other way. To recruit Alwin Cooper no doubt. An impulsive decision that would ruin both their lives.
But Winter remained lifeless on the floor. Brutally stabbed, yet I knew that was not what had happened. That was not what I’d been told. What Olivia had been told. And yet here I stood, looking at proof of something else. I walked closer to him, the blood not moving despite my stepping in it. The sensation in the head had subsided by now. He was dead. I was sure of it. His head was turned, his right cheek lay in the blood. His eyes wide open, mouth as well. No sound of breathing. Several wounds to his shoulders and back, placed in the vicinity of vital organs. It was all the details I could ascertain in the dim light.
He was dead.
I straightened up and looked around. The rest of the floor was empty. There was no one there to help him. He was beyond that of course, but I couldn’t see an answer to this.
Then a new sensation ran through me, and though it felt like it came from me, just like the sensations in the head, it was also outside me. Like something nearby channeling through me.
Fury.
Pure fury. I couldn’t even call it anger. The feeling that coursed through me was furious at something that felt unsound. Something I knew to be wrong, and I couldn’t do anything about it. It went against everything that was right, and I wanted nothing more than to squash it. I could feel the muscles under the skin tighten, the fists clenching, eyes narrowed and focused. I wanted to scream out the anger, but no sound came.
Except one.
Though not from me.
A gasp of air. An arm moving involuntarily – flailing on the floor, pushing at the blood, making the already large pool of it wider.