by G. K. Lund
“What did you do?” Barber repeated.
“We don’t need to stay here any longer,” she said to me and I nodded as she went and knocked on the door.
I stood up and then leaned forward toward Barber, and smiled. “You and I will meet again one day. Don’t disappoint me. It will be a long time from now.” The man’s whole body froze and I could see my own face reflected in his wide-open eyes; such a human face, with the cold white eyes of the true me.
I blinked, straightened up and smiled at the petrified and confused man. Soon he would have other worries than what he may or may not have seen in that room. Soon the burden bestowed upon him by Evy would threaten to drown him.
I followed Evy out the door and noticed the silent question the warden sent her as their eyes met. She only nodded in silence and kept walking. I, on the other hand, stopped next to Formosa and met his sleep-deprived, reddened eyes. “You should put him on suicide watch,” I told him with a whisper so the guards wouldn’t hear.
“What did you do?” Barber screamed from the other room.
This time Formosa was the one who nodded before I followed Evy out into the cold night. A cloud-free night sky with stars and a slim waning moon greeted us and promised a sunny day to come.
Epilogue
The security guard was busy chatting with the woman working behind the counter, but despite his distracted mind, I could see his eyes sweeping over the restaurant now and then. He didn’t see me. I could see his gaze passing me, but nothing registered as he returned his attention to the woman who seemed a little tired of the chat. I forced back a satisfied smile so as not to lose my focus and continued walking through the restaurant, close to the wall and out of anyone’s way. The lunch hour was nearly over, but there were still a few people in there as half the tables were occupied. The mingled smells of food were oddly pleasant even though I couldn’t separate them from each other. There were clinks of glasses as deals were toasted or coffee cups simply put down on their saucers. The low chatter was a comfortable noise that faded into the background. The restaurant, Bellerophon, was situated in Charton and sported a business clientele, especially during the day. I had been here a few times by now to orient myself and the suits were more than common, almost expected in there. Not that anyone noticed my jeans, shirt and casual jacket. No, I moved unnoticed, my little trick ever so practical, as I headed for the shaded terrace, cloaked by the dark obscurity that protected me from unwanted attention.
Outside I lost track of the sun as a large red awning covered the terrace. Around the railing grew flowers that prevented people on the street from looking in as the terrace was placed half a floor above street level. I quickly saw the table I was after and made a beeline for it. A couple sat at a table nearer the entrance, but no one out there paid me any heed. Not even Winter, who I knew could spot me if he tried.
But he didn’t. He sat at a table close to the railing as he wrote in a leather-bound notebook while listening to something on his phone via a pair of earbuds. He had a large coffee cup by his side with a latte or such in it. I knew, by now, that he often had lunch meetings here, and that he preferred spending half an hour or so afterward on his own, working with whatever occupied him. I didn’t really care. What concerned me, was the fact that it was easier to get close to him here. Especially now that I could control my little trick so as to walk around mostly unnoticed. So I did.
“Hello,” I said casually and smiled as I sat down in the chair opposite him and simultaneously let go of the obscurity around me.
Winter, who had just bitten into a tiny square of a brownie, was so startled he swallowed wrong and began coughing as he dropped the little cake on the floor. Not once, as his body crouched due to the coughing fit, did he take his surprised eyes off me.
I took this with ease, knowing his security would not come out as he had seen no one suspicious – me – go through to the terrace. I bent forward and pushed the coffee cup toward Winter, all the while smiling. It was the only thing to drink left on the table.
“You should drink,” I said as he managed a sort of questioning look amidst his battling breathing and eating tubes. Such silly things to have near each other. “If you choke to death this will take so much more time,” I continued and leaned back in the chair. “Your security is busy, but if I have to wait for you to come back again, he might show up before I’m done.”
Winter yanked the earbuds free and then grabbed the coffee cup before he drank, soothing his aching throat. I had no doubt he had heard everything I said. I waited patiently as this particular swill of coffee did the trick. It smelled good, but it was not to my taste.
“Better?” I asked as he put the half-empty cup down.
“Fuck you,” he croaked while clearing his throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“In this restaurant? Or in general? Because I think you know the answer to the latter.”
He quieted at that and stared blankly at me. Whatever he was thinking was to remain hidden. Not that it mattered to me.
“What do you want?” he finally asked, like any other person who asked questions they wanted different answers to.
“You know who I am.” It came out as a statement, and I saw him give a short and strained nod. He looked alert; paid attention to everything I said and did. “I knew you did the moment you first saw me. When Saphia tried to kill Olivia and me.” A flicker of… something trickled across his eyes at this. “The funny thing is, I had no idea. Couldn’t remember. Did you know that?”
Winter swallowed as he nodded. He was holding on to the armrests of his chair now, and he looked like he would bolt at any moment, and yet, he remained where he was. He was afraid, alert and uncertain about all this, yes, but petrified? No. Maybe he had seen too much over the years. There had been so many of them.
“You and Mr. Klein – Peter. You both tried contacting me. I thought you were lying.”
“No. That wasn’t a lie. I needed your help. See, Param? He recognized me, but couldn’t remember from where. I understand now though. I must have severed his connection a few times, and he remembers dying, doesn’t he?”
“Stay away from him,” Winter said, voice level.
“I have no interest in him,” I assured Winter. “He may be a fluke in the way of things as he puts it, but he does what he’s supposed to. Unlike you.”
“Go to hell.”
“I don’t know about any of that,” I said earnestly. “But I know that you are an aberration. When the detachment happens, you do not come back.” I leaned forward without thinking at this, felt the furious wrath that had overcome me as I experienced the visions of his most recent deaths. It was not right. It went against everything that was me; my purpose.
“And what is this?” he asked, finally managing to do something other than simply react. “Is not you taking over a poor bastard’s body wrong?”
“Ben Reed did what you refuse to. He went when his time came.”
“You did that?” he indicated what had once been Old Ben’s body with a hand gesture, “Just to get me?”
“I did this to stop the seemingly never-ending cycle of a man who refuses to keep to the rules and stay dead.” I remembered the curiosity I had felt at the sight of Old Ben before his death. It had awakened something in me, but I kept silent about that.
Winter’s eyes betrayed him as he looked around.
“Your security guard suffers from a case of unrequited affection that he’s too blind to notice,” I told him.
“So you’re here to kill me?”
I scoffed and smiled. “You’re the second person to ask me that in a week.” Whatever deal Winter had helped facilitate with the prison didn’t make up for this. It would never be enough. I had accepted the help through others, because the damn human instincts demanded I do something, but that was not a mitigating factor now.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I am perfectly reasonable, so I have come here today to tell you to make this right o
n your own—”
“Make it right?”
“Exactly. Make it right or you’ll force my hand.”
“That sounds like a threat, Mr. Reed.” He said the name with a sneer that indicated the name in itself was an insult. Whether to me, him or Old Ben I had no idea.
“Of course it is,” I agreed. “Threat, promise, obligation, duty – all of it.” I stood up then. “There’s nothing more to say,” I told him. “You know what my purpose is.”
I didn’t stay to see if he had anything to add to that. I didn’t care. Refused the treacherous human thoughts that swirled in my mind, interfering with my true purpose; thoughts that protested as this was not how people manage life and others around them. Instead, I pushed such things away and pulled the concealing obscurity around me, shielding myself from any doubt within me, as well as onlookers as I left the terrace, not caring that Winter could still see me.
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Author’s note
This book touches upon suicide, a difficult subject for many that is not to be taken lightly. If you are struggling, please don’t give up hope; and know that help is no more than a quick web search away.
The Grenade-man
The Grenade-man in this book is based on real-life events. In the spring of 1965 in Oslo, Norway, someone set out grenade traps around the city. Luckily, no one was ever killed. The guilty person was never caught, though there was a viable suspect. I’ve adapted some of these events into this book, though in a more damaging capacity, where, luckily, the guilty person is caught… because fiction is awesome that way.
Also by G.K. Lund
Urban Fantasy
Ashdale Reaper Series:
Deadly Awakening #1
Grave Intent #2
Paranormal Romance (New Adult)
Ashport Mender Series:
Outsider #1
Mender #2
Collapse #3
Historical Urban Fantasy
Avarice
(Free book. Get it here! )
About the Author
G.K. Lund writes fantasy and is the author of the Ashdale Reaper Series and the Ashport Mender Series. G.K. holds a BA in Medieval Studies and an MA in Archeology, and will probably have to put an archeologist into a story one day. Until then, potty-mouthed and kickass characters with other jobs will have to face high stakes and save the day.
Connect with G.K. Lund
www.gklundwrites.com
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Copyright © 2018 by G.K. Lund.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Northern Quill Press
ISBN: 978-82-93663-13-3
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Edited by Helen Baggott and N. Hall
Grave Intent/ G.K. Lund, 1st. ed.
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