“Well, he’s gone, so now what?”
“Oh, I’m on him now,” Scythe said. “And, since he thinks he’s hidden, there’s a greater chance I’ll find something. The first step is paying a visit to the older Phillip, whose very position there may have created an opening for our friend here. He’s still at home, or at least he was tonight, which tells me that no one is concerned about us suspecting him. So tomorrow, early, we pay him a visit.”
Ian nodded and said, “Sounds good. How did you know he was home tonight?”
“He messaged his granddaughter from his home at 8:35. Here’s what I’ve got so far. First case scenario: the young guy is just some innocent guy who was overlooked in the record keeping. Second: he is some kind of baddie, a spy, whatever, and the information that he was involved was taken from all the records by someone who knows what they are doing. I saw no evidence of tampering, but, just in case, I’ve already got someone on that lead. Third: he doesn’t exist and this was planted to entrap us again or throw us off.”
Ian shook his head, “Holy crap, you think that’s possible? That’s pretty involved…”
“I think it is the least likely scenario of the three, because, if it’s true, then they somehow know I specifically am working on the case. The information was the only piece I found and it was really well hidden. I can only think of one or two other people who would have found it. No one would put something that deep unless they knew how thorough I am and what type of access I have. Since it is unlikely that they knew I would be assigned to this case, especially since I didn’t know myself until days ago, there is a very good chance that the journal entry is real.
“On the other hand, their last trap went very smoothly, without a hint until it was sprung. These guys are smart, well prepared, well funded, and I think have access to and maybe control over pertinent information, so it’s better to not underestimate them.”
Ian raised an eyebrow at the small, appreciative grin that was playing again at the corner of Scythe’s mouth. “Why does that make me nervous, but it seems like you are getting more excited?”
“Honestly, Ian?” When Ian nodded after a brief hesitation, he answered frankly, “Because, while you may want them, your main concern is returning home to your wife with your daughter. My concerns are not usually divided.”
“But they are this time?”
Scythe answered curtly, “Of course they are, and it’s really pissing me off. So, I’m extra motivated to get this done quick.”
“Well, that’s a relief at least,” Ian said in a mildly sarcastic tone that Scythe hadn’t heard in years.
The answer surprised him, and so did the way something in Ian’s voice, or grin, or change in posture made a tiny chill shoot down the front of his chest. He asked, “Why?”
Smiling at Scythe’s reaction, Ian said, “You’re not as apathetic as you act,”
“Humph,” Refusing to take the bait, Scythe shut down his computer and encouraged Ian to move back around the desk with the smallest of looks. Then he stood, stretched, and gathered up his things. “Let’s go ask Mercy if she saw this guy.”
“Fine,” Ian said, leading the way out and remembering what it was that brought him to the office in the first place, “but, let me be clear about one thing, Scythe, before we see her. Those deaths were caused by the people who laid the trap and set off the bombs, not by my daughter.”
“That is true,” said Scythe. “I never said otherwise.”
“And that includes our friend Grant.”
“Yes.” When Ian continued to look at him, Scythe sighed and said, “I never said she killed them, Ian. I agreed that he wouldn’t have been there if it hadn’t been for the actions she took after seeing her vision. If you are going to insist that she isn’t responsible for what she does with her ‘dreams,’ then we are going to have to agree to disagree.”
“You said she endangered him,” he insisted.
Scythe nodded, “I did. She endangered him, herself, and now you. Would you be here right now, on this mission, if it weren’t for her?” When Ian didn’t respond, he continued, “Probably not. This isn’t anywhere close to Menelaus, nor does it require your particular talents. But, most importantly, because of the level of risk, this is a volunteer only assignment, the type of mission neither you nor Faith has signed up for since Mercy was born. Ian, if you or she dies out here, which is a real possibility with the people we’re after, it will be because she called Grant five weeks ago. She didn’t call you, because she knew you would never let her go, but Grant, who she could manipulate into getting the authorization she needed. You need to stop kidding yourself, Ian. She’s not a child.”
“I know that,” Ian said, quietly now that they were in a portion of the building that was more heavily populated, “but, no matter what the Kin think about teenagers, she isn’t an adult yet, either, so…”
“That is clear,” Scythe agreed, not bothering to lower his voice. He knew, as did Ian, that any Kin around would hear them without straining even if they were whispering, but he was used to the Human habit of conveniently forgetting how acute Kin senses were. Since it was one of the basic fears that Humans had of them, he let it go without comment. “Her maturity is typical Human teenager, but she is as manipulative as any adult.” When he saw that Ian wasn’t grasping what he was saying, he asked, “Have you figured out how she forged your permission?”
“She just electronically signed it.” Ian frowned when he saw Scythe’s expression, “What?”
“She used your border patrol password from the house to reroute your work email from the server to a newly created outside account for the day. The border patrol accepted the forged permission she had sent over for the assignment, but then sent three messages to you: two verifying your permission and a personal one came from Grant. Each would have made it to you in the field, but now went to the outside account. She responded to each as you, which got the final authorization pushed through, and then, remotely after she had already been deployed, rerouted the work email again and deleted the fake account. It was a tidy piece of work for anyone, not to mention a fourteen year old.”
“I had no idea she had gone that far…How did you know?”
“There are records and trails everywhere, if you know where to find them.” They had reached the courtyard and Scythe frowned at what he saw there.
Mercy was looking much better than she had just a short time ago. She had regained some weight and her color was back to normal. It was beginning to look like she had recovered too well, because she sat talking with animated gestures to a tall, dark Kin woman at one of the many tables set up in Huran’s makeshift common eating area.
“Not really,” Mercy’s cheerful voice carried easily to them. “It was always that way, from the beginning. Well, not the very beginning, since it didn’t happen until I was about nine…”
“Mercy,” Ian said sharply, “it's late.” He addressed the woman, “Please excuse the interruption, but I’m afraid we need to turn in for the evening.”
“It is no inconvenience,” the woman said congenially, waving her hand. “We are both stationed here so I am sure we’ll have plenty of time to chat.” She stood, bowed her head and greeted them, “Mr. Ian Young. Agent Scythe.”
“Mistress Temper,” Scythe said, lowering his head as well. “I was pleased to hear that you were assigned to this operation.”
She smiled, accepting the compliment. “Temper is fine, Scythe. I do my best, but then, so do all my associates.”
“Yes, but this enemy is a crafty one. We will benefit from the many skills that you bring to the mission.” Like all field agents, she had a general level of combat training, but her greater gifts were her intelligence and intuition; she often contributed to the strategic aspects of the assignment. As a Watcher, she was perceptive, insightful, and, as far as Scythe had seen, as unbiased and unwavering in her judgments as possible; there was no question of her reporting completely and honestly on whatever she witnessed.
“I thank you. We’ve been having a very enlightening discussion that might interest you.”
Scythe kept his eyes on Temper. At his side, Ian’s heart began to beat even faster. He asked. “About what?”
She smiled, genuinely pleased, “About our mysterious Scythe.”
He blinked, startled. His own heart jumped a little, which made her smile wider. “About me?”
“Oh, yes. Her perspective is helping me fill in so many of the holes in my understanding of you.”
“I prefer that you do not speak with her about our past together, unless it pertains to your mission,” he said bluntly in Kin.
“That I can promise. Imagine how pleased I am to find that much of your past pertains directly to my assignment,” she answered in their language.
“Please do not interrogate my daughter unless I am present. This is a basic parental right,” interrupted Ian in Human, his hand on the shoulder of an increasingly anxious Mercy.
“Oh, I wasn’t interrogating her, Ian Young. She was merely telling me how much she adored her Uncle Scythe as a child. I asked very little, isn’t that right, Mercy?”
“We didn’t do anything wrong, Dad. We were only talking about our family and how special Scythe was to us.” She spoke quickly, her hand reaching up to cover her father’s.
“Yes, it was nothing vital, I promise. Sweet Mercy hasn’t disclosed any family secrets, if that is what you are worrying about. I did hear, however, about Scythe carrying her around on his shoulders and playing tea party.” She placed her hand on Mercy’s other shoulder, imploring, “Please, do not discipline the child. I have heard that Human parents can be excessively strict with their children. I would hate for her to suffer because she relayed the story of serving cookies to stuffed bears and dollies in yellow dresses...and our fearsome Scythe.” Her eyes twinkled. “I will excuse myself now, if you don’t mind. Until the morning light wakes us, friends.”
“Temper,” Scythe bowed politely and then turned back to Ian and his daughter. He took in the way their hands were intertwined on Mercy’s shoulder, glowing with power. Mercy looked through Scythe, her mind elsewhere; she nodded fractionally at something her father had communicated to her silently. “I think we should continue our discussion in the morning, Ian. Let’s call it a night.” He frowned minutely when Ian reached a ribbon out to him.
Ian retracted the ribbon and said, “All right. We’ll talk in the morning. What time?”
“Four.” Scythe ignored Ian’s choking protest and left them, quickly going to the room he shared with the Kin contingent. He grabbed what he needed and headed to the showers.
The four nearest restrooms had been hurriedly converted into full bathrooms, with two showers installed in each one. Scythe was glad that, as predicted so late at night, there was no wait for the showers like there had been in the daylight hours. He let the hot water run over him longer than he usually did, enjoying the relaxing effect it had on his stiff body. As much as his life was often dangerous, he had been through more stressful situations in the last week than he had in months. He shrugged his shoulders, and stretched and loosened the muscles in his neck.
This is what it had been like for him before: constantly watching over not only himself, but everyone around him. First just a few, and then more and more people. He was constantly worrying, until it made him sick. Then, they came for him and wanted him to be their dog; to force him, they held the lives of those he loved hostage. Miraculously, he was able to weasel his way out of it, but the event had left its mark on him. In an amazing turn of luck, he was offered another path, one of semi independence, and he had taken it; being isolated was part of that bargain, an aspect that turned out to have more benefits than drawbacks for a halfblood. Not once had he regretted his choice and now that his past encroached on him again, he clearly appreciated how wise he had been. Nothing was worth the endless strife.
Thinking about his past brought to mind questions about Mercy’s path, as well as the memory of her smiling at Temper and then turning, her eyes sparkling when she saw them crossing the courtyard. He slammed the water valve shut. Fortunately, like so many others, her life was not his responsibility to safeguard.
Chapter 8
“This is our ride?” Ian asked. “Isn’t there anything bigger?”
“Get on,” Scythe said, turning on the motorcycle. It was his preferred method of transportation on assignments: fast, maneuverable, and free.
“Or warmer?” Ian complained, settling in behind Scythe and hunting for footrests. The night was still pitch black and his breath hung in the air.
“Your daughter spent four days in a freezer, Ian. Suck it up.” Scythe reached back and pulled a thermal hat out of one of the compartments. “Here.”
“Thanks, and you don’t need to remind me about that; trust me, it’s etched on my brain. Holy crap! This thing is on?” He looked down at the sleek sides of the black machine, finally noticing that it lacked some of the typical components of motorcycles frequently used by Humans in the city.
“Yeah, nice, isn’t it?” Scythe said. “Helmet,” he prompted before putting it into gear and pulling out of the garage. The bike was one of the newest electric models, fast and nearly silent. His arrangement with the Scere L’Hedeler stipulated that, as an independent agent, he be paid generously for each assignment. Since he was constantly working and had few living expenses, he was able to easily afford the most advanced equipment available; his bike was just one of the many tools which allowed him to perform above the level of those with lesser means.
“I spoke with Mercy. Can we talk safely on these things?” Ian asked through the helmet microphone.
“Yeah. Did she know Phillip?” Scythe asked.
“She did. She said he was older than her but not 'real old,' which to a teenager is about twenty-two. The old guy had been there for a while, but had recently gotten ill, so his grandson was filling in for him. That’s our guy. He’d only been there a few days before Mercy and Grant joined the unit.”
“Phillip does have a grandson on record, but the age isn’t right.”
“She said he seemed sweet. Actually, she said he was cute, if you can believe it. I can’t believe I have a teenage daughter who is attracted to terrorists. That’s got to be something from her mother’s side of the family...”
“Ian, try to focus, will you? Did she have any idea why he wouldn’t be in any of the records?”
“Sorry. Um, no. I don’t think she would have paid much attention to something like that. She didn’t notice anything strange or exceptional about him.”
“Was he there on the day they went to the warehouse?”
“No. He just ran errands for them at their base in the bordertown, Juniper. That morning was their last there. They were moving to another location that evening; they just stopped at the warehouse for a quick inspection on the way. I got the feeling that he was mostly insignificant.”
“Well, this whole thing may be nothing. Most of the time, way over seventy percent of the time, things like this are just innocuous threads that have nothing to do with who I’m hunting. But, the only way to find the real leads is by eliminating all the false ones, so here we are.”
“Gotcha.”
“Ian, can I ask you about your power?”
“Sure, what?”
“That shield you can make, how far does it extend, and how long can you maintain it?”
“Well, let’s see. That depends on how big it is. After my hospitalization with the Eler thing, it is not a great as it used to be…”
“I didn’t know that. Why is that?”
“I’m not sure. I was injured pretty badly, as you know, and I didn’t recover to my full strength. It's not just my power; my stamina is lower as well, and my focus is weaker.”
“And you’re old now, too, which doesn’t help.”
“Punk.”
Scythe grinned, taking a right at the crossroads. They had only passed one other vehicle on the road, a
large delivery truck that smelled strongly of livestock. Other than that, the roads were deserted. It was neither harvest nor planting season, so few people were working the long days that required travel in the early morning.
He continued, “But you can still do it, right?”
“Yeah, let’s see. I can only reliably produce a dome shield about five feet or so in diameter; I can probably do it for a good three minutes, before I’d have to rest for a short time. That’s just a guess. I don’t really have to do it that much anymore. No halfbloods to search for in drug lord compounds for me these days.”
“Could you cover us both on this bike? Say, if we were shot at?”
He thought about it for a moment, “I could, if I knew enough in advance to put it up.”
“How much in advance?”
“A few seconds. Definitely not after it was fired. No one is that good.”
Scythe nodded. “Can Mercy do it?”
Ian shifted a little before answering, “No, she’s just got the ribbons and she mostly can just talk through them.”
His tone told Scythe that Ian wasn’t completely honest about that. Hmm.
“You think she’ll develop more advanced uses for them later; is that what happened to you?”
“I don’t know what she’ll develop; as for me, I spent my teen years hiding the ability from everyone and even from myself, so it’s hard to know how it should have developed. Right now, she is way behind what I can do, but ahead of what I could to at her age.”
Halfblood Journey Page 11