by Declan Finn
Chapter 26: Apology Accepted
March 14th, 2094
Kevin Anderson sat across from Shen Lo, Tong Lieutenant, and didn’t mind hanging out in his kitchen.
Shen was about Kevin’s age, but damn, did the Tong man feel younger. Sure, Shen had lived through the April Fool’s war, and all the initial conflicts in San Francisco after society fell to pieces. But there were days that Kevin thought that he was having drinks with a younger brother. It was possible that Shen had never had to kill anyone before, which would be odd, but not impossible. Kevin didn’t remember “making one’s bones” being as emphasized in Tong culture as in any other mafia on the face of the planet. Then again, it wasn’t as if the Tongs were as traditionally bloodthirsty as anything with the label of “mafia.” They were more into money than anything else.
Shen Lo was about average height with an athletic build covered up by heavy jackets. His only standout feature were his eyes—one was black, the other brown.
Shen had decided to have tea with Kevin in his apartment, as though their last conversation – the one Kevin thought of as “find the killer or face exile” – had never happened.
I guess that’s one way of saying he’s sorry, Kevin thought. After all, they were both sort-of friends, but work friends.
They both sat at the island in Kevin’s kitchen. It was cluttered with the latest improvised explosives Kevin had been working on, but he had cleared off enough space for the tea set Shen had giving him last year as a "housewarming" gift.
Kevin thought that Shen had acted preemptively, figuring that the only way he would get tea at Kevin’s would be if Shen had brought it himself. A perfectly accurate assessment.
“I still have trouble believing that the killer was just some random psychopath,” Kevin explaned.
“Sociopath. Not psychopath.”
Shen arched a brow. “There’s a difference?”
“Psychopaths have problems with reality. There’s something functionally abnormal about them. Schizophrenics have something chemically wrong in the brain, multiple personalities are usually the mind’s way of protecting against trauma. That sort of thing. It’s in the name, psycho-path, mind disease. Sociopath? Disease on society.”
Shen chuckled. “In other words, a psychopath is his own problem, a sociopath is our problem.”
Kevin shrugged. “More or less. While psychopaths come in a variety of flavors, sociopaths are usually just people who have no concept of really dealing with other people. They lack conscience, and they usually don’t make normal connections with other people. When they’re close with other people, sociopaths generally see those people as an extension of themselves. However, last time I checked, there are so many flavors of sociopath that I can’t even keep track of them anymore.” He raised his teacup as though toasting Shen. “Basically, if you scare a psychologist, you’re probably labeled a sociopath.” He took a sip.
Shen smirked. “That makes most of San Francisco sociopaths.”
“If anyone was on a shrink’s couch? Undoubtedly. The definition used to be that you lacked a conscience in general. Now if you feel nothing about killing someone like, I don’t know, the enemy, you can have the label smacked on you.” He chuckled. “Which makes everyone I ever trained with a sociopath.”
Shen rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. “Indeed. With the serial killer, do we know what his problem was?”
“Nope. Don’t care, either,” Kevin stately casually. “A lot of them have some sort of parental issues, and either kill their parents first or last. Some just decide that the easiest way to get off is to kill people. One of them, a guy named Dahmer, was an upper-middle class, white gay cannibal pederast. He had no real unusual problems, but he started drinking at 14, and killed someone at 18.” He shrugged. “Like I said, some people just get off on it.”
Shen sighed. “At least the sociopath who isn’t on our side is dead, and the ones who are, still live.”
Kevin smiled. “Heh. Amen to that.”
***
Kevin had escorted Shen Lo to the bright lights of the streets of San Francisco. Shen had never asked what Kevin had done to the hallway, but no one had ever wanted to find out.
“If you want, I’d be happy to walk you home,” Kevin said.
Shen arched a brow. “Really, Kevin? Are you feeling all right?”
Kevin blinked. “Oh, probably not.”
Shen gave him a sly smile. “Are you thinking of walking someone else home sometime?”
Kevin’s brow mirrored Shen’s. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve heard a few rumors about you and a certain woman who usually hangs out in the embarcadero.”
“If you are referring to Nevaeh Kraft, she was just helping me with the serial killer case. Research into possible suspects.”
“Considering he’s been dead for about a week now, there’s only so much time that goes by before it goes from consultation to personal relationship.”
“Yet you and I still talk to each other. Are you telling me something, Shen?”
Shen chuckled. “Last time I checked, we were both straight.”
Kevin grinned. “If you say so, buddy.”
Shen rolled his eyes and tried to punch Kevin in the arm. Kevin parried it, knocked it aside with his other arm, then pinned the arm down, the other arm up and cocked for a punch. “Fine, don’t kiss and tell. But I’ll prove you’re human one of these days, Anderson. Next time!” He chuckled once more. “It’s not like you need to protect her. She wouldn’t be your weak spot. In fact, you’d be hers.”
Kevin blinked at that. “Really? How do you figure?”
“Everyone in San Francisco knows that you don’t mess with Nevaeh Kraft unless you want to die in a horrible, horrible fashion.” He gave Kevin a short wave as he walked away.
Kevin smiled, a warm feeling inside him. It was strange, she did that to him a lot. He wasn’t entirely certain what did it to him. Her company? Probably. But why was he constantly eying her long neck? The curve of her cheekbones? Or her lips when she smiled at him?
Damnit, Kevin, get a grip. Preferably on someone’s neck. Go hunting, you’ll feel better.
Kevin looked around the street once before he headed back to the apartment, and was about to head up when he heard some distinctive footfalls. They sounded like high heels.
Kevin turned towards the sound and forced himself to relax. “Hello Kaye.”
The short redhead turned the corner as he said it. The morally challenged beauty blinked. Her green eyes filled with confusion, and she cocked her head. “How did you know it was me?” Kaye Wellering asked.
Kevin shrugged. “I know only one person in all of San Francisco who wears high heels.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I didn’t know Nevaeh Kraft wasn’t a shoe person. I’ll have to remember that if I ever need her again.”
He considered it a moment, and decided it was not a threat to Nevaeh. Despite Shen’s statement about how no one would be dumb enough to go after her, Kaye was the one person in the city who could kill by remote control. In fact, if Kaye could kill by sending out a memo, Kevin wouldn’t have been in the least bit surprised. However, if Kaye was going to issue threats, she would have been more subtle about it. She was the sharp paring knife to the kidney, not the hammer to the forehead.
“Here to apologize?” he asked.
Kaye blinked, and her confusion really deepened. “Apologize? For what?”
Kevin gave an amused little smile. “Oh, I don’t know. How about the part where you suggested to the Tongs that they throw me out if I didn’t stop the serial killer?”
Kaye laughed. “Oh, Kevin, that wasn’t a serious threat. I just wanted you to know that these things happen. If you weren’t encouraged to find the killer, you know your position would have been threatened.”
Kaye touched Kevin on the arm like he was an old friend, lover, or both. Kevin did his best, and refused to cringe. “With or without me, that ultimatum was coming. I ju
st had to give it a little nudge. And not much of one, either.” She noted how he didn’t respond to her at all. She gave a Gallic shrug, and said, “These threats are going to keep coming, Kevin. You’re going to work for me one way or another. It won’t matter how many gangs the Tongs kill for you, it won’t equal an apology.”
Kevin blinked, but tried to make it look natural. What gangs? “Yes, but it’s as close to a gift as one can give in San Francisco.”
“Hmm. Indeed,” Kaye muttered. It was obvious she didn’t like that Kevin wasn’t easily manipulated. “I suppose that Shen’s people might see it as a vacation for you, but come now. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give you a girlfriend or something?”
Kevin tossed his hands up – not very far, only to shoulder level. “What can I say? Haven’t found the right girl yet. I’m sure they’ll give me a personality profile one of these days, and I’ll end up with a ’perfect match’ on my doorstep.” Though of all the booby traps he had in front of his door, and the fire escape. “So to speak.”
Kaye raised a brow and smiled. “Well, if that’s all it takes, I’ll having my people start profiling you immediately.”
“Does everyone have to take me literally in this city?”
Kaye laughed. “Pretty much.” She gave out a sigh, as though Kevin were trying her patience so much with his resistance. He half-expected her to tap her foot on the sidewalk and calmly explain to him why he was acting childishly, and selfishly, and a few other patronizing sayings from the parenting handbook.
Kevin blinked again. This time, she picked up on it. “Yes?”
Kevin cocked his head at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very mature and stable for your age?”
Kaye started. “No. Not really. What makes you say that?”
“You can’t be older than I am,” Kevin explained, “and people are usually taken aback at how mature I am – yes, I know, standards are so low these days. I can only imagine how most people react to you.” That sounds better than saying she feels like a tired, exasperated parent.
Kaye opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it, then gave him a little smile. “Indeed. You know what, Lieutenant Anderson? I think I’m going to let you have a good night.”
He blinked a few times, wondering what she meant by that. Kaye leaned to one side, looking around him, and gave a little wave. “Have a good night, Nevaeh.”
Kevin started and turned, and sure enough, Nevaeh stood not two meters behind him. “Um, hi.”
“Hi.”
“New girl?” she teased.
He blinked, looked over his shoulder, and made certain that Kaye was around the corner. Did that mean she’s also out of earshot? he wondered. His voice dropped to a whisper, and he said, “Kaye? Hell no.”
Nevaeh rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm. “Moron,” she said with a smile. “I know that. Lighten up.”
“Funny enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“I’m sure.”
“I mean the first person tonight.” He shook his head. “Not to mention, it feels like everyone wants to talk with me today.”
“Really?” Nevaeh pursed her lips.
Damn, she has nice lips. And damn, what is wrong with my brain tonight?
“If it’s a bother,” Nevaeh started, “I can come back some other time.”
Kevin held out his hands, palms out. “Oh, heck no. You’re the least of my problems this evening.”
Nevaeh’s eyes were half-open, and her smile was small and amused. “Well, at least I’m the least of your problems.”
Kevin blinked, sighed, and shook his head. “Obviously, I can’t win tonight.”
She waggled her eyebrows and said, “You’re not getting lucky either.”
He started. “What? Where did that come from?”
“Men. So dense,” she sighed. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Now, what was Kaye talking about killing off gangs?”
Kevin shrugged. “No idea. I got the impression that someone’s been doing my job for me. Let me just quickly get the Children for a moment, and I’ll be right with you.”
Nevaeh’s eyes went up. “Really? What, you have them on speed dial?”
He waggled his eyes this time. “Watch this.” He turned to the dark alley next to his building. “Hey, Sister Morta, come on out.”
A part of the shadows peeled off from the darkness into the form of a dark-cloaked, blonde-haired and green-eyed teenager. She was cute, if one were into jail bait. “Yes, Angel-Servant?”
“Two questions. One, have there been an awful lot of dead people who tried to infringe on the territory lately?”
Morta gave a nod that turned into a bow. “Yes, sir. There were some who took the death in your territory as a sign of weakness. They were dealt with appropriately.”
Kevin winced. It was annoying when a threat by Kaye Wellering had turned into prophecy. If it hadn’t been for the bodies, his week would have been seriously busy. “Who did them in? You?”
Morta shook her head. “No, Angel-Servant. We presumed that the lords of the area had handled the situation without us.”
Kevin frowned a little. He would have to asked Shen about it the next time he saw him. Maybe it was just his way of saying sorry for the initial threatening, even if Kaye was behind it. “Well, good to know. Second, you described someone to me who you said was too, well, psychotic to join the Children?”
Nevaeh chuckled. “There is such a thing?”
Morta gave another bow. “Yes, Mistress. Brother Pale Horse. He was…evil. We kill to stop suffering. He killed to increase suffering. We lost many when we ejected him from our ranks.”
Kevin blinked. Morta hadn’t told him this part last time. “You lost people? You just said you fired him.”
Morta sighed. “We don’t like to talk about it. Pale Horse had killed six of our ranks.” Her eyes drifted off to the side, as though she were lost in a memory. “There was…a lot of blood.” Morta touched her cheeks. “Everywhere.”
Nevaeh and Kevin looked at each other for a moment, wondering what they should be doing. Normal people would have been tempted to reach out and hug the girl. But one of the Children showing emotion was, well, really freaking odd. “Normal” wasn’t really an option.
Kevin grimaced, already expecting something bad to happen when he reached over and touched her on the shoulder. She started like a feral cat, eyes wide, knife up, when she recognized him. “I am sorry, Angel-Servant.”
“Brother Pale Horse is dead.”
Morta blinked. Her mouth dropped over a little. “Are you sure?”
“I used Assassin neurotoxin on him,” Kevin said casually. “You don’t get more dead than that.”
Sister Morta’s lower lip trembled. Her knife disappeared into the folds of her cloak, and she darted forward, hugging Kevin. He blinked a moment, and slowly enfolded her in his arms as she silently wept.
Nevaeh cocked her head. Her brow furrowed as she watched Kevin try to console one of the more dangerous creatures in all of San Francisco, as though he had personally blown away the monsters under the bed and in the closet. It was a father-daughter bond, if the daughter were a serial killer and the father a traumatized navy SEAL with an attitude problem.
It was a San Francisco type of adorable.
Kevin stroked the back of her hood as though he were brushing her hair. “You are my people, Morta. Anybody hurts you, I will hunt them down, and I will hurt them. I will hurt all of them.” He tightened his hug, and his eyes went far off for a moment, to Paris, and an burning building, and a dead woman lying in the street. “No one will ever hurt any of my people. Ever again.”
Kevin gave her a last squeeze, and then tried to disengage. When Morta wouldn’t let him go, he smiled, reached under her hood, and ruffled her hair. “I need my body back, please.”
Sister Morta finally disengaged. “Thank you, Angel-Servant! Thank you!” She turned to scurry away, when Kevin called, “Hey, one second.�
�
Morta pivoted. “Yes, Angel-Servant?”
Kevin gestured to Nevaeh. “Meet Angel-Servant Kraft. I’d like you to make sure that no one molests her.”
Morta blinked. “Oh. Yes. We know Mistress Kraft. Pardon me, I must tell the others.”
Kevin blinked. “Mistress Kraft? Makes you sound like a dominatrix.”
Nevaeh flared her eyes. “Only if you ask nicely.
Kevin looked at his watch. “They’ve got the mass going at St. Peter’s-St. Paul’s. You want to come along?”
Nevaeh shrugged. “Sure.”
He held out his hand. She took it. “One question, though,” she asked as they started walking. “How did you know that Sister Morta was there?”
He shrugged. “They always have someone there. I just figured that this week, it was her.”
Chapter 27: Severed Dreams
March 15th, 2094. London.
“So, what are your intentions towards my husband?”
Amanda “Mandy”Rohaz started from bed, guns up and ready.
At the end of her bed sat a woman who looked really familiar. Milk-white skin, dark blue eyes, short and curly pitch-black hair, a little taller and more zaftig than she was (Okay, Mandy didn’t know the precise definition any more than any of her colleagues in the Guild, but they all had a pretty definite sense of what it should mean.)
“It means boobs and hips,” the other woman stated plainly. “And you look fine.” She arched a brow and looked Mandy over, in her plain white t-shirt. “You don’t seem to be the type to really be that fussy.”