by Richard Hein
Kate rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “What can I say? The doctor is in. Only costs five cents.”
“So, that’s just it, is it?” I said in exasperation. “All my problems are because I won’t forgive myself?”
“Yes,” Kate said. She crossed and dropped onto the far side of my desk, voice soft.
“Is it?” I snapped. “It’s looking like I’ve been batting a thousand here regarding people close to me winding up dead. I killed Lauren. My actions got everyone in the OFC killed. Daniel isn’t wrong. I didn’t wield the sword that did the deed, but I handed the weapon to the one who did. Maybe fault is too strong of a word, but it still leads back to me.”
“So?”
I stared. “So? So?”
Her head lifted to stare over me, at the art I’d inherited from the previous occupant. “Do you know how many years I blamed myself for the death of my parents?” Kate almost whispered the words. Her eyes grew unfocused, unseeing.
I stilled.
“That’s…” I started, and cut off as she gave a shake of her head.
“It’s stupid, yes. It’s also what goes through your head, that latches onto your thoughts and festers there like a cancer. If I hadn’t wanted a family trip to the zoo that day, we never would have been in that accident.” Her eyes flicked to me, and she spread her hands. “It was cut and dried in my mind. Of course, I had no idea about Michael at that point, that I was just a pawn in an Archangel’s plan, but for years, I felt I was responsible. Not the physical act, but for setting it into motion.
“No one can forgive you,” she continued, sapphire eyes burning cold. “You have to come to terms with what happened, and no one can guide you there. I can write ‘it was not your fault’ on a hammer and bash it into that thick skull of yours, but it’s not an external revelation, Samuel. It’s within. Someday, you just… move on.”
“Maybe,” I said, unconvinced. I fished the tie Kate had given me from a pocket and let it spool onto the desk and shrugged out of my tattered coat. The tie, I folded neatly, aware that Kate’s eyes were scrutinizing me, and it vanished into a drawer. The grimy coat I flung at the pile of my stuff in the corner of the room. I missed and it landed on the cart of alcohol bottles I’d inherited from my predecessor. Both sets of eyes in the room drew to the bottles of liquor as they clinked. The urge to grab one, grab them all and empty them into my mouth, was maddening, like someone suffocating needing a breath of air.
Kate rose and grabbed the discarded garment, laying it atop the boxes of my other worldly goods. When she turned she stood in front of the cart, crossing arms beneath her breasts.
One hand reached out and hefted up one of the bottles, turning it over in her hands. I longed to do the same. She ran a thumb over the label, returned it to its home, and met my gaze.
“Why do you keep them here?”
My eyes traced the bottle in her hands like a man in the desert spotting an oasis.
“It’s like…” I sighed. “It’s like there’s a voice whispering to me, telling me it’s okay to pour some. Justifying it. I mean, what’s one drink, right? Would anyone fault me for one or two here and there after…”
I trailed off. Kate stayed silent.
“But that’s not the problem, is it? Of course it’d be justified. Who wouldn’t want to have a drink after watching most everyone they know murdered? After killing one’s significant other because an unspeakable horror was wearing her skin like a mask. After day after day of dealing with shit that would blow people’s minds out like a candle with how straight fucked up it is. One shot isn’t a problem.”
I waved a hand at the bottles, willing them to shatter, urging them into my hand. “Once you justify a single instance, the next is easier. Why not? You tell yourself you’ve already slipped up and the world didn’t fucking end so there’s no harm in it. Getting rid of them might be easier, Kate, but then I’d crave it. I’d be thinking about picking up something, anything, until it needled at my brain and I have to do something just to shut up the thoughts. I’d need it because I knew I couldn’t have it.”
I sighed. “As long as they’re there, though, there’s no excuses. It’s just up to my determination. I have to make it easy to reach out and pour a shot because then I can’t make any rationalizations about it. I can, but I won’t. All on my shoulders and there’s no room for excuses even if the nightmares about my actions getting everyone slaughtered are every fucking night, keeping me up and preventing any semblance of sleep. And you remember what it feels like to drink until there’s no dreams any more.”
I sighed. “I wish it was as easy as you make it out to be. It’s a nice fairy-tale. It’s my responsibility, though — what happened to everyone and the repercussions from that.”
Kate came around to my side of the desk and dropped onto it again, close enough I could almost feel the heat of her body.
“God damn it all, will you listen,” she said evenly. Her eyes burned sapphire as she leaned in, face inches from mine. “We both bear some of that burden, but we didn’t cause it. It’s something I will never be comfortable with and will haunt my dreams for as long as I live, but I know we are not to blame. The only way to get through it is to fight, Samuel.
“Now,” she continued, giving my shoulder a squeeze, “what’s the next steps here?”
“Get money from the Twins,” I said as her hand fell away. I could still feel the warmth of her touch before that, too, faded. “We can head over if you’re okay driving me around still. I’d rather wait until tomorrow but the allure of actual hard currency is too strong. I’d love to take that money and get me another car, but food and fuel come first. Maybe I could get a bike. Think I could rock a bike?”
“Could an orangutan rock a sweet pinstripe suit?”
“I… have no idea. That didn’t answer my question.”
Her eyes glittered as she slid from my desk. “Doesn’t it? I feel that was clear.”
I grabbed a spare jacket on my way out the door.
We stepped out into the vast and expansive nothingness. While the first level of this pocket dimension had alien stars and strange tumbling crystals in a night sky, two floors down only inky blackness pooled above. Devoid of any reference marks, it always gave me the creeps. It didn’t help that it still looked like a Victorian-era street, complete with a few pillars slapped with all manner of tattered and frayed bills. As far as I knew, none had dared to approach to read them, or see what lay in the darkness beyond. Anyone who did had never returned. Sanctuary, as usual, gave an enigmatic reply.
“This is a manifestation of my lower subconscious,” it had said. “I don’t control it.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Dieter and Stefan’s little hole away from home was a conscious creation of one of them. Even The Odyssey’s little tropical island was Circe’s creation. Sanctuary, it seemed, had more layers.
Kate seemed to sense my thoughts as we approached a stairway that rose into the darkness, heading toward the larger floor, full of non-Euclidean spaces.
“Do you ever think maybe the OFC worked off of momentum?” she asked, waving a hand at the world around us. “That it became less and less about understanding and researching better ways to fight evil and just did the same crap day after day?”
I thought about it. “Maybe,” I admitted. “Over the years maybe we calcified into a fossil?”
“Habit is a powerful thing. Maybe not having any of Christina’s knowledge is a blessing in some small way. Clear the slate, start over, turn it into something that reflects your leadership?”
“With blackjack and nachos?”
Kate snickered. “Ambitious much?”
Daniel was absent as we ascended past the sprawling library and out through the offices once more. Passing back to Earth, we found the warehouse empty and his car gone. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
My phone gave a frantic buzz and played the A-Team theme. It cut off abruptly for a half-second before starting over. And then a third
time.
“Uh, the eighties are calling,” Kate said.
I fished out my phone. Four missed texts, all from Alvin, slamming into my phone now that I had service again. I thumbed a button and dialed him back.
“Samuel?” Alvin said, picking it up before it rang once. “Why haven’t you been answering?”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said, “my cell plan doesn’t have roaming for out of universe connections and I was busy being the head of a super-secret organization. You going to bitch at me or you going to tell me what the emergency is?”
There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. “Mr. Lockyer is off dealing with another incursion,” Alvin said. “I thought you’d like to know.”
A worrying doubt blossomed in my stomach. “Another? That’s like two today for him. How is your boss getting all of these calls and I’m not?” I asked carefully, thinking about Simon’s stolen research.
“Man, there’s an entire library full of things that Mr. Lockyer doesn’t clue me in on.”
I snorted. “Someone your age knows what a library is? I thought it was all smart-phones and Wikipedia for your generation.”
“Jesus, man, do you get how old you sound right now? Look, I thought you might like to know my boss is off dealing with an EDE problem. I know you’ve been trying to get a hold of him and he’s interested in talking to you again, so I figured you might like to show up. That’s it.”
“Does he know you’re passing this little tip along?” I asked.
“Not… uh, not entirely.”
“Betraying your boss,” I said, grinning into the phone. “Either that’s a huge vote in your favor for me hiring you or I should revoke my offer. I’ll flip a coin.”
“I’m just telling you what’s happening,” Alvin said, heat coloring his words. “It’s not like I’m giving away any trade secrets or anything. Jesus, man, I’m trying to be helpful for both of you. Do you have to shit on my—”
“Whoa, hey, okay,” I said. “We’re cool. Sorry. So where is he at now?”
Another lengthy pause. I wondered if maybe I’d pushed Alvin too far and he was instantly regretting his decision to associate with me. Story of my life.
“65th, just off of Aurora,” he said at last. It sounded like I’d ripped it out of him. “A few blocks from the zoo.”
I jotted down the info and got the specific address. “Thanks, Alvin. I owe you.”
“Yeah you do,” he said, and the call ended. I hung up and held up the page.
“How do you feel about a solo job?” I asked, waggling the paper in Kate’s face.
Her eyebrows rose. “What brings that on?”
I shrugged. “Daniel is right. You’ve been tagging around with me on everything, and that’s limiting our ability to react to problems. In six months you have done nothing that has made me worry about sending you out alone. I think it’s time you rode that stallion on your own. Besides, Lockyer’s goons are already on the job, so it’s not like I’m sending you out alone. It’s a good time to build a little friendship with our potential ally.”
Which was the only reason I was thinking of doing it. The idea of sending Kate off alone filled my stomach with a gallon full of writhing anxiety snakes. I didn’t want to see her hurt — or worse — and it was a dangerous job. People following me had a tendency to die, and I didn’t want her to fall to a similar fate. It would destroy me if something hurt Kate while she was following my orders. It had taken years to function again after what I’d let happen with Lauren. To go through that again…
I almost pocketed the paper and called it all off. It took a monumental effort not to.
Kate’s blue eyes stared into mine without expression. They flicked to the paper and back up.
“Are you worried?” I asked, secretly hoping she was reticent.
“About you,” she said, voice quiet. She took the paper and folded it neatly. Meticulously. “The only reason you took my case six months ago was you wanted to personally see I was safe. Half a year is not so long a time that you’ve suddenly changed how you look at the world.”
“Very true,” I said in an equally soft tone, “but I can’t hold your hand forever. The old OFC was about keeping someone an intern for a couple of years, only going out on jobs with a team. Like you said, maybe it moved just on momentum and I’ve got to make changes. I don’t need to oversee everything. You’re capable, Kate. That’s enough for me.”
Her smile was as warm as the summer’s sun, but I don’t think it was for the vote of confidence. She slipped the paper into a pocket. “You’re not wrong, but you’re still an asshat. Just an asshat that thinks things through once in awhile. What about the Twins? Don’t you need a ride?”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and stared off at the mangled heap of my car. “I’ll just call them and give them the heads-up. We can go collect the money tomorrow. I'll do some research on Vitae Superno and figure out that angle, I think. You go kick ass.”
“I am all out of bubblegum.”
I flashed her an energetic grin, my first in a long time. “See. You get me. Unlike Alvin. Which, if you see him, don’t intimidate him too much. I’m wooing him.”
“Wooing him?”
“I’m wooing the shit out of him, yes. Daniel wants more people; well, someone that already understands the job is eighty percent of the way there. I don’t want you woo-blocking me by making the kid cry.”
Kate’s laughter was golden. She slipped into her car and started it. I envied her vehicle for being able to do that. “I’ll call if I wind up dead or anything.”
I watched her go, the cold Seattle wind tugging at me. As I turned to go, flakes fell, the first I’d seen all season.
Once again my pocket vibrated to the energetic tune of a mediocre-yet-fun television show. I glanced at the tiny screen and flipped it open.
“Speak of the devil,” I said, breath frosting, “and he shall appear.”
“Well that explains why my ears have been burning,” Stefan said. “I hope you were saying nice things.”
“I was saying nice things about your wallet. Your wonderful wallet full of hard American currency. I found Simon.”
“We know,” Stefan said.
I pushed my way back into the warehouse. It was marginally warmer inside, by having thin steel walls to block the gently swirling winter flakes. I dropped onto a tattered old couch and kicked my feet up.
“Oh?”
“Simon called earlier today,” Stefan said. I could hear a frown in the words. “You did a number on him, Samuel. I should admonish you for treating him so roughly.”
“It’s not my fault Simon fell four stories to the cold, hard ground. Probably not even my fault he got cut up by some dipshit monster thing either. Probably.”
“Well, scaring the poor dear notwithstanding, please stop by any time to pick up the payment. I think at the least we owe you another meal out. You know, you should bring Kate sometime. We could make an evening of it and—”
“You had me at ‘payment’, you know,” I said. “Though I’d like to know if you ever hear about Simon coming within a mile of a homeless person. Simon is going to knock that shit off or Simon is going home in pieces.”
“Yes,” Stefan said, stretching out the word, “he mentioned that. He seemed… enthusiastic about his new choices.”
“Good. I’ve got a few loose ends to wrap up, but overall everything seems to have worked out. I’d like to know who sent those ugly demons after me and Simon, though. I can’t puzzle that one out.”
“He was… not entirely coherent when talking about that. It seems something hounded him for quite some time. I don’t like the sound of that one bit. Any leads?”
I yawned. “I think that Norman Lockyer fellow stole his research, but he’d have to be a good liar to pull the sort of devotion to eradicating you and your kind while also calling up demons to do his bidding. I don’t buy it.”
“Who else would have known you two?”
I shrugged, a gesture entirely lost on Stefan. “That’s just it. You’re the only ones that know us both, given you sent me to track him down.”
It wouldn’t be like Stefan and Dieter to set you up, Lauren said. I almost groaned at the sudden intrusion. If my cell wouldn’t have died upon heading back into Sanctuary I would have gladly locked myself away there, jut to be free.
Who would have reason to harm you, Lauren whispered. The words felt like a question, but one loaded with the answer, a sarcastic rhetorical asking. Who could know both you and Simon, and who would have reason to tear your unfeeling heart from your chest? Who would dare challenge the great Chancellor of the Ordo Felix Culpa? Lauren sniffed. Even if said leader has lost all semblance of skill and lets himself get tossed about in not one, but two alleys within a week.
I sat up, heart pounding. A little hot bolt of adrenaline-laced lightning shot through my nerves, that feeling you get when a sudden and horrible thought materializes as reality in your mind. “Shit.
“Stefan, I’ve got to call you back. I think I need to unfuck something. You have a car? A wonderful, functioning car?”
A pregnant pause. “Yes.”
“Good. Give me a bit and I’ll call you back.”
Without waiting for an answer, I snapped the phone closed.
Thirty minutes later, as day dwindled to late afternoon, I was on the move, an old backpack slung over a shoulder as Stefan pulled into the lot. The demon rolled down a window and cast a worried glance at the steel warehouse behind me.
“So that’s the place those such as I fear most,” the Entity said as I slipped into the shotgun seat. “I so want a tour. Imagine the envy my peers would have for me, having stepped into the lion’s den and lived to tell.”
Stefan glanced at the bag in my lap. “What, pray tell, is that?”
I patted the bag, grinning, trying desperately to shrug aside the fear I felt choking at my throat. Speaking of heading into the lion’s den, though living might be too lofty of a goal.
“An insurance policy.”
Chapter 19
The Odyssey, it seemed, had recovered well from my previous visit. Someone had swept away all signs of the fight, replaced with the correct amount of grime and indifferent care. It takes a stunning amount of skill to clean up after a brawl and yet leave it looking like the run-down shitheap I’d seen before.