by Mason Dakota
“Nebula? What is that, a security company? Murray, moonlighted for some security firm. Is Nebula the firm name? What difference does that make?” asked Lorre. I didn’t blame him for not knowing who they were. Nebula had survived by remaining secret to the natural world for generations.
“It makes a difference if you believe assassinations and global terrorism done by a ‘security firm’ would be all right.”
Lorre gritted his teeth and said, “First you claim my partner is dirty, and then you accuse him of being a terrorist! You do not know—”
“—But I do know,” I interrupted, “and I have the proof! Now if you just give me the time to go get it…”
“Why? So, you can escape? No, for all I know you were the one who murdered my partner. That means you are not leaving my sight,” He raised the pistol at me, and once again I stared down a cold barrel of death.
I threw up my hands and said, “If you shoot me your career in law enforcement will be over. I’m working for the Mayor now. Do you really think it’s wise to kill me in cold blood? No, you’re better than that. Let me go and I’ll bring you the evidence. I’ll even help you catch your killer.”
What are you doing Griffon?
Lorre hesitated. I saw the exhaustion in his eyes slow his mental processing. He blinked heavily, and for the first time showed weakness. He was a tree blowing in the wind. He was ready to fall over.
My mind imagined possible escape scenarios, but I refused to let my body act on any of them. I needed Lorre to trust me. I had enough headhunters after me. What I needed most was an ally. I stayed frozen with my hands up awaiting my possible death.
But a shot never came.
Lorre lowered his gun and said in a way that appeared painful, “I want to see these photos.” I sighed, thankful that Lorre was a cop before anything else.
“Give me two hours, and I’ll have them printed for you.”
Lorre reached into his pocket and tossed me a business card. “Call me as soon as you’ve got them. If you are one minute past due I will prosecute you for the murder of Murray—and if that doesn’t work I will kill you myself. There’s nowhere to hide.”
I believed his threat.
I took the business card and I slipped away.
“Not a minute more! You got that?” called Lorre behind me.
I waved my hand behind me. I was not sure Lorre was a new friend or a dangerous new enemy. If I gave Lorre those pictures he would trust me, but he would also hunt down Shaman. If Lorre ever found out that I was really Shaman, then I was as good as dead.
Just when I think things couldn’t get more depressing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nothing catches you off guard quite like being thrown across a dining room.
Looking and feeling a complete mess, I arrived back at Michael’s apartment. Dirt, ketchup stains, and my own vomit from the alley floor covered my suit. My greasy hair was a wreck, and I could smell myself. I desperately needed a shower. It was early afternoon, but I felt exhausted.
And I’ve still got that ridiculous ball!
I knocked once on the door, and before it fully opened, a pair of hands the size of bowling balls grabbed me and threw me across the room. I smashed into a wall, cracking the plaster, and fell flat on my face against the cool floor. A picture frame fell on my back and shattered shards of glass across the floor. I heard the shriek of a woman’s voice—possibly Alison’s—and the front door slammed. My body screamed in pain, begging for relief. I tried to push myself up to my feet, but my assailant was on me. With massive force he flipped me over to see his face.
Chamberlain?
I barely registered that thought before he began shouting. “WHY DID YOU DO IT!” he shouted just before he punched me across the jaw. He didn’t hold back that time. It felt like a train wreck.
White hot fire exploded and I went blind. Terrified, I thought I’d died and the pain followed me. My head spun in a whirlpool of agony. My vision didn’t double—it tripled as images of light and dark swirled and dotted like fireflies. My jaw burned, and I figured it was broken or fractured.
I wanted to cry out, to explain away my guilt. But Chamberlain hit me again and again and the air left my lungs. Blood from a split eyebrow slid down my cheek. I heard other crying voices in the room.
Are they trying to stop him or cheer him on?
Chamberlain kept hitting me. My strobe light vision debilitated me. Before long, black fingers clawed at the corners of my vision and I cheered them on to take me away to a safer, more peaceful place. I believed that I blacked out with each blow only to wake up again with his next—an endless cycle of pain and misery.
I couldn’t stop Chamberlain, even in my dreams. My hands refused to defend me. Every attempt opened the stitches in my left arm, adding a new dimension of pain. I was airborne again, then slammed down on the dining room table, which wobbled under my impact.
Expecting another blow, I stopped defending myself. I couldn’t see straight. I lay there motionless, willing Chamberlain to end my misery. My voice rasped. Seconds passed. I grew curious. Why did he stop? I opened my eyes and squinted trying to make out the mad scene around me.
All around me were the faces of my friends. Michael’s face looked like he had witnessed a murder. Gabriel stood close by with his arms crossed; he studied me carefully with cold gray eyes. Alison pressed up against Chamberlain to hold him back. Her face read grief and shame.
But Chamberlain’s expression was the most heart breaking.
I never saw wrath in Chamberlain before—not even anger. Sure, he got frustrated like everyone else, but Chamberlain shrugged most things off with a tough skin. But, I found out he had his limits. I saw fury and disappointment that broke my heart with terror. His stare pierced me. I curled up into a ball on the table to protect my body and avoid his gaze.
His wrath is just.
I ordered the death of an Outcast and Illegal live on Chicago television. Those boys were a younger version of Chamberlain and me, and I had condemned them for being innocently born into bad situations. It didn’t matter that I lacked a choice; I still did it. I let them die. Chamberlain and the others didn’t know why, they just knew what I did.
They gave me the grace to compose myself. Slowly—very slowly—I slid off the table, but kept my back against it to stay on my feet. I was weak and sore, and my body shook uncontrollably. I felt my stitches in my arm and thigh pop open and bleed through my clothes. My face bled, and I knew that the next day it would be terribly swollen. Like a coward, I avoided their gazes.
All I could see were my sins.
“We trusted you. We called you friend, and you went and did something this evil. How could you?” said Chamberlain.
“I HAD NO CHOICE!” I screamed out to the world. Then the tears broke free. I hid my face in my hands and fell to the floor. Closing my eyes and covering them with my hands did nothing to take away the image of those two dead boys. No one comforted me.
I’m alone.
“There’s always a choice,” whispered Chamberlain. I shook my head and removed my hands, but I kept my gaze low to the floor.
“It was either them or all of us, starting with you,” I replied. I scrambled back to my feet, using the table to help lift me up. I reached into my pocket and dumped the cell phone onto the table. “The proof is on there.”
Nobody said or did anything for maybe four seconds.
Michael moved first. He snatched up the cell phone and looked through it. I knew he found the message when he gasped. His eyes darted straight at Gabriel and then to each of us, then the window through which the picture had been taken.
Michael gave the phone to Alison as he moved to glance out the window. Alison examined the image, gasped, gave the phone to Chamberlain, and said, “What does this mean?”
“It means that Nebula has been watching us. And they know Chamberlain is an Illegal. That is why those boys died today. Nebula was making it clear that we shouldn’t mess with th
em anymore,” I whispered.
“Where did you get this?” asked Chamberlain. The anger raged through his voice. I’m sure only Alison’s presence prevented him from killing me. I told them everything—from the moment Chamberlain dropped me off until I arrived at Michael’s a few minutes before. I left nothing out.
As I spoke I watched anger slowly fade from Chamberlain’s features. He stayed furious, but I thought he understood my predicament. His expression softened. I knew he was grateful that my actions protected Alison. But, that did not erase the fact that two boys were dead. That could never be changed.
When I finished explaining, Alison asked, “You’ve got no choice. You’ve got to go tonight and give your answer to Erikson.” I nodded.
“What are you going to tell him?” asked Gabriel. It was the first thing he said. As always, he remained purely objective. To him it made no difference how I reasoned or justified my actions. What mattered to him was what I would do next.
I swam in the devil’s pool of regret and madness.
If only I listened to Gabriel from the start and didn’t jump onto that train, then maybe things would be different.
The confidence I felt earlier, that passion to stop Ziavir, washed away by blood. I never wanted any of that misery.
“What should I do?” I begged Gabriel.
“You have no choice but to accept the deal they are offering. Accept…or we all die,” whispered Gabriel.
No one else in the room opposed his will.
“But If I sign my soul over, I will be no different than those…monsters. I’ll be their puppet. I’ll represent everything I despise. I cannot ever see myself being able to stand next to a man who could orchestrate the killing of children just to teach a lesson. I’m not sure I can do that. I know that if I don’t, we all die. I see no way out.”
“You have no choice. Nebula is far too powerful for us. They will kill you! Just like they killed your father,” said Michael. My head shot up.
My father?
“What? What do you mean?” I asked. Michael swallowed. Gabriel shot him a look that could kill, and immediately I knew that whatever Michael slipped Gabriel knew as well.
“Michael, you know about what happened with my parents?” I asked. I stepped closer to him, and he moved away. He squirmed, like an ant caught under a microscope. He glanced back and forth from me to Gabriel and began to sweat.
He swallowed again and said, “Well I would not say I know anything for sure. But it makes sense, does it not? I mean, records show that your parents died after an altercation with Ziavir. If Ziavir is part of Nebula does that not mean by extension Nebula is responsible?”
“You looked into my record?” I asked.
He stepped forward, raised a finger at me, and said, “Okay, you cannot blame me for doing anything wrong. Of course, I would look into any records on any of you. That is simply the smart thing to do. Plus, I am a curious person. With my skill, it is like reading someone’s diary they left out on the counter. You cannot be upset about that.”
To a degree he had a point. I turned to Gabriel and said, “Is what he’s saying true? Did Nebula kill my family?”
Gabriel sighed and rubbed at the space between his eyes. He paced around the room. His hesitation made me want to hit him. I almost did. Thinking how Chamberlain would hit me again if I did stopped me.
“I knew your father. We met when we were boys; even was his best man at your parents’ wedding. We enlisted together once we became of age. Your father became my staff sergeant, the highest rank an Outcast can earn in the military. We served a special task force assigned to the Northern Territories after Emperor Adam Rythe took the throne. Our team worked to dismantle the Northern Territories’ government after Damien Waters was imprisoned. We made sure no new king ever arose. Ziavir Yiros was part of our team.”
“You lie,” I whispered, though I saw honesty in his eyes. “My father was a traveling salesman.”
Gabriel nodded and said, “His cover between missions. Our goal was a success. Thanks to the three of us, the Northern Territories are in the state they are in today. Your father served as the best of the best, but he had a knack for angering the wrong people. Our commanding officer tried to kill us because of that.
“Our mission was to infiltrate an enemy compound and kidnap one of their agents—whom we quickly discovered worked for Nebula, our first exposure to Nebula for any of us. Our handler ratted us out and we walked right into a trap. We barely got out of there alive. Of all of us, Ziavir took the betrayal personally.
“When we returned to headquarters, Ziavir killed our handler. Ziavir thought we would back him up in what happened. I did. Your father didn’t. Ziavir never forgave him for that. Ziavir fled the Empire and wound up enlisting with Nebula. I took an early retirement. Your father continued to serve and continued to be betrayed by the Empire. He grew paranoid and thought Nebula or the Empire was out to get him.
“Rumor is, he went rogue and searched for Nebula…and eventually found them like Ziavir. Except unlike Ziavir he didn’t enlist. Instead, he eliminated many Nebula agents and bombed one of their safe houses. He killed four of Nebula’s finest soldiers, exposing Nebula to the world for the first time in a long time.
“They sent Ziavir after your father to kill him in retaliation. Your father fled and hid you and your mother here in Chicago. He changed his identity and name…but eventually Ziavir found him. Your father would still be alive if he hadn’t tried to bring Nebula down. Don’t make the same mistake he did. Take their offer.”
My hands shook and my breath grew labored with confusion and grief. “You knew this all along, and you never told me?”
Gabriel sucked in a deep breath and said, “I tried to protect you. For many years, I believed you to be dead—and I think Nebula did, too. When I discovered you were alive, I vowed never to tell you the truth in order to protect you. I did everything in my power to keep you hidden from Nebula. I lost your father because of them. I can’t lose you too.”
It amazes me how quickly a fire can light inside me. It burns in my core then rises in a twisting pillar that must expel from my mouth and fingertips. Otherwise, it will burn away whatever is left within me. The fire burned and called for action—for an insatiable release, a hunger demanding to be satisfied. A rage—a wrath—escaped from my soul, blurring senses. Vinegar boiled in my throat and mouth, its foul taste promised vengeful deliverance.
Fists clinched, practicing restraint, my glare locked on Gabriel.
How dare he!
“How… could you keep that from me? Did you not think I deserved to know about my own father?”
“You’re right, I was wrong not to tell you. At the time I thought I protected you, but truthfully I worried how you would react—that you would make the same mistake your father did and suffer the same fate.”
“Is that any excuse not to do the right thing?”
Gabriel did not respond.
“They destroyed my family. But that’s not why they need to be stopped. Yes, I hate them more now that I know the truth, but someone must still stand against them. If what you say is true, then my father died for that belief. If I have to do the same, I will.”
I began to feel a dark pull from deep inside me. Ziavir betrayed and killed my father. Gabriel knew the real reason for my family’s death and hid it from me—a truth which crippled me, but restored my spirit. Nebula ruined my life and sought to manipulate me. Not anymore.
The fire rose; it was destined to burn.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, Chamberlain spoke up. “So, Griffon, you would sacrifice all our lives for your revenge. Do we mean that little to you?”
His words threw me off balance, a waterfall cascading on my fire. But his were words I needed to hear; I knew that. I wasn’t just playing with my own life anymore.
“That is not what I meant and you know that,” I whispered.
“Then what do you mean?”
Swallowing my pri
de, I said, “I can’t give in. Not anymore—not after today. I know what that means and I don’t want any of you to suffer, but I also know I can’t let this go. I need your help. Please. I can’t do this without you. I know it’s selfish to ask you to sacrifice for me, and selfish of me to put your lives at risk, but I can’t sit by and do nothing. I can’t.”
Tears fell from my eyes. They mixed with the blood staining my face and burned every cut. I wiped them with the back of my hand. Again, no one comforted me. I never got the reaction I hoped for. I expected silence with questioning looks. And then I expected my friends to rally behind me. That didn’t happen.
“Have you heard nothing, boy? Your pride will be the death of all of us!” yelled Gabriel.
“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” I screamed.
Silence—pierced by the wisping sound of my panting.
“You think I don’t know that—that I go down a path that will mean my death and possibly everyone else’s? I’m haunted by that! Today they made me publicly execute children—an Outcast and an Illegal! And the worst part…I could do nothing to stop it. No amount of fighting would have made a difference. They died because of me.”
I swallowed and continued, “But I cannot stop. I cannot see this happen again—especially if next time it is any of you! Call it vengeance if you must. There’s probably some truth to that. Vengeance isn’t the only thing I feel though. I also feel weak…I feel small…and I feel insignificant. Most of all I feel fear of what Nebula will accomplish if nobody is willing to risk the consequences and stand up to them. I know I’m right here…and I’m going to make that sacrifice.”
“Then you will die just like your father,” whispered Gabriel.
I stared hard at him and said, “Then I will embrace him as an equal in the afterlife.”
His stare pierced through bone to marrow. Yet, he knew my stubbornness would outlast everyone. He cursed under his breath, pulled out a manila folder and tossed it on the table. “I figured you would eventually want those pictures printed. If what you say is true and they’ll buy Lorre’s trust, go and give them to him. Burn them if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”