by T. R. Hamby
Nora frowned. “Okay,” she said slowly, not sure why this would make him so emotional.
But then, after a small moment, it clicked.
“What did she say to you?” she whispered.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do that,” he snapped, finally looking at her. “Don’t do this. Don’t care about me. I don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said patiently, “and you can’t stop me from caring about you.”
He laughed bitterly, looking away. Tears were now running freely down his face.
“Agatha thinks it would be better if I was dead,” he whispered.
She stared at him. “She said that?”
“She said it would be just if she used her power on me--the same way I had her use it on Lilith.” He shivered. “Maybe she’s right. What good am I, really?”
“Don’t say that.”
“What I’ve done is unforgivable,” he whispered.
“Mel is trying to forgive you.”
“Then he’s a fool,” he said harshly, but Nora wasn’t frightened. He looked at her, catching her stubborn expression, and shook his head. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see how I did it.”
She hesitated, watching as he set the glass down and held his head in his hand. He looked broken.
She took a steadying breath. “Tell me.”
He sighed, not looking at her. “I can’t.” He took a deep breath and added, “I can’t lose you too.”
This gave her hope that he wasn’t feeling completely hopeless. She touched his arm again. “You won’t. I already know the worst.”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands.
Then he began. He told her about hearing God’s voice, about the Tree, about how different he and Mel were back then. How Mel and Lilith had run away, and how God had told him she must die. How Mel had begged, and how Agatha had to be dragged over to Lilith. Mel’s screams. And then Agatha’s promise to never forgive Michael.
Nora listened quietly. Every so often Michael would pause, take a steadying breath, and start again, as if trying not to weep.
It was so harsh. So horrible. All Michael had had to do was say no. Instead he had chosen to hurt the three people in his life he cared about the most, and kill an innocent woman in the process. It was a deed that seemed unforgivable.
But that wasn’t the person he was anymore. Nora knew that better than anyone. She knew he cared about her, about Gilla, and of course about Mel--no matter how difficult their relationship was. He cared about getting evil people off the streets. And what was more, he regretted what he did--probably more than anyone else.
She drew close to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He was tense at first, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her to get off of him. But then he relaxed, gripping her arm.
It was a long time before they spoke again.
“You offered your life for him,” Nora whispered, “and he did the same for you. I hope you know what that must mean.”
He was quiet, staring at his hands. He didn’t respond.
She couldn’t help but sigh. It was maddening that both of them still had trouble expressing their feelings for each other, when it was clear to anyone that they still cared for each other.
She decided to move on. “Mel said...that you made a deal with God, to come down here and work with him,” she said slowly. “But he didn’t know what you got out of it.”
Michael’s jaw worked, and he took a deep breath. “When Mel saved my life in the War, he ruined my agreement with my Father. So Father offered me the job, in exchange for whatever I wanted.” He hesitated, then said, “I asked him to never let Mel die.”
Nora stared at him, shocked. “You mean…”
“No matter the circumstance,” he explained. “He could get stabbed by an Immortal Blade, cut in half, crushed, whatever. He’ll never die. The only thing my Father couldn’t promise was death by Mel’s own hand. Since Father can’t control us anymore, he can’t stop Mel from hurting himself.”
Nora absorbed this, amazed. All that time Mel had been fighting Ariel she had been terrified he would get killed...only to know now that he had been safe, safe from death.
She looked at him. “Why, Michael?”
He closed his eyes, ran his hand through his hair. She could see he was tired, drained. He didn’t reply.
She took his hand and squeezed. He looked at her, and managed a small smile.
“Povero got away,” he said, his voice sounding mostly normal now. “But I know what he looks like, at least.”
She drew away from him, though she kept a hand on his arm. “We could look for mugshots,” she said gently. “He might have been arrested before.”
He nodded. “That’s something.”
She studied him, before saying, “I think you should get some rest. You can stay here tonight.”
He didn’t look at her, but fidgeted nervously with his fingers.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he finally asked, glancing at her.
She felt a pang. She could tell he didn’t want to be alone right now. She put on a movie, and they sat together on the couch and watched it, and then another. Slowly he began to relax, reclining his seat back. Nora knew he didn’t need it, but she got him a blanket anyway, throwing it over him. He raised an eyebrow, and she smiled, happy to see him acting a little more normal.
She curled up on the opposite end of the couch.
“What do you do?” she asked quietly. It was a question she had been meaning to ask. “During your free time, I mean.”
He stared at the TV and shrugged. “Nothing, really.”
“So you just...what? Power down?”
His lips twitched. He sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
He was quiet a moment. Finally he said, “I play guitar.”
She was intrigued. “Really? That’s not embarrassing.”
He shrugged again.
“What do you play?”
“I have a few. Mostly an EKO right now.”
“Are you good?”
“I’ve been playing for about a thousand years, so yeah.”
She rolled her eyes at his snark, but she was smiling. He sounded better.
“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” she said teasingly.
“Why would I do that?” he shot back, and she giggled.
“Because you love me.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was a little smile playing on his lips.
After a moment, though, his voice grew serious. “Don’t tell Mel what I said. Please.”
She nodded.
The smell of eggs woke her, and for a moment she thought Mel was in the kitchen, cooking her breakfast. She bolted upright, her heart racing, only to find Michael there instead.
It was morning. Sunlight was streaming into the room, and a breeze from outside was blowing through the open window. Michael was dressed in a shirt and shorts, working at the stove. He caught her eye and looked at her awkwardly.
“Hi,” he said cautiously. “Sorry...I thought you’d be hungry.”
She shook herself, feeling a pang, remembering Mel wasn’t there.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, getting to her feet. She approached the counter, studying him. “How are you?”
“Embarrassed,” he said, poking at the eggs with a spatula.
She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. “It’s sad that even Angels can’t show emotion,” she said, sitting down at the counter.
He shrugged, taking the pan off the burner and dumping the eggs onto a plate. “I can show emotion.”
“As much emotion as a rock shows, yeah.”
This time he chuckled, and Nora sighed with relief; he looked much more like himself.
But she still had to ask. “Michael...are you okay? Seriously. I have to
know.” She knew he would never be okay with what Agatha said, or with what she thought of him, but Nora had to know that he was healthy.
He looked at her, a serious expression on his face. He gave a small nod. “Yes.”
“You’re not lying?” she asked sternly.
He shook his head, and she relaxed. His lips twitched. “I couldn’t lie to you anyway. You can smell bullshit from a mile away.”
She giggled, taking the plate and digging into the eggs. “So I was thinking...maybe there’s a way to hack the police department? I don’t know anything about hacking, but maybe we could look into it.”
He frowned, considering this. “I don’t know anything about hacking either. Maybe there’s something on the Dark Web…”
“Let’s look at it later,” she said. “Tonight, around nine? I know you’ll be spending all day with Gilla.”
He nodded, not seeming to hear her joke about Gilla. “Nine sounds good.”
At eleven they got in his car and drove to the airport to pick up Gilla. She looked happy, and much more relaxed, giving Nora a bone-crushing hug and Michael a gentle kiss. She had gotten her hair cut into a choppy bob, which complemented her pixie-like face very well.
The three had lunch in the airport. Nora was happy--the three of them had become close, and it was good to be together again.
Gilla put down her fork. She had eaten her entire meal, which Nora was relieved to see. She looked brighter, more relaxed, and she looked especially happy to be near Michael, gripping his hand.
She looked at the two of them, her face growing serious.
“I know where Will is,” she said quietly.
Nora let out a gasp, while Michael frowned. It seemed to take him a moment to realize that Will was Gilla’s ex. Then he stared at her, surprised.
“You do?” he and Nora asked together.
She nodded. “He’s in Brussels,” she said, “still.”
“How do you know that?” Michael asked.
She smiled slightly. “I have friend in Stockholm who works with computers. She told me how to trace location...with IP.”
Nora frowned. “You mean the IP address?”
She nodded. “Yes. His IP address is...what is the word, Michael? Bifogad?”
“Attached,” Michael said, frowning too.
“Yes--it’s attached to his email message,” she explained. “There’s a website you use to find location...you just put in the IP. It told me where he was when he sent the email...I just hope he’s still in Brussels now.”
She went pale, and Michael murmured reassuringly, “He is.”
Nora was thinking, thinking hard. She had never heard of finding location by IP address before. She wondered if there was a way to obtain it off Povero.
“Is it only attached to emails?” she asked, once Gilla relaxed.
She shook her head. “My friend says you can trick someone into giving it,” she replied, “on a website or app...you have to copy link from a website...I forget the name of it...then send it in a message to the person. When they click the link, it gives you their IP address.”
Nora looked at Michael, who stared back at her significantly. She knew this would be a conversation for later.
After lunch Michael dropped Nora off at her building. He and Gilla would be spending time at her place...reuniting.
She was antsy. What Gilla had said was heavy on her mind, and her eyes went straight to her laptop at the table. A quick look would be good--she could get a headstart. So she sat down, opening her laptop and searching around on Google until she found the right website. Then she opened up the chat forum, finding Povero’s account. She would have to attach the link to a message...and it would have to say something enticing.
She thought for a minute. Finally she decided on something simple: Rough night?
She attached the link, and hit send.
She waited for a few minutes, then got up and paced. When still nothing happened, she decided to clean the kitchen. After that she practiced her singing.
She checked and rechecked the laptop for a few hours, finding chore after chore to do around the apartment. She was nervous and fidgety--he must be checking his messages. She ended up pouring a glass of wine. This was worse than waiting for a text from a guy.
She thought about Immortality again, and another thrill of nervousness went through her. She had decided to do it--but how? And when. Just the thought made her feel ill, and she gulped her wine.
Maybe it was a mistake. She didn’t think God would lie, but what if it didn’t work after all? Then she’d be stuck in Heaven, and Mel would have a broken heart anyway. Couldn’t there be another way?
Her laptop suddenly pinged, and she jumped to her feet, nearly spilling her wine on the carpet. She rushed to the table, looking at the screen. The little window for the website was flashing a string of numbers--Povero had clicked the link, and revealed his IP address.
She sat down and opened the website. There was a map showing the city of Rome, and a little red marker was pointing to a spot in the west end.
She swore, leaning back in the chair. It hadn’t given an actual address, like she had been hoping. It was just a general area, with hundreds of addresses to go through.
The laptop pinged again, and she frowned. This time it was a notification from the chat forum. She pulled it up, and found a message from the administrator, Admin478:
Hello. You have been reported for sending unwanted messages to another user. You are now being blocked from this forum. Goodbye.
She stared at the screen for a moment, stunned. Then she laughed. How ironic that a forum dedicated to fantasizing about murder would ban her for harassing another member. It didn’t matter, though. She at least had a better idea where Povero was hiding.
It was still a couple hours until nine. The sun was still out, so Nora went for a run. While she ran her thoughts strayed to different methods of death. Her eyes scanned the buildings. They were so tall, and heights made her nervous. What about poison? No, too painful.
She shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was thinking about this. If Mel knew, he would lose it. He would probably lock her up in a padded cell.
The run cleared her mind a little, and she took the stairs up to her apartment, dinner on her mind. Michael would be there in under an hour, and he liked the rigatoni she made last week.
She went to unlock the door, but found it was already open a crack. She frowned, stepping inside.
“Why did you leave the door open?” she asked, looking around for Michael, but froze, her eyes landing on a thin man standing in the living room.
He was young--younger than her--and there was a calculated, angry look on his face. He cocked his head.
She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. Her legs, which had carried her so far just a few minutes ago, were now frozen. The man continued to study her, and she stared back fearfully. She knew who it was. It didn’t even require a guess. It was Povero. She had been stupid, and he had found her.
He almost smiled. “Close the door,” he said.
She hesitated. She could run. Right now. She was fast, and the stairs were nearby. She had a chance. He probably cared more about not being seen than about hurting her.
She almost moved for the hall, almost spun on her heel. But she halted. There was a strange thought in her mind, one that she didn’t quite understand.
This is how you die.
But she didn’t have to. She could run. Couldn’t she?
This is how you die. What did that mean?
Her heart was racing, beating in her ears. It was difficult to concentrate. She looked at the man again, who seemed intrigued.
“Close the door,” he repeated, a little firmer.
She hesitated again--this time just for a second. Then she turned, shutting the door quietly. She turned to face him, shaking from head to toe, wondering why on Earth she had just done that.
He nodded. He was so young; she couldn’t believe it.
“I’m Patrizio,” he said quietly. “I know you’ve been looking for me. I’m guessing you’re involved with that big guy who nearly killed me last night. I was expecting to find him instead of you. What is he to you? Husband? Boyfriend?”
Nora couldn’t speak. She just stared.
He shrugged, unmoved. “I asked the administrator for your IP address, after you sent me that link. Then I used it to hack into your internet provider. Some of us can hack, you know,” he added mockingly. “I found your address and phone number in minutes. Not exactly smooth.”
She closed her eyes. God, she had been a total idiot. Michael would flip.
He laughed, and she opened her eyes. “I’m used to stupid women like you. Have them at home. They make me think of killing.”
A chill went up her spine, and she backed away, running into the door.
He chuckled, taking a step towards her. “Don’t worry. I’m more intrigued by your husband. I still have a migraine from last night, thanks to him. I think I’ll kill you--let him see your body. Let him beg me to kill him next. I’ve never tortured anyone before; I think it’ll be nice.”
He was slowly approaching, and she tried harder and harder to shrink into nonexistence. But the door--which she had closed--was there, barring her from disappearing, and he was getting so close. She could see the whites of his eyes, the freckles on his nose.
He reached out a hand, and she reacted on impulse, striking a hand into his elbow and shoving past him. He grunted as she ran forward, seizing the lamp off the end table and flinging it at his face. He yelped, stumbling, and then ran forward, seizing a hammer from his belt. She shrieked, ducking out of the way, and the hammer came down on the end table with a loud thunk.
She scrambled past him, to the door, and she froze.
Go, go. Get out. Get out.
No. This is it. This is how you die.
She felt the air leave her lungs. No. Not this way. She wasn’t ready.
Suddenly the wall by her head exploded, a hammer going through it, and she ran into the kitchen. Patrizio wrenched the hammer free and pursued her, teeth bared, and fear ran through her body like ice. He swung again and hit the counter. The counter was like concrete, and jarred his hand, making him drop the hammer and hold it to his chest.