The Titan_The Luke Titan Chronicles

by David Beers

  Danger follows Luke, though, like night follows day.

  So this was his choice. If he wanted Luke, then he had to bring Veronica here as well. There were no other options. Luke wasn’t going to show unless Christian played by the rules he set up.

  So, you either put her in danger or you give up looking for Luke. That’s the new choice he’s giving you.

  “Not much of a choice,” both Christian and the mouth said at the same time, though if Christian knew they spoke in unison, he gave no indication. Christian stood from the pew and walked down the aisle, heading out the way he had come. The mouth floated in the air behind him, smiling its evil, radiant grin.

  Windsor exited the church, and Ryan saw the gun in his hand. He didn’t move, didn’t raise his seat or reach for his own weapon, but simply sat and watched.

  Why did he go in there with a gun?

  Windsor squatted down over the bag he’d left outside and placed the gun in it. Ryan must have missed him grabbing it because Windsor’s back had been facing him. He zipped the bag up and put it on his back, grabbing his phone again. It took him a few seconds, but he placed a call.

  Ryan waited while all this happened, wondering if he should call his superior. Had Windsor been down here on vacation, Ryan wouldn’t have thought such a thing—just filed it in the weekly report. However, people didn’t go on vacation and show up at churches with weapons.

  Better safe than sorry, he thought, deciding he’d make the call once they were on the road again.

  Ryan remained low and watched Windsor for another 20 minutes; eventually the same cab pulled up—most likely having been the closest in this small town. Windsor got in, and Ryan waited a minute or so before following. In all probability, Windsor was heading back to the hotel, so it wasn’t imperative that Ryan followed too closely.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and found his boss’s number. He doubted the man would answer, but he’d leave a voicemail. The call rang a few times and then the recording picked up.

  “You’ve reached Tyree Andrews. Please leave your name, number, and a message. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible,” the digital recording said.

  “It’s Wilcrew. I’m still following Windsor, but something different just happened. He took a cab ride about two hours out of the city, then went into this older church. I didn’t see it until he exited, but he was carrying a gun while he was in there. No detectable gunshots, no blood on him when he came out. He was just holding the gun. He’s returning to the hotel now. Give me a call back if that information changes my assignment any.”

  Ryan hung up the phone.

  It was another hour of driving before it rang again.

  “Wilcrew,” he answered.

  “It’s Andrews. I got your message. Where are you at in Mexico? Or, where did he take you, I mean?”

  “I think it’s called Cualata.”

  “Give me a second,” Andrews said. Ryan heard a soft click and knew that he’d been put on hold. It was another five minutes or so before Andrews was back on the line. “Okay, that, from Windsor’s own notes, is Titan’s hometown. He was at the church with a weapon?”

  “Yes, sir,” Wilcrew said.

  “Best we can tell, Titan grew up going to a church that was on the same land. I’m looking at satellite images right now, and that’s not the actual church Titan went to, but one built over the place he attended. Give me another minute.”

  The pause was longer this time. Ryan watched the road ahead, suddenly feeling a brick of ice in his stomach. It radiated cold high into his chest and down to his groin. Titan’s church. Ryan hadn’t been involved with the Titan case at all; his only knowledge came from internal gossip and what was said on the news—which meant he didn’t know much. He certainly hadn’t known that Titan went to church as a kid, or that he was even from Mexico.

  And now Ryan was … what? Following Windsor as he went on a solo—off the grid—hunt for Titan?

  None of that sounded exactly good.

  “Wilcrew?” His boss came back on the phone.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, we’re going to get some backup down there for you. It’s going to take us probably eight hours to get them there. We think he’s going after Titan. Stay on him. If you see Titan and believe you can apprehend him without being harmed, you have the green light.”

  “What about Mexican police? Can they assist?”

  “We’ve got a call in with the local mayor, or whatever they call it. That’s going to take some time; I’ll let you know when I hear something, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryan said.

  “Good. Call me if you think it’s something I’d want to know.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryan said again.

  The phone call ended and Ryan put the cell on his lap. His orders were to try and apprehend Luke Titan if possible. He shook his head, brought his second hand to the steering wheel, and drove on down the road.

  Ryan Wilcrew had no idea how he would do such a thing.

  Chapter 7

  Christian’s cab reached the hotel, parking in the front.

  “English?” Christian asked.

  “Si, señor,” the driver said.

  “I have to go inside for a bit. Maybe 30 minutes. Can you keep the meter running?”

  “Si, señor. I wait here.”

  “Gracias.”

  Christian got out of the cab, taking his bag with him, and made his way through the hotel to Veronica’s room. The other was standing next to the door, leaning against the wall.

  “I wish you would have brought her originally,” he said. “This could already be over.”

  “I know,” Christian said as he reached forward to knock. His hand paused midway in the air. He’d just agreed with the other, agreed with him about bringing Veronica into an extremely dangerous situation.

  What the hell is happening to me? he wondered.

  But he knew. The covenant. Drinking the blood from the cup. Giving his soul over to Luke.

  Christian’s hand fell to his side and he looked at the other. A thin layer of blood covered his eyes, continuously leaking down his face, and giving his eyes a red tint. Christian pulled away some, taking in his whole face … and seeing himself. Not someone else, not Luke, but himself.

  That’s who the other had always been. Christian. And now the two of them were thinking alike. Thinking the same thoughts.

  I don’t have time for this. Luke knows I’m here, so I need to make my decision and be done with it.

  “It’s not too late, Christian,” his mother said from down the hall. Christian turned his head and looked at her. She was older, the years and stress of worrying about him catching up to her. The years and the stress caught up to everyone, including the people that lived inside Christian’s head. “You can take her and go home. You don’t have to go back to that church. There’s nothing forcing you to return there.”

  But that wasn’t true, was it? The interior of his mansion said he had to. Tommy’s death said he had to. Tommy’s last few years of life said he had to. Everything said that Christian had to go forward with this.

  “He’ll call on me anyway,” Christian responded as he looked back at the door. “And it’ll be worse.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. You don’t know either way,” his mother answered.

  “No. He dies.”

  Christian knocked on the door. His mother disappeared and the other stood there looking down at the floor.

  It took about a minute, but Veronica answered.

  “Are you ready to take me with you?” she asked, not even moving aside.

  “Let’s talk for a second.”

  Veronica let him in and he went to the opposite wall, looking out the window in front of him. Christian placed his hands on the glass and leaned against it. “If you go, you’ll probably die. We both will.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “But you can’t really say that, can you?” Christian asked, unsure if he was talking to himself
or to her. “Because you’re not really Veronica. You’re whatever version of Veronica is left. You’ll say dying is okay because that’s your programming.”

  “Maybe, but it’s still okay. I have a purpose and I need to fulfill it. You have a purpose, too. You won’t be able to fulfill it unless you take me with you.”

  “And what’s my purpose, Veronica?”

  “Didn’t Luke give it to you?” she asked.

  Christian chuckled. “I guess he did.”

  “Well, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten it. Are you ready to go?”

  Christian looked at the building across from him, the brick staring back. “Yeah. I suppose I am.”

  Christian stepped from the cab, hearing Veronica do the same from the other side.

  The sun was descending now, and Christian looked across the church parking lot. It was still empty and Christian wondered briefly how often people actually came here to pray. Times were different from when Luke grew up, he supposed. The church played less of a role in people’s lives—including the priest’s, who apparently didn’t live on site, as one of his predecessor’s had.

  Not as nice of a place now, Christian thought.

  “Do you need me wait?” the cab driver asked.

  “No. No need to wait,” Christian answered back.

  “This dangerous place,” the cab driver said. “I wait. No problem.”

  “That it is, señor,” Christian said. “No. You can go. We’ll be fine.”

  The cab driver paused for a second, most likely trying to figure out if the gringo was insane. Finally he said, “Gracias, señor. You have good night.”

  Christian listened as the wheels rolled over the concrete, leaving Christian and Veronica alone with the coming darkness.

  “Is this where God told you to find him?”

  “Yes,” Christian said. “Or as close to God as exists, I suppose.”

  And in your life, that’s Luke, no? He is your God. He created you and commands you, and you’re his obedient little creation.

  He turned to Veronica, ignoring the thoughts. He placed his bag on the ground like he had earlier in the day, and while looking at her, pulled the pistol out.

  “I want you to stay just inside that door, okay? Whatever happens, I don’t want you to come for me. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, but Christian thought she understood no such thing. She was simply saying what he wanted to hear, but would continue doing as her programming demanded.

  Luke directs us all, including me, Christian thought, though he couldn’t tell if the voice sounded more like his or the mouth’s.

  “Promise me, Veronica? You won’t interfere.”

  “I promise.”

  Christian looked at her a moment longer and then stood up, turning to face the door. “Stay behind me.”

  He walked to the door and opened it, slipping in himself first, and then holding it slightly open for Veronica to follow.

  The darkness inside felt much heavier than it had earlier in the day, even the small light from the windows having died with the sun.

  He felt Veronica slide in and move to the wall, but Christian was already raising his gun, pointing it at the small glowing candle standing at the pulpit.

  Luke was holding it.

  “He’s going inside the church, sir. Is there any word on the back up?”

  Ryan watched the door close behind the woman, leaving him alone on the street. If people went to this church, they certainly didn’t live around it.

  “Our agents will land in another hour. The precept isn’t willing to help. Something to do with the bullshit political relations between the US and Mexico right now, can’t afford to be seen helping gringos.”

  Ryan gripped the phone harder. “Do you want me to follow him inside the church?”

  “Can you see inside without going in? Are there windows?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryan answered.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t Luke Titan. But it is, and you’re there. Get as close as you can without going in. If you see Titan, and can apprehend, do it.”

  “What if I can only kill him?”

  “We prefer him alive but you’re cleared to kill.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good luck. Call me as soon as it’s over.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ryan put the phone down and looked at the church across the street. The sun had fallen below the horizon during the brief call, and now the moon was his only light.

  “Just go apprehend Luke Titan. Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said to the empty car.

  He got out of the car and closed the door quietly. He unholstered his weapon and went to do what his boss wanted.

  “We’re both another year older. How many has it been?” Luke asked.

  Christian remained at the church’s entrance. His pistol was at eye level and pointing at Luke, though he knew his chances of hitting him from this distance weren’t good. He didn’t want to let off a round, miss, and have Luke start more havoc.

  “Almost six years, Christian. Over half a decade. And look at how much we’ve done for each other. It truly is amazing, what people can do when they care.”

  Christian moved from the left of the aisle to the right, trying to see everything from a different angle. Luke appeared to not be armed; he stood with the candle in front of his waist, both hands on the holder. The flame cast a wicked glow on his face and made his shadow fall behind him.

  “You came earlier. I watched as you searched this place,” he said. “I’m glad you went back and retrieved Veronica, though. I would have hated for us to miss this opportunity together.”

  Christian didn’t want to approach from the middle aisle, though that would give him a full frontal view. Most likely, Luke planned for him to go down that way, and if there were traps set, they would be in the middle.

  Unless that’s what he wants you to think. Maybe he knows you’ll go down the side.

  Christian discarded the thought and went to his right, his feet moving sure beneath him and the pistol remaining pointed at Luke. He reached the wall and started walking toward the pulpit, though walking slower.

  “They aren’t here, are they? The apparitions? They’ve left you alone because we’re together. Because you’re whole for the moment.”

  Christian was halfway through the church. Almost to Luke, though he paused and glanced around quickly, wanting to better understand his surroundings. It was dark and hard to see, but nothing caught his eye.

  “There’s nothing here that can hurt you,” Luke said. “Come to me, and let’s palaver briefly, then you may do what you came for.”

  Christian knew there would be no more words from his side, no palavering as Luke so elegantly put it. He was going to put a bullet in the man’s head, yet he couldn’t simply trust that nothing here would hurt him. He started moving again, slowly, cutting down the distance between them.

  “I offer myself to you, Christian. Fully. You can kill me right now.”

  Christian was 30 feet away, almost close enough for a sure shot. Still, he didn’t want to wing him or miss, didn’t want any chance that Luke survived. As long as he stayed still, Christian could get closer.

  He continued toward the pulpit.

  “However, the moment you kill me, Veronica kills herself.”

  Christian stopped. He wanted to look to the front of the church, but knew better. He didn’t remove his eyes from Luke.

  “Go ahead. See for yourself. I will not move and it will only take you a second.”

  Christian blinked, his gun still pointed at Luke. He swallowed, not wanting to take his eyes away, but knowing Luke was telling the truth. That even now, something was happening with Veronica. He finally couldn’t take it anymore and flashed his eyes to her.

  He had full intentions of going right back to Luke, but what he saw stopped him.

  Veronica had a knife to her throat and was smiling. Not a smirk, not a grin, but a full-on, ear-to-ear sm
ile. As if this was the most pleasurable thing she could ever imagine doing.

  Christian blinked hard, sweat suddenly peppering his brow.

  “No.” He shook his head. “No. NO!” He turned back to Luke, the weapon following his eyes. “Tell her to put it down. NOW!”

  “I can’t make her do that, Christian. Now come, let us end this.”

  Christian moved quickly, his feet carrying him the last 30 feet in just a few seconds.

  Luke moved the candle away just before Christian arrived, placing it on the raised pulpit.

  Christian slammed into him, the butt of the gun smacking Luke on the forehead. Luke fell to the ground and Christian on top of him, straddling his chest. His hands went up and down, pummeling Luke’s face. Blood spouted from his nose and lips, his head splitting open in multiple places.

  “NO! NO! NO!” Christian shouted with each swing.

  He kept hitting, looking down at the mess he was creating, and then exhaustion took over. Exhaustion and the knowledge that if he continued, he’d kill Luke, and the smiling woman at the front of the church would cut her own throat.

  Christian collapsed, his face falling next to Luke’s.

  “No. Goddamnit, no.”

  “Yes,” Luke whispered through a broken face. “You have what you want. You only need give everything for it, Christian. I have given everything. I was forced to. You must as well.”

  “No.” Tears fell from Christian’s eyes, swimming down his cheeks and mixing with Luke’s blood. His breath surged in and out of his body. “No.”

  “You’re so close now,” Luke said. “Do it.”

  “FREEZE!”

  The word whipped through the church, echoing off the walls as if a thousand people had screamed it at once.

  Christian felt Luke turn to the right, looking up the aisle. Christian didn’t move, didn’t need to. He knew who it was, or at least where they came from. The FBI. They’d followed him.

  “Help! Help!” Luke shouted in mockery. “He’s trying to kill me!”

  And then, Luke started laughing.

  Chapter 8

  Christian’s hands were swollen as he stood at the prison’s checkout. His knuckles hurt and he had a splint on his right pinky. He’d fractured his knuckles in what they termed a ‘boxer’s fracture’—he’d never heard of it. The prison doctor had told him.