by Jonas, Gary
***
I’m not ready.
Not being ready could mean my friends will all die.
That is not an option.
Okay.
Today sucked ass.
I went to the dojo, and my plan was to work out, but I was still so stiff, I tensed up when I tried to twist my body. Before the destroyer, I could bend at the waist and place my palms on the floor without bothering to stretch first. I could move from that position into a handstand and walk on my hands for miles if I so desired.
This morning I bent over, and my fingertips barely brushed the floor.
After the destroyer tore me apart, Jonathan called his healer friend Lina, who recommended another healer named Ophelia because we were in Boulder at the time. Ophelia saved my life with Brand’s help. Brand loved me. Loves me. He gave up being a Sekutar so I could survive. I felt I owed it to him to be the best Sekutar I could.
I’m still a Sekutar. I’m still a warrior. However, while the healers and the wizards at DGI all said I’m back to one hundred percent, I know I’m far from that. I know as long as I face a regular fighter, I’m fine. The problem is that Jonathan won’t need me to face a regular threat. I’m needed only for extraordinary threats. And I’m not sure I’m up to that yet. It’s been two months! I should be ready. I should have been ready in a matter of days.
That makes me wonder. Is this all I’ll ever be? Or is it my own doubt that’s holding me back?
I think I’m going to burn this journal. Jonathan insists I write in it, and I know he’s right because I haven’t been the same since that attack. In some ways I feel this journal is my enemy, but my way with an enemy is to face it down and destroy it.
Hence the burning.
Or maybe I should just rip it to pieces.
Then burn the pieces and scatter them to the winds.
Damn it.
Jonathan is right.
Write it down.
Start with this morning? Or go back to that healing room at DGI two months ago?
I can’t think straight. Not true. I can think straight. I just don’t want to face the truth.
TWO MONTHS AGO
I woke to see a woman I didn’t recognize sitting beside my bed. She gave me a tired smile and took hold of my hand. I tried to speak but couldn’t. The last thing I remembered was some strange animal that moved so fast, I couldn’t adjust. I knew I needed to protect Rayna, so I faced the beast, but it had claws like swords, and for the first time since I was a preteen, I felt actual fear. I remembered feeling those claws rip through my flesh. While I didn’t feel the pain, I remember falling backward and thinking, I failed, and that is a different kind of pain—one that refused to go away.
“Hello, Kelly,” the woman said to me, her voice soft and full of exhaustion. “My name is Ophelia. You’re in an operating room at Dragon Gate Industries. You’ve been severely injured.”
I managed a nod. I looked over at her and felt fear flowing through my veins. I wasn’t supposed to feel fear. It was an alien concept. Something that was left behind in my childhood when I was a regular little girl. I blinked a few times, relieved that I wasn’t crying, though I wanted to. I felt ashamed. That wasn’t the way of a warrior.
“It’s bad,” Ophelia said. “Really bad.”
I searched for my voice. “Tell me.”
“We’ve done everything we can. We’ll keep trying, of course, but your body has been through so much trauma that even magic can’t quite get the job done.”
“No. Tell me. Is Rayna alive or dead?” I needed to know if I’d delayed the beast long enough for her to get to safety. It was my job to protect her, and I needed to know if I’d failed her.
“She’s alive and well.”
The relief was instant. “And everyone else?”
“Your friends are all fine. They’re outside waiting to see you, but you need to rest for now.”
“Okay. You were going to tell me about my condition.”
“That can wait.”
“I want to know now.”
Ophelia nodded. “Very well. You’ll find limited mobility, but you will survive. I think you’ll be able to walk, but even that remains uncertain. On the positive side, we’re pretty sure the scars will fade over the next six months or so.”
I didn’t care about scars.
What I heard was that she didn’t know if I’d be able to walk again.
“I’ll walk,” I said.
“That’s the right attitude,” Ophelia said. “Rest now, Kelly. I’ll let your friends know you’re going to make it.”
I nodded, closed my eyes, and drifted away.
A week later they told me I was a hundred percent.
They were wrong.
***
I have to face the truth.
Surely everyone can see I’m not myself.
Okay, so this morning, I tried to work out. I tried to stretch. I felt so tight, I thought I might snap when I leaned forward. At least I could walk. I was right about that part. When I was with Jonathan or Brand in the afternoons, I could focus and spar with them, but I always paid a price later. My body stiffened up at night, and each morning, it was more difficult to get out of bed and get moving.
That morning, I decided to work out with swords. I took one from my weapons cabinet, clutched the handle, and gave it a quick swing. It felt good. I whipped it around, and the damn thing flew out of my hand, hit the wall, and clattered on the floor.
Through the window of the dojo, I saw Jonathan pull up in his Firebird. I reached down, picked up the sword, and felt something give in my chest. I rubbed the muscles beneath my collarbone. The pain had to be in my mind. I let the sword tip drop to the floor then leaned forward while I kept rubbing my muscles. For a moment I felt as if I would fall over, but leaning on the sword, I managed to keep my feet.
Esther popped into view. “Hey, Kelly.” Her eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Esther.”
“You’re massaging—“
“I know what I’m doing!”
“Jeez. You don’t have to turn into a bearcat.”
Jonathan entered the dojo and—
JONATHAN SHADE
The morning after dealing with the ghost of Christian Harris, Esther and I went over to Kelly’s dojo to see how my favorite Sekutar was doing. Esther popped out of my car to go ahead of me. The dojo was in a little strip mall, but it was still early, so the various shops weren’t open yet and there was plenty of parking. I pulled into a spot near Kelly’s door and went inside. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds, but by the time I got there, Esther was already indignant about something.
“—into a bearcat,” Esther said and popped away to who knows where.
Kelly shook her head and leaned on a sword, the tip cutting into the floor. She straightened when she saw me, and her face went from irritated to passive in two heartbeats. I put two and two together and didn’t come up with four, so I thought it best to give her some extra leeway. She put up a good front, but I knew she was still trying to recover from her injuries. If she wanted to pretend everything was fine, I was cool with that, but I knew I needed to keep a vigilant eye on things. I gave her a smile.
“Good morning,” I said. “Esther’s in one of her moods today. Not having a cup of coffee in more than eighty years will do that to you.”
Kelly pulled the sword free of the floor and placed her foot over the cut as if I wouldn’t see it. The dojo looked cleaner than usual; the tatami mats on the floor were perfectly arranged, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined one wall were spotless. “What brings you in so early?” she asked.
“I’m right on time, Kelly. Did you forget we were going to breakfast?”
She leaned her head back. “That’s right. Slipped my mind.”
“No big.”
The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Sharon standing in the entrance. The last time I’d spoken with her, she’d promised to come help deal with Persephone. Yes, that Persephone. Ruler of the Underworld and the whole nine. Sharon didn’t show up, and let’s just say the aftermath was not pleasant. The price I paid to set things right after that bloodbath still weighed on me. Sharon’s betrayal still cut deep into my soul, and I swore the next time I saw her, I’d kill her.
“Hello, Jonathan,” Sharon said.
I reached for my Glock and yanked it from the shoulder holster, but before I could aim and fire, Sharon darted over and grabbed my arm. I tried to pull free, but she was too strong.
“What’s going on here?” Kelly asked. She didn’t know about the betrayal.
As for Sharon, she looks like your standard librarian, hot in a bookish way, clad in a smart blue skirt and a white blouse with her hair pinned back, though she didn’t wear glasses. Looks were deceiving here because in reality, Sharon was Charon. Yes, you could say Charon was a cross dresser, but he’d literally changed his sex. While he—or rather, she—no longer ferried souls across the Acheron—that job belonged to a guy named Bob these days—Charon was still immortal and incredibly powerful.
I doubt the bullets would have had any effect, but I didn’t get a chance to find out.
“Fuck you,” I said with as much venom as I could put into the words.
“Jonathan!” Kelly said.
“Still upset?” Sharon asked as she pried the gun from my hand.
I tried to kick her, but she simply tossed me across the dojo. I hit hard on the practice mats and rolled right into Kelly, who fortunately raised the sword so I didn’t get cut. I couldn’t believe it when Kelly fell down. The sword hit the mat a few feet away. It had been two months since Kelly’s injuries, and with all the magical assistance, she should have been closer to her old self. I forgot all about Sharon while I stared at Kelly on the floor.
“You clumsy oaf,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said and pushed myself to my feet.
Kelly remained seated on the floor.
“You getting up?” I asked.
“In a minute.”
“You need help?”
“Of course not,” she said and rose to her feet with some semblance of grace, but I noticed her neck muscles bunch as she exerted herself. “You want to tell me why you drew down on Sharon?”
Kelly didn’t know what had happened on the Royal Gorge Bridge, six months ago for her and more than five years ago for me. None of it would have happened had Sharon not betrayed me. I spun back to the entrance. Sharon walked toward the door and set my gun on the glass display counter by the register. She turned and gave me a lopsided grin. “I knew sixty-six months wasn’t enough time for you to get over it, but the day for which I saved you has finally arrived.”
A few years before the betrayal, I’d been shot and killed. Charon gave me a choice to stay dead or to live, but as in The Godfather, someday, and that day might never come, I’d be called upon to perform a service. While I’m not one to simply sign a blank check, the options were sign or stay dead.
“Get out,” I said, pointing toward the door.
Sharon shook her head. “You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you shit, you lying little—”
“Careful, Jonathan. I’m forgiving to a point. I couldn’t help you that day. I wanted to be there for you, but when the time came, I knew it was something you had to do on your own. Obviously it all worked out. I understand you even have a steady girlfriend these days.”
“Am I missing something here?” Kelly asked. “What the hell is going on?”
Sharon smiled. “You didn’t tell her? Hmm, I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Nobody else needed to know,” I said.
Sharon shrugged. “Whatever. It’s time to pay the Ferryman.” She smiled, picked up my Glock, and pointed it at me. “Or if you prefer, I can kill you now and find someone else.”
Kelly stepped in front of me. “Don’t point a gun at my best friend.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Sharon said and pulled the trigger.
I tried to pull Kelly to the side, but there was no way I could possibly move fast enough. I caught her by the shoulders, and when she didn’t make any move on her own, I lowered her to the ground and knelt beside her. A Sekutar warrior can’t be killed with bullets, but Kelly hadn’t been herself lately, so I wasn’t sure the old rules applied. Normally she’d simply reach up and pluck the bullet from her skull, and the wound would heal in a few seconds.
But Kelly remained on the floor, eyes open but unresponsive. There wasn’t a mark on her, but I knew I hadn’t been fast enough to save her and Sharon wouldn’t have missed from such close range.
“What the hell?” I said. “Kelly?”
I stared at her but didn’t see an entrance wound from the bullet, nor did I find an exit wound. Kelly’s expression didn’t change.
“Kelly? This isn’t funny. Get up!” I looked up at Sharon.
She stood with the Glock aimed at the floor, dangling by her leg. “Is there a problem, Jonathan?” she asked.
“What did you do?”
“I shot at her.”
“She should be getting up already.” I checked her pulse at her throat. Nothing.
Sharon sighed. “Get up and talk to me, Jonathan.”
“You killed her!”
“Did I? Look in the air above you.”
I glanced up and, shadowed against the ceiling, I saw a bullet perched in the air. It wasn’t moving. I pushed myself to my feet, my blood pressure skyrocketing. I clenched my fists and stormed toward Sharon. I’m a mere mortal while she’s an immortal, but I was ready to punch her until the bones in my hands shattered.
She raised the gun, aiming at me again.
I stopped. It was instinct.
She let go of the gun and lowered her arm, but the gun hung suspended in the air.
“What the hell?”
“Take a closer look,” Sharon said.
I approached the gun. It didn’t move a millimeter. It wasn’t connected to anything; it simply remained motionless in the air as I walked around it, viewing it from every angle.
“Just like the bullet. What time is it?” Sharon asked, pointing to the clock.
Kelly had on the wall an old-fashioned clock with the minute and hour hands shaped like lighthouses. The time read 9:27, but then I noticed that the second hand wasn’t sweeping around the face. It sat pegged at forty-six seconds. It was battery operated, so it was certainly possible that the battery died, but I didn’t think so.
“What do you think of the traffic outside?”
I looked out the window at the traffic on Sheridan. It sat motionless. I noted, too, that it was unnaturally silent.
“Kelly will be fine. You moved her out of the path of the bullet. I just had to get your attention. Walk with me,” Sharon said.
She didn’t have this kind of power, so how did she accomplish this?
She turned and walked out the door, holding it open for me. She gave me a look like my mother used to give Merlin, our Siamese cat, who could never decide whether he wanted to go outside or stay inside. Merlin died when I was sixteen, having outlived my mother by two years.
“Any century now,” Sharon said.
“I’m going to kill you,” I said.
“Whatever. Come on.”
It was pointless to hold out any longer, so I followed her out the door.
Outside, nothing moved. The door remained open. Cars sat motionless in the street. A bird hovered in the sky as if it were simply a picture, and I’ll be damned if the little bastard hadn’t just unleashed a load of shit that hung in the air right above my Firebird. And I’d just washed the car. I flipped the bird to the bird.
An old man dressed in a vintage suit and tie stood on the sidewalk next to the dojo with one hand out, his eyes fixed on the gold pocket watch in his right hand. Sharon stopped beside
him and turned to look at me. I still had my middle finger extended to the damn bird.
“What’s all this, then?” I asked, turning toward Sharon.
The old man slowly turned his head, but nobody else was moving. “Are you certain you wish to place everyone’s fate in the hands of an insolent human?” he asked. He spoke with a slight British accent. His looked me up and down as if he were taking my measure and judging me unworthy.
“This insolent human can hear you,” I said.
“He’s perfectly balanced,” Sharon said. “Light magic, dark magic, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t affect him. He is exactly what we need.”
“You are gambling with history, Charon.”
“And I need your approval to move forward. Everyone else is on board.”
“Hmm,” he said.
“He doesn’t approve,” I said. “Why did you betray me?”
“I didn’t betray you, Jonathan. Now be quiet. The grown-ups are talking.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I asked. “Because I live in a world where people worship youth.”
“Oh, do shut up,” the old man said.
“Jolly good,” I said mimicking his accent. “But as an insolent human, shutting up would be bloody impossible.”
He ignored me and addressed Sharon. “I shall test him.”
“Please do,” Sharon said.
“No long division,” I said rubbing my chin. “And steer clear of fractions too.”
The old man approached me, and I met his gaze. Those people who always say things like he was an old soul never looked into this man’s eyes. He was ancient, and new, and . . . well, timeless. He looked as if he knew the answer to the riddle of the universe and could tell you what the question was and why the answer was forty-two. He reached out with his left hand and gripped my shoulder. His right hand still held that pocket watch. I glanced at the face of the watch, and it appeared to open up on the universe like those images the Hubble telescope sent back when the scientists pointed it at the darkest part of the sky only to see thousands more galaxies hurtling away from us, each filled with billions of stars. I had to pull my gaze away because I felt I could fall into that watch and be lost forever.
The old man’s lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed as he kept hold of my shoulder.