by Joss Ware
“You didn’t pressure me. You didn’t do anything wrong, Theo. I care about you very much. You’re my oldest and best friend, but I don’t feel the sort of emotion you feel for me. You’re more like a brother than…a…a lover.”
His hands fell away from where they’d slipped to her shoulders, as if they’d been trying to hold her close to him, knowing she was backing away. “Sage, I’ve loved you for years. I’d hoped for a long time that you might see me as more than an old man, more than a friend.”
She felt as though he’d punched her in the stomach. Years?
“Won’t you give this…us…a chance? I know the idea is new to you, but it might just be the newness of it that’s got you confused.” And now that Simon is out of the picture…
He didn’t say it, but she knew he was thinking it…because she couldn’t help but think it herself.
“Theo…I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt you. I just…”
“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips, gently, and said, “Let’s end this conversation here and…just let it go. Okay?”
She nodded, afraid to meet his eyes, but forcing herself to do so. Such deep pain there, such darkness.
“So,” he said, stepping back, his face shifting into something that resembled normalcy even though his movements were stiff. “Redlow. I haven’t had a chance to catch you up on things, you being out cold and all.” He tried to smile, but she could see what it cost him.
“You found it?”
He nodded, but before he could continue, the quiet ding sounded, and the sounds of multiple voices and pairs of feet trooped down the circular staircase.
Sage couldn’t help a mental sigh of relief that there was now a buffer between her and Theo.
Quent led the way, followed by Wyatt and Lou. The sight of the handsome blond man had Sage realizing with a start that she had something for him. But Theo had already begun to talk, explaining that they were just about to debrief on Redlow.
“Quent, do you want to check something for me?” she asked, pulling the thing that Simon told her was an identification badge, the plastic thing with Remington Truth’s picture on it, out of her pocket. “Can you tell me if this belonged to Remington Truth?”
He didn’t hesitate, sitting down in her computer chair and then reaching for the badge. She handed it to him and he closed his eyes, frantic, ugly emotions running across his face. He appeared to be in pain, and she glanced at Wyatt, who seemed to be monitoring the situation.
Moments later, he opened his eyes, pitching the badge onto the desk with effort, as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of it. His eyes were haunted, his face tight with pain.
He spoke rapidly, like gunfire. “It’s his. And it also belonged to a woman. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Young. But it was definitely his first. For a long time.”
“What else?” Wyatt said.
Quent drew in a breath that shook audibly. “He was a bloody fucked-up wank. Most of what I got was anger and guilt and horror. Power. Desire. He was suicidal, I think. A brilliant man, but suicidal. It was all a blur, a horrible, horrifying fucked-up tornado of shite. He—or at least that ID badge—lived through some fucked-up times. I couldn’t stay there long enough to peel it away, to understand it. It’s too…horrible.”
“Thank you,” Sage said, brushing Quent’s shoulder lightly with her hand. He trembled beneath her, and she got a sense of intense loneliness from that simple touch, and that he wasn’t used to comfort. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would be so difficult for you.”
She looked up and found Theo eyeing her, and she gave Quent’s shoulder a little rub, then withdrew her hand. She glanced at Lou, who was unusually quiet.
“No,” Quent replied, “no. That’s my…contribution to this whole battle against these bastards. We have to find them, and destroy them, right? It’s not going to be easy, and I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
He swiped his honey blond hair off his forehead, and she saw a bit of the tension ease from his eyes. His voice became stronger, and she got the impression that he might have been a good orator…in his previous life. “We’re here for a reason—me, Wyatt, Dred—and Simon and Fence too. None of us are the men we were when we went into those caves in Sedona. For whatever reason, the universe protected us, brought us here. Who knows, maybe we even traveled through time. Ever hear of string theory? It’s possible. But here we are, larger than life, different…reborn in a way, I guess. And the way I see it,” he said, sitting up straight, now his expression determined, “we have a responsibility to do what we can—to destroy the Strangers, and whoever else annihilated everything that we knew and loved.” And there, his voice cracked, just a bit, at the very end.
Silence reigned for a moment, and Sage almost felt like she needed to clap. Instead, she glanced over at Wyatt, who’d turned away and was looking—glaring—at the floor. His broad shoulders were unmoving.
“Right, then,” Quent said, a little more subdued after his outburst. “I think I can handle the mental assault of a few bad memories that I can discard at any time—let alone didn’t have to live through. It’s part of the deal.” He smiled up at Sage and she blinked back a bit of dampness in her eyes. “But thank you for your concern.”
And thank you for that little speech. I really needed to hear that.
“So,” interrupted Theo. His voice sounded a little steely, drawing Sage’s gaze, but he wasn’t looking at her. “We’re going after Simon, then should we follow up on this Redlow lead? They’re in the same area. Since the ID badge definitely belonged to Truth, he may have given it to this dark-haired woman. She may have been the last person to see him—at least four years ago.”
“We find Simon first. Then we go to Redlow,” said Wyatt flatly. “I’m fucking tired of waiting around here scratching my ass. Let’s get something done.”
“I’m going too,” Quent said. “I’ll be able to identify the woman if she’s there, or possibly determine whether she’s been.”
“In the morning, as planned,” Lou reminded them, speaking up for the first time. Sage couldn’t help but notice the way his attention had gone from her to his brother and back again, several times, during the course of the discussion. “It’s getting late and it’s been a long day.”
“I’ll go too,” Sage said.
“Haven’t you had enough adventures?” Theo asked. “What about your head?”
She ignored him to say, “I’m the only one who knows my way around FC.”
“You said Simon went back voluntarily,” Quent said.
“I’m not sure how voluntarily it was,” Sage replied, acknowledging the truth. “It was more like he offered himself as a hostage. To save the city.” She tried not to show her worry. She might be furious with him, but she—well, heck. She might as well admit why her heart was so broken. She loved him.
But Simon was able to take care of himself. Especially since the man could turn invisible. How could anyone catch him if he didn’t want them to? He could do anything he wanted and never be caught.
Her stomach felt tight again. She hoped.
“We leave first thing in the morning,” Wyatt said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Makes sense for Sage to come with us,” he added, giving Theo a curt look.
“I’m going to go up and get some sleep,” she said, suddenly needing to be alone…to think. She rubbed the back of her head for emphasis. “Don’t leave without me.” She looked at Quent when she said it, and then Lou, considering them the most sympathetic people in the room. They both nodded.
At the top of the circular stairs, she pushed the buttons that opened the old elevator doors and started the walk back to the flights of stairs that would take her to her room. She passed the Pub, briefly considering a stop in there—where Jade happened to be singing for the after-dinner crowd. She saw Elliott sitting in the front row, as always, and the mayor of Envy, Vaughn Rogan, who’d had a big thing for Jade before Elliott came along, sitting in the corner.
But she didn�
��t want company.
Nor, Sage decided, was she quite ready to return to her room.
Instead, she went outside, glad to get into the relative quiet of the night. Low voices and the sounds of people walking along the old sidewalks and trimmed pathways reached her ears. The natural light was dim, for the moon waned and was now a mere quarter. Only a few nights ago, she and Simon had sneaked to the abandoned house to set up the NAP, under much brighter light.
Ah, Simon.
Was he with Tatiana now? Happy, reunited with and old friend…maybe a lover? She had to accept it was a possibility. It wasn’t like she’d missed the tension between the two of them during their confrontation at dinner.
Yet…it just didn’t fit. It didn’t feel right to her…meshing with the Simon she knew. Not the Simon he’d been. Fifty years ago, in a completely different world.
None of us are the same men we were when we went into those caves in Sedona.
Even Simon.
Especially Simon. She had to believ—
Suddenly, a strong hand clamped around her mouth, and an arm around her waist, and Sage was being dragged back into the shadows. She kicked and fought, but he was too strong. Something heavy and dark whuffed over her head and she was wrapped up in it, bound and roped and completely stifled.
She couldn’t breathe well through the heavy material, and the world around her grew murky as she was lifted and carried…and then she felt her consciousness slide away, leaving her in darkness.
No blood on his hands.
Not this time.
Simon’s head ached from the high slamming down, his body hurt from being cranked out of his mind. But at least he had a clean conscience.
In the end, he hadn’t needed to slice into Florita’s skin, hacking the crystal out of her body, smashing its fiberopticlike tendrils that snaked into her muscles and tendons, embedding it in place. The Xbox junkies had done it for him.
Florita had tried to pull to her feet, but she was out of it and in pain. Apparently Strangers could be slowed down, but not permanently eliminated without taking their crystal. Simon, still trying to clear his own mind, ignored her, invisible and free, and did a quick search.
He’d left the waterfall home in Rita’s humvee, after hunting down the four humans and two Strangers left over. The SIG Sauer 229 he had in his hand, one he’d found after searching Florita’s room, felt horribly familiar, comforting even, had set the mortals scuttling into the corners. He casually waved the gun, then left them to piss their pants.
And the other two Strangers…Florita’s “pets”—Simon had spared the Xbox junkies too.
No wonder Florita had been bored with them. At one time, they might have been handsome, interesting young men, probably in the prime of early twenties when she crystaled them. But after thirty lazy years of Xbox, iPod, and an infinite collection of DVDs—after growing up in a post-Change world where those things didn’t exist in such wealth—and knowing they had an infinite life of such monotony, they had become soft and slow.
Yet, they hadn’t been part of the cult, and in his mind, they needed to take no responsibility for their actions. He warned them that the crystal guard must remain in place over Falling Creek and when they learned that Tatiana was incapacitated, and that they needed to fear nothing from Simon, they raced up to her.
As he left, Simon heard her screams for mercy and realized that Tatiana’s pets had revolted. Too much Mortal Kombat, apparently.
His arm still burned and tingled from the grit, and his mouth watered for the heat of Scotch. He found himself rubbing his wrist, as if trying to score any last crystal dust into his skin.
Was he on his way back? Or could he wade through it?
Was he strong enough?
Simon started the truck and drove away, back down the cliff in the dark, checking to be certain that the crystal guard was still glowing blue. From what he’d learned from the Xbox junkies, the guard was more or less permanent—the earlier threat of it being removed had simply been a trick by Tatiana, and implemented by the junkies in order to catch Simon.
Probably the first time they’d done anything interesting for a decade. Besides kill their mistress.
So, Simon could believe that Falling Creek would be safe…although he was going to stop in and warn the settlement leaders to keep watch on the blue glow.
And then…what would he do?
Sage’s face flashed into his mind once again, and he settled on it for a moment. Just a moment. His fingers tightened over the steering wheel. Then he pushed the thought away. Tempting, oh, so damned tempting. What would it be like to wake up next to her every morning?
To have a normal, solid life?
Simon shook his head. “No.” He said it aloud, to himself. Though the Sedona cave had given him a new chance, he still couldn’t erase his bloody past. He could make amends for it, but he couldn’t eradicate it. How could someone like Sage be with someone who’d done the things he’d done?
Never.
And he’d have to tell her. To show her, so she’d understand who he was. He could imagine the expression, the crumpled expression on her face, the shock and fear that would come into her eyes. The blank look on her face.
No. Not a fucking chance.
Simon sat in the vehicle, the engine rumbling low and sleek, its headlights cutting into the darkness. Not a sign of orange ganga eyes anywhere, although he had seen the golden glitter of some feral predator slinking into the dark. Falling Creek lay ahead, glowing in its warm, comfortable lights. Creepy and unsettling though the place was, he couldn’t and wouldn’t judge its residents.
Because he, of all people, wouldn’t stand up to anyone’s judgment.
Yet, as he looked at the small village, he couldn’t quite ignore the large house that sat, dark and empty, at the north side of the settlement. Where he and Sage had been together.
He gritted his teeth. No sense reliving that.
No sense wondering what she was doing now…if she and Theo were back in Envy, or if they’d stopped for the night somewhere.
And that, he definitely didn’t want to think about.
So he considered his other options…and tried to sleep.
Quent knew it was too soon, but he walked outside anyway. They were leaving for Redlow in the morning, and would be gone who knew how long.
And, just in case…well, fuck. He didn’t know when he’d be back.
The night air still carried a bit of the day’s humidity, and, as was his habit…as he’d learned to do…he walked away from the well-traveled paths most people took. Sticking to the shadows, he tried not to spend all his time looking up for slender shadows that moved about with great daring and agility. And that had quivers of arrows that slid and clunked over their shoulders.
But he did.
Bugger it, he was one fucked-up knobber.
He walked for maybe fifteen minutes, concentrating on keeping his mind blank from those horrible memories belonging to Remington Truth. One could almost feel sorry for the man.
If he hadn’t been the architect of the Change.
And that was one thing that Quent had sensed from the memories. That the man they sought—the one the Strangers and the gangas and now he and his friends were moving mountains to find—that man had been instrumental in the catastrophic events.
Something whooshed silently in front of him and Quent froze, his heard pounding. He didn’t look up; instead, he followed the sound, and found an arrow embedded in the ground just in front of him. From its angle it looked as if it hadn’t come from too high…maybe one story above. Possibly two, at the outside.
“Watch it,” he said up into the darkness. “You almost shot me.”
Her snort wafted down. “If I wanted to shoot you, I fucking would have.”
He smiled, his heart suddenly considerably lighter. “Why don’t you come down here and retrieve your arrow.” He put a whole lot of meaning into that suggestion.
There was a faint shift above, barel
y audible, and something like a pebble or clump of dirt dropped from wherever she was sitting. “I thought you’d want to know…the woman. The Corrigan woman. Someone took her.”
Quent peered up, squinting in the darkness, all thoughts—well, most thoughts—of coaxing her down here evaporating. “What?”
“I saw it. I was too far away to get there in time. He was fast, and he’s got her. I’m pretty sure they left Envy, in one of those machines.”
“Machine?”
“You know, those damn driving things.”
“Which direction? Any idea where they were going?”
“Northeast.”
“What did he look like? The man who took her?”
“I recognized him. It was Ian Marck.”
The son of a bitch.
“How do you know Ian Marck?” he asked, wishing like hell she would step into what little bit of moonlight there was. So he could see her.
“I know who he is.” A pause. “And his father.”
Then it hit him. “Was that who you wanted to talk to the other night, at the party? The reason you disappeared?”
“Nosy bastard, aren’t you?”
“Zoë…” His neck was hurting from craning back so hard. “Come down here.”
Her raspy little laugh trickled down. “You’ve got work to do.” More sounds of movement above, and another little tumble of dirt. Then, “Make damn sure you wear a bandanna when you go after her. Don’t need any fucking gangas grabbing you, ’cause I won’t be around to rescue your ass this time.”
Quent couldn’t help but smile. “You could come with me.”
“Get the hell out of here.”
“Thank you for telling me about Sage.”
“You can thank me later.”
“Is that a promise?”
She snorted again, but it sounded farther away. “Can’t you come up with any original lines?”
“The sound of your voice makes me crazy. How’s that?”