“From the recording, it sounded more like he was trying to recruit you,” Flitstrom says.
“And he knew he had this fake-poison option all along,” Elena says. “He wouldn’t be worried about you killing him if he was planning on faking his own death until his friends could come rescue him.”
I nod. “So, maybe he had an incentive to stretch it out.” I sigh. “Great. Moloch could still be out there, and if this Gehenna thing is real…”
“…they’re going to come looking for you again,” Flitstrom finished for me.
I was going to say they would keep killing kids. Or maybe try to stop the DA. But Flitstrom has a point, and Elena’s got that cute frown on her face again.
“Which is why,” Flitstrom says, “we’re keeping your identity here at the hospital a secret. Officially, you died at the safehouse. As far as any records are concerned, Joseph Miller is a deceased debt collector. And I’ve made arrangements for you to enter Witness Protection.”
My mouth hangs open as Flitstrom speaks. I finally shut it and say, “What?”
“You’re safe from Candy and her partner, Kennedy, given that they’re in custody,” Flitstrom says. “Kolek may believe the official story about your demise—he did send people to kill you, after all, and you did almost die. Even if he doesn’t, he may hesitate to come after you, given that you’re not central to the case against him, not with his own thug turning states’ evidence. But this Gehenna organization has already shown an interest in you, and you are clearly aware of them. They may want to know just how much you do know. Or try to recruit you again. Or…”
“Or try to eliminate me as a threat,” I say. It’s not hard to imagine Moloch showing up one night and trying to turn the tables on me.
“Either way,” Flitstrom says, “you’ll be safer if we move you. Witness Protection will give you a new identity. You won’t be able to collect anymore, because the pool of known collectors is too small. It would be too easy to identify you. You’ll have to get some training, find a profession you want to work in, but the Marshalls will help you get established in your new life.”
A new life? I stare at Flitstrom as he speaks, but my mind has a hard time grasping it.
“So I wouldn’t be collecting?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “As soon as you’re well enough to relocate, the Marshalls will move you.” He gestures to the closed hospital room door, and I finally notice that I’m alone in my two-bed hospital room. “We’ve had a twenty-four hour guard on you ever since you came out of surgery. But we can’t maintain that forever.”
“But… where would I go?”
“New Mexico. Possibly Texas. You’ll have to ask the Marshalls once they take you into the program.”
Elena’s hand in mine loosens slightly. I look up at her, but she keeps her face blank, like she doesn’t want me to know what she’s thinking. I tighten my grip on her hand, and she gives me the barest smile. It falls off her face almost as soon as it starts. She’s blinking more than she has to.
I look back to Flitstrom. He’s waiting, letting me think about it.
A new life.
I wouldn’t have to traffic in death anymore. I’d have to give up my addiction to life energy hits, too, but that’s a price I’d be willing to pay for not having to be the Grim Reaper. But there is a lot more I’d have to give up. My mom, who I’ve just finally gotten back. The mastery of the mercy hits that I’ve finally obtained. The chance to do more good with Madam A’s kids, at least until she doesn’t have any more kids to care for. The DA’s investigation should shut down the need to smuggle children out of the hospital, and kids like Tilly should be able to live out whatever they have left of their lives.
I would lose Elena.
I could have a new life, but it would be empty of all the things I’ve finally found worth living for.
In a strange way, I already feel like I have a new life. From the moment I paid out to Tilly… from the first time Elena kissed me… when she was in my arms, and I couldn’t imagine anything better… I’m just starting to figure out what life I can have.
I’m just starting to know what I can truly do in the world.
Which makes me think about those last moments on the floor of the safehouse, pouring my life energy into a cage, trying to give Elena a chance at life. I tighten my grip on her hand, but I look at Flitstrom. “I have a few things here I’m not done with yet.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“There’s something else I learned in the safehouse,” I say, carefully. “Something I need to sort out before I can think about leaving LA.” I’m not sure how much of my new-found ability I should share with Flitstrom. He saved my life, but he’s part of the Department. And this isn’t something that I want the government involved in. Not yet, at least.
Flitstrom looks to Elena to see if she has any idea what I’m babbling about, but she’s just as confused. That’s okay, I’ll tell her soon enough.
“We’re taking care of the investigation, Lirium,” Flitstrom says. “You’ve done enough for that already. You’ve given us the evidence we need. And it’s really no longer safe for you here. You should leave as soon as you’re able, so you can keep intact the cover story we’ve created that you’re dead. If you don’t…”
He looks at Elena’s hand wrapped in mine. A dawning appears on his face, but then he looks grave. “If you don’t, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“I’ve got news for you, Flitstrom.” My voice is serious, but my heart is light. “You can’t guarantee my safety no matter what.”
His mouth pinches together, like he wants to say more, but I can see he’s running the calculations in his head, and the odds of convincing me aren’t coming up good. Which is just as well.
Something silent passes between him and Elena. Which I don’t care for. Then he says, “I’ll give you a chance to think about it. I need to make a coffee run anyway.”
He tips his head to me then strides out the door.
As soon as he’s gone, I pull Elena down to sit with me on the bed. The cute frown has taken over her face, but mine is stretched with a smile.
“Joe, you should go into Witness Protection.”
“Probably,” I say. “But then I’d miss the chance to do this.” I pull her towards me. I can’t chance leaning forward too much, and I don’t have the strength to bring her into my arms, but she obliges, and I spend some time running my bandage-free hand through her hair and kissing her. Not hurried, even though who knows how much time we have left. But softly. And like I mean it.
She pulls back before I’m ready, but I’m in no shape to stop her. “Joe, you can’t stay just for me.” Her hands are twisting in her lap, and she won’t meet my gaze. “I mean, I’d like you to, but it’s not safe—”
I stop her before she gets too far. “It’s not just for you.”
She looks up, questioning. I don’t like the worry on her face, so I reach up to smooth it, and it disappears under my touch. That alone would keep me from vanishing into Witness Protection, but I don’t tell her that.
“When you were shot at the safehouse,” I say, “I did something I didn’t even know was possible. You know the device that Dr. Brodsky used—the one that helped my mom?”
She nods.
“Well, I figured out how to do something similar.” I touch her shoulder lightly, where the silver sling still holds her arm captive. “I reached inside you to focus the life energy transfer.”
“Don’t you do that all the time?” she asks.
“No.” I smile. “This is something completely different. I was able to flood your wound with life energy and hold it there. I know that didn’t do all the healing, but I know it did something. Something different. Something that could change everything about how debt collecting works.”
Her eyes are wide, and the deep, soft brown draws me in, like it always does. “You can heal people?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure exactly how it works, or how m
uch I can do it, but here’s the thing: Dr. Brodsky and I need to have some serious conversations about all of it. What it means. How it works. And what I should do with it.”
She nods as I speak, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “So, you might need to stick around for a little while?”
“Well, I’m kind of an idiot,” I say, grinning. “It might take longer than you think.”
She takes my face in both hands and kisses me, pushing me gently back into the cranked-up mattress of the hospital bed. And while dull aches prod me from my wound, and I’m still weak from my final encounter with Kolek’s mob, there’s no place I’d rather be than with Apple Girl’s hair falling around me, her lips eagerly pressed against mine.
I don’t know how much life I have left, but I know for certain that every moment of it will count for something.
If you enjoyed Passion, please leave a review for the episode, as well as for all of Season One! And tell your friends! Word of mouth is tremendously important for authors, especially with an unusual format like a serial.
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Debt Collector Vol 1-3 Audiobook
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Will there be a
Debt Collector Season Two?
Yes! No! Maybe. The best way to ensure a Season Two is to send life energy hits directly to the author… I mean… spread the word about Season One! That being said, I have two other novels in the works, so the soonest for Season Two would be 2014. But it is very likely that I’ve fallen too madly in love with this world to stop writing it. And there’s another debt collector—a kickass, vigilante, female one—who keeps banging on my head, wanting her story to be told…
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Writing this serial has been an adventure. My first thanks go to the readers who took the adventure with me, reading along and giving feedback—you truly inspired me, with every release of every episode (and all the in between times, too).
The idea for Debt Collector snuck up on me during a long car ride and refused to let go. Special thanks go to Dianne Salerni and Leigh Talbert Moore for their early encouragement to write this story, even though there was no place for it in the schedule. They were also my first critique partners, along with Matthew MacNish. All three helped keep this story on the rails as I wrote. Thanks also go to several writer friends who gave feedback on the early episodes, including Magan Vernon, Becca Campbell, Megg Jensen, and Tina Stoval. A big high five goes to Liz Searle for swapping pages with me all through the intense writing of the first season, and a special thanks to my SCBWI critique group for letting me bring Lirium to class, even though he was not a young adult.
Writing is always an act of faith—on the part of the writer, that the end result will be worth the agony and ecstasy of the writing process, and on the part of the reader, that time spent between the pages will be worthwhile. Thank you to everyone who has taken this leap of faith with me, whether you read episode-by-episode or waited for the full season to be complete. I hope you enjoyed the ride!
Susan Kaye Quinn is the author of the bestselling Mindjack Trilogy, which is young adult science fiction. The Debt Collector series is her more grown-up SF.
Susan grew up in California, got a bunch of engineering degrees (B.S. Aerospace Engineering, M.S. Mechanical Engineering, Ph.D. in Environmental Engineering) and worked everywhere from NASA to NCAR (National Center for Atmospheric Research). She designed aircraft engines, studied global warming, and held elected office (as a school board member). Now that she writes novels, her business card says "Author and Rocket Scientist," but she mostly sits around in her pajamas in awe that she gets paid to make stuff up.
All her engineering skills come in handy when dreaming up dangerous mind powers, future dystopic worlds, and slightly plausible steampunk inventions. For her stories, of course. Just ignore that stuff in the basement.
Susan writes from the Chicago suburbs with her three boys, two cats, and one husband. Which, it turns out, is exactly as much as she can handle.
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