Reed started to interrupt but I shushed him. “My life is a train on a track right now. Most people get to make a million choices every day, from the inconsequential to the important, choices that steer their lives. I’ve got one big one—should I fight Century or run? And a thousand tactical decisions to make from there that will lead to one of two basic outcomes—we’ll either win or we’ll lose. And if we lose, you’ll all die.”
“Which is why I can’t figure out why you’re making this choice right now!” Reed’s pent-up fury exploded out of him. “This smells like a setup. Like an ambush. Like you’re just leading us right into the mouth of the lion so we can get good and dead quicker than we would otherwise. We have a plan. We could hit those safe houses, start wiping Century off the map—”
“You’re missing it,” I said with a faint smile. It was mournful, not mirthful. “If we do that, we accomplish one thing—we winnow their numbers down from the one hundred they had when they started. But they’re gonna take everything they have left and throw it at us at that point. They may already be moving to do that.”
“Then we fight them!” Reed said. “I like fifty or forty or thirty to eight odds better than I like eighty to eight. If they’re gonna come, let’s do some damage first.”
I shook my head. “And that’s the point. We can’t win the war that way. Even if we grind them down to thirty to eight—assuming no one dies on the raids—we’ll be able to take out maybe another ten of them before we go down.” I felt all expression leave my face. “And then the rest will just move on with their plan. Wipe humanity off the board, or whatever they’re going to do. The way we are currently playing the game, we … will … lose.” I hit every word with extra emphasis. “It’s inevitable. Like destiny.”
“So instead we just throw the game away right now,” Scott said with a scornful sigh.
“No,” I said. “We hedge a long-odds bet. And it is long odds, I’ll be the first to admit it. Akiyama is coming to us at an insanely convenient time, if he’s really coming to help us. But I’m willing to risk a trap—a confrontation—if it will give us a chance to change our fate. Because I see where we’re going, how this war is going to play out for us … and I can’t …” My voice broke. “I can’t do it. I know you think I’m cold and heartless, but I can’t stand by and lose you all one by one in attrition through raids then watch while Weissman rallies everything they have left so he can inflict painful and punishing deaths on each of you in turn.”
I shook my head and my hand found the handle for the van’s door. “Scott, Reed … wait here. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Sure, suicide guard duty sounds like fun,” Reed said, sullen.
“I don’t want you to be on suicide guard duty,” I said. “If you see trouble coming … I want you to run.”
There was a silence in the van. “Are you freaking kidding me?” Reed asked. He turned his head all the way around to look at me. “You think I’m going to run?”
“You were just arguing tactics with me,” I said. “What sense does it make to throw all of our lives away in an ambush?”
“Slightly more sense than it makes to walk into the ambush in the first place,” Reed said hotly. “If you die, we’re done. Do you realize that?”
“No, you’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve got nothing extra to offer the cause except the skills my mother taught me.”
“You have the power—”
“I don’t,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t. If it’s in me somewhere … I don’t know how to use it. However Sovereign does it … I don’t know how to do it. My souls hate me. The one thing they have in common is that. They don’t want to help me; they want to see me die for what I’ve done to them. I can’t figure out how to force them to give me their power. I’ve tried. I can’t get them to so much as give me a moment’s assistance …” I bowed my head. “I’m just another soldier, Reed. Which is why I’m willing to take this gamble.”
Reed pursed his lips tight. Scott sat next to him, refusing to even look back at me. “Stay in the van,” I told them. Reed grudgingly nodded. “Run at the first sign of trouble. I need to talk to Zollers, and then I’ll send him back to you so he can warn you if something comes this way.”
I opened the door to the van and stepped out into the brisk, pre-autumnal evening. I held the door open as my mother joined me wordlessly, and then Zollers followed from the back seat. I slammed the door and listened to the finality of the sound as it echoed over the empty road.
“Do I need to say it?” I asked Zollers as he fell into step beside me. We were walking along a concrete sidewalk toward a gate at the far end of the building.
“You want me to coerce them into leaving if things get hot,” Zollers said in his usual, mild sort of way. “I’ll try. They’re both struggling under the burden of strong emotions that would be driving them in the opposite direction. At least, Reed is. Scott …” He shook his head.
“He’s a mess,” I said.
“I’ve seen worse,” Zollers said. “He’s haunted by that experience in Vegas. I’ve counseled people through similar things, and I think I can bring him around, given some time.”
“Time …” I said, staring over the gate. I knew the Japanese Garden was over there somewhere. “Let’s hope I can get us some of that.”
“The man waiting over there is Shin’ichi Akiyama,” Zollers said, “or at least he believes he is. I can read that much.” He smiled. “Assuming you believe my word.”
“I believe you,” I said, and I did. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet. Warning me not to trust anyone at the Directorate, trying to guide me from a world away, sending me the visions of Adelaide so I could find that secret room in Omega Headquarters—” I froze as his face bore a deep frown. “What?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about in relation to this … Adelaide?” Zollers said, his face creased with uncertainty. “I never gave you any visions that I know of. I just tried to keep an eye on your psyche, help keep you as stable as possible from afar. I have no idea who ‘Adelaide’ is.”
I blinked, trying to rack my brain. “But … I was having these visions in London, and I was sure you gave them to me. How else would—?”
“It’s almost nine o’clock,” my mother said, a little abruptly, from beside me. “We need to get you to your meeting.”
I cast a last look back at Zollers, who was already retreating back toward the van. “Please,” I said.
“I will do what I can,” he said.
“Come on,” my mother said, more than a little tense. I could feel the tension radiating from her in a way I couldn’t recall ever experiencing before. She jogged toward the gate and leapt over it with one good jump. I followed and landed on the pavement with all the delicacy of a kid playing hopscotch.
“That’s a little weird, isn’t it?” I asked my mother as I shot one last look back to Zollers. “I had these visions, fully-formed, of a succubus who worked for Omega in the eighties, and—”
“That’s a little weird,” my mother said, cutting me off as she led the way up the path.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked as we veered off the road onto a path. Plants and bushes surrounded the path, well-tended greenery that marked the start of the garden.
“Nothing,” she said, not turning to face me. She kept on, a couple paces ahead.
“Something’s up,” I said, and hurried to catch her. I matched her stride and looked at her face. It was all seriousness.
The path turned slightly left, and I could hear water running ahead. A still pond lay on our right, and my mother stopped without warning. “I’m going to wait here,” she said. Her face was shrouded in darkness. There were few lights here, only a couple lamps shining in the darkness. The tranquility oozed over the scene, and I noticed leaves crunching underfoot for the first time as I came to a halt.
“Okay,” I said. “Why do I get the feeling you’re betraying me?”
She stood partially in
the shadows, and I heard a faint sigh. “I assure you I’m not. But … before you go …”
“Oh, boy,” I said. “Don’t say goodbye or I’ll really think you’ve walked me into a trap.”
She didn’t move, the shadows of the overhead branches hiding her expression. “I wanted to tell you … I’m sorry.”
I looked around, turning my head in a slow circle. “Seriously, is Weissman going to come jumping out at me right now?”
“No,” she said, a little cautiously. “But I need to tell you something.”
“Maybe you could start by explaining what you’re sorry for,” I said, eyeing her more than a little warily. My paranoia was in full swing, even though I knew—somehow—that I was supposed to be here.
“I’m sorry for what I put you through,” she said. “I’m sorry it was necessary. I’m sorry I locked you in the box all those years. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t smart enough, to see any other way to keep you safe.” I couldn’t see her face in the shadows. “I’m sorry I had to break your spirit to keep you down. And most of all … I’m sorry you couldn’t live a normal life.”
I was still looking sideways every few seconds, waiting for something to come jumping out at me. When it didn’t come, I took a step toward her in the shadows. Now I could see her face, faintly, and it looked … contrite. “It wasn’t your fault I couldn’t have a normal life,” I said. What else was I supposed to say? “And … I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say to any of the rest of that except … your timing sucks.”
“What?” She looked up at me. “Oh. Right. Well. I felt like it needed to be said, and if I waited I might never say it.”
“Yeah … kind of ominous the way you laid that out right now, but …” I didn’t even know if I honestly wanted an apology from her at this point. We’d come to a place where we could deal with each other independently of the past, and it felt a lot better to just leave my childhood where it lay. “Anyway. I’m off to meet my fate.”
“What?” She looked up at me, genuine confusion hidden by the lines of the shadows.
“Gonna see if we have an ally or an ambush,” I said. “You gonna wait here for me?”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, and the tension was back in her voice. “Take as long as you need.”
My head was spinning from what my mother had said, and her timing in saying it. I felt like I was suspicious of everything at this point, like the whole world could be conspiring against me. Really, if Sovereign could change his face, I probably wasn’t wrong to be as suspicious as I was. Still, it was … disconcerting to be thinking that way all the time.
I drew a deep breath of the fresh garden air as I followed the path around another curve. The sound of water flowing was louder here, and I could see a lamp burning ahead next to a piece of stonework that had a top shaped like a pagoda.
I rounded a corner and saw a waterfall flowing down a massive stone ledge into a little stream below. It burbled as it ran, drowning out the distant sounds of the city at night.
There was a bench next to the stream, and I could see the silhouette of a man sitting upon it, his posture stiff and straight, as though he were a statue. I could see his face lit by the lamp overhead. He wore a suit and looked exactly like he had on the security monitor. He had a goatee speckled with salt and pepper, but the hair on his head was a deep jet black. He stood as I approached, my quiet footsteps ringing out in the night as obvious as gunshots would be to a human.
When I got close, he bent into a deep bow, very formally. When he came back up, I aped his motion but less deeply because I wanted to keep an eye on him. He watched me all the while, and when I finished, he spoke.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Sienna Nealon,” he said, inclining his head. “I am Shin’ichi Akiyama.”
“I’m sorry. Did you see me before?” I asked. “When you were at my office this morning?”
“No,” he said with a subtle shake of his head. “I merely dropped off my humble gift—which I hope you find pleasing—and withdrew to return here for contemplation.”
“I’m sorry, but you said it was a pleasure to see me again,” I said, something troubling me. “That usually implies that you’ve seen me before.”
“Indeed,” he said, tilting his head once more in acknowledgment. “My grasp of English is not as flawless as it perhaps could be. I believe the proper way to say what I had intended was, ‘It is a pleasure to meet you again.’”
I wondered if this was a communication problem. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s right. We haven’t met before.”
He seemed to take a deep breath in through the nose. “Ah, but I believe you are mistaken. For you see, I have most assuredly encountered the great Sienna Nealon in my past.”
“I … that’s just confusing,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I would remember you if we’d met before.”
He smiled and bowed his head once more. The wind stirred through the trees, loud enough to make itself obvious over the sounds of the babbling brook running beside us. Akiyama took a deep breath, and when he spoke, it seemed as though the world held its breath for just a second to let him say his piece. “I assure you, I am just as certain that I could not forget Sienna Nealon … the Girl in the Box.”
Chapter 38
“What did you just call me?” I asked. I had flashed a little with anger at what he’d said.
“Are you familiar with the Japanese concept of hakoiri musume?” he asked, studying me with penetrating eyes. His whole posture was restful, placid. As though the world was flowing around him like he was one of the stones in the stream next to us. “Translated it means something akin to ‘daughter in a box.’ A girl protected and sheltered from the world around her.”
I felt my jaw tighten, my teeth clench together. “You seem to know an awful lot more about me than I know about you.”
“Forgive my lack of subtlety,” he said with another nod of his head. “I wished to demonstrate my familiarity with you, not insult you.”
“I’m not insulted, exactly,” I said, a little taken aback. “Just … surprised … that you might have heard some details of my upbringing that I didn’t know were exactly public knowledge.”
“You should not be surprised, as you told me of your upbringing yourself,” he said, never taking his eyes off me.
“I did not …” I paused. “I haven’t met you until just now … but you know me.”
“Indeed I know you,” he said, and I caught a slight smile from him, “and I am in your debt.”
Something occurred to me, and a little chill ran through me that wasn’t from the night air. “We’ve met … else-when.”
“And elsewhere,” Akiyama said. “Something you would not know … there are two of me in this time period. One here, speaking with you, and another … on an island not far from Nagasaki.” He remained still for a moment as I processed my way through what he had just said. “Did you know that Nagasaki is a sister city to your own St. Paul?”
“I … did not,” I said, my head still spinning.
“Indeed,” he said. “It is why this garden is here.”
I thought about it. “How did you know that Nagasaki was a sister city to St. Paul?”
He smiled. “Because you told me when last I met you.”
“God, I have a headache,” I said, and I really felt like I did. Possible betrayals and paranoia were nothing next to the confusion of time travel that he’d just opened up on me. “So … what you’re saying is that I’ll meet you again, someday in my future?”
“Someday,” he said. “And on that day, you will do me the greatest service one could ever ask of another. It is that kindness that has placed me in your debt.”
“Well, that’s … great,” I said. “Since you’re in my debt, I need some help.”
He glanced at me, only briefly, before turning his attention back to the waterfall. “Weissman.”
“He’s a big problem,” I said. “Him and Century, if you�
��re familiar with them.”
“You have told me all about them,” he said, but now he wasn’t looking at me. “I know what you would ask of me, but I am afraid my ability to intervene in this time is … limited by circumstance.”
I felt all the air leave my lungs. “You just said you were in my debt. You just told me that I would do you the greatest service or favor or something that could ever be asked. I’m fighting a war here, and I could really use your help.”
He looked back at me, and I could see a cocked eyebrow. “I know all of this. But you do not understand. My hands are tied when I am in this place.”
“Because there’s another you in this time?” I felt my head wanting to ache again. It wasn’t really aching, but it felt like it should be. “Because—”
“I cannot interfere because in the manner which you would have me act,” he said, gently speaking over me, “because it would destroy all that would follow after.” He turned to face me. “Time is a river, and I may traverse in either direction. However, I cannot divert the stream in whatever manner I choose. I can only tread the water that is there. What has happened before must happen again.”
I felt the air of hope that I’d begun to feel slowly seep out of me. “Then why are you here? If you can’t help me, why would you come here now?”
“Because I am in your debt, Sienna Nealon,” he said, speaking slowly.
“What good is your debt to me if you’re not going to settle up?” I asked, and I was pretty sure my frustration was leaking out all over the place. “What point is there to you owing me something if you won’t deliver what I need?”
He kept his face utterly devoid of emotion. “Just because I am not repaying my debt to you in the manner that you choose right now, do not assume that I will let it go unpaid. I bring you a warning—Weissman is here.”
Destiny: The Girl in the Box #9 Page 18