by John Corwin
"Once you have an arbiter, you don't have much choice but to stick with him," Lucinda said smiling. Vish and Greg smiled along with her. "Why don't you have a seat?"
Tollee took the last empty chair at the small square table, Lucinda to her right, and Greg to her left. "Um, so what's going on with the killer problem lately?"
Vish leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Ever heard of Cross?"
Tollee remembered Martin's story but decided to play dumb. "No."
"We think this Lucas Fowler guy is related. Maybe even a reincarnation."
"Oh god," Greg said. "I wouldn't go that far. Then you start getting into all sorts of religious bullshit."
Vish snorted. "Nobody knows for sure what the stones do. Hell, I'm an executor and even I don't understand the physics behind those things. They might save our essence, spirit, whatever you want to call it for later. Guess it doesn't matter since we're not allowed to use them anymore."
Lucinda sniffed and took a sip of her beer. "You're right, it doesn't matter. Whatever created Cross the first time has happened again. Not only that, but we have a futurist."
"A futurist?" Tollee felt a tremor pass through her. Martin had mentioned that Cross had killed Serena, the last futurist.
Lucinda took her surprise for confusion. "A futurist is an advanced seeker. Some people think they have the abilities of a seeker and an arbiter. I don't know about that though."
"And here's the real problem," Greg said. "Alexia vanished with Lucas. For all we know, she's ended wherever the hell he ended up."
Alexia Sciouris was the futurist? Tollee had seen her during the cemetery fight. She was the same FBI woman who'd investigated the original murders. "Any leads as to where he vanished?"
Lucinda shook her head. "We're concentrating on other avenues. Andre wants to bring the whole lot of them to justice, probably execute them after a quick trial."
The bottom fell out of Tollee's stomach. "Execute?"
"Yeah. I can't believe they'd execute someone so powerful and interesting. We figure there's a rogue arbiter and a seeker involved too."
"What if the arbiter mind-locked him and he had no choice?"
Lucinda shrugged. "It'd be too late for him anyway. Heck, he's probably too far gone in the mind as it is."
"I think it's a huge mistake to kill Lucas," Greg said. "They should make someone like him the faction leader if he's got all those abilities."
"Hell yeah," Vish said, holding up his beer mug for a toast.
Lucinda cut her eyes to Tollee. "I hope you won't repeat any of this. I'm an arbiter and could make your reinstatement very tough on you."
"Really, I agree with you," Tollee said, hoping like hell it wasn't a test. "Lucas Fowler is amazing. I mean he brought back people from the dead."
"Ya know, I never thought of it like that," Greg said. "Maybe there is something to this reincarnation stuff after all."
"We should form a group of like-minded people and talk to Andre," Lucinda said. "Maybe we can talk him out of executing the rogues. At least study them. Learn from them. Maybe Lucas's mind can be rehabilitated."
"If anyone should be executed, it'd be the rogue arbiter that started all this," Tollee said. "He's the criminal. Lucas is sort of a hero for fighting back and giving those people new life."
"I like the way you think," Vish said. "It wasn't his fault they came back all psychotic and brain damaged."
"Can I be in your group?" Tollee asked.
"Hell, you're a founding member," Vish said. He poured Tollee a beer from their pitcher. "You're of age, right?"
Tollee smiled. "Been drinking since I was ten."
Greg and Vish laughed and held up their mugs. Tollee and Lucinda held theirs up as well.
"To the Fowler Faction," Vish said.
"What a cheesy name." Greg pursed his lips, shrugged. "Sounds like the Brady Bunch or something. Well, it'll do for now. Cheers."
Tollee took a long gulp of beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She could get used to this. Finally, all those arduous years with Martin were coming to an end. Now she had to figure out how to betray him without betraying herself. Even if these people didn't want her dead, that wouldn't stop the factions from having their way.
"We need to tell Lance and Taylor about this," Lucinda said.
Vish nodded. "Yeah, they're definitely onboard. I can think of five others who were concerned about Andre's decision to execute Lucas."
"Let's spread the word quietly. I don't want that bitch, Marissa, to get wind of it. Can you believe they want me to undergo a truthing session with her?"
"You kidding me?"
"They think I told Mikhail about Alexia."
Greg's face turned crimson. "That's utter bullshit. We won't let them take you."
"Truthing?" Tollee asked.
Lucinda raised an eyebrow. Vish paused, beer mug to mouth, and peered at her over the rim.
"You are out of the loop," Vish said. He glanced side to side and leaned into the table with a conspiratorial look. "Imagine someone clawing through your brain, ripping out every tiny secret. Now imagine someone jabbing your head with an ice pick and a red-hot branding iron at the same time."
She jerked back. Would they do that to her if they discovered her relationship to Martin? "That's horrible. They allow that?"
"I don't remember the last time our faction used a truthing session," Greg said. "Lucas Fowler's got Andre in a tizzy."
Lucinda, her eyes distant, took a long gulp of beer. "You know what's ironic? This guy could be the key to everything we Transcendists stand for. The answer to the Mystery."
"The Mystery?" Tollee asked.
"If an executor can have the abilities of a seeker, what would stop chum from having the abilities of Scions?"
The mere thought revolted Tollee. "I don't get it."
"Scions never share core abilities. You're one thing or another. Lucas shattered the boundary. If Alexia is really a futurist, she's in Lucas's league."
"That's like saying a chum who plays football might be good enough to play baseball," Vish said. "It's not the same."
"Wrong," Lucinda said. "With practice, you can play both sports. Doesn't matter how hard you practice, as an executor you'll never be able to enter the Blight without a seeker's help."
"Whatever makes Lucas tick means chum might have a switch?" Tollee asked.
"And Andre wants him dead. You tell me what that means."
"He's scared?"
"Petrified," Vish said. "Andre's been in power a long time. Now he sees a threat."
"Andre's nothing," Greg said. "Remember at the cemetery when Mikhail tried to stop Andre from killing Lucas on the spot? Now there's a man who has an agenda."
Vish stiffened in his seat. He glared at something behind Tollee. Lucinda twisted in her chair at the same time Tollee did.
Greg groaned. "Here comes Marissa and Thomas. Where's Adam?"
"Dead, you idiot," Vish said. "Whatever you do, don't mention that in front of her or she'll probably kill you with her bare hands."
"Damn, that's right." The tips of Greg's ears went scarlet.
"Look who they dragged out of mothballs," Lucinda said. "Whitney."
Tollee stared at the encroaching group with dread. Marissa, pale skinned and pretty, stood about medium height. Her glossy black hair hung past her shoulders. Thomas had to be the tall black man with a shaved head and Whitney the older woman with tanned leathery skin. Tollee peeked through the Blight and watched probes from Lucinda and Marissa meet halfway. Lucinda blanched.
"They want me to come with them now."
"Don't go," Greg said. "File a protest."
Marissa's group arrived at the table. "Thomas will escort you."
Vish shoved back his chair and positioned himself between Lucinda and Thomas. "I don't think so."
Greg came to his side. Tollee felt crushed between the table and the two men. Lucinda got up and went to Vish's side. Tollee slipped out of her chair and mo
ved to the side a few feet back. She wanted a place to run in case things went to hell. Whitney glanced at her but said nothing.
A group of chum at a nearby table looked at them curiously. The background noise subsided as others took notice of the aggressive postures in both entourages of Scions.
"I've decided to file a protest," Lucinda said.
"I don't think so." Marissa dismissed the statement with an offhanded wave. "Andre himself ordered this."
"So he's God now?"
"He's the Grand Arbiter and lest you forget, I'm head arbiter in this city."
"That doesn't put him or you above our laws. I know my rights."
Thomas clenched a fist. His knuckles cracked. "You gave up those rights when you ran your mouth in front of Statists."
"That's a load of shit," Vish said, his voice rising almost to a shout. "Ever since this Lucas Fowler business broke out, you high muckety-mucks have been breaking rules left and right."
"In case you hadn't noticed, this is a state of emergency."
"I don't remember the council voting on a state of emergency," Lucinda said. "Unless a council meeting was held with all the other arbiters but me."
"Thomas, take her into custody," Marissa said.
Vish pushed Thomas away. Despite Thomas's larger meatier frame, Vish was an executor and his gangly appearance belied the core attribute of his class: strength.
More chum took notice of the hostilities. Eyes fastened on the opposing groups and tension thickened the air. The background noise dropped to near silence. Tollee's skin went cold at the thought of a fight breaking out. Marissa seemed to realize the danger of breaking the Covenant in front of so many chum. She grabbed Thomas by the arm and pulled him back.
"Who do you think you are?" Marissa hissed. "Flaunting the rules? Inciting an incident in front of chum? And you call yourself an arbiter."
Lucinda stood on her tiptoes, as if trying to rise to Marissa's height. "I'm every bit the arbiter you are. At least I don't blindly follow bullshit rules from dictators."
Marissa's pale face burned crimson. "How dare you insinuate such things about Andre. He's been our leader since before you were in diapers."
"Yes, too long."
"Who are you trying to contact?" Marissa asked.
Tollee viewed the two of them through the Blight. Probes writhed like snakes from Lucinda's head in various directions. Marissa had her own Medusa effect going, her glowing threads intercepting and blocking Lucinda's. The strands of energy coiled and squirmed against each other. Lucinda's face reddened. Marissa seemed calm, her eyes distant. Vish and Greg took positions on either side of Lucinda while Thomas and Whitney looked on, concern etched in their faces.
Marissa's threads were brighter than Lucinda's but taupe in color. Lucinda's were yellowish with fine lines coiled around them. Since Tollee had never seen more than Martin's threads, she'd never realized there was a difference. With two arbiters fighting a silent battle, the contrast was obvious. In retrospect, Martin's tendrils were ropey and thick with tiny pulses. She wondered if those differences signified strengths or were merely cosmetic.
Lucinda's threads were blocked, knotted, and stymied at all angles. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she clenched her teeth. Her threads retreated, sucked back inside her skull like retractable cords leaving Marissa's dangling. The corner of Marissa's mouth rose in a triumphant smile. Lucinda shrieked. A small blinding pulse erupted from her head, pulverizing Marissa's threads into disparate beads of light. Marissa gasped. Three threads blazed from Lucinda's head, apparently finding their targets with seconds because they dissipated shortly thereafter.
Tollee wondered why Lucinda hadn't simply texted whoever she wanted to reach.
"How dare you," Marissa said.
"You don't dictate who I communicate with," Lucinda said, poking her finger at the other woman.
"You've just earned yourself real punishment. You want council agreement? Fine, I'll get it. For this insubordination I'll convene the Transcendist council and see what they have to say." Marissa raked her eyes over Vish and Greg. "And you'll get to join the party." She turned to walk away.
"You fucking bitch," Vish said, his face mottled red, eyes blazing. He balled his fist and reared back.
"No!" Lucinda reached for his arm.
Tollee dove and collided with Vish. He aborted his punch, faltered, and his shoulder knocked into Greg and Lucinda. Otherwise, Tollee's impact hardly moved the man and her shoulder felt like it had slammed into a stone statue. Greg landed on his side and Lucinda atop him. The murmurs of onlookers rose to a roar. Nearby chum hopped up and moved away.
"Who are you?" Thomas asked Tollee, apparently noticing her for the first time.
Marissa grabbed his sleeve and pulled him away from the group. Tollee helped Lucinda and Greg up.
"I'm so sorry. I couldn't let you hit her."
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," Vish said. "I almost screwed up."
When Lucinda got to her feet, she grabbed Vish by the shirt and dragged him inside a nearby shop. Tollee and Greg followed, shutting the door of the empty shop behind them.
"Almost?" Lucinda said, pulling him down to her height. "What I did is bad enough, but you almost broke the Covenant in front of chum and assaulted the head arbiter of Atlanta."
"Get that temper under control, man," Greg said.
Tollee looked at the assortment of trinkets, scented oils, and other odds and ends in the tiny shop. "Um, whose place is this?"
"It's mine," Lucinda said. "I don't live in the compound. Most of these shops are owned by Scions."
A knock came from the back of the shop. Lucinda walked to the back door and opened it. Three Scions entered, two women and a man. They looked tense, shoulders tight, and foreheads wrinkled.
"What's going on, Lucinda?" asked one of the women. "You scared the hell out of me with your emergency transmission."
"You remember that Lucas Fowler business I mentioned?"
"Yeah."
"Well it's time for a revolution."
Chapter 32
Martin jerked awake and hopped up, brushing hot ash from his pants where his pipe had fallen after he'd dozed. He cursed and examined the mess now on the floor. Opening his mouth to call the butler, he remembered that the man had quit thanks to Tollee's meddling.
"Intolerable girl."
Where was she? He'd suspected she might shadow him in the Blight and try something else, but apparently his threat of punishment had frightened her away. She'd been gone more than a day now. Pity, after all he'd done for the insufferable brat. All those years of rearing and training, molding her into his tool, wasted. He'd sensed the conflict in her and thought it to be hormones, a byproduct of the teenage years. Her attempt to do him harm had been easy to read, easy to stop. She practically wore her emotions on her sleeve. He sent out a probe to find her, but the effort tired him quickly. Age and the last few days of exertion had taken their toll. He had to complete his research before his abilities shriveled like other parts of his body.
A grimace stretched his lips. Being a cautious man, he'd kept defenses in place to alert him to danger, namely a passive probe that would look like an extension of his aura to anyone in the Blight. It had saved him from Tollee but with his endurance waning, it might be wiser to save the effort for the time being despite the meager draw of energy it expended. He sensed something. Something nearby. He glanced out the front window and saw a face. It vanished. A split second later a gaping Blight scar shredded the air before him. A sonic blast knocked him backward. Windows shattered. His ears rang. His beloved gramophone toppled from its perch atop a pedestal and crashed to the ground.
Four Scions burst from the scar. No, not Scions, ghouls. Reflex took over. He projected a mind shock at them. It was too weak. Aside from wincing, the ghouls seemed to take it without harm. The black one, Simion Moore, wrenched Martin from the floor and propped him against a bookshelf on the back wall.
"What have you done to Sav
ior?"
Martin trembled. "Savior?"
"The one who saved us from Hell."
Lucas Fowler. These psychotic beings regarded him as a Savior? "I did nothing to him, I swear." Without a seeker, without stamina or energy, Martin felt helpless as chum.
"We feel him but he's not where we feel him."
"I don't understand."
Simion handed Martin to the woman, Maria Wood. Martin noted their attire had changed to khakis and t-shirts. They were no longer coated in blood and grime as he'd read from the minds of the police at Lucas's apartment complex. Considering what these creatures represented, their choice of attire seemed ridiculous, but they were adjusting, it seemed. Rediscovering civilization and their sanity, perhaps. Wood's face belied that. Her face, once pretty and sweet, was twisted into a permanent snarl. Her eyes focused on him like lasers.
Martin fumbled with Wood's fingers, trying to pry them loose. His legs dangled and his shirt dug painful furrows into his back. "Please put me down and I'll help."
Simion nodded. Wood dropped Martin on his feet.
"Who are you? Did you come from the afterlife?"
Simion put his hands to his temples. "Don't know. Don't remember who. We know we aren't us. Not who we look like."
"Right, you're in different bodies." Martin tensed as hope built in him. "Tell me about the afterlife. Please."
"Looks like this. Nobody there. Nobody. Terrible place." Simion moaned and his face contorted.
Wood and the others underwent similar expressions. Tears formed in Wood's eyes. "We are safe now," she said, her bottom lip quivering. "Some of us. More need to be safe. My loved one."
"How long were you there?"
"Always." She groaned. "Forever."
These answers told Martin nothing. He forced himself to remain calm, unsure how stable the ghouls really were. Triggering their rage would be his last mistake. "Don't you remember who you were before you went there?"
"Doesn't matter," Simion said. "Does not matter!" He punched the wall, smashing the drywall and knocking loose a portrait from its hanger.
"Careful, please," Martin said, picking the portrait off the floor.