by T. M. Catron
Guests came and went. No one paid much attention to me except a little white-haired, wrinkled woman who stared at my hair. I laid my head back against the wall and exhaled forcefully. At least a week without sleep. I’d gone longer. The TV was now showing an eyewitness video of the incident on the beach. I watched as the thugs fired again and again into the water, bathers streaking past the camera, the camera getting jostled. Then one of the thugs disappeared, sucked into the water like he’d stepped backward into a hole.
“Oh, my God,” said the voice on camera. “I think a shark just got him!”
More cries of shark and the panic doubled. Now bathers all the way down the beach were yelling and fighting one another to get out of the water. A handful of brave bystanders ran into the surf to help, but Tattoo pointed his gun at them, and they scrambled away. Ten more beach-goers attempted to capture the excitement with their cell phones.
“What’s he doing?” someone asked.
“Trying to shoot a shark. It got his friend!”
Then I was there, flying up out of the water and hurling the arm at Tattoo. A few people realized what it was and cried out. Tattoo stumbled out of the water and ran right past the camera, which got a good shot of the arm he was carrying.
The video ended, and the news cut to a reporter standing on the walkway with the eyewitness. Behind them, patrol boats moved up and down the beach, searching for a body. The crowds had been pushed back to the walkway. A shark had attacked a swimmer, the eyewitness said, and his brave friend had tried to scare it off. Another witness insisted three men had gone into the water, and only two men and an arm had come out.
The clerk never looked up at the screen. So far, no one had turned in footage of me leaving the water. But it would turn up eventually.
Time to leave Marseille.
Yet, I waited another hour before Charan walked in the door, followed by Toral and Hiraani. Toral walked over to me immediately. “We’ve been watching the news,” she whispered. “We left just as the shooting started. I had feared…”
I nodded to Charan, who was getting the room key from the clerk and kept my voice low so only Toral could hear. “Do they know?”
She shook her head as Charan and Hiraani joined us. I smiled and stood. “Sorry I’m a mess, but I wanted to say goodbye to you and your family.”
“Are you going home?” Charan asked.
“Yes, I am.”
He looked relieved. Hiraani expressed her well-wishes. Toral stood silently, frowning at me as I thanked them for being so kind. I really needed to talk to her, but I doubted they would let her out of their sight, especially after the scare at the beach.
She must have been thinking the same thing.
“Charan,” she said. “I am going to let Monsieur Morse escort me across the street for a cup of tea. I hope that will be alright.”
For the second time that day, I could barely hold back my desire to kiss her. But I didn’t want to ruin anything.
Without giving Charan time to object, we exited the inn and made sure they watched us enter the cafe. No TVs in here, thank Condar. We sat in the furthest corner, in a tiny, high-backed booth. Toral faced the door. She ordered black tea—to go—for both of us.
We waited in silence until it arrived, so as not to be interrupted.
“What is going on, Morse?” she whispered after she took her first sip.
“Those men were part of a business deal gone wrong. They work for someone very powerful.”
“Does this have to do with your meeting the other day?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t get the job, then?”
A waitress walked by our booth. I shook my head and stood.
“Wait, not out the front,” she said, putting a hand on my arm. She motioned toward the kitchen. “My brother will see.”
“He’ll be watching?”
“His room faces the street.”
We ducked through the swinging door of the kitchen. A chef looked up and saw us, calling out in French to get out. I grabbed Toral’s hand and nodded, pretending I didn’t understand him. We slipped to the back door and pushed it open into an alley leading out to a side street.
Still hand in hand, we walked up the street away from the Inn. Another quiet moment passed in which neither of us felt pressured to talk.
Toral squeezed my hand. “How very inappropriate we are being.”
“Your brother won’t be happy, I’m sure.”
“Why are you so concerned with his feelings?”
I glanced at her. In truth, I didn’t know. I’d never given any thought to a human’s feelings in all my life. But I cared about Toral’s, and the concern must have extended to her family.
“I just don’t want to offend anyone,” I said. “If I do, I’ll have more trouble seeing you.”
She smiled.
“What happened to that man with the mustache?” she asked. “I’m assuming that was his arm.”
“You don’t miss much.”
“They keep replaying the footage on television. Did you lure them into the water because you knew there was a shark there? And how did you know?”
And then the war began. Tell Toral the truth, and she’d run away in fear. But the thought of lying to her brought more dread to me than the certain death I would face if I betrayed Condar.
My masters must have made a mistake when I was created. Hybrids were bred to be loyal above all else. None had dared go against the Condarri’s wishes.
Or dared ask whether Condar had made a mistake.
We passed shops and more restaurants, children playing, dogs barking. They always growled at me. Animals knew the difference between a human and something pretending to be human that wasn’t.
Finally, we ended up at a small park—a couple of benches and a swing set under a stand of trees. We sat on a wooden bench in the shade. Finally, I let go of Toral’s hand.
“Morse?” she asked.
“I made a mistake,” I blurted. “A big one. I wasn’t just looking for a job. I was trying to gather information.”
“What sort of information?”
“Any sort that would help my cause.”
Toral straightened her shoulders. “What kind of cause?”
For the first time, I saw a flicker of fear behind her intelligent brown eyes.
“Tell me the truth,” she hissed. “Did I just help a terrorist?”
I laughed but quickly stopped when I saw her horrified expression. “No.”
Well, yes. Maybe that’s what I was. I’d never thought of it that way. My mission was not just to inflict terror, but to bring about true destruction and subjugation. So, I was a terrorist, but not the kind she was thinking of, so I hadn’t lied. Had I? The truth was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“You asked how I knew about the shark.”
“Yes.”
“There was no shark.”
“But then, how did…?” Toral abandoned her question with a look of horror as the realization struck home. “How is that even possible?”
Are you afraid of me now? I wanted to ask. But I was afraid of the answer. Afraid she would say no. Afraid she would say yes. Yes was easier. If I scared her, she would run away to her family, leaving me to the mission I was born for. And when the world ended, I wouldn’t have to think about the woman who had been scared of me. Eventually, they all would be frightened by my kind.
“I can’t believe I’ve told you this much,” I said.
“Are you playing games with me?” Toral narrowed her eyes, piercing me with a stare not unlike her sister’s.
“I wish it were a game. But I can’t tell you more here.”
“Where can you tell me?”
I studied the scar on her face. It widened a little toward the bottom. What had done it? A knife? Had Toral’s life already been endangered once?
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Toral, but I think it’s best you don’t see me anymore.”
Hurt flickered across her fa
ce, but she masked it with a small, quick smile. “Are you trying to protect me?”
“Not trying—I am protecting you. And myself.”
She stood but didn’t turn to run away, as I expected. Instead, she planted her feet in front me and asked, “Remember what I told you about my father?”
“That he would disapprove of you wearing a bikini, or that he never tells you about business meetings?”
“The meetings.”
“You were offended I wouldn’t share the details of my meeting with you.”
“Yes. My father died last year.”
“Oh. You spoke of him as if he were alive.”
“It was intentional. My father had many debts, most of which Charan paid off when we sold our father’s used car business.”
I waited for her to finish.
She took a deep breath. “My father never allowed me to help him. He insisted I stay home and prepare to marry. But I wanted to help too much. I would sneak into his office and try to fix his paperwork. Tried to help him make money instead of losing it. After a while, he gave up trying to keep me at home. He had just started letting me take over a few things when he died suddenly. The doctor said his heart gave out.”
What did humans say when someone they loved died? Oh. Right.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Thank you. But now you are doing the same things as my father.”
“How so?”
“You assume I want someone to protect me.”
Ah… got it.
“Toral,” I said and stood too. “I’m not that kind of man. Believe me, I don’t go around trying to protect every woman I meet. But when I say it’s for your own good and mine, I’m literally trying to keep us from getting killed. And if those thugs today didn’t convince you of the danger surrounding me, I don’t know what will.”
I took a deep breath. “Really, you shouldn’t trust me at all, not just because I’m a stranger but because of who I am. It’s the strangest thing—I’ve never had any desire to protect a human before. In fact, thinking about it has probably earned me a month’s worth of torture, if not worse. Just sitting here with you might be some form of treason. I won’t know until I turn myself in.”
My hands shook. Why had I told her so much? There had to be something wrong with me. I was a defect, an anomaly. I sat down again and put my face in my hands to stop the shaking.
Toral was silent a moment.
Walk away, Toral. There’s nothing good for you here. If I could will her away, I would. But if she made any sense of all my rambling, I was tempted to run away with her.
TREASON!
Toral nodded and put her hand on the back of my neck. Her skin was warm next to mine. “I believe you,” she said.
Surprised, I looked up at her. She did?
“And I’m not going to ask you to explain anymore, Morse. But I am not accepting your leaving—unless you have another reason?”
I smiled. “No, that’s it.”
“Good.” She took my hand again. “Walk me back?”
We walked back to the Inn in silence. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the city in warm orange hues. I’d set a deadline for myself. At nightfall, I would turn myself in to Condar. Summon the Nomad, accept my fate.
But I wouldn’t tell them about Toral. I would keep my memory of her to myself. I made a mental note of every brush of her arm, the swish of her hair over her clothing, her scar when she smiled. And I buried them deep. Because despite what she said, I would not see her again. If I survived my punishment, I would be sent elsewhere. And then, when the Condarri invaded, I wouldn’t think about her and her fate.
The image of a burning city in India floated to my mind. Charan held Toral’s hand as they ran to get away from the alien invaders. He pulled her along the street, looking up into a smoky sky. She grasped the hem of her blue sari so she didn’t trip in the mob of panicked people.
And then they would die, crushed by the crowds, or incinerated by the Condarri’s fire. My masters could control the fire. Nothing would escape the burning once it started. It would seek out bodies and buildings on its own. Then, anyone lucky enough to escape the cities would be hunted down by the hybrids. For that would be my sole function during and after the invasion—to kill the people of this planet.
Charan met us in the lobby. We hadn’t bothered to come back through the cafe. He’d probably checked it anyway after we’d been gone for so long. He frowned, his lips moving like he wanted to reprimand us. But he didn’t say anything.
I took Toral’s hand and smiled. “Thanks for the tea and conversation.”
“I enjoyed it as well.”
I wanted to pull her to me, to hold her, just once. Instead, I let go of her hand and shoved both mine into my pockets. “Want to have lunch tomorrow?”
Charan grunted.
“Both of you, of course.”
“Yes, we would like that,” said Toral. “Where?”
“I’ll meet you here at noon. I know a little restaurant with an excellent view of the sea. And a little server named Martin.”
“And you won’t forget?” Toral asked as if she knew exactly what I was planning to do.
I smiled.
“What are we if we do not hold to our promises?” I asked, echoing her own words back to her. I swept my eyes over her face one more time, to make sure I didn’t forget anything. Then I nodded to Charan and walked away.
14
Disengage
I picked up a pizza on the walk back to my hotel, eating it straight out of the box. This one didn’t bring any satisfaction to me. Still, I ate. I finished the last piece as I unlocked my room door. I entered, tossed the box beside the trash can, and threw myself on the bed.
Time to turn myself in.
Condar could kill me. Probably they would. But my duty was to my masters and my fellow hybrids. You screw up, you die. A simple, effective mantra.
And if they didn’t kill me, they’d torture me very, very slowly, just to the point of death. Hybrids felt pain just like humans, or so I’d been told. But hybrids didn’t die like humans. They had the unique ability to recover from the gravest of injuries. Injuries that would bring instant death to a human. Condar wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if necessary, but I wasn’t easily replaced, either. If they only tortured me, they would drag it out, and then patch me back up to spit me back out on Earth and try again.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, unlocking the screen with a swipe. I could call Toral’s Inn. Ask for her.
Why though?
My indecision turned to anger, and then to weariness. I left the phone on the bed and sat up. My bag sat beside the door, waiting to be discarded. I wouldn’t need it where I was going. I’d already wiped the phone. It was useless, and my call data of no importance.
My day of doing whatever I wanted hadn’t gone as planned. Waiting to leave was pointless. But still, I waited for the sun to set. It seemed to take forever.
I’d just stood to go when the phone rang. The bed vibrated slightly with it.
Emerson-Wright was calling me.
I answered. “Morse.”
“I like your style,” said EW. “Need you in Paris when I get there tomorrow night.”
“Who’s organizing your protection detail now, sir?”
“You are. You now have security clearance for my network. No need to hack your way in.”
And just like that, I was back in the game.
III
Paris
15
Fortress
A taxi dropped me off in front of Emerson-Wright Financial. The newly built skyscraper towered over the surrounding buildings, reflecting the early afternoon sunlight. A marble statue of a strong man, presumably Atlas, stood in the middle of the sets of doors, holding up the building above him. Other than the statue, from the outside the building looked like any other.
I disliked Paris, as much as I liked or disliked anything. Except for the food, as far as I was conc
erned, it was just another city marked for destruction. It wasn’t Marseille. What I had told Armelle was correct, Marseille was the best place in the world. Now that I had happy memories of Toral, it had become unique.
I entered through the main doors of the building and passed through the lines of security—more metal detectors and armed guards. Then, at a front desk as long as a whale, I flashed my passport and asked in French for EW.
A man in a suit was summoned to meet me. He had dark hair and brown eyes. A crooked nose and a square jaw. “This way, Mr. Morse,” he said in English. He led me toward a bank of elevators.
“You personal security for Emerson?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. Name’s Dave.”
“Last name?”
“Sanders.”
“Sanders. I need you to pass along a message to the entire team. You know what happened to Finn?”
Sanders glanced sideways at me as we walked as if he weren’t sure which way he should answer. The fear was written all over his face. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Make sure everyone else knows too.”
Sanders nodded. “Understood.”
The elevator doors opened, and we waited for a few suits to emerge. He stopped anyone else from getting on and pushed a button for a mid-level floor. When we exited, Sanders had to pivot on his heel to avoid colliding with another man jogging down the corridor. As he did, he bumped my left arm. I grunted in pain and grabbed Sanders’ shirt collar with my right hand, yanking him around to face me.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, glaring at him.
His eyes widened. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”
I let him go, and he stepped back, straightening his shirt. Then he led the way to another elevator down the hall, careful to maintain more distance between us.
Before leaving my hotel room the previous night, I had tortured myself with a hot knife. With a t-shirt stuffed in my mouth, I held it to my upper arm until the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Penance for my wayward thoughts. This morning, keeping it from being bumped by the crowds at the train station had been another form of torture.