The War Gate

by Chris Stevenson

  “You haven’t eaten a thing in two days,” she heard him say. It could have been two years for all she cared. She kicked the plate over.

  He took hold of her wrist. “Okay, fine. Then we have to leave so we can get you help.”

  She wrenched her hand away, then fell onto the mattress. She pulled the comforter over her head, clamping off the sound of his voice. He spoke for ten minutes more before giving up.

  ###

  She awoke in the evening, sitting bolt upright, startled by a terrible nightmare. Sweat drenched her jogging suit. Her heart thumped in her chest. Sebastian was gone. For a moment, the loneliness ravaged her. She wondered if that was a good sign, an indication that real feelings were returning. She relaxed somewhat when she heard the scuffing sounds on the ladder outside, sending a tremor through the tower.

  Sebastian appeared, ducking under the ragged opening. He carried a gallon can of lantern fuel. When he noticed she was awake, he set the can down.

  “Jesus, you’re up.” he said. “I was just about to fix dinner. I hope you don’t mind, but I found an old pair of Chubby’s sneakers in his gear. I put them on you while you were asleep. Can’t go traipsing around with one bare foot.”

  She looked at the shoes and wiggled her toes. How ironic that they were a close fit. Chubby had had small feet. He wouldn’t need these anymore. She sniffed. He provided for her even after he was dead. There was still no way to come to terms with his loss. She tried to banish the terrible last images she had of him from her mind. Instead of thinking about it, she watched Sebastian prepare a small meal using a one-burner cooking stove. He set a plate by her side when he finished.

  “Avy, I’ve been worried about you. If you need to blame someone, you can start with me.”

  She looked at the goulash. A tiny plastic fork stuck up from the sizzling little mound.

  “It’s hash,” he said. “You’ve got to eat something, Avy. Please, for both of us. We’ve got so much to live for—we need to keep up our strength. Your health is an issue right now.”

  She took a few small bites. “Chubby doesn’t need his health anymore,” she said monotone.

  “I know that, sweetheart. I am so sorry about that. He gave his life for us—for you. How do you think he would feel right now if he saw you like this? It would break his heart. You meant so much to him. You mean so much to me.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I mean it with all my soul. I’ve been crazy these past few days, out of my mind with revenge. I apologize for all of it. You’re going through something like that now. It’s shock. You’re here with me, yet you’re gone, somewhere far away. I need you to reach back to grab a hold of those feelings. I need you to fight again. I need you to realize that you’re alive, blessed with a righteous purpose. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  She understood part of it. In regard to her purpose, she had a morbid conclusion about that subject.

  “I’m the reason for all of this,” she said deadpan. “I am not even a real person. I’m half human mixed with half something else. Even the half human doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to my mother. My body is just a container for other souls with their own purpose. Him. He started all of it. If Janus is so high mighty powerful, why didn’t he stop any of this from happening? I hate him.”

  “He can’t interfere with destiny. He uses his influence to bring about the best outcome. Even demigods have limits. We don’t even know how many past disasters he’s prevented. You think things are tough now? What if Janus hadn’t been around at all? We might not be sitting here talking about any of this. I’m telling you, Avy, you’re on a path.”

  “Yeah, right. His path for me is death and destruction. Case closed.”

  Sebastian raised his voice an octave. “You saved three lives that would have ended up in the bottom of the Atlantic. For your information, one of the greatest figures of history was a mongrel breed like you’re calling it. He suffered more trials than you could ever imagine. Hercules overcame the most horrible obstacles to fulfill his destiny.”

  “He’s a fable.”

  Sebastian stood up, spanking his hands over his pants. “You have no idea, no concept of what you’re talking about. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. You would be wise to remember that.”

  “There you go again. Talking about something that doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you ever say what you mean? You hide everything. I swear to God, I don’t even know you anymore.”

  He shook his head in disgust, then marched to the lantern. The floor underneath her wobbled. “You wouldn’t understand,” Sebastian said with more force. “You have the power for a reason. You’ve never understood why it makes you so important to this whole thing. The stage play has been written. You can’t change it, but you’re allowed to improvise some of the lines or change the scenery. The end justifies your means.” Sebastian removed the cap from the fuel can.

  “Then I’ve been doing a piss-poor job. I can’t see how it could get any worse.”

  Sebastian spoke over his shoulder. “Drake is going to kill again. It’s written in his cards. It’s your job to stop him. You still can’t figure it out, can you? Meeting me was no accident.”

  Avy realized they were yelling at each other again. She was sure the next county over could hear them. She sniffed, smelling something foul. “You should have buried that finger deeper. I can smell it from here. Now, talking about accidental meetings.” The next words trailed off. A shadow moved to her left. She shoved up from the floor. “Sebastian?”

  He whirled around, spilling fuel.

  The Wax Man stood just inside the ragged opening, his face a dim glow in the lantern light. He held a piece of paper in his hand. Avy could see a small sketch of a water tower on it. The paper had come from Sebastian’s personal notebook back at the safe house.

  “Nice that you left me a little map to this place,” said the Wax Man. He dropped the paper, then held out a mangled hand. “I’d flip you off, but I’m missing the appropriate digit.” He dropped it. “Now what are you going to do, Gate-Walker? No exit portals here to run through.”

  Avy sidestepped to where Sebastian stood. She watched the Wax Man kick trash out of his way while he made determined steps toward them, hands outstretched. She and Sebastian followed the curve of the tank wall, moving with frantic steps to distance themselves. The Wax Man increased his stride. They began to run. They reached the other side, the exit hole, but their foe was too fast, disallowing the escape. They ran two more circuits, following the curve of the tank, staying just out of reach. Avy realized they had agility and speed on their side, but it was just one advantage. She didn’t know how much longer they could keep it up. She already felt dizzy from drafting in the putrid wake.

  The Wax Man stood in the middle of the floor, winded. His voice came in a strained wheeze. “We can keep this up all night. Won’t do you any good.”

  The Wax Man came on again, slower this time. They made six trips around the tank. On the seventh trip, the couple got away from him, even having time to pick up objects from the floor and hurl them. At one point, they all stopped to ease their burning lungs. The Wax Man looked fatigued, wheezing hard for breath. It didn’t look like he had another charge left in him.

  Avy began to feel ill from the air. Her ankles threatened to buckle.

  “I can concentrate now, Avy,” Sebastian said in a breathy voice.

  She looked at her boyfriend. Sebastian pointed a claw-like hand at the other side of the tank. He closed his eyes. With a grimace, he raised a trembling arm. In the same motion, the fuel can lifted from the floor. It levitated high in the air. Sebastian made a slashing motion with his raised arm. The fuel can sailed through the air, spraying its contents, striking the Wax Man in the face. The blow knocked the man to the trash-laden floor. He sat there with his legs splayed, slapping at his face and spitting Coleman gas. When he looked in Avy’s direction, he did so with wide, blank eyes. “A
Conjurer!” he cried out. “You filthy cheat.”

  Sebastian reached out with the other outstretched hand. The Coleman lantern rose from the floor to hang in the air.

  The Wax Man cocked his head back. The noise that escaped his throat resembled a dog’s howl. He fought to gain his legs, but slipped in the sopping trash.

  Sebastian closed his fist then made a downward chopping motion. The lantern struck the Wax Man in the middle of the forehead. Shards of glass flew. The white-hot wick ignited the fuel. In the space of three seconds, the opposite side of the tank interior erupted into an inferno. The outline of the Wax Man staggered to his feet, engulfed in flames. Black smoke billowed upward. The distraught figure groped for bits of trash, trying to use it to beat out the flames, but the flotsam ignited, adding to the combustion.

  Avy stepped back, crushing up against the wall, the flames climbing to the top of the tank. She did not look away. Instead, she stared mesmerized, almost gleefully, watching the monster fight for his life.

  What continued to stand in the midst of the flames no longer resembled a human form. Now it was a charcoal stick figure, making feeble attempts to move. The hands fell off in nubbins of ash. The head tilted, then cracked, spilling to the floor. All at once, what was left of the Wax Man tumbled like a bag of red-hot briquettes onto a flaming pile. The fire crawled in tendrils across the trash-laden floor, throwing out blast furnace waves.

  Sebastian grabbed Avy’s wrist and shoved her outside onto the deck. “Down.” he ordered. “Climb for your life!”

  She started down. Her feet trembled, missing rungs. Splinters caught in her hands. She could hear mini-explosions in the tank above. The exit hole belched a tornado of smoke and flying cinders, some of which landed in her hair. She jumped the last five rungs to the ground, falling over. Her boyfriend plopped to her side, then pulled her a safe distance away from the falling debris.

  Sebastian rushed to the vehicle, tearing the branch cover away from it. “Get in.” he ordered.

  A moment later, the Jeep sped down the rocky path toward the city. Avy managed to get her seatbelt buckled during the bumpy ride. She glared at the man sitting next to her, unable to draw her eyes away.

  Sebastian glanced at her. “Okay, what?”

  She shook her head in disgust. “I don’t even know who I’m sitting next to right now.”

  “It’s a long story,” he said, whipping the wheel to avoid a pothole.

  “A Conjurer, Sebastian? Is that what he called you? Jesus Christ, I cannot believe any of this is happening. Are you a thing or a person?”

  He glanced at her. “Hah! You’re one to talk. When I first listened to Janus explain who you were I didn’t want to believe it either.”

  “So you two were in on this together from the beginning? That figures. He set me up with you. You guys come from the same fantastical mold.” She slapped the dashboard in anger. “What species are you?”

  “I come from a long line of Conjurers. We’ve been traced back to the thirteenth century. It gets passed in the genes. It skipped my parents. Landed on me.”

  “Don’t you mean you come from a long line of liars? So much for trust, huh? All this time you could have been upfront with me. No wonder you were so good at what you did. I never saw any hooks, strings or magnets. Even as a professional you’re a cheat.”

  “You have every right to feel the way you do. Listen, I fell in love with you. I didn’t want the other part of me to interfere with the relationship. I wanted to be accepted for what I am. Not for what I could do.”

  “You led me on all along.” She turned away from him. “I’ve got news for you, there’s one way to end all of this—to stop it from the beginning. That means you and Janus won’t have this little stage play to act out anymore. I’m going to finish it before it ever gets started. Destiny can go straight to hell.”

  He pulled the Jeep over to a sliding halt, then fixed his stare on her. “You don’t understand. I know what you’re planning to do. It doesn’t work like that. This is not a parallel universe type of thing. You can’t stop what’s been put in motion. You have to observe, to gather information. If you stop the murder you become obsolete. The whole thread unravels from there. You’ll cease to exist the second after you interfere. You’ll lose everything. I’ll lose you forever.”

  “You call this existing? I’ve already lost everything. Just for the record, you never lost what you never wanted in the first place. The minute I kill that bastard, the whole space-time thing will shift. I’ll be just a bad memory. End of my story. New storyline for you.”

  “Avy.”

  “Drop me off in the first residential area you come to. You can keep the car. I won’t need it anymore. If you refuse, I’ll jump out anyway.”

  Sebastian drove on, glancing at her in an effort to make eye contact. She kept her gaze focused ahead, her face stern, even though she could see him from the corner of her eye. She had no wish to make that bond with him. His association with her up to this point had been based on lies. There was no one to convince her otherwise. She could admit that she possessed some very strange skills, and he had accepted those traits in her. He had even encouraged her to develop them. Yet he possessed some very strange skills himself, but by his own admission, he chose to keep those facts from her on purpose. Oh sure, why wouldn’t she want to know that he was a wizard? Not important enough? Wasn’t communication the foundation of their relationship? He’d shown her that honor and trust counted for nothing.

  She had one admission to make. It gave her an overwhelming sense of satisfaction to know he had used his abilities to kill the Wax Man. But it didn’t change her opinion of him beyond the deed. Vengeance had been achieved for Chubby and the others. She was grateful for that.

  When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, Sebastian pulled the Jeep off the main road into the nearest driveway. A small gas station sat nearby on a hill. The store interior glowed with a weak light. A dog howled somewhere in the distance. In the next moment, the siren of a fire engine broke the still of the night. The vehicle sped by them on the road, the klaxon horn fading in the distance up the hill.

  Sebastian gripped the sleeve of her top. “I love you, Avy, but you’re making a terrible mistake. I can’t lose you now. I’ll do everything in my power to get you through this. Please stay with me.”

  She slapped his hand away. “It’s too late for those things.”

  He pulled something out of his pants and stuffed it in her sweatshirt pocket. “Keep that. You might need it. In the meantime, I’ll find Janus. When I do, we’ll get this straightened out.”

  She unbuckled her belt, then stepped out. “I don’t hate you, Sebastian. None of this was your fault. You did the best you could. Now I have to do the best I can. It’s been sweet.”

  She walked toward the gas station. She did not look back. Had she done so, he would have seen the tears streaming down her face. She prayed for the engine to start. She willed her legs to keep moving. When the motor whirred to life, her heart felt like it had fallen into her stomach. She listened to the engine noise fade, only then did she turn around. Her Jeep’s tiny taillights disappeared down the road until they became pinpricks.

  She threw her hands to her face and bawled.

  “I do love you, Sebastian!” she cried with piteous sobs. Not far away, a dog answered her in a mournful howl. More dogs joined in, making it a macabre choir. It seemed like the whole night had ripped itself to pieces.

  Chapter 22

  Avy used the collar of her sweatshirt to wipe the tears away, then sucked in a jittery breath. Inside the store, she spied a rack of maps, and reached into a side pocket, pulling out a wad of bills Sebastian had given her. It cost a few dollars for a pencil, a tourist map that displayed the triangle area, and a state map of North Carolina. Once outside, she sat on the pavement, illuminated by a naked overhead bulb. To her surprise, the small compass was still strapped to her wrist. It was easy to align to the map’s orientation. Next was calculating
the distance to Durham along with the relative compass direction. “Due northwest, about nineteen miles,” she said to herself then penciled “19-NW” in the margin of the map. She remembered the street location where her mother had lived in Durham because she had gone with Lizzy a few times to clean it for sale. The address escaped her, but the house was easy to recognize upon sight.

  The target date was February 3, 1977.

  The major problem was how to arrive in the general area. It required a trip back in time to the exact instant the crime was committed. Better yet, prior to the incident since she needed to be there before things went lethal. A taxi could get her to the approximate location. But hadn’t she been told that Gate-Walking was a skill that she had to master? What was the secret of transporting oneself over a long distance? Would it mean passing through thousands of Gates. How did one skip that to get there faster? Skip. Walk. Gate-Walker. Could it be that easy? Walking? In the past, she had never stepped while in transit—just turned her body for direction.

  That could be the answer.

  But how to calculate the formula. What was the most logical means to measure the distance traveled with a walking step? It was possible that one statute mile for every single step might be the formula. If she hadn’t felt so miserable, she would have laughed aloud. She wrote “19S” on the end of her map, then stood up. Problem solved. It was possible to step through any door regardless of the direction it faced, adjust for it with her body position, reach terminal velocity, count the seconds for years then take nineteen steps. Voila! The landing should be somewhere near her intended destination.

  Maybe.

  She walked around to the rear of the gas station. She faced the women’s lavatory door. To travel backward meant using the love emotion. Considering her present state, there wasn’t much in her inventory she could use to bring those thoughts to bear. All she had to do was concentrate on the last memories that had uplifted her heart. The letter her mother had written to her. Chubby’s wonderful devotion came to mind, along with his tiny dog Gretchen. Those memories were brimming with love and peace.