by Sara Beaman
“You did better than any of us could reasonably expect from someone who died just days ago.”
“I don’t know why the hell Mnemosyne didn’t send Richard to handle this,” I mutter. “He could have pretended to be you.”
“I’m not sure Mnemosyne trusts Richard,” Julian says.
I frown. “But he’s such a kiss-ass.”
“I’m not sure that isn’t an act.”
“How well do you know him?” I ask.
“Quite well,” Julian says. “I trained him in compulsion, back in the seventeen hundreds.”
“Are you, you know…”
“Are we what?” Julian asks, raising an eyebrow.
My face flushes.
“I’m not sure I trust Richard either, if that answers your question,” he says.
“Yes. Sorry.”
Julian shrugs.
“I still don’t get it,” I say. “Even if she doesn’t trust him, why couldn’t Mnemosyne just put him under her mind control and sent him instead of us?”
“If he’d entered Chicago in disguise, the Wardens would almost certainly have found him,” Julian says.
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
We sit in silence for a while.
“Julian, do you think Haruko is going to be all right?” I ask.
“I think she’ll keep herself together,” Julian says. “Aside from that I have no idea how she feels, and I’m quite sure she’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“Are you okay?” I ask. “You were friends with both of them, weren’t you? Jennifer and Desmond?”
“I was.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Not as sorry as I am,” he mutters.
“What do you mean?”
“All of what happened here, and all of what happened in Red Hook… well, ultimately, it was my doing. The result of my regrettable decisions.”
A sour feeling rises in my throat. I’m not sure exactly what he means, nor am I sure I want to understand.
“Are you, uh…” I chew on my bottom lip. “Are you okay about what happened with Markham?”
“How so?”
“I mean. You know.”
“No. I do not know.”
“The way you were talking to him…”
Julian furrows his eyebrows. “Katherine, are you really asking if I’ve become fond of Markham?”
“No…”
“Then what are you asking?”
“Were you okay with tricking him like that?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re not… fond of him.”
“No. Not at all.”
“Do you hate him?”
“I find him repulsive.”
“But, I mean… what about Aya?”
“You mean his hollow imitation of the poor redlisted girl he kept as his pet?”
I press my lips together, thinking of Mariah, of her wall of portraits, of her offering her blood to Julian…
“This mission was a terrible loss,” Julian says. “But I believe Mnemosyne intends to kill Markham, so, just this once, I’m happy to assist her.”
I sit quietly for a minute or so.
“Julian, can I ask you something about Adam?”
Julian raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“You know him pretty well, don’t you? You and he were friends…”
“Yes, we were,” he says, sounding melancholy. “Why do you ask?”
“See, back in Chicago, while we were waiting for you to get Markham, Jennifer and Haruko got into an argument about Adam. About, you know, how they both were involved with him.”
Julian rolls his eyes a little. “Oh, good.”
“And Haruko said something about how Jennifer had no idea how many women he’s been with,” I say.
“Does the notion of Adam’s promiscuity bother you for some reason?”
“No! It’s just… I keep meeting all these girlfriends and ex-girlfriends of his, and I’m starting to wonder. He just didn’t seem like that kind of guy, you know?”
“He isn’t,” Julian says. “I don’t suppose you have any knowledge of the type of work Mnemosyne has him doing?”
“He gave me an idea, I guess.”
“It figures,” Julian says. “At any rate, yes, Adam and I were friends, and I feel I would be doing him a disservice if I didn’t defend his character. What he does for Mnemosyne is not… I suppose you might say it isn’t real. Not for him, in any case, though it seems it was for poor Jennifer.”
I nod, feeling guilty for any number of reasons.
“In actuality, in all the time I’ve known him, I can think of only one woman Adam has had true feelings for,” Julian continues. “Their relationship predated Adam’s, um, ‘work’ by quite some time. And, as far as I understand, she broke things off with him years and years ago.”
“Who was she?” I ask. “What was she like?”
“Her name was Jessica Weiss. A really lovely, brilliant young woman. One of Himeros’ grandchildren. A painter, like myself.” He sighs, looking morose.
“She’s not… dead or anything, is she?”
“Oh, no,” he says. “God forbid. Nothing like that. But she left for China a long time ago, and I never hear from her any longer.”
I nod. From the way he talks about this Jessica, I can’t help but wonder if Julian doesn’t have feelings for her himself.
There is a knock on the door. I stand up, walk over, and look out the peep hole. It’s Haruko, carrying a grey plastic bag in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. I unbolt and unlock the door and let her in.
“I got the curtains,” she says, tossing the plastic bag onto the bed.
“Thanks,” I say, looking at her with concern.
“Do you think you two can put them up?” she asks.
“Of course,” says Julian, standing up.
“Good,” she says. “If either of you need me, I’ll be in here getting shitfaced.”
With that she takes the brown paper bag into the bathroom and shuts the door. I hear a click as she locks it.
“Well,” Julian says in an undertone. “Perhaps I was wrong about her keeping it together.”
I wince.
He opens the plastic bag. “There’s only enough here to seal off one room,” he says.
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just stay in here.”
Julian and I hang the curtains over the windows and tape off the edges of the door. By the time we’re done, it’s six-thirty A.M.—about an hour until sunrise. In other words, twelve hours and change until sunset. Which equals thirteen hours to go, stuck in this dingy room with Julian and Haruko.
Julian picks up the television remote and turns to a news channel. We watch in silence, waiting for more information about SpiraCom or perhaps the attacks in D.C., but an hour goes by and no one mentions anything. I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling, listening to the anchors chatter about the mid-term elections.
Before long I fall asleep.
Wake Up
{Adam}
“Adam!”
Kate’s voice.
“Adam, wake up!”
I open my eyes and find myself in the circular clearing in the trees, lying on my back between the two pools. Kate stands over me, her bleach-orange hair falling around her face. Her features are almost blotted out by darkness, backlit by the moon overhead.
“We shot her,” she says. “She’s dead. It’s over.”
“What?” I say. “Mirabel is dead?”
Kate nods and extends a hand, helping me stand.
“The others distracted her and I went invisible,” she says. “I got behind her and stabbed her in the back. She’s dead.”
I blink repeatedly, looking around for Mirabel’s corpse. There it is, lying on the ground just a few paces away.
“I can’t believe it,” I say.
“Come on,” s
he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
Behind Kate, Haruko and Julian stand waiting, along with Richard and two female revenants I don’t recognize: a tall blonde woman and a shorter girl with olive skin, her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Janice and Alice, I suppose—the revenants who were traveling with Richard. Everyone looks exhausted. Their clothing is in ragged shreds. Their hands and faces are covered in blood and dirt. They stare at Kate and I with various expressions of relief and worry.
“What happened to you?” Kate asks, concern radiating from her mind. “What did she do?”
“I, uh… I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t remember most of it. She kept me in this illusion for a while, and she made me drink wine that made me tell the truth, and…” I shake my head.
“What did you tell her?”
“I’m sorry. I—I can’t remember.”
“What else happened?”
“She did something to cut me off from my Haunt,” I say. “Every time I fall asleep, I end up in her Haunt instead.”
“That’s strange,” Kate says, frowning. “Can you remember anything else?”
“Not much. She was angry. Not at me, mostly—at other people. There was a raid on her building. And I also saw something in her thoughts…” I strain to remember what it was.
“What did you see?”
“Mnemosyne and Carlyle,” I say, and as I speak their names the memory comes into focus. “They were together, in her enclave. They made a toast.” I rub my eyes.
“Do you think they made some sort of alliance?”
“I guess…”
“Is that all you can remember?”
I reach back through the haze of the last few days, grasping for details, but I can’t manage to recall anything other than what I’ve already said.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “Give me time.”
“All right,” she says, stroking my cheek. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
I sigh.
“She’s had you prisoner for a whole week,” Kate says. “Did you drink anything that entire time?”
“I don’t know. I guess not.”
“Oh dear,” she says. “All right. Do you have your knife?”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my folding knife.
“Yeah,” I say, handing it to her. “Why?”
“I’ll let you drink my blood,” she says. “Just like you let me drink yours.”
She flips the knife open and cuts into her wrist. Blood flows.
“No,” I say, too late to stop her. “Kate, don’t worry about it.”
“Why?”
“It won’t matter.”
“What?”
“It won’t bring the memories back. They never had a chance to form.”
She lets her wrist knit itself closed with an expression I can’t read.
“Adam,” Kate says, putting a hand on my shoulder, “just go ahead and take my blood. Otherwise you won’t remember any of this, either, will you?”
“I suppose not.”
“You can bite me if you want,” she says.
I look over her shoulder at the others—Haruko, Julian, Richard, the two unfamiliar women—just standing and waiting, observing in silence.
Something about this picture is warped. Wrong.
Richard, I say silently, thinking the word as I would speak it. How did you distract Mirabel well enough for Kate to kill her?
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Adam?” Kate turns to look in their direction. “Is everything okay?”
I try again. Richard?
He gives not even the slightest reaction or mental image.
“It’s fine,” I tell the woman in front of me. “Come here.”
She steps in closer and looks up at me with her green eyes.
“Tilt your head, would you?” I ask. “Just a little?”
She cocks her head to the side and turns her chin, exposing her neck. I bend down and pull her close to me, put my lips against her throat, run my hands down her shoulders, down her back, down the sides of her hips. She leans into me, relaxing. I will my teeth to sharpen. I bite down on her neck as hard as I can and grab for the folding knife. She screams. I pry the knife from her fingers and bring it around behind her to stab her in the back.
“Let go of me!” she commands.
I release her throat, and she slips away. I hastily try to stab her. I graze her shoulder, and the knife practically skids off her flesh.
“Get on your knees!” she commands.
I drop to the ground.
“Drop the knife!”
It falls blade-first into the dirt.
She steps forward. I rip into my own hand with my sharpened teeth, drawing blood. I’ll knock her unconscious and then I’ll—
She disappears.
Something hits me hard in the head. I see stars. The illusions of Haruko, Julian, Richard and the two women look on, reactionless.
Hold still, Mirabel’s voice echoes in my head. Don’t move a muscle.
I turn my gaze inward.
Murder by Poison
{Kate}
I find myself back in Mirabel’s office, sitting in her desk chair with the warm sun shining through the plate glass windows behind me. The phone is ringing. I reach for it, then recoil, remembering what happened the last time I picked up. I fold my arms across my chest and wait. I prepare to use my mantra as the call goes to voicemail.
“Katherine,” Mnemosyne says. “Pick up the phone.”
Forgetting my defenses, I pick up the receiver and bring it to my ear. “What do you want?”
“You have Markham?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Do you have the amulet?”
I wince, berating myself silently. I don’t know. Why didn’t I check on that?
“Well? Do you have it?” Her voice is shrill.
“Yes. I do have it,” I say. “He must have it on him. Haruko couldn’t sense him when he was invisible.”
“You mean to tell me you didn’t check him for it?”
“There was a lot going on,” I say. “He shot and killed Jennifer, and then Haruko shot him—“
Her reply is ear-splitting. “I told you to bring him back alive!”
“Relax. He’s not dead. Well, not dead dead.”
“Wake up and search him for it now!”
“I can’t! He’s outside in the van.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re waiting out the day in a motel room.”
“What? Why?”
“Our driver? You know? The human? The one who drove to Chicago all by himself?” I say. “He needs to sleep from time to time, it turns out.”
“As soon as night falls, go check Markham for the amulet. I’m expecting you to report back to me immediately thereafter.”
“Like I said, he must have it on him,” I tell her. “It’s fine.”
“You’re not being thorough enough, Katherine. Not for my taste.”
“Do you know what happens when a bunch of gunshots go off in a public place?” I say. “The police come to cordon off the area! And arrest people!”
“Please tell me you weren’t concerned about a few mortal police officers.”
I don’t say anything.
“Katherine!”
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to thinking this way. Until a few days ago, I was a law-abiding citizen. You know. Back when I was alive.”
“Those days are over now,” she says. “The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better. For both of us.”
“Whatever,” I say. “What about your end of the bargain?”
“What of it?”
“I got the amulet for you. What about Adam?”
“I make no guarantees of anything until you place the necklace in my hands.”
“You could at least tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” she says. “In the meantime, since you’re stuck waiting for nightfall, perhaps you should brush up on your studies. You’ll find Richard waiting for you down in the lobby.”
“Oh, awesome. Just what I was hoping for.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says. “Goodbye, Katherine.”
“Bye.”
She hangs up. I hear a dial tone.
I stand up, stretch, and head for the stairs.
***
I find Richard sitting on a bench in the atrium, inspecting his fingernails. He doesn’t look up as I approach. In fact, even once I’m standing next to him, certain he can see me, he pretends not to notice me.
“Hello,” I say.
He says nothing.
“What, you’re not speaking to me?”
He looks up at the glass ceiling of the atrium.
“Seriously? Are we in middle school?”
No response.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say. “If you don’t want to teach me, fine.”
“Hmm,” he says. “What would you do if I refused to teach you anything more?”
“I’d figure things out on my own. Just like I already am.”
“I see,” he says. “Nothing you’ve done has required my assistance, then?”
I want to say no, but I can’t. I’d be lying, both to him and to myself. The stuff he’s taught me so far has been indispensable.
“I figured out how to make myself invisible on my own,” I argue.
“I know,” he says. “You told me already.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’ve only been dead for a few days, all right?”
“Do you really think anyone cares?” he asks. “Will anyone take that into account while they’re trying to kill you or make you their slave? Do you think they’ll go easier on you because you’re so young?”
“No.”
“Then why do you expect me to go easier on you?”
“I don’t! That’s not what this is about!”
“Isn’t it?”
“No! I just want you to…” I don’t know how to finish the phrase. Stop being such a dick, maybe?
“Last time we spoke you accused me of betraying Adam,” he says. “Leaving him to fall into Mirabel’s hands without a fight. Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“I was expecting an apology,” he says.