by Jen Kirchner
“Do not worry about them; I care nothing for their opinions. What will be will be.”
“I guess. Is Uncle Rick with you?”
“Yes. He is doing fine, though he is worried about you.” He paused. “Now that he has gone through The Change, he looks so much like Bradley that I keep getting them confused.”
Dad looked down at the book so I could see the coordinates to the magic killer. I gestured, summoning black hashes and dots in the air before me, their edges wavering like fumes. As I lowered my hands, the runes began to spin as the coordinates connected to the power on The Floor.
The runes clanged into place. Tangled strings of onyx ribbon replaced the coordinates and spread from left to right. Doubt crept into my mind, but I shook it off. This was the right thing to do. The only way.
Or so I hoped.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s it.”
He turned and took a step toward the barrier, but paused. “I want you to know that your mother and I are very proud of you. We always will be.”
It seemed silly that his approval should still mean so much, but it did. “Thanks, Dad.”
He stepped back inside, cutting off the transmission. I turned around and looked at Grandpa, Moons, and Luucas, who watched me, holding their phones up like little satellites.
“Are we live or something?” I asked.
Luucas nodded. “Through a chain of phones, we’re connected to every safehouse in the world. They can all hear you.”
I heard distorted murmurs coming from the phones. I couldn’t distinguish words, just a lot of panic. I cleared my voice. “Okay, this is it. I need everyone to stay inside the barrier until I say it’s safe.”
I faced the black script of the magic killer and raised my hands. The magic swirled between my fingers and pulled against my wrists, begging me to set the power free. Necromancer smoke swirled around me, licking up the ends of my hair. I took a deep breath and counted down from three. With a flick of my wrist, I released the power.
The room warped and the walls twisted. Light bent in the area where the script had hung. A horrible screech filled the air and the power shot outward. My consciousness went with it, spreading in every direction across the globe. Every spell that was canceled, I saw. Every enchanted object that remained unprotected, I felt, as the magic killer wiped it clean. I saw flashes of landcape from faraway places. I saw the large, gray, protective boxes where the Immortal State was hiding. The power pressed against the walls, but could not get through. I saw the unauthorized communities, most of them living in rundown shacks and huts. As the power passed through, the bodies of these immortals dispersed into tiny, sand-like particles and scattered in the wind.
I saw these things all at once. I didn’t know how long it took to complete, but I knew my mind was back in my own head again when the power returned to the bunker. Overhead lights twisted and flickered, and the air was still again.
I was shaking uncontrollably and felt like I was going to be sick. All I could think about were the faces of the deceased just before they died.
“It’s over,” I said.
While Luucas, Grandpa, and Moons took a roll call to make sure everyone survived, I slipped away into the next room where the tattered voodoo doll hung on the wall, naked and ordinary without its spell. As I sat down on the floor against the wall, I became aware of Dad stepping beyond the safety of his barrier. His phone was up to his ear and he was listening to an emergency Council meeting. For the next twenty minutes, I listened, shaking and crying silent tears as Dad was stripped of his duty and removed from the Immortal Council.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Luucas declared the bunker a crime scene and stayed to sift through Ruairí’s belongings. On my way out, he handed me a deep, square drawer from Ruairí’s nightstand. Inside was a strange array of items: old newspaper clippings; a sock; a ring on a thin, gold chain; bits of dried flowers; and other random odds and ends. Everything inside looked like old junk to me, so when he asked me to give it to Mikelis, I was surprised.
“What is this?” Moons asked, sticking his finger inside the drawer and stirring up the contents.
“Oh,” I said. “I think it’s a break-up box.”
Luucas lifted an eyebrow. “A what?”
“When someone breaks up with you but you don’t want to break up, you put all of your mementos from that person into a box. When you’re feeling lonely, you look inside and remember the good times.”
We all stared at each other silently for a moment. I guessed we all had the same thought: what good memories could Ruairí possibly have had with Mikelis?
“He was even crazier than we imagined,” Luucas said.
Grandpa drove us home under the pretense that I would sleep in the back seat. I couldn’t do it; the faces of the unauthorized communities haunted me whenever I closed my eyes.
Four hours later, we arrived at Grandpa and Moons’s duplex. They hugged me goodbye and I drove to Mikelis’s apartment. When I arrived, it was late afternoon and the parking lot was nearly empty. The resident immortals were all in their apartments, unmoving. I guessed they were sleeping off the exciting evening.
I parked in a spot close to Mikelis’s building and carried the drawer down to his door. I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened before I could. Mikelis stood before me bare-chested, in a pair of gray sweatpants, cheeks flushed, and his eyes half-lidded and sleepy. I couldn’t help smiling. He looked as if he had just woken from the deepest, most restful sleep of his life. In fact, he probably did.
He scratched his head sheepishly, then pulled me inside and shut the door behind us. The lights were still off, so I couldn’t see anything, but I felt his fingers on my face, followed by his mouth on mine. His kiss was reckless and passionate and slightly awkward with the drawer squashed between us. He pulled away and the light above us flicked on. Mikelis looked down at the drawer, slightly amused.
“What’s this?”
“Luucas said to bring it to you. He found it in Ruairí’s bunker.”
He took the drawer from me and looked inside. His face fell. “These are mine. This ring belonged to my mother.” He stared into the drawer for another minute. “I thought it was gone forever.” He set the drawer on the table and pushed it away. I guessed he would look through it later when he was alone.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. You know.” I shrugged. “Fine.”
He reached out and touched my fingers. A lump formed in my throat. “Really?”
I shook my head. Tears welled in my eyes. “No, not really.”
He pulled me against his chest. I pressed my face against his shoulder and let the tears come. The sorrow and despair took me. I could barely speak because of the sobbing, but I told Mikelis about the immortals I saw and their abrupt end when they turned to ash and drifted away. I described some of their faces and expressions and the shacks they lived in. I’m not sure how long I stood there and purged my soul. It felt like a very long time and yet not long enough to rid myself of the guilt. When the tears were gone, I stayed in Mikelis’s embrace, supported in his arms, breathing heavily against his skin.
Calmly, he said, “I don’t want you to think I’m being insensitive right now, but I’m compelled to ask—you saw Ruairí among those immortals, right?”
His question surprised me, but I understood. I would have asked the same had I been in his position. I tried to remember, but the event was a blur. Some of the faces were starting to blend together.
“No. I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Short. Red hair, pinched face. He looks like a weasel.”
“I don’t know. It happened so fast.” I paused. “Do you think he lived?”
“No. Someone would have had to tip him off, and then he would have needed a set of apokamara. I don’t think he can make them.”
“So that’s it,” I said. “Ruairí’s gone.”
“You gave him a better death than he deserved.” He hugged m
e a little more tightly. “I’m glad it’s finally over. We have nothing to worry about anymore.”
I grimaced. “Well, there is one thing to worry about. I have a date with Cody tomorrow in New York City.”
He laughed. “After everything that’s happened, I think we can handle Cody.”
I looked up at him. “We? Are you staking your claim on me?”
“Well, I’m not seeing anyone right now, and if you see someone else I’ll probably blow up their kitchen, so...”
I giggled, happy for the change in mood. “I’m really not looking forward to seeing Cody. The situation is lousy, and I’m a jerk for asking you to put up with it.”
“It’s not ideal, but I understand that it affects your income. And it’s just three months, right? If you want, I’ll even come with you tomorrow.”
His words were a relief. I didn’t want to face Cody unarmed. “Really? I’d love for you to come, but it may be boring. We’re just having dinner. You may have to wait in the car. The ‘date’ is just long enough for the cameras to catch us, eat a little food, and Cody to touch me inappropriately—”
“I’ll be there.”
We made plans to see each other later, and then I went home.
Dad was awake. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. He looked exhausted but relaxed. Heraclitus and Marcus were hanging out with Dad in the family room. Nadia perched on top of the piano in the far corner, so as to be out of reach but on hand in case someone felt like giving her a treat.
“How’s Mom?” I asked.
“The same,” Dad said, “but do not worry. She has been manipulating this event for so long that the timelines probably need to sort themselves out.”
Heraclitus nodded. “I am sure she will wake very soon.”
“Am I in big trouble with the Council?” I asked.
“Absolutely not!” Marcus said. “Having The Fathers as co-conspirators helped. Once I informed them that The Fathers paid for your master’s degree in music—I kept records of the transactions proving this, of course—they were less inclined to make an issue.”
If anything speaks of a heavy commitment for immortals, it’s large sums of money being doled out.
“In any case,” I said, “I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t believe they voted you off the Council.”
He snorted. “It was the least of my worries. Your mother and I both knew it would happen.” He stood and placed a reassuring arm around my shoulder. “Besides, if they try to press the issue, Marcus will intervene. And it will cost each one of them.”
Marcus sat back against the seat and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I hope they do. We could always use a little financial boost. One never knows what the future holds.”
At this point, exhaustion was starting to take over my body, so I said goodnight, received a round of hugs from everyone, Marcus included, and went upstairs. On my way down the hall toward my bedroom, I stopped at the room my parents were using and poked my head inside.
The guest room was very dark, but I could make out Mom’s silhouette lying on the far side of the queen-sized bed under the blankets. Her mouth and jaw were taut and her arms lay flat against her sides. She looked like a mummy.
I whispered, “Mom?”
No response.
I crept into the room and stood over her, thinking just how much she had done. She had saved the entire immortal race from extinction, and I really hadn’t been exposed to any danger after all.
My mom kicks ass.
I dragged a chair to her side of the bed and sat down with my feet curled up under me. I took Mom’s hand in mine. Sleep took me.
The next day, Mom was still in a Seer’s Coma. We didn’t know what to make of it. The coma stops a seer from tampering with future events, but now that the tampered-with events had passed, we expected her to wake up and join us in the new world she had engineered. Instead, at ten o’clock, after Dad had done a coffee run for the two of us, we stood over her, sipping our lattes, observing her stiff, mummy-like state.
“Soon,” Dad assured me, but he didn’t look so convinced, either.
Dad and I hung out until noon, then I dressed for my date with Cody and drove to Mikelis’s apartment. He opened the door on the third knock, looking very well rested. He wore a new pair of jeans, leather shoes, and a black windbreaker. I liked his casual style because he always looked ready for action. When he saw me standing there in my typical short cocktail dress and thigh-high stockings, he froze in the doorway. His eyes softened and his lips parted slightly.
“So, I look pretty bad?”
He blinked. His eyes met mine. “You look beautiful.”
I felt my face flush. “Thanks.”
He stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. “This is why Cody Springer won’t leave you alone.”
“You mean it isn’t because I know how to show a man a good time?”
He laughed. “I admit I’ve watched that fire extinguisher episode at least a dozen times now.”
“On the Internet?”
“Yeah. Believe me, it was even better in person.”
I drove us to the airport where Cody’s plane was waiting. There was no shortage of topics for conversation; Mikelis and I talked through the whole flight. Before I knew it, we were landing.
A limo and a group of photographers waited at the bottom of the stairs. Mikelis handled the small crowd well, acting as my aloof bodyguard. We laughed about it on the way to Cody’s apartment. Forty minutes later we pulled up to a beautiful high-rise made of white stone, steel, and tinted windows. The limo expertly navigated a tight turn into the garage, and we pulled up to a small group hanging out at the elevator. I recognized them from the club as Cody’s entourage.
An enormous black man in a pair of sunglasses pulled out a walkie-talkie and said something into it. A minute later, the elevator opened and Cody emerged, wearing a pair of dark slacks, a tailored, white shirt, and a navy blazer.
Walkie-Talkie opened the car door. Cody climbed in and sat across from me. Walkie-Talkie slid in. The limo tipped to the right. Cody started to say something, then stopped. He looked at Mikelis and stiffened.
“Got yourself a bodyguard?” Cody asked me.
“A friend.” I nodded at Walkie-Talkie. “Got yourself a sumo wrestler?”
Cody glanced at my thighs, then turned his attention to the steel city outside of the window. “You’re with me tonight, Kari. Remember that.”
I rolled my eyes. It was going to be a long night.
Dusk was just beginning to settle when the limo stopped at the front door of Le Bernardin, a prestigious landmark of the culinary world. Reservations at this three-starred Michelin restaurant had to be made many, many months in advance.
Or you just had to be Cody Springer.
Photographers clustered around the portico. Cody emerged first, then held his hand out for me. I emerged as gracefully as possible in my mini-dress. Cameras flashed as Cody and I walked inside together, my hand on his arm, both of us pretending to ignore the crowd. We entered the restaurant. The photographers had to stay outside, and yet the cameras didn’t stop.
Diners’ heads turned when we entered the lobby. Cody helped me with my coat and handed it to the maître d'.
“Have you been here before?” Cody asked.
“No, never.”
He smiled back, obviously pleased. “I know how to treat a woman.” I had a feeling that was a dig at Mikelis, but I decided to let it slide. “Maybe we should order the tasting menu? That is, if you think you’re up to it.”
Was he kidding? My only talents were music and eating. After the diet Pasha had put me on, I wanted to indulge.
We were taken to Cody’s “regular table,” an intimate spot in the corner. The maître d' started to pull out a chair for me, but Cody stopped him.
“Please. Allow me,” he said, and pulled out my chair.
“Of course, Sir.”
Two n
earby women sighed in admiration.
As I sat, a camera flashed in our direction. Three waiters descended on the offending diner, quietly asking them to give us some privacy.
Cody sat down next to me and placed his hand on my sleeve. He wasn’t following my request to avoid contact, but I was wearing long sleeves. As long as he didn’t touch my skin, I didn’t see the need to complain.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.” I tried not to gag while adding, “You look great too.”
He looked down briefly, checking himself over. Then he smiled. “Yeah.”
Somehow, I resisted the urge to poke him in the eye.
Cody waved over the waiter and ordered the chef’s tasting menu, plus wine pairing, for both of us. The waiter couldn’t have looked more pleased and said our first course would arrive presently.
Not two minutes later, he returned with two small plates of tuna tartare that tasted as if it had fallen from heaven. A glass of wine later, I was enjoying Cody’s company. He talked all about himself and I didn’t care. I inserted little jokes in the conversation that made him laugh, and we made sure to stay close and look intimate. Periodically, he would touch my sleeve or the silk stocking covering my knee. I didn’t care. The wine was delicious.
By the sixth course, a magnificent plating of surf and turf, we were both starting to lose our stamina. We ate all of our fish, but only half of our Wagyu beef. I really didn’t want it to go to waste, but I couldn’t eat more and expect to leave room for dessert.
Cody resettled the soft, cloth napkin on his lap, spreading it out meticulously into a full square. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then snuck the beef off of his plate and onto the napkin.
I immediately sobered. “What are you doing?”
He leaned close to make it look like we were sharing intimate conversation. “I can’t afford to have anyone see me take a doggy bag out of here.” He pointed at my plate. “Do you want that for later?”