by David Beers
Luke saw the man trying to think, trying to decide if his fear of admitting was greater than his fear of Luke. He finally realized Luke was much more dangerous than sharing information. “Fuh-Five.”
“Let’s see if we can add to that body count.”
Chapter 22
Christian and Tommy walked onto their floor at the FBI building.
Christian was exhausted, and although Tommy hadn’t said anything, he knew his partner felt the same.
“I’m going to start making calls,” Tommy said. “See what everyone else found. Let me know when Luke gets here, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Christian said. The two split up, Tommy going to his office and leaving Christian alone. They had turned the lights on as they entered, illuminating the floor, but no one else was there.
Christian walked to his own office and collapsed in his chair.
He leaned his head back. He needed a nap. A short one. Ten minutes. His mind was struggling to keep up with the demands he was forcing on it, and if it didn’t get some rest—even just a bit—he would be useless to Tommy.
Christian set an alarm on his phone and closed his eyes.
Christian dreamed. He knew it almost immediately, seeing that he stood in his mansion. It wasn’t the mansion that gave it away, per se, but because Luke was in front of him; despite the other’s presence in this place, there had never been anyone else. Luke couldn’t gain entry, not unless this was a dream.
“It is,” Luke said. “A dream.”
Christian nodded, not knowing what else to do. A sharp sense of unease ran through him, or rather, through this place—as if it was in the air, and when he breathed, it filled him as well.
“Why am I dreaming inside here?” Christian heard himself ask, though he wasn’t in control.
Aren’t I supposed to be in charge when lucid dreaming? he wondered.
“Not this one,” Luke said. “Your mind didn’t have any other way to reach out, I suppose. It hasn’t been able to slow you down. You’ve been neglecting for so long what it’s been building, that it finally reached out and grabbed you. Consider this another one of your movies, Christian.”
Luke turned around and started walking across the foyer, heading to the double staircase that split and wrapped around the opposite sides of the circular walls. Christian followed, his legs controlled by something other than him. His mind, perhaps, but not the conscious part.
Neither spoke as they climbed the stairs, and Christian saw that the staircase went up higher than he remembered.
Not remembered, he thought. These things are higher than you built them.
“They are,” Luke said. “There’s a new floor at the top.”
The two kept climbing. Neither grew winded, though the climb was high. Time was different, as it always was in dreams, and Christian couldn’t tell how long they went up. He could see the distance, though. The last floor had cut off two stories ago, but still the staircases wrapped upwards. They were now simply following a vertical tunnel. Paintings sat on the walls, huge, life-size ones.
All of them were of him—Christian—and his partners. The further up they went, the less Christian saw of himself, and the more the paintings focused on Luke. Large things, showing Luke as Christian had seen him at different times. Sitting in his living room. In Christian’s own office. Hanging upside down on a makeshift cross, convincing Christian to force Lucy Speckle to suicide.
Finally, the stairs ended, and both took their last step onto a vast floor.
Does it even end? Christian thought.
“There,” Luke said, and pointed to the ceiling.
Christian followed his gesture and saw a final painting. It stretched across the entire ceiling; Luke Titan reigned over this floor. Christian had to actually move his head to see the entire thing, and even then, Luke’s feet were too far away to see well. The painting showed Luke in one of his three-piece suits. His hands were at his sides, not hiding in his pockets, and his eyes stared directly at Christian.
Christian walked across the floor, not looking away from the painting, and Luke’s eyes followed him. They didn’t seem to follow him, but actually did. His brown irises stared out as if they were alive, each eye large enough for Christian to lie across and not cover them.
“You need to come to this place,” Luke said.
Christian looked back down and saw his partner had turned and was staring at him.
“It’s important that you do.”
“This … is real?” Christian spoke, and it was him this time, not something else controlling the words.
Luke nodded. “Yes. This is inside your mansion, and it’s important you see it.”
“Why?”
“Everything you care about depends upon it, Christian. Perhaps it always has.”
The alarm on Christian’s clock sounded with a ferocity that broke the dream into pieces; it fell away, leaving reality to stare back at him.
He sat in his office chair with his eyes open, not reaching down to touch the phone. He didn’t blink, but looked forward, trying his best to remember what he’d seen.
Luke.
The staircase stretching upward.
You need to come to this place.
Luke rapped his knuckles on Christian’s door. Christian blinked rapidly, finally seeing the world around him. Luke slowly opened the door and Christian knew only one thing: he didn’t want this man in his office. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Luke. Christian didn’t know why, only that it was so, and no amount of thought or logic would make it otherwise.
“I wanted to ask you how Tommy’s doing before we go down there,” Luke said as he approached Christian’s desk. “Taking a nap?” He glanced down at the still buzzing phone.
Christian looked at his phone, immediately feeling a need to hide the alarm. He didn’t want Luke to know he’d been sleeping, fearing that he might somehow know about the dream. Christian’s hand darted to it and hit the ‘stop’ button.
“Are you okay?” Luke said.
“Yes. I just woke up. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Luke said. “How is Tommy?”
Christian wanted to run from the room, to jump out the window behind him if necessary—anything to get away from the man standing here. He’d never felt fear like this; Christian could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears, thundering rapidly away.
Don’t let him know, Christian thought.
But that was impossible. Luke was too perceptive.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, you just startled me. Tommy … Tommy’s trying to hold it together. Let’s go down to his office. He told me to let him know when you got here.”
Luke stared at him, obviously waiting on him to stand.
“You mind giving me a minute? I just need to clear my head.”
“Sure,” Luke said, though he paused a moment longer. Christian held his eyes, but it took a will similar to that of the Pharaohs building the Egyptian pyramids. He wanted to look away, even to beg Luke to leave. Anything that would get him out of this office, away from Christian.
Finally, Luke turned and exited without saying anything.
Christian sighed.
“What the hell was that?” he asked himself.
You need to come to this place. The words spoken in his dream returned. Christian didn’t have time, not at the moment. He knew Tommy would expect him shortly, and he also needed to hear what Luke had to say. If there was a plan to save Alice, Luke would have it.
Christian’s heart still was beating far too rapidly, but he stood from his desk and did his best to push away the fear nearly crippling him.
“How are you holding up?” Luke said.
He didn’t care what Tommy answered. His mind was still on the interaction that happened with Christian moments ago. Luke didn’t like what he’d seen. The boy had been positively frightened—terrified, even.
“I’m okay. Where’s Christian?”
“
He’s on his way. I think he took a brief nap. He was just waking up when I went to his office.”
“I spoke to the police. They’ve been questioning Alice’s friends and family. They’ve got nothing so far, no other leads. The FBI agents are going back to my condo to reinspect the crime scene. They want to see if the police missed anything.”
“You think that’s a waste of time?” Luke asked.
What was Christian frightened of? The entire endeavor going on around him? No one he knew was in danger, so that didn’t make much sense—especially given what the boy had experienced the past few years.
“Probably. I don’t know where else to send them, though.”
Luke saw Tommy look up from his desk and turned to see Christian arriving. His skin was pale and Luke saw a very slight tremor in his right hand.
“You don’t look good,” Tommy said.
“I took a nap and had a nightmare. Taking me a minute to shake it.”
Tommy nodded but said nothing else about it, turning to Luke. “Tell me you have something.”
“We need to go back to his ex-wife’s,” Luke said as Christian took his seat. “I checked again, but it might be time to sit on the house.”
“We need to tell Waverly, then we need to go over there.”
Tommy sighed and then Luke watched him regain his focus, pure force of will shrugging off the exhaustion and self-hate, slugging forward like some knight facing insurmountable enemies. Going forward only because his duty, and love, demanded it. Going forward knowing that he and everything he cared for was already lost.
Not yet, old friend, but soon, Luke thought. He wanted to turn and look at Christian, but didn’t. Staring too hard at the boy wasn’t good, though Luke wasn’t exactly sure why. That annoyed him, not knowing why, though still knowing it to be true. It was as if … Christian had been scared of him.
Tommy hit the button on his speakerphone and dialed Waverly’s cell.
“Hold on,” the Director answered. Luke heard him click the mute button and thirty seconds passed before Waverly came back on the line. “Sorry, in a meeting. What do you have?”
“I’m here with Luke and Christian. Sir, we haven’t been able to find his ex-wife, so a tail on her house may be in order.”
“Okay. Twenty-four hour surveillance on her, too. I’ll reassign six more agents. When was the last time you went over?”
“Last evening,” Luke said.
“It’s 5 AM now,” Waverly said. “Get over there by 6:30 and if she’s there, tell her whatever you need, to ensure that she cooperates with the surveillance. Tell her what we suspect and that she might be in danger. Figure out if she knows where Hinson might be. Any news from the police?”
“Nothing useful, sir,” Tommy said.
“If you have the capacity, direct some of the agents following Hinson to start looking into all his friends and family. It’s time to widen the investigation. If you need more people, let me know, okay?”
“We will.”
“Okay, I have to go,” the Director said. “Call me once you’ve made contact with the ex-wife.”
“Yes, sir,” Tommy said.
The line went dead, leaving the three partners sitting in silence.
“We’ve got an hour and a half,” Tommy said. He stood from his chair and stretched his hands high above his head, ligaments popping in his shoulders. “I’m going to finish reading these reports. We’ll go meet the woman in an hour, okay?”
“I think one of us should stay on Hinson,” Christian said. “Someone should be with the agents watching his house. If he goes there, they might not move like we’d want them to. If we’re there, we’ll be able to command the situation better.”
Tommy said nothing, and finally Luke let himself turn toward Christian. The boy was still pale, though the tremor had stopped. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Having one of us watch a house seems like a waste of time, especially with what we need to be doing.”
“Think about it,” Christian said. “If he shows up, the agents will call it in, but they’re not going to move on him. If one of us is there, we can convince them to move in, even if we have to take the blame later.”
Tommy nodded, though Luke thought reluctantly. Tommy didn’t like the idea, and neither did Luke, but for very different reasons. Christian’s suggestion held some logic, but it wasn’t very strong. Luke didn’t understand why he would say it, especially with such force.
“You want to do it?”
“No,” Christian said. “I want to meet his ex-wife. It might help with the mansion.”
“Luke? It’s not a bad idea. A few hours with them in case he shows up.”
Luke stared at Christian, not caring if it set the boy off again. He wanted Christian to feel pressure, perhaps even to cause a panic attack. Something was happening here and Luke didn’t like it. Christian didn’t return his gaze, instead keeping his eyes on Tommy.
“Luke? You still here?”
“Sure,” he said, turning to Tommy. “I’ll go with them.”
Chapter 23
Christian knew the plan of action wasn’t smart, especially given Luke’s brainpower. It was a waste putting him in a car to watch an empty house. If anyone should go, Tommy was the one—but Christian didn’t want that.
Christian made the suggestion because he needed distance from Luke, desperately so … and, he needed time to think. He really needed time to go to his mansion, but what waited for him on that upper floor … well, that would take a lot of time.
Christian didn’t want to take another nap, but was scared to go into the mansion.
He was afraid—as he had been before—of what he might find. No … that wasn’t accurate. He was scared of what he would find.
Christian went to his office and set another alarm. He didn’t know if he would dream again, but he thought that better than actually going inside. At least for right now. He did want to see Hinson’s ex-wife. It would add something to the mansion and when he went to it, he wanted all possible information to be waiting on him. He wanted to see everything in one inspection. He was too frightened of the place to make more than one trip.
How did it come this far? That you’re afraid of what used to be your sanctuary?
Christian leaned back in his chair and sleep came quickly.
His mind, apparently, hadn’t finished speaking—even if Christian wasn’t ready to hear it.
This time, he found himself in his mansion again, but inside the room marked The Priest.
The statues were still there, the women in different states of prostration before himself (or, the other). A statue of Christian no longer stared back at him, but the other—his mind’s replication of Christian.
The wild grin was still on his face and blood leaked from the corner of his eyes, falling down his cheeks and to his neck in awful, endless streams.
“You dreamed of Luke,” the other said. “And now you’re dreaming of me. What do you think that means?”
Christian found himself in control again. The other looked down at the statues. He shook his head violently and the bloody tears sprinkled on the stone sculptures.
“HA!” the other laughed.
“You’re going insane,” Christian said.
“And you aren’t? I am you, Christian. You are me. You keep this mental barrier, as if it matters, but we both know it doesn’t. Not in the end. Our destiny is to finally grow into one.”
Christian didn’t try denying what was said. From the other’s first appearance, Christian knew it to be true. He had, momentarily, thought he could break free when he went to Hinson’s house the previous night, intent on killing the man. That chance was gone, though.
“It’s not gone, my man. You can still kill him. You might even be able to kill him at his ex-wife’s house. Though when you do it now, it’ll be our marriage. Things have changed, even in the past few days, and your separation from me is over. It’s you and I to the end.” The other reached forward and smeared one of the
drops across the stone figure’s face. He reached up to his own, touching a stream of blood, and then rubbed it across the eyes of the statue directly in front of him. “That’s better.”
He looked back up at Christian.
“Do you think that once you kill Hinson, you’ll ever be able to sleep next to Veronica again? In the end, Hinson is finished, and you know it. Waverly is onboard with Hinson as a killer, and so if you murder him now, you’re not doing it for yourself. You’re doing it for Waverly. And the thing that really makes me get a chuckle … you know what that is, though, don’t you?”
Christian nodded. “That I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“Exactly. You’ll murder him because you want him dead, and it’s not necessary any longer. He’ll spend his life in jail or take a ride on old sparky, if you let him live. But you won’t. He’s going to die and you’re going to enjoy it. Then, Christian, as your friend Luke analogized, the winter will be here forever.”
Christian wanted to say he was wrong, but that would be futile. While everything in Christian’s life was wrong—perhaps besides Veronica—what the other now said was right.
“NAIL ON THE HEAD!” he screeched in a horrible gale of laughter.
“Why did you come here?” Christian said.
“That is the question. The one you never really tried to answer. And now it’s too late, isn’t it? Because you don’t have the time to chase down the answer. You barely have time to sleep, and I wonder how rested you’ll feel when you leave here?”
The other’s smile died, and Christian stared at a reflection of himself, the only thing missing from his own face were bloody tears. It was shocking, seeing the other like that—without the maniacal aura it always radiated. Christian saw that he really was looking at himself … communicating with himself.
And then, the other’s eyes went fully black. His pupils swam out across his irises and then covered the surrounding white. Christian stared at dark orbs, now reflecting him. A different man than the one who had first joined the FBI.
“Before we’re married, Christian, I’d answer that question. I’d do it before you kill someone. When that happens … well, it will be too late, then.”