by Susanne Beck
She was standing by the window, with its view that faced the forest beyond, her profile bathed in moonlight. One hand gripped the narrow sill, and even in the darkness in which I was standing, I could see the tendons in that hand stand out in bold relief against the moon-bleached pallor of her skin.
Closing the door behind me, I crossed the room without even being aware that I had done so. "Is something wrong?" I whispered my question, too afraid to make it real by voicing it too loudly.
She didn’t answer. Just kept staring out at the gently swaying pines that laid a canopy over the road meandering behind the house.
I laid a hand on her forearm, feeling the iron tension in the muscles slumbering there. "Please talk to me, Ice. My guts are churning here. Whatever it is, I need to know. Maybe I can help."
She turned, at last, from the window, a sad smile on her face. "You can’t help with this one, Angel." Above her smile, her eyes were clear, colorless pools from which her pain radiated.
Trailing my hand down her strong arm, I grasped her hand and gently pulled it loose from its hold on the window sill, placing it against my rapidly beating heart. "Please, Ice. Talk to me. Anything, even the worst news, is better than this not knowing."
I could easily see the thoughts whirling behind those strangely colorless eyes, and held my breath when they announced their final decision.
"Cavallo’s out."
Whatever news I had expected in my panic, it surely wasn’t this. "What?"
"He’s out. His lawyer got the judge to throw out the conviction on appeal."
I looked at her, struck dumb with confusion. "But ... ," I got out finally, "I thought he was dead. The news reports ... ."
"Lied, apparently. Or else they weren’t given the truth by those higher up. Cavallo was gunned down by Salvatore’s men. He just wasn’t killed."
"Then why ... ."
"Cover-up of the century for them, I’d imagine. Figured they could make a deal with him after pulling his ass out of the fire. He must have reneged at some point, though, because they wound up trying and convicting him."
"Then what happened?" I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around her bombshell. Of all the things I’d considered in the deepest part of the night, when Ice’s fugitive status came right up and sat on my chest, this possibility wasn’t one of them. Not only the police, but the Mob too? Jesus Christ.
"The papers I planted in his car. Apparently, they were the major block on which the prosecution built its case. On appeal, they got thrown out in an ‘illegal search and seizure’ ruling. Without that evidence, the case pretty much fell apart. And since I’m the one who planted them there in the first place ... ." She shrugged. "Shitty deal, all the way around."
"God damn it! How did you find this out?"
"Andre. He’s been keeping an ear out for me. Called me as soon as he heard."
As I gazed up at her, I had the distinct sense that the story wasn’t over. "There’s more, isn’t there."
After a long moment, she finally nodded, her tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. "Cavallo put the word out. He wants his pound of flesh. From me. And nothing’s gonna stop him until he gets it. Andre also told me that Cavallo’s sniffing around up this way. Somehow, he managed to blunder onto at least part of my trail, though I don’t think he’s quite got the brains to think I went over the border. Yet." Pulling her hand from mine, she turned away from me again, her clenched fist rattling the window as it came down hard on the sill. "I knew I shoulda killed that bastard when I had the chance." Reaching up, she dragged her hand through her thick hair, snorting in self-derision. "I must be crazy."
"You’re not crazy, Ice. You did the right thing."
She spun back toward me, her eyes narrowed and filled with fire. "For who? Who, Angel? You? Me?"
"Us!" I shouted, then quickly lowered my voice, very much conscious of the fact that we weren’t, really, alone. "Your dreams. Remember?"
"Those dreams are dead.. I should have never listened to them in the first place."
I gasped, then stepped away, stung beyond belief by her thoughtless words. "Do you really mean that?"
Her eyes softened, as did her voice. "Angel, I’m a killer. That’s who I am. What I am. It’s how I’ve managed to stay alive all these years; by being worse than the worst they could throw at me. And the one time I go against who I am, this is what happens." She smiled again, that sad smile that broke my heart into tiny fragments. "I was never meant to live this life, Angel. Peace isn’t something I deserve. Love isn’t something I deserve." She paused, as if weighing the weight of her words. "It was foolish of me to ever believe that I could be the person you see when you look at me. Foolish and dangerous."
She looked away again, out through the window and into the night beyond. "And now I’ve dragged you down with me. I’ve done the one thing I promised myself I’d never do." Her even breaths gently fogged the window, turning the view beyond white with a surreal mist. Her jaw set in granite determination, an expression I knew only too well. My stomach did a slow, lazy flip deep inside.
Her voice, when it came, was soft as death. "He wants to play games? Fine. We’ll play."
"What ...are you going to do?"
Ice snorted softly. "Find him before he finds me."
"And then?"
In slow motion, her dark head turned in my direction, her eyes alight with a glee I imagined a crocodile might have when a fat young deer waded a touch too far into his favorite watering hole.
"I’m gonna kill him."
"Ice ...no ... ."
"Yes, Angel. This isn’t some game Cavallo’s playing for kicks. This is real. And I’m not about to let that bastard get me a second time. Not while I’m alive enough to do something about it."
"But ... ."
"Look. We both knew something like this was gonna happen sooner or later. It just happens to be sooner. I don’t like it, but the choice has been taken out of my hands." She looked at me intently, bathing me in the blue of her eyes. "Angel, you know how much I love you. Nothing can ever take that away from me. But this ...this is something I gotta do."
She sighed, then looked down at her hands, which were clenched into tight fists. "You’ll be safe here, Angel. I’ll make sure of it. You have friends here, people who love you. They’ll help you finish the cabin so you can finally have your dream."
I laughed; a cold, disgusted sound that surprised even me. "My dream? My dream?! That cabin out there isn’t my dream, Ice. It hasn’t been for five years now. If I had to, I’d take a match and turn it into the biggest bonfire this town’s seen since the last time it burned down."
She eyed me strangely, her head cocked at a slight angle.
"You just don’t get it, do you?"
She shook her head slowly.
"This place, that cabin, those people, they’re not my dream. I’d give them all up without a second’s pause or regret. And do you know why?"
Again, a shake of negation.
"Because you, Morgan Steele, are my dream. None of the rest of this means a goddamn thing unless you’re here to share it with me."
"Your home ... ."
"It’s not my home! You’re my home! Why can’t you ever believe that? Why do you insist on continuing to see me as some naïve little child who has no clue about what she wants or needs?" I wasn’t, obviously, giving her any time to answer my questions, but I didn’t care at that moment. This blow-up had been a long time in coming, and I wasn’t going to stop until I purged myself of the poison inside. "Why do you insist on treating me like some fragile, priceless object that you have to store away in some display case somewhere so no dust gets on it?"
"You are priceless, Angel," she managed to interject.
"But I’m not an object, Ice! I’m a person! A grown woman, quite capable of deciding how to live my life and who to live it with." My voice softened as I stared at her with as much emotion as I could force into my eyes. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that the person I choos
e to live it with is you?"
For a moment, just a moment, I knew what it was like to look into the eyes of a Morgan who had just lost her parents; a young girl heartsick with the pain of loss and too innocent to know how to cover that up with layers of concrete so thick no human could ever get inside those walls again.
But that moment passed in an instant, and I was shown just how vast a gulf the agony of years had created between that Morgan and this. The pain in her eyes vanished as if it had never been, to be replaced with the Morgan Steele the outside world knew; tough, unfeeling, uncaring. A robot incapable of experiencing even the most banal of emotions.
"I can’t afford to let myself believe that, Angel."
"Why?"
"Because if I do, I lose a very important part of myself. A part I need to stay one step away from everyone who wants a shot at me; the cops, the Mob, god knows who else. If I let my guard down even for an instant, things happen. People die, Angel. You could die. And if I’d thought about that when I had my gun to Cavallo’s head, I would have done the right thing for me, and there’d be one less thing to worry about right now." Her eyes warmed just slightly; a drop of rain on upon a frozen wasteland. "Instead, I thought about a dream I could never really have and let the lure of it prod me into a decision that I never should have made."
"And after you kill him, assuming he doesn’t get you first, what then?" I really couldn’t believe I was actually talking about this in a rational manner, but there I was, speaking as if we were discussing the weather over afternoon tea.
She shrugged. "Come back over the border. Go up further north, winter in one of Bull’s cabins, I suppose."
I nodded. "Alright then. I’ll be sure to pack some warm clothes."
"Angel ... ."
"Don’t ‘Angel’ me, Ice. If you’re so bound and determined to go through with this, then you’d better get used to the fact that I’m gonna be there right along with you."
Her eyes narrowed.
I smiled.
"You think you can stop me, Ice? How? Tie me up? I’ll get loose." I looked deliberately down at her still-clenched fists. "Beat me up? Break my legs? I’ll heal. And then I’ll search for you. And I’ll keep searching until I find you." I could hear my voice rising, but I didn’t care. "If you insist on martyring yourself for me, Morgan, then by damn, I’ll be your cross. I’ll be an albatross around your neck. And one day, maybe, you’ll finally get it through your thick head that where you go, I go. Period."
Then I gave her my own dangerous grin, one I’d learned well at the feet of the Master. "Because unlike you, Ice, I don’t give up that easy."
The look she returned me would have turned the bowels of even the most hearty of men to water. I forced myself to remain, outwardly at least, unaffected. "What are you talking about."
I flung my hands out. "Isn’t it obvious? It is to me. You let an idiot like Cavallo scare you away from a dream I know you have." Barking a laugh, I shook my head. "You forget who you’re dealing with here, Ice. I know you. Better than you think I do. I see that look on your face when you think no one’s looking. Like some kid on Christmas morning waiting for someone to tell her that Santa Claus really doesn’t exist and that all the presents she thought were hers actually belong to the kids down the street."
I took a step closer to her, pleased when she didn’t try to back away. "You’ve been waiting for this excuse all along, haven’t you. You’ve been waiting for the perfect reason to bolt. Because the longer you stay here, the longer you live among people who respect the person you are instead of the dangerous murderer you think you are, the more you’re forced to believe that there’s actually a person inside you worthy of such respect. And adoration. And love."
Reaching out, I laid a hand on her arm. She flinched, but didn’t pull away, so I applied pressure to her wrist, holding it in a firm clasp. "We both knew what we were getting into when we started this journey, Ice. But my fears, my concerns are, I think, easier for me to deal with that yours are for you. Because mine are easily seen. I know that all this stands a very good chance at coming to an end, and perhaps a violent one, someday. I know that, and continue the journey anyway, because to me, to me, Ice, being with you is much more important than being without you."
I took that final step, brushing my body against hers. I thought I could feel her tremble faintly, but it was probably my imagination. "And I know you share those fears. But they’re easy ones for you, because you’ve had the same things to deal with most of your life. Life and death decisions are easy for you to make. But feeling ...that’s hard. Believing is hard. And allowing yourself to love and be loved is probably the hardest thing of all."
"Everything I love dies," she whispered, her voice raspy with tears she wouldn’t, couldn’t, shed.
I wrapped her in an embrace so tight I don’t think a mote of dust could pass between us, and wished with all my strength that I was taller so I could rest her head against my chest as she had done for me so many times as to be uncountable. "I know," I whispered, my own tears rolling down my cheeks, tears I shed for the both of us. "I know."
Those deaths passed between us then, in some sort of metaphysical osmosis that filled the room like a pall. Her mother. Her father. Her best friend. Josephine. Other friends. Perhaps other lovers, ones we hadn’t spoken of. Her innocence. Her belief in the power of love.
After a moment, she pulled away from me, angrily swiping at a tear which had managed to escape the imprisonment of her eyes. She turned toward the window again, and I could feel the distance between us begin to grow. Oddly, though, it didn’t seem to be a distance of hurt, but rather of healing. A distance that told me she had heard my words and needed a minute alone to process them and their implications for her life.
Smiling slightly, I stepped back away from her. "I’ll support you in whatever decision you make, Morgan. Just, please, don’t let him win, ok?"
Her nod was the last thing I saw before I turned and left the room.
PART 4
THE NEXT MORNING dawned clear and hot. I was up before the sun, though that had a great deal to do with the fact that I hadn’t really slept at all during the night. Much as it shames me to admit, I spent morning’s moon-shadowed hours with both ears peeled for the slightest sound of Ice’s footfall in the hallway outside my door.
Not that that would have helped any, of course, should Ice have been so inclined as to desire an escape in the middle of the night. The woman was more silent than fog, and twice as stealthy.
Still, keeping my eyes open had a sort of talismanic feel to it, and so, as a promise against an uncertain future, I sacrificed a few hours of sleep to stand guard against the possibility of my darkest nightmare coming true.
My morning routine completed, I stepped out into the still-dark hallway and tried desperately not to look as if I was checking up on my lover, which, of course, I was. The corridor was empty and quiet. Giving in to my need to know, I walked softly to Ice’s room and grasped the doorknob.
Just a quick peek, I promised myself. Just to be sure.
Before I could think to do more, the knob turned from the inside, pulling me inward when the door opened, and landing me in Ice’s surprised arms.
"Hello," I said, blushing. "Fancy meeting you here."
A raised eyebrow was the reply.
"I was ...checking to see if you were awake yet?"
The eyebrow raised higher.
I sighed, knowing only the truth would be enough to satisfy her. "I wanted to make sure you hadn’t decided to leave."
"Don’t trust me, huh."
"I do trust you, Ice. You didn’t ...exactly tell me what your decision was going to be."
"Probably because I haven’t made one yet."
"Well, you’re still here. That’s something, at least."
A corner of her mouth lifted briefly. "It’s somethin’, alright."
Coming to the tips of my toes, I placed a small kiss on that upturned corner, then stood normally again
, pleased at the small victory which had kept her home, at least for the moment. "Could I interest you in some breakfast?"
"Nah. I’m just gonna head over to the garage and get started."
"Mind some company?"
She looked down at me, an amused smirk in her eyes.
I scowled. "Alright, so I’ve never owned a car. I think I have the mechanics of pumping gas down straight, though." I gave her my best mischievous grin. "You just put the nozzle in that little pipe that comes out of the back of the car underneath, right?"
Rolling her eyes, she let me go and gave me a push back into the hallway, following me out and closing the door behind her. "Let’s go."
* * *
It was still rather dark as we made our meandering way through the heavily shadowed forest on our way into town. In deference to the almost cathedral-like atmosphere of the newly awakening day, we kept our silence, leaving only the sound of our footfalls upon the heavily carpeted ground as signs to mark our passing.
When the trees gave up their hold on the land and we stepped into the town’s border, I noticed a small crowd gathering in the distance, near Pop’s garage. Something about the scene struck me as odd, and after staring at it for a moment, I noticed that the gentle breeze was rustling the blinds which covered the large plate-glass windows of the gas station, from the inside.
"Ice?" I asked, puzzled, to a partner who had moved off during my musings and was rapidly gaining momentum, walking with a determined stride toward the slowly gathering crowd. "Shit," I muttered, moving after her at a sprint.
Slipping my way through the group, one of which was a shining purple object wearing Millicent’s face, I came to a stop next to Ice, who was kneeling on the ground, glass shards scattered around her like trumpery diamonds. Laying next to my partner, crumpled in a tattered and bloody heap, was Pop, his left cheek zippered open and spilling a river of blood. His nose was squashed almost flat against his face, and his eye, which had only been faintly puffy the day before, had almost exploded with swelling. One arm bent at an odd angle above the elbow, obviously broken in at least one place.