by A. J. Mayall
It was Joel who reached out, grabbing Caroline by the shoulders, shaking her furiously. “Your father is Douglas O’Halloran?!” He released her, barely able to see her terrified features, falling to his hands and knees. “You’re that Caroline…we’re dead. We’re all dead…”
Todd stood and felt around, grabbing Joel by the neck, slamming him up against the wall a few times. He gripped tighter, making the man’s eyes bulge out slightly as Emma did her best to navigate through the blinding room, her fists beating on the aggressor.
“You son of a bitch, you let him go!”
Emma’s self-defense training kicked in. She jumped onto Todd’s back and wrapped her arm around his neck, yanking back until her feet touched floor. With a scream and pivot, she slammed the large black man down. Joel, released from Todd’s grip, groaned, his head making a meaty smack as it hit the floor.
The room dimmed significantly.
Emma reared back and, with her fury and frustration at the treatment he had given her since her discovery, kicked Todd in the temple. The muscular man rolled over and screamed. She continued her assault, not wanting to kill him, but to deliver a message. It only took half a dozen kicks before the room dimmed further, and Todd collapsed.
Caroline screamed, backing as far from Emma as she could as the black-haired woman knelt to check for pulses. Emma panicked, unable to locate one on Todd without trying a few different places.
“They’re alive, and I’m not going to hurt you, honey.”
Weeks of being alone in the room, with the heat, the bodies, and the general lack of hygiene rendered them filthy. The pink of Caroline’s cheeks revealed by her tear tracks in the now-manageable light of the room made Emma realize how far they had fallen. She held out her hand to Caroline, looking at Todd and Joel.
“Caroline, you saw he attacked Joel; I had to defend him. We have to make sure Todd can’t hurt us. Will you help me tie him up? I don’t know how long they’ll be out, but when they come to, it’ll be harder to do it then.”
“No! You hurt him! He kept saying you were up to something, and you hurt him!”
Emma took in a deep breath. “Caroline, I’ll say this as gentle as I can. Todd was going to kill Joel. I know we’ve had our differences lately, but I don’t want anyone hurt. Being here has driven us a little bonkers, and it affected Todd worse than us.” She pondered how the room had changed their language: “lately”, “a while ago”, “when we first arrived”, “right after we found the bathroom”.
“Emma, I wanna go home.”
“I know, just help me with this. Maybe when Todd wakes up, his senses will have cleared and we can let him go.”
“What if he’s not better? What if he’s angry? We can’t keep him tied up forever.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Emma, do you wanna try to break the ceiling again?”
The attempts to break the ceiling petered off recently. They had successfully cracked the top, but nothing else was successful.
“Maybe in a little bit, I’m tired. Just wish I knew what the hell was going on.”
Caroline looked at the dead bodies, and then Todd and Joel, a sudden rush of the realizing of her mortality sinking in once more.”
“What if we’re supposed to kill each other? There’s three dead bodies, Emma. Maybe it was a clue we needed to leave behind three dead bodies and they’ll let us out.”
Emma blinked. Could it be that simple?
“If it is, we’ll find another way to get you out, okay. I won’t let that bastard hurt you!”
“Todd or Joel?”
“Neither…my boss.”
The young girl’s eyes widened. Emma took a moment to look at Joel’s unconscious form; his reaction to Caroline’s revelation about her past haunted her. It made three of them tied to organized crime. She looked at the scared girl, walking over to where she had discovered the maintenance interface, pressing in and letting it turn out to face Caroline.
“Come here, look under it.”
“What the heck is that?”
“Security panel; now, come here.”
Emma moved to the side and pointed underneath before crouching herself as Caroline knelt under the panel.
“I don’t see anything, it’s just wires and stuff.”
“Caroline, look,” she muttered and pointed behind a few wires, where a small logo could be seen.
“Oracle Optics?”
“One of my boss’ more legitimate businesses. He’s pretty big on using his own hardware in-house. I can only imagine why he’s done this. Todd saw me when I discovered this thing, and I think he knows more than he’s letting on. Ever since, he’s been acting like I’m a danger.”
“Are you?” the girl asked, fear betraying her hushed voice.
“No, that’s the thing. Listen, I work for a man named Donatello Bellacino.”
Caroline froze and inched away from Emma ever so slightly. The black-haired woman scratched at the bridge of her nose.
“Honey, I’m not going to hurt you, but if you keep up the worried victim game, I’ll reconsider. Get the hell up, we need to tie those two up. From this point on, I’ll trust you like a partner, so stop acting like a damn child.”
Caroline closed her eyes and nodded. She grabbed the various rags they had been using for blindfolds and secured the men’s wrists behind their backs. They’d had to use a good chunk of the spare fabric from the corpses’ clothing to make do.
Emma took longer strips of fabric and bound them with a few tight knots. Todd’s hands were behind his back and around one of the pipes of the toilet.
“How’d you get so good at this, Emma?” Caroline asked as she worked on Joel, barely getting his ankles secured by the time Emma had finished with Todd.
“Comes with the job, I suppose.”
Emma assisted Caroline as she tried to make a knot, which fell apart.
“What kind of a job for a mob boss involves tying men up?” she chuckled. “Hitman or hooker?”
The last word hadn’t left Caroline’s mouth before Emma’s expression went stony. “It pays the bills, Caroline. Donatello takes care of his girls, and I have final say in clients.”
A hush fell between them as Emma finished tying up Joel. Caroline stood back; they’d moved the men to the side of the cylinder away from the dead bodies, a courtesy to keep them from the smell.
“What I wouldn’t do for a couple pair of handcuffs, though,” Emma said, looking to Caroline. “If you must know, because I know that look on your face, yes, I sleep with men for money. I’m not owned by a pimp. Bellacino makes sure we have ready access to healthcare, and I’m working my way through a Master’s in Finance.”
Caroline averted her eyes from Emma. As she looked to the ceiling, the room flashed blindingly, painfully bright. It seemed too soon for their normal drop of food bars and water. A metallic ring sounded. When the lights dimmed again, two pairs of handcuffs lay in the middle of the room.
“You gotta be shittin’ me,” said the girl as she walked and grabbed them from the floor.
Dusk was falling on the deserts outside the city when the limousine approached the gates of Rolling Dunes Memorial Gardens. Phoenix held his head low, brow furrowed in thought. Suzette scooted over and held the door open for a moment, leaning out.
“Don’t beat yourself up; you were a kid when this happened.”
“I need to do this.”
“Phoenix, I…” she began as the detective knelt.
“Listen. This is me seriously not knowing what to do.”
“But we have Gemini helping us! That’s more resources than we could have hoped for.”
“Don’t think I don’t know that,” he muttered. “This has gotten pretty bad, I might have to.…do things after this is said and done.”
Suzette’s eyes widened, an honest fear in them. Her breath quickened as she grabbed Phoenix by the collar and shook him.
“Don’t you dare, McGee.”
“Suzette, people have died. The Always Machine might fix some of that.”
“You told me the last time you used it…”
“Bad things happened. I know. That’s why I’m going there, and why I asked for this little detour. Listen, I’m not going to do anything until I come back, alright?”
“I’ll tell my grandmother,” Suzette whispered, hoping what fear and respect he had for her might convince him otherwise.
“Then she’ll know I have no other choice. She knows how many times I could have…let loose. She was there when I made my promise, Suzette; she’ll understand.”
Suzette hung her head and nodded. “I’ll get everything set up for your return, then. I’m going out later, so take as much time as you need.”
“See you later?” he asked, lifting a finger under her chin and lifting it to look into her worried eyes, seeing his own equally worried reflected back at him.
“Yeah,” she said and slid back away from him.
Phoenix stood and closed the door, thanking the driver and informing him he’d be going on his own from here. The driver nodded. The barely audible engine starting prompted Phoenix to step back and wave goodbye.
Rolling Dunes was surrounded by a wrought-iron gate with rounded off spikes. The dry heat of the desert made it hot to the touch. Luckily, the gate was left open; in a world where people could fly, gates and fences were more for decoration than function. As he passed, Phoenix nodded to the groundskeeper, who said the graveyard was technically closing soon. The detective replied he wouldn’t be long and he was a flier. He handed the man a business card, letting him know that if there was any damage, to call his office.
The groundskeeper shrugged, returning to his shack. Phoenix walked the pebble trails through the oasis of lush greenery rarely seen outside Rouge Mal. He passed by headstone after headstone, keeping his focus on the far west corner. The silence was only punctuated by the sound of the groundskeeper’s car roaring to life like the cackling of a hyena with a throat full of marbles and metal shards. Phoenix winced at the noise as the beat-up car drove off, leaving him in the stillness once more. He passed grassy inclines, pebble paths and areas where outlying sands had encroached thanks to the desert winds. If they had a large enough pond, it could resemble a beach, Phoenix had mused during prior visits.
Finally, he came to two headstones, side by side.
Jimithy Dackary and Sarah Cortemeyer.
His mind raced as he fell to his knees, the tears already falling. He could still see their screaming faces as time itself consumed them, devoured and ripped apart by the causality waves. He had bested terrible creatures from places unknown and unimaginable, but in the end, he had lost. His best friends taken from him, victims of being too close the GearWitch.
The worst part of it was how his mentor, Jeremiah, knew it would happen, and did nothing to prevent it. It was the first time, all those years ago, he swore never to give the Cloister an inch. He would fight them every step of the way.
Now, he was about to go back because he had no way out.
“I’m so sorry, guys. I…I have to break my promise.”
The silence of the stones was the worst possible answer Phoenix could have received.
“I’ve tried. I’ve tried my damnedest. I could have used them before. I could have gone back to Jeremiah, and I didn’t. But I have to. Please, you have to understand. I don’t want this, but people are going to die if I don’t.”
He looked at the twin headstones, imagining his friends with him. By this point, they probably would have been married with a few kids. He always liked how their families decided to bury them next to each other. It was fitting, as they were pretty inseparable during life.
“I have to go now. This isn’t me forgetting the promise, you guys; this is me with no other options. I need you to know that.”
Tears streaked his cheeks as he screamed at the top of his lungs, a primal howl from deep in his chest. It echoed in the emptiness of the falling night; sound and fury, all rolled into one. He pounded his fists against the ground, gnashing his teeth in frustration over the situation. While things might be looking up, he had a responsibility to make these events right in the end. He yelled and thrashed at the graves of his friends until he had exhausted himself, and he was in darkness. It was then he extended his senses out, making sure no one was around to see as he focused on the area between the two headstones. If he was going to break his promise, he was going to do it facing his friends. The desert before him parted and disintegrated with a crackle. Soon, he saw the infinite void before him and the path of light leading onwards into it.
Phoenix stood and approached it, setting his hands on the stones begging in his mind for their forgiveness, and stepped through and into The Cloister.
CHAPTER 16
The Cloister expanded around Phoenix as he entered, the ever-present ticking and whirring of the great machine permeating the air, yet not an assault to the ears. It resonated on the body and soul; for a few moments, the space around Phoenix felt gelatinous. The illuminated pathway he walked led to the parlor.
Space and distance were more fluid here; the horizon could be reached in a few feet, or you could walk with someone for an hour and barely move. He stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pockets and kept his gaze low.
In the distance stood bookcases and chairs; it was reminiscent of a Victorian gentlemen’s club to Phoenix. He had been told that everyone perceived the area slightly differently. GearWitches of ages past milled about, talking and enjoying themselves, reading books and relaxing. To many of them, Phoenix had been told, it was a reward for a life of dedication.
He saw it as a curse. The idea of an afterlife was still a mystery, and even to The Cloister, the truth of Heaven was unknown, but he knew one day he would come here.
“Mr. McGee. It has been a while…”
“Shut it, Jeremiah, I’m not here for you.”
His former mentor came into view with his tailored black suit, wide-brimmed fedora and tinted round spectacles. Once, Jeremiah’s appearances and their lessons had been the only sources of joy in his life. He’d been there to groom him into his roles, to show him the methods and means to focus his powers.
It had ended in the deaths of innocents, lives lost and consequences Jeremiah not only knew of, but accepted solely to teach Phoenix his lessons.
It had been years since Phoenix McGee had accepted a lesson in the use of his powers, sending him on a lone path of self-discovery. This path ultimately led him back to The Cloister.
“I’m here to talk to someone. Someone sent me a message one of you has answers I need,” he proclaimed to the gathered masses, each reclining in comfort. Their eyes slowly turned to the upstart, an annoyed resignation in their expressions.
“We did not message you, McGee,” a middle-aged man said, his nose in a book.
“Like hell! I’ve been getting pings from you for a while now.”
“Perhaps we have not sent the message yet,” a young woman said, pouring herself a cup of tea and staring into the infinite distance.
Jeremiah walked behind Phoenix and placed his hands on the red-haired man’s shoulders. “You know your time and our time are not always congruent, especially if you do not come when summoned. Time will be compensated for you; you know this.”
Phoenix seized up at the touch. “Get your damn hands off me, you murderous bastard. I was told to see a gypsy or someone. Where do I find a damn gypsy?”
It was Jeremiah’s turn to seize. He hissed, “No, you don’t speak with her; you speak with me. That is how it is to be done.”
Phoenix grabbed his former teacher by the lapels, bringing him in close. “I don’t play by your rules anymore. Not after what you did.” He pushed the man away and turned to the gathered masses, storming toward a circle of them in discussion and debate.
“Who am I supposed to find? Who doesn’t Jeremiah want me to meet?” he yelled as they looked up slowly, without shock. “Who is the gypsy?”<
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A voice behind him said, “You’re looking for me.” He turned to see Jeremiah moving between him and a figure approaching from the shadows. For his trouble, he was pushed rudely out of the way. “The name’s Gypsy Moroux. Let me guess, for you, this is our first meeting? ’Bout damn time, kid.”
She was shorter, with long black hair; stocky with a strength she simply exuded. Her eyes were deep pools of blue, with a mysterious, ageless quality. It was apparent she was born of an era of needing upper body strength, of hard work and grit. Her Rubenesque frame was draped in a brown hide jacket and pants, and large boots adorned her feet. A large floppy brown hat adorned her head. Phoenix placed her by look alone as coming from the Wild West, or the Gold Rush. She smacked his shoulder and gave a hearty laugh which took him aback. Every other member of The Cloister seemed bored; this Gypsy Moroux had life to her.
“I always wondered when this moment would happen, going to be interesting…”
“What is?”
“Meeting one of the best damn friends I have.”
Phoenix rubbed his temples, this was the trouble with The Cloister; time and experience could be fluid. Gypsy patted him on the shoulder. He brushed her hand away, and put his hands up. Exhaustion crossed his face as he stepped away from her.
“I don’t have time to do this, miss.”
Gypsy stopped and looked over her shoulder at Jeremiah, who shrugged. He attempted to move forward, but the shorter woman glared at him and he backed away.
“What exactly don’t you have time for?”
“This whole spiel; I get it, the longer I stay away from you all, the less attuned I am to the happenings here and these out-of-order meetings happen. You can claim to be my friend; so did he.”
He glared at Jeremiah. Gypsy turned to see his countenance change from aloof bemusement to seething rage in a few seconds.
“Get the hell away from McGee. You’ve done enough to him.”
Jeremiah advanced only to meet the right hook of the stout woman. The once-mentor and close confidant fell to the ground, holding his jaw. He spat on the metallic floor and drew himself off, patted his chest and turned to leave.