by Platt, Sean
And then she was gone. Though Abigail hadn’t felt the presence enter her mind, she felt its departure, draft from an open window in her brain.
Talani? Abigail asked, testing to see if the girl was really gone.
No response. As she lay in the gas-drenched bed, fumes stirring her nausea, she thought of Talani’s words, “You’re not alone.” Abigail wondered how many of her kind there were. She’d known there were some, and that many were bad, monsters feeding off the good. But what if there were others like her, like John, good people cursed through no fault of their own?
She thought of John and wondered if he would miss her, or be happy to be free of the burden of looking out for a perpetual child? Then she thought of her new friend Katya.
Will Katya miss me?
She’d been so concerned when Abigail was sick at the restaurant. She actually cared. And though he wasn’t good at showing it, Larry cared, too. And of course, there was John. She thought back to the last time she’d seen him, and how he’d hugged her as though he never wanted to let her go.
If I kill myself, I’ll hurt them all.
They don’t deserve that.
Abigail’s tears were in full flow. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of the hurt she’d visit on those she loved most if she were to murder herself. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Taking her life was selfish. Yes, she’d be silencing her torment, but didn’t everyone have to deal with some amount of personal pain? Killing herself would add to her friends’ agony, especially John’s.
Abigail couldn’t bear to cause any more pain.
There had to be some other way to quiet her anguish, some other way to deal with her victims’ memories. She hadn’t even given John a chance to help her.
Abigail sat up, looked down at Bobby, and said, “I’m so sorry.”
She grazed his ashen cheek with her trembling fingertips. His skin was hard, like scorched leather. She wanted to say something more that the boy might hear, but Bobby was gone, and Abigail was whispering to ghosts.
She rose from the bed and headed downstairs. At the bottom, she managed to get the lighter’s wheel to turn and the flame to spark, then pulled a gasoline-soaked pillow from the couch and held the flame to its body until flames licked the cotton.
She threw the pillow to the floor and watched flames race in a line upstairs, mesmerized by the sight of fire licking the walls. Abigail wondered if she had stayed and died in the fire if she would see her life’s memories race before her as death came to claim her. Or would she be forced to witness the lives of others pass before her eyes?
The fire alarm screamed through the house and sent her running outside, flying toward home as though one with the wind.
Twenty
John
John and Tiny followed Shadow’s scent through the tunnels.
John was damned good at hunting Otherworlders and Halfworlders alike. Shadow had left his stink all over. They followed him on foot into the old sewer system, and eventually to where his path ended, in an ancient looking dusty basement. From what John could sense, they were in an apartment building basement, filled with residents, many still sleeping.
“He here?” Tiny asked.
“Yes, though I’m guessing if we can sense him, he can sense us, and is waiting.”
“Waiting with more of that magick voodoo shit, I bet.”
“Maybe. So, you wait here. I’ll stay connected.”
“I ain’t letting you go up there alone.”
“Just pay attention to me, okay. I’ll be fine. I don’t think he’s looking to hurt us, anymore. He’s looking for something. I’ll see if I can help him find it, and send you a flash if something goes wrong.”
“A flash? Is that what you call that shit where you’re talkin’ in my head?”
“Got a better word for it?”
“An instant message? Maybe a poke?”
“A poke?”
“Yeah, a poke, like on Facebook.”
John shook his head. “You crack me up, Tiny.”
“What? You’re not on Facebook?”
“No. What the hell am I going to do on Facebook? Make friends?”
“Ah, I see, you’re probably all on MySpace and shit like Larry.”
John laughed again, heading out the basement door to the stairs. He made it six flights before the stairway ended on the top floor. There were more than 20 apartments at the top, all filled with either sleeping, or at least relaxed, people. Except for one.
John could sense Shadow’s frantic energy. He tried to focus on the man’s thoughts, but couldn’t read them, which likely meant that Tiny was right. Shadow was waiting, like before. He couldn’t afford to be taken by surprise, again. John considered finding a phone and calling Mike Mathews, telling him to light the place with agents.
But then John might not learn who the vessels were, or how to find them.
He could sense Shadow’s desperation and fear. John hoped Shadow’s betrayal would favor his fortune. He could protection from his enemies, assuming Shadow believed he could trust John to keep him from Omega.
John approached Shadow’s apartment, stopped outside the door, and lightly knocked.
“Shadow? It’s John. I want to help you.”
“Go away, John!” Shadow’s voice came high-pitched and stressed. “I don’t need any help.”
“You know I’m not leaving. And you know you can’t make it alone any longer. They’ll find you. If I did, they will too. Let me help. We can protect you.”
“Like you protected my family? No thanks, John. I’ll take my chances going solo.”
“I will protect you. You have my word.”
Shadow was silent. John waited anxiously for something — an opening door or deafening explosion, but was answered only by silence.
He’s making another portal to escape!
John wondered if he should bust the door down. If Shadow was armed, or waiting with more magickal weapons, bursting in was a death sentence. But too much was at stake to play cautious now.
Before he could act, the door opened to Shadow. He looked cautiously into the hallway and said, “Where’s the Hulk?”
“Standing guard nearby, to make sure we’re safe.”
Shadow nodded and opened the door wider. John stepped inside and saw several duffel bags sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty apartment. There wasn’t even furniture, at least in the living room. John wondered how many such places Shadow had at his disposal. As many as Larry? More?
“What is this place?”
“My last resort,” Shadow said. “I can’t trust that no one knows about it, but at least I have a head start.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Like I’d tell you.”
“Fair enough,” John said. “But I need to know about the vessels, please. Shadow, tell me while you get ready.”
“Okay, but pay attention, because I’m only saying this once. I need to get the hell outta here.”
“Okay.” John watched Shadow move supplies and wads of cash from smaller bags to a larger one, stuffed with weapons, of this world and John’s.
“Your mom was helped by a powerful wizard when she crossed over. The last of his kind, after the Great Purge.” Shadow turned to John. “You know about the Great Purge?”
“Yes,” John nodded. “I’ve read in The Unwritten Tomes.”
“So, this wizard was taken in by your father when the North initiated the genocide of all magick users within the Northern Realm. Your father appointed him as his realm’s Head Wizard. After he betrayed your father by helping your mother, you, and Caleb escape, Jacob forced him to create a new portal to follow you.”
Shadow stopped moving boxes and turned his full attention to John.
“The wizard knew he had to do something before your father came over, so he had an apprentice make one last portal, then had her kill him, split his soul, and spread it to six separate crystals, so he couldn’t be forced to do whatever it wa
s your father would have him to do. The apprentice then came, placed the gems inside five people, or vessels, then sent each of them here. The vessels had no idea what was inside them. Once here, their minds were wiped, and they were blended into society never knowing what they were or what they were carrying.”
“How the hell is that even possible without anyone knowing?”
“Because my father organized it on this end. He was the only one on this side the wizard could trust, and in turn, the wizard put the sixth crystal inside him. My father was so committed to keeping the secret, he killed everyone who helped, and was the only person who knew anything on this side. He hid his secret until he was dying. He said I had to take the gem from his body before anyone found it, then told me there was a list of the other vessels, which he’d written in the Old Language, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“I don’t know, in case all hell broke loose on Earth.”
John held up a finger. “Wait a second. If this wizard was so ‘all-powerful,’ why didn’t he just go after my father and kill him?”
“Because your father had infected him years before. He controlled enough of the wizard to prevent him from ever harming your father. It was surprising that he’d been able to help your mother escape without your father finding out beforehand.”
“Shit,” John said. “So, where is the list?”
“Do you think I’m just gonna give it to you?”
“What choice do you have? You think you can keep it safe after your people betrayed you?”
“How do I know you won’t turn it over to Omega? If my father didn’t trust them, why the hell should I?”
“Because I’m not them, and would never let them have the list.”
“Yeah, what if they use your woman as leverage? They obviously earned enough devotion to buy your betrayal for a year. What’s a little thing like a list?”
“I don’t know how to change your mind,” John sighed. “But I do know that if Jacob’s after you, he will find you. What happens when he gets the list?”
“I imagine he’ll go after the crystals and get them, one way or another. If he gets them all, my father said the wizard’s soul, and his power, can be brought back and either absorbed by someone, like Jacob, or another host. Whoever brings him back, will have all of his power and knowledge.”
“Then you need to give that list to me.”
“What will you do with it, John?”
“We destroy it. With the list gone, no one has the power, right? Everyone on the list is protected. Nobody, on either side of the war, will ever find the crystals.”
“I don’t know,” Shadow said, then fell into silence.
“What?” John said.
Shadow stared, his expression slightly off, standing frozen, mid-thought. Then eyes widened, staring behind John.
John turned, too late. A sharp pain sliced into his back and sent him to his knees. His world erupted in pain and he fell to his side as something burned through his body.
He looked up and saw Jacob in black robes, staring down with a smile.
“Hello, brother,” he said, stepping over John and walking to where Shadow was still frozen stiff, likely captive in some spell or enchantment.
John flashed out to Tiny:
Tiny! Help!
No response.
Jacob is here! Jacob is here! He stabbed me!
“Where is the list, boy?” Jacob asked.
Shadow’s mouth opened, gasping as if Jacob had just given him the ability to use it. “I don’t know,” he said.
“I let you use your tongue, and you lie?” Jacob shook his head, looming closer to Shadow until he was inches from his face. “Open your mouth, boy.”
Shadow shook his head. His shaking turned violent as Jacob took control, parting the man’s mouth against his will. Jacob’s gloved right hand reached into his robe and drew a dagger. His left, also gloved, moved to Shadow’s mouth and pulled at his tongue.
Shadow screamed. Jacob raised the dagger, tracing the black blade against Shadow’s cheek, drawing blood as it moved.
John reached behind his back, trying to feel the pain’s source — another dagger, stuck in his back. He tried to grip it, but his fingers locked when they touched it.
Shadow screamed as Jacob cut his tongue off and threw it to the ground in front of John, where it landed with a sickening splat. Blood gushed in rivers from Shadow’s mouth, but he couldn't bring his hands high enough to stop the flow with Jacob controlling his body.
“Now,” Jacob said, “I want you to use your hands and get me that list. Remember what I did when your tongue disobeyed.
Shadow’s hands went to his mouth, feeling his severed tongue and crying in anguish.
“Now!” Jacob shouted.
Shadow kneeled unzipped a green camouflage knapsack. Jacob watched carefully as John tried to hold his focus through the burning sensation.
Tiny! Come on!
Shadow handed the list to Jacob. “And where’s your father’s crystal?”
Shadow reached down the front of his shirt, hands trembling as he retrieved a crystal pendant, glowing a dusty red and fastened to a black leather cord.
He handed it over to Jacob.
“Thank you,” Jacob said, then thrust his blade into Shadow’s chest and shoved him to the ground.
John screamed, “You fucker!”
Jacob turned to him, smiling. “Now, little brother, what to do about you?”
Tiny barreled into the room and charged Jacob.
He spun out of the way seconds before Tiny could get a hold of him. Tiny fell forward, nearly colliding with Shadow’s fallen body, missing the wounded man by inches. Jacob’s eyes fell on John, then went to Tiny and back. He smiled and ran from the door.
“I’ll get him!” Tiny jumped to his feet.
“No!” John said, “Get this knife out of my back.”
Tiny’s eyes went wide, almost scared. “Oh, shit.”
“Put your gloves back on or else it might burn you.”
Tiny retrieved then gloves from his jacket, slid them on, then yanked the blade from John and dropped it to the carpet beside him. The fire was gone, but the pain remained.
John looked up as Shadow crawled toward the duffel, blood spilling in pools from his wound. He pulled out a notebook and pen, then opened it on the floor and scribbled across the pages.
“What is it?” Tiny asked Shadow.
“Jacob cut out his tongue,” John said as he stood and went to see what Shadow was writing.
The top of the paper read, 5.
“You remember the names?” John asked.
Shadow nodded, keeping his eyes on the paper as he struggled through dying breaths to move his pen and get names on the page.
But they were social security numbers, not names. John stared as Shadow scrawled numbers, fast as he could.
He’d written three sets when he had to stop, surrendering to a violent fit of coughing that lasted for nearly a minute as bloody nuggets spewed from his mouth.
Shadow returned to the paper and scrawled. He reached the fifth set of numbers when John’s eyes locked on the last set in disbelief. His heartbeat nearly tripled in speed. He knew that Social Security number. Could never forget it.
No. It can’t be.
John kneeled next to Shadow. “That last number, are you sure?”
Shadow looked at the paper, then back up, coughing more blood into his hand. He smeared it on his shirt and nodded.
“You know it?” Tiny asked.
“Yes. It belongs to Hope.”
Twenty-One
Hannah
The morning crawled, as did the afternoon to follow.
After Hannah took the thousand years she promised to prepare for the day, she took her phone from the dresser and packed it in her purse, anxious for the minute she could be alone with her phone.
It didn’t happen on the drive to El Montaña, anywhere on the vineyard tour, or at any time dur
ing her one chance to slip into the bathroom alone. The bathroom was small, quaint like the rest of the winery. She was only inside for a moment, barely having closed the door and not yet locking it, when Greg slipped in behind her. He said it would be “romantic” to use the bathroom at the same time.
Hannah smiled like she meant it, glad she didn’t have to go number two, and emptied her bladder while cursing the interruption and ignoring the phone like a brick in her purse.
Only later, after the tour once sitting in the restaurant, after wine was poured and appetizers ordered, but before bruschetta was brought to the table, Greg got a call and excused himself, looking at Hannah with apologetic eyes.
She nodded, feeling grateful but looking patient, then Greg left, and she yanked the phone from her purse. She inserted the earbuds, then pressed play on her recording as her heart raced even faster.
At first there was nothing, but as Hannah scrubbed her finger across the recording, she found a spike in the volume. She rewound the recording a few seconds, stopped, then started it back from a spot where Greg had stress in his voice.
“She dreamed about John again last night.”
Pause ...
“Yes, I’m sure. What do you want me to do?”
Another pause ...
“Are you certain, Mr. Cromwell?”
The longest pause so far ...
Then, “Yes, I’ll do it before we return to the house. Don’t worry. Hannah won’t suspect a thing.
She looked up as Greg pulled his chair from the table and sat, smiling.
An earbud fell from her ear.
“Whatchya’ listening to?” he asked.
Twenty-Two