Revenant- a Jake Crowley Adventure

by David Wood

“What the hell is he playing at?” she asked.

  “Exactly what I just asked myself. But there’s nothing we can do but play along for now.”

  “So what do we do until tonight?”

  “There’s nothing we can do. I guess we just be tourists and do some sightseeing.”

  Rose laughed, without much humor. “I’m not really going to be able to enjoy the city’s wonders with this stuff hanging over us.”

  Crowley shrugged. “Me either. But let’s just kill time until tonight. We can start with a good breakfast. If nothing else, at least we’ll be rested and well-fed.”

  “And maybe we can find something constructive to do with the time,” Rose said, tapping Poe’s journal against her knee.

  CROWLEY ADMITTED TO himself that he was nervous as they rode the elevator up to Trudy’s apartment. He’d managed to keep himself busy throughout most of the day with a variety of tasks, including confirming that Clyde was all right. But now that the moment was at hand, worry was creeping in. He said as much to Rose, and she agreed with him.

  “What if he tries something crazy?” she asked.

  Crowley shrugged, shook his head. “I’ll stick close to him. We can’t really predict his actions, and that’s how Price wants it. It’s his one advantage.”

  Rose smiled, gave a soft nod. “Oh well, let’s see how it goes.”

  Trudy answered the door herself. “Hello, darlings! Come in, come in.”

  Crowley hugged and kissed his aunt, noting that she seemed genuinely unfazed by anything. He had wondered if she might exhibit signs of stress, as maybe Price had her acting in his interests, but she seemed entirely unaware of any tension.

  “Gabriela has gone down to Texas for a couple of days, to see her family down there. A bereavement.”

  “Oh, that’s no good,” Rose said.

  Trudy smiled. “Gabriela’s great-grandmother. She was ninety-eight and lived a full life. Gabriela is heartbroken, of course, they were close, but she’s also rather pragmatic about it. I find a lot of Mexicans are.”

  “Some cultures have a much more ready and healthy relationship with death, I think,” Rose said.

  “Exactly that! The Americans and, good God, especially the British, you’d think death was a dirty word. Anyway, the upshot is that we’re fending for ourselves this evening and that’s fine with me. I’ve been exercising the old roast dinner skills once again as we all enjoyed it so much before. I’ve roasted a lovely leg of lamb, roast potatoes and vegetables, and there’s apple crumble and custard for dessert.”

  “Holy cow, Auntie!” Crowley said. “We’ll never leave if you keep up like this.” He forced the jollity past nerves pulled taut as parachute ropes, glancing left and right for a sign of Price.

  “Your beau not here?” Rose asked, voicing Crowley’s concern.

  Was the man planning something awful?

  “He should be along shortly. He had business at the New York office to attend to, so when we left the spa, I came home to start cooking, and he went there. I can’t imagine he’ll be much long–”

  She was interrupted by a rap-tap-tap at the door, then it clicked from someone using their own key and opened. Price stepped inside and smiled broadly when he saw them all standing in the hallway.

  “There you all are!” he said, with friendly ease. “Am I late?”

  “Not at all,” Trudy said, pecking him on the cheek. “These two have just arrived too, so I’d say you were right on time.”

  Crowley was wary, his nerves firing. He remembered scouting seemingly abandoned buildings with his squad in Afghanistan, everyone tense as they passed in practiced unison from room to room, checking for insurgents or booby-traps. The tension in his system now echoed those missions, the sensation that things could get awful and violent at any moment. Price gave him a sidelong look, his mouth tweaked up at one side in a half-smile that was partly smug, partly genuine in humor. Was the bastard enjoying this?

  Regardless, Crowley remained ready to move in an instant, should Price try to draw a weapon, but he saw no telltale bulge of a concealed handgun. Price’s suit was well-fitted, tailor-made, of course. The thing about fine clothing was that it was incredibly hard to conceal a firearm underneath, but Crowley took little comfort from the seemingly unarmed nature of the man. Something was definitely up, some play would be made. He desperately wanted to anticipate what that might be. Well, maybe he wouldn’t need it if he could make a play first.

  “Shall we take the air?” Price asked Crowley suddenly. The question came with a smile, but his eyes made it clear he didn’t want to be denied.

  Crowley felt an urge to mess with him. “We’ve only just arrived, shouldn’t we stay together?”

  Price’s cheeks twitched as his teeth clenched. “It’s a fine evening, and I’ve just been stuck in a rather unpleasant cab for the past half hour. I’m sure you’ve heard the reputation of New York taxis.”

  “I have, though I wonder if it isn’t a little unfair and prejudiced.”

  Price inclined his head in acquiescence. “It almost certainly is, but this one, sadly, rather fulfilled the stereotype.”

  “I need to see to the last of the dinner preparations,” Trudy said. “Could you organize drinks first, Matthew?”

  “You go and enjoy the balcony,” Rose said, giving Crowley a nod. “I’ll make our drinks. You like scotch, same as Jake, right?” she asked Price.

  “Yes, thank you,” Price said with another smile. “Trudy has a fine selection. Why don’t you surprise us?”

  Crowley enjoyed stretching Price’s act of civility, but he went with him to the balcony anyway. As they closed the door behind them, he took a moment to enjoy the movement of the still warm breeze. Sounds of the traffic drifted up, along with the stronger odors of New York, but the air was pleasant up here, he couldn’t deny that. The sky was just descending into twilight, peach on one horizon, already darkening to indigo on the other.

  “We have played something of a game, you and I,” Price said, putting both palms on the stone balustrade and leaning forward, straight-armed, to take in the view. His demeanor seemed relaxed, but there was an edge to his voice Crowley couldn’t quite place.

  “Is it a game to you?” Crowley asked. “All this death?”

  A smile twitched Price’s lips, but he kept his eyes forward, not meeting Crowley’s gaze. “There are many degrees of game, Jake. But I mean specifically you and I, and the dance we’ve been reluctantly engaged in.”

  Crowley clenched his jaw, tempted to up-end Price right over the stone wall of the balcony, send him sailing to a violent end on the street below. It would be satisfying, but he held his action and his tongue for the time being.

  After a moment more of silence, Price said, “I think I owe you some explanation. My life has been beset by grief. And, many times, betrayal. I don’t mind admitting that there have been periods of genuine madness in between, but is it not often said that genius and madness go hand in hand?”

  Crowley barked a laugh. “Are you calling yourself a genius?”

  Price finally turned to look at Crowley, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Can you really deny that I outwit the vast majority of men, Jake? I’m over three-hundred years old.” That bald-faced admission took Crowley back for a moment, and Price laughed in almost boyish glee. “You can’t pretend you don’t know. And much as you might wish to believe it’s not true, does it really take me telling you to finally make it real?”

  “At what cost, though?” Crowley asked. “Your long life at the expense of so many others.”

  “Worthless lives. The lowest of the low. Criminals, parasites. If anything, I’m culling the herd.” Price waved one hand, brushing away countless murders as irrelevant. “ But that’s not why I do it. It’s all for love, Jake. That’s the thing. It’s always been for love, and after so many long years of grief and anger, I’ve finally found love again. Real, heartwarming love.”

  “With my aunt?”

  “Who else? And tha
t’s what this is all for, Jake. Her, your aunt. She’s central to it all. I was so close to giving everything up. A man gets tired, you know, living for so long. But she makes me feel young again. For the first time in centuries, if you can believe that.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” Crowley said.

  “Real love is rare.” Price smiled, his face softening. “Do you love Rose? Because treasure her if you do.”

  “And that’s what this is all about? Love?”

  Price nodded. “Yes, it really is. And that’s all I want now. At long last, I’ve found real love again, and I want it to be the completion of my work. I need the information you have from Poe for one last batch of the elixir, just enough for Trudy and myself, and that will be the end of it.”

  “Happily ever after?” Crowley asked, incredulous. “You think Trudy will agree to such a thing? Have you even asked her? Not everyone thinks immortality is a good thing.” He was stunned to be talking so casually about such bizarre ideas. Did he himself think immortality was good? There was an appeal to living a long life, but living forever? And living it as an old person? Perhaps immortality at thirty or forty, but a woman her seventies? An endless life of dotage seemed like a kind of hell.

  “She’s healthy for her age, and the treatment has certain rejuvenating benefits. We’ve discussed it in theory,” Price said. “I’ve tested the waters, asked what she thinks of such ideas, and I like to think I know her mind.”

  “Bedroom fancy is very different to real life,” Crowley said, immediately regretting the mental image of his aunt and Price in the bedroom.

  “I’ll even share my half of the formula with you,” Price said, changing tack. “You have Poe’s journal, so you already have his half. That means you’d have the entire thing to do with as you see fit. Immortality for yourself and those you love. The betterment of humankind. I don’t mind. As long as Trudy and I have our chance.”

  Crowley scoffed, lost momentarily for words.

  “I love her, Jake,” Price said, his voice threaded with seemingly genuine pain. “If it weren’t for her, I’d stop entirely. I’m not lying about that. I’d all but given up before she came along. Can you understand?” His eyes searched Crowley’s face, beseeching. “Do you really know love yet, young Jake Crowley? True, deep, soul-burning love?”

  Crowley felt scoured by Price’s scrutiny and looked away, still plagued with doubts about the man.

  Price turned and quickly pulled something from his jacket pocket. Crowley moved on instinct, twisting to one side and seized Price’s wrist, looking for the gun or knife. But Price held a sheet of paper, scrawled with tight writing in blue biro.

  “The formula,” Price said. “To prove my sincerity.”

  Crowley looked at the small sheet in Price’s grip. Slowly, he reached out and took it.

  “Can you deny your beloved aunt this?” Price asked. “Trust me, she would cherish the chance. She would hate you for taking it away from her. You don’t know age yet, the fear that comes with it.” Price stepped back, turned to look out over the city view again. “The other option is to throw me off this balcony right now. I assure you a revenant is not immune to a crushed skull. But I know you won’t do that to your dear old Gertie. Will you?”

  Crowley looked inside, saw Trudy and Rose smiling and chatting. Rose held a tray with their drinks on it. He imagined the scene going on forever, he and Rose enjoying eternal life even as Price and Trudy did. The concept made his head swim.

  He pocketed the slip of paper Price had given him. “Okay,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “All right.”

  Price turned back, a beatific grin splitting his face. “Well done, my boy! Thank you!”

  He reached out, and they shook hands.

  There was a tapping on the glass of the door behind them. Rose stood there, holding the tray, using her foot to attract their attention. Trudy seemed to have returned to the kitchen. Crowley opened the door, gave Rose a subtle nod.

  Rose held out the tray, a scotch on each side. Price stepped forward quickly, reached across, and took the glass on Crowley’s side. “Sorry,’ he said. “New alliances are always shaky.”

  They laughed, albeit a little uncomfortably, and Rose went back inside. “I’ll help Trudy with the dinner,” she said from the doorway. “You okay here?”

  “All good,” Crowley said.

  He held his glass up. “Cheers.”

  Price nodded, tapped his glass to Crowley’s. The chink of glass was high and musical in the evening air.

  “To life,” Crowley said and tipped his glass up, draining the shot. It was smooth and peaty, a pleasant burn on the way down.

  “To life,” Price agreed and drank his. “I won’t forget this, Jake. And neither will Trudy.”

  The smile faltered on his face. He looked at the glass in his hand, then at Crowley, his brows creasing together. He grunted and gripped his stomach with his free hand.

  “You’re an animal,” Crowley said, his voice low and steady. “A predator. A true vampire.”

  “I can’t believe you.” Price grunted again and doubled over. “How could you take a chance? What if I hadn’t taken your glass?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. They were both the same. You’re an evil murderer, Matthew Price, and you may be a genius. But you clearly don’t know everything. You see, Poe’s journal was filled with all kinds of things beyond his own formula. He was quite appalled at your methods, so he came up with a recipe to counteract the effects of your formula, incomplete though it was. You’ve managed to extend your life for a long time at the expense of the lives of others. But the effect that’s keeping you alive is cumulative, isn’t it?”

  “Damn you,” Price said, his breath now coming more easily. He slowly stood up straight again, wincing and knuckling his back. “What have you done?”

  “What have I undone would be a better question.” Crowley lifted his empty glass again, smiling. “If Poe is right, undoing the cumulative effect of your centuries of murder means you will succumb to the ravages of age incredibly quickly now. Far more quickly than your methods can counteract.”

  Red rage burned in Price’s eyes, raw hatred. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. “That hurt like a kidney stone,” he said, searching Crowley’s eyes with his own. He plainly saw the truths there.

  “Poe’s hypothesis was right, wasn’t it,” Crowley said. “Your longevity has been an ongoing process of topping up, always on the brink of collapsing under you. All these years, all the deaths at your hands to maintain the extended life you’ve hung onto so tenuously. No wonder you so desperately wanted to get the true formula. And no wonder Poe hid it from you. I think he hoped you’d falter on your own, but his counter-elixir was there in case. I wonder why he never used it on you?”

  “Even you don’t know everything,” Price said, his voice tinged with an acid edge.

  “No. Especially given how simple the counter-elixir was. In the modern world, the requisite plant-based ingredients are surprisingly easy to acquire. Rose and I spent the day collecting them. Thanks for not making this a lunch date, by the way. We wouldn’t have had time.” Crowley smiled but kept his distance in case Price pounced in a moment of rage. “And they dissolve in water. Or whiskey.”

  But the man’s face relaxed, some kind of resignation sliding in. He nodded begrudgingly. “How long do I have?”

  “Poe reckoned probably a month before everything inside of you collapsed to the entropy you’ve been holding off for so long.”

  “And how do you know I won’t kill you between now and then?”

  Crowley smiled, lifted his palms in a gesture of acceptance. “You could try. But I’m prepared to take that chance because for some reason I actually believe that you do love my aunt. I think that’s true and you wouldn’t put her through the grief of losing both of us. Would you?”

  Price nodded, let out a long sigh. “Damn you. You’re right about that. I have many flaws, but when I love, I love deeply. I su
ggest we go back inside and enjoy a pleasant evening together with your aunt. And then after that, I’ll have to break the news to her that I am in the late stages of terminal cancer.”

  Chapter 39

  Walking back to their hotel, Crowley and Rose headed through Central Park. Stunned by the evening’s events, they paused to stand on the ramparts of Belvedere Castle. The miniature castle, created in 1869, gave commanding views over the Great Lawn to the north and the Ramble to the south. The night was warm, moonlight bathed them as they leaned on the pale gray stone, looking out. A soft breeze carried scents of grass and the sound of leaves rustling in the oasis in the middle of the great city. It was peaceful. Crowley wondered if this was the sort of thing that a person could enjoy forever, but he figured even the most beautiful things would grow old and stale with enough time. A finite life held greater wonder.

  “Despite everything, I feel a little bad for him,” Crowley said, admitting aloud his thoughts.

  “He killed so many people,” Rose said. “I have no sympathy for him at all.”

  “No, I suppose I don’t have sympathy either. But he lived for so long in the pursuit of one thing, and came so close until we took it all away.”

  “Poe took it away really,” Rose said. “We just acted on the theories he never saw through.”

  Still not wholly trusting Price, they’d waited in another room while he broke the news to Trudy. She’d handled it with courage and grace. The Fawcett way, she called it. Even after Price had left, they’d offered to stay, but his aunt had asked for some time alone. Crowley didn’t like it, but neither did he believe Price was a threat to his aunt. Not only because of the man’s feelings for her but also because he’d lied to Price about the effects of the formula. If Poe was correct, the man had a lot less than a month left. His body would already be feeling the effects.

  “I have to admit, Price truly seems to love your aunt. I could tell it broke her heart.”

  “Seems that way, but when a person has got as much money as Gertie, you never truly know.”