“That’s too bad, because … I’ve got nothing.”
“You must … try.”
“No. I … I can’t do this.”
“Then don’t,” said Ellen. “Let’s leave.”
“Leaving won’t alter this young man’s fate,” said Mr. Prioleau. If James fails to take his life, then it is up to me. And all that accomplishes is to anger Mr. Franks. And he will make you pay. He is quite adept at extracting the most poignant penances.”
Simon spotted us. He wiggled his one good hand at us and beamed a smile. He looked so eager and hopeful.
“Look at the poor kid,” said Mr. Prioleau. “He’s been so looking forward to this day. A previous appointment was canceled when we thought his lung infection might do the trick. We defer to natural causes whenever possible. Helps lower our profile. But … he survived.”
“Just leave, James,” said Ellen. “Walk away. There is no reason for him to die. Think of his family. What his death would do to them. It’s so … selfish … of him to want to die.”
That word … selfish … struck a sour chord with me.
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it selfish. I mean, who knows what’s going on in his head, what kind of hell he’s experiencing? He’s got feelings, too.”
“Listen. No matter how bad things are for this Simon … it’s probably only temporary. He’s still adjusting to his injury. He can work his way out of it. Giving up is the easy way out.”
“Not … always,” I said. “I’ve met people on the other side who are in impossible ... unbearable situations. Sometimes giving up on life is the only way to make things better.”
“Bullshit,” said Ellen. “I will never accept that. Life is always precious … no matter what.”
I looked at Simon, met his gaze, and he smiled back, nodding. That look drew something out of me. I narrowed my will to a pinpoint. I could feel it build and break loose like an extension of me. It just happened on its own. No sword. No pointing. Just another piece of my will venturing forth without me.
It attacked Simon like an angry bee, penetrating his sternum. And indeed, he lurched like he had been stung. I could see and feel inside of him. I found a spot on his heart where the waves uncurled and spread across its surface, triggering more waves that in turn triggered contractions in the fibers of his cardiac muscles, all in unison.
What if that first wave never uncurled? I realized then, how little force was required to stop a person’s heart. So simple it would be, stifling that wave in that little spot below his aorta, easy as a thumb and forefinger pinching out a flame. I could murder everyone in sight with just my will, knock them off one by one, even Mr. Prioleau if I wanted. In that moment, I knew what it felt like to be Wendell.
“Look at you,” said Ellen, agape. “You’re seriously thinking of killing him! Well, go on then. What I say obviously doesn’t matter. So go ahead. If you’re gonna do this, then do it already. Get it over with.”
“No,” I said. “I can … but I don’t want to.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pussy,” said Mr. Prioleau. “You didn’t drive all the way up here for nothing, did you?”
“Yeah. I did. We shouldn’t have come.”
“Walk away,” said Urszula. “Let the boy fester. Frelsi has too many Freesouls. One less is a blessing.”
“Oh really?” said Mr. Prioleau. “So this is your contribution, dear? Your idea of sage advice? Why don’t you take your useless scepter and stick it—“
Before he could finish, Urszula whipped her rod around and pointed it at his feet. The tip made a popping sound like a punctured balloon and the old man found his shoes suddenly welded to the concrete.
“You little bitch. You welded my shoes!”
I felt something jolt loose inside me, and it had nothing to with spell craft.
“Alright. We’re done here.” I started back towards the car. Ellen looked startled, but she skipped after me, as a grin spread across her face.
Simon, across the street, looked stricken and confused.
“Big mistake James,” said Mr. Prioleau, stepping out of his shoes. “You have no idea what is coming down on you. Mr. Franks does not fuck around.”
“Sorry. You guys are just gonna have to find yourselves another assassin.”
Simon called after us. “Don’t go! Please! Help me.” His voice was strong but slurred. There was an odd facet on the left side of his forehead where the bone had been displaced. His accident had done more than injure his spine.
Standing in his stockinged feet, Mr. Prioleau pulled a TV remote out of his coat pocket aimed it across the street. Simon’s sister was just exiting the townhouse with a mug of something hot and steamy when Simon jerked and slumped in his wheelchair. She cried out and rushed to his side, spilling hot cocoa all over herself. Mr. Prioleau strode away calmly in the opposite direction.
“He … killed him,” said Ellen. “That man, he—”
“Keep on walking,” I said.
“Of course he killed him,” said Urszula. “What did you expect? He said he would.”
“I don’t understand all this... this—”
“I’m sorry. I never should have dragged us all up here.”
“Does this mean you’re though with Wendell?”
“Through? With being an assassin? Yeah. With Wendell? I doubt it.”
Chapter 33: Singularity
We drove east out of Montreal, missed the turn to Burlington and ended up in a town called Sherbrooke. It was not a problem, since we had no consensus on where we should be headed. Ellen wanted to go back to her uncle’s cabin. Urszula wanted to go hunting for Wendell. Though, the two options were not mutually exclusive. As for me, I just wanted to crawl under a rock and die.
We all agreed that it was good to get the hell out of Montreal. Nothing personal, Montreal, but we had just witnessed a murder and badly needed a change of scenery. So we headed south down Route 55 towards the U.S. Border station in Rock Island. I worried about getting Urszula back across the border. I figured someone might notice that she had died a hundred years ago in another country.
She couldn’t stop gushing about her scepter and what it had done to Nelson’s shoes. I had never seen her so confident and cocky, but I kind of figured she was compensating for the weakness and self-loathing she had felt when I first dragged her back here.
She got a little nervous when we were waiting in the queue of cars trying to get back into the states. I got her to promise to leave the scepter on the floor. But we needn’t have worried about the crossing. Wendell’s fake passports did the trick for all of us. We flew right through the checkpoint without a search.
Urszula got talkative again once we were back on the road. But I didn’t feel like talking shop. I just wanted to listen to the radio and clear my head, but there was no stopping Urszula.
“We need to choose a battleground that works to our advantage,” she said. “Where he cannot ambush. With good sight lines … so we can see him coming.”
“That’s nice. I don’t want to think about it right now.”
“We need to prepare. We defied him. A man so vain will not stand for such disrespect. I know his type.”
“I’m proud of you, James,” said Ellen, patting my shoulder. “Whatever happens, happens. You did the right thing.”
“Whatever.”
“No. Not whatever. You did a good thing, walking away.”
“You know … Urszula’s right. This is gonna bring trouble.”
“Let him come. I’m not scared.”
“Might not only be him. Sounds like he’s got a whole network of assassins out there. He’s worse than Sergei.”
“Well … then maybe we should have stayed in Canada.”
“Oh? You got any more uncles with cabins up north?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“They maybe we should just keep moving. Get as big a cash advance off his credit card as we can, and then we just burn the damned thing.”
??
?No more running,” said Urszula. “We choose our battlefield … and wait.”
“Yeah, but where? Where would we have the advantage?”
“It is simple. We need three things. Visibility. So we can see him before he sees us. Cover. To protect us when he strikes back, but we will strike first. And … an exit. A clear path for escape should it become necessary.”
“O-kay. But that could be anywhere.”
“Precisely.” She looked at me with this blankly serious expression.
“Well … maybe you’re right. Maybe running just delays the inevitable. Maybe it’s time to make a stand. Especially if you think you got your mojo back.”
“Mojo?”
Something buzzed on the floor of the car.
“It’s … your phone,” said Ellen. “Don’t answer it.”
“What if it’s him?”
“Of course it’s him. Who else knows this number?”
I reached down and snatched it up.
“James, no!”
“I want to hear what he as to say. What can I say? I’m curious.”
I pressed the answer button on the screen.
“Hi,” I said.
“So … uh … job didn’t go so well, did it, kid?” He sounded surprisingly subdued. Weary. Almost sad.
“It went fine. Simon’s dead. Isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but … the whole point was … you were supposed to get it done.”
“Oh well.”
“Listen. I expected there would be hiccups … starting out. Lot of folks get cold feet.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Well, I’m disappointed for sure. But like I said, I expected there might be growing pains. Some people … there’s an adjustment they gotta go through. Part of the process … for some. Not everybody is a natural born killer. But … I’m willing to give you another chance.”
“Don’t need one. We’re done.”
“Done?”
There was the longest pause. I thought I had lost the connection.
“You haven’t … you haven’t even started.”
“I said, I’m done.”
“Kid. You ain’t done until we say you’re done.”
“Fuck that.”
“Kid. You gotta give me credit. I’m being real patient here. I could have had Nelson take you out when you walked away from a simple job. That would have been real easy, and I can’t say I wasn’t tempted. But adepts like you don’t grow on trees. So … I got another job for you … a real job … only a couple hours drive away.”
“So … you know where we are?”
“You know I do.”
“You got a rodent? Where is he? Riding in the glove compartment?”
“Listen. I’m gonna give you one more chance to prove yourself. And like I said, this is a real job. A non-candidate. A target who’s not waiting to get into the Sanctuary. Who’s never even been to the Liminality.”
“Wait. What?”
“Let me put it this way. This is an involuntary situation. Sometimes we get these … strategic … discretionary … targets. People who don’t necessarily want to die. People who get in the way of somebody’s interests. Somebody influential who wants them offed.”
“Murder. You’re talking about outright murder.”
“Yeah. I guess I am. This time, we’re not talking about a facilitation. I know it’s rushing things, but if you had only done what I asked you in Montreal, I wouldn’t have had to put the pressure on you so soon. We could have ramped up a little more gradually.”
“If I can’t take out someone who wants to go, do you really expect me to murder somebody who I would guess wants to live?”
“Because you got no choice. You backed yourself into a corner, kid. You gotta prove to the Sanctuary that you’re worth keeping … that you’re an asset, not an enemy.”
“There’s … no way—”
“Let me offer you some incentives, then. Let’s see … how about a certain Isobel Raeth. How would you like to see a nice little obituary?”
“What? Why her? You didn’t … she has nothing to do with me.”
“She’s your dead girl’s sister, isn’t she? I figure you care enough about her to—”
“How do you even know about her?”
”We been watching you kid. Ever since you came after the Sanctuary you’ve been on our radar. You weren’t just another Hemi once you pulled that shit.”
“You can’t possibly know where she is.”
“Cardiff.”
“You’re … bluffing.”
“Want an address? She’s rooming with some dropouts in Cardiff. She spent some time with some lesbian gals in Brynmawr but they had a falling out. You see, she’s gotten kind of used to having no structure in her life and is not too eager to back go back to having limits and curfews and shit. She’s gone feral.”
“How do you know all this?”
“How? We’ve got Facilitators everywhere James. You think it’s just here? This is a global operation. I can have her taken out just like that. Our man in Wales is an adept just like you and me. And if taking her out doesn’t do the trick, we got a long list of people you care about. Doesn’t matter how close you keep your girls.”
“So … where do you want me to go. Who do you want me to kill?”
Ellen shot me an anguished look.
“Now, you’re talking! I’ll text you the name and address. No GPS necessary. He lives in a dorm at Dartmouth. But you got one day to get this done. Tomorrow. That’s it. If the target’s still alive after that, I’ll be taking out your friends, one per day. Even people you don’t think about any more. Friends you left behind in Fort Pierce. Don’t matter if you don’t care enough about them to keep in touch, the point is, you’ll feel something when you know they’re gone, because of something you didn’t do.”
My lower lip trembled. I was afraid I’d sound flustered if I said anything, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Alrighty then. Once you cross the border, head straight down I-91 to White River Junction and then East on I-89. Follow the signs for Hanover. Dartmouth. I’ll send you the details once you arrive. Ta ta for now.”
The line clicked off.
“He gave you another job … and you took it?”
“Not … actually.”
“But you didn’t say no. I didn’t hear you say no.”
“Check the glove compartment. Empty it out. I think he’s got something in here watching us.”
Ellen just stared back at me.
“Come on! Open it! Check under the seats! He knows exactly where we are. One of his things is watching us.”
There was nothing in the glove box but the registration and an owner’s manual.
“James, calm down! He could be watching us from the air, like Billy. Right?” She slammed the glove box shut. “Speaking of which … whatever happened to Billy?”
“He’s gone. Frittered away. He was looking pretty sickly last I saw him.”
“That’s too bad. He was starting to grow on me.”
“I do not approve of such devilry,” said Urszula. “One should never divide one’s soul.”
“You know what else?” said Ellen. “That iPhone is probably traceable to a guy like him. Someone with unlimited resources.”
I opened the window and was about to toss the phone out onto the highway, when I realized that Wendell hadn’t told me yet who he wanted killed. And that was valuable information, if nothing else, to be able to warn the target that someone was after him.
“Calm down, James. It’s only a couple more miles to the border crossing. As nervous as you are, you’re not gonna pass their profiling. And you’re … you’re actually steaming.”
“Steaming?”
“What’s that stuff on your hands? It looks like icing … or … ice.”
“Oh shit! Not already. Ellen, grab the wheel! Quick!”
“Why? What’s happening?”
I braked and veered over onto the shoulder.
&n
bsp; “Take the wheel. Quick! It’s the Deeps. I’m heading back to the Deeps.”
“Jeez. There’s never a dull moment with you, is there?”
I was gone before the Subaru had even rolled to a stop.
***
I returned to the narrow corridor outside the chamber where new infidels learned to sing. Apart from the occasional snuffle and scuff of a foot, they were silent now, practicing keeping time alone. I couldn’t move right away. I just sat there in the dim and dusty passage, waiting for my wits to coalesce, for the chill to penetrate me through and through.
Again, I found Luther’s rolled up note for Olivier. This time it was sitting on a slate on which a short note had been chalked.
‘James. When (if) you return, go to the central courtyard. A sentry will summon me. Much to discuss. An.’
Screw that. I had no desire to see her. I didn’t need any protection. Nothing personal against her or Brian or Taro, but I had no interest in their offer of protection.
I snatched up Luther’s note and shot to my feet, but I was still too wobbly to walk. I was such a sitting duck during these transitions, on both ends of existence. If someone decided to ambush me I would be at their mercy for however long it took me to merge my soul with its latest receptacle. I would have to try to keep that in mind, and make sure I didn’t fade out in compromising situations. Of course, it would help if I had some warning. There seemed to be little rhyme or reason to my oscillations these days.
Soft feathers of light seeped along the walls, indicating the presence of one of the deep courtyards that penetrated the complex. I heard footsteps and voices down the brighter end of the corridor. Reacting like some cockroach or a rat, I scurried off into the darkness.
Protective custody, my ass. No one was gonna keep me locked away. I didn’t care if Lady An’s had good intentions. I mean I knew this was no Sergei or Edmund situation. She only wanted to keep me safe. But I was tired of being confined against my will.
The light quickly faded as I followed the curving contours of the corridor wall, skimming my fingertips against the surface. As the passage descended, the stone transitioned from the chalky and brittle stuff near the surface to a substance that was slippery, almost greasy, like soapstone or graphite.