by JL Terra
Mei decided to try again. “What does Ricardo supply you with?”
“Whatever I want.” He shrugged. “I know he has a new designer drug. The trip it takes you on is killer. I imagined all kinds of things. Drinking blood, biting into people. It’s insane.”
“Mmm.” Sounded like her evening activities.
How was he going to react when he realized everything he had seen was exactly what he’d actually done? He was going to have a hard time absorbing that. Probably about as hard of a time as she had over the fact she’d killed a man with the sword. Neither of them would sleep much over the next few weeks, but if he could do the right thing now, he had a better shot than she did at having a normal life.
“Where does the drug come from?”
“He gets it from this new guy. But you don’t want to go there, because the guy is mean. And I mean nasty. I heard he tore a guy practically into pieces for crossing him.”
“Is he the one who sent guys to Ricardo’s house to kill everyone in there?”
“I barely got out alive. I managed to grab the last of the stash, and I ducked out the basement window.” A dark look crossed his face. “I’ll be able to hear the screams for the rest of my life.”
“Was Bella in there?”
He shook his head.
Mei thought of the couple who had been in Bella’s room. Were they among the dead now? At this point, she didn’t know if her mentee was now dead or still alive, never mind what he thought he knew. She wanted to find the teen for herself.
“Who is this guy?”
The man started to object to her question.
Before he could get the words out, she said, “Don’t bother. It’s not your job to dissuade me. Give me as much information as you can so that I at least have a shot at stopping this guy.”
“No one can stop him.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“He has people call him the high lord. I don’t know if it’s a deal he has, or if he’s some throwback to medieval times or whatever.” The man shrugged. “He works out of a house on the Upper East Side and has an underground nightclub the cops don’t know about yet.”
And until they found out, he had free reign. The high lord over his own dominion.
She figured as soon as the cops discovered him, he would have cash with which to grease palms all the way up the chain of command at the police department. All the way to One Police Plaza where the Commissioner of the NYPD worked. He seemed nice enough on TV, but she doubted he had the wherewithal to deal with some of the crazy things she had seen.
“Tell me what he looks like.”
The man slumped onto the counter beside the sink and let out a sigh. “Tall. Big shoulders and long hair. He looks like he could be a king. Sometimes when he comes out onto the nightclub floor, it’s like someone hit the mute button. Everyone just goes silent.”
She knew someone kind of like that, but he certainly didn’t run a nightclub. Still, given the bearing and presence of this man, he could easily be a role Malachi might slip into. Even if that did sound ridiculous to her own mind.
Malachi wasn’t a drug dealer masquerading as a feudal ruler. Ben would have figured that out way before now and someone would have told her.
This man seemed to more easily fit the role of that man on his throne in her dream, the one who had drank from the woman’s neck. So much like Malachi, and yet so different. She couldn’t put her finger on why she felt they were so similar. Maybe it was just a feeling? She could see some correlation, but without knowing what the man looked like, there was really no way to tell if there was a connection between him and Malachi. They were definitely not the same person; could there be some other relation?
She wanted to tell this man now that the last time she had seen him, his hair had been white and he had been under some kind of suggestion to carry out orders. She wasn’t sure how well that would go down so she simply said, “Be careful what you get into. If you’re high, then you can’t protect yourself from whatever happens. You need your wits about you with this guy, I’m guessing.”
He didn’t argue with her.
“And I need you to tell me where his house is.”
She was going to pay this man a visit.
Chapter 9
Malachi returned to his body with a hiss of breath as he came awake in his own living room. Fatigue weighted down his muscles, so he went to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice which he drank in one long gulp.
Traveling through time and space in his mind wasn’t something he did often. There were few people in the world he had shared blood with. He felt a slight amount of guilt that he’d taken in a single drop of Mei’s blood when she drank his. Probably should have told her. Now he could track her at will, anywhere in the world.
He could also see through her eyes when he needed to. It wasn’t an ability he was entirely comfortable with, but if he wanted to be done with this world, and she was the means to that end, then it called for some desperate measures.
Even if some might say what he had done was witchcraft, Malachi didn’t care. How could he expect anyone who hadn’t lived his life to understand? He had committed far worse sin in his life than this. He would talk to Mei about it if needed, but only if not doing so put her life in danger. This was the way he’d lived for centuries, closely guarding the secrets of his kind. The brotherhood he had sworn an oath to; but things change and his plan was different now.
And as it turns out, seeing just that short altercation through her eyes had given him more information than he’d ever expected to obtain. He’d had his suspicions about what she had seen when he’d given her his blood. And now he knew he’d been correct. That long ago festival evening. A night he’d chosen to take a different road, a journey that had led him here.
To her.
Mei. The woman called to wield the sword in this generation.
If only it was as simple as that.
He tried to remember that night at the festival. The memory blurred now, a result of the many years that had passed. Though, why only the man’s face was obscured, he did not know. It was like someone did not want him to remember which of the lords had been on the throne. Could he have been forced to forget it by some magic, or otherwise?
Malachi crossed his studio apartment to his coffee table and opened the lid of the laptop Remy had secured for him, air gapped from any connection to the Internet. The measure kept his files safe. They were the culmination of all the knowledge he had amassed in his life, secured across several terabytes of storage space. Scanned pages of all the books he’d collected, which had then been destroyed by his own hand after he converted everything to electronic files. There was something to be said for new technology, that was for sure.
Years ago, it would have taken him weeks to pour through every page of every book. Now he simply opened the window and searched for any mention of the sword or a woman with red hair.
The destroyer.
The cursed one.
The books contained a few hand-drawn images. Women from centuries past he had spotted across the world. Mei was the first of Chinese descent, and he had met wielders of the sword from as far as South Africa, all the way up to the forgotten native Alaskan tribes, and even across to Siberia. Each one had succumbed to the power of the sword, and the curse that it brought upon whoever used it. Becoming corrupted by its will until they were unable to complete the mission they were intended to finish.
He was hoping that he and Mei, together, could get this done fast enough so that she would never have to suffer the same fate he’d watched each of the others go through. A slow death, consumed by the darkness contained within the sword. He had grown callous to the death and had become content to just let the curse live on indefinitely, but that was before he’d become attached to one of the sword wielders.
Mei. It was a fleeting thought that perhaps she might be able to withstand its effect. There was no doubt Mei was strong, but he wasn’t about to gamble t
hat she would be stronger than this.
Not if it cost her life—more than he was willing for her to pay.
Malachi’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. It was a text from Remy, telling him to turn on Channel 9 news immediately.
He frowned and grabbed the remote from the table, firing up the TV he rarely watched. The news was too much some days and he no longer had the emotional bandwidth to get involved in any one time period. He couldn’t expect someone who didn’t live for centuries on end to understand. It was just easier to avoid the questions by having a set in his living room.
In the beginning of this lonely walk earthside, he had tried to make friends. He’d gotten involved in cultures and kingdoms and empires. But frail humans inevitably met their end. Whether it be by war, disease, old age, or by their own hand, life was entirely too fleeting. Loss wore on him in ways he hadn’t liked.
“We bring you this breaking news ahead of our top-of-the-hour program. We have received reports that the mayor of New York City has been slain in a brutal attack as he left a restaurant this evening in lower Manhattan. Please be warned, the footage you are about to see may be disturbing to some of our viewers.”
The scene changed to black and white security footage, probably from a store or ATM across the street. With the prevalence of cell phones and their cameras these days, he was surprised that wasn’t what it was. But if the mayor had been killed quickly, there may not have been time for any bystander to catch it on video. Or maybe they hadn’t yet tracked down every bystander for an interview.
Malachi watched as the mayor strode from the restaurant to a waiting black SUV parked at the curb. Two security personnel in suits were just out of arm’s reach, one beside the car and one trailing behind, coming out of the restaurant. Out of nowhere, a man raced up from behind.
The mayor stiffened and fell to the ground.
The man ran off, but not before the footage zeroed in on the knife in his hand.
The footage also clearly showed something else.
Malachi’s face.
He stared at the TV while his phone rang. He answered Ben’s call with a swipe of his finger and put it on speakerphone. “I’m guessing you just saw the news footage of me murdering the mayor.” Malachi found it hard to be surprised about anything these days.
Silence greeted him. Then Ben said, “Remy is working to figure out how exactly it was fabricated.”
“So you just believe me just like that?”
“There is the small fact that your cell phone has been at your apartment the last three hours. During the time you supposedly attacked the mayor.”
“And I couldn’t have just left it here?”
“Along with the recording of you sighing loudly and muttering to yourself? Then there was the five minutes you were speaking in ancient Samarian. It was interesting.”
“So the company that hired me is recording everything I do at all times?”
“Didn’t you read that in the terms and conditions of your employment contract?”
“No one reads that stuff.”
Ben chuckled. “I guess you should have.”
“And I guess it’s good I don’t have anything to hide.”
“What’s the latest?”
Malachi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to figure out which of my brothers Mei saw in her vision after I healed her with my blood.”
“You… Okay.” Ben said, “She okay?”
“I think so.”
“And you?”
“No one else needs to die. Least of all her.”
He knew Ben’s stance on all this, namely that Mei had been through enough in her life without him adding to it. To which Malachi would attempt to explain he had no control over any of this. Despite thinking for centuries that he was in charge of his own life, he’d learned the hard way that that wasn’t the case.
“And when you figure out which of your brothers is the last one left?”
“Mei is the only one that can kill him.” There was more to the mission than that, but it was enough for now.
Ben said, “So who have you angered recently; enough to frame you as a murderer?”
Of course Ben would ask a question like this, and he would also be expecting an answer. Malachi had agreed to always fully disclose what he knew with his boss. That was how Ben came to know everything about the sword. About Malachi’s history. Thankfully he had agreed to keep it confidential from the rest of the team until Malachi decided they needed to know.
The time was coming for Mei to hear his whole story, and yet here he was hesitating.
There was so much riding on her response.
Telling her about the blood had been a test, and she had passed. Not that he figured the outcome would be otherwise. He just wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow the rest of it. If circumstances had been different, he might’ve chuckled at the pun. Giving her his blood had been a last resort to save her life, and he was still reeling from almost losing her. Nothing funny about that.
“You’re asking who might be out to get me?” Murdering a mayor certainly wasn’t the style of one of his brethren, so his thoughts turned towards others outside his circle. “Ricardo? He’s the only one I can think of who might be angry.”
“What’s your history with the guy?”
“I haven’t actually met him, so there’s no way he could successfully target me for this. It’s still all connected, but we’ve hardly stepped too far in trying to figure it out. At least in a way that would warrant this kind of backlash. A targeted attack? That means it’s personal.”
“Everything you do is personal.” Ben said. “Figure this out. And don’t let anything happen to her.”
He hung up.
His brain began to chew on some new ideas. Was it possible that in giving Mei his blood, he had triggered some kind of radar? If she had indeed connected to his memories, had whoever took that starring role on the throne—drinking the blood of those young women—realized it and connected back with her? Why else would Malachi have so quickly and decisively been retaliated against? It was like once the connection had been established, they’d known it was him on the other end—with Mei in the middle.
Hopefully, whoever it was would leave Mei alone and maybe not even realize the key role she played here. But then, when had hope paid off? At least, in anything other than the One who had given him his hope in the first place.
No way could he bank on her skating out from under this.
Thankfully, at least so far, it seemed she could still operate as needed, while his role had been hamstrung by the visibility. His face was all over the news. Every cop in the city, and likely every federal agent as well, would have his picture. They were all looking for him. It was only a matter of time before they found where he lived and moved in to capture him.
That was likely the whole plan of his enemy. To make it so that he couldn’t do anything because anytime he showed his face in public, it would draw attention to him. Eventually, he’d be caught and taken into police custody. After that, there was no way he’d be able to avoid the consequences that would come down upon him.
Prison would be nothing, considering all he’d endured over the millennia. Even knowing he was innocent didn’t matter much. Not when he had done far worse things than what he’d be convicted of. Jail was the least of what he needed to face to make amends. But the eventual judgment that came upon him would originate from a much higher source than a local magistrate.
This was nothing but an annoyance. Though, he had to admit that it was a clever way to hinder his ability to identify and find which of his brothers was the one behind this. And if he couldn’t do that, then this would never be over.
Mei would be the one that suffered the consequences.
Malachi closed the laptop and stowed it in his backpack. He picked up the phone and shoved it in the side pocket, knowing only Remy could find him with it. No one else. Leaving it for the police to find would only give them m
ore questions.
He needed a disguise and, seeing a ball cap and hooded sweater on his way to the door, he grabbed both.
A second later, while reaching for the door handle, he stopped in his tracks. Something was wrong.
Beyond the door were several men. Even with it shut, he could hear their heartbeats, every intake of breath and bead of sweat, and even the adrenaline pumping through their veins. The creak of protective clothing, helmets, and boots.
He moved away from the door, back to the bedroom area of the studio and into the closet, where he slid aside the rack of clothing. With both palms pressed firmly against the wall in the back, he pushed out and heard the mechanism release. There was nothing else in this apartment to go back for, but he still felt the pain of losing something important as he passed through the hidden door and into the dark hall behind.
The space was barely wide enough to stand sideways without his shoulders being wedged between the walls. It was pitch black, so he grabbed the flashlight he kept propped against the wall and flipped it on. He also grabbed the envelope resting beside it.
He slid the envelope into his backpack, trying not to think about the fact that his emotions didn’t like this turn of events. The police—good people, for the most part, who tried to do the right thing and fight for justice—were here. They were determined to arrest him.
One of his brothers had pushed him to this. Once again, Malachi had lost the connection he’d made with the world. Even if was just an apartment, one in a long—very long—string of residences he’d had. It was still a place he’d called home, if only for a little while.
He made his way to the end of the passageway and climbed the ladder to the roof where a hatch opened. City lights glowed above him. Malachi reached out with his senses and tried to ascertain if there was anyone out there waiting for him. He could feel nothing more than the normal swell of humanity in the city below his high-rise apartment.
No one waited in the dark with malicious intent, so he climbed out and closed the hatch. He crept across the roof of the building and looked down over the edge. An ocean of cop cars waited at the curb, lights flashing. A huge SWAT van that was more like an RV was parked across the street.
