“Remy,” I start, but he cuts me off. His face is a sea of turmoil, rage and loss tossing him back and forth between them, rendering him oblivious to my words.
“You’re going to die soon,” he sputters, “and nobody will ever try to bring you back.”
A pained, gasping bark of laughter escapes me. “It wouldn’t work even if they did.”
He keeps screaming at me as I walk away.
Part Four
“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”
T.S. Eliot
Prologue, Part Four
San Francisco, Three Years Ago
I sat on the second-floor terrace of an open-air bar, sipping the worst mojito I’ve ever had, watching two men on the street below arguing over a fender bender, waiting for my fate to be decided.
“What happened?”
I didn’t have to look up to know that Mr. Pale was standing next to me. I knew that flat, dry voice anywhere. I took another sip, wincing against the grit of undissolved sugar running aground on my tongue.
“The blue Escort coasted through the red light,” I said. “Caught the white Saturn in the rear driver’s quarter panel. Took the bumper right off.”
He sat next to me, looking at the happenings down below. Neither of us looked at the other.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I took a deep pull from the glass. “I know what you meant.”
He turned to stare at me. I still wasn’t looking, but I felt his stare like a branding iron. I tossed a thin manila envelope on the table in front of him, my summary of what had happened. “It wasn’t like your information said. Brandy Martin is innocent, and she’s not using any magic on Keith.”
“So, you just let her go, and him along with her. Without clearing it with the Sovereigns.”
“There wasn’t time. If they hadn’t left right then you would have found them. Now they have a chance.”
“To do what?”
I took a small sip. “To do whatever they can before they get caught.”
Pale sat in silence, watching the street drama unfolding below.
“The one in the tank top is going to throw the first punch,” he said.
I shook my head. “He’s grandstanding. Trying to bluff the other guy and scare it off. Posturing. Happens all throughout the animal kingdom.”
I took another drink, and we watched a little more. Sure enough, the fisticuffs never came to pass. After another minute we heard the growing howl of an approaching siren, and the driver of the Escort jumped into his vehicle and sped off. Avoiding warrants was my guess. I set my glass on the table.
“You never show up unless it’s something bad,” I said. “The sentence has been passed, I guess.”
“It has.”
“What’s it going to be? Desk work again, or another Arctic assignment?” I picked the glass back up and set about draining it.
“You are being retired,” he said.
I let the glass dangle from my fingertips, furiously considering what he’d said. The Aegis never let an asset go unless their worth was completely exhausted. I was a good weapon for them to keep in their holster, and the only one of my kind. I’d spent seven years working for them, going all over the planet to get jobs done that their own best people couldn’t. For them to discard me meant that they now considered me to be more of a liability than an advantage. It was better for them to simply get rid of me.
Thank God.
I wasn’t expecting the surge of relief I was feeling. In comparison to most of the Aegis’ Envoys I didn’t get a lot of field time. Most of the time the other Envoys, the ones who could actually use magic, got to get their hands bloody. They could throw spells and wield charmed weapons, and that gave them a better chance of coming out alive when they battled bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters and the rest of the night’s menagerie.
Me they saved for the magicians. The sorcerers. The witches. Those who could use arcane energies to twist a person’s mind and body until nothing recognizable remained. Sure, there were spells and charms that could protect anyone from that kind of interference, but they can always go wrong. Be overpowered. I was a sure thing, incorruptible and untouchable.
And now I was done.
No matter what, my time was always borrowed. Every time I took a job I knew that I might not make it home. That kind of tension gets to you after a while. Lots of people say that their job is killing them. With me that’s not a metaphor. But now I could put it all behind me.
“I didn’t expect that,” I said, keeping my voice level though my heart was now racing.
“The Sovereigns had other opinions. They wanted to imprison you in the Nowhere.”
My heart rate spiked again, but not from elation this time. The Nowhere was the Aegis’ special prison, built deep under an African mountain. And I mean deep. The Geneva Convention’s rules don’t apply there. Hell, the laws of physics don’t really apply there. Only the Sovereigns, the command rank of the Aegis, and their rules are not what could be called civilized.
“Thankfully for you,” he continued, “since I was the one who recruited you in the first place they have reluctantly consented to let me decide your fate.”
“You don’t get to choose what’s best for my welfare, Pale.”
“I didn’t have your welfare in mind. I convinced them that your attitude would make you a poor asset once you left the field, but that you did not deserve imprisonment.”
“Wow. A compliment and an insult at the same time. That’s hard to do.”
“You’ll be given one of our safe houses. A modest pension. You’ll be allowed to live your life as you see fit.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he said, but something in his voice was unsettling. He had another agenda.
He always had another agenda.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Where am I going?”
“There is a town I know of that needs supervision. People, and others, with magical leanings have been congregating there for years, and the town is nearing the saturation point. You know how supernatural beings get along. There have already been incidents. Small arguments are common, and unless checked they will grow larger and larger. Most of the town’s population are still human. Sooner or later one of them will be hurt, unless someone is there to keep them safe. You will make the town your home, and make sure that the peace is kept.”
I let that one roll around. I hadn’t had a single place to call home in more years than I cared to remember, and pretty much anything was better than one of the caves they call cells in the Nowhere. The notion had some appeal. I set my empty glass on the table and sat back.
“So where am I going?”
“The name of the town is Superstition Bay.”
Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
I pull up to the curb in front of the Beachfront and put the Jeep in park. The Aegis graciously supplied me with a new one, this time with a reinforced frame and a couple of their special brand of amenities, including a generous supply of silver bullets and a small case of red ammo. A retirement perk, I guess. I brace myself and step out onto the sidewalk.
Stepping from the finely conditioned air into the mid-August Louisiana sunshine is a horrible sensation, the sun scorching my eyes and the humidity clamping my lungs. I recoil from both, waiting for my eyes, lungs and skin to adjust until I can face the elements head-on. Seems like weeks since I’ve felt the kiss of direct sunlight. It feels odd, alien, and it occurs to me that I’ve spent a large part of my life in darkness.
I like the sun. I’ll have to make more time for it.
I wait for three teens on bikes to recklessly fly past, then cross the sidewalk and walk up to the office door. Moments later I’m standing in the cool comfort of Madeline’s room. She’s wearing white lightweight cotton slacks and a short-sleeved shirt that matches the summer sky exactly. Her hair is pinned back, leaving her g
lowing, expectant features unblocked.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says pleasantly.
“I can’t count how many times I almost wasn’t.” I politely refuse her gesture to a nearby couch. I’ve spent too much time off my feet lately.
“You have it, I presume?”
“I do.” I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and withdraw the Cleave, wrapped in a fresh square of black silk.
“Thank you, Ian.” She holds out her hand, palm up. I look at the palm for a moment, reminding myself that it’s not really hers. Then I put the razor back in my pocket.
Her expression quickly changes from pleased to angry, with a quick stop at confusion along the way. “What are you doing?”
“It’s too dangerous, Madeline,” I say. “Azrael’s dead, but there will be others who will want to possess it. No matter where you take it, you’ll put lives in danger.”
“We had a deal,” she growls. “I thought you had some kind of honor.”
“I’d like to think that I do,” I say honestly. “But I have more responsibility.” I turn to leave, but she’s in front of me before I can take a step, hand up like a cop stopping traffic.
“If you think I’m just going to let you walk away with…”
“Good bye, Madeline. Don’t come back.” I reach out and grasp her outstretched hand. The moment my skin touches hers she locks up from head to toe as if she’s been electrocuted. A moment later her body sags. I leap forward, catching her before she can hit the floor. I gently lower her to the carpet, and as I set her down her eyes pop open.
“What happened?” the body’s natural tenant asks. “Where am I?”
“You’re in Superstition Bay,” I say gently. I help her up to a sitting position. “What’s your name?”
“Shelly.” Her voice is the same, but the inflection miles apart. Madeline is very refined. Shelly, I’ll bet, peaked in high school.
“Shelly, Madeline is gone. Do you understand?”
She nods, confused but quick on the uptake. “What happened?”
“I happened, but that’s a long story. She can’t re-take you without your permission, am I right?”
Another nod, more confident than the last.
“Well, then, Shelly, you need to go home.” I dig into my wallet and hand her two hundred dollar bills I’d brought just for this reason. “This should get you there. I’m thinking you don’t live too far from here?”
“Natchez.”
“Go home,” I say, standing up. “This town’s not conducive to a healthy lifestyle for someone like you. Come sundown, the monsters come out. You’ve been soaking in magic for weeks now. You’ll be catnip to them. Don’t give them a chance, or else next time I might not be able to save you.”
I walk to the door. She’s still sitting up, watching me wordlessly. Before I close the door I call back into the room: “And find a better hobby.”
I walk slowly back to the Jeep, soaking in the sunshine and in the satisfaction of a job finally done. I use the key fob to unlock the door, and I’m just about to get in when I see her.
Claire is parked across the street from me in her car with the motor running, watching me watch her. She looks healthy, but her face is unreadable. I can’t tell if she’s plotting an apology or my death. Neither would surprise me.
I don’t make a move. She hasn’t made any attempt to reach out during my convalescence, but then I’d have been surprised if she did. She can’t know what to expect from me any more than I know what to expect from her. Can’t say I blame her. I’m not sure what to expect from either of us.
She saved my life twice, including when she had killed Azrael, almost ended it once when she blew up my home, and nothing in the Aegis’ medical team’s bag of tricks could fix the damage she’d done when she’d betrayed me. It crosses my mind to ask her how all that balances out on her karmic scale. She drives off before I can.
I watch her car round a corner much too fast, tires squealing on the hot pavement. For a moment I’m tempted to follow her, but what would I say when I caught her? I try, but I simply can’t picture that conversation. I doubt it would have been about her tattoo, though.
I start the Jeep with a mutter and head for home. It’s an important day.
It takes a while to get there, but I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to check out part of the town. It seems to have bounced back. I take a lengthy detour down the shore, not minding the bumper-to-bumper traffic. It gives me the chance to see occasional stretches of the shoreline. The open sign’s back outside Dale Ibanez’s psychic stand. Ellen’s Chowdah is packed, even for lunch. Even the gargoyle is back at the mini-golf course.
The concrete ankh has vanished from in front of the Dominant building, though.
I’ve seen enough. After a quick but pricey stop at Dunkin Donuts I turn the Jeep inland, back to my place. When I get there I’m pleased by what I see. I park the Jeep, walk over and stop at the edge of the commotion. I set down three carefully balanced carryout trays of Styrofoam cups and step back to join the one figure not bustling about. He doesn’t get a cup.
“I know you’ll keep this buried,” I say as I hold out the silk-wrapped package that had brought about the deaths of so many. I feel the weight of the Cleave for the last time. It feels inordinately heavy, like a somber heart on a gloomy morning. It’s a relief when Mr. Pale gently eases it out of my hand.
“It will never again see the surface of the world,” he promises. He folds his arms across his gaunt torso, and the Cleave disappears from my sight, hopefully forever. Would they ever learn its secrets, who made it and why? Would they even try? Maybe someday I’d get around to wondering about it. Someday far from now. “No complaints from its theoretical owner?”
“She decided to leave town suddenly.”
He nods knowingly. “Probably for the best.”
I blow the steam from a takeout cup of green tea and take a sip. The kobolds, seeing what I’d dropped off, set their tools down and snatch up the cups. They’ve been hard at work for two weeks now, first clearing away the charred debris of my old house then getting to work on my new one. It would have gone faster had they been allowed to use magic to do the work, but since I’m going to be living there it had been decided to use more mundane means of labor. Hence the kobolds. They’re amazing craftsmen, and an occasional iced caramel latte keeps them grinning while they work.
Mr. Pale watches the newly caffeinated kobolds scurry over the newborn house like turbo charged ants, searching for any imperfection no matter how small. One on the rooftop voices a small cry, leans over and tamps down a nail that has apparently been left too far up for his liking. He doesn’t spill a drop from his cup.
“They would seem to be finished.”
“Just about, yeah.”
A small, brand-new chalkboard floats out the front door and down the steps, a stick of chalk working busily at it as it comes. The chalk, fresh out of the box, squeaks annoyingly as it works.
Looks good on the inside, Ian, it says.
“Thanks, Jamie. Better head in, the shielding spell’s about to be fixed. Nobody else in or out, just like before.”
Got it. The board whisks inside. I turn to Mr. Pale as the last kobold scurries away from the house.
“He’s not really a ghost, is he?”
Pale’s studying the house intently. “He is what he is.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the best answer.” He takes a deep breath and holds it. I realize then that I’ve never actually seen him breathe before. Then he exhales forcefully and turns to me, adjusting his glasses.
“Done,” he says.
“Thanks.” We stand there silently while the kobolds pack their gear.
“Are you doing better?” he asks with his customarily flat voice.
I nod. The first few days after the Battle of the Bay (as it has come to be called by the locals) had been rough. The Aegis couldn’t transport me magically, of course, and I didn’t
want to go through the two days of air travel that would get me back to the Adytum (the Aegis’ Rocky Mountain stronghold) so Mr. Pale had arranged my care here in Superstition Bay. A secluded rental house had been paid for in full for the length of my recuperation, and for more than a week it had been near constant bed rest for me under the tender mercies of the Aegis’ doctors.
They are not very tender or merciful.
While I recuperated the Aegis had been busy cleaning up. Remy Danaher’s property has been scoured by Aegis cleanup teams, removing all evidence of the battle. Remy would have been arrested had they been able to find him but, true to his word, he has somehow found a way to remove himself completely from the map. The location of his reserve of ghasts was never found.
I never had to fill out any kind of official report on my house fire. As far as anyone knows, it never happened. The fire department had been called off by Adam Farelli, sparing them the shock of finding the remains of the creatures Claire had left on my porch. He’s waiting patiently for me to get my life back in order, then we’re going to have a long talk about the town he’s sworn to protect. It’s past time he knew the truth. I’m looking forward to it.
The last of the kobolds are disappearing now, moving single file behind the house. I know they’ll be gone in a second, and that my guest would follow suit. Before he can, though, there’s one last question I can’t let go.
“Tell me something, Pale,” I ask. “That first night you came to see me you said there was going to be a disaster here.”
“I remember that.”
“What was the disaster you meant? Was it the battle? Or was it Remy and Susan’s plan?”
He turns his sunglasses my way. “Does it matter? Either way, you managed to avert it.”
I’m not satisfied with the answer, but knowing him it’s the best one I’m likely to get. “Does that mean my job here is done?”
He turns away from me with an air of disappointment. “Ian, haven’t you learned by now? There will always be another disaster.”
Swim Like Hell: A Visit to Superstition Bay Page 26
