She talked of the moment the killing broke out. A third man had walked into the room on Stell’s side, had spotted her and called out, sparking action. She’d twisted the first man’s head quickly, snapping his neck, and shoved the body into the other man, blocking his weapon. She recalled tearing at the other man but not how she’d reached him. She’d been aware of gunfire and a third and perhaps a fourth man in her killing hands. She’d heard nothing but from the rawness of her throat she suspected she’d been screaming. The whole episode, which seemed both instantaneous and eternal, had lasted less than seven minutes.
She remembered Adlai pulling her up by her waistband and tossing her toward the door. There was blood and water and wreckage everywhere. She recalled Adlai pulling something out of his pocket and placing it on the burner of the gas stove and turning the knob, then they were on the bike. When the explosion occurred, it was no more than a distant pop in Stell’s blood-hammered ears.
Adlai pushed the third and final shot before her and she drank it as she had the first two. The bartender didn’t wait for instructions. He refilled the six shot glasses. Stell opened her eyes wide, noticing the bartender for the first time.
“Did you see that guy?” Her voice was a wondrous whisper. “He’s Nahan.”
This time Adlai did laugh at her. “Look around you, sweetheart.”
She was surrounded by Nahan. She hadn’t even noticed she was in a bar, much less surrounded by Nahan men and women of varying ages. There were common among them as well but they were the minority. There was a pool table being used by two Nahan women and a heated darts tournament going on in the corner. In a booth by the restrooms, a heavily made-up common woman flirted with two Nahan men. As she watched, three common skinheads entered the bar, thought better of it, and headed back onto the street.
“Never been in a bar before?”
“Not like this. Not with so many Nahan.”
Adlai pushed the next set of shots before her. “Couldn’t take you anywhere else. We were pretty conspicuous on the street.” He gestured to the dark stains on his dark shirt. “If I had taken you to a common bar, you would have started a riot.”
“What do you mean?” She was no longer afraid to ask Adlai anything.
“I mean you’re humming like a top. We both are. Have you ever been around the common like this?” Stell shook her head. “Well, try to avoid it. Let’s just say it awakens their herding instinct.”
“You mean their stampeding instinct.” The bartender set two beers before them. “From Frances and the girls. They said you look like you could use them.” Adlai tipped his beer in the direction of the pool table, where three Nahan women tipped their own bottles back at them. Stell peered over Adlai’s shoulder at the group.
“Who are they? Friends of yours?”
“I guess you could call them coworkers. Let’s just say they are people devoid of a herding instinct of their own.” The bartender laughed and went back to wiping up the bar.
“Looks like we’re bunking together tonight, gorgeous.”
Aricelli stepped from the bathroom, brushing her teeth, and rolled her eyes. She had scrubbed the night’s filth from her face and even in the dim light, Louis could see the traces of a welt on her cheek, where she’d been struck. They had carried Tomas up to the room they were sharing and he now lay diagonally across one of the beds, his arm thrown over his eyes, his mouth open in sleep. Louis began removing his cousin’s shoes.
“I don’t think you need to be so gentle. He’s not going to wake up.”
Louis put Tomas’s leg down softly onto the bed and began working on the second set of laces. Aricelli was right, of course; a marching band wouldn’t have awakened him now. Maybe it was the angry bruise on his jaw or the dark circles under his eyes or the hollows of his cheeks, but there was a brittleness about Tomas now. Louis felt compelled to show him even a small tenderness.
“I want the side closest to the bathroom.” Aricelli went back into the bathroom and closed the door, cutting out the only light in the room. In the dim glow of the city below them, Louis sat on the edge of the bed watching Tomas sleep, wondering what he dreamt about.
“Tell me your last name.” Adlai pushed a beer before her.
“I don’t have one.”
“What?” His beer hung forgotten from his fingertips. “What’s your mom’s?”
“She won’t tell me.”
“She won’t tell you?”
“She never told me a lot of things. Nobody would. Like who my father is. I never met him. I don’t know his name either.” She worried her lip. “Nobody ever spoke of him. I wasn’t even allowed to ask about him, but it was always like . . .”
“Like?” He touched her softly shoulder to shoulder.
Stell shook her head, unwilling to discuss that painful memory. “You’re the only other person I’ve ever heard of who didn’t grow up with two parents together. I thought I was the only person in the world like that.”
“Well we’re a pair then, aren’t we? A couple of lonely acul ‘ads.”
“Killers?” Stell asked. She’d only heard the word used in Uncle Rom’s sermons and then only as a terrible sin. “That’s your title, acul ‘ad?”
“My title?” He snorted. “More like a category, I’d say.”
“Do you think I’m acul ‘ad?”
Adlai cocked his head. “Well, let’s look at this. Why haven’t you asked why we killed those people? Or who they were? Or why they had to die? Aren’t you curious?” Stell thought for a moment then shook her head. Adlai laughed. “See? I’m feeling pretty good about you not needing a career counselor.”
“I didn’t think about it. Maybe I’m tired of thinking, of trying to figure out everything that everybody else seems to know.” She couldn’t tell if he was laughing at her. “I trusted you. You said to do it so I did it. Is that wrong?”
His placed a warm hand on her thigh. “No, that wasn’t wrong. And to tell you the truth, I don’t care who they were either. It was just business and not everyone can do it.”
“You can.”
He nodded. “So can you, apparently.”
“Does it bother you?”
He examined her face. “Why? Does it bother you?”
“No.” She leaned in close, feeling like this should be a secret. “My mother said it would but it doesn’t. It hasn’t yet.”
Whatever he was looking for in her expression, he nodded as if he’d found it. “Yeah, we don’t always feel things the same way everyone else does, you know what I mean? That’s why the Council finds us so useful—we can do what the others can’t, what the others won’t. They get to keep their hands clean; we get to get high. And, as acul ‘ads, we smooth over a lot of life’s little bumps.”
“I thought the Storytellers smoothed over life’s bumps.”
He eyed her over his beer. “Who do you think we work for?”
Chapter Six:
DA SUTE
Da Sute: literally the ache; growing pains; the reality of the path of adulthood
Sylva blew into her tea, watching through the steam as Coordinator Vartan grilled Desara’s driver, Carlson. The Kott man flushed and stammered, explaining his attempts to find the young apprentice. He’d phoned the hotel repeatedly, then pounded on the door, and then finally bribed a housekeeper to let him into the empty room.
As a Storyteller-in-training, Tomas was discouraged from carrying any sort of electronic device, including a cell phone, to avoid the exhaustion their interference could cause while meditating. This meant that the newest investment of the Council was out in the wind with his ex-True Family girlfriend. To say that Mr. Vartan was displeased was an understatement.
Vartan spoke in a low, even tone that told everyone he was out of patience. “How is it we have set out every security protocol in existence on this complex and nobody thought to watch the little bastard at his hotel?” He glared around the table, resting his gaze on a young assistant who reddened under his stare.
“Well, sir, we had heard that Adlai was on it. He was with the girl and the emphasis seemed to be on keeping her out of trouble so we just thought—”
“Maybe he just needed a break.” Sylva said, not impressed with Vartan’s bullying. “We discussed the possibility we were working him too hard. It’s too early to panic. He’s young.”
Dalle nodded. “I agree. It’s too soon to start thinking our boy has run off. Maybe he was with the girl and they spotted the True Family and decided to hide.”
“You think they can hide themselves better than we can?” Vartan’s face was a deep red.
“I didn’t say they could; they might just think they can.”
Vartan rocked on his heels, grasping the table in a white-knuckle grip. “Where the hell is Adlai? Does anyone know how to reach him?”
“I had him out on a job,” Lucien said. “The Fuentes situation. I haven’t seen anything on the news yet but Adlai tends to get his work done early. If he succeeded in his errand, he’ll check in. And if he’s been entrusted with the girl, I don’t think any of us need doubt he’ll know where she is. Adlai is nothing if not thorough.”
Heads nodded and Vartan began to relax until Dalle spoke up. “There is always the possibility that Desara was not with his girl last night.” All eyes fell upon him and he held up his hands in surrender. “While he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, Adlai has his charms and all of us working with Desara have felt the strain between him and the girl since his training began.”
Vartan fell back into his chair and stared up at the ceiling for several minutes. With a deep breath, he motioned to the assistant. “Go out to Communication; tell them to start monitoring police bands and newswires for the Fuentes situation. Also feel out the True Family. Tell everyone to watch for Anton Adlai. If anyone sees him, tell him to get his ass in here pronto and bring Desara and the girl in with him. Go.” The assistants fled the room. “Worst case scenario. What do we do?”
Dalle spoke first. “It’s too early to worry about that yet.”
“It’s not your call to worry about timing!” Vartan slammed his hands down on the table. Sylva could see the effort it took to cool his temper. The ice in Dalle’s stare must have helped because he lowered his tone. “With respect, I’m the one coordinating this complex and it’s my ass if something happens to another apprentice. Maybe I’m overreacting but we don’t need another Hess on our hands. Do we have a plan?”
The Storytellers passed hooded glances. Finally, Vet spoke up, her voice crackling with lack of use. She had been pulled out of a two-day deep meditation for this meeting.
“If something has gone wrong, we’ll have to perform a full assessment on his mental state. We all remember how violent that can be. Depending on his level of mental dissonance, we can either work to reverse any damage or, worse case scenario, we remove him from the complex into full-time care.”
Vartan rubbed his eyes. “What a shit storm. Not placing any blame but do we have any idea why our last two viable candidates for Storyteller have gone nuts?”
Sylva placed a hand on Lucien’s arm, holding the Storyteller back. “Please mind your choice of words, Mr. Vartan.” She sweetened her rebuke with the respectful address. As meditation teacher and adviser to the Storytellers, she didn’t need to address anyone by their title but Sylva felt the anger in the room. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours. Let’s give him a chance to resurface on his own before we assume the worst.”
“Forgive me if I don’t share your optimism. As Coordinator of this complex, assuming the worst is my job. May I remind you”—A tap at the door interrupted Vartan and he snapped at the young woman peering through the doorway. “What is it, Fiona?”
“It’s Desara. He’s calling from the Drake Hotel. He says he needs a ride.”
Mentor Sylva cupped her hands over her face to hold back a laugh as the Storytellers collapsed back in their chairs. Vartan turned to Fiona, his voice wry. “Put him on speakerphone.”
Tomas paled as he listened. Several times he pulled the phone away from his ear and Louis could hear the angry tones coming through the handset. The conversation was mostly one-sided, with only an occasional “Yes, sir” or “No, sir” from Tomas. After a lengthy period in which Louis could make out several voices talking at once on the other end, Tomas wrapped up the call with a promise to meet the car in front of the hotel.
“How much trouble are you in?”
“I would guess a truckload, judging from the fact that it felt like every member of the Council within five hundred miles was screaming at me. I think even the janitor yelled at me.”
“For staying out all night? Seems a little extreme. What did Stell say?”
Tomas busied himself tying his shoes. “She didn’t say anything because apparently she never came back to the hotel last night.” Louis started to speak but Tomas held up his hand. They heard the shower shut off in the bathroom. “Don’t tell Aricelli any of this, especially about Stell. I just, you know, I can only deal with one thing at a time. Right now I have to put on my stainless steel underwear and prepare to get my ass torn by my mentor.”
“For what it’s worth, man, it was really good seeing you again.”
Stell rested her head on Adlai’s shoulder as the bike tore down the highway. The sun was rising, burning off the remnants of fog that had shrouded the city. Fatigue dragged at her body, making her eyes burn and her mind slow. All she wanted right now was to climb into bed and sleep. Tomas would probably be gone by the time she returned and the thought made her cling more tightly to Adlai. She missed feeling a body in her arms; she missed Tomas, even when he lay beside her. She was too tired for such thoughts and closed her eyes to let the rhythm of the bike lull her into a light sleep.
She came awake when Adlai pulled off the highway into an unfamiliar part of the city. They pulled onto a side street and came to a security gate where a striped barrier bar blocked their way and an armed security guard stepped out of the booth to question them. Adlai took off his glasses and the guard waved them on. They were in the parking lot of an enormous industrial complex, rectangular buildings abutting one another like oversized children’s blocks. Adlai steered the bike around speed bumps and cargo platforms, stopping outside a loading bay marked PITTINGER RESEARCH FACILITY: STOCK LOADING. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
“Let’s go.”
Stell climbed off and followed him up the metal stairs into the open bay. Two armed Nahan security guards stepped forward but Adlai never slowed down. He simply nodded at the two men and the guards let them pass.
“Where are we? Is this another errand?”
“You haven’t been here yet? I thought you would have polished your boyfriend’s apple at least once before you dropped him off.”
“This is the Council?” She was running to keep up with him.
“This is one of their complexes. They have dozens of these all over the world, but this is one of the biggest; built special for the Storytellers.” At a set of heavy steel doors, Adlai pressed his thumb onto a scanner. After four metallic clicks, he pushed open the doors and led Stell into the complex.
The thick carpet muffled their footsteps and Stell marveled at the silence of the place. There was none of that annoying hum that seemed to emanate off of every surface in the common world. No TVs, no radios, no appliances or trucks to whine and grind. Her eyes scanned every door, every sign as she ran along behind Adlai.
As they passed one open door, a young woman called out. “Anton! Mr. Adlai, wait!” Adlai stopped so quickly Stell nearly barreled into him. “Mr. Vartan has been looking for you. Emergency.”
“It’s always an emergency with Vartan. I’ll meet him in the conference room.”
They were at the door before she could stop them. Adlai and Stell stepped into the large conference room, interrupting what was clearly a very unpleasant meeting for Tomas.
A man standing at the table spun on the newcomers. “Adlai. You’ve got the girl. Good. Get your ass in here and
tell her to sit down and keep her mouth shut. Her turn is next.”
Adlai leaned against the doorframe. “Tell her yourself, Vartan. She’s right here.”
Vartan smiled a saccharine smile. “Let me rephrase that. Please, have a seat.”
A man at the table spoke softly to Tomas. “I believe the point has been driven home. Desara, do you understand how important it is to us that you remain in touch at all times, especially now that your training has made you volatile and perhaps vulnerable?”
“Yes, Dalle.” Tomas nodded. “I understand.”
Stell ached at the exhaustion in his face. His skin was so dry and his lips were cracked. It even looked as if he had some sort of bruise on his cheek. Anger welled up inside of her as she considered the treatment he had been receiving in this place. She wanted to reach across the corner of the large table that separated them, but Tomas wouldn’t look in her direction. He also didn’t look up as Vartan began to wrap things up.
“Okay, crisis averted. This time. So if we’re all on the same page now, let’s get back to business. Desara, I believe you’re scheduled to work with Mr. Dalle this morning. We’ll let you get back to that while Mr. Lucien, Adlai, and I discuss—”
“I want a day off.” Tomas said.
“I beg your pardon? You just had your vacation and it—”
Tomas spoke in an eerie impersonation of Vartan. “Let me rephrase that. I am taking a day off. I’m taking a day off with Stell. If she still wants to go.”
Vartan visibly struggled to spit out the words. “Adlai may have plans for your friend.”
Adlai shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait a day or two.”
“Very well then, Resources mentioned something about your apartment being ready this week. Why don’t you talk to Fiona about hurrying it along?” He bared his teeth in a bad impression of a smile. “We’ll see if we can accommodate your refined tastes.”
“All it needs is a door,” Tomas said. Stell felt proud of the way he held Vartan’s gaze. “And a lock.”
Ourselves Page 15
