by Mason Dakota
But what about Thomas?
Guilt crushed me.
I’m not the same ignorant person now, am I?
I had vowed to protect Chicago from every foe—whether they be Outcast or Noble. Shaman protects everyone. That is what I vowed when I took the mantle from Gabriel. Chicago was my territory and I had to defend it.
Or lose my right to wear the mask.
“I’ll look into the matter,” I said.
Lorre nodded as if he already knew I would say that. He knew I, an Outcast and fugitive, had every reason not to get involved. His expressions told me he expected me not to pass up this opportunity. The irony was that he hated me and wanted me dead but needed my help to save lives.
Sometimes we put aside our pride and selfish desires for the greater good.
“Thank you,” said Lorre, “Where do you suggest we—hey where are you going?” I had turned and started walking back down the alley into the pitch black Chicago night.
“I’ll let you know when I find anything,” I called behind me as I disappeared into the darkness. My head swam with a million different questions and plans of action. The hairs on my arms and legs stood up.
Maybe this will show who I really am now.
Seven
The time was late, or maybe I should say early, when I finally got back to my apartment. I had swung by my hideout to drop off my Shaman equipment before riding my bike home. Since the EMP blast, transportation was limited to walking or bicycling. Cycling everywhere made certain tasks difficult and slow, but it kept me in shape.
I entered the apartment building lobby to see Greg, my landlord, behind the counter and wiping the tables by candle light. Greg was a good man. I liked him. In many ways he was like a gorilla, tall and thick, and communicating with silent looks and short grunts. On the rare occasions he spoke, his sentences were short and to the point with carefully chosen words. Though he never said so, I think he knew why I always came home so late, beaten and bruised. If he cared, he never expressed it.
“Morning Greg. Burning the candle at both ends, I see.” I tried to hide my pain as I hobbled pass his counter. I think I had some bruised ribs from fighting Lorre and Rigs.
A long rest and an ice bath would be wonderful right now.
“You have a visitor,” Greg grunted. I halted. My heart raced double-time. I never got visitors. Anyone coming by this late at night wouldn’t have good intentions.
Not another surprise encounter!
“I thought I told you never to allow visitors to my apartment? And that if anyone asked if I lived here, you were to tell them no?”
Greg shrugged his heavy set shoulders “She said she knew you. An old friend. She barged up the stairs after that.”
She?
“Did this ‘she’ give a name?” I asked.
Greg shook his head “Nope.”
I nodded several times as I created a mental list of dangerous women who wanted me dead and knew where I lived. The comforting fact was that it wasn’t a long list. “Was she cute at least?”
I think Greg tried to smirk, but instead he looked like he’d tasted something sour. He turned back to his table wiping. I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him.
“If I survive this, Greg, we are going to have a serious talk,” I joked. The fear in my voice took away much of the humor out of my sarcasm.
I took the stairs two at a time. My heartbeat and thoughts battled in my eardrums. Excitement. Worry. Anxiety. Stress. Fear. Woman? They flooded and twisted like a hurricane through my mind and body. I pulled out my pocket knife and kept it concealed in my sweating palm.
I slowed to a low decibel pace when I reached my floor. I pressed my back against the wall and slid closer to the door. I debated kicking down the door, knife in hand, ready to do battle.
Oh God, don’t let her have a gun!
An intruder would be watching the door. She would be expecting me. Sneaking in was pointless. Whoever was inside wasn’t there to kill me. You don’t reveal your presence and identity to the landlord downstairs when you intend to kill someone upstairs. Whoever this happened to be, she came to talk and she waited for me to enter.
“Have you ever heard that story, Goldilocks and the Three Bears?” I called through the door.
A soft and sassy voice came from the other end. “This chair fits me just right.”
Oh no! Not her!
Slowly, with shaking hands, terror unlike any I’ve ever known holding my heart, I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. My heartbeat roared to a deafening sound. My mouth went dry. I wanted to stay outside of my apartment and hide from the woman inside. I contemplated fleeing and never returning to that apartment.
I gradually opened the door, one slow inch at a time, to step into my apartment and prepared to face the demons that I had long since forced down into the pit of my soul. Sitting there in my apartment, drinking a glass of water and relaxing in my recliner with her feet crossed was Evelyn Chambers.
My ex-fiancé.
Eight
“Put that away before you get yourself hurt. You were never good with knives,” Evelyn said as she sipped her water.
“Evelyn…wh—what are you doing here?” I stammered as I slowly put away the pocket knife. My mouth felt filled with cotton balls. She smiled, rose to her feet, and slowly strode my way with a warm and childish smile on her face. Mischievous and playful at once, just like her.
I found Evelyn incredibly beautiful, despite her being an Outcast. Her crystal blue eyes, my favorite aspect about her appearance, glistened in the room’s candlelight like pools of Caribbean water. Her brown, wavy hair fell to her shoulders and even from across the room I could smell her favorite coconut mango blend shampoo in it. As she walked closer toward me, I smelled her cherry soda flavored lip balm coating her lips. She took off her light gray coat to reveal a strapless dark orange dress that ended at her knees and tightly hugged her lithe figure. Around her waist was a thin brown leather belt with a large circular buckle. Her skin was a surprising shade of tan for fall weather and her normally pale complexion. She stood at only five feet and two inches, and moved with determined strides of both grace and strength.
I knew Evelyn better than anyone. I knew her fears, from the smallest spider to her anxiety for the future, and I knew her loves, puppies and helping those incapable of helping themselves. Her blunt style of communication, the way she spoke her mind, and her love of sarcasm, guaranteed I could always trust her honesty. Evelyn despised the slightest mistake; she was always unsatisfied with anything short of perfection, and lived for the next achievement to obtain.
I fell in love with Evelyn not long after we first met. My heart raced every time I laid eyes upon her. My mind raced with sweet memories together and my soul swelled with hope for the future when I saw her smile.
But her profession as a bounty hunter terrified me.
“Awe, is that the way you’re going to greet me? After all these years can’t you at least give me a hug?” She came forward and wrapped her petite arms around my waist without any invitation from me. I was grateful I was nearly a foot taller than she was so she couldn’t see my startled expression. I expected a knife to the gut long before a hug. Our last conversation wasn’t the greatest. I said things I still regretted.
I awkwardly patted her on the shoulders. I was unsure of what to say or do. It felt silly and uncomfortable.
Why is she here?
I gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. “Eve, what are you doing here?”
She sighed and smiled weakly as I let go of her. “You did always know how to make a woman feel welcomed, Griffon.” She smirked and winked before finding a seat on one of my old, creaky pieces of furniture. I remained motionless, still trying to piece together what was happening.
Is she here to kill me?
Evelyn waved her hand toward the couch. “Please, won’t you join me? There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”
I sighed deeply and brushed
a hand through my hair (one of my nervous ticks), and moved deeper into the cheap apartment. I earned…well I won’t deny it…a lot of money from my new job in politics as Chicago’s Outcast Emissary. It made me one of the highest paid Outcasts in the city. There were a lot of Nobles that made much more than I did, but I liked to think I did well for myself in the money department, which was a good change of pace from how I grew up.
That said, my apartment didn’t really show it. I still lived in one of the cheapest apartments in the city outside of Sabol territory. It opened up onto a singular large room serving as a living room, kitchen, dining room, and bedroom. My furniture was all secondhand stuff, maybe even third hand, and really didn’t match that well with the green walls. A large spotted rug covered the living room area with more stains than spots.
To the right of the front door lay a small kitchen area useful only because of the wood stove and ancient icebox I installed shortly after the EMP blast. A skinny bed, a small wooden dresser, and a standing curtain marked off the bedroom, which occupied the back of the room and was near the fire escape balcony and a tiny, closet-sized bathroom.
I kept kerosene lamps, mirrors, and candles, which Evelyn had lit, strategically placed to light the apartment. Four over-stuffed bookcases stood around the apartment and served as my only source of education and entertainment. The air was musty and when the wind blew, the whole apartment seemed to capture the cold draft. If not for the mounds of blankets, my toes would freeze during winter.
I loved my tiny apartment regardless of all the bits and pieces that needed to be repaired or replaced. The apartment, though ugly, held a nostalgic aura of peace and silence, and comforted me with security that can only be found in a place called home.
I took a seat on the couch opposite of Evelyn, keeping the black coffee table between the two of us.
“When did you get in town?” I asked as I rubbed my forehead in exhaustion.
My body ached from the night and my muscles pleaded for rest. Rigs and Lorre gave me a beating and my sores testified to it. Working two full-time jobs as a politician over Chicago and a masked vigilante took too much out of me. I needed a day off.
I deserve a tropical vacation!
“Two days ago. Been staying at this nice little motel and getting comfortable. You know seeing the sights, stretching my legs down my favorite streets,” said Evelyn.
“You mean you’re back here on assignment,” I said.
“Why do you have to assume that? Maybe I just wanted to come back home. And maybe I just wanted to see you again,” she said.
I grunted. “And you thought three in the morning would be a good time to drop by and catch up? It’s been over a year since you left, no phone call or postcard to even let us know you are still alive, and you just thought to drop by now this late at night? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out the door.”
“Wow! You still don’t hold any punches now, do you?” said Evelyn. If she was hurt or flustered by my abrasiveness she didn’t show it. Her expression remained a mixture of warmth and cool confidence.
“My charm expires after midnight or maybe two if you’re pretty enough.”
Evelyn turned her head and scanned the room, twisting her lips left and right as she judged the lay out of my apartment. “I like what you have done with the place. I see you’re still the slob you were when I left, though. I took the liberty of taking out your trash—it must have sat there for over a week! And I sprayed a can of air freshener about. An entire can of it! You’re welcome for that. But have you done something new here?”
“I got new curtains. Now you’re stalling. If you don’t have a good reason for being here then I’ll ask you to leave so I can get some rest. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“So I’ve heard. Congratulations on becoming the Outcast Emissary. You traded stealing in the dark to stealing with a fancy suit and a handshake. Politics must suit you. I bet you’re swimming in cash now. The ultimate con for a thief like you,” she said. I stiffened.
Is she threatening me?
Evelyn was a bounty hunter working for various organizations to bring in criminals, both Outcasts and Nobles, which the typical police force struggled to catch. Most of her cases involved Nobles running from their court dates. Occasionally she would get high-dollar cases. Actually, that’s how we met. I had stolen a priceless painting from some rich jerk and Evelyn was hired to recover it. The jerk had scammed Chicago’s art museum and gotten the painting in the process. The museum couldn’t do anything to get back their property, so Chamberlain and I intervened. We returned the painting and its deed to the museum, where the painting still stands on exhibit to this day.
However, we didn’t get away clean on that job. Evelyn caught us. Fortunately, when she discovered the truth and what we did to help the museum, she let us go, saving us from the hangman’s noose. Surprisingly, she asked me out on a date. We dated for two years before getting engaged and never once did she threaten to turn me in.
Until now it seems. Is she trying to blackmail me? Would she do that?
“So you’ve come to blackmail then. Is that it? Tell me; is it money you’re after or something else?”
She smiled, tilted her head and purred, “Oh I wouldn’t mind a bigger pay cut or maybe a new pearl necklace. You know my obsession with body works.”
My eyes grew and my heart raced.
Evelyn chuckled and said, “Relax, princess, that’s not why I’m here, and no, I’m not here to turn you in, either. I’m in town for an assignment. It’s why I’m here.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
“You came here for help? I always thought you never needed help on your jobs. In fact I can remember several times I tried to help you on an assignment and you refused, saying you didn’t need me. After all, aren’t you this big famous bounty hunter? I’m sure whatever it is won’t be beyond your capabilities. We both know that. So how about you stop wasting my time and just leave so I can get some rest.” I was ranting because I was nervous.
I turned my back on Evelyn and headed toward the balcony for some fresh air.
“I never said I needed your help.”
I ignored her.
“You might want to hear what I have to say after you hear that my employer is Emperor Adam Rythe.”
Slowly, very slowly, I turned around to face her. She now stood with her arms crossed and her body in a mocking, victorious posture. Her smile was devious.
“Adam Rythe…the Adam Rythe?” I asked.
Evelyn tapped her foot like she did when she was nervous or annoyed. She appeared impatient. She cocked a thumb over her shoulder and said, “Why don’t you come back and have a seat so we can chat. Unless you’re not done acting like a child?”
She plopped herself back in a chair, looked back at me (still frozen), and patted the couch cushion next to her and said, “Come on now. You can do it. Just left foot then right foot and then repeat. That a boy!”
I shuffled back to the couches and stammered, “T—that’s what this is about—the Emperor? He’s your employer? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Evelyn shrugged. “He really is. But what’s more interesting is my assignment.”
Don’t do it, Griffon. Don’t put yourself through this. Whatever it is it can’t be good.
“What’s the job?” I asked.
Griffon what have you done?
She smiled a wicked look, a look she used only when she felt mischievous, and I felt the stirring of old feelings within me. She opened her mouth and I feared the pounding in my chest would drown out her next few words. But when she spoke nothing seemed clearer in the entire world. In a flash I felt sick to my core.
“He wants me to bring in Shaman. He wants me to bring in you, Griffon. He wants to execute Shaman. You are my assignment.”
Nine
“What did you tell him?” I asked. My trembling hand drifted toward my pocket knife.
“Didn’t I tell you to put that away
before you cut yourself?”
“What did you say, Evelyn?”
“I see your patience hasn’t improved since I left.”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY!”
She huffed out a breath of air and slowly rose to her feet. She finished the last of her glass of water and set it down on the table next to her. She pointed at me and said, “Put that away and then we can talk.” I followed her line sight and noticed the pocket knife back in my hand. I never remembered drawing the blade.
I set the pocket knife down on a counter away from me. I took a step away from it and saw Evelyn nod with approval. She waved her hand toward the couches and said, “Please, return and have a seat.” I did. “That’s a good boy.”
I sneered at her. “Talk,” I growled.
“You were right about that charm.”
“What did you tell him? Answer my question or get out.”
She sighed and gave up on playing her sarcastic banter she loved so much. “I didn’t tell him you were Shaman.”
“But what did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
I settled back deeper into my couch cushion and said, “And?”
“You ask a question I think you’ve already assumed an answer to,” said Evelyn. “You don’t say no to the Emperor,” I said, “and walk away from it alive.”
She nodded and her expression sobered. “Yeah, unfortunately.”
I got up, grabbed two bottles of water from the ice chest and gave one of them to Evelyn. “Tell me what happened.”
She cracked open the bottle, took a sip, and asked, “You sure you want to hear that story? You were just complaining about being up so late.”
“I’ll be fine,” I grumbled as I sipped my water.
“You sure, mister grumpy? You made it very clear you didn’t want to hear anything I had to say.”
