It was my turn to sit with Jonah at around eight o’clock when he woke. I grinned at him and he smiled back weakly. I’d spent most of the afternoon and evening replaying what Ilya had told me about Jonah’s feelings for me, and whether or not I wanted to talk to him about it.
“Am I back in the basement of Hugo’s house, Irina?”
“Yes, but Hugo is dead. So is Rubin.”
“I feel like roadkill,” said Jonah.
“Well, you were nearly flattened, so that sounds about right. What were you thinking attacking Hugo like that?”
“I wasn’t thinking, of course. I panicked when I saw him. I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.”
“So you tried to grab him? How long would you have to hold on to do damage to a guy that size?”
“I know, I know. Faith got him then?”
“Yeah, there wasn’t much left, but Cole got rid of the leftovers anyway.”
“And Camille must have worked her magic on me,” Jonah said.
“Thank God she was here and in one piece. If she’d been knocked out, or heaven forbid, worse, you would be in a lot of pain right now and probably in the hospital.” I took hold of his nearest hand.
I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. In his weakened state, I hadn’t expected any reaction, emotional or physical. As I pulled away, he lifted his head and grabbed the back of my neck, kissing me with intensity. His lips were firm and his tongue earnest. He pulled me down on top of him. I wrapped my arms around his lower back, finding his muscular butt with my hands. He rolled me beneath his body, straddling me as he kept kissing deeper and deeper.
The familiar burning sensation started again. I felt lightheaded. A wave of guilt hit me as a moment of gratitude swept through me that he’d been weak enough to last that long before hurting me. A gasp at the door broke us apart.
She disappeared again before I focused clearly on the doorway, but I knew it was Faith. I disentangled myself from Jonah to go after her, but he grabbed my arm.
“Let her go,” he said.
I sat back down on the bed and sighed. Both brother and sister would probably hate me before the night ended.
A few minutes after Faith ran out, Camille came in to relieve me instead. The sympathetic look on her face nullified the need for an explanation. Whether Faith confided in her or Ilya translated our thoughts, she obviously knew. I squeezed Jonah’s hand and left him with the healer.
I walked down the hall and out into the large central room of the basement. I heard voices upstairs through the stairwell. Vincent and Ilya debated the finer points of Vancouver’s nightlife, in anticipation of going over there soon. Vincent favored a pub near a bus depot and Ilya wanted to hit an underground bar on Granville Street. I couldn’t bring myself to join the small talk on the chance that Faith was in the room, sulking in the corner. So I opened the sliding glass door to the back yard and walked out into the dark.
Even though I believed that Rubin and Hugo were gone, I dreaded the oppressive black wall around me. Light from the house dimly illuminated the yard transforming it from picturesque meadow to creepy cave. The gazebo at the end of the lawn wasn’t as inviting as it had been when we first approached. As I evaluated whether or not to stay outside, I felt a hand on my shoulder and my whole body flinched.
“Wow, you were really lost in thought there,” said Cole.
I felt heat flooding my cheeks. I looked down at the ground for a moment.
“I’ve got lots to ponder. My life has taken quite a few sharp turns since I left home. And now I can’t go back. If Rubin told the truth–and I think he did–there’s literally nobody left from my hometown who even knows me. It’s like my life outside Innoviro doesn’t exist anymore. It’s hard to believe. I know I should call my sister, but if I do and she doesn’t remember me, I think I’ll lose it completely.”
“I knew Rubin could wipe memories, but I’ve never heard of him doing it to an employee before, let alone erasing someone’s past. Techs from Innoviro would have to be in on it. Hard copies would be out there, like photographs or any mention of you in a newspaper.”
“Doesn’t it seem impossible? How can you erase a whole life?”
“Haven’t you checked it out?”
“Not really. You mean Google myself?”
“For a start.” Cole pulled his phone from his pocket and started tapping. “Where would you expect to find your name online?”
I wracked my brain. I had never played sports or won an academic prize. I thought briefly about the sticky end of Nechako Motors. I was too far down the ladder to matter to anyone.
“I can’t find you so far, but when we get time at a computer, we’ll sort this out, one way or another,” Cole said. “This is going to sound totally selfish now, but I figured you were out here thinking about Jonah.”
I nodded. “There can’t really be an ‘us’ as things stand. I’m beyond confused about whatever is happening with him.
“Were you hoping to burn that candle at both ends?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“So it’s Jonah then?” Cole demanded.
“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to lead you on.”
“You didn’t. I knew you liked him. I stupidly hoped you’d end up liking me more.”
“I do like you, Cole, but I fell for Jonah a bit harder. I think he feels the same way.”
“He does, at least from what I can tell. You know, you can’t really be with him though, not in the long run. And I’m not talking about his capacity to suck the life out of you. He’s sick. His variation is unnatural and it’s getting more unstable. I think he was so quick to defend Ivan at first because he was counting on the cure they were working on. Jonah either needs to stabilize his genetic development or reverse it altogether.”
“He sort of hinted at that, but when Camille said there was something wrong with his cells, I knew she meant his variation. All the same, I can’t help the way I feel.”
“And you know Faith has a thing for him?”
“I kind of figured that, but I wasn’t totally sure until about half an hour ago,” I said.
“They dated for a little while after Ilya broke up with her. Faith’s variation is actually the right match for Jonah’s. He doesn’t hurt her. It’s a shame when you think about it. It’s like they fit together, but he must not have been into it. Awkward as hell when Jonah ended things. He was already my best friend, but as the second guy to dump my sister in a year, he was on my shit list for a while,” Cole said with a joyless quiet tone.
“I never knew.” I really didn’t want to be the nail in their friendship’s coffin. I felt so low, I practically had to scrape myself off the ground to turn around and go back. But I did, and Cole followed me.
By morning, Brad was awake and alert again. Ilya and Vincent wanted the tie left around his mouth and nobody argued. Ilya tried repeatedly to read Brad’s mind, but kept getting mental shouts of “Fuck you, asshole!” and “Die-in-a-fire, motherfucker!” plus a selection of more elaborate curse phrases Ilya was unwilling to repeat.
I offered to take a turn and see if I could spark a vision. I tried concentrating like I had the day before when I saw Rubin’s car crash, but I couldn’t replicate the intensity. Vincent assured me Brad’s bonds were secure, so I reached out and placed my palm on his forehead. I was transported to a rundown building in a light industrial park, standing in front of an open bay door.
To my left, more industrial structures obscured the skyline of downtown Vancouver. The royal blue sky of early night complemented hundreds of orange and white twinkling lights peeking out from behind the dark black buildings nearby. To my right, I saw the water and a large pile of something yellow, maybe sulfur. The patina-green Lion’s Gate Bridge stretched ahead into the fo
rest. The downtown core was across the water somewhere to the south. Floodlights revealed the industrial coastline of the North Shore. I tried to walk into the building in front of me, but my feet felt heavy. I forced myself to move and as I walked in through the bay door, blackness enveloped me. It was complete nothingness.
I withdrew my hand from Brad’s forehead. My eyes came to rest level with his. The glare of hatred unnerved me. He mumbled what I took for a verbal version of the cursing in his mind.
“I saw a crappy building in an industrial park somewhere in Vancouver. It had a partial view of downtown from the North Shore, near a giant sulfur pile. But I couldn’t see. It was dark, and when I went to walk inside, the world disappeared, like everything, everywhere was gone.”
Ilya considered the situation for a moment and then said, “Rubin must have wiped his memory. I think he did it to me a few times, but I didn’t have proof. I never had the guts to ask my father about it.”
“There’s something worth looking at in this building then,” said Vincent.
“Great. Let’s leave for Vancouver right now.” Irritation radiated from Faith, permeating her gestures and movements.
“Camille and I will stay behind. We’ve talked and we just can’t get involved any further. It’s too dangerous,” said Vincent.
“What! You’re going to leave it to the five of us?” said Faith.
“No worries man, I know you’ve got a family. Besides, we don’t have room for everyone in my car anyway,” said Cole.
“I think we should hold off until we’ve got more than this to go on,” said Ilya.
“Yeah, we need a better plan than walking around the North Shore until the setting looks right. Even if we did find the place, there’s no telling what messed up scene could be waiting for us. I can’t be sure I could protect everyone, not if we don’t know what we’re getting into,” said Cole.
“I’ve already tried to heal Brad’s mind. That gap isn’t from a traumatic experience. I think the memory was–taken. There’s nothing more I can do. I’m sorry I can’t help, but I just don’t have it in me to go to war right now,” said Camille.
“We understand, really. I’ll spend more time with Brad. Eventually, he’ll let a thought slip out or Irina will have a new vision,” said Ilya.
At the prospect of being probed further, Brad wrestled against the bonds around his wrists and ankles. He twisted his neck and jaw in an effort to release the tie around his mouth. Vincent kicked one of his legs.
Cole stomped on the ground and the basement shook. His foot left a crack in the concrete and the entire room went silent. “Sorry about that, but we need to get out of here. Remember the car I threw in the ditch? Unless something’s changed, eventually the cops will turn up here. Sooner or later they’ll find what remains of Hugo too. Does anyone have any ideas other than going straight to Vancouver?”
“Why don’t you try one of those old buildings in Chinatown? There are a few with signs in front about a development coming,” Vincent said. “I think they’re empty, but I don’t know if they’re condemned, hazardous, or anything like that. Camille and I will stay here and when the cops come, we’ll give them the runaround.”
“Works for me. Let’s go squat downtown for a while and see what shakes loose from our friend here. I’ll wake up Jonah,” said Ilya.
“I’ll grab my car. You guys get ready,” said Cole.
I’d left my bag in Cole’s car, so I didn’t have much to do. While Faith, Camille and Vincent went upstairs, I stalled by splashing some water on my face in the basement’s grimy bathroom. As I stared in the mirror, I thought back to the bathroom in my parents’ home. I thought about my sister and my parents and how simple things were back in high school, or even while I worked at the car dealership.
I thought of Bridget, still backpacking through Europe where Rubin hadn’t been able to reach her and a glimmer of hope emerged. She would remember me. Now that Rubin was dead, she always would remember me. If I went back to Prince George one day, Bridget would know me. Even if Rubin had wiped the minds of everyone else who knew me, in my best friend there was proof I existed.
I splashed water on my face again, this time to refocus on the moment. In the light of what I’d lost, being at odds with Faith didn’t seem so bad anymore.
We found the old buildings Vincent described and slipped in after Cole pulled apart two sections of fencing. Ilya had worried that other squatters already lived there. The homeless population was much higher near the downtown core and this site was an easy target. He explained that the number and relative visibility of Victoria’s street population was part of Ivan’s logic for choosing the Innoviro office location. It would be easy for his sewer-dwelling variants to blend in when they emerged.
Ilya easily shielded our cumbersome entry into the building from the few pedestrians we passed. His illusion was flawless or the people on the street were completely apathetic, but either way, Cole was able to carry Brad–aggravated, but restrained–down the street and through the construction zone without drawing any attention.
Of the building’s five floors we chose the second for the best compromise between safety and ease of access. We were too far up from eye level for anyone on the sidewalk to see us, but we could get out quickly if we needed. The space had a main reception room with four smaller offices, a boardroom, and a basic kitchen. Two bathrooms still bearing male and female figures greeted us at the end of the hall and I made a note to check the taps to confirm if the floor still had running water.
The office must have been an old law or marketing firm. Lettering on one of the walls had been scraped off long ago leaving only partial outlines. Under a layer of dust I could still make out a pattern on the dark carpet. Small tan fleur-de-lis and flourish swirls formed borders around open squares of negative space, like woven golden grout. In the dark gaps I saw crumpled bits of paper, un-punched staples, paper clips, and flakes of old leaves all mingled with the dust.
The domed light fixtures overhead were embellished with scrollwork around the edges. A brass handrail ran the length of the dividing wall between the reception area and the hallway down to the offices. The wallpaper was a creamy color, textured with ridges. Varnished crown molding ran along the edges at the ceiling and the floor. The total lack of furnishings made me think about Nechako Motors and how it had been emptied with haste. I wondered if it too sat empty. What had happened to this law firm or whatever it had been?
While Faith and Cole rounded up crates to sit on and brought blankets in from the car, Ilya wasted no time trying to get back into our captive’s head. Although Brad had worn down somewhat, his willpower and rage were still powerful enough to derail any attempt at getting to his underlying thoughts. The asshole didn’t deserve the only padded chair, but we didn’t dare try to move him.
While Ilya struggled with Brad, I took the opportunity to pull my cards out of my backpack and try for an update on Bridget. I snuck into an empty office and closed the door behind me. I sat down cross-legged on the dirty carpet and shuffled my cards while picturing Bridget’s face. I closed my eyes and remembered her giddy smile the last time I’d visited her. While I sat on her bed and watched, Bridget packed her brand new hiking backpack with her European wardrobe.
In a flash, a new image of Bridget snapped to mind shoving out the memory. Bridget sat on a wide bank of stone steps leading up to a Roman-style building, a courthouse or a gallery. She and another girl I didn’t recognize ate sandwiches, alternating between bites and excited outbursts. A familiar greasy-haired figure approached them. NO! Not Bridget too! When had this happened?
I watched helpless as Rubin introduced himself to Bridget and the other girl, shaking their hands. Bridget’s smile dropped away leaving confusion behind. The other girl abruptly stood and left with a blank expression below empty glassy eyes. Rubin sat next to Bridget and put his a
rm around her. Bridget’s confused expression melted into a completely blank look. I knew her memories of me were gone.
I pulled myself off the stone steps, away from my one-time best friend and my recently deceased adversary. I was back in the dark condemned office, already on my feet. I bent down to pick up my cards and threw them at the wall. Why Bridget too? Couldn’t that sonofabitch have left me a single shred of my old life? I couldn’t even ask him. I felt a rush of satisfaction that Rubin had just died a violent and painful death.
My cards sat in a scattered pile on the floor where they’d bounced off the wall in an explosion of paper rectangles. I didn’t feel like sharing my news about Bridget. I’d cried enough in the last 24 hours. I gathered my cards back together, slipped them into their box and tucked them in my back pocket.
I needed a distraction. I returned to Ilya and offered to take over Brad’s interrogation. Ilya was happy to pass the task. Instead of palming Brad’s forehead again, I decided to grab his hand. For all I knew about my gift, touching a different body part could access different information. Or maybe the passage of time would suffice. To be safe, I shuffled my plastic milk crate around towards the back of Brad’s chair where his legs wouldn’t reach.
When I took his hand, he crunched my fingers together with a devastating grip. I yelped and Ilya kicked one of Brad’s shins. He cried out but the fabric in his mouth muffled the sound. I shook my hand, waiting for the circulation to come back and for the throbbing to subside. Then I grabbed his forearm, well above his wrist. My strategy finally paid off as the room melted away to my former boss’ office. Ivan sat at his desk with Brad in the guest chair.
In Irina's Cards (The Variant Conspiracy #1) Page 20
